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[warrued]

send “🌿🍒” (or "mistletoe") for my muse's reaction to standing under a mistletoe with your muse  ♡

[warrued]

ㅤㅤ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ * 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔩, ꜰᴀɪᴛʜꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ʙʏ 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲.

[warrued]

JENNA COLEMAN photographed by Pip for Rose & Ivy

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                    it was almost amusing, how the hovering knight seemed to believe that no one, let alone her, failed to notice his increasing presence.   certainly, his ability to slip below notice was fairly well developed, but such a skill only could do so much when a prolonged stay was involved.   still, for a time, she allowed him to believe his presence remained unregarded.   his interest in her work, in the healing down in these halls, was obvious, and far be it for her or anyone else to prevent his learning.   though only so much could be from afar…

                    ❝  rivk,  ❞     the day her silence broke, there was no formality in her tone, neither was there any element of an order,     ❝  can you put your hand where my left is?  ❞     she held a bandage’s end there, the back of a shoulder braced to hold the wounded shin of a trooper aloft.   she was perfectly capable of completing this task on her own, but it was made all the more difficult by the trooper’s pain medication clearly being far too low, the woman’s constant shifting threatening to send the leg off connie’s shoulder and no one there to help... except him.    ❝  please?  ❞

                                                                                             ( @thirdsght ) / RIVK .

[warrued]

The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1939

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                     fingertips slipped over the surface of the datapad, page after page of files flicking before her gaze, yet never once did she pause her steps.   her route in one she’s taken countless times before, winding about from room to ward to room, until boots travel beyond the medbay, up several stories, and into quarters almost equally familiar.   the glow of a lamp down the hall set her mouth in a near frown, datapad held to her chest as she stepped into the room to see  her friend  the general awake.

                     he managed to shake her lips into an almost smile, but the concern set in her russet gaze refused to dissipate.     ❝  and did you listen to her?  ❞     connie interjected some lightness into her tone, perching on the bed’s edge to lean over his still far too lean frame.   nimble fingers carefully lift the pad of bacta laid against the entry of his wound, relief at the fading tones there cool and sweet in still stress burnt veins.     ❝  because you certainly barely listen to me.  ❞     now, as her eyes lift, there is a fond expression, the medical officer giving his hand a squeeze.

                     heart forms a thousand knots when focused on his gaze, and perhaps a little of the terror there bled back out into her eyes, hold frozen.   how close was she to losing him?   despite rising fears and a slow ebb of belief once more, their friendship still remained real.   and that sort of agony she’d tasted far too much of late.     ❝  any- any pain?  ❞

@warrued : INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am. ... accepting

A plethora of ponderings propel through the multifarious stratums of his bleary mind. Dawn bleeds into dusk, and all the stages in between fade into afterthought. Years upon a star destroyer have offset his internal clock –churning the cosmos into an endless gyre of liquensecent color, stirring in tune with the aeonian agenda unspooling in the back of his head. Work was an inevitable constant that haunted him even in sleep. So seldom was there time to halt and enjoy the simplicity of life, or spare a moment to heed the dull ache in his bones. And yet here he was, condemned to bedrest, in the aftermath of a nasty shot to the shoulder that had unceremoniously slipped beneath the veil of his adept awareness in the wake of a public appearance. Perhaps his age was beginning to catch up with him. Perhaps- 

The melancholy thought dissipates with the soft tap of the nurse's footfalls. Fiery lashes shift with dark-ringed eyes, settling upon her with a sheepish glimmer. ❛ You don't have to say anything, ❜ he murmurs, a soft chuckle tangled within the words. ❛ I know by now. I should be resting. ❜ He sighs wistfully, his lips retaining the soft, upward curve. ❛ I can see it in your face.❜ Hux pauses for a moment as the flicker of recollection clouds the forefront of his consciousness. ❛ My mother used to look at me that way too. ❜

[warrued]

today being the second worst day of connie's life...

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“Even years later traumatized people often have enormous difficulty telling other people what has happened to them. Their bodies re-experience terror, rage, and helplessness, as well as the impulse to fight or flee, but these feelings are almost impossible to articulate. Trauma by nature drives us to the edge of comprehension, cutting us off from language based on common experience or an imaginable past.”

— Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma

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                      ❝  oh, of course.  ❞     an almost self-deprecating laugh slipped her lips, quiet and accompanying a shake of her curls.   truthfully the fact that the king and queen had been to the united states at all had completely slipped her mind.   the fact that the moment was so faint in her mind must have meant a long shift occupied her that day.   embarrassing in front of such a figure, but that couldn’t be helped, could it?

                      lips twitched into a smile, gaze equally light at the mere thought of a man such as the one before her walking down the streets she grew up within.     ❝  well, sir, bickford’s is a good spot if you need a bite to eat for lunch.  ❞     but a little more seriousness and a softer set to her lips, she added,   ❝  prospect park.   it’s very beautiful, and there’s a botanic garden and art museum on the grounds.   my family often picnics there in the summer.  ❞    now her smile bled fond, fingers still nervously working over the edge of her purse.   ❝  but honestly, the characters of the neighborhoods are what i think the most interesting.  ❞

Ah, he knew all too well how dangerous it was to let the mind wonder, especially in such trying times as theirs. Albert was sure to offer her an understanding smile and a silent nod, she need not explain further and he was at least happy to form part of a distraction from them for the time being in his intrusion.

"Brooklyn? I believe I --have actually been there," he smiled, remembering that visit just before the war, "I --had the -pleasure of being -hosted by your -President -Roosevelt and I -believe we --travelled through -Brooklyn, though I --confess we did not -have opportunity -to stop and enjoy the --borough." Though he had arrived late as he and his wife were greeted by 3million people upon their arrival in New York, it was a large crowd to get through and he was sure to go slow enough that those who had made the effort could indeed see them.

"What should I -look for if I -should ever have the -pleasure of a -second visit?" Would talking of home help or hinder? He was not sure but the King was sure to keep his respectful distance and indeed do his best to try and read if his company was becoming unwelcomed, not waning to disturb the woman who clearly had been working through such stress in her station.

[warrued]

also just saying, one of my favorite things to do with connie is being able to really balance the sweet and soft parts of her with aspects that absolutely do not get associated with it as much. like she is so kind, and patient, and soft spoken, but also she's a markswoman and really excelled and continues to in hand to hand training. that she adores dressing femininely off duty/in civilian life, and baking, and flowers (like who doesn't tho?) but also has such a high level of grit to her and a determination to be envied.

it just makes her so human and so fun to write.

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hello, i too have thoughts about hg verse connie. i parsed it together talking with a few friends and it IS in my verses, but just i wonder at what age does it really hit her, how very different she is and yet how close to being one of the children in the games she was.

and even though she holds it very close to her chest, i assume that is where her dislike of the games began.

[warrued]

DOCTOR WHO The Bells of Saint John | Hell Bent

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                    poised brows practically crumpled beneath the weight contained in such a simple statement, words rushing toward the shore of lips, only to crash backward as they pressed together.   it’s an ache within her chest, one built far too easily now, able to grow from a mere ripple, but this instance was a tsunami.   though her palms didn’t as much as brush over his back, still her hands remained behind him, prepared to support in the rare chance of faltering.   she burned to speak something, anything, but nothing he said spoke to considering himself unworthy of such care, only the reality of the situation before him.   perhaps he thought so, but he was not the self-deprecating men who required a reminder that others did believe in their humanity, and so, those lips remained shut against such words.

                    russet gaze flitted over what she could repair, a soft shake of her head the only allowance for her former inclination.     ❝  while usable, your quad muscle was fairly shredded.   the bacta will speed the process but if it was up for me, i’d order at least a few days rest along with frequent bacta bandage changes.  ❞     she’d hated every plink of shrapnel in the basin, but at least the armor had done much to protect the leg from a far worse fate.   but clearly, it could only do so much.    ❝  and your abdominal muscles are severely bruised.   no internal bleeding, but you’re lucky it didn’t go that far.   i could give you some bacta ointment that’ll help…  ❞

                    those soft eyes lifted, brows now furrowed as she bit back a sigh.     ❝  at least twelve hours of continual bed rest would do you wonders.   are you sure you can’t even take that much?  ❞

