#this is one of the people who was alive before the occupation but then spent most of her life under occupation

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like the Beat of a Drum pt 2

**I'm not entirely happy about this, and have NO clue where it's going next, but we'll see!**

The Red Hood clocked Danny as not all he seemed as soon as they were alone together. After some negotiation (Danny threatening to vanish into thin air and Hood threatening to tell Red Robin), they came to a consensus.

Danny would be in human form unless one of the other bats were around, and Hood would keep his big mouth shut.

“No spooky supernatural stuff in my borough, kid.”

Danny decided not to tell the other man that he himself had a fair bit of spooky supernatural stuff going on.

He should probably keep an eye on that- Corrupted ectoplasm was never a good thing, and Red Hood was crawling with it.

Living in Crime Alley was easy. Hood had put him up in a dingy little apartment, fully stocked with anything he might need- and no surveillance equipment. Danny had checked. He spent his time while he finished the healing process taking the toaster apart. And the microwave.

Hood visited while he was arms deep in the oven and put a kibosh on larger appliances, but he started bringing small broken appliances around for Danny to fix. It was nice, having another undead hanging around. Someone who understood the constant itch under Danny’s skin to keep moving, keep working, keep reminding himself he was alive.

He even was finally able to see his soulmark! It was a name, somebody called Timothy Drake-Wayne. Hood had seen it and made some sort of choking noise, and when Danny asked, he was told that Drake-Wayne was publicly markless. Weird.

Danny was pleased that the wounds to the area had healed completely though, not marring the text at all.

The wound on his chest, not so much. It stood out, inflamed and sore against his otherwise pale chest. Its presence reminded him a little of the lichtenberg scars that crawled down his arms in his ghost form.

Maybe the Drs. Fenton had somehow killed him again, and now he was a halfa twice over? This was his penance, he supposed, for trusting them after everything.

~~~

Tim’s favorite coffee shop was packed, save for one table with a lone occupant. Once he’d gotten his deathwish coffee, he made his way over to the table.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I-“

The table’s occupant, a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, nodded toward the other chair before Tim could finish his sentence.

“Feel free, man. It’s a busy day today.”

Tim couldn’t help but wonder where he’d seen the other before- his face was familiar in a strange way, and he felt- he felt surprisingly attracted.

His soulmate heartbeat thing had been unusually quiet since the night Phantom arrived, whereas before it sounded loud and clear in his head at least a few times a day and long into the night.

He was allowed to talk to cute people while his soulmate was still young, right?

“Spend a lot of time here?”

The stranger shrugged.

“Here and there. Haven’t run into you before, which I think I would have noticed. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Tim didn’t think much of the name. This young man was far too old to be his Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Tim.”

He reached out a hand, and Danny shook it firmly, giving him an odd look that quickly passed.

The two of them sat and chatted for a while, and Tim found himself wondering how he’d missed this person around Gotham- he was well spoken with a soft accent, whip smart, and gorgeous.

Tim’s watch buzzed, reminding him he had a meeting- he could have sworn he had two hours between his coffee run and his meeting, but perhaps he’d been chatting too long.

“Shit! I have to go- it was nice meeting you!”

He chugged the rest of his now-cold coffee and darted out of the coffee shop.

It wasn’t until after the shareholder’s meeting that he realized he hadn’t asked for Danny’s number.

~~~

“Hood!”

Jason looked up from his desk as his office door was flung open, and then watched in amusement as Danny scrambled out of the grasp of the goon trying to pull him away.

“Sorry Boss, he slipped by us! I’ll- OW! He bites!”

“Stand down, Marcus, he’s a friend. Head over to medical if you need to- the little shit’s feral.”

Grumbling, the goon let go of a smug looking Danny and made his way to the other door while Danny swanned into the office and made himself comfortable on Hood’s guest chairs.

“How did you find this place?”

Shrugging, the kid pretended to inspect his nails.

“You know, just followed the scent of daddy issues and rancid ectoplasm- not hard. Didn’t peg you for the office type, though.”

Jason leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What do you want.”

“Timothy Drake-Wayne is Red Robin, yes?”

Trying to keep his posture casual and unconcerned, Jason tilted his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“I met a guy named Tim at the coffee shop and he’s got the same ghosts as Red Robin.”

Danny slapped a newspaper down on the desk between them- the cover page was Tim, looking very CEO and businesslike.

Jason was pretty sure Tim and Danny would get along like a house on fire, if Danny had already figured him out.

“Also, I felt his heartbeat when we shook hands and it matches the beat of my soul.”

Pausing, Jason parsed the information he now had about Danny.

“Wait, you can see ghosts that follow people?”

“You can’t?”

Jason stared incredulously at Danny for a few beats, and then the younger man sighed.

“Right. Your ecto is all screwy. Remind me to fix that. Yeah, I see ghosts attached to people- not everyone has them, and not all of the ghosts are actually, you know, dead people, but yeah. I don’t normally think about them because they’re everywhere, but same ghosts often equal same person.”

Danny slumped further into the chair after he finished talking, letting out a small whine.

“What now?”

“Jason, he’s cute.”

With a sigh, Jason pointed over at the newest handful of appliances he needed Danny to fix for the residents of Crime Alley.

“Take that and get out of my office.”

~~~

“Timberly~”

Tim sighed and let his pen drop- if Jason was here and looking for him, he probably wouldn’t get much work done. Not that he was getting work done now- balancing a pen on his nose wasn’t really work.

Jason rounded the batcomputer, idly tossing his helmet from one hand to another, a massive grin stretching across his face. It was a scheming face, a face that said he knew something Tim didn’t, and Tim hated not knowing things.

“What.”

Jason’s grin stretched wider.

“You’ve been keeping secrets!”

With a sigh, Tim turned his attention to the computer. Of course he kept secrets- the entire family had secrets. Hell, the secrets that the entire family kept probably also kept secrets.

Undeterred, Jason shoved his head (read: his entire upper body) in between Tim and the computer.

“So, where is it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at the other man, hoping he looked as judgmental as he felt.

“Where is what, Jason? My spleen?”

The grin on Jason’s face faltered for a moment before returning with full force.

“Your soulmark!”

The weights Dick had been working with in the training area hit the floor with a loud thump, and Tim could only assume their oldest brother was storming over to berate Jason.

“Jason!”

Heh. He was right.

Jason pulled away, grabbing the arm of Tim’s chair and dragging him along to be a human shield as Dick approached.

“Nu-uh, Dickie- I’ve got good info, here. Timmy has been hiding his entire soul from us!”

Tim would like it to go on record that he hated everything, everyone, and especially Jason. He tuned out Dick’s raised voice and Jason’s responses, trying to figure out how the other could have found out.

He almost always kept the patch on- it’s not like a civilian camera could have caught him without. Even when he took the patch off to wash or to tend a nearby wound, he made sure to do it in his Nest without any recording devices nearby.

The only way Jason could have- Maybe he’d met Daniel and seen Tim’s name? Some poor kid down in Crime Alley? A four year old at best. Eurgh.

He tuned back into the still heated conversation.

“-kindness isn’t hard Jason, and you can’t just use the excuse that we’re siblings to bully Tim for being markless! I never thought you had it in you, you-“

“It’s under my sternum. How’d you find out?”

Dick’s tirade stopped short as Tim answered, his mouth dropping open comically. Jason pumped his fist triumphantly.

“You handed him to me on a silver platter, Timbo.”

Tim did not gape, that would be unbecoming and Janet Drake would never allow a son of hers to be unbecoming.

“I’m sorry?”

Jason grinned, an evil, evil grin.

“Daniel Fenton. You gave his case to me.”

“Case?”

Dick’s voice was high and reedy, and Tim looked over to see that he was looking distressed and probably a little faint.

Jason snickered. Rude.

“I do not have a case for my soulmate.”

Jason snickered again, and pointed at the batcomputer.

“Then what’s that?”

Both Dick and Tim turned to look- it was just the file on Phantom- but by the time they turned around again, Jason was roaring out of the cave on his bike.

Tim flipped him off, just because he could.

Dick collected himself before Tim did, whirling to face him and yanking Tim’s shirt up before desperately scraping at the bare skin, trying to find the patch.

With a sigh, Tim pushed Dick’s searching hands away and peeled off the patch himself.

He felt bare without it- completely exposed to his brother’s sharp eyes.

“You never told anyone?”

Shrugging, Tim slapped the patch back on, pulled his shirt down, and turned back to the batcomputer.

“Came in late- didn’t want some poor kid to get saddled with me.”

By the hitch in Dick’s breathing, Tim could tell the older man was about to get sentimental on him, or berate him for talking bad about himself.

This day couldn’t get much worse, could it?

The Arkham escape alarm sounded from both boys’ phones, and Tim sighed yet again. Way to jinx himself.

~~~

Phantom floated invisibly above the Red Hood, filtering away the ectoplasm that rolled off of him in waves as he stood with the other bats.

“Nightwing and Robin, you’re looking for the Joker.”

The ectoplasm spiked at Batman’s growl, and Danny sighed soundlessly. Keeping Jason away from his vengeance was not the right way to go about things.

“You want another dead Robin if they find him?”

“I do not want a dead Joker, Hood, and I know there will be one if I let you after him.”

Red Hood crossed his arms with a snarl, and Phantom settled closer to the man’s shoulders, keeping a steady wave of calm floating from his core.

The beat of his soul was pounding with excitement, and he took a moment to glance over at Red Robin, who was glaring in Red Hood’s direction. Danny couldn’t begin to fathom why.

Once the bats scattered, Phantom brought his head closer to Hood’s. The older boy was muttering mutinously under his helmet.

“What if we found him first?”

Hood’s head shot up to look in Danny’s direction.

“I could help, and then we could go home and finish Jenga.”

“Help do what?”

Danny dropped his invisibility long enough to flash Jason a grin.

