#but i figured id fill in a little about the more well known aides and share

[amphibious-thing]

Steuben’s Aide-de-Camp, Sub-Inspectors &c.

According to Kapp Steuben gives a list of 21 ‘assistants’ he had. I’ve used this list as a starting point and attempted to identify who each of these men were and in what way they were ‘assistants’ to the Baron. Unfortunately there are still some unanswered questions. If anyone has any insight into who some of these men were or when exactly they worked with the Baron, please add to this post!

Aide-de-Camp

Captain Du Ponceau

Pierre Étienne Du Ponceau, who later changed his name to Peter Stephen Du Ponceau, was Steuben’s first aide. They met through Beaumarchais when the Baron was in Paris. Du Ponceau who was 17 and eager to go on adventure, signed up to be his secretary. Out of the 3 french aides who traveled with Steuben to America, Du Ponceau was the only one who spoke English. On the the 18th of February 1778 congress appointed him a secretary to Steuben with the rank of Captain. Du Ponceau served on his staff helping mostly with translation.

In January 1780 Du Ponceau became ill and was unable to continue with the Baron. He was diagnosed with consumption and told his illness was terminal. In November 1780 believing that he would die anyway he begged the Baron to let him back on his staff. He argued that if he was to die"it was better and more honourable that it should be on the field of battle, than by the slow and painful process of an incurable disease.” Steuben was persuaded by this argument, “Very well,” said he, “you shall follow me, and I hope you will either recover your health or die an honourable death.”

Du Ponceau eventually had to leave Steuben’s staff again in June 1781 when the Baron and his staff was fleeing Simcoe at Point of Fork. Steuben advised him to return to Philadelphia. Believing that they would never see him again Du Ponceau left the group, as they parted the Baron had tears in his eyes. Luckily Du Ponceau did recover in Philadelphia, however he never rejoined Steuben’s staff.

Major Des Epiniers

Augustin François Des Epiniers, was Beaumarchais nephew and had come with Steuben from France. (Lockhart 48-49) Des Epiniers quit Steuben’s staff in autumn 1778, Charles Lee had spread the rumour that Steuben’s credentials were fake. De Epiniers sided with Lee and quit Steuben’s staff. (Lockhart 188) He later regretted this action and tried to reconcile but Steuben would not forgive him. (Lockhart 231-233)

Captain De Pontière

Louis de Pontiere traveled from France with Steuben. After they joined up with the army he left the Barons staff and joined Pulaski’s legion. (Du Ponceau)

Major De L’Enfant

When the Baron first arrived in Boston he befriended Pierre Charles L’Enfant and François Adrien de Romanet. While Romanet chose to return to France, L’Enfant chose to stay and was appointed a aide-de-camp to the Baron. (Lockhart 67) When Steuben’s staff were working on the Blue Book in Phillidephia (Nov 1778-April 1779) L’Enfant was in charge of the Illustrations. (Du Ponceau) In April 1779 L’Enfant was appointed a Captain in the Corps of Engineers.

Colonel Walker

Benjamin Walker, was born in England, but had emigrated to America before the war. At Steuben’s first parade at Valley Forge, confusion started to spread through the troops. Steuben, who at this time did not speak English, was having trouble communicating to the troops what he wanted. Walker stepped forward and offered to interpret. “If, said the Baron, I had seen an angel from Heaven, I should not have been more rejoiced.” Form that moment Walker became Steuben’s aide-de-camp.

On the 25th of January 1782 Walker was transferred to Washington’s staff. Although he was no longer on Steuben’s staff, they remained good friends until the Baron’s death. After the war he apparently lived with the Baron and some other former aides at the Louvre for a short time. Steuben also lived with Walker for some time during a period when he was in financial difficulty.

Major North

William North recalls that the first time he saw Steuben was in early 1778 at a ball in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. However he didn't join the Baron’s staff until over a year later in autumn 1779. (Lockhart 201) While Steuben became very fond of North he was it seems less than impressed by his work ethic. Steuben complained to Walker that North’s “power does not consist in his pen, and that he is as lazy and he is amiable.”

On their way to Yorktown North developed a fever, and when Steuben left Yorktown to meet with Congress in Philadelphia North was too sick to travel. He gave North half of the money he had left. “God bless you, I can do no more” he told North. “Nor could he” writes North “the feelings of friends, in such a moment, and under such circumstances, may possibly be conceived, but not expressed. A journey of three hundred miles was before him, a single piece of gold in his purse. Are other instances necessary to unfold the texture of his heart? how many have I written on my own!”

It’s unclear when North rejoined the Baron, however he seems to have been back with him in September/October 1782. (Lockhart 275) North remained part of Steuben’s staff until the end of the war.

It seems that at some point while he was on Steuben’s staff the two became romantically involved. They lived together for a few years after the war at the Louvre and remained close until the Barons death.

Captain Fairlie

James Fairlie joined Steuben’s staff on the 15th of May 1780. Fairlie was know for his wit. It’s said that he once made Washington fall over with laughter. Fairlie was taken prisoner in June 1781 when Steuben and his staff was fleeing Simcoe at Point of Fork. (Lockhart 269) It’s unclear when Fairlie was exchanged but it must have been before July 1783 when he accompanied Steuben on his trip to Canada. After the war he seems to have lived with the Baron and some other former aides at the Louvre. Steuben and Fairlie later had a falling out.

Colonel William S. Smith

William S. Smith was apparently an aide-de-camp to Steuben but it is unclear when. It must have been before the 6th of July 1781 as that is when he was appointed to Washington’s staff. After the war he lived with the Baron and some other former aides at the Louvre.

Captain Duval

Daniel Duval was it seems at some point aide-de-camp to Steuben when exactly I am not sure.

Major Popham

Major. William Popham was for a time aide-de-camp to Baron Steuben. I’m unsure when exactly Popham was on his staff but it seems that he joined after Ben Walker left in January 1782. On the 27th of Dec 1782 Steuben wrote to Walker “I do not think that Popham is anxious to join me again; at least I have not had a line from him.”

Voluntary Aide-de-Camp

Messrs. Peyton Randolph & Moore

Both Peyton Randolph and Moore were for a short time voluntary aids during the Virginia campaign. I must assume this Peyton Randolph was not the Peyton Randolph who was the first President of the Continental Congress as he died before Steuben even landed in America. While I’m not sure who exactly Mr. Moore was, I have however with a little help from google translate discovered that he may have been Colonel. John Walker’s brother in law. John Walker was married to Elizabeth Moore, which of her bothers this may have been however I don’t know.

Sub-Inspectors

This is not a complete list of sub-inspectors only those who Steuben included on his list of assistants.

Lieutenant Colonel Ternant

Jean Baptiste Ternant was a French officer who had come to America in hopes of gaining employment in the Army, however he had come without any letters of recommendation. He quickly befriended both Steuben and John Laurens, due to their support Ternant was appointed as a civilian sub-inspector without rank. Ternant worked closely with Steuben throughout much of 1778, he was with him during the Battle of Monmouth (Lockhart 162) and helped him with his proposal for the inspector’s office (Lockhart 177). On the 25th of September he was given the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and appointed Inspector for the troops of South Carolina and Georgia.

Major Barber

Francis Barber was appointed a sub-inspector on the 28th of March 1778, alongside Ternant as well as Davis & Brooks. Why Steuben included Barber on his list but not Davis or Brooks is a mystery to me.

Colonel Fleury

Col. François-Louis Teissèdre de Fleury was a French officer who had joined the Continental Army in 1777. (Lockhart 106) He met Steuben at Valley Forge and on the 27th April 1778 he was appointed a Sub-Inspector and was ordered to “attend the Baron Stuben ’till Circumstances shall admit of assigning him a Division of the Army—”

Fleury worked on the Blue Book with Steuben in Nov 1778-April 1779. Fleury’s work on the Blue Book was invaluable to Steuben. The Baron proposed that he should be paid $1000 for his work. In comparison Steuben recommended $4000 for himself, $600 for Walker, $500 for L’Enfant and $400 for Du Ponceau. When Congress refused to pay this Fleury who was in debt considered returning to France. When Steuben explained this to Henry Laurens, he responded “I shall be very sorry for it.” This angered Steuben who retorted “Then I shall go home. I will not stay.” The Baron’s never forgave Henry Laurens for this. He was angry that Henry Laurens would send back officers who had come to defend his country. (Lockhart 198-199) It seems that the group were eventually paid as Du Ponceau comments in is autobiography that he got his $400 “in addition to my pay.”

On the 15th of June 1779 Fleury was appointed commander of a light infantry battalion.

Lieutenant Colonel N. Fish

Nicholas Fish was a appointed a brigade inspector in June 1779. Washington was concerned he would decline due to his health but it seem he accepted the appointment.

