Shtuffy shtuff shtuff ideas

/ By Tweedy [+Watch]

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Roleplay Responses

[B Just bits of narrative- AU?] [+red Give it to O'Brien-san tomorrow to start the line.]

Gweniviere combed her fingers, blackened with dye, through her hair. The white was being masked under a layer of black- slowly as the lieutenant worked in the color into her hair- going from a dingy, greasy looking gray to an eventual, inky black. The dye was staining her skin as well, she assessed, and would wash out in the shower. But at least looking at her skin at that moment it didn't seem like it would. Looking back up at the mirror she noticed now with her hair so dark- her eyes didn't look so much golden as they did a sharp yellow now. That would have to be hidden as well. Pulling the towel around her shoulders more she then washed her hands, leaving them partially gray for the time being until the color would come off. Snagging the box she glanced over the instructions- "[B Leave in one hour and then shower as normal]" Gweniviere murmured to herself, frowning. [i One hour? That seemed quite short- but the dye was thick and slick enough, it would most likely stick just fine.]

Sighing quietly she slicked her hair back over her head and turned towards the hall. Using dish soap would most likely help get the dye off of her skin faster.
  Gweniviere / Tweedy / 4y 232d 3h 2m 42s
Memory
[B A Cold Winter]
For future reference or use...

Gweniviere remembered the first bitterly cold day of winter that snow had fallen when she was seven. All of them, she and her siblings, had good boots and winter coats that a neighbor's children had grown out of. It was such kindness for instead of them cutting the coats up for other purposes they had been given to the Nietzsche family. Her mother was so happy that she couldn't stop crying every time she saw any of them that day, in or out of the clothes. She would press her fingers to her lips and pull the children into her arms.

[i Their mother looked at her three children with soft, teary pride. Dietrich, Nadja and little Gweniviere. The three children all had proper boots and winter coats on- she couldn't be happier.]
  Tweedy / 4y 234d 6h 21m 33s
[B Gweniviere]
[B Cemetery]

Gweniviere entered the cemetery and made her way to a specific gravestone. She had on a long, dark coat and her military cap and in her hands was a small gathering of flowers. The day was balmy and overcast, the sun lost behind a mask of white- the sort of day that cast no shadows on the ground. On the approached grave's face was carved the name ‘[i Hilda Schultze]’ and the date. It lacked the Hydra symbol on it for reasons that Gweniviere considered just, for future’s sake so that the grave was not to be desecrated should things change. The lieutenant stopped in front of this stone and gazed at it with guilt and longing in her eyes. Her last and most valuable sister.

Standing in front of it, sadness dimmed her gaze as she removed her hat. Gazing at the stone a few moments she finally spoke softly in German to the memorial, “[B I do not know if I should visit more often or if I visit too often as it is.]” Gweniviere murmured, tilting her head back with a very weak, bare prick of a smile. Her eyes squinted towards the bright, sunless sky before lowering again. The lieutenant stepped forwards to place the flowers in her hand against the stone, after which drawing back again. She didn’t speak for some time, studying the stone it seemed. Her lips pursed“[B I miss you, lieber freund. I just hope to gott you didn’t suffer as much as I think you did.]” Her mouth twitched, the woman's weak, wheedling voice trembling as she brushed her hand over her eye to dispose of trembling tears. Even seventy years later it hurt almost as badly as it did that first night without her. For now, Gweniviere was the only one left- and the heavy weight of her guilt for surviving pressed down as harshly as it ever had been. “[B I feel like I’ve lost my way, Hilda. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore or why. Sometimes I can hardly keep going. The past, you, my family- it is all so far away from me now. I can hardly remember what any of you look like.]” Gweniviere took a shaky breath, her voice breaking, and wiped her other eye with a stifled sob, her voice losing what little strength it had to begin with. “[B Perhaps, in the infinite wisdom of the afterlife if there is one you have been shown an error in your ways during life- and as such in mine. Maybe you look down upon me from where you are with pity because I am yet burdened with life’s ignorance.]” The soldier sobbed, her lips trembling with emotion, but she kept them pressed tightly together. “[B I don’t know anymore. I wish I could ask for help-]” Gweniviere sobbed and pushed the heel of her hand into her eye, looking up at the sky again and taking a ragged breath. Her shoulders shook barely as a silence fell, pierced only by broken-sounding sobs as she was overcome. The cemetery was a safe place for the lieutenant, always had been since she was young. It was quiet, secluded, peaceful, and outside. "[B but there is no one I can actually go to help for. Not anymore.]"

