cecerusso
Clever Cleric
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
ｄｏｎｔ ｔａｌｋ ｏｆ ｗｏｒｌｄｓ ｔｈａｔ ｎｅｖｅｒ ｗｅｒｅ ★ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｄ ｉｓ ａｌｌ ｔｈａｔｓ ｅｖｅｒ ｔｒｕｅ
NOTHING YOU CAN EVER DO
NOTHING YOU CAN EVER DO
NOTHING YOU CAN EVER DO
NOTHING YOU CAN EVER DO
Now that S.H.I.E.L.D was gone, Analeigh was at a plateau in her life. What was she supposed to do with herself now? She didn't have a 'go-get-em' attitude like a majority of her fellow agents. In fact, in the month or so since the outfit had disbanded rather violently, she'd done little more than change positions on the couch, marathoning Breaking Bad and West Wing. Sometimes, to mix it up, she watched tv while doing floor exercises, push-ups and curls and such.
Sure she could get another job if she wanted, probably doing I.T. work if she wanted to remain semi-anonymous. The monotony would be the death of her though. Ana was a tech expert; S.H.I.E.L.D mainly took her on to use her skill at tracking people via their digital activities. During her employment with them she had piloted drones, hacked a hijacked naval carrier's computer system to turn off the engines, even remotely disarmed bombs. Her career at S.H.I.E.L.D was exciting and unique, but also very rewarding on a personal level. There she was helping people on a large scale and seeing the results. She worked with people who were her superiors in every way and learned more than she could have imagined. An I.T. job seemed out of the question now.
Thankfully her marathoning stopped when her phone screen lit up and shook on the arm of her couch. She took one look at the caller I.D. and knew immediately she was in for something good.
★
The elevators at Stark towers played very interesting music. As Analeigh pressed the button for the top floor, a song by AC/DC started playing. 'You Shook Me All Night Long' accompanied her all the way to the top. She'd never been to Stark's hideout before but she knew him from a few older missions when they'd bonded trying to one-up eachothers tech knowledge. The verdict was still out on who knew more on what.
To tell the truth she was a little surprised the tower wasn't flashier. Having a huge neon 'A' on the front of the building seemed too subtle for Tony's taste. It was cleaner than she'd expected too, after having attended one of his parties she thought she'd see a lot more beer bottles.
She reclined back against a wall, arms folded. Ana was thankful for this call from Tony. He hadn't told her much over the phone but from what she had gotten out of him there was a mission he couldn't attend and he wanted her to go in his place; something where she'd be working in tandem with a few of the Avengers. The thought made her a little giddy. The first time the Avengers had strolled through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D's base she'd been starstruck; they were like rockstars walking among their fans. Super humans, either in intellect or skill or physicality, all people who had done good deeds and asked for no recognition. It was a thankless job, and they did it with grace.
Before Tony had dialed her number Ana had been doing nothing. Now, she was going to get back to doing what made her feel most worth-while. Helping people.
The double doors dinged and slid open, stirring her from her thoughts.
"Heeeey Chacha!" She looked up to see the infamous elusive billionaire striding towards her. A deep frown touched her face. "Mr. Stark I told you not to call me Chacha." Already he was dancing a cha-cha towards her, grinning.
"What, they don't have nicknames where you come from? You know, you need to loosen up. I know this great Cabana-"
"Mr. Stark."
"Don't call me 'Mister Stark' then."
He took her on a lax and humorous tour of the tower ('I blow things up in this room by accident a lot, this is my dance party room, this is my library; just kidding it's a wine bar') that ended in his lab.
"Oh Chacha, have I got toys to try out on you." He pivoted around to face her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Analeigh frowned disapprovingly and fixed him with a stare. "Rephrase that, Tony."
"I have equipment to hand off to you. Guns and shields and stuff like that." He spoke cautiously and raised his eyebrows. "There. Innuendo-free. Party pooper."
"Shouldn't we wait for everyone else?" She feigned concern but already she was poking around through his blueprints and holding gadgets close to her face to examine them eagerly.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
Ｉ ｎｅｖｅｒ ｋｎｅｗ ｔｈａｔ ｙｏｕ ｎｅｅｄｅｄ ｍｅ ◆ Ｉ ｗａｓ ｂｏｒｎ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｗｒｏｎｇ ｓｉｄｅ
THE WRONG SIDE OF EVERYTHING
THE WRONG SIDE OF EVERYTHING
THE WRONG SIDE OF EVERYTHING
THE WRONG SIDE OF EVERYTHING
Lăstunul de casă (Delichon urbicum; numit și lăstun-de-fereastră sau pur și simplu lăstun) este o pasăre mică din familia rândunicilor, răspândită în Europa, Africa de nord și în zonele temperate ale Asiei. Ca și porumbelul de stâncă, odinioară întâlnit numai în locurile stâncoase, lăstunul de casă s-a adaptat rapid la condițiile urbane de viață. Este o specie migratoare, iernând în Africa subsahariană și în Asia tropicală. Se grupează în stoluri, populând orașele cu construcții din piatră; deseori pot fi văzuți pe cablurile de tensiune electrică. Se hrănesc cu insecte zburătoare pe care le prind în aer. Întrunesc anumite trăsături comune cu alte două specii de lăstuni — estic și nepalez — care populează Asia de sud și de sud-est.
