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toastedqueso · 4 years ago

Text

Take A Shot

Pairing: Jungwoo x Original Female Character | Reader

Words: 6k

Genre: Comedy, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), Betting, Explicit sexual content

Summary: A handsome stranger at Yuta’s soccer match watching party catches Ella’s attention. Unfortunately for Ella, the stranger, Jungwoo, is rooting for the enemy. They get entangled in a bet and maybe both of them are winners.

A/N: This has idea has been floating around for a while since I found out Jungwoo is a Manchester City fan. The fic has been sitting around for a while and it’s time I finally posted it. Thank you for reading!

Ella clutches the bottle of Prosecco close to her as she walks the short distance from where her Uber driver dropped her off to Yuta’s townhouse. Ella was looking forward to this party all week. Yuta had been planning for a while to host a soccer match watching party on his brand new fancy TV, which he couldn’t stop bragging about. He let Ella as his soul sister have the honor of the first viewing event be an important match for her favorite soccer team, Liverpool FC. The match is against Manchester City and regardless of how much money Man City spent in the offseason on new players, she’s confident Liverpool FC will win.

Yuta had told her that the party would be just her and a few of his other friends she had hung out with before. They seemed nice from their previous encounters, but she was ready to put them in their place if they questioned her soccer knowledge.

Ella takes a deep breath to relax. She can feel her pre-match nerves creeping up and she needs a drink fast. Ella rings the doorbell when she reaches the front door. Yuta opens the door before she drops her hand away from the doorbell.

“Welcome! Come on in, sis!” Yuta bear hugs Ella and takes the bottle of Prosecco. “Nice. I was in the mood for some mimosas.”

“When aren’t you? You always act like you’re on ‘Real Housewives’,” Ella gruffs and ducks befor Yuta can rufflle her hair. She slips her shoes off and follows Yuta into the townhouse.

Yuta and Ella became fast friends when they started working at the same Graphic Design company 4 years ago. They’re known as “Double Trouble” at work for all the chaos they cause. Some of their nosey coworkers initially suspected they were more than friends, but they quickly quashed those rumors when they started referring to each other as siblings and Yuta brought his girlfriend, Maria, to their office parties.

Ella gives Maria a hug when she spots her in the Living Room. She scans the room to see that the guests are already here sipping their drinks and eating nachos. She greets Johnny, Taeyong and their girlfriends, then notices an unfamiliar face. Yuta has quite a few attractive friends, but this friend was different. His soft brown hair frames his pretty face, which nicely contrasts his tall physique. When he stands up, he towers over Taeyong and Yuta, but stands a hair shorter than Johnny.

“Woah,” Ella quietly says to herself as she tucks a strand of her wavy black hair behind her ear. She now wishes she put in more effort in her attire. She hastily threw on her Liverpool jersey with her medium wash jeans. Fortunately, she did curl her hair and put on some light makeup to highlight the golden glow of her skin.

Ella and the stranger make eye contact and she notices his eyes go wide for a second. Before she can introduce herself to the stranger, Johnny calls his name to grab his attention. Jungwoo.

The guys huddle by the TV to admire it like treasure. While they discuss future viewing plans for Yuta’s brand new fancy TV fit for King, Ella watches Jungwoo bite his lips as he inspects the TV. He catches Ella’s eye as he’s scanning the room and smiles. Ella breaks her stare and looks around to find Maria.

“Want a drink?” Maria asks, noticing Ella is still drinkless. Ella definitely feels far too sober to have to spend the next few hours with the handsome stranger. If Maria suspects anything from Ella's actions since stepping into the townhouse, she doesn’t mention it.

Breaking the awkwardness she feels from possibly getting caught in the act, Ella heads to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of white wine. She practically chugs the wine down and pours herself another glass to sip slowly. Getting drunk before the game would lead to her being really loud and maybe breaking Yuta’s new TV if the game didn’t go how she hoped and she didn’t have new TV money.

Ella heads back to the living room, wine in hand, and settles in on the couch. She gently swirls her wine glass while contemplating how to introduce herself to the stranger. She’s so deep in thought that she almost misses that the handsome stranger is heading towards the kitchen until he’s screaming if anyone wants anything. She watches him walk into the empty kitchen before she chugs the rest of her wine. She gets up too quickly and has to grab onto the sofa arm to steady herself.

“Fuck it. It’s now or never,” Ella tries to hype herself up as she heads into the kitchen.

She finds the stranger concentrating on pouring a mix of liqueurs into a cocktail shaker.

“What are you making?” Ella asks, causing the stranger to jump a little.

“Oh! You’re just in time! I’m mixing my special drink. I call it ‘Jungwoo’s Special’!” Jungwoo announces as he shakes the cocktail shaker.

“What makes it ‘special’?” Ella asks bluntly.

Jungwoo laughs. “Be prepared to be amazed!”

“I’m Jungwoo by the way. I meant to introduce myself to you earlier, but Johnny dragged me away. A TV over a girl, he’s so inconsiderate,” Jungwoo replies.

Ella blushes. She doesn’t want to read too much into Jungwoo’s words, but she lets herself hope he meant something more by it. “I’m Ella. I’m one of Yuta’s work buddies.”

“Oh! You’re the work sister! I guess I need to be extra gentlemanly,” Jungwoo laughs.

“So is the ‘Jungwoo’s Special’ something a gentleman would offer a lady?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Jungwoo gives Ella a mischievous look. Jungwoo pours the drink for Ella and hands it to her. She takes a sip and nods her head. It’s a good drink, but guessing by the bottles he left uncapped, it was a potent drink.

“It definitely knows how to treat a lady,” Ella says. Taking a step closer to Jungwoo, she can feel how much bigger he is than her. She has to crane her neck to look up at him. She notices Jungwoo looking down at the Liverpool FC badge on her jersey and smiles.

“Liverpool fan?” Ella cocks her head. Jungwoo gives her a sweet smile. With all the liquid courage in her, she takes a step closer to Jungwoo.

“Man City,” Jungwoo replies with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Wow, you’re a glory hunter.” Ella gives him a horrified look and shoves his torso. If she wasn’t feeling her pre-game rage and animosity for Manchester City, she would’ve commented how his abs felt solid like a rock.

“If that’s what you want to call supporting the best players and manager in the world, then sure!” Jungwoo teases.

“It’s a TEAM sport. It’s about how everyone works together to win, not just a bunch of megastars.” Ella retorts.

“You make it sound like Liverpool doesn’t also buy the best players and have a great manager,” Jungwoo points out. Ella couldn’t argue with that.

“Touché. But at least we don’t throw all our money at everything.”

“How about we place a bet?” Jungwoo propositions. He knows they won’t get anywhere with their argument, but maybe a bet could make things interesting.

“Seriously? A bet?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’ll be some extra fun for the match,” Jungwoo coaxes.

“Fine, what are the terms of the bet that you propose?”

“If Liverpool wins, you get to pick what to do and If Manchester City wins, I’ll get to pick what to do. To make this a little more fun, not only does the winner get to pick what to do, but they get to pick a thing or wish for each goal their team scores.”

“What if it’s a draw?”

“We can go with who had the most possession in the game.”

Ella sips her drink and contemplates whether to accept or not. She had come into the kitchen to expect a bit of talking, maybe some flirting, but not a bet. The only downside would be if Man City won, but Ella was pretty confident Liverpool had this game in the bag.

“You have yourself a deal, Jungwoo.” Ella stretches out her right hand for Jungwoo to shake. Jungwoo lights up and shakes her hand.

“No matter who wins or loses, I’m sure we’ll both end up winning at the end.” Jungwoo winks at Ella before he chugs the rest of his ‘Jungwoo Special’ drink.

They settle into the couch in front of Yuta’s fancy TV. The players complete the pre-match rituals of pennant exchanges and hand shakes and then the kick off. Liverpool gains possession early and builds up momentum. The two teams go back and forth creating chances, but no one scoring. Ella glances over at Jungwoo from time to time and notices even Jungwoo seems to feel the tension. Then in the 39th minute, Liverpool breaks away with the ball and scores a spectacular goal.

“FUCK YES!” Ella screams and jumps around. Yuta high fives Ella to celebrate.

“In your face!” Ella says with satisfaction to Jungwoo.

“Don’t get too cocky. The game is far from over.” Jungwoo playfully shoves Ella when she sits down.

Ella rolls her eyes and shoves Jungwoo back. Five minutes remain for the first half. Each team approaches the last few minutes differently. Liverpool seems to be playing it safe while Manchester City is looking to equalize. Ella nervously takes a sip of her drink. Even if Liverpool is leading, she can’t help but feel something worrying looming in the air. Unfortunately, her gut instincts were right. As soon as she puts her drink down, Manchester City takes possession of the ball and scores. Jungwoo starts jumping up and cheering. Ella huffs and lays back onto the sofa.

“We’re even now,” Jungwoo says as he shakes Ella’s shoulder.

“Whatever. There’s still another half,” Ella replies. She lightly smacks Jungwoo’s thigh. Jungwoo laughs at her reaction.

Both teams seem to just pass around the ball to wind down time before the referee blows the whistle to signal half time. Jungwoo springs up to head to the kitchen. Jungwoo asks if she needs anything, but Ella just waves her hand to indicate she’s fine. Ella needs a few moments to wallow in her misery. In the middle of her self pity, she feels someone land on the couch next to her.

“Ooooh you two are getting cozy,” Yuta comments.

Ella rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m nice to everyone.”

“You can lie as much as you want, but I know you better than that.” Yuta nudges her arm. “Really though, he’s a good guy. You guys are getting along. You obviously think he’s hot. I saw you chase after him and go to the kitchen.”

“Can we not talk about this right now? He’s the enemy. I have a bet to win.”

“Hate sex is a thing you know.”

“Don’t imagine that, please,” Ella groans, rubbing her forehead.

“Are you imagining it?” Yuta gives Ella a quizzical look. “You totally are! I won’t tell him. Do you. Or rather, do him.”

“Do who?” Jungwoo chimes in right as Ella picks up a pillow to smack Yuta while he’s laughing.

“The only thing I’m doing is going to the restroom,” Ella replies as she gets up.

Yuta continues laughing at his own joke and Ella smacks him with a pillow before she heads to the restroom to freshen up. The game is tied 1-1 and she really needs to channel some positive energy into Liverpool. She freshens up and grabs a bottle of water from the kitchen then settles back into the couch next to Jungwoo.

“Here. I got you some pizza.” Jungwoo hands her a plate with 2 slices of cheese pizza. “I can’t have you throw up on me.”

“Wow, that’s really all you care about?” Ella scoffs.

“I care about you! You should eat. Win or lose, your health is most important” Jungwoo replies. The pizza may have lost its oven fresh heat, but the gesture is still sweet. If she wasn’t trying to fight for her team's honor, Ella would probably kiss Jungwoo.

“Thanks,” Ella meekly says as she turns her attention to the pizza. She hopes he can’t see her blush while she’s nibbling on the pizza.

The second half starts and Ella’s nerves are back. Both teams are picking up momentum and creating chances for a goal. Feeling her stomach churn every time either side attempts to score, Ella puts the pizza on the coffee table. She nervously taps her foot and hopes Liverpool can keep possession if they can’t score a goal.

“Have you thought about what you want if you win?” Jungwoo tries to break the tension. He leans back into the couch.

“No, have you?” Ella asks. Following Jungwoo’s actions, she leans back too.

Jungwoo looks like he’s in deep thought when the game commentator starts screaming. They bring their attention back to the TV and watch Manchester City score their 2nd goal in the 88th minute.

“OH FUCK.” Ella deflates on the couch. Jungwoo is high-fiving everyone, almost spilling Taeyong’s beer on him.

“Well, that’s it then,” Jungwoo says. He plops down on the couch

“There’s still extra time.” Ella knows it’s unlikely to win, but if Liverpool can scrap up a draw, then maybe she might have some hope.

“Don’t worry. Even if I win the bet, you’ll still feel like a winner too,” Jungwoo says with a playful look.

The remaining minutes of the game are uneventful and Man City grabs the win, much to Jungwoo’s delight. Jungwoo spreads his arms inviting Ella in for a hug. Ella shoves his shoulder away instead.

“Aww don’t be like that! That’s not good sportsmanship. Or sportswomanship!” Jungwoo complains. He slowly inches closer to Ella. She rolls her eyes and finally relents. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that Jungwoo gave great hugs. Yuta looks over in their direction and gives Ella a look that says he’s definitely interrogating her later.

“There you go! That’s the spirit!” Jungwoo commends, patting her back.

“Congratulations. Have you thought about what you want?” Ella asks

“Already in a rush to claim the prize?”

“I’m pretty sure you won and it’s your prize.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it just as much as I will!” Ella feels nervous as Jungwoo takes his time to contemplate what to ask for.

“Don’t leave me in suspense!”

“Okay! Okay!” Jungwoo raises his hands in defense. “My first reward is that we exchange numbers.”

She hands Jungwoo her phone and watches him add his number. He texts himself from her phone to make sure he has her number too. Ella was hoping for something grander, but she’ll settle for that now. A part of her was hoping he wouldn’t stick to being a gentleman as he said before.

The rest of the weekend passes by in a blur and Ella finds herself back at work too soon for her liking. She’s looking through her email inbox when Yuta comes in and smacks her on the shoulder.

“Good morning!” Yuta shouts at her. He plops down on her desk, causing a few stray papers to crumple. Ella opens her mouth to complain until Yuta shoves an iced coffee in her face.

“Thanks Yuta. I desperately need caffeine,” Ella says, taking the iced coffee from Yuta.

“Soooo tell me about you weekend, my dear friend.”

“I did laundry on Sunday.”

“And Saturday.” Yuta gives her a pointed look as he sips his coffee.

“I was at your house to watch a Liverpool match,” Ella deadpans. She knows he’s trying to weasel all the gossip out of her.

“Yes, tell me more. More than just the game and where you were. Tell me all the other details.”

“What are you trying to get at?” Ella squints at Yuta. She knows what he’s after

“This development of you and Jungwoo. Don’t think we didn’t notice!”

Ella rolls her eyes and turns back to her laptop. “Thanks for the coffee, Yuta. These emails aren’t going to delete themselves.”

“Don’t ignore me! I’ll get my answers at lunch!” Yuta gets up and leaves to his desk on the other side of the divider in front of Ella.

Ella turns back to her email. She has a few design mockup requests from clients she needs to get to this week. Some clients were better with their requirements than others. She was already dreading the long email chains and meeting after meeting with clients who couldn’t describe their requirements well. She knows at some point during the week she has to set up some time to work with Yuta on a project for one of their bigger clients. She knew the cat would be out of the bag by then and Yuta’s nosiness would only get worse.

Jungwoo (9:02 AM): Good morning beautiful ❤️

Ella feels a little flustered seeing Jungwoo call her beautiful.

“Thank God Yuta left already,” Ella thinks to herself. If he saw the message, he’d never let her live in peace.

Ella and Jungwoo spent the entire Sunday texting back and forth, but Yuta didn’t need to know that. She learned that he’s a Mechanical Engineer, which she hadn't expected at all. They talked a lot about their lives and interests. Ella was glad she was getting to know him better and didn’t let a football rivalry get in their way.

Ella (9:03 AM): Good morning! Don’t you have work to do?

Jungwoo (9:03 AM): But I like talking to you!!!!! Talk to me!!!!!

Ella (9:10 AM): Can’t right now. Maybe in a few hours? Yuta is going to grill me at lunch 💀

Jungwoo (9:11 AM): I’m bigger than him. I’ll hurt him!!!

Ella turns her phone face down and turns back to her laptop. She has a design draft halfway completed that she wants to get done before lunch. She puts her hair up in a messy bun and gets back to work.

Lunch time comes around sooner than anticipated. Yuta’s head pops up from the other side of the divider.

“Ready for lunch? I’m starving,” Yuta announces as he stretches.

“Yeah let’s go. Poke?” Ella suggests. She grabs her purse and phone and walks towards the door.

“You read my mind!” Yuta follows closely behind.

They complain about their workload on their short walk over to the Poke restaurant. Although it was nice they had a constant stream of clients, they needed more designers to balance the workload. After ordering their food, they settle down at a table by the window.

“It’s so nice outside. It’s criminal that we have to work indoors,” Ella comments as she digs in.

“Hmm, yeah,” Yuta gives a short reply, as he scarfs down his food. “Enough about that. Now tell me about Jungwoo!”

“What do you mean ‘tell me about Jungwoo’? He’s your friend! You know more about him than I do!” Ella replies. She knows what he’s getting at, but refuses to give into his demands for gossip so quickly.

“You know what I mean! You two have something going on!”

Ella rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that! We just had a bit of friendly competition and banter on Saturday and we’ve been talking.”

“Uh huh, right. ‘Banter’. Next thing you know, you’ll end up in bed together!” Yuta accuses, pointing his fork at Ella.

“Can’t you keep it down! We’re in public!” Ella whispers.

“Everyone could do with some gossip on a boring Monday.” Yuta shrugs. “Whatever is going on with you two, I approve.”

“God, you're not my dad!” Ella rubs her forehead. She knows Yuta isn’t going to let this conversation go easily.

“Thank God for that!” Yuta agrees. “Anyway, all of this was part of my master plan anyway. I guess Johnny was too tall. Taeyong was too pretty. Jungwoo is slightly shorter and I guess slightly less pretty.”

“Johnny and Taeyong are also very much taken,” Ella points out. “And why are you insulting Jungwoo behind his back?”

“I’m not! There’s no point in being the tallest or prettiest. He has the right amount of both,” Yuta explains, shoving the last spoonful of his Poke in his mouth.

“I’m going to expect updates!” Yuta says. He gets up to throw away his empty bowl and trash.

Ella looks at her phone notifications and sees 10 texts from Jungwoo. She’ll have to read them once she’s back at her desk. She can’t risk Yuta’s prying eyes seeing the messages. Once Yuta’s back, they leave and take their post-lunch walk before they head back into the office.

After she settles back into her chair, Ella pulls out her phone and goes through Jungwoo’s messages. The texts have jumped from 10 unread to 20 unread messages. Most of the texts are of Jungwoo sulking about Ella ignoring his texts.

Ella (1:10 PM): Sorry, just got back from lunch with Yuta

Jungwoo (1:11 PM): I thought you ghosted me! But I forgive you. I don’t want you to starve.

Jungwoo (1:11 PM): What was he grilling you about?

Ella (1:12 PM): You duh lol

Jungwoo (1:12 PM): ME??

Ella (1:13 PM): Actually about us

Jungwoo (1:14 PM): He’s just jealous. He doesn’t have what we have.

Ella (1:15 PM): What? Soccer rivalry?

Jungwoo (1:16 PM): OK that and he’s not as hot as us

Ella takes a moment to think how to reply when she sees Jungwoo typing again. She decides to wait and see what he says before replying.

Jungwoo (1:18 PM): Speaking of us…I believe I’m owed a 2nd wish. Let’s grab dinner Friday night? At the new Brazilian Steakhouse you mentioned?

Ella (1:20 PM): Sure! I’ll meet you there at 7?

Jungwoo (1:20 PM): It’s a date 😉

Ella feels butterflies thinking about their date. Suddenly all of her work seems a lot less important than planning her attire for her date. She makes a mental note to go through her closet as soon as she gets home.

Fortunately, the work week breezes by quickly. Unfortunately, it’s Friday afternoon and Ella still hasn't decided what to wear on her date. Although they aren’t dining at a formal restaurant, Ella wants to dress up a little this time. Sorting through her dresses, she finally settles on an off-the-shoulder forest green dress that sits right above her knee.

With her outfit picked out she does her makeup. She decides to do a bronze smokey eye to accentuate the bronze glow of her skin and complement the color of the dress. Ella decided to do a nude mauve lip. She curls her black hair into even waves and sets the waves with hairspray. After she’s done with hair and makeup, she changes into her dress. After surveying her look in the mirror, she decides to put some bronzer and highlighter on her collarbones to accentuate them. After she’s satisfied with her work, she checks the time -- 6:15 PM. She had to put her jewelry and shoes on now if she wanted to be on time.

Ella picks out a pair of golden strappy stilettos to wear with the dress. She accessorizes her outfit with gold hoop earrings and several gold bangles on her right wrist. She does a final check in the mirror and is finally satisfied with her appearance. This look definitely had the glam factor to balance her casual look from last Saturday.

Grabbing her purse, Ella rushes out of her apartment to meet her Uber. The Uber ride takes about 25 minutes and Ella arrives at 6:55 PM. She sees Jungwoo check in with the host as she walks into the restaurant. When Jungwoo turns around and sees Ella walk in, she notices his eyes widening.

“Wow.” Jungwoo keeps scanning her from head to toe.

“Hello to you too, Jungwoo,” Ella greets. She giggles at his reaction.

“I forgive you for being a Liverpool fan. I might even become a Liverpool fan now,” Jungwoo replies. He comes closer to give her a hug. Ella laughs and smacks Jungwoo’s arm away.

“I tried to look good for you too!” Jungwoo points to himself. He did look good. He’s wearing a beige sweater, which accentuates his wide shoulders, and black jeans.

“Okay fine, you look good too,” Ella says, going in to give him a hug.

“Of course I do. I did it all for you,” Jungwoo whispers in her ear. Ella buries her face in his chest hoping he doesn’t notice her blushing.

“Sir, your table is ready,” their host announces. They jump apart quickly and follow the host to their table. Ella keeps her head down to hide her embarrassment as she makes her way to the table.

The host explains to them how the ordering will work. The waiters will come around with different cuts of meat and give them a slice. They each get a green card and red card - green to indicate to the waiter they would like more meat and red to indicate they don’t. They both order a glass of red wine. While they wait for their wine to arrive, their waiter serves them a basket of Pão de Queijo, Brazilian cheese bread, and their salads.

“You know, I’m really surprised you’re a Mechanical Engineer,” Ella says before taking a bite of Pão de Queijo. The bread tastes like a deliciously cheesy cloud and she has to stop herself from moaning.

“Why? Do I look dumb?” Jungwoo asks, holding his Pão de Queijo next to his pouting lips.

“No, no! That’s not what I mean! It’s just that you look, I don’t know, you’re tall and handsome.” Ella hopes she didn’t offend him.

“Just say you think I’m really hot. Is a hot nerd one of your fantasies?” Jungwoo teases.

“Let’s see if you get to find out,” Ella says with a glint in her eye. She isn’t going to let him win so easily.

A waiter comes by with some meat and they start piling up their plates. They compare which cuts and marinades they like the most.

“Say ‘aah’. Let me put this meat in you,” Jungwoo

Ella leans back and gives him a pointed look.

“What? You don’t want my meat?” Jungwoo asks suggestively.

“Just that little piece?” Ella leans forward and whispers, “You need to give a girl the full experience.”

Jungwoo chuckles. “I was waiting for you to ask, babe.”

Jungwoo leans over and places the meat closer to Ella’s mouth. Ella looks into Jungwoo's eyes and bites the meat off the fork. She leans back and slowly chews. They seem to be having a staring contest, which neither wants to lose. Ella slides her right foot slowly up his left leg while maintaining eye contact. Her foot makes it up to his thigh before Jungwoo squirms and closes his eyes.

“That’s cheating!” Jungwoo grabs her ankle.

“Hey, no one said there were rules.” Ella laughs.

“Babe, you don’t want to play dirty with me,” Jungwoo warns. He slowly moves his hand up her calf.

“Maybe I do.” Ella smirks and drinks the last bit of her wine. “I came here to win.”

“Your place or mine? I’ll grab the bill now or I’ll do you right here.” Jungwoo leans over, letting go of her leg.

“Mine. I’ll call an Uber,” Ella replies. Her clothes were probably strewn everywhere in the bedroom, but at least the rest of her apartment was spotless. She couldn’t be as sure about Jungwoo’s place and didn’t want the potential mess to ruin her night.

Jungwoo gently places a kiss on her cheek and walks over to a waiter to pay their bill. Once he’s out of sight, Ella pops a mint in her mouth and requests an Uber. Jungwoo comes back soon and they leave the restaurant hand in hand.

Their Uber arrives a minute after they leave the restaurant. Ella rests her left hand on Jungwoo’s thigh. She teases him the whole ride by slowly moving her hand up his thigh and giving his thigh light squeezes. Jungwoo silently curses and grabs her hand to prevent her from going any higher. Fortunately, they arrive at Ella’s apartment sooner than their estimated time and they scramble out of their Uber quickly.

“Thank God! Another minute in there and I would’ve started making out wit you in the back seat!” Jungwoo exhales.

“Can’t keep it in, huh? You’re really playing to lose,” Ella comments.

Jungwoo stands behind her and grabs her hips. “If it means we’ll take our clothes off sooner, I’ll gladly lose.”

She giggles at his impatience and quickly types in her apartment code.

“Just a few more minutes. And no funny business in the elevators. I can’t have a Man City fan ruining my rep in public,” Ella jokingly warns.

Jungwoo back hugs Ella and moves close to her ear to whisper, “Don’t worry. I like to do my ruining in private.”

Ella giggles as they make their way into the elevator and presses the “5” button for her floor. Thankfully, the elevator goes straight to her floor and they’re at her door soon. Ella tries to focus on opening the door while Jungwoo is pressing light kisses to her neck. Finally, she finally manages to get the door open despite the distractions. Jungwoo pushes them in and quickly pins her to the door, causing it to slam closed.

“Fucking finally!” Jungwoo shouts.

Jungwoo dives in for a kiss. He slides his hand up from her cheek and grabs her hair. Ella can feel the pent up frustrations from the way he deepens the kiss. He breaks their kiss to trail soft kisses down her neck sending shockwaves of pleasure through Ella. He finds the sensitive spot on her neck and begins sucking. His actions make Ella quiver, causing him to smirk.

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” Ella moans.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Jungwoo asks.

She points to the closed door on the opposite side of the apartment. Jungwoo goes to lift her up, before she stops him.

“I’d fuck you in these stilettos, but shoes on my bed are an absolute no.” Ella starts untying her right shoe. As good as her whole look was, she was now wishing she opted for easier shoes to get out of.

“We’ll do that somewhere else next time, Princess.” Jungwoo bends down and helps her out of her other shoe.

Once Ella’s shoes are off, Jungwoo throws her over her shoulder and heads to her bedroom. He pushes her door open and throws her on the bed. He makes quick work of taking off his sweater. Ella gasps at how ripped he is. She had felt through his clothes he was toned, but seeing his abs up close was a different kind of thrill.

Jungwoo hovers above Ella and gives her shoulder light kisses.

“Where’s the zipper?” Jungwoo asks.

Ella takes his right hand and leads it to the zipper on the back of her dress. He hastily unzips her dress, almost breaking the zipper. She slips out and tosses the dress to the side onto the pile of rejected clothes for their date. Ella unhooks her strapless bra and tosses aside as well.

“God, since I saw you in this dress, I wanted nothing more than to take it off,” Jungwoo confesses.

“Well, are you going to do anything or just talk?” Ella questions. She crawls back to Jungwoo on the bed.

Jungwoo laughs before he seals their lips. This time he moves slower, relishing the feeling of her pouty lips against his. Ella tugs his lip and lightly swipes his lower lip with her tongue to push him to pick up the pace.

“Anxious?” Jungwoo questions. He begins to trail kisses down her neck, chest and torso. He softly licks below her belly button to the hem of her underwear before he slides her underwear off. He moves his fingers down her folds, feeling her wetness.

“So wet already. You really want me, huh.” Jungwoo continues rubbing his fingers on her folds to tease her.

She gives his head a light shove, inciting a laugh from Jungwoo. He slowly rubs her clit, causing her to tremble. She arches her back when she feels him lick up her pussy. His tongue focuses on licking her clit as he slowly inserts a finger. She tangles her fingers in his hair giving it a slight tug encouraging him to continue. He adds another finger and pumps his fingers faster. The sensations drive Ella to dig her heels into Jungwoo’s back.

Jungwoo slips his fingers out causing Ella to whine. He begins kissing her while he reaches down to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off. Ella slides her hand down his abs, caressing his solid muscles. Her hand makes its way down to his boxers, feeling his hardness through the fabric.

“Don’t worry about that,” Jungwoo says. He shakes her hand off and hastily takes off his boxers.

“I just want to be inside you already.” He gives his already hard cock a few strokes. “Condom?”

Ella points to her night stand. Jungwoo quickly rips open the packet and puts on the condom.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for hours.” Ella grabs the back of Jungwoo’s head and gives him a kiss.

Jungwoo breaks the kiss and laughs at Ella’s impatience. Ella leans back on a pillow and Jungwoo places soft kisses on her shoulder before he lines himself up to her entrance. He slowly enters Ella’s pussy.

“God,” Ella moans. Her toes curl from the pleasure she feels.

“Keep calling me your God. I’m going to fuck you like one.”

Jungwoo picks up the pace and thrusts deeper each time. The sensations cause Ella to wrap her legs around Jungwoo’s hips, trying to feel more of him. He reaches down to rub her clit, causing Ella to shake in pleasure. Ella feels her orgasm building up and digs her nails deeper in his back.

“I’m gonna come,” Ella’s voice comes out in a whisper.

Jungwoo rubs her clit faster and her orgasm finally hits her. Her pussy pulses as she rides out her orgasm. Jungwoo thrusting becomes more erratic and he takes a few more strokes before he comes too. He collapses on top of her after he’s done, almost crushing Ella's body. She’s reeling with the sensations of her orgasm and how much bigger he is than her. Jungwoo gets up after he catches his breath and discards the used condom in the bin. He slips back into the bed and snuggles close to Ella. They lay entangled together, basking in each other’s presence.

“If you won, what would you have wished for?” Jungwoo asks, after he places a soft kiss on Ellas lips.

“You really want to know that?” Ella raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I can handle it.”

Ella laughs. “I would’ve just asked to fuck.”

Jungwoo gasps. “Seriously? Did you think I was that easy? I told you I’m a gentleman!”

“You just said you wanted to rip my clothes off at the restaurant!”

“But we got to know each other first at least!”

“Whatever you say, Jungwoo. I’m sleepy. We can discuss our kinks in the morning.” Ella curls up closer to Jungwoo.

“After the Man City match.” Jungwoo muffles into her hair.

“NO! You’re not watching that trash here!” Ella shoves Jungwoo away.

“Please? We can go for round 2 before and I’ll get us breakfast.” Jungwoo pleads.

Ella contemplates for a moment. “I’ll think about it. Now let me sleep.”

Ella cuddles up to Jungwoo and rests her head on his shoulder. Maybe sleeping with the enemy wasn’t such a bad idea.

#jungwoo #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo smut #jungwoo x reader #nct scenarios #jungwoo fanfic #nct fanfic #comedy #romantic comedy #smut #nct smut #strangers to lovers

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smol-nevi · 4 years ago

Text

I don't generally make this kind of thing a habit, but I think if you happen to be on the Crystal RP Discord, aka @crystal-rp-ffxiv, you should probably be aware of this kind of behavior, so here goes.

If you're on Crystal RP and the admin team decides they don't like you, you're going to be living under a microscope while they wait for you to mess up, if not bait you, probably while making up conspiracies about you as well. As for how I know this, I was a moderator for about a week's duration and saw it first-hand.

Unapologetically lengthy post. Receipts in the link above, long version below the cut.

From the first time I looked in the mod chat I knew something was wrong. I read backwards in the channel, thinking I'd acclimate myself and see what kind of rules precedents had been set and that sort of thing. I mostly just found out that they had it out for a particular member (at the time using the name Jericho) for not much reason. They'd spent a troubling amount of time over the past few months watching him and another member like vultures, believing them to be the same person and waiting for them to make some kind of mistake that would justify banning both of them...despite keeping different schedules, having different personalities and typing habits, and visibly being two different people. The admin team had come to the conclusion that Jericho was a troll who wanted to make them look bad, and anything he said or did was scrutinized to a ridiculous degree for evidence that would corroborate their belief.

Except none of the things they believed at all were true: he'd had a minor argument via DM with the head admin Benjimir Thursby's wife, Tessariel Aerlinn, who had made an overly broad statement about anime and Asian culture. Jericho had told her that overgeneralization about 'Asian culture' is potentially racist, and she became extremely angry, saying that because she's Asian, she can't be racist against Asians. After that, it seemed that Jericho was considered fair game for whatever retaliatory actions the two of them could justify.

Even a cursory glance at actual racism in Asia pokes Tessariel's statement entirely full of holes, and having personally read the conversation I didn't see anything actually inaccurate in his statement even if she believed it didn't apply to her. I asked what he had done that would merit such a response, because it felt very disproportionate to anything I'd ever seen him do publicly, and that was what I was told. The exchange via DMs had been screencapped and kept in a channel for evidence, and while I didn't get a copy of it, I did read it, and I said that I thought it sounded awfully one-sided and punitive and would have been much better as an actual conversation. I also expressed that I was concerned how much of the channel had been solely devoted to what was basically a witch hunt, considering that some of the server members had over the course of the past couple of months commented that the admins' behavior towards Jericho seemed biased.

I basically got a pat on the head and told that my opinion was "valued" but wrong. This would happen a lot over the course of the week.

Shit continued to escalate. Their favorite punching bag, who was acutely aware of the grudge by now and probably trying to be nice and discuss something that he thought they could all talk about, brought up some articles that stated that LOTRO might be having a graphical overhaul. This actually ended in him being put into some kind of time-out mute, because "everyone knows those articles are debunked already" despite them still being hosted on reputable games news sites. Back-channel, the admin consensus was that he was in fact trying to bait Benjimir and Tessariel into somehow looking stupid in public, because [paraphrasing] 'he knows how important LOTRO is to them.'