“[B I just-]” she spoke, tear-filled eyes looking sadly at the grave marker. “[B I don’t know anymore why I am doing this. I don’t think I can keep doing this. But I can’t stop! I’ve dedicated my life to this and I can’t go back. They won’t let me- and there is nothing for me even if I tried. But-]” she drew a ragged breath, “[B I struggle to even feign conviction!]” Turning her head to the side she covered her mouth with her hand, other slipping over the back of her head through the silvery white of her hair. “[B I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost. I keep telling myself I’ve only hit a low point but- it’s so hard to keep thinking that when I don’t see any proof. Just- any proof that I am doing something good anymore. That I am striving for something still attainable- or just- anything at all. What am I even doing anymore?]” Trailing off, the lieutenant sighed and ran her hand through her hair once more, growing quiet. After some minutes she spoke again, quietly, “[B It is obvious that old habits die hard if even now I am afraid to face my family with any of this,]” Gweniviere scoffed bitterly, “[B even in death. Even after seventy goddamn years.]” The soldier hissed in a hard tone, clenching her teeth together and dropping to her knees, her right hand reaching out to steady herself. “[B I’m still the same little asthmatic girl from Dresden trying to appease her country and her dying mother and I will never be any different.]” Again dissolving into tears she had long held back, for months, some for years; Gweniviere cried. She pressed her hands to her eyes, curling in on herself, and cried.

“[B I’m losing my mind, Hildie. I am. Had I known I would end up like this I would have- I would have-]” she stopped, pressing her lips together, “[B Oh, who am I kidding. I couldn’t have done a goddamn thing! Nothing! Nichts! I would have died… had I not done it I would have died. Now here I am, dead anyways. Much good I turned out...]”
  Gweniviere / Tweedy / 4y 234d 6h 14m 0s
[+red Short Scene]
[i scene- Gweniviere seated, trapped somehow, in a chair] . [i Typical interrogation room the likes of which NCIS has shown. Gretchen standing walks behind her and leans down to speak in a quiet, but clearly angered tone, running her hands possessively over the seated super soldier. She hisses and spits the words into the ear of her tight-lipped, forcibly uninterested, subject. Gweniviere keeps her gaze distanced and turned towards the mirrored glass, seeing herself stoically staring back as if blaming her for the psychological birth and realistic projection of the lieutenant's repressed mentality.]

"[B You know what your biggest fear is?]" She hissed, her voice quickly becoming vicious as she halted her progression across the room to lean down to Gweniviere's level. "[B Forgetting. You're afraid to forget anything- who you are or where you came from- because otherwise you'll lose what little is left of 'yourself', whatever that means to you. You use that word a lot. Honestly, in my opinion I don't even think [i you] know who 'you' are. But- don't think I don't have a pretty damn good idea what that little 'thing' is. That little, tiny piece of yourself that still cries for justice. The thing that prevents you from turning into me? Right? The one thing you think I can't touch.]" Gretchen said, running her tongue over the inside of her mouth. She stood and slipped Gweniviere's hat off of her head, the item landing in the woman's lap, and ran her fingers through the pale white of her hair. "[B Thing is-]" the black clad soldier continued, moving around the side of the table and facing the silent lieutenant, laying her palms on the smooth surface, and leaning close, eye to eye. She lowered her voice to a quiet, chillingly serious level. "[B you're out there being a sad, ridiculous excuse for a hero and I'm in here. In reality it's you who can't touch me. Don't think I don't know how you think you've lost your way- and how you're worried that you'll spiral down to my level.]" Gweniviere's golden, stiffly managed gaze met the harsh yellow of the psychological projection's. "[B Well sweetheart I have news for you- you will [i never] get rid of me no matter how hard you try- how you ignore me- because you just can't admit that you love me- and you need me. Otherwise you would become me because my existence is the only thing that keeps you certain that you're sane. I am the thing that you rely upon like a drug to keep you going in the direction you swear to your holy god is the opposite of mine.]" With that the serious look twisted into a satisfied, leering smile as Gweniviere's expression froze in horror, her eyes widening. "[B I know you won't see it but you and me, kid? We're the same. You just don't want to accept it. I don't think you realize that I have my fingers in every fucking thing you do or say. I know how to make you work and I know how to get what I want out of you. But I don't really have to try- you do it on your own. You're closer than you think and I love to see how atrociously stupid you are.]"

The lieutenant drew back in her seat, her expression twitching with uncertainty, shadowed with outrage. "[B Get away from me.]" she hissed in a tremulous tone. Gretchen leaned instead closer, tilting her head and licking the tip of the other's nose with a cackle of satisfaction. Gweniviere seized Gretchen's collar and threw her to the floor, standing up finally, her breath hissing in with vehement, seething anger. "[B Don't you touch me!]"

Gretchen only laughed, pushing herself up into a kneeling position and leered at the lieutenant. "[B Don't touch me?]" she repeated incredulously, amusement written on her face, her strangely white teeth glinting as her lips pulled in a wide smirk. "[B You're so droll- I'm not supposed to be real, remember? How could I? You're just feeding your own delusion!]" The lieutenant's teeth grit together and she struck Gretchen across the face, throwing her to the floor. In the [i grievously vivid] color of the delusion, the blood was bright red as the stained, crazed smile was turned back up to Gweniviere stretcted upon the pale face of the other woman. "[B Oh, now you want to fight?]" Gretchen said, her speech uninhibited by the blood in her mouth. With that she twisted around and moved to sweep Gweniviere's legs out from under her.

