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the-silver-chronicles · 2 months

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5 Songs and 3 Outfits

Tagged by @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @voidika @onehornedbeast @inafieldofdaisies and @strafethesesinners

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @softtidesworld @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @turbo-virgins @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @corvosattano @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @afarcryfrommymain @megraen @minilev @starsandskies @deputyash @deputy-morgan-malone @dephellseed @derelictheretic @chazz-anova @snake-in-the-garden @cloudofbutterflies92 @florbelles @foofygoldfish @fourlittleseedlings @gaeadene @henbased @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @skoll-sun-eater @shallow-gravy @thewanderer-000 @titiagls @trashcatsnark @vampireninjabunnies-blog @shellibisshe @wrathfulrook and @aceghosts + anyone else who wants to join.

RULES: Post 5 songs associated with your OC(s), followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

Gathered Silva Omar, Kamski Neon and Ernesto Stallone for this one. Read under the cut:

SILVA OMAR (FAR CRY 5)

Dream -Bishop Briggs

"I wanna break down where your heart gets So torn it's almost breaking mine I wanna lay here, lost and bitter So long, I feel like I could die I wanna tell you what my truth is But it's buried down inside."

Last One Standing - Skylar Grey ft. Polo G, Mozzy, & Eminem

"Now you see me standing in the lights But you never saw my sacrifice Or all the nights I had to struggle to survive Had to lose it all to win the fight I had to fall so many times Now I'm the last one standing."

Safe And Sound - Capital Cities

"I could lift you up I could show you what you wanna see Take you where you wanna be You could be my luck Even if the sky is fallin' down I know that we'll be safe and sound."

Heat Waves - Glass Animals

"I just wanna know what you're dreaming of When you sleep and smile so comfortable I just wish that I could give you that That love that's perfectly unsad Sometimes all I think about is you Late nights in the middle of June Heat waves been fakin' me out Heat waves been fakin' me out."

Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye ft. Kimbra

"Now and then, I think of all the times you screwed me over But had me believing it was always something that I'd done But I don't wanna live that way Reading into every word you say You said you could let it go And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know."

Note: The women in the images below are not Silva's faceclaim and I unfortunately could not remove them. I had done my best at removing their features but if you notice a difference between the women and Silva's faceclaim, please ignore it and focus on the clothing instead. Thank you for your understanding.

Below is Silva's dress which she pretty much only wears at home, a longer version of the deputy uniform, and her casual clothing (plus that of which she wears during the Reaping). Yeah, she doesn't like to show off a lot of skin.

Another note: These are not the right colors.

KAMSKI NEON (FAR CRY 5)

[No Faceclaim Acquired Yet]

Enemy - Imagine Dragons ft. J.I.D

"Oh, the misery Everybody wants to be my enemy Spare the sympathy Everybody wants to be my enemy Look out for yourself!"

Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons

"Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top I'm ready for whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes."

Some Nights - Fun.

"Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck Some nights I call it a draw Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle Some nights I wish they'd just fall off But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh."

All The Stars - Kendrick Lamar ft. SZA

"Tell me what you gon' do to me Confrontation aint nothing new to me You could bring a bullet Bring a sword Bring a morgue But you can't bring the truth to me Fuck you and all your expectations I don't even want your congratulations I recognize your false confidence and calculated promises All in your conversation I hate people that feel entitled Look at me crazy cause I aint invite you Oh you important? You the moral to the story? You endorsing? Motherfucker I don't even like you Corrupted mans heart with a gift Thats how you find out who you dealing with."

Spirits - The Strumbellas

"I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go But the gun still rattles The gun still rattles, oh."

Kamski's clothing mostly consists of a worn doctors uniform, however he does use a pedestrian disguise with a mask if he's going to do something illegal or a regular casual clothing (in the habit of dressing up for winter and refuses to break habit even in the worst of Summer) when going to do legal groceries.

ERNESTO STALLONE (FAR CRY 5)

[No Faceclaim Acquired Yet]

Bad Feeling - Jagwar Twin

"They say! Everything's perfect here And the sun is shining Hey! Hey! Everything's perfect here There's nobody crying Oompa loompa doompety do I got a bad feeling about you Oompa loompa I don't know, dude I got a bad feeling about you."

Hot Girl Bummer (slowed + reverb) - blackbear

"Fuck you, and you, and you I hate your friends and they hate me too. I'm through, I'm through, I'm through."

I'm A Wanted Man - Royal Deluxe

"They didn't know it when they turned me loose I shot the sheriff and I slipped the noose The law ain't never been a friend of mine I'd kill again to keep from doing time You should never ever trust my kind I'm a wanted man I got blood on my hands Do you understand? I'm a wanted man."

Bad - Royale Deluxe

"I'm bad As bad can be So bad That it's hard to believe Oh what they say about me I'm bad, I'm bad As bad can be I'm bad Take a look and see So bad That it's hard to believe I don't care what they say about me."

Bloodshot - Sam Tinnesz

"I'll take another hit to the backbone I'm picking up the heat Like an atom bomb No time on the clock It's a bloodshot 3, 2, 1 You got me bloodshot Maybe I'm a good guy Standing on the wrong side Maybe I'm a sweetheart Trying to make my own scars Don't know what it looks like Just know what it feels like Scared to let it outside Scared of what I just might find."

Stallone doesn't have that much change in clothing besides two changes in his dark blue Courser Guard/gunslinger uniform and his disguised Chosen clothing (for when he infiltrates Eden's Gate).

#far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #oc: silva omar #fc: mina el hammani #oc: kamski neon #oc: ernesto stallone

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simplegenius042 · 17 days

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LATE Understand My Ship in 5 minutes, Understand my (Friend)ship in Five Minutes & Kindly Join the Wedding

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @cassietrn @cloudofbutterflies92 @la-grosse-patate @nightbloodbix @onehornedbeast and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @strafethesesinners @direwombat @strangefable @softtidesworld @afarcryfrommymain @henbased @carlosoliveiraa @corvosattano @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @skoll-sun-eater @minilev @derelictheretic @aceghosts @shellibisshe @shallow-gravy @wrathfulrook @florbelles @purplehairsecretlair @turbo-virgins @yokobai and @red-nightskies

Got a Ship from A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore, a friendship from The UnTitledverse and a wedding from Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. After this, I should be all caught up in what I've missed, and then I can make my new Pinned Intro Post. Anyway, you can find the stuff and templates below the cut:

Templates can be found below:

#series: a radioactive calamity of love bombs & gore #fallout #oc: ortega “ore” brantley #fallout new vegas #courier six #the courier #oc: ryder #fc: halle berry #ship: ortega “ore” brantley x ryder #the untitledverse #the perfect storm saga #oc: calvin darling #fc: laurence fishburne #oc: mario emmet #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #wip: old dusk #junior deputy #oc: silva omar #fc: mina el hammani #faith seed #fc: kenz lawren #otp: boa lurking in the bliss #ship: silva omar x faith seed #if you're curious who wrote the red “second” on this it would belong azriel #as this would be silva and faith's second wedding because they had their first in the bunker and azriel was both their only attendant #and their temporary officiate of their marriage #second wedding only happened because people were bummed they missed out on it and this time jerome got to officiate the marriage

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overtureofchaos · 5 years

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Muses by Request

I am going to list these by face credit only because some are a work in progress and it is just easier and there are many.

Toby Stephens - James Flint CC exclusively

Alexander Skarsgard - Eric Stockwell OC

Michael Shannon - Donovan Krause OC

Sullivan Stapleton - Phillip Sullivan OC/Kurt Weller AU

Ryan Reynolds - WIP

Timothy Olyphant - Seth Gaines OC

Marton Csokas - Randall Flagg (Stephen King’s The Stand) exclusively

Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje - Samuel Jenik OC

Charlize Theron - Lucielle Fallon OC

John Cho - Justin Dae OC (Star Trek AU)

Hugh Dancy - Julian Dammers OC (Hannibal AU)

Omar Sy - WIP

Josh Hartnett - Gideon Raynor OC

Ed Skrein - Shane Porter/Nicolai Semkov (Deadpool AU)

Gina Carano - Riley Otis OC

Emily Blunt - Kendall Rivers OC, Kate Macer AU (Sicario)

Nina Dobrev - Astrid Rollins OC exclusively

Jackson Rathbone - Johnny “Bud” Fiske OC exclusively

Chris Evans - Mace Jensen OC (Captain America AU)

Zazie Beetz - Noah Parker OC (Domino AU)

John Krasinski - Jack McCormick OC (Jack Silva/Jack Ryan AU)

Chris Hemsworth - Marc Payne OC exclusively

Rami Malek - Miguel Hernandez CC (Sicario face replacement)

Max Irons - Arthur Lipton Rhys OC exclusively

Oscar Isaac - Javier Castello OC

Zachary Quinto - Mossimo Romanets OC

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the-silver-chronicles · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday + My OC as... & What Faerie Court Does Your OC Belong To? & What Does Your Soul Look Like?

Tagged by @g0dspeeed @voidika @socially-awkward-skeleton @deputy-morgan-malone @direwombat @adelaidedrubman and @onehornedbeast

Tagging @shallow-gravy @inafieldofdaisies @strangefable @strafethesesinners @josephslittledeputy @minilev @chazz-anova @cassietrn @snake-in-the-garden @corvosattano @ec-10 @deputyash @derelictheretic @henbased @jacobmybeloved @ladyoriza @nightbloodbix @vampireninjabunnies-blog @neverthesameneveranother @wrathfulrook @carlosoliveiraa @thewanderer-000 @softtidesworld @josephseedismyfather @skoll-sun-eater @vasiktomis and @afarcryfrommymain + anyone else who wants to join.

One WIP, two quizzes and a sharing visual stuff of Silva with the My OC as.... Here's the "What Faerie Court does your OC belong to?" Quiz and the "What does Does Your Soul Look Like?" Quiz.

Here's the WIP of that unnamed "Arranged Marriage" AU, with Silva agonizing over her life so far (after a shower no less) as she waits for Faith to come back with a dreadful wedding dress. Snippet below:

[Silva's] head in gloved hands, she fought the urge to grab a fistful of dark hair and rip it out. To scream and curse... at what? God? Her father? Joseph and the prophets before him who were too cowardly and self-absorbed in their own dead delusions to even try not to fuck someone's life over for once?

Or would she curse herself? For agreeing to this arrangement, despite how much she hates it? For hurting others with her very presence, being forced to wander in their vision even after taking the lives of loved ones, whose blood has since been washed off, but not the scars and lesions that are scattered over her damaged hands, a reminder of the lives she took? Curse herself for not putting her own needs, her desires, her hopes and dreams before others, just as Kamski insisted she do?

Silva didn't know. She didn't know what to do anymore. It was far beyond what she initially knew. Far from what she was taught in the Minas. Eden's Gate wasn't like Father's battalions of Enforcers, cruel and deplorable in their mission, nor were they like the Apostles, teaching malevolence and hidden in shadows.

Eden's Gate had a mission, one with the best of intentions, but were spreading terror in their methods, even if they seemed a bit remorseful, which doesn't change the fact they have ruined lives indefinitely, nor excuse the recruitment of psychopaths like the Cook.

It was uncanny just how much qualities about the Project that she could despise and how much she could differentiate it from the likes of her father's Enforcers. It didn't make it any better that Joseph and John seemed genuine in their desire to have her as apart of the family, even when her gut argues that it's nothing more than a ploy, a deception, with her stomach coiling in agreement, the very reminder that she'd be married to Jacob in the coming weeks making her nauseous again.

Despite the personal cost of her freedom, she had to do it, especially if it meant peace for the Resistance and the freedom of Hudson and Pratt... and Burke as well she guessed. She could also breath a little easier with the knowledge that she had forced Joseph to acknowledge that this marriage was, at best, a tactical ploy for peace, more-or-less, and convinced him to give not only his word that Jacob would not try anything of harmful or sexual nature towards her, but also had him forbid his older brother as "the Father" from even thinking to do such acts, or else she would not agree to anything more.

Silva knew from experience that a profeta's word was as reliable as a rickety old bridge worn down from age, but if he backed out on any of the agreements, not only would he face backlash from herself and the Resistance, but most likely a few of his own people as well.

It still didn't change the fact she was a prisoner here both presently and with the reminders of how guilty her own conscience really is.

She gave the Resistance a standing chance for freedom, however that is going, even if it meant she was restricted in her own.

Jannah, Elsa would be so disappointed in me. Worse then disappointed probably. She'd return from the ashes if she could, and then go on to berate Silva of not only her martyr tendencies, but also give her an earful for all the times Silva had told Elsa to keep track of her own well-being while being mindful of others.

How hypocritical of me.

Does that make me closer to Father than it does Paul now?

Silva wasn't sure how to answer that, but she couldn't blink the welling tears away, no matter how much ferocity she put in.

Here I am... on a bed in Faith's Gate... a prison in all but name, surrounded by people I have hurt in more ways than one... crying to myself... as I can do nothing for my friends and neighbours who I can't even communicate with, no less hear from... all the while I'm waiting on Faith to get me whatever wretched wedding dress the Seeds had stolen to have me wear... while in nothing but my undergarments and the thinnest bathrobe.

It may not be as rock bottom as walking in a blizzard barefoot in a shitty dress at 10-years-old while Enforcers searched for her across the bridge to the Minas, or sailing on a boat with little supplies, taking care of an infant barely two weeks old, and tending to an injured hermana after escaping a successful massacre on the one community she thought truly understood her. Nor was it like the day she returned to the county, into her resident home, without her hija in hand to carry to bed, and as if to kick her further, find out the legacy Elsa wanted to leave behind in the form of her floristry had been stolen away during Silva's absence. But it was still suffocating, and she couldn't help but mourn for the normalcy she almost regained.