Atât denumirea populară, cât și cea științifică sunt legate de faptul că utilizează structurile antropice. Lăstunul de casă construiește un cuib în formă de cupă din granule de noroi sub streșini sau în preajma altor structuri similare, de obicei în colonii.
Pasărea este vânată de șoimul rândunelelor (Falco subbuteo) și este afectată, ca și alte păsări, de paraziți interni, precum și de păduchi și purici, dar populația mare și arealul larg de răspândire o țin departe de pericolul dispariției. Apropierea de om a dus la unele referiri culturale.
OTRF
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｔｈｉｎｋ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ'ｍ ｐｕｓｈｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ ａｗａｙ ｗｈｅｎ ｙｏｕ'ｒｅ ｔｈｅ ｏｎｅ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ'ｖｅ ｋｅｐｔ ｃｌｏｓｅｓｔ
YOU JUST KEEP GETTING CLOSER
YOU JUST KEEP GETTING CLOSER
YOU JUST KEEP GETTING CLOSER
YOU JUST KEEP GETTING CLOSER
Elsbeth watched her sister go with a slight hint of apprehension. Heloise was smart, not likely to get herself into trouble, but it was in her nature and in her role as the eldest to worry regardless. Despite her worries, she also knew that no one in town was likely to bother them. They had a reputation whose shadow grew with time; there were whispers that they were older than they appeared, that they used their 'powers' to prologue their lives and stave off illnesses and blemishes.
And then there were the rather unsavory rumors that they captured men trapped in the flash fog of the moors and dragged them back to their home to be devoured. The gossip was equal parts amusing and threatening.
The longer she thought on it, the stranger the label 'witch' seemed to her. Were they not simply following instructions in a book, much like a chef? Making folk remedies like the ones grandparents swore by? They did not burn effigies, did not sell anything to invoke 'curses' or anything that could cause anyone harm (though there were recipes for things like that in that book...). They didn't even participate in the seances and card readings that were so popular in London nowadays. They had been asked for such services, once or twice, mostly from tourists who thought the idea of convening with the dead was somehow romantic and thrilling. Elsbeth thought it was rather silly and a small part of her couldn't help but wonder how safe it would be were one successful. If there was a way to open oneself to the 'other side', as it were, what was there to stop something from walking into you and taking control? It seemed like an awfully stupid thing to do, to make yourself so vulnerable.
Once she had gathered the appropriate vials together, Elsbeth started on her delivery route. The first, a slender vial of faintly rose coloured liquid, was for Andrew.
Andrew Glover was a cynic. He had been an acquaintance of the Thornton family for years; where his friendship with her father started, Elsbeth was uncertain. When they had first started this venture he'd wanted nothing to do with it. Now that he found himself taken with a young seamstress in town, he had turned to their business for help. He appeared at the door after she had knocked several times, looking cranky as was usual.
"Is it real witchcraft then? This?"
She stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
"It's simply rose-hip water and jasmine root. I can't say whether or not it is 'witchcraft', Mr. Glover, but I can say it has worked for others."
"That's very diplomatic of you Miss Thornton."
He seemed satisfied enough, pressing a few coins into her hand and bidding her farewell. Elsbeth was pleased with herself.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
ｎｏ ｍａｎ ｉｓ ａｎ ｉｓｌａｎｄ ｔｈｉｓ Ｉ ｋｎｏｗ ｂｕｔ ｍａｙｂｅ ｙｏｕ ｗｅｒｅ ｔｈｅ ｏｃｅａｎ
WHEN I WAS JUST A STONE
WHEN I WAS JUST A STONE
WHEN I WAS JUST A STONE
WHEN I WAS JUST A STONE
Of the two of them, Will was the only one that believed in the possibility of witchcraft. Perhaps it was because of his past, because of his brother and that woman...or perhaps it was just because he longed to feel something more than the ordinary, wanted to be in on some big secret, to be special in some way. Hal always expressed his doubts very vocally. He was a very 'matter of fact' kind of person, Will had come to realize. Kind of dauntless. He had never known Hal to be jumpy except after nightmares. This seemed to be one of those mornings.
He could relate to an extent. He sat back on his own bed as Hal looked at the portraits, giving him a noncommital shrug when he mentioned their newest mission.