Other

Major De Romanai

I’m at a slight loss as to who Major De Romanai was. I wonder if it is possible this is a misreading and this may have been François Adrien de Romanet. When the Baron first arrived in Boston he had befriended two men and requested that they be appointed his aide-de-camp, one of these men was Pierre Charles L’Enfant and the other was François Adrien de Romanet. (Lockhart 67) Romanet however decided to return to France and left Boston on the 12 of March 1778.(Lockhart 307) However Kapp writes that Romanai “accompanied [Steuben] to America, and soon after his arrival was employed in another department;” so perhaps these were two different men.

Colonel Meade

It seems that this was probably Richard Kidder Meade, however it also could have been his bother Everard Meade.

Richard Kidder Meade had left Washington’s staff in October 1780 to return to Virginia and marry Mary Fitzhugh Grymes Randolph. When Arnold invaded Virginia in 1781 Jefferson wrote Meade asking him to join the Baron in defence of their state and that “Such a Gentleman he would propose to consider as of his Family.” Meade “joined the Baron about the time the Enemy left Richmond in order to render him all the aid I could being intimately acquainted with the Country for many miles in the vicinity of the Enemy”. However "on their return down the river I left him to go in pursuit of a residence for a favorite Brother who was driven from his home & obliged to attend to his Wife & a family of little children.”

In April 1781 Steuben wanted a cavalry of 200 to be formed in Virginia. The Council of the State of Virginia advised Tomas Jefferson “to write to Colo. Everard Meade and some other gentlemen of activity and influence requesting them to raise a body of volunteer Cavalry agreeable to the Baron’s request”. Interestingly enough the Baron included Everard in his 1781 will, he requested that his Nephew (who was his heir) to have “three Gold Snuff boxes of the value of Sixty Guineas each—with my picture in the lid of each box” made and given to “His Excellency General Washington, John Walker & Everard Meade Esqrs as a small token of the Friendship of esteem I had for them”.

On the 30th of January 1781, Thomas Jefferson wrote to John Banister, “I inclose you a letter from Colo. Meade, one of Baron Steuben’s aids”. It is unclear if this is Richard Kidder Meade or Everard Meade. One of the brothers was also apparently with the Baron at Point of Fork as he wrote to General Harrison on the 13th of December 1781 that “Colonel Meade” would bear witness of the “propriety of my conduct at the Point of Fork.”

Major Galvan, Major Villefranche & Lieutenant Colonel De La Lanyanté

Kapp writes that Galvan, Villefranche and De La Lanyanté “served as engineers under Steuben in the trenches of Yorktown.” While Galvan was at Yorktown and Villefranche was an engineer, I’m unsure if Galvan was an engineer and I cant place Villefranche at Yorktown. De La Lanyanté I cant place at all.

William Galvan “acted at the Seige of York as Division Inspector and performed the duty of Major of the Trenches to Major Genl Baron de Steuben.”

Jean-Louis-Ambroise, chevalier de Villefranche de Genton, was sent with Steuben to Canada in 1783.

Besides Kapp’s statement that De La Lanyanté served as an engineer under Steuben at Yorktown and Steuben’s inclusion of him on his list I can find no information about him.

[silversatin2105]

Shaman King Fanfic- Night of the red moon (Hao X Fem Itako reader fic)

Hi Writer here, This was written when i suddenly got inspired, No one prompted me for it, I just wanted to write it and i liked it that much that i thought that id share it

Trigger warnings: Bullying, Abuse, Assault (from the hair cutting part)

_____________________________________________________________

Nights seem to pass into day and vice versa, You had been following Hao for three months now, Before that you were always alone and isolated, Your family were killed by the local villagers when you were a young child as you were forcefully placed into a orphanage, Told that the teachings of your family were wrong, Told that your family lived in sin, That they followed the teaching of the false god.

You lived in this perpetual state of fear and loneliness, No one would adopt you for who could love the child of a sinful family, you were tormented by the rhymes the local children made, How they would chant .

“(your name) lives in sin, God knows no forgiveness for them, Last of their kin, Should be discarded and burned for their sin”

It was on the fifteenth cycle of your life that it happened, That day you met an odd fellow he spoke of being the future king, He remarked that you looked nice with long hair and went about his day after offering You and apple.

You were awaiting under a willow tree as earlier that week you received a letter from your crush It read “Meet me under the willow tree on the full moon” You had been waiting for two hours now as you sighed and began to walk away.

“hahaha look She actually came ! She actually thought he would love her !” you hear from an approaching villager, You tried to walk away but you were blocked from escape by a trio of girls around your age.

“Look at this the mongrel is trying to run” the black haired one remarked with a cold smirk.

“Oh we don’t like that do we” The one adorned with jewels retorted, spitting at your feet.

“Let me go, Please leave me alone” you pleaded on deaf ears, The only thing that passed through you mind as your three tormentors stood around you was “Of cores He wouldn’t love me, Who could love a cursed being like me”.

“I say we make her pay” the third girl spoke as she took a pair of kitchen scissors from her pocket nodding to her accomplices to hold you down to which they obliged with a cruel laugh.

You struggled to be free, You were afraid of what was to come and as you struggled you felt the tight grip on your long (insert color) hair, You begged them not to do it, Their was two facets of your image you favored and your long hair was one of them, Your pleas fell though the silence as the horror of what to come had came to fruition.

Snap - Clip- . Snip. Was the next thing you heard as you felt the locks of your hair fall over your shoulders, The laughs of your tormentors filled the air.

Snap - Clip- . Snip., more of your fell to join the rest of your desiccated hair, After they were done you were left with crooked shoulder length hair you held the cut locks of your hair as you began sobbing, it was one of your treasures and it had been destroyed for no good reason, NO GOOD REASON AT ALL, other than the fact that you were born different to others, That you could commune with the spirits of those who had passed on and that sometimes they spoke though you, You learned the hard way about this gift when you were accused of snooping where you weren’t needed by an elderly couple who had lost their child in the war, You meant to convey their sons wishes to them and you were greeted by a shoe to your face for your efforts.

You stood to face your attackers as you aimed to retaliate but someone had beaten you to the punch as red flames engulfed the area around you, your attackers backed off one by one as each of them looked in horror as a figure bearing a peaceful yet cold smile approached.

“Is this the price of being different around here” the figure asked standing next to you as he knelled down to pick up your hair as his smile changed from that to one of cold a murderous intentions.

“You like he-“ One of your attackers spoke out before screaming in pain as red flames engulfed them without mercy, Her screams so loud that they awoke the nearby villagers who joined looking in fear from outside the red ring of fire.

“That wasn’t what I was wanting you to say” The figure spoke out in an elevated tone, Gripping your cut hair whilst strands of it began to ignite and the ring of fire pushed back.

“We were punishing the impure one, She started it by being a sinful girl” The one adorned in jewels spoke out, Being the daughter of a mayor can save you from most things but the wrath of a shaman was not one of them as she began to burn in flames her screams joining the chorus of her accomplice.

Knowing not what to do the last accomplice tried to run but to no avail, She only got twenty steps out of the ring before the flames engulfed her as well the last thing her now charring ears hear is those calling her a coward.

“Well now that is done, What would you like for me to do with these people?” the voice of the figure asks looking down at you coming into view you see person with a kind look in your eyes as he begins to look at the villagers.

“Just the answer I was expecting from one spurned by humanity” Hao spoke engulfing the village in red flames, scattering all into ashes and exacting your vengeance, Almost like he heard your thoughts and acted accordingly with their wishes, Screams filled the air as you stood close to Hao, The flames touched all but you and him and when it was over and the sun began to rise nothing remained, No village, No people, It was as if they were all gone from the face of the earth.

“Thank you “you utter out standing up surveying the damage done as Hao offers you his hand to you with a now calm smile.

“Thank me later, Oh my names Hao, The future king” He greeted himself to you as you responded with your name.

___________________________________________________________

Many years had passed since that event, your hair had re grown and you now used your skills as an Itako to aid Hao in any way you could, All this time you saw yourself as nothing more than his follower, True you had feelings for him but you thought he deserved better than a castaway Itako for his queen.

You look up at the sky and take another sip of your tea as a familiar figure sits by your side, It was Hao as he sat by you you poured him a cup of tea and places a taro bun on a plate for him.

“What a nice night, It was a night like this that I met you, Since then you have served me well as my go to for dragging spirits to my side, I owe you for that” He spoke as you looked up at him.

“It was nothing I was just doing my duty as your Itako” You responded as you stood to walk away, before you could you felt a hand grip your arm gently.

“Please sit with me awhile longer, We have not spoken like this in days, I want to enjoy this moment a while longer and besides you still have tea left” Hao said to you pulling you gently down onto the seat you were sitting at.

Moments of conversation passed as you both drank tea and took in the view of the night, you both talked about old times and what the next move was, you were taken aback when he presented you with a gift, A red hair stick.

“Lord Hao I don’t know what to say, Thank you” you smiled a little mentally as you fixed up your hair with the hair stick.

“It’s no problem…My queen” Hao remarked turning your face red.

“How long have you known my feelings?” You ask him blinking in surprise

Hao smiled his usual calm smile before pulling your face close to his; your eyes looked into his as he kissed your cheek.

“Did you forget I am a mind reader” he joked with a smile

You simply smiled and shook your head, the last words spoken by you as the nights conversation ended.

“I know you are I just wished I was given the chance to tell you, No fair”

End Scene

[imagine-loki]

Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret?  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

  All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on.   Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others.  I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy.  I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that.   As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me.   As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark.   I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite.   I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing  new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet.   I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how  much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

[phoenix-manga]

Precious Glass [pt. 2]

Vil was going to the photo studio for another modeling project, it was a brand from another kingdom that was going to open a store in the Pyroxene kingdom. They managed to contact his manager, Adela, to set a schedule for him to wear one of their designs and pose for pictures. His manager is an opportunist who can always get in contact with offers to boost his reputation as a supermodel.

When he arrives, his manager ushers him to the dressing room to get him ready. When his stylist presented the attire, he would be wearing he was caught off guard. He has modeled for a lot of fashion brands and most of them just feel the same, though different in style it was still putting clothes on a mannequin for people to wear. The outfit in front of him was different, from the top decorated with carefully placed gems, to the pants that complement the figure of his legs. It was almost like the outfit was made for him specifically.

Every detail is according to his tastes, whoever the designer was they had done a thorough research on him. 

He puts on the outfit and then has his hair and makeup done, then it was off to the studio. All eyes were on him as he made his way to the set. 

Moments later, the pictures were taken and he went over to see how the photos came out. The light that hit the gems on his coat made the photo glitter and sparkle, almost like some sort of magic spell was cast on him, he looked like a fairytale prince.

Vil was sure that the person who designed the clothes was no ordinary person, they clearly have the talent for using clothes as a tool rather than just fabric you wear, this concept of clothing was something that he hasn’t seen before. While he was lost in his thoughts, taking note of all the details of everything, he didn’t notice the manager usher someone towards him until his name was called, he turned to Adela to see a young girl with sea pink hair next to her. 

“Vil, this is Ella Glaciel, she’s filling in for her father who was supposed to be here but unfortunately he couldn’t make it. She’s the designer of the outfit you wore for the shoot.”

That was intriguing information, he’s vaguely heard of the name Glaciel but they had just started to set up branches on other kingdoms so it was still fairly new and quite a far cry from the top brands that were more commonly known. He can see why the brand was unusually goring in popularity despite the recent debut abroad.

“I’ll let you two get acquainted, I need to take this call” his manager walked off to the side as she conversed on her phone.

“Schoenheit-senpai, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Was the outfit to your liking? I made sure to pay attention to what color matches with your complexion and what fabric feels comfortable.” Ella gives a small smile as he folds her hands over her skirt.

She was a rather interesting individual, he could say that much. People usually can’t contain themselves when they meet him because he’s a top tier supermodel. But he has to admit that professionalism makes her easy to work with and her mannerisms almost make her seem like a princess. He holds out his hand to offer her a handshake which she accepts.

“There was nothing wrong I could find with the outfit, Miss Ella. The fabric wasn’t scratchy or tight when I moved and the gemstones were cleverly placed on the coat. Any pose I do makes the lighting in the photos better… almost like it’s a man-made special effect.” His praise makes Ella grin and beam with delight.

“I’m so glad you like it! I’ve worked on that design for weeks, my folder was almost full and out of space with all the revisions I’ve done…” she says as her expression becomes relieved.

Vil can’t help but chuckle a bit, this Ella girl certainly made an impression on him. She doesn’t even know how hard it was for the others to even get a word of “I like it” from him, and for him to easily compliment her work at their first meeting meant that Vil has found another person who might aid him to becoming the ultimate beauty. 

‘It’s a shame that she’s not a student of NRC, if she were then she would have been a worthy addition to Pomefiore’ he thought.

He asks for her phone and they trade magicam IDs, “This must be fate for us to meet, Miss Ella… If you get any new designs, do let me know~”

“Of course! I’ll be sure to send you a picture!” When it was time for him to get back to taking pictures, Ella had to leave since she had somewhere to be. She bids him farewell and exits the studio, unaware that Vil was staring at her back.

He thought she was an interesting little potato- no… with how much her hard work and efforts into making his outfit impressed him she can’t be labeled with a muddy potato, she was more like a brilliant sapphire.

‘A shame she can’t stay a bit longer, I wanted to ask more questions about the brand… maybe next time then, Little Sapphire’

When Ella got onto her carriage, she squealed and flailed about inside, she was trying her damn hardest to keep a professional face in that studio for as long as she possibly can. Ella couldn’t believe her luck, she got to meet THE Vil Schoenheit in person. Was a fairy godmother watching over her and granted her this fateful meeting as a reward? It may as well be, because he never does anything like trade magicam IDs with anyone!

‘Meeting Vil… he seemed very much like a prince! I can’t wait to see him model the clothes I made again!’ she felt like everything was too real to be true and one might assume that it’s all a dream. But it wasn’t, the coachman rode her back to the hotel where she was staying as the sun went down, after he calmed himself down after being startled by Ella’s screaming inside.

When Vil returned to Pomefiore, Rook was the first to greet him and despite the dorm leader’s neutral face, the hunter could tell that he seemed to be in high spirits.

“My, my~ What happened today for you to be so full of joy, Roi du Poison?”

“Ah, Rook… I found a lovely sapphire at the photo shoot today” Vil replies with a wave of his hand as he and his vice dorm leader head to the lounge.

“Sapphire? This is the first time our lovely dorm leader has met someone who has garnered so much praise! Pray tell, who might that be?” Rook’s interest was piqued. Vil just smirks before walking off, “It’s better if you see her for yourself… But I will tell you this, they looked like a fragile porcelain doll”.

Vil wasn’t wrong when Rook became even more interested in this mystery person who has won over the queen’s approval. If that person was being compared with a gemstone then hopefully, they can help adorn the queen’s crown with their brilliance to bring out the beauty of both sides.

[dauntlcss]

( m, 26, est )  ─  the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of PETER GADIOT  -  but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of JOINING THE WEST COAST AVENGERS WITH KATE BISHOP strikes you.  perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself  -  you’re CLINT BARTON,  a THIRTY-FIVE YEAR OLD BARISTA AND PASTRY CHEF whose virtue lies in your + CHARMING & + CUNNING, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - RESENTFUL & - GLOOMY,  and you’re associated with THE SMELL OF FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE IN THE MORNING, EMPTY PIZZA BOXES ON THE KITCHEN TABLE, BAND-AIDS  ALWAYS COVERING YOUR FACE by those around you.  suddenly,  however,  you’ve found YOUR S.H.I.E.L.D. ID CARD on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse,  memories from your life in MARVEL COMICS have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you.  you can almost hear VOID by SEAHAVEN following in your wake.

graphic pictured above contains art from square enix.

LIFE IN ALUCARD —

NAME: Clinton Francis Barton-Barnes NICKNAME: Clint OCCUPATION: Barista & Pastry Chef at The Cat’s Meow ETHNICITY: Mexican-American NATIONALITY: American FACECLAIM: Peter Gadiot BIRTHDAY: June 18th AGE: 35 HEIGHT: 6’3” EYE COLOR: Blue HAIR COLOR: Blond SEXUALITY: Bisexual MARITAL STATUS: Married FAMILY: Harold Barton (father, deceased), Edith Barton (mother, deceased), Barney Barton (older brother), Bucky Barnes (husband), Lucky (family dog), Alpine (family cat) LANGUAGES KNOWN: English, ASL, Spanish NOTABLE FEATURES: Wears purple BTE hearing aids

Clint is the youngest son born to Harold and Edith Barton. They have one other son named Barney who is fifteen years older, which put a significant age gap between them. Their father was an angry man who never really wanted children. He preferred drinking to doing any parenting. He didn’t raise a hand to either of the boys but verbal abuse took place and the Barton household never felt like a home. Their mother tried her hardest to make it work.

Some events appear to be constant — the alcoholism leading to the death of Clint’s parents. Only the events that spiraled after that are different in this new life. He was only five years old, holding onto Barney’s hand at the funeral not understanding what was going on. “Where’s mama? Papa?” He would ask but not even the older Barton had the right answer. “It’s only going to be us from now on, kiddo.” He answered after kneeling down to be Clint’s level.