Benjimir in fact went off publicly about how he knows the dev team and they sent him 'personalized swag' for 'being himself' and that everyone should just listen to him because he's right. Someone else made a reasonable request for sources on statements that Benjimir made about the LOTRO improvements not happening, and they immediately became the team's private #2 punching bag.

The whole time I reiterated that this was really uncomfortable and I had serious concerns about the way they were handling Jericho. And as always I received a pat on the head and was told to not worry about it, there were really good reasons for it, really. He was 'bringing down the quality of discourse' on the server somehow. Benjimir decided that the only way he would unmute Jericho is if Jericho talked directly to him, and that Jericho tried to talk to any of the more level-headed members of the team first was taken as obvious evidence that he wanted to evade rules and create problems. I asked when we planned to unmute him, and Tessariel immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had messaged me, which wasn't incorrect but the way she worded it felt highly accusatory and I was beginning to feel that I was also in trouble somehow for not agreeing with the rest of the team.

Things came to a head quickly when I woke up and looked at the mod chat and they were having an animated conversation that started with Benjimir asking if it was 'bad that he was laughing at Jericho' and most of the rest of the team talking about how he was stupid, uninformed, a troll, etc. for the sin of having some misgivings about cryptocurrency, of all the things. One of the mods self-described their behavior as bullying. I said that this was extremely unprofessional and that I thought they should keep conversation to actual moderation matters, and if they had a personal disagreement with a server member they should handle it in a personal venue, not via official server moderation channels.

I was, for the final time, patted on the head, and told that this was not something they would consider, because the moderation team 'needs to be able to vent for their mental health' (never mind that the job was not stressful except for the rest of the team committing worse behavior than the server members) and that maybe I was in fact too sensitive for the job. Benjimir heavily implied that I had become too close to Jericho and was being manipulated, managed to misgender me somehow despite my having used solely male or neutral pronouns the entire time I'd been on the server, and after relating a story in which a couple of years ago a well-liked moderator left after having the same complaints as I did (which he saw nothing at all troubling about), suggested that I should be demoted to babysitting the lore channel.

So I took some time to collect receipts, which are linked at the top of the post, and told him where to shove it.

Since that time, things have actually somehow gotten worse on Crystal RP. Benjimir posted an entire page screed vaguely talking about "rampant negativity" that stated anyone with questions should DM him.

Upon DMing him with questions, Jericho was banned, the only reason given being that he was a 'poor fit' for the server in some vague way. I was immediately banned afterwards for calling out this decision as being driven by a personal vendetta in the feedback channel and let him know afterwards via DMs in no uncertain terms that I had logged everything I needed and would be building my case (and that he is an asshole). Jericho was reinstated, though I'm not sure what the conditions of his return were as that was after my ban and I didn't ask since I didn't want to stress him out further. Benjimir also reprimanded someone for discussing asexuality, stating in a DM to them that the conversation was somehow ERP related. I called him out on this via DM as well. Tessariel was not much later caught posting my last DMs to Benjimir in an entirely unrelated server, though she didn't include the part after that where I brought up his aphobia (during Pride Month, in a server with a rainbow icon no less). Benjimir for some reason decided to suddenly start following my FC's Tumblr well after our falling-out.

And as of today (6/24), Crystal RP now has seven pages of draconian rules, because it wasn't micromanaged hard enough before or something. Notably, a lot of these rules describe behaviors that they wanted to punish Jericho for but couldn't at the time justify, or that they'd like to punish me for but have nothing they can do to me. Or they exist to justify their own behavior, as now seen in the very beginning of the channel:

"This approach also provides our volunteers with leeway to act in good faith without the burden befitting a professional occupation."

"So we afford them the means to speak openly, vent, lament, candidly and yes, sometimes crassly and raw about everything and one."

Not only did they behave unprofessionally and shit-talk before, they have now encoded in the rules that this is acceptable and even good moderator behavior, because they saw someone else do it so it's fine (a lot of this wording is very similar to what I was told when I protested it). So rather than address anything I ever said past or present, Benjimir is choosing to double down and giving himself and his team explicit permission to be shitty, right in the opening paragraphs where you'd have expected a mission statement or at least some sort of welcome.

Which is about all you need to know about that server and its owners, in my estimation. I'd considered not even posting to Tumblr about it, but given that it's only getting worse, I think it should be generally known that this is how you can expect to potentially be treated.

#FFXIV #FFXIV RP #Crystal Data Center #Crystal RP #Balmung RP #Mateus RP #on one hand it's drama on the other I can and will call a spade a spade or in this case a douchebag a douchebag #this shouldn't be surprising to anyone who knows me even a little

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decennia · 4 years ago

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Ok I just gave up catching up on my dash full stop because Clementine and George and Wildest Dreams got my brain like this:

I feel I desperately need to make an OC for George but he is YOUR precious lol

So instead while I'm here, give me and I mean GIVE all your George and Clementine headcanon

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS FINISHING UP SOME GIFS ✨

First things first, that image lives in my mind rent free.

Second things second, please create an OC for George holy shit please yes?! George has already been romantically (or at least sexually, because Sable is a hoe) linked to Ellis Grant from @chlobenet (nothing ever came of it, George developed an infatuation and was perpetually rebuffed by our Lord and Saviour Miss Grant), @perfectlystiles' Laurel Chase, and @randomestfandoms-ocs' Reese Masrani. It is my goal to accumulate enough George Cassidy romantic interests that I can make a Wives of Henry the Eighth edit, so literally go nuts. Everyone, Create An OC To Thirst Over George Cassidy Challenge!

The best thing about George and the other Corpsemen is that the only thing that makes them Jurassic World OCs is that they happen to be hired there. It is by no means their entire story, and although they've been around for literally three days (?!) I keep thinking of more and more things about them and I keep building their backstories to the point where dinosaurs are literally the least craziest thing they've experienced.

If I were to sum up Clem and George's relationship in a gif, though:

(This got hella out of hand so keep reading under the cut if you want to know more about George and Clementine.)

A brief history on George "Sable" Cassidy and Clementine "Calico" Roscoe:

He is known as "George" to his friends, and "Cassidy" to his enemies. "Sable" when he's on the job, and "hers" when they're alone.

But it wasn't always like that. I'm not going to bore you with the details about George's fatherless upbringing, or his reasons for joining the British military, or how he'd always been a bit of a troubled kid. Where his story really begins is when he directly disobeys orders and murders the military hostages who were responsible for the attack on his unit. He is dishonourably discharged, and is sent back to the U.K. to await trial for murder and treason.

He manages an escape and goes dark; during which time, Clementine Roscoe, an agent at Interpol, is assigned his case. Unfortunately, after a year of searching (one close call where he was literally within breathing distance of Roscoe ) and a thousand too many mistaken sightings after that, the case goes cold, and she is assigned another case, one which results in the death of her entire family.

Clementine resigns from her position after she is denied leave to pursue the murderers, and spends the next few years methodically hunting down and executing the list of people she knew to be responsible. It was enough to impress Malcolm Drake, who located and recruited her into the Corpse Corporals (aka Gucci Suicide Squad).

All this time, Cassidy had been residing in Southern Africa, making a hefty living as a poacher under ever-changing pseudonyms (I had to make y'all understand that Sable is a bad man but y'all be forgiving Tom for murder and incest so here we are but honestly did it even work because here I am, being fooled, alongside you 😭). He runs a pretty decent operation, also dabbling in the smuggling of weaponry, and he lives a comfortable life. That is, until he is betrayed by his business partners (a brother-sister duo, FCs Megan Fox and Aidan Turner? Idk, still debating) and pushed out of the business under threat of death.

He is rescued by Malcolm, who has managed to track him down, and in exchange for his life spared, he agrees to work for Malcolm. His reunion with Clem is incredibly tense, with both of them pulling their guns on each other and refusing to work together. Malcolm snaps some sense into them (that, and the sum of the payload which had so many 0's added to the end, you couldn't be sure what the number really was other than "a lot") and they swallow their pride and work together.

They would continue to work together as Calico and Sable for the years to come, and when I say it is a slow burn, I do mean THE SLOWEST OF THE SLOW. But there is definitely a fuck ton of sexual tension thrown in there for angst, and a couple of near brushes with death (hazard of the job, really).

George is a prolific man whore, and he's bisexual and proud. So Clem has gotten used to an endless slew of people of all genders cumming coming and going from his hotel room, especially during the long cons where the Corpsemen go deep undercover for months at a time (Hector doesn't come on those jobs, he's got a family to worry about. He taps out at a month, max, if he doesn't get to leave to see his family).

George Cassidy is not a man who is used to not getting what he wants, but Clementine Roscoe is the only exception to that rule. He has come to view her as "unobtainable," this irreverent forbidden thing that he must not ruin. By the time the heat of their mutual hate had dissipated, it had turned into a friendship, and although there was an undeniable electric tension between them, they have never done anything about it. But it has that "will definitely be the best sex of your life" kinda energy.

They fight quite a lot, and disagree on almost everything. Have they tried to kill each other? Oh, absolutely. But they're also professionals, and although Clementine and George may be going at it, it never bothers Malcolm, because he knows that Calico and Sable will put those differences aside and do the damn job.

Clem only involves herself in George's sex life when it comes to people who she considers friends. She has the warnings already mentally scripted, because the thing about George Cassidy is that he cares about no one but himself, and nothing but his holy trinity: blood, money, and sex. He's an emotionally devoid sociopath at the best of times, and at the worst, he's a well oiled and dangerous killing machine.

He is not a good man, Clementine knows, but sometimes, you don't want a good man.

I have a gifset in store involving the two of them, and I'm busy compiling a list of headcanons as we speak. If you want, I can tag you in it :)

But this is everything about their past and a bit of their present, so if you want to create an OC please do and tag me so I can write up a crossover and make some gifs 💕

(And before anyone comes for me, yes, I am aware of the fact that George "Sable" Cassidy is a very toxic and fucking despicable man, I created him, and I made him that way. I am not condoning his actions, nor would I want to be in a relationship with him in real life, but this is fiction. It is not meant to be taken seriously, if you don't like my hot mercenary boyfriend, then please unfollow me, because he is my current obsession, and I cannot promise that I will not be thirsting for him on my TL at any and all hours).

#i am literally in love with this man #i'm so sorry y'all have to suffer through this tomfoolery #lokitrasho #oc: george cassidy #oc: clementine roscoe

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we-always-hit-our-ass · 5 years ago

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I just read your fluffy headcannons with Toye and they are p e r f e c t. Made me realise how much I needed this and I was hoping if you could do one with Ron Speirs. 😔✊

anon, im incredibly happy that you think my Toye hcs were perfect- i also totally get you, anon. we all need some soft speirs hcs in our lives and i will do exactly that! 😩👌💞💕

btw im incredibly sorry that i took so long to write these hcs but hopefully you enjoy them!

Taglist: @floydtab, @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi, @noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @hufflepuffpancakes, @hihosilvers, @rayleighshughes

shoutout to my wifey @floydtab for helping me on these hcs, this probably wouldn’t have existed without you- you gave me so much inspo i love you ma’am 💞💕

Fluffy/General Ronald Speirs HCs

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Let’s get one thing clear here- Ron is a cold bitch but is ACTUALLY a big softie.

Only for you anyway, but no one else except you two need to know that-

Like Ron will subtly do things to impress you, and you’re just like, 'You dont have to do that I love you too fucking much already, stop tryna make me fall for you again-'

But you always appreciate it anyways because you know that this boy just wants the best for you-

Ron is straightforward and makes it his daily goal to make you happy-

If you’ve had a bad day, Ron will literally go and get your favorite food/drink/thing to immediately make you feel better, and it works 100% of the time.

Aaah- This man lowkey cares a lot in the relationship and he’s just but a bit worried and is self conscious.

But you just tell him that he's enough and that you'll love him no matter what.

After that he'll just immediately hug you and you would press kisses on his jawline while softly rubbing his back to reassure him that you’re there.

Soft declarations of love are always said and done between the two of you and you knew that you couldn’t live without it.

It was practically essential at this point and you’d never ever get tired of Ron saying ‘I love you’.

Ron is also very protective of you but he’s embarrassed to admit it.

The amount of times he almost yeeted someone because they either made you mad/uncomfortable have been endless.

Like they better HOPE that Speirs doesn’t find their address-

Ron isn’t really big on PDA but he will not hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, and even sometimes he’ll sit you on his lap while he nuzzles his face on the side of your neck.

It’s just a personal preference of Ron’s and he just doesn’t want people to exactly see something that is intimate, you feel?

Even though he prefers to keep your relationship private, he would always softly call you endearing terms in your ear in public.

He prefers to love you in private, and he thinks that it feels more special that way.

Ron acts the complete opposite when you two are alone or behind closed doors. He’s extremely passionate and every single touch light yet intense.

Ron cannot keep his hands off you and he cherishes every moment he shares with you.

He just loves the fact that you feel so right in his hold, like you two were always meant to be.

He loves everything about you and wouldn’t change a single thing about yourself, I promise you that.

Ron is also a MAJOR worrywart, like if he even heard you whisper ‘ow’, you better bet that he’s going to ZOOM his ass to you.

He also doesn’t express his worries verbally- oh no- his actions speak for him. He’ll hold you in his arms and will ACTUALLY kiss the area where you hurt yourself.

Ron just wants you to be alright and will fret over you even if it’s just a papercut.

Ron is also very discreet about your relationship and God forbid anyone from seeing him being soft towards you. (And God help them even more if they decide to bring it up.)

Ron constantly thinks how amazing you are while you’re right next to him with your hands in his.

He’s always extremely happy around you and he absolutely loves playing with your hair and it’s so cute.

Soft forehead kisses for this man are a must and he can’t help but smile when you press your lips softly against his skin.

Ron is definitely an athletic man and he adores swimming.

There have been countless times where Ron would take you to a lake just so he can swim with you.

When you’re done changing Ron will scoop you up and just straight up jump into the water.

Cue the WHOLESOME AS FUCK experience, thank you very much.

It’s always serene and the air is always filled with laughs as you and Ron splash each other endlessly.

Kisses are always pressed against your wet cheek whenever you two go swimming

You’d also cradle his face in your hands as you’d stare lovingly into his eyes.

But you’d always finish swimming before him though and you’d admire him as he’d do laps.

Like Ron’s so beautiful, look at that man, he’s so fucking out of this world-

He might or might not have been trying to impress you by doing laps, but that's a secret we'll never know-

When you’re finally dry, Ron comes up behind you as he just got out of the water and hugs you, causing you to be wet all over again.

Ron also has a special spot in his heart that is reserved for playgrounds. Like when he’s walking with you and he spots one his eyes LIGHT up and you don’t need words to tell what he was thinking.

Ron loves pushing you on the swings and your laugh and smile just keep him GOIN-

He’ll also wrap his arms around your waist as he’s behind you when you’re sliding on the slides-

The childlike wonder in Ron comes out whenever he sees a playground and that’s one of Ron’s many quirks that you loved-

Like literally the main reason he likes going to playgrounds more now is so he can just see your joyful expressions and sweet laugh-

Okokok, Ron Speirs might seem like a cat, but please believe me when I say that he adores dogs!

You could see the absolute love in his eyes when he sees Trigger and you just had the most perfect idea on what to get him for Christmas.

You fell in love with a little Bernese Mountain Dog puppy (please, please, please search them up- they’re adorable) and your plan was set in motion.

You immediately knew that Ron would love him too.

The lil pup was a pure fluffball of sunshine and this boy was bound to bring lots of joy during the holidays-

BUT HOLY SHIT YOU DID NOT EXPECT YOUR BOYFRIEND’S REACTION TO BE SO CUTE WTF-

When you presented the tiny bundle of fluff to Ron, you could see waves of euphoria emitting off of him-

You knew that Ron was already a man of a few words but he was just rendered speechless (in a good way, of course) when his eyes laid upon the Bernese puppy.

“Milo.”

“Ron- What?”

“His name is going to be Milo.”

You have caught Ron multiple times with Milo on his lap and it’s fucking adorable.

Ron would also fall asleep with Milo in his arms and you swore you were going to take a picture of that and frame it-

Milo’s energetic and bouncy personality somehow complimented Ron’s steady and calm one.

It’s a beautiful dynamic and it just works in the best way possible.

Okokok I’ve rambled enough, but have I mentioned how caring and amazing Ron is? Yeah? Well screw it, here’s more-

Ron is a little spoon half of the time but he’ll never admit it like the stubborn cutie that he is-

You love holding him in your arms and he loves it all the same too!

But Ron is such a good fucking boyfriend, it’s making me ascend-

When you’d fall asleep in your desk while doing work, Ron would ALWAYS carry you back to your shared bedroom and lay you down gently on the bed.

Ron will get on the bed and he’d be the big spoon as he’d crawl into bed with you.

But then you’d turn to face him in your sleep and you’d instinctively pull him closer and your cheek would be resting on chest

Oml- I can’t the scene is too goddamn wholesome-

Buuuut if you fall asleep on the couch, Ron would bring a nice fluffy blanket to cover you and he’d sit next to you and he’d fall asleep while making sure you were ok-

You never liked waking up or mornings before, but mornings with Ron? Oh yeah, you were DOWN for that-

Ron’s fluffy tousled hair in the morning is GOLDEN and when you’d push it back to reveal his sleepy but hella handsome face, it’s fucking over I swear-

Ron also feels the same when he wakes up next to you and he genuinely thinks that it’s like waking up to an angel-

But Ron’s husky voice when he wakes up is 😩👌💕, is there anymore to say???

You’d two would just stay in bed cuddling with Milo by your side during the few hours of the morning and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Ron was known and cemented as a hardened, scary, and stern soldier, but you didn’t mind one bit.

Because to you... Ron was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to your life, and you couldn’t care less as to what other people thought of him. 💞

-----------------------

oooooh i’m probably deceased by now, so boo- but the afterlife can wait im proud of writing these hcs!

i hope you enjoyed these hcs lovely anon and i also hope that it was good enough!

but thank you for reading, everybody, i appreciate it so much- 💞💞😩

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs headcanon #ron speirs headcanon #band of brothers fanfiction #ronald speirs fanfiction #hbo war #hbo war headcanon

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lettersfromedmundrp · 4 years ago

Photo

ANNA HARE

AGE: Thirty-Four.

DOB: March 9th,1916.

GENDER: Cis Woman

PRONOUNS: She/her.

OCCUPATION: Painter (Former propaganda artist).

HOMETOWN: Seaton, England.

FC: Gemma Arterton.

“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.”― Vincent Van Gogh

October 30th, 1930.

Dear Edmund,

I was so happy to receive a letter from you. I don’t often get many things in the post. I don’t have many friends either so hardly anything gets sent to me other than gifts from my grandmother on Christmas. So it was very exciting to have a stranger want to be my friend.

My brother warned me not to trust you, but my brother doesn’t trust anyone. I asked my father where Manchester is and he said it’s far north, even more north than Bristol. I find that hard to imagine because it takes ages to get to Bristol. So I may not be able to visit you but I would love to be your penpal.

Your Friend,

Anna

July 28th, 1945.

My Dearest Edmund,

I sold two paintings this past week. It feels nice to sell work that does not feature a slogan or call to action is such a relief. It is nice to just like the images of the shoreline speak for themselves. I’m hoping to donate the ones who don’t sell to hospitals so that soldiers can see sights of home from their beds.

I worry about you every day. I know you were brave to go fight for king and country, but as the years drag on I’ve begun to wonder if it’s worth it. I don’t know anymore. If anything happened to you or Peter I’d be lost. I just need to know that you’ll get home safely. When you do I’ll take the train up and we can finally embrace in person.

I’ve put some pressed flowers in the envelope along with this letter and I hope that they’ve survived the journey to you. I thought perhaps your life could use a little more color right now and the postmaster said that I couldn’t send you a full-sized painting. So this will have to do.

Peter is coming home this weekend. They had to amputate his leg but from his letters, he seems to be in good spirits. I’ll be taking care of him until he finds a wife. But I’m sure that won’t be long. From what I know he’s been exchanging letters with more than three women, or ‘dames’ as he calls them. Can you imagine calling me and Paulie dames? What a laughable thought.

All this to say, I hope that you are well. My life is as calm and wonderful as one could hope during these terrible times. I hope that the war will end soon and we can return to our calm and wonderful lives without having to qualify them.

Your Friend,

Anna

ONE LAST OPTIONAL TWIST:

I think it would be really interesting for Anna to reveal she was previously engaged. She kept it a secret and decided never to tell anyone after the marriage was called off. She’d deeply ashamed of this fact and doesn’t want anyone to know her life isn’t perfect. Also, she’s bisexual so that could also be worked in somehow!

#(taken character.)

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seancerpg-archived · 4 years ago

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THE TOYMAKER

Name: Aurelian Wood

Age: 59

Pronouns: they/them

FC: Robert Carlyle

BIOGRAPHY

tw - death of a child

Their life has been interesting from the start - almost as if their entire existence served to foreshadow their future. They’ve always been perceptive and intuitive, they’ve always thought of things differently from their peers. Not particularly bound to any person, they had times where they had so many friends they couldn’t fit them all in a single afternoon, while sometimes, they would be so lonely they would end up talking to the walls of their room. Still, often they preferred solitude to the company of another person, but that changed when they met their future wife ; a woman so elegant and radiant that they thought she escaped the Heavens. But, while she was an angel in both visage and temperament, such angelic creatures were made to suffer - and it was a cruel irony that they would soon learn. Neither of them were particularly wealthy, but they owned a small business and their wife was an exceptional cook, so they lived better than most of the people from the shared background. A little over a year after their wedding, the wife delivered a healthy boy to the world and the toymaker carved a special doll just for their son ; a wooden figurine, of a raven - as dark as their wife’s hair.

They should’ve known better than to carve a messenger of death for their son - and they would come to realise it when it’s already far too late. But, their life was good and undisturbed for a while, and they made toys that smiled, happiness painted in their lifeless eyes. They smiled at children frequenting their shop, often pricing down on their dolls when the less wealthy kids wandered in, and they weren’t yet known as the strange man in the toyshop - that came to be when their wife succumbed to an illness and left them alone to tend to their son. While they were heartbroken by their wife’s demise, they were still holding up good, having to put a smile on their face and pull themselves together when their son was in the room. But, horrors and tragedies come hand in hand, and it wasn’t too long after their wife’s death that their son followed suit, perishing in a freak accident that not only took the boy’s life, but the lives of a few of his playmates. When they learnt of it, something in them snapped and shattered, something caved in and the jagged pieces of their heart and soul seemed to physically hurt.

Ever since, people started avoiding them - not because they thought the toymaker was bad luck, or bad themselves, but… they’ve seen the change. The people have seen the shop shrouded in blackness, without a single light burning in the night, but the people passing by could hear the murmurs, could hear the toymaker creating new toys - but, what came out of that shop from that night onward was not good. No one knew why the toys suddenly changed their appearance - why they were both more appealing and more terrifying at the same time, or why they seemed so alive. The toymaker stood in the corner of the shop, watching children and their parents as they observed their toys… neither one of them suspected that the toys watched them right back. It was ancient, old magic - their ancestral right and power - and it was something that every single person on the planet seemed to have forgotten. Everyone kept saying that the dead can’t be brought to life, and to an extent they’re right… but, no one ever said that it was impossible to lock the spirits of the deceased into wooden objects, no one thought about bringing back their beloved ones by simply putting them into dolls - and when they look at the life sized doll of their son, they know their son is smiling right back at them.

THE GHOST

It’s uncomfortable around them. To be fair, it didn’t expect to witness what it witnessed - it didn’t expect to see so many spirits locked up in various dolls ; each doll for another spirit. Sometimes, the caged ones made the dolls move and then the toymaker would laugh with something that bordered disturbingly close to madness. It doesn’t know what to do anymore - its purpose was to haunt them, to drive them insane, to terrify them and feed off their fear… but it didn’t expect this. it‘s an old and powerful magic and it doesn’t know just how the hell the toymaker’s able to do what it does. It knows the toymaker’s seen it, but it makes an effort to keep out of their way, it makes an effort to just appear as non threatening and benevolent as someone of it’s eerie visage can seem. The toymaker allows it to stay in their shop, but they also made it evident that, should anything go missing or be broken… the next toy they make will be its own prison.

CONNECTIONS

THE THIEF: They can see the uncertainty in his eyes and it’s absolutely delightful. They know he doesn’t trust them, but he doesn’t really care what the other does - it’s the children they look at. The toymaker doesn’t like that the thief is using children for his actions and they don’t enjoy seeing the little ones suffer in the streets - all of them, regardless of age, remind them of the precious thing they’ve long since lost. When they see the thief, they are enraged - but, they’ve learnt how to veil anger for a smile a long, long time ago.

THE DANCER: They see how troubled she is, they see the fear in her eyes - but, unlike the rest of their contacts, they know it’s not really them she’s afraid of. The thing that haunts her is peculiar, and exquisite, and they can feel all of it’s emotions. The toymaker knows that the dancer is aware of the spark in their eyes, but they can’t wait to put their hands on such a first class entity - and it’s only a matter of time before they lock that little beast into a doll.

THE ALCHEMIST: She’s remarkable in a way all living things are. The dissociation between the living and the dead is more than a little blurred to them sometimes, but while their trauma made them able to discern this world from the spiritual one, they are more than aware that the alchemist is made of the same matter. They often ask for her concoctions, for something to keep the dolls alive ; and they grin at their joke because not even the perceptive woman can see how true their words are.

THE JOURNALIST: She pokes her nose in everyone’s business, but she does seem a little reluctant to pester them for too long. At first, she was uncomfortable in their shop, eyeing the dolls with uncertainty - but, the more time she’s spent around them, the more she’s started to relax. They rather enjoy her company and they seem genuinely fond of her - treating her as a daughter. The two of them are known to take walks together, or have a familial dinner, and she might be the only person in the town they truly worry about - and definitely the only person they strive to protect however they can.

THE TOYMAKER IS PLAYED BY ADMIN EVA

#the toymaker #all #taken

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theholycovenantrpg · 5 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, MIMZ! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RAPHAEL.

Admin Rosey: I never really thought that Raphael’s application would be so f u n to read. Macabre? Absolutely. Impassioned? Of course. But hilarious to the point where I was giggling? Definitely unexpected but that is what made this so enjoyable and it is ultimately why this application received a r e s o u n d i n g yes from each of us. There was a perspective that I always envisioned for Raphael but was never able to articulate it myself until you laid it out, word by word, with this application, Mimz. Raphael is such a multi-faceted and character that holds so much potential, and the way that you wove it into every aspect of the application made this so fun to read. Thank you so much for taking the time to produce such a wonderful application! Your faceclaim change to Kendrick Sampson has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias

mimz

Age

Personal Pronouns

she/her

Activity Level

i’ll typically check the dash every day, and i try not to keep replies stewing for longer than a couple of days! that said i can be a little slow, especially around exam seasons.

Timezone

pst

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?

miss minnie bleubeard’s blog

IN CHARACTER

Character

raphael, with a fc change to kendrick sampson

What drew you to this character?

short answer: divine amorality sexy HAHAHAHA

long answer: there was something i read a little while ago about some of the best surgeons being able to dehumanize their patients to a rather frightening degree. there’s a level of abstraction that you need in order to not let your empathy get in the way of the practice of medicine; ultimately, a body is a body is a body, right? and then there’s the moral quandary of healing - it is a doctor’s duty to heal, but what does that actually mean? to what extent is a doctor’s duty to relieve suffering? to obstinately prolong life? if the body heals but the mind still ails, is a person healed? what i’m getting at, here, is that in some ways the healer is the most dangerous character of all.

when i read raphael’s bio, there was a quote in that article from a surgeon named david cheever that came to mind: “as a result of anaesthetics, the surgeon ‘need not hurry; he need not sympathise; he need not worry; he can calmly dissect, as on a dead body.’” to me, raphael is an explosion and expansion of this concept. raphael is, quite literally, a medical ethicist’s worst nightmare, and to me, that’s absolutely fascinating. without sympathy, what separates a healer from an educated control freak with a god complex? with raphael, we can extend this concept to its furthest extreme. raphael isn’t even human - how could he even begin to sympathize with an experience so foreign to him? why would he worry about something trivial as human suffering when it essentially exists as a theoretical concept to him? divine beings have no reason to play by human rules, and as a creature raised by god’s side raphael was so far removed from the concept of human suffering that it’s sort of a no-brainer that he developed a sick fascination with it, like a child who managed to con their parent into buying a grand theft auto game and is obsessed with running over pedestrians because the stakes never quite feel real. it’s a perspective i’d absolutely love to explore in a group rp setting because the nature of rp means that it’s kind of...completely unsustainable? like as writers we’re shoving these characters together, which means that raphael will have to be exposed to mortals. there’s room for a lot of character development there, and it seems like something extremely interesting to explore.

BUT HERE’S THE THING⁠—and this is where the character gets really fun, in my opinion. i’ve talked a fair bit about god complexes already, but when applied to raphael an interesting question is raised: how much is a complex, and how much of it is actually being divine? what really made me want to get my grubby little hands on the reins of raphael’s story was seeing the disconnect between the way his connections are written from raphael’s perspective versus the other character’s perspective. it’s a fun little hubristic shade that makes him an unreliable narrator and infinitely more interesting than a simple morality thought experiment. i think it’s easy to see raphael as this super cool, all-powerful master manipulator (i think that’s a pretty accurate take on his self-image, in fact), but he’s not the only player in this game. for every pawn he’s trying to move, there is someone else trying to use him in a similar way, and i don’t know that he truly understands the ramifications of that. see, i think it’s easy to reduce raphael to the points i discuss in the previous paragraphs because that’s what he wants you to think of him. but this is a world of gods and superpowers and magical political intrigue and game of thrones doesn’t exist so nobody can tell him that he’s on the path to becoming a cersei lannister (admittedly i haven’t watched got so this reference might not be right but i feel like it’s right so uh. yeah!). maybe i just like to see arrogant men getting knocked down a peg? this might be a projection of that. i dunno. i just know that there are quite a few mind games and mental gymnastics to untangle with raphael and that’s fun. he’s fun.

also. i would like to once again reiterate: divine amorality sexy. it’s not good, to be clear, and i don’t condone it, but i’m just saying.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

WHEN THE CITY CRUMBLES AROUND YOU AND YOU HOLD ITS VESTIGES IN YOUR HANDS, WHOM DO YOU BLAME?

i think Raphael’s big character arc revolves around a simple question: how far are you willing to go to achieve what you want?

ostensibly, it’s an easy answer: very far. but when your desire is antithetical to your very purpose, when chasing it puts you at odds with the thing you’ve worked to build, do the goalposts move?

(the correct answer is that raphael did not build caelum. he simply destroyed god.)

let’s say, hypothetically, that raphael gets what he wants. the world is thrown into war and chaos and destruction, yadda yadda, raphael gets his blood and his suffering, great. he’s lived through this before (a couple times, actually), so you think he’d realize by now—eventually, the dust will settle. people will tire of suffering. and where will that leave raphael? how many times will you remake the world to watch it burn? can you ever be fulfilled chasing a temporary high?

(the correct answer is no, but raphael is an immortal being. more importantly, he is a patient one. he will wait a million days for rome to be built, if only to witness the single day in which it will burn.)

i think raphael needs to reckon with these questions. i think he’s lived far too long with his mentality unquestioned and that has made him both insufferable and a major threat to society. this is a long and pretentious way to say that raphael honestly kind of needs a hobby whatever the thc-verse equivalent of therapy is, but i think any sort of positive character development is contingent upon a recontextualization of suffering and chaos and raphael’s masks.

of course, this isn’t to say that introspection will only lead to positive character development. perhaps a raphael who looks deeper into his psyche will come to understand that his desires outweigh his role; perhaps such thoughts will push raphael over the edge of propriety and into something more outwardly despicable. no matter what, though, i think that the direction of raphael’s character development will be largely shaped on how he decides to prioritize his⁠ roles and goals.

FOR WHOM DO THESE HANDS HEAL?

let’s discuss the archangels, shall we? despite it all, raphael genuinely loves his brothers. i would argue, even, that raphael believes that his scheming is in service to the other archangels; he’s not blind to the way complacency has softened the angels. at this point, the only true threat to the angels is themselves—if michael wants to to unlock a state of sanctifying grace, it will happen at the hand of one of his kin.

i spoke earlier about raphael’s goals ultimately being futile. this is largely because they are diametrically opposed to michael and gabriel’s goals, and while raphael knows this intellectually, i don’t think he’s quite thought about what the long-term implications of that conflict entails. he’s so caught up in the conflict between michael and gabriel that he’s neglected to consider how he factors into the dynamic. could he be the common ground that brings michael and gabriel together? could he be the final straw that breaks them apart? he is excited for the fighting, the fallout; but has he stopped to consider what the long-reaching effects of such a rift may be?

raphael is breaking his family apart because he loves them. will that be enough, when he is sent to pick up the pieces? whose side will he fall on, if he is to pick a side at all?