“Payback.”

~~~

Red Robin and Spoiler crashed into a warehouse, weapons at the ready, only to find half the rogues they were looking for tied up and watching a fight going on in the center of the room. Tim’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute with adrenaline, and so was his second heartbeat. He had been rushing to find the Joker at least, especially after Red Hood went off comms.

It took him a minute to identify the people in the fight, if it could really be called that. From what he could tell, it was a mostly unilateral beat-down of the Joker by Phantom.

“What the fuck.”

Stephanie was watching with wide eyes from his side, and Tim caught a glance of Jason watching from the other side of the warehouse, helmet off and a green glow about his face.

“We need to get to Hood and make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Spoiler nodded, but before she could move, a shadow shifted next to Hood and Black Bat slipped from the shadows, putting a hand on the man’s arm. Hood turned his head in her direction, nodded, and then went back to watching the show.

Black Bat stepped away, seeming satisfied with Jason’s response.

Phantom smacked Joker with a backhand slap loud enough to startle Tim, and the psychopathic man went flying back into the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base.

Tim watched as Phantom floated over to Hood, chest heaving despite no sounds of breathing.

“Are you Avenged, Bat of Gotham? Feel it in your Core.”

The greenish glow to Jason’s face flickered and then floated up and away from his face, dispersing in a thin mist.

“I am Avenged, Phantom.”

Phantom landed with a smile.

“See? Killing him wasn’t necessary- just a little beatdown.”

The second heartbeat in Tim’s sternum began to slow as Phantom held out a hand to Red Hood.

Jason took it and shook, smiling grimly.

“Red Robin?”

Spoiler was at his shoulder, but Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Phantom’s face.

“Red, we need to get Joker to the hospital.”

Black Bat moved from beside Jason and punched Tim on the shoulder.

“Ask him out.”

Tim startled.

“I- what?”

She made the sign for soulmate discreetly, and Tim felt his face flush. Phantom couldn’t possibly- but then he thought about Jason’s cryptic wording about Tim’s soulmate the other day.

Surely not. Surely.

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x batman #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #brain dead #mild violence #soulmate fic

[goroaix]

〘 Al-haitham definitely didn't think he'd stumble upon this gold mine after his little stealth mission. 〙

Cyno x gn reader. No warnings.

Cyno was not a man who was easily disturbed, or ever disturbed for that matter. He was someone that was notorious for having iron skin, to be able to bare witness to the gurgling underbelly of humanity without so much as a blink.

But he was not as infallible as most likely to believe. In fact, Haitham had noticed that s few things that were out of character for the General Mahamatra.

For one, his eyes weren't as cold and unfeeling as they had been during their first meeting - no longer filled with apathy and a desire for justice. However, this was not proof enough to suggest anything wrong; it could easily be attributed to time and their tribulations.

There was also the matter of how Cyno seemed to waste no time leaving his office once his day was over. Often he would spent time lingering, clearing up loose threads before heading home. Now it was like clockwork, the time hit 5pm and he was gone.

So Al-haitham did what he did best: covert surveillance.

He hadn't been expecting to go unnoticed with Cyno's sharp eye and senses, yet he wasn't greeted with a spear at his jugular at any point of his journey. He followed the man until he reached the café and headed in. Haitham followed.

Dressed in a cloak with only his signature jackal ear headpiece to signal it was him, Cyno sat down before pulling out something from his pocket.

Straining his eyes was a worthless effort because he realised that it was Cyno's deck of TCG cards, the leather bound box enough to make his lips curl up in half disgust half amusement. He was a classic case of a try hard.

Nonetheless, Cyno was clearly waiting for someone and he couldn't help but feel a little anticipation. It couldn't have been Tighnari since he was still tending to the sages that had been assigned to the forest, and he doubted the matra would mix their private live with Cyno.

So he watched and leant back, pulling out his book on the theory of perpetual motion only to be stopped as he flicked to his bookmarked page by the sight of someone sitting down.

His eyes went wide involuntarily. Cyno... Was meeting them?

The person sat in front of him was someone that Haitham had his fair share of run ins with, though mostly through none of his own desires. Their occupation was an author, one with mystery shrouding their name and the question on how their works so accurately depicted grisly and deplorable acts of depravity. He had once tried to read one of their murder mystery stories but it had even his stomach feeling unsettled (though he powered through it, of course).

What were they doing with Cyno?

They pushed a plate of food towards the centre of the table and Cyno glanced at it briefly. "You should know by now that food doesn't work as a distraction."

Their laughter was warm, bright eyes shining with what looked like admiration. "Who said I was trying to distract you? Can't I feed my habibi?"

Cyno's fingers curled up for a moment before he let out a small huff.

Haitham gasped out loud and ducked away the second after. Habibi?

He felt a smile grow on his lips. There were few and far between who dared to say such things to Cyno of all people and, judging from his lack of reaction, he wasn't against it.

"Are you going to play?"

"You must love losing," they said with such nonchalance that it was astounding - like Haitham was watching cats begin to breakdance. "Did you bring your best deck?"

"I did."

"Even the Land of Thunder limited edition?"

Cyno's mouth opened ever so slightly in shock. "You have that?"

"I do."

"How? It's only in Inazuma and there's 200 prints."

They stuck out their tongue at him. "I have my ways. Do you want to start or shall I?"

"You can go first."

And then they started to play the card game, an activity that had Haitham almost falling asleep in boredom. The only thing keeping him alive and awake was the increasingly disgruntled look on Cyno's face. His eye brows furrowed ever so slightly and his grip on the deck was tight.

And then Cyno groaned, slumping into his chair for a moment while his opponent had a sly smile playing on their pretty lips.

"I win, you lose."

"How do you win every time?" He asked, getting up with them as they split the last cake slice in half. "I don't understand."

"I told you, I have my ways."

"You didn't even play the Land of Thunder card."

"It's just for bragging rights." They pressed the uneaten half to his lips and Haitham almost laughed out loud when he opened his mouth ever so obediently. From jackal to a mere lapdog, it seemed. "Now, where's my reward?"

Cyno's expression was neutral as he stayed still, letting them lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, one that they wiped away right after with a cheeky grin.

"Same time tomorrow?" Cyno asked.

"Of course, Hababi. I'll play as many times as you want."

Oh, Haitham thought, He was going to have fun with this.

#genshin fluff #cyno x reader #cyno fluff #genshin impact x reader #cyno imagines #cyno fanfic #genshin impact imagines

[phoenix-manga]

Ella Glaciel

CV: Moroboshi Sumire

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birthday: September 6

Starsign: Virgo

Height: 165 cm

Eye Color: Mariner

Hair Color: Sea Pink

Professional Status

Dorm: Glastanzerin

School Year: 2nd Year

Class: 2-C | Student no. 12

Occupation: Student | Dorm Leader

Club: Horse Grooming Club

Best Subject: Basic Etiquette | Needlework and Jewelry

Fun Facts

Favorite Food: Cheese Platter

Least Favorite Food: Fish

Dislikes: Too much chores

Hobby: Sewing

Talents: Quick stitching

Idol Stats

Performance: Soft vocals meant for classical songs

Choreography: Displays cute and dainty poses. Also incorporates ballet into her choreography

Styling Jewel Outfits: Classical | Cute

She is incredibly skilled in sewing and even has a fashion brand under her name at DCA. Her family’s clothing apparel is well known in a number of kingdoms. When working, she gets a fiery look in her eyes and will rush to her workspace and make the clothes with the help of magic and some precision with a needle.

Due to her noble upbringing, she carries herself in a lady-like manner. Always keeping her hand folded when she sits, greets with a bow, uses words that are graceful and sweet, and many other things. Which means she is also knowledgeable regarding trends in social circles.

She isn’t really brave nor is she assertive, if faced with someone aggressive she just runs away. And she’s so quick like a mouse that no one can catch up to her. Yelling will cause her to freeze up, it was a habit that never went away after the abuse she suffered under her first stepmother.

Has a skill for marketing, she focuses on what makes the product good and presents it to the client by flattering their style and recommending a set suited for them without offending the person.

Any other topic other than her interests makes her mind blank though, she keeps quiet until the topic is something she knows.

Whenever she changes clothes, she quickly starts with changing stockings as she still feels insecure with her leg scars. She would rather endure the hot weather in stockings rather than show the scars. It sometimes throbs with subtle pain.

Hometown: Glasswork Kingdom

Family Life

Ella spent her early years in a loving embrace of her birth mother and her father. The two often pampered their daughter with plenty of cute gifts and toys but the most treasured gift Ella kept was a jewelry set of baby blue birds made by her mother before she passed. She often gazes upon it to remember her mother.

When her father remarried to Lucille, her life was spent in abuse. Constantly being tormented by her step siblings and getting punished for every little mistake by her step mother. The servants feared Lucille as she would threaten their jobs and flaunting how she has connections that will cause trouble to their families. Until a servant had enough and told the Gaspard of what has been happening while he was away.

Gaspard was ashamed of himself for letting such a terrible woman in to his household to threaten his servants and his precious daughter. He filed for a lawsuit and this was the first time that he wasn’t timid or gentle. His eyes were cold as he stared down the Luciferia family, this was the first time he’s ever felt such anger.

He became protective of Ella and often had background checks on new people he hired and closed himself from any women who he assumed was just aiming for his wealth and title.

Ella slowly recovered but there were still traces of trauma, but she tries her best to be better so she wouldn’t worry her father. She was glad he met another woman who was genuinely caring but she still struggles to open up, yet she hopes to overcome the past to finally be a happy family again.

Childhood Memories

Ella’s memories of her mother are quite few, considering that she was very young when she passed but she wants to keep those memories alive by talking to the servants who worked for her mother, asking her father as well as looking through the photo albums. She feared that forgetting her mother’s memories would be like throwing away a cherished family member.

There was one memory that she always liked to hear about, it was when she was but a toddler in her two’s that she shocked both parents when she dragged some silk onto an unfinished dress and the parents realizing that the color Ella picked looked better. Gaspard always questions how genetically gifted Ella’s talent was for fashion.

During the time where she suffered under the Luciferia family, the fear and trauma was ingrained into her and she would flinch or freeze up if anyone held a stick or something close to that near her. Her father had trusted family doctors, who are sworn to keep the leg scars between them, to look after and help Ella mentally recover.

It took almost a year and a half but Ella was able to act normally again with the help of doctors, though loud yelling and arguments still unnerve her. She can handle herself a bit better.

Ella is a 2nd year Glastanzerin student and is the current dorm leader.

She always admired the story of the Maiden of the Glass Shoe, being sorted into her dream dorm made her so happy. Ella is known in the dorm for her family name as well as skills, she has such a fast and nimble way of sewing using minimal amounts of magic. Not anyone can just replicate her dresses.

She has a lot of commissions in school and every single order has been made with plenty of care and caters to the customer’s taste always.

More often than not, Ella likes to discuss with the dorm students about the latest trends that the girls would keep their ears open whenever Ella gives fashion advice.

There were times that Ella would spend her downtime feeding her mice and other wild animals to unwind. Sometimes even having a tea party consisting of mainly animals, it wasn’t odd to anyone who studies in DCA but to outsiders it may be weird.

The dorm students are quite protective of Ella and will not tolerate any disrespect, Ella has no idea how scary her dorm students get when there is an unpleasant person confronting her.

Ella has quite high grades due to the tutors her father hired. Though her worst subject is PE due to her lack of physical training as well as the fact due to the scars on her legs, she finds it difficult to keep up. She dislikes feeling sweaty after doing exercises, if it was yoga then she’d have no problem however.

School Relationships

Ella gets along with mostly everyone due to her sweet nature and the tendency to provide news on the latest trends. As a noble, she is also decent in academics, her best grades are on dance, music and sewing. PE is her worst subject as she always gets sore after just one class, she also feels uncomfortable when she reeks of sweat from the sun.

Evonie is a big sister figure to her with how she often helps her when she gets anxious or when a confrontation takes place but she was too scared to talk back. She admits that she envies Evonie a little bit with how strong she was along with other girls who aren’t dainty. She wonders if she can be strong like them if she could just get over her fears.

She admires Briar as she has never been face-to-face with a real princess before. Her regal air and beautiful visage prompts her to create inspiring outfits to one day be worn by royalty. Though she can’t help but notice the sorrow in Briar’s eyes which maybe another factor as to why she feels a familiarity with her.

Cerule and Ella’s first meeting has her nearly fainting from excitement at the idea of meeting an actual mermaid. She’s read about them in storybooks but to see one in real life was way better. Cerule thinks Ella is pretty cute like a sea angel. Ella gets a lot of colored pearls and sea glass from Cerule after a dive for treasure.

Perrine won her over when Ella got a whiff of the smell of spices that was cooking in the campus cafeteria. Perrine and Allison’s desserts that are decorated to their tastes would always be a source of new ideas for Ella. She often takes pictures of their food before eating, she eats in small bites to savor the taste.

Bumpkin and Ella get along so well as fans of fashion, though Bumpkin is so adamant about ungodly amounts of glitter. Bumpkin’s form is from Ella’s doll she used to play with in her childhood. It always brought comfort to her during sad days.

Bumpkin acts as a fairy godmother to Ella, always helping her out in her time of need and would fiercely protect her if anyone dares to make her cry.

Mozza

The swiftest mouse who acts as the leader of the group. He does all the talking and negotiating in mouse matters, he is the one who reports to Ella about the latest information and gossip.

Gouda

The food crazy mouse who is the chunkiest of them all. He tends to just lay in one place nibbling on cheese. Often times Ella puts him in her pocket as he snoozes about. He is also quite cowardly, anything that resembles a cat and he freaks out and runs with speed that rivals Mozza’s.

Brie

The pretty mouse who hoards anything shiny like a corvid would. She is the one who assists Ella when she’s sewing the most. A mouse with an eye for detail. She likes riding in Ella’s pockets because dirt makes her fussy.

Parmes

The genius mouse who may seem plain but inside the mouse holes, but he has made layouts for the fastest routes to any place in the building. The inventions are made from lost things such as pins and buttons that are no longer needed among other things.

Pecorin

The youngest mouse of the group, she’s so small that other mice carry her around in a thimble basket made by Parmes. Ella is worried that the poor thing might get squished so she made a fluffy hand bag to carry all five mice in. Pecorin is often found in a dollhouse just enjoying herself.

Dusty

Ella’s horse who is a Rocky Mountain breed. He is friendly and happy-go-lucky, sometimes distracted by shiny things if he sees one in the corner of his eye. He is skilled in doing tricks as well as carrying heavy loads.

Her unique magic is called, “Glacify” this allows her to make anything she wants shimmer like polished glass. No matter what object it is, she can make it shiny. This doesn’t work on living things, though it works on plants oddly.

This magic effect can last until 12 o’ clock, it doesn’t matter if it was AM or PM, and it always disappears when the clock strikes 12.

Ella often uses this to make her fashion presentation pretty but she mostly uses it on the accessories or the lighting mostly. Using it on the dress would be considered cheating in her eyes. Though the process of making the dress uses magic to be quick and efficient.

Gaspard Antoine Glaciel

A soft-hearted, humble man who has a hobby for aromatherapy and indoor gardening. He makes exquisite shoes that the locals sought after. His business was only known in the Glasswork Kingdom until he was finally taking the gamble to set up a shop outside of his home country. He doesn’t take business risks unless he’s convinced that there will be no losses.

He was devastated after his wife passed away, he married Lucille only because of a mutual benefit, and affection wasn’t involved. He thought that she would benefit Ella since she worked as an educator.

He ended up filing a case against her when he found out she was abusing Ella under the guise of “tutoring”. He became more attentive to his daughter after the divorce, but his heart became closed off to any potential bachelorettes for a long time until he met Claudette.

Emellette Glaciel

Ella’s birthmother, an adventurous woman who likes to hunt and go horseback riding. She proposed to Gaspard first, she was always such a bold woman. But Gaspard always loved that about her.

She was known for her beautifully crafted jewelry sets. She and her husband started the business selling their crafts and designs to the people in the kingdom.

She passed away due to an illness when Ella turned 7. Leaving a crafted jewelry set that are based on blue birds for Ella to wear when she turns 18 one day. Ella cherishes this jewelry set the most and makes sure to hide it from Lucille in a secret compartment.

Lucille Luciferia

Ella’s first stepmother who is vain and sought to climb the social ladder by any means necessary. She worked as an educator but was known to be very strict and harsh to students, this includes Ella. Every time Ella did a little thing wrong, she would get hit on the back of her legs with a riding crop. This resulted in Ella getting scars on her legs with how hard she was struck.

She has no shame in wearing jewelry that was owned by Gaspard’s first wife, flaunting it, and being boastful to people whenever they go to gatherings. Pretending to be nice whenever Gaspard was in the house and when he leaves, she drops her façade and torments the servants in the household.

Lucille plays ignorant to her sons’ bullying of Ella, and even tells her that her father won’t believe her if she tries to tattle on them. She ended up being socially disgraced and had to live in her relative’s house along with her sons because she was also fired from the school she works at.

Edwin Luciferia (18)

An egotistic young man who constantly picks on Ella by playing mean pranks as well as destroying her toys and things. He is also narcissistic, he views himself as the best but has an ego as fragile as glass. When someone is better than him or tries to call him out on his bluff, he will retaliate by berating them or even resorting to violence.

