#Samara 'Echo' Gray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

glowstickia · 4 years

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39 (heartache), because I'm mean like that. ;)

[AO3]

Scars - Arm

Echo held her breath, steadied her aim, and pulled the trigger. “Got ‘em.” She grunted. Her focus returned to her scope as she swept the area, ignoring the blood seeping into the pavement of the unfortunate feral that came in her line of sight just seconds ago. Dogmeat’s tail thumped beside her. She smirked and gently patted his head, while keeping her eye on the street below. “How’d the recon go?” She asked, doing another gentle sweep with her eye.

“Oh, you know,” Deacon’s voice was steady. Tired. “Same ol’, smame old.” Echo pulled back from her scope to look at him in the eye-er, sunglasses. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Raiders hyped up on jet, cars being tickin’ time bombs, deathclaw rave party.” He shrugged as he leaned against the rusting air vents, far from the edge where her sniper rifle was propped.

“A party?” Echo placed an offending hand on her chest in mock gasp, “and you didn’t think to invite me? Rude.” She pulled Heartbreaker off the edge of the building and clicked the safety back in place as she cradled her sniper rifle. “Other than a few ferals,” she said, getting right back to business, “and some wild dogs, it’s been quiet.” She turned to Dogmeat, who had been patiently waiting beside her, “Ain’t that right bud?”

Dogmeat boofed quietly as his tail thumped, sweeping bits of rubble to the side with his fur. Deacon hummed thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.

“What is it, oh wise one?” Echo asked, adjusting her sunglasses.

“How many targets did ya hit, Bullseye?”

She sighed. So, this is how it was gonna be. “Like…” she mentally tallied the rotting bodies in the street, “four. All headshots. All ferals.” She added. She rolled her eyes as her fingers dug around her pockets for more .308 ammo. She pulled out Hearbreaker’s magazine and reloaded. “Why?”

Deacon nodded to himself. “Coolarooni,” he clapped his hands, “now let’s blow this joint.” He pushed off the vent and re-adjusted his postal shoulder bag. “Bet we can hit up Mercer house before sundown.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as she clicked the magazine back in place. She bowed her head and started to repack her belongings. “Is there movement or any pressing concerns-” Orange flashed from the corner of her eye. Her hand snapped the air, catching the holodisktape before it hit her face. Gunshots popped in the distance as chalk dust was smeared onto the holodisk. Leather gloved hands quickly shoved the holodisk into a blue and white mailbox. She blinked away the vision and frowned at him as she tweaked her sunglasses with her free hand. Good, they were still on. “What’s this?” She asked, waving the holodisk in his general face direction.

“A message from one of our tourists.” He said, tugging the newsboy cap that wasn’t there a moment ago. “You may need to beef up security.”

Her lips thinned as she pulled out her bright red voice recorder from her bag and popped in the holodisk. She gently cradled Heartbreaker on her lap, and pressed play.

[Mercer here. Uh. In need of a heavy to clear route for package delivery. Runner suspect the highwaymen are biding their time. Cords attached.]

Echo clicked the stop button and looked up to Deacon with a sigh. “They want their place back.”

Deacon bobbed his head and started making his way towards the fire escape. “Yep. And to think we took all those decorations down for nothing.”

Echo gagged, as she erased the tape and stuck the recorder in her backpack. “Ugh, please don’t remind me of their ‘party favors’. I still have nightmares.” She shuddered and stood up. Oooooh damn. She hissed and stretched her ankles against the air vent. Dogmeat took the moment to stretch his legs and trot up next to her. He whined. She shook her head and patted his head. “Good boy.” After re-gripping Heartbreaker, and making sure her ushanka hat wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, she clicked her tongue. “C’mon boy, let’s move out.”

Dogmeat’s tail wagged as he followed. Echo smiled at him briefly, letting Dogmeat trail behind as she watched Deacon with a trained eye. His grip on the railing did not go unnoticed.

Echo followed Deacon’s lead as they traversed the streets. They both knew he had a better sense of direction. Dogmeat trotted ahead and sniffed the ground. He, more than once, gently howled, warning them of nearby ferals…or dogs. With a few detours and the sun’s rays blinding them westward, they slowed their pace.

“We’re approaching Anna’s Cafe.” Deacon said, voice low as he checked the alleyway, silently stepping over tumbled brick and broken mortar.

Echo chewed her lip. “Think that’s where they’re camping?” When he turned, sunglasses matching hers, she sighed. “Greaaaaaaaaaat.” She grumbled, adjusting her grip on Heartbreaker. “And here we are without party favors.”

Deacon huffed a laugh. Got ‘im . “Really? Cause I made sure to bring a gift this time.“ He grinned as he clicked off the safety on his rifle.