DID PYGMALION FALL IN LOVE WITH THE BEAUTY OF HIS CREATION, OR THE BEAUTY HE CREATED?

i said this in the previous section but i’d like to reiterate it: i think a big reason raphael is Like That is because the stakes have never quite felt real to him. raphael’s a pot stirrer, but he’s not a creature of action. to this, i say give him real stakes. to be honest, i don’t know exactly what that entails, because i could see a number of ways in which tangible pressure manifests itself for raphael. perhaps his meddling with michael and gabriel steps too far, and his brothers perhaps the angels become suspicious of his maneuvering, in which the spider is drawn into his own web of intrigue. maybe we apply positive pressure, where the ails of the world require a healer and raphael is tapped to higher purpose⁠—and higher power. maybe raphael will find himself tempted by the very demons he holds in contempt.

the point is that raphael has largely been a character who acts through others. even now, we see this through his grooming of romilda, with his subtle manipulation of michael and gabriel. i want him to become a more active character, either by his own volition or by his hand being forced.

similarly, i’m extremely interested in seeing how raphael navigates the political elements of this verse. i expect it stings a bit to be the only archangel not given a position of leadership; perhaps he holds lingering resentment toward zadkiel for being given a role raphael had expected to receive. does he subtly undermine zadkiel’s leadership? i want to watch him play up tensions with the vices, to hide a vicious war-hawk perspective under the guise of a concerned healer. i want him to smile in abaddon and samael’s faces and plot their suffering in his mind. i want to see the snake slither in the grass, to return to his original form as a spider spinning a web of intrigue across his court. yes, i want a more active raphael, but i think the political drama is ripe for development, as well.

WHEN I SPIT UP MY SINS AND BEG FOR REPENTANCE, WHAT WILL COME UP?

this one’s a long shot, but i could maybe...see...raphael……..falling. i can guarantee you that the idea has never even crossed raphael’s mind, and that he would literally rather be smited than be cast out of caelum, but i can see it. i think he might be happier, actually; if he fell, he could really lean into the chaos and suffering thing without any compunction.

of course, this is something infinitely easier said than done. were raphael to be cast out of caelum, he would have nowhere to go. infernum would never take him⁠—he’s made far too many enemies among their ranks. he could wander the holy land, but he’s far too proud to bind himself to its existing social systems. (he wouldn’t be able to look gabriel in the eye.)

raphael would have absolutely nothing.

but he would also be free.

that’s right, i think that a horsemen-style liberation arc would be an absolute banger for raphael. again, i don’t think it’s feasible unless a very specific set of circumstances happen, but just imagine a raphael with nothing to lose, free to go absolutely apeshit. his only prerogative is to make sure you have a bad day. he is free to sow whatever chaos, whatever suffering he so wishes across the land. WHEW.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, but i don’t see him going down easily.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

entomological curiosity, in short. consider: why did god leave the apple in the garden of eden? why do humans keep animals in glass cases? why do children burn ants with magnifying glasses?

raphael wants to observe the world. a good healer must understand his patients at a fundamental level, and such truths are only revealed when the subject is broken down to its basest parts. you see, raphael was weaned on temperance and virtue; there is a lush decadence to emotional extremes that he finds most fascinating. they are debased. they are crass. they are wantonly sentimental, in a garishly beautiful way.

but this is not all. he wants to stave off boredom, and these are the tools he has to play with. for all of his machinations, raphael is a simple being. raphael has no grand ambitions, no lofty ideals, and that is what makes him so dangerous. he wants to be amused. he wants to be stimulated. he wants to observe a world in which things happen.

ostensibly, this is not as selfish a motivation as it may seem. as a healer, raphael knows something that many do not: serenity cannot exist in perpetuity. it is impossible for the world to remain unchanged⁠—even if the change is not evident, it is happening. an eternal peace is all but a stagnation of the kingdom; the only thing stagnation breeds is degradation. the angels are weakening because they are not being challenged. michael and the virtues may be doing extensive research to find an alternate explanation, but raphael knows this to be the truth.

of course, the irony underlying the selfless explanation of raphael’s motivations reveals the truth of the matter: it is a farce. perhaps it is a lie that raphael has even convinced himself he believes, but it is farcical nonetheless. raphael claims he wants to invoke change because stagnation is dangerous, but riddle me this⁠—if this is true, why has raphael never changed? centuries upon centuries have passed, and the world has changed around him, but raphael himself has remained largely unchanged. he is the orchestrator of change, not its agent nor its subject, and that is just the way he would like things to stay.

Character Traits

CHARISMATIC - there’s a reason very few have cottoned on to raphael’s true nature, and it’s not (just) his pretty face and magical girl-esque aura. there’s something effortlessly captivating about raphael, a pace to his cadence that has you hanging on to his every word, a lightness to his smile that makes you want to coax it out whenever and however you can. everything about raphael puts people at ease, except for his eyes, which tend to put people on edge if he’s not careful. he’s not gregarious or the outgoing sort of charismatic by any means, but he does manage to exude an overwhelming charisma.

PATIENT - it’s important to remember that before raphael turned on god, he waited for him. raphael performed healings for centuries and never raised a hand against his father in that time. think of all the angels that fell, that rebelled; raphael was not among them. no, raphael played the dutiful son, allowing his resentment to fester and boil deep underneath his skin, but never to surface. for centuries he served loyally, biding his time. remember: lucifer fell. raphael did not. which one killed god? as i mentioned in the plot section, raphael will wait a million days for rome to be built to witness the single day it burns. prolonged suffering is perhaps the most beautiful of all. fortitude goes hand-and-hand with patience.

INTELLIGENT - in a few ways. raphael is well-studied, with extensive knowledge of biology and chemistry and history and politics. raphael is emotionally intelligent; he hides his true nature behind a veneer constructed to meet expectations. he may not be as talented as gabriel in this regard, but it is a skillful construction nonetheless.

MANIPULATIVE - i mean. yeah.

ARROGANT - he thinks he’s smarter than god???????????????? tbf god was a bit of a headass in this universe but we’ve all read enough tragedies to know where this kind of hubris ends up going.

CRUEL - there’s a bit to unpack here. i’d argue that there are two types of cruelty: malicious cruelty and callous cruelty. raphael is certainly capable of both, but i think he embodies the latter. with certain notable exceptions, raphael’s cruelty is rarely personal; it is a thoughtless sort of cruelty, the type inflicted upon beings considered expendable. raphael is selfish and petty and powerful, and these traits coalesce into a casual cruelty.

In-Character Para Sample cw: light gore

Look at how they look at him. God’s good little lambs, lined up all in a row, passive and pliant and patiently awaiting benediction. Patiently waiting for Raphael.

Raphael hates them.

No. This is false. It is difficult for Raphael to muster up stronger feelings toward mortals than a vague sort of amusement, the sort of affinity one might have for a particularly stupid kit when it does something surprisingly clever. In this regard, he understands that he differs from his kin. Gabriel, in particular, has developed a particular fondness for the mortals. Why anyone would wish to strip mortals of their most fascinating behavior⁠—to the point of openly defying their Father⁠—is beyond Raphael. He has given up on trying to reason with his brother on the matter.

The first supplicant is beckoned forward. They pray to the Lord and Raphael touches their forehead with one palm, cups their chin with the other. His fingers splay carelessly around a throat all but bared to him and the ceremony is so mechanical Raphael allows his thoughts to wander⁠.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip. How beautiful it would be, to watch the lamb’s naive adoration flash into fear, to watch fear darken into betrayal and resentment and the most beautiful emotion of all: despair. He can feel the pulse at his fingertips. It would quicken in a stress response, he knows. It would quicken, then it would pound, and then maybe it would stop. It all falls to Raphael’s whim. In this moment, Raphael holds their life in his hands. They have all but laid on his sword for the promise of absolution and when they look up at Raphael with their dumb, trusting eyes he can see the sparkling tracks where tears once fell, down the hollow of a cheek into the pool of a collarbone. He finds himself overcome with the desire to trace the fall with his tongue. “Give me your pain,” he murmurs. Let me taste it. Let me understand.

He takes it. He does not taste it. He does not understand.

He releases the mortal. Those beautiful tear tracks are already fading. “The Lord be with you,” he says, and perhaps he even means it. His Father’s gaze burns into his back, even from a world away. He’d laugh at the irony, were he free to. Is this the weight you so desire? he wants to ask the devotee. No, Raphael knows the truth: God’s love is a shackle. God’s love is a leash and it is holding Raphael back from his fullest potential.

“And also with you,” the lamb responds. Their head is bowed obediently in prayer and they shuffle away, appropriately awed. The next supplicant is beckoned forward.

The light of Raphael’s presence obfuscates the darkness in his eyes.

—

Later, much later, Raphael finds himself studying his hands. He flexes them, balls them into fists, stretches his fingers as far as they will spread.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip.

The hand is at once an individual unit and a summation of individual parts. The hand contains twenty-seven bones and thirty-four muscles connected by over a hundred ligaments and tendons. Wrists connect to metacarpals, which connect to carpals, which taper off into delicate phalanges. Individually, each of these parts are largely useless; were Raphael to take a scalpel and drag it through a tendon, across the joints, the strings would be cut and the puppetry would cease to dance. You would be left with a small pile of carpals and metacarpals and phalanges, loose strings of muscle and tendon. At times, it is difficult to fathom how such mundane component parts are the instruments of extraordinary acts.

Raphael flexes his hand, watches bone shift under skin. If he remembers correctly, mortals have an idiom about knowing your hands, or something along those lines. He will not pretend to be familiar with mortal culture. Did you know that, wings aside, mortals and angels all have the same bone structure?

Of course you did. It is common knowledge that God made all beings in His image, or so the story goes.

This is an easy answer, but one with interesting implications. Let us extrapolate. If mortals and angels are essentially biological mirrors, and each are made in the image of God, does that mean that God will bleed like His creations? Slide a scalpel across God’s knuckles—will His puppets cease to dance?

Raphael could find out. It would take only a single blade, sliced through a single tendon.

Now, Raphael is not so arrogant to believe himself the blade. He would not even consider himself the hand. Such a role requires a particular kind of conviction—

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in bitter disillusionment⁠—the sort inflicted upon Michael. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s capriciousness and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in righteous anger⁠—the sort inflicted upon Gabriel. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s neglect and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in a whetted hunger⁠—the sort God gifted to each of His angels. Hunger breeds hunters and heaven is full— )

—that Raphael simply cannot embody. Rage has never been his forte.

Consider, however, that the hand is controlled by nerve impulses. A spark is all the hand needs to transform from a collection of bone to an agent of action. Yes. He clenches his fists. Here are the bones, the veins, the tendons, the muscle. Angels and mortals all share the same bone structure.

Does God?

Extras

pinterest.

raphael has classically beautiful wings. i’m talking TEXTBOOK cherubic angel wings, with the sweeping white feathers and all. raphael kind of hates them, though he takes a great deal of pride in them.

raphael doesn’t have a signature weapon. he’s proficient with blades, yes, and fights with a surgeon’s precision, not the strongest nor the fastest but eerily efficient in his blows. but he is a healer—at the end of the day, his empty hands are all he needs. (his empty hands are what you should fear.)

raphael hates the heretics pro forma but. but. he cannot deny a certain...fondness for them. the heretics exhibited such dedication to a futile cause; they believed their suffering to be something noble. it’s a laughable notion, certainly, but a sentiment so distinctly human it’s almost charming. should they wish to return, to throw themselves on the knife over and over and over, well. raphael shall not complain. he shall smile beatifically, perhaps abate their suffering, even⁠—and watch them do it again.

in a modern au, raphael is a reality tv producer. ok actually he’s probably a surgeon but i think he’d make a very good reality tv producer. alternately, there is a universe out there where raph fixated on like...baking, or k-pop, instead of suffering. those are good timelines, i think. maybe not the k-pop stan timeline.

raphael is the living embodiment of that dwight schrute “we need a new plague” meme.

#accepted #accepted: raphael

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mountphoenixrp · 5 years ago

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Melody Park, who is known by no other name, a 34 year old daughter of Horus. She is a professor and freelance private investigator.

DEFINING FEATURES: Melody looks slim and unassuming but, underneath her poised and perfect exterior she is incredibly strong with defined muscles. She has miscellaneous scars littered along her body from her work in the FBI. The most prominent being a clean but long scar along the length of her abdomen from her sternum to just before her hips from a surgery she received when she was 25. Her only tattoo is on her left collarbone, written in perfect calligraphy is one word; Fighter. When using her powers her left eye becomes a dark grey and her right eye a deep amber gold color.

PERSONALITY: Melody spent the entirety of her twenties as an FBI Agent and university student. With an IQ of 186, the ability to read up to 25,000 words per minute, and savant tendencies, she was a perfect recruit. This left her cold, distant, calculated, and bureaucratic on the outside. However, the one thing the grueling work as a government agent never took from her was her caring and loving nature. Her moral compass is strong and she fights for what she believes in, even if that means she puts herself in danger. Melody is very passionate and kind to those closest to her, once she gets close with others she opens up very quickly and shows her goofy and silly side. That is once she knows she can trust you. She has always exuded leadership qualities and people tended to look up to her a lot growing up so, she’s grown comfortable with being a sister/maternal figure for others. Her younger brother’s especially follow her every word and cling to every single one of her actions. This has lead her to quickly offer familial support and a place in her family to those who lack the love of a sister, aunt, or mother.

HISTORY: Park Minyoung, also known as Melody Park, was born in Buffalo, New York to Park Hejin or Virginia Park. A young girl in law school, doing her best with what life handed her. In this case it was a child - the child of a god no less. Virginia went on to finish law school with the help of her parents watching Melody whenever they could and her friends babysitting her while her mother was in class. Her mother passed the bar one month after Melody’s fifth birthday. Virginia was a good lawyer and an amazing mother, never failing at the perfect work/life balance. She worked hard as a single mother to give Melody the best life they could have. Virginia was apprehensive at first about allowing Horus time with Melody, always protective of her darling daughter. She was heartbroken in her own way but, she still knew it would good for them both for Horus to be in her life somehow.

Melody was I incredibly smart and well liked as a child, being labeled a prodigy at age six due to her advanced intelligence. Despite being pushed into an advanced level and being years younger than her peers constantly, they still gravitated towards her and followed her. She always ended up having an army of older kids that were very protective of her. After Horus taught her how to use her powers, it was a struggle not to use them all the time. What kid doesn’t dream of soaring through the sky, flying with birds and feeling the wind in their hair? Add on top of that he constant need of approval from the older kids she was always surrounded with, it was hard for her not to show off to gain some points with those who didn’t automatically like her. She mastered the art of flying pretty quickly, nothing felt better to her than the rush of wind through her hair and cold air on her skin.

Life was pretty easy for Melody growing up outside of school and the expectations of her teachers. Her mother didn’t date so, it was just the two of them in their cozy home in Buffalo. Melody ran track, was captain of the swim team, and even tried her hand at soccer. If she hand’t been so young in high school, she’d have been the one all the other kids wanted to be. She wasn’t popular by any means, especially in high school. Teachers used to use her as “motivation” for the other kids, constantly comparing 16 and 17 year olds to a 12 year old can have it’s negative effects on her social circle. She compensated for their quiet disdain of her by being the kindest, sweetest, and nicest person at school. She gained even more favor from teachers and less from peers as she made a point to volunteer whenever she could. The work she did was usually for younger, under privileged kids that had much harder lives than her. Being stuck as the youngest in every group thanks to her advanced schooling lead her wanting younger siblings more than anything, so she worked as a big sister when she could.

After graduating high school at 13 years old, she was quickly offered scholarships all over the country, to every prestigious school and Ivy League university. Melody eventually settled on Columbia as it was closest to home and she could live with her aunt while she attended. It was around this time after she left for university that her mother met and fell in love with a man named Jordan Masters. He worked as a defense attorney who also worked in Buffalo, he was known for representing those wrongly convicted and kids being tried as adults. Melody was unsure of him at first, quickly becoming protective of her mother as this was the first time she’d dated anyone since she was born. It didn’t take long though, for Melody to warm up to the man, they became fast friends. Jordan never tried to replace Horus but, he did his best to support Melody and support her and love her as his own.

This friendship between herself and her stepfather helped her discover what she wanted to do at university. Her first year she’d just been working on core classes and flying through the basic program. She knew there was no way she was putting herself through he struggle of law school like her mother so, she settled on Criminology and Psychology. Choosing to work towards a career in catching the right perpetrators and keeping innocent people out of prison. With her advanced intelligence she graduated with a PHD in both fields by the age of 22 almost 23 years old. What she didn’t know is that for her last two years before graduating, she was being watching by some of the top government agencies in the United States.

When Melody was 17, her mother gave birth to twin boys! Suddenly her one wish came true, she had younger brothers and she couldn’t have been more excited. Those little boys are her world and she loves them more than anything.

At the time of her graduation, Melody had been thinking of applying to the FBI academy and she didn’t have to think about it very long before a recruiter was at her door offering her a place in the training program. Her mother and step father were worried about Melody going into a potentially dangerous field of work but, Melody knew she was perfectly capable. She was told she was one of the youngest recruits in years but, she didn’t let it go to her head. That had been her title among peers since she started school, always the youngest to do this and the youngest to do that. Melody could not lie, the academy was hard but, it toughened her up and she learned that it was easy for people to underestimate her due to her appearance and intelligence. She didn’t look threatening or intimidating but, she could take down someone triple her size in less than 20 seconds.

She flew through her training and was instated as a probationary agent after only two years at the academy. Melody was recognized as a star recruit and was quickly placed where her quick thinking and easily underestimated appearance could be used to her advantage.

