#( lucy. )

[calliopeprelude]

boygenius with nora vasconcellos for thrasher magazine — shot by nikholas freitas [x]

[nichtsehen]

"STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!" PROMPTS | accepting

"you're not even slick." | @gravegotten

"I don't need to be slick." Teeth snapped the dental floss gifted by the house, and Bern worked on knotting the improvised stitches. "Worst case, I get a twelve hour reanimation nap and a free trip to Maine. Everyone wins."

It wasn't a coincidence that the alarming insurgence of if I die, I die, came on the heels of a terminal diagnosis for their battered angel. Castiel's borrowed grace was burning out, and he was burning out with it. So, his guardian's missions had gotten more and more risky. More dangerous. There was no secret what the tiny glowing blue bottles that lined the inside of their coat were for—it was medicine for the Seraph. To keep him going a little longer. Problem was, you couldn't buy it at Walgreens, it had to be taken from a vessel. Bern had spent weeks tracking down angels, and using their warped syringes to siphon bits of grace. Not all of it, never all of it, but enough.

Their last quarry had put up a hell of a fight, and Bern was lucky to have escaped alive.

"Your house must like me, this is the good fucking floss." Final knot tugged into place signaled a job well done. "I could sew an arm back on with this shit."

[aliarsgod]

She knows a god when she sees one and she knows a fake too — living around an angel near constantly has given her far more insight into that particular signature than she might like. Still, it’s usually considered rude to point out anything unless she knows they are not trying to stay below radar.

“Hope you’re in town only for a visit. Real shame if you make a visit down here and don’t make time to enjoy it.”

That part of the country was truly horrid. Beautiful, he could not deny it was beautiful, every canted inch of it, but the heat and the humidity was not kind to a creature two guises deep. One he portrayed and one anchored to him as an infant, when he had been found on a frozen swath of ice that would never harm him. Odin had not been able to change him completely, Loki only looked the part of a warmblooded Asgardian. The Allfather could not give him blood that ran hot and feared the cold. If he walked into a clinic somewhere along that vibrant street, the healers would have thought their instruments broken. The trickster's body hovered around 68, which made this city all the more dangerous for him. It took a generous amount of seidhr to keep that suffocating heat at bay.

What struck him first was not the voice, but the chill he did not need to manifest. It was at his back, and the relief was dashed before it began at the sight of a woman. Rather, what had once been a woman. Ice blue eyes raked over her, and knew that her youth was genuine, but no longer hers. The rich purple essence beneath it was dead. Dead, waterlogged, and tied somewhere else. Not only that, but what remained of her? Was stitched by a thousand threads, none of them purple, none of them hers. Held together by the beliefs of others, as so many gods were, but she was not a god. She was not old. This creature had barely lived, and had been left with naught but a veneer and a reputation. A struggle so familiar, Loki could retch if he dwelled on it any longer.

"This is business, I'm afraid. Unless this city might collapse under the collection of a few flora and fauna, it will stand just as lopsided when I leave."

[soberfucker]

@damagedrot "How happy are you?" from lucy.

sam's never been so fucking thrilled in all their life. "so good!" sam choruses, and then repeats it four more times to be a real fucking chorus. so good. it only disjointedly answers the question, but when your eyes are this dilated and your pulse is this strong, shit like that doesn't matter. it doesn't fucking matter! none of it fucking matters! "fuck!" sam shrieks, delighted. their knees are scraped and bleeding, and there's snot and blood running from their nose onto their chin. they knuckle it away, unable to stop laughing. hahahaha fuck! rescued. in the nick of time. they spit some orange-red mixture of snot and blood and spit onto the rough tarmac, and hold their fists high. "i'm so fucking good!" they hoot, holler, and beat their fists on the pebble-dash buildings. it'll hurt but it'll hurt tomorrow. "he was up in my face and yelling and you just fucking stopped him! that was so good. that was so fucking good!" they pant, hands on their hips, walking like a soccer player at half-time, like a greyhound waiting for a hare.

[sasksdemorg]

How the new chapter got me like

WHAT THE HECKKKKK

[devilselbowhq]

THE WILD & WONDERFUL APPALACHIA WELCOMES... lucero 'lucy' muñoz as written by ghost ( it / he ).

✱ affiliated with SILVER LINING MILITIA ( SUPPORTER ) ✱ working as REPORTER / RADIO MANAGER ( DAILY BURN / WDER ) ✱ has taken up residence in BURNINGTON ✱ born on JANUARY 21ST ( 29 ) ✱ identifying as CIS WOMAN ( SHE/HER ) ✱ known to be DRIVEN, IDEALISTIC, PASSIONATE, ANALYTICAL, FEARLESS ✱ also know to be IMPATIENT, STUBBORN, DIRECT, INTENSE, AGGRESSIVE ✱ portrayed by JESSICA ALBA

DIGGING DEEPER.

TW: violence tw; attempted murder tw

chapter 1 ( voices die to be heard ) : growing up on a mexican border town to a rather hostile nation does things to you as a child. since a young girl, lucy has always been moved by the heart of justice in the face of so many injustices, and rather than cow her into submission, it turned her into a fighter, stubborn with an intolerance for bad people dodging consequences their ‘lesser’ couldn’t. her sister shared her opinions, but always a little bit quieter, always the more timid of the two. any deserving shin lucy could kick against, she absolutely would kick against.

chapter 2 ( to its blade we're condemned ) : she’d been a week past sixteen when her volume of her voice and the places she directed it at becomes her doom. in an attempt to silence her, people tired of her dissent and her ability to rally anyone with ears with her eloquence and passion, her throat is slit in the middle of a rallying speech; by all accounts she should have died there in the streets, amongst the screams of a frightened, dispersing crowd. by some miracle, she didn’t, though for the longest time, she wishes she had. her memories of the weeks—perhaps months?—in recovery are flashes. flashes of her sister sleeping at her bedside, her mother crying, the faces of cousins so far from home.

chapter 3 ( broken but still breathing ) : the road to recovery was a long one, and no less painful. while they’d failed to fully cut her vocal chords, they hadn’t gone unscathed, and when even swallowing was a torturous affair, speaking was entirely out of the question. the surgeons had done what they could, but whether she’d ever be able to speak would be up to the fates. perhaps the enemies in the shadows hadn’t been successful in killing her, but they’d at least eliminated her dissenting voice. that could’ve been that. it should’ve been, if you’d asked her family. but the flames of justice that burned inside her wouldn’t let her give up that easily. maybe she couldn’t speak, but she still had a voice.

chapter 4 ( wounded but healing ) : throughout her recovery, moving with her cousins to the east atlantic region—safer, her mother told her, where they wouldn’t be able to find you—lucy took up writing. first for herself, the angry scribbling of a voiceless woman with a seething pit of anger at all the things wrong with the world, and eventually taking her writing and fire to a place where maybe it would do something good. at the daily burn, lucy found a voice again; maybe not a physical one, but a voice nonetheless. the first time she managed to speak again, albeit no more than a whisper, was the most painful and empowering affair of her life.

chapter 5 ( may these coals become fire ) : lucy decided then that no one would ever be allowed to take her voice from her again. today, at twenty-nine years old, no one who doesn’t know her story would know that she’d been rendered mute so long ago. although she still struggles with stamina, talking for a long time is an exhausting affair due to the injury sustained, she’s taken up a position as radio host at wder, though still diversifying in the written word; she’s the one who you send to ask very bad people very tough questions, staring devils in the eyes without so much as flinching. she’s already been through hell, and even that couldn’t keep her quiet.

EXTRAS.

( CONNECTIONS. )

santiago diaz muñoz ( cousin )

benedicto diaz muñoz ( cousin )

constanza diaz muñoz ( cousin )

javier diaz muñoz ( cousin )

serafina diaz muñoz ( cousin )

ximena meseta muñoz ( twin sister )

daria rhodes ( best friend )

ares graves ( boss )

apollo graves ( boss )

( MEDIA. )

pinterest

soundtrack

( QUICK STATS. )

mbti : entp

enneagram : 8w7

moral alignment : chaotic good

temperament : choleric-sanguine

greek god : nemesis adrasteia

zodiac : aquarius sun ; scorpio moon ; aries rising

( CHARACTER INSPIRATION. )

kristin ortega ( altered carbon )

ekko ( arcane )

lettie garcia ( warframe )

[dogsrotten]

"i just want to go home ."