Here's the results for the "What Faerie Court Does Your OC Belong To?" Quiz.

Elsa Omar (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, The Harbinger's Salvation AU)

Yeah this describes Elsa. She generally doesn't take in account the feelings of others in canon nor in this AU. Elsa is very selfish, and only cares for the people closest in her family circle (mainly Silva, Persephone, & Ezekiel + Azriel and Mercy if she got to meet them), everyone else is a pawn to use and abuse for whatever means necessary, especially in The Harbinger's Salvation AU, where her older sister is under the control of the Apostles of Zachariah. Elsa is narcissistic and vain, as well as a compulsive liar to majority of people to boot. She has no problem enacting on every vice (smoking, drinking, screwing, etc) without shame, even if it is detrimental to her overall health and social apathy. Credit where credit is due, she's achieved sleeping with nearly everyone in the county, something even Adelaide hadn't achieved. But its the fact she's careless of everyone's feelings and also gives zero fucks about looking through peoples things to see what she can use for blackmail. She's absolutely NOT a good person, it just happens to be that her goals are either beneficial to others (her work with the Resistance in the AU even if she's not in it for their fight but more so her sisters' safety, having gathered enough evidence of Eden's Gate' crimes to send Joseph to prison for life to protect Silva and Persephone, etc) or even she has morals or ideals she wouldn't cross/adopt (absolutely knows for certain that Adam's Guard is not safe nor should be left to exist, wouldn't join the Apostles because of their habits to bring terror and death to others, and wouldn't join Eden's Gate because they restrict peoples' freedoms in what they want to do for their lives besides devote it to God which would be a very unhappy place for Silva and Azriel, etc) even if those are because it goes against her self-interests. Elsa is willing to take massive risks, which though can be dangerous, she's always confident of the rewards it brings. And just because her bones are brittle doesn't mean she's not willing to go down rough and dirty to win.

Now for the "What does your soul look like?" Quiz.

Azriel (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, Wings And Horns original work)

I mean this pretty much describes Azriel. Neglected by her parents and then was almost killed by them as they tried to sacrifice her to prove themselves worthy of staying in Eden's Gate, was always shunned for her interests in technology and invention from within the project did not help her mentally. Nor did the isolation. Afraid everyone is out to get her, this 9-year-old puts up a ferocious front in order to at least look the part of scary. Which offputs people from her or undermine her with sympathy she doesn't understand nor want. She feels as if no one wants her, nor do they want to understand her, choosing how she should live her life. Well, at least until she meets Silva in a chance encounter that changes the fate of the county and Silva's role in the Reaping and the Collapse. The first time the Voice felt fear that day. And it wouldn't be the last time either.

Now for the "My OC as..." stuff. I tried to find a faceclaim that I thought was true to Silva. (RANT: I had to go to f***ing Quora for this. And I hate Quora with a burning passion. I still receive their emails to this day. No I don't want to know how to make a Spinach cake, I'm not interested in the quantum physics of a blackhole and no I don't want to be involved in the debate on whether its criminal to leave the toilet seat up, IT IS, debate over!). Anyway Silva's current faceclaim for the time being (or indefinite if I feel that "do you know what, this person is right for Silva") is actress Mina El Hammani. In order to use and create this template I used this trustworthy meme generator, who never disappoints me (unlike Quora).

Maybe I should make one of Paul one day. That would be interesting dissecting him like this.

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simplegenius042 · 4 months

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A very late WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @g0dspeeed @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and @cassietrn

Tagging @strangefable @carlosoliveiraa @shallow-gravy @minilev @wrathfulrook @josephslittledeputy @nightbloodbix @derelictheretic @deputyash @deputy-morgan-malone @inafieldofdaisies @ec-10 @ladyoriza @vampireninjabunnies-blog @voidika @onehornedbeast @thewanderer-000 @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @corvosattano @henbased @neverthesameneveranother @chazz-anova and @strafethesesinners

Here are three WIPs, each from Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and Life, Despair & Monsters. Read below the cut.

TW: Harsh and heavy cursing, mentioned/implied character and general death of NPCs (either it be a time loop or a cybernetic homicidal monster around nine or ten feet tall and very pissed off). Implied mentioned sexual content, mentions of abuse and fantastical racism (against ghouls, Jericho leave Gob alone!). Mentioned prostitution and fantasies of murder (illegal but understandable).

First WIP is for the time loop/"Groundhog Day" FC5 AU fic called You're Almost Like Family where the Seeds are stuck in a, well, time loop. And whenever Silva (or the Seeds themselves) die, well, the days are reset. Funniest part is, none of the Seeds know that they are all in a loop, just their individual selves. Snippet below:

[John] slammed the entrance to his chalet shut, causing the blonde figure sorting his papers in his lounge to jump. The documents slipped out of her hands as she stood up with a hand to a holster, only to calm down when she realized it was him.

Noticing that the reports laid scattered on the floor, Nadi gave him a stink eye, gesturing to the papers.

John would have been apologetic if he simply didn't have time for this. Ironic given the predicament he was stuck in.

Sooner or later, the Deputy is going to end up dead, and he'll be back at square one... again.

The thought reignited his frustration, but he reigned in enough to examine his number two.

Nadi was a loyal member of the project, more faithful than Jacob's hound, and while they did butt heads sometimes, he was grateful for her presence and for her strategic input. Admittedly, John knew that without her, the Deputy would have gotten to him sooner rather than later.

I would have preferred not to have to had died to appreciate it.

"Once you finish with those, come meet me upstairs in my bedroom. There's something I need to discuss with you," John ordered smoothly, making his way to the stairs.

He didn't notice the confusion etched on the blonde's face, for John was already making his way up the stairs to his room.

It's times like these I wish I could have a shot of tequila, he thought to himself, walking over to the open bedroom window and closing it shut, pulling the lock down.

Next, he grabbed a torch light and shined it at the closet. Hearing nothing, he walked towards it and opened the doors. Empty.

Finally, John turned off his torch, knelt down, and swiftly rolled it harshly under the bed. Hearing no grunts, he looked under.

She's not under there... good.

John exhaled a huff of air, and sat on the edge of his bed as he put his hands over his face.

It was exhausting. Though John knew by the end of today, or the next two if he was lucky, the Deputy would be killed by something or another and he would be back at square one, he really needed to figure out how to reach out to her, without being shot.

Going to her too early leaves her shooting first and questioning the morality of it never, and trying to go to her late only ends up with her being killed by whoever it is she seems to have evoked the wrath of. Not that he thinks she doesn't entirely deserve it.

He needed guidance, and from his last conversation with Joseph, his brother seemed content with sitting by and letting God do his work.

And he tried. To wait it out. To let God do His work. But if the sign that John seemed to be getting was that leaving the Deputy to her own accord only leads to her death, and back to the morning of Joseph's arrest.

And it wasn't like Jacob, or worse, Faith, were going to be helpful.

John had figured out quickly that his intervention was needed for the Deputy to even get through another day. And while the Father may not have understood what he told him, John deduced that this was a test from God.

A test against his sloth. A test towards his patience. A test meant to prove that John was worthy of entering Eden. And what better way than to save the life and soul of another? Especially one as sinful and wrathful as the Deputy?

Which is why he waits for the only other faithful member of the project, his trustworthy second-in-command.

A knock on the door shifted his thoughts to the matter at hand, and he made his way to the door.

Opening it, Nadi stood there, the blond looking at him with expecting brown eyes.

John pulled her inside, earning a yelp from the young woman, and closed the door behind her.

Here's a WIP for a collection of short fics from different character perspectives throughout my Fallout fic series A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. It is still under heavy editing, but I've got a good grasp on where to take it. Snippet below:

In the five of the twenty four hours she's been awake, Nova had expected more-or-less the same day as before.

Walking around and offering her body to anyone who came into the saloon had not been a life she pictured for herself as a little girl, but it was one that paid well.

Well, it would have been if Moriarty didn't continue to take a cut of her and Gob's pay any time a customer gave them a generous donation.

That and the amount of times Moriarty had utilized her services with no intention of paying her, but she supposed it was a better alternative to being kicked out of Megaton. Given Moriarty still had that power.

She drew in the smoke from her cigarette, and surveyed from her post as Gob gave another orange bottle of whiskey to Jericho, the ex-raider sneering at the ghoul, his disgust evident all over his face.

Thankfully he didn't make a scene, slamming the small bag of caps on the counter as he left through the door.

Gob stared at the bag, string noose tied tightly around the bag, not immediately grabbing it. Nova could take a guess that Gob was lamenting over the debts that he owed Moriarty. Debts both the prostitute and the ghoul bartender wordlessly knew their boss was unlikely to pay.

Gob snapped out of it though, giving a miserable sigh, and dragging the bag away from the counter for Moriarty to pocket later, turning his attention to the damn radio that never seemed to play at the right time.

It pained Nova to see Gob like this. He was a real sweetheart with shitty luck, and she knew that the only upsides in his life were the hope of one day paying off his debts, however unlikely that was, and the Gravity News Radio host screaming out "fighting the good fight", whatever that entailed.

She was also painfully well aware of his crush on her.

Though she never had minded his appearance to the point she'd hang out with him in public, given how much she knows the ghoul is actually a decent guy, she had her limits, which was rare given her current standing under Moriarty.

She hoped he could find some semblance of happiness, whether that be with a person or a life long after Moriarty was rotting in the ground. But it wouldn't be with her.

If things were different though...

Nova looked away from Gob, shaking the thought away. It didn't matter on the what ifs, right now she had a job to perform.

She could ponder a different time.

Just as Gob began to smack the radio, a risky action given Moriarty's repeated threats on treating his property harshly, the saloon door creaked open, and Nova spotted two teens enter. One male, the other female. Both wearing what appeared to be blue jumpsuits with the numbers "101" imprinted in yellow on their backs.

Nova eyed them both. The young man was of average build, short auburn hair cut neatly with a few strands springing out from the harshness of the wasteland most likely, and light brown eyes on the lookout for anyone and anything.

The young woman on the other hand had dark hair tied in a pony tail, was a little chubbier than her counterpart, and her hazel eyes were more focused, trying to narrow down a specific person.

They glanced back to the door, whispering amongst themselves, though not too quiet that she couldn't catch their words.

Amongst the harsh gravel Gob spat out at the poor radio, and the chatter amongst the patrons, Nova could decipher the words "here" "back outside" and "think she'll stay?" in hushed voices.

And finally Jennifer putting murder on her mind to the back burner as she remembers to drop, duck and cover my WIP of Sonya's Push. Snippet below:

Breathing heavily as she pushed her way through the audience as they gazed upon the newest arena fight between beasties, the bruises formed from her fight with Malvolio's bitch protesting against her movements.

The blonde looked back to the closed elevator door on the other side, paranoid that Malvolio's Beastie would burst through at any moment.

The speed of it had been abnormal, disappearing in a blink and being nothing more than a flicker of movement when it had slid down to the hall. The movement of its tail daggers swift and deadly, like her own claws. The red in its one eye, more robotic than flesh.

Why had Dicko approved such a thing? It barely counted as a beastie with the mass of metal it was made of! Jennifer huffed, and around the arena, looking pass the patrons in search of Dicko.

Her blue eyes spotted the Englishman on a lower circle, himself seated down on his VIP sofa that she once shared with him, disheveled but celebrating his escape with a glass of disgusting champagne, like the pig hadn't just left her to die to that one-eyed mech of a beast. As if the reason it was free in the first place wasn't because he allowed his creep of a "buddy" onto his premises, or the fact Sir Enigma might be a fucking alien in addition to a Darwinist with no care for the fact "handing control" did not mean "releasing the Beastie from its brainwashing bullshit".

She felt the razor claws pushing through her fingertips as she glared at the man from across the arena, anger and betrayal clouding her mind.

Those fantasies of killing him while in his bed resurfaced, and she oh so wanted to enact them now, with the sofa as an acceptable exception.

She wanted to get her claws through his throat before the Beastie could make its way down to the arena. She tried to move pass the cheering audience, making her way around to the other side to get to the stairs.

However much she tried though, a block of people just refused to move aside, and she was tempted to slice her way through if it weren't for the guards.

Ding!

...Or the faint noise of the elevator door that echoed throughout the arena, deaf to everyone but her.

Frozen in place as she looked back, trying to get a glimpse of the beast that would no doubt tear them apart.

She pushed people aside to get a solid look. Enough people disbanded to show the doors opening to reveal the empty box of the elevator.

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion, mouth gaping open and shut, lips stinging as the cut on her upper lip made contact with her bottom one. She desperately searched for any sign of the beast, the monster made of steel, the relentless creature that stalked and hunted her not moments ago.

Upon still seeing nothing, she let out a mirthless laugh as she turned her back to the elevator, shaking her head as she focused her attention on Dicko once more, the man a ring below talking with one of his guards.

It was with this focus that she noticed a... shift on the stone barriers that kept the audience at bay.

Large spots on the stone cracked, small dusts of powder dropping down as an unseen pressure was placed on the stone. She saw more of this dust from the next ring up, and then the next, and the next.

Up and up and further up until it stopped at the final ring. Then dust slowly dropped down from the roof, unbeknownst to the audience too invested on the violence happening between the two wild beasties below them. Not that the fight between those Beasties were anything special unlike what she saw from her hunter mere hours ago.

Jennifer felt some familiarity with this, words exchanged to her by the madman who released the Apex from its prison, a far too fond explanation on how the creature could "rush so fast it would be merely a flicker to the human eye!"

"...Or match its environment to disappear right before you," Malvolio explained, grinning at her with all his teeth.

Jennifer's eyes widened as she barely registered the outline of the beast that had adjusted its steel to uncloak itself while hanging from dark and dank ceiling. Red optic looking down to the cheers in the rings and the Beasties fighting under it.

She saw the tail split in three, and immediately followed her gut by making distance from the open space of the barriers.

