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hazybisou · 7 months

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❛ HYBE BOY ❜

🧸🩰 i’m a lucky fella, i’ve just got to tell her that i love her endlessly

summary - quinn hughes, captain of the Vancouver Canucks, is dating model, y/n y/l/n and hard launches his relationship leaving people shocked at how beautiful she is and making his brothers question how he managed to pull her.

pairing - model!f!reader x quinn hughes

side note - miranda kerr will be used as a faceclaim for the ig posts. but like she’s so beautiful omgggg 😻😻 *careless whisper starts playing* anyways uni is going so well. my professors are so chill like literally it’s amazing. i barely know anyone here (yes after a whole month here, i only know like 6 people). but uni is amazing my roommate is the best and it’s js a great experience!!

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

_quinnhughes

liked by lhughes_06, user01, trevorzegras, and 81,920 others

_quinnhughes i’ll keep this one, thanks. 😃

tagged: @/y/n.y/l/n

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colecaufield found in the wild 🐗🕵️

_quinnhughes ❌

user81 Y/N Y/L/N DATING A HOCKEY PLAYER??!! MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING 🥲🥲

jackhughes 👁️🌊🫵

user17 jack what is this??! 😭😭

user38 he’s weird

user82 he js built diff

trevorzegras quinnifer got (no) game??!

_quinnhughes at least i have a girl where’s yours *looks around* oh i forgot 🥲

trevorzegras you’re my girl @/_quinnhughes don’t worry 😘

jackhughes AYE!!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes @/y/n.y/l/n idk what he’s talking abt 😥

y/n.y/l/n trev wishes 😔😔

user93 NOOOO😭!!!!

user72 sad day for us quinn girlies 😔

user57 trevor and quinn are umm…

y/n.y/l/n weird and not okay i know and also very much in love with each other???

user57 yes

y/n.y/l/n have you fixed the bed yet??

_quinnhughes no..

lhughes_06 the beds broken?? oh 😐

y/n.y/l/n he jumped on it to hard and made a leg break

jackhughes YO WHAT

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes in my defense she was chasing me

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes you caused that to happen when YOU THREW A PILLOW AT ME

_quinnhughes @/y/n.y/l/n IM SORRY TAKE ME BACK

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes YOURE NEXT TO ME STUPID

trevorzegras ☕️☕️

user92 SHES SO PRETTY OMGGG 💕💕

user29 new wag alert!!!

user69 girlie so fine 😻😻

bradytkachuk emma said to stop forcing her to say you guys are together

ehtkachuk yea bc she’s MY wife not YOUR gf

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes ^^

_quinnhughes @/bradytkachuk @/ehtkachuk @/y/n.y/l/n why are you all after me 😔😔

colemcward mama y papa? mama. papa.

y/n.y/l/n my son is all alone 😭😭

_quinnhughes he’ll live

colemcward @/_quinnhughes no i won’t

lhughes_06 @/y/n.y/l/n why is he your son and not me???

y/n.y/l/n @/lhughes_06 bc you’re the annoying little brother i wished i had growing up

elblue6 my beautiful daughter 💕💕 and her interesting bf

_quinnhughes i’m your biological son??!

y/n.y/l/n quinny shh 🤫 ALSO MAMA EL 😘😘♥️

user48 parents so cute 🥰🥰

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y/n and quinn had been together in michigan for a week now and his brothers were yet to meet her. she had met his parents a couple months before and they’ve loved her ever since. ellen treated her as if she were her own daughter. they would talk about quinn and his behavior and quinn would be in the back, getting offended. jim was like her second father. he was protective of her and was his little girl even if they weren’t blood related.

the couple were on the couch, all cozy and cuddling when they heard a car pull up outside. quinn looked down at y/n who had her eyes closed, trying to go asleep after being out that day. “babe,” quinn heard a mumble come from the girl, “they’re here.” she grumbled in response.

quinn had told her last night that they would arrive at the lake house tomorrow evening. she was half asleep when he told her so all he got from her was an “okay,” before he began to hear soft snores come from her mouth.

“quinny, let me sleep please,” y/n whispered, “i’ll meet them later.”

quinn just smiled and leaned down to kiss her temple. he rested his head on top of hers and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep as well.

unfortunately, in this household, a good nights sleep was never a thing. that was proven as the front door suddenly burst open which quinn jumped slightly at the action and caused y/n to stir in her sleep, letting out a small whine.

“honey, we’re home!” an, oh, so familiar voice announced.

quinn turned his head to the side and peaked over the couch. as soon as he saw his brothers, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their antics and go back to trying to go to sleep.

he heard chattering and the padding of footsteps get closer, indicating they were coming his way. he began to think of a way of how he would get up without waking up y/n. there was no way.

quinn reopened his eyes and saw two figures standing in front of him. “what the fuck?” he questioned and his brothers laughed at his face.

“i see you’ve been having fun.” luke said and his eyes traveled down to y/n’s sleeping figure and he raised an eyebrow at quinn. “like i knew you had a girlfriend but she’s way out of your league.”

quinn let out a fake chuckle. “get the hell out and let us sleep.” he commented and wrapped his arms around y/n, his arm covering her face from jack and luke.

“but we just got here.” jack pointed out and luke murmured in agreement.

“then go up to your rooms.”

“but we want to meet your girlfriend.” luke stated with a fake pout.

quinn glared at the pair. “she’s sleeping so leave,” he stated and closed his eyes, protecting y/n from their view.

“we’re coming back when you’re both wide awake.” jack pointed a finger at quinn before he and quinn went to the front to get their bags and head upstairs.

quinn shook his head and went back to sleep, awaiting the moment of when y/n wakes up.

the couple had surprisingly slept for an hour and a half. it surprised quinn since he knew his brothers and the amount of noise they made whenever one of them were sleeping.

y/n had begun to wake as she had begun to squirm in quinn’s hold. he let out a groan and held her closer to his body, her squirming subsiding. “q, let go.” she mumbled into his chest. he held her tight. “quinn.”

“go to sleep, princess.” quinn whispered, his eyes still closed.

y/n started to squirm once again. “no, i have to meet your brothers as i said before.” she really wanted to meet luke and jack but with quinn’s hold keeping her restrained, it was impossible.

“they can wait.”

“no we can’t.”

quinn snapped his head towards the voice and y/n lifted her head and looked towards the boy. “why are you everywhere luke?”

luke shrugged, “i don’t know,” he sat at the end of the couch, “i just am.”

quinn rolled his eyes and looked down at y/n. “well you’ve met luke,” he told her.

“and the other?”

“i have a name.” jack.

y/n turned towards the boy, “yeah i know. sorry jack.”

jack shrugged and sat next to luke who gave jack a look. “what?” luke stared at him for a second before using all his force to push jack off. he fell with a thud and quinn, luke, and y/n laughed. “asshole.”

“man whore.”

jack looked up at luke. he got up within a second before he pounced onto luke. the two began to fight, jokingly, of course. jack had an arm wrapped around luke who let out a scream. “get off of me.” luke managed to get out despite jack’s arm suffocating him. luke continuously slapped jack’s arm in an effort for his older brother to let go.

“no.” the two continued to fight and quinn and y/n just stayed there laughing at the two.

“well you’ve met thing 1 and thing 2.” quinn said as he looked down at y/n. “i don’t know how they haven’t killed each other in jersey yet.”

y/n looked up at him. “you have a wonderful family.”

“aren’t we just lovely?” luke asked as he wriggled under jack’s hold. “also one more question,” y/n and quinn looked at him, “did quinn force you to get with him?”

jack’s head perked up at this. “oh yeah, did he?” he let go of luke as he turned towards his older brother and his girlfriend.

y/n only chuckled and quinn gave them a death stare. “no, i didn’t. she simply fell in love with me.”

jack and luke looked at each other. suddenly, the two bursted out laughing. both quinn and y/n were confused. they had a look on there face as the younger pair continued laughing. “what?”

“oh, we’re sorry but how is it that a girl like her, take this in a good way, would fall in love with a guy like you?” jack said and luke was still too busy laughing.

quinn looked at them, offended, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“she’s beautiful! and you’re just..you.” luke exclaimed. “like let’s be real here.”

y/n turned to them, “i didn’t fall in love with him because of his looks, i fell in love with him because of his personality,” she looked towards quinn before looking back at the younger brothers, “although sometimes he’s a little interesting.”

“what do you mean interesting?”

“a wet cat.”

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i fucking hate this so much like actually wtff 😭😭 anyways here’s my monthly post and hopefully some of you enjoy it. uni is my new home and umm it’s great!! now my roommate and my friends are making go to a frat tmrw so uhh hopefully it goes well (ik it won’t) wish me luck 🤞

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #vancover canucks #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #jack hughes #luke hughes #isa’s works 🦭

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l3gacies · 12 days

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APPLICATION.

【 aditi rao hydari //. demi woman //. she/they 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… NADIRA KHATRI into The Hub. You are registered to be THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD and have been given citizenship for THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be CHARMING & NAIVE. Please confirm that you are NEUTRAL GOOD. From what we’ve gathered your place of employ is currently for the MATA HARIS as a FALCON / HEAVEN’S NIGHT as a BARTENDER. We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a _ DEFECTIVE HOST_ or _HUMAN_? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are FRAGMENTED MEMORIES FLASHING THROUGH YOUR MIND AS YOU WANDER THE STREETS OF JAPAN, FLASHING DOE EYES AT UNSUSPECTING CUSTOMERS IN AN EFFORT YO GAIN INFORMATION, HINTS OF YOUR PAST LIFE HOVERING JUST OUT OF REACH, A SHATTERED MIRROR LAYING AT YOUR FEET AS YOU SEEK TO FORGE A NEW IDENTITY. Though we noticed you, too, are similar to ANASTASIA ROMANOV (ANASTASIA), GISELLE (ENCHANTED), DOROTHY GALE (WIZARD OF OZ), COSETTE (LES MISERABLES) ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay. 【 alyx //25 //. she/her //. est // 】

FILE.

full name: nadira khatri

age: thirty-seven

gender / pronouns: demi woman; she/they

orientation: pansexual

occupation: bartender at heavens night

affiliation: falcon for the mata haris

family: n/a

faceclaim: aditi rao hydari

inspiration: anastasia romanov (anastasia), giselle (enchanted), dorothy gale (wizard of oz), cosette (les miserables)

BIOGRAPHY.

VIOLENCE TW

Nadira is a host that was created as a means to spy on the Gestalt Bureau's rivals. She was one of the company's darling hummingbirds, flittering from one CEO's arm to the next, all in an attempt to get them to lower their defenses and steal any secrets that may help the bureau stay on top. She was programmed to be charming but demure, the classic wide-eyed girl in awe of the powerful figures around her, and she adored the programming she was given.

Her destiny shifted during her last mission. The figure she targeted was someone who was powerful and actively opposed the Gestalt Bureau and everything it stood for. She was meant to simply do reconnaissance during her mission and establish a connection with the target, but during her evening, she learned information she wasn't supposed to know. This made her a liability, and unbeknownst to her, someone had been hired to track her down and take care of the "loose ends".

One evening, as she was walking home from the Bureau, she encountered the individual hired by her target. The individual overpowered her and ended up erasing the information she learned regarding her target, as well as most of her memories of her current life. When she awoke, she was alone in an alley with no name, no memories, and no idea what to do next.

Luckily, she was soon found by MALCOLM HAYES and brought to the MATA HARIS. The group took her in with open arms, and the fear she felt in that alleyway soon melted away. Being with the Mata Haris made her feel safe, and it allowed her to recover and begin to plan for the future.

With a newfound confidence and a job that allows her access to a wide variety of people, she began to believe she could learn about her past and what happened to her and use that information to move forward in life. The only question is: in a city as large as Tokyo, where does she begin?

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Her last target and the person who ordered for her to be "erased"

The assassin/hitman that was assigned to take out Nadira

Previous marks of her, either enemies who realized she used them for information or former flames who never learned her true purpose

Gestalt employees who helped build/program Nadira

Fellow hosts who may recognize her

Members of Lazarus who recognize her as a defective host and want to recruit her

People Nadira suspects may know about her past--- bonus points if they don't know who she is at all

Fellow Mata Hari members

Fellow Heavens Night employees

Anything and everything!