He abuses his status as a noble to get what he wants, he is not above spreading false rumors about people who dares to defy him. As such, his classmates avoid him.

He used to have a group of students at his beck and call, they stuck around mostly because of his status and the wealth of his stepfather. But now that his mother was fired, he was left behind by his so-called “loyal followers”. He’s become more aggressive but those who he picked on now gossip about him. To the point where they do it in earshot.

Roman Luciferia (18)

The quiet young man who has a calculating gaze and sharp tongue. His bullying tactics are harsh words he hurls towards Ella. Although the true reason he picks on her was because Edwin doesn’t make him his target now, so his situation is mainly a target directing the negativity onto someone weaker.

However, it doesn’t mean that he isn’t at fault. At school, he was always harsh to those who are below him concerning academics. He thinks of himself as a genius unlike his bonehead brother. But after the divorce of his mother and stepfather, he is struggling to keep up academics now that Edwin is back to targeting him.

Claudette Darlington

Ella’s second stepmother who got married to Gaspard after they fell for each other after being business partners for a while. She works in the tea business, selling an assortment of tea leaves and tea sets. She is a professional in her career but she is also a patient mother. She doesn’t force Ella to trust her since she can tell that the trauma still affects her. She gives Ella her space and time to adjust until she can finally open up to her.

Gaspard at first was professional towards Claudette, slowly she starts to notice how stressed he was an offered some tea to help him. She respected their professional relationship and has heard of the incident that took place years before.

The first time she met Ella was when he had her over to discuss business, she was cautious and took note on her movements so as not to startle the poor child. Ella warmed up to Claudette when she asked about her mother.

She didn’t expect Gaspard to propose to her but at first she told him to talk this out with Ella because her opinion should also be considered.

The character's name, "Ella" is obviously based on Cinderella, with the live action movie revealing that "Ella" is her real name but she was called, "Cinderella" as a form of insult.

Ella's backstory was made with new ideas that came to mind, to give more personality to her.

#twisted wonderland #diamond crown academy #dca #twst #ella glaciel #headcanons #glastanzerin

[subtile-jagden]

Werner Voss - Part 2

When Voss returned to the front in May, the playing field was more level. Before this, German aircrafts were far superior to British and French ones. Now, the Entente had improved aircrafts, such as the SE5, which could more than compete with the German Albatros D.III and D.V. Voss shot down his first SE5 on May 7th, 1917. He continued scoring during early summer and his reputation as one of the best fighter pilots alive (bested only by Manfred von Richthofen) was established.

An interesting aspect of Voss´s personality was that he was not limited by rank. In the German army (as with most armies of the time), officers usually did not consort with the lower ranks. Voss was an officer, and one who had received the highest award possible, but he distanced himself from the circle of COs. Instead, he spent a lot of time with mechanics he had befriended and helped repair his own airplanes. His youth and middle-class upbringing most likely influenced this behavior. One of his past times was working on and riding his motorcycle.

Voss’s behavior was somewhat controversial. It is suspected that he fell foul of several higher ranked officers because he had trouble accepting the authority of those he disagreed with. He even tried to get his CO removed because he thought the man was not daring enough and unworthy to lead as venerated a unit as Jasta Boelcke. Voss was subsequently appointed Staffelführer of Jasta 5. Here again, speculations come up about Voss being purposely held back to let Richthofen be the shining star, but this should be dismissed as unfounded rumors spread by people who dislike MvR.

Though Voss was by his own admission no great leader, he did well in Jasta 5. With his colorfully painted Albatross D.III, he patrolled over the lines, raising his victory score to 30 by June.

On June 28th, 1917, Voss became Staffelführer of Jasta 29. But this only lasted five days as he was called by Manfred von Richthofen to take over Jasta 14 and then Jasta 10 of JG1, Richthofen’s famous Jagdgeschwader. Again, Voss had trouble adjusting to his commanding role. All he wanted to do was fly and fight, not do administrative work more than anything else. So, he appointed an assistant to do that for him.

During the summer of 1917, Voss continued to score victories without sustaining any injuries. By the end of August he had added eight more, bringing his total to 38.

At the end of August, Voss went on leave again. After a close call with a British pilot which he barely escaped, Voss is said to have been very stressed and nervous. After spending a few days at home in Krefeld, he visited the Fokker Flugzeugwerke in Schwerin to test-fly a new model. Upon his return, he would add ten more victories to his score before his luck finally ran out.

His demise is famous across nations. His skill and tenacity are mentioned whenever war aviation is the topic.

On September 23rd, 1917, Voss set out on a hunt for enemies by himself. Soon he shot down a bomber plane, killing the two occupants. It was to be his final victory. He returned to his airfield, greeted by his two brothers who had come to visit. They ate lunch and took a picture together, the last one of Voss alive.

At around 5 p.m. Voss took off again on his final patrol. He was with other pilots from the unit, but Voss was able to climb quicker than the rest and his comrades soon lost sight of him. Meanwhile, on the other side of the lines, the British 56 Squadron went up with the same intentions as Jasta 10. Inevitably, the parties met and engaged in the greatest air battle of WWI. It is still unclear what is truth and what is fiction of the many retellings of this fight. But one thing is clear: Werner Voss saw the enemy aircraft far outnumbering him and instead of turning around, he confronted them head-on and was able to damage every single plane before being killed. After around 10 minutes of intense fighting with at least six enemies, Voss's airplane reportedly dropped suddenly and crashed.

His death was attributed to Arthur Rhys Davis, though there is still some doubt as to who was truly responsible.

Voss’s final fight is an interesting contrast to one of Richthofen’s. MvR and several comrades encountered a lone enemy, but instead of them all attacking him, only Richthofen fought while his comrades held back and ensured no other enemy pilot approached. If only the British had acted that way in Voss’s last fight.

"I shall never forget my admiration for that German pilot, who single handed, fought seven of us for ten minutes . . . I saw him go into a fairly steep dive and so I continued to watch, and then saw the triplane hit the ground and disappear into a thousand fragments, for it seemed to me that it literally went into powder." James McCudden

"His flying was wonderful, his courage magnificent and in my opinion he is the bravest German airman whom it has been my privilege to see fight." James McCudden

"If I could only have brought him down alive..." Arthur Rhys Davis

He was buried where he crashed but subsequent fighting in the area quickly made it impossible to find his grave. He is honoured on the wall of the Soldatenfriedhof at Langemark.

RIP Werner Voss (1897 – 1917) 

Sources:

September Evening: The Life and Final Combat of the German World War One Ace Werner Voss, by Barry Diggens 2003

Unter the Guns of the German Aces, by Norman Franks and Hal Giblin 1997

My thanks to @ivy-and-edelweiss​ for proof reading and correcting my terrible grammar when neccessary! 

#Werner Voss #Fighter Pilot #Ace #WW1 #Germany

[murdcrofcrows]

stats • pinterest • connections

full name: dominika armenevna volkov nicknames: dom, domi, nika gender / pronouns: cis woman, she/her age & birthday: 30, october 25th occupation: principal ballerina, new york ballet company gang affiliation: burning gods, soldier orientation & status: pansexual kinsey scale - 2, widow strengths: enchanting, charismatic, dedicated weaknesses: manipulative, selfish, bitter

diving deeper -

*     ◟    :    〔   mia goth  ,      cis woman    +   she/her    〕      DOMINIKA VOLKOV ,      some say you’re a  THIRTY YEAR OLD  lost soul among the neon lights.      known for being both  ENCHANTING and MANIPULATIVE,  one can’t help but think of  HORNS  by   bryce fox  when you walk by.    are you still a    SOLDIER / PRINCIPAL BALLERINA at    BURNING GODS / NEW YORK BALLET COMPANY,     even with your reputation as THE MOUNTEBANK?     i think we’ll be seeing more of you and FLAVORED LIP GLOSS THAT GLISTENS IN THE LIGHT , A SMOOTH RUSSIAN ACCENT THAT FLOWS THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A WHISP, BLOOD DROPS ON SOFT PINK SATIN  ,    although we can’t help but think of LOVE QUINN (YOU), MIA WALLACE (PULP FICTION), MADDY PEREZ (EUPHORIA)   whenever we see you down these rainy streets. 

BACKGROUND.

tw: death, murder

born in russia to an influential family both politically and in the criminal world. dominika was spoiled despite the strict expectations set forward for her.

private schools, home tutoring, dance classes to teach her balance and coordination before she could begin pointe at eleven years old. along with etiquette classes she was taught defense, basic weapons and combat training, and things to do in the event of a kidnapping or other similar instances.

in a power grab, people were hired to take out the entire volkov family. unfortunately, they were mostly successful. as far as dominika knows, she is the only surviving member.

a close family associate who did both security and odd jobs for the volkovs came to the moscow academy of choreography which dominika had been enrolled in since she was young, only returning home for school breaks. the associate informed her of what had happened and insisted on hiding her until they could safely get her out of the country.

the academy helped hide her until they could develop a suitable plan, traveling and devoted volkov friends when rumors would get too hot about her existence or attempts were made on her life.

eventually, they were able to devise a foolproof plan through a matchmaking company - she would travel to new york city and be the wife a wealthy older man. dominika did not tell the others when making said plan that she had no intention of staying married to the man, but her private plans were simply none of their business.

she thanked the family associate and the academy for their above and beyond service and made her way to america. while she awaited her green card and other documents, dominika became a dutiful wife when she wasn't dancing for the new york ballet company. she even managed to get herself put into the man's will which, admittedly, was her plan all along.

normally, dominika tries to keep her hands clean when it comes to violence and disposing of loose ends but every so once and awhile it is necessary. her husband had served his purpose and was worth more to her dead than alive. she treated him well for their time spent together, it was only fair that she be compensated for that time and service.

she played the part of a grief stricken widow for the allotted time she felt she had to. further using her skills to continue building on the inheritance left to her by gathering information, playing the stock market, and draining unsuspecting target's bank accounts.

these skills were noticed by the burning gods organization when she'd tried, and nearly succeeded, using her tactics on one of their own. instead of retaliating, they offered her a position and she's been with them ever since.

dominika plans to rise to the top in the organization some day. she continues to be happy with her position in the ballet company, both enjoying dancing and performance along with the access it gives her to more wealthy members of society. when she's not on stage she transforms into who she needs to be to get a job done or spends her time finding ways to stay entertained throughout the city.

she continues to look for more information on the people responsible for killing her family and ways to remove the current family who took their place. out of principal and revenge, though she has no intention of ever returning to russia.

QUICK CONNECTIONS.

friends, social group

friends of the volkov family

missing/not dead volkov sibling or cousin

rivals

casual encounters/exes

romantic potential

a confidant or two

people to do her dirty work for her when needed

security detail

HEADCANONS.

she is looking for a way to get a retractable metal nails type weapon but is picky and very specific about it.

while not liking to participate in violence unless she has to, she thoroughly enjoys watching it and you can often find her at fighting events.

more to be added

#lawlessintro #dominika | intro #death tw #murder tw

[cosmicjoke]

Debunking misconceptions that Attack on Titan is pro-imperialist, pro-fascist, pro-nationalist or antisemitic:

I wanted to put together this bullet point list as a resource for anyone to use whenever they come up against the sadly rampant accusations made about AoT and Hajime Isayama being some sort of fascist, Nationalist propaganda, or in some way antisemitic.  With just a little research and application of logic, it should be easy to come to the conclusion that these accusations are baseless and without merit.  But, sadly, people are prone to hearing rumors or accusations and, without any effort of research or critical thinking, take what they heard at face value and believe it, often repeating it as fact, with no consideration or care as to the consequences of their carelessness.  I aim with this post to counter some of that ignorance.  So, here it goes.

1. Hajime Isayama is politically right-leaning and is pro-Nationalist and pro-Imperialist:

Incorrect.  Isayama has never made any public statements regarding anything political, let alone to do with the history between Japan and Korea.  This erroneous and widely spread belief about Isayama derives from an unsubstantiated rumor about him which has no substantive or concrete evidence to back it up. The truth is, a tweet touching on the subject of Japan’s invasion and occupation of Korea was written on an account which in no way is officially affiliated with Isayama.  This tweet was seen by someone who decided the account belonged to Isayama and, already laboring under the belief that Isayama was a racist because, I’m assuming, of comments he made expressing his admiration for a Japanese General named Akiyama Yoshifuru, leaked the tweet onto a Korean website, claiming it was from Isayama.  It then became news, which as all rumors on the internet do, spread like wildfire, resulting in Isayama receiving thousands of death threats and people lacking any sort of critical thinking skills to label him a pro-Imperialist and pro-Nationalist.  Despite happening nearly a decade ago, this rumor persists to this day and continues to color people’s perceptions of Isayama’s work “Attack on Titan”, reading pro-fascist and pro-Nationalist subtext into a work which very CLEARLY is the opposite.  One only need use basic reasoning and logic while looking at the actual messaging of clear denouncement of war, violence, prejudice and Imperialism seen in AoT to conclude that this rumor is in fact baseless and holds no merit.  It makes absolutely zero sense in the context of Isayama’s messaging in his own art.

2.  Hajime Isayama’s admiration of Akiyama Yoshifuru:

Isayama revealed that one of the characters from “Attack on Titan”, Dot Pixis, was based on the Japanese General Akiyama Yoshifuru. Many people, in their failure to know their history or do even the most basic research, don’t know that Yoshifuru wasn’t, in fact, alive during World War II, the second Sino-Japanese war, or even the Manchurian Invasion.  He wasn’t around for any of the atrocities that that IJA would later be known for.  He led successful campaigns during the 1st Sino-Japanese war, the Russo-Japanese war, and the Boxer rebellion in China. During the boxer rebellion both sides of the 8 nation alliance and the Chinese Rebels committed war crimes. This was all before WW1 and the Geneva Convention.  He just led successful campaigns that captured territory early on thus kickstarting the Japanese Empire, but didn’t actually participate in any of the worst atrocities that.  He’s a highly regarded figure in Japan, much the way Gen. Patton is in the US, and so it isn’t at all unusual for him to be an admired figure in that country, and shouldn’t in any way be used as a basis for judging what any person’s political leanings are.   Further, Akiyama spent his whole life afterward regretting being in the military, mourning for his subordinates and the victims of his military campaigns.  He campaigned to reduce military training in schools and disliked the totalitarianism japan was headed toward.  He wasn’t pro-war, pro-nationalist, pro-imperialist at all.  He was the exact opposite.  Much like Dot Pixes himself ends up being by the end of AoT.

3. Erwin Smith is based on Erwin Rommel, a famous German General:

 This rumor comes from the fact that Erwin’s birthday is the same day in which Rommel died, October 14th.  What even a little basic research will reveal, however, is that Rommel was executed on Oct. 14th for taking part in the July 20th operation, an assassination plot to kill Hitler.  Rommel was also not a card-carrying member of the Nazi party, and, while disputed by some historical studies, is and for a long time has been generally regarded as an example to be held up of how one should conduct themselves during times of war.  He’s a well respected individual.  

 4. The Eldian’s are meant to be a 1 for 1 analogy for the Jews in Germany and Europe during WWII:

Incorrect. While the Eldian’s treatment by the Marleyan’s in Liberio shares similarities with how the Jews were treated in Germany and Europe under Nazi rule, the Eldian’s in fact share much more in common with Germanic and Norse cultures, including their names, their religions, their culture, their mythology, etc…  Such as the references to Ymir, the giant who created the world, or Yggdrasil, the World Tree, which connects the 9 Realms and is the source of all life, (there are 9 Titan shifters, 9 being a numerically significant number in Norse mythology).  The Eldian’s, in the flashbacks with Ymir the slave girl, are shown to be a Germanic tribe of people, Vikings, who of course were known for colonizing and taking over other groups and nations.  Indeed, Marley oppressing and punishing Eldian’s for their ancestors sins parallels European powers enacting incredibly harsh reparations on Germany following WWI, essentially sinking it and it’s people into economic ruin and despair, which in turn lead to the sorts of desperate circumstances which allowed a person like Hitler and the Nazi party to gain traction and eventual control and power. Sound familiar?  Just like how Eren is able to come into the power of the attack and founding titans, giving him the ability to destroy Marley and the rest of the world, being a direct result of Marley’s own oppressive and prejudiced treatment of the Eldian’s.  This isn’t to say that the Eldian’s are meant to be a 1 for 1 analogy of German’s, but rather to demonstrate that Isayama obviously pulled from many real-world sources for inspiration in crafting the fictional world, people’s and nations that occupy “Attack on Titan”.   The parallels are meant to demonstrate a cautionary tale against holding people accountable for sins committed by their ancestors, for blaming entire groups of people for things they didn’t do.  It only ever leads to further hate, death, destruction and suffering.  Interestingly, the character most directly linked to actually being Jewish, is Levi, with his first name being Hebrew in origin, and his last name, Ackerman, being German.  A German Jew.  What makes this significant, of course, is that Levi is the only truly, traditionally heroic character in the whole story.  So make of that what you will. 

I’ll leave this comment I found on youtube to further explain:

 B Ch

