ENDLESS DIAMOND SKY -> rescue my heart
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Pumpkin is a gift. From the moment she joined our little family here on EDS she's been a treasure trove of exciting plots and wonderfully constructed characters. From the dainty enchanted rose to a feisty jaguar she's brought life to muses that usually lay forgotten. A talent that deserves recognition, so go show her your love.

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TAKE MY HEART CLEAN APART
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Welcome to ENDLESS DIAMOND SKY! We are an animation personified site set both in the animated world and present day San Francisco. A terrible darkness is spreading through the animated realm, driving everyone from their homes and into unknown territory that we know as reality. Now they find themselves at a crossroads: do they fight for their world or do they turn their back on it and make San Francisco their home? What will you choose?

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san francisco, calif. 2018

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 rescue my heart, wynn/nat
yuri vladimirovich morevna
 Posted: Jan 24 2018, 12:52 AM
  quote

Princesses don't marry kitchen boys..

  Dimitri
  Anastasia
  32 years old
  Pining
  Heterosexual
  He/Him
  Max (She/Her)
 14 POSTS

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Yuri looked into the eyes of a darkness beast and stared in horror. Its shadowy depths were endless and he felt as though they would suck him in with a quick blink. He’d be stuck there, falling in that endless black until he withered and died. There’d be no escape, just regret and loss. He scrambled backwards on his hands and gasped when his shoulders hit rock. The creature followed, snarling and Yuri could do nothing but grope at the dirt and grass for something, anything, with which to defend himself. His rifle was out there, somewhere, lost among the trees and his knife was with it.

Both of his weapons had been knocked clear from his hands and for the first time in a long time, he felt powerless. Since joining the resistance, he’d been somewhat empowered. He felt like he’d found a place, of his own choosing and had a purpose. He fought long and hard for the things he missed and loved. Saint Petersburg and Paris always burned brightly in his minds eye, he kept them close to his heart and they sheltered his memories of Anya. He saw her often, in the stars, in the rain and in the smiles of others.

She haunted him and he gladly let her. Now, it seemed that was all going to come to a bitter end. Someone would find his corpse, eventually. Maybe. He’d be marked deceased and kept as a record in a vault, perhaps. That would be the end of Dimitri and his Russian core, always dripping red. It was funny, now that it was gone, he missed it – he would have given anything to explore the old palace again. To run his fingers across the dusty gold surfaces and imagine, for just a moment, that there was a grand ball and somewhere in that sea of thousands, a girl with blue eyes and red hair.

He may have been bleeding, his blood as crimson as the colour his beloved country adopted upon the Revolution, he may have been afraid, like so many others when the royal family fell, but he wouldn’t give up. The creature would have to take his life by force, eat him alive as he screamed and fought until his last, at the very least so he could think of what he held dear for as long as possible. One second more, one more, he’d stretch it into an eternity if he had to. The darkness creature lunged and he dodged, barely. Yuri picked up some dirt and threw it at the monster’s face.

It screeched and snarled, but didn’t back away and didn’t give him an opening. It was hungry, for death or food, he didn’t know which and it wouldn’t let him go. Trying to blind it seemed to only fuel its rage. “Goddamn it.” He cursed, fingernails clawing at the rock behind him. The cliff was too large to climb. Do svidaniya! he thought as he dug his nails into the ground as it charged, unwilling to play games anymore. I hope I see you again.



natasha nikolaevna anosova
i can hear the sirens
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natasha nikolaevna anosova
 Posted: Jan 24 2018, 01:55 AM
  quote

what, were you a vulture in another life?.

  ANASTASIA
  ANASTASIA
  29 years old
  SINGLE
  pansexual
  SHE / HER
  WYNN (SHE / HER)
 9 POSTS

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then he called out my name
(loud screaming)
She was lost.

Really, truly, undeniably lost. Where the arch had spit her out, she didn't know -- it had some sort of schedule, according to the others, but she hadn't the patience or care to memorize it. In a way she had always clung to some desperate, foolish hope it may take her there again. To St. Petersburg. To the palace. To Paris. To her grandmother. To anywhere that resembled home.

Foolish, foolish little Anya. There was no palace, no Paris, no home. The likelihood of seeing anyone she knew out in the middle of nowhere, amidst the nothing and the dark and the blackness, was next to none. But there was a stubborn part of her...well, far more than a part. She was stubborn in every sense of the word. She could not believe it was all gone. Not all of it. Surely there was some still left. Even if it was just a pebble.

But for now she was lost. And she had no idea where she was going.

She cursed quietly to herself. "I should just sit here 'til the thing comes back." Her voice was loud in the stillness of the clearing. "Keep walking, Anya, and you're just going to make things worse." She sighed. Great. It was so quiet here, she'd resorted to talking to herself. That was perfectly healthy.

From off in the distance, the sound of a scream. A man's voice, echoing off the rocks. It sounded close. It had nearly startled her out of her wits. Don't be a hero, she told herself, and yet as she thought this she was already up on her feet and running towards the voice. It had sounded...familiar, somehow. She couldn't discern anything from a wordless cry, but she felt she knew who it had come from.

A great black creature had someone pinned beneath it. It was making awful noises, snarling, ready to take a bite out of its unfortunate prey. Natasha could feel her blood rushing, heady with adrenaline. She needed to do something. She had no weapons on her. She searched frantically, panic rising. At any moment the beast would finish off its victim and turn towards her next, she could feel it.

Then her eyes fell on something. Laying on the ground, between her and the beast, was a rifle. She lunged forward with a quickness that surprised even her. Squeeze the trigger, don't pull, wasn't that it? She took aim, though her hands shook slightly.

There was a loud crack, and then an otherworldly shrieking, as if issued forth from the very pits of hell. The gun barrel smoked. She had hit the beast in the back thigh. Black goop poured from the wound. It could do no more than snarl pathetically and whine as it turned towards her. Another crack, and the beast fell. She was shaking violently now. Fear and adrenaline coursing through her.

She was paying so much attention to the thing she'd just killed, she did not notice the man. Until she turned her gaze to him, and her eyes widened.

"Dimitri..."

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yuri vladimirovich morevna
 Posted: Jan 27 2018, 09:28 PM
  quote

Princesses don't marry kitchen boys..

  Dimitri
  Anastasia
  32 years old
  Pining
  Heterosexual
  He/Him
  Max (She/Her)
 14 POSTS

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He hoped that death would be quick, not painless – death is never painless Dimitri., an old familiar voice said, somewhere in the back of his mind. He was just a small boy then, when he still had his Babushka and his Papa had not yet tied his marching boots to his feet. Little Dimitri stared at the rabbit his father shot with wide and confused eyes. The small creature still breathed, though it was bleeding. Be kind, do not let things suffer. Death is never painless Dimitri, but it can be quick. The creature in front of him, made of darkness, knew nothing of mercy or kindness.

Though, that didn’t mean he wished hurt on it. He waited as his last moments stretched on before him as he’d hoped, but the more they lengthened, the more confusion pushed out acceptance. Things sped up once more, it was as if someone had been pulling tight a rubber band, stretching it thinner and longer until they’d had enough of the game and cut the string. Reality came rushing toward him and an almighty crack made Yuri jump. The beast on top of him howled and turned. Had he been saved? He didn’t dare get his hopes up, not quite yet. He knew the animated realm wasn’t that forgiving.

He peered at his potential savior, dragging his eyes away from the corpse of the beast to the kind stranger. “Nice…” He paused briefly, his second word drawn out from shock “Shot.” Yuri’s mouth fell open and he blinked rapid-fire, attempting to clear his eyes in case the vision before him disappeared and left him broken and alone. His injuries were forgotten as he stared, almost disbelieving. “Anya?” He asked, even though he couldn’t deny the truth before him. She was here, finally, after all this time. Alive then, not dead, unless her ghost had come back to tell him off.

Yes, Princess I’ve found you at last.

“You…” He paused, feeling the dirt beneath his fingers. The grounding sensation worked its way up his body quickly and he stood, hand outstretched toward her. He pulled it back to his side, remembering the sting of her slap when she found out who he really was. “Saved me.” He finished, briefly shutting his eyes. He wanted to run to her, to rush into her arms and hold her close but – and there was always a but – how much did she know. If anything?

I looked for you, was what he wanted to say. I called every red flower Anastasia, I looked for your face in the patterns of the ice. In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold. And he had hoped, like Papa Koschei The Deathless, that she would return and free him from his prison. Things were not as simple as that.

No more pretend, you’ll be gone. That’s the end.

Something came over him as he stood there and he remembered, that he still kept the flower she gave him in Paris, pressed firmly between the pages of a book that he sat within the breast pocket of his jacket – over his heart. He fished it out, thumbed through the pages and smiled at it, before carefully peeling it from the page. He held it toward her, shaking his head in sadness. “I looked for you, I swear. I was going to go - I couldn't, but…” He paused, remembering how the sky went dark and chaos descended. People screamed as they died and the world was torn down around them. “Paris became a battlefield.”

He smiled, it was a small thing, his eyes lined with tears but he blinked them away. “I’m glad you’re okay.” His heart ached and sat heavily in his chest, like a lead weight and it threatend to pull him into the earth.



natasha nikolaevna anosova
i can hear the sirens
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natasha nikolaevna anosova
 Posted: Feb 28 2018, 01:38 AM
  quote

what, were you a vulture in another life?.

  ANASTASIA
  ANASTASIA
  29 years old
  SINGLE
  pansexual
  SHE / HER
  WYNN (SHE / HER)
 9 POSTS

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then he called out my name
He was alive. ( she had just made sure of that )

Happiness, and anger, and the rattle of fear still causing her hands to tremble even now, and a thousand other emotions that had no names. She'd survived for so long by keeping them all locked away, where she couldn't see them. By keeping him locked away. She had felt ashamed, but what else could she have done?

Did he know what he'd put her through? Could he even have guessed?

She knew better than to drop the rifle, so slowly, she placed it on the ground away from her feet. Her eyes were still locked on the figure before her. Tears were stinging the edges of her vision and she fought them back. She was not going to cry like a little girl in front of him. She was not.

"You...kept it?" The flower she had given him. She remembered how she'd thrown her own away in disdain, when the fires of rage and betrayal burned bright inside her. She felt sick with guilt. A hand reached out towards his, as if to take it from him, but paused. It looked so delicate. Like it would flake away in the wind. If she touched it, it would surely crumble. And he would, too, crumble into dust and fade away from her. She pulled her hand back, swallowing hard. Her mouth felt dry, and there was a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away no matter how hard she willed.

She wanted to ask him why he had looked for her. Why he had kept the flower. Why he hadn't taken the money, all those years ago. Why. Why.

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping against hope to chase away the moisture from them, though more sprung up in its place. Lord, she'd become a leaky faucet."You..." Her voice hitched. "Absolute ass." And then the dam finally broke, and she allowed the fat tears to roll down her cheeks.

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yuri vladimirovich morevna
 Posted: Mar 7 2018, 12:07 AM
  quote

Princesses don't marry kitchen boys..

  Dimitri
  Anastasia
  32 years old
  Pining
  Heterosexual
  He/Him
  Max (She/Her)
 14 POSTS

awards








He watched her with a look that was between grief and happiness, disbelief and sorrow – like he was staring at the image of a sweet ghost. Sad yet happy at the same time, for the memories and emotions she stirred. You kept it?

For years it was his most prized possession, there was nothing more important to him than preserving that flower, as if allowing it to crumble would mean everything else was doomed to follow. “I couldn’t throw it away.” He said, his voice near breaking, as he watched her reach out for it and retreat with the same hesitancy he felt.

“Anya I…” When he noticed her tears, he deposited the flower back in the book and dropped it unceremoniously. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and wrapped his arms around her. He expected to blink and find nothing in his arms at all – yet she stayed there, solid and very much real. Back when they first met, she was simply a means to an end and now she had saved him. He didn’t deserve it, he thought, not for one second – she should have let him die yet here they were. He waited for her to push him away.

“I’m so sorry.” He finished, as he allowed his own tears to fall, unapologetic at their appearance. Boys don’t cry Dimitri, they stand tall and proud and face their grief. an ancient voice said in his head, but he no longer agreed with it. This was not Russia, he was no longer a boy but a man who had lost everything he ever held dear. He never dreamed, even for a moment, that one shred of his old life would come back to him – and by some miracle it did, he never expected Anya.

She was a light in the darkness, simply knowing she was alive was enough. He wondered if this was how Empress Marie felt, knowing was enough.

She could punch him, kick him, pick up the gun and shoot him – he wouldn’t care. Anya was alive and that was all that mattered, really, that was all that had ever mattered – to generations and more.



natasha nikolaevna anosova
i can hear the sirens
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natasha nikolaevna anosova
 Posted: Mar 28 2018, 12:03 AM
  quote

what, were you a vulture in another life?.

  ANASTASIA
  ANASTASIA
  29 years old
  SINGLE
  pansexual
  SHE / HER
  WYNN (SHE / HER)
 9 POSTS

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then he called out my name
She felt his arms wrap around her and she thought of the boat -- so many faces. She did not protest, nor push him away; she buried her own face in his chest and allowed the sobs to rack through her. All these years she hadn't allowed herself to cry. To mourn the loss of so many friends, so many good people, even the place she'd abandoned so readily in search of a better home. She had always been a steadfast girl. She had to be, growing up during the remaining aftermath of the people's revolution, just another faceless kid among dozens of other faceless, starving children. But now she could let it all come tumbling back over her, just as helpless in its power as a ship tossed upon an angry ocean. She could be weak now.

The tears weren't all sad, of course. There was a happiness, a warmth blooming in her chest and she allowed Dimitri to hold her. A hope. She told herself she would never give up hope, but she had, in a way. And now she could have it back. Because he was here, and he had his arms around her, and he kept the flower she'd given him mindlessly back in Paris, and he seemed just as happy to see she was alive as she was to see him.

After a few minutes, her tears came less frequently, and her shoulders no longer shook. She pulled back from Dimitri to look at his face. He, too, had been crying, and it was such an unusual sight for her that she was momentarily knocked off balance. She was sure she looked like an absolute mess...red eyes and leaking nose. Dreadful. "You should be sorry." But it carried none of the heat it was meant to, and the hand that struck him lightly on the shoulder had no strength left in it. "You left." Though a part of her was certainly glad he hadn't been there to see what had happened to the estate. "You left and you didn't even take the money..." You should have been forgetting all about me.

A question poised at the tip of her tongue. Did you ever love me? But she was much too much a coward to hear his answer.

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yuri vladimirovich morevna
 Posted: Apr 15 2018, 06:30 AM
  quote

Princesses don't marry kitchen boys..

  Dimitri
  Anastasia
  32 years old
  Pining
  Heterosexual
  He/Him
  Max (She/Her)
 14 POSTS

awards








You should be sorry.

Even though her words held no detectable malice, in his heart, Dimitri agreed as if they had. She was right, of course, she was always right – he had a lot more people out there he wanted to say sorry too, but would probably never get the chance. He had Anya now and wasn’t about to let her go, or his chance, again. “I know.” He said softly, shaking his head, his hair flopping into his eyes.

Back then, his reasons for going seemed rather rational. He didn’t come from high society, he didn’t belong in Paris, he wasn’t good enough for her, their basis of friendship had been built on a lie – the list went on and on and it drowned him. He knew now, going was the worst decision he’d ever made. He paid dearly for it and was sure he’d nurse the wounds for as long as he lived.

“I…” He paused before continuing, remembering his meeting with the Dowager Empress like it was yesterday. She circled him, as he once had Anya, hoping to find something – answers probably, to the puzzle of the young man in front of her. Instead of determination, he was filled with defeat and heartbreak. After remembering what happened as a young boy, his life in the Palace, how he’d worshiped Anastasia from afar and saved them from certain death when the palace fell, there was no way he could ever take the money.

After growing alongside Anya on their journey and feeling his motivations shift, he knew, if he claimed it and retuned to Russia – where he thought he belonged. Every single damn thing he bought with it, would be nothing but a tainted lie.

Everything would remind him of her and what he’d lost and he’d go slowly insane with the frustration of it all. “…couldn’t.” He continued, frowning, shutting his eyes for a moment as he tried to control the surge of emotions in his heart. All he had ever wanted to say to her, since that day was I love you, but couldn’t summon the courage to utter those words.

Even now he felt lost, like she was ready to reject him once more, one wrong move and he would lose her like he did before. He wanted to explain everything to her, his reasons, why he blew her a kiss in the night and booked a ticket for the next boat, train – whatever it took, back to Saint Petersburg. He felt like an idiot and he was an idiot, that would never change.

"Anya..." He said her name like he would never get to speak it again. Like this wast he last moment on Earth. Like he would die with his next breath and crumble into nothingness. He took a breath in and held it, his words and thoughts swirling, leaving him speechless.



natasha nikolaevna anosova
i can hear the sirens
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