#intro: nadira

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izaralevine · 3 months

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➵ BASICS

NAME: Izara "Kit" Levine GOES BY: Kit. AGE / D.O.B: January 5th, 1991. [33 yo.] FACECLAIM: Olivia Swann GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cisfemale. Bi. HOMETOWN: East Side, New York. CURRENTLY: Bronx, NYC. AFFILIATION: N/A | Civilian JOB POSITION: Auto mechanic by trade. (Renting her own garage: GASKIT & WHEELS in the Bronx.) Graffiti artist and tinkerer by night. EDUCATION: High School Diploma. Apprenticeship in Auto repair. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. CHILDREN: None.

➵ TRAITS

POSITIVE: Humorous, Adventurous, Patient, Independent, Kind. NEGATIVE: Flighty, Temperamental, Difficult, Untrusting, Abrasive.

➵ BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: parental abuse tw, toxicity tw.

A single moment has more power than anyone would dare admit; a split second; a mistake; an error of judgement that decides the fate of the next second, and then the next… until there’s no more left.

A loose bolt — shaken loose, can dismantle a well oiled machine. Send it crashing to pieces; a crushing weight of responsibility acts much the same.

There is nothing sanctimonious about it, there is no pleasant drift off into an ocean to be taken by darkness. It is brutal, unforgiving and without mercy. The only comfort that clouds the minds of those prey to their own misdeeds, is the haunting curse of hindsight.

The what if’s; the if one could turn back the clock and change something —- those futile little pleads can be heard, loudly, but often, it’s even more regrettable than succumbing to the inevitable abyss.

A broken heart outweighs it all; there are far worst things than death, in some eyes.

There’s always been stories of things that go bump in the night. Often passed down from one generation to the next, real horrors that would sicken the unsuspecting. And what young impressionable child ever expects to hear the chilling tales detailing how monsters stole lost loved ones? The kind of beasts that send little girls to bed with one eye open and invoke nightmares the moment that eye falls shut.

Because it does only take a moment.

And the difference between those little children and Izara Levine, was that Iz would wake up the next morning. Sweating, screaming — a nightmare invoked by a mother who loved to scare her child to sleep. There was no comfort. A household of toxicity; there was always a lesson to be learned, somewhere.

Not everyone had the blessing of being protected by innocence, parents who ensured she was prepared for the never ending war of the world; a childhood without wool over ones eyes. She’d sleep with a knowledge of the harshness of outside her walls, knowledge of exit strategies and made promises she didn’t understand to troubled, paranoid parents who believed the world was out to get them.

Izara has no explanation for her bravery, besides childish wonder — because she wasn’t always afraid to go to bed at night. Didn't cower when the doors locked. Sometimes, on good nights, she'd scamper through the dark with a torch — crawl through those little shortcuts curious children discovered when their guardians weren’t looking, and find a reason to no longer be scared.

A child can only get so terrified before they become desperate for sanctuary.

Axel Reyes was hers.

And he had been since she could write her own name, then later his — and then still when they both signed off school papers, and found reasons to enjoy the slithers of childhood they had left.

She was a spirit, always smiling then — fuelled by the belief that they could defeat all those stories her mother told; the fairytales with dark endings. Numb, and desensitised as she grew, she found comfort in tinkering - engineering things that would trap night time monsters; did everything she thought could give her an edge in a brutal world. And always the mischievous one sneaking additional crafting supplies into school, and parties.

The next morning, new graffiti ended up on the walls of the science block.

To counter the vandalistic tendencies, she had an eye for recycling the things lost to time, and making them anew. Trinkets she could artfully redesign for art pieces, another kind of gift for Axel and eventually, on a larger scale, they planned to rent a garage when they left home. She liked the carpentry, the paint that clogged up the cracks in her art gear. A knife her pallet knife, often clamped between teeth as her hands busy away with her makeshift tool belt. Made herself.

She saw less of her parents; their monsters, and more dreamlike things in the way she echoed old traumas to new creations.

Just as when they got older, matured; it became obvious that Izara and Axel were not sharing a bed because she was avoiding nightmares anymore.

The Kit she was rarely seen without, worn with each day attached to her hip. From art supplies, to crafters tools, to bandages. Izara liked to be prepared for it all — when creativity struck; when the world became a little too much for someone who were forced to enter the outside with different eyes; the childlike ones, she knew reality was as truly unkind as her parents had once taught her.

But, with Axel. She made the very best of it. And after high school, she apprenticed at a mechanic’s garage. Dirtied fingers, an oiled up tool belt — and a sight for the crafts. She found that monsters from childhood seemed so far away. Stories were spun into Grimm fairytales, and she had charge of her own path.

Eventually, amongst the garage, it became a running joke; “Kit” became her doted name - and emergency response would just be “Get Kit”, and everyone just knew. A car needed a better set of eyes, a bike needed a custom mod nobody wanted to take on. She’d take the challenge, and she’d charge them for the extra creativity.

Axel and Izara were good; a team, had secrets between them that would never be voiced to another soul. Bravely fierce in how they overcame unorthodox childhood’s, nobody made her smile quite like Reyes could. Or laugh, or gave her quite the muse to mural the walls they passed with such passion — mostly, at the cost of taxpayers — and another, as a finger to the government for trampling on her engineers of the art world.

Kit had made waves as an apprentice, learned the trade — had a standing; proven herself to be a creative just as she was a proficient mechanic. Found the mischief in her smile; her place amongst the dark of the world.

By the time they’d ended their teens, they were known to be inseparable.

So came the ring.

And so came the downfall.

The day her heart broke into pieces and shattered the visage of there ever being good in the world. Monsters, like in her childhood stories had nothing on this — nothing on the pain of heartbreak. She knows dramatics. She remembered dropping her gear, she remembered running to find answers, fingers in her tool kit for something to help — like she could tinker her own heart back together; bandage it up. Anything. She did not understand that New York was rife with unpleasantries. Distance, fears, and the distrust that had driven a wedge between them had extinguished the beacon of hope.

It hurt more than the stranger offloading a bullet in the garage did.

Whilst the pain that tore through her shoulder was agony. The culprit was already gone by the time anyone came to Kit’s aid.

She didn’t understand; neither did the police. Unprovoked shooting, at a relatively small time garage. Where’s the motive? Where does the blame go?

Where was anyone? Where was he?

Kit thought she would die.

Maybe she wished she did, in that moment knowing Axel had cut her heart in two the day before.

Kit recovered. Her heart did not. Yet, her hands did, her muscle movements came back; her spirit snuck back in and she focused on her work, her engineering — the cars; the bikes. Felt new comfort in oil stained fingers that she did her best to be the survivor of sheer bad luck.

Her heart, it knows different.

Then, when the small world of New York finally become claustophobic; desires to see the rest of the world came. A backpack, a story in every new town, village, city — something other than New York, and it's small-minded people.

She’s haunted by those nights, plagued with memories that remind her of what she’s lost almost a decade ago. And eventually, when funds ran out, she had to come back. She had to work; to fix broken things.

Kit remains a crafter, found odd jobs across the city for businesses that required something that the vandal artist could capture. She started smiling again, albeit, a broken one.

But she never publicises where she came from, what she went through — her scar, if she could help it, a new fear that despite how near a decade of adjustment had treated her with as much kindness as a slow falling sledgehammer. Kit wasn’t about to trust anyone with any piece of her again.

➵ CONNECTIONS

➵ HEADCANONS

She wears her engagement ring on a chain around her neck.

Small hole-shaped scar above her left collar bone from the shooting, over a decade ago.

Free spirited, attempts to make light of any situation where she can.

A little rough around the edges type of gal. An entire list of bad habits she doesn’t think are actually bad habits.

Handmade Kit at her waist 90% of the time, tools and first aid equipment etc. She’d feel naked without her belt.

Reluctant to befriend anyone on the first encounter; trust issues through the roof; old habits die hard.

Likely to pull a wrench on someone if there’s some bad vibes there.

Estranged from her parents, cut them out after highschool. Doesn’t keep in contact if she can help it.

Has been through ( and sometimes still does ) a graffiti phase where she tagged some street art around NYC, with a ‘K’ for Kit. She’s not Banksy, but she’ll definitely say she’s the Van Gogh of wall murals.

Now rents out a garage space for herself; self employed, from a shady person she barely trusts. Asks for cash, which she provides. Usually, asks for cash from clients too. Makes life easier.

Like any good cookie, has some tough outside to get through, but is soft inside — once one breaks through the childhood, and teenage trauma.

#about #wb.intro

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emiliocarrasco · 5 months

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➵ BASICS

NAME: Emilio Carrasco GOES BY: Emilio, Deputy, Deputy Carrasco AGE / D.O.B. 3rd June, 1963 [60 yo] FACECLAIM: Benjamin Bratt GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis-Male, hetero. HOMETOWN: Lima, Peru. CURRENTLY: Queens, NYC. AFFILIATION: NYPD. / Law Enforcement. JOB POSITION: Deputy Chief of Police EDUCATION: High School Diploma / GED, Police Academy. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Involved. ➵ Amelia Carrasco, wife; thirty-three years married. ( m. 1990 ) CHILDREN: ➵ Luis Carrasco, eldest son; thirty-one. ➵ Alex Carrasco, eldest daughter; twenty-seven. ➵ Oscar Carrasco, youngest son; twenty-five.

➵ TRAITS

POSITIVE: Focused, Decisive, Dedicated, Passionate, Determined. NEGATIVE: Controlling, Temperamental, Aggressive, Harsh, Stern.

➵ BIOGRAPHY

"We are not here to create disorder, we are here to preserve disorder. We are not the enemy, we never were; we serve to protect. We are justice for you, not the desperate revolution. I am - pardon the cliche - the arm of the Law tasked with keeping New York safe. And I will do that until it no longer stands; and I'll make it be long after I am gone." Emilio Carrasco, 1996, NYT.

Carrasco cringes at least once a month at his old pre-written statements given as a young officer. Feeding the wolves what they wanted to hear in order to quieten the howls.

Everything had to stop being pre-written after '97, and then '01... and then '07-'10 where Emilio's faith in Law was shaken. '18 seemed to be the reality check within the force, shortly followed by '21. When did it stop? Promising impossibilities?

From one tumulus country, to another. Emilio had grown numb to the viciousness, and vile corners of humanity. He had spent years of his early life clawing out of stigmatic labels, keeping his head down and studying to be the change he wished he could be in the world.

He was naïve then. A young boy convinced with one right voice; with good intentions he could change it overnight.

The clawing never stopped. Thirty-four years later, and he simply moved one position closer to that change. Maybe it was still a little foolish to think that he could keep stability after everything Carrasco had seen. After he had balanced a working life, and an outside life so precariously that he wasn't sure which life would crumble first.

Emilio's problem always was that he put the job first; he put the criminals ahead of his wife, of his children. Fiercely defending them in a way that was suffocating whilst being entirely too absent. But he was making the city safe for them, and every citizen who called New York a home.

The media could write one right thing about him, out of twenty. It would always mean very little to him. But reputation; a standing was part of the fragile clockwork that ran the city. He understands that, and he'll put on the face of severity. He will continue to put individuals behind bars, and bring justice - because, without them, who else would?

The gangs?

An unholy kind of justice. Emilio would see righteousness reign first.

➵ CONNECTIONS

AMELIA CARRASCO | Wife; 55, freelance editor. (m.1990) LUIS CARRASCO | Eldest son; 31, casino pit supervisor. (b.1992) ALEX CARRASCO | Eldest daughter; 27, poli-sci graduate. (b.1996) OSCAR CARRASCO | Youngest son; 25, graphic designer. (b.1998)

➵ HEADCANONS

If you attempt to corrupt him, your efforts will be solely wasted.

Has worked for NYPD since 1989; academy; rookie; detective ['13-'20]; captain['20-'22]; deputy chief.

Married the love of his life; a teenage whirlwind over the course of a crazy summer, in 1990. It was one year after Emilio began his pursuit of law enforcement. Were happily married, turning toxic and unhealthy due to Emilio's determination to clean up the city.

Two years after they married, their first son was born; Luis.

Mentions of divorce in '18, during rife gang war.

Children have some resentment for him due to missing familial commitments due to work - however, Emilio loves them dearly, and would never encourage the animosity. He does his best.

Loathes the media, of course. Has a special place in his heart for dismissing them. Has been photographed previously getting aggressive with those waving microphones, and cameras in his face. It was followed by public apologies.

Motivated by the belief that one day New York will be safe; the streets will be safe to walk on at all hours. Crime will be at an all time low before he retires. As it stands; a pipe dream.

Bilingual, from his parents - and few years as a child in Peru.

A man that does everything - mostly - by the book. Throwing himself headlong into danger is not by the book. But he won't miss an opportunity.

Self corruption is a different kind of trouble.

Listens unironically to Beyonce albums in his office, accompanied by a glass.

Where his limits stretch, is often with his children; he knows they can get into trouble. But it isn't a good look. It makes bad headlines, and looks worse when the prosecutions are light.

There have been rumours in the past about his marriage, and adultery. They are not true from Emilio's side. ( He has not the time. ) And Amelia has denied them too. Emil assumes it is a personal attack on the force to try and unstable him, and he will not allow it to cloud his judgement. But it affects his children.

He is stern. Because he feels like he can never really drop the jacket of the law, even at home where he can be softer - and loving, he finds it difficult to switch off.

#wb.intro

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zedechemist · 7 months

Text

➵ BASICS

NAME: Zedekiah “Zed” Movska GOES BY: Zed AGE / D.O.B. 18th July, 1978 [45 yo] FACECLAIM: Antony Starr GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis-Male, Questionable. HOMETOWN: Krasnoyarsk, Russia. CURRENTLY:Chinatown, Lower Manhattan. NYC. AFFILIATION: None. [Deals in the Black Market] JOB POSITION: Chemist & Anaesthesiologist. EDUCATION: University Level. P.h.D in Pharmaceutical Science. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. CHILDREN: None.

➵ TRAITS

POSITIVE: Determined, Loyal, Perceptive and Versatile. NEGATIVE: Cynical, Impulsive, Morbid and Condescending.

➵ BIOGRAPHY

The most dangerous thing about Aqua Regia is not it’s potency to burn through flesh and bone, but that its toxic fumes can choke a man from inside out. Zedekiah Movska can make a person disappear – not from paper, but from existence; you cannot find a body if there’s nothing to find; you cannot find the cause if there’s no chemical trace left to track.

Chemical warfare doesn’t always come in large doses – but in the small ones, the ones that you can’t find in any ordinary autopsy. Those can be far more lethal. Because what’s better than the story of a dead man with no trace of ever being? Makes one hell of a fun investigation.

From a family with heavy ties in the media world; expectations arise that following in footsteps is a likely outcome. That the Movska’s all end up in print and that their names are plastered at the end of every sell out paper that gets published. Zed started that way; growing up in a hard-headed, determined environment that raised children with a heavy hand a less coddling. Businessmen with a violent tongue and a knack for telling stories.

The eldest Movska of three, he found that his interests and theirs differed, subjects that were not where his talents laid. Not quite the epitome of the rebellious teenager, but certainly aware that he was not talented with the gifts required for Movska Media.

It was after almost losing an arm to hydrochloric acid in a botched chemistry class at sixteen did Zed really begin to thrive within another field; a first hand experience of what he could do. A newfound loyalty to science came with an entirely new understanding of the world and how much better it could be if he could control chemicals to fit his spiralling desires to appease his own interests. The way he understood science; medical chemistry and how it could both be helpful and lethal in the right or wrong hands; it was a far touch from the papers his family strived for his involvement in.

With that kind of scientific interest, comes a natural affinity to chemical engineering; one thing into another; something simple into something lethal with a few correct quantities soon let to the developing interest in pharmaceutical chemistry and how easy manufacturing drugs could be; how wanted they are in every class of person.

Suddenly, comes the realisation that just as his family had money at fingertips; used it to buy their way through life; uninterested in his own outside of the familial field, his sourced income could be found in manufacturing. The illegal kind; the little lab in the bedroom sort that led to something more right after school. A loft that was then his and a front that told he was everything his family wanted him to be whilst being everything that isn’t; a small time druglord that would be the biggest Movska story to date if it ever become known.

An irony that still, to this day, Zed finds pockets of humour in.

The fear of getting caught never seemed to bother him, a man detached from the terrors that most find troubling, he finds empty. Brushed aside like it’s the normal, that running a tiny operation in his youth isn’t problematic behaviour; doesn’t see that watching acid burn isn’t something pleasant to be fascinated with, not at least, to the degree Movska does. Wits and natural smarts kept him in the shadows, developing substances that could do everything he knew from the day he nearly lost an arm.

Chemicals can be helpful in the right hands or truly lethal; it’s all about the dosage.

Enrolling and studying pharmaceutical science at Columbia, Zedekiah had a complicated relationship with anaesthesia and its properties; he’d mastered the art of levelling pain and a little too often did his drug knowledge come in handy for something a little darker than simply drug manufacturing and distribution, for the first time then, he’d been witness to how easily he and his creations can become an invisible killer.

Then it wasn’t just once.

And it made some fantastic headlines in the papers.

Any city, in any country, has its degree of shady dealings. When his family branched out outside Europe, he ended up in New York for his continued study, a hotspot and fairly notorious for its underworld; operating like a network, challenged by few; rivalries born of blood feuds and a structure that is unafraid to put civilians in the crossfire. It suits Zedekiah’s ideals well, small time drug maestro in a city that runs on its own set of rules. A man with a name too linked to a status; a front that an alias is fast formed.

New York, during the ending years of his studies; when the breakthrough of where Zed put both feet in the operational world of some of the darkest people in the city birthed Zlotoska as a name whispered through the darkness. A man capable of dealing the things that aren’t mainstream; niche complicated personal recipes as carried from Russia when he first got a taste for chemistry and pharmaceuticals, distributed in quiet small waves. A ripple effect one would say, word of mouth the viper that snatches lives.

Making a name for drug dealing in New York City, with the way the Cartel has its claws in everything is like playing a chess on a board with only the king in play. Zed knows it, never buries himself in it when he’s a Movska with credentials and a name unblemished on paper.

Playing in the black market remains to be a game and eventually, a skill like that never stays as silent as those might wish it to. Not when there’s an even more powerful and quiet force laying in the depths of the underworld that preys on gifted individuals with criminalistic tendencies.

Zed Movska; invisible killer; master of manufacturing. He doesn’t so much mind or care for the name itself, doesn’t change that he remains a specialist in his chosen field; veteran in the chemistry world and ever an irritant in any conference for calling out those factually wrong.

Science is all about being prepared to be proven wrong. Zed’ll be that for all.

A doctor in his own right and able to patch-up when necessary, he’s a physician that hides how capable he is in doing everything but. Zedekiah can play surgeon in some cases but he prefers to leave little to no trace of anyone he treats. It lets him manoeuvre in the pharmaceutical world, planting both feet in the door to easy access drug supplies. That plays favourable in his standing with New York’s medical drug liasons - helps with keeping tabs on the rival trafficking too.

Second to the chemist, Zed can be friendly, he’ll be someone to trust and he’ll be your friend (as long as you’re not a fucking idiot). But he knows what comes first and his fixture to his own often selfish wants will always dominate; that purpose. You trust the man with the alluring smile and the silver tongue until he holds a needle to your arm and says “just a pinch.”; your heart leaps; you breathing hitches and you know you should trust the doctor, but you just can’t quite.

Over the years, Zedekiah has been in and out of New York on various stints; often a year or two at a time out in Russia using his knowledge to extend his reach in his homeland and make an appearance to his family. But despite these small travels over the decades, he likes to think he’s kept steady tabs on New York. He regularly visits Columbia (and neighbouring universities) as a past alumni to take guest lectures for budding chemistry students; this gives him some time out to appreciate what he’s always been passionate about as well as bounce interesting conversations of inquisitive students which he thoroughly enjoys. Can’t stay in the underworld every hour and needs a little air to talk chemistry elsewhere.

When he’s not doing work; the illegal kind or playing stand-in professor, he’s at the medical centre as a consultant. Zedekiah is a busy man - just how he’d like it, idle hands are not something he works well with. It doesn’t work well for others either, so he eliminates indolence at every opportunity.

For a long time, he’s been indifferent to any of the questionable and sometimes traumatic operation he runs, its of illegal calibre (of course) and the fear to get caught doesn’t seem to faze the man; spent so long doing it, so good and trusting in his abilities that his legacy couldn’t be halted so easily by the law. He has no time for those who challenge him. Raised under firm hands – ones that didn’t tolerate disobedience and reprimanded without mercy. For decades, that remained unwavering.

➵ HEADCANONS

He studied pharmaceutical science at Columbia and progressed his specialisms in the chemistry field; anaesthetics in particular, but has capably patched up wounds for his people over the decades and distributed pain relief.

Often found holed up somewhere in his loft apartment in Chinatown ( formerly —with his cousin Lev, who has moved out some years ago) impersonating something of a mad scientist as he does his best not to blow the place to pieces.

Zedekiah has some gnarly chemical burns on his right arm from a teenage chemistry accident. Most of his lower arm is scarred from it.

Nice guy, might burn you with acid, depends on the day.

Pharmaceutical Engineer and Anaesthesiologist.ZedeCHEMIST, ha, get it. OK. Moving on

Raised bilingual, he can speak both English and Russian fluently.

Sometimes takes chemistry lectures at Columbia as a stand-in where he enjoys communicating with students and bouncing interesting ideas back and forth - he considers that the generations have only gotten smarter over the years, sometimes.

Consultant at New York Medical Centre for Anaesthetics; brash about involvement directly with any distribution and a little bit of a perfectionist when in a clinical environment.

Developed and synthesised drugs for large pharmaceutical firms in the past - an easy moneymaker for him personally, but none of his more lethal and toxic creations.

➵ CONNECTIONS

#wb.intro

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helenahoffman · 2 years

Photo

“ｍａｙｂｅ，ｂａｂｙ，Ｉ＇ｍｊｕｓｔ

ｌｏｓｉｎｇｍｙｍｉｎｄ

＇ｃａｕｓｅｔｈｉｓｉｓｔｒｏｕｂｌｅ，

ｂｕｔｉｔｆｅｅｌｓｒｉｇｈｔ”

adored by leía.

ＢＡＳＩＣＳ：

name: helena isabel hoffman

age / d. o. b.: 31 yo, august 12th, 1991

faceclaim: adelaide kane

gender & pronouns: cis-female & she/her

sexuality: pansexual

hometown: new york city, new york

job position: retired professional dancer / ceo of 𝗕𝗘𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗜𝗢𝗦 / adjunct dance professor @ cornell university

education: graduated from the juilliard school (B.F.A)

relationship status: single (divorced 1x)

children: 1 girl, Zara [5yo]

positive traits: dedicated, loyal, hard-working, ardent, protective

negative traits: mean, judgmental, bossy, manipulative, impatient

ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ：(alcoholism tw, divorce tw)

Helena Isabel is the middle child of the reputable 𝐇𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐦𝐚𝐧 family. Her mother called her a ‘ diamond in the rough. ‘ Since Helena was born, she protested against mostly everything. ‘ It’s Helena’s way or the highway, ‘ her nanny would say.

Being partially raised by a famous American ballerina and Italian/German fashion-designer came with many perks, as well as, many undesirable cons. Helena was everything but the delicate flower her mother would’ve preferred. She was raised on competition, resentment and jealousy. The Hoffman children having to prove their place through their skills and successes – dimmed by the lack of love to follow. She rarely felt real nurturing care that was supposed to come with parents.

Helena’s older sister ＮＯＲＡ stepped in deal dealt with the emotions and turbulence that came with Helena’s personal hell of feelings and self-inflicted sabotage. It seemed like all her choices were wrong: her clothes , her friends , her make-up , her opinions , her choice of words , her lovers , etc. The only thing that wasn’t wrong: her natural rhythm. Dancing was the only thing that helped Helena escape her demons, practicing hours and days on end to distract herself from the chaos she created in her life. She moved through life depending on the accolades and awards she earned through her dedication to dance.

Compared to her siblings per usual— until she wasn’t anymore. It was tragic for the Nora but Helena had her competitive nature still within her. She continued to persevere through the world of dancing, despite the tragedy that ensued. ＳＥＣＴＩＯＮＡＬＳ，ＲＥＧＩＯＮＡＬＳ，ＮＡＴＩＯＮＡＬＳ，ＩＮＴＥＲＮＡＴＩＯＮＡＬＳ… all the awards in the world couldn’t stop her addiction to alcohol. It was easy to turn a blind eye to Helena “celebrating” until it was almost too late.