Echo shook her head. “I told you before, your presence ain’t a gift, it’s a curse .”

Deacon dramatically placed a hand over his heart, “Ouch,” he grinned as he crouched down, "been hanging around Dez too much?“

Echo snorted as she joined him. “No, though I have heard something from Tinker Tom about you meddling with the time stream.”

He chuckled. “Ah, good ol’ Tom. He knows I’m a delight, no matter the era.” Dogmeat boofed quietly. He nodded. “See?”

Echo rolled her eyes and sighed. “Mhm.” She turned to Dogmeat and gave him a soft pat, “stay out of trouble.” Dogmeat’s tail thumped a little. She smirked at Deacon, “Ready to crash a party?”

Deacon matched her grin. “I call dibs on the snack bar.” Dogmeat trotted behind them as they snuck their way to the cafe.

It was a surprise party after all.

Echo hissed as she rolled to her side as her shoulder left throbbed. Oooo, yep, yea that was gonna bruise . She huffed as she sat up and rubbed her mouth against the back of her wrist. A quick check, and yep, nosebleed . She sighed loudly and looked around. Her ears were still ringing as the 200 years worth of radiated dust build up began to settle. One lens on her sunglasses was cracked. Great. Fantastic. And her hat waaas… She patted her ears and was met with the soft padding of the ear flaps. At least something wasn’t a total mess.

With determination and sheer stubbornness she pushed off the ground with her good arm and surveyed the damage. The cafe was still standing…miraculously. Foundation held on, but blood and gore was probably scattered everywhere upstairs. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and mentally backpedaled before kicking the door shut. “Focus.” she reminded herself as she picked up Heartbreaker. She should reload, but-. Dogmeat whined to her left. Following the sound, she carefully stepped over empty tin cans and chunks of rubble, into the old cafe.

Laughter entered her ears as her hand gently brushed the doorframe. Its hinges were empty, void of a door that once stood proud, pristine, and kept out the summer winds and cold December chill. A cello thrummed in her mind as a lone radio sat in silence on the ruined countertop. The old register was dented, rusting, and wide open with a couple caps hiding inside. She leaned over the counter seeing a familiar pair of shades as Dogmeat barked up at her.

‘Watch out for flying glass’ The music trilled. ‘Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out-’

Echo knocked on the counter. “Helloooo, I’d like some coffee?” She said, pushing through and brushing away the phantom music. “And my friend here is thinking about needing some pastries in a doggie bag?”

Dogmeat’s tail wagged as he walked over and sniffed Deacon’s chest. He grunted and groaned as Dogmeat gave his cheek a good cleaning. “Hey Bud.” He sucked in some air, “Sorry, ma’am, we’re fresh out.” Deacon righted his hat and sunglasses with his left hand, while he left his right hand hidden from Echo’s current view.

Echo gave a couple short whistles. Deacon whined at the noise. Dogmeat sat tall as he looked up at her with his ears perked. She clicked her tongue and gestured with her head behind her. Dogmeat gave a soft boof and happily trotted to her side. She frowned, immediately seeing the shine of slick red on Deacon’s right arm. “You need a doc.”

“Hmm?” He looked down and blew a raspberry, “Workmen’s cooooomp.”

She set Heartbreaker against one of the once plush, red stools, and made her way around the counter. “Deeks,” she said, keeping her tone even as she set her backpack at their feet and crouched to his level. She clicked her tongue and Dogmeat appeared right beside her. “Dogmeat. Go find something soft.” She raised her left hand towards the stairs and winced. Fuck…shoulder… Dogmeat boofed and ran up the stairs.

“Good man.” Deacon said, sitting up straighter with a grunt. “Seems like I won’t be the only one getting workman’s comp ey?” He grinned showing too many teeth. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Echo hummed a bit. “No, pretty sure Carrington’s gonna chew you out more than me.” She opened her bag and began rummaging around in it. Where… “After all you are the senior field agent, bucko.”

“To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.”

“Alright, King Lear.” She said, popping open a can of purified water, “Give me your arm and maybe I’ll make sure you won’t die.”

Deacon chuckled. “It was Regan.” He corrected as he raised his arm towards her. “And you’ve got better bedside manner than our resident ray of sunshine.”

Echo snorted as she poured a lil bit of the water onto his arm. “Yea? Never in all my years did I think I could surpass Mr. Sourpuss.” She sat the can down, while her free hand helped keep weight off his arm.

Bullets cracked against the cement as she leaned against the wall, heart racing and drumming so loud he couldn’t think. High Rise chuckled beside him. “Close one, huh Deeks?” He flashed a grin on his face, wet with sweat and blood.

“Not done yet.” She murmured.