She had just dropped flat onto the floor to curl up and cover her head when the she heard the wind and patron's necks crack in one simultaneous whoosh.

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the-silver-chronicles · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday and Last Line

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @cassietrn (for WIP Wednesday) and @deputyash (for last line)

Tagging @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @carlosoliveiraa @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @bitchofedensgate @trashcatsnark @minilev @onehornedbeast @voidika @afarcryfrommymain @corvosattano @derelictheretic @deputy-morgan-malone @dephellseed @skoll-sun-eater @florbelles @fourlittleseedlings @henbased @titiagls @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @inafieldofdaisies @la-grosse-patate @ladyoriza @shallow-gravy @snake-in-the-garden @softtidesworld @starsandskies @thewanderer-000 and @megraen

FC5 WIPs for No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden, a new fic Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles) and last line for You’re Almost Like Family. Also the first official introduction for Silva's (disowned) adopted father, Paul Yellowjack!

TW: First WIP involves mentions of bullying and abuse. Second WIP involves... IDK body mutilation? Self-body multilation? Screw it, a wasp comes out of a character's hand, then it takes off its hard shells, and proceeds to enter a different character's mouth in semi-disturbing detail. Probably inaccurate anatomy on both humans and supernatural yellowjackets too. Last line involves a main character getting shot dead (not for long though) so there's that too. There! Enjoy.

Here's the moment in No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden that the Voice realizes its Muse is in the wrong occupation and Joseph unfortunately suffers from its temper tantrum. I hope I was able to do Joseph and the Voice justice here. Snippet below:

The distrustful gazes of the deputies nearby did not go unnoticed by Joseph, their eyes held onto barely hidden wrath towards him and his brother. It felt like an additional weight of the burden he carried, even after John successfully bailed three of his formerly detained flock.

The Sheriff and his department saw him as crazy. They looked at him like a madman. Their fear of the unknown, it prevented them from seeing the signs of the Collapse.

The sins that blinded them from this truth were the same sins that the government pushed them to indulge in, indoctrinating the consumerist lifestyle upon them, turning them away from God's warm embrace.

Joseph mumbled a silent prayer, a blessing for these misguided souls, holding onto faith that his Lord will guide the deputies, the supposed protectors of the county, to his flock, where he and his siblings would guide them on the right path.

Perhaps Jacob could train them to be true protectors...

But only time will tell if the deputies would accept his truth, if the Sheriff would. For the meantime, Joseph would focus on his children, those who have accepted him as their Father.

Turning his attention back to the conversing John and Sheriff Whitehorse, he felt warmth on the back of his head, and recognized a soft humming above him.

He was more alert, closely listened as the words exchanged between John and the Sheriff became mute, the persistent hum above him canceling out the hum of the building's air conditioner. The warmth of His glow consumed the cool air, and Joseph felt expectant eyes upon him, from beyond his own perception.

The Voice. His Lord, his God. Have you a message for me, Lord?

No, the Voice spoke, its tone even and still, lacking emotion yet always familiar, always reassuring to Joseph, I have need of your eyes, Joseph. The Hell that will follow the Whitehorse is here... nearby.

Joseph's blue eye widened in shock. The pace of his beating heart quickened. The very reminder of this... figure, quickened the steady pace of his heart. This figure whom the Voice had said embodied "Hell" itself, was one that haunted him. This lost soul was one he never truly got a glimpse of in his visions, both the good and the terrifying. Always obscured by the environment, whether it be the sun that shined between him and them, in the Garden that will become their New Eden, or the shadows and flames that consumed him and the corpses of his family, their back turned to the destruction they made, the paradise he tried to preserve.

The Voice had told him that it was up to him, His prophet, to bring this Great Sinner to the correct path, for they were his family's salvation, or face the destruction they will wrought. He had asked once, at the pews of his chapel, "How will I know to help them if I don't even know who this Sinner is? What do they look like?"

The Voice hadn't answered him right away, but when it did, he was unable to stop the dreadful weight sink on his soul, "You will know on the day the locusts come for you. You will know when Hell stands in front of you in this house of Mine. You will know on the morning the First Seal breaks and the Reaping finally begins."

He wondered, briefly, if it was time. If the day of reckoning that he had been tasked with preparing for had finally come upon him, at a moment where he wasn't with the rest of his flock, and in the heart of the locusts' nest.

Though Joseph put the thought to rest with the knowledge the Voice had passed to him. The day the First Seal broke would be in the morning, on compound grounds where his Flock and Family resided, and the locusts' attitude was more that of frustration than being on the offensive.

As if sensing his confusion, Joseph heard his Lord's voice once more, Calm yourself, my child. It is not time yet. This is merely an observation. An introduction if you will. You had asked me, "Who is the Sinner whom heralds Hell?" I had not thought you ready, but now, I deem it so. You will see the shape this harbinger of destruction takes form in.

Joseph's eyes shifted from the locusts, the green deputy uniforms coiling the uneasy nausea that settles on his dread. And what form is that, Lord?

The anticipation of finally seeing the one constant figure in his visions, his flock's savior or destroyer, all depending on the choice he makes, how far he can go to reach their soul and bring them into the light.

He felt God's presence above him, a constant reassurance to the Father, waiting with him as they scoured the moving bodies for the one person that will change the fate of his family at a moments notice.

That of a deputy, my prophet, the Voice revealed, Focus your eyes down the left hall.

Joseph did as instructed, his gaze locked on the corridor, catching the sight of two large double sided doors.

Can you feel their presence yet? Overwhelming, isn't it? He chuckled as Joseph's breathe hitched at a presence he swore he could just touch with his fingertips, despite no movement from his own hand and the lack of physical presence, Not something the majority of humanity is skilled enough to do. Unless you have the privilege of being my chosen prophet, of course.

Is... is this how you touch us? How you see us? Joseph questioned, gaze locked on the doors as the presence that was not there yet continued its pace towards the doors.

The Voice only chuckled, like a parent amused by a child's question. God did not answer him, again, and Joseph realized he had already answered his own question, again. Through this new sense the Lord had blessed him with, Joseph tried to close the gap between him and the approaching presence of the deputy that will doom his garden, or be another addition to it. With just his hand at his leg, he closed his palm.

But it did not last long, and swiftly opened his hand, hissing as if he had been bitten, only silently as to not alert his younger brother nor draw attention to himself. The sense the Lord gave him ceased, and Joseph could not feel the presence that had stung him, no, burned him upon touch.

He could, however, hear the echo of bellowing laughter of his Lord, his God. It was familiar, in a way, reminding him of how Old Man Seed had once bellowed at his expense, rather than roar with wrath, once word of Joseph getting battered and beaten by a group of older teens who he had come across while walking home from school. Jacob hadn't been there at the time, forced to stay at the house to do chores for their father after another suspension.

Joseph shook his head. He would not compare God to that wretched monster of a man, over a bellow of laughter no less. He should feel honored to have heard such a rare moment of laughter from God himself.

Careful now, Joseph, the Voice silenced further thought, Touching affinity that high will damage you. Thankfully your soul knew exactly what to do.

Joseph could still feel the sting on his palm, even though he was uncertain on how exactly that happened, I don't understand...?

It's not important. Humans weren't meant to have such senses. We have more pressing matters. Keep your eyes on those doors Joseph. I want to see.

Joseph kept watch on the doors, and though he could not feel their presence like before, but he could feel the Lord's grow warmer and warmer as the moment continued on.

Finally, it was at last that he saw the handle jiggle, and the door begin to creak open.

Finally, the Voice spoke once more, the humming drowning all other noises as its warm protected Joseph from the cold embrace of the building, everything except for the corridor and the opening doors darkening as God and his prophet watched a figure emerge from the end of the hall.

She reveals herself-

The Voice didn't finish, hushing itself as Joseph stared at the woman from down the hall.

Files tucked under her arm, the woman who emerged from the doors made her down the hall, her path leading towards Joseph.

The Father remained still as he observed the approaching woman, who seemed none the wiser of Joseph's presence, nor that interested in John's debate with the Sheriff. Hair dark hair flowed smoothly behind her, not tied up, not braided, simply free. Slim, rimless blue rectangular cat eye glasses rested on her slender nose.

As her figure became more discernible the closer she came, Joseph noticed the slivers of silver running down her hair, likely dyed. He was almost shocked to see the small faded scars that littered across her face. The scarring was notably darker than that of her tawny brown skin.

Now merely a meter or two apart, almost face-to-face, he noticed more details. Thick eyebrows, high cheek bones, the indifferent frown she wore on her pouty lips, and more concerning to the Father, the dark bags under her eyes.

Her eyes.

As she crossed paths with him, Joseph caught a glimpse of her grey eyes, dull but determined, focused on some deputy or another further behind him, her attention neither on him nor his brother. They appeared to be irrelevant to her apparent mission of delivering the files.

His brows scrunched as he squinted from behind his yellow-tinted aviators, mouthing the words plastered on the file. Office of the Sheriff-Coroner?

Then his eyes widened, as he took in the clothes she wore.

Instead of the telltale green jackets and the deputy's badge, she wore a white coat over a dark blue button-up and a black turtleneck shirt, with an ID badge that he couldn't get a steady look on as it shifted and turned as she walked.

She also had dark grey jeans, black combat boots and gloves. Joseph had to wonder why so much of her skin was covered, aside from her face. What was she hiding from everyone else?

She passed him, no indication nor acknowledgement of his presence. He watched her move from desk to desk until she found the right deputies, Hudson and Pratt he recalled, catching their full attention as she spoke, for what he could only assume was about the contents in the files.

He observed in silence, the humming above him growing louder, the Lord's presence no longer warm and welcoming as it always has been, but uncomfortably hot and erratic.

Lord?

This... this can't be right- No, it's impossible! She can't have- Why? How?!

Joseph froze, confused and lost on the tone of the Voice. He'd never heard such strength of emotion from Him. When God chose to speak with him, it was with a monotone neutrality, well-spoken and well-versed with an air of seriousness. Rarely He showed amusement. Even rarer to show disappointment.

But he'd never heard God's voice hold frustration before. It even bordered on rage.

He felt a sharp pain pound in his head, the heat becoming unbearable, his shirt itching against his skin.

Lord, I don't understand... is this not part of your Plan?

He looked to the woman who was supposed to represent Hell, the woman who conversed with the two deputies out of ear-shot. The Voice spoke once more, almost hissing, Does she look like a deputy, Joseph?

Joseph swallowed emptily, swiping at his damp forehead, the heat almost unbearable. He took another glance at her once more, the woman unaware of what she had done, however baffling it is for Joseph to believe that this supposed Sinner had managed to spit in God's plan.

Joseph tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he swiftly turn to face John.

"We're all done here brother. No trouble will be coming from the Sheriff's Department for a while," John informed him, grin wide as he looked into Joseph's eyes, searching for any pride.

Joseph could only nod, the heat dying down as the sensation of the cold air rested against his skin once more, the aches pounding in his head still present though.

John furrowed his brow in worry, his concern overpowering his need for his older brother's approval, "Joseph, are you alright?"

Reconvene your heralds back at the Compound, Joseph, the Voice spoke, His warmth and light retracting away from Joseph's head, There is much to discuss about this new course of events.

As you wish, Lord, Joseph almost mumbled, but the light and warmth God shined on him left, already knowing Joseph's answer.

Turning to John, he was weary of the audience around them, though giving one last glance to Hell's enigmatic vessel, he saw her eyes were not amongst the deputies and Sheriff who watched their every move.

Gesturing to the door where their released flock members were waiting outside, John understood immediately and walked alongside Joseph towards the department's entrance.

"We must gather brother and sister," Joseph whispered to his faithful brother, "The Voice has spoken once more. New developments have occurred. Some I fear have threatened all that we have worked for."

He had faith in the Lord's ability, but the shock that even the Voice could not have predicted the Great Sinner's change in occupation had deeply shook him, making him ponder what else this sinner was capable of.

"What do you mean brother?" John asked, his confusion evident. Once out of the building, Joseph decided that he will not answer his younger brother just yet. Better to have the whole family together.

"I will explain when we gather Jacob and Faith at the Compound, but for now, we should return our missing flock back to the rest of the family," Joseph gestured to the three men who piqued up at the sight of both the Father and the Baptist, in awe of the brothers as they were lead into the car.

Here's a WIP for a new FC5 fic, Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles), a scenario where I pondered the question of what would have happened if Paul Yellowjack, in all his wasp-y glory, had been at the events of the Reaping (or FC5 in general) where Silva was busting her ass to fight the Seeds... the answer? He would win. He... would have won. I mean... there's really not much you can do with someone who, in their current supernatural incarnation, can pull off a Kenjaku move (Jujutsu Kaisen reference... and spoilers for the manga and season 2) amongst other things and is an experienced, cunning strategist to boot. Case-in-point... Paul's first victim; the Father himself, Joseph Seed. The post giving a summary of this scenario idea + a summary of who Paul is and his relationship with Silva can be found here and the WIP snippet I have is below:

When lamplight disappeared from the window, Paul rasped a whisper to himself, "Go time."

He looked down to his glove-less hand, opening his palm far and wide. The vespe that watched from his shoulders flapped their wings, snapping at the air, chattering encouragement as the runt of the alveare crawled its way into the body's right palm.

Paul could only describe the sensation of a vespa maneuvering under the skin, especially in a fresh body, as a numb tickle at best and the numbed pain of popping a pimple at worst. The bump the runt made under his skin finally made it to the palm, and without further instruction, broke through the flesh.

The runt, unlike its kin that were irregularly bigger for the kind of wasp they were, was as small as the average vespa should be, and perfect for the task he needed it for.