"He didn't give me much detail, which is odd. Sampson does love to talk. All he was allowed to impress upon me was that this was important, and there's something in their possession we must retrieve. A book of some kind." He stretched his legs in front of him and leaned over to look in a mirror on the vanity. His tie was crooked, naturally. Will was one of those people that fell apart in the early morning hours. There were little details about his attire that he went about fixing now that he was more conscious; he buttoned and straightened his sleeves, popped the creases in his bow-tie and straightened that, laced his shoes properly, and found himself a dark jacket to pull on over it all.
"Looks like it's going to rain." He called in the direction of the bathroom, hands planted on the high sill of one of the windows. There were a few people already up and about, going towards the market in clumps. That might be the smartest place to start, but Sampson hadn't spared any details as to where the women might be found. Will snatched the paper up again, staring at the portraits with a crease between his brows. These young women must have gotten tangled up in something nasty to turn to something so dangerous. They looked as if they ought to be attending to suitors and literature and gentler things than poisons and love potions.
The paper was put away in his coat pocket and by the time Hal was ready Will was already to the door.
"Let's find some coffee on our way out." He murmured, waiting to close and lock the door after Hal before going down the hall.
Will had managed to get himself a single, quick cup of coffee before they were off in the market, moving among the throngs of people going from stall to stall. A rather large crowd was gathered around a patisserie that had a massive collection of various sweets and pastries out on display. The smells in the market were varied and lovely; exotic smells of saffron and curries, the tang from a nearby leather works, the sweet and subtle smells of fruits and floral shops. The town wasn't as big as London but it was fairly large without losing that country charm. He was rather attached to this place already.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIT AIN'T OVER xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I'M NOT DONE xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx IT AIN'T OVER xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIT AIN'T OVER xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I'M NOT DONE xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx IT AIN'T OVER xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Don't give me that look, I know I'm late."
Steve stood across the lawn, hip popped slightly in a pose of impatience. Sam jogged to his side, stretching his arms across his body.
"Afraid I'm gonna show you up again?" As he spoke, Steve wrapped his wrists with gauze, looping it around his thumb and across his knuckles. Directly after their daily jog, Steve planned to take Sam to the gym he now frequented for a match in the boxing ring. With SHIELD disbanded, the two had to do their training in public.
"As if old man. You're, what, 90 by now?"
"Something like that."
Their usual banter was relaxing. The past couple of days had offered Steve little rest; every day brought a new headline about SHIELD agents being exposed, some killed with their cover blown, and pockets of residual Hydra supporters appearing. He worried constantly about all of his friends and acquaintances, most of whom had scattered and gone into hiding. He hadn't heard from Natasha in a while, but he knew if he desperately needed to contact her he could do so through Clint (who didn't bother with hiding, as he was already fairly good at blending into a crowd when he wanted). Sam had become more careful with who he trusted. They didn't talk much about it, but Steve could see the walls Sam had begun building up. Anyone could potentially be out for their lives, there could be a laser targeted on their backs right now and they wouldn't know till it was too late. It was a thought that never left his mind. It seemed that way for Sam too; they had taken up jogging together every morning at the same time in the same park to give themselves a little routine and a stretch of calm to start off the day. Eventually Sam would go off to the soldier support group and his own activities, and Steve would end up at Stark Towers where Tony was attempting to help him track down Bucky.
Sam nudged him with his elbow and set off down one of the paved paths. He was grateful Sam was there for him. SHIELD had been a place for him to linger while he dealt with how his life had been turned upside down and shaken till everything was mixed up; he had lived far longer than his due, left loved ones behind and found them again damaged and aged and lost. The world had changed and he hadn't had the chance to change with it. And now that SHIELD was gone he felt as if some armor had been peeled away. But he would cope, like he always had, and power through.
Steve caught up in a few massive strides and slowed down till he could jog at his companion's side. The weather was (thankfully) fair today, not a trace of yesterday's dark clouds beyond a few puddles.
The two men were quiet as they went on their usual route, eventually taking a fork out onto a sidewalk to head for their gym. Steve was watching storefronts pass when he noticed a shock of sky-blue and crimson down a narrow alley. He had only caught a glimpse, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks and turn him back around. That had definitely been blood he'd seen, smeared across the body of a woman. Steve ran down the alley, nearly slipping in a puddle, before kneeling beside the woman. She looked vaguely familiar; it took him all of two seconds to realize he had seen her in Fury's company. She had to be SHIELD.
"Sam!" He hollered down the alley, unravelling the gauze from his fists quickly. Sam's head appeared around the corner.
"Don't worry ma'am, we're going to help you." By the time Sam reached them, Steve had handfulls of gauze. He put a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder, checking her over. He could only spot one wound, but he couldn't be sure that was all.
"Are you hurt anywhere else? I'm going to apply some pressure, we need to stop this bleeding-" He very gingerly took his gauze and folded it over the wound on her stomach, pressing down.