  « a meme i lost »▐ “ don’t try to move too quickly, you might not be fully recovered yet. ”

Pain was something he had long since grown accustomed to. Aching joints held not even a candle to history of scars that cross-hatched along soldier’s body. Memory of acquiring said injuries seemed… fuzzy. Legend of a Captain moved with a lack of haste, muscles pulling in strained effort, skin tight beneath both clothing and bandages. To take down an ARC of his caliber was a feat deemed near impossible, though Fordo often disagreed — no one was invincible. Even he, the man who stood before armies of steel and calculated strategy, had known he would bleed just as much as the next. Sable grip curled tight as pain rolled through abdominal area, leg throbbing from burning sensation now cooled by what he assumed was better than the remnants of gel on his belt pack.

The battle remained a clear memory — one that looped in different atmospheres. He’d known nothing but war and its consequences ; his very creation was rooted in a war that had yet to breach the surface of the stars. Now that it raged as hard as a warrior’s cry, Captain had grown far too used to its harsh bruising… or worse.      “A recovery period is not a luxury men like me can afford.” The war, after all, stopped for no one — least of all a man trained by legend himself. Warrior who bled for brothers in arms — Fordo said nothing as he shifted to sit completely upright. Effort was concealed, not even a grunt of pain allowed to escape tensed jaw. When he spoke again, his voice was more stable, yet still as monotonous as the beginning.      “Damage report ?”

@warrued​​

[warrued]

i have so many aus rolling in my brain... sw, hg, fou.rth wing, the w.itcher, r.ome...

[warrued]

Paolo Sebastian f/w 2016-2017 couture

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★ ⸻ GENERAL

name:   constance 'connie' rose kincaid

title(s): lieutenant, captain

gender: female.

age: 25 ( stark expo, 1943 ), 28 ( sequels verse, 34 bby )

birthday: august third

place of birth: brooklyn, new york, usa

spoken & understood language(s): english and a smattering of french and german / galactic basic and a variety of trade languages

sexual preference: bisexual but with a STRONG preference for men

occupation(s): nurse, medical-surgical

★ ⸻ APPEARANCE

eye color:  russet brown

hair color:  dark brown

height: 5'1"

major scars: earlobe piercings,  flat mole on right collarbone,  appendectomy scar low on left side of stomach,  shrapnel scars over back and back of legs  ( mid to post-war )

★ ⸻ FAVORITE

color: blue

song:   apple blossom time - the andrews sisters

food: anything baked really, but especially when apple is involved

drink: black coffee

★ ⸻ HAVE THEY…

passed university:  nursing degree... so yes?

had sex: yes

had sex in public: no

gotten pregnant/someone else pregnant: verse dependent

kissed a boy: yes

kissed a girl: no

gotten tattoos: no

gotten piercings: yes

stayed up for more than 24 hours: yes

★ ⸻ ARE THEY…

a virgin: no

a cuddler: yes

a kisser: yes

scared easily:  no

jealous easily: no

trustworthy: yes

dominant:  sometimes

submissive: sometimes

in love: verse dependent

single: verse dependent

★ ⸻ RANDOM QUESTIONS

have they harmed themselves:  no

thought of suicide: yes

attempted suicide: no

wanted to kill someone: yes

have/had a job: yes

have any fears: yes

★ ⸻ FAMILY

sibling(s): 1 older brother, 1 younger brother

parent(s):  mother and father, both alive

children: verse dependent

significant other:  verse dependent, but occasionally included as bucky

pet(s):  verse dependent

tagged : @debelltio tagging : don't know who has and hasn't done this so if you haven't, go!!!

[warrued]

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙷 𝙴 𝙻 𝙻 ' 𝚂 𝙴 𝙼 𝙿 𝚃 𝚈 and all the 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡𝙨 are here.

ᴄᴏɴɴɪᴇ of captain america: the first avenger. republic / imperial / first order medical officer verse. written by 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢.