The Resistance & The War Effort
They live in an occupied European country—maybe France, Belgium, or the Netherlands—somewhere cultured but caught in the chokehold of war. They don't start out intending to be heroes, but war has a way of pulling people in, whether they like it or not.
Eleanor "Ellie" Duvall – The Archivist-Turned-Propagandist
Ellie starts out trying to preserve old films and literature, desperate to keep art alive as the world crumbles. But as censorship tightens, she finds herself secretly printing resistance pamphlets, smuggling banned books, and using coded messages in classic film references to pass information. She learns to navigate the underground networks, using her wit and charm to spread hope through words. When the war is over, she is one of the voices that helps reclaim the cultural memory that fascism tried to erase.
Raven "Ray" Sinclair – The Forger & Underground Artist
Ray’s talent with ink and paper makes them a natural forger, creating fake documents, ration cards, and ID papers for those trying to escape. Their artistic skills are also put to use in graffiti—messages scrawled on walls at night, mocking the regime, spreading coded resistance symbols. They start out skeptical, but as they see what’s happening to people around them, they throw themselves into the fight with quiet, determined fury. Their art becomes both a weapon and a record of the war’s horrors.
Elias Mercer – The Codebreaker & Interrogation Expert
With his fascination for languages and psychology, Elias is drawn into intelligence work. He starts off translating intercepted messages but soon realizes he has a gift for reading people. He becomes invaluable in interrogations—not through force, but through manipulation and persuasion. He is haunted by the moral ambiguity of his work, knowing that every lie he tells, every game he plays with an enemy's mind, could save or cost lives. After the war, he will never quite reconcile who he had to become.
Elias "Eli" Varen – The Spy & Survivor
Eli is the one who disappears for long stretches, slipping into dangerous places to gather information. They are the kind of person who walks into a room and makes people uneasy without knowing why. Their ability to read a situation, adapt, and manipulate their way out of trouble makes them a natural spy, but they take on the most dangerous missions—living in enemy-occupied areas, passing as one of them, walking the tightrope between deception and death. They return home with more scars than they left with, both physical and psychological.
Alex – The Rebel Broadcaster & War Poet
Alex’s voice becomes a weapon. They start off writing anti-fascist poetry, but when the resistance takes notice, they become the voice of an underground radio station, broadcasting banned news, coded messages, and words of defiance. Their sharp wit and ability to cut to the heart of things make them both a beacon of hope and a target. They know they will likely not survive if they are caught, but they refuse to let silence win.
Séraphine "Sera" Vail – The War Correspondent & Smuggler
Sera moves between frontlines, occupied cities, and resistance networks, documenting what the war is doing to people. She is the one who helps refugees escape, ferrying information, medicine, and sometimes even people across borders. Her camera and her notebooks are filled with the kind of truths that those in power want to erase. She sees the worst of humanity but refuses to let history be rewritten by the victors.
How They End Up
Some of them survive, but not all. War doesn't let everyone walk away clean.
Ellie survives, but her idealism is forever shaken. She writes, but now it is with the weight of what was lost.
Ray makes it, though their hands will never be clean again. They disappear into quiet art, away from the world.
Elias Mercer lives, but he is never the same. He will spend the rest of his life trying to understand the war through philosophy, knowing full well that some questions don’t have answers.
Eli disappears after the war. Some say they died on their last mission, others say they simply couldn't live in peacetime after everything they did.
Alex is captured near the end of the war. Their final broadcast is cut short mid-sentence. No one knows exactly what happened to them. Their words, however, live on.
Sera survives, but barely. She carries the war in her bones, spending the rest of her life ensuring no one forgets the stories she wrote.
This is a story about people who never planned to be heroes but became legends in the process. Some were remembered, some were lost, but all of them changed history.
Forwarded from R,chive. (ˆレヤ ˆ)
We dream big while the world looks small
Do you ever think about how nothing we do actually matters in the grand scheme of things?
Yes. Often. It is why I drink.
We’re just tiny, insignificant specks in an infinite universe!
And yet, we still fall in love, still write poetry, still suffer as if any of it actually means something!