It used its forelegs to clean itself off, while devouring as much of the nutritious meat and blood as it could before it begun its journey to the cabin. Two of its bigger kin flew down to the gaping hole in the hand, mandibles snapping before widening, a yellowish pale substance slowly spewing out, their forelegs pulling a stream of it out, and then working together to cover the breach in the sticky spew, swiftly hardening as they worked.

He brought the hand up to his clean-shaven face, the runt looking back up at him with beady red eyes. It knew what it needed to do. He knew what he needed to do. So without further prompting, the runt flapped its wings and made its way towards the sleeping cabin, the lights at the Profeta's compound glowing brightly in the distance.

Though if things went to plan, Paul smiled to himself as he hummed out an old tune he heard, walking back towards the cover of the trees, They won't be much of an eye sore for much longer.

Though he rarely allowed his hive to separate, he was confident that the runt would ensure that Profeta's body was under his thumb. Seeing through its vision now, he was already impressed how far it made it without being eaten by a bat.

The runt flew towards the small wooden cabin, landing at the window sill. Looking inside, the darkness held no disadvantage over his vision, and he could see clearly that the Profeta was laying down on his bed, sleep having finally caught up to him.

The runt clamped its mandibles together, its body convulsing and buzzing erratically. He had quite enjoyed keeping the Profeta awake over the course of the month.

Crawling through the cracked and broken glass he made during a another nighttime visit, the runt had successfully entered the cabin.

It looked to its target, growling out softly at the sight of the shirtless man.

The Profeta was a man in his early forties, reaching his mid, facial hair grown into a small beard, the hair on his head usually tied in a bun, but locks left to flow naturally as he laid asleep on his back.

The man was shirtless, a proof of arrogance and ignorance towards the vulnerability that can be exploited. Not to mention his doors and windows were all unlocked as Paul had discovered.

The visible tattoos that strewn across the younger man's chest held little meaning to the runt nor Paul, though the self-inflicted scars littered across, some with the labels of the seven deadly sins, did gain attention. How mocking it was to Paul, seeing the Profeta display such scars in public, when he had done nothing to earn them.

They weren't reminders of what he survived. They weren't lessons that shaped his core being, nor were they stories that told a tale of hurt and despair, of someone in pain, and yet through persistence alone, they continue on, to breathe, to live. No, the scars of this profeta held no merit, no truth, no reason to exist beyond glamorization.

A point of glorification to impress the gullible sheep he had entrapped with his charm, to show that suffering is a choice, giving them no chance to naturally experience what it means to fight and crawl and survive. Telling a lie to keep them subservient, slaves who never question the question of what is right and what is wrong, only what the Profeta wants. Individuality and potential talent squandered and crushed over trusting the wrong words.

The truth, the universal truth Paul knew, was that suffering was apart of life. Pain is unavoidable, and the only choice one can have in it is either enduring it or die trying.

To endure pain is to prove you're alive. To endure suffering is to prove your strength. To endure and overcome both, though, is to show your worthiness as a survivor.

The Profeta has only proven how low he will bend to the whims of his cruel master. While Paul's own existence was less than satisfactory, yet he at least had enough freedom to choose how to serve his own Master.

The runt looked to the black pants the man wore, a potential landing spot. But Paul opted against the idea, directing its gaze to the Profeta's jugular. The runt's faint red eyes locked on to its target, wings spread out for flight.

This chance was now or never. There wouldn't be another opportunity, not with the sceriffo's department so restless. The fate of Paul's precious Boa hanged in the balance.

Without further hesitation, the runt leaped in the air, its wings propelling it faster as it brought out its stinger. In mere seconds, the stinger stabbed through the neck, injecting the venom into his bloodstream.

The runt swiftly dropped off his neck, avoiding hand that slapped against the stung area on instinct, the pain rousing the Profeta from his slumber.

The runt's wings saved it from hitting the floor, allowing it to hover up to see the Profeta try to lift himself up, the drowsiness of interrupted sleep becoming heavier than usual.

His hand rubbed his neck, sucking a breath in at the sting, though his arm numbly slouched over the bed. He attempted to lift it, only to find he couldn't. The Profeta tried to sit up, but found himself barely being able to lift his head.

The runt watched the Profeta's face twitch, then it listened as he groaned, moaned and grunted nonsensically, no words forming. His voice failing him.

Through the runt's eyes, Paul couldn't help but smile at the sight of the broken down instrument of a God. One of many tools used to keep the cogs of the wheel going.

Paul urged the runt to go for a closer look.

The runt complied, buzzing and chattering excitedly as it landed on the man's nose, right in his view.

It stared into the Profeta's blue eyes, allowing Paul to see the still gaze of a man helpless and trapped, but more deserving of it.

Paul wondered what this man saw when he slept. What he hears?

The laughter of those long gong, whom he'll never see again except in the depths of buried memories, to bring himself a moment of joy to the grim purpose he existed for now? Did he fantasize of a life he'll never get, one where everything went right?

The runt turned to glance at the arm that had the woman's face etched on his skin.

Does he wish as I do? That he could have made a different choice than the one he did?

The runt faced the Profeta's gaze once more, taking notice of the tears that matched his watery eyes, the body reflexively trying to wet the dry eyes, the venom keeping him from doing something as simple as blink.

Or does he believe he has done no wrong?

The runt turned its back to the Profeta's frozen eyes, looking over the tip of his nose to the half-open entrance that awaited it.

Has the lies he's been told and never doubted become truth, despite how ludicrous they are?

The runt gently hopped down to the man's upper lip, gentleness no longer a necessity as the vespa's legs dug into the soft flesh.

Does he sleep soundlessly despite the terror he's wrought? The lives he's ruined?

The runt's middle legs steadied on the man's upper teeth, its hind legs pushing the upper lip back, while its forelegs pushed the forward the Profeta's bottom teeth, the venom's sluggish effects combined with the vespa's unnatural strength widening his mouth open. With the entrance now large enough to fit it inside, the runt flew over to the chin, its head looking down the interior of the mouth.

Does he hear their damning screams?

Slowly, the runt turned its middle legs to latch onto the slim outline of the shell Paul had attached to it, hooking underneath casing before loosening the thorax and abdomen shells, letting both fall to the sides.

The writhing small tendrils pulsed out, dripping small yellow-ish pale spew, like what most of the alveare produced. The liquid substance hardened as it dripped further down. The Profeta's breath quickened, panicked and confused, unaware of the plans Paul had in store for him. The runt shuddered as the heated air washed over it, before beginning its descent.

Though I'm not overly upset of never knowing the answer.

The runt crawled through the heated wetness of the Profeta's mouth, passing the tongue until it reached his throat. Beady red eyes looked down the path that descended into the esophagus. Unless it wanted to trigger the Profeta's gag reflex, it would avoid the path. Growling, it looked up, and found the breach point.

Crawling to the roof of the mouth, it ascended upwards, the writhing tendrils on its back lubricating in preparation, as its mandible jaws opened wide for the breach.

And last line paragraph(s) for You're Almost Like Family, the time loop fic where the Seeds realize just how easy it is for Silva to just wound up dead, and much they miss the luck she had in the first three months she fought against them. Anyway, paragraphs below:

A shift in movement from one of the Chosen stepping out of his peripheral momentarily caught John's attention, and he almost glanced to see where the Chosen was moving to, but noticed that Alexander raised a brow at the movement from the other end of the circle they surrounded the Deputy in, giving Jacob a signal with his head.

John heard his big brother huff out an annoyed sigh, glancing a quick glare over to the Chosen's new spot. Seeing nothing to worry about, John returned his attention to Joseph's pleas to the wayward sinner who had caused everyone trouble.

"Child, this wrath... this violence that you have escalated for the sinners who only use you as a weapon is no longer necessary," Joseph spoke with a soft, even voice filled with paternal gentleness, "This unnecessary rebellion needs to end. The Collapse closes in on us ever closer, just as I showed you in the Henbane, and the only salvation... are the Gates my family has prepared for. I see you, the person you are. And that is not as the tool of destruction your so called friends view you as. We see your compassion. Your bravery. The virtues you only think you don't have. And we welcome it, in our Garden. You seek someplace to belong... God has shown me you belong with us."

John watched as Joseph outstretched his hand to the Deputy, the Baptist sucking in a breath as she, of all people, eyed it, even as Joseph continued, "Please, child. Put aside the wrath. Put to peace the suffering. This doesn't have to end in blood. We can help each other. With your help, we can save more souls, more lives... and together we can bask in the new world God promised us."

John watched in bated breath as the Deputy glanced down, putting together her options.

When the Deputy finally found an answer, John saw Alexander's eyes widen at something ahead of him, and was shocked to see the Chosen Leader reach for his sidearm.

"Tch, you li-"

A loud crack shot through the air as it did the Deputy, her lips glistened with blood instead of the rest of her words. John watched, frozen on the spot, as the Deputy's body slowly fell back, following after the cartilage and blood that the bullet blast clean through. The bullet of which glinted at his eyes.

And the bullet continued to glint at him, just as the Deputy's corpse stopped in its descent, not even touching the ground. From what John could see, Joseph midway from stepping back, and hadn't planted his foot down, just as Alexander hadn't even been able to fully aim his sidearm at the culprit.

He tried to glance to Jacob and Faith, but found his eyes refused, locked on Joseph and the fresh corpse of his family's most determined rebel, who defied gravity just as she defied them.

What is going on?! Though he couldn't move, John was relieved he could still think to himself.

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simplegenius042 · 3 months

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Music Monday

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @chazz-anova @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @bitchofedensgate @nightbloodbix @afarcryfrommymain @inafieldofdaisies @carlosoliveiraa @skoll-sun-eater @henbased @trashcatsnark @corvosattano @wrathfulrook @g0dspeeed @minilev @softtidesworld @deputyash @dephellseed @deputy-morgan-malone @snake-in-the-garden @derelictheretic @ladyoriza @florbelles @fourlittleseedlings @la-grosse-patate @megraen @onehornedbeast @voidika @titiagls @redreart @starsandskies @thewanderer-000 and @vampireninjabunnies-blog

Three songs for three series, The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters, underneath the snippet below:

During some time in The Omniscience Rule saga, Joaquin Cobalt finds himself at the mercy of Archibald Thanatos, the current Head of House Thanatos, of which the patriarch has a deal for the boy; face his untimely death or become his Count because the heirs of House Thanatos are shortly staffed. The irony here is that Joaquin is on the receiving end of being convinced to do or join something, with the exact same song he used no less.

youtube

"Right here, right now I put the offer out I don't wanna chase you down I know you see it You run with me and I can cut you free Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in So trade your typical for something colorful And if it's crazy, live a little crazy You can play it sensible, a king of conventional Or you can risk it all and see

Don't you wanna get away From the same old part you gotta play 'Cause I got what you need So come with me and take the ride It'll take you to the other side 'Cause you can do like you do Or you can do me Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly It'll take you to the other side."

"Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in Well I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen So thanks, but no I think I'm good to go 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in Now I admire you, and that whole show you do You're onto something, really it's something."

...

"So go and do like you do I'm good to do like me Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key Oh damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine I don't need to see the other side."

I was listening to Camila Cabello's "Shameless" when I wrote the fight between Silva and her Bliss hallucination of a former opponent from the Apostles, Zhan Tiri, that will occur in Silva's Hope (it's not really her old foe, merely a manifestation an overexposure of untamed Bliss is projecting through Silva's own psyche/trauma), which I showed in this snippet post here.

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"Don't speak, no, don't try It's been a secret for the longest time Don't run, huh, no don't hide Been running from it for the longest time

So many mornings, I woke up confused In my dreams, I do anything I want to you My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind

Right now, I'm shameless Screaming my lungs out for ya Not afraid to face it I need you more than I want to Need you more than I want to Show me your shameless Write it on my neck, why don't ya? And I won't erase it I need you more than I want to Need you more than I want to

No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now."

And here's a song for The Thorned Crown Of Iron Thrones, focusing on Corvus Targaryen's relationship with his sister, Rhaenyra, their friend Alicent Hightower, his uncle who he despises, his cousin Caecilius "Cecil" Royce, as well as the rest of his family and friends (Viserys, Laenor, Laena, Rhaenyra and Alicent's children, and Otto when the older man is tolerable), as he tries to make sense of the tragedy in the making while out on a ride on his dragon Stormreign (and later Maleficent), as well as resist against the Court King squats rent free in his head.

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"If you're not the one for me Then how come I can bring you to your knees? If you're not the one for me Why do I hate the idea of being free?

And if I'm not the one for you You've got to stop holding me the way you do Oh honey, if I'm not the one for you Why have we been through what we have been through?

It's so cold out here In your wilderness I want you to be my keeper But not if you are so reckless

If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently Don't pretend that you don't want me Our love ain't water under the bridge If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently Don't pretend that you don't want me Our love ain't water under the bridge Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-whoa, oh-oh Say that our love ain't water under the bridge

What are you waiting for? You never seem to make it through the door And who are you hiding from? It ain't no life to live, like you're on the run Have I ever asked for much? The only thing that I want is your love

#music monday #the untitledverse #the omniscience rule saga #oc: joaquin cobalt #oc: archibald “archie” thanatos #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip: silva's hope #oc: silva omar #zhan tiri #life despair & monsters #house of the dragon #wip: the thorned crown of iron thrones #oc: corvus targaryen

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simplegenius042 · 2 months

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Music Monday

Tagged by @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @inafieldofdaisies @strangefable @strafethesesinners @direwombat @derelictheretic @titiagls @wrathfulrook @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @thewanderer-000 @henbased @josephslittledeputy @direwombat @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @afarcryfrommymain @voidika @ladyoriza @florbelles @vampireninjabunnies-blog @minilev @snake-in-the-garden @softtidesworld @onehornedbeast @cassietrn @chazz-anova @megraen @deputyash @dephellseed @deputy-morgan-malone @skoll-sun-eater @fourlittleseedlings @la-grosse-patate @cloudofbutterflies92 @starsandskies and @i-am-the-balancing-point + anyone else who wants to join in. Here's my taglist.