“Bullseye,” Deacon whistled at her, “grip bit, ah, tight.” he hissed as her fingers released, leaving a faint ghost on his skin, “Damn,” his voice sounded tired, “had a grip like a mirelurk claw. You okay, Boss?”

Echo cleared her throat and set a bottle of vodka at their feet. “Fine.” she said, keeping it short so her voice wouldn’t betray her, “just…remembered someone is all.” It wasn’t a lie per se…

He arched an eyebrow at her, but for once, was quiet as she focused on cleaning his wound. It looked deep.

“You’re gonna need a stim.” She said, forcing herself to keep steady and calm and ignored the gunshots and H2’s whimpers in her head. She was here . It was just her, and Deacon, and Dogmeat. They just fought off the band of raiders in Anna’s Cafe. They’ll go to Hangman’s Alley and have a nice long rest in Mercer house. Then return to HQ in the morning. Back route. Report. And-

Dogmeat nuzzled her hands out of her bag as she blinked. His fur was…grounding as he let her rub his head.

“Hey boy,” she laughed a little, “was wondering when you’d be coming back.” He boofed. “Well? Find anything.” He barked softly and trotted off. She watched him climb the stairs until a soft cough caught her attention.

“Echo,” Deacon leaned against the rubble behind him, adjusting slightly to dislodge whatever was poking his back. His brows scrunched ever so slightly, despite being obscured by his sunglasses, “didja forget to turn off the stove in HQ again?“ he’s mouth twitched a smirk, “You know Des hates burnt cookies.”

Echo snorted. “No, it’s not the stove. Besides, I’m pretty sure Drummer Boy was working on some casserole recipe tonight. Something about mole rats and tato’s.”

“Eugh, mole rat meatloaf…” He stuck his tongue out in disgust as Echo rummaged in her bag again, “Hope there’s not left overs.”

“Mmmm,” Echo pulled out the tin box marked with a + with duct tape. She popped it open and smiled a bit. 4 stims, some rolls of gauze, and a salve she learned to make a few-no longer than a few months ago. She picked up the stimpak. “Well, if there are, I’ll make sure to give my portion to you.” She flicked the stimpack, something she read in a medical journal a long time ago.

“You cruel mistress.” He scrunched his nose, “Having me suffer stomach aches alone? Criminal.”

She swallowed as she looked at Deacon’s wound. She’d need to keep him steady to inject the stim, but… She huffed. “Hold still.” It didn’t give him a lot of time to react as her hand went to his wrist again and the stim worked its medical magic.

The ground and walls were burned, charred slightly from laser blast and angry fire. She’d seen them before as his hand came back blackened by ash. He didn’t want to look at the body by the fallen shelf, he looked everywhere around the room, until he finally approached Tommy Whispers. The bruised eyes. Deliverer still in his hands. It was Tommy.

Echo exhaled as she busied herself with her bag. The stim was spent, but she could chuck it in boiled water later. Once sanitized maybe Carrington would let them take more than a few stims on these missions. Or maybe she could trade it for a discount-

Deacon cleared his throat as he sat up. His eyes, or what she could tell behind his sunglassed mask, stared at his skin as it closed the gap. “Think it’ll make a wicked scar or somethin’?”

She closed her bag and shrugged. “I mean it was pretty deep.” She pointed to the scar that stretched from her jaw and curved above her brow. “Though won’t make as sick of a story as this one. You’ll need to spice it up a bit.”

Deacon rubbed his chin in thought. “Mirelurk-nah didn’t bust any bones…” he snapped his fingers, “mole rats. Swarm of ‘em.”

Echo snorted. He was just throwing her off. “Ah, so you could get out of Drummer Boy’s mole rat meatloaf?”

Deacon crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Exactly.”

“Good luck with that. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed you didn’t bring back any meat to contribute.” She stood and stretched her back, “Sun’s setting.” she said, walking around the counter and retrieving Heartbreaker. She hissed, swapping her rifle’s weight to her other arm. She didn’t have to turn around to see the arched brow or other such judgmental looks Deacon was giving her behind her back. “I’m fine.” she said, absolutely not fine, but she would be once she had some pain pills in her. Or something cold against the definite bruise on her shoulder. “Just fell a bit hard is all.”

Dogmeat gave a muffled bark as he dragged something heavy down the stairs. The duo turned and watched Dogmeat drag a super sledge to Deacon’s feet.

Deacon laughed as he picked up the super sledge and patted Dogmeat’s head. “Who’s a good boy?” Dogmeat danced, his front paws alternating in bounce as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. “Yea, you are bud. Finding weapons of mass destruction~” he rubbed Dogmeat’s face and lifted the sledge hammer.

“Welp, that explains why he was taking so long.” Her lips twitched a grin, “Gonna use that next time?”