The lieutenant saw it predictably as she would have done the same and in turn moved to [i hop] [+green ] over it but was too slow and her right leg was kicked from under her, sending her toppling into the table and finally to the floor. In her effort to stop herself her nose [i crunched] [+green ] against the edge of the metal table and immediately bled, possibly broken. Finally grabbing hold and pulling herself from the floor she put her fingers to her upper lip and saw her own blood. Gretchen had stood while she was doing this, giving her a mean smile, head tilting, "[B Now how real am I? You can't even wake up.]"

[+red Realization, blah, blah, blah. Edit this heavily. Gretchen's speech has more than one objective subject thingie and I'm sure that's confusing. Find someone to vet it???]
  Tweedy / 4y 237d 13m 36s
[pic http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/ef/11/30/ef11300b762f19b9c67616679f82c3b0.jpg]

Votre psychopathe semble un peu mieux que vous avez imaginé, non? Cela pourrait être look original avant cicatrices ... Circa 1940?

[B Gretchen Fleischer]

Character Def.
[+red Synonyms you want to give her:]
-bold means prevalent in character: see if this changes

mercenary
warped
[B chilling]
[B virile]
[B predatory]
[B unsettling]
perverted?
vindictive
unpredictable
skewed
off
[B sick/sickening?]
sinister
insidious
moribund? wanna use this word somehow so badly
[+red What you want from her as a character:]
[B NOT] insane- don't write insanity she is in control and she likes it. let others come to that conclusion if applicable.
Make it more of a 'letting go, little regard for appearances' versus gweniviere. Be a reflection and expand upon that
openly, hungrily sexual
I want her to be a very uncomfortable character to write and to read. She will be slick and disgusting but that is what she needs to be to set her apart from other openly "villainous" characters you have made and written. Think Emilie turned into a soldier with legitimate power, but draw back from the heavy note of '[i bestial critter from your nightmares lurking under the skin of a human being]' part. Or take it if you feel it is appropriate. {AU preferably- for the 'life's greatest lie' rp is officially Gweniviere's original uni}
[B THIS IS A CHALLENGE. SHE MUST BE HORRIFIC.]

[+red Theoretical activity ONLY. Everything is fluid. She isn't real yet.]

Snips and snails so far only... you know the drill.

Gretchen grabbed Gweniviere and slammed her against the table. "[B I am everything you want to be! Everything you crave to do! I would be what you turn into if only you didn't care. You just hate to admit that you love every image I put into that pretty little, hypoctritical head of yours.]"
-

"[B You want me.]" Gretchen hissed, pressing her face closer to Gwen's, roughly brushing her hair back with a cruel grin. "[B You [i want] me to be real. Then you wouldn't have to take responsibility.]"
-


"[B Oh, sweetie you don't know [i half]of the things i want to do to you.]" Gretchen snickred, crossing her arms and bringing her feet up onto the table. Her golden eyes roved over the man's figure for a moment before narrowing slightly with what looked like some warped form of appreciation as the corner of her mouth slipped into a predatory, smirking grin.
-

"[B You will never be rid of me! Not unless there is some magic fucking serum to wipe your past and memory. I'm you.]"
-


"[B I'm what she would have turned into had she given into all of those nasty, terrible things that she's seen and thought; dyed hair and all.]" Gretchen said, holding her arms out to be assessed. "[B What do you think, handsome?]"
-

"[B There's a fair share of this lot about you. Mm.]" Gretchen murmured sinisterly, crossing her knees and arms, her shoulders quivering in what looked like anticipation. "[B You've hit quite a nerve- well, nerves. It;s a mess, mess, mess. And you-]" the projection crooned, tilting her head. "[B you're a mess too, aren't you? I'm sure I can see that reflection, that light. Ooh, god almighty I want to feel that light] ."
-

[+blue Short Scene]
scene- [i Gweniviere seated, trapped somehow, in a chair] . [i Typical interrogation room the likes of which NCIS has shown. Gretchen standing walks behind her and leans down to speak in a quiet, but clearly angered tone, running her hands possessively over the seated super soldier. She hisses and spits the words into the ear of her tight-lipped, forcibly uninterested, subject. Gweniviere keeps her gaze distanced and turned towards the mirrored glass, seeing herself stoically staring back as if blaming her for the psychological birth and realistic projection of the lieutenant's repressed mentality.]

