#THOUGHTS;; Nina Blip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 months

Note

Your analytic posts are the best:) Could you talk a bit about the scene on the roof of the embassy between Inej and Kaz? I have so many questions. They might die, so why does Inej pick that moment to tell Kaz she is leaving the Dregs? Why not wait until they are on the boat? Also why does Kaz rub her wrist (through the gloves, of course) where the temporary menagerie tattoo is? Why does Inej touch Kaz's cheek? And why does Inej tell him she will die unafraid?

Kaz's POV chapter previous to this scene is the only one where he doesn't really think about Inej. He is totally focused on finding Pekka in the prison. So, I was surprised when he said to Inej "I want you to know..." What did he want her to know? (I'm sure with her hand on his face --the first positive physical contact he's had in almost a decade--and her question to him about dying unafraid, his mind was reeling. It's no wonder he couldn't formulate an answer to her question).

Hello and welcome to episode one of DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It's About Damn Time (working title)

I am so sorry you sent this such a long time ago, but thank you so much for asking it and I hope my terrible answeringness (that's a word now, I've decided) hasn't put you off my stuff, I promise I'm not ignoring you on purpose, when I first read this I thought it was really interesting and I needed some time to think about it and now it's so long later it might even be a year and yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm here - let's go!

So I think that the reason Inej chooses to tell Kaz she's leaving the Dregs in this moment is for the very reason you voiced: they might die tonight, and they might not see each other again before that happens. Inej comments earlier on in the book, when they get hot chocolate at a cafe in Djerholm and wait for Nina to return, that whenever she talks about Ravka or about going home Kaz turns away and tries to find another conversation - in this case I think he starts chatting to Jesper - so we already have this idea that he doesn't want to confront the truth of the situation, which is that Ketterdam is a very temporary part of Inej's life. For Kaz the city is what fuels him and he needs it to enact his vengeance, but he also never sees himself leaving it after Rollins is dead and I think that's really interesting because he almost doesn't know how to comprehend any other existence - I've spoken before about how I don't think that killing Rollins will ever be enough for him and that his revenge is essentially an addiction. It's possible that he will one day be able to find the future and the relief that he needs in Inej, but right now not only does he struggle to view himself as ever leaving Ketterdam but he also struggles with the idea of being alone there - as far as he can see Nina and Matthias will go home together/find a new home together, Wylan will make peace with his father over whatever their arguement was and return to the Geldstradt, Jesper will pay off his debts only to carry on digging himself in deeper whilst Kaz is forced to watch him destroy himself, and Inej will leave and let Ketterdam become a brief blip in her life. I think that, for all he doesn't want to care about the others, Kaz has a very real fear of being an impermanent, small aspect of the others' lives whilst they are such a big aspect of his. And the most frightening part of that for him is to not have Inej with him anymore, the one person he can confide in, seemingly the only person he talks to without specific job-related purposes except maybe Jesper, and the only person he can remove his gloves on front of - I think this inner conflict is really well presented in the Bathroom Scene when he thinks about how he'd concocted a thousand schemes to bind her to him, but that ultimately he knew he was in the wrong and so he paid off her contract with Per Haskell and returned it to her. But from Inej's perspective, considering she doesn't know how he feels about her at this time, I think this could almost look cold. He doesn't want to know about her home, her life, who she was supposed to be, and what she's going to do with her future, and she may even be internalising the idea that the idea she can pay off her debts then up and leave angers him because we know that she massively internalised his description of her as "an investment" with damaging psycological consequences including her belief that she would not come to save her when she was taken by Van Eck and this even extending so far as the quote "He'll never trade if you break me". This is a gut-wrenching moment in Crooked Kingdom, when Inej is forced to admit that she genuinely believes Kaz will not care about her anymore if he "has no use for me anymore", whilst the reader knows that Kaz is losing his mind over rescuing her.

And all of that, as Kaz points out to himself on Black Veil during the "I would come for you" scene, is borne of real actions he completes that, although in a far less intentional way, actually align with some of the abuse that Inej has endured; the dehumanisation she experienced from being "bought and sold like a bolt of cotton" and the way she was denied her own identity to the point that she almost cried when she heard her own name said aloud can both be directly linked to the multiple times Kaz refers to her as an "investment" and the way he doesn't want to hear about her life. And his intentions are never to hurt her in the way he does or in the way she was hurt in the past, but it is also more than possible that some of this is part of the way Kaz distances himself from the others and pushes them away. There's a quote I think about a lot when Inej is horrified to see that Jackal masks, sacred symbols to Suli religion and culture, are sold like "party favours" and worn by pleasure seekers in Ketterdam and Kaz dismisses her emotions, and he then says "In moments like that, she thought he might hate him". I remember reading that and thinking 'yeah, because you just defended the appropriation of her culture, which she herself was forced to appropriate for a year whilst enduring horrific abuse, it would be more than fair to be mad at you right now' but I wonder whether that's almost what he wanted? I talked about it in my "Treasure of my heart" analysis as well where he uses a sarcastic expression of his real feelings to mock her so that's she'll be upset and he come somehow justify that it's therefore not worth liking her because she doesn't return his feelings; it's a self-destructive mechanism, but without meaning to it has the potential to hurt Inej as well.

Wow, if there were awards for tangents I think I'd win them. But my point here is that I think this is exactly why she chooses to tell him in this moment, because she has to say it and she has to make him hear it in case they don't make it out the other side of this night. It's also possible that Inej wants to have her dream said out loud in case she dies tonight. Although she was unable to voice it to Nina because she didn't think it was ready to be shared, that was when they were still following the original plan. Now that everything has spiralled very quickly out of control and into a new, far more daring plan with a lot more moving parts, and that will directly involve revealing themselves to be infiltrating the Ice Court, Inej knows there's a very good chance she won't survive the night. And if she isn't going to make it, she needs someone to know what she intends to do, it needs to be said out loud so that it's real and it means something.

Wondering what Kaz wanted Inej to know is one of the things about these books that has at some point or other kept me awake at night, and honestly my personal final conclusion is that I don't think he knew what he was going to say, but that I think this could have been his first attempt at a confession. This scene bears explicit parallels to the Bathroom Scene in Crooked Kingdom, as you said it's the first time they touch and both of them are greatly vulnerable in each moment; this is a moment of fear, of trust, of realisation, and I think for both of them it arguable is to some extent a confession. I think Inej tells Kaz that she will die unafraid as almost the beginning of what eventually becomes "I will have you without armour", she is directly challenging him in the way he hides his emotions but she has still seen them, and she directly telling him that she is trying to heal and that they only have a chance if he tries to heal as well. Inej doesn't tell Kaz she will only have him without his armour to say that he isn't good enough for her as he is or that he needs to fix himself alone for the final goal of being with her, but she is saying that if he continues down this path and never lets anyone help him and never makes any attempt at healing, that she will not be able to stay with him because she has to try to heal as well and she knows she would have to pull herself away from that situation to be able to do so. I really hope this makes sense. But I think that the touching of Kaz's cheek and the touching of the temporary menagerie tattoo could very much be linked to this idea that the confession has begun or will be coming and I also think it bears resemblance to the Bathroom Scene and I really adore that as a paralell

Thank you so so much for your question, I am so sorry about how long it has taken me to respond but I hope that this was interesting and made sense. And I am planning on continuing to work through my inbox moving forwards, so stay tuned for episode two, and please don't be put off form keeping asks coming I promise I am making my way through them! <3

51 notes · View notes

reyofluke-ocs · 2 years

Photo

OCs DESERVE BETTER -> Julia Peneva (MCU) FC: Nina Dobrev

“Look, I was a doctor in New York City. My first mass casualty event as an intern was the Battle of New York. I survived the Blip and watched my colleagues and patients disintegrate before my eyes as well as reappear five years later like nothing happened. You’re going to have a try a lot harder to get me to turn back, just saying.”

Falling in love with New York City after completing all of her higher education there, Julia Peneva has worked at New York Hospital ever since, meaning she has seen all that New York City has to offer - the food, the sites, and of course, the frequent alien attacks. In fact, her first real major casualty event as a medical intern was the aftermath of the Blip, which helped fast-track her earning her doctorate as the world needed as many trained personnel across all career fields on account of half the population just turning to dust.