“Oh fuck no.” He said, leaning on it, “You know I prefer sneakery.” He patted the handle, “Though I’m sure someone would like this puppy.”

Echo gestured to Dogmeat. “Of course they would. No one can resist this face.” Dogmeat barked in agreement.

Deacon laughed.

#fallout #deacon #deacon fallout 4 #fo4 #dogmeat #samara 'echo' gray #asking glow #corvegaassemblyplant #glow writes #fallout fic

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radioactive-synth · 3 years

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Samara ‘Echo’ Gray - Psyker, Sniper, Guardian

for @falloutglow

#oc moodboard #fallout oc #fallout ocs #fallout 4 #fo oc #myedits

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quickfics · 7 years

Text

Ghost Stories

The ghost swept up before them, guttering with intensity like a flame fighting the wind. Ethereal light whisked off its edges, tethers that stretched back and vanished, tying it to whatever nightmare world it had clawed free from.

It looked like a living silhouette. Blue-gray tendrils of smokey light bent in the distinct shape of a well-curved woman. Its eyes hid behind a knotted mess of hair that hung over its face. The specter stepped forward and opened its mouth in the shape of a shriek. It let loose a series of deep, rolling clicks, then something that sounded a lot like a snarl. Whispers filled the room, thousands of voices climbing over one another in frantic tones. After a moment, one word pierced the veil.

Leave.

Samara, Tey, and Wrenn dropped back and drew their weapons. Kuran remained still, seemingly unbothered by the apparition. Hands resting on his waist, he watched as Naphtali stormed forward and marched right up to the shade.

“It’s harmless,” she said, and stepped directly through the wraith. It shattered into shards, pieces suspended in the air like burst glass floating in water. Once Naph passed through completely, the fragments snapped back into place and the ghost once again adopted its austere feminine facade. It turned on Naphtali and growled, swooping in so close their faces almost touched, but otherwise it took no action. Naphtali looked right past it, through it, to the others.

“If ghosts could still touch this world, still harm it, don’t you think we’d hear more than the same handful of stories we all grew up on?” She wove a hand through the phantom, tracing a splintered line in the gleaming mist that faded and flared. The slivers stitched themselves back together as her hand passed.

“Not saying I rightly know what the hell this thing is, just saying that it can’t harm us. I don’t buy the we-can’t-hurt-you, but-you-can-hurt-us arrangement. It’s convenient for tall tales, but not not the real world. I’ve never come across anything that wasn’t rooted in the same cold, hard reality we all know so well. Not myth, not the stuff of legends. Echoes of it, perhaps, but no monster I’ve fought failed to bleed one color or another. This thing’s no different. It may be unfamiliar, it may even be beyond my scope, but I am certain of one thing: It isn’t an immediate threat.”

A wide slash of smile cut across Kuran’s face. Beside him, Samara, Tey, and Wrenn relaxed, and put away their weapons. Across the room, Naphtali put her back to the ghost, and resumed their trek through the ruins.

“Keep moving,” she ordered.

#fantasy #sci-fi #fiction #prose #flash fiction #ghosts #supernatural #narrative #storytelling

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linkstoryzineapplication · 6 years

Text

‘Enervation’, Part 1

"So this is it, isn't it?" Mom sighs, as we walk up the crumbling sidewalks. "You and Jude get Assigned, and your father and I get shipped off to Labor House."

I can see the Labor House in the distance, a huge metal factory belching out columns of black smoke. The place where the childless parents go after raising children. A few more decades, and they'll be sent to the Senior Residence. You're automatically euthanized once you hit age 75. They need to conserve supplies.

"You've got three more years before you go to the Labor House after my Assignment," I say. "That's more than enough."

Mom lets out a humorless laugh.

"Tell me about it. Three years can go by awfully fast."

"Besides," I go on. "If you pass the Physical Test, you can get another year."

"It's only a year."

Mom fixes my glass tank with my oxygen plant and looks to our right at the crowd of Boys and their Fathers, all hiking up the trail to receive their Assignment. We mill around in a crowd of Girls and Mothers, all talking quietly, some in hushed tones. The crowd of Boys and Fathers walk in a stiff manner, jawlines set.

A government official's standing by the doors when we arrive, a blue, lab created diamond decorating his ear - the sign of power. Two assistants stand at his side. holding stacks of files and papers.

"Gaians," he starts, outstretching his arms. "Today is the day that our Boys and Girls receive their Assignments and become this generation's Youths. The government has been studying your children from the moment they are born, and will duly provide them with the Assignment they will carry out. As you know, a selected few will go on to become Scholars at the Institute, our future Scientists and Officials. Let our Boys and Girls come to the front to become Youths today!"

Slowly, people start to trickle up to the front, a few at a time, then a stronger surge. Mom nudges me to go up, careful to not dislodge my oxygen tank with the precious plant inside, tirelessly working to let me breathe. They won't replace it if it dies.