His brother was twenty, having held onto the same job for several years now and it paid well. He took on the responsibility of raising his little brother the best to his ability. They moved into a smaller apartment in Alucard and for a while they were happy. This was so the two of them wouldn’t be separated.

Few years later on his way home from school some older kids jumped him. Without getting into graphic details — the injuries from the beating was so extensive that it left him with head trauma. Barney was worried about his brother and how they were going to pay for his medical expenses. The doctor informs the oldest Barton that Clint lost 80% of his hearing which only made him worry that much more.

They don’t always see eye-to-eye but they’re the only family they both have left. Maybe that’s why the blonde puts up with the anger Barney feels toward him sometimes. You can usually find them signing angrily in the kitchen or living room. They do have their moments where it’s possible to get along but it usually doesn’t last.

Clint made a life for himself. He studied at a culinary institute to become a pastry chef. He knows that it wasn’t a requirement but wanted to take the extra step. It got him away from his brother since it was apparent they couldn’t live together anymore.

Three years ago, Clint got invited to attend an engagement party. One of his friends was getting married and seemed to invite everyone she has ever spoken to — renting out one of the bars in town. He didn’t know a lot of people there but wouldn’t miss out on such a joyous occasion. A few drinks into the night Clint saw the most handsome man he has ever laid eyes on standing across the room. He tried asking the person next to him if they knew the guy. “I’ve never met him but his name is Bucky, I think?” The blond repeated the name over and over in his head while handing the beer to his friend and pushing his way through the crowd. He went over there and introduced himself. He didn’t normally do this but something was telling him to try putting himself out there.

They dated for two years, moving in together in that timeframe. Clint even got a dog named Lucky from the local shelter. He’s missing his left eye and has been there for quite some time the volunteer told him. He didn’t need to know anything else and brought him home. Lucky is a smart dog and got along well with Bucky’s cat to the point they’re inseparable at times.

A little over a year ago, Clint and Bucky got married — the blond added on his husband’s last name to the end of his own. Barton-Barnes. They don’t show a lot of public displays of affection in public but you might see them holding hands. Anything more is usually kept for closed doors. They’re happy although Bucky hates Barney so when his brother stops into town that tends to create some tension if he wants to stay at their place. Bucky will even make Clint lunch to take into work! Which is always better than eating take out again.

Clint is working at The Cat’s Meow as a barista and pastry chef. He’ll work with Marinette on creating new recipe ideas for the menu sometimes. They have a little bit of a sibling dynamic going on, looking after her and always being there when she needs a shoulder to lean on. He couldn’t have picked a better place to work and will always appreciate Adrien for taking a chance on him.

Clint is deaf. If he doesn’t have his BTE hearing aids on he will need to rely on reading your lips or sign if your character happens to know ASL. It makes him really happy when people know sign language!

Not all of Spoken English can be lip-read, some words are incomprehensible. He can figure out what you’re saying by filling in the blanks with the words that were missed while lip-reading. He’ll use outside cues to figure out the context of which word is being used. Since a lot of sounds visually look similar such as. ‘th’ and ‘f’ sounds.

He doesn’t wear his hearing aids at night. You need to let them air out and keeping them in while you sleep could damage them if they fall out into your sheets or end up on the floor where you’ll step on them. They’re expensive and can cost up to six thousand dollars just for one. Clint has two so he wants to take care of them. They’re put on a charging station at night so the batteries can charge.

His hearing will NOT be perfect just because he’s wearing hearing aids. They’re AIDS not FIXES. He will miss parts of the conversation still and ask you to repeat yourself occasionally.

CANON LIFE —

ALIAS: Hawkeye, Agent Barton AFFILIATIONS: S.H.I.E.L.D., The Avengers OCCUPATION: S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent S.H.I.E.L.D. CLEARANCE LEVEL: Seven, Blue

Clinton Barton was the youngest son of Harold and Edith Barton. He grew up helping out around his fathers butcher shop with his older brother, Barney. Their mother was a sweet woman but she couldn’t protect them from what would happen when the whiskey was brought out. Harold was abusive and continually beat both of his boys. It got so bad that the injuries Clint suffered from damaged his hearing. He remembers sitting at the doctors office not being able to understand a word the doctor was saying or his parents.

Eventually his father’s alcoholism caused him to get into a car accident while Edith was in the car, costing both of them their lives. Clint and Barney were sent to numerous foster homes until running away from one of them to join a traveling circus instead. He would adapt his archery skills to become a star carnival attraction, a master archer called Hawkeye.  He spent some time as a member of Tiboldt’s Circus until leaving to try using his skillset for fighting crime.

Nick Fury would end up hand-picking Barton to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and he quickly became one of their very best agents. In addition to this Clint would also end up joining the Avengers and West Coast Avengers. He’s one of the best archers in the world and should not be underestimated for being Human.

The rest of his biography is pretty straight forward from here, if you want to know what kind of shenanigans his teams got up to then there are plenty of marvel fandom wiki pages to check out!

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [33]

[CW: References to human trafficking/trading. Focused on recovery and healing.]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 8)

Trust.

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Cricket chirps. Soft footsteps and the whir of the wheels. The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle that sat in the cupholder of the wheelchair and the jostle of the fabric. A Q.B. uniform, a splayed black coat hugging a figure on a wheelchair and a black tracksuit moved in choreographed harmony. Like shadows that dissolved in the still darkness of night. Slinking between the buildings, on the empty, balmy roads that were laid out like grids. Zizi rode the remotely operated chair with tranquillized silence. She looked as restless as Jared felt. Their encounter had unearthed something that reared its ugly head from the past. A hungry monster, that sapped their peace and energy alike. It made everything feel uncomfortably personal and Jared was left feeling vulnerable. Akira’s prodding earlier that day did not help. And he found himself wishing now that Novara had been anywhere else but with her. Tariq’s relatively neutral presence was welcome, they did not ask each other for elucidations. The men had let the moment stir them into a wordless acceptance. Soon they were ascending the elevator of the living quarters for the trainee BioHackers.