Three songs for The UnTitledverse, Wings And Horns' original spin off trilogy and Far Cry The Silver Chronicles below the cut.

First is "My Ordinary Life" for the main antagonist of The UnTitledverse, Zachariah the Orchestrator, the "Hand at Fate's Table" and the second-borne Eldritch that is the center point of majority of the multiverse's issues.

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"They tell me that I'm special, I smile and shake my head I'll give them stories to tell friends about the things I said They tell me I'm so humble, I say I'm turning red They let me lie to them and don't feel like they've been misled They give so much to me, I'm losing touch get me? Served on a silver platter, ask for second they just let me

They tell me I'm a god, I'm lost in the fascade Six feet off the ground at all times I think I'm feelin' odd No matter what I make, they never see mistakes Makin' so much bread, I don't care that they're just being fake They tell me they're below me, I act like I'm above The people blend together but I would be lost without their love

Can you heal me? Have I gained too much? When you become untouchable you're unable to touch Is there a real me? Pop the champagne It hurts me just to think and I don't do pain."

Silva may not be aware of it, but she actually has a rivalry with the Voice, or at least her supernatural Third Eye does. Abridged explanation of the Third Eye: some mystical entity commonly tied to the human soul but doesn't necessarily need to be to help its user, usually just retains memories and personality to give some back to the renewed soul upon reincarnating so the variants of the person don't become carbon copies, however instances like Silva and Paul who don't have a soul (due to the circumstances of their "births") they instead only build up their own Third Eye to protect themselves, which gives them back their memories, personality and skills into their next lives deep in their subconscious, so while they don't consciously remember most familiar things they instinctively do and gravitate towards that. The Third Eye also has an OP mode and can enhance the user who is aware and works symbiotically with it in ways humans back in the beginning of the multiverse could do. Paul realized this and gave Silva some subtle lessons (never explicitly saying what it was for) so Silva just thought it was meditation to make her more spiritual with her soul or something and doesn't actually realize until much, much later in her life that she's powerful enough to kill a God if she wanted to. There's a lot more for the Third Eye but I'll explain in a more detailed post.

Anyway, the Voice genuinely hates Silva for constantly foiling its plans in some shape or form, especially by the time of Silva's Hope, as the Voice hasn't exactly made itself look capable of governing one corner of the universe to its extremely cruel and unforgiving superior. And since the Voice is very biased and hypocritical on why "a deputy woman trying to live a normal life is more deserving of torment and needless suffering than the the prophet who killed his daughter for it and the other prophet who gaslit, gatekeeped, manipulated, mansplained, manwhored and manslaughtered his way through life", once Silva becomes aware of the Voice, its on sight. Anyway song below:

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"Kill me again, again and again But I come back knowing so much more Learning all your tricks I'll make you sick Because the truth is...* I'll make you quit."

"Try to stay [first], [have to] stay first** You're still good-good, admit to this Don't fight anymore, it's such a snore One more step, and I'll make it war."

"And I still love the way I "hurt" you."

"It's determination, whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-yeah Whoa-oh-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-yeah.

I love the way, I love the way I love the way you keep on trying I love the way (I love the way), I love the way (I love the way) I love the way you keep on dying."

(* = Obviously I had to emit Sans name due to that probably not being the Voice's name ** = The Voice is against Silva, and since Frisk is from Undertale, I had to adapt the lyrics here a bit)

A song for the unnamed original trilogy I'm working on, which spins off from the events of Wings And Horns, but focusing on two characters who appeared in it, unnamed but can confirm they're both women, with one being trans. This pair are the first humans to have ever explored the Multiverse, and the trilogy will be following their story in life, navigating the aftermath of the abolishing of the soulmate system, discovering + exploring the Multiverse, and seeking out the Wheel of Reincarnation in the Afterlife, while facing internal and external problems, the most prominent being the Mad Kin of Carnage himself, Discord.

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"I'm born to run, down rocky cliffs Give me grace, bury my sins Shattered glass and black holes Can't hold me back from where I need to go

Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Yellow hills and valleys deep I watch them move under my feet Stranger things, have come and gone To see the world and take the throne

Don't hold back Oh, I won't hold back

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run I'm gonna spend my time like tomorrow won't come Do whatever I want, like I'm born to run

I wanna see Paris (Hey), I wanna see Tokyo I wanna be careless (Hey), even if I break my bones I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run.

A winding road, where strangers meet To feel the love of a warm drink My body moves, it's speaking loud Don't have to say what I'm thinking now

Don't hold back Oh, I won't hold back

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run I'm gonna spend my time like tomorrow won't come Do whatever I want, like I'm born to run

I wanna see Paris (Hey), I wanna see Tokyo I wanna be careless (Hey), even if I break my bones I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run.

All these things, I've seen and done I live my life like I'm born to run All these things, I've seen and done I live my life like I'm born to run All these things, I've seen and done (I was born, born, born, born, born to run) I live my life like I'm born to run (I was born, born, born, born, born to run)

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run I'm gonna spend my time like tomorrow won't come Do whatever I want, like I'm born to run

I wanna see Paris (Hey), I wanna see Tokyo I wanna be careless (Hey), even if I break my bones I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run.

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh!"

#music monday #the untitledverse #oc: zachariah the orchestrator #big bad of the untitledverse is jealous of the attention humanity gets #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #oc: silva omar #fc5 the voice #the voice #hell its not even joseph that silva hates its the fact that joseph represents the voice and that's what her third eye recognises #but since silva isn't aware of the voice's existence #she goes to put this hate that she never held before towards joseph (and justifies the reasoning behind it by pointing at his actions)#wip: wings and horns #original unnamed trilogy #original works #coming up with titles is hard #but i will persevere past this #also funny how this trilogy is the planned end yet chronologically timeline-wise the beginning of the stories (not excluding WAH)

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simplegenius042 · 4 months

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What's at your OC's core? Quiz

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton

Tagging @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @direwombat @derelictheretic @voidika @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @g0dspeeed @carlosoliveiraa @cassietrn @chazz-anova @ladyoriza @adelaidedrubman @deputyash @purplehairsecretlair @corvosattano @ec-10 @inafieldofdaisies @minilev @nightbloodbix @neverthesameneveranother @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @thewanderer-000 @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @henbased and @fourlittleseedlings + anyone else who wants to join.

You can find the quiz here. Results below.

Joaquin Cobalt (The UnTitledverse)

Honestly this describes Joaquin's core character almost perfectly. Due to being classified as a Balancer, the multiverse unfortunately revolves around him, even when he'd rather it not. Though his status of "supposed to be non-existent" also means the multiverse is trying to "correct" its mistake and get rid of him. Joaquin doesn't even know he's running from his past opposition as he didn't think he had much of a past to begin with, so yeah, he is at a disadvantage. Though there's nothing here about his protection over his friend nor his lack of mercy over his enemies, which is slightly disappointing.

Silva Omar (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles)

Geez... this result actually holds a lot more merit to it than I expected. Silva is a mentor in a way, and becomes a more personal one to Azriel and Mercy. Her whole arc is about whether she'll continue her brutality and black-and-white view on the world or soften up and find the grey in the middle, understand it better. Show some mercy to those who deserve it. There's also the "reincarnation" thing... becoming smarter and quicker as each life resets. In a way that's how the Third Eye works... while Silva doesn't entirely know it, in each world she is "reborn" in, her Third Eye installs subconscious memories of her past lives to make her instincts quicker.

Haoyu Anabuki (Life, Despair & Monsters)

The problem with Haoyu is that they were solely focused on finding their long-lost half-sister they only focus on that one goal and ignore everything else. Well... at least they try to, but the guilt of not helping others when they have the power to do so pushes them to go on ahead and do just that. Haoyu has seen so much general and cosmic horror for someone who really should be in, like, university at that point.

Marissa "Ress" Bishop (A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore, a Fallout fanfic series)

It's not that Ress isn't genuine in her emotions. Not at all... in fact that's mostly thanks to her half-human side. However, she has extreme difficulty with understanding emotions and extending that kind of support to others. She's also extremely powerful thanks to the magic on her non-human side. It also sucks that the first people she connected with (Amata and the Lone Wanderer) were the first people she cared for that died. She closes herself off to other companions, and becomes more distant with each new loss (her brother, mother, Charon, Raul, Christine, etc) . Eventually by the events of Fallout 4 she comes across as a bit of an asshole, and thinks every negative thing about herself is well deserved.

Crawford Klaus (The UnTitledverse and Far Cry The Silver Chronicles)

A self-absorbed and careless pharmaceutical tycoon, Crawford would sell out anyone just to save his own skin and keep the status quo of him in power at peace. Even if it means drugging a British town stuck in a 1940s mindset and might be a cult, to test out knew strains of medicine and whatnot even if those people die in the process. Alexander Khaos hates this man with a burning passion, and is regretful he didn't kill the dick when he had the chance. How pleasantly unfortunate that Mr. Klaus gets the attention of the ICA and the ire of the infamous hitmen; Agent 47 and "the Cleaner" aka Albert Paczkowski.

#the untitledverse #oc: joaquin cobalt #far cry the silver chronicles #oc: silva omar #life despair & monsters #oc: haoyu anabuki #a radioactive calamity of love bombs & gore #fallout oc #oc: marissa “ress” bishop #oc: crawford klaus #oc quiz

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simplegenius042 · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday and Last Line Paragraph + Music Monday

Tagged by @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather and @socially-awkward-skeleton

Tagging @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @deputy-morgan-malone @derelictheretic @wrathfulrook @voidika @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @neverthesameneveranother @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @chazz-anova @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @jillvalentinesday @minilev @g0dspeeed @ec-10 @henbased @inafieldofdaisies @ladyoriza and @nightbloodbix

[Update: If anyone saw an @ for ladyofeden’s-blog on this it’s because this WIP was made before the thieves had been exposed. I only just realised her former blog was on it and now has been taken off]

Here's two WIPs (well one WIP + a last line) for Silva's Hope and The True Sinners from Far Cry The Silver Chronicles PLUS some music.

Here's Silva's introduction to Jacob's right-hand man, Alexander Khaos in Silva's Hope. Also Jess is here. Reminder that this is still under a lot of work, so this scene may or may not change in the near future. Enjoy the snippet below:

Silva stood up, giving the Whitetail corpse one last glance up and down, turning to face Jess.

Bow and arrow still in hand, but her focus shifted from the foliage to the deputy, the young and vengeful huntress regarded her with little more than pursed lips and a raised brow as she jerked her head over to the unfortunate Whitetail.

"Is he the one Eli is searching for?" she questioned, looking the mutilated corpse up and down, not batting an eye at the dried blood that soaked the Whitetail.

Silva herself kept a steady face, though the desire to show her disgust towards the barbaric display was no less prevalent. It reminded her of the methods of executions back on the Archipelagos; needlessly cruel to send a message.

"Yeah, he fits the description Eli gave," she looked over to the corpse once more, frown unseen by Jess, "At least from what I can discern."

"You see what we mean now? Jacob's a sick fuck, much like the rest of his asshole siblings," Jess spat out, sneering at the display, "They preach about how they want to "save" people and "free" us from our so called sins. Then they go an pull shit like this, or worse, let psychopaths like the Cook burn families alive. Fucking liars."

Something they have in common with the Congregation, Silva noted, remembering all the propaganda that spewed out the need of servitude and duty of men and women, all strewn around the Overcity and the Minas, all brushing aside the rampant beatings, false persecution and execution of Tumultites and sympathizers alike.

It seemed the more time she spent here, the more unpleasant Joseph and his cult became. She wondered how long it would take until she discovered something truly unacceptable. Would it make a difference if she called Joseph out on it? Probably not, she reasoned, Prophets are only focused on the glory they get from preaching "God's Will". Anything else is just a means to get to that end.

She exhaled roughly, dashing away further thought as her left arm ached. Though her rescue from John's envoy thanks to Jerome was only a couple days ago, the aches from the crash did not cease, her left arm feeling the worst. Her right arm was more lucky, thankfully.

Kamski's scolding was still fresh on her mind. If it was up to him, he would have locked them both in his clinic while the war raged on. Sedate her if he had to. But both knew that as long as one of her limbs was not too damaged, she would still go on to fight.

What a miracle her right arm was just as good with a gun as her left.

"We should head back. Eli and Wheaty would want the news-"

An arrow cut past Jess' hood and struck Silva in the leg. The Deputy could only stare at the arrow protruding from her leg, and looked to the trees.

She noticed movement from the branches and pointed them out to Jess as she tried to call out. But her voice slurred, no coherent word coming out right, and the familiar sparkles that belonged to Bliss engulfed her vision.

Jess had turned her back to face the trees, bow and arrow at the ready, though Silva stumbled and fell onto her back as the world diluted into a realm of colors and butterflies.

She could barely hear what Jess was shouting, though a massive thud that sounded like an earthquake shook the Earth gave her most coherent thoughts an indication that her companion was out of commission.

Still fighting for consciousness, Silva heard the echoes of crunched leaves and commands.

Above her, a new figure looked down on her, a man with brown hair and dark hazel eyes with flecks of gray. His attire was that of which the Chosen wore, though he lacked the red hood, and his vest shirt was black, with his sleeveless overcoat a dark gray. He smirked, shaking his head as he spoke.

"Salutations to you Deputy, you were quite a struggle to find," he greeted, his imitation of a southern accent quite noticeable even when Blissed, "Thankfully Eli just couldn't let go of a chance to rescue one of his own. Don't worry, that fella was dead before we hacked up his corpse. Unpleasant work but it needed to attract your attention."

