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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

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Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

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drawing-way-outside-the-lines · 3 years

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Indefinite Hiatus.

To anyone reading this, I ask that you respectfully do not reblog this post, as it is very personal, thank you. That being said, the post is long, I’m a writer, what do you expect? But there were so many things I needed to get of my chest, whether anyone reads it all or not, simply doesn’t matter. I had to speak it all out, in order to move on. I will as such hide it under a cut, in case anyone should be curious why I am going on hiatus. Which I don’t usually do, I tend to just take off for a couple of days when things bother me enough to leave. But I thought this time I had to make an announcement, as it is quite possible I am simply just done with this place, and wont be returning. I simply don’t know at the moment, and none of what I write in this post, is written as a form of attention seeking, nor a way for me to get people to show me attention or beg me to stay. If I’m going, I’m going, and there’s nothing anyone can say that would make me stay. I simply make the announcement out of the respect for the few followers I still have some respect for. I wont just up and leave with no word when there’s people on here I still care about. So to be abundantly clear. This is a hiatus. I might be back. I might not be back. Only time will tell. I may some days hang around to check up on cc, you may even see me reply a person here and there, and not reply others. This isn’t anything personal towards anyone. I am simply a person who constantly bend over backwards for everyone else, then push myself repeatedly aside. And I am officially done with it. From now on if you see me online, on any sort of platform, I will not feel bad in any sort of way for not being available, simply because I am online. From now on I will only engage in things that resonate with me, when they resonate with me. Anything else steals my peace. And I no longer want to allow that. I might be gone a couple days, I might be gone a month. Maybe you wont ever see me return, and that’s that. I will take the time I need, even if that means for good. I will no longer put others before my own well being. I might even come by to reblog this post a few times, simply for the fact that I spent many hours, weighing my words, trying to make them as polite, yet clear as possible. I spent lots of time and energy on this, so if I during my hiatus come by to reblog it, it’s not a way to seek attention, or more likes/comments. It’s simply that I made a large effort, and I want as many of my followers to read this, so there’s no confusion as to why I am suddenly gone. If you want me to clarify further than that/you’re curious what finally made a “kind” person give up, it’s all below the cut:

I’ve been sitting on this for a couple days. Debating on whether I should say something or not. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to be as transparent as possible, in hopes that, it may, help someone else avoid being in a similar situation. Maybe someone will learn something along these lines of words I so carefully have put together. Preventing someone else from getting hurt. One can hope. And I also hope by speaking up, I can release the negativity I have been carrying, and set it free. Preventing it from weighing me further down. A few days ago, I entered one of my oldest characters, Odette, into a model casting, for Billsims. An experience that should have been fun and enjoyable, but instead resulted in making the decision to pull Odette out of the casting, to avoid Billsims potentially getting in trouble. You see, on the application info post, Billsims mentioned that it would be nice if a bit of info would be written about the sim we would enter, but it wasn’t a must. I decided, as a writer, to write a bit about my character, cause you betcha, as soon as someone mentions they might want a few words about a character of mine, -and my words start spilling like iced tea on a hot summers day! So I added the basic info I thought Odette herself would find important. Among that, I mentioned she’s a ‘Romanian Gypsy’. I did this to best clarify what Ethnicity she has, and what she classifies herself as. If I had simply written ‘Roma/Romani’, many people might not have understood what was meant. And I wanted to be as clear as possible about her, plus the word Gypsy, is simply what she has chosen for herself. I furthermore added she’s a proud woman, and a Pagan. Surprise surprise, someone didn’t like this info, and decided it was okay to point that out on my application post. I still don’t understand some people’s need to constantly nitpick at anything they see online, specially in public, and specially when it comes to people simply having a hobby, enjoying said hobby peacefully, without harming anyone. Now, the post is still up on my blog, the comments are still there. Anyone is free to go have a look if they wish to know exactly what was said. But that being said, I hope and would like to think my followers are old enough to not attack anyone. Please. It wont solve anything. I also ask that no one bother Billsims about the matter, he was perfectly wonderful about it all, and had no issue with neither me, nor Odette. I was the one who decided to pull her out of the casting, in order to protect him, he even told me I was more than welcome to enter someone else. I decided against that however, to protect my peace. Something a very wise person told me to do. Thank you. I stopped replying to the person after my first reply, simply cause I saw no reason to engage in a debate that would lead nowhere. It seemed as if they already had a rather twisted view of me or my character or what was going on, quite possible a mix of it all? So I let them stay in their belief. Trying to convince them otherwise seemed like a tedious task, I had no energy to take on. And I instead went for advice from a trusted person, and enjoyed a long peaceful and uplifting conversation, rather than a fruitless quarrel with someone that was already so sure I was out there doing all sorts of harmful things through my character. I suppose the person commenting wasn’t a follower of mine, and if they were, I cannot imagine them to be a longtime follower. You see, I am aware Gypsy by now is often seen as a ‘slur word’, as this person was trying to educate me. I do not write something into my characters without making at least some sort of research first. Had this person been a long term follower, they would have known, I rarely ever use that word. As a matter of fact, not so long ago, I posted the bio of another character, Gabriella, she was also listed as ‘Romanian Gypsy’. So is the rest of the Lupei clan that both Odette and Gabriella belong to. They have always been listed as such. Ever since I started on Simblr 5 years ago. No one has ever commented on it before. And when I posted Gabriella’s bio earlier this Autumn, I was even met with surprise that I have Roma characters. So it seems, even long term followers hadn’t noticed. Which must mean, I am certainly not a person spreading the word around. It’s not the first time, I have had to get ‘whipped over the back of my head with a wet newspaper,’ by someone who thought I needed some schooling. I have had that experience twice before. So 3 times in total the 5 years I’ve been here. What a rebel I must be, since I have had to be corrected so many times. Once for having many gay characters in Polyamorous relationships. Once for having twins/blood related characters dating each other, and was as result accused of saying incest is right and spreading it as if everyone should be doing it. Which I never did, and never would. We have Game Of Thrones doing that already. First of, I simply don’t agree with that. I don’t think incest is right. However, I also don’t think it is wrong, if the people involved love each other and can make it work. And yes, that is possible. The person getting their panties in a twist over River and Jackall being a couple, did mention they had experienced incest close hand, so I do wanna defend them, and give them their space to be outraged, since I could understand it was a trigger for them. However, I cannot prevent everyone’s triggers, nor is it my job to do so. It is up to you to avoid your triggers, and to find a way to deal with them, so when someone does trigger you, you can handle yourself the best way possible. The whole world is never gonna wrap you in cotton. You need to wrap yourself. It took me no more than 2 minutes to find a very informative Wiki article about how incest IN FACT can be between two consensual adults, which the individual claimed could NEVER exist. Furthermore it can happen between two consensual adults whom happen to love each other just as dearly as two people in a completely “normal” relationship can. Two minutes research was all it took. Imagine if people would do just a minimum effort of research BEFORE they start attacking other people. Imagine a world like that. By all means, if I were out there on the street corners of the world, with pamphlets promoting incest, drag me to a side and slap me. That aint cool. But I am just over here, in my quiet little corner, doing my own thing, which btw you are more than allowed to disagree with, but don’t come knocking on my door with your disagreement. The very few posts I have ever shown of my incestuous couples, have all been very tasteful. And although it is mentioned on each characters bio, whom they are in a relationship with, I think it’s been years since I last even posted a pic of any of said people. I have posted far worse things, and no one ever mate as much as a squeak about it. Still, you are allowed to disagree, I just wish you would handle it in a better way than schooling everyone who does something you mildly (or even strongly) disagree with, and save the schooling for the real issues such as child pornography, Nazi’s, global warming, racism, whether people should wear a mask or not, and any sort of abuse/bullying. Here’s three alternatives I welcome on the other hand: 1. Scroll on. (I have talked with several of my long term followers, and they have confirmed they don’t always agree with the things I post, but they follow anyway, because they enjoy the majority of what I post, and the rest they simply scroll past. It doesn’t ruin their day, or their enjoyment of following my blog in general.) 2. Unfollow. You are always more than welcome to unfollow A-NY-THING on social media, if you do not like what you are seeing. When you subscribe to something/someone, the moment you no longer enjoy what you are seeing, you always have the chance of unfollowing. It’s not a permanent subscription for the rest of your life. Nor a chance for you to try to change what others are posting about. Specially as long as it isn’t harming anyone. 3. Block. The button exist on the vast majority of social media for a reason. Use it if you believe something or someone is so bad that it/they steal your sunshine. Block block block, and move away from it. If you keep hanging onto something you have blocked, what’s the point really? You’re still allowing it to affect you. Move on. And for the umpteenth time, even if my characters does something/say something/engage in something, doesn’t necessarily have to mean I agree with them/their choices/their lifestyle. With some things I do, others I don’t. I’m a writer. I enjoy writing things that challenges me, and challenges the reader. I simply don’t find joy in writing the typical white picket fence story where everyone fits into society, and everything is butterflies and Dandelions. But at the same time, I also don’t run around nitpicking at the people who do enjoy writing or reading these types of stories. The thing is, it’s fiction, right? I’m not writing about real life characters. So I ask you, do you believe every piece of fiction you have ever read? Does Lord Of The Rings or Harry Potter align with real life? If you can say no to that, then why on earth are you so dead sure that the fiction I write align with reality? For the last time, I do NOT agree with incest. For my characters, which btw doesn’t end at just River and Jackall, I do believe in it, simply for the circumstances of how the relationships happened. But you would have to read my whole story to finally understand it all. But I am not cramming it down your throat, specially if you have already made it clear you disagree. To that I once again want to add, my story is nowhere public, so I am really not in any way educating anyone on incest or ‘Gypsies’ or polyamory or anything else. I think polyamory is cool for the people who enjoy it. Have I personally ever been in a poly relationship? No. But I am at the belief people can do with their private life what they wish, as long as they aren’t harming anyone and everyone involved agrees. And to get back to what this post originally was intended to be about, the matter on Odette’s post, I have a few last things I need to say before I put the matter to rest: I'm not representing all of Romani, when I speak for my character(s). I never once mentioned this is how all Romani is. So if that’s what you read, that is on you and the words you add to mine, not my actual words or intention. I'm simply allowing my character and her family to be whatever they want to be, and call themselves however they see fit. As long as they are good kind people, it shouldn't matter much what they call themselves, as long as they don't use slur words for others. I never once claimed that all Romani is Pagan. Odette is. Her father or twin brother, isn't. Odette comes from a mixed background, and is as such a mix herself. And how beautiful is that? Wouldn't it be a shame, if we were only ever allowed to be just one thing in this life? I am not out here educating people on Romani culture, I am not calling people Gypsy in real life, nor do I do it online. In fact I don't call anyone anything in real life, cause people's skin tones simply doesn't matter that much to me. We are all just shades. No shade is more important than the other. We are all decaying plant food. Really. Odette has proudly chosen this word for herself, just as her family before her has been proud to do so. I have in no way portrayed my characters in the meaning of any sort of slur word. They are all highly intelligent well educated people. Odette is under education as a nurse. Her father is a well known and well respected doctor. Furthermore, they are all shape-shifters, whom can shift into very large wolves. Odette’s father being the Alpha. Wait, does that mean I am calling all Romani werewolves? It’s fiction. I am not standing on some stool somewhere preaching to anyone. I’m just me and my characters. I keep it between them and I 99% of the time. My roomie has a friend whom proudly calls herself a Gypsy. She has family whom proudly call themselves Gypsies. So not everyone views this word as bad. And yes there are real life people out there, who sees the word as positive and call themselves by it. Are you going to run after them too, and dictate what they are allowed to call themselves? Or is that only reserved for Simblr’s you disagree with? You simply can’t box up a whole minority like that and claim the word is always offensive and no one is allowed to use a specific word to describe themselves. Furthermore: Mixed background/ethnicity/religious beliefs/spiritual beliefs is a thing in the real world too, not something I made up over night to harm anyone. 'Gypsy' has never been said as a slur word coming from me, it was never ill-intended, and never will be, just like gay never will be said as a slur or ill-intention coming from me. Yet gay is also a word that has quite often been used as a slur. And still is. So, should we stop using it all together? No. It can be said in good intention, and in bad, it all depends on the person using the word. And people should surely be allowed to call themselves gay, shouldn’t they? Never have any of my Romani characters been portrayed in a bad light. (Or gay characters for that matter, but that's not what the subject is about) And if they ever would be portrayed in a bad light, it would certainly have nothing to do with them being Romani. I personally see no point in that. My story and my characters are a source of joy for me, I have no intention of bringing racism into it. Now, we can agree that the word Gypsy is by now used as a slur, but it wasn't originally a slur, and once again, I do believe a person is allowed to call themselves whatever they may wish. Odette and her family wouldn't call other people Gypsies, unless they knew they were okay with it, and proud. Added to that, I do not believe a word can be racist or a slur in itself. A word is just a word. A string of consonants and vowels tied together to create a sound. It's the person using the word, who gives it ill-intentions, not the word itself, unless it was deliberately created with the only intention of hurting. Which as far as I am aware, wasn't the origin of the word Gypsy. 'Roma (Gypsies) originated in the Punjab region of northern India as a nomadic people and entered Europe between the eighth and tenth centuries C.E. They were called "Gypsies" because Europeans mistakenly believed they came from Egypt. This minority is made up of distinct groups called "tribes" or "nations." Most of the Roma in Germany and the countries occupied by Germany during World War II belonged to the Sinti and Roma family groupings. Both groups spoke dialects of a common language called Romani, based on Sanskrit (the classical language of India). The term "Roma" has come to include both the Sinti and Roma groupings, though some Roma prefer being known as "Gypsies." ' - Source: https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/roma-gypsies-in-prewar-europe So to really boil this whole thing down to the bone, so hopefully this wont ever be an issue again: I do not use the word Gypsy in my day to day life. By creating a character who addresses herself as Gypsy AND also happens to be a Pagan, I do NOT in any way indicate that all ‘Gypsies’ are Pagans. I simply state that my character is. Nothing more, nothing less. I do not agree with incest in real life, though I do believe people are allowed to do with their private life as they see fit, as long as they aren’t harming others, and everyone involved is agreeing. I do not promote Poly relationships. Although once again, I’m a firm believer that people are allowed to do with their private life as they see fit yadda yadda... I do not promote being gay or any other sort of sexuality for that matter. Not that I have ever been accused of that, but I wanted to cover it anyway, cause who knows, it might be the next one I should get corrected for. I have a few times mentioned being trans, that was also not in any way a promotion. I do not promote Necrophilia. And here I really must snort. Some years ago (on an old blog, not this one) some very dear followers of mine, gently persuaded me to make some rather graphic pictures of my character Raven, literally f*ck*ng some corpses. It was posted in October as some satirical Halloween-ish post, as far as I remember, and was started from a simple question of, IF, it could be done in ts3? I was then challenged to do it. I did. People clapped. I’m sure others cried. But to my surprise my follower numbers didn’t drop, they increased? No one came running to ‘teach me a lesson’. No one came around to tell me what my demon was allowed to do or not. He was free to do whatever/whomever he wanted. And that’s the thing. There’s so many things in my story, and about my characters, that you don’t know. Cause I don’t post it out there for everyone to see. Cause I am not trying to promote a thing. I am simply here to challenge myself, and along that line challenge the few people I ever trusted to be my readers. You see, I don’t write for the numbers, meaning I don’t write a story that is meant to have a large following. I write for me, cause it is one of the only things that has ever helped me get through life, and fight some of my inner demons, to fight complications, to fight grief, to cope with all sorts of personal things I’m going through, and to have a place to escape to when life is too scary. I write for the content, the depth, for me, not for the fame, not for likes, not for anyone else. This is mine, and I don’t promote it on any scale, I keep 99% of it in private, and the rest I do air in public I air on a very minimal scale. If you decide to get offended about the fact that I drizzled a specific word once on a post, and a handful of times on my personal bios, well, that’s on you. It’s not a word I am out there spreading like a wildfire. People that has followed me for years never saw it till recently. Which should really speak loud of how little that word has ever come from me. I’m a respectable person. I do my best to respect everyone around me. At any time. Even when people don’t deserve an ounce of my respect. But that does not mean I should be weighed down with the burden of never offending anyone, cause then I might as well never speak again. Fact is, now more than ever, people are so offended by almost anything they can come across on social media. Jumping to conclusions here and there, when all they could do is simply ask, before getting offended and as a result decide to school or attack everyone around them. For no one to ever get offended again, we should all log out, and never sign in again. Why does it have to go to these extremes where no one can speak a word any longer, cause everything is an offense, a trigger, a slur? So I stay here in my little corner, doing me, doing my characters the way I like them. It is up to you to agree or disagree. You are free. But don’t come at me expecting I’ll change a thing for you. Cause you will only get disappointed. These people and their story is my way to cope with life, and as long as I am not out there shouting slur words at people or promoting certain ways of lifestyle, or deliberately harming anyone in any form of way, I cannot see why I shouldn’t be allowed. Just as you are allowed to do your own coping. Just as you are always allowed to scroll on, unfollow or even block things/people, you disagree with. Odette stays the way she is. So does the rest of my characters. It wont ever change because someone disagrees. The only way my characters change, is by character development, which mostly they decide for themselves. And I simply don’t see it in the cards that Odette will wake up and not feel Gypsy or stop using that word to describe herself, cause she personally sees nothing negative in it. Nor will she stop being Pagan because her mixed religion/background is making you uncomfortable. There’s plenty Christians out there, with Jesus or Bible quotes tattooed on them, yet Leviticus 19:28 say: Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the Lord. Interpret that the way you want it. But allow my character to do her religion the way SHE sees fit, simply for the fact that I am sure you want the same respect. I will not ever change my characters or my story for anyone but myself. You can express your dislike from here and until you get tired of repeating yourself, you can unfollow, you can block, you can even report me and get my posts taken down. You can even take it as far as getting my blog shut down. It wont make a difference. My story has been written for 6 years, some characters was written even longer than that. The story is over 200 book-length-chapters, close to 300 as a matter of fact. If I should change anything for a person I don’t even know, it would be almost 300 chapters I would have to reread and rewrite. Would you do that for some person that came by a post of yours, disagreeing with the way you portrait your own original character? If your answer is yes, I truly feel sorry for you. Lastly I want to say, try to be kind. Try to breath before you go and attack someones way of doing their own thing. Before you accuse someone of portraying something a certain way, maybe take a look at the persons previous work. Is it a one time thing, or is it a reoccurring matter? It may just be an itsy bitsy thing that you are blowing out of proportions, sorta like entering a conversation you know nothing about and then start correcting people left and right. It makes little to no sense, and in most cases, even if you might be meaning well, you end up doing more harm than good. Like in this case. You didn’t get to teach someone something they didn’t already know. You didn’t stop someones inappropriate behavior. What you did on the other hand, was extinguishing someones last spark. Their last will to keep going. You take that to the bank now, and be proud of yourself. Was it worth it? You can always accuse and assume. You’re free to do just that. But maybe in the future, try to replace accuse and assume with politely asking if your ‘concern’ is valid or not. Try to be mindful, try to be kind, try to consider that maybe the person you are about to put on the school bench/attack/bully or whatever you are about to do, is fighting an invisible battle you know nothing about. Maybe you are going to be the last straw for them. So try to weigh it all, is your righteous crusade worth it? Is it worth it to spill your two cents on a possible harmless matter, just so you can feel you fought a righteous battle and took someone ‘evil’ down, whom in fact were just trying their best to survive, by doing the one thing that helps them through it all, in their own little corner, harming no one. You know, there are tons of people like that out there. Making someone online feel so absolutely useless/worthless that they end up taking their own lives. Then blame the victims for it. Now, I might be a pretty strong person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be at the end of my rope, and you simply don’t know. Do you? Thank you for taking your time to extinguish my last spark.