Ray and Eli were never the type for grand declarations. Their love was quiet, woven into stolen moments between missions—fingers brushing against each other over a map, whispered words in the dark, a cigarette passed between them like a secret. They never spoke about the future because they both knew better. In their world, making plans was an invitation for fate to take them away.
But when Eli disappeared—vanished into thin air, their last mission classified, their body never found—Ray shattered. The world had been cruel before, but this was a different kind of cruelty. Death was something they could grieve. A missing person was a wound that never closed.
For months, Ray searched. Pulled every string. Called in every favor. Listened to every whisper. But Eli was gone, and no amount of forged documents, coded messages, or desperate prayers could change that.
At first, Ray tried to drown themselves in the work—pouring their grief into more forgeries, more sabotage, more reckless defiance. But the war was ending, and so were they.
When the war finally did end, Ray walked away from everything. No grand speeches. No farewell letters. Just one day, they packed up what little they had and left.
They traveled for a while—Paris, Lisbon, Istanbul—anywhere Eli had once spoken of seeing. Every city felt like a ghost town, every street an echo.
Eventually, they stopped. In a small coastal village, somewhere the war hadn't touched as deeply, Ray picked up a brush again. They painted. Not resistance slogans, not fake documents—just colors, light, memories. Some nights, they would sit outside with a cigarette and pretend Eli was still beside them, quiet and steady as ever.
Did they ever find out what happened? Maybe. Maybe, years later, a letter arrived—unsigned, but unmistakable. Or maybe a familiar face crossed their path in a crowded station, and for just a second, Ray could breathe again.
Or maybe they never found out. Maybe Eli was just... gone. And Ray had to learn how to live with that.
But either way, they survived. Not the same. Not whole. But alive.
But when Eli disappeared—vanished into thin air, their last mission classified, their body never found—Ray shattered. The world had been cruel before, but this was a different kind of cruelty. Death was something they could grieve. A missing person was a wound that never closed.
For months, Ray searched. Pulled every string. Called in every favor. Listened to every whisper. But Eli was gone, and no amount of forged documents, coded messages, or desperate prayers could change that.
At first, Ray tried to drown themselves in the work—pouring their grief into more forgeries, more sabotage, more reckless defiance. But the war was ending, and so were they.
When the war finally did end, Ray walked away from everything. No grand speeches. No farewell letters. Just one day, they packed up what little they had and left.
They traveled for a while—Paris, Lisbon, Istanbul—anywhere Eli had once spoken of seeing. Every city felt like a ghost town, every street an echo.
Eventually, they stopped. In a small coastal village, somewhere the war hadn't touched as deeply, Ray picked up a brush again. They painted. Not resistance slogans, not fake documents—just colors, light, memories. Some nights, they would sit outside with a cigarette and pretend Eli was still beside them, quiet and steady as ever.
Did they ever find out what happened? Maybe. Maybe, years later, a letter arrived—unsigned, but unmistakable. Or maybe a familiar face crossed their path in a crowded station, and for just a second, Ray could breathe again.
Or maybe they never found out. Maybe Eli was just... gone. And Ray had to learn how to live with that.
But either way, they survived. Not the same. Not whole. But alive.
ببخشید اینو باید کامل میذاشتم
چرا من دارم با عاقبت سانشاین و شبنم گریه میکنم
چرا من دارم با عاقبت سانشاین و شبنم گریه میکنم
Forwarded from Yapping Sascha (extended ver) (Sascha)
please ask for an au where we live under a religious fascist dictatorship with no hope, prospects and money and one day they kill a woman so our nation start a "woman life freedom" revolution
I really want to know the ending of that one
I really want to know the ending of that one
Yapping Sascha (extended ver)
please ask for an au where we live under a religious fascist dictatorship with no hope, prospects and money and one day they kill a woman so our nation start a "woman life freedom" revolution I really want to know the ending of that one
I can already feel their weight, the years of longing, grief, and quiet defiance running through them. They’re not just characters; they’re people, standing at the precipice of something vast and violent.
So, what happens to them?
The revolution starts with fire. A woman dies at the hands of the regime, and the streets erupt in fury. Each of them is pulled into the storm in ways they never expected, their quiet lives shattered, their survival no longer a passive act but a desperate, deliberate rebellion.