"[B You know what your biggest fear is?]" She hissed, her voice quickly becoming vicious as she halted her progression across the room to lean down to Gweniviere's level. "[B forgetting. You're afraid to forget anything- who you are or where you came from- because otherwise you'll lose what little is left of 'yourself', whatever that means to you. You use that word a lot. Honestly, in my opinion I don't even think [i you] know who 'you' are. But- don't think I don't have a pretty damn good idea what that little 'thing' is. That little, tiny piece of yourself that still cries for justice. The thing that prevents you from turning into me? Right? The one thing you think I can't touch.]" Gretchen said, running her tongue over the inside of her mouth. She stood and slipped Gweniviere's hat off of her head, the item landing in the woman's lap, and ran her fingers through the pale white of her hair. "[B Thing is-]" the black clad soldier continued, moving around the side of the table and facing the silent lieutenant, laying her palms on the smooth surface, and leaning close, eye to eye. She lowered her voice to a quiet, chillingly serious level. "[B you're out there being a sad, ridiculous excuse for a hero and I'm in here. In reality it's you who can't touch [i me]. Don't think I don't know how you think you've lost your way- and how you're worried that you'll spiral down to my level.]" Gweniviere's golden, stiffly managed gaze met the harsh yellow of the psychological projection's. "[B Well sweetheart I have news for you- you will [i never] get rid of me no matter how hard you try- how you ignore me- because you just can't admit that you [i love] me- and you need me. Otherwise you would become me because my existence is the only thing that keeps you certain that you're sane. I am the thing that you rely upon like a drug to keep you going in the direction you swear to your holy god is the opposite of mine.]" With that the serious look twisted into a satisfied, leering smile as Gweniviere's expression froze in horror, her eyes widening. "[B I know you won't see it but you and me, kid? We're the same. You just don't want to accept it. I don't think you realize that I have my fingers in every fucking thing you do or say. I know how to make you work and I know how to get what I want out of you. But I don't really have to try- you do it on your own. You're closer than you think and I love to see how atrociously stupid you are.]"

The lieutenant drew back in her seat, her expression twitching with uncertainty, shadowed with outrage. "[B Get away from me.]" she hissed in a tremulous tone. Gretchen leaned instead closer, tilting her head and licking the tip of the other's nose with a cackle of satisfaction. Gweniviere seized Gretchen's collar and threw her to the floor, standing up finally, her breath hissing in with vehement, seething anger. "[B Don't you touch me!]"

Gretchen only laughed, pushing herself up into a kneeling position and leered at the lieutenant. "[B Don't touch me?]" she repeated incredulously, amusement written on her face, her strangely white teeth glinting as her lips pulled in a wide smirk. "[B You're so droll- I'm not supposed to be real, remember? How could I? You're just feeding your own delusion!]" The lieutenant's teeth grit together and she struck Gretchen across the face, throwing her to the floor.

In the grievously vivid color of the delusion, the blood was bright red as the stained, crazed smile was turned back up to Gweniviere stretcted upon the pale face of the other woman. "[B Oh, now you want to fight?]" Gretchen said, her speech uninhibited by the blood in her mouth. With that she twisted around and moved to sweep Gweniviere's legs out from under her.

The lieutenant saw it predictably as she would have done the same and in turn moved to hop over it but was too slow and her right leg was kicked from under her, sending her toppling into the table and finally to the floor. In her effort to stop herself her nose crunched against the edge of the metal table and immediately bled, possibly broken. Finally grabbign hold and pulling herself from the floor she put her fingers to her upper lip and saw her own blood. Gretchen had stood while she was doing this, giving her a mean smile, head tilting, "[B Now how real am I? You can't even wake up.]"

Realization, blah, blah, blah. Edit this heavily. Gretchen's speech has more than one objective subject thingie and I'm sure that's confusing. Find someone to vet it????
-

"[B You're just waiting for the serum inside you to fail one day and leave you with nothing but me and a lifetime of memories that turned into a psychosis. It both terrifies and relieves you, that little, weird thought of yours.]"
  Tweedy / 4y 213d 23h 14m 54s
[pic http://i.imgur.com/ODXRnym.png]

[i I lay, my love and I,
beneath the weeping willow.
But now alone I lie,
and weep beneath the tree;
singing 'O Willow Waly'
by the tree that weeps with me.

Singing 'O Willow Waly'
Tell me lover he turns to me.
We lay, my love and I,
beneath the weeping willow.
But now alone I lie.
O Willow I die.
O Willow I die.]

[+purple The Innocents]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_annB8AsLcI

Gweniviere still could not speak when she was in American hands. Note that they didn't dare do anything to her hands for fear that she could not write. The worst threat they could manage would be to open her throat and chest again.

Navy or black mesh suit for combat instead of traditional uniform??? Like Agent Hill or more formal....?

How about some happy memories? You're such a bitch, Nickerson. Seriously she needs something to hang onto- you know for a fact that a cat isn't enough.

Next post note the SHINING BRUISE ON VON STRUCKER'S FACE FROM WHEN GWENNIE DECKED HIM A FEW POSTS AGO

Order only comes through pain.

Name your insane creation Gretchen. No, yes THAT insane creation.
Reflect...
  Tweedy / 4y 239d 1h 27m 52s
IDEA:
Based upon the Silent Hill nurses that react to sound how about a horror idea/game where you are put in a circus grounds area and must find all your items, simply find an exit, hide and seek???
Opening scenes is the evil performance and the crowd running out of the big top tent. Then the music stops and everything freezes.
You have to avoid the creatures during the silence when they are still- and during the music when they move and react to sound- both music and yours if you are close.
It starts out with still, silent creatures everywhere.
  Tweedy / 4y 290d 6h 23m 17s
[B Gweniviere]

Aside from saving the world- If Gweniviere fails Hydra is already going under after the SHIELD incident- if thy can't pull this off it is a repeat of the post-WW2 fall and Gwenviere won't just be a war criminal- with her affiliation with Hydra and it's attack on the world she would be considered a terrorist because of it. She is trying to save herself- it is her last chance.