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like-rain-or-confetti · 4 years

Text

Request: Angel!Reader x Alec Volturi

Just a little note: I’ve changed the timeline in a one off scenario for this. So if you’re confused because there are characters dead or alive/not even born before or after the timeline events. Don’t worry- you’re not going crazy. I just went crazy writing lmao. Also I was listing to ‘Ghost’ by Jacob Lee whilst writing some scenes:)

A chilled breeze hit you, but you couldn't feel the cold. You stood on the edge of the roof of a high rise building, looking down at the blur of city lights below. Another breeze whooshed by you, the back of your shirt billowing in the breeze and ruffling your feathers. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyeing your wings. Any second now you'd find the way. You took a deep breath, the world was quiet at such a height, peaceful even whilst the city street below were rampant. After all it was the city that never sleeps. It lived up to the name long before it was given.

Just like that, there it was. A tiny urge, you found him, you found the way to him. Volterra, Italy. Vampire- that was a new one for you. You didn't know what he looked like but you didn't have to know. You'd know him when you saw him. You raised your arms out spread, time to go. You leaned forward, falling off the ledge head first. You were picking up speed very fast it was only a matter of time before you'd hit the ground-but it never came. You were gone before anyone noticed.

Your eyes ran up and down the tour guide Heidi. She was a vampire and no doubt did she intend you and the other tourists to be dinner. However, little did she know you weren't on the menu. She was beautiful a very luring trap...but you could see through her tricks. She was very beautiful but it didn't trick you like it would humans and vampires. You fell back to the end of the line and snuck away after entering the throne room doors.

As the many more vampires lunged you pressed yourself against the wall and crouched low, not making eye contact with anyone and curling into a ball. This was never a pleasant sight but the smaller you were, the less likely you'd be attacked. The screaming, crying, growling, snarling and the noise of breaking bones left you tense.

In minutes it was over, a steady silence filling the room. "We missed one." A light angelic voice said. You looked over to see all red eyes on you and a blonde girl smirking in glee. However they didn't hold your attention for very long. You heard a choked whimper to see a woman, alive but dying as a blonde man had his teeth latched to her shoulder. He seemed to be the only one who didn't look at you although a copper-haired woman was standing over him almost as though guarding him. Slowly you stood up straight, your eyes full of sympathy. The dying woman looked at you pleadingly. Silently begging you for help.

Slowly you stepped over a marble bench. You slowly moved towards the blonde woman. She lay covered in blood and had to have been in her mid-forties. You knelt down beside her. "It's okay." You said lightly. "You can let go." You shook your head, keeping your voice low and quiet. "I know you're afraid." The woman's wide fearful eyes stayed on you before her she went limp, her eyes glazing over.

The blonde man finally let go and his gaze also met yours. "Pain." The small blonde girl said with a sinister smile. You looked over at her and suddenly her expression changed to one of confusion, her eyes narrowing on you even further. A dark haired man looking between you and the blonde before speaking softly. "Jane." The blonde tore her gaze from you to the dark haired man. "Master."

The man then turned back to you, approaching you. "You've made a very peculiar impression, little one. How have you not been noticed?" Your eyes ran up and down the man. He wasn't the one you were looking for. He seemed to notice your scrutiny before holding out his hand. "Would you do me the honour?" You held out your hand, not entirely certain of what he wanted you to do. He quickly enclosed your hand in his. He was cold, you had never been in contact with a vampire before. "I see nothing." He said faintly. "Fascinating." Your eyes narrowed on him this time. "What were you hoping to find?" You asked. "I am...a soul reader of sorts. I have the gift of seeing every thought someone had ever had. Regrettably, I see nothing of yours." "Oh, you won't." You said passively much to the vampires surprise. "Your name, my dear?" That threw you off, you were given a name but you were rarely asked for it. So naturally, you had to remind yourself of your name. It was a tendency to forget it after some time. "(Y/N)." "(Y/N)... what's your last name?" A blonde male sitting on a throne snapped. "I don't have one." You said pointedly. "Don't be ridiculous. You're family name, what is it!?" "I wasn't given one. I don't have a family. It's just me. Just (Y/N)." You paused. "Besides, it isn't ridiculous. Might I ask if you remember your last name? Being vampires, you'd be the first to forget." The dark haired man cut the blonde man off before he could shout. "You know of us?" "Yes. I've known since I saw that woman. Heidi, right? That was her name?" "How do you know of us?" The blonde man asked icily, gripping the arms of his throne tightly. "I can't be sure you'd believe me if I told you but...I can show you?" The dark haired man seemed excited by this and nodded.

Gasps filled the room as large white wings were suddenly visible on your back. They moved slightly with your breathing, each feather pure white and overlapping one another. "Fascinating." The dark haired man said in awe. "Angelo." You cracked a small smile. "I’m looking for someone. We get callings you see, for people we have to be around. It's someone in this castle. Unfortunately, I cannot leave until my business is done with that individual." "Then introductions are in order." The dark haired man said. "My name is Aro." He turned on his heel, gesturing to the two men on their thrones. "This is Caius..." He pointed to the blonde. "...and Marcus." He glided his way towards the smaller vampires in the room. They were definitely related. "The twins; Jane and Alec."

When you met eyes with the male, you knew immediately he was the one you were looking for, but you didn't say anything. "Demetri and Felix." Aro led you to two tall men, the smaller was blonde whilst the other had brown hair. Lastly he led you to the other blonde that had been hovering over the woman and the red headed woman. "This is Afton and Chelsea." Aro informed you of how many guards there were, he, Marcus and Caius being the leaders of what they called 'the Volturi'. The police for vampires.

"I must inform you that I am aware of who my...'client' is." You thought over the word, not entirely sure how to out it. "Oh?" Aro tilted his head. "I must make eye contact with the person to know who it is." You nodded to Alec. "That is you." He looked stunned momentarily before tilting his head. "Why? Why him?" Jane asked icily. "I don't know, that's up to Alec. We look over people by random chance, a handful each. Alec is one of mine seemingly." "He isn't yours!" Jane snapped. "No, you misunderstand. Alec is his own person, I don't own him nor can I harm him the idea is that I can help him." "Why would I need your help with anything?" Alec sneered. "That's up to you. I'm only here when necessary." "I don't want you and I don't want to be followed by a dead person. Bother someone else." He snapped and you chuckled with a shake of your head. "Humans think angels are people who have lived and died. It's not true. We're those who didn't get to live. We watch everyone else play the game knowing all we can do it spectate. To you, a vampire, you could consider me a ghost in the end. Life is a gift, an adventure. You're all stories to me. I'll watch the beginning of your life all the way to the end." Aro seemed so interested by your very being that he insisted you stayed, overriding Alec's annoyance immediately. Furthermore, going as far as to tell him in a very delicate way to get over it.

It seemed the twins were used to being told no and when you learned more about him, only then did you get a rough idea as to why you may have been called to him. He and his sister was alone and suffering from the brutality from humans- accused of witch craft beer less and burned at the stake. They're abilities made them terrifying. They were completely isolated from the world.

Alec's aggression began to melt gradually, although he still very much didn't want you around. You could see a small bit of fear behind his eyes. He didn't understand you or what you could do. There was no trust but you were content with that. The two of you had time.

Finally, he seemed willing to talk to you, even if it was two months later. "I don't understand. I'm trying to understand you, but I don't. I don't see the point." You sighed in response. "Why should I trust you?" Alec asked. "Because I don’t have any ill intentions." "No...why should I trust you? Why should I consider you anything other than what you are? You're a stranger." "Then consider me a stranger who could be a friend." You said softly, cracking a small smile at Alec.

The Volturi decided to visit the Cullen's and check up on Renesmee. Much to their surprise, so had the Romanians. However, seemingly out of respect for the Cullen's, they were willing to co-exist...by avoiding one another directly.

As expected, it didn't take long for the Romanians to start asking questions. None of which were new in the slightest. “Why should anyone in this room believe you?” Stefan asked. “You won’t prove yourself, you won’t tell us anything- so why should we cling to any word you say?” You laughed slightly before meeting eyes with him. "Tell me, do you really need to know everything? Knowing the explanation for something doesn't change it. Humans are slowly beginning to catch on that the universe, the world, everything doesn't need to be understood to function. If I told you all the secrets there is, it wouldn't change anything but you. That isn’t always a good thing, that isn’t the point of living. Besides, you'll end up like us in the end. A lonely shadow of what could have been."

Alec noticed the way you spoke. You were always so dismissive of yourself. As though you had no value. It was bizarre to see an angel with with no regard for their own kind but thought the world of humans...and even vampires. Angels were considered superior beings yet you seem to think it was the other way about. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, you were like a puzzle that he tried so desperately to solve yet each time he thought he had, there’s a whole other perspective that told him he was wrong. Vladimir finally asked his own question. "If you have all the answers then why don't you fix the world?" Your answer was short, simple and given with a simple smile."Because it's not my place to fix the world. It's yours. The world is what you made it to be."

One night, Harry Clearwater’s eyes drifted open and was immediately welcomed by your warm smile. He was in the hospital, that he knew but he couldn’t focus on that, or much else for that matter. You sat on a chair that Seth had previously left out whilst visiting. “Hi.” You said gently. “You don’t know me…” You quickly explained “but that’s alright. You don’t have to worry. I’m here to help you for this next part.” His clouded gaze drifted to fix on your eyes. Harry’s fingers twitched slightly and before he could move them any further, you took his hand in your own. Just as he wanted. “Don’t be afraid, Harry. Everything is okay. Nothing can hurt you. It’s time to go now.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes. “I…can’t. Seth…Leah.” His voice was cracked and barely a whisper. You leaned forward. “They aren’t children anymore. You’ve done a beautiful job raising them. You’ve done so much and been so much. Be kind to them, be kind to yourself. Don’t fight this, don’t suffer and make them watch. I’ve watched you since you were born, Harry.” You lightly shook your head. “It’s time to go.” He still seemed uncertain and you squeezed his hand in comfort. “I’ll be right here with you. I’m here to help. I was there when you were born and I’m here now. Let go.” You leaned over him, your head hovering over his heart. Harry saw a soft white glow emit from you but couldn’t trust it was real. Gradually white transparent wings moved into his line of sight as he felt himself slip away. Your eyes fluttered shut hearing his heart slow to a stop.

You met Carlisle in his kitchen. He had just returned home from his shift and you were eager to properly meet him. He didn’t seem to know you were there for Harry Clearwater before he died. "If I didn't know better, I'd have said you were modest." You smiled at Carlisle. "I'm just doing my job." “You’re a good man, Carlisle. People like you are exceptionally rare. I’ll admit it, I’m very fond of you.” “Thank you. That’s very gracious of you. You're (Y/N), aren't you? Alec's friend?” Carlisle said softly. You looked up at him but never answered him, instead continuing. “You don’t believe me.” You smiled. “I do good deeds to repent for my sins. My kind…I do good in the hopes that I’m somehow improving who I am and what I am. That’s a selfishness. I should do good and expect nothing and think nothing in return.” Carlisle explained. “Your father taught you that.�� Carlisle paused. “He’d detest what I’ve become.” You placed your hand over his, lowering your voice. “I can’t give you forgiveness. You have to forgive yourself, Carlisle. I can tell you that you’re forgiven. I could say it forever and it wouldn’t change a thing. It wouldn’t change that you haven’t forgiven yourself.” You looked down, wiping down a counter. “That’s the secret only few have caught onto. Forgiveness is very freeing but it’s only so when the person forgives themselves. You’re not your father. You didn’t always agree with him and that is your right. That is your path. You did what any loving son would. You do good and don’t expect a reward, you want to help people. You’d offer forgiveness to anyone in a second. So forgive yourself.”

"So why do you stay? Who do you take orders from?" Vladimir asked. Your brow crinkled slightly. "I have a job to do, it's the very reason why I exist. I don't get orders from anyone." "So it is you who judges us?" You frowned slightly. "I'm not God." You said lightly. "Is there a God?" Stefan asked "Does it matter?" You shot back. "This stuff really doesn't change anything in your lives. You're supposed to decide on your life for yourself. You do what you think you should and you carry on. That's what it means to be alive. Enjoy it. Not all of us can say the same thing."

Your attention was gained by Renesmee who was eager to catch you before you left with the Volturi. You crouched down, looking up at her. "Can I see your angel wings?" Renesmee asked lightly. You hummed, propping your elbow on top of your knee, resting your head on your hand. "I think you could...if you look hard enough." Renesmee gave you a confused look and you tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before standing up and turning to head back to the Volturi. A small gasp escaped Renesmee when she saw white dazzling wings now on your back, where they hadn't been prior. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at her.

You returned to Volterra to be met with Marcus after attending to another death. A vampire named Laurent. "My apologies, I had somewhere to be. A send off." You said politely to Marcus who stood in the kitchen. However you were met with silence and a cold gaze. "What is it Marcus?" You asked, placing your hands on the kitchen counter as you stood beside him. “If you are all powerful, where were you when I needed you? Where were you when Didyme needed you?” Marcus asked. You looked up at him. “The assumption is that angels are powerful, in some ways we can be…” You lightly shook your head with sympathy. “…but not in the way that you think. I could never stop anyone dying. I can help them, ease their suffering if allowed but I can’t stop death. Angels see everything but can’t interact. It can be a curse but it is what it is. Angels have never left you Marcus, nor did they leave Didyme. When someone experiences pain, it’s all they can see. You didn’t see us because you weren’t looking for us and that’s the truth.” You paused. “In all honesty, i think I’d want to feel the pain in your situation. Your grief has a beauty to it because it means you felt the most precious of loves in the world. Not everyone is so lucky.” Marcus’ mouth twisted. “You can’t even say you were there for the twins-” “I was.” You said immediately. “I was there for every second of that night.” “You did nothing.” “And if I did?” You asked Marcus lightly. “Wouldn’t you find anger towards me for not giving free will? That’s the alternative. It’s easier for you to blame me, which is fine, but I hope that one day you’ll find I am not the cause of your pain or anyone else’s. I’ve already told you. I never existed as a person to be the one at fault.”

You stood in the balcony with Alec. “You might blend in but... you’re remarkable. Really.” Alec said. You rolled your eyes playfully. “No i’m not.” “You are and you’re my friend. No one has ever been enough to be my friend. I won’t let you slip away.” "I'm not alive, Alec. What I think and want doesn't matter. I have a job to do and that's all I'm here for." You said simply with a light shrug. "I'm dead. I was born, I lived for a short while and then I died. You're point is?" Alec asked turning his head to look at you. You didn't answer. "You always talk about yourself like you're empty. Like you're nothing." Alec frowned slightly. "Aren't I?" You asked. "I never lived. I was never born." "But you exist." Alec pressed. "I see the beauty in you, just the way you are." You turned your head to look at Alec. "You would have been a beautiful human. A beautiful soul." Alec looked at you. "Yeah?" You asked lightly. Alec nodded. "I'm learning something." Alec began. "And what's that?" You asked quietly. "Even a ghost needs a friend...so..." Alec trailed off before putting his hand over yours. You smiled slightly. "I'm still not a ghost." "Shut up. You're better than a ghost." Alec smirked pulling you closer into his side. "You're an angel." “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be human. To ...live.” You said quietly and mostly to yourself. Alec reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers in between your own. “What are you doing?” You asked quietly. “Helping.” Alec said simply pulling you to him, his arm winding around your waist. Slowly he forced you to sway with him. “Dancing?” You whispered and Alec only hummed in response. Gently you rested your head against his. “I’ve never done this before.” You mumbled and Alec cracked a smile. “No?” “I’m usually, the spectator.” He chuckled quietly. “Not anymore, sweet-face.” You didn’t see Alec immediately bite his lip, the name slipping out before he could catch it.

One day, he asked the burning question that had seared his mind since he met you."Why don't you ever tell me why you came here?" "Because I don't know the answer to that." You said. "How can you come to me if you don't know why?" "I do know why I came to you. I just don't know the exact reason you want." "I want the truth! You just said you didn't know why and now you do!" Alec snapped he rose to a stand, anger in his eyes. "I know why I'm here but I don't know the exact details and it's those details that you want! I can't give you those details because it's you who is supposed to give me the reason why I'm here." "I'm not going to ask again." Alec said lowly. "Tell me what you do know! Tell me why you're here! Tell me why you just showed up here!" He yelled. “We’re only noticed when we need to be!” You said through a stiff jaw. “What does that mean!?” Alec scowled at you. Your gaze lifted to meet Alec’s and gave him a gentle smile. “You needed me.”

Alec seemed to falter slightly at your words. He knew you were right. He needed someone and just like that you were in his life. Even if he didn't want to admit it. He needed a friend, and you were there days later. Suddenly your words made sense. Alec had sent you to Volterra. You came because he needed you, even if he didn't want to think so. Although that being said, being his friend was enough for him anymore. He cared about you too much for you to ever have remained as just a friend. You had become everything to him even if you thought you were nothing and he had no issue telling you otherwise. He had no other intention than to prove to you that your importance- however long it took.

Alec held out his hand and you took it, looking at him warily. He pulled you to a stand. "I need you to know something." "What is it?" Alec shook his head. "Stay here, in this moment with me." Alec said suddenly. "Don't move." You didn't respond but confusion flickered in your eyes momentarily. "I can't be your friend anymore because I need to do something. It will very likely ruin our friendship." "Then why would you do it?" You asked quietly. "Trust me." Alec breathed before his lips met yours. His hands holding your head in place.

You felt the time had come to finally approach Marcus. To try and help him heal, even if only slightly. Didyme’s death was easier before he knew you and now that he knew of such things as angels, he couldn’t help but think of his beloved Didyme. You knocked quietly on the door before entering. “Hey, can I talk to you?” Marcus somberly nodded. “I feel that the knowledge of my existence has thrown you off balance. I wanted to try and fix that.” “I think you’re wonderful.” Marcus spoke up. “As would Didyme if she were here but you change everything. I can no longer wonder where she could be- if she is somewhere. The fact that you won’t tell us where or if they go somewhere else, if my Didyme is alone like i am...it’s destroying me.” You took Marcus' hand and squeezed it. "Marcus," You said quietly. "I can only tell you one thing and it's absolutely true. Didyme died but she didn't die alone. Someone was with her for every step of the way." You cracked a small and slightly teary smile. "No one is ever alone when they die." Marcus' dark eyes stared you down. You could see the emotions flooding him but he stayed still and quiet. Suddenly, you felt his fingers wrap around your own. You figured out what had come over him. Acceptance. Acceptance which washed away the anger he held.

#request #twilight #volturi #the volturi #alec volturi #angel!reader #one shot #oneshot

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the-toppat-king · 3 years

Text

Chapter Seven: Recovery

Everything hurts.

That was the first thought Henry had as he started waking up. Briefly, he tried collecting his memories. He'd escaped from the Wall, they'd called the Toppats, he'd been shot and fell...

He'd died.

Henry shot upright, regretting it instantly as intense pain shot through his body. He doubled over with a groan, gritting his teeth.

"Hey, take it easy." Someone said. He took a few deep breaths, looking up. A blonde woman had her hand on his shoulder, peering at him through rose-colored glasses. "You were gone for a bit, you're lucky I could bring you back."

He raised his hands to start signing. He had so many questions for her, so many things that needed answered.

He froze, staring at his left hand.

It was gone, replaced by a new, metal limb. His right hand dropped to his lap as he slowly turned his left one.

A blue light on his palm, and at a simple thought, it suddenly shifted, smoothly changing into a narrow, sharp blade. How did I-?

"You learn so quickly!" The doctor beamed, clasping her hands together. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien. You fell quite a distance, which was bad enough but you had the misfortune of hitting some very sharp, jagged rocks before you rolled into the water. I caught you in my fishing net." Her smile fell, and she crossed her arms. "I was not happy to catch a Toppat in my net instead of my next meal, however."

Henry looked back up, his hand turning back into...well, a hand. "Where am I?" He finally signed.

"On my boat, of course. Russian waters." She replied simply. "Now I want to hold you a few days to make sure you adjust alright and there are no further complications."

"What about the Toppats?"

"If you want to stay off my nerves, you'll do wise not to mention them too often, Suave." Dr. Vinschpinsilstien replied a bit sternly. "But they're fine. Reginald, Right and your other two friends have already been here to see you."

"That's not my name anymore."

She blinked. "What?"

"S-U-A-V-E," He signed back, spelling it out. "That's not my name, I had it changed. It's S-T-I-C-K-M-I-N now, doctor." His brow suddenly furrowed. "How do you know my name, though?"

"I was a Toppat under your father's reign." She replied, writing something down on a clipboard. "He was incompetent and an utter ass, so I left. But you were always quite the troublemaker," There was a flash of amusement on her face. "Quite memorable, in fact, I didn't need to know you personally to be able to recognize you."

Henry cringed a bit. He didn't really remember much from his father's reign, but he knew that people were often injured, killed or even captured in his raids. If Dr. Vinschpinsilstien was a doctor then, he could hardly blame her for leaving. He could easily imagine her tired of patients coming to her and dying before she even had a chance to ease their pains. "I'm sorry. I don't remember much, but I've heard of how many people were injured and killed because of his plans. It must have been hard."

She blinked a few times at him, then dipped her head. "There is nothing you could have done, Henry. Terrence was an idiot, nothing to be done about that. Sadly, you can't fix stupidity."

Henry laughed a bit. Even though there was clearly a lot of bitterness, at least she had some humor.

"In any case." She shook her head. "You also have a few new...features." The doctor reached back, pressing somewhere on his new spine. Henry jumped as a pair of jet wings shot from his back. He twisted to look at them, eyes wide.

"Where did those come from? How did they fit in there?" He signed, barely stopping himself from signing too quickly to understand. "I can fly now?"

"Normally I wouldn't add anything too fancy for a Toppat. But with your injuries, you may not be a Toppat for much longer."

Henry blinked a few times. "What?"

"Resuming leading the Toppat Clan is unwise. Your prosthetics are very fragile." She replied, frowning. "Single shot to your exposed spine and you will be dead in less than an hour as your failing cybernetics result in your body shutting down. The moment someone decides you are unfit to lead..."

Henry stared at her, looking away. He knew she was right, but leaving again? It felt wrong now, everything was finally coming together. "There's nothing else for me, though."

"You have friends, do you not?" She tilted her head. "Charles and Ellie. And just because you are not in the Clan does not mean you must say goodbye. You think your fathers will let you go without calling at least once a month? Family never truly says goodbye."

"I suppose you're right." Henry ignored the fact that she called Right and Reginald his fathers. He supposed she wasn't wrong, they were certainly more of fathers to him than Terrence ever was.

"You don't need to retire, and if you do, you don't need to now." She looked back down to the clipboard. "But consider it."

____________________________________________

The next few days weren't easy.

There were a few issues with his new spine, mostly the issue of the skin around the implant not wanting to heal correctly, and overall being sore. At least he had visitors often, Charles and Ellie decided to stay on the boat and Right and Reginald visited at least once a day.

"Why are we doing this again?" Henry signed with a sigh. At the moment he lay on his stomach while Dr. Vinschpinsilstien tinkered with his spine. He yelped when he felt metal pinch the spin, jolting a bit.

"Stay still." She huffed. "I'm trying to smooth the edges closest to your skin so your movement won't damage the skin. I underestimated how much the spine moves. I'm also raising the spine itself so your wings don't scrape against your skin upon being unsheathed."

"Have you ever done this on a spine before?"

"Not at all, this was experimental even by my standards." She replied. "Part of the reason I charged on the lower end."

Henry looked up at her, brows furrowed. "How much was it?"

"One hundred fifty thousand."

"Holy fuck."

She laughed a bit. "That's not much for the Toppat Clan, and you should know that. Especially with both the Tunisian Diamond and Romanian Ruby in the vault."

"Excuse me the diamond is mine and remains in my room." Henry signed with a huff. "Do you know how hard stealing that thing was? I almost died."

"Oh? So the Toppats weren't the one to steal it?" She asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"No, I heard Reginald was pissed when they tried to steal it and it was already gone." Henry laughed a bit as Dr. Vinschpinsilstien worked on unscrewing something. He glanced back, seeing her remove what he assumed was the folded version of one of his wings.

The fact that those fit in his spine would never cease to surprise him.

"I think I need to make these thinner." She muttered. "They aren't very aerodynamic and there's no way to prevent overheating."

Henry tapped the table to catch her attention before signing again. "What about fans? You may need to sacrifice size, but a fan could be used to cool off the inside. You can also use up less fuel if you add a sort of membrane for gliding, like a bat's wing."

She paused, looking at him. "Elaborate a bit more, if you will."

"Well, most large bird hover by catching streams of air, right? Obviously metal feathers might not work, but if the wings were more flexible and possibly shaped like a glider. Bursts of fuel would be needed to get into the air but if they're light enough not as much would be necessary to stay in the air."

"That's...not a bad idea. While most of the wing would still need to be metal for internal mechanisms, not as much power would be needed. Not bad, Stickmin." She jotted down a few notes before resuming her work. "...you know, should you actually choose to leave the Toppat Clan, I always have use for an assistant."

Henry jolted a bit, looking up at her. "You hate the Toppat Clan."

"I hate them as a whole, I never said anything about individual members. Besides, you're bright and a fast learner." She shaved down a sharp edge, careful not to hurt Henry too much. "That is, if you want the position."

"I'll think about it." He signed before folding his arms and laying his head down. It wasn't like he would have anywhere else to go, and he did enjoy the good doctor's company. She had mentioned at one point that she specialized in military-grade augmentations, maybe she could even get him a pardon if he stayed.

Of course there was the plan to leave earth but...did he really even want that? Did he really want to leave earth altogether? It felt wrong, like even with the Clan it'd be a lonely life.

"Was it still home for me?"

"Of course! You were always welcome back here, Henry, you're a Toppat."

Am I really? It doesn't feel that way. The Toppat Clan...it didn't feel like his place anymore. It didn't feel like home, like where he was meant to be. Sven, Right, Reginald, Thomas, Geoffery, they were still his family. But what about the others? Am I just overthinking it? Is it because I was gone for so long? Or is my absence why it's not my home anymore?

It was confusing, and it hurt his head to consider for too long.

"Doctor V? Could we see Henry?" Henry opened his eyes at Charles's voice, smiling a bit.

"Конечно, I don't need to much focus for this." She looked up. "I think Henry's a bit tired of signing, but he could use the company."

Charles nodded, practically skipping over and taking a seat next to Henry, Ellie following a bit slower. "I've been talking to General Galeforce."

"Mhm?"

"He said he's willing to pardon Ellie and leave you guys alone a few days if you help us take down the Wall." He said cheerfully. Henry lifted his head in interest. That was perfect! In the days they were left alone, the Toppats could finish preparations and leave!

"Kinda risky to take your eyes off them, isn't it?" Dr. Vinschpinsilstien asked suspiciously.

"At this rate our concern over the Wall and what they do is more important, especially with the fact that the Toppat Clan has been laying low, and, well, we can't actually pin them on any crimes yet. Not enough evidence." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You see, most of the people there aren't actually guilty of a crime bad enough to warrant being stuck there. I mean, there's a baguette burglar, a...toilet wizard, even someone who isn't even a criminal, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. At even the slightest hint of sickness, you're put in a small, filled quarantine cell with people a lot sicker than you are. Bodies are just-"

"Thrown into the ocean with the rest of their trash, I know." Dr. Vinschpinsilstien sighed. "You think that's the first time I caught a body in my net?"

"Problem is, no one can get in long enough to gather evidence. I was supposed to steal some of their files to prove their wrongdoings, but I got caught." He deflated a bit, then looked at Henry. "I...I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me, you'd be alright. You wouldn't have a metal spine."

Henry shook his head, pulling out his hands to sign. "I don't blame you. I probably would have been caught anyway, besides. Dmitri shot me, you couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

"But I-"

"Dmitri will not get away with that, Charles." Ellie spoke up, putting a hand on Charles's shoulder. "And you can make it up to Henry by helping make sure he never sees the light of day again."

Charles nodded, suddenly looking very determined.

"I say..." Ellie straightened up. "When Henry heals, we lay a trap. I can be bait, he'll want to recapture any of us. I can lead him to a cliff and we can corner him there. Then he has one of two choices: Jump, or let himself be arrested for his cruelty."

"Not a bad plan." The doctor shrugged. "Alright, Henry, try turning. See if it feels any better."

Henry sat up, stretching before twisting a bit. Unlike the last time, the metal didn't dig into his skin uncomfortably or draw any new blood. "That feels a lot better, doctor!" He signed excitedly.

"I'll take a few more days to fix your wings and watch you heal, then you can go back to the Toppat Clan and figure out a plan." Dr. Vinschpinsilstien sat back. "But in case we don't have a chance to talk like this again: I wish you three the best of luck. And...be careful." ____________________ Translation Конечно - Sure

#Chapters #The Toppat King #Henry Stickmin #Dr. Vinschpinsilstien #Charles Calvin #Ellie Rose

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 5 years

Text

Romanian Assassin

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Okay...so the title is pretty self explanatory, right? Do you like laughing until your stomach hurts, crying bc of feels, and feeling this wave of happiness once the characters you ship are finally together? Well honey, that’s what you’re getting I mean, who doesn’t love a sexy ‘Romanian’ speaking Assassin in a suit? This ain’t no Twilight honey.

WARNING: The following chapter(s) may include: Frustration, feels, mental tears, shook ovaries, and the feeling of wanting to rip the hair out of your fucking skull (Please don’t). SIDE EFFECTS may include: A sore abdomen from laughing too hard (might as well get that 6-pack, right?) lady feels, sore eyes from crying (as if we haven’t cried already) and ultra mega happiness.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THIS CHAPTER WILL BE SOFT BUT WILL HAVE YOU SHOOK okay? (also, pls tell me what you think pls)

My partner had happened to be this incredibly tall-roughly 6ft tall- handsome, with ultramarine deep blue eyes, and a nose that could easily be compared to a Greek’s. His jawline was sharp, just like the knives located under his shoes and sleeves and a tongue that could only speak fluent and quick Romanian.

Working as an assassin, you could either 1). Work for someone by protecting a certain individual or 2). Kill a dangerous target that would harm others.

“I’m so exhausted!” Proclaimed our current client, Kiara.

“I’m going to be taking a shower.” said the woman with a smooth and sultry voice. She turned around and her -not so natural brown curls- followed her as her white silky robe was starting to fall off her shoulders as if she wanted me and my partner to see. I look up to see her and smile at her as her eyes are focused on my partner who didn’t seem to pay any attention to her sitting from the couch.

He sharpened the considerably large pocket knife in his hand, running the blade against the steel rod in his grasp quietly before he paused, his broad shoulders tense as he turned his head up to look at us when he felt our stares, his face etched with slight irritation.

I look back at Kiara and notice that she dared to look at Sebastian-the two of them seemingly exchanging looks leaving me like a monkey in the middle. She bit her bottom lip and exposed her shoulders and moved her brown blonde hair to her side implying that she may need help.

Did she need to be supervised? I could look after her.

Anything could happen really. She could slip and break her head, the shower head could break her skull or she could have a heart attack in there. You never know with clients you know.

My partner looked at her-calculating and his eyes flicker down to her chest before going back to his knife sharpening and yawns and continues doing what he was doing in an uninterested gesture.

Kiara looked more than disappointed and drew her breath after the rejection.

Oh no.

“Uh here,” I said reaching into my bag-her look now on me as I grabbed a few bottles of shampoo and hair conditioning from my weapon bag and hand them to her.

“They’ve got the best scents and I really like the bottles this hotel carries, I mean, have you seen such a butterfly design like that? It looks real! I got as many as I could but don’t worry! I left as many thank you notes for the maids,” I explained as I showed her my multiple sticky notes and thank you notes that I take with me at all times.

She didn’t say anything before scoffing and turning her heel away from me and slamming the door behind her shut leaving me and my partner alone.

“Okay!” I wave with a small smile, “I hope you like them!” I say as I look back to the mint wrapper in my hand.

This hotel gave out the best pillow mints! I even ate Kiara and Sebastian’s mints and I don’t think they minded though...or so I hope not.

“Hey partner,” I say as I greet him, his eyes still focused on sharpening his knife.

“ I know you only speak Romanian but can you believe this is our first mission together?” I ask, “I’m glad we got our client to her destination and it feels like it was just yesterday you were cracking your knuckles looking like you wanted to punch me. Crazy, right?” I laugh at the fond memory of us in Robert’s office.

“Yeah just like that!” I point out with a smile as he cracks his knuckles again, the two rings on his hands emphasizing his muscular hands.

“I know you don’t understand me but I made you this,” I say as I place a sticky note in front of him on the table that reads

“vă mulțumesc partener” in Romanian (thank you partner).

He sent me a blank stare after looking at it making me give him a small smile in return.

“Nu suntem parteneri,” Sebastian finally spoke out (we are not partners).

I stare at him taking in the moment and remind myself to breathe.

“Oh wow, sorry. It’s just that you never say anything and I just wanted to appreciate the moment. But hey, I’m happy we are talking so that’s definitely progress.” I celebrated nodding with another small smile and extend my hand in hopes of getting a high five.

Sebastian then proceeds to get up and walk away without any warning ignoring my hand.

Do not, I repeat, don’t cringe or curl up into a ball from rejection. He spoke to you today! You should be ecstatic!

“Okay not in the mood? That’s fine! We can try another time. Whenever you’re ready!” I call out already noticing that he left the room before I could finish my words.

“Progress.” I say quietly and high five myself in reward.

Before I could do anything else, I hear a noticeable hard bump from the shower and see Kiara out.

“Oh my gosh are you okay?” I ask her as she’s gripping into her loose towel.

Can’t have the wife of a mafia boss hurt, can I?

“You’ve got a bruise!” I point out. “Do you want me to check it?”

“No!” She says quickly, “uhh, what I mean is, I’d love some help, but can you call Sebastian please?”

“Oh he’s in his room but I’m here now. I can check it now if you want-“

“No!” She said breaking off character, “What I mean is that I’d like for him to check my wound.” She says with a sheepish smile.

“Oh but I’m here now! Wouldn’t you want me to-“

“Trust me,” she says, “I’d feel much more comfortable if Sebastian checked it out.”

“Oh okay,” I say nodding in comprehension. Maybe it was a trust thing?

“Hey Sebastian, Kiara wants you-“ I blurt out as I walk into his room to find Sebastian completely shirtless by the window-a wall mirror on the side as he’s cleaning up a wound.

“Hey why didn’t you tell me?” I said in a soft voice. Nearing him closer, I notice him giving me a look as if to scare me off.

“Don’t give me that look Mr.Grumpy-Pants. I know we have a language barrier going on here and we can’t really communicate but you could have at least shown me you were hurt or at least in pain you know?” I say as I’m already addressing his wound. He draws in a barely noticeable sharp breath when I put some alcohol in his wound with a cotton ball. He’s in pain.

“Thank you for taking the bullet for me,” I say after a moment of silence still dabbing the Cotton ball lightly on his skin. “Nobody has ever taken a bullet for me-only you…”

He didn’t reply as I slowly finished stitching him.

I giggle, “You know, I could tell you just about anything and you still probably wouldn’t have any idea as to what I’m saying?”

“I could tell you about my short lived romance with young Leonardo Dicaprio and writing fanfiction when I was 14. I swear his hair back in Titanic was the death of me,” I sigh at the memory. “Those were the days man.”

“Or I could tell you about the time when I had my own fan based blog on this one guy I had a total crush on. Guess what? I had the biggest crush on him. And do you wanna know something else?” I asked him as I notice him looking away sighing in an uninterested manner, “I didn’t even know him! He was a celebrity!”

“I could tell you anything right now you know? Hey, did you know I’m wearing a black thong which I don’t usually wear at home but I always wear them during missions to make me feel powerful?” I commented as I shrugged as if it was nothing before noticing that Sebastian was suddenly choking (see the image for reference) on his water, lowering his head and spitting the liquid before wiping his fleshy pink lips turning to look at me with a hint of amusement in his blue eyes.

I blinked at him in realization.

“...Can you...can you understand me-?”

“(Y/N)! What’s taking you so Goddamn long?! I need Sebastian! My chest is hurting!” Kiara’s cry was heard all the way from the hallway interrupting my question as I turn my head in the direction of her voice.

“Oh right.” I say, “Kiara needs you.” I exclaim as I feel like such a bad person for forgetting and immediately reach for my handy-dandy Berlitz Romanian Picture Dictionary when I feel Sebastian’s stare on my forehead.

“Uh help! Kiara needs...Ajutor! Ajutor! Kiara needs Ajutor with-“ I say as I am frantically skimming the book with my hands anxiously before Sebastian grabbed me and pulled me up to face him; then taking the book in his hands.

There was a slight smirk on his face as he skimmed the pages before looking up to me and pointing at me with his index finger.

“Prost fata,” he says. (Dumb girl).

“Me, me I’m Prost fata.” I reiterate with an uncertain tone and point at myself as he’s nodding.

“Da, bum tampit.” (Yes, good idiot). He says with a look of approval before I beam at him with what lasts a few seconds of pure happiness before I look down to my book to see the definition of what tampit was.

“Hey I’m not an idiot.” I defended as my smile falls at the realization of what Sebastian had just called me. He then proceeds to take the book from my hands into his before smacking me lightly in the forehead with it making me let out a small “ow” and puts the book in my hands as he heads his way out to Kiara’s room.

I gazed at the room and rub my forehead.

I am not an idiot.

My phone suddenly vibrates letting me know something is wrong and as soon as I look into the camera display system I set up, three men in black are heading their way up here.

“I got this,” I say to myself before reaching for my gun on my way out but stop in the hall to hear the commotion in Kiara’s room.

It was Sebastian talking and it made me completely stop me in my steps to hear him.

He was speaking fluent English.

My mouth fell open as I closed my mouth before running outside to take care of the men. I rest my head on the outside of the suite door in shock. Before I know it, the three men are already inside and I frown. I take my gun out to shoot one man on the head and immediately hold a “shhh!” motion to them, stopping them in the middle of their tracks; confusion filling their faces.

Talk about terrible timing.

Before the other two could even shoot, I fire at the other man in black leaving one. I quickly shoot his hand and he falls to his knees.

"I’m Sorry about that but shh... I'm trying to listen." I whispered, looking around at his two dead allies on the ground before I moved the both of us back in front of Kiara’s door, my gun still held to his skull and my hand still over his lips.

"It is my duty as your protector is to deliver you safely back home without any injuries. It is your job as a client, is to not make such attempts at getting me to fuck you just because your idiotule of a husband can't do it right." Sebastian’s firm raspy voice spoke through the door as my eyes widened, his voice just as slow, sensuous, and authorative when he spoke in English as he did in fluent Romanian.��

“Wow... did you know he spoke English?” I ask as I’m already on him as he furiously shakes his head no.

“Same here buddy.”

Suddenly, the door erupted with men. One saying “There they are!” As they barged in and began to point their guns at me.

“Seriously? There’s more of you guys?” I asked at the man in my hold.

Swiftly, I moved the man I just called buddy as a body shield to doge the dozens of bullets. I mentally apologized to him.

“You bitch!” The man who seemed to be the leader of the pack yelled coming for me as he threw his gun away running out of bullets. He’s quick and doesn’t waste a second to pin me to the wall in a choke hold.

This is it. I’m going to die.

“We’re finally getting rid of people like you.” He spoke as tears blurred my vision.

“See you in Hell.” Another voice spoke before the man in front of me had a hole in the middle of his forehead and fell to the ground releasing me instantly.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, fata?”

“I’m sorry.” I say immediately before stopping myself and realizing that I shouldn’t be sorry.

“Wait a darn hecking second, no. No I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

Sebastian looked at me-motioning me that there was someone creeping up behind me and with strength, I brought the hitman’s arm over my shoulder and flipped him to his back as he let out a paint full groan before Sebastian shot the man in the head with no second thought.

“Like I said,” I paused catching my breath, “I’m not sorry.”

I then noticed more men enter the entrance and Sebastian immediately went through them as I joined him between kicks, dodges, and gunshots.

“You...deliberately pretended that you didn’t speak a word of English,” I said through heavy breathing as I had a man in a headlock. Sebastian didn’t waste time in grabbing the man from my arms before throwing the man onto the upcoming men with an unexplainable strength.

“It’s going to take a lot for you to gain my trust back,” I half heartedly said.

He panted as his chest noticeably rose and grabbed his gun to further shoot the men that had fallen.

“That’s fine by me,” he said as if he couldn’t care less before he grabbed the wrist of one man and twisted his arm before pushing him harshly against the wall; his body weight on the man from keeping him from moving.

“Okay I forgive you,” I say almost instantly grabbing a man by the shoulders and slamming his head against the table- knowing that I still wanted to talk to Sebastian and ask him more questions. If I would be mad at him, I couldn’t ask him any questions so forgiving him seemed like the best option.

“But why did you pretend?” I asked.

Sebastian huffed, “Well it seemed like the best option at the time. I thought you wouldn’t talk to me because of the language barrier and we would just work on this mission and then no more communicating.” He said as he looked at all the dead bodies in the room and pools of blood forming. Surprisingly, there was no blood on his suit or hands at all. He looked at the mess and shook his head before saying that we needed to get out of here.

“I was obviously wrong about that,” he commented with a slight look of irritation as he furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head once more; dismissing his thoughts.

I was ready to give him a piece of my mind. How I felt, and how I wanted to tell him that he was a meanie but he didn’t give me a chance to speak up.

“Veni, come. We have got to get out of here before anyone else gets here.” Sebastian directed not even looking back at me putting his gun smoothly in his black ironed pants before using his hand and jerked his fingers in a gesture for me to follow him.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Screeched a voice. That voice was Kiara’s. She was now fully dressed with some damp hair strands surrounding her face.

“That wasn’t a question for permission. We are leaving now.” Said Sebastian sternly as he packed his guns in his black bag-swiftly zipping them up.

“Well I’m not going. Especially with a man like you-“

“Da, of course. A man like me. A man that works for you and a man that just risked his life saving your life.” He said as he looked my way. “Hold on, make it two. Two people risking their lives for yours.”

“You’re so rude! So disrespectful! So-“

Sebastian immediately speed walked his way angrily towards her and his face was merely inches from her. His index finger threatening stood out as if to make a point.

“Disrespectful? Fine. The moment you finally find what you call ‘self-respect’ is, you call me. Then, I’ll apologize and respect you, femeie.” (woman).

He slowly backed off away from her and Kiara noticeably sunk down in her chair.

A few moments passed before I thought it was okay to speak up.

“Come on, sweetie. You should come. We don’t want you hurt and we want to keep you as safe as a pillow.” I say as I give her a small warm smile, “Go on, pack your bags and we’ll be here for you, okay?” I say before she nodded saying nothing more and leaving quickly from the scene.

After that, Sebastian turned to me and grazed his eyes to my lower region. A small smirk crept up on his lips and I could swear this was the closest thing to smiling I could ever get to.

He bit his lip slowly and his eyes met my face.

“So...black thongs…” he commented in a slower and deeper voice. Sebastian brought his hand slowly to his lips and massaged the bottom part as if he was thinking of something. I sharply inhaled.

“I saw you more as a granny pantie kind of girl.” He admitted.

“Oh no silly,” I said letting off what seemed to be both a sigh and nervous laugh. “Those are my period panties!” I waved off the thought and noticed Kiara come in with her case.

Sebastian looked at me with confused looking brows-dismissing the thought, then looked at Kiara. He then nodded before speaking up.

“We need to get on the road, now.” He commanded sending chills down my spine and I looked over to Kiara. Her face white as a ghost’s as a red laser dot lay on her forehead. Sebastian and I both sprung into action and before I knew it, I fell a wave of instant dozing sleep consume me. The last two things on my mind were the fact that Sebastian didn’t only speak Romanian but English as well, and the feeling of falling into a pit of blackness that we call sleep.

==========

A/N: WOOHOOO! CHAPTER ONE IS DONE! I’M SO HAPPY TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU GUYS AND DISCLAIMER, THE IDEA ISN’T FULLY MINE. I HAVE THE NASTY MENTAL HABIT OF USING SOME IDEAS FROM STUFF I READ AND WATCH AND END UP MAKING SOMETHING LIKE THIS haha. but in all seriousness, what did you think? I’d love to know your expectations for the next chapter or just how this made you feel and what parts did you like? thank you!

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian #stan #bucky #bu #james buchanan barnes #carter #carter baizen #marvel #beck

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slvicshdow · 5 years

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hi guys, it’s bee, coming at you with natasha. she is a dynamite, five-foot-three, jewish bitch and she’s the best.

LINKS.

AESTHETIC SIDEBLOG ∕ PLAYLIST

BASICS.

Given / Birth Name : Natalia Alianovna ( Mikhailovna ) Romanova ( Raytmanova ) Nickname / Preferred Name : Natasha , Tasha , Nat Alias(es) : Black Widow, Slavic Shadow, Red Death, The Russian Avenger, Natalie Rushman, Nadine Roman, Oktober, Black Pearl, Tsarina. Birthdate / Age : ( REDACTED ) 7 January 1928 / Ninety Place of Birth : Luhansk ( formerly Voroshilovgrad ), Ukraine. Current Location : Little Ukraine, New York City, New York / Washington DC Gender Identity : CIS Female Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Pansexual / Demiromantic Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: Ashkenazi Jewish Marital Status : Divorced Occupation : S.H.I.E.L.D. Liaison to the World Security Council Religious Beliefs : Jewish

CHARACTERISTICS.

Height : 5′3″ Weight : 123 lbs Body Type / Build : Ectomorph / slim & toned ; petite. Eye Color : Blue ( left ) ; green ( right ) due to Heterochromia Hair Color / Texture : Auburn / natural curl to it but she usually keeps it styled and sleek. Recognizable Features / Scars : 2" scar ( right shoulder ), 5" scar ( abdomen - left side ), 1" scar ( above external carotid artery ) Speech Patterns / Accent : Harsh but otherwise pleasant tone, her voice has a rasp to it caused by vocal fry. She tends to speak quietly though with plenty of gesticulation. Though she has almost never had an accent, there can be a slightly European rhythm to her voice and shifts in pronunciation ( and only when she is comfortable ). Her throaty inflection can carry a lot of energy. Languages Spoken : Russian ; Ukrainian ; English ; French ; German ; Japanese ; Dari ; Farsi ; Bosnian ; Hungarian ; Romanian ; Kurdish ; Korean ; Castilian Spanish ; Indonesian ; Czech ; Italian ; Latin ; Dutch ; Arabic ; American Sign Language ; Portuguese ; Mandarin ; Turkish ; Urdu ; Afrikaans ; Korean Powers / Skills / Abilities : World class athlete, gymnast, acrobat, aerialist capable of numerous complex maneuvers and feats, expert martial artist, marksman and weapons specialist as well as having extensive espionage training. Able to convincingly pass a cover as a ballerina. Enhanced by biotechnology that makes her body resistant to aging and disease and heals at an above human rate. Physiological conditioning that suppresses her memory of true events as opposed to implants without the aid of special designed system suppressant drugs. The white blood cells in her body are efficient enough for fight off any microbe, foreign body and others from her body, keeping her healthy and immune to most, if not all infections, diseases and disorders. She can coordinate her body with balance, flexibility, and dexterity easily. Gifted intellect - displays an uncanny affinity for psychological manipulation and can mask her real emotions perfectly. Ability to process multiple information streams ( ie threat assesment ) and rapidly respond to changing tactical situations. Romanova is an expert tactician. She is a very effective strategist, tactician, and field commander. Overall Health : Peak human agility / strength / reflexes / stamina & enhanced immune system

RELATIONSHIPS.

Order of Birth : Youngest. Number of Siblings : Three brothers, names unknown ( † ). Father’s Status + Relationship : Birth father unknown ( † ). Ivan Petrovitch ( foster father ). With only vague memories of her parents ( and nothing which can be trusted ), Ivan took over the space reserved for paternal occupancy. And while aptitude for it was less than desirable ( and understatement ), as with everything in her life she mulls over contradictory feelings in regards to him. They were estranged at the time of his death, and Natasha was keen to have it stay that way, she mourns him regardless. Mother’s Status + Relationship : Birth mother unknown ( † ). She remembers kind eyes, a soft hum, and calloused, worked-over fingers brushing against her hollowed cheeks ( if this is an implanted memory, she doesn’t want to know ). Sibling Status + Relationship : N/A Loyalty / Affiliation : S.H.I.E.L.D. / World Security Council / Avengers

PERSONALITY.

MBTI : ISTP Hobbies : She is almost always learning a new language. Her cat takes up whatever free time she can scrounge together. Part-time matchmaker. Bad Habits : Smoking ( though ineffective due to her peak physical health ) Three Positive Traits : Compassionate. Self-assured. Perceptive. Moral Alignment : Neutral Good

ASSOCIATIONS.

One Song : Devil’s Spoke - Laura Marling One Quote / Piece of Art : QUOTE / ART One Fear : Threats to her autonomy / sense of self One Strength : Self-confidence One Object : Widow Bites ( gauntlets ) One Place : Arles, France One Food : Medovyk One Scent : Rose / Vetiver combination One Lucky Charm : Liho ( she just likes having him with her )

NOTES.

With deviations starting at the events of IM2, Natasha is more 616 based in terms of her backstory. Her birthdate / age not widely known, she is actually 90. The only thing enhanced about her is her youthful features and boosted immune system, otherwise all her skills have been through relentless repetition and practice.

Born in Ukraine, Natasha was taken from her family by Ivan at the age of five ( in the height of the Holodomor ). She was stripped of her last name ( jokingly referred to as a Romanov for her general disposition ) and cultural identity.

She engaged in a brief romantic affair with the Winter Soldier ( her combat instructor ) before it was discovered. Subsequently she was married to Alexei Shostakov.

It was through her marriage to Shostakov she was originally ‘widowed’ and her memories were tampered with to fit her cover. Natasha believed she was in the Bolshoi Academy’s corps de ballet. Their marriage, fraught ( but happy ) and brief reinstated her worship of the cause and ensured her fanatical loyalty for the years that followed.

Eventually Natasha was able to extract herself from the zealot she was fashioned into, claiming her autonomy for the first time in the mid-1960s.

Has been practicing Judaism in the past few years.

Natasha is the S.H.I.E.L.D. Liaison to the World Security Council. Her identity is semi-public after the events of TWS ( the files she dumped on herself had already been heavily redacted and modified ). Though still somewhat protected to carry out missions of her own making, she is still adjusting to life as a visible Avenger.

Her stance on the Registry is as follows : Yes, she signed. Yes, she is in ‘ compliance ’. Yes, she understands better than most what happens when governments are put in the position of stealing freedoms away but she has also always been in the position of stealing away information on individuals for governments. Knowing what S.H.I.E.L.D. already had access to, she decided a path of least resistance was the best way to keep herself in the position of someone in the know.

#united task 001 #united intro #BONA FIDES / ABOUT

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the-runningmama-blog · 5 years

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Absolutely

Absolutely! Oh my good god! There are so many documentaries that really shit on webcammers, and that really angers me because I don't really think it has anything to do with the webcamming itself. I feel it has to do with the individual, the person. A lot of people end up doing it for money, not necessarily because they enjoy it, and they're made to feel bad about it. I totally feel the opposite. I feel like webcamming is fully me and something I wanted to do; the money was a bonus. They work a lot less often than most Americans with minimum-wage, full-time jobs. When asked how many cam shows she'd have to do to make roughly minimum wage at 40 hours a week, she said, "assuming I work with a figure of $10 an hour @ 40hrs/week, this would work out at roughly 4 shows for me. Granted, minimum wage in America is $7.25 per hour, which is a far cry from $10, but that's still a hell of a lot better than a 40-hour work week. Even so, it’s clear that Ona Artist really likes her job. People get into sex work for various reasons, but I think that what’s left out of the conversation around sex work a lot of the time is that some girls get into sex work autonomously because they want to, because they enjoy it, and because the money is good. Ona Artist got into camming because a photo of her butt went viral and she realized she could capitalize off of it.Heidi sells her underwear for $100 and has performed sex acts on other girls for her followers.

In the heart of Bucharest on the pavement outside a tall apartment building a group of young women smoke, talk and laugh. It is an unremarkable scene. Except that in the bright morning sunlight, their heavy makeup, sky-high heels and shiny, revealing clothes contrast with the sensible, summer dress of passers-by.The curvy 21-year-old from Queensland says 'you can't just sit there, look pretty and take your clothes off,' – that customers want someone who is real, who they can form a relationship with. At times, it's hard to believe Mila even enjoys the work. I stopped by one of her more recent shows, and she sat, almost motionless, with her top unbuttoned, literally wincing. She seemed to be mumbling to herself, narrowing her eyes and ignoring her customers. Mila told the hundreds of slobbering men in her chatroom that they'd need to deposit thousands of tokens before she'd take her shirt off entirely. Money trickled in. She says the last three weeks have been "the slowest in three years...very bad. Still, she's a rich woman in an industry of destitution."Mostly it's conversation. I do role-play sometimes, and a small part of it is nudity and masturbation," she says.