Throughout her time as a college student, she struck up a friendship with Wanda Maximoff through a take-out restaurant both frequented, as well as their semi-shared Eastern Europe heritage, as Julia’s parents had immigrated to America after discovering they were pregnant with her. Julia treated Wanda just like anyone else, which included dragging the other young woman out to experience all of New York City when possible.

When the Avengers split up and those deemed members of ‘Team Cap’ were declared criminals, she staunchly refused to condemn her friend, even trying desperately to find a way to contact her, offering to hide her in her apartment if the States of the witch wanted. When the Blip occurred, Julia was devastated - not just because her family and other friends were affected, but because she also lost the one person she considered to be her best friend. During the five years, in addition to earning her doctorate, her long-term boyfriend broke up with her, gently stating that it was obvious Julia’s feelings for Wanda were more than a friendship, just by the way she would talk about and reminisces about the other woman, something that came as a huge shock to Julia.

Her and her ex remained on amicable terms and he even offered to watch her apartment for her while she went to find Wanda after everyone returned. Her search led her to Westview, New Jersey, where she ended up playing the role of Wanda’s closest friend. Even after realizing what Wanda had done, not just to the town but also her, Julia still stuck by her best friend and secret crush - enough that she didn’t renew her apartment lease, quit her job, packed up her stuff, and moved with Wanda out to the middle of Alaska where she helped live off the land as well as be the primary doctor in the closest town a couple miles away to provide for them.

Keeping her feelings a secret from the Scarlet Witch was... an experience but Julia thought she managed well. Then Doctor Stephen Strange - who Julia briefly remembers from internships and residencies back in New York - shows up asking for Wanda’s help because the multiverse is spinning out of control, and once again Julia refuses to leave Wanda on her own - but things quickly get out of hand far more than Julia could ever have anticipated.

tagging: @guardiansofheroes, @foxesandmagic, @ocfairygodmother, @hiddenqveendom, if anyone else wants to be tagged let me know!

#fyeahmarvelocs #ocappreciationtag #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #ocs deserve better #marvel oc #wanda maximoff x oc #*mine #mine #oc: julia peneva #i actually like one of my psds for once #i just adjusted one of my other ones and it actually looks semi decent for once

13 notes · View notes

nolanhollogay · 2 years

Note

sorry to say it … wanda maximoff oc?

i think that could be so fun if i recasted miss wanda....

omg wait i could finally use nina dobrev my beloved i was Just talking to mara about wanting to use her...

this could be cool like maybe they were on #teamcap together and became friends and then the whole Everything After That (like the snap n blip and whatever dumb marvel words they used)

and somehow this girlie, who probably died then came back, ends up in Westview

my marvel lore knowledge is too shaky to continue this train of thought but I'm sure u get it

#now im all excited #oc ideas #asks #leaf tag 🌿

4 notes · View notes

lafiametta · 3 years

Note

‘Braid’ for the helnik prompts?

Modern AU, mostly based off of this SAB promo video where Danielle admits she doesn't know how to ride a bike. Hope you enjoy!

After the seventh time, Matthias told himself he wasn’t allowed to check his watch again.

She’ll get here when she gets here, he repeated like a mantra. Besides, he knew she wasn’t standing him up, at least based on the text he had gotten a few minutes earlier.

sorry running late c u soon nina xo

Fifteen minutes later and he was contemplating sending a reply—definitely something casual, maybe a touch concerned, if only to see if she was alright—when he saw her coming down the sidewalk, a warm smile of recognition on her lips.

Matthias had met Nina Zenik three days ago at his neighborhood coffeeshop. He had gone in to grab his regular before heading to work, but somehow hadn’t managed to notice the person beside him at the pick-up counter, or foreseen that she would turn and run straight into him, spilling his coffee all over his Italian loafers and the floor. She was immediately apologetic, offering to get him a new drink to make up for it. Under normal circumstances, Matthias would have declined and simply written the whole thing off as an irritating blip in his morning routine, but then she looked at him, emerald-bright eyes under dark lashes, and he found himself nodding in agreement, his shoes—and his morning routine—forgotten entirely. He had ended up joining her at a table while they sipped their drinks—his dark roast, her caramel vanilla latte—and eventually exchanged numbers, along with plans for an afternoon date this coming Saturday.

(When Matthias finally made it to work, he tried to sneak in quietly, hoping no one would notice that he was almost two hours late.)

Nina looked just as beautiful as he remembered: freckled skin, full lips, curves in all the right places. Matthias wasn’t necessarily one to notice women’s outfits, but she was dressed perfectly for the summer afternoon in jean shorts and a striped t-shirt, leather sandals on her feet and a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. As she came closer, he could see she had even braided her hair—one of those complicated French things that seemed impossible to create with only two hands—although a few wisps had come loose, forming a soft dark corona around her head.

“Hey, there,” she said. Her smile grew wide and warm, and his heart stumbled for a second, like it had tripped on some invisible curb. “So, what adventure do you have planned for us?”

“How do you feel about picnics?”

“Number one fan. I’m also partial to brunch and happy hours and any other combination of sunshine and food. You know,” she added, arching an eyebrow, “just for future reference.”

“Noted.”

Matthias began to steer them down the sidewalk, just to the corner where a rack of identical bikes sat waiting. The city had installed them a year or so ago as part of a ride-sharing program, and while he would often see people on them, zipping down bike lanes and park paths, he had never had an occasion to try one out before—until today.

“So I thought we could bike down to the city gardens and maybe do a little loop around the reservoir. After that, we can go find a good picnic spot.” He turned a little so she could see the backpack he had strapped to his shoulders. “I brought sandwiches and fruit and cold drinks. And a blanket, of course.”

Nina’s expression had gone blank, a dark little cloud beginning to form across her features.

“That all sounds great, really—except there’s just one small problem.”

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t ride a bike.”

Matthias paused, thoroughly perplexed. “Wait, you can’t? Or you won’t?”

“No, I just—” She shrugged, her mouth tightening in resignation. “I never learned how.”

“You never learned how to ride a bike? Not even as a kid?” he asked in apparent disbelief. Her green eyes flashed with irritation, prompting him to quickly backtrack. “Sorry, sorry.”

Matthias could feel his heart sinking; he had been fairly proud of everything he had planned for their outing, and now he could feel it all slipping away due to some ridiculous twist of fate he couldn’t have possibly been expected to foresee. Didn’t everyone know how to ride a bike? He had been seven when his dad taught him, brought him out to the sidewalk in front of their house and held the seat upright as Matthias did his best to pedal and stay balanced at the same time. Suddenly, the idea struck him, making him feel even dumber for not having come up with it sooner.

“Hey, look—” he said to her, “why don’t I just teach you right now?”

Her brows narrowed doubtfully. “You want to teach me how to ride a bike?”

“It’s not that hard. Little kids do it all the time,” he added, offering her a teasing grin. He could feel her being won over, the hesitation in her gaze slowly disappearing. “C’mon...”

“Okay,” Nina said, eyeing him carefully, even as the corners of her mouth began to curl upwards. “But there better be some spectacular sandwiches stowed away in that backpack.”

It took them a few minutes to get two bikes off of the rack—there was some business with QR codes and an app—and then Matthias walked them over to a little alleyway that seemed fairly safe to practice in. There weren’t any cars and the only possible thing she could possibly run into was a metal dumpster about fifty yards away. He leaned his bike up against the wall of the adjacent building and then went to help her with her own.

Before they could get started, though, he zipped open his backpack and handed her one of the two items tucked right on top.

“A helmet?” she scoffed. “Really?”

“It’s required, you know. By law.” He tried to ignore how ridiculous he sounded—like a safety-obsessed killjoy, no doubt—and proceeded to give her his most serious-looking expression. “Also, head injuries can create a lot of blood.”

Nina rolled her eyes at him, even as her voice turned playful. “I bet you say that to all the girls...”

Before she could strap on the helmet, though, she had to slip her sunglasses off her head. She folded them up and tucked them into the front of her t-shirt collar, the weight tugging a little on the scoop neck, while Matthias did his best not to stare at the shadowy hint of cleavage now visible at the bottom of her neckline.

He helped her adjust the seat down and then test out the brakes, until she was finally ready to get started. She swung a leg over and found a seat, her hands tightly gripping the handles.

“Start by putting one of your feet on the pedals,” he told her, watching as she followed his instructions. “Okay, now take your other foot—the one on the ground—and push off. Just coast for a few seconds.”

