#xii. queue

SEND ‘🎵 + PAIRING’ :   steve rogers ( @goodsouldier ) + anita blake

SEND ‘🎵 + PAIRING’ :   bucky barnes ( @lostsouldier ) + anita blake 

endless edits of anita blake  —   ft. bucky barnes

1693. WHEN DEATH HAD FIRST SAW CHAOS, she had thought that he was beautiful. a menace that seemed to enjoy playing tricks around her village when it pleased him, but beautiful none the less. she had chastised him for his games and he had seemed surprised that she had known it was him at all. she couldnt explain it, she had never told anyone the things she could see, the things she could do. the people of her village were god fearing and devout, though there was nothing special about a man coming back from dead to her. the man became her confidant in secret, the trickster god who took pleasure in toying with humans and spinning tales. some days he would be a bother while she completed her tasks, some nights they would meet in the forests and they would learn of the magic the other held in their bones. he would tell her of his realm and all its riches and she would show him the spirit world his eyes could not see. she spoke without hesitation or chaste quietness, teasing the god as often as she reminded him of her awe in his beauty and wit. she would come home with mud on her bare feet and hair wild, a glow of mischievous contentment as she slid into her bed. she supposed she shouldve known then, that nothing good lasts for long. that she had become greedy in believing that she had been blessed with a companion that understood her. gods were not companions, they were not meant to be kept close for humanity was far too simple. mortals were too hateful and angry, too jealous and full of fear to truly love something that can not be contained in a church.  “ witch! ” “ heathen! ” “ the devils whore! ” kindling pierced the bottoms of her feet, sharpened ends of wood pointing toward her as if she could some how escape the ropes that tied her hands to the stake. she had been stripped down to her undergarment, the white cloth stained with mud, blood and spit. her long hair had been cut at jagged angles with the blunt edge of a sword, framing a filthy tear streaked face. she did not plead for her life, she did not cry for her soul. her magic swelled, pushing against her broken skin, begging to be let out. it would be easy, there was not a lack of dead bodies in such a place of sickness and wrath.  but she couldnt, her heart wouldnt let her. so tears fell from her eyes as her anger filled her soul, creating a bottomless well that would last centuries long after her body had turned to ash. her fury kept her mouth closed even as they set her pyre aflame, she wouldnt give them the satisfaction to hear her pain. they would not find their wicked entertainment in her screams. she was not afraid of death, how could she fear something that was inside her? “ may the gods give you mercy where you have none, ” her words only earned more jeers and shouts. the priest raising the cross around his neck toward her as if it would protect him from her vile blasphemy. the heat of the flames licked at her, every breath taking in clouds of dark fumes as it rose upwards. it choked her lungs and stung her eyes, a sensation other than the unbearable heat was almost welcomed. she gripped the stake with her tied hands, trying to keep her voice to herself. gazing over the crowd, through the billows of smoke, she saw him.  their eyes met and for a moment she couldve sworn she saw sorrow in his eyes, a moment of panic as he realized that no magic could save her. no, it was far too late. perhaps it was presumptuous to think he would mourn a mortal, that he would feel the same anguish she felt knowing that her only friend would have to watch her burn to death for simply existing. she was not a witch running naked in the woods with the devil, she was a woman who found freedom in the company of a god. she would not regret that.  she could feel her magic called to him, begging him, pleading with him, to save its weakened, hunger panged vessel. without life, death could not exist so it clawed at whatever it could to keep its power. perhaps her curse would die with her. she leaned her head back against the post, her vision swimming as consciousness began to fade from her exhausted body. let her last offering to the trickster be a smile, for he always seemed to wear one.  he did not smile now. how unfitting, her last thought before the flames engulfed her.

incorrect quotes // the deep ( @ascnsion ) & anita  

NPC FRIENDS & EXES.     anita doesnt make friends easily and that definitely bleeds into her dating life. because of this, i have pulled three big parts of anitas life from the comics/books into all of her verses. they all have a role in her character development and can be used in threads, dead or alive. of course if anyone picks up these characters as muses, this will change. faceclaims are based on the novels descriptions, as close as i could get.

veronica ‘ronnie’ sims,  private detective.    anitas best friend, and the only untrained human anita knew of who she felt was capable of handling herself in a fight. they sharing similar deprecatory humor, becoming exercise buddies and, when necessary, visiting one another in hospital. ronnie encourages anita to own her sexuality and only focus real energy on good men. she does not approve of any of anitas relationships with non-humans or those who can put her in more danger.   fc: charlize theron

ted ‘edward’ forrester,  bounty hunter.    he usually helps anita on preternatural hunts or calls anita in to help him. anita considers herself to be possibly edward's only true friend, and since they are referred to as best friends. edward is a hitman and is extremely dangerous. He now specializes in assassinating supernatural targets, because humans were too easy. he particularly hunts vampires and lycanthropes, and taught anita most of her combat skills. he is known to the monsters as Death, seemingly because he has had so many kills.   fc: ryan gosling

richard zeeman,  werewolf.   richard holds a degree in preternatural biology and has a day job as a junior high school science teacher. He is very closeted about his lycanthropy for fear of losing his job. unlike jean-claude, richard has a hard time accepting anitas bottomless rage and the violence that comes with it. he wants peace though he cant accept the lack of humanity in himself either. this causes a rift in their relationship and long lasting trauma for bother of them. he was anitas boyfriend in earlier books, her one-time fiance, was her on again, off again lover. now an ex.    fc: joe manganiello