Their loved ones definitely know this is what they're doing for a living. She says a few of her friends know about her job and are "kind and understanding and have a sense of humour [sic] about it. She hasn't told her parents because they're not very close, but they're liberal enough that if they found out, she doesn't think they would mind. Eventually I got a bit more adventurous. I hula-hooped in my underwear while listening to the Arctic Monkeys. I also did yoga, livepainting with my back to the webcam in only a thong. I racked up a couple hundred bucks over a few days and cashed the cheque sent the next month. By this time I’d masturbated on camera for a few guys, but I was starting to get a little bit paranoid about my face appearing in an advert on another website somewhere and someone I knew seeing it. I have nothing against sex work, having worked in the industry three times now, but I don’t like the idea of say my boyfriend's brother or housemate or one of my own family members opening a webpage to a moving image of my face mid-orgasm purely because well, I don’t think my family would support that decision.If abuse were such a big problem, Anna says, then why would any Romanian girls bother with it at all? Why wouldn't they just find some other job? In a country whose GDP only stopped shrinking two years ago, with 20 per cent of the population living below the poverty line and personal income levels far below Kazakhstan, Iran and Gabon, that question answers itself. There's a reason Anna's so happy to be independent from her former employers, a status she equates with nothing less than her "freedom".If you've looked at porn online (which we pretty much all have), you've likely been propositioned by advertisements for cam girl networks. They invade your peripheral vision; they pop up behind your window. The women wait for you to start staring, and, just when you're interested, they hit you up for money. You've seen them sitting at their keyboards, wearing barely anything, winking at you, typing to nobody in particular with thin, lethargic arms: bored and conventionally beautiful. The ads, with flirty video that might be live or recorded years ago, shout at you with promises of "Live Sex Chat" and "Sex Shows", with both amateurs and "pornstars" alike. It's a web red light district, and unlike some gaudy Dutch strip or seedy sidewalk, you're completely anonymous. The sex comes to you.

CONTINUED BELOW... 903

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rprgrmmd-a · 5 years

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headcanon : howling commandos

the howling commandos was an elite combat unit of the western allies that consisted of eight registered members that was led by steve rogers and overseen & supervised by colonel chester phillips of the ussr.

sergeant james “ bucky ” barnes

romanian - american, 107th infantry regiment. bucky acted as the units designated marksman as the us military had no snipers. however, bucky received training from british & french snipers of the allies during deployment prior to joining the commandos. an expert mathematician & an exceptional marksman caused him to garter a reputation amongst the allied forces as well as their enemies until his capture by hydra.

bucky would operate largely as a “ lone wolf ” during his membership to the commandos unless actively assaulting a hydra facility, camp or base with the rest of the team as he was most useful when able to work autonomously so he could make use of his skills in camouflage, fieldcraft, map teading, and signaling and was the commando’s “ hunter ” when a direct assault wasn’t available.

when with the team bucky would cover their retreat or operate around the edges of the assault as a shadow as opposed to being in the center of skirmishes as steve was.

sergeant timothy “ dum dum ” dugan

american, non - commissioned officer, 107th infantry regiment. bucky and dugan worked closely together prior to joining the commandos though dugan had more experience than bucky did. dugan was a brilliant tactician, an expert marksman and had olympian level strength. he was fondly named the most stubborn of the commandos, was loyal to a fault and persistent in the face of impossible odds. dugan was capable of uplifting the morale of those around him through his optimism and sheer refusal to submit.

dugan later worked closely with col. phillips, peggy carter and steve rogers when planning and strategising their next operations or assaults. dugan would later lead the commandos following the death of steve rogers.

private gabriel “ gabe ” jones

african - american, 92nd infantry division. like all members of the commandos gabe was an expert marksman and was the teams designated translator when agent carter wasn’t available. fluent in english, german and french. gabe also had an expert skill in interrogation and negotiation, fondly reputed as having a silver tongue and typically handled heavy artillery. gabe was often viewed as the glue of the team, capable of exceptional charm and helping to keep everyone in high spirits when in dire situations. bucky met gabe when they were both held prisoner by hydra and there was no denying that many of the prisoners would not have held themselves together without game’s optimism and care.

gabe’s also one of the only members of the commandos to have any kind of musical talent, not that the rest of the team’s efforts weren’t greatly appreciated when it came to music night.

private james “ jim ” morita

japanese - american, US army nisei squadron. jim had a turbulent experience with his service due to the military and the governments paranoia and distrust for japanese after the bombing of pearl harbor. he served primarily for military construction and before he was able to serve in the field was forced to answer a questionnaire to determine whether or not he was loyal to the US. jim’s family members had been forced into internment camps and he initially struggled to reconcile his willingness to fight for the country that was his home and the fact that his country wasn’t interested in fighting for him or his family. despite this, jim still volunteered.

jim was first scout, an expert marksman and had the greatest experiences in anti-guerrilla jungle warfare, raids, ambushes, sabotage and close quarters combat. somewhat snippy, but jim was always the first to volunteer, the first in line for battle and pushed forward regardless of the opposition. people outside of the commandos would accuse jim of having a chip on his shoulder but this wasn’t the case at all, jim was just a very intense and focused individual once he had a goal there was nothing that could stop him from achieving it.

major james “ monty ” falsworth

british, 3rd independent parachute brigade. monty was one of the most experienced members of the commandos with nine years having served in the british armed forces. despite his position, monty was stubbornly hands on and rarely let anyone do anything that he wasn’t willing to do himself. this earned him a great amount of respect from the servicemen under his management throughout his early career and is also how he wound up captured by hydra and imprisoned alongside other allied soldiers.

like dugan, monty was an expert tactician, combatant and marksman and served primarily in raiding parties and units. monty would later become the masked hero “ union jack ”.

jaques “ light ” dernier

dernier was a baker turned explosives expert when he joined the french resistance to fight against nazi german occupation and is one of the only field members of the commandos whom wasn’t enlisted in the military prior to his recruitment by steve rogers. prior to encountering the 107th, dernier led a small band of resistance tasked with coordinated sabotage on transport facilities and telecommunications networks. he had attempted to warn the 107th of hydra’s approach but arrived too late and was taken prisoner alongside the allied forces.

dernier was a character all on his own, despite several members of the commandos inability to understand french, dernier’s animated means of talking with wild hand gestures, loud exclamations and honest expressions never failed to get his thoughts or feelings across to the rest of the team. bucky learned french basics whilst they shared a cell while imprisoned by hydra though most of what he learned consisted of insults and profanities.

agent margaret “ peggy ” carter

british, m15 spy, french resistance and agent of the ussr. peggy was without a doubt one of the greatest assets the commandos had. she served as their code breaker and translator, communications specialist, master investigator and tactician, she was a jack of all trades and was capable of getting in and out of places that no other member of the commandos could. she served as an intelligence gatherer, adviser and field member.

because of the role that she played in the team, peggy’s membership as an active member of the commandos was classified long after the howling commandos were disbanded and the majority of her involvement remains a closely held secret. however, she was a fully fledged member of the commandos and had the respect, admiration and gratitude of every member of the team.

howard “ howie ” stark

american, adviser and master engineer. like dernier, howard was one of the only civilian members of the commandos. his genius intellect, scientific mind and engineering ability was invaluable to the team throughout their military service during and after the wwii. while he rarely saw the front lines his pilot skills were volunteered on several different occasions. he worked closely with every member of the commandos as he was the man behind their retrofitted weapons, uniforms and supplies and was considered by every commando, like peggy, to be a fully fledged member that was deserving of respect and gratitude.

#★ –– war rages in your heart. 「 headcanons. 」#y'all can take the hc that bucky was friends #with peggy & howard from my cold dead fingers #i'll be editing this the more i research #army ranks / skills etcetc #but these are the basics as far as i've figured out so far

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misskaygray-blog · 5 years

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Model, producer and co-creator

Model, producer and co-creator of YouTube channel ComeCurious, Reed is essentially the physical embodiment of sex positivity, which she defines as trying to make people feel like what theyre doing and what theyre into isnt wrong, its normal and its absolutely fine. Shes a huge advocate for removing stigma and taboos around sex, and we caught up with her to learn more about webcamming, a line of sex work that is seldom talked about. That wasn't always the case. Before she started stripping — both online and off — Domino was a suit: working at a Fortune 500 company as a graphic designer. She quit the firm out of boredom in 2010, and now mainly flexes her aesthetic skills to push her online sex shows. Unlike most cam girls, Domino isn't affiliated with a network like LiveJasmin. She's completely independent, streaming strip and fetish sex shows from her home studio, straight from a website she built herself. Stripping at a local joint came first, but after breaking her wrist, Domino segued away from brick and mortar clubs. She'd heard there was good money to be made doing pretty much the same stuff online — and she could be her own boss.How did you get into webcamming?Part of the misconception comes from the fact that it's not policed. It's a very underground industry, and there's no governing body you can turn to, so people can be taken advantage of. It's an online community and it's hard to police. Anything can go wrong; people can be abusive and feel like they can go away with it, but then you can also just turn off the screen. But many women feel like they need to stay because of the money. I've never felt like I had to do that, but then again, it's the same when people stay in the wrong job for so long because they're scared of leaving and losing that financial security. It's so close to the porn industry and a lot of the sex industry isn't policed. If you have a problem and you go to the police about it, most of the time they'll just say well, you're asking for it, which is not acceptable. We're freelance and self-employed. We work for ourselves and these are our decisions, and we should be respected in the same way everyone else is respected.

As with most sex work, webcamming doesn’t have the best reputation. It’s often seen as exploitation or a last-resort hustle to pay off debt, but Reed Amber, 26, explains how webcam models are just your average self-employed freelancers with the same amount of agency and independence as anyone else.For the unfamiliar, camming is where clients pay to either watch a livestream of or have an individual video chat with a sex worker. It can’t be pirated and watched for free because the whole point of it is that it’s intimate and personal—you’re actually interacting with the person behind the screen.So as I sat there, in front of my laptop, I thought to myself, Why didnt I just respond the way that I normally do when somebody proclaims something which I dont agree with? Why didnt I just say, firmly but reasonably, you are wrong and these are the reasons why… Perhaps it was because it was so personal, that I felt like for once, I wasnt defending femininity as a whole, but just myself. Which on the surface would seem like a less daunting task, but for me it left me stumped. I knew that I was a feminist and it wasnt often that I had to justify myself to anybody. I was used to breaking down all the reasons that men used to justify their behavior.And as a cam girl, you won't know where it's coming from. You'll get your split — typically around 35-percent, but sometimes upwards of 70 — siphoned to you via an innocuous credit card processing site like CCBill, while the site takes the rest of the cut. However you earn that cut is up to you. Some sites, like Streamate, allow actual sex to the point of orgy, while others limit your act to a solo show. You can do whatever you think will earn cash in the form of dollars-per-minute private shows or instant "tips". That's the formula. You're up against tens of thousands of women (and men, to a lesser degree) offering the same product in varying versions. That's a tough stab at making a living, even with your clothes on.

If abuse were such a big problem, Anna says, then why would any Romanian girls bother with it at all? Why wouldn't they just find some other job? In a country whose GDP only stopped shrinking two years ago, with 20 per cent of the population living below the poverty line and personal income levels far below Kazakhstan, Iran and Gabon, that question answers itself. There's a reason Anna's so happy to be independent from her former employers, a status she equates with nothing less than her "freedom".Her conditions at the next studio were bare at best, and at times the most personal privacy she had, while performing for strangers on live camera, were a few hanging sheets separating her from the others walking in and out of some rundown flat. Although she was the frequent victim of what would certainly qualify as flagrant, physical sexual harassment in any other business, Anna stuck through it, priding herself on her ability to talk a path out of a "bad situation" with male employers.Youd think that all an Insta celeb has to do is look hot, but its actually a full time job. Ona Artist posts new photos every day and does a week of photoshoots every month. She manages all her social media and built her own website. The way her business model works is that she advertises on Instagram and from there, people can go to her private site and cam with her naked. On Instagram, because of censorship restrictions, you cant see her nude. So, the more you want from her, the more you pay, and the more explicit it gets. It's just like any other online business, really.It happened through a friend of a friend of mine. Thats usually how these things go. She had found, through a network of girls, a website that paid decent money for cam girling if you put the work in. I signed up, submitted my name, ID, bank details and some photos and within 24 hours I was approved as a bonafide Cam Girl with no bloody idea of what I was doing. CONTINUED BELOW...

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amentian-blog1 · 5 years

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It depends on the profile

It depends on the profile that you set up because when you make a profile, you write a little bio about yourself, and my bio might be seen as a little more ‘out there'. I'm open to anything, like roleplay, so a lot of the time I get roleplay requests, more just because I find them fun no matter how unusual or bizarre they are. What excites me are uncommon and unusual requests that you wouldn't really come across. Life's too boring otherwise”If abuse were such a big problem, Anna says, then why would any Romanian girls bother with it at all? Why wouldn't they just find some other job? In a country whose GDP only stopped shrinking two years ago, with 20 per cent of the population living below the poverty line and personal income levels far below Kazakhstan, Iran and Gabon, that question answers itself. There's a reason Anna's so happy to be independent from her former employers, a status she equates with nothing less than her "freedom".On her end, the website looks like this. This is where she sits and waits. (Click to expand)Entirely unsurprisingly, it's impossible to get in touch with any of the people who actually run these networks. None of the above entities from LiveJasmin, Streamate, or MyFreeCams responded to efforts to confirm that they do indeed exist and have some affiliation with the websites in question. All that's available is a semi-robotic technical support chat, which fields basic questions about how to use the site and credit card processing. These web cam kingpins might as well not exist. We don't know where the money goes.

Sites do virtually nothing to curb or discourage this kind of treatment.Domino might not be something so dramatic as that, but she's certainly smart, replies to my questions without the slightest hesitation, and oozes the confidence of a professional from any field. She just pays her bills with a dildo now.Inside the building, Studio 20 occupies the first and second floors. Forty rooms open off pristine, white corridors, their walls adorned with pictures of women in states of glamorous undress. A closed door means business. Inside that room a woman is live and direct via webcam with international clients - and as long as she is alone in the room, it is entirely legal. In this world of virtual relationships and cybersex, those in front of the camera are "models" and the men who watch are "members". I was shocked and cut the conversation short because a) I felt like I didn’t need to deal with such negative bullshit and b) I needed to get ready for my next show. But her words lingered in my mind all night. The moment that somebody questions my stance on feminism I get overwhelmingly upset, as it is a cause that I put my heart and soul into. It is in everything that I do and say and it is in how I perceive the world. Feminism has come to be in every essence of my being, and having somebody question my core beliefs was incredibly jarring.

She has bathed in beetroot, set her nipple on fire and has spent 16 hours at a time on camera. "Mostly they're nice guys, not crazy men," she says. "There are a lot of members looking for love. They want the connection. Some members want you to call their name. Or to talk to them while you dance and strip. I'm very honest with them - they know I have a boyfriend, and they know we are not going to have sex in real life."The massive LiveJasmin would have you believe it's owned by "Gestao e Investimentos, Lda", a company based in an autonomous region of Portugal — and has a host of fraud complaints lodged against one of its subsidiaries. But a recent tax bust against LiveJasmin's Hungarian CEO Gattyán György — one of the richest men in Hungary — and his corporation, Dolcer Holdings, shows just how muddled the corporate picture is. No doubt deliberately.Would I recommend it? It's up to the individual (obviously), just make sure you do your research and find other women in the industry to go to for advice. CONTINUED BELOW...

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

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Article 13 and 11 Update: Even The Compromises are Compromised In This Copyright Trainwreck

If you’re in the Czech Republic, Luxembourg, Germany, Poland, Sweden, or Belgium —tell your government to oppose Article 13 and 11 today.

Politicians are meant to broker compromises in the pursuit of the public good – though in a year that is already overloaded with government shutdowns and Brexit logjams, that skill seems in short supply.

But sometimes there are no compromises to be found. Sometimes, even the most talented diplomats are handed an impossible task. The Romanian Presidency is struggling to finish negotiations the Copyright in the Digital Single Market Directive together. But two parts of that law —Article 13, intended to introduce compulsory copyright filters, and Article 11, a new licensing requirement on reproducing snippets of news articles—are so controversial that they risk sinking the entire process.

Just hours before a key vote on this Friday, the Presidency has presented their proposed compromise to the negotiators. The text, leaked to Politico Europe, shows just how far they will have to go to bring all the parties together.

On Article 13, the Council and the Parliament are struggling over whether small and medium-sized businesses should be excluded from the crushing demands and liability Article 13 would impose on Internet sites. This was one of the concessions that MEP Axel Voss offered in a last-minute attempt to get the Article’s provisions past Parliament.

But that’s not good enough for the article’s lobbyists, who believe that any site that allows users to put their content online should be treated as a pirate’s den—even if it’s a small European Internet site hoping to compete with deep-pocketed, US-based Big Tech companies.

The trouble is that the whole pitch to Europeans for accepting Article 13’s excesses was that it was aimed at clawing back money from YouTube and other big, foreign hosting sites. MEPs and other elected officials aren’t likely to be so keen on a provision that will also bleed money from the fledgling EU digital sector into the coffers of the established rightsholders.

Or, indeed, bleed money from individual European Internet users. Since the draft Directive passed Parliament, another huge battle has emerged over whether Internet users should be covered by the licenses that the Big Tech companies will need to negotiate with Big Content. The rightsholders want the ability to be able to be able to “double dip”—suing to extract cash from the YouTubes and Twitch TV’s of the world, and then again, suing individual Net users to get some more money from prominent YouTubers and Twitchers.

(Well, at least, that’s what the recording industry wants. At this point, it’s only the music industry that has any hunger left for Article 13 – all the other major European rightsholders have backed away from its dangerously vague language, and have now turned against it. Given the choice between the current status quo, and a Directive oscillating so wildly between wild demands and unclear carve-outs, they’d rather stick with the current, functioning, Internet. Even the recording industry has denounced the latest proposal, wanting to rewind to earlier versions that lack even the veneer of compromise.)

A similar pattern has emerged in Article 11. Lobbyists for Article 11 said it was to intended to stop Big Tech wholesale stealing news articles and money from journalists, and had nothing to do with mere linking to news stories. The negotiators have taken them at their word, and now have suggested that quoting “insubstantial parts” of news articles should be acceptable, and that also some of the money made from the new licenses should go direct to the authors of the articles. Not so fast, say the lobbyists: we still want to limit linking to only allow “individual words”, plus who said anything about giving money directly to journalists?

The tragedy in all of this horse-trading is that nobody in the room (or shouting into the keyhole) is actually fighting for Internet users, or the public good. They’re just trying to act as referees between various industrial sectors.

Meanwhile digital rights groups, and everyone from actual journalists to actual Internet experts to actual copyright experts have said that there’s no compromise to be made here, because the whole system of copyright filters and special news licenses simply won’t work to remunerate creators, and will instead just break everything online.

None of the proposed compromises fix the underlying problem. Even if you exclude small companies, you’ll just be creating a two-tier Internet with the tech giants controlling the licensing, and European Internet startups struggling to stay small enough that they won’t be sued into oblivion. Even if you grant individual Twitchers and YouTubers some protection from being sued, they will still suffer, because of the unaccountable black-box algorithmic filters will constantly block them from broadcasting or recording their legitimate works. And no matter how you quibble about who gets the right to link or quote news stories, the absolute lifeblood of gathering an audience for an independent news site – through people linking to it, and quoting it – will be chilled by companies refusing to take the risk of a lawsuit, and individuals and non-profits being unsure as to how they can keep safe from the 28 national versions of an ambiguously-written law.

Meanwhile, in the fantasy world where all of these consequences might be avoided with a few carefully-worded recitals, members state negotiators now have less than 24 hours to work out that perfect wording.

The Romanian Presidency is working under a major, self-imposed deadline—if agreement cannot be struck before mid-February, it will be too late to present the text for a final European Parliamentary vote. But a directive that risks sabotaging the entire Internet should not be rushed like this.

Compare this pell-mell hurtling into chaos to the leisurely pace of another EU Internet law: the E-Privacy Regulation. That proposal, which takes its aim at the privacy issues surrounding Big Tech and Big Media, has been stuck in pre-Trilogue negotiations for two years. It’s a sad indication of the priorities of the European establishment that improvising new, untested, copyright law is more urgent than tackling the clear challenges of digital privacy.

But if the clock really is ticking for the Copyright Directive, the correct compromise on Article 13 and Article 11 is to remove them entirely from the Copyright Directive, and send them back to the drawing board. The European Union’s negotiators are struggling to strike a deal with internally incoherent and unenforceable language. This trilogue has deleted previous articles in its pursuit of a reasonable deal; it can delete these two as well. Anything else is sacrificing the stability of the Internet for laws that nearly everybody opposes, and no-one needs.

Countdown to Catastrophe: Article 13 and 11’s Key Dates

January 18 (today) Negotiators member state governments try to agree on a new mandate based on Romanian Presidency compromise. January 21 (Monday) “Last” Trilogue Meeting: Member state negotiators, European Parliament negotiators try to agree on final text. February If Trilogue reaches agreement, internal votes by member state ministers on accepting the final text. March 11-14 or 25-28 If Trilogue and ministers agree, final vote in European Parliament.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/article-13-and-11-update-even-compromises-are-compromised-copyright-trainwreck

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dumat-the-silent-deactivated1234 · 5 years

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Warhammer Mundane Modern AU Part 1:

Wuso what if all of our favorite Warhammer Characters were in the real world doing normal things that aren’t as standoffish as what the books and games depict? What if they all had normal (or maybe a bit abnormal for some lives?) The Empire

President Karl Franz: a Politician with a War Hero Background as an Army Captain who have led his men to victory against insurmountable odds. His political career has seen much favor on the Industrialist Capitalist, Veterans and other Right Wing demographics of society.

Dr. Balthazar Gelt: a Nobel Peace Prize winner in the field of Metallurgy able to create many various alloys that revolutionize Engineering Technology as we know it. Is close friends with Senator Karl Franz who often funds his research using tax payer money to create all sorts of mechanical contraption.

Rev. Volkmar the Grim: an Influential Preacher who often host some of the most inspiring sermons known throughout the world.

The Vampire Counts:

The Von Carstein Family: an Old Money family of Romanian descent, There Patriarch Vlad and their Eldest Son Manfred are all influential politicians who also had a history of Military Service and are rivals compared to the more progressive Senator Karl Franz.

One of there many children, Nyklaus otherwise known by his popular nickname as ‘Noctilus’ is still an active member of the Military being a highly respected and feared Admiral.

Isabella, Vlad’s wife is rather disproportionately younger looking compared to the withered face of her husband. Many people suspect her doll like appearance is a result of Plastic Surgery.

Dr. Kemmler and Ghorst: two world renowned Geneticists who are currently researching a means to extend the lives of humans far beyond their normal lifespans. Their work is based on the late Dr. Nagash’s works on the same research. However there were rumors from the public about them performing unethical experiments on kidnapped ‘Volunteers’. But such rumors have yet to be proven.

The Dawi:

Senator Thorgrim: a Pint Sized but very strong willed leader of an Ethnic Group of similar statured people often called ‘the Dwarves’ who have been stereotyped for their intense violence against any one who have wronged them, ethnocentrism and being loud drunkards. Thorgrim, as a Senator, seeks to overcome the prejudice to help his people get back from years of cultural regression. It is said that his grandfather was a famous soldier named Grombrindal ‘the White Dwarf’ who is said to managed to hold down an entire invasion of Norscan Fascist Partisans on his own on bridge with nothing but a few belts of machine gun ammo.

Ungrim Ironfist: a Professional Wrestler who earned the nickname ‘the Slayer King’. Despite his small sized compared to the average wrestler, he has yet to be bested in combat by any opponent, especially those 3 times his size.

Belegar Ironhammer: a disenfranchised and vengeful (Ex-)Mine Owner who’s company, Eight Peaks Excavations suffered from a hostile takeover by the Crooked Moon Goblin Mob run by the very cunning and unscrupulous Skarsnik.

The Greenskins:

Grimgor: another Professional Wrestler who is renowned for his gargantuan figure and is nicknamed ‘the Ironhide’ for his ability to tank a ridiculous amount of physical punishment. Is yet to challenge Ungrim Ironfist for the Wrestling World Champion belt and has been training for their inevitable bout which is predicted to be ‘the Fight of the Century’.

Azhag: a fellow wrestler in the same league with Grimgor and Ungrim. Often is the Tag Team partner of choice for Grimgor due to their very complementary attributes where Grimgor is the muscular bruiser and Azhag is the precise technical fighter. Is given the nickname ‘the Slaughterer’.

Don Skarsnik: the Boss of the Crooked Moon Goblin Mob, he is known to be a very shrewd and very cunning Mafia Kingpin accussed of extortion, murder and other unsavory deeds that gets him what he wants (and by Gork and Mork he’ll get!). Has recently acquired the Eight Peaks Excavation Mining Company from Belegar Ironhammer through a very sly hostile takeover of the company. It is said that he feeds people he dislikes or have fallen out of favor from him to his pet Squig named ‘Gobbler’ or ‘Gobbla’ as he insisted (and saying otherwise will get you fed to him).

Prophet Wurzzag: a Cult Leader of the the Bloody Handz Religous Sect. Is often seen dancing around nigh naked with his followers in the streets and is often dislike by the majority of all other races in the world. (Especially Rev. Volkmar)

Norsca (and Chaos)

Archaon: the Dictatorial Chancellor of Norsca, an authoritarian and heavily militarized regime north of Reikland (where most of the other Races live). Is a fiercely gifted tactician and war fighter specializing in Close Quarters combat. Has spearheaded numerous breakthroughs in military technology like nigh impenetrable armor and devastating weapons that he uses to great effect.

Sigvald ‘the Magnificent’: an incredibly vain Supermodel famed for his long silver hair who has scores of fans of both male and female genders who adore him with every fiber of their beings. Is known to pick fights however with other men who look ‘more handsomer’ than him.

Kholek: one of Archaon’s best generals. An adherent to Mobile Warfare Doctrines of the brute force breakthrough variety, he is known by many to be ‘the Sun Eater’ for his tanks nicknamed ‘the Dragon Ogres’ are such huge mechanical monstrosities that the shadows they make are the last things those unfortunate enough to face him would see before they were crushed beneath their treads.

Wulfrik: an migrant Norscan who had a falling out of favor with Achaon. Nicknamed ‘the Challenger’, He would often travel the world challenging any athlete to a huge variety of sports due to his Triatheletic background such as swimming, biking, running, snowboard etc. Is close friends with fellow migrant Norscan Surtha Ek.

Surtha Ek: a world famous Race Car driver in several racing disciplines like Offroad, Drag Racing, Gran Turismo, NASCAR and even Horses (especially if it involved Chariots). Is also rather controversially known to marry an Asur by the name of Surthara Bel Kec due to the very hostile relationships between Norscans and High Elves but it is said the couple couldn’t be more happier together due to their mutual love of racing. (especially chariots...)

Khazrak: another of Archaon’s favorite generals. Is part of Norsca’s Elite Jaeger Troops often nicknamed by the Reiklanders as ‘the Children of Chaos’ of hit and run guerrila raids behind enemy lines. Has held a deep grudge against Boris Todbringer, a Reiklander General for taking out one of his eyes.

Dr. Mohrghur: Another world renowned Geneticists in similar skilled to the Aformentioned Dr. Kemmler and Ghorst. The Dreadlocked Norscan is the chief scientist in Archaon’s Super Soldier program which allowed the Norscans to be able to mutate into far more physically superior individuals for their wars. Is also known to have a character tic of ‘Changing People’ in a very obsessive manner.

Bretonnia:

King Louen Leoncour: the benevolent and also a War Hero himself Constitutional Monarch of Brettonia. He and is nation, although not as economically and technologically developed as Reikland are firm allies of both the Dawi and the Reiklanders.

Morgiana: a Famous Nun who used to be a Partisan Leader known as ‘the Enchantress’ for her ability to rally even the most unlikeliest of allies against a common enemy when Norsca used to occupy Brettonia several decades ago.

The Wood Elves:

‘King Orion’: A legacy name (from its Asur Colony origins) for the absolute monarch of the Asrai Nation of Athel Loren, a Noble from one of the Asrai houses would be elected to become the next ‘King Orion’. Ahtel Loren is also known to many to have some of the most majestic forests in the world and also the best Marksman/Rangers to defend it.

Durthu: an influential Far Right politician who advocates for Athel Loren’s continued isolationism from the rest of the world. Is also unusually unkempt and tall for an Asrai that people often joke behind him of calling him ‘a Treeman’.

#warhammer fantasy #warhammer #au #headcanons #modern day #just for fun

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disneyprincessmodelworld · 6 years

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Ok, so I've actually sat down and read the entire 29 page Mueller indictment against the 12 Russian intelligence officers, and it is totally insane. I literally can't believe the scope of this thing. I'm making this status public (i.e., shareable), because people need to know about this shit. There is no way you can read the actual indictment and not conclude that 1) there WAS a RUSSIAN conspiracy, 2) that the scope of that conspiracy was GARGANTUAN, 3) that it was organized BY THE RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT [i.e., there's no way Putin didn't know about this], 4) That people connected to the Trump campaign [and, shockingly, other U.S. Gov't officials] WERE INVOLVED, and 5) this is just the beginning. If Mueller has already uncovered this amount of information with such specificity regarding the goings-on in far-away Russia, there's NO WAY some serious shit isn't going to hit the fan going forward right here in the U.S. So, without further ado, here are the highlights: Article 1 of the indictment states that the Russian government actively set up multiple intelligence units (known as the GRU) with the sole aim of interfering with the 2016 election. Two of these units, 26165, and 74455, were specifically tasked with acquiring and releasing stolen documents via hacking. Article 2 specifically calls this a "conspiracy" and states that the 12 indicted Russians had contacts with "persons known and unknown to the Grand Jury." Article 3: The aforementioned Russian intelligence units deliberately targeted the Clinton campaign. Article 4: They deliberately targeted the DNC as a whole. Article 6: In June of 2016, they released TENS OF THOUSANDS of hacked documents using fictitious online personas. Article 10: One of the intelligence officers, Boris Antonov, oversaw a department within 26165 tasked with hacking the U.S. military, governmental (i.e., political) and non-governmental organizations. [i.e., they were spying on every level of our gov't]. Articles 12-18: The Russian hackers often used various online aliases, both male and female, such as (but not limited to) "Kate Milton," "James McMorgans," and "Karen Millen." Sergey Morgachev, another Russian hacker, was a Lt. Colonel in the Russian military. He created the hacking malware used by dept. 26165, known as "X-Agent." Another hacker named in the indictment, Nikolay Kozachek, was a Lt. Captain in the Russian military. Artem Malyshev (also named in the indictment) was a Second Lieutenant in the Russian military. Aleksandr Osadchuk (also named in the indictment) is a Colonel in the Russian Military. He oversaw the creation and dissemination of anti-Clinton material online. Article 19: Russian Military Officer Aleksey Potemkin, assigned to 74455, supervised the creation of fake social media accounts used (among other things) in the release of DNC documents. Article 21: Over 300 individuals affiliated with the DNC were SUCCESSFULLY targeted. (Article 21 is lengthy, and includes a detailed, play-by-play account of how 26165 and 74455 achieved their aims. Spoiler alert: It's crazy). Article 24, subsection B: The Russian's hacking of the DNC was so advanced that they were able to monitor individual computers in real time. Subsection C states that their malware sent actual screenshots of DNC computer activity to a server in Arizona that the Russians had access to. They were also able to capture keystrokes entered by DCCC employees. Article 24, subsection D: They monitored individual DNC / DCCC employees for hours on end, and obtained information about DNC fundraising plans and even banking information (as well as other personal information). Article 26 subsection A: By June 2016 the Russians had complete access to 33 DNC computers, totally and completely. Article 27: The GRU gained access to information regarding DNC opposition research, field operation plans, and the Benghazi operation. Article 28, subsection B: Aside from the server in Arizona, the GRU also stored data to a server in Illinois, to which they filtered large gigabytes of stolen information via a program they developed known as "X-Tunnel." Article 32: The DNC became aware of Russian attempts to hack their servers and hired a security firm to identify the extent of the intrusions. The security firm (identified in the indictment only as "company 1") also put in place measures to halt GRU access to DNC computers, but, despite this, the GRU was so efficient that they continued to maintain access via "X-Agent" well through October of 2016. Article 33: The GRU immediately became aware of "company 1's" (referring here to the security firm that the DNC hired) efforts, and took countermeasures in response. This included investigating / hacking "company 1" itself, and later, apparently as a retaliatory measure against the DNC, setting up a wesbsite that redirected from a DNC online political donations website, to another website set up by the GRU (in other words, the GRU took funds from DNC donors, using the pretext of a false DNC donations website). Articles 35-36: The GRU set up another website, the sole purpose of which was to release stolen DNC documents. They created fake social media accounts that falsely attributed this website's creation to a group of "American hacktivists." It received over 1 million hits. Article 37: The GRU has also released stolen documents dating back to 2015 (i.e., they've been up to this for quite a while). Article 40: The notion of a "lone Romanian hacker" being responsible for the DNC leaks was a fiction deliberately created by the GRU and disseminated via fake social media accounts. Article 42: Using a popular blogging site, the GRU set up a blog that used the most "searched for" keywords by conspiracy theorists, (e.g., "Illuminati," "Worldwide," "Conspiracy," et. al.), -and used this website to further disseminate the "lone Romanian hacker" conspiracy theory. (Article 46 of the indictment further states that later entries on this blog site posted articles positing that the released, stolen documents had "nothing to do with Russia.") Article 43, Subsection A: An individual the indictment identifies only as "a known member of congress" contacted an online GRU dummy persona, ("Guccifer 2.0") and requested stolen documents related to their political opponent, and the GRU / "Guccifer" responded by giving said member of congress access to the stolen data they were requesting. Article 43, Subsection B: The GRU released stolen documents to what the indictment identifies as "a lobbyist and online source of political news." Subsection C: "Guccifer" / The GRU sent stolen documents pertaining to the "Black Lives Matter" movement to a reporter (unidentified in the indictment), to which the reporter not only responded, but offered to write an article using said information. Article 44: The GRU, posing as "Guccifer 2.0" wrote to a person who was in regular contact with SENIOR MEMBERS OF THE TRUMP CAMPAIGN. (The indictment includes direct quotes of their online conversation, and this is CLEARLY referring to Roger Stone). Article 45, subsection B: The GRU, using an alias, contacted a U.S. reporter (unnamed in the indictment) and ultimately gave them access to stolen DNC data. Articles 47-49: Here the indictment refers to an organization, identified only as "Organization 1," [I'm thinking, Wikileaks] -which actually reached out to the GRU aliases seeking the stolen emails / data. "Organization 1" is directly quoted by the indictment as having communicated to "Guccifer," that they should "send [Organization 1] any new material [i.e., stolen data] here for us to review and it will have a much higher impact than what you are doing." Organization 1 was given, and later released, said data, approximately 3 days before the Democratic National Convention. In total, between October and November of 2016, over 50,000 stolen documents were released. Articles 50-79 : Lists the counts against the 11 Russian Military Personnel, which include charges of 1) Conspiracy to Commit Offenses Against The United States, 2) Aggravated Identity Theft, 3) Conspiracy to Launder Money [according to the indictment, over 95,000 USD$ was laundered], i.e. using cryptocurrency, that was then use to register domain names, set up websites, create server infrastructure, et. al.,3) The Use of Transferred Money To Commit Crimes Against The United States, 4) General Unlawful Conspiracy [It should be noted that many of these counts have sub-crimes attached to them, such as unlawful hacking, etc.]. So, there it is folks. This WAS A RUSSIAN CONSPIRACY, massive in scope, directly linked to the Trump campaign, the sole aim of which was to subvert Democracy. There is no way around it.

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eidolon-zephyr · 6 years

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A Flight of Fancy Ch 5

Fandom: Twilight Pairing: Aro/Bella Rating: M

Intro: Here Previous: Here

Chapter Summary: In which Bella consistently sticks her foot in her mouth or In which Aro gets to spend a little bit of (supervised) time with the human.

Note: I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I can’t promise I won’t leave for a while again, but I can promise that I think about this story a LOT. I wish I had someone to bounce ideas around with.

Bella stared down at the plate in front of her, her eyes wide.

“Wow…this looks amazing.”

Esme hovered nearby, her tightly clasped hands the only sign of her anxiety.

“The real test will be if you like the taste. Go on,” she urged gently.

“Well I mean it smells good…” Bella muttered, but picked up her silverware anyway. She cut off a slice of chicken and, without much preamble, bit into the piece.

Her eyes closed and she had to resist groaning. God, Esme was like the model housewife. It wasn’t fair. Swallowing, she took a short breath and looked at the older woman.

“It’s…really good.”

“Oh! Thank goodness; I haven’t had many opportunities to cook this dish.”

Bella nodded then shook her head lightly, raising her eyebrows. “Well, you should make it more often. It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Esme said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Wait, what about you guys?”

The older woman paused, turning back to Bella with a soft smile.

“Oh, we’ve already eaten; don’t worry about us.”

She turned again and began walking toward the door, but once more paused when she heard Bella speak in a small voice. “Um…”

“Yes?”

Oh, this was stupid, Bella thought to herself. It was a ridiculous request, and she should be used to eating alone – she’d done it plenty enough when she was living with Renee – but the idea of eating alone in such a large and beautiful kitchen had her feeling unsettled.

“Would it…uh. Would it be okay if I ate out there in the living room?”

Esme blinked in surprise.

“Well of course dear. But why would you want to do that?”

“Um…” Bella bowed her head slightly, biting her lip softly. Esme could see that the girl felt unsure, nervous. Her motherly instincts kicked in and all she saw was a child that needed the comfort of family. She smiled softly, understanding.

“Nevermind, dear. Come, I’ll grab a small folding table so you can eat in the armchair.”

An unexpected surge of relief surged through Bella, releasing itself in a quiet sigh. She picked up her plate, preparing to follow Esme out.

“That would be great, thanks.”

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to think this was a good idea. She quietly picked at her food, trying to pick up snippets of the conversations around her. There was a small comfort in having other bodies around her, but it was overshadowed by the curious glances the Cullens kept sending her, and by the overwhelming presence of Aro.

Aro.

What was with him? She’d seen arrogant people before, proud people, but Aro was on a completely different level. He carried himself like royalty, with a presence that filled the room with subtle power. He sat on his part of the couch as if it were a throne, and even just reading a book as he was, he did so while radiating statuesque grace and beauty. It wasn’t fair, she grumped to herself silently. What was he reading, anyway? She tiled her head, trying to get a view of the cover partially obscured by his fingers. ‘He has such nice hands.’

‘He has such nice everything,’ another, quieter voice in her head stated.

‘Get a grip’, she scolded herself, stabbing a piece of chicken with more force than strictly necessary. She just met the guy and she was having an attack of hormones. Could she really hold it against herself, though? He was one of the most attractive people she’d ever met. He was tall, not as tall as Emmett or Jasper, but still taller than her measly 5’4”, with gently sloping shoulders and a lean figure accentuated by long legs framed perfectly with expensive looking slacks. She moved her study of him to his face, faintly narrowing her eyes in thought. His jawline was sharp with a gently rounded chin, his lips thin but soft-looking. Said lips were lifted slightly in amusement and paranoia made her look quickly to his strange murky violet eyes to see if he had noticed her staring. He seemingly hadn’t, thankfully still focused on his book. A part of her felt guilty at the relief the felt that he may have problems with his vision, that he wasn’t utterly perfect.

Perhaps he was anemic, too? The Cullens were pale, absurdly so, even to a pale girl like herself, but Aro was pale to the point of being chalky. It made his dark hair stand out even more starkly, falling like a layer of black silk against his shoulders. Her perusal continued, violently squashing the urge to cross the room and pet the raven locks, audience be damned. The investigation ended at his hands again, and she wondered why she liked them so much. There were a lot of things to admire about his appearance, but his hands drew her attention like nothing else could. Belatedly, she noticed that his fingers had shifted, pulling the book higher and allowing her to see the title printed on the spine in stark goldleaf lettering: Goethe’s Faust.

“Faust?” she intoned, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.

Aro smiled wider, raising his eyes from the tome to lock gazes with her.

“The sordid tale of a desperate man who sold his soul to Mephistopheles for a mere glimpse of transcendence,” he commented airily.

Huh. “I didn’t think you the type to read fantasy.”

She wanted to squirm at the look he gave her. “Do you know all individuals so soon after making their acquaintance?” he questioned, raising a brow.

Flushing hotly, Bella stumbled over her words, feeling horribly rude and stupid. “N-no, I mean, I didn’t, I would never—”

She abruptly cut herself off, taking in the way his eyes were creasing at the edges and his shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter. She took a quick swig of tea, trying to fight down the burn of shame that she’d made such a fool of herself.

“I am teasing you, Isabella. Please do not get upset.”

“I didn’t mean to assume…” Bella mumbled.

“It is only human to do so,” he reasoned, and he heard the eldest Cullen boy snort in a rather undignified fashion at his choice of words.

“In any case,” Aro continued, “you could hardly consider it fantasy. Rather, it is a tragedy, seen by some as a cautionary tale against wishing for that which you do not have. In fact, I’d say that it’s a shining example of the folly and arrogance of Man, never able to take the blame once it is shown that Man is at fault.”

She didn’t think herself the smartest person around, but Bella did have a deep-seated love of books. As long as the story was good, she was game. Her curiosity piqued, she smiled and leaned forward a bit.

“Well that sounds kind of interesting. I’ll have to go get a copy at the library or something.”

The book lowered toward Aro’s lap and she felt a little thrill at having his undivided attention. Granted, she’d likely had it the entire time given how he’d hardly taken his eyes off her since she’d spoken, but it was the gesture of him lowering the book that made it so satisfying.

“You enjoy books?”

“Yeah, have ever since I was small. I like going to different worlds, being someone else and going on adventures, that sort of thing. It’s the best kind of escape and has endless possibilities! It’s…well it’s…er…” she trailed off, realizing that her enthusiasm had been bleeding into her voice and body language. Aro quirked a brow.

“What is wrong?”

“I just…I got too excited. Sorry,” she mumbled, her shoulders hunching up around her neck.

The man snorted softly. “Isabella.” She looked up at him, feeling heat crawling up into her face when his voice dropped to a purr. “Never be ashamed of enjoying yourself.”

Feeling decidedly flustered, Bella leaned back and took a slow breath.

“Y-yeah. I uh…thanks.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Aro hadn’t felt this entertained by another being’s facial expressions since he’d knocked the Romanian coven from power. Sparing a quick glance at Carlisle and the rest of his coven, he took in the looks of disgust and growing suspicion at their conversation. Ahh, so they didn’t trust him around the human, he thought with amusement. He watched as Esme gently asked if Bella had enjoyed her meal, the plate mostly empty. Nodding and apologizing for taking her time (She apologized often. Why?), she stood, grabbing the plate and heading to the kitchen. Esme followed, saying that the girl didn’t need to wash her own plate, but Isabella insisted. Of course she would – she was hardly the type to be waited on.

He swiveled his gaze back toward the living room, and saw that at least three of the men were studying him intently, his own friend included. Carlisle looked curious, Edward looked distrustful, and the Major looked considering. He had looked completely contented before, apparently soaking in whatever emotions Isabella had been giving off. The rest regarded him cautiously, and Alice, the dear thing, radiated tranquility, gently rubbing circles into the Major’s hand and leaning against his shoulder. The blond vampire glanced her way and leaned down, murmuring something unintelligible into her hair. A sweet gesture, he thought idly.

An odd thing, mates. Despite the many glimpses he’d gotten of it over the ages, he’d never understood the concept. He knew what they were, but not how it was supposed to feel. How could one tie themselves so irrevocably to someone else, risk life and limb and power all for the sake of another? It made no sense. His own sister had had one and look how that ended up. She sought to steal one of his kings, one of his prizes, and with her gone the man was practically a shadow. Where was the advantage in that? He’d spent decades, centuries, building his empire, taking what he wanted, when he wanted and how he wanted. No one would ever take that from him.

Crocuses invaded his nostrils again and he shut his eyes briefly before fixating on the source, the girl laughing softly at something Alice had said. She looked in his direction before quickly turning away, tucking her hair behind her ear and a blush high on her cheekbones.

No one.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #my work #aro volturi #bella swan #aro/bella #AFoF

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