"Go on, honey," she whispers. "Who knows what'll happen?"

Taking some extra breaths, I paddle my way up to the front. The government official eyes us with watery gray eyes. The blue diamond flashes sadistically in the light.

"Samara Ring?" he calls out, taking a file from an assistant. A small, brown haired girl, bossy in school steps out onto the podium, and accepts the file from him.

"Let us welcome Samara Ring, Youth and Apprentice for Labor House Overseer."

Polite applause echoes from the Mothers and Fathers. The Labor House Overseers have a nasty reputation of cruelty. They're practically looking at their future tormentors. The only people who will probably get off a little easier are her parents.

"Let us welcome Gideon Winters, Youth and Apprentice for Lab Foods Worker."

Polite applause.

"Let us welcome Markus Gallium, Youth and Apprentice for Archival Works."

Polite applause.

My knees start to feel like jelly after the 15th or so person is called. By the thirtieth, My neck is aching and sweat has started to bead on my forehead. After the 44th, the assistants' hands are empty of files except for the thick Institute ones, bound with gold paper, and one last non-Institute Assignment File.

"Let us welcome Lia Troy, Youth and Apprentice for Residential Life Overseer."

I blink in surprise. Someone gasps in the crowd. It might have been me. The last civilian Assignment. Did I miss my name? Did I not hear my name and not go up to the podium? Where was my Assignment? Why was there no file in my hands yet?

The government official clears his throat, and the assistants hand him all the Institute files. The Girls and Boys still up here beside me, without a file are whispering, biting their lips, tapping their feet. I'm just immobilized in shock.

"Each year, the Institute accepts 10 new recruits for study with them, so they may make our lifestyle and civilization better. These 10 are the elite of each group of Boys and Girls, and soon, they will wear the yellow diamond of Scholars.

My ears begin to buzz uncontrollably.

"Let us welcome Pia Gallium, Youth and Scholar of the Institute."

More buzzing that heightens from cheering from the crowd. The girl's parent's faces are bright, while the one of her twin brother's, Markus is bitter. His fingers twist his tan file while his sister goes up to get her gold one.

"Let us welcome Isaiah Caspar, Youth and Scholar of the Institute."

Another gold file disappears from the stack.

"Let us welcome Lina Hather, Youth and Scholar of the Institute."

My feet don't move, all I can hear is the sound of my own breathing. My tunnel vision kicks in, and I vaguely reach up to touch my earlobe where a cold hard stone will soon be implanted.

"Go on," another girl hisses. "I'm not going to stand here all day. "We're not going to stand here all day."

I numbly walk up the steps of the podium and the official places the stark file in my hands. My name engraved in gold, the silvery border of leaves, the weight of the papers inside, nearly makes me throw up for some reason. I shouldn't be here. There were people smarter than me. I take a deep breath from my tube that's connected to my oxygen plant and stand in a line with Pia and Isaiah.

"Let us welcome Gage Neva, Youth and Scholar of the Institute."

I don't recognize the name. I don't recognize anything at this point now. Not even myself. Not even my brothers face in the crowd, clutching his civilian Assignment file. Not even my parents. Not even this world.

They say for one infraction, you're isolated for years.

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dani-qrt · 6 years

Text

Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup

NIZHNY NOVGOROD (Reuters) – Such was my haste in packing and ignorance of Russia that I nearly followed my wife’s recommendation to throw in a woolly hat for the World Cup before setting off from Venezuela.

A TV presenter gets ready for her live-take during a training session of Colombia at the Spartak stadium in Moscow, Russia, July 2, 2018. REUTERS/Kai Pfaffenbach

Thank goodness I didn’t, because it would have felt mighty silly having that in higher summer temperatures beside the Volga river than those back home on the Caribbean.

It was not the only misconception that I, a Reuters reporter – and hordes of fans who had likewise never been here – had about a host nation stereotyped for cold weather and cold people.

To our collective joy, edification and more than slight embarrassment, the Russia we found was hospitable, organized, modern, bending over backwards to help us – and ready to party.

My assignment was in Nizhny Novgorod, a “closed city” during the Soviet era, I had read in advance. That reminded me of the gray images of tower-blocks and food lines that were a staple of English media coverage during the Cold War of my childhood.

Whatever its past, this city of 1.2 million people at the confluence of the Volga and Oka rivers is now open and rocking.

From the airport to the stadium, hotel and public squares, young volunteers from local language schools were eager to show their English and spare us stumbling over phrase-books for a ‘Spasibo’ (thank you) or ‘Zdravstvuyte’ (hello).