The titans are "Eldians" by name but not by primary origin- anyone with Ymir's blood had the capability of turning into a titan due to a merge with a paranormal source (the "source of all organic matter"), and Ymir came from a nameless group of villagers that the Eldians colonized and enslaved, so Ymir by blood is not actually an Eldian, only further discrediting the anti-Semitism claim, since the "monsters" in question were ALWAYS the oppressed group and taken advantage of because of their abilities. The concept of Pure Titans only existed as a result of trying to duplicate one of the 9 titans only this could not be done either because simply injecting spinal fluid wouldn't do it, the shifter had to be sacrificed and eaten for this to happen (there is not reason why only 9 happened to come to existence, but it's likely just a notable numerical reference in Nordic mythology). Eventually existing Eldians all had Ymir's blood due to cleansing of their own people and others in order to pose a bigger threat to enemy nations, and those nations had associated Eldians with holders of the power for ages, no one ever knowing where it actually came from until we are shown through Ymir's memories: turns out, it was from another group entirely and a freak accident started by letting some pigs out of a pen. And tbh while I can't speak for Jewish people because I'm not Jewish, I will say that a lot of the backlash against Attack on Titan are made from Westerners, because they fail to realize that while the most prominent references are from the Holocaust and Nazi Germany, the full scale of references parallel several other tragedies of oppression and genocide, such as the Japanese internment camps in the US, the Rwandan Genocide, the Trojan War, etc. The Eldians aren't specifically meant to represent Jews but rather a general populace of oppressed people. It is more about the viscous cycle of trauma and hatred that removes and meddles with the history that would explain how it all began to being all but meaningless because there is no meaning beyond humans finding reasons to dominate over each other and believing they are the hero of their own story- the solution is to break free of that cycle so that freedom can be possible. Also while I'm not condoning Eren's ultimate actions, his words to stop being complacent to the circumstances and to go against the grain to make a change to your miserable situation can be a general moral for literally anything in life. Isayama has said the story was initially inspired by his drive to leave his hometown because as a child he felt very confined and trapped and restless-- and then he wanted to make a shape-shifting monster horror manga-- which then turned into a mystery that demanded some structure so, like MANY Japanese mangaka that make stories about war, you use parallels of real life occurrences and maybe focus a tiny bit too much on the European aesthetic and Holocaust. So that said, I can understand if the visuals are a bit too real for some viewers and that's totally cool, but that equally can't be used to dictate others of oppressed groups' opinions on the story.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #hajime isayama

[not-so-lost-after-all]

She saw him, in a dream, in a nightmare.

---

Astarion was mostly happy, she knew, he tried his hardest. Since their greatest adventure, they travelled the world but he actually got to share home with her too. Who would have thought. They became renown bounty hunters, so their home far from the crowds provided finer things in life. He got to drink blood from their targets if they were marked "dead or alive" and sometimes from the worst people they encountered. And sometimes he drank from her, much to his liking, if their occupation did not require for her to be in full health the next day and she was happy to provide. As unexpected as it was, her heart broken several times over was in safe hands now.

Not everything was great, of course. One day they were attacked by six spawns he helped to create so long ago and while they were able to overpower the spawns, there was some strange acid on their blades. Astarion spent a month in fever and pain but was even more furious that she suffered several deep cuts that only fully healed after many months. Something that painfuly reminded him that he was not much stronger than any other vampire spawn, she supposed.

She knew what was behind that brooding look of his sometimes, although he never spoke about it again and he would give her still the same answer if she asked. It wasn't regret that he refused all the power he craved, not really, but deep-seated anger that it had to be this way. She also knew his smile was fake whenever she went around her business during the day.

And so she asked Gale if he can at least try to help Astarion with his condition, not telling him anything so that he would not cling to false hope. Now, when they entered their home once again, there was small package there waiting. Astarion gasped when he opened it. Sweet, genius Gale… It's been long, long twenty years.

---

This was a nightmare.

Even after decades, she still remembered that even back then she knew it was a mistake to help him taking Cazador's place. It was a deal with the devil, she knew what the prize was. So did he but he didn't care. Yet he begged her and she caved in. She had a chance to get away, still, but oh, it was enticing for a human like her who loved him. Bound to him but with him for the time unknown, how bad could that be, really?

Her heart was broken several times over before but this crushed it to ashes. It was her choice, as he never failed to point out. He cut out her tongue when she dared to remind him once that he promised to elevate her but that never happened. She never spoke about it again. It took all of her willpower to remind herself that yes, she chose to be with him, but she doesn't deserve to be treated like this. To be locked in an iron cofin for months while he enjoys himself with his other "eternal lovers".

She reminded all of this to herself in a second before she landed a strike with the same dagger he used for carving into her breasts and thights and arms. The same dagger she dared to stole some time ago and send to Gale to enchant.

She started stabbing him viciously, his screams and hers like a wicked melody. She was striking over and over again, she cried and yelled untill her throat gave up. She was there bloodied and on her knees again, ugly sobbing next to his body.

Gale also sent poison alongside the dagger and begged her to break the cycle and resist the urge to take up Astarion's place. She'll drink it the first thing in the morning.

---

She saw him, in a dream, in a nightmare.

She woke up confused and realized they are still at the cemetery long before dawn. His head was resting on her chest and she gently run fingers through his hair and softly giggled.

#astarion #astarion spoilers #just my happy Astarion thoughts #i had you in the third part right? #astarion x tav #my writing

[girlactionfigure]

Ona Simaite was a Lithuanian librarian who saved Jews, including many children, during the German occupation, and preserved literary works from the Vilna ghetto, before being arrested by the Gestapo.

Born in Akmene, Lithuania in 1894, Ona was educated in Moscow and began working at the library at Vilnius university in 1940. A book lover and intellectual, Ona was excited to be working at the oldest university in northern Europe, in a city teeming with culture. However everything changed in 1941, when the Nazis invaded Lithuania. Immediately they created a squalid ghetto and imprisoned the city’s large Jewish population. Ona was shocked and horrified when her Jewish students and colleagues suddenly disappeared. 

Without a moment of doubt, she began visiting the ghetto frequently, under the pretext of collecting library books. She was shocked at what she saw there. It was hell on earth. Residents were barely alive, many of them starving to death, while others were shot in the streets, or beaten brutally and then sent to concentration camps. Ona spent the rest of the war helping Lithuanian Jews in multiple ways. In her visits to the ghetto, she smuggled food, medicine, supplies, and small firearms. After each visit, she left with documents: letters from ghetto residents to their loved ones, literary journals describing life in the ghetto, and various other important papers.

Ona helped Jews who managed to escape or avoid the ghetto by sheltering them in her own humble apartment, and when she ran out of room she found other hiding places for them. She procured fake documents enabling them to hide their Jewish identity. Saving Jews from the Nazis became the focus of her entire life. With superhuman strength and courage, she smuggled small children out of the ghetto in her big book sack, and found homes for them with people who would keep them hidden and safe. It is unknown exactly how many this mild-mannered librarian saved, because she spoke to no one about her heroic acts. 

In 1944, Ona was arrested by officers of the Gestapo, the notorious German secret police. She was brutally tortured by the sadistic Nazis, and sentenced to death. Miraculously, right before her scheduled execution, the president of Vinius University found out about it and paid a large ransom for her life. The Nazis agreed not to kill her, but they refused to free her, and instead sent to the Dachau concentration camp, and later an internment camp in France. Ona was finally freed when the Allies liberated France in 1945. 

After the war, Ona remained in Paris, living a quiet life as a librarian, in a home full of books. She was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem in 1966, and a tree was planted in her honor. Ona died in 1970, leaving behind a trove of her own writing: letters, journals, articles, and diaries. Many of them were published in the book “Epistophilia: Writing the Life of Ona Simaite. In 2015, Simaite Street in Vilna was named after her.

For saving an unknown number of Jews, in a multitude of ways, over four years, we honor Ona Simaite as this week’s Thursday Hero. 

#Thursday Hero

[fatalezr]

Silent Assassin

Lilly put some dark glasses on her face as she exited the cab, paying the driver in cash with a generous tip. She walked confidently across the street towards the apartment block in her black boots that were under tight blue jeans. She wore a red blazer over a black top with a plunging neckline that fell just below her waist, trying to fit in with the crowds.

As she approached the apartment block, she saw a man with large headphones on also going to the door, nodding his head in time with the music. Lilly quickened her steps and when he opened the door, she managed to grab it and keep it open for herself too, thankful for this piece of luck that had happened.

This was a significant day - it was her first solo hit that she had been tasked with by Marina, and she was keen to put into practice everything she had learned from her fellow gang members. Today she would finally be an assassin, paid to execute a mission using her own wits alone. She had travelled up the day before from Miami to Jacksonville, checking into a hotel that was using security software they could manipulate to hide her visit. She had spent the day preparing, researching and looking at her possible methods before deciding on a nice, silent hit during the day.

The apartment block was relatively modern but the walls were thin and there were the usual sounds of music, people making calls and televisions blaring as she walked up two floors, keeping her glasses on as she walked and being ignored by the couple of individuals walking the other way as she did so.

On the third floor, she walked down the corridor until she stopped outside the address of her target. He was a computer hacker by trade and had recently been launching attacks on several corporate entities. Little did he know that one was run by Eleanor Harris, whose software was helping Marina and the gang operate discreetly in disrupting all manner of legal and illegal activities. From Lilly's research she knew he lived with a girlfriend who joined him in these activities and both were home during the day.

As she walked to the door, she reached into her pocket and firstly pulled on some leather gloves over her freshly manicured and painted fingers. At the door, she listened for a second and heard no noise immediately from the other side of it. Lucia had been teaching her how to use a simple lockpick and she took one out of her blazer pocket to slide into the door. It fitted nicely and two seconds later, she heard it unlock and slipped carefully inside.

Lilly kept her footsteps soft as she quietly closed the door. She lifted her shirt and drew her Beretta Px4 from the holster in the front of her jeans waistband. Holding it in her hand seemed to heighten her senses. Everything was suddenly clearer and more electric. She reached into the inside of her red blazer and pulled out a long suppressor. She began to thread it onto the gun, delicately handling and twisting it in her gloved fingers. "Remember, be discreet, but enjoy this too" Lucia told her and Lilly was certainly doing so. She loved threading the suppressor on her gun - something about it made her feel deadly and alive. The hairs on her neck stood on end and her nipples hardened inside her bra.

She took some quiet steps as she finished suppressing the gun, using her ears to try and tease out what rooms the occupants were in. She heard a humming from the kitchen that stood to the side of the living room and saw a woman with long dark hair inside in a white vest top and comfortable shorts. She was listening to music in her ears as she waited for a coffee to be brewed.

Lilly checked around her - no one else was in the vicinity and she zeroed in on her target, taking steps until she was behind her and ready to strike. One gloved hand wrapped around the mouth and nose of the white-topped woman whilst Lilly put her gun in the woman's back. Pfff-pfff. Her finger stroked the trigger twice and two subsonic rounds made the woman jerk before she even had chance to scream. She went limp and Lilly began to lower her body to the ground, observing she had hit the right spot, puncturing the diaphragm of her victim and taking away any ability to scream or make noise.

Pfff-pfff. She stood over the woman and added two quick shots into the woman's breast, the white vest top turning red. Lilly saw the woman looking vacant and confused before -pfff- she added a coup de grace into her head, splattering the carpet around her with brain matter.

Lilly bit her lip in pleasure, loving every experience of the kill, each bullet feeling like a thrust inside her that hit all of the right places. Her eyes were wide in pleasure and she silently breathed as she raised her gun to shoulder height and supported it with two hands again, keen to find her second victim.

She continued through the flat until she heard the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard from behind a door. She used her training to determine where he was in the room and plan her move. He would hardly even know she was there. Her hand went to the door handle and she pulled it open at the same time as her right hand holding the pistol went up to shoulder height but aimed down.

As her victim, a young man in a t-shirt and jeans, looked round from his computer, her left hand was already coming up to support the right and her index finger was working the trigger. Pfff-pfff, pfff. She worked two shots into the stomach he exposed and a further one directly into his neck and windpipe. His face turned to shock and his eyes went wide as he grabbed at his throat and the wound within it. Lilly simply continued to raise the Beretta and it's suppressor. Pfff-pfff. She saw his head snap back as she shot him in the forehead.

Lilly smiled. There had been not a peep from either of her victims. The flats around her were still making noise and as far as they were concerned, nothing had changed. Two lives were taken without anyone knowing. She bit her lip some more as she left the apartment, allowing herself a brief moment of pleasure to quietly blow some of the smoke from the end of her suppressor, feeling its warmth close to her lips before blowing and unthreading it.

She exited as quickly as she had entered, holstering the gun in her waistband once it was unsuppressed and taking off her gloves as she left the apartment. Out on the street, she hailed a cab and went back to her hotel, a modern five star luxury in which she had booked a room with a view of the city. She spent the taxi cab looking out the window and silently begging the driver to go quicker, so much did she want to go back and experience the joy of the hit the way she was meant to.

Thankfully the traffic was not bad and she arrived at the hotel before long, smiling at the doorman as he opened the door to the hotel and she walked confidently in. She grabbed the elevator to her floor and walked quickly to her room, a deep longing in her stomach. She shut the door and added a 'do not disturb' sign before taking her red blazer off.

She stripped off her top, jeans and boots, placing the gun by her side and laying back on the bed in her matching black Victoria Secret bra and thong. Her hands wandered down to her sex and her breasts and she touched herself, finally getting the release she had craved since the assassination.

"Mmm, mmm, yess" she moaned as she touched herself, reliving the kills in her head, rehearing the soft pfff-pfff of her bullets as she killed the hacker and his girlfriend. It made her hand move in more sensual ways and she arched her back in pleasure as her hands continued to find a sexual release for her. "Oh! OOH!" she let herself lose control for a moment as she orgasmed before settling back into the sheets.

------

After reporting in back to Lucia and Marina whilst in her bathrobe, Lilly thought about the evening ahead. She still had another night in the hotel. There was no need to rush back to Miami and Lucia had signed off her message to Lilly telling her to take a bit of time to enjoy herself as a reward for work well done. The sexual release from earlier had been good, but she was finding herself ravenous for more.

She gave a mischievous grin to herself in the mirror before taking off her bathrobe and adjusting the black bra and thong she was still wearing, straightening the silvery shining straps on her shoulder and around her hip. She was going to have fun tonight, she decided, and went to her case to pull out the matching suspender belt that she had packed for exactly this potential occasion.

Lilly took her time attaching it around her waist and slipping the shining silver and black straps under her thong before pulling on dark brown stockings with lacy floral welts that sat on her thighs before being attached to the suspender belt. She admired herself in the mirror, enjoying her first experience of being in this kind of outfit, and felt like she was a sexy model. She had also packed a black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline that came to just above her knees and placed it on. She applied some makeup and put some curls in her hair. "I'm a real femme fatale now" she told herself.

Her Beretta and her suppressor both fit into her purse that she took down with her to the hotel bar. It was evening when she walked in and she noticed several male heads all stopping to look in her direction as she did so. Even the pianist entertaining the crowd seemed to miss a note as he caught a glimpse of her. The hotel was expensive and attracted a luxurious business clientele.

Lilly sat at the bar by herself and ordered a martini. She wondered how long it would be before someone came to take their chances with her. She could have looked around the room for a suitor but decided no. She was no longer a cleaner, she was a deadly warrior, they could all come and beg from her instead. She had barely had chance to take a sip from her drink when she was joined by blonde haired man in a navy blue suit with a white open shirt. He was in his 30's and wearing a nice cologne. Lilly could tell he was naturally fit from the bit of his muscular chest she could see.

He introduced himself as Dean, an investment banker and offered to buy her the drink and a new one when she was ready. Lilly smiled and introduced herself as Kathryn, and visiting on business for a fashion conference that was working nearby. The two began flirting, Lilly enticing the man more and more into her company. He was very handsome, and she knew that she wanted him, if only temporarily at least.

They conversed and drank for about an hour or so together, Lilly making sure she drank slowly. She wanted to have power over this man in every regard. She slowly edged herself closer to him before feeling his hand on her thigh. She could see the hairs on his neck standing on edge as she touched him on his. "I have a room upstairs" she told him, "how would you like to continue this conversation up there?"

"I'd love to," he said. He got out his wallet and paid cash for the drinks and Lilly noted the large number of bills he had inside. He buttoned his jacket and held out his arm for Lilly, which she accepted graciously. They started kissing in the elevator, Lilly exploring his mouth with her tongue and accepting the rest in return. She could feel her passions growing already.

