#( annie.)

“biiiig stretch”

THE ENERGY ... ⠀⠀⠀⠀you arrive like warmth does, without asking permission. Before you speak, before you settle into a chair, something in the room softens. Conversations loosen their shoulders. Silences stop feeling accusatory. People don’t always know why they feel safer around you; they just do. Your presence is porous. You feel atmospheres the way skin feels temperature. Joy clings to you easily. So does unease. You often carry emotions that were never formally handed to you - just left in the air, assumed you’d hold them. Still, there is something grounding about you. You remind people that gentleness isn’t weakness, that openness can be steady.

colors: Honey, warm amber, sunlit linen. scene: Sitting cross-legged on the floor while others talk around you, quietly anchoring the room just by being there.

me to annie rn:

ANNIE GET YOUR SLEEP GIRL WITH YOUR MAN!!!! NO NEED TO HIDE THAT YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH BRADY (everyone already knows it 🌚) BE YOU QUEEN!!!!!!

kennedy has already heard her 3 times in the night getting up to crawl into his bunk.

bucky swears he has heard a few of their nightly convos.

bessie would be DAMNED if she didn’t hear that laugh - annie’s laugh that she only has for brady.

LIKE. THEY ALL KNOW. MISS MA’AM.

me to annie (again):

"Moss." Her voice is acid. "Moss?" First the trumpet - and now this. And, unmistakeably, this is it. The crossed line. She can tolerate some amount of silliness, but this? The trumpet? The showing up unannounced? The 'house warming' gift for a Castle she has spent eighty years ruling over thus rendering the label 'house warming' inaccurate?

She takes one step toward the other, heel resounding on the entrance's flagstone.

"You would do well to deliver this 'moss' to someone with need: perhaps Lord Moreau, with his thousand eyes and dingy shack - he could use some form of adornment that the Black God never saw fit to give him by nature." She's speaking more rapidly, her eyes widened. "Why not present it to Lord Heisenberg, and he could use it as a doily for his daily steins of beer and car oil and machinery grease? The near-comatose Lord Beneviento, even, would find more use for that gift than I would with ----- moss!" She's shouting now. Bellowing. "There will be no moss in my ancestral home. Do you have any idea who it is you are speaking to? Do you?" It's asked like a question, but in reality whatever the other said, Alcina would raise a finger high in the air to shush her, and steamroll past. "I think not! Do you think me an earthen wood-nymph? A particularly well-dressed tree root? Do you happen to have me confused with a woodlouse?"

She takes one last contemptuous glare at the woman in the doorway, an idiot's smile frozen on her face.

"The only way you're coming into this house is on a plate or in an urn. I'll see you squeezed for blood before I'll see your stolen, mud-ridden, pathetically appalling deposit left anywhere in my home!" She clears her throat, face startlingly neutral again. Hands clasped, lipstick impeccable - she looms.

"Please, do give my regards to whomsoever it is that you board with. Let them know I wish to speak to them. Soon." The sourness of lemon and the heat of magma wouldn't have compared. "Enjoy your..." she trails off distastefully. "... moss."

: D

Can’t make any promises that he will. Guess it’ll just have to stay a headcanon.

Annie really really likes Tear.