He knelt down get a closer look at her, his fingers tracing stroking the healed scratches on her cheek. She shuddered involuntarily from the contact, which felt numb and yet made her stomach recoil from the cold in his hands. He stopped his inspection upon noticing this, eyes softening before becoming stoic once more, thankfully retracting his hand.

"I'm surprised you're still conscious. By now most would have succumbed to the Bliss, which I'm sure you will shortly. Some tolerance you have there," he kept his eyes on her, chewing on his lower lip as he pondered, curiosity clearly piqued, "I'm sure Jacob will be pleased to know."

Silva tried to reply, tell this Chosen to go "fuck off" or some variation, but her tongue felt like weight on her mouth, and her eyes started to shut as the sky got brighter.

The Chosen watched this, his smirk returning as he stood up, then groaned as softly smacked his head, "Forgotten my manners yet again! Now, you better remember this, Deputy, because you're going to see me a lot more than you think. Name's Alexander Khaos."

"And Jacob's been dying for a talk with ya," Alexander's distorted voice revealed as Silva's thoughts were shrouded in the desire to close her eyes. And she found no reason to protest any longer as darkness started to consume her vision.

Here's a Last Paragraph for The True Sinners. View the start of a terrible beautiful friendship between Kamski and Tammy. Paragraph(s) below.

[Kamski] leaned over the small kiddie pool, the water slightly tinted pink from whatever blood managed to get into the water. Untied rope still tethered to the pool's edge, likely to be used to tie prisoner's feet into the water. A wooden chair stood strong in the middle, though Kamski would have preferred it to be something stronger... like metal. Though wood was a step up from plastic. The unused ECT device on the table caught his attention, the face cloth that laid next to it. Tammy stared at him from the doorway, arms crossed as she inspected his movements.

Weary, ruthless and not afraid to get dirty? Where was she on the archipelagos? Kamski thought to himself, thoroughly impressed with her station. Turning to her, he questioned with amusement, "A kiddie pool?"

Tammy blinked at him, unbothered by the question, just shrugged with undeterred confidence. Kamski snorted, and looked back to the what was essentially a large plastic tub. "Quite a humiliating way to go... more than I could ever do back in my homeland anyway," he commented in praise, envisioning an Enforcer tied the very chair Kamski stared at, face covered with a wet cloth as he screamed from the shocks coursing throughout his body. Begging right up until he was completely fried. Oh, what Kamski would have traded to see Lapis in such a state.

And lastly a song for Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. A rather sensual one between John Seed and Nadi Sinclair.

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"Use the sleeves on my sweater Let's have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity's centered Touch my neck and I'll touch yours You in those little high-waisted shorts, oh

She knows what I think about And what I think about One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

And if I may just take your breath away I don't mind if there's not much to say Sometimes the silence guides our minds To move to a place so far away The goosebumps start to raise The minute that my left hand meets your waist And then I watch your face Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love the taste, yeah These hearts adore Everyone the other beats hardest for Inside this place is warm Outside it starts to pour

Coming down One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

Whoa."

#far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip wednesday #music monday #last line tag #catching up on all of these lol #wip: silva's hope #oc: silva omar #jess black #oc: alexander khaos #wip: the true sinners #oc: kamski neon #tammy barnes #john seed #oc: nadi sinclair #otp: the baptist and the quokka #ship: john seed x nadi sinclair #kamski is not above committing war crimes especially if it is towards those he dislikes #unfortunately silva isn't there to keep him from doing illegal shit #major differences between silva and kamski working with the resistance? morality and tolerance with eden's gate' bullshit #he also doesn't have much compassion for the peggies believing they chose their paths #while silva can empathize with the peggies because she too was devoted to a prophet who only SAID he had her best intentions in mind #when in actuality adam was an irredeemable bastard using her for his own pleasures #and alexander in the first wip has clearly caught notice of one of the effects that adam's actions had on silva

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simplegenius042 · 5 months

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What do your OCs carry on their person? + "What Kind Of Suffering Is Your OC?" Quiz

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton and @deputy-morgan-malone for the former and tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @g0dspeeed for the latter.

Tagging @shallow-gravy @strangefable @jillvalentinesday @josephslittledeputy @derelictheretic @voidika @onehornedbeast @vampireninjabunnies-blog @minilev @neverthesameneveranother @nightbloodbix @wrathfulrook @direwombat @chazz-anova @cassietrn and @strafethesesinners

(I can't seem to tag @josephseedismyfather's blog, are they alright?)

The quiz can be found here.

Will do the main protagonists of my series (The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and Wings And Horns).

Joaquin Cobalt (during Phase One, at least) -> Joaquin has got a short sword, a pocketknife, a revolver, ammo for the revolver, paperclips and bobby pins (for lockpicking), a notepad he uses to take notes of the universe he's stuck in, any deodorant, shampoo and conditioner he can find, testosterone prescriptions, rations, canteen of water, any spare clothes he can buy (or steal/scavenge... he is likely being hunted by the Chairman at this point in his life after all, and currency doesn't always stay the same in each universe), three polaroid pictures that all include himself with Lisa, Maisie and Mario & Calvin, respectively. He has a scarf, boots, an umbrella and goggles for extra protection from the environment. Also a mechanical contraption that allows him to travel to a different universe (he's trying to get back to his old original one). He also has specialized binoculars that can switch to nightvision when needed.

Sylvester Silva Omar -> On person Silva usually has a handgun, an ornate knife called the "Silver Dragon" (something she took from Paul), regular binoculars, two radios (one to coordinate with the Resistance and listen in on Eden's Gate, the other to call Kamski because her flip phone doesn't have any service, LOL), her now useless Nokia flip phone, her house key to Omar's Residence (where she spends her time alone and unbothered, having meals, showers and rest, as well as hiding from the Christmas snow), Elsa's lodge key, her deputy badge, cuffs (which she forgets she has on until much, much later), her golden locket (inside it is the only remaining picture that Elsa took of Silva with Irene and an infant Persephone), a small backpack (which usually holds extra clothes, a water bottle, medical supplies from Kamski as well as additional weapons and ammo), gas mask for when she eventually decides she's sick of the Bliss' bullshit (after being attacked by an angel or bear that she thought was a civilian for the umpteenth time). She did have prescribed medicine for her PTSD, but that has since run out, and the Hope County Clinic had either been pillaged by Eden's Gate or can't replenish their supplies since the county is on lockdown. She does have Joseph's Word for a while before giving it back to Faith. Eventually Silva also gets glasses between her time in the bunker after the Collapse and during Old Dusk (the New Dawn arc), as well as a crossbow (because I think she deserves one), not to mention the ring.

Haoyu Anabuki - Haoyu is the one with the least amount of shit. A wallet, phone (which has a screenshot of the Literature Club as the opening image which includes Haoyu themself, their sibling Monika, and both their friends Sayori, Yuri and Natsuki), antibiotics and reading glasses is the most you get from them. Anything else is stashed in their little pocket dimension. I'm sure the others here would be looking to kick Haoyu's ass for being the second person with the least amount of stuff to carry.

Archangel Metatron - Because first goes to Metatron, a literal archangel who's clothes are part of his disguise, and only really has a flaming sword to worry about.

BONUS Azriel - Poor girl doesn't have enough pockets to carry every shiny thing she sees. But to recap; in Azriel's years as an Angel of Death, she only carried around a hood, cloak and two sickles. Justified, she's technically dead and an immortal soul doing Death's deeds, so she's kind of omnipresent and omnipotent. But in her mortal years as a child, she tries to pocket and carry way too many things, sometimes her own creations, and has a bayonet pistol as well as several explosives she built or stole herself. As an adult, Azriel has heavier weapons (like a bayonet minigun) and better explosives, plus cogs and other doohickeys that she uses as accessories or utilizes for uses not for their initial purpose (like a hair tie). She also has hair dye just in case her dark hair starts showing again. And plenty of fake badges and ID card.

Now onwards to the suffering of the Antagonists! Since I just did the protagonists I thought it was only fair the antagonists got to shine.

First up!

Edward Carmine (The UnTitledverse, The Perfect Storm saga)

While I do agree that Edward is experiencing a kind of despair, he is too focused on his own superiority-complex to even consider that this isn't healthy. He is too ambitious to worry about trivial things like hope. He is too unsympathetic and without empathy towards his own downfalls to even reflect on his actions. Edward believes the world works a certain way, and he will have it focused on him whether it likes it or not.

Father Adam Omar (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, Silva's Hope fic)

Adam Omar is the result of living up to the horrible expectations of a shitty society based on class (that he proceeds to make worse), groomed by the previous Prophet Omar and the Voice with words of importance and righteousness, as well as several unspecified disorders (plus biological factors) that the Congregation could care less about doing anything about. Though these do not at all justify any of the heinous shit he does to everyone, including his own children. Proceeding, "The Taker" most definitely describes Adam. Though I highly doubt Adam would ever change his mindset, especially when it has proven successful for him thus far.

Sir Enigma Malvolio (Life Despair & Monsters)

I'm unsure about this one. Malvolio really is the person who spreads despair on anyone he meets through his unethical "social experiments". He's a creature from an alternate dimension disguised as a human, I highly doubt he believes in concepts like "hope" and "religion". He is hooked entirely on the unethical side of science. He wants to help humans "evolve" but really he wants to satisfy his own "itch" and twisted curiosity (plus his Darwinist/dog-eat-dog ideology).

Xiang Ba'al (Wings And Horns, Original Work)

Xiang, a demon from the Sloth Ring of Hell, the last creature anyone, not even Metatron, would expect to go on a mission to dismantle the Soulmate System after he sees the consequences of it after finding the damned soul of a ten-year-old girl named Jezebel (that he adopts) wandering in Hell after a horrible confrontation in the mortal realm. Xiang believes he is giving humans an opportunity to remove their soulmarks (or soulbrands, which are arguably worse), which in his POV, is a curse that has plagued the mortal realms for far too long. Problem is (besides the extremism and forcing people to do so against their will) Xiang doesn't have a lot of runes nor the energy to power those runes (due to being a Sloth Demon) in order to successfully eradicate the soulmate system (leaving him to comprise a plan to make as much noise as possible to show the Gods that "hey, your system is broken beyond repair!"). While Jezebel dislikes the extremism, she finds Xiang caring enough for her to dismantle a system that completely fucked her over despite the consequences he could face is very touching. It's the thought that counts, in Jezebel's opinion.

And BONUS...

Urijah Callaghan (The UnTitledverse, The Omniscience Rule and The UnTitled Ventures sagas)

Urijah has an extremely nihilistic outlook in life, not helping that Madame Callaghan (his parental figure/kidnapper) pushes him further into this extreme form of nihilism. He did care at one point. He really did. But now to him, nothing matters. Except for his mission to wipe the multiverse and everyone in it from existence with a bomb he designed. Even his companions from Cognito, Inc. Including his closest companion, Reagan Ridley. He views it as a kind of mercy than living under Zachariah's cruel and callous hand.

#oc quiz #the untitledverse #oc: joaquin cobalt #oc: edward carmine #oc: urijah callaghan #far cry the silver chronicles #oc: silva omar #oc: father adam omar #life despair & monsters #oc: haoyu anabuki #oc: sir enigma malvolio #wings and horns #oc: archangel metatron #oc: xiang ba’al #original work #and lastly an oc who is in like three of these series #oc: azriel

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simplegenius042 · 6 months

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Late WIP Wednesday & Last Line (Paragraph)

Tagged by: @cassietrn @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed

Tagging: @strangefable @jillvalentinesday @wrathfulrook @chazz-anova @deputy-morgan-malone @derelictheretic @ec-10 @minilev @josephslittledeputy @neverthesameneveranother @onehornedbeast @shallow-gravy @voidika @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @ladyoriza @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed and @nightbloodbix

Here's 3 WIPs and a Last Line Paragraph (from The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters) to make up for the lack of activity (I've been a little preoccupied but I'm all good now). NOTE: I'm still ironing out these scenes, so some changes might happen in the future of publication. Anyway, enjoy!

Here's a WIP for A Blast In The Past (not Jurassic World related), a fic that's story was heavily inspired by Bendy And The Ink Machine and writing style inspired by Tamsyn Muir's Harrow The Ninth. Come meet the second main protagonist of The Perfect Storm saga... and the narrator who torments him:

You opened the wooden door to Carmine Studios, the hinges creaking from age and the times you've passed through it, revealing the hall that would seal your fate, on a false hope you would see your old friend and boss, Terrance, once again… but all you had entered was an empty caricature of the real thing. A nightmarish mockery that you'd soon find would come to life. But you didn't know that, not yet. You were more focused on the nostalgia behind your work, weren’t you? Or what once was your work.

In the hallway hung old posters of cartoons that no one cared to remember anymore. You admire it without recognizing the deception. Do you want to know the real kicker here?

It’s all a part of the show… all half-lies and half-truths, but close enough to what you already recognize that you couldn’t tell the difference until it was too late.

Was Seeker the clumsy meerkat who would follow through on any dangerous stunt, regardless of how far it puts his safety in jeopardy, all for what he loved most… a banana waffle split with streams of caramel syrup trailing up and down? No, it was more selfless than that. Nauseously so. Wasn’t it his loyalty to his friends?

Heh. Friendship… what good did that do him in the end, Bowler Hat?

You shift to the next poster, the one you’re least familiar with. Who was she again? An intelligent wisp named after her actress, Emily Margarita? Or perhaps you remember her as something more impersonal… perhaps a cunning foe? Doesn’t matter to you now. All you know is that she was a co-worker who you described as a “nice dame with a great voice, like a canary”.

But you never would have understood why most of the blokes back then howled and whistled for her, even if you knew the truth. “She was no scag,” you’d say, but you’re smart enough to know that being hitched with her would be… unpleasant. Shame you never listened to your gut.