She made sure to put her purse in her bathroom when they walked into her room before they kissed again, their arms running over each others bodies. Dean was muscular and strong and his warming embrace was delightful to her, yet every time she closed her eyes all she could still hear was the pfff-pfff of her suppressed bullets firing and all she could envision was the impact of them on the two bodies she had shot. It was an intoxicating and electrifying cocktail.

Lilly rubbed Dean's crotch and felt him stir. "Oh fuck..." he said softly as she touched him. She gave him a mischievous grin as she undid his belt and pulled his trousers down before setting to work on his shirt. She undid it whilst kissing his chest before standing up and pushing him playfully down onto her bed.

She stood over him and unzipped the back of her dress. She eased it off her shoulders, revealing her lingerie set and his eyes seemed to pop out of his head. "Oh my god..." he said breathlessly, mesmerised by the beautiful sensuality of the black set and the shape of it on her body. Lilly felt incredible. She tossed Dean a condom from her nightstand.

"Put that on" she commanded, "I'm going to fuck you". The man nodded and did as he was told, pulling his boxer briefs down. Lilly smiled when she saw he was both well-endowed and standing ready for business. He put on the condom as Lilly slid her thong off and down the stockings on her legs. She got on top of Dean, one leg either side of his body and eased herself onto his shaft whilst kissing him.

He filled her and they both moaned with pleasure before Lilly rode him, getting him to all the places she needed and crying out with pleasure "oh, oh, oh yes...". She ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes, reliving the kill still. It was all too sensual. She unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the floor. "Oh fuck!" she called as she reached an orgasmic high and slowed her pace. She wanted more, more and more.

She slipped off him. "Stand up" she said, lying on her back and edging to the edge of the bed, "stand up and do me".

"Whatever you want baby" Dean said breathlessly. Lilly admired his muscular chest as he rose up. She was already plotting her next move, but wanted to feel him cum first. She spread her legs wide as he entered her before putting a foot over each of his shoulders, the nylon enhancing the pleasure as she did so and giving him a better angle from which to thrust.

They were both moaning together in pleasure for minutes and Lilly was picturing herself with her gun in her hand, twisting the suppressor on and moving through the flat. "Oh yeah baby, fire for me" she said, meaning the gun in her head but wanting Dean to finish the job inside her. "Come on, give me your shot" she moaned breathlessly.

"Oh, Oh, OOOOHH!!" Dean shouted as he jerked, froze and exploded within her, the shaking of his cock feeling like the recoil on the Beretta. Lilly gripped him tighter with her legs and found every last inch of pleasure she could, screaming in pleasure before relaxing, her breath panting.

Dean withdrew from her and staggered backwards, also breathing deeply and sweating a little from their intense lovemaking. "Oh fuck...oh fuck..." he said, talking to himself before he took off the condom and threw it in a bin. He came over to Lilly and kissed her lightly before lying next to her. "Oh my god, you are...so....fucking good" he said, a rapturous smile on his face.

'Yes' Lilly thought to herself, 'yes, I am'. She was also smiling, particularly knowing what she would do next. "Stay here" she told him, "I'll be back in a bit". She kissed his chest again before getting off the bed and picking up her bra and thong from the floor.

In the bathroom, she redressed in her lingerie, feeling her anticipation rise again. This was turning into possibly the best night of her life, akin to when she first killed two men back on Marina's private island. She adjusted her bra to enhance her breasts as much as possible before reaching for her purse and the gun inside.

She looked at herself in the mirror and grinned as she raised the suppressor and threaded it whilst wearing her lingerie, the black and shining silver VS design looking glamorous on her. She had a full magazine ready to use but teased herself by threading the suppressor slowly, pretending it was like Dean's cock that she had just been using. She gave it a final stroke when it was fully threaded.

Lilly opened the bathroom door to find Dean still lying on the bed where she had left him, a happy look on his face. 'Good' she thought, 'he deserves to die in a joyful place'. He had barely looked over to him when she raised the pistol, a delighted look on her face. "Baby...?" he said quizzically.

Pfff-pfff-pfff-pfff. Lilly watched as Dean's muscular chest bounced and pulsed through the impact of her four bullets. The man put his hand to his chest in confusion and shock. Pfff-pfff-pfff. Lilly put three bullets into his exposed diaphragm, knocking the air from him. He had a pained look on his face as Lilly advanced.

"You were so good" she told him, "so, so good....but this is even better". She felt her orgasm build and she worked the trigger again, pfff-pfff-pfff-pfff, placing four shots into his stomach, the soft whisper of the gun mesmerising in her ears, her breasts jumping slightly inside her bra cups with each fire. It was like having him cum but at her finger's command.

"Mmmm, mmmm" Lilly moaned. Pfff-pfff. She fired twice more into his stomach and noticed the life leave his eyes. She dropped a hand inside her thong, playing with her clit and pushing herself to the top where she worked her body and her trigger finger at the same time. Pfff-pfff-pfff-click. She emptied the magazine into Dean's bloody and punctured body and shouted "OOOOOHHH YEEESSSS!!!" in pleasure as her gun ran empty and her thong filled with labours of her pleasure.

She brought the warm suppressor to her mouth and licked it. It burned but felt enjoyable at the same time. Lilly blew the corpse on her bed a kiss before dressing in her cocktail dress again and packing her suitcase, remembering to change the magazine on her gun before she did. She decided to drive back to Miami that night and work with the gang to erase all CCTV of her escapades. Besides, she was already relishing the thought of telling Lucia, Katya and Petra about her adventures.

Driving down the freeway in the night sky, she knew that cops would be baffled in the city by her murders. That was just the way it was supposed to be. It was the very definition she wanted of being a silent assassin.

#lilly #hitwoman #killer woman #female assassin #femme fatale #story #silencerhitwoman #silencer hitwoman

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Mackenzie “Mack” Ross Species: Zombie Occupation: Actress / Bartender at Dance Macabre Age: 25 Years Old Played By: Sunny Face Claim: Peyton List

"You may think you know me, but, trust me, you don’t."

The Starlet. The media darling. From the time Mackenzie Elizabeth Ross was born, she had been shoved into the spotlight by a doting mother and father who had big dreams for their curly haired, bright eyed child. In their eyes, she was going to be the next Shirly Temple, and considering that was all she had known from the beginning, Mackenzie had been on board. Saying lines, learning songs, and doing dances was as easy as counting to ten, but as she grew older, Mackenzie had found herself becoming bored with all of it. There was no challenge in learning lines. Choreography was something she could do with her eyes closed. Sure, she was a triple threat, but she had wanted more. And by the time she was thirteen, the skilled actress had discovered the rush of stunts…well, in a minimal capacity, but it had put her on a path of learning all she could, so when her 18th birthday had arrived, she would be ready to take her career to the next level.

Jump ahead five years, and the day she was waiting for had finally arrived. A contract for a new TV show had come across her agent’s desk and while it wasn’t packed full of action, it would regularly involve minor stunts, gags, and falls. A good way for her to dip her toe into the water. But little did Mackenzie know, the show would become a hit and carry her through to the day she took her last breath as a part of the living.

With ratings taking a dive for the first time in four years, all bets were riding on Mackenzie and the rest of the cast to pull off one of their most daring episodes yet. She had been comfortable with everything asked of her since starting the show, but desperate times were starting to call for desperate measures and after a lengthy meeting with one of the network heads, along with the solid threat of being written off the show and out of Hollywood, Mackenzie Ross reluctantly agreed to doing the most dangerous scene of her career.

The first run through had been dicey and did nothing to help her nerves, but after a few more tries, and mostly the director yelling at everyone to get the damn thing done already, Mackenzie stepped forward on the platform. Hearing the word action, the twenty-three year old took one final deep breath to try and shake away the nerves before diving head first into what was supposed to look like a deep hole in the ground, but when the rigging department failed to pull her back at the right time, the young actress landed on top of her head with a hard thud and snap leaving her motionless.

Production had ceased and word had already started to spread that Mackenzie Ross was killed in an accident on the set of her hit TV show. However, before an on-set medic could even reach her, the young woman was already starting to come around. Traumatized from what had just happened, but in shock of how she was even still alive, or so she thought. Both luckily and unluckily for her, the higher-ups had made sure that word was kept quiet. This was not going to be the final nail in the coffin of a show they had spent millions on over the past several years.

Somehow for Mackenzie though, word seemed to spread that she was invincible, and whether people believed it or not, it started to lead to bigger and better roles. And all while navigating her so-called overnight success, she was also having to manage the changes that were happening within her body, including a craving for brains. A change that only her assistant had become privy to knowing. It was like a fantasy and a nightmare all wrapped in one, but just as quickly as it had seemed to happen, it had ended when a desperate attempt to satiate her need for food resulted in the death of the man she had planned on spending the rest of her life with.

The reality of what she had done, when she could finally think straight again, hit her harder than the day she broke her neck. In a panic, Mackenzie called her assistant to help her clean up the evidence, putting them both at risk if they didn’t do a damn good job. And with a quickly executed plan of fleeing to a remote part of the country, Mackenzie Ross, one of the hottest young actresses at the moment, found herself in Wicked’s Rest, Maine alone, on the verge of a meltdown, and guilty of murdering the love of her life.

Character Facts:

Personality: Humble, sociable, daring, creative, sarcastic, anxious, stylish, resentful, guilty, misguided

Mackenzie was infected a year or so prior to becoming a zombie when an obsessed fan bit her during a photo-op at a convention. Mack never attended fan conventions again and only did things remotely and on VERY special occasions.

Small town life, even though she’s desperate to stay out of the spotlight, isn’t fitting very well. She misses the freedom she once had, before the fiancé incident, and she misses her family and her dog, Bixby.

Mack had finally started to branch out into music and had released her first successful single before life…err unlife went to hell.

While Mackenzie has been portrayed as being bright and bubbly in the media, she has a darker side most people don’t know about. Her job at Dance Macabre has given her an opportunity to let it show a little more.

Not only is Mack known for doing her own stunts, she’s well trained in martial arts and has a black belt.

#bio #taken #taken zombie #zombie #taken undead #undead #peyton list #hollywood undead

[wildwcst]

APPLICATION.

( emilio sakraya, demi man, he/they ). welcome to westworld, DALLAS RAMI. you have been programmed to look like you are 27 years old, and to operate as a MINER in the park. you have a bit of a reputation as the ICARUS, and are programmed to be DARING and PROTECTIVE, but also FOOLISH and IMPULSIVE. sometimes, people say you remind them of ALADDIN (ALADDIN), NICK MILLER (NEW GIRL), AND MAYLEN ORETSEV (SHADOW & BONE). if you had to describe yourself in a few words, it would be FEARLESS CHILD, BROKEN BOY, TELL ME WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BURN. it is rumoured that YOUR FAMILY’S FARM WASN’T PRODUCING ENOUGH FOOD, SO YOU STARTED STEALING TO SUPPORT YOUR MOM AND SISTER. YOU STOLE FROM THE WRONG PERSON AND ENDED UP RUNNING AWAY AND HIDING OUT IN THE MINES. we hope you can entertain the guests!

FILE.

full name: dallas rami

age: twenty-seven

gender / pronouns: demi man, he/they

orientation: bisexual

affiliation: host

occupation: miner

family: tbd rami (mother, alive), pearl rami (sister, alive)

faceclaim: emilio sakraya

inspiration: aladdin (aladdin), nick miller (new girl), maylen oretsev (shadow & bone)

Pinterest

BIOGRAPHY.

You're a boy who came from humble beginnings. Your family had been in the farming business for generations, and when you were born, you were expected to follow in their footsteps. Your early days were spent running around the farms and helping your mother harvest the produce, and for years, you felt content with your destined path.

You knew your family's farm was never the most successful in terms of items produced, but you always managed to get by. It wasn't until around a year ago that you noticed the crops stopped yielding as much product. You tried to brush it off as a batch of late-bloomers, but time went on and you weren't able to sell as much as before. This impacted your family's livelihood, so you took matters into your own hands.

After your chores were done, you found yourself wandering over to the nearest town in search of food and supplies for your family. You ended up inhabiting the role of a pickpocketer--- targeting newcomers and oblivious citizens to help keep your family fed and healthy. The role worked well at the start, but when you decided to steal from a wanted criminal, you realized you were no longer safe in the town.

Your mind panicked at the thought of your family being put in danger due to your actions, so you decided it was best to leave and lay low until the individual forgot about you. You signed up to work in the mines, knowing it was far enough away from the town to keep you safe and tucked away, and that's where you've been for months.

The only time you see non-miners is when newcomers wander over to check out the mines, but though you try to warn them about the dangers of the underground cavern, they often insist on wandering around. You reluctantly tag along with them, and when you run into them on your rare visits to the town, you'll often ask them to act as a lookout in case the criminal is after you again.

One day you hope to abandon the mines and return to your family, but until you feel like it's safe, you'll remain tucked behind the shadows of the underground mines.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

The outlaw who is after Dallas

Other individuals who Dallas stole from back in the day

Fellow miners

Old friends

Exes/crushes

Guests who are exploring his storyline

Employees who often update/fix Dallas

#intro: dallas

[freedkenna]

♡ independent. private. highly selective. independent Scottish selkie oc blog.♡

♡ pinterest ♡

♡ affiliated with:

hello, I'm Wrennly. I'm 25 years old, American, & taken. I go by she/they pronouns as well. I am pagan, practice witchcraft, & own many animals. these are the rules & basic muse bio below.

♡ there will be no comparisons to deities, whether that's ic or ooc.

♡ relationship depreciation does not apply here, & let me explain. "whether I talk to you in a day, or in a year. I'll see you when I see you; until then, take care."

♡ I am neurodivergent; I have PTSD, Borderline Personality Disorder, Anxiety, & Depression. I work full-time as well as have a life outside of tumblr. I'm in a committed relationship, & that takes up a lot of my time.

♡ I also follow a lot of people, so I may forget your alias/pronouns/muses! I always try to reread everything before contacting people, but sometimes I am a forgetful bean! please offer me grace!

♡ I am a shipping whore and prioritize bonds held with other people & their characters. friends receive favoritism over strangers, but I try to play fair! I want to write & ship with people I'm comfortable with & who know me very well!

♡ muses are written at an age-range. meaning, some may be underage in one thread scenario, but of age in another. always look at tags for extra information. most times, consider adult ages as default.

♡ NSFW and other content will appear on the blog, which includes but are not limited to NSFW: smut, mentions of rape, explorations of human psyche, religious mentions, drug usage, sex work, abuse, pregnancy issues, abortion / miscarriage, sexuality, and so many more. do not follow if under 20+.

♡ blog is drama-free, will never post roleplay drama or politics drama. life updates will be periodically given based on how often I'm promising to be online, but cannot for any reason.

TOXICITY CLAUSE. I used to be a shitty rp partner & friend! I never committed bigoted acts like racism or sexism, but I'd have the tendency to collect ships or participate in drama etc. my past aliases include Sam, Sammi, Stormi, Peaches, & now Wrennly. all problems have been fixed.

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

full name: Mairi Rose Kenna nickname: Mai, Ri gender: CIS female height: 5 foot 9 inches age ( verse dependent ): 17 - 25 zodiac: March 21st; Aries species: selkie

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥

hair color: dark brunette eye color: hazel skin: fair body type: thin, but curvy dominant hand: left scars: on her hands, arms, and thighs most noticeable feature(s): her eyes

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

place of birth: Scotland siblings: none parents: unknown ( mother - escaped, father - alive )

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

occupation: jobless current residence: homeless close friends: none relationship status: multiship financial status: poor criminal record: nonexistent vices: stealing, but she's not good at it ( but she's never been caught )

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

sexual orientation: biromantic bisexual preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | top | bottom | vers. libido: medium turn on's: prefers making love turn off's: quick sex relationship tendencies: relationship unsure

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

theme song: honey and glass - Peyton Cardoza mental illnesses: PTSD, anxiety physical illnesses: athsma phobias: drowning self confidence level: medium vulnerabilities: her fur

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Mairi is on the shyer part of the spectrum, she means well whenever she's talking to others. Mairi has a unique sense of justice ( where stealing to survive is alright ). she is supportive of the communities she's part of, and identifies as a queer woman. Mairi enjoys cooking.

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

Mairi's childhood was spent indoors where she wasn't allowed to play. her father was a domineering man who would force Mairi into aligning with his pre-concieved notions of what a daughter should be like. one day, her mother found her fur and escapes, never to be seen again. Mairi mourned the loss of her mother for a long time, and her father equipped a more extensive measure to keep Mairi under his control.

eventually, Mairi found her sealskin and escapes as well, abandoning her father.

-- • ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

species ability: selkie - ability to turn into a seal special ability: Mairi also aligns herself as a witch so she has powers of witchcraft

#wrennly ( ooc )

[mama-qwerty]

Meeting Shadow

So this is kinda/sorta the start of my Shadow story. I was playing around with how Maria would first meet Shadow, and this is what came out.

Remember, in my headcanon, Maria is a private brought in by Gerald to act as Shadow's "handler" since he's still hanging on by a thread at this stage. In reality, the Prof wants the boy to have an actual human caretaker, not just live his life in a tube. (Calling her Shadow's handler satisfies the military's question as to why she's there.) He hand picked her--he knows Maria is his granddaughter, but she doesn't.

~~~~~

The door opened to what looked like an emergency room. Medical monitors flashed vital signs, and machines beeped and blinked all around what looked like a preemie incubator in the center. Wires and cables stretched from the various monitors and computers to the inside of that incubator. Judging from the erratic beeps from the heart monitor, whatever was in there wasn’t doing well.

The young private gave the room a questioning look, before turning that look to General Tower behind her.

“Sir? I don’t understand. What is this assignment, exactly?”

The man lifted his lip in a scowl. Whatever it was, the general had a distaste for it. “The good doctor has spent a lot of taxpayer money to create the . . . thing inside that box. Your assignment, Private, is to do what you can to keep it alive.”

Her eyes widened. “Sir, I have no experience with babies. I’ve only babysat three times in my life, and that was for my ten-year-old neighbor.”

General Tower lifted his lip, this time in a sneery type of smile. “Then I wish you luck,” he said, before pulling the door closed behind him.

She stared at the door for a few seconds longer, before slowly turning toward the incubator. The term the general had used when referring to the occupant of that bit of equipment rang in her ears. Thing. He called it a thing. What exactly was she supposed to be caring for?

The imposing pile of paperwork she’d had to sign before coming to this hidden facility suddenly made sense. With words like ‘highly classified’, ‘non-disclosure’, and ‘under penalty of imprisonment or death’ sprinkled throughout it’s massive stack, this wasn’t some run-of-the-mill secret base. This was a super-secret, I’d-tell-you-but-then-I’d-have-to-kill-you secret base, housing what was slowly dawning on her must have been some pretty damn freaky secrets.

The question was, why was she chosen to join this selective club? She was just a private, fresh out of boot camp. Surely there were more experienced people? Ones better suited for such a task?

Every creature feature horror movie she’d ever seen suddenly flashed through her brain. Secret facilities like this usually housed a captured alien or genetically altered experiment. The scientists or big military brass would want to know how that creature functioned, so they’d send a poor, unsuspecting red shirt in to be the guinea pig. Usually a low-ranking private, who gets eaten or torn to shreds in the first few minutes of the film.

She swallowed hard. Right now her love of alien/creature feature horror movies didn’t seem so harmless.

Okay. Focus. There was no cage, and no two-way mirror for the scientists to study her impending messy death through. There was a little incubator and lots of monitoring equipment. Whatever was in here, it was obviously small.

Which brought to mind every movie she’d seen in which a tiny terrible creature either forced its way into the victim’s ear, nose, or mouth. Or other orifices.

She closed her eyes tightly. Creature features would be off the movie list for a while.

One of the monitors gave a rapid beep for a few seconds, before slowing down to the previous tempo. This was enough to pull her out of her thoughts, and she slowly made her way to the little plastic box with round holes on one side. Wires snaked inside, attached to . . . well, something.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a small black and red furry ball about the size of an orange.

“What the . . .” she breathed, brows furrowed. “Did . . . did they make a Tribble?”

The wires leading to the incubator seemed to go inside that little furry ball which confused her for a second, until the thing trembled slightly before uncurling and rolling onto its belly. Now she gaped at it, her jaw hanging slack.

It wasn’t a ball. It was a . . . well, she wasn’t entirely sure. An animal of some sort. But . . . not.

It had six spikes on the back of its head, tiny triangular ears, and a peach colored muzzle with a pointy black nose. Its little hands—and that’s what they were, not paws—were quite human, in that they had four fingers and a distinct thumb. Tiny claws tipped those digits, and it curled them into a teeny fist as she watched.

Her previous fears and movie-inspired paranoia forgotten, she moved closer to hunker down and peer in through the access holes in the side of the box. “What are you?” Its closer ear twitched at the sound of her voice, and one eye opened slightly to reveal a red iris. It seemed to see her, as it stared for a few seconds before closing its eye and heaving a small sigh.

She stood, flicking her head to bring her long blonde braid in front of her shoulder to fiddle with the end. A nervous habit she’d developed since letting it grow. “Holy crap,” she muttered, moving around the room. She took care to avoid the wires, and kept shooting little glances toward the incubator. “This is nuts. What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even know what it is. How am I supposed to take care of something I have no clue about?”

As if the universe deemed it necessary to test her, another monitor gave a long tone. She spun, her eyes floating over all the screens to try and determine which one was crying out. She finally narrowed it down to the one devoted to the creature’s breathing.

And right now, it wasn’t.

“Crap,” she whispered, hurrying over to the incubator. The little thing still lay on its belly, eyes closed and back horrifyingly still. “Oh, no. Nonononono.” She tapped on the plastic lid, directly over the creature. “Hey.” Tap tap. “C’mon, take a breath.” Tap tap tap.

Nothing. As if politely asking the little thing to breathe would have worked anyway.

She moved back to where she had looked in at it a minute before. “Hey,” she called, hoping to see the little ear twitch. It didn’t. “You gotta breathe, little guy.” She wasn’t sure why she called it that, it just seemed to fit. Still no response.

Feeling a bit freaked out, she did the only thing one does when faced with an unknown thing in an unknown situation—she reached in and touched it.

“C’mon, little guy,” she said, and stroked its tiny muzzle with her finger. “C’mon. Breathe for me. Please.”

She continued stroking the soft muzzle, and finally, after an eternity of seconds, it gasped in a breath. The eye opened again, and it looked at her, the closer ear turning her way. She smiled, relieved.

“There you go. Good job. Just keep doing that, okay? In and out.”

It watched her for a few more seconds, and the little fist relaxed. A tiny finger twitched. The monitor stopped its continuous tone and returned to a more even beep. She continued stroking the little muzzle with her finger.

Suddenly the door burst open, and an older man in a lab coat hurried in. She pulled her hand from the incubator, and stood quickly. Out of breath, the man simply looked between her and the little plastic box.

“The alarm went off in my lab,” he said, straightening his glasses as he went to peer in at the little creature. “What happened?”

“It stopped breathing,” she said, standing back to let him examine the various readouts on the machines. “But I . . . it started again.”

He looked up at her over his glasses. “What did you do?”

Her face burned as a blush flared. “I . . . uh . . . touched it.” God, that sounded so stupid.

“Touched him?”

She nodded, the blush spreading down her neck. “I kinda stroked its cheek with my finger.”

“And that’s all it took?”

She shrugged. It was entirely possible it would have started breathing again without her being there. But he asked.

He furrowed his brow for a few seconds, before a smile curled the ends of his lips. They disappeared beneath his bushy mustache. “Well done, my dear, well done!”

“Thanks,” she muttered, and honestly wanted nothing more than to run screaming into the night. This entire scene was surreal and insane.

“This little one has been very, hm, shall we say, delicate. I do believe he’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide as well!” The doctor was making notes on a clipboard she hadn’t noticed from the top of one of the machines. “But he’s the best specimen we’ve ever had. At least the one who survived the longest. I believe if we can get him past this infant stage, we may actually have a chance at full maturation!”

She fiddled with her braid. She understood everything he said, but none of it made any sense.

He turned to her, and must have read the look on her face. He smiled, hugging the clipboard to his chest. “Apologies, my dear. All this must seem quite strange to you. I fear the general has thrown you into the deep end without so much as a pool floaty.” She smiled at that and he continued. “Even though you no doubt signed a stack of paperwork the size of Alaska, I’m afraid I cannot go into much detail regarding what we’re doing here. But suffice it to say, if we can keep this little guy with us, it could be a great benefit to the medical world.”

“Looking for that elusive cure for cancer, huh?”

His smile faltered a tad. “The cure for everything,” he said, his voice soft. “This little guy is the ultimate lifeform. We just need to keep him alive until his system normalizes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ultimate lifeform? Isn’t that a lot of pressure to put on a . . .”

“I can’t divulge how he came to be, but I can say that a lot of his DNA matches the common Earth hedgehog.”

“’Earth’ hedgehog?”

He smiled again, this time guiltily. “Secrets.” He pulled an imaginary zipper across his lips.

She nodded. At least she had a gender and species. “Does he have a name?”

“We’ve been calling him ‘Project Shadow’.”

She glanced down at the little black and red baby. Shadow seemed a good name. “Shadow.”

“Shadow.” The man smiled, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I just realized you haven’t the first clue who I am!” She shook her head. He smiled, holding his hand out. “Professor Gerald Robotnik. I’m the lead scientist here.”

“Private Maria Robinson,” she said, taking his hand. His eyebrow twitched slightly, and she raised her own in a question. “Something wrong?”

The man pulled his hand back, uttering an embarrassed chuckle. “No, no. You’ll have to pardon me. You . . .” He cast her a sideways glance. “You just remind me of someone.”

~~~

Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!

#my writing #writing snippet #shadow the hedgehog #maria robotnik #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #sonic fanfiction

[viridianphile]

Draco was convinced that Hermione Jean Granger is a wench. A snooty, uppity, biggity two-faced wench who spent her life on a pedestal. He can’t help but loathe the girl especially when she’s a bitch under closed doors.

He was certain she is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that her actual occupation is a con artist, smuggling her way into people’s favor. Draco knew that wouldn't work on him, he was bitch-resistant and a self-proclaimed bitch detector under a one-mile radius.

Hermione, on the other hand, knows Draco Lucius Malfoy is a vainglorious and pampered little nestle-cock who spends his life looking at her in disdain. She can't help but loathe him back, especially when he shies her a condescending look with his gray eyes capable of penetrating through her fortress, seeing a defenseless witch afraid of failure and judgement.

Which is why when she’s just with him? Oh, the beast has come to reveal herself.

“Read it to me,” Draco sneered resentfully.

She smirked devilishly and held out the Daily Prophet to the both of them sitting side by side at Hermione’s drawing room, his presence uncalled.

“Ministry’s angel and golden girl, Hermione Granger, has won another auror of the month trophy, besting predecessor and former death eater, Draco Malfoy, in a glorious grand slam.”

Hermione read, accentuating every word with conceit, darting closer to Draco’s disgruntled face as she reached the end of the headline.

“Do you want me to continue?” she batted her eyelashes.

Slowly, he evades her eyes and scoots away from the wolf’s advances. He doesn't feel comfortable with Granger’s unknowing proximity and the suspicious feelings it does on his stomach.

It might've been constipation for all the miserable bloke knows.

“No, stop,” he grumbled looking everywhere but her, finding an opening to vent away from the intoxicating wench.

What was he doing there exactly?

“You’re not giving the right reactions, Malfoy. Give me that agonized face. That crushed, dejected little boy deprived of candy from Honey–”

“Little? Who’s little?” that was the time he looked back at her, brown eyes glowing with mischief. Draco was surprised himself to snap over such a trivial thing, /is that how she views me? A little boy with candy oppression?/ He thought to himself.

Given he was taller, bigger and could pin her down the settee in an instant, he wonders who she’s going to call little anymore. The thought occurred to him and was banished promptly as he realized what it meant. He wanted to castrate himself from such an atrocius, unethical, and degenerate arse it made him.

“Ah—“

“And I never get deprived of candy, I can buy off Honeydukes for all my money’s worth, and ban a certain Hermione Granger from ever setting foot there. Then let’s see who’s candy deprived,” he smugly announced, chin tipped high and a smirk known to be worn only to him. ‘The Classic’ Hermione thought, chuckling to herself.

Seeing as how worked up the man is, Hermione decided to play his game.

“Oh yeah? What is candy deprivation to me when I’m the wizarding England’s best Auror? What’s your say on that Malfoy?” Hermione knew she was to win their half-witted banter, seeing how Draco looked taken aback by her powerful riposte.

/You are so crushed Malfoy/ she thought.

But Draco isn’t one to back down a fight without his brutal comeback either, “Hmm? I beg your pardon? How could being ‘The Best’ be better if you’re going to constantly worry about failure and disappointment?”

That was it. That was all it took for Hermione to detonate.

“Why are you here Malfoy?” there was a shift in her voice and Draco could tell that he definitely hit a nerve right there.

He wondered if he could ever leave the place alive.

“I came to say cheers on being the ‘best’,” thinking she would retaliate, Draco rushed out of the scene, stealing a glance at her opponent he was surprised to see her staring into space, still and dejected. That was his last vision of her before he stumbled out of her flat and apparated himself into safety.

Meanwhile, Hermione pondered. His words struck her like lightning, waking her from her senses. She realized how easy it was for Malfoy to read her, no matter how hard she try to conceal herself under a facade. He figured her all out, that bastard.

It has bothered her for weeks, the weight of the pressure made her weary that she thought the years of hard work she put herself into has left her nothing but distress.

The longer she pondered, the longer the feelings of regret chew up on her. She gave up on love for a title, she gave up on Ron for her job, she gave up on friendship to be ‘The Best’.

The best is all what she is, all what she knows to do.

As she slowly advanced the ranks, climbing up the ladder; The more she lost, the more blood, sweat, and tears she shed along the way.

/It’s just like what they said, it’s lonely at the top/ she breathed, strung out.

Except…

There’s this particular individual who made her life less lonely, although he was a bit of a bloody tosser and a bombastic twat, Hermione couldn’t help but admit that his existence wasn’t as loathsome as she thought it’d be.

And this individual got his mind in the gutter thinking about her. The thought of pinning her down the sofa has bludgeoned his head ever since his last visit, that it warped his idea of Granger into a sickening new angle of desire and repugnant fascination.

With her curls splayed out and unruly under him. Her mouth agape as she beckoned him closer—Absolutely horrendous! He shook the thought away, but it seems the idea of Granger would wander back to his head.

But..Something was wrong. Granger wasn't bitching with him.

Sure she was still the swotty Granger he knew, but he was pretty sure that was the distress he saw on her awhile back. He knew what that look meant, he sported that front for years some time in his life.

He deliberated that maybe it was his fault she had to push herself to the limits because he is such an insufferable hotshot that she wants to best and prove him something.

Because that's what Granger is. And that is Draco's effect on her.

/Oh Merlin’s bollocks, why do you have to be so bloody competitive, look at what that got you / he grumbled to himself as he found himself scurrying back to her flat where he found a nonplussed Granger in her dressing robes.

Quickly, he evaded his eyes in panic.

“I should have knocked–”

“You know Malfoy, for a man like you freely swinging by a woman’s flat like this could vouch for some serious offenses…”

“Oh so I’m a man now,” he scowled, still looking away.

Hermione lifted a brow, “When are you not a man to me?”

For a few seconds, the remark she had thrown so carelessly was nothing but an innocent reply to her, until she realized the provocative innuendo it wields.

The two found themselves in a blistering charade of fools concealing the pounding heart and the fluttering feelings of the chest.

Oh blimey, how Merlin despairs for the two flustering idiots from ever relenting.

“You–”

Draco whipped his head to her direction so forcibly Hermione thought his head might snap.

And then there was silence.

Hermione had to take immediate action before the conversation steered off course, “Is there any good reason you’re here?” past the air in her tone, a blush creeps to her cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Draco cursed under his breath for having that question slipping so callously out of his mouth. He didn't mean it.

Ok..maybe /just/ a little bit.

Hermione stopped.

Draco ‘ferret’ Malfoy? Asking if she was okay? The world has probably tipped over an inverse axis for the arrogant twat from ever acting that way.

“I…” she gulped, searching for words,” Am..yeah,” she didn't know what she was saying, as her focus flew towards Draco’s flitting eyes dipping surreptitiously to the V of her robes.

Her hypothesis was indeed correct, for the world had truly gone mental for her to allow and just let her rival see anything womanly about her.

Meanwhile, the ferret has grown covertly ecstatic for the swot to see anything manly about him.

“You’re not acting so swotty–“

“You figured me out again, haven't you?” Hermione–not so familiar with this foreign feeling in her chest decided to put it into experiment.

She treads closer, slowly, hypnotically.

Draco couldn’t think of any possible leeway for his callous remarks that he resolved to playing it dumb, or quite literally, blabbering himself to mindlessness.

“It's because you got yourself such a strong and talented opponent that you have to stress yourself so much to go beyond my level.”

“Oh, just say the word and I’ll stoop down with my talented arse so you’ll shine the way you want.”

“Don’t fret Granger, if you're so bothered by that, I’ll steal that position from you and deal with all the pressure myself,” how chivalrous of him.

He was still senselessly babbling, without noticing Granger was a few inches away from him.

It was the sweetest that he could say to her for a man like him and an ugly past they both shared.

“Yeah? You would do that for me?” Hermione said softly. Her doe eyes looked up to the troubled babbler.

That was when Draco snapped. How did the woman get this close to him under his regard?

“Uh..yeah sure,” curse this. Chemistry, it's all chemistry. His libido got the best of him, now he had to purge himself from the impurities he thought.

“I mean, it's quite easy. I would definitely do it for y-me. F-for me.” he cleared his throat, placing a hand over his heart diplomatically. She noticed the quick tremble on his lips.

Hermione hummed dazedly in agreement.

Putting her experiment to test, she crawled her fingers exploratorily to the veins of his hand pressed over his chest. She was sure she heard his breath hitch when the contact was made.

“Fuck.”

That was Draco’s final piece breaking as Hermione wiggled herself closer to him.

“Malfoy, what would a ‘man’ do to a consenting woman figuratively and almost literally naked, pressed up close to him?”

Draco’s hand flexed under Hermione’s sensual traces of her fingers on his veins.

“I don't know Granger, surely the ‘woman’ would know what to do to a consenting ‘man’ to please him, wouldn’t you? Hm?” his brow lifted, a suggestive edge to his tone.

”Is that a challenge I hear Malfoy?” Hermione purred.

So close, so-so close…Draco bowed closer, but not close enough to touch lips.

Both had no idea what they were doing. But–gah! Screw it, they want each other.

“Put it however you want witch, this ‘man’ will fuck you if you wish—”

Before Draco could finish, Hermione closed the distance between their lips. Draco responded fervently, pressing himself deeper into her.

Hermione moaned, nipping his lower lip.

“Please.” she pleaded, her desire wanton.

Who would've thought her beast would reveal herself to Draco ‘fucking’ Malfoy, the well-known ministry twat and her rival who saw too much of her.

Merlin, she never knew she’d reach this level of threadbare destitution in her life.

Draco was breathless, blowing hot breaths to her cheeks that made her skin crawl. He wanted her back, the golden girl she so easily despised but readily submitted himself to his urges for her.

The place has cloaked the two entities with a fiery explosion of want and belongingness, each neither wanting to stop the surreal haze of raw feelings invading their lives.

“Granger…You didn't lie when you said you were ‘The Best’” he breathed, pulling the knot from her robes.

#dhr drabble #dhr fanfiction #dramione #writing prompt #dramione prompts #harry potter #hogwarts

[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY Loki and Steve Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

He’d been back and forth to this realm for the last few years, but he still didn’t understand the bounds of human technology. His visit before his attempts to conquer had been so long ago, in their years, that they had gone from building with mud to living in the sky. 

Which was, he reasoned, why he had ended up in his current predicament. How was he to know they had come up with containment to hold him? How was he to suspect they had the ability to discover his weaknesses? 

Loki was sitting in the center of a round glass cage, much like the one he’d spent time in on the airship during his little invasion– only, they had modified it. It was clearly made specifically for him, now.

There was a circle on the floor that was roughly the width of a doorway across, and as long as he stayed in it, he was fine. 

Crossing it, however, caused the heat to rise, sharply and immediately, until he retreated to the circle, and it slowly cooled back down. 

And of course, due to his accursed heritage, even while in his seemingly Aesir skin, the heat would sap him of his strength, render him exhausted and weak and unable to think. 

And so now he sat, careful not to so much as nudge his foot out of the circle. He’d experimented with that– it had ended poorly. 

He had also curled up into a tiny knot of his own limbs, in an attempt to sleep. It had worked, in that he had nodded off, but at some point his body had attempted to stretch itself out, and the heat had been triggered, and he had woken, groggy and sweating and miserable. He’d stood in the circle in an attempt to dry himself, and it had taken, as near as he could tell, the better part of an hour for his cage to return to a temperature he considered comfortable. It took longer still for the sense of nausea and weakness to leave him.

He hadn’t tried sleeping again since. 

It was difficult to say how long he had been here, like this, but he knew he was exhausted. He felt his body swaying, and held himself as carefully still as he could. The last thing he needed was to pass out and end up triggering the heat while unconscious– he wasn’t entirely sure there was an upper limit on how warm it would get, and it seemed easy enough to imagine that his captors would cook him alive. 

He hadn’t seen any of them, but he assumed it was Fury, or some of his lackeys, who held him now. 

That assumption held until the door at the end of the long room opened, and lights outside of his cell turned on, allowing him to see the rest of the room for the first time. 

There were, as near as he could see, six such chambers. He was the lone occupant, though, which had been why his was the only one illuminated. 

And the people who entered were dragging along another person– a second captive to join him. The man was clearly fighting back, and took several jabs from the electrocution batons that the guards carried, for his trouble. 

He felt his stomach lurching, and stood. 

“What is it you want with me? I would bargain– for food, for rest.” 

He was soundly ignored, all of their attention on this new prisoner. Loki wondered if perhaps his cage had been sound proofed– that he was rendered mute, though he could hear them. 

They pushed the man, bound with metal bar shaped restraints on each of his limbs and a bag over his head, into the cell across from Loki’s. 

He had, in fact, a fairly clear view, which would have been of more interest if he had any reason to care. Whoever this was, whatever he had done, Loki was far more interested in their captors– and he noted, with some surprise, that they did not wear the regalia of SHIELD. They wore black plain human armor, and patches with red insignia of tentacles and skulls.

They retreated, only one of them so much as glancing in Loki’s direction before the door was closed behind them, and the greater chamber pitched back into darkness. He could see the other prisoner’s cage, though– and more importantly, could see the prisoner within. 

They had locked his limbs to the floor, spread him out as much as possible– no wonder he’d fought against it. The bag remained in place, but with the way he was thrashing back and forth, Loki doubted it would stay that way for long. 

And, of most interest to him, was the fact that Loki could hear the other prisoner. How he huffed and grunted as he strained against his bonds. 

“Can you hear me?” He asked, pitching his voice to carry as best as he could, so long deprived of water. 

The other man stropped struggling for a moment. 

“Who’s there?” He demanded, his voice rough in a way that spoke of time screaming, or strangling– fresh damage, rather than Loki’s own mere neglect.

“Another prisoner in this basement.” Loki said smoothly, unwilling to identify himself, lest he have accidentally murdered this persons family, or some such thing. He would deal with the fall out his name would cause, once they were better established as needing to aid one another. 

“Can you take this hood off of me?” The request was quieter, and Loki could hear in it the mental strain. He could sympathize; it must amplify the fear, not being able to see what was coming. 

“We are in two separate tanks. Glass. I cannot physically reach you.” 

Not a whole answer, but he had not done any overt magic yet– he’d kept his efforts to his own bodily comfort, thus far, unwilling to tempt them into cooking him again in punishment. Or worse, attempting to rob him of that power in some other way, before he could make a plan of escape. 

“And they’ve got strong magnets holding me to the floor.” The man shook his head, the bag again rustling over it. “How often do they come in?”

Loki sighed, well aware it was unwise to speak thus; they were no doubt monitoring them. 

“It has been days since I saw them. They do not bring food or drink. In fact, since I was captured, the only time they have opened that door is to bring you in.” 

He heard the shocked intake of breath, and was surprised that it was so audible. But then, the relative silence of the rest of the room had been overwhelming, before. 

“They’re starving you?” The man sounded indignant. 

“It seems likely they will be starving us, given you aren’t in a position to be able to eat.” Loki pointed out, unkindness tearing out of him in rapid response to the man’s pity. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” The man shot back, and returned to his wriggling, trying to get the hood off. It was, it seemed, wedged too far down under him, though– pinched beneath his shoulderblades, which were held flat to the floor. 

Loki sighed, regretting having snapped. He watched in silence for a while until the man gave up on his efforts and lay still.  

“I can describe to you our cells, if you like, though there is not much to describe. Both are rounded tanks, tall and glass, with lights above and tile floors below. Mine has a small circle in the middle, which I cannot leave without being punished. Yours lacks even the visual appearance of that aspect, which is lucky for you. The room beyond is dark, but there are four more cells such as ours, only unlit. There is one door. The floor outside is concrete, the floor in the hallway beyond the door is white and glossy. The men who brought you in wear black, and their identifying marks are a red skull and tentacles–”

“HYDRA.” The man answered, resignation telling Loki that he had already known as much. 

“You know them?”

“I’ve fought them before. Every time I think I’ve taken the last of them down…”

“More rise up. A hydra in practice, hence the name. Charming. And how have they captured you now?” Loki was exhausted, and it showed in his voice. How was he to fight back, to escape, against an unbeatable enemy?

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was trying to help a couple of kids– I’m  Captain America.” The man said next, after another long stretch, and he spoke as if embarrassed.

Understandable; he’d just admitted to being duped, bested, despite being one of Earth’s defenders. It was good after all that Loki hadn’t identified himself, then. The last thing he needed was the Captain to know that he was just one more enemy he’d failed to defeat. 

“Bad luck, Captain. It seems your SHIELD won’t be saving you this time.” 

 The Captain went quiet again, this time with a sullen, dogged sort of refusal to speak any further. 

Loki had offended him, and, at length, he realized the Captain may well have fallen asleep. 

Lucky him. 

Loki sat, and stared, and stood, and stretched, and sat again, waiting for something– anything– to change. 

#whumptober #Loki #Steve Rogers #Captain America #MCU Loki #Stoki #Capfrost #that writing thing I do

[alltimefail-sims]

Bodaway Kanoska for @wildmelon's "Love at First Bite"

Admittedly, Bodaway is not great at being a vampire. Fine, scratch that: if Bodaway is being honest, he's actually not even "good" or "decent" at being a vampire and the few immortal beings he barely keeps in his microscopic circle never fail to remind him of this fact (much to his dismay). Feeding on mortals? Harrowing. The social aspect of clans and all the events that come with being a part of them? Painful at best. But immortality, as it turns out, kind of sucks when you isolate yourself for two centuries. So, yeah, perhaps it's time to take Paris and Nour up on their (years old) offer to connect Bodaway to "others like them" via a very exclusive social event in New York City.

More info (and some extra pictures) under the cut! ❤️

Commonly goes by: "Bodie" because it raises less eyebrows and is generally an "easier" name for people to pronounce and remember. That being said, he likes his full first name because it grounds him to his humanity and connects him to his Native American roots and culture. Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: "Unlabeled" (He sees a connection as a connection, he feels that gender identity wouldn't change anything and he has never given it much more thought than that!) Occult: vampire (master level with absolutely no ambition to wield any kind of power or influence in the vampire community). Age/birthday/star sign: Somewhere around 200 years old - he really stopped caring once he hit 150. He was turned around the age of 29; May 15th; Taurus Traits: loves the outdoors, loner, maker (+ some bonus gameplay-related traits such as responsible, happy toddler, etc. that relate to his life before he was a vampire). Education: finally got around to completing a high school education about 15 years ago (online, naturally). Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast Occupation: Currently does freelance work: refurbishing antiques and selling them, crafting furniture pieces from scratch. It's solitary work but it's soothing (and Bodaway likes working with his hands).

Some Lore:

Bodaway spent the first 50 years of his immortal existence on his own with one goal - finding the person who turned him. To confront them, to thank them... he wasn't sure. He traveled nonstop and met many vampires among many clans, but could only give them a vague description from memories formed while he was on the brink of death. Most of the interactions were dead ends and the more time that passed the more restless he became. Finally, he was advised to go to Germany and meet with noble vampires Nour and Paris who, apparently, had been alive much longer than most of their kind.

Although the Sadeks weren't able to track down the man who turned him, they were able to provide him with something much more important that he'd neglected for so long - conversation, compassion, a listening ear, and a home to stay in for a while. (I imagine Nour took a special interest in Bodaway due to him being so frail and all-consumed by anger when they met. After all, it isn't normal for a vampire to turn someone and then abandon them, leaving them to figure out immorality entirely on their own.) He hadn't realized how far he had strayed from his humanity, and he was terrified of his dark physical appearance (he was dirty, his hair unkempt, his skin had a gray pallor to it, there were even cracks forming in his skin). Although their lifestyle was vastly out of his comfort zone, it was grounding. Once he felt more like his true self, he promised he'd never go back to just feeding and surviving. He stayed with the pair for a few years, quietly minding his business and taking the much needed guidance on how to navigate his eternal existence moving forward. He's extremely thankful for everything they did for him and keeps in touch with them as much as he can manage (which for him is every few years, but what's a few years to an immortal being?).

Even after regaining some of his humanity and learning the ropes on how to be an immortal being in an ever-changing world, he still spent a lot of time viewing immortality as a disruption to the natural order. Sometimes he still sees himself as an animal, a monster even, and he deals with feelings of guilt that he evaded death while his family weren't given the same chance.

His family (5 sisters/3 brothers/mom/dad) died because of an animal attack while hunting and looking for shelter in the wrong place at the wrong time. Knowing what he knows now, he believes the attack was executed by a pair of werewolves, crazed by the full moon and set off by the presence of vampires on their turf. The small vampire clan included the man who turned him "out of compassion" when he was seconds away from death. But of course he doesn't know for certain all the details of what happened that night. At the time his family was attacked, none of them were even aware that such beings existed outside of stories and legends. He just has vague memories to go off of: markings on the fur, the uniquely enormous size of the animals, the nearly human eyes staring into him as their claws descended upon his body. He laid there, bleeding slowly and bones broken for hours...minutes? He's unsure. Then, in the early hours of the morning, he was approached by a well-dressed man with short fire red hair, freckled pale flesh, and eyes bluer than the clearest sky. The strangers eyes were clouded with unshed tears and something like uncertainty mixed with determination before he gently lifted Bodaway's head into his lap, lifted his limp wrist to his mouth, and the sting of teeth and warmth overtook him. His scars are from that attack. (Note that this doesn't impact the way he sees werewolves - he sees their instincts as no different than that of vampires or other immortal beings.)

With that being said, he does not sleep well most of the time, as he has to deal with night-terrors. He's got a lot of trauma, and he could probably benefit from speaking to a professional... but are there even vampire therapists? He's not so sure. He also is a guilty blood drinker - it exacerbates those "I'm a monster, I'm no better than the animals that killed my family" feelings. So he only drinks when absolutely necessary, and he prefers it to be with consent. But he doesn't mind drinking from blood bags - it isn't fresh, but it was ethically sourced and voluntarily given and that's good enough for him.

But he can't deny some of the benefits of his immortality - he's got inhuman strength and speed to match. Not just that, but he also has a certain charm about him that is undeniable. In his human life he faded into the background voluntarily - he's never been outgoing and he never trusted anyone enough to let his walls down completely. But ever since being turned, humans find themselves more drawn to him now (perhaps not a perk to him, but it could be for some people).

Unique to his kind, he has a reasonable resistance to sunlight (fortunate for him, a lover of the outdoors). It's a power that, in his belief, may have come from the vampire who turned him.

He lives minimally because that's really all he's ever known. His family lived simply, and he has been content with continuing that for himself. But he isn't judgmental about it: in fact, he would never look down on others who enjoy luxury or finer things because he does see the appeal. He'd be 100% open to living somewhere more lavish so long as he could do so ethically and have access to fresh air and a place to work outdoors from time to time.

He currently lives by himself in a modern, minimalist home he had built deep in a secluded area of the woods. (I imagine he lives somewhere like North Carolina, and his home looking something like this.) after his about a century he took in an enormous and gentle Rottweiler named Sunny, but he was devastated when he passed and hasn't gotten a new furry companion since. But he LOVES dogs (and all animals really). He wanted to be a veterinarian in his human life, but never pursued that after being turned. (But it's never too late, he hasn't closed that door completely!)

Because he is well traveled and has spent most of his life in isolation, clanless, he has had a handful of partners over the years - all human. But his relationships were never serious and he would intentionally keep them at arms length. He has always resisted opportunities for love, in part because he doesn't know if he deserves to be loved... but also out of fear for losing someone he loves. He already finds eternal existence to be a foreboding thing, but trying to do that with a broken heart seems like an impossible and cruel punishment to endure.

He's stayed away from dating other vampires as he's always dealt with the ethical quandary of believing he's a monster. So I think it would be kind of poetic and scary for him, falling in love with someone who shares the thing he detests in himself - because when Bodaway loves someone, truly, he would worship them. He doesn't see their faults. I think of this quote: "When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it." (poem here). And this would completely shake his view of himself. It would change so much for him.

Lastly, I will leave you with some lighter facts: I would describe him as rigid, quiet, and reserved around strangers and acquaintances but passionate, intense, loyal, and soft around those he loves. His favorite color is green. Physical touch & words of affirmation are his love language. He loves all outdoor activities (swimming, hiking, fishing, etc.) and is obviously very crafty (especially with woodworking). His tattoo is symbolic of a family heirloom (a broach passed down to each eldest daughter) and because his sisters and mother passed in the attack, he kept it but wears it in the form of his tattoo (it lives on with his immortal body). He was the oldest child in his family. Chocolate cosmos are his favorite flower.

ALRIGHT, I AM DONE. Whew. I'm so sorry, this is why I don't make occults often. I love lore, I eat occult backstories uppppppppp. You can take the girl out of her middle school vampire phase, but you can't take the middle school vampire phase out of the girl.

Below are 3 full body shots (everyday, formal, underwear/sleep) and a picture of the scars and tattoos on his back!

Private DL if chosen!

#martina lafb #wildmelon #oc: bodaway kanoska #I wrote so much I'm sorry lol #also gonna tag this with some tws #the mentions are brief and pretty mild but still gonna tag it just in case #bloodtw #goretw #deathtw #simblr #atfs