At the gorgeous new Nizhny Novgorod Stadium, whose blue-and-white hues evoke water and wind, the facilities were perfect for journalists: high-speed internet, spacious desks with a TV for replays and a great view of the pitch, and special shuttle buses to whiz us through the crowds.

On the streets, locals sang, danced and took selfies with armies of fans from Panama to South Korea. Often, conversations merrily proceeded via phone translation apps.

Photographer Kai Pfaffenbach stands in the media room in Spartak Stadium before the Columbia v England game, Moscow, Russia, July 3, 2018. REUTERS/Carl Recine

‘FORGET WHAT YOU READ ABOUT RUSSIA’

When Russia played in a different city, the locals poured onto the streets, chanted, and packed the fan zone in scenes of exuberant patriotism that beat anything I had witnessed in previous tournaments at Brazil 2014 and South Africa 2010.

Even the feared English hooligans never materialized.

Instead, ‘Three Lions’ fans hung out their flags and partied courteously with Russians in cafes and boulevards, while police hung back discreetly in the side-streets, un-deployed for the trouble they had been trained to expect.

Even the food, sometimes ridiculed as stodgy and bland, was getting a thumbs-up, especially the ubiquitous Georgian cordon bleu, smoky Armenian cafes, and surprisingly affordable Siberian caviar.

“Forget everything you ever read or thought about Russia – this is absolutely brilliant! It’s such a shame so many people were put off,” said England fan Charlie Carline, 33, quaffing beer in the sun-kissed fan zone next to Nizhny Novgorod’s ‘Kremlin’ castle on a hilltop overlooking the rivers.

Some of his friends, veterans of past World Cups, stayed at home for fear of a repeat of the Russian-English fan violence seen in France at the 2016 Euros or hostility due to the dire state of political relations between London and Moscow.

Photographer Lucy Nicholson, based in Los Angeles, had covered seven Olympics for Reuters but never a World Cup and was excited to be finally seeing Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.

“One of the most striking things about the World Cup compared to the Olympics, is how male it is: the vast majority of fans, media, and obviously players are male,” she said.

“Given this, it was surprising how little rowdiness I witnessed … I found ordinary Russians, particularly women, to be invariably kind and warm … This welcoming behavior could have been inspired by pride in a national event or perhaps by the balmy weather, but much of it seemed spontaneous and genuine.”

Slideshow (19 Images)

‘CLEANEST CITY I’VE SEEN’

Nicholson’s biggest challenge was traveling between multiple cities – from Kaliningrad on the Baltic Coast to Sochi on the Black Sea. She took 14 flights in 18 days on Aeroflot and Siberia Airlines, once falling asleep in a stadium pre-match due to the exhaustion.

“It was fascinating to visit parts of Russia rarely seen by tourists,” Nicholson said. “Restrictions on mass gatherings were suspended for the World Cup, creating an unusual carnival-like atmosphere.”

Australia-based Reuters photographer David Gray was at his fourth consecutive World Cup and in Samara throughout.

“This World Cup differs from all the others due to one main factor – my preconceived ideas of what to expect,” he said, echoing the conclusion of most Cold War-era western visitors.

“Talking with Russians during this event has broadened my understanding of their extremely strong national pride. A pride I find very admirable. It has also meant the cleanest city streets I have ever seen,” said Gray, for whom the sound of water-spraying machines became as routine as that of cars.

He was also impressed by Samara’s UFO-like stadium.

“The chanting and singing reverberates beautifully off the circular roof, and as at all World Cups, leaves a permanent ringing in your ears for many weeks after.”

Of course, there will be a reality check after the love-in with Russia. It does still snow here in other seasons, no amount of fan fun can hide some serious political problems, and critics will say President Vladimir Putin has exploited the tournament to clean an increasingly pariah image abroad.

Yet for the glorious summer of 2018, Russia put on its best World Cup face – and the world smiled back.

For a photo essay, click on: reut.rs/2KqNQQS

Reporting by Andrew Cawthorne; Editing by Hugh Lawson

The post Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Kt44sN via Online News

#World News #Today News #Daily News #Breaking News #News Headline #Entertainment News #Sports news #Sci-Tech

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party-hard-or-die · 6 years

Text

Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup

A TV presenter gets ready for her live-take during a training session of Colombia at the Spartak stadium in Moscow, Russia, July 2, 2018. REUTERS/Kai Pfaffenbach

Thank goodness I didn’t, because it would have felt mighty silly having that in higher summer temperatures beside the Volga river than those back home on the Caribbean.

It was not the only misconception that I, a Reuters reporter – and hordes of fans who had likewise never been here – had about a host nation stereotyped for cold weather and cold people.

To our collective joy, edification and more than slight embarrassment, the Russia we found was hospitable, organized, modern, bending over backwards to help us – and ready to party.

