ENDLESS DIAMOND SKY -> how we used to roar
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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. Open since OCTOBER 2015, we are a friendly, thriving community who welcomes players from all levels and backgrounds. When registering your account, please register with first middle last in all lowercase!

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.
   PRESENT DAY, 2018
  DANGER LEVEL : LOW
  FEELS WILL BE COMPROMISED





 
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 how we used to roar, sinclair & lauren <3
tess elizabeth starkey
 Posted: May 29 2018, 04:51 PM
  quote

well-behaved women seldom make history

  fixer (the historian)
  aoc
  37 years old
  single
  idksexual
  SHE/HER
  becca (SHE/HER)
 12 POSTS

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But if you close your eyes Does it almost feel like Nothing changed at all?

sinclair virginia harper
Tess had been lecturing at the University of San Francisco today, which had suited her perfectly. She loved Stanford, but the commute from the city occasionally took its toll; today she had been able to stroll from her apartment to the university, and had skipped the road rage completely, setting her up for rather pleasant day. Her lecture had gone well, she’d had an excellent meeting with a PhD student she had agreed to supervise, and now she had a good two hours before a meeting with her publisher across town about the latest instalment in her series of novels.

Eight years in San Francisco and Tess had carved a place for herself in this new world which bore more than a passing resemblance to her old life, before the Harbinger and then the darkness had turned everything entirely upside down. It had seemed simpler; to pick up where she left off, to do what she had done before the TTIA had recruited her. Teaching came as easily to her as breathing, and fifteen years of experience and the qualifications Haven Hill had very kindly fabricated her upon her arrival in the city had secured her a coveted position at Stanford University and a certain amount of career flexibility. She spent most of her time at Stanford, lecturing and meeting with PhD students, but had more than enough time to pursue her own projects. She was as active in the historical community here as she had been in her own world, submitting a steady stream of articles to different historical journals, guest lecturing at other academic institutions, and writing her novels.

It was all so similar to her old life sometimes Tess could almost believe nothing had changed at all, that she had never met the four women that had changed her life so completely, that the Harbinger was nothing but a work of fiction, a plot device not unlike something one might find in one of her own novels. But this world was wrong - unfamiliar in ways that were impossible to ignore. She had entered the portal in 1940, but it had been 2025 in her own world. Seven years was not exactly a lifetime, but the technological advances had been significant - they had pioneered time travel in that time, and as hard as Tess tried to convince herself she was happy in this world, it was impossible to forget that she was trapped here, in a timeline that wasn’t even her own. She didn’t mind the latter quite so much - her aunt and father had been gone for years, and there was nothing left in 2025 for her - but for six months she had had the freedom to go anywhere, to travel through time, with four women who had become as important to her as her Aunt Carrie had been.

And now the other Fixers and the Harbinger were gone, and she had spent the last eight years lecturing and writing vaguely trashy fiction and making absolutely no headway in finding any of them.

Her mood somewhat less sunny that it had been, dampened by the reminder of her missing friends, Tess stepped through the front doors of the building into the May sunshine, heels clicking against the floor as she descended the steps. Her eyes caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she looked up just in time to dodge a younger woman coming towards her, the drags of a cigarette between her fingers. It was a habit she had always detested, one she had actively discouraged in her own friends and family, and Tess felt a pang of familiar remorse in her chest; if she had tried harder that day, if she hadn’t let Sinclair go…

Shaking off the feeling (and the urge to give a perfect stranger a lecture about the dangers of smoking) with some difficulty, Tess looked up with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry. I was a million miles away!”

Well, a million miles and 78 years away, anyway.
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sinclair virginia harper
 Posted: Jun 13 2018, 03:23 PM
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Noli pati a scelestis opprimi

  fixer (the linguist)
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  32 years old
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I'm free to be the greatest
Being a professor, even though she was already tenured at this point, was just so damn stressful at times. With finals finishing up and needing to be graded before the summer session began, Sinclair was already feeling the stress and anxiety of it all. Being one of the youngest professors in her department and yet one of the ones with the most responsibility for classes and such somehow was a treat at times, as people marveled over the idea of a thirty year old who had managed such a feat. She had only recently received this tenure at the beginning of the year after her early application that she had sent in previously. It wasn’t often, according to the dean of USF’s school of Letters and Sciences, that they did this, the administration typically turning down applications submitted while professors were still in their trial period, but she had been “different” and a “bright mind that the school was lucky to have.” The compliments were nice, but they did not negate the fact that she had even more responsibility seeing that she now was here by contract, even if she didn’t have to worry about losing her job after her probationary period finished within the next few years.

Finding her way in this new world, where she no longer had the government support that she had gained, and later lost with the Fixers going rogue, was difficult, especially since things just seemed so different. The world was relatively the same as the one she had originated from, just lacking the time travel technology and being behind in time. It was hard to wrap her head around the idea that this was 2018, not 2025, and that she was technically twenty-five if she was going by her actual birth year of 1993. Maybe it was for the better that this world was more mundane than the one she had originated from, even if it wasn’t much different. Though others coming from what Haven Hill had dubbed the “Animated World” were sometimes from places more magical and mystical than her, Sinclair felt that her own place that she had come from was still lovely through and through, as it had been the world in which she was raised. Sometimes, just sometimes, she was curious as to how her life would have turned out if the Darkness did not exist, even though she would most likely be dead in Nazi Germany due to lacking the papers that would have kept her safe.

These were musings that she felt herself considering as she took a break from the chaos of being a tenured university professor in the midst of grading finals and calculating grades. Of course this break was one that focused on the vice that she had managed to pick back up once she had arrived in San Francisco, spurred on from being separated from the rest of the group. An already half-gone cigarette between her pointer and middle fingers, the nicotine was calming herself as she reminisced on her life that had once been full of adventure and excitement. Certainly teaching was where she had started out, but it was her job as a Fixer that she had truly loved and realized where she had belonged, as cliché as that sounded. Instructing students on the proper way to write Cyrillic or describing the niceties of Spain Spanish versus Mexican Spanish could be dreary at time as she spent all of her time in a classroom, at home, outside to smoke, or commuting. Very occasionally did she find herself doing anything especially exciting that brought back the rush that time-traveling had. Looking up from her cigarette at the woman who had interrupted her thoughts and realizing that she had started walking in the direction of the ashtray out of habit, Sinclair immediately squinted. She looked awfully familiar to the linguistics professor, but she just couldn’t place where she had seen her before. “No, it’s alright. I was the same. Many apologies.” Stubbing out the mostly finished cigarette and throwing it away in the designated receptacle, she looked back up at the woman. “Do I know you?” She asked, not sure as to where she had seen this face before. It wasn’t often that she forgot people that she knew, so it must have been a long time ago that they had last seen each other.

+ tagtess elizabeth starkey
+ notesekergpafd;l afj ok here u go boo
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tess elizabeth starkey
 Posted: Jun 20 2018, 08:41 AM
  quote

well-behaved women seldom make history

  fixer (the historian)
  aoc
  37 years old
  single
  idksexual
  SHE/HER
  becca (SHE/HER)
 12 POSTS

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But if you close your eyes Does it almost feel like Nothing changed at all?

sinclair virginia harper
Tess tossed no more than a vague look at the discarded cigarette. It was a habit she had always detested but she was not about to berate a stranger for it, no matter how tempted she was to do so. “Perhaps? Do you work here?” she asked cheerfully, letting her eyes flicker over the attractive brunette and feeling an unexpected shock of recognition.

She very rarely forgot a face. Thousands of students passed through her department year after year, hundreds of her readers, dozens of colleagues, but she committed them all to memory, their names and faces stored in the recesses of her mind until she needed them. Her mind had always been rather encyclopaedic, but this woman… She knew her. She was absolutely certain of it, feeling the same creeping, cold awareness prickle her skin she had felt when she had first begun to suspect that the TTIA had betrayed them. She knew her, but how?

“I spend most of my time at Stanford but I’ve been here a few times this month.” She hitched her bag onto her shoulder with one hand, holding out the other with a smile. “Doctor Tess Starkey.”

If she hadn’t seen her at the university, then perhaps the name would prove more enlightening. She might have seen her face at then back of one of her novels, or perhaps on one of the documentaries she had done for the History Channel. Haven Hill had preached caution and anonymity when she had first arrived, and she had technically been on the run from the TTIA when the darkness had brought her to this world, but Tess had never been particularly good at keeping a low profile; she was too passionate by half, and it had got her in trouble on more than one occasion. Besides, she wasn’t afraid of the TTIA. If they had made it to this world they were as powerless now as she was, rooted to this one time and place. What could they possibly do if they found her? She, on the other hand, had rather a lot to say to them, not least because she held them responsible for the Fixers’ separation. If they hadn’t come after them in Nazi Germany they could have faced the darkness together, united, and Tess would know whether her girls were safe.

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sinclair virginia harper
 Posted: Jul 1 2018, 12:35 AM
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Noli pati a scelestis opprimi

  fixer (the linguist)
  aoc
  32 years old
  single
  demisexual
  she/her
  lauren (she/her)
 22 POSTS

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I'm free to be the greatest
Smoking was a habit, one that reminded her of her younger years when things weren’t as messy as they were now. It was something that she had picked up in college, to help destress, and something that she had carried out throughout her years of learning. Once she had become involved with TTIA, Sinclair had been forced to lose the habit, quitting cold turkey during her training shortly before her missions began. Coping without cigarettes had been rough and she had gone almost a year before she relapsed, but still had yet to try to stop again. It had been because of the relapse that she was separated from the rest of the Fixers, something that she cursed herself out for practically everyday. However, due to her busy schedule as a professor, she rarely got a moment to breathe and had never gotten around to trying to quit, for real this time. Sometimes, she could still hear the playful criticisms in regards to it that she had gotten from the other Fixers, Tess especially.

It was not often that she didn’t know anyone that was at least in the Liberal Arts school at University of San Francisco. The brunette had tried to integrate herself into the university’s culture, especially for her colleagues that she worked closely with. There had only been a few times in which she had forgotten a name, most of which had been when she had first arrived in San Francisco. “Yes, I’m a linguistics professor here and have been for the past eight or so years.” Sinclair continued to study the woman before her after speaking, trying to figure out how she knew her. The mention of Stanford did nothing to help, seeing that the university had several professors that they borrowed from the far more prestigious university and she had not met all of them. Ignoring the outstretched hand, she focused in on the name, searching through the list of people that she knew, trying to figure out their connection.

“Tess?” She blinked a few times, the memories from the missions that she had gone on flooding back. The woman standing in front of her was practically a mother figure to her despite only being a few years older and had meant more than anything to her. “It’s me. Sinclair? You know, from TTIA?” The linguistics professor had not realized how much she missed the rest of the Fixers until she had been separated from them for several years. It had been years since she had seen any of the other Fixers and it was honestly surreal to have been without them for so long. They had been so integral to her as a person and the closest thing that she had to a real family, seeing that both of her parents had passed long before she had met them. Sinclair had befriended various other professors at University of San Francisco, but it just was not the same as the bonds that she had formed with them.

+ tagtess elizabeth starkey
+ notesoops????? at least she managed to keep the word count down
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tess elizabeth starkey
 Posted: Jul 27 2018, 11:42 AM
  quote

well-behaved women seldom make history

  fixer (the historian)
  aoc
  37 years old
  single
  idksexual
  SHE/HER
  becca (SHE/HER)
 12 POSTS

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But if you close your eyes Does it almost feel like Nothing changed at all?

sinclair virginia harper
The TTIA.

Sinclair.

“Sinclair? Sinclair Harper?” Tess breathed, the air leaving her lungs in a whoosh. She knew there had been something familiar about the woman, something she hadn’t been able to quite put her finger on until the name left the brunette’s lips and suddenly she knew she couldn’t possibly be anybody else.

She almost laughed, hysteria bubbling up in her chest. She had visited the University of San Francisco hundreds of times in the eight years she had lived in the city, and not just for her work. She taught here on occasion and met with students, but she frequented the library too, taking advantage of its proximity to her apartment and their vast academic collection for research when she was writing her books, or just for the sheer pleasure of spending a day in the library, surrounded by the musk of vintage books, her nose buried in the dusty pages. She was thirty-seven, and had spent most of those years trenched in academia, but Tess had always been a firm believer in the idea that there was always something new to learn, and what better place to do so than a library?

All that time… eight years frequenting the university’s library, eight years spending hours all over campus, teaching in the lecture rooms, meeting with colleagues, and Sinclair had been here the whole time, right under her nose. Of course she was. Where else would she be, teaching linguistics at one of the state’s most prestigious universities, sharing her boundless talent and knowledge with a fresh generation? Joy swelled up in her chest, her feet moving to bridge the space between them, and suddenly her arms were around her, crushing the younger woman against her with all the ferocity of eight years of missing her, of worrying about her, of turning over stone after stone, following lead after lead, only to come up empty. And Sinclair had been here, with the same name, the same profession she had held before the TTIA had swept in and irrevocably changed their lives. She had a phD from Cambridge of all places, and she had still failed to find the linguist in the one place she ought to have found her!

“You’re alive!” she laughed, loosening her grip for a moment to pull back, taking in the angle’s of Sinclair’s face, the dark brown of her eyes, the wave of her hair. It was her. It was really her. She was alive. She was safe, and-- “You’re still smoking?” she blurted with a sudden frown.
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