There was a soft rap on the door. Akira locked eyes with Nova, before she slid off the bed to answer. She immediately had to flatten herself against the wall to give way as the men pooled in after the wheelchair. She had only dealt with patients, who were amputees. From the way Zizi rolled into her life, it already felt like she was going to be more than that. Akira quickly realised she could only be helpful by staying out of the way.  A part of Nova was relieved that Zizi was unconscious as her limp body was lifted to the bed. Nova busied herself with the MedScan feature of her CommCube. “I’m going to need some things from the hospital wing…” “I’ll get them.” Akira was eager. She wanted to be useful and she had enough experience in the field to manage such a simple task. Nova quickly listed what she needed. “I’ll go with Shira…” Jared offered, speaking of her, but not to her. He sought a reason to not be in the room because he did not want to make matters worse for Zizi when the tranquilizer wore off… And for himself. The woman was likely to have enough on her plate with just Nova. “I don’t need your help.” Akira responded sharply. Jared’s brief disappearance after he abruptly left their conversation on the pretext of getting food left her prickly. The time he took in getting back was warranted, given the circumstance, but she still could not reconcile with the fact that he did not find a single moment to let her know or give her a heads-up. Instead, he chose to just go AWOL. Jared did not see the reason for her hostility and bit back the urge to respond in kind.   “I need to get stuff checked any way... Mind if I come along, Kira?” Tariq muttered. It felt like the easiest way to keep things on an even keel. Novara looked stressed as is. He did not really give her a chance to protest and led the way out. Akira strode out, wearing her stormy demeanour and offering Jared a side-eye he did not think he deserved. === Tariq lightened Akira’s mood as they shared some joy over Ezekiel’s fate. He took pleasure in describing exactly how things transpired. They marvelled over how well Nova handled it. “If the serum doesn’t work as intended for whatever reason, I’ll tell whoever asks that I tried some shit, ‘kay?” Akira’s question was anything but. It was a declaration. She sifted through the cabinets and drawers for all the things that Nova needed for Zizi. Patches, IVs, NG-Tube, electrolyte solutions… Akira picked up a straitjacket for good measure. Tariq would have protested if he had seen her do so.  He instead, was surreptitiously pocketing a vial of the advanced shealing serum. His injured hand had not come out of his pocket at all and he did not let Akira know of it. “You were nowhere close to the scene. I was…” Their whipping scars were still raw, and they were arguing about who got to take the blame for this situation. Everything Akira collected was shoved into a sling bag. “We’ll see how it all pans out. T… I can carry all this on my own. Get some rest, will you?” Tariq looked haggard. After everything with Ezekiel and being the one who found Zizi, she could see why. These were not the kind of battles he fought. Akira implored him to take some time for himself. And this was without her knowing about his injuries. “I-” She was quick to interrupt him. “Y’know you’re going to wear yourself out and eventually make a mess of everything…” They knew she was only half-joking; it was a quality the two of them shared, among others. He really was out of his depth. His presence would not hinder, but it would not aid either. With some reluctance he agreed and promised to check back on all of them later. “Don’t worry about it.” Akira sought some solace in being the one reassuring her friends today. I can do this; I can be there for them too.   === The three pairs of eyes were trained onto Zizi after she had been adequately replenished with fluids. They watched as her limbs slowly came to life. Slowly and barely as the tranquilizer finally wore off.  Jared considered bolting out of the room. Instead, he waited by the door, away from Zizi’s immediate field of view. Akira on the other hand stood beside where the woman lay, crowding her a little. Nova sat on the other side of the bed. “Hi Zizi… I’m Akira… How’re you feeling?” Jared and Nova let her take the lead. Another new person. The voice sounded friendly enough, Zizi did not open her eyes yet. She felt a mattress under her. Her head was cradled by a pillow. Such simple luxuries… She found herself relishing them with an embarrassing amount of contentment. “Sorry about the slight mess… by the way.” Akira added and averted her gaze briefly, afraid that if it lingered too long on Zizi, she might betray sympathy in a manner that came off as pity. She unnecessarily fussed over folding a towel that was drying on her chair. There was nothing else there. Just the sheets on the bed were sprawled, and the cabinets of the kitchen were still slightly ajar. Zizi wasn’t going to notice those things anyway. She was still addled by whatever she had been injected with. Her movements were slow, but she turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes. Her eyes widened instantly when they fell upon Nova, whose eyes were still bloodshot and swollen from the tears she had shed.  Zizi drew a ragged breath and the flash of fear in her expressions dissolved into a resignation. I know Nova meant well and I know Ezekiel didn’t.   “Can I talk to you?” Zizi’s voice was barely a whisper. Akira missed Zizi’s request. “Should I brew us some tea? I’ve got some… generic green, jasmine… mint… chamo-” Jared did not. He tried too hard to tune it out that it only resulted in him being more attuned to it. At least she isn’t rapping anymore.   So he interrupted her. “I think Zizi wanted a moment with Nova.” Akira was already filling the kettle. She set it down and put her hands on her hip lazily. “They’re both here, right? I’m ju-” “Alone.” She narrowed and squared off with Jared. “And you think that’s a good id-” He cut her off again. His tone was slightly impatient. “They’ve spent time together already…” Jared did not expect to get into the thick of things with Akira right now. He could not see that she was trying to normalise things in her own way. That they were simply not in agreement about how things should proceed. Aki drew a deep breath. If you cut me off one more goddamn time… She did not think it through when she decided to drag Zizi into this. “I think she can tell us that herself…” “Shi- Akira!” Jared exclaimed, completely flabbergasted with Akira’s behaviour. She certainly was not being prudent, but he too was not thinking clearly. Akira raised her eyebrows in an unspoken and pettish question.   What? Zizi purposely kept her gaze off the source of Jared’s voice. It was less familiar to her than his face; less likely to trigger her slip into rap mode again. A part of her feared it may lead to tranquilization again. As easy as it was to slip into nothingness, she wanted to enjoy her autonomy for what it was worth. She could hear the famous Red Knight trying so hard to act professionally while Akira approached the matter more on instinct. The intimacy between them was hard to miss and the friction was palpable.  Neither of them was wrong. The exchange was like a tennis match, till she was dragged into it. And Zizi intervened like an umpire would. She was not too reluctant to ask for what she wanted. The world would have crushed her a long time ago if she had chosen silence. “I would like to talk to Nova - alone…” She did not hesitate to make her preference known. Choices had been a rarer luxury in captivity. Now that she was out, she lapped at every chance she got to exert her will. Her voice was clear, but soft, it demanded attention in a way that a louder voice never could. They were forced to fall silent to give her a chance to speak. And Akira did have the grace to do that, even though she was fuming. She deliberately avoided looking at any of them. There was a flash of an inexplicable venom and deep mortification in her eyes, best directed towards the panel of the induction stove. “If that’s okay with you…” Zizi addressed Nova this time. Akira did not know those words were not directed at her at all and managed a weak nod as she set her tea box aside. Novara recognized the question was for her and apprehensively nodded too, much more eagerly, but did not say anything given Akira’s assumption. Her friend was feeling prickly and Nova did not want to make matters worse. Technically, this was Akira’s room and they were all taking a lot of liberties intruding this way. Nova believed in Akira’s inherent generosity. Akira was now resolutely quiet and chewed on the inside of her mouth. For once she understood why Jared chose silence sometimes. It was he who filled it, to reassure the victim in the room. “I think it is brave that Zizi would like to spend some time with Novara after everything…” And accidentally diminishing the other victim in the room by adding words addressed to her. “You should know how difficult that is… and how much courage it probably takes...” Jared had not expected this to be as much of a struggle.   Akira’s head hung for a moment. Her body lost something, like bones, because her petite frame slouched. In a motion akin to slithering, she dragged herself out of her own room, muttering. “Right… Well, excuse me, then.” Jared followed and closed the door behind him, leaving Novara and Zizi alone. He wanted to be within earshot and reach. Akira’s concern was a consequence worth considering. He did not tell her that though, perhaps he should have. He lingered in the corridor. Akira did not. It was her turn to take a solitary walk. And he let her go. - Nova looked a little apologetic, not for her friends’ behaviour per se, she knew that they too had been through a lot, but given that Zizi didn’t have any context, it was probably uncomfortable for her to witness. “Don’t worry… There is… That’s just Jared and Akira.” The medic’s voice was soft. And she casually broke the illusion Jared had tried to create. Nova did not see the reason to build walls around the woman. They had been through so much together. Zizi was not uncomfortable in the least. She was left amused. “Don’t worry… I’ve seen much worse.” Nova shuffled in place. Her knees sinking in and out of the mattress.  “I- I’m so sorry… Z, I-”  A choked back sob, a stifled sniffle and a shaky breath. “-I never meant for any of this… For...” “I know." Zizi replied simply. Nova gulped and looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes. She did? She blinked away the tears. “I could kinda see you hated it… I saw past his shit eventually and… I’m sorry too.” Zizi did sound apologetic herself. She wanted this time with Nova, just to let the poor BioHacker know, that Ezekiel did not win. That he did not succeed in villainizing Nova. Nova wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly. “You… you shouldn’t have to be.” “I did try and kill you.” Zizi thought she could handle this heart-to-heart with ease. She could not. She resisted the urge to break into a rap again and gently massaged the stub of her arm as it began tingling. It had been a tough few month, among the worse of Zizi’s life at least in terms of raw, physical suffering. To be torn up repeatedly, one way or another and painfully be put back together. But she had lost everything before and she held on. She could do it again. She would. Nova’s reassurance was bland and honest, and she noticed Zizi’s discomfort.  “I’d want to kill me too, in that… situation. Are you ok? Can I get you something?” “No… I’ll be fine… He called you Supernova...That was never a compliment, was it?” That derogatory name. A darkness found its way into Nova’s being and she shook her head with an added vehemence. But it was not his voice; it did not grate against her being. “No… No, it was not. But it is nothing compared to what you, to what you and Ge-” She could not find the nerve to say his name. The name that no one would use again, not for him. There was no one left to call. Zizi had come to terms with losing the man she temporarily shared that hidden room with. Death was not uncommon in the Pit. Nova had not. She could not bury what happened, like Ezekiel presumably buried Genzo. Did he even bury Genzo? The thought chilled her. Ezekiel had thrown Genzo to the wolves before he was ready, before Nova’s serum had made him whole. Zizi was made to watch the fight where he was taken down. He was not brought back to the hidden room that night. Nova did not know about Bloody Blitz – The Pit of Doom…  So, when she inquired about Genzo, Ezekiel simply stated that he was gone, and that she was responsible for it, for not fixing him well enough. And that day Zizi lost the little freedom she had. As did Nova who was pinned like a butterfly, under the weight of the life she could not save. And the life she now had to – Mine! Zizi thought, before Ezekiel’s voice rang in her head. “No more going to the Bloody Blitz till Nova has perfected the serum…”  From that day onwards, the pain she received had been methodical and at Eze’s hands. It was solely for the purpose of testing the serum. She was reduced to nothing but a lab rat. At least she always came through. I do owe my life to her. Nova finally understood what Akira meant when she compared degrees of suffering. Pain was pain. But Zizi had had it so much worse. Nova sidled closer to her, tentatively. Zizi did not mind, she was quite accustomed to Nova’s presence in her private space. It was refreshing to see her softer side, one that was not governed by the strings Eze pulled. Strings he did not want Zizi to see, but she had. “You did the best you could for Genzo…” These were not empty words. Their fingers found each other. The skin on the back of their hands sat in such stark contrast, their palms less so. Nova knew Zizi’s anatomy too well, to not know anything about her as a person. It felt unfair and wrong. Her soft mutter carried a whine attesting to that. “He, he never quite told me where he… where he found you both…” “What did he tell you?” The counter question sounded a little sharp. Nova clammed up a little, her words were a jumble, just like his answers had been, if he ever indulged her questions to begin with. She had to stop asking when it irritated him enough to make matters worse for Zizi. “From, prisoners of war, to criminals, to street rats… drug addicts…” He deliberately gave enough answers, for Nova to never know which one was true or if all of them were. He played with her, till it was amusing. Till he could revel in the friction between the women.   She wanted Zizi to have the whole truth as much of it as she could offer. There was an insistence in the way she spoke. “He made me believe you were dangerous, like you were… you were both on death row. That is why we didn’t mourn G-” She shortened the name to a letter, so it didn’t keep getting caught in her throat. “-because Eze said, he didn’t deserve it. But he did! He deserved it!” Nova forgotten to breathe between the slurry of her words, now she gasped in short, exhausted sounds. “Everyone does. And I did not believe him, but…” She looked at Zizi pointedly now. Unflinchingly, fearlessly. She wanted her to know, no matter how dark her past truly was… Nova didn’t think that it was okay for her to suffer the way she had. “Even if any of what he said was… is true… Nothing made- nothing makes what I did okay… What he made me do… what he made me do.” She switched between talking about it like it was something in the past, because her hope reminded her that it was. But her grief anchored the pain, Zizi’s and hers to the present. She licked her lips. She finally stopped; the woman had not expected to spiral into this conversation.   Nova had poured all this out, for the second time today. It felt easier to divulge this time around, because she had gathered her thoughts while talking to Akira.   Zizi let her, in silence, clutching onto the medic’s hand gently. It truly was inspiring to finally meet the real Novara. I am surprised the world has not chewed you up and spit you out, Novara. You must be doing something very right. Empathetic, empowered and brilliant. “All the things he said were somewhat true… I guess. Genzo and I were drawn against each other in the pit… and we fight to knock-out or kill… So…” Zizi licked her dry lips. Nova immediately reached for the bottle of water, she helped Zizi sit up enough to sip from it. She gathered the will to go on. “He found us on the brink of death… and promised to save us, but only if he could keep us for himself.” Nova’s skin crawled. But she should have figured. Especially recently after everything else Ezekiel had done, so blatantly, with such little regard for the pain he caused. “How- from?” Zizi closed her eyes again, the lyrics of her rap rose in her throat. Nova was familiar with Ritonix’s entire discography – Zizi had screamed her way through the songs on every encounter with Nova, the needle and the syringe full of the serum. Zizi did not want to trigger the medic. She wanted her to know that she felt safe now. Zizi also did not want to answer the question. She pursed her lips. She thought of Jeremy. He only wanted to save her… To save them. He had been kind; she did not want to implicate him in this either. He would most likely end up taking the fall for it all. He would be the likely scapegoat, because Bloody Blitz was an intricate system. It ran too deep and what could a handful of agents possibly do to fight it. Zizi did not want the people who were trying to help her, to get entangled with that monster. Upon noticing the doubt and fear flit across Zizi’s face, Novara felt rankled. This was betrayed in the way she swayed a little. “It’s ok… It’s ok.” Nova murmured, to Zizi and to herself. Genzo and Zizi had been brought to her with severe injuries. The first time she helped them, it was out of desperation. They had just been her patients and Ezekiel had convinced her that using the serum would be mercy. And then it became a habit. Nova had questions then and she had questions now, but she did not get a chance to ask them. Zizi had already shared enough and she had a question of her own, one she could not ask Tariq… or worse, Jared. She could not allow herself to feel this vulnerable around them. But Nova had already seen her at her worse. She massaged her right arm with more vigour now as she arrived at an unnerving realisation. “…Nova, what exactly happens to me now?” All this time, Zizi had leashed the fear that leapt from the uncertainty of the situation. And now the leash broke. “I- You… It will never-” She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Nova could not afford any hesitation marring what she wanted to say. Despite the ambiguity of the future, she would not let Zizi suffer again. Her eyes opened with her usual fierce resolve. “You will never be traded again or belong to anyone again like that. That’s for sure.” There it was again, that conviction, that felt so true that reality crumbled against it. Her radiant hope did not convince Zizi entirely, but the Fighter smiled weakly. Nova intended to do whatever it took, to keep her promise. She could tell that there were more sorrowful secrets buried in the woman’s past and she did not want to try disinterring them. Not right now. Zizi did not need to relive any more horrors. It would not help recover and that was of paramount importance. “And we don’t need to talk about everything right away… You need to rest, and I need to run some more tests… if that’s ok.” Zizi quickly slid lower into the bed, craving the comfort more than she was willing to admit. Her body had not felt the embrace of soft covers and a mattress for far too long. “For the last few days, I thought Ezekiel forgot me and that felt like a blessing… Dying in that cell. This- This feels like a miracle…” she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Nova’s administrations, this time willingly and trustingly. Nova used the MediScan feature on her CommCube and recorded the vitals and other measures again. And stayed with Zizi till the woman fell asleep.

Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam

[scroll-the-adventurer]

Devil Tied in a Chair

So recently I reblogged a post asking writers to reblog, and that kinda made me want to post some snippits of my WIP and some short stories that take place in the universe I’m playing with. So below the cut there’ll be a bit of that. This bit is actually 2 short chapters. It doesn’t really have a place in the current story I’m working on, but it is a little side adventure, maybe something that happens shortly before the main story. Either way it’s a pretty fun romp if I say so myself.

Prologue: A wizard known as Wanderer stays true to his namesake, scouring the solar system for knowledge and new magicks. As one would imagine, this is dangerous work. Like any final frontier, the cold black is full of all kinds of desperate riffraff, liking to survive by taking from another. Today Wanderer found himself on the losing side of a conflict with such riffraff, and it’s time to sort this out the way a wizard knows best.

Story below the cut

There are 99 pirate clans in Federation of Flags. Out of the 99, Wanderer has had dealings, or otherwise running-ins with 72. Out of the 99, only 6 recognize wizardry as existing and utilize as a tool in their ranks. Out of the remaining 93, all of them are incredibly superstitious and the bulk of their crews straight up fear magick. As they should. Today Wanderer found himself with his hands tied, sitting in a chair, with a bag over his head.

“So, that’s a bit of a junker ya were flying in our sector.” Came a voice from the black. Lesser voices snickered and chattered from beyond. “We found yer stash in the vents. I suppose you fancy yerself a smuggler. You must be new to it as ya’d know that all smuglin’ goes through us in our sector. Or if ya ain’t new, you musta missed the memo that this here sector changed to our hands last year. Wanna tell me what’s in those boxes before I have one'a the boys torch it open and damages what mights be inside?”

Wanderer stared into the black and sternly asked “What colors are you flying?”

“Oh, he thinks he’s interrogating me?!” the room erupted into laughter and howling. “Listen to me when I say I’m the one asking questions. What’s the combination to yer boxes? We wanna take a look inside, and I’d be sure ya wanna keep your fingers.” The dominant voice reached out of the darkness and Wanderer felt it grab his wrist, a pressure on the first digit of his right pinky.

Wanderer rotated his hand in his bindings and grabbed the hand of his captor, with the ring and middle fingers curled and contorted against their palms. Warm blood escaped the edge of the joint where the pirates blade slipped across in the movement.

“Tell me what colors you’re flying and I’ll give you the combination to the first box. We have a deal?” The voice was silent in the dark for a moment, then an answer came with a slight quiver.

“That-That sounds fair.”

“The blue box, labeled ‘toiletries’, 487A685G. What colors are you flying? Don’t worry, if I’m lying you can take that bit of pinky. Send a guy to check my stuff.”

The darkness made an audible gulp as the hand shook loose from Wanderer’s grasp. A few people were heard leaving the room. “We’re ah- We’re Crimson Concordant. We own this section of-”

“Awesome.” Wanderer said “I want speak with Ralph”

“Ralph? Which Ralph are you talking about?” The voice spoke with a clear of the throat.

Wanderer turned in his seat, lifted both his bound together arms and pointed, with his ring and index finger of his left hand, into the crowd he could see clearly in his mind, and said “I want to talk to that Ralph.” As a scream came from the direction he had pointed and someone could be heard running out of the room, as some others entered. It would seem that there was a Ralph and he nearly shit himself as he ran past those who went to check the cargo.

“Sir.” Came a younger voice. “The blue box were full of bottles filled with… things? And this silver statue. I don’t know what that is. I’ve never seen anything like it…”

“I want to talk to Ralph the Red. The guy who commands this floating pile of shit? The Captain? Orange box. 654B5874. Go ahead. Have a look and get your boss down here.”