Whatever its past, this city of 1.2 million people at the confluence of the Volga and Oka rivers is now open and rocking.

On the streets, locals sang, danced and took selfies with armies of fans from Panama to South Korea. Often, conversations merrily proceeded via phone translation apps.

Photographer Kai Pfaffenbach stands in the media room in Spartak Stadium before the Columbia v England game, Moscow, Russia, July 3, 2018. REUTERS/Carl Recine

‘FORGET WHAT YOU READ ABOUT RUSSIA’

Even the feared English hooligans never materialized.

Even the food, sometimes ridiculed as stodgy and bland, was getting a thumbs-up, especially the ubiquitous Georgian cordon bleu, smoky Armenian cafes, and surprisingly affordable Siberian caviar.

Photographer Lucy Nicholson, based in Los Angeles, had covered seven Olympics for Reuters but never a World Cup and was excited to be finally seeing Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.

“One of the most striking things about the World Cup compared to the Olympics, is how male it is: the vast majority of fans, media, and obviously players are male,” she said.

Slideshow (19 Images)

‘CLEANEST CITY I’VE SEEN’

Australia-based Reuters photographer David Gray was at his fourth consecutive World Cup and in Samara throughout.

“This World Cup differs from all the others due to one main factor – my preconceived ideas of what to expect,” he said, echoing the conclusion of most Cold War-era western visitors.

He was also impressed by Samara’s UFO-like stadium.

“The chanting and singing reverberates beautifully off the circular roof, and as at all World Cups, leaves a permanent ringing in your ears for many weeks after.”

Yet for the glorious summer of 2018, Russia put on its best World Cup face – and the world smiled back.

For a photo essay, click on: reut.rs/2KqNQQS

Reporting by Andrew Cawthorne; Editing by Hugh Lawson

The post Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Kt44sN via Breaking News

#News Headlines #News Update #Sports Update #Business Update #World The News

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dragnews · 6 years

Text

Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup

A TV presenter gets ready for her live-take during a training session of Colombia at the Spartak stadium in Moscow, Russia, July 2, 2018. REUTERS/Kai Pfaffenbach

Thank goodness I didn’t, because it would have felt mighty silly having that in higher summer temperatures beside the Volga river than those back home on the Caribbean.

It was not the only misconception that I, a Reuters reporter – and hordes of fans who had likewise never been here – had about a host nation stereotyped for cold weather and cold people.

To our collective joy, edification and more than slight embarrassment, the Russia we found was hospitable, organized, modern, bending over backwards to help us – and ready to party.

Whatever its past, this city of 1.2 million people at the confluence of the Volga and Oka rivers is now open and rocking.

On the streets, locals sang, danced and took selfies with armies of fans from Panama to South Korea. Often, conversations merrily proceeded via phone translation apps.

Photographer Kai Pfaffenbach stands in the media room in Spartak Stadium before the Columbia v England game, Moscow, Russia, July 3, 2018. REUTERS/Carl Recine

‘FORGET WHAT YOU READ ABOUT RUSSIA’

Even the feared English hooligans never materialized.

Even the food, sometimes ridiculed as stodgy and bland, was getting a thumbs-up, especially the ubiquitous Georgian cordon bleu, smoky Armenian cafes, and surprisingly affordable Siberian caviar.

Photographer Lucy Nicholson, based in Los Angeles, had covered seven Olympics for Reuters but never a World Cup and was excited to be finally seeing Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.

“One of the most striking things about the World Cup compared to the Olympics, is how male it is: the vast majority of fans, media, and obviously players are male,” she said.

Slideshow (19 Images)

‘CLEANEST CITY I’VE SEEN’

Australia-based Reuters photographer David Gray was at his fourth consecutive World Cup and in Samara throughout.

“This World Cup differs from all the others due to one main factor – my preconceived ideas of what to expect,” he said, echoing the conclusion of most Cold War-era western visitors.

He was also impressed by Samara’s UFO-like stadium.

“The chanting and singing reverberates beautifully off the circular roof, and as at all World Cups, leaves a permanent ringing in your ears for many weeks after.”

Yet for the glorious summer of 2018, Russia put on its best World Cup face – and the world smiled back.

For a photo essay, click on: reut.rs/2KqNQQS

Reporting by Andrew Cawthorne; Editing by Hugh Lawson

The post Russia puts on best face for rocking World Cup appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Kt44sN via Today News

#Daily News #Daily World News #Daily Business News #Daily Sports News #World The News

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falloutglow · 2 years

Photo

So @8bitpizzacoupons had tagged me months ago telling me about this cute lil [dollmaker] and I played around with it trying to figure out how to make Echo haha.