Nina nodded, then turned forward with a sharp look of determination. She was bigger than a child, so it wouldn’t do any good to hold the seat for her; instead he stood alongside, his arms braced to catch the handlebars and the seat if it came to that. With one foot, she pushed herself forward, wobbling just a bit before she came to a stop.

The grin on her face was nothing short of triumphant.

“That was great!” he said, wanting to do anything he could to keep her smiling like that. “Want to try again?”

This time, she didn’t hesitate, pushing off a bit harder against the ground. She must have started pedaling a little too, because she started going faster, and suddenly she looked over at him, eyes widening with alarm. The handlebars turned with her gaze and all at once she was swerving, the bike seemingly ready to topple.

Matthias did the only thing he could do: he caught her in his arms.

It took them a moment or so to recover—a long moment where all he could think about was how warm and soft she felt, the way her ribcage was gently expanding under his hand, the sweet flowery scent of her shampoo—and then he quickly swallowed and took a step back to help her right the bike. He could hear the waver in her breath, no doubt due to her near-fall.

“Good thing I was wearing that helmet, huh?” Nina teased, warmth edging into those bright green eyes.

“Yeah... lucky,” he stammered.

“So—” She glanced down at the bike underneath her. “Third time’s a charm?”

After a steadying breath, she pushed off again, letting her balance keep her upright before she began to pedal her feet. The handlebars trembled, but she did her best to hold them steady as she traveled another few feet.

“Keep looking straight ahead,” he said encouragingly, keeping his hand along her lower back. “It’ll go in the direction you look.”

With a burst of confidence, she picked up speed, fast enough that he let go and just looked on as she moved further into the alleyway. Matthias found himself smiling as he watched her, observing proudly as she turned the bike a little to the left and then to the right, eventually swiveling back to go in the original direction. After a few seconds, she swerved again, this time in a wide loop, pedaling until she had completely turned around and was coming towards him once more.

She laughed as she passed by him, a sound of pure delight. “Matthias!” she squealed, her feet moving faster. “I think you’re going to have to come catch me again!”

Eventually, he thought, she was going to have to stop—but she didn’t, not even when she was coming close to the end of the alleyway.

“Wait, Nina!” he yelled, and suddenly he was scrambling for the bike he had left against the wall, barely managing to get it upright before he took off after her.

And as he sped up, he could see her half-silhouetted in the distance—her body moving in sync with the wheels underneath her—a joyous smile lighting up her face, the tail of her braid fluttering in the warm afternoon air.

[send me a one-word Helnik prompt]

#helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #shadow and bone #six of crows #fanfiction #helnik fic #karis-the-fangirl #this one turned out longer than i had originally intended #but i'm sure none of y'all will mind :)

14 notes · View notes

luulapants · 3 years

Note

Hello! If you're up for it I would be interested to hear about my first name and/or middle name, whichever interests you. They are Nathaniel and Janine. Thanks!

I can give you a little bit on each of them, how about that?

Nathanael is actually the spelling used in the Bible, but Nathaniel is by far more popularly used. Nathanael comes from Hebrew, meaning "God has given." It actually has a separate origin from Nathan, which is commonly thought of as a nickname for Nathaniel.

Nathaniel has been consistently popular, probably since the Protestant Reformation, which is when a lot of previously underutilized Biblical names rose in popularity. Since 1880, it's been in the Top 300 in the US and the Top 200 since '72. Interestingly, Nathanael, the original spelling, wasn't even tracking in US data until '72, had a small surge in popularity, but has been in a slow decline for the past ten years.

Janine is a version of John (Hebrew, "Yahweh is gracious") and, as such, is one of those names with a bajillion etymological relatives! Just about every language has at least one version of John, and most have male and female variations, too. Some relatives are: Nina, Jolene, Hanna, Joan, Vanya, Ian, Evan, Jacqueline, Jake, Jane, Janice, Sean, Shane, Jensen, and many, many others.

Janine itself had about a 50-year stretch of common usage with a peak from the mid-50s to mid-70s. Its popularity most likely came from France, where it had a similar stretch from the 1910s-60s. It's worth noting that it fell out of popularity in France once the gauche Americans got their hands on it (naturally). In 1994, just 193 baby girls in the US were named Janine, and it hasn't been even a blip on the statistical radar since.

RIP Janine.

#names #asks

5 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Uprooted, Chapter 2: Tree's Company (Branjie) - writworm42

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE! Last chapter, Brooke and Vanessa hooked up to celebrate Vanessa getting a new job. This chapter, Vanessa and Brooke find out that they haven’t seen the last of each other…

I super apologize for the wait on this chapter, guys. It’s been tough balancing my personal/work life w the 283972 multichaps and 47382 one-shots I have going on LOL. I’m going to be putting things out more slowly for the next while, but I hope to be posting things at least once a week!

Thank you to holtzmanns for beta-ing <3

No matter how many times Vanessa visited, West Nurseries was never anything short of breathtaking. It was the largest nursery in the state, and had been Vanessa’s dream workplace ever since she was a five year old girl playing hide-and-seek with her brother behind rows of planter pines. West Nurseries was where she had first fallen in love with the waxy smell of leaves in the summer and the damp crunch of soil under her feet and squelching through the soles of her shoes. It was where she had traded her first wad of lawn-mowing money for a sapling of her very own, and where she had returned almost any chance she could get to ask for advice on how to nurture it.

It was where she had felt her first pang of nostalgic loss, driving away from town four years ago, knowing she was leaving something so safe and familiar behind, something that might not be there when she got back.

Thankfully, though, when she pulled up into the parking lot on her first day, everything was still exactly as she’d left it. The owner, Nina, still came to the gate to open and wave at the early-morning customers, and the rows of flowers were still organized by type and colour. There were still birds nesting in the rafters, and the sound of sprinklers whirring still reverberated off the walls of every greenhouse. Nina chatted Vanessa’s ear off as they walked through each area of the nursery, explaining in detail all the ins and outs of not just caring for trees, but of teaching others how to do the same. Vanessa absorbed everything with divided attention, half mentally noting every fact, figure, and tidbit, and half still as awe-struck by the facility as the first time she’d stepped foot in it.

Finally, they reached the arboretum, and Vanessa’s heart sped up with excitement. Once again, everything was exactly how she remembered it—the pines were still arranged in neat rows, and netting and fencing still marked off different types of saplings and planters. Ornaments and bird-feeders still hung in the corners, beckoning customers to look, to smile, to take them home.

The only thing that was different was the tall blonde potting saplings in the corner. The tall blonde who turned around when she heard Nina’s voice, only to freeze with a look of horror on her face as she caught sight of Vanessa, whose own heart stopped.

“Vanessa, this is the arboretum manager, Brooke.”

Oh, fuck.

–

“Pharmacy, really?” Brooke pulled Vanessa into the storeroom after mumbling some excuse to Nina about showing her the process for keeping inventory, her voice low and furious.

“Well excuse me, Mary, but this ain’t sales either, so–”

“What do you mean, it isn’t? We’re selling trees, aren’t we?” Brooke huffed, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. Vanessa narrowed her eyes.

“You ain’t wanted me to think that and you know it.”

“Whatever.” Brooke rolled her eyes, dropping her posture to an almost drooping slump. “Doesn’t matter. Either way, we’ve got to work together, so let’s just… Make it work.”

“It was only a one-night stand anyway.” Vanessa agreed, watching as the words re-inflated and settled Brooke. “We ain’t gotta make it a big deal.”

“Right.” She nodded, “Not a big deal.”

Before Vanessa could say another word, Brooke was gone, retreating back outside to the larger area where customers were beginning to file in.

It was only a one-night stand. A blip on their radar, some meaningless fun that had been nothing to worry about the next morning. It was not a big deal, not a big deal at all.

So why was Vanessa wet?

–

As it turned out, working alongside Brooke was a very, very big deal.

It wasn’t that Brooke was an unfair boss–quite the opposite, in fact. She was direct and kind, and always seemed to walk the line between strictness and perfect understanding. It was that same professionalism, though, that made working with her torture.

How was Vanessa supposed to focus when Brooke was so careful with her work that she potted and re-potted plants without getting a single smudge of dirt on her cheek? And how in the world was she supposed to put the customer first when she could instead watch Brooke interact with them, freeing Vanessa to remember just how much of a way with words the blonde actually had?