There was silence for a second and then foot fall headed back towards wherever they were storing Wanderer’s goods. Time passed as Wanderer sat idly in his chair. The room has gone quiet, aside from the odd whisper here and there.

“Sir. I don’t know. It’s dark stuff, Sir. We opened the box and a bunch of moths flew out. Shrunken heads. Bones. The whole inside is crusted in this… black. Sir, I don’t think we…”

“Lad, you don’t think. You do want I ask of you. Stranger, how’d you know Ralph Biggins was sat over there? And how do you know our Captain?” The voice asked, appropriately in the dark.

“If you ever make it to Captain, you’ll know me too, Sam.” There was the sound of stumbling over chairs.

“What kind of Devilry is this? Somebody club the demon! Knock him cold before he lays a curse on us all!” The interrogator shouted as more chairs fell, draped in panicked men. It sounded to Wanderer that the whole of the room’s occupants were backed up against the walls, save for the couple cautiously making their way, step by step, towards their prisoner.

Once they were a few paces away, Wanderer suddenly stood from his chair and began floating several inches off the floor, as the chair flew across the room with supernatural force, smashing the door control panel and locking the crew in with him. Screams let out, as the bag lifted off Wanderer’s head and he could see his was in the mess hall. His interrogation was probably meant to be this meals entertainment. Sam was near the door, begging for a security detail to come and unlock them from their new hell, as the door opened and he and everyone else bolted past the tall man with the red beard who freed them.

“Oh hey Ralph! Long time no see!” Wanderer exclaimed, hovering a foot and a half off the ground.

“So there I am, flying for Ganymede when one of your boys shoots a fucking harpoon through my cargo hold? Like, not a mag-graple, but a literal barbed harpoon. When the fuck did you guys start using harpoons? I had to shut off air to the back half of my ship and shit. It was kind of a pain in the ass.” Wanderer was understandably upset.

“Well, my boys didn’t know who you were. Kind of hard to let the patrols know you’re on the 'Don’t Fuck With’ list when your name and ship ID changes every time we see you. And you still swear you’re not a smuggler?”

“That’s fair, but nothing on my ship is illegal. Frowned upon, yeah. Dangerous as a portal straight to hell, certainly. But I’ve got the proper paper work for the human remains, which I’m transporting to put to rest, by the way, and everything else more or less in the clear to most local governments, or at least they wouldn’t know what they even are, so they can’t charge me with anything.”

“So why did you put them in the vents?” Ralph inquired

“Because…” Wanderer hesitated. “Because they wouldn’t shut up…” he answered, staring deep into the coffee Ralph had given him.

“So how did you know Sam’s name?” Ralph wanted to change the subject

“Oh, I’ve got copies of Ganymede’s entire police record stored in my prosthetic eye. And it’s not just a computer and a camera, ya know. It’s got audio capture functionality too. I just ran a vocal analysis on those records once he started interrogating me. I knew who he was around the time I got them to search  my first box. I had an audio map of the whole room and half of the crew in it by the time Sam drew blood.” Wanderer explained like it was just another average day’s occurrence.

“I figured you had some kind of trick. So how’d you pull off the flying?”

“…I’m a fucking wizard, Ralph. You tie me up and sit me in a chair for 20 minutes, I can find a way to levitate. I could imposed my will over quantum forces, pleading with the machine spirits of the grav-pads in your mess hall for their aid, or just fucking blast magick out of my ass like a rocket. I’m a fucking wizard, Ralph.”

“Sure, Stranger.” Ralph was skeptical of what he’d just seen, but knew to take what Wanderer said with a healthy dose of respect. “If anyone could do something like that, it would be you.”

“But seriously.” Wanderer took a sip of his coffee. “When did you guys switch over to fucking harpoons?”

[hello-stensy-blog]

Crushable, Chapter II : Should I stay or Should I go?

Everything was pitch black in the car’s trunk. The only thing Stensland was able to say about the road was that it was pretty bumpy now. The darkness was not the only inconvenience: he was uncomfortably huddled up on himself. It reminded Stensland of a childhood memory. When he was ten, playing hide and seek with his cousin, he hid in his grandpa's car trunk. After a few hours of searching, no one could find him. Stensland was pretty proud of not being easily found that day. Now, he would give the world to have someone find him, because despite appearances, Stensland was not ten anymore and he couldn’t fit in such a tiny place without it hurting. Plus, this was no game. It wasn’t his old grandpa’s cheap car, but a bad guy’s expensive one.

He was ugly sobbing. He has had too much contradictory feelings in the last twenty four hours.  I just want to go home. I'm scared. These guys  don’t  mess  around. What the Hell are they going to do to me?

*********************************************** They attempted to chase down the vehicle until they lost sight of it. The angry ginger in the passenger seat had his face all tensed. Clyde was driving but he didn’t know where he was even going anymore. Eventually, the ginger told him a direction that he followed. 

-So is this like your plan B or somethin'? -More like plan G, to be honest, the ginger answered in a cross tone.

They drove until they reached an abandoned house deeper into the countryside. They parked here and Clyde went to remove a very distressed Stensland from the car's trunk.

-Don’t kill me, please! I didn’t know there was money in your bag! -And how come you know now? the Ginger retorted. Stensland had no idea how to answer, but it didn’t matter. At the bag’s owner command, Clyde was shoving him inside the house. Stensland ended up cuffed to a chair in the middle of a near-empty room, the only furniture being the chair he sat on and another. Stensland had watched enough TV to know where this was going. His whole body was shaking. He looked like a frightened child. The sight of it was making Clyde feel sad. He thought that it was unfair, somehow, that Stensland was not a bad guy or a criminal. He was just dumb enough to steal a bag obviously filled with dirty money. He’s no gangster, he’s no more than a scared kitty. Crushable in so many ways. While the mean ginger was away, Clyde awkwardly stroked Stensland’s hair in a comforting way. Stensland tensed up, then relaxed after a second. His face now showed something like hope.

-Please, he told Clyde in a begging tone, You have to help me. They will cut me into little dice if you don’t! -They won’t, Clyde said. Clyde stepped back quickly when the ginger returned. He was yelling on the phone again.

- Ugh! I don't know, Ren, figure this out on your own! You're a grown up! You know where to find me when you’ve finished! He hung up. He gave Stensland a nasty smile. Dude's even more frightening when he smiles, Clyde thought. What is he up to now anyways? 

-My colleague is currently looking for the car that left with the bag, if you want to know. When he is done with that, he will join our little party. You have until his arrival to come up with a way to refund me.

-But I... I don't know! I really don’t ! I am so sorry, but that was a lot of money, and- He slapped Stensland to make him shut up. It worked. He then said: -I KNOW there was a lot of money. That is precisely why it is SO important. -I-I can’t do anything for you, I’m sorry, I’m SO sorry! They left with that bag, and I don’t have a lot of money right now so it will take me ages to fill up a bag, and- -Oh, I’m so sorry, the Ginger said with a mockingly empathic tone, I had no idea you were so miserable! I guess that’s settled then, I’ll leave you be! Everything is forgiven, everything is forgotten! I’ll just have to tell my boss that you are sorry! He’s a very understanding guy, after all! </p>

He slapped him once more and switched to his usual cold voice: -If my coworker can't get his hands on the bag you stole, I swear we will enslave you. So you better pray that we get it back before I lose my patience.

Clyde frowned. Okay, that is definitely wrong, and not only because the poor Stensland looks like he is about to shit himself. I can't stand there and watch these guys destroy his life just for some stupid money, can I? It ain't like the mafia is running low on money. So what if they lost some? They're probably gonna get twice what they lost by the end of the week.  While Clyde settled deep in his thoughts, the conversation between the two gingers went on. There were more threats thrown from one side and begging from the other. It ended with Stensland’s chair being kicked, falling to the ground with him on it. Blood was streaming across Stensland's face from the impact when his eyes met Clyde's. He looked miserable―like a martyr. He does not belong in this harsh crime world, he has an angel's face. He should be married to a sweet girl, expecting a cute baby and owning two fluffy kittens instead of the life this mafia boy promised him.  Clyde made up his mind then. Knocking down the abusive ginger was an easy task for him as he was too caught up in bullying Stensland to notice Clyde’s move in on him. He took him down with a strong blow to the head with the second chair. In one of the stunned man’s pant pocket he found a set of keys. He found one to free Stensland from his handcuffs and helped him up. Stensland was definitely confused at the new turn of events. 

- Can you stand? Clyde asked him. 

Stensland nodded quickly. His body was shaking.

-Let's go. Stensland hurriedly gathered his backpack and followed him.