Echo absolutely is the quiet know-it-all nerd type who gets by with book smarts, has a hobby for sleuthing when she shouldn’t be, and is definitely giving the local cops take that dad a run for their money. Let’s get Nancy Drew up in here. Solving crimes? What, like its hard? Definitely has a thing for the occult and one day, would like to punch a ghost.

Idk if anyone wants to try their hand at it but I’d love to see @its-sixxers, @adventuresofmeghatron, @deacons-wig, and frankly anyone else to give it a shot. Yall need to @ me if you do it! This was really fun ngl. I missed dollmakers lol

#Samara 'Echo' Gray #tag meme #lowkey sad they didn't have a long ponytail but pigtails look cute on her lol #green is her fav color and honestly there was a super cute blue outfit i almost shared but went 'nooo she wouldnt wear that shirt'#half tempted to make the other ladies...but they didnt have teal as a hair color u_u cannot make whisper...#like there was pink but no teal *sigh* cant make my pastel goth gal

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glowstickia · 4 years

Note

Also 37

37. — gone

[one word prompts]

Scars - Chin

Echo sat with her back against the wall as she gently cleaned the rifle in her lap. She hummed a little as Dogmeat laid on the floor nearby, his head resting on the teddy bear he found under a weather stained couch, making friends with dust bunnies a few days ago. Deacon fiddled with a hot plate he dug out of the broken cabinets he swore up and down he found them that way Mom! Don’t take away his comic books please!

“You having fun there?” she asked, looking over her shades as Deacon shook his hand with a grimace.

“Oodles.” He said and sucked his finger.

She grinned. “Really? I’m shocked.”

He made a popping sound as he removed his finger from his lips. “Hi, Shocked, I’m Deacon, nice to meet cha.” he held out his hand and she stuck out her tongue.

“So, I take it we’ll have to go with plan B on warm foods tonight, huh?” Echo asked, tossing her rag at his face.

He leaned to the side and it landed on his shoulder. “Nah, plan Delta Beta E-” He paused for a moment, as though something dawned on him.

“No, that’s not why I’m Echo.” She snorted, reading his thoughts, “BOS thought so when I saved a Paladin’s hide way back when.”

“Eugh,” He grimaced, and she raised a brow. “You? Helping?”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a second rag.”

“What can I say? Played my cards right.” He mimed holding a hand of cards and placed them on the ground before ‘spreading’ them out in front of her, “Well, well, well, will you look at that? Full house.”

Echo shook her head and gestured to the wide open ceiling across the room. “Nah, more like a half house.” She sighed as she leaned on her lap. Her shoulders dropped. “You…remind me a lot of him…”

“Well, there goes…the deposit…” Deacon’s playful grin dropped. His brow furrowed. “Er…is that a good thing or-”

“Mmm…” Echo’s lips thinned as she gently rubbed her chin. The groove of her scar just below her lower lip was smooth, hairless, and…healing. It’d be there for years to come, much like the one near her right eye…but it was of a different time, place, memory…

Barclay leaned on the dirty counter of the diner and spread out the deck of waterlogged and faded cards onto its dusty surface. “Come one, come all!” He announced, with a lopsided grin and grand gesture of his wrist. “Pick a card! Any card!~”

Echo sighed loudly as she rubbed her forehead. “What if I say no?” Her head was starting to hurt.

Nova slapped her hands on the counter and stared into Barclay’s bright, silver eyes, alive with mischief and joy, and tugged a card from the pile he laid out. Barclay grinned at his sister. “Alrighty-now don’t tell me your card Nova.” He scooped up the row of cards back into the deck. Echo leaned a little. Queen of Hearts. Hm. She watched as Nova placed the card in the middle of the deck before he started to shuffle it. He grinned as he pulled out the top card. “Is this your card?”

Queen of Hearts.

Nova slapped her hands on the table. “HOLY SHIT-”

Dogmeat whined, breaking Echo from her thoughts. She cleared her throat. “My brother…” she said at last, “he uh…you remind me a lot of him…” she scratched her chin, where the scar was healing, slowly, but no longer scabbing. She picked that away a long time ago. “Though, hard telling if he’s…around anymore.”

Deacon stared at her, his face neutral, and impossible to read with his sunglasses. Just like her… “Funny,” he said at last, breaking the silence with an ice pick and hammer, “I thought we were blood.”

“…” she frowned, “what?”

He gestured to his sunglasses, then to hers. “Don’t you see?” He said, with a sly grin, “We have each other’s eyes.”

Echo inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh…my god…” she shook a bit, as she forced herself to be quiet and to not give into his bad joke who knows how fucking long he’s been holding onto that one. She steadied her breath as he beamed at her.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.”

#asking glow #glow writes #allislaughter #fallout #deacon #fallout fic #fo4 #samara 'echo' gray #had waaaaay too much fun with their banter ngl

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