The worst part, though, was that in all of Vanessa’s watching, wishing, and wanting, Brooke had done her best to freeze Vanessa out. She kept her responses to Vanessa’s questions short and to the point, and always seemed to disappear at lunch instead of eating with everyone else. At staff meetings, she made sure to sit as far from Vanessa at possible, and whenever Vanessa was scheduled to work stock, Brooke quickly rearranged things so that she herself was working the floor.

But that didn’t mean that Vanessa didn’t notice the looks Brooke flashed her, lingering and full of need and fascination. And Vanessa was far from oblivious from how when they did talk, Brooke’s face seemed to fall a little every time they had to end their conversation. Not to mention that sometimes, Vanessa swore she could hear her name being whispered, only to look up and see Brooke beet red while her friends giggled around her.

Brooke was a professional; she would never let a one-night stand come between her and her job.

Fortunately, Vanessa didn’t hold herself to the same standards, and the glimpses of interest she got from Brooke only made it more tempting to push her limits just a little.

“How does Brooke feel about me?” Vanessa cornered one of Brooke’s friends, Plastique, after their shift one day, arms crossed in front of her chest as if to hide the insecurity she felt snaking into her chest. To her relief, though, Plastique just laughed.

“Girl, she’s like, completely obsessed with you. Like honestly, I’ve never seen her so into someone.” Plastique rolled her eyes. “Honestly I’m like this close to locking you in the stockroom until you make out.”

Vanessa breathed out deeply. If that really was the case, then she should have no problem giving Brooke a little encouragement.

She started out slowly, going out of her way to talk to Brooke and ask her questions with a coy smile. Bit by bit, though, she got a little bolder; one day, she’d wear a tank top that would get her in trouble anywhere else under her apron, savouring the way Brooke seemed to suddenly fall out of focus when looking at her. The next, she’d ask Brooke to help her lift something she didn’t actually need help with, watching with glee as Brooke blushed at a purred compliment about how strong and helpful she was.

It was the most impulsive of these decisions, though, that finally brought things to a head.

Brooke was too detail-oriented not to notice the smudge of soil on Vanessa’s cheek; Vanessa was well aware of that. And she was too kind, too motherly, not to take care of the smudge herself, especially when she saw how equally dirty Vanessa’s hands were.

Vanessa would be lying if she said she wasn’t counting on that.

“You have such soft hands, mommy.” Vanessa whispered under her breath as Brooke’s thumb grazed her cheek. “But we both been knew that, ain’t we?”

“Vanessa, I—“ but Brooke never got a chance to finish before Vanessa’s hand was curled around her wrist.

“I think we might wanna take this somewhere more private.” Vanessa rose up on her toes to whisper in Brooke’s ear, letting out a husky laugh when Brooke responded with a whimper.

“My place, tonight?” Brooke’s voice was weak and breathless with need, and the contrast between this Brooke and the one who had been pinning her down and making her forget her own name was too fun not to play with.

“Sounds good,” Vanessa loosened her grip, letting her fingers linger and trace a burning trail on Brooke’s skin as she pulled away. “See you tonight, mommy.”

She knew everyone in the arboretum had heard it, and the thought of how she’d pay for it later was enough to keep her buzzing with want and excitement until she was finally knocking on Brooke’s door.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #workplace au #uprooted #writworm42 #tw mommy kink

37 notes · View notes

writethiswaymaam · 5 years

Text

Love Undone

Summary: Mayor Antonia Pena's little sister, Alexandria, returns home after being injured while serving overseas. Intent on helping her sister, but often sidetracked by trying to keep the town of Santo Padre running smoothly, Antonia fails to see the warning signs of her Andria's downward spiral. Worrying it could be too late, Antonia calls on her old flame to help, El Presidente of the Mayans motorcycle club. Bishop will do anything for the women he still considers family, but things get complicated as Andria tries to navigate where she fits into her own family and the world that surrounds her, along with her feelings for her sister's ex-boyfriend.

Warning: Planning this to be a slow burn multi-chapter fic, so there will be plenty of fluff and angst, and eventually lots of smut. I will do individual warnings for each chapter.

CHAPTER ONE

Alexandria slowly made her way past airport security to the receiving area. After 14 hours of nonstop travel, her leg and side throbbed. She dropped her duffle bag on the ground and scanned the crowd looking for her sister, Antonia. Antonia was everything older sisters were meant to be: smarter, prettier, and more successful. It had been a few years since Andria had seen her in person, but it was easy to spot her perfectly curled hair and smart business suit. She was talking on the phone, pacing slightly, and gesticulating as if talking in person. Andria slowly bent, picked up her bag, and grimaced as she hoisted it back on her shoulder. She walked up behind her sister, "Hey, excuse me, I'm looking for Santo Padre's biggest puta, can you help a sister out?"

Antonia spun on her heel, a large smile spreading across her face as she abruptly ended her phone call, "Pretty sure, I am looking at her," she leaned in to offer Andria a hug, "You look like shit, hermana."

"Gee, thanks. Can we get the fuck out of here?" With a slight nod, Antonia spun on her heels again and strode towards the exit at what Andria thought was an extremely brisk pace for someone wearing 6-inch stilettos.

Andria did her best to keep up without limping too pronouncedly. Antonia walked toward to premium parking lot, hitting her keys, the lights and horn blipped on a brand-new silver Lexus. Andria shook her head as the trunk automatically opened and she tossed in her duffle. "What?' Antonia put her hands on her hips.

"Nothing, Mrs. Mayor with her fancy Lexus," Andria smirked, "What's it like living like the other half?"

"Shut up and get in the car," Antonia pulled her sunglasses over her eyes before climbing into the driver's seat.

-----

The ride to Santo Padre was long, but beautiful. Nothing but desert and hot, dry air. Some might think of it as desolate or even dangerous, but for Andria, the desert heat felt like a warm hug to her soul. She was finally home. Maybe the demons couldn't reach her here. She rolled down her window to feel the heat and sun on her face. Her hand letting the wind slightly lift and carry it as the car drove down the highway. Antonia watched her curiously, a questioned poised on her lips, when the tell-tale rumble of motorcycles could be heard in the distance.

A teasing smile graced Andria's face, "So sis, how is El Presidente these days?"

"I wouldn't know. I am a married woman now, Dria. You know that," Antonia scolded.

"Oh, trust me, I know. How does the wifey feel about your baby sister crashing at your place?" Andria glanced in the side mirror seeing the motorcycles closing in on their car.

"Katrina is excited to finally meet you. She spent the entire week getting the guest room ready for you," Antonia beamed.

"You guys didn't have to go to any trouble. I'm not sure how long I'm even going to stay," Andria adjusted in her seat.

Antonia's brows furrowed a bit at that, "You know it’s going to take time to heal, right? I already got you an appointment with a great physical therapist, and there's a veteran's group that meets twice a month at the community center. I talked a little with the guy who runs it, and honestly, Dria, I think it would be really good for you."

"You shouldn't have. The VA hospital isn't that far away, and it wouldn't cost me anything for physical therapy there," Andria's hands unconsciously clenched into fists.

"The VA Hospital is two hours away, and I am not worried about the money, hermana. Let me help you," Antonia gently argued.

"Fine, but I'm not going to some washed-up war hero circle jerk at the local Y," Andria's voice raises in aggravation.

"Fine…jodido zorra," Antonia rolled her eyes toward her sister.

Andria’s anger dissipated at the insult, the corners of mouth slightly lifting before her gaze returned to the desert. Antonia's cell phone rang, and she was quick to answer it, falling back into mayor mode, as the roar of motorcycles finally overcame them, passing the Lexus is if it were standing still. Andria tried to spot any familiar figures, but the glint of the sun on the chrome of the bikes made it too difficult. She looked at her sister and wondered how differently things would have been if she would have ended up with her biker boyfriend. Bishop had doted on Antonia. He loved her more than almost anything, except for his beloved club. His affection for Andria's sister often proved beneficial to Andria, she smiled at the memories of Bishop letting her tag along on dates, coming to her rescue at 2 am when she got that flat tire on the way home from a concert, and even staying with Antonia and her in the hospital when their mother was sick. He always stood so steady, even when the world seemed to crumble at their feet. She wondered if he was still that way even now, and she figured he probably was. After all, it was Antonia who had done all the changing. She changed her clothes and her entire life in what felt like the blink of an eye to Andria. Sometimes Andria wondered what bothered her more when Antonia and Bishop broke up, losing the man she thought of as a brother, or losing the sister that Antonia used to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Antonia said putting her phone back down on the center console, “something came up at work, and I have to make a quick stop at the office.”