Helena was 25 when she entered a rehabilitation program. She put a permanent hiatus on her career, signed divorce papers the same month and shied away from the spotlight for the first time in a decade. She returned to Ithaca to her family, seeking help. Helena spent six months in an alcohol recovery program. One year later, she welcomed her daughter, ＺＡＲＡ. She has maintained her sobriety since she has given birth, ( only sneaking three alcoholic beverages after rehab & before Zara’s birth ). Helena chose to put her career aside for a wholesome reason: to raise and care for Zara.

After a three year hiatus from dancing, she finally returned to the world of dancing. Helena opened ＢｅｌＳｔｕｄｉｏｓ three years ago, welcoming all and any to her little slice of heaven. ＢｅｌＳｔｕｄｉｏｓ won Studio of the Year in North East Regionals, along with other titles at The American Dance Awards this past winter.

Recently, she has taken a position at Cornell University as an Adjunct Professor of Dance. She teaches 2 classes: Modern/Contemporary Dance and Advanced Ballet.

Helena is continuing to try her best. She keeps busy with co-parenting, running her studio, and now; the world of academia. As much as she thought she had her priorities focused, things have always gone array from what she actually planned. Her biggest flaw is sabotaging her greatness.

ＷＡＮＴＥＤＣＯＮＮＥＣＴＩＯＮＳ：

ex-spouse: i am going to submit a wanted connection for this. one word: sadness. they married at 18 and were together until she entered a rehab program. details to be plotted out!

bestfriend: they should be someone that has known her most of her life and has seen many versions of hurricane helena. if you want constant entertainment, she’s your girl!

students/colleagues/dancers: self-explanatory but if anyone is a dancer, looking to learn, want to use her studio, any ideas– please let me know! i’m all ears.

+ more!

#ithacaintro #/about #alcoholism tw #divorce tw #// ooc: if the math ain't mathin it's cuz im bad at math ok

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mccarthawrites · 3 months

Text

Lucy's Dad

Relationship: Matt Simmons/OC!Lucy Rivera

Rating: General Audience

Summary: Lucy has brunch with her dad, Quique. Gets an update on her ex and gives Quique a gift from Matt.

Author's Note: My faceclaim for Quique is Jimmy Smits. There is some Spanish in this fic but not enough to cause issue. However, if you need anything translated, don't be afraid to ask. I AM BACK BITCHES!

Words: 1,419

Strike Zone Masterlist || Criminal Minds Masterlist

Lucy approached the front stoop that she grew up on. Her father, Quique, hadn’t left the Seventh Street apartment even after she moved out. The two had breakfast - or more like brunch - every Sunday together. Fishing her keys from her bag, she opened the outside door and walked into the main hallway. She heard her father singing along to an old Hector Lavoe record as she approached the door to the apartment. It helmed fading letters of “Casa de Rivera” painted on an equally fading Puerto Rican flag. Smiling, she opened the door and walked in, placing her bag on the couch before joining her father in the kitchen and finishing the song as a duet.

“Hi, mija.” Quique kissed his daughter’s cheek.

“Hey, dad. Need any help?”

“No, I’ve got it. But thank you. Quieres cafe?” He asked, motioning to the moka pot on the stove. “How are you? Interviewed anyone interesting last week?”

“I interviewed the Crimson’s new rookie, Spencer Reid. He seems sweet.” She poured herself coffee before hopping onto the counter. “But now that the season is over, my editor is floating the idea of me covering hockey or basketball.”

“Hockey?” Quique sounded almost offended at the idea. “Azucar?” He knew how she liked her coffee, so he didn’t even have to ask.

“Thank you. But yeah, hockey. Fortunately for you, you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with a hockey player. They are not my type,” she teased.

“Did you know Mateo is in the city? I ran into him a few days ago. He asked how you were doing.”

“I did not know he was here. I haven’t seen him since the Crimsons’ game last year and I’d like to keep that streak going as long as possible. Do you know why he’s here? He only came for games, but it’s the off-season. So why?”

“Yo no se.” He shrugged. “Said he was sightseeing with his new girlfriend. I think her name was Amelia.”

“Let me guess: pretty, white and blonde. Right? That’s his type. Why he ever got involved with me, I will never understand How is he?” She asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I almost made the mistake of marrying him so- sure. How is he?”

“First is still un pendejo for letting go of the best thing that ever happened to him and that will ever happen to him. He seemed okay. Didn’t seem happy. I doubt he’s happy if he’s still asking about you.”

“Thanks, dad, but you don’t have to lie to me. I can take it. It’s been two years. He- he deserves to be happy.”

“No, he does not. I am telling you the truth. Un pendejo had a sadness in his eyes. He knows he fucked up.” His comment made her laugh. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“No, it’s okay. Also gives me a warning that he is here in case I run into him and- Amelia.”

“What would you do if you saw him again?”

“Be civil like I was last time.” She shrugged. “He’s moved on and- so have I. What did you tell him when he asked about me?”

“I told him about your boyfriend on the Mets.” He explained.

“What boyfriend?”

“Cooper.”

“Cooper isn’t- oh my god. You told him I was dating Cooper?”

“Por que? Did you break up?”

“We were never dating to begin with. We- we had a mostly professional relationship that occasionally included dinner and drinks- and other things.” She admitted.

“Oh. Wow. Really? I thought you two were good together.”

“We were never together. We were- friends with benefits. But that’s over now because he’s met someone that he’s serious about. And she’s cute. So I gave him my blessing and we ended things. Now we’re just friends with a strictly professional relationship.”

“When you introduced us, I thought you were introducing him as your boyfriend,” Quique told her.

“No. I was introducing my dad who loves baseball to the only Major League player I know personally.

“Why didn’t you date him?”

“Because the last thing I want is to be involved with another athlete. Just because the sex is good doesn’t mean I have to give the man my life. Learned that the hard way,” she told him. He gave her a look. “Shouldn’t have said all of that, but you know what I mean, Mr. hasn’t dated anyone since the mother of his child left.” Quique’s jaw dropped. “Am I wrong?”

“I didn’t date because I had my hands full raising a beautiful and smart daughter on my own. Because I don’t need someone else to be happy. And you don’t either.”

“You know this is a generational curse. You got your heart broken by the love of your life. I got mine broken by the guy I thought was the love of my life and now we’ve both shut love out.”

“Not true. I have love in my life. I have you and your brother. My colleagues and the guys at the center. Your uncles. I am surrounded by love. You have me, your brother. You have Andi and- I don’t know all of your friends’ names, but you’ve got them.”

“Fair enough.” Lucy laughed.

“I don’t need romance to be happy. Neither do you.”

“Exactly. We were both miserable when we had romance. And we’re far happier now.”

“Yes, we are.” Quique smiled, clinking their mugs together.

After brunch, Lucy cleaned up. The agreement was whoever didn’t cook washed the dishes.

“By the way, I have something for you.” She told Quique.

“A gift? For me? It’s not my birthday. It’s too early for Christmas. What did you get me?” He asked.

“It’s not from me. It’s from- a friend.”

“You have friends besides Andi and Emily?” He teased.

“Yes, I do. He’s a new one.”

“It’s a he? Interesting. Why is this new friend getting gifts for your father?”

“Because I told him you are a big fan of the Wolverines.”

“Is it Simmons? You interviewed him last season.”

“Yes, actually. Since he heard you’re a fan he wanted to get you something as a thank you for supporting the team.” Lucy explained, drying her hands. “Come on. It’s in my bag in the sala.”

“What is it?” Quique asked, following her to the livingroom. She grabbed her bag off the couch and pulled the ball out. “Is that?”

“A baseball signed by all the current Wolverines and Coach Garrett.” She replied, handing it to him. He held it, rotating it in his hands to appreciate each signature. “Ay, thank you, mija!” The smile on his face made Lucy’s heart soar. He hugged her. “This is going in my office. I have to get a display for it.”

“I figured so I ordered you one. It’ll be here sometime this week.”

“What would I do without you?” He asked. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank you. I didn’t even ask. Matt just showed up with it.”

“Showed up?” He questioned.

“We- we ran into each other. He’s in the city visiting friends and-”

“How did he know I’m a Wolverines fan?”

“I told him when I interviewed him.”

“And he remembered all this time?” Quique asked. “I think he likes you.”

“No, he does not. We’re just friends. Trust me.”

“Then maybe he’s trying to seduce you.” Quique laughed.

“That- that’s ridiculous. I’m not getting involved with another athlete. He’s just a really nice guy. He’s sweet and-”

“Maybe you like him?”

“No, I do not! I am not interested. I don’t need or want another relationship. Not now or anytime soon. I am enjoying the single life. I don’t need a man in my life.”

“Except for me.”

“Except for you.” She laughed. “So you like it?”

“I love it! Please tell him thank you for me.”

“I will tell him he probably made your whole week, right?”

“He did! I am going to put it on the window behind my desk.”

“Pretty soon you’re going to run out of space to display all your Wolverines shit in your office.”

“If that happens, I’ll just bring stuff home.”

“As if you have room for anything here.” Lucy laughed, motioning to the baseball memorabilia scattered around the apartment. “You’ll need a bigger apartment.”

“Never. I’ll be leaving this place in a coffin.” He replied. Lucy slapped his arm lightly.

“Don’t say that! Don’t even play. You’re young and healthy.”

“From your lips to god’s ear.” He laughed.

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders #Matt Simmons #Matthew Simmons

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planetpiastri · 7 months

Text

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!williams admin!reader [no faceclaim, reader is faceless] summary: logan has a crush on the admin of the williams instagram account, and quite literally everyone knows. except for the williams admin. notes: can't believe my first new fic since i overhauled my account is a logan sargeant smau, but life takes you in unexpected directions sometimes LMAO anyways i'm so proud of him and his first f1 point<3 enjoy!

ynusername

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, and others

ynusername i love my job. i really do.

view all 627 comments

username1 ugh i love when she does these bts dumps on her main

logansargeant Your job loves you!

alex_albon is 'your job' a new nickname you're trying out ? ynusername be nice boys username2 YO?

logansargeant When did you take that?? ☹️

ynusername i'm always on the clock

williamsracing

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, and 22,587 others

williamsracing YEEEEHAAAAWWW TEXAS BRING IT ON!!! 🤠🐂🤘

view all 723 comments

username3 yn is so funny i hope she's the williams admin forever

alex_albon always getting my best angles

ynusername so all of them? alex_albon stop it you logansargeant 🤢🤢 ynusername you're also very pretty logie alex_albon LOGIE????

username4 this trio is so chaotic i love them

username5 feeling very parasocial abt yn and her williams boys

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and others

ynusername petition to move the usa grand prix to galveston next year

view all 703 comments

username6 i don't think cars are allowed on the beach

ynusername that's what they want you to think

alex_albon i thought you said you had a family thing 🤨

ynusername look away grandpa alex_albon GRANDPA??

username7 ok it's literally logan's home race i was hoping we'd get some bts pics of him but he's not even in the likes :(

username8 he's still in austin with alex, i think yn just took a day trip

liked by williamsracing, oscarpiastri, and 89,328 others

logansargeant Missing home a little extra right now

view all 2,076 comments

username9 WAIT WAS HE ALSO IN GALVESTON???

username10 bruh read the caption, he's literally talking about florida

alex_albon i do not believe that you made that fire

logansargeant I am a manly man 💪 alex_albon lol ok

username11 logan ur literally in america just go home for the day

username12 babe that's not how the states work

williamsracing 🔥🔥🔥

logansargeant 🏈😁

williamsracing

liked by logansargeant, ynusername, and 34,578 others

williamsracing LOGAN'S FIRST POINTS SCORED ON HIS HOME TURF 🇺🇸🏈🦅 the whole team is so unbelievably proud of him!

view all 1,265 comments

username13 LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

username14 HE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK A KILOMETER IS!!!!

alex_albon nice

logansargeant Thanks brother 👊💙

logansargeant ❤️🤍💙

ynusername ❤️☺️ username15 oh??

username16 SMELLS LIKE FREEDOM 😤😤😤

liked by logansargeant, williamsracing, and others

ynusername first date, he didn't kiss her and he should have

view all 958 comments

username17 IS THIS THE LAUNCH THAT I THINK IT IS???

alex_albon finally

ynusername you love us alex_albon i love peace and quiet because i don't have to listen to him pine anymore logansargeant Ok I wasn't THAT bad... alex_albon (he was)

username18 i'm sorry i'm dying at alex exposing logan's crush like this

logansargeant I said I was sorry!!!

ynusername a few more kisses to make up for it and you're forgiven ❤️

username19 this is so cute i'm gonna cry 😭

liked by ynusername, williamsracing, and 92,348 others

logansargeant Ok I'll admit that I was not the one who lit the bonfire

view all 2,165 comments

alex_albon i knew it!!!!

username20 SO HE WAS IN GALVESTON THAT DAY

username21 omg wait that was their first date that yn was referencing in her caption 😭😭 they're so adorable i can't

ynusername we're so getting fired for this

logansargeant Worth it ynusername YOU DORK williamsracing I'll let it slide -JV ynusername JAMES?????

username22 this hard launch chaos is the exact stuff i expected from yn and logan tbh

ynusername i love you btw

logansargeant I love you more ynusername it's noT A COMPETITION logansargeant And yet I still win ❤️

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #f1 #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 x reader #instagram au #f1 imagine #logan sargeant imagine #f1 instagram au #social media au #logan sargeant au #saturn writes

2K notes · View notes

carlyraejcpsen · 3 years

Text

alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they “would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others.