"Steve..." Steve looked up to find Sam with a SHIELD ID card pinched between his fingers, reaffirming Steve's assumption. He looked back down at the woman as Sam pocketed the ID card and her cell.
"What happened to you? Sam, we need to get her somewhere dry-" Sam was already two steps ahead, on his own cell speaking in hurried tones to SHIELD's old physicians. "Her ID says Song Haneul-...she's like, five something, barely." He flipped her ID around and confirmed her agent number on the back. "We're in an alley between that chinese restaurant and the bookstore on 22nd. We don't know sir, we just got here..."
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
xxxxI PICTURE YOUR FACE IN THE BACK OF MY EYESxxxxA FIRE IN THE ATTIC A PROOF OF THE PRIZE
xxxxI PICTURE YOUR FACE IN THE BACK OF MY EYESxxxxA FIRE IN THE ATTIC A PROOF OF THE PRIZE
xxxxI PICTURE YOUR FACE IN THE BACK OF MY EYESxxxxA FIRE IN THE ATTIC A PROOF OF THE PRIZE
xxxxxxx a thousand ships couldn't sail me back from distress
xxxxxxxxxxxwish you were here i'm a wounded satellite
xxxxxxxi need you now put me back together make me right
He hadn't expected anyone else to be awake before him but there was Valter, eyes trained diligently on a screen. Jamie lingered in the doorway for a second, tempted to back-pedal down the corridor: the impulse surprised him. It wasn't like he didn't get along with Valter. In fact, back when this mission had just been a suggestion, when the team was first being formed, Jamie had been handed a thick binder of resumes to look over for approval and in the section of candidates for second in command he had come across Valter's resume. He had moved it to the front as a sign of approval. Jamie was familiar with Valter from his time in NASA's leadership program, knew him well enough to trust him as his second. Granted it wasn't like he had final say on the crew lineup, but his opinion had maybe counted for something.
Nothing in their past really explained the uncomfortable turn in their interactions. He had started to notice it a few weeks into their mission, and it wasn't just Valter that had been acting strange. It was like he had noticed something new in Valter he didn't have a name for, and the fact that he couldn't get a grasp on whatever was brewing between them pissed him off. Jamie could handle wandering off into uncharted regions of deep space but any unknown territory with another human being put him on edge. He had to figure out what was going on or it was going to distract him for their entire trip.
"Valter." He nodded a greeting in reply and took up the only other chair, tapping a corner of the screen to bring up a ship-wide diagnostic exam. Valter had most likely already run the scan as he seemed to get a lot of the diagnostics out of the way quickly in the mornings, but better safe than sorry. Besides, it gave him something to do. In all honesty they had very little required of them until they actually reached Kepler.
He could see Valter out of the corner of his eye, interacting with screens and watching data scroll by. Jamie pursed his lips (a silly nervous habit).
"Is everything ok -" He spoke without looking at Valter but trailed off when he heard someone approaching down the corridor behind them. Damn, now was not the time for him to fix this evidently.
The doctor edged into the room behind them, a tall, imposing presence. "Good morning, doctor." Jamie looked over his shoulder with a smile. Addressing his former teacher as a superior was strangely amusing. Arkady had been a strong force in his schooling, even eventually guiding him towards the path that led him to NASA. He was very glad that the doctor had been the one assigned to this mission with them.
Jamie's eyes trailed Valter as his second stood and left the room. Whatever was going on would have to wait for a while. He gestured to the free seat with a hand and sent a glance back at the diagnostics still running across his screen. So far every process had a small check next to it.
"How are you and Ms. O'Dowd working out? I think she's brought a nice balance to the crew." He reclined a little in his chair, hinges squeaking below him. For a second his mind wandered to the stretch of time they had before Kepler. A lot could go wrong in that time. A lot of things could change. There was a chance, though it was very slim, that they wouldn't even make it to Kepler. Something could go wrong, some fire or leak or meteor. Thankfully the Dresden was equipped to deal with all sorts of scenarios.
"She's a remarkable ship, isn't she." He looked down at the screens before him with a little smile. The Dresden felt like something he should be proud of. A screen pinged and a red window appeared.
New error: occurred .2 seconds ago.
Blast door A-3 malfunctioning. Initiating auto-shutoff.
A light on the wall panel beside his head went off indicating that the blast door was turned off. He punched a button on the console before him to turn on an intercom to the engine room where he assumed their eccentric engineer would be.
"Hey Helen, I just got an error regarding the blast door at the tail end of the first section, the one by the drive core. Could you check it out for me?" God he hoped he hadn't woken her up.
He had just finished speaking when Camille blew through the room, speaking quickly. He was all over the place, which was not unusual for him, but there was an urgency in his tone that make Jamie wary. "Mr. Shen is there-" He was interrupted once, and again as he tried to repeat his question. The kid didn't give a s**t if Jamie was his superior which made it difficult to give him orders and make sure he followed through on them.
Jamie couldn't say he was fond of Mr. Shen. The kid was arrogant and, when it came to certain things, naive; he did his job though, exceptionally well if he was being honest. He didn't need to like Camille so long as he didn't have to come after him about doing his job correctly.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
Quote:
3b555c
7e7d76
No quotes right now, maybe Half Acre, maybe Data Romance
7e7d76
No quotes right now, maybe Half Acre, maybe Data Romance
Lăstunul de casă (Delichon urbicum; numit și lăstun-de-fereastră sau pur și simplu lăstun) este o pasăre mică din familia rândunicilor, răspândită în Europa, Africa de nord și în zonele temperate ale Asiei. Ca și porumbelul de stâncă, odinioară întâlnit numai în locurile stâncoase, lăstunul de casă s-a adaptat rapid la condițiile urbane de viață. Este o specie migratoare, iernând în Africa subsahariană și în Asia tropicală. Se grupează în stoluri, populând orașele cu construcții din piatră; deseori pot fi văzuți pe cablurile de tensiune electrică. Se hrănesc cu insecte zburătoare pe care le prind în aer. Întrunesc anumite trăsături comune cu alte două specii de lăstuni — estic și nepalez — care populează Asia de sud și de sud-est.
Atât denumirea populară, cât și cea științifică sunt legate de faptul că utilizează structurile antropice. Lăstunul de casă construiește un cuib în formă de cupă din granule de noroi sub streșini sau în preajma altor structuri similare, de obicei în colonii.
Pasărea este vânată de șoimul rândunelelor (Falco subbuteo) și este afectată, ca și alte păsări, de paraziți interni, precum și de păduchi și purici, dar populația mare și arealul larg de răspândire o țin departe de pericolul dispariției. Apropierea de om a dus la unele referiri culturale.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
xxxxCHASING VISIONS OF OUR FUTURESxxxxONE DAY WE'LL REVEAL THE TRUTH
xxxxCHASING VISIONS OF OUR FUTURESxxxxONE DAY WE'LL REVEAL THE TRUTH
xxxxCHASING VISIONS OF OUR FUTURESxxxxONE DAY WE'LL REVEAL THE TRUTH
xxxxxxx most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
xxxxxxxxxxxsetting fire to our insides for fun
xxxxxxxcollecting names of the lovers that went wrong
Penny knew full well this was all a dream. She could hear her dad whistling in the background, see her mother on the opposite side of the campfire, her face distorted through the heat from the flames. She smiled at Penny, sweet and soft and lopsided. The gap in her teeth peeked out between her lips. Her father bellowed something about s'mores. And there was Max, sitting on her right, his heavy brows and striking jaw golden in the light of the fire. He was humming something under his breath, a brief chord from a song on some mix tape (she knew she had heard it before, she couldn't remember where). She couldn't look away. Even though she recognized that she was dreaming, she couldn't bring herself to stop it. Their family was whole again. Max hit a note that went sharp-the note went on, distorted, warped.
Her hand slammed down on the data pad she had rigged to be her alarm clock. Clumsy fingers swiped it sideways to turn it off and the shrill music stopped. Penny rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face hard into the pillow for a second before pushing herself up to her knees. God, what she wouldn't give for another hour of sleep. But there were things to check, computer screens to stare at, beeps to scrutinize. She ran a hand through her mane of uncontrollable curls, snatching up some bobby-pins from the tiny night-stand to attempt to keep it all from her face. Dressing quickly, Penny hummed a confused responce to the soft knock at her door. It was more than likely the doctor; he had taken to waking her up sometimes before Camille started in on his rude wakeup call. She wasn't put-off by Camille necessarily, despite his sometimes rough demeanor, because she was determined to like abolustely everyone. It was in her nature. Besides, he was brilliant and knew what he was doing with the nav equipment. He did his job well.
She was perhaps most fond of the doctor and Helen, their engineer. Arkady was a withdrawn sort of man but behind an expression most would call 'cold' Penny could see a kind of gentility, some sort of nobility she respected.
Helen was just downright fascinating. She was so many dimensions all at once, thinking faster than she could speak sometimes, colourful in personality. She was fun to be around (so long as Penny stayed out of her path). Penny had yet to get closer to anyone else. It was partly because she felt she didn't honestly belong in this bunch, and partly because the others kept to themselves.
The captain was nice. Like everyone else here he was very smart, which could be intimidating to her, but he was also very open and unassuming in a good-natured way. There was a moment, their first day on this course, when she had seen a side of him she hadn't expected. He had come down to the med bay to check up, make sure they had everything they needed and such. She had seen him place a hand tenderly on his hip and, when leaning over to inspect data flying across a screen, she had caught a glimpse of a dark mess of ink on his skin. She couldn't say what the pattern was, just that it was intricate. He must have caught her gaze because he never wore his jumpsuit tied around his waist anymore. It was nearly zipped up all the time now, which meant there was no way his shirt could accidentally ride up. Tattoos weren't prohibited, per se, but they were certainly frowned upon, especially on captains whose select visual logs would likely be shown on news feeds. From the way he had touched his hip so gingerly, it must have been new, too. Knowing something secret made her positively gleeful. Penny would never tell anyone else, of course.
Of Valter she knew pretty much nothing. He was nice. Quiet. There was some odd thing going on between him and the captain, but she couldn't decide if it was a rivalry or a weird, strained friendship. Or something else. (She kept reminding herself it wasn't her business but Penny was terribly nosy.)
Once she was satisfied her hair would remained pinned away from her face (for the most part), Penny set off down the hallway, down the stairs at the end, and towards the airlock on the bottom floor of the station. She wasn't required to check the external environment suits, but she did simply for her own mental wellbeing. Should anyone have to use the suits and go off through the airlock to repair something outside, Penny would feel secure knowing their suits were completely safe.
There were nine suits in total, four on the left and right and one beside the door. The extras were in case the crew on the ship at Kepler needed them. They were considerably more sleek than they used to be twenty years ago. The fabric was lighter, a little more form-fitting, and necks and joints were able to bend and turn in a nearly complete range of motion with only slight resistance. They were set back in little cabinets and, when she tapped in a command on the console by the door, a scanner beam appeared at the top of the cabinets and ran all down the sides and corners and creases of the suits checking for impurities in design or punctures. It was unlikely anything would return on the diagnostics. No one had worn these suits yet, there wouldn't have been an opportuinty for them to get worn out or ripped yet, but Penny just thought to herself better safe than sorry as she yawned. On the list of things she missed on Earth, coffee was certainly at the top.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
TONIGHT I FALL FROM FAR BELOW I'M READY FOR
DIMENSIONAL CONNECTION GO I'M HIGHEST FORM
ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｇｏ
ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｇｏ
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[******** dragons
cece ✿ literate ✿ pm/threads ✿ one-on-one or small group ✿ m/f, m//, friendmances ✿ doubling all day every day
[******** dragonsWHAT THE HELL CECE
Hey. Call me Cece. I'm here to collect some roleplays to fill my time (obviously) and I assume you're here for the same reason. Hopefully we can help eachother out. I'm old enough to drink copiously but not old enough to rent a car and I've been roleplaying for eleven of those years oh god I'm actually old wow. I have a part-time job that acts like a full-time job and I often come home exhausted and ready to fall asleep mid-day. I have samples somewhere around here like I guess I could find them if you ask? Keep reading for more curse words and blasé tones.
[******** dragonsRULES AND OTHER SUCH THINGS
✿ On the subject of literacy: I don't care how much you write. So you can churn out thousands of words per post, congratulations. That does not mean your writing is quality.
I count myself as what Gaia wants to call "literate", but I can't tell you 'this is how many paragraphs I can turn out' because it changes, and I don't expect you to be held to a limit either. You post however much you post. Give me some lovely complete sentences and an attempt at proper spelling. Quality is required, not quantity, and I do mean that.
✿ Personal preferences:
This is all the s**t we usually iron out via PMs. If you ask me this stuff I'll know you haven't read any of this, so suck it.
I love doubling. I double all day long bro. I like to please my roleplay partner so I'll often ask your opinion on face models (and by the way I don't use art, we go for real face-claims yo), as I make it ABUNDANTLY clear what faces I like to look at. If you PM me and immediately tell me 'hey I'd like you to use suchandsuch or soandso as your dude's facemodel' I will actually appreciate it. This is very shallow and I am aware but I don't give a hoot.
I usually roleplay heterosexual couples but I'll also do m// pretty willingly. You can't convince me to do f//. Just isn't my thing. I like OOC threads but I'm also up for OOC chatter in PMs. Threads (for ooc/the rp) are easier for me to keep track of however. I'm pretty lax on limits until it comes to breaking ToS. You know what I'm talking about. Romance is an assumed theme when I start a roleplay but if you don't want any romance TELL ME. I don't need it and if/when it does happen I want it to happen naturally. Forced romance is so horrible to read.
UPDATE:
I can now do the thing on the e-mail (though I still prefer threads). I'll only give out my e-mail to people who PM me though, I ain't got space for other s**t in my inbox.
✿ Post layouts:
As far as graphics go, I couldn't care less. I'm not interested in your coding or photoshop skills. If you are a little lazy like me and would rather just forgo graphics all together, that's cool. If you really want graphics but don't want to/can't make your own, I'll make you one if you post first. Ta-da, compromise. All I ask is that you make your coding look neat, it doesn't have to be fancy. I won't dictate your font size or anything because I'm not a tyrant. (I mean just don't make your whole post size 7 a'ight.)
✿ Samples:
I found my samples, just click here! I would appreciate it if you would send me samples when you contact me but let's be honest: I'm going to rifle through your post history anyways.
[******** dragonsWHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR CECE
Ok cool you made it through the guidelines/other stuff! Here's some things I'm interested in. Hearts indicate interest.
✿ ascension (tv show/general sci-fi)
I really liked the idea of this show at the beginning. The ending was alright but I love the concept of a space station (with unrealistically advanced technology) being launched in the late 50s, early 60s and how there's this blending of tech and the culture of the time period. I'm not super into the 'they never actually launched and everyone is in a massive station-shaped test tube' deal however. With all of the order and categorization everything must go through, I think there would be plenty of opportunities for s**t to go horribly wrong in fun ways; computer hackers, murders, encountering a similar but totally decimated station. Y'know, the usual. ♥♥♥♥♥
✿ small town madness
Creepy small towns in foggy, rainy states really get to me on a deep level. This could be vaguely slice-of-life and then suddenly crazy paranormal s**t swoops in out of nowhere.
Heres a creepy thing about a cult which it turns out was just a tax evasion ploy but w/e still creepy.
This is called 'Three Kings' and I want to incorporate it into everything and anything my god. ♥♥♥♥♥
✿ ghost hunting
Title is self-explanatory. I really love ghost hunting teams where everyone has a very specific role to fill that makes the team effective. Might incorporate 'Three Kings' from above somehow. I have a few specific, episodic plots revolving around a team for this one. ♥♥♥♥♥
✿ dragon age (inquisition or origins)
Could someone play Cullen for me? Or Alistair because c'mon I'll never stop loving that big idiot. I know how many people are asking for this, trust me. I also know how slim my chances are of getting someone to play Cullen so w/e I'm just putting this here because I can. Keep in mind; though I know Origins like the back of my hand I couldn't give a flying fart about DA2 and I'm like halfway done with Inquisition. Don't give me that look, I'm working on it, I just keep getting killed by all these ******** dragons up in my face a'ight. ♥♥♥♥♥
✿star trek ('09 funked up verse)
Star Trek was my first love, oh man. I'm looking for someone to play Kirk for me. I'm good at playing grumpy doctors, emotionally-constipated vulcans, and baby Russian engineers. If you would like me to play Khan, however, do not expect white-a** Bleepbloop Cucumberlard. (I love Benedict, don't get me wrong, but he is not Khan Noonien Signh.) If I were to play Khan, he would be much more like the Khan that appeared in the original series. Charismatic and magnetic and intense and borderline sociopathic. He will also be the correct ethnicity. Don't test me man, I'll fight you. ♥♥♥♥♥
[******** dragonsEXTRA POINTS FOR INCLUDING THIS SILLY CRAP
faces: rami malek, aaron tveit, tom hiddleston, james norton, sebastian stan!!, luke pasqualino, chris evans. spies. ghosts. psychics. emotionally constipated characters. spooky or dark themes! american horror story-style violence. MORE GHOSTS.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
TONIGHT I FALL FROM FAR BELOW I'M READY FOR
DIMENSIONAL CONNECTION GO I'M HIGHEST FORM
ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｇｏ
ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｕｍｂｌｉｎｇ ｌｉｇｈｔｓ ｇｏ
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Lăstunul de casă (Delichon urbicum; numit și lăstun-de-fereastră sau pur și simplu lăstun) este o pasăre mică din familia rândunicilor, răspândită în Europa, Africa de nord și în zonele temperate ale Asiei. Ca și porumbelul de stâncă, odinioară întâlnit numai în locurile stâncoase, lăstunul de casă s-a adaptat rapid la condițiile urbane de viață. Este o specie migratoare, iernând în Africa subsahariană și în Asia tropicală. Se grupează în stoluri, populând orașele cu construcții din piatră; deseori pot fi văzuți pe cablurile de tensiune electrică. Se hrănesc cu insecte zburătoare pe care le prind în aer. Întrunesc anumite trăsături comune cu alte două specii de lăstuni — estic și nepalez — care populează Asia de sud și de sud-est.
Atât denumirea populară, cât și cea științifică sunt legate de faptul că utilizează structurile antropice. Lăstunul de casă construiește un cuib în formă de cupă din granule de noroi sub streșini sau în preajma altor structuri similare, de obicei în colonii.
Pasărea este vânată de șoimul rândunelelor (Falco subbuteo) și este afectată, ca și alte păsări, de paraziți interni, precum și de păduchi și purici, dar populația mare și arealul larg de răspândire o țin departe de pericolul dispariției. Apropierea de om a dus la unele referiri culturale.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
ｈｏｌｄ ｉｔ ｉｎ ; ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ ｉｎ ｙｏｕｒ ｍｏｕｔｈ ｉｓ ｐｏｕｒｉｎｇ ｏｕｔ
THICK AND THIN THESE WALLS YOU STAND BEHIND
I'VE BEEN TRYING SO HARD TO KEEP IN TIME
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It always rained here. It wasn't a constant downpour; sometimes it was a drizzle, sometimes a light shower. The weathermen had a handful of ways to say it. A low fog had rolled in from the banks of the nearby river swollen from melting mountain snow. It crept up across the fields to the roads and laid there, swirling in the wake of the occasional passing car, completely undisturbed by the light mist of rain joining it.
Just up the hill from the river was Boucher Automotive, a squat white building that housed the only car repair business/automotive shop in Route Cendres (and in the entire county as a matter of fact, though this county was rather small). Inside, the two children of the owner, Thomas Boucher, went about their jobs as business hours whiddled down towards closing time. Jacqueline and Malcom Boucher were thankful they didn't have to deal with other co-workers; they were in agreement when it came to a general dislike of most of the people in their hometown. Route Cendres was small enough that everyone knew everyone, and everyone else's business was daily small talk. Nothing was private here. The main reason Jackie had taken this job at her family's shop was because she was determined to secretly save up enough money to leave this town for good (also because her father was hopeless when it came to working Excel and organizing appointments). She was far beyond eager to leave for many reasons, despite her love of a handful of people and her family (well, mostly).
Malcolm was stupid. Like, straight up dumb. She stared at him through the warped glass door of her father's office. His hulking form lurked over a car, elbow-deep in the hood. Recently he had taken to a very strict workout regime which consumed what time he spent away from the shop. In the past few years he had become a massive wall of muscle and though he had always been blessed with their father's height (a good foot more than Jackie) he was now at least twice her own size in all directions. He might have been intimidating to those who didn't know that his voice rose several octaves when he was excited or upset because once you heard that it was hard to take him seriously.
Her brother's shitty taste in music was blasting through two massive speakers across the shop. She sent him a dirty look but the full effect was lost through the glass. He wasn't paying her any attention anyways. She shot a glance at the thunderbird-shaped clock on the wall; twenty minutes till they closed and had to go to their weekly meeting, and she was absolutely dreading it.
With careful fingers she pulled her headphones from the pocket of her grey sweater-jacket. As she untangled them, her thoughts drifted through last week's meeting. Most of it was jargon that went right over her head, and there were separate groups based on seniority that got to know a certain amount of things about this 'ritual' they were about to perform. Malcolm and Jackie were rather low in seniority so they knew next to nothing and honestly that suited Jackie just fine. She had realized at a young age that being part of a cult was not a normal family occurrence. It was impressed upon them very heavily that they should never talk about it with outsiders. The warning was repeated almost threateningly at the end of every meeting. Since it had been a part of their lives so early on it had taken Jackie a while to realize how abnormal they actually were. In the fifteen or so years she had been a member little had happened, but her father would sporadically disappear with a group of the other senior mentors and return days later with a heavy duffel bag and tired eyes. No one asked questions.
Jackie put her headphones in, pushed her feet up onto the desk, and relaxed back into her office chair. No one was going to come in and make an appointment this late in the day and she had finished all the necessary paper-work so she might as well get in a nap before she had to return to that awful house.
The cult met once a week at this old Victorian monstrosity called the 'LaBute Manor'. It was down a dirt road with an obscenely large wrought-iron gate and two huge, well-maintaned lion statues between the main road and the house. In reality the gate served as a clever distraction as the road it guarded actually wound away in the opposite direction of the manor. People from neighboring counties ventured over every now and then to take pictures of it and try and get to the house beyond that was reportedly haunted, though no one had seen it yet.
Jack.
Jackie had closed her eyes for what felt like just a second, surely it couldn't be time to go...
Jack?
She opened her eyes to see Malcolm lingering in the doorway, face and arms clean of the black grease he had been covered with a moment ago. His dark hair had been swept to the side and carefully combed.
"Grab your coat, Dad's outside." He gestured to the thing draped across the back of her chair. It was less like a coat and more like a bizarre ceremonial robe. Dark heather grey, dirty with soot around the bottom where it dragged on the floor. Malcolm had his folded up neatly in one bulky arm and was gesturing with the other to get her moving. She grabbed hers and threw it across her shoulder, fumbling with her iPod as she took huge strides to keep up with her long-legged brother.
cecerusso
Clever Cleric
End of the Affair, Ben Howard?
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ｈｏｌｄ ｉｔ ｉｎ ; ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ ｉｎ ｙｏｕｒ ｍｏｕｔｈ ｉｓ ｐｏｕｒｉｎｇ ｏｕｔ