“Okay,” Andria tried not to sound disappointed.

“It will only be five minutes, tops,” Antonia assures her as she pulled into her reserved parking spot.

She left the car running and briskly walked into the large office building. Andria leaned back in her seat trying to find some relief from the pain in her leg and side to no avail.

Fifteen minutes later, Andria sighed in aggravation as she pulled the keys from the ignition and tried to exit the car as gracefully as she could, which turned out to be not very graceful at all. She limped to a vending machine in front of the city building and dug a couple ones of her pocket, feeding them into the machine, and punching the button for a water. Digging into her pocket again, she pulled out her bottle of pain pills, palming a couple before throwing them in her mouth. Closing her pill bottle and shoving them back into her pocket, Andria bent over and pulled the water bottle from the machine making quick work of removing the cap and downing half the bottle and her pills in one swig. Spotting a bench a few feet over, she slowly progressed toward it, gritting her teeth with every step. She eased herself down onto the bench, turning her body cautiously as to not tweak her side and propped her leg up, taking a quick glance at her watch before draining the rest of the water.

The sound of motorcycle engines interrupted the relative silence and Andria discreetly turned to catch a glimpse. As the men dismounted their bikes pulling off their helmets, Andria saw some faces she recognized and some she didn’t. Her eyes finally landed on Bishop, and she studied him for a moment. He looked the same, but different. His skin a bit more weathered; his hair a bit grayer, but from this distance he looked as he always had, unflappably masculine and somewhat dangerous. "Andria, I am so sorry! Time totally got away from me,” Antonia said as she quickly came down the steps of the city building.

Andria looked from her sister back to where Bishop had been standing, and their gazes locked. "Andria?" Bishop stepped back from his bike, pulling off his gloves, as he walked toward them. Both Pena sisters watched his approach, Antonia tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, while Andria struggled to stand. Bishop quickly embraced Antonia and kissed her cheek affectionately. Then he embraced Andria, placing a small kiss on the top of her head, pulling back to study her face. “Nina preciousa, esta bien? I thought Antonia said you wouldn’t be home until after the first of the year?”

“I’m okay. Came pretty close to getting my ticket punched but hoping to make a full recovery after some down time,” Andria tried to stand straighter as if willing her body to cooperate with her statement.

Bishop and Antonia exchanged looks. Andria tried not to roll her eyes at being the obvious subject of one of their silent conversations. Some things never changed. Being younger, meant that Bishop and Antonia had always been protective of Andria, but if they had any idea the things she had seen and done overseas, they would have realized how ridiculous their interaction was. Her attention went back to the group of bikers that relaxed amongst their bikes, talking and laughing as they waited for their president. “Is that EZ Reyes?” Andria interrupted Bishop and Antonia’s worry fest.

Bishop looked over at his brothers and then back to Andria rubbing his mustache, “Yeah, he’s been prospecting for us.”

“Huh,” Andria pondered that statement, “never figured he’d be the type.”

“You know him?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah…kind of. We went had honor classes together in high school. I thought he was going to be a fancy doctor or lawyer or something,” she turned back to Bishop.

“Things change, hermosa,” Bishop said.

Andria looked between him and her sister, “Yeah I guess they do. It was good seeing you, Bishop,” she gave him another hug.

“You, too. Let me know if you need anything while you’re back. Don’t be afraid to reach out,” he pulled back, giving Antonia another quick hug as well, before walking back to the bikes.

The sisters watched his departure, “I don’t know hermana, El Presidente still looks pretty fucking good,” Andria said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Antonia exhaled as she marched over to the car.

Andria limped behind still smiling to herself.

#mayans #mayansmc #mayans mc #mayans bishop #bishop #bishop losa

1 note · View note

jammedmuses · 4 years

Text

ININA “NINA BLIP” GARVAN has been added to the muse list!

#batman beyond rp #batman beyond roleplay #batman of the future rp #batman of the future roleplay #dcau rp #dcau roleplay #;tag dump #m; every community has an angelic troublemaker;; NINA BLIP #LIKES;; Nina Blip #AES;; Nina Blip #FASHION;; Nina Blip #VISU;; Nina Blip #THOUGHTS;; Nina Blip #HC;; Nina Blip

0 notes

vrheadsets · 6 years

Text

VR vs. The Darkness – A CES Story

Everything was fine. People sat, stood, worked alone and in groups, thought reflectively on what they’d seen or talked in excited terms about what they were going to. Was it going to be good? Was it going to be bad? What exactly were they going to say about it? For the VRFocus team out in the US it was pretty much the same for all the other attendees at this year’s International Consumer Electronics Show (CES) in Las Vegas. There was the usual problems. Get to your meetings on time. How on earth do I get an Uber in this mess?

Then things started flickering, like an omen of nothing but bad times in a Hollywood thriller the power blipped briefly then went down.

For me, sole survivor of #TeamLeftBehind after poor Rebecca finally gave in to the illness that had bothered her since well before our Maltese trip there didn’t seem much of a fuss to me initially. As anyone who has hosted or organised events, particularly big events will tell you, no matter how well you organise it whatever can go wrong will go wrong. Murphy’s law is a regular attendee of conventions around the world. The trick is to affectively (and effectively) roll with the punches.

A minor blip, a power surge perhaps. Lightning struck a generator or a substation or something, I mused from back in the UK. Dismissing things and getting back on with my work. They have backup generators, contingencies for this sort of thing. I mused as a slight note of panic began to creep into the messages. Unfortunately, as the people who are left behind during events will tell you, when you’ve been working long long hours and there’s an inconvenience over wherever it is everyone else is, by day three your sympathy for such incidents is pretty much zero.

However, the power stayed off. The drama had begun!

I have, to my knowledge never written a ‘bonus’ VR vs. for VRFocus before, but I thought it would be a good thing, considering all that happened that evening if we didn’t keep for posterity some of the fun that was had during that short time period. And fun we did have – well I did certainly, at the helm of the VRFocus Twitter account. The most fun I’d had (not) at one of these events in years.

Things began when it became clear that the power was not coming back anytime soon. Back in the UK I started laughing, well, you had to didn’t you really? Here they were in the City of Lights and all the lights had gone out. I started joking that next year somebody would come on stage and announce a revolutionary new design:

As technologies go, I think that’s ones gonna be a corker. As panic began to set in, and when it also became obvious whatever we talked about until this was over was kind of irrelevant to what was going on live. I set about keeping the Twitter audience informed on just what was going on and offered a suggestion how things could be salvaged.

CES BREAKING: There’s no WiFi in the press room and no power . The power has turned off in the north hall.

Someone put a coin in the meter or something over there would you?

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Kevin J was back at the hotel, however the maid had ushered him from the room and he wasn’t able to sort out anything. Peter and Nina on the other hand were in the press room where it had already been dark for a uncomfortably long time.

“There’s no Wi-Fi in the press room and no power. The power has turned off in the north hall.” Nina confirmed via Skype.

“What?” Was Kevin J’s reply. “Great.” And he was right this really wasn’t the best of times for us for this to happen. I did however get my first response.

http://pic.twitter.com/K0DmUiqYNm

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Wait, does this mean CES is now #BROKEN or #WOKEN? Will we ever know? Probably not.

“Pete has no power on his laptop. Apparently it’s gonna start up soon.” Nina confirmed to us, but time passed quickly. We’d also heard not a heck of a lot from Pete

“Is Pete’s laptop actually dead?” I asked cautiously

“Yup.” Came his response from the beyond, “Wrote the headline for my Noveto hands on then RIP. Power’s fluctuating all over CES.” It was with a heavy heart I informed Twitter of our loss.

UPDATE: "Power's fluctuating all over"

We also regret to inform you that @Brains81's laptop… didn't make it. http://pic.twitter.com/WMZUY1LWU6

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Nina again: “Guys central hall has completely shut down… Everything is on battery and is going to die in 10 min ”

She sent us a candid shot of the press room, all confused. Just as I found a CNBC tweet of them broadcasting footage of the power going out and people looking unsure as to what exactly they were supposed to do next.

Thankfully @VRFocus is a fan of older technologies as well, and as tech goes this one is pretty retro.

Some did have some issues with this revolutionary new tech paradigm that was now on display.

See you're too close. Take a couple of million steps back.

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

And working on the Metal Gear theme…

But others agreed that the new reveal was going to change everything.

We're mighty impressed at the visual quality of this new wireless "sun" on display. There's no screendoor effect at all present. Official hands-on coming soon.

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

I'm hearing this might be an additional surprise release. Lots of rumours on Reddit over at /r/moon.

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Some people were still reading what we’d written at least. Though one reader’s eyes were playing tricks on them with our Arizona Sunshine article.

You're getting confused with @asym's #WestOfLoathing.

PS: Buy West of Loathing. http://pic.twitter.com/UUouZkieX3

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Another update from Nina had grave news. “I’m gonna be down too soon. Phone battery dying too.” And barely a few minutes later she was lost to us as well.

Being a forthright sort of fellow I then descided to knuckle down and get planning straight away for next year.

Prepping the team for #CES2019. http://pic.twitter.com/nmnAzhVj0i

— Kevin Eva (@thekevineva) January 10, 2018

Ultimately though all good(?) things must come to an end.

#CES2018 BREAKING:

THE POWER IS BACK ON. CHARGE ALL THE THINGS! http://pic.twitter.com/07WNIXr6rp

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

There were still questions to ask, of course, in all of this. Like whose fault was it in the first place?

Google had to close their booth the other day because it rained and their booth wasn't waterproof.

(No word on whether it was shockproof, but it is very difficult to drop a booth to test it I guess.)

— VRFocus (@VRFocus) January 10, 2018

Whatever the case, the power came back on and everyone was reunited with their wi-fi connections bringing to an end this little CES story

And they all worked tiredly ever after…

from VRFocus http://ift.tt/2mrm8EJ

#VRFocus #vr #virtual reality #canada

0 notes

godsandvillainsrpg-blog · 7 years

Photo

Congratulations, EMILY! You have been accepted as NOELLE DUBOIS.

Note from Admin Jade: Damn, our Noelle applicants certainly brought their A-game, and this decision didn’t come easily. In the end, though, Emily, your application consisted of everything I could’ve hoped to see in Noelle personified. She’s a woman of many weapons — her gun, her chameleon tongue, and her body, and you showed me just how she uses every one of those to her advantage. You painted such a beautiful picture of her journey, of the way the traumas of her past have shaped her into the weapon of a girl she is today. I adore the way you characterized her distinction between victim and survivor, how she forces herself to become something stronger every day — and of course, just how important her revenge is to her. She doesn’t simply want to kill them — that would be letting them off too easy. She wants to make them feel the same pain she felt before they meet the same fate Camille did — the ultimate poetic justice, and you did such a beautiful job of showing me the lengths she’s willing to go to in order to realize that vengeance. Your FC change to Eiza Gonzalez has been approved, and I’m thrilled to welcome you and Noelle to the dash!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Emily

Age: 20

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: GMT.

Activity Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, I would put myself at a solid 6. I’m in my final year of uni but i don’t have a part time job or much of a social life, so most of my evenings will be spent on tumblr, probably rping. I’ve found that I can’t work past 6pm because my brain begins to die, so I’ll be all yours until I sleep after that!

Triggers: REMOVED

Anything Else? I’ve talked to Jade about this and I was wondering if it’s possible to change her fc to Eiza Gonzalez? I adore Nina – but she reminds me a little too much of the horrible flashbacks of TVD rps and I have to say, she has sort of been ruined for me.

Also, just to say that Noelle is my first choice, with Caterina as my second!

IN CHARACTER

Desired Character:

Noelle Dubois.

Noelle (also Noëlle) is a feminine given name. It is an English form of the French name Noëlle, which is a feminine form of the name Noël meaning “Christmas” in French. Ironically, Noelle wasn’t even born in December. She also grew up hating Christmas – but came to tolerate it as an adult. Dubois Name Meaning. French and English (Norman and Huguenot): topographic name for someone who lived in a wood. She wears her surname as a badge of pride, a proof she overcame the circumstances of childhood and prospered into someone – and something – else entirely.

Her name was picked out as an afterthought. She didn’t even get a middle one, her parents wanting the process to be over as quickly as possible. With parents who paid little attention to their children, why on earth would they care about their name? Some parents spent hours, days, even weeks, leafing through books trying to pick the one. Because they love their children. Because they want to know, when they kiss their child goodnight, or read their report card – that they did it right, all from the very beginning. Noelle was not given that treatment. Noelle, much like her sister Camille, was named for the maternity nurse who delivered the child. It was an easy, simple solution.

“What would you like to call your child?” Her parents paused, a small shift of the shoulders folding into a shrug. “Well, what’s your name?” And that was that.

As such, Noelle never really cared much about her name. For the first few years of her life, it was thrown as an insult, a shout or scream – always something that gave cause for her to flinch, rather than smile. The only one who said her name with any tenderness or softness was her sister. She was the only one who ever really cared. To Noelle, a name mattered little. She didn’t care whether she liked it or not. The only time she ever cared was when her name was uttered in conjunction with her sister; Camille and Noelle. That made her feel more at ease. That made her more secure. Now, it just makes her sad.

She could have changed her name. She had so many chances. There was the time the sleezy strip owner asked what she should be called, eventually throwing Cherry her way (for her lipstick, apparently). When she went to the Giordano’s, they asked if she wanted to reinvent herself – and to pick a new name alongside it. She always said no. It was never on her part, it was never for the sake of vanity, or even identity (because the Noelle who first bore that name was a hell of a lot different than the one who ended up with it) but because of her sister. Because of Camille and Noelle. Because they were a team – and because they had worn those names through thick and thin, in dark and in light. To change that would be to alter their relationship. And Noelle wasn’t scared of anything in this world – except that. So she kept it. But now, no one says Camille and Noelle. Because there’s no more Camille. And where, oh where, is the justice in that?

Describe this character in your own words:

There are some, in this world, who would argue that there is no distinction between survivors and victims. To them, Noelle would laugh – and simply point at herself. She’s a survivor. It’s a badge she wears with pride, a label she fully embodies. To be a survivor to have gone through hell and come out stronger on the other side. To be a survivor, is to be better than all of that. She has never – and will never – be a victim. She despises that word. She despises its connotations. That she somehow wasn’t good enough, that the world won. In the war between Noelle and the world, she’s had the upper-hand for quite some time now.

(Watch out, you better keep score on her new war, it’s sure to be one to watch).

Noelle is a girl who is battle ready, not weary – and relishes in the triumph from a fight, having been at war, in one way or another, for most of her life. There’s always been a fight in front of her – and as a child, she soon learnt to sink her teeth in and stand the flames when she was set alight. The first fight was against the world, raging against a concept bigger than herself, or indeed, bigger than her parents – those who inflicted primary misery and abuse upon her. Her first fight was a victory against those forces which conspired to keep her down and to tear at what made her whole. Many, she knows, would have fallen prey. They would have given up, submissively bowing their head and allowed themselves to be consumed. Not her. And that’s where the distinction between survivor and victim lies. No, Noelle was not a person who allowed herself to be devoured. She, herself, was hungry – and her appetite would prove to be the stronger one.

Of course, if you want to go into battle – you must have weapons at your disposal. As a child, all she had was the sheer force of her mind – to make steel and iron out of skin and bone, to be tough and sharp and strong. It was her armour. And although armour isn’t a weapon as much, it protected her. It sealed her away. It kept her from the rest of the world – at arm’s length, where it could not touch. The only one allowed in behind such enforcements was Camille – and that was because they fought the war side by side.

Now, her weapons are sharp in different ways. She wasn’t very old when she learnt that her body was a weapon too – that she could use it to gain the upper hand in the world, that what had always been a site of bruising and abuse could, in turn, become her salvation. It was the streets that first made her see that her body could be useful – that standing a certain way would encourage the leering man to buy her a coffee, or that she could sweet talk her way into food (the words had been bitter in her mouth. She had never been sweet – and after that, she never would be). But it wasn’t until the club that she learnt her body could be lethal. Her beauty was not weakness. Her beauty was her emancipation. Her beauty could control. All those silly men thought they were in command. They thought that because they slid dollars towards her, they could own her. But in truth, Noelle owned them. At the club, she became a darker creature, possessed by a childlike rage and a determination that made sure that life would never steal from her again. The club owner might have been a blip on that radar – a shocking reality that you are never flying quite high enough, but it was one she needed. Noelle has always been an individual who very much values – and is – free. She likes being free to make her own choices – to feel as if she has agency in her life. A long time ago, she freed herself (with the help of Camille) – and now, she can never go back. She needs that freedom, that power, that control, to reassure herself – in a sense, to make reality make sense itself.

For, in one word, Noelle is powerful. She has always had the potential to be, but it wasn’t until she began playing the Giordano’s game, gun in her hand, that she truly learnt what it was to wield power – to be in possession of the ability to steal life from someone else. It was nearly intoxicating – and it made her heart spin. She’s not a psychopath, smeared with blood – but she can’t help but admit that there is a part of her that loves this. When out on a mission, she is the one in control. When out on a mission, she can forget about the past – instead, she embraces herself. That was the true Giordano lesson. All they did was teach her to aim. Everything else was always inside of her – all on her own. Her game is to manipulate. Sensual and deadly, she has learnt to take from the world before it can strike back at her. These men she causes to fall at her feet are nothing compared to her – and boy, doesn’t she know it. Her primal weapon is her beauty – and it serves her well. This time, however, the world is very much at her beck and call – and she likes to think she can master it. There is a rage about her, barely contained within her cavity. Killing gave her an outlet for her beautiful inferno. Now, however, it’s not enough.

In this new war, Noelle intends to use all of her weapons at her disposal, no matter what they might be. This opponent knows her inside and out – and she needs to be better than them if she is to win.

A long time ago, she learnt how to steel her heart, hiding it far far away – where no one might peek. This too, has always served her well – to keep them guessing, keep them on their toes, to let them think she’s nothing more than black rage. The truth, is, she isn’t. Yes, she’s angry – nearly always exhaustingly angry, but it’s because she cares – and she’s not sure how else to channel all these intense emotions, never having developed the adequate mechanisms as a child. In secret, she is highly emotional charged, currently hiding away an inner sadness cast by Camille’s death. She’ll let tears fall upon Stavros’s shoulder – but they are the tears of crocodiles. It’s not real. What is real is far more bloody. What is real was only made for the eyes of one person – and that person is six feet under.

She’s always been an incredibly untrusting person, scarred by the lessons gone past, determined to let no one but Camille into her heart. She learnt, early on, that whenever she took someone in – they could come to screw her over, reminders of her parents. So it was easier not to bother. Not to fucking try. The Giordano’s proved the exception to the rule – and look where that led her. Once she lets you in, once she lets you see the real her – it’s for life, which is probably why what happened with the Giordano’s hurt so fucking much. They made a fool of her – they made fools of them both – and now it’s time to pay. She’s learnt her lesson now – and knows herself to be acutely alone in the world. Now, she will remove herself from its grasp – where no one can control or hurt her. It’s a lonely place to be, but Noelle has never been one to throw a pity party about her circumstances. She just gets on with the job at hand.

At her core, Noelle is a survivor. The meaning of that word has changed many times over the years – and she has no doubt, it will change again. But where other things have changed – that has remained her constant, the label wrapped around her, central to her identity. She has no problems with changing or alteration – always having moulded herself to what was needed, to what would carry her through. The latest form of survivor is to play the weeping damsel, the wolf who will wear a sheep skin to survive. It’s a lie – and each night, as Stavros slumbers next to her, she is living a lie. Always a girl who wore her anger on her face, to swallow it down is a challenge – but for Camille, it’s one she will rise above. In a sense, she is a living, breathing work of fiction right now – the person they want her to be, the person they will never see coming. But she hasn’t changed – and she has no damn intention of doing so now, not when her skills have been needed more than ever. What you see is never the same for two people – and she’s the only one who knows what truly lies underneath.

What are this character’s motives?

POWER & CONTROL: In short, Noelle wants agency. She wants to have the ability to make her own choices. She wants to control the world around her – instead of allowing it to control her. Acutely aware of that disempowerment both as a child and then again when she was cohered into sex, she was determined to make sure it never happened to her again. She wanted to be a creature that no one could control – not even fate itself. She wanted to be a creature larger than this world, a woman radiating supremacy, using a lethal combination of her body and the gun in her hand to make it happen. She wanted to rob the world before it robbed her. And the only way to ensure that was to ensure she had the power, that she could make the choices – and that she would never be forced to do anything she didn’t want to do again.

As a teenager, she had ran away – fleeing to free herself from the shackles of abuse. As a young woman, she watched her sister shoot down the man who turned her body into a commodity, something to be exploited, rather than a site of empowerment, which it has always been. Now, it was her turn. The world would never make a fool of her again – and she would use whatever means it took to get there. This grabbling, desperate, desire for control plays out in a way that suits the world she lives in. She’s lethal because she’s seen the other side. She can kill because the alternate future is worse. She will do all this and more, because through the Giordano’s, she received her life’s wish. Freedom – and the empowerment that came with it.

Noelle’s motivations stem directly from the scars of childhood days gone past. Power and control are the cornerstones of what she wants – purely because she knows what it is to live without them. She needs to control her circumstances – and by extension the world around her – because she never wants to feel like a victim. She knows what it is to delude yourself into an illusion of power and have it stolen from you. And once you know something, you can never erase that feeling from your core.

REVENGE & RETRIBUTION: These days, her desire for power and control manifests in more than one way. Yes, it’s revenge for the death of her sister that she wants, but this stems directly from her need to have control – for not to be taken as a fool by the world. Or in this case, the Giordanos. They caused her death – and now, they will pay. She isn’t the girl who allowed herself to be forced into sex. She will not let them take what she holds dear – not without giving them hell for it. Blinded by both bitterness and grief, Noelle intends to tear down the whole system. She will take away in terms of value what they took from her. She will take their most precious thing – this whole game itself. Just a few short weeks ago, she was a willing player. The politics mostly went above her head, but she had to admit, there was an addicting thrill to it – a battlefield through which to empower herself. But now, she’s disgusted. She can see nothing more than her sister’s dead body and act only through heightened anger. She will have her revenge. Although a fiery creature, she knows how to survive. She’s used to bending herself to their expectations – surviving when the world presses down on her. So she won’t fly off the handle. She won’t try and take a gun to their heads – where’s the fun in that? No. Her revenge is far more calculated. Her revenge is targeted. And one day, she will watch as the light dies in their eyes – and they know what it means to grieve. Vengeance will be hers – and it will be her name on their lips.

CAMILLE: Even in death, Camille is a major motivational drive in her life – and she always has been. Her entire life, Noelle was the one following her big sister, the two of them against the world. As the older sibling, Camille lead – and she was barely one step behind, never struggling to keep up. Without Camille, Noelle would not be the woman she is today. Without Camille, she might not have believed she deserved more. Without Camille, she might have given into her circumstances – instead of hardening her heart and making it clear she would take more, if the world would not give her its dues. She’s always drawn strength from her sister – a steady rock even in the worst of times. Always a team, at each other’s side, Noelle made her home in Camille – the only person she could truly count as family. Now, without her, Noelle feels lost. The hard won stability in her life has been snatched away, replaced instead by a burning desire to tear down the world. It is the love she has – and the life they have led together – for her sister that drives her towards her ambitious goal of tearing down the entire game. It’s the knowledge that Camille deserved more that drives her to do what she wants to do. They always told each other that – that the world owed them. Eventually, they took what was owed them – or so they thought. Instead, the world ripped Camille away, too early, too soon – leaving her all alone. And like when Camille shot the mob owner who forced her to prostitute herself, Noelle will punish those who are deserving.

EMOTIONS: It’s strange, that such a sharp woman should be driven her emotions. But she always has. They have always been there – deep in her marrow, hidden from the light. What’s more, she’s always been able to control them – used to hiding away half of her soul, to slipping on a mask, which is why she’s so lethal. She may not let people know it, but she feels everything – acutely deeply. She’s simply learnt not to let that influence her actions, or indeed, who she is, tucking it away for only Camille to find. Few people know this, but she loves deeply – and once you’ve gotten her love, it’s for life. That’s why she’s so angry. Because she allowed the Giordano’s in. She came to love them – and they betrayed her. With her emotions in a heightened state at the moment, swollen anger, grief and guilt, she intends to let them drive her forward into action. She is the living embodiment of rage – and it will take her far.

What potential plots do you foresee for this character?

REMOVED

Would you be open to this character’s death?

REMOVED

PARA SAMPLE

They say that when someone you love dies, a piece of you dies too. That was true. As her sister had passed into the world beyond, Noelle’s heart had gone with her. Now, it was nowhere to be found.

That was fine. The Grim Reaper could keep it – she wouldn’t need it for what came next.

At first, it hadn’t just been her heart that was absent – it had been her very soul. Every thought, every will, every anything she had ever felt – it had vanished overnight. It had been snatched the moment she was snatched, lying in a cold room – stripped naked. Now, it lay six feet under a gravestone simply entitled Camille. The pair of them had ceased to be a Dubois the moment they escaped their pit of a home. Their parents had ceased to claim any entitlement over them the moment they went to school with their bellies emptied, or huddled close at night – escaping their druggy friends whose hands always pinched a little too tight. Their parents had given them life, but then they had thrown them to it, allowing it to rub them raw. They didn’t get to own them. Nobody did.

Only she, out of all the souls in the world, could claim to call her sister her own. For only she had been there from the beginning to the bitter end. For only she had seen her laugh and cry. For only she had seen her fall and rise – and how she had looked the very first time she took a life. Camille only belonged to her – because no one else understood what this absence felt like. No one else understood what it was like to have a piece of yourself torn away, to have to swallow your grief and make nice with your enemies. No one else understood what it was like to look them in the eye, memorise the details of their black funeral garb and thank them for coming. No one had ever understood what it was like to be her. And the only one who could, the only one who had, was gone.

It was funny, the way they said that, gone. As if dressing it up was going to make it any more delicate. At least it was better than passed away. God, Noelle had wanted to reach down and rip out Vita’s throat when she had muttered that, in all her crocodile sympathy. “Such a shame about Camille’s passing. She really was a lovely girl.” Passing. What a fucking crock of shit. Camille hadn’t passed. She had been cut down. She had been torn away. She had been murdered. And Noelle, meeting Vita squarely in the eyes, knew exactly who was at fault. And she wasn’t about to give them a free pass for it either.

By the end of her sister’s funeral, the insufferable sadness had been replaced by something else. An insufferable rage. Inside, there was a fire that no water could quench. Inside, there was a burning desire to see justice done – to tear down and rip apart the fabric of reality in which they lived. For Camille’s death was no passing. It was no coincidence or accident. It was a direct manifestation from the games they both played. From the world the Giordano’s had inducted them into. How foolish they had been, two girls on the run, tempted by the idea of stability, by the idea of power, by the idea of earning what was owed. How silly she had been, to even think that they could have had it all. To think that the Giordano’s, in their fucked up family unit, could have ever cared. How stupid she had been not to see that she and Camille had never been anything other than pawns. And as anyone who has ever played chess before knows, the pawns are always the first to be sacrificed. That game was over. For Noelle had begun one of her own – and in this one, she wasn’t going to play by their rules. She was going to tear up the entire chessboard, rain hell down on their heads and look them in the eye as they watched their entire world fall apart.

That night, embracing them all as they said a weepy goodbye, her fingers inched close to her knife. It would have been swift and easy, to steal their lives as they stole her sisters. Perhaps it even would have been satisfying, to watch the light fade from their eyes as she had done so so many times before. (That sensation never lost its appeal, her victory never dimmed). But it wouldn’t have been just. Their lives weren’t the things they held most dear. Their games were. So if she was going to snatch the light of their life, their hearts and their souls – she would have to swallow her rage and wear the mask of a placated doe.

Vengeance would be hers. As would control.

And she would swallow all the hells to satisfy her own.

In this case, hell had its own name. Stavros.

He who held the keys to the kingdom was the individual she held responsible for Camille’s death. He who had been one of the first faces she had ever seen, he who raised her up. He who pressed a gun in his hand and who smiled at her poison. He who had commended her techniques – and then fell for them himself. Even men who held themselves in the highest esteems, who considered themselves lethal, could be brought down by something as simple as a pair of legs, a certain tone of voice and a body that spoke for itself. Take a man to bed – and you will expose him. And in doing so, bring all those little secrets to the light of day.

It had been pitifully easy. A few well-placed tears, touches that lingered longer than usual, a faux confession. His mind had willed her to become the girl in need of his care, the vulnerability to his masculinity. Effortlessly, she had delivered. Catching sight of herself in a mirror, she had to remark, she looked beautiful when she cried. The climax had come one bitter night – he half-drunk with whiskey she had carefully placed in his hand, she the vixen who pressed her body close – letting her aura soak into him. “Noelle…” he had begun, his voice torn between pushing her away and drawing her in closer. “I want you. I need you.” Such sweet lies from such poisonous lips. The deal had been struck. Every kiss was a dagger to her heart. Every fake orgasm was a betrayal. But with each touch, each word, each fuck, she asserted her dominance – she drew him in closer to her web, making herself indispensable. He would not do without her. She would become his addiction, his enthralling mistress – impossible to resist, impossible to suspect. The ruse had worked. He had become hers.

Before she destroyed the game all together, she would play one last time.

“You look practically delicious in my shirt.”

I know. Half buttoned and sat with her legs slightly parted, she painted herself as one of Da Vinci’s demons, an intoxicating drug you couldn’t get enough of. It was, after all, one of her specialities. Only this time, she wouldn’t be delivering the sweet kiss of death before dawn came.

“I have half a mind to rip it off of you.”

She cocks her head and lets her tongue run over her lips, leaning forward – closer. Her tricks are crafted well enough to appear real. As they should be – with all the practice she’s had. As a child, the woman she is now would have existed beyond belief – a near stranger through the window of the past. But she’s proud. The world threw all it could at her – and she shot back every time. She took all that weakness and used it to make her strong. She used their assumptions as weapons. She used their pressure points to draw blood. And she smiled whilst doing it. There’s a smirk painted on her face now and as she speaks, it’s like velvet manifesting. “So why don’t you?”

For emphasis – she undoes another button.

Moving to study his reaction, she can see excitement and desire inflame in his eyes, one hand reaching out to snatch what’s on offer. Never for a moment does he consider that it’s fake. Never for a moment does he look directly into her soul – and see the snake she plays him as. Good, he wouldn’t like what he saw. “Business calls – and I could never keep the Giordano’s waiting.” Their name is like a sour lemon, his loyalty to them laughable. Is he really so blind?

She already knows this. He’s foolish enough to write it all down in a diary.

Inching towards him, she’s close enough to have the heat of her breath ripple against his chest and twist his spine. Close enough to touch. Close enough to devour. Oh, silly boy, don’t you know she’s the one doing the devouring? “Oh? What are you doing for them now?” The innocence appears facetious on her – but she’s compelling enough to pull it off.

“Just the usual. Business meetings – orders, clients, admin. Your assignments aren’t pulled out of thin air, you know. Your weapons aren’t either.”

That didn’t save Camille. Even at the thought of her sister, in connection with this monster, is enough to stir the purest of anger inside of her. It isn’t so easily swallowed – but she forces it down, nothing more than a flash appearing in her eyes. Open me up, she muses, and all you will find is a burning fire. It wasn’t always like that. Once, there was space for more. Once, she had a heart. But that feels like a lifetime ago. And what’s the point of having a heart if there’s no one worthy enough to give it to?

“I’ll be here. Exactly the way you left me.” Teasing him in a tone that could only be described as intimate (he think he’s seeing more, he thinks her boundaries have been eroded), she curls her lips into a smile that doesn’t light up her eyes.

“In that case, I’ll hurry back.”

Reaching in, he steals a kiss from her before he parts – his breath poison to toxic lips. She wants nothing more to than erase him – to shower and wash him away, to erode every presence he has left upon her body. There are times when the things she does disgusts her. But she does it for love. She does it for the memory of Camille – the sister whose image fades a little more each time she conjures it in her mind. She does it because it’s the only thing that will satisfy the infernal rage inside of her. She does it because she made a promise to herself, a long time ago, to never be a victim.

The door slams as he leaves – and a familiar silence descends upon her. Relived, she stands up, immediately tearing off his shirt. She’d rather walk around topless than with any sign of him upon her body, any sign that he could have claimed her. Immediately, her hands seize his MacBook, carelessly left out on the bed. What a fool. What a fucking fool.

“Okay Stavros – let’s see what you really get up to.”

EXTRAS

Mockblog: X

Extended/Additional Connections: X

Personality Analysis: X

Headcanons: X

#accepted #accepted: noelle

0 notes