[B Also]
"I life itself is incapable of killing me I sure as hell have the strength o end my own life if I have to."
  Tweedy / 4y 306d 2h 24s
[B AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT]

Conquerer Fran:
Young girl- school age- attacked by either an alien or a monster something in an alleyway and a creature that somewhat resembles a beanie and uses her body as a vessel to blend in with humans??? OR all it does is integrate with her mind chemically to steer her somewhat- puts thoughts and junk into her head, changes persona etc.

VERY Invader Zim where the human world is a horrible place and NO ONE suspects anything save for one kid who is deemed 'crazy' by the rest but knows what's up? It's really close to the basic storyline of IZ fix it!!!

Possibility of the 'imaginary friend being more real than anticipated'
The hat could just be a mechanism with which the creature may communicate with the girl and the only other kid who can see this creature other than the conquered Fran is Kip and it scares him/drives him mad.
BUT that ability has its possible uses???
  Tweedy / 4y 308d 7h 58m 57s
[B Gweniviere]

NOTES

The [i only] [B important] thing I have decided on/decided to try hard to hve happen in regards to Gweniviere/Loki scene where she finally actually hits him is my suspecting the man is going to make an assumption. Gweniviere HATES assumptions made about her- about anything as complex as an individual person stated as if it were fact without actual, extensive knowledge of that individual.

I.E. super soldier did it to herself for the reason of gaining personal power

Reaction: her fist connected with the side of his facehead. 'Don't you ever, [i ever] assume I did this for personal gain.
  Tweedy / 4y 308d 14h 5m 9s
Gweniviere's arms were crossed over her chest, her hands gripping her arms. She stood with the stolid, militant stance she always had, her expression focused on what she was being shown overhead as a single tear fell. She seemed not to feel nor notice, simply blinking to clear her vision and continuing to consider the maps up on the glass panels. Gweniviere swallowed before speaking, stepping closer and indicating something in the blueprints, asking after the thing.

Can we ignore my personal problems right now there are more important things.

Just an idea for some serious badass coping methods.
  Tweedy / 4y 308d 22h 26m 56s
Edition from the adorably anal genius! To be added.

DRAGGED NOT DRUG

the pain of it falling onto the open chest cavity was excruciating as she tried to hold herself still until she was sure it was silent again.
take out the 'was'.

She pulled herself again and the wheelchair creaked and was immediately followed by the crick-crack scrape of another step.
the wheelchair creaked, immediately followed by..
doesn't need the other and.

She clamped her mouth shut to avoid a shuddering sob and squeezed her eyes shut before she shuddered at the thought of it sneaking up on her and she opened them again.
Before she opened them again, instead of and she opened them again.

A nurse, that meant she was close to the hospital.
A nurse--that meant

Spitting out another mouthful of blood forced Gweniviere to pause and draw a wheezing, strained gasp for breath as it clogged what throat she had left as the creature slipped off of the sidewalk, its ankle turning and breaking in the dingy heels it wore and it stumbled just barely, now dragging the limb in reaction to every sound that gweniviere made, bringing it closer to her.
Spitting out another mouthful of blood forced Gweniviere to pause and draw a wheezing, strained gasp for breath as it clogged what throat she had left. The creature slipped off the sidewalk...
^ it just needed to be made into two sentences.

The crack of the limb brought a rise of sickness to Gweniviere’s mouth, but in the dream it was just slowly blackening blood that fell from her lips as the creature drew closer just as Gweniviere stood on her own and backed away unsteadily, her leg feeling weak and unstable. She would have to baby it, slowing the woman further. Now freed of the wheelchair Gweniviere froze just as she heard the gasp from behind her.
Instead of 'a rise of sickness', I'd say 'a rise of bile'
'as the creature drew closer, just as..'
'Now freed of the wheelchair, Gweniviere..'

she rolled to try and shoot to her feet, she ran as far as her knee allowed until it gave and she was hurled to the ground once more.
'feet, running as far as..'

The humanoid form was another female figure, this time in the same uniform that Gweniviere was in with an imploded skull fractured in the front. A mess of dark brown, greasy hair was shivering atop its skull as the gaping hole in the head poured stagnant, putrid blood from the cavity of the head.
You only need to mention the gender once.
I'd say 'a mess of greasy, dark brown hair'. It just flows better in my mind.
Also, you only need to mention the hole in the head once.

Gweniviere’s terror voiced itself weakly with more blood coming from her mouth, silent and little but squeaking wheezes to express fear due to her lack of a flesh-bound throat.
'silent, little squeaking wheezes'
Also you only need to mention her expression of fear once.

She tried to push it away as it drug her up towards it and shoved the jagged,
Dragged, not drug

Gweniviere opened her mouth to scream as the form of one of the nurses came towards them after the fact as the pain swelled as the fingers of the creature tore and scraped at the skin, bones and remaining flesh of her open wounds.
I'd put a period somewhere in there; break it up into two sentences, like 'after the fact. The pain swelled..'

Now Gweniviere felt the encroaching loss of function of her body as the dream continued to take her body away from her.
I'd substitute 'physical form' or 'being' for one of the bodies.

A cleaver sank into the flesh of her shoulder, Gweniviere’s blurry vision going up to the bandaged face of a nurse as it assaulted her, then cut the blade to the side, opening the side of the lieutenant’s temple.
'as it assaulted her. It cut the blade..'

In the waking world Gweniviere leapt awake and shrieked, gripping the gun under her pillow and pointing it at whatever she assumed was standing in the room with her, then realized there was nothing and had a split second of thinking it was a good idea to point it at herself.
then realized there was nothing. She experienced a split second..'
  Tweedy / 4y 309d 1h 23m 42s
[B Gweniviere]
[I Nightmare]
Gweniviere had taken a medication to ensure her sleep that night. However, it interfered with the serum’s presence in her systems and never did as well as it should. Drugs to any normal human being altered mind and body easily. However, with the introduction of the serum Gweniviere’s body had gone into a highly reactive state of homeostasis. However, despite this, the side effects were increased as the actual prescribed effect was lessened. In this case it was the chemical alterations in her brain that allowed for her subconscious

This dream that has been alluded to consisted of a mush of memories and dreams. It always started with a thought: Once something is destroyed in such a manner and left empty it leaves room for other things to come in.

The soldier had found herself in the silent streets of Berlin, destroyed as it had been, rubble spilling onto the streets if at all it was visible, items left here and there: a lone wheelchair standing empty near what was visible of the sidewalk, a suitcase, dolls, books, bodies. Bodies were strewn along the streets. This lack of visibility was due to the stark, stagnant, pale fog of ashes, smoke and the entrenched terror of the unknown. It was the presence of this thick fog that shot discomfort through the lieutenant’s body. That meant that the they had already been through the city. The skies were blank and hung low, burdened with the haze of fires burning, and ruins being picked up by wind. However this wind, in the dreamstate, was not there and instead the haze hung heavy without motion as ashes fell silently to the ground around her, deadening any sound that would have been audible as if it were true snow, the pale, deathly grayness blanketing the streets without even a bare shuffle of landing. She could barely see the street itself, as everything was blank and hardly visible.

There was the rush of a wind that was not felt as a faint whisper crept through the back of Gweniviere’s head as if it were being breathed directly into her from someone near. It was a voice that chilled the lieutenant to the bone, that of many voices yet one. She knew the rules of this dream: in this recurring horror she was frozen to the spot as blood spilt quietly down from her own body. Her dreamstate informed her of this- she would die soon, in the middle of the city without any idea of where she was, bled out, if she wasn’t found. The voice was the trigger, the starting point that told her to move. It was the encroaching little voice that told her she needed to move or she would be caught.

Following the rules, following the fate her mind had set for her as much as she dreaded the ending, Gweniviere stumbled forwards. Her vision skewed as soon as she stepped forwards and she reached out to take hold of something and fell to the ground. Silence. It was still silent thank god! Getting up again she prayed that she would remain in control of herself and started walking, careful not to make any sound that would alert something to her presence. Anything. She was to be invisible, protected by the lack of visibility of the outside of the streets by the narrow and short visibility of the actual street. If she couldn’t see them, nothing could see her. The street was the ironic safe place.

Blood sputtered from her mouth and dribbled freely from the cavernous open wounds in her throat and chest. Gweniviere’s head bent as she saw the contrasted darkness of the dark blood of the interior of her body fall away and to the ashen ground. This was the trail that would be followed and she knew it. That was how they would find her. That was how she would be found. Her fingers touched the ragged tear of her throat and then went back to the ground, warm ashes sticking to her slick fingers, clinging to the moisture. More blood fell in a sudden wash onto the ground as Gweniviere made an attempt to stand, struggling to her feet with a heavy, lethargic body.

The air was stagnant and still. It was still silent thank god. Moving carefully Moving carefully, Gweniviere's next target was the wheelchair, something she had tried to reach before and had failed time and time again. Sputtering as more dark, dark blood coated her hands she looked down at them blearily. Thank god it was still silent. She had moved about ten feet before she felt the oncoming rush of dizziness and stretched her darkened, slick hands out to catch herself and fell once more. Blood was following her. She was the only thing left. She would be followed. Gweniviere had to protect her exposed heart. Now on her feet the wounded soldier moved closer to the wheelchair before her leg actually gave out and she fell forcefully to the ground, not dizzy; her body was failing and she couldn’t rely on it. That was an intense phobia of hers, a horror from experience of being tied down, broken and unable to protect herself. Of vulnerability. Her fingers went to the broken remnants of her chest, feeling the slick interior of an empty chest cavity and the jagged edges of ribs.

Thank god it was silent.

The soldier knew they were there somewhere. The things. They would find her eventually if she didn’t somehow find the hospital, or anything else. if she stopped moving. they would catch up she HAD to keep moving. Ashes now littered her form as she felt the heaviness of her own body slowing, and the reactive rush of terror as she fell short of the wheelchair. This was a step in the dream, well-known. What about the silence… her fear was once she was aware of it, the silence would be triggered somehow, as if it were informed that she was focused on it and it would start the downward cycle of the nightmare.

Gweniviere was in the act of reached for the wheelchair’s arm when she stopped, listening intently as terror gripped her. The things…. where were they. Was it still silent? Did she still have time? Her eyes scanned the hazy, blanked out area. Silent? She heard nothing. No voices. No… no shuffling. No tumble of rubble? Nothing…

Her attention went back to the wheelchair, her head turning and viewing the already rusted looking apparatus. She stretched for it, her body weak and heavy and just as she felt the hardened plastic upholstery she heard her first sound: the faint tumble of bricks as they were upset from where they sat. Gweniviere froze, feeling the chill of arresting horror that froze her body. She needed to move. Now. She was being caught up with. More blood bubbled from her mouth and coated her chin, warm for a split second, then cold.

Do not panic. Do not make a sound. Catching the edge of the wheelchair her fingers barely scrabbled at the edge before she held onto it. This was the second step towards the end. Awareness. The repetition of the dream made Gweniviere able to keep track of what was happening and what had yet to happen. Her fate, if you will. And that inability to fight it made it all the more terrifying, and made her desperation to find a break, to survive, to escape all the more real.

The young woman drug her body towards the wheelchair, freezing as soon as the scrape of her boots on the ground was audible, horrifyingly loud in the absolute silence of the destroyed city. She heard the click-crack of bone and flesh and the scrape of a heel on the concrete. There was something there. And sound attracted it. Gweniviere sputtered more blood all over herself, the pain of it falling onto the open chest cavity was excruciating as she tried to hold herself still until she was sure it was silent again.

She pulled herself again and the wheelchair creaked and was immediately followed by the crick-crack scrape of another step. Gweniviere’s terror was great enough to bring tears to her eyes. She clamped her mouth shut to avoid a shuddering sob and squeezed her eyes shut before she shuddered at the thought of it sneaking up on her and she opened them again. There it was. The body stood contorted as if balanced by strings. It was a humanoid thing looming crookedly at the edge of visibility. It was in the garb of a nurse, its cap poised on its head, the white of the uniform now dingy and stained with grime, blood and whatever else. The skin was gray and pale and it had no face, just a mass of broken, malformed flesh with what looked like a mouth gaping with no lower jaw. It had been bleeding once as if the jaw had been torn off, the collar and front of the uniform stained black with whatever stagnant, poisonous blood the creature had. In its hand it held a large butchering cleaver raised partway. The soldier realized how close she was to the sidewalk where the creature stood, poised as if listening for her.

A nurse, that meant she was close to the hospital.

Terror gripped her tighter as she tried to judge how much she could move before it was upon her. She had to get to her feet now, pulled part way onto the side of the wheelchair and clinging to it, for if she were to slip down she would be gone.

Limited. Encroaching limits to her survival. They gnawed at her with horrified frustration and cloying hopelessness. She needed to get up. Now. A bare whimper escaped her lips, the creature’s head popping up, turned towards the sky, and a ragged, warped gasp escaped its gaping hole but it remained still. Tears mixed with blood and grime as Gweniviere trained her eyes on the nurse and then pulled herself up again. The creature’s head twitched to the side and it stepped forwards jerkily. Spitting out another mouthful of blood forced Gweniviere to pause and draw a wheezing, strained gasp for breath as it clogged what throat she had left as the creature slipped off of the sidewalk, its ankle turning and breaking in the dingy heels it wore and it stumbled just barely, now dragging the limb in reaction to every sound that Gweniviere made, bringing it closer to her. The crack of the limb brought a rise of sickness to Gweniviere’s mouth, but in the dream it was just slowly blackening blood that fell from her lips as the creature drew closer just as Gweniviere stood on her own and backed away unsteadily, her leg feeling weak and unstable. She would have to baby it, slowing the woman further. Now freed of the wheelchair Gweniviere froze just as she heard the gasp from behind her.

With another crack, the horrid thing wielding the weapon froze, and Gweniviere’s head whipped around to see another had drawn up behind her and she was nearly face to face with it. The soldier cried out in horror, a guttural, wretched sound as she stumbled back and dropped to the ground just as the other creature stabbed downwards with the weapon in its hand, this time a scalpel. Gweniviere clamped a hand over her mouth and scooted away before she rolled to try and shoot to her feet, she ran as far as her knee allowed until it gave and she was hurled to the ground once more.

There was another ragged breath drawn, sounding as if it were a vortex all its own and Gweniviere’s head shot up. Not again! The body of another female was unsteadily drawing towards her, its arms reaching out, searching as it made its way towards her. This one didn’t stop for sound unfortunately. Gweniviere had run out of time. Again. As always. The humanoid form was another female figure, this time in the same uniform that Gweniviere was in with an imploded skull fractured in the front. A mess of dark brown, greasy hair was shivering atop its skull as the gaping hole in the head poured stagnant, putrid blood from the cavity of the head. Brain matter was splattered across what skin was available, the remnants of the jaw hanging loosely with lingering sinew, broken teeth and putrefying gum tissue shown towards her.

It was already almost on top of her as Gweniviere tried to move away sluggishly. She couldn’t rely on her body. Panic swelled forcibly within her and she shied away from the creature as it came upon her, blind fingers searching for her body. Gweniviere’s terror voiced itself weakly with more blood coming from her mouth, silent and little but squeaking wheezes to express fear due to her lack of a flesh-bound throat. Its hands found her, gripping the front of her torn and bloodied uniform as Gweniviere stared into the gaping head as it pulled nearer. She tried to push it away as it drug her up towards it and shoved the jagged, sharp teeth into the remaining flesh of her throat and chest. Gweniviere opened her mouth to scream as the form of one of the nurses came towards them after the fact as the pain swelled as the fingers of the creature tore and scraped at the skin, bones and remaining flesh of her open wounds.

Now Gweniviere felt the encroaching loss of function of her body as the dream continued to take her body away from her. She could no longer push away the creatures as more came. A cleaver sank into the flesh of her shoulder, Gweniviere’s blurry vision going up to the bandaged face of a nurse as it assaulted her, then cut the blade to the side, opening the side of the lieutenant’s temple. She couldn’t fight as the creatures came closer. The one with half of its head gone dug its hands into her chest cavity, opening it further and grabbing things. Her body cavity was invaded as the very real feeling of hands feeling her inside was made apparent to her as the cleaver smashed into the front of her face. The the dream was over.

In the waking world Gweniviere leapt awake and shrieked, gripping the gun under her pillow and pointing it at whatever she assumed was standing in the room with her, then realized there was nothing and had a split second of thinking it was a good idea to point it at herself. She cried out again brokenly as she dissolved into tears, not letting go of the weapon. That was control. A weapon was control, in the waking world she had control but she had to get control of HERSELF!!!!!
  Tweedy / 4y 309d 2h 2m 49s
[+blue Writing music, applicable music~! Musique pour l'âme, et ma tete, et la cœur.] Hearts and minds-! To be expanded upon continually.

[B Le choix de la meilleure musique pour notre lieutenant surchargé.]

[+gray Pour l'histoire générale. Souvenirs.]
[I Home. Berlin. Family Memories, sad memories. Childhood]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKGmoyuUvyU
[I Lullaby, Erutan. Dark memories]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qh8cV6qTwmE
[I Silent Hill Music Box, Distant Memories]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY-x8N_4eQc

[+red Pour la colère ou de combat. Spécifiquement la] [B violence.] [+red Spécifiquement la violence de la situation ou de l'esprit.]
[I Adrenalize]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXMfdpjnAHU
[I Soldier, C.A. W.S.- Henry Jackman]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVJGh51wR7k

[B Cauchemars (nightmares) et dépression sombre.]
[I Rickety Tic and the Death of Toc] (Cauchemar)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63rMyDhn19E
[I Bloody Angel, Avatar- Dark, Angry Depression]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h71NBBbOjmw
[I Resident Evil]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXd0NCqZLzU
[I Halloween Mix- Danny Elfman]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-4gxbJFhEs

[+purple Thème de Gweniviere.]
[I Zim, Lice Squad]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iizw8-EExBE
[I Pt. 2]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3EghU2OwF0
[I Gwennie's Apartment] (Memory???)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2LhVazAFGY
[I Sweet Dreams]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nS5Qn4ntV3E

[B Showcase, Relevant, Movie Montage etc. Themes for Gweniviere]
[I Hide]:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjTRWhr3fFg
[I Sunburn, Muse]:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgLyGEx7dRg
[I Ave Mary A, Pink]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQVaq7P01Y0

[+green Y at-il autre chose que vous voudriez ajouter? L'amour même? Ou ... l'attachement.]
[I Nero, Into the Past]:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ndv9ecwOpjk
[I Gone, Remix]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzOQUNBM15Y

[B Mission Things]
Just look up Invader Zim Soundtrack. You know that's your thing you ninny!

[I Et la folie. Gweniviere perdu l'esprit. (Sp?)]
Higurashi:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVt2FcmyWcM
Tire's Madness:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfBIkskxTxE
[I I Want my Innocence Back, Emilie Autumn]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QycUthPlVSQ

[+purple Spy Basic Description Theme? Survival Descript/Revenge if Applicable??]
[I If I Burn, EA]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azzlgaDr2F8

[+green Loki Applicable~! Bonus!]
[I Love the Way You Hate Me]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ibFP-Y7i1w
  Tweedy / 4y 309d 3h 39m 47s
[B Possibilite Número soixante cinq et absolument logique. That is however if you choose this, of course.]

There seems to be a pattern through Gweniviere's history if you look at it:
•Experimented upon by men
•Hurt by men
•Hurt further almost killed by men
•Condemned by men
And perhaps more if you expand upon her mid century history on its way towards the modern setting of at least the 'life's greatest lie' RP

Would that not with cynicism bring memory of women NOT hurting her?
•Hilda, Elena, Bertha were her comrades whom she lost but were her genetic kin and her friends and sisters.
•The little nurse from the hospital was her source of communication and resource if we play the rehabilitation logically.

However would it not be a male doctor at that time who would have saved her life? That could add to her hatred, but contradictory belief in 'you have to prove to me I should hate you' philosophy
  Tweedy / 4y 309d 2h 36m 53s
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