Eleanor “Ellie” Duvall
Ellie never saw herself as a fighter. She was the archivist, the dreamer, the one who found solace in stories. But revolutions aren’t just fought with weapons—they’re fought with memory, with truth. She starts smuggling footage, documenting the movement, turning cinema into resistance. The government brands her a propagandist. Her home is raided, her books burned. One night, she disappears. Some say she fled across the border; others say she was taken. But her words, her images, remain. They cannot erase her.
Raven "Ray" Sinclair
Ray was always angry, always simmering beneath the surface. The revolution gives them purpose, but purpose doesn’t always mean survival. They start designing symbols for the movement, tattoos that become marks of defiance. Their art spreads like wildfire, a language the regime cannot silence. When the protests turn into full-blown conflict, Ray is on the front lines—not with a gun, but with a can of spray paint, turning walls into manifestos. Then one day, they just stop coming home. Crowley waits by the window, but Ray never returns.
Elias "Eli" Mercer
Eli always understood the systems that governed people—their fears, their weaknesses. He was never the type to lead, but he was the type to plan. He builds networks, strategies, a way for the revolution to breathe even when the government tries to suffocate it. He plays the long game. But the long game demands sacrifice. Someone has to take the fall so the others can keep going. When they finally come for him, he doesn’t fight. He already knows how this story ends. But he’s left them everything they need to keep going.
Alex
Alex never fully believed in happy endings, but they believed in justice. They wrote the manifestos, the calls to arms, the eulogies for the dead. Words were their weapon, and for a while, they were enough. Until the regime started hunting down voices as much as bodies. Alex’s final work is unfinished, pages torn from their journal found scattered in an alley. A last sentence, scrawled but incomplete. No one knows if they were taken, if they fled, if they chose to vanish before they could be erased. But their words still echo in the streets.
Séraphine "Sera" Vail
Sera had spent her life documenting war from the outside. Then it arrived at her doorstep. She becomes the one who tells their story, who ensures that history will not forget them. But history is written in blood, and sometimes the writer does not survive the tale. She is last seen leaving the city, her camera in her bag, her face already marked as an enemy of the state. Did she escape? Did they find her? No one knows. But somewhere, there is a recording—the last thing she ever filmed. And one day, it will be seen.
And so, their revolution does not end neatly. Not with triumph, not with absolute loss. But with something in between—the kind of ending they would have written for themselves. One where the regime may have silenced them, but it did not win. Because as long as their stories remain, they remain.
Fu Inlé
I can already feel their weight, the years of longing, grief, and quiet defiance running through them. They’re not just characters; they’re people, standing at the precipice of something vast and violent. So, what happens to them? The revolution starts with…
their revolution does not end neatly. Not with triumph, not with absolute loss. But with something in between—the kind of ending they would have written for themselves. One where the regime may have silenced them, but it did not win. Because as long as their stories remain, they remain.
Forwarded from 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 (𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘)
draw me like one your gay traumatized favorite characters who dies painfully
Forwarded from Sunt lacrimae rerum (Sascha)
Be quiet dead boy you're haunting your wife
Forwarded from 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 (𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘)
in a sexy way or in a tragic way
Forwarded from Sunt lacrimae rerum (Sascha)
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺
in a sexy way or in a tragic way
Atleast you're asking the right questions
Forwarded from 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 (𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘)
your friends:
my friends: *making a group picture of our alternative fictional selves* *making silly little scenarios of them hanging out* *writing hurt no comfort fanfiction for me snd my partner, then we all cry over it* *making a theme song, crying intensifies*
my friends: *making a group picture of our alternative fictional selves* *making silly little scenarios of them hanging out* *writing hurt no comfort fanfiction for me snd my partner, then we all cry over it* *making a theme song, crying intensifies*
خوراک کینوا درست کردم
سوپ گوجه و فلفل دلمه درست کردم
دیپ واسه هویجام درست کردم
و چرا فردا نمیشه برم سر کار؟ از خونه موندن خسته شدم دیگه بذارید برم
سوپ گوجه و فلفل دلمه درست کردم
دیپ واسه هویجام درست کردم
و چرا فردا نمیشه برم سر کار؟ از خونه موندن خسته شدم دیگه بذارید برم
💔1