Then there was the star of the show! The only prick you knew craved for nothing but the spotlight. Endlessly seeking validation for his actions. Only satisfied once his legacy was recognized. A pitiful shapeshifter that took many forms but loved only one… “Mario Emmett! The demon that never could be!"

A lanky black creature with an ego that was bigger than he deserved. Was he the main protagonist of your little show? Who are you to know? You’re only here to follow a repetitive script, endless by design.

You seem confused pal, scruffy face scrunched up, wrinkles becoming more apparent as your tired eyes examining the poster a bit too close... Perhaps a little reminder of why you’re here will help out with that gap in your memory. Wouldn't you agree, pal?

You search through the pockets of your plain brown overcoat, and feel the thin paper edge of a letter. The one Terrence had sent you, remember?

Carefully, you tug it out. Not that the yellow paper didn't already look worse for wear.

Despite its lack of care, surprisingly not your doing for once, you were reasonable enough to fold it neatly like a professional old-timely gentleman. No, it was… Terrence, yes, Terrence who had scrunched it with little care. “Always had a knack for getting on my nerves,” you would bitterly think. Funnily enough, that’s the part of him that was done right. What an Abercrombie!

…Is that the right slang?

You unfold the letter up, again, for what would be, unbeknownst to you, the first of many times. You read the ink scribbled over the dirty gold paper once more.

More interaction between Jennifer and Sir Enigma Malvolio. Seduction... could be better Jennifer. Granted, Malvolio's not... normal. The extent of how "unnormal" he is though is yet to be recognized:

"You shouldn't be here."

Jennifer swiftly turned around, her back to the Apex's chamber pod, its mesmerizing fluid motion forgotten as she focused on the approaching short figure of Malvolio. She noticed just how quiet his steps were, and how he neglected to bring his cane down to the container's metal floor.

"Don't you know it's rude to snoop around in stranger's properties?" he asked, his voice echoing in the trailer, despite how restrained it is from the usual bombastic and joyous attitude he put up in front of Dicko. From what she could tell, he sounded more amused than angered that she came into his workshop uninvited.

His gaze was still as dead and false as it had been like in their first meeting.

Remembering why she was there, Jennifer shifted her stature, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself after tonight's fight."

Seeing that Malvolio stopped approaching, tilting his head as he waited for her to continue. Thinking she had his attention, she looked around, blue eyes wide in wonder as she gestured the workshop, "This place is amazing."

Looking to Malvolio, who she still had the engaged attention of, she gestured to him and stated coyly, "You were amazing."

To what would have to be the eighth confusing she's ever received from this man, Malvolio snorted and tsked at her. With a shake of his head, he looked to her, a smile curved on his lips as he made his reply.

"Please, I barely did a thing. She's the one who deserves the credit. It was all her," he pointed his cane behind Jennifer, to the darkened pod, where the Apex resided in the waters, "I was merely the motivation she needed to win the fight."

Looking between Malvolio and the beastie, Jennifer selectively stammered as she said, "But you did create it. And shared its mind. Don't you agree that's more than enough reason for praise?"

For whatever reason, Malvolio scoffed, looking Jennifer up and down, scrutinizing her with his gaze as he impressively twirled his cane to rest on his shoulder, now looking more like a club than a walking stick. He unnerved and frustrated her. Jennifer needed him to lower his guard, to be completely oblivious to any danger she posed.

It just ticked her off that he was clearly unconvinced with her performance, and at ease while she had to keep her nerve together, especially for Dicko's sake.

Here's a FC5 WIP for The True Sinners of Silva on a (forced) picnic with Faith and Nadi, for a "girl's day out" as Faith had insisted to Jacob (though Nadi hadn't initially been invited). Have some lore, ship teasing and the aftereffects of Silva's terrible childhood. Also TW for kidnapping, cults, manipulation and discussion of eating disorders:

Faith let out a sigh as she clung on to Silva's arm, effectively anchoring the woman where she sat. And she wasn't sure what was more concerning; the fact she didn't mind Faith being so close to her, or the familiar content smile on the herald's face.

"I'm glad the two of us can finally hang out," Faith admitted, neglecting to include Nadi's presence, "Jacob had been hogging you for so long that I was afraid I wouldn't ever get to see you again."

Silva wasn't sure how to respond to Faith's small confession so chose to reply with a contemplative hum, ignoring the warmth she felt rushing in her face. She also ignored the gnawing hunger at the sight of the food as well.

Nadi must have noticed that she wasn't eating the food as both herself and Faith had been. She looked at Silva with concerned brown eyes.

Silva was unsure why the blonde would care though; she just wasn't that hungry. Not even for the barely nipped sandwich in her hand.

"...Something wrong with the chicken, enfer?" Nadi asked, her head tilted as she scanned Silva over with her gaze. Silva glowered at the woman, rather irked that John's right-hand would bring attention to her lack of appetite, especially while the present host was a herald.

"It's nothing," she told the Frenchwoman, lowering the chicken sandwich. Nadi was unconvinced, though, and looked to Faith, head jerking to Silva.

And unfortunately, Faith lifted her head from Silva's shoulder, adjusting herself to sit up straight as she shifted her attention from Nadi to her charge. Silva risked a glance next to her and had the misfortune of getting caught into the worried gaze of Faith's green eyes.

"Do you not like the food?" Faith asked, eyes wide in panic like she committed some unspeakable crime, putting a hand on her forehead as she continued, "I should have asked you what you wanted. I'm sorry, I was so excited for this picnic with you that I didn't think you'd have any problem with the food-"

Silva saw the growing distress on the herald and swiftly responded to put a stop to it. She didn't want to find out what the repercussions were from upsetting the brother's little sister.

"No, no, it's not the food," Silva stated, garnering Faith's attention as she listened, focus as intense as the floral scent that followed the herald. Once again unprepared for the sole attention of Faith, she hurriedly tried to clear up any confusion, "The food is good. It's just me. I'm not hungry."

Even though she said she wasn't hungry, Silva could feel the pained craving for the food, but her mind just couldn't handle the idea of consuming anything for the time being.

Faith's demeanor lost the panic instantly, and the calm that came across her face left Silva stunned at the whiplash.

"Huh," Faith said, looking over to Nadi, the blonde unbothered by the herald's rapid shift in emotions, who had a knowing look as she stared at Silva with sincere pity.

"Are you sure, enfer?" Nadi questioned, a brow raised, "Jacob said you don't eat a lot at the center. The last time you ate must have been, what... three, four hours ago? Can you really say you're not hungry?"

Silva refused to answer, looking away from Nadi as the conflict of hunger and lack of appetite raged inside.

Both woman present found Silva's silence to be confirmation, and Nadi asked, "You're not starving yourself to spite us, are you?"

Silva gave Nadi an incredulous look, straightening up, "What would be the point of that? Despite how unpleasant I find your cult, it wouldn't help me to weaken myself. And besides, like you said, I do eat at the center. Which would be counterproductive if my plan was to starve myself, no matter how stupid of a plan it is to begin with."

Nadi nodded along, not incorrectly correcting her on their group status, agreeing with most of Silva's words, "I believe you. So, what's up?"

Silva had half a mind to not outright curse the sharpshooter about the obvious reason being how she was kidnapped from her home and kept captive against her will surrounded by cultists. The terror and stress of not knowing what they're capable of. Nadi would never know the terror of being unable to predict a so-called prophet's next move.

Especially when he was your own father.

Silva snapped out of her musings when Faith's hand rested on her arm. Glancing to her, the herald gave a comforting squeeze, a small encouraging smile on her face. The action made Silva's face feel no less warmer.

So instead, she glanced between Faith's waiting green eyes and Nadi's sincere stare, and exhaled a sigh, as she softly revealed, "I... just can't."

Nadi nodded slowly, "But you want to."

Silva gave a nod at Nadi's correct guess. She looked down to the sandwich in her hands. She wanted to have it, and the basket of fruits with the baked goods. She desired it badly, but she couldn't let go of the dread that came with eating and swallowing.

"But you don't because you're afraid of what could happen if you do. Like choking? Or perhaps vomiting?"

Silva didn't need to say anything to confirm that what Nadi deduced was true.

Nadi hummed, and stated, "It seems you got yourself an eating disorder, enfer. An avoidant one from what you've described."

Silva eyed John's confidant. The name sounded familiar, something Kamski would have offhandedly mentioned. Curiosity did eat away at her, as she replied, "You seem to be familiar with this disorder."

Nadi smiled, though the smile didn't reach her brown eyes. She looked down to the apple she had been biting on, "That's because I suffer from the same thing. Unlike you though, where you don't eat enough, I eat too much. I've gotten better though. John, la chérie, helped set up a diet and routine for me. Got me to memorize timing as well. He and Alexander still check up on me from time-to-time, but it's greatly appreciated."

Silva was surprised; both by Nadi's confession and the fact John of all people went out of his way to help Nadi. Silva thought him incapable of such a thing, given his holier-than-thou attitude towards her.

And finally the last paragraph for the still unnamed arranged marriage FC5 scenario. And Alexander (AKA Jacob's most trusted and loyal right hand man) is pissed. TW for cult views, a war crime and mentioned coerced/arranged/forced marriages. Also mentioned drug (Bliss) use. Snippet below:

Letting out a deep, shaky sigh, Alexander stared straight into Jacob's cold blue eyes, and said, "So you must understand my... my confusion and my shock and my fury when the Sinner herself, stumbling around the halls, high on fucking Bliss, wept in my arms as she told me exactly everything you and Joseph and John and Faith neglected to share with me or Nadi or the rest of the congregation. You told me she agreed to our negotiations. No, not our negotiations, you told me she agreed to your family's negotiations as soon as it was put forward. You told me this marriage between a suitor of her choosing, no matter how nonsensical and impractical and detrimental the wedding itself is to morale and our resources, was to bring unity between Eden's Gate and the Resistance indefinitely. So tell me Jacob. Why the lies? Why the lack of care towards the rules that Joseph says keep us grounded? Rules that I have witnessed so many of our brothers and sisters be punished for breaking, and yet now you and your siblings are exempt from it? Why have you been sending out Hunters, armed to the teeth, to track down Palmer's Militia if we're in a truce? Why do I hear of no contact with the Resistance if we're supposed to be sharing compensations and details surrounding our peace? Why had Silva told me that Joseph already chosen her suitor, and ignored her refusal of it?! And most importantly, why did she say it was YOU?!"

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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simplegenius042 · 4 months

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OC(s) interviews

Wasn't tagged but was invited by @onehornedbeast in an open tag.

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @carlosoliveiraa @strangefable @voidika @g0dspeeed @strafethesesinners @adelaidedrubman @thewanderer-000 @josephslittledeputy @vampireninjabunnies-blog @neverthesameneveranother @derelictheretic @deputyash @purplehairsecretlair @ec-10 @gaeadene @henbased @inafieldofdaisies @inthewinedarksea @jacobmybeloved @ladyoriza @minilev @wrathfulrook @direwombat @cassietrn @chazz-anova @nightbloodbix @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @corvosattano and @trashcatsnark + anyone else who would like to join in (or just read this as I am under the impression I'm a bit late)

Got three characters ready to roll out. My very late WIP post is also almost complete, but that will come at a later time... and maybe something else.

Calvin Dearing (The Untitledverse, Original Works (& Various Fandoms))

Name: Calvin Dearing

Nicknames(s): Cal, Carl. (More TBA).

Gender: Male.

Star Sign: Cancer.

Height: Around 5ft 6inch.

Orientation: Demisexual.

Nationality/Ethnicity: African-American.

Fave Fruit: PLUMS. Don't go near this man while he's having plums, he will not share and is prepared to debate or fight anyone who wants one depending on his mood.

Fave Season: Autumn.

Fave Flower: Honeysuckle.

Fave Scent: Honestly? The smell of books or the wood in studios. Brings back good memories to when he was alive.

Coffee, Tea, or HC: Caffeine fiend, just like Joaquin. Trying to replace coffee with tea.

Average Hours of Sleep: Used to be like 5 or 6. Since having died, he doesn't need sleep but does rest/meditate like 3 or 4 hours, maybe less, to conserve energy.

Dog or Cat Person: Probably a cat, but would prefer to keep something "simple" alive... like a fish.

Dream Trip: This man wanted to visit Australia, Germany, Japan and Sweden when he was alive but money was severely limited since Terrance Carmine was a greedy bastard. Being a Dream Spirit he has to deal with multiversal travel which is free but way more dangerous than simple traveling would have been.

Favourite Fictional Character: Mickey Mouse.

Number of Blankets They Sleep With: One when he was alive. Now that he's dead he doesn't really feel the need for one since everything's a mess of hot and cold for no reason.

Random Fact: Calvin was one of Terrance Carmine's most loyal employees, and was even the one to insist Terrance use the opportunity of WW1 to spark popularity into their cartoons to spread propaganda to have others join the military. It was very profitable, however once the war was over, the very thing that gave meaning to the cartoons Calvin and Terrance made was no gone, and their animations irrelevant, leading to the studio bankrupting. Terrance wasn't very happy with Calvin, and invited him for one last talk before closing the studio for good.

Silva Omar (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, Far Cry 5 + Far Cry New Dawn)

Name: Sylvester "Silva" Omar

Nickname/s: Sylvie, Silva, The Boa, The Muse, The Deputy. (More TBA).

Gender: Female (Intersex).

Star Sign: Capricorn.

Height: Around either 5ft 8inches or 5ft 9inches. She'd likely grow a little more taller from age and her father's late genetics.

Orientation: Demiromantic Lesbian.

Nationality/Ethnicity: Spanish with Arabic origins (on her egg donor's side).

Fave Fruit: The classic apple.

Fave Season: Spring.

Fave Flower: Lavender.

Fave Scent: Hot chocolate and Bliss.

Coffee, Tea or HC: Coffee, but she's moving on to tea.

Average Hours of Sleep: Very inconsistent. She has insomnia and reoccurring nightmares that keep her up/wake her up. Less than seven hours on a good night and less than five on a bad one. She does take time to rest or nap throughout the day so there's that.

Dog or Cat Person: She doesn't mind either. Before the Reaping, she'd want nothing to do with dogs, cats or any other animal because she can't really afford to keep something alive while barely functioning herself. During the Reaping she gets a dog, a cougar and a bear.

Dream Trip: Spain and anywhere in the Middle East, actually. The former because after having to repeatedly lie she was born there for majority of her life in America, she got curious about what it is actually like there, and wanted to connect connect with the culture more, without her father's input or stain on it all. The latter was mainly to connect with heritage. Unfortunately, no thanks to the Collapse, she's not going to be going to either for a long while, if at all.

Favourite Fictional Character: Frankenstein's Monster.

Number of Blankets They Sleep With: Silva sleeps with two blankets.

Random Fact: Silva despises the snow and the winter, however does enjoy breezy cold nights. Also here's a sad fact; Silva doesn't really celebrate Christmas on account that most of her family and friends are dead, she's a recluse and Christmas is her late sister's (Elsa's) birthday, which Elsa died a day or two after.

Hatsukami Hinode (Life, Despair & Monsters, Miraculous Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir (+ Various Fandoms))

Name: Hatsukami Hinode

Nickname/s: Suka, Hats. (More TBA).

Gender: Male.

Star Sign: Aries.

Height: Hatsukami will tell you he is 5ft 4inches. Icarus' body's height is actually 5ft and 8inches.

Orientation: Hatsukami isn't really interested in those kind of stuff, unlike Icarus and Xavier.

Nationality/Ethnicity: Japanese.

Fave Fruit: Cherries.

Fave Season: Spring.

Fave Flower: Daisies.

Fave Scent: Freshly baked stuffed chocolate Croissants.

Coffee, Tea or HC: Milkshakes.

Average Hours of Sleep: 10 to 13 hours. He oversleeps.

Dog or Cat Person: Dog person.

Dream Trip: If he could, he would go around the world.

Favourite Fictional Character: Spongebob Squarepants.

Number of Blankets They Sleep With: Three. Icarus and Xavier hate it.

Random Fact: The Hinode family assumed that Hatsukami's behaviour was a result of repressed emotional growth. They had not realised that Hatsukami was one in three alters. ALSO! Hatter (the interdimensional parasite that Xavier had unknowingly ingested while fronting) credits his name in honour of Hatsukami after bonding with the young lad.

#the untitledverse #oc: calvin dearing #far cry the silver chronicles #oc: silva omar #life despair & monsters #oc: hatsukami hinode #oc interviews #oc tag

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simplegenius042 · 7 months

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What kind of love does your OC have? Quiz

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed and @adelaidedrubman

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @voidika @vampireninjabunnies-blog @poisonedtruth @derelictheretic @ec-10 @direwombat @jillvalentinesday @wrathfulrook and @neverthesameneveranother

The quiz can be found here and the results are below:

Jeff Hopper (The UnTitledverse)

Yeah this fits my favorite shot-gun wielding old man. Loyal to his best friend Lena Elliot (surrogate sister or surrogate daughter? kind of a mix of both).

Elsa Omar (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles)

Elsa definitely loves her older sister and niece, Silva and Persephone, with fierce determination (to a point where she only cares about them) and while she does have many, many flings and short-term relationships, her heart truly only belongs to Ezekiel (as far as she's concerned and last saw him, Ezekiel had been arrested by Enforcers after he distracted them away from the fleeing Omar sisters, and presumably executed).

Hatter (Life, Despair & Monsters)

Hatter definitely has a fondness for his human companions, and would very much like to keep his avatars alive. However, I don't believe he has been hurt by love in the past; his experience solely rests with his avatars and the superhero duo Ladybug and Chat Noir, which gives him reason to continue preserving that nice feeling.

#the untitledverse #oc: jeff hopper #oc: lena elliot #far cry the silver chronicles #oc: elsa omar #oc: silva omar #oc: persephone omar #oc: ezekiel #life despair & monsters #oc: hatter #ladybug #chat noir #oc: hatsukami hinode #oc: icarus galatos #oc: xavier tulip

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the-silver-chronicles · 2 months

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Silva Omar OC Romance Chart AND Happy Valentines Day

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies @nightbloodbix and @adelaidedrubman

Tagging @carlosoliveiraa @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @strafethesesinners @shallow-gravy @onehornedbeast @voidika @wrathfulrook @titiagls @thewanderer-000 @cassietrn @josephseedismyfather and @afarcryfrommymain

In case its hard to read, below is more detailed read + the template:

Name: Sylvester Silva Omar

Gender: Female (Intersex)

Race/Species: Human (Spanish)

Age: 26 (in 2018)

Sexuality: Demiromantic Lesbian

Class/Job: Junior Deputy

Alignment: Neutral Good

Star Sign: Capricorn

Green Flags: Protective, Caring & Funny, Great with children.

Red Flags: Secretive, Bottles up/Out right ignores her trauma/grief, Blames herself for things that were out of her control.

Here's the template (that I had forgotten to add earlier):

#oc: silva omar #fc: mina el hammani #oc romance chart #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #happy valentine's day #there's more ocs i'm building the chart for on my other blogs don't worry #though they probably won't be posted today #anyway #enjoy silva while she's here

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simplegenius042 · 7 months

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Another Late WIP Wednesday and a Late 6-sentence WIP Sunday

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @cassietrn and @inafieldofdaisies for WIP Wednesday and invited by @demigoddessqueens to join in for 6-sentence WIP Sunday.

Rules for the 6-sentence WIP Sunday: Make a new post and share six sentences of an upcoming WIP. Then tag some friends!

Tagging @strangefable @poisonedtruth @voidika @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @derelictheretic @ec-10 @gaeadene @g0dspeeed @henbased @jillvalentinesday @neverthesameneveranother @deputy-morgan-malone @strafethesesinners @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @shallow-gravy @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed @minilev and @deputyash + anyone else who wants to join.

One WIP for Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and another for Life, Despair & Monsters. Snippets below the cut.

For WIP Wednesday I got more Silva's Hope. Also... some short action! [NOTE: This fic is still under heavy construction, so some things may or may not change in the future]

[TW: Violence, blood and death]

Upon crawling onto the pond bank, Silva took a moment to still herself and breathe, a choice she knew wasn't the most sensible given the circumstances.

She spat out the pond water, the taste vile and cold like the river water. Her head felt heavy, unfocused, not helped by the darkness of the night. Disoriented from the crash but still conscious, still awake, still alive. Were her fellow co-workers so lucky?

Yes... And no.

She remembered her panic at how limp and stagnant their bodies had been, and Joseph, that falsa profeta bastarda, telling Nancy (of all the people she thought would sell her out, she never once suspected the kind elderly woman who had been a second mentor to the junior deputy like the Sheriff) to stand down.

"No one is coming to save you," he had told her. He had told her like it wasn't a fact she already knew. A lesson she hadn't already learned. A sick, stale joke that only his God seems to find funny, to her expense.

The relief she felt when he left, when the others awoke from what she thought would be their final slumber. The selfish gratitude she felt towards Jannah, the relief that she hadn't survived another disaster alone again.

But it didn't last, she reminded herself. Besides maybe the Mariscal, her fellow colleagues; Hudson, Pratt and Whitehorse were likely captured, taken away by these santos. If the Peggies were anything like the congregation back on the Archipiélagos, then the fates that awaited her mentor and recently acquired friends were either conversion or execution, depending on how patient the cult's beloved profeta really was.

She weakly chortled; a preferred substitute, the mirthless laugh to the strangled sob she wanted to let out. A strange sensation that weighed heavy on her chest. And to think I had escaped, she mused to herself, finding no strength to restrain the thoughts and fears, shaking her head with a clenched jaw, To think I had escaped it all. No longer a prisoner, but a free survivor.

Joseph's words came to mind with more force; the way he called onto his obedient servants to begin "the Reaping", to kill all who stood in their way, that a seal had been broken. That the Collapse had begun. It sickened her, how the words of a man (just a man) like Joseph Seed were no different from Father's own.

The major difference she could tell between the two was that Father succeeded his vision, got what he wanted, and Joseph was just a fraud given too much power and trust. He doesn't know anything about the Collapse. She did. She lived through it.

Hadn't I? Had she not played a hand in the destruction of her people, the justification used to bring the Enforcers to the front doors of her Father's most hated enemy with guns and fire?

The Collapse has begun. That's what the falsa profeta said. The Collapse has begun. The words she had never dreamed to hear, nor wished to have lived to witness. The Collapse. A title. A simple title that was used to rule her life with fear. A title that profeta threw around like it held any weight anymore, as if it didn't prove his words, his status, his so-called visions, were all false.

It had to be.

She embedded her gloved hands into the mud on the bank of the pond, shaking as her protected fingers curled around the wet dirt.

It had to be.

She couldn't accept any alternative, not after what she's seen. What she was left to live with.

The crunch of sticks and dry grass crushed under the weight of approaching boots caught her attention, and the distant hollering tipped her off to their source.

The santos were approaching, and she was still kneeling over on the pond bank. One hand clutching mud. The other shifting around, searching, until it wrapped around a pointed rock, twisting it out of the ground.

The voices were getting louder, the boots approaching closer, though decreased in sound, with voices disappearing as the hunting party separated.

She heard two; one each on both sides of her, confirming her targets. She clutched the mud further into her palm, and the rock was breaking off the bank with ease.

"Do you remember my instructions piccolo boa? On what to do when caught?"

Silva dragged the rock closer to herself, still kneeling over, still small and vulnerable. The enemigo's lights shined close.

"Look weak, and keep whatever you can use close and out of sight."

Silva's heart pounded, but she soundlessly took deep breathes, eyes closed as the light to her right shined onto her figure.

"Atta girl. And when they come closer?"

The santos to her right startled at the sight of her hunched down figure, and he called out to his amigo as he approached closer.

"Found her!"

"Aim for the visors..."

Silva opened her eyes as the two peggies attempted to swarm her, swiftly turning and throwing the clump of mud at the peggie to her right, a bald man with a long beard, his pained groans indicated success but his amigo alarmed his amigo.

She turned to her next target, a man with a smaller beard but long hair. He rushed forward, lifting the butt of his rifle at her kneeling form. As he brought the rifle to her head, she dodged, and with her free hand, latched onto the rifle's stock.

Unveiling the pointed rock, an efficient substitute to her dagger, Silva used the momentum to propel herself up, and bring the peggie closer down, his face stretched into horror as the rock closed in.

"...And hit straight for the eyes."

Droplets of warm crimson and clear fluids splattered on her cheek and chin, an unexpected contrast to the clean kills she was used to with the Enforcers. Shaking away the distinction, she returned her focus to the dead man leaning forward.

Letting go of the embedded rock, she clutched the rifle with both hands, and kicked the man's twitching corpse back before turning around, the thud behind her ignored.

Her first target managed to get the mud out of his eyes, blinking rapidly and tearing up with a curled lip. His face dropped once he saw Silva with a steeled face and his amigo's rifle aimed at him.

She tipped her head at him as she flipped off the safety, a final farewell to the panicked man as he fruitlessly struggled with his own rifle.

And here is a 6-sentence (paragraph) piece for Sonya's Push. Hand over the spotlight Jennifer. There is a bigger fish scarier than you and Dicko, and his name's Malvolio:

Now facing Jennifer and Dicko as they approached, she could see the once anonymous champion's suit was a sharp blue covering a black undershirt, supposedly tailored for his short stature. He seemed to be somewhere in his thirties, and had a rather fine face, dark eyes complimenting his dark hair, which was groomed expertly.

Though Jennifer couldn't deny a sense of disappointment upon seeing the anonymous champion with a winning streak of seventeen matches in person; he wasn't an unusual sight from the regular rich bastard who came here, besides his clubbed cane. He looked rather normal. Though she couldn't deny how unusual it was for a man of supposed wealth like Dicko participating with his own Beastie.

Regardless, she was content with keeping up her facade, holding onto Dicko's arm as they approached him, but Dicko had stopped, almost tugging Jennifer back. She looked to the taller man, confusion breaking through when she saw his transfixed face; shocked really, and one filled with recognition as he utters in surprise, "Malvolio?"

Jennifer blinked as she looked between the two men, and saw this "Malvolio's" lips curl up into an open grin, as he proceeded to give a jovial greeting, "Well Jolly Ho, Dicko! I didn't know you owned this arena. Jeez, it's been a while since we last did business together. How long has it been? Four? Six years?"

Dicko's face remained unchanged, though Jennifer knew he was scrutinizing the short man in front of them with a cautious gaze she's rarely seen on him. Dicko subtly motioned the hallway guards to stand down, leaving Malvolio's companions alone with their contained Beastie. Despite his visible apprehension, he answered Malvolio, "Six years."

Malvolio's dark eyes briefly shifted to Jennifer, but they swiftly reconnected with Dicko's gaze, his grin widening, "Six years? And you still did not forget about little old me? Intriguing. I do hope your life has been luxurious and well in our distance. And I must ask; how have you been treating it?"

#wip wednesday #wip sunday #far cry the silver chronicles #wip: silva's hope #oc: silva omar #far cry 5 #silva when applying advice given to her about breaking through enforcer's visors against a man with no headgear: this will be a clean kill #silva now splattered in blood and eye fluid and realising she's in the present: *kind of mildly surprised*#life despair & monsters #wip: sonya's push #jennifer #dicko #oc: sir enigma malvolio #love death + robots #sonnie's edge #“clubbed cane” that's definitely hasn't been used to murder people #dicko's about to have a bad day not just because things will go wrong but simply because he has to deal with malvolio's unnerving joy

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