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group.

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group.

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

#rpc #rpt #rp #thevillagerp #hope this makes sense i think there's a lot that needs context and hopefully i did a good enough job explaining #sorry to my non rp followers this blog is such a mess

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truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.1)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Durkio Faceclaim

Alexis Faceclaim

Amiyah Faceclaim

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

Warning: language

Kicking off the covers from her legs for the fifth time that night Amiyah flipped over on the left side of the bed relieving herself from pressure that she felt on her right shoulder.

Picking up her phone she saw the time of 12:46 am. It wasn’t the discomfort she felt in her sleep or the extremely warm temperature of her room that woke her up. It was the blaring from her Durkio’s speaker that was gifted to him from himself as an early birthday present. She was cool with it the first couple of times, seeing as she used it as well to play music whenever she wanted to clean her room but this was starting to become annoying.

In the next five hours she had to be up early to open the clothing store she worked at. Durkio likes his music to be played loudly but for some reason tonight it was blasting.

Getting out of bed and slipping on her black UGG Tasman slippers Amiyah went to open the door and was met with the aroma of weed.

“Damn I guess the music isn’t the only thing that’s loud.” She tiredly giggled at her own humor.

Took Her to the O by King Von was the choice of song that woke her from her beauty rest. Shaking her head as she folded her arms she walked down the hall of their shared three bedroom apartment to see the dimmed living room foggy.

Swatting away the smoke she walked closer to the couch preparing to get onto her brother.

“Yo Durk, you know I have to get up for work in a few hours. Can you turn the speakers down or off please?”

Amiyah coughed through almost every word. She didn’t smoke so whenever she inhaled the air would hit her baby lungs causing her to react.

The music level turned down. Finally what seemed like forever the smoke was clearing the living room so she could see the face of her brother...or who she thought was her brother. It was Erik.

Leaning forward he put out his blunt on the ashtray, then he dusted off any remains of falling ashes from his dark grey Nike sweatsuit he rested his elbows on his knees.

Looking up at her with hooded eyes he licked his lips and the famous “sober up wipe” to the face followed after.

“Damn that’s my bad Miyah. I was in here just letting my phone play. I woke you up?” He asked with a small smile.

“Yeah a lil bit but it’s okay.” She spoke in a soft voice that was different compared to the tone she poke in before she found out it wasn’t her brother but her brother’s best friend and also..her crush.

Awkwardly standing there with her arms going back into their folding position making herself feel secured once she cover her tummy she decided to walk to the black leather recliner on the left side of him sitting down. She found herself being really close to him unlike any other times. Inhaling the air she could smell his cologne mix with the weed.

“Um, where’s Durkio?”

“He went out to the car to grab something real quick. He’ll be back.”

Erik got up putting everything that was laid out on the coffee table up. From the bags of weed by the pound to three glock 17s that was sprawled out everywhere. He knew this wasn’t new to her or anything but he wanted to be respectful to his partna’s lil sister. Even though he was the only child he knew that if he did had a baby sister he would want his boys to show the same respect.

Amiyah watched his every move. From the way he gave his sweats a tug around the inner thigh area giving him some room to breathe down there to then observing him pulling up the sweats before he sat down.

There she was doing it again, acting like a little stalker over this man. But she couldn’t help it. She found herself crushing on the best friend of her brother really hard. She was introduced to Erik at the age of seventeen. Just getting out of high school while her brother was already making a name for himself in the streets at twenty-three.

Durkio was coming up from being know for having the best exotics in the hood, some untouchable shit. He started to get more exposure and also more enemies. So along came his homeboy Erik, standing 6’3 and about 225 lbs solid. By the age of twenty-one he was already known to be a problem. Hot headed and a crazy mouth to match but also in a strange way quiet. It was like he knew when to turn it off and on. She notice that whenever she was around the duo he would be barely audible and sometimes completely quiet when she would walk into a room. Taking only glances at her and continued to keep it pushing.

Maybe that’s what she liked about him. Not only did they share the same characteristics when it came to not saying a lot while around others but he also didn’t try to put up a front in front of Durkio. His other homeboys did too much by just talking excessively to her about nothing while trying not to say the wrong thing too her to stay on the good side of her brother.

Amiyah wasn’t the only one doing some studying. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her from the moment she stepped into the living room. He watched the twenty-one year old face turn from hard to soft as soon as she seen it was him in the place of where her brother usually sits.

Even through his hooded eyes he caught her covering her stomach and setting herself up in a defensive position, something he notice she always did when he was around. To Erik it seemed as if she was doing it because she wasn’t comfortable around him so he stopped his eyes from wandering over her body and other times not acknowledging her other than a head nod.

He already knew how his mans Durkio felt about his little sister. He was going to kill whoever did her wrong, let alone even looked at her like they had a problem. In Eriks eyes Amiyah was considered hood royalty. It wasn’t all talk either. A few months ago there was a young recruit that tried to get Amiyah’s number, who clearly wasn’t interested turned him down in the most modest way. Youngin tried to show out in front of his friends and slipped up and called her a fat bitch.

Once word got to Durkio he had the whole hood searching for the kid and when he found him, not only did he have the dude friends jump him my nigga literally fed him a bag of dog shit and made him eat it. Swallowing every drop.

“Yeah nigga you like to talk shit so you gon eat this muthafucka! You lucky I don’t get one of ya own mans to pop yo ass folk!”

Erik shook his head inwardly laughing about how the whole situation unfolded in front of him. Durkio was one crazy ass nigga! That’s why they was best friends though. Their personalities just matched.

Even though Erik to himself wasn’t official in the game a lot of people seem to think so. But that wasn’t the case, to him he felt he was just heavily associated with the ones surrounding it. Guess you can say his name got caught in the wrong mouth and they titled him without knowing the facts. He didn’t care though, he figured people was going to think what they wanted about him anyways so why try so hard to prove them wrong.

“Erik.” Amiyah looked over to seem him leaning back into the couch with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He was smiling to himself about something. She wondered what.

“Wassup.” He answered nonchalantly giving her his undivided attention

“Do you know how long he’s been gone?”

“Oh I’m not sure, I think five minutes or so. You want me to leave or something?” Erik asked on edge ruffling up his dreads a bit not wanting her to feel guarded in her own home.

Truth was Amiyah didn’t care so much about her brother’s whereabouts. She wanted to use these few minutes alone with him to feed her fantasies. Imagining just them two in his home not worrying about Durk busting in on them.

“No of course not. You’re good. I-I was just being nosy.” She tried her best laughing the nerves away while mentally face palming herself for stuttering.

Erik smirk. He could see the quiver in her bottom lip when she spoke. She was trying to hide it but it wasn’t working.

“Nah I feel you. You work tomorrow?” Deciding to spark up some conversation to help her relax with him.

“Yeah I open the store. So I have to be out of here by six in the morning.” Pushing her back against the recliner lifting one leg under the other she made herself cozy.

“Bella Ella Boutique right.”

Her eyes flickering at the fact he knew where she worked.

‘So he must pay attention to me.’

Is what she thought. If it wasn’t for her golden brown skin complexion she would be sure that Erik would know that she is blushing.

Along with a head nod she gave a small smile answering quietly. “Yeah that’s right.” She shifted her eyes not wanting to keep to much eye contact.

“You like working there? How long has it been by the way?” Resting his elbows on his knees once again, facing her, he gave her all his attention.

Placing her hands between her thick thighs to help calm her nerves she put her eye back on him.

“It’s okay...it’s just I wish they would hurry up and hire some new people already. Like I’ve been working so many hours and-“

She stopped mid sentence once she heard him chuckle.

Lightly giggling herself she shook her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Erik swiping his bottom lip with his tongue before giving her a small smile.

This was the most he heard her talk this much in a while. Usually she would only say hi and bye and then every now and then ask about her brother but tonight she was keeping conversation like they were friends.

“Why am I funny? What I say?” Curious to know the reason.

“It’s nothing bad mama I just never heard you talk this much before. You be acting mad quiet around me.” Leaning back putting one arm at the top of the couch and resting the other on top of his crotch area.

Amiyah took in his form.

Did he just call me mama?

She couldn’t help catching his nickname.

Hit Different by Sza started playing softly in the background.

“Okay but you can talk to me too. I’m not the only one with a voice Erik.”

“You right and I’m a change that for you. When I come around I’ll start addressing you more. Is that good?” Staring into her soft brown eyes searching for an answer.

Playfully rolling her eyes trying her best to subdue her smile.

“Whatever-“

The front door open revealing her brother. Holding a bag of Burger King eating some fries.

“Aye my bad nigga I had to get sumn to smack on- Miyah fuck is you doing outta bed?” Durkio stop rummaging through the food once he saw her.

Erik scooting down further away from her towards the middle of the couch not trying to give his crazy ass any ideas.

“Uh Durk last time I checked I’m grown.”

He looked at her like she had four eyes.

“Girl you better quit acting like I ain’t raise damn near by myself. You bet get yo ass back in that bed fo’ yo ass miss work then you gon want me to pay you for the hours you miss.” He sat the bag of food down next to the ashtray that held about four roach blunts.

“Nigga she only out here cause I was blasting the music. I woke her up.” Erik winking at her defending her.

Her thighs clenched up at the small action.

I know he did not just make me wet by winking at me?

Of course this was only due to her inexperience. She never got pass kissing a guy and even that she felt needed some work.

Knocking her out of her thoughts her loud brother spoke again.

“Erik I don’t need you sticking up or lying for her and nigga where the fuck my weed at?”

He got up checking the cabinets pulling out a half ounce before looking back to see that his baby sister in the same spot.

“Miyah why you still here?” He asked breaking up the bud.

To people on the outside it may seem like Durkio was a mean brother but he really didn’t mean her any harm. That was just always how he was. He had a rough demeanor, so when he spoke it could come off offensive if you didn’t know him but both Amiyah and Erik knew that was just his mannerism. But all in all he loves his baby sister.

She smacked her lips. “I can’t hang out with y’all?”

“No. Hell is wrong with ‘dis girl?” He asked his friend chuckling.

Erik silently laughing at the bickering siblings. He unwrapped the whopper that he got from the bag before taking a bite while closing his eyes and savoring the grilled burger. Fast food always hit different when he was high.

Shaking her head she decided against arguing back and forth with her brother. She had to get up in a few anyways so it was time for her to head back to bed.

“Whatever I’m going back to bed. Night. Night Erik.” Getting up from the couch making her way out the living room area she turned to look at the duo one last time.

She caught Erik looking her up and down before giving her a head nod acknowledging her and mouthing a good night.

Disappearing in the hall and back into the room she sat on her bed replaying the conversation over and over which brought back the memory of his scent. Somehow she could still smell him as if he was right in front of her.

Smiling to herself she got up checking the time on her Apple Watch on her nightstand that read 1:34 am.

She had a few hours to get some sleep. Taking a last glance at herself in the mirror she realized she still had on her light blue silk bonnet the whole time in front of Erik.

Nooo.

Laughing at the embarrassing thought she shrugged it off before sleep took over her body again.

___________________________________________________

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

Hey guys this is my first story on here. Haven’t wrote in a while and so I just wanted to try it out again just to see if I still have it in me lol. I have a few ideas for this story but I’m not sure...anyways let me know what you guys think. Constructive criticism is allowed here.

P.s If I tagged you I probably read your work or I just want to see if you would be interested in this story. If you don’t like it I can take you off so sorry if you might not be interested.

Please excuse any mistakes if there are any. Thanks!!

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @artisticestheticreads @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @thiccdaddy-mbaku @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @erikslulbaby @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink

#erik killmonger #erik stevens #Erik smut #black panther #Erik x plus size reader #Erik x thick OC #homebody #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori

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anotherhamiltonblog · 4 years

Text

Unwritten Destiny pt 1

Unwritten Destiny part 1 a Daveed Diggs x OFC fic (partly Rafael Casal x OFC)

Rose Soo faceclaim is Christian Serratos(Rosita from TWD)

Warnings: Flirtation? Cursing? Embarrassment. Some fluff? Pregnancy. Some social media in there. Talk of Cheating... that’s it i think. ALSO ITS NOT PROOF READ.

Word Count: 2.5k(maybe a little more. i forgot now)

Forever Tag: @i-know-i-can

Enjoy.

The first time Rose ever spoke with Daveed, it was back in 2015, she was trying to call her cousin. Yet a male answered the call. Not that Rose even noticed, she went straight into a rant about her delayed flight. Her asshole boyfriend who refused to travel with her and how she was starving.

Of course, after finding out that it was a man named Daveed listening to her rant. Rose listened to him explain that Pip had left her phone at his place after their cast dinner. It was past midnight and Rose was waiting for late flight from L.A to NYC to spend time to her cousin.

The two happily chatted, going on random things. Like the Hamilton show and how much Daveed was really enjoying his part in it. Daveed kindly talked to her until she had to board her plane.

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The second time was when her cousin Phillipa was dragging Rose to a after party after the show. Rose had been fighting with her boyfriend over the phone a few minutes before they had arrived. To say her mood had turned sour was an understatement. She was on break from filming The Walking Dead and just wanted to spend time with her cousin. He didn’t want to join her, his loss. So, as she stood around, a cup in her hand, Rose couldn’t help but roll her eyes and judge the party. Not that meant to do so, she was just in a foul mood.

“Hey! Pip’s cousin!” a voice called out, Rose looking over and raised an eyebrow. “Daveed… we once talked for over an hour on the phone?”

At that she laughed and held out a hand. “Ah, a face to the voice… I’m Rose, or Rosie.” She introduced herself.

“Well it’s nice to finally meet you.” He winked and looked around. “Enjoying the party?”

At the question, Rose pulled a face. “I mean, it’s ok. Feels a little… high school scene.” She admitted. “The red solo cups, tacky music…” she shrugged and looked around. “At least everyone’s having a good time!” She added with a laugh.

“DIGGS!” A voice yelled out from Daveed’s other side. “Dude… where is the food? Also… I might have broken a vase. BUT I cleaned up the mess!”

Rose’s face paled and her jaw dropped. “Wait… it’s your party?” she asked turning to the two men. Cursing under her breath when Daveed nodded, Rose tipped back the drink in her cup before excusing herself.

She could not believe she just bad mouthed the party to the fucking host. God this was not her night.

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By the third time they were talking, after countless teasing from Daveed at the ‘boring’ dinner and ‘horrible’ music the restaurant was playing. Rose ignored him, while the rest of the Hamilton cast were laughing and having a jolly good time.

“Yo, where you going?” Rafael asked when Rose stood up.

She just gave him a pointed look and held up her phone, showing a call was coming through. Turning, making sure she had her ringing phone, Rose walked away from the table.

Standing outside of the restaurant, talking to her boyfriend, more arguing then having a conversation. Rose talked, expressing herself and moving her hand around as they fought.

“Trouble in paradise…” Daveed commented, everyone really trying to ignore the girl outside, not that it was easy. They were seating next to the windows, which gave them perfect view of Rose.

“Not that it’s anyone’s concern… her boyfriend is an asshole who didn’t want her to come visit.” Phillipa glanced at everyone and went back to talk with Jasmine.

When the girl came back to the table, her eyed, red and slightly puffy from crying. She picked up her purse and put down money. “I gotta go… I’m sorry.”

With that, she didn’t wait for anyone to stop her. She turned and rushed out.

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Being busy with the show, comic con and interviews. Rose was finally getting time off. The year was 2016 when the two ran into each other. The two being in Miami, while one was on a break, the other was simply just on her day off from Comic Con and photoshoots.

Walking the beach, wearing a one-piece black bathing suit that showed off all of her back. Rose was enjoying her time away from her cast mates. She loved everyone she worked with, yet these little moments when she could just breath and he herself. It was what she preferred.

“Rose?” a strange, yet very familiar voice called out. Causing the dark-haired girl to turn and be shocked to see Daveed standing there.

Shirtless.

In just swim trunks.

Damn

“Hey! What brings you here to Miami?” she asked, a small smile on her face.

“My group is doing some shows here…” he chuckled. “I’m just enjoying the sun and almost deserted beach.”

Nodding, Rose looked around before facing the ocean. “It is nice when almost no one is around, huh?”

“What are you doing here?”

Turning back to face the man, Rose chuckled. “Uh, work… This is my day off. Tomorrow I’m back at comic con and interviews about the new upcoming season.” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh true… I’ve been watching that. The ending of season six… that was fucked up.” Daveed grinned and raised an eyebrow, nudging Rose softly. “Come on… give up some spoilers?”

Laughing and nudging him back, Rose shook her head. “No can do.” She laughed, the two giving the other a small smile.

Spending the rest of the day together, Rose snapping photos for Daveed to post. Only for him to do the same for her, he snapped various photos, some without her knowing.

Rose had a good day; she had planned on spending it alone. To clear her head from her idiot ex, yet by nightfall, as she got back to her hotel room, after having dinner with Daveed. Rose realized she didn’t think about Mark once the whole time she was out.

Grabbing her phone, she found Daveed’s number and clicked on it to send a message.

Rosie: ‘Thanks for today. I hope you have a great show. I’ll have to try and make it to one of your shows before leaving!’ D. Diggs: ‘Tell me which night your free and I’ll arrange it for you!’ Rosie: ‘Will you also arrange the menu, the venue, the seating?’

Giggling at her little Thomas Jefferson jab, she started to take off her makeup waiting for a reply. When her phone dinged. She picked it up and giggled.

D. Diggs: ‘You think you cute or something?’ Rosie: ‘Oh, I think I’m adorable! 😉’

When she didn’t hear back from him, she went and got ready for bed after posting a photo pn twitter.

Her phone going off hours later with a new text, yet Rose was already fast asleep.

She was sad when the opportunity to go see Daveed with his group never came. Though she tried to get a night off. She wasn’t able too. Something Daveed luckily understood. Not that either party were particularly happy with it.

Rosie: ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it to your show… ☹’ D. Diggs: ‘I understand. You’re a busy gal.’

Getting on the plane with her castmates, Rose sighed and fixed herself on the seat and fell asleep.

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2017. A year in which Rose didn’t see anyone other than her castmates and boyfriend. Going as far as changing her number to stop all the fighting she was having with Mark. He hated that she was texting Daveed. So, she did everything to not talk to him anymore. No matter how much she missed the man.

By the end of 2017, things were going so horrible that Rose couldn’t take it anymore. She was in the middle of packing her bags while Phillipa was waiting in the living room for her.

“I can’t believe you would do this!” she yelled at Mark, fed up with all the lying and cheating. “After everything I did for you. Fuck. You!” she snapped, pulling on her coat and grabbing the four bags she had packed.

“I’ll be sending someone to get the rest of my stuff. You touch one thing that’s mine. I won’t hesitate in going to the cops and charging you with the abuse you put me through.” She hissed, raising an eyebrow at Marks scoff.

“No one will believe a bitch like you.”

Grinning, she nodded slowly. “I have proof. Pictures, videos and voice recordings.” She said calmly, “So don’t fucking test me.”

With that said, she turned and stormed out of the room and went downstairs. Her cousin helped her with grabbing two bags, and they left the house.

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Being at the Premiere of Blindspotting, Rose was excited. When Rafael messaged her on Twitter and asked her to be his ‘date’ seeing as he had recently broken up with his girlfriend and didn’t want to go alone. Deciding to go for it, Rose was more than happy to dress up and be one of the first people to see the movie.

At the Premiere, she was on Rafael’s arm, the two talking and having a good time. When they bumped into Daveed, Rose still smiled. Despite the little green monster on her shoulder when she saw him with the gorgeous Emmy Raver-Lampman. The four talked, she allowed them to take pictures with the cast of the movie, even getting pulled into some photos thanks to Rafael.

By the end of the night, both Jasmine and Rose were ready for the after party.

At the party, the girls were dancing, drinking and laughing together. Jasmine telling Rose about how Daveed and Emmy met back during the Hamilton days and they started dating a few days back.

Rose told Jasmine about her ex, the cheating and beatings. The end and how Phillipa went to help her leave. Then the random message Rafael sent to invite her and how the two hit it off. Just as friends,

Not that the night ended like that, after lots of alcohol and light touches, Rose and Rafael ended up sharing a hotel room and bed that night.

The next morning, neither really minded what happened, deciding to keep it up simply for pleasure. Seeing as neither one of them were in a relationship.

There were times, Rose would go visit man, go on tour with him and Daveed, whenever she wasn’t filming. He would come to Georgia to visit her as well. The two hitting it off pretty well. When they decided to end things, around the time Daveed and his girlfriend Emmy split. Magazines always making things up about the two friends, everyone wanting to know if they were dating, or what was going on.

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Rose found herself living in New York. 2019 was starting to look a lot better than she expected, only problem… Rose was pregnant, and Rafael was now dating some pretty model. He knew, of course he knew. So did his girlfriend. They all decided that Rose would keep the baby and split visitations.

The situation was a weird one, not that Rose cared, she was happy, Rafa was happy. Everyone was happy.

On an afternoon walk, she was surprised when she bumped into Rafael, who was waiting for Daveed. Jokingly posting a photo of Rafael on her Instagram, tagging Daveed. The two waited around for the other male. Just walking around and laughing. Rafael buying her a New York pretzel as they waited.

By the time Daveed joined them, the guys kept making her stop to take pictures of them every now and again. Rose rolling her eyes and smile each time.

“Come on… Phillipa is waiting for us to have a late lunch!” Rose linked her arm with the two males, and they headed to the cute deli.

Sitting down, Rose asked for an iced tea and a smoked ham deli sandwich with a side of tator tots. Everyone at the table being quiet and just sitting around after the orders were placed.

“So… we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Daveed asked, glancing around his friends at the table.

“I think I’m gonna call him Dumbo, Jim and Henry…” Rose said, looking behind Daveed, who turned and saw mini statues of elephants on a shelf.

Thankfully that broke the ice and they fell into comfortable talk, mostly about work. When the food came, Rose scrunched up her face when the smell of smoked ham hit her. Covering her mouth, she excused herself and rushed off to the bathroom.

Rafael on her heels, along with Phillipa who went into the bathroom with her.

Daveed’s POV:

Watching Rafael come back, Daveed raised an eyebrow. “She ok?” He asked, obviously worried.

“Hmm?” Rafa raised an eyebrow and lifted his head once he sat down. “Oh… shit man. I didn’t even.” But he trailed off. “Remember how we were kind of seeing each other and broke off a month back cause I met Adrienne?” he looked up at his best friend and slouched back in his seat. “She’s pregnant. I mean, we don’t want to terminate the pregnancy. Adrienne is ok with it, understands that Rose and I were never in love… simply physical between us.”

Daveed rubbed his forehead. “Well… there goes my chance with her.” He mumbled and

Rafael furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward. “What do you mean?” he asked his best friend. “You’ve been with Emmy… That’s why I asked her out man.” He kept his voice down so those around wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah, I know. Why do you think we didn’t work out. She’s a great girl. Talented… but she’s not Rose. I was waiting for y’all to end so I could ask her out.”

“Well, you still can… I mean, if you don’t mind her being pregnant or anything. Won’t be like it’s some strangers kid or anything.” Rafa suggested with a smirk. “She’s a great gal ya know.”

Daveed just sighed and shut up when the girls returned.

“Hey, I asked them to switch your sandwich. Hopefully Roast Beef will be better for you.” Daveed grinned at Rose, noticing the slight blush on her cheeks.

“Aw, thanks Diggs.” She smiled and kissed his cheek before sitting back down. “Don’t worry… I washed my mouth with mouth wash I carry around.” She added making Daveed chuckle.

After everyone ate, Phillipa went to the theater her show was at, Rafa left to head back to the apartment he was sharing with his girlfriend while they are in New York,

Daveed looked at Rose and smiled. “Want to go grab some ice cream?” he asked and offered his arm to the girl, she grinned and nodded, agreeing to go with him.

The rest of the day went nicely, with both Rose and Daveed walking around New York, acting as if they were tourists visiting the city for the first time.

AN: That’s the first chapter. It’s long. the fic itself will only be around 5-6 parts.

Hope you all enjoyed this!

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cavernovs · 3 years

Text

Izara “Kit” Levine

➵ BASICS

NAME: Izara Levine GOES BY: Kit, Iz. AGE / D.O.B: 3rd September, 2098. [ 32 yo ] FACECLAIM: Zoe Kravitz GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis-Female, Bi. HOMETOWN: The Hideout CURRENTLY: Lupis SPECIES: Human Werewolf PACK: Kaelstrom ROLE: Unranked.

➵ TRAITS

POSITIVE: Loyal, Determined, Protective, Humorous. NEGATIVE: Impulsive, Troubled, Detached, Untrusting.

➵ BIOGRAPHY

A single moment has more power than any creature would dare admit; a split second; a mistake; an error of judgement that decides the fate of the next second, and then the next… until there’s no more seconds left.

Until death comes with claws extended and rips the life from a body it claims. There is nothing sanctimonious about it, there is no pleasant drift off into an ocean to be taken by darkness. It is brutal, unforgiving and without mercy. The only comfort that clouds the minds of those prey to their own misdeeds, is the haunting curse of hindsight.

Consider how lucky one must have to be to ever choose their fate, and those who would never see the chance; torn from everything they once new.

That’d be enough to incite their own sharpened teeth of judgement; vengeance that reminds all standing like the untouchable gods they believe to be; an envious and bitter existence… because there are far worst things than death.

There’s always been stories of things that go bump in the night. Often passed down from one generation to the next, real horrors that would sicken the unsuspecting. And what young impressionable child ever expects to hear the chilling tales detailing how monsters stole the lives of lost loved ones? The kind of beasts that send little girls to bed with one eye open and invoke nightmares the moment that eye falls shut.

Because it does only take a moment.

And the difference between those little children and Izara Levine, was that Iz would wake up the next morning.

Not everyone had the blessing of being protected by magical wards, guardians who ensured she was prepared for the never ending war of the species; a childhood without wool over ones eyes. She’d sleep with a blade beneath her pillow, knowledge of exit strategies in every room and made promises she didn’t understand to ensue the continued safety of her people.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid to go to bed every night, that when the doors locked, she’d not scamper through the dark — crawl through those little shortcuts that curious children discovered when their guardians weren’t looking, and find a reason to no longer be scared.

Axel Reyes was her reason.

And he had been since she could write her own name, then later his — and then still when they both signed off papers for hunting parties in the years after.

She was a spirit, always smiling — fuelled by the belief that they were protecting their kind from the creatures of the outside, she did everything she thought was right then. And always the mischievous one sneaking additional crafting supplies onto their exploration parties, roped her best friend Mal into such misdeeds. She had an eye for recycling the things lost to time, and making them anew. Trinkets she could artfully redesign for the young children, another kind of gift for Axel and eventually, on a larger scale, structurally adjustments to the Hideout.

She liked the carpentry, the paint that clogged up the cracks in her scouting gear. A knife her pallets tool soaked in drying paint, often clamped between teeth as her hands busy away with her makeshift tool belt.

The Kit she was rarely seen without. From art supplies, to crafters tools, to bandages. Izara liked to be prepared for it all — when creativity struck; when the world became a little too much for someone who were forced to enter the outside as a warrior and not an artist.

That was only for within the walls of the Hideout.

Eventually, it became a a running joke “Kit” became her doted name - and emergency response would just be “Get Kit”, and everyone just knew she’d come running.

She came running when Malcolm went reported missing too. Her closest companion, besides Axel - her love, to have been swiped from the safety of the Hideout and lost to the outside. The one that became a vision of the horror stories she’d been told as a child. Thus came the nightmares, the persistence to try do something about the humans ever dwindling numbers.

Axel and Kit had been inseparable, two warriors devoted to the cause; everyone knew.

Just as it became obvious that Izara and Axel were not sharing a bed because she was avoiding nightmares anymore.

They were good; a team, had secrets between them that would never be voiced to another soul. Bravely fierce in how they pursued love, nobody made her smile quite like Reyes could. Or laugh, or gave her quite the muse to mural the hunters quarters to most of the others’ dismay.

So came the ring.

And so came the downfall of it all.

The mistake.

A miscalculation, a strategist’s error that put Izara and her team of six others in the hunting party when she pursued a lead on Malcolm that put her in the midst of a wolves den. Like cattle wandering into the wrong direction - a misread of a map that sent them six miles Souther than intended. It hadn’t crossed their minds then, not until the first cry for help came.

She remembered dropping her gear, knows she ran to help, fingers in her tool kit for some concoction from a scientist to get their scent away. Anything that’d get them out of there unscathed. But too many moments late.

Limbs look fake when they’re detached from a torso, surreal like a dark painting one couldn’t stop looking at; morbid curiosity to most of humanity. Izara couldn’t outrun wolves if she dared tried, and fighting them was equally as futile considering their numbers.

She wasn’t supposed to survive, she knew that.

Whilst the pain that tore through her backside and shoulder made her throat hoarse from screaming. There was nobody who’d come to her aid. And it might’ve been a whole day of clawing injured body through mud and grime before a miracle came; a scout from another raiding group found her delirious, with an impossible fever.

They thought she would die from that if not from blood loss or an infection from untreated wounds. When they realised why she was fighting so hard and that she had the potential to live through a transformation, she was suddenly an enemy of her own. Contained like an animal who might go feral.

“Don’t let Axel see.”

The only thing more painful than a wolves canines leaving her scarred and infected, was when Reyes did see.

And when he let her go.

She’s haunted by that night, plagued with memories that remind her of what she’s lost almost a decade ago. Forced into a new life in a world she grew up determined to eradicate - an irony that angers the beast inside her.

She’d had to become something she always told herself she hated. Join the ranks of a new system she barely understood, got on a first name basis’ with creatures she never considered would ever have a damn name. Left her wondering if she’d been wrong all those years ago to be a careless killer.

She still remained to be one, but with a savagery she had little choice in.

Kit remains a crafter, found odd jobs across the state for businesses that required something that only art could capture - she still believed magic couldn’t recreate real creativity. She started smiling again, albeit, formed from a broken place.

But she never aired where she came from if she could help it, a new fear that despite how near a decade of adjustment had treated her with as much kindness as a slow falling sledgehammer. Kit wasn’t about to trust them with any of it.

She’d always been a survivor, but she refuses to be defined only as a victim of a tragedy.

➵ CONNECTIONS

AXEL REYES / Human / Ex-Fiancé. MALCOLM DEVEROUX DAVENPORT / Human Vampire / Best Friend [Thinks he’s dead.] LUCKY JONES ADAMS / Human / Friend & Liason

➵ ADDITIONAL

Bit of a rag-tag-esque approach to everything and anything.

Axel let her go free from the Hideout after she was bitten six years ago with the promise that he would kill her if he ever saw her again. Three of those years she was considered lone, struggling to trust or integrate into the supernatural world and made few allies that eventually assisted her with what would be the following three years more pack friendly and ready.

Kit wears her engagement ring on a chain around her neck because she’s a sentimental little bean.

Does have the Kaelstrom tattoo on her arm, but it took her a while to get there.

Free spirited, attempts to humanise where she can and finds it difficult to view all supes as friendly as the few she’s grown closer to.

A little rough around the edges type of gal. An entire list of bad habits she doesn’t think are actually bad habits but are most certainly definitely bad habits.

Handmade Kit at her waist 90% of the time, tools and first aid equipment etc. She’d feel naked without her belt and she has everything in there, she’d swear to it.

Reluctant to befriend anyone on the first encounter; trust issues through the roof; old habits die hard, she might pull a knife first and then get your name.

Hasn’t been in contact directly with the Hideout for nearly a decade. It’s probably all changed since she remembers it, but she low-key treasures those memories and listens for anything through the grapevine that’s happening there. But she’s never tried to go back. Lucky stayed in infrequent contact with her and fed her little updates about those she cares for that she had to leave behind.

Lies to anyone who asked where she came from beyond: lived north, neutral territory and assisted a witch for some time.

Anyone who’d been in or is affiliated with the hideout for over a decade would probably know/recognise her if they saw her on a second glance, maybe.

Will fearlessly street paint anywhere that’ll allow her to without disturbance, she’ll be the Banksy of Calamity, just watch. She signs all her work off as: K. [For Kit.] She isn’t fussed on anonymity, but she wouldn’t want anyone from her old life to turn their attention her way.

➵ WANTED CONNECTIONS [TBA]

THE STRATE-SHIT [0/1] - The idiot of a strategist that sent Kit’s raiding party in the wrong direction and made the supply run a suicide mission. This could be anyone, perhaps they’re no longer in this rank/are no longer in the hideout or have never owned up to their error and are living in denial and bliss. But she knows mofo, she knows.

CANINES AKIMBO [0/1] - The obvious one, the wolf that bit her and massacred her team. Anyone wanna own up to that, would likely be a pack wolf opposed to a rogue as it’s a lot of damage to do for a singular wolf. But perhaps it was a mix of all since they were just ... wandering southside like deer, psh.

THE INSIDER [0/1] - Okay, so she ain’t exactly keeping tabs on the Hideout and her ex-lover, but she certainly tried to contact someone she trusted to give her the updates about whether those she loved and cared about are alive and well. But she wouldn’t want anyone to know that she’s doing that, and they probably link up like once in a blue moon with some grumpy ass conversation & likely would have lately told her about Axel’s role of Commander & Damien’s leave.

#calamity.intro #bio

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fletchhargrave · 3 years

Photo

➵ BASICS

NAME: Fletcher Hargrave GOES BY: Fletcher, Fletch AGE / D.O.B: 29th September, 1991. [33 yo] FACECLAIM: Max Thieriot GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis-m, hetero. HOMETOWN: Westminster, London, England. CURRENTLY: NYC. AFFILIATION: None. JOB POSITION: Mercenary / Gun for Hire / Private Sector. EDUCATION: Secondary Education, Military. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. CHILDREN: None.

[ TRIGGERS: DEATH, PTSD, WAR. ]

➵ TRAITS

POSITIVE: Resilient, Humourful, Patient and Endearing. NEGATIVE: Unethical, Volatile, Vitriolic and Promiscuous.

➵ BIOGRAPHY

Oblivion; the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one.

If Fletcher Hargrave ever whispered the word, show gratitude; be thankful to the sweet abyss when it comes knocking; stay ignorant to the darkness for it likely meant death would be kind, maybe even painless.

If he didn’t, better beg he does.

Westminster, London, birthplace of the youngest Hargrave and for almost two decades; also home. Coddled by parents who couldn’t do enough for him and his three siblings, Fletcher had it easy; a pleasant ride through childhood, they say. Everything provided on a lavish silver platter and yet, nothing they did could satisfy a young man’s growing hunger for more.

He was not the philanthropist like his eldest brother, nor was he a flourishing artist like his sister. Fletcher’s always been the one coming home each day with a new scar on his face; a new story of barbarianism to tell; a mischievous grin that scared his family just that little bit too much.

What suited a boy who wanted adventures outside the renowned walls of the Hargrave Manor, was war, and Fletcher learned very quickly upon enrolling in the British Military that he was good at it, it suited him.

The frontlines became his new home and touring was something he could claim as his own above his family - if he ever wanted to. There was no heroism in it for him; no seal of approval for serving his country, Hargrave was just that little bit volatile; if it were permitted, it’d say on his discharge forms that perhaps from birth he’d been afflicted with such virulence.

After seven years of service - lucky number seven, he calls it. Numerous bloody and brutal stories captured beneath his belt; array of new scars for his collection, Fletcher Hargrave was medically discharged from the Special Forces. An undercover operation in Iraq had become merciless - fatal for all the other four members of his team, none of which were recovered from the op. Fletch was the only man to return and upon debrief, he was arrested.

The circumstances of the deaths of Special Ops team remain unknown on any Military paperwork, much like the name of the soldier that played spy that day; if Fletcher ever found them, he’d be sure to introduce them to oblivion, if they were lucky. Without solid proof, documents, or evidence that Hargrave was responsible for any calamities, they could not incarcerate him. His discharge was the consequence; under medically unfit for deployment.

That spurred another kind of unpredictable rage to boil underneath his skin. Civilian life seemed a new impossibility for a man so good at breaking bones.

Coming home to Westminster, he found his home in a state of disrepair; his family suffering some major financial ruin. Fletcher only served to fuel their distress; the state of him and what he’d become over the last seven years was not a recognisable man. It was found that his siblings had moved on to other places, his brother to New York and his sister travelling Europe for her art.

He wasn’t welcome to even a broken shell of a family.

Where he was favoured was away from the place that seemed more enemy territory to him now than home. That was how he ended up on the phone to his brother, Lawrence, for information on independent contracting. It was only reluctantly that Fletcher found a temporary reprise in New York playing Mercenary with some assistance from some of his contacts from the Army.

That paid for necessities, everything else that came with swift, precise hits was Hargrave’s thirst for being in his element; he relished in spilt blood and lived for the contracts he was given. Lawrie soon learned his brother was long past able to play civilian on the long term and before long, Hargrave had earned the wrong king of attention; the kind that Fletch would thrive in.

New York, as it turned out was a monopoly for a reason; his brother was trying to make a business; being a benefactor amongst the high players, and Fletcher was a mercenary in a city that already had streets red with blood. It was an accident really, Lawrence had pointed in the direction, muttered a few things to certain individuals; some dangerous clientele that he’d been in the thick of dealings with and before long, Fletcher Hargrave was a name carried through the winds of NYC.

Lawrence was the only reason Fletcher’s name wasn’t in the mouths of those who couldn’t be paid off. And during that time, the jobs he picked up; he made sure to be more adaptable to the less familiar city - became that ghost once again. Given purpose; an outlet for the skills he’d mastered over the years, he maimed, mutilated and murdered in cold blood without attachment. He didn’t half mind reaping the benefits NYC offered either, the status, the towns high life; the women and above all, the freedom to let his desires run reckless.

Fletch doesn’t necessarily have a method; is more virulent of late; more aggressive in all the ways since being a civ has him a little at a loose end; but he’s always known how to conduct chaos and bring blood to the streets - he’ll clean it up before any living eyes catch sight of it; like a ghost; death is his game; the angel of oblivion.

➵ HEADCANONS

Fletch joined the Army at seventeen and was dishonourably discharged at twenty-six.

Enjoys literature, usually something dark and gritty to get himself out of his own head for a few hours (ironically); it’s a twisted place no book may compare.

Book Club is VIP only.

He is not in the best standing with his parents and does not contribute to helping their financial situation - his brother, Lawrence does.

On good terms-ish, with his brother since his discharge and over the years they’ve been in New York together, Fletch considers him an ally and usually is the one keeping the guy out of trouble/afloat in some cases. Though, Fletcher will deny that.

Hasn’t spoken to his sister in over a decade; they text once in a blue moon; mutually uninterested.

Has been in New York City for six years and utilities his military contacts to pick up merc jobs and works the role as hitman in the city.

Served two tours, ‘nam and Iraq. Then, further operations as special forces.

Hargrave is combat trained and well equipped for confrontation; likes it a little too much, those bar rights? He’s there. Weapons adept and utilises this for his work.

Likes knives and hand-to-hand combat.

Will stab you. Will shoot you. Will probably fuck you too. Order varies.

Is remarkably unforgiving in his manner and with people, he doesn’t often do second chances - the dead can’t be redeemed, or speak.

Definitely denies the mountains of PTSD he has and will ignore it with every fibre of his being.

He’s a terrible person. Truly. He is.

Has a little bit of a masochist complex.

Will drink you under the table.

Oh yes, he does as of 2021 now wear an eyepatch over his left eye because there’s definitely not an ongoing vendetta with a certain someone.

He has a crassly carved M on the left side of his throat where a psycho got one-up on him in a fight. Fletcher will say he didn’t lose, but he definitely did.

Hates the cops. No surprise. Sort-of had a best friend of a cop once.

➵ CONNECTIONS

RUTH HARGRAVE | Mother, Westiminster. England. ETHAN HARGRAVE | Father, Westminster, England. LAWRENCE HARGRAVE | Older Brother, NYC. FLORENCE HARGRAVE | Older Sister, Normandy, France. LEE MALKOVICH | Nemesis, Eyeball Eater Taker, NYC. MATHIAS MALKOVICH | The guy Fletch will kill for leaving an M scar on his throat, NYC.

#ꜰɪʀᴇ / * ꜰʟᴇᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

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mrsgaryrennell · 4 years

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Love Island the Game: S3 MC Tag 🔥❤️🌴 👀

I’ve been tagged by the always wonderful @garyrennell, thank you sis 😌 you’re amazing. We’ll be elaborating a little bit more on our MCs for this year. My love for Chloe from S2 will forever remain but I’m definitely gonna have lots of fun with this new MC haha

Full Name: Scarlett Sinclair

Hometown: Northampton

Age: 24 years old

Star Sign: Leo

Occupation: Model stealin yo man and money 💀

Sexuality: Straight

Nationality: Unknown

Languages: English, Spanish, German, Russian, and Korean

Important Personality Traits: Overly ambitious, cunning, very sarcastic, highest elf-esteem ever, very seductive when she wants to get what she wants. An extremely direct person and will tell you if she doesn’t like you.

Hidden Talents: She’s very convincing and a heartbreaker 👀

MC’s family/backstory: She was an orphan, never got adopted and grew bitter to have never received a family. After she reached a young adult age, she decided to expand her higher education. Scarlett was always a very intelligent girl and went to school for business. Ambition has gotten the better of her and while she is a well-educated woman, she stuck with modeling since it’s become more successful for her career.

Style: Scarlett is very fashionable because of her modeling career. So she can be very glamorous and can pull off anything: from high end clothing to very casual attire.

Celebrity Crushes: Ewan McGregor, Chris Evans, Christian Bale, Charlie Hunnam

Favorite drink (alcoholic and non-alcoholic): Alcoholic - The white lady. Non-alcoholic - black coffee, hot or iced.

Favorite TV show/Movie: TV Show - Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Movie - Inception

Favorite Dish: Greek, all of it lol

Favorite Vacation Spot: Bora Bora

Ideal Date: A high-end restaurant in front of an exclusive beach.

Her Inspiration: Herself and Satan 💀 I’m serious you guys, you don’t wanna mess with her. She’s deadly

Best Friend: Seb 💔

Current Victim Love Interest: Bill 💀since no one interested me, I’m trying an experiment and see how much of Gary they copied 😑but Scarlett already has two other boys in a puddle 😏

MC FaceClaim: Angelique Boyer

This was super fun omg and I will be tagging @smaiihands, @richhdesire 👀

#love island game #love island the game #litg #love island game season 3 omg #you will either love or hate scarlett 💀#what have I done lol

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priorireverte · 3 years

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Congratulations Emily!

Your application for George Weasley has been accepted. I feel like George is often a character who gets overlooked, or reduced to ‘twin and prankster’. You have definitely not done that, adding so much more to him in a realistic way that a war would. I’m very excited to have him around!

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Emily, She/Her

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I am currently searching for a job, but that does leave me with some time on my hands for rping purposes! Trying to keep myself busy in a multitude of ways when the world is not helping y'know </3

ANYTHING ELSE: TW: rape, sexual assault

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: George Weasley

BIRTHDATE: April 1, 1978

DEATHDATE: N/A

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: George identifies as a cis-man and uses he/him pronouns. He is fairly comfortable with these. George is hetero-romantic and asexual, although I would not say this is a term he understands or would use for himself. Whenever his friends would talk about their partners sexually, George would play along with the others, but definitely would look to change the subject as soon as humanly possible. It is simply not something he can comprehend about himself and he does best ignoring feelings that he may not yet understand. The only person he has ever even mildly revealed this to would be Fred, but George was not comfortable going into any major detail in regards to how he felt. At most it was an offhand comment here or there.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

OCCUPATION: Shop Owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes

FACECLAIM: I think I am going back and forth on this and I am also terrible at these—I believe I was debating between Caleb Landry Jones or Luke Newberry. But I think I finally decided to go with Caleb!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They also say that time heals all wounds. George has found out that hard way that this is all a load of rubbish. What they don’t tell you about losing the most important person in your life is that you never fully stop grieving. You can’t heal. Because healing involves forgetting. A bouquet of flowers from his great aunt was nice, but it’s not going to make George forget and it’s not going to bring Fred back. And George has no idea how to keep plants alive, anyway.

It seems like most others have been able to move on; start families, or careers, but George can’t seem to get past it, and he forces himself to deal with his loss head on every day by working day in and day out at that store that haunts him. He sees Fred in everything; from the letterhead on his desk that still reads “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Proprieters Fred and George Weasley”; to the kids who come in and test the screaming yo-yo’s in front of him; or the mirror in the bathroom that is for employees only. He has buried himself in his work post the war, and quite literally expects to be buried in it.

While George will never fully get over the loss of his twin, he has since stopped having panic attacks in the bathroom and got a haircut, which he considers major progress. It has also helped that he has finally taken Ron up on his offer to help run the shop, which he realized he needed a long time ago, as the bills have piled up from all his discounts. [Happy to redact if Ron’s mun decides they don’t want to follow this plot!] He still snaps at his family more than he would like, but they know how suffocating they can be.

The news of the Returned may have been the happiest anyone had seen George in years. He cracked a joke and even went out of his way to visit his siblings, instead of making them come to him. To Hell with adjusting to his new life, he was ready. It seemed clear to him that those who died valiantly in the Battle of Hogwarts were returning—After all, if people like Professor Lupin and Lavender Brown were coming back, it was only a matter of time until Fred did too, right?

PERSONALITY: What are they good at? What do they struggle with? What are their strengths and weaknesses?

Boys as loud as their hair, is what George heard Filch say about him and his brother once, and it lit up his face with a wide bright grin before he tapped Fred excitedly on the shoulder to share the good news. It was this unbridled optimism, this impractical belief that he could do anything that gave him the confidence and courage to follow his dreams. That, and having a partner by his side.

George was easy to get along with, because for most of his life his decisions had been made for him and all he had to do was saddle up and play along. Fred was always the one setting the wheels in motion, and George was grateful for that. He wasn’t shy by any means, but people just flocked to Fred, and by association George. They were known to light up any room they were in, and were always the first to enliven a crowd if it was too dreary for their liking. He liked having the same friends as his brother. He liked being a package deal. He knew Fred would always have his back so when he felt like he wanted to retreat, he knew Fred could carry a conversation or sort something in the shop without him.

Perhaps that’s why it’s been so hard for George to adjust to life on his own. Now all of that pressure falls on him and it feels overwhelming. He was never the business-savvy brother, leaving Fred to come up with price points while he worked on ideas for new products.

Now, it feels like half of himself is gone. Sometimes he feels like a body walking around and smiling because that’s what people are supposed to do, but the joy just isn’t there. The smiles are artificial now. He is trying, but few things can bring back that spark that his twin so easily transferred over to him.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: What was being part of their family like? How did they grow up? What values did their parents/family instill in them?

His parents instilled in him and all his siblings a love and joy greater than most, and George was grateful for that. The Weasley’s weren’t well off by any means, but that only bubbled the creativity in the twins, especially when it came to ways to cure their boredom. He remembers fond birthdays he shared with Fred where they made their own cake scream or spent an entire afternoon perfecting exploding snaps in their bedroom, much to the dismay of their parents. The Burrow was unkempt and chaotic, but George loved it, squeaky floorboards and all.

He hasn’t been back in years, purposefully choosing to close himself off from that space. He knows his mother isn’t happy with his choice and that guilt eats him up inside, but that shrinking feeling in his heart is better than the burning feeling he would get of seeing his brother’s hand on that clock. Still, George loves his family endlessly, even if he hasn’t done a very good job of showing it these last couple of years.

HISTORY: What was their life before the end of the war in ‘98 or before their death? What was important and formative for them?

There was a time when George thought that the worst thing that could happen to him was having to de-gnome the garden after flying a car underage. Then there was a time he thought the worst thing that could happen to him was losing an ear. George and his siblings grew up in a loving, but shabby