***********************************************

Stensland was back in that car, except now he was not in the trunk. He was in the passenger's seat and Clyde was driving really fast. Rifling in the glove box, Stensland found a wallet. His interest was piqued and he checked inside. It contained cash (lots!) and an ID card. Stensland giggled. Clyde threw a brief glance over to him, wondering what was so funny. 

-His name is Armitage! -Your name is Stensland, Clyde reminded him.

Stensland pouted a bit. Now he felt silly for even bringing it up. The silence was too heavy for him, so he kept his mind busy by resuming exploring the contents of the glove box. Stensland found a gun. He definitely had goosebumps now, taking it in his hands. It was heavier than what he imagined. He began pretending to aim just for fun. He felt like a Big Deal. Well, maybe he was after all. In the past twenty four hours, lots of shit had happened he had never thought he would ever experience. Clyde turned to him again.

-Uh, you know how to handle a gun, right?

Stensland sighed. Why did people always assume he had no idea of what he was doing? Why did people always think of him as a big baby? He answered with overconfidence:

- Well, it’s simple! A child could-

He was interrupted by the sound of the gun’s silencer going off as he accidentally fired. Both men jumped at the sound and Clyde lost control of their vehicle for a time, which caused Stensland to scream his lungs out. Clyde quickly took action to restore their initial position on the road. Now that the situation was under control and they were no longer at risk of getting into an accident, Clyde squared his jaw and ordered Stensland in the nicest way possible:

-Put that gun down, please.

Clyde didn’t need to ask twice. Stensland quickly put the gun back in the glove box.

-I’m so, so sorry, I-

As he was apologizing once again--something he had done far too much in the time Clyde has known him, Stensland saw IT. His face instantly got two shades lighter as he realized what he had done. He had accidentally shot Clyde’s left arm.  Clyde had certainly noticed the bullet hole in his prosthetic, which explained why he looked so dreadfully pissed. Damn it. He saves my life and I repay him by shooting his fake arm. Good job, Stensland. 

There was another awkward silence until Stensland had what he considered a bright idea. He fumbled in his backpack until he found them―a colorful box of band aids. Favoring a light blue one with a pattern of ducks and hearts on it, he peeled away the film and proceeded to cover the bullet hole with it. Clyde took a look at it, remaining silent for a while. Then out of the blue, he giggled. That was a relief for Stensland.

*********************************************** Armitage woke up to what sounded like thunder. He promptly got back on his feet, perhaps a little too quickly. He found that he had a terrible headache, and he knew who to blame for that.

-Damn you, Clyde Logan…!

The thunderous sound stopped. Soon, a man entered, wearing a stylized black and silver motorcycle helmet. 

-You certainly took your time, Ren, Hux growled, They’re gone! -For fuck’s sake, Hux! I was chasing the idiots who stole the money YOU were dumb enough to let them have! At least show some appreciation! -Well, did you catch them? -I didn’t, Ren admitted, But that’s not the point! -Why would I show you appreciation then! Oh god, let’s just skip that! Did you tell ANYONE? -Of course not. -At least there is something you did well. We must go now! These assholes took my car! -Wait… Come again? Are you telling me that...they took your Camaro?

Ren sounded like he found it amusing. He knew Hux cared about his car way too much. It was on the verge of an obsession, really. A real clean-freak. He never even let them make out inside of it. Picturing his precious baby stolen by two idiotic amateurs... But he quickly changed his opinion when he saw Hux's face. He looked like he was about to spit on his face, burn him alive and cry in shame at the same time. 

-Come on babe, chill. We’re gonna catch them. -Don’t you ‘Babe’ me you freaking moron! Let’s GO!

For once, Hux didn’t complain about getting behind Ren on his motorcycle. He ‘hated those machines’ as they always ‘ruined his hair.’ Ren always rode ‘too fast and careless.’  Now, though, desperate times called for desperate measures.

[playsvulgar-a]

A NEW AGE OF VIGILANTES HAVE RISEN TO THE SCENE  :  dominating grief-causers and havoc-wreckers that roam streets around the globe ! who are these young hoodlums  &  what are their names ? where do they come from ?  &  most of all  :  all they to be trusted with the safety of the people ?

ABOUT.

this is a group verse made specifically for vigilante heroes under the age of 18  :  a league created for the minors, BY the minors. whether the objective is to back-up  &  assistance bigger groups of heroes or to simply undergo private missions ran by the organisation, there’s no task too big  NOR  too little for the child task force dubbed GENX.

all members work underground major cities around the globe  -  the appropriate training and working facilities granted to those being educated in said departments. the organisation, in general, is kept from parental figures  ( if any )  &  provides safe, homely accommodation for members who need as such, or in case of emergency  &  all members are put on safety lockdown.

RULES.

NO OUT OF CHARACTER DRAMA ! of course, in character drama is more than welcome. however anything outside of that may result in you being kicked from the group.

both, human, mutant  &  superhuman characters are welcome.

the verse is multiverse ! meaning as long as you have a verse set with a modern timeline on earth, you're more than welcome to aply !

this is a MUTUALS ONLY verse  :  meaning that you have to be mutuals with me ( playsvulgar ! )

duplicates of characters in this verse are MORE than welcome as long as both parties are okay with it !

original characters are more than welcome !

if another blog has beaten you to a faceclaim, using a secondary would be preferred. 

if accepted, please track the tag : gv:genx

however, on the condition that, again, the other party is okay with it, you may use a duplicate.

any questions ? don’t be afraid to shoot me a message. this is the first group verse i’ve ever made myself so i wouldn’t be surprised if i’d missed anything out.

APPLICATION.

muse name  /  hero alias ( if any )  /  age  /  faceclaim ( if any )  /  a small description of your muse including the time they’ve served justice  &  any specific fields of skill they’re trained in. mun name  /  age  /  pref. pronouns.

apply here !

join the discord server here !

MEMBERS.

ID : mindy mccready. hit-girl. 16. sabrina carpenter. ABOUT : mindy's been dishing up justice since the age of 4  -  and although her technique of doing so is morally questionable, she's got a firm reputation of getting the job done. she's an agent of multiple fields, however tends to prefer working up close  &  personal with enemies. OOC : chan. she / her. 17.  @playsvulgar.

ID : julianna rivera. regalia. 17. moriah perreira. ABOUT :  julie didn’t really even consider using these powers for good until she was about fifteen. as a technomancer, she can do almost anything involving a piece of technology. in a physical fight with no access to anything of the sort, though, she’s at more than a bit of a disadvantage. OOC :  aleksandr. he/him or she / her. 16. @cookiethumpr .

ID :  boomer jojo. boomer. 17.  dominic sherwood. ABOUT :  a triplet creation of a supervillain, he found himself at odds with GENX in the beginning, terrorising cities and others with his brother, all formerly known as The Rowdyruff Boys. eventually, with help, he found that being bad was a choice & he committed himself to GENX and helping those in need. specifically, he works as a trainer for new heroes but he allows himself in the field from time to time. OOC :  aaron. he / him. 25. @lessruff .

ID :  addison brody.  the vigilante /  the wolf of rivergrove. 16.  brighton sharbino. ABOUT :  the death of a childhood friend on the day of her birthday sparks a series of events that leads sixteen years old addison from teenage field hockey player to a murderer of criminals. although only active for four months, the blonde is not only talented with a knife, but can also use mysterious powers consisting of combat tentacles && wooden claws to dispose of her enemies, as well as the possibility to see the ghosts of those who choose to manifest themselves to her. still, there’s no lack of targets for her in a city built on corruption, but payback doesn’t come for free, despite addison keeping in sight the title given to her by the ghost of her dead friend: warrior of fate. champion of all that is good in the world. hero.his hero. OOC :  fraise. she / her. 22. @favdream.

ID :  lucas sinclair. slingshot. 13. caleb mclaughlin. ABOUT :  he had been rather young when he had his first brush with injustice. it was something he still hasn’t forgotten. however, nothing could’ve prepared him for the disappearance of his very close friend in the first breaths of November. the conspiracy and colluding that occurred because of his vanishing caused Lucas to want to take matters into his own hands. having been drilled lightly in combat maneuvers from his father’s army days he takes off, armed with an old army knife and a wrist rocket. soon enough, he begins to navigate a new world; one filled with danger, and vigilantes. only thing to do now, is to keep up, and not die. OOC :  amanda. 23. she/her. @wickedshots  

ID :  carrie kelley. robin. 14. ABOUT :  originally a foster-system street rat, 10-year-old carrie was adopted by bruce wayne after successfully aiding batman in the middle of one of his missions. she was let in on the family secret and rigorously trained for two years before taking to the streets as robin. now she’s highly proficient in hand-to-hand combat, with a preference for evasive or long-range styles. she’s also well versed in the usage of many different crime-fighting gadgets, and outfitted with tech from both batgirl and nightwing. OOC :   zeta. 22. they/them. @robinreturns