From the age of 25 to 34 years old, Melody worked for a team that specialized in undercover and international cases. She was worried about it at first but she was surprisingly good at it. Annoyingly good at it actually. In fact, she was almost too good at being under deep cover for long periods of time. Her team was investigating two large, private security firms that worked with the secret service, suspected of disorderly conduct as well as drug and human trafficking. Melody worked undercover at one of the firms for almost a year investigating them from the inside but, this is when things got messy.

Love is already complicated enough if you don’t add on top of it the threat of national security. It was cliché and she knew it, an undercover agent falling in love with someone they were charged with investigating. There was just something about her that made her forget everything she was taught and every order she was ever given. She fell head over heels for her and she also fell for Melody. Sadly, love can make you blind and foolish… Melody falling for her suspect was against every regulation in the book and it was made worse by the fact that it was discovered she was the one running the entire operation she was meant to be investigating and bringing to justice.

When her lover discovered she was a federal agent, she was out for vengeance and blood. Seeing Melody’s cover and emotional connection to her as the ultimate betrayal of their love. She ordered Melody to be killed but, the agency pulled her from the investigation before the murder attempt could be carried out. If her team members hadn’t rescued her when they hey did, she may have had to expose her divine powers to the organization as well, using her wings to escape. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that however, Melody is now in hiding from the woman she loves… Loved.

The agency wanted to put her in witness protection, to keep her and her family safe. She made sure her mother’s family was safe before she reached out to Horus for help, she didn’t want to be moved all over the US to hide from her mistakes. Horus told her of a place only demigods and gods could go to, an island off the coast of Korea. Her life of crime fighting had ground to a halt all because she fell for the wrong woman. Melody left her family in the protection of her team and the agency she was loyal to for almost a decade, knowing they couldn’t be touched as no one outside of her team knew her family.

Thus begins the new story of Melody Park, running for her life to a city where she will hopefully be untouched by her past mistakes.

PANTHEON: Egyptian CHILD OF: Horus POWERS: Natural leaders; air manipulation, falcon wing manifestation and flight (only for short periods of time, flight drains their energy quickly). STRENGTHS: Brave, Driven, Humble, Intelligent, Poised WEAKNESSES: Stubborn, Cynical, Over-Critical, Stoic, Perfectionist

#kpop rp #krp #kdrama #park minyoung #mp; welcome

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canes-n-whiteboardpens · 5 years ago

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About

"Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chitchat later, I'm Doctor Gregory House; you can call me "Greg." I'm one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning. This ray of sunshine is Doctor Lisa Cuddy. Doctor Cuddy runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately she's much too busy to deal with you. I am a Board certified diagnostician with a double specialty in infectious disease and nephrology. I am also the only doctor currently employed at this clinic who is forced to be here against his will. That is true, isn't it? But not to worry, because for most of you, this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin. Speaking of which, if you're particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this: this is Vicodin. It's mine. You can't have any. And no, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem. But who knows? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm too stoned to tell. So, who wants me? And who would rather wait for one of the other two guys? Okay. Well, I'll be in Exam Room One if you change your mind."

Indie Dr. Gregory House from House M.D.

Side blog (main is rumpotdeckhand)

OCs, AUs and Crossover/Multiverse welcome

TV Show and Headcanon based (I’m no doctor so please don’t look too deep into it. I try my best though.)

THE MUSE

Full name: Dr: Gregory House

Fandom: House M.D.

Date of Birth: 11th June

Age: around 47 (at the beginning of the show, verse dependant)

Occupation: Doctor, Head of Diagnostic Medicine

FC: Hugh Laurie, obviously

Disability: Five years before the start of the series, House suffered an infarction in his leg while playing golf. By the time Houserealized that he was suffering from muscle death, the leg was in such a bad state that amputation was the recommended course of action. But House rejected the suggestion and instead suggested that he undergo a procedure to bypass circulation around the dead muscle. This resulted in intense pain during the healing process, which nearly resulted in cardiac arrest until House was put into a chemically induced coma. Stacy (his past girlfriend), acting as his medical proxy, decided to go with Dr. Cuddy's suggestion to have the dead muscle surgically removed. Although this most likely saved House's life, it left him with permanent intense pain in his right leg. The wound on his leg still bears an obvious scar.

Personality: House masks many facets of his personality with his sarcasm. He appears and sometimes himself claims to be narcissistic (even though he most likely is not) and appears to dislike most people. House is an atheist and it is implied that he is nihilistic. But despite his cynism, he does care about his colleagues and friends in one way or another, even if he considers them idiots. House would, of course, always deny that he cares. When treating patients he is more interested in solving the case and understanding it than actually helping the patient most of the time. The overall goal is to save his patients lives though.

THE MUN

Alias: Lee

Age: 20

Time Zone: Central European Time

Languages: German (first language), English (I prefer writing in English)

Currently up to: finishing my apprenticeship

English is not my first language so I apologize for mistakes and grammar errors, I will try to keep it to a minimum. I’m kind of terrible when it comes to starting new conversation but if you look past my initial awkwardness, I’m always up for making new friends. <3

I would like to highlight that my medical knowledge is very limited and that my portrayal may not always be accurate. I do try my best to write a believable version of House and occasionally the team, just keep that in mind.

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ohneweiterebedeutung · 5 years ago

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@hannobehrens

Football - as alien as ever

An entire country is sitting at home, many worry about their jobs. But footballers are back in training and extending their contracts. And now they even want to play. By Oliver Fritsch

Imagine if a Bundesliga player now said : "My teammates and I are worried about our country but also about our industry. So at least for the next three months we'll reduce our salaries to that of a nurse, the true key player of our society.

Though we do want to return to playing soon so that our club, as well as the whole of German football will survive and people can enjoy a little diversion. On top of that we really miss playing football very much. But as we know that, not only during a pandemic but all the more in these times, our job amounts to a privilege, we want to give something back. And we'll give gladly, because we have a lot."

The reality's looking different. Although some players do renounce parts of their salary, all in all it's very little. While the ball is resting many keep earning millions. The same goes for managers and coaches.

Thomas Müller even extended his contract this week. Soon he'll make yet more than the estimated 15 million Euros per year. Fans have been celebrating the announcement. Some of them are getting messages from their clubs these days asking them to reduce reimbursement for tickets they've already paid for, ideally by a 100%. An interview with Jörg Neblung illustrates what 'crisis news' sound like on spaceship football: "In the next two years," the players' agent told web portal transfermarkt.de "there probably won't be any 300-Million-transfers." Roughly translated: football will suffer and starve.

The football clubs were the last ones to grind into Covid-standstill. On 8 March the game Bayern against Augsburg took place in a sold-out arena, while at the same time politicians advised to cancel events with more than 1000 participants. The following day VfB Stuttgart played against Bielefeld, yet another day later Leipzig hosted Tottenham, each in full stadiums. Football games may not be foci of infection, as had been reported at first. But the clear signal was: no matter what, we'll keep going.

Now footballers are the first ones getting back into action. An entire country is sitting at home, many worry about their jobs. But since the beginning of the week all Bundesliga clubs are training in small groups, some started even earlier. And Deutsche Fußball Liga (DFL) is planning for Geisterspiele [lit. "ghost games", games without fans in the stadium] to take place early to mid-May. The declared aim being to finish the interrupted season by 30 June, in order to secure TV money.

The people's sport of football has long been well treated by politics and public authorities. But this time it may have a hard time to explain itself to the public and push through its privileges.

This is what football would look like in times of Corona: only a minimum of necessary staff allowed into the stadium, round about 240 people. The teams and the people around them get tested for Covid 19 about every three days, all in all around 20.000 times. And the players would have to observe social isolation measures for a few more weeks. The entire project will be accompanied by a task force, consisting mainly of sport medicine specialists. And from political circles it transpires there are considerations to have the games only in a few selected stadiums for financial reasons.

The representatives of football justify their plans saying they want to cheer up people and give them news apart from Covid 19. But head of DFL Christian Seifert speaking to ZEIT also admitted openly "Like in other businesses we're dealing with a product, one that is produced by employees on and off the pitch. And when production is halted it's threatening livelihoods and jeopardising jobs."

Though many fans like DFL's idea and are warming towards the atmospherically poor Geisterspiele, at least as a temporary solution, there are also those that recognise in it an undue privilege. Currently every laundry, every kiosk has to remain closed, people are chased off park benches by the police, other athletes are having to train in their kitchens or on balconies. And football wants to play. On top of using testing capacities that are needed elsewhere.

And anyway, which pictures would be shown, inciting not only children to mimic them, once playing resumed? This imperative interpersonal distance of 1,5m couldn't be continually observed on the pitch even by Dortmund's defense!

Curiously, despite its many crises football has seen a steady growth in recent history. The cheating referees Robert Hoyzer and Dominik Marks couldn't harm it, the dubious payments surrounding the "Sommermärchen" didn't cause any damage nor did corrupt FIFA, which reportedly flogged the world cups to highest-bidding Russia and Qatar.

But maybe football's behaviour in the times of Corona will lead to its fall. It's lamenting the loudest when it just wants to secure its business model. That's what many social media postings read like. Some fans are even asking angrily: is football supposed to be worth more than lives? Football to them is as alien as ever.

Critics may overlook the fact that when the Bundesliga is bound to return the situation in Germany and around the world will look different from today. In Covid times four or six weeks can make a huge difference. Until then there will probably be a relaxation concerning economy and social life. Presumably there'll also be more and cheaper testing options.

But when it comes to the negative atmosphere and the reactions of Schadensfreude football at least partially has itself to blame. As a representative of self-indulgent capitalism it has to face a moral debate. The fact that in the past years and decades it always acted as "taker" is now coming back to bite.

An elite is making obscene amounts of money. Even the most unsuccessful coaches have it made after two or three years. Some managers waste millions on nonsensical transfers, collaborating with players' agents who clean up on the deals. On instagram players show off their yachts and luxurary car collections. Some employees even below the level of upper management earn more than those in comparable positions in other business enterprises.

It's becoming clear: despite the abundance almost nobody thought of savings. Allegedly one Bundesliga club is even on the brink of insolvency.

And the fact that the chummy football scene lives in its own bubble is also coming back to bite. Outside opinions, public opinion, counts for little to nothing. Criticism, even from the inside, is never considered constructive but as disruptive to the business. At the same time of course, the men of football get validated by millions of fans idolising them, come what may.

And so, as in some other parts of society, the Covid crisis exposes the wretched state of football. Though there are some players with a conscience, too, for example the Bayern players Leon Goretzka and Joshua Kimmich encouraging colleagues to donate. They're not the only ones giving money to social organisations. And some coaches as well, stand out with reflective statements. Nürnberg's Jens Keller said "I think other branches have to be back and running before football can return." Lucien Favre of Dortmund pointed out the suffering of refugees on Lesbos.

But maybe the opposite examples stick out more. Dortmund's CEO Hans-Joachim Watzke downplaying the health threat, even to young people, posed by the virus. Horst Heldt of 1. FC Köln calling Markus Söder's wish, the professionals should voluntarily reduce their salaries "populist bullshit".

Some clubs in the second and third league are considering self-administered insolvency plans, though their financial management was poor even before the Corona crisis. But now they benefit from DFL adapting the rules, not deducting points in the instance of an insolvency. And the 20 Million Euro-worth aid campaign of the four Champions League participants from Munich, Dortmund, Leipzig and Leverkusen might turn out to be a bluff, according to Spiegel investigations.

And it isn't any better elsewhere. Liverpool FC, even with giant earnings still cultivating the image of a social club, alienated fans by [taking advantage of the government furlough scheme to pay staff]. After a shitstorm they retracted, issuing an apology. Adidas, not just a sports equipment manufacturer but also a shareholder of FC Bayern, behaved similarly. The corporation with profits running into billions initially applied to enter [government financial protection scheme] and stopped paying rent to shop owners.

And Dietmar Hopp fuelled likely false hope, repeatedly alleging his company's vaccine could be available in the autumn. Experts have rejected that prognosis. Furthermore it seemed rather calculating, the way Hopp attempted to use his role as biotech investor to bring to an end the debates of him as patron of TSG Hoffenheim.

Who will lead German football through this crisis? Once upon a time Uli Hoeneß or Theo Zwanziger seemed to have the right calibre. But that was long ago, and so now all hope lies with Christian Seifert. He may lack the charisma and emotional address to impress a wider audience. Yet intellectually and politically he's a match to these tough times.

Seifert has understood how to maintain an influence on authorities and that others are calling the shots now, that their data reign. Virologists or epidemiologist like Alexander Kekulé who made an appearance on ZDF-Sportstudio which usually broadcasts goals and [Torwandschießen]. He supposed a re-start of football in Mai was "feasible", Kekulé said.

But he warned about the need "for a justification for people why football should get special treatment." It was a polticial issue, he said. In the meantime Armin Laschet (CDU), first minister of North Rhine-Westphalia, and Wolfgang Kubicki (FDP) made it clear that games without an audience would be possible soon.

Kekulé said something else of note. He put the onus on big clubs - financially, maybe also socially. And in fact not all representatives of football have forgotten about the social assets they hold. Borussia Dortmund have made their stadium available as a Covid testing site, other clubs do the shopping for those in need. [translator’s note: “other clubs” - I beg your pardon, ZEIT? 1. FC Nürnberg, together with our ultras, have been doing this right from the beginning, when everything was first interrupted, credit where it’s due!] It's a service for the public health - but the football business could be doing much more. And for that they could look to their ultras: Many of them doing good and don't even want to talk about it.

Most of all football would benefit and be much better received if it could get back down to earth and deflate in general. After Covid many economical branches will have to make do with much less. This will concern football as well and that puts as back to the issue of personnel expenses which in the Bundesliga amount to 1,4 billion Euros a year.

Salaries could be reduced, TV money distributed more fairly, mega transfers could be entirely dispensed with in favour of more investments into the youth. And it should be the aim of the Bundesliga to save all, even the much threatened third and fourth tier clubs. And is anybody thinking of popular/mass/amateur sports, the youth team of the village club?

So far the Bundesliga couldn't even agree on common training rules. Even though the themes of the hour are consolidation and solidarity. All stake holders are on the spot, sponsors, association, staff, right-holders, fans or clubs. The inner logic of the sports dictates that there is no other way other than all together. FC Bayern don't want to end up playing against themselves. And by the way international competition isn't immune to the virus either.

If Bundesliga returns soon, and much seems to point towards it, it would obviously mean a lot to many people. But even more would understand and support it if football contributed something to the greater good. If character truly shows during crisis, there should be more left of football in times of Corona than players kicking around toilet paper rolls.

#Bundesliga #Zeit #Coronavirus #and Keller said so many good things (see that other link I sent you) the quote Fritsch picked here is a bit random #Fußball #Link #my translation #well I say 'translation'. Sorry about the brackets and stuff.#as ever please alert me to mistakes #C. sorry I just accidently deleted that tag aimed at you which was very important I'm sure:(

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archiveddvrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, KIERSTEN! You’ve been accepted for the role of CLEOPATRA with an approved FC change to Anais Mali. Admin Rogue: More than anything, Calina is one of the characters I've been most excited to see brought back to us, and I couldn't be more thrilled that you've captured her so well! Calina's such a balance between warmth and cunning, between drive and connection, and you really drove home her humanity. Her intelligence and fortitude clash so well with her loneliness in this way that really sang to my heart throughout your application, and the para sample blew me away. I love her with every ounce of my being, and I know just from reading this that you'll go beyond the distance and reach new heights with our lovely new Queen. We cannot wait to see what you have in store! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Kiersten

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | I’ve never written a day before in my life…haha…unless…? (see here: https://catherinedaly.tumblr.com/ and https://isabellagagliano.tumblr.com/ :* ) Also, school is about to let out so I’m going to have so much free time that y’all will wish I had something else to do, or somewhere else to be.

Timezone | EST

In Character

Character | Calina Sokolova – Cleopatra → With a face claim change to Anais Mali, please? uwu

CALINA

origin: Greek

meaning: beautiful, lovely; the moon

SOKOLOVA

origin: Russian

meaning: falcon; hawk

CLEOPATRA

origin: Greek

Meaning: glory of the father

What drew you to this character? | Well, it’s no secret that I’ve been dying to complete The Trifecta ™but I think I even surprised myself when I turned my attention to Calina. It’s been so long since the mesmerizing Cleopatra took the stage and, with each passing day, I find that I miss her more and more. She’s startlingly different from both my Catherine and Isabella. Both Isa and Cat are led by their heart, but Calina is decidedly not; she’s terribly bright and practical—a diamond in the rough that’s not yet been fully excavated… But, could Verona handle the savant in her unfettered brilliance and whip-quick wit? Is the city prepared to kneel out of their own volition, rather than being so savagely forced? This girl turned woman turned phoenix has been scorned one time too many and she deserves to assert herself as an entity far greater than just being Faron’s loyal shadow. I’m eager to give her what’s due, and more!

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

I WILL NOT BE TRIUMPHED OVER: He picked her to be a general, and a general she will be; the King may have fallen, but the Queen is more than capable of continuing the legacy. Calina, of all people, knows that the Vasiliev man would roll over in his grave to know if she even considered so-easily conceding to the Veronesi and their brutally unforgiving ways. I would love to get the chance to explore the Sokolova woman PICKING UP WHERE FARON LEFT OFF. His roots in Russia run deep and wide, still viable even though he no longer lives. I like to think that Calina inherited his network, considering she was his right hand. However, such power holds great responsibility—and danger. The late Vasiliev’s connections were no secret to Damiano and his group, which places her in a precarious position: to work at intertwining her newly inherited network with the Montagues or keeping it tucked against her chest. After all, they took from her, so why would she give anything?

TURN YOUR WOUNDS INTO WISDOM: Her heart is a fickle thing that’s not yet stopped its beating–even with all that she’s lost–and now she’s looking for something that cannot be so easily taken from her. Alexander Rallis seems to have cemented himself firmly within Montague ranks and while this is what initially drew Calina to him, it’s not what makes her stay; she’s a wraith looking for a soul to tie herself to, and he’s her best bet. But, the Sokolova woman isn’t taking her heart into account when she decides to interact with him more. What started as a tactical attempt to grow closer to Alexander for the sake of learning what it takes to be the Montague consigliere has become somewhat muddled, at least on her end.

Calina knows desire like the back of her hand; she knows lust intimately, but is damningly inexperienced with feelings and how quickly they can strike. What she feels towards Alexander is an uncomfortable mix of a girlish crush and well-tamed, heady desire (though she’ll vehemently deny any feelings of affection for the man of war). I’d love to EXPLORE THE DYNAMIC BETWEEN ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA (bonus points if he somehow finds out her words were ingenuine, at first) and how far she’s willing to go in terms of her own ascension within Montague ranks. But for now, for Alex, she’ll string her words together in the most beautiful of sentences; she’ll even drench them in his decadent gold, if it will coax the great Antony from his armor long enough so that she may come to understand what lies underneath; she’s vying for his mind, but not prepared for what else (his heart, perhaps?) might come.

I AM NO BIRD AND NO NET ENSNARES ME: Mona Chen, the Keeper of Sparrows, is her target; The Dark Lady is a fine price to tuck in one’s pocket. Damiano made his desires clear when he assigned the Sokolova woman to lure Mona from her Capulet-leaning ways into ways that better align with Montague ideologies, and Calina refuses to fail. I’m excited about CALINA RELYING ON HER PAST TO ASSIST HER while she tries to court Mona for the sake of the Montagues. She’s done well enough to stifle her memories of her time within halls of debauchery, but they’ll soon become her greatest asset–a sharp contrast to her belief that they were her Achilles’ Heel. How far is Calina willing to go to pull The Dark Lady to the Montagues’ side? She’s no stranger to using her body to get what she wants and she sees the way Mona watches her–closely, as though she’s waiting for the woman from Russia to slip up and return to her roots. If Mona thinks she’ll be able to make a Sparrow out of Calina, so be it; what the owner of The Dark Lady doesn’t know–that Calina refuses to return to that lifestyle–won’t hurt her. If white lies and gilded interest are what it takes to bridge the gap between Damiano and Mona, so be it.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Only if it’ll cause the maximum amount of pain possible.

In Depth

In-Character:

PARA SAMPLE–

They don’t give him a funeral. They barely acknowledge the vacancy he’s left behind, the lives upended by his untimely departure–both here, and in Russia. Calina’s not surprised by this, not at all; hosting a funeral for a man murdered by someone supposedly on the same side as he was would be… Tricky, to say the least. And in not giving Faron Vasiliev the proper burial he deserved, the unspoken message is clear: all that glitters is not always golden.

In the days after Faron’s demise, Calina is reminded of a cruel lesson she was remiss to keep in the forefront of her mind: everyone–no matter how highly they’re thought of, no matter what they bring to the table–can be replaced. Measure for Measure is gifted to Matthias before Vasiliev’s body coldens; her loyalty, too, is transferred to Damiano, the hefty price Faron paid to free her from her contract in Russia symbolically falling on the shoulders of the Montague king. She knows better than to bite at the hand that feeds her, so she remains stoic in the presence of those of whom haven’t earned her trust–an amount that, when totaled, can be counted on one hand and one hand alone.

Calina sighs into the darkness of her room, into the lush bedding that surrounds her body. She collects her scrambled thoughts as neatly as she can; she gathers those too-raw and fragmented memories that can’t have her attention–not now, maybe not ever–and and shoves them to the back of her mind, bringing others to the forefront so that she may concoct a plan to ensure her safety here in Verona–here, permanently, as she’ll be damned before she ever calls Russia ‘home’ again.

First and foremost, the Sokolova woman is acutely aware of the target on her back, no matter how curious Damiano may be about her silver tongue and whip-quick mind. The interest of the Montague can quickly wane; the lavish lifestyle she’s come to familiarize herself with can be snatched away without so much as a passing glance. Her attachment isn’t to the items, but rather to the intoxicating feeling of security–to knowing she’ll have a home, to knowing she’ll not have to worry about where her next meal will come from–and she’s not willing to lose it without giving it her all.

Secondly, she needs allies. In a game of chess, the Queen is the most valuable piece on the board and Calina knows, though no one can see, that there’s a crown atop those wily curls of hers and she won’t let it fall. She’ll gather people like pawns, find a niche for herself in Damiano’s kingdom and create a buffer. The people sing of Antony’s accolades, of Gertrude’s steadfastness in the middle of disasters and more, but it’s time they’ve learned a new song: a song of Cleopatra, the woman who didn’t cut others at the knee, but rather coaxed them to kneeling out of their own volition.

Last, she knows that she must now work twice as hard to take what’s hers; she’s come to terms with taking three steps forward followed by two steps back. The newly-inherited title of emissary suits her far better than soldier, but not nearly as well as advisor. To say that she’s not become comfortable with the power Faron was wise enough to imbue her with would be a lie; the Sokolova woman relished the way he saw her as an equal, and she wants that same attention still, even though he’s gone. But, good things take time and she’s got plenty of it.

The King is dead; may God save the Queen.

She’ll not give them a chance to not give her a funeral, too.

INTERVIEW–

What does your typical day look like?

“I wake as early as my body will allow,” the Sokolova woman says, “which is earlier than some, but not others. I’ve broken my habit of favoring the night—thankfully.” It’s a lie, of course; her affinity for night and its darkness have been seared into the very marrows of her bones, what with her past as Madame’s precious драгоценный камень bleeding over to her present and eagerly waiting to devour her future. “Bast is a spoiled little thing; as soon as I wake up, she’s kneading at my side or sitting on my chest until I get up and feed her. In a way, she’s akin to an alarm clock.” A fond smile graces her visage at the thought of her Russian Blue–a gift from the Zaitsevs, longtime clients of hers and Faron’s that took note of the way she tended to their feline and his desire for her lithe fingers to stroke his silky silver fur while maintaining her focus and wit on the matters at hand. “I feed her, and then I have a cup of збитень while perusing Il Giornale. On my way to work, I might pick up a pastry from one of the bakeries I pass.“

Moments of peace before she slips into her role as Montague emissary and client charmer. But, of course, this little journalist need not know of her underground dealings.

Rather, Calina gives him what he wants–something palatable; something honest; something that piques his interest enough to get him to write it down, but not enough to ask more. “Once I leave my darling for the day, I typically don’t make it back until the evening. I spend my time working remotely in The Capital Library as often as I can. Offices are too stuffy for my liking. I’d rather be surrounded by thousands of books filled with rich history while crafting communication strategies for my clients.”

Where is your favorite place in Verona?

The answer that first comes to mind is bittersweet and far too personal: her favorite place in Verona is—was—Faron’s home—untouched and uninhabited since his demise. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, much like the сельдь с луком that her late mother was so fond of. The memories are nothing but quick flashes, though she can feel the goosebumps rising on her skin; she can feel Faron’s phantom touch along the small of her back, and can hear Alyona’s honey-drenched laugh as she playfully turned the hose from her azaleas to her gleeful daughter. But, Calina knows herself and she knows herself well; she’s far too proud to falter, especially in the face of a nosy reporter. So, she does what she does best: she chains the memories and thoughts before they have a chance to run wild; she shackles them together—two pieces of her irreparably-broken heart—and shoves them into a dark corner of her mind that’ll be ignored until something else taunts the perpetually-grieving beast that resides in her chest.

The journalist prompts again, curiosity evident in the slight furrow of his brows and in the way he doesn’t allow her to mull over her answer, to pull palatable words from her arsenal of languages. The Sokolova woman notes his softly spoken impatience, adding it to her list of observations—that he’s recently had coffee, the familiar scent of the drink lingering between them; that he’s not as seasoned as other journalists she’s come across, as he’s more concerned with what she says rather than what she doesn’t or won’t say; and that he’s not as subtle as he’d like to think, with his blue eyes that graze her frame in more instances than just one.

“Verona is such a beautiful city,” Calina muses at last, warmth coloring her words as though she’s speaking of a dear friend. “But, caro mio, if you must make me choose—“ a gusty, nearly dramatic sigh billows from her lacquered lips “—Lamberti Tower. There’s nothing quite like reaching the top and looking at the breathtaking scenery below.” A well-manicured finger twists at her brown curls. “Should you find yourself there, I highly recommend The Hathaway.” It’s sinful–how delicious and dangerous the drink is. “But, be careful—it’s practically impossible to just have one.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Were she a less professional woman, she’d have laughed in his face. She’d have parroted his question back at him, incredulity coloring her words and displeasure marring her now-placid expression. Calina Sokolova, making mistakes? No, she is far too meticulous, far too critical; she scours over every word, every shift in body language or facial expression, cataloguing it all in her mind so that she may act appropriately. Years spent morphing herself into whatever her clients wanted—a simpering coquette, a lustful breath against the shell of an ear, a body meant to be used and discarded soon after—have served her well.

Women like Calina don’t make mistakes. Calina doesn’t make mistakes. She cannot afford to do so.

“Oh, дорогая,” the woman says at last, a hint of mischief glinting in her dark hues as she leans back in her plush chair, “would you believe me if I said I’ve not yet made one?”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? (tw: allusion to terminal illness)

The Sokolova woman’s most difficult request was something that wasn’t asked at all. It wasn’t something she could stop or something she could pass to somebody else. No, the most difficult task for the princess of the dark alley was commanded. Not even she, freshly-graduated from Novobisrov State University and armed with the knowledge of old and new, could disobey the order… All she could do was helplessly watch.

The decline was cruelly slow, seemingly stretching time just far enough for her to take a second to hope. It’s both a blessing and a curse, that fickle thing called time. It gives as easily as it takes, tricking you into thinking there’s a chance when it’s only prolonging the inevitable. Может быть, мы уедем из России - найди другого доктора в другом месте, a frustrated Calina suggested long ago, her pride rearing its ugly head deep in her chest. Her mother couldn’t die. She forbade it…

…And in the end, it didn’t matter.

Her protests fell upon deaf ears, as did her pleas. Her prayers remained so damningly unanswered that she couldn’t help but blame herself for halfhearted attempts, so she only prayed more—desperately, angrily, fearfully. Calina bruised her knees with how often she fell to them in the name of the Redeemer–to a God her mother held so much faith in, to a God she once believed existed. When left motherless, possessionless, and poor, she only further dug her heels in, deciding that she’d never be made a fool in the face of time again. She sells her body, the notion of kneeling for less-than-holy reasons no longer distasteful, for at least it—unlike the time she wasted praying—yielded results. It paid for her rent, her food, her existence.

“My mother once told me it’s ill-advised to say you’ve already experienced the worst of things,” she murmurs. “She said it tempted Fate and angered it so that it didn’t rest until it outdid what you thought was the most terrible of all.” Alyona Sokolova never said it, the light in her eyes snuffed out before she ever got the chance. Calina likes to believe she would have, had the illness not first taken her mind. Clearing her throat and finding her voice once more, the emissary tacks on, “And mother knows best, да?”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

A soft and disapproving hmmph comes first, and it is punctuated by an unimpressed response: “It’s brutish–the whole idea of it.” Wars fought for the sole purpose of destruction did nothing for either side; a pity, truly, but she expects nothing less from the crowned men that perpetuate its continuance. Both Cosimo and Damiano are bullheaded, though she does give them some credit; they’ve both picked women to be their Underbosses—women who know that cold calculation will always prevail over hot tempers and wounded prides.

Calina continues, “Ask any Veronesi why the two families feud and you’ll hear dozens of stories, each a bit different from its predecessor.” It’s one of the things she loves and detests about language—how malleable words are, how easily they diffuse as they’re passed from person to person. Calina tucks a loose curl behind her ear, golden ring glinting against the afternoon sun that shines through opened curtains. She pauses thoughtfully as though she’s considering an idea she’s not yet had, head canting just slightly before she venturing, “They’re going to run themselves and Verona ragged.” Fights can only last for so long. There’s nothing sustainable about war, nothing sustainable in pulling the downtrodden into the battles that they’ll never live to reap the benefits from.

Here, bodies are expendable; minds are not. Calina’s made sure to prove herself worthy of being grouped into the latter time and time again; her recent promotion within Montague ranks is only one of dozens of accolades she’s destined to earn. Spoken with the finality of a woman who has other matters to tend to, she closes with, “Adesso, corrispondente… Should you desire a more in-depth answer, ask them why they’re fighting. Ask them what the goal is.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here!

EXTRAS:

MBTI: INTJ - The Architect + | independent, jane-of-all-trades, driven - | judgemental, blunt, secretive

ZODIAC: Virgo - 22 September + | logical, responsible, orderly - | critical, obsessive, perfectionist

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric + | ambitious, confident, practical - | uptight, impatient, uncomfortable around emotion

RICE PURITY TEST SCORE: 48

LOVE LANGUAGE(S): acts of service + physical touch

HEADCANONS:

In Novoborisk, Calina studied both history and linguistics (with a concentration in translation and translational studies). Before the tragedy of losing her mother, she planned on working as a professor while also researching ancient civilizations.

Alyona Sokolova stoked the burning desire to know in her precious daughter from her very first breath. Because of this, Calina is voraciously inquisitive; years of sharpening her mind and her tongue have created a well-spoken woman with undeniable charm.

Calina knows five languages, including her native language of Russian—English, French, Macedonian, and (most recently) Italian. She wants to learn more, should she ever get the opportunity.

She has a Russian Blue cat named Bast–a nod to Ancient Egypt and her dream to study civilizations of the past.

On her right hand, she wears a golden signet ring that she never takes off. It belonged to Faron—a ring he’d outgrown years ago but still kept as a reminder of his past. Now, it now belongs to her—a ring that fits perfectly on her right ring finger as a reminder of their pasts.

MOCK BLOG:

https://cleosokolova.tumblr.com/

PINTEREST BOARD:

https://www.pinterest.com/diaphcnous/calina-sokolova-the-savant/

#accepted #accepted: cleopatra

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mutantsrisingrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations GRACIE! You’ve been accepted as ENCELADUS with a FC change to GEMMA CHAN.

Welcome back, Gracie! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: your app for Dana does such a good job at portraying the balance between human and mutant in Dana and how her mutation impacted her mutant life so strongly. I always feel for her when reading your writing because she feels like such a real person and truly she doesn’t deserve all she’s been through. I especially love the hints of a direction you plan to take her in now that the scene has changed! It’s refreshing to see someone mourn our dear Benjamin Granger, and I wonder what the changes in Kings Collective have in store for Dana.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Gracie

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 25

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST & on a number scale, probably a 4-5, so about 5 replies throughout the week, if not more. I do work full-time but with ‘rona, I am WFH until further notice.

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Dana Ramone

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female & she/her with FC change to Gemma Chan if possible, thank you!

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Dana is a contradiction in and of herself. She is constantly walking a tightrope between control and the lack-thereof, between who she was, who she could’ve been and who she is. She has always been soft but her embrace is no longer warm and inviting – it’s timid and terrified. She’s got an underlying current of fear running through her, a fear that one day she’ll not be able to catch all the broken pieces of the life she once dreamed of and that they’ll shatter once they slip through her fingers. She can no longer draw someone close without pause or hesitation– she has to think through every action now and try to predict her own reactions. She used to be so certain, so self-assured –– not proud by any means, but she used to be confident in her ability to heal. Now, even as she sutures up a wound, she’s wondering if the next moment she’ll be unintentionally opening it up again with a flare up. That’s what she calls them. Flare ups. When her hands begin to tremble and she feels power welling up inside of her like a wave before it crashes and she can’t keep it in.

She misses who she was before. When sunshine meant good days and rain meant bad ones. Now she can’t even trust the weather. She can’t even trust herself. She does her job because she’s always done her job but, even three years later, Dana still wants to do her old job at the hospital. She wants her old identifiers: MD. Surgeon. Wife. Human. Now she must live with: Level Five. Divorced. Mutant. It’s a ringing in her ear that won’t go away – a constant reminder of everything she’s not anymore. And everything she is even if she wants things to be different.

Dana adapted, slowly but surely. She cares about her fellow members. She cares about doing a good job. She’s got a big heart, always has, and that hasn’t changed just because she’s considered dangerous now. It’s one thing she can’t let change. Because if that changes then she’ll have let this new ability change everything about her. She’s still clinging to who she was. Who she knows herself to be. And she’s channelling it into the work she’s doing now. People don’t expect her to get the job done, they see her soft nature, they see her struggling for control, they see everything she’s fallen short of but when there’s a body on the table, when one of their own is suffering, they see a new side of her. She takes a breath and begins to work. Calm and collected and if she ever feels the trembling start then she talks through what needs to happen.

She may not know who she is anymore, she’s still trying to figure that out, but Dana knows she’s a healer and she holds onto that like a lifeline, drawing her in from the stormy sea that’s her life now.

BIO:

Life is a series of before and after.

Dana’s first before was the year she was born.

It was the year her father and his new wife were trying to have a child. It was the one thing her father knew he wanted more than anything. To have a child with his new wife. Her father had never really known what he wanted in his life – it was one of the reasons why he and his first wife divorced. Despite having a young daughter, Angela, there were too many differences to settle, too many that even their mutual love of their daughter wouldn’t let them overlook.

So they separated and, eventually, her father married Stephanie – a young, ambitious resident who wanted a child early on in their relationship so she could continue her career. Stephanie hadn’t been planned, and her parents always reminded her of the fact, and so she was determined to plan their lives to a tee –– have a child, go back to work in a year, live the life she knew her own parents never could. It was what she wanted most and so that’s what Dana’s father wanted most.

They tried for nearly two years before Stephanie was willing to consider adoption. And though hesitant at first, when they adopted Dana – a small, bright-eyed baby with laughter on her lips and a curious gaze following wherever she looked –– it was impossible not to love her.

Dana’s first after were the years following her adoption. The years in which she grew up a kind, curious child who loved books and pillow forts and nature and picking wildflowers. She saw her sister occasionally, but she knew they were different, even from an early age. It wasn’t the fact that they didn’t look alike, nor the fact that Dana spent her weeknights in dance class and her Saturdays at swim – she knew they were different because of how people looked at Angela. Because of the words she heard floating around: mutant. Dangerous. Different.

Her parents let her see Angela, of course, her father especially liked his daughters to spend time together but the more time she spent with her, the more Dana wondered if she’d ever get an ability like her sister. And the more time she spent with her sister, the more she realized that Angela wasn’t too fond of her.

It was another before for Dana. Before she realized that her sister wouldn’t be her best friend and they were destined to leave separate lives. Eventually, circumstances created a wedge between them and they started seeing less and less of each other.

Her next after was one of growing up and following in her mother’s footsteps. Dana had always been an intelligent young mind, curious about the world around her and the inner workers of practically everything. As a child she would ask her mother endless questions about the human body and as she grew older, those questions turned into requests for books, an interest in science and, eventually carving a path to medicine herself. She’d always been curious but she also always wanted to help people, like she saw her mom do on a daily basis. And when she was seventeen, having graduated high school a year earlier than most, she pursued her higher education at the University of Chicago. She remained there until she was twenty-five, graduating with a medical degree and a residency at Northwestern Memorial Hospital where she hoped to become a neurosurgeon.

She’d worked so hard for so long and had rarely had time for a personal life, something her parents had warned her about when she expressed a desire to go down this path. That changed when she met Alistair McGovern. He was a few years ahead of her in his residency, but of the same mind that she had –– that all of this work was so they could be equipped to help those who needed it most. So many of their fellow doctors were there to make a name for themselves, to get a big job to pay off some big loans but not Alistair. Not Dana. He was easy to love and they fell for each other within a few months of meeting.

But despite her love for him, she was always uneasy with his family. The McGoverns were a prominent family in Chicago politics, supporting anti-mutant legislation and “protective” measures for the city’s human inhabitants. They weren’t too crazy about her either, having learned about her sister but as long as Angela wasn’t brought up at family dinners, both parties could live in harmony.

They got married when she was twenty-nine and their lives just fit together. They had matching schedules, they worked in the same place, they had the same dreams and goals and plans. They didn’t want to have kids just yet, they wanted to enjoy their lives together. And they did for several years.

If only Dana had known that their time together leading up to her thirty-third birthday would become before.

They went out with friends for her birthday, celebrating, dancing and drinking – nothing out of the ordinary but that night she began to fill a bit off. It was small at first. A bit of vertigo (surely just a result of one drink too many), a headache (the music was loud) and cold sweats (she hadn’t eaten much that day and had had several long shifts leading up to it). Every strange feeling was easily identified by Dana and any worry dispelled by logic. By science. By medicine.

But the feeling persisted. She wasn’t sick. They thought that maybe she was expected. It hadn’t been in the plan but stranger things had happened. They’d deal with it together, Alistair assured her but the five tests she’d purchased two days later turned out negative and still, the disquieted feeling in the pit of her stomach persisted. It was like a ringing in her ear – she could forget about them occasionally but once she noticed them, it was nearly impossible to ignore.

Still, she took some time off, just a few days she’d had saved for years of not taking any time off, and after four days the symptoms subsided. She went to work the very next day, feeling lighter and better than she had in nearly a week. There was surgery scheduled and she’d never have gone in had she been feeling off. After all, operating on the brain took an almost robotic like precision that Dana excelled at in the OR. It was what she was known for – remaining calm and staying on track, even when the unexpected happened. At least, that’s what she’d always thought.

After, she’d look for the signs – for any sign of how she would’ve known what was to come. What might’ve happened. How she could’ve prevented it.

But before….she couldn’t have known. There was no way to predict that in the middle of surgery her hands would begin to shake, no way to know that those tremors would spread to the rest of her body and that she’d have to call for an emergency stop as she dropped her tools to the ground and began to shake uncontrollably. There was no way to know she should’ve warned her colleagues when she collapsed, no way to tell them to get away from her, that this wasn’t a seizure or a stroke. That the moment they huddled around her, trying to help, they’d be blasted back with a tremendous wave of energy emanating from Dana.

She couldn’t have known the events that would follow –– that the after would be hospital security rushing in as her colleagues were knocked unconscious by the blast, as alarms began going off while their patient began to code on the operating table. Later, she would learn that the only reason she wasn’t immediately detained and imprisoned was because of Alistair, and his family.

Her employment was terminated at the hospital, her files shared with the government and her credentials stripped. Even with all of this, her husband stayed by her side. Or he tried to. He really tried. He knew she hadn’t known what she was and he fought tooth and nail against his family to make sure they knew that.

She was his wife. He loved her. She was a healer, who’d killed a patient and two colleagues, landing several others in the ICU. She was a doctor, who’d had all her certifications and titles stripped. She was a good person. She was a good person. She was a good person. It’s what they both clung to in the midst of everything. But being a good person wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to ignore how her hands would shake for days. It wasn’t enough to stop watching her warily, for fear of a random burst of energy coming his way. It wasn’t enough to keep them in the same bed, both tossing and turning with different fears. Love wasn’t enough to deal with all of this. He divorced her six months after her powers manifested.

Another before. And this one hurt like hell. Another after. She was lost. A ship at sea, unmoored and drifting in the dark abyss her life had become. While Alistair tried to keep things quiet, tried not to make her life any harder, word got around. Eventually, Dana found herself without recourse, without a path and with the knowledge that all the years she’d poured into being a healer had amounted to nothing, all by her own hand.

But where one journey ends, another begins. Despite Northwestern’s attempt to cover it up, news had spread throughout Chicago that one of their best surgeons had been a mutant and, eight months after that first incident, she was approached by Kings Collective. They wanted her to be their doctor.

She was wary at first, the thought of joining a criminal organization a bitter taste in her mouth. But nothing was more bitter than the fact that she could barely help herself, much less others. Still, that calling she’d had from a young age –– the one she couldn’t ignore, compelled her to help others. She knew that this was the only way she could continue doing so, and hoped that maybe being a doctor again would heal the sting of the past months. She accepted their offer and has been their doctor for nearly three years now.

Things were going well or, as well as could be with the unrest in the city but when Benjamin, a man she’d worked closely with and who’d been one of her saving graces after everything happened, was killed –– she knew trouble was coming. Without much time to mourn the loss of someone who’d helped her more than she could say, and without the time to make any real plans, she and the rest of Kings Collective set off for Miami.

They haven’t been in the city long and she can already tell peace is just an illusion. The “peace” she thought she’d had, sticking to medicine, sticking to helping others, was gone. As Kings Collective attempts to stake their claim on the city and to make a mark for themselves, she knows that it won’t be long before she’s asked to help make that happen. Levels had never meant much to Dana before. Hers only served as a reminder of the pain she could cause and the lack of control she had to keep that from happening.

But she knows that being what she is…doing what she does…it’s worth something, especially when breaking new ground. If they want to claim a piece of the city for themselves, Dana knows it’s going to be all hands on deck and she’s struggling now, with whether she can balance having hands that heal against hands covered in blood. She hasn’t had to indulge the latter yet, but images it’s only a matter of time.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Angela – I would love to explore their dynamic and how they grew up/viewed each other more in depth. Also, how they view each other now, Dana with her new understanding of what it is to be a mutant/what Angela’s dealt with her entire life and Angela with what Dana is dealing with, also them being on opposing sides.

Cain – I think the difference between them is interesting, especially since Cain is so hardened by life and Dana is determined not to have the same thing happen to her. The fact that they are both doctors but only one of them wants to truly heal is so dynamic, especially since they are in opposite organizations. I think it could be fun to explore that dichotomy and whether or not it gives Dana a new perspective on her position.

EXTRA:

Hands shake after using her powers

Emotions heighten it

Meditates

ASMR is the shit

Listens to classical music when she operates on anyone

Jogs around lake michigan every morning / helps her feel centered

Kept her wedding ring but has it buried away somewhere

Doesn’t like to hear about plans if they involve Alistair’s family –– she finds it hard to be objective and has made it known that no one should tell her anything if that’s the case.

Has kept brief contact with Alistair –– he’s engaged now. She doesn’t resent him for any of it.

Has had limited contact with Angela since her sister joined the Jem family. Has thought of reaching out but doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

Has thought of tracking down her birth parents but doesnt think it’d do any good now –– too much time has gone and they could be dead or in prison with other mutants. It won’t change what’s happened and could only hurt her more.

Mother and father were supportive once everything happened but she can tell her mom’s still nervous around her and hates it. She’s secretly glad for the move, thinking that maybe it’ll help keep her parents safe, without her around.

#accepted #accepted: enceladus

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porthavenhq · 5 years ago

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Welcome to Porthaven, Ava! We can’t wait to meet Saskia Wiegand!

Please look over the acceptance checklist and submit your blog within the next 24 hours. If there is a problem or a prior obligation and you need more time than provided, just message the main and we will gladly extend!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　OUT OF CHARACTER　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Ava Pronouns: She/Her Age: 21 (22 next month!) Timezone: EST. Activity Level: I love writing and plan to be pretty active, but when work starts up again I may be a bit more inactive, but get to replies ASAP and check in very often. Triggers: I can’t think of any I would use off the top of my head, though if I do, I will tag and follow rules! Anything Else: Ignore the typos and stuff, but hi! I am so excited to be here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　CHARACTER INFORMATION　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Saskia Wiegand Age: May 16, 1984 Gender: Female. FC: Ginnifer Goodwin.

Character Biography

The story begins twenty-four years ago in a faraway kingdom. As Queen Seraphina took in her last moments before their daughter entered the world, she often stood before the large window in their castle and basked in the warm sunlight. To her, there was nothing quite like the feeling of fresh air in her lungs and listening to the sweet chirping of the birds flying by. The cherry blossoms were blooming rather early that year in the gardens, and the Queen requested that a festival would be held in honor of the child’s birth.

On the sixteenth of May, Seraphina laid in bed, her husband, King Manyard’s arms scooped around her as they gazed upon the cooing bundle of joy who has already mastered melting hearts around the kingdom. Her skin was pale - almost as white as snow, and her lips stained a cherry red. She had a small bit of hair covering her head, as black as night without a blanket of stars illuminating the sky. They named her Saskia - protector of mankind.

Saskia had a wonderful childhood filled with running about in the forest with her father, and tending to the animals in the palace barn. She spent most mornings in the kitchen with her mother, and learned early on that she had a gift for baking. She attended school and made many friends whom she spent hours playing each afternoon. King Manyard and the Queen took great pride in their daughter and the blossoming sunbeam she was becoming.

A few days after Saskia’s eighth birthday, Seraphina had fallen ill rather quickly. The family was to hold a royal ball to celebrate the crowning of their daughter who was to begin to take her place as the princess in their kingdom. Saskia, desperate to cure her mother, begged and pleaded to cancel the event. She fought the nurses who tried to send her away to play as they tended to the Queen who was in critical condition. Saskia fled to the forest and encountered a fairy who was to give her a potion that was said to cure her mother, however, on one condition. If the Queen was to drink the liquid, her life would be spared at the cost of someone else’s. Saskia, horrified at the thought of ending someone else’s life denied it and rushed back to the castle. She apologized profusely to her mother, confessing what she had done and expressed her regrets for not saving her life. The Queen, weak, forced a smile and combed her fingers through Saskia’s dark hair. She was proud of her daughter for believing in herself and for following her heart. All that Seraphina wanted was for her daughter to be good, and good she was. That night, Queen Seraphina had passed away in the loving care of Saskia and King Manyard. The loss of her mother did not sit easily with Saskia, who instantly had to fulfill a role that she did not feel ready for. Her father, yet in mourning, knew he had to find a wife - more so, a mother for the young princess. As Manyard rode into the forest one day, he met a woman by the name of Mariana. Mariana came from another well-off family, however, was also new to royalty once they married at the castle. Saskia was fond of Mariana at first, however, it was not reciprocated. The young girl also did not like the idea of replacing her mother so quickly, her heart yet not healed. To make matters worse, six months later, King Manyard was killed in battle - or so they say. Saskia was left in the hands of her stepmother who ensured to ruin the child in any way that she could. For many years, Saskia served as the only servant in the palace. She went from riches to rags, and she just did not understand why.

One day, Saskia wandered into the forest and was taken to a small cottage and befriended seven dwarfs who worked at the local gem mine. In order to earn her keep, she cleaned and cooked for them, her baking skills coming in handy for once. However, her peaceful new life did not last long when an old woman came and tricked into selling her a wishing apple. With one bite, all of her dreams could come true. Saskia, wanting to please the elderly woman, did as such and fell into a coma which had others think that she was dead. The woman fled, revealing that she was indeed her stepmother. A healer managed to cure Saskia and bring her back to consciousness, but news of the princess’ survival only infuriated Mariana more. Did she have to send an army after the girl to ensure her death? Mariana decided to take a more direct approach and take matters into her own hands. The fight between she and Saskia was not one that she came out of alive... or so it was believed.

Fast forward, many years later, word had spread throughout the kingdom and villages that a new dark power was coming. It was revealed that Mariana was indeed not dead as everyone had thought. She had spent her years living in secrecy becoming stronger than she had ever been before and making allies out of rival kingdoms. It felt like she had grown to power overnight and what was supposed to be Saskia’s happily-ever-after was shattered. Saskia spent some time on the run before a plan was finally formatted and put into action to keep her safe. With the help of a powerful Mage, Saskia was sent through the Veil into another world where Mariana would not be able to find her. Back in the kingdom, the fight against Mariana would continue. Saskia was told her allies would bring her back once it was safe and Mariana was no longer a threat, but as more time goes by Saskia has begun to worry more and more about the fate of her kingdom and friends.

Now, in Porthaven, Maine, Saskia lives a quaint life and shares a great love for her new city. She spends her spare time reading, baking, and is a very passionate teacher. She tells stories and always brings in baked goods to class. However, she still maintains the secret of where she’s really from and anxiety of her stepmother coming to find her. Will Porthaven give her the protection that she needs, or will her fate have another journey in store?

Headcanons

Aspires to be a great teacher and enjoys working with young children. After her mother had passed away, she promised to always spread kindness and pour love into the hearts of others. She enjoys telling stories and sharing her love for animal life.

Stress-bakes in her own time and is the proud first-prize winner at the annual pie festival each year.

Is fluent in at least three languages - at least.

Is a very good singer, but does not wish to be a professional or in front of a large audience.

Volunteers at the local hospital and animal shelters each week out of the goodness of her heart.

Will often have occasional nightmares involving possible scenarios, visions from her past, or fears that her Stepmother has figured out where she is and how to get here.

Fears abandonment after the tragic loss of her mother and father at a very young age and suffers from anxiety.

While a sweet wildflower, she is a great fighter and will do anything to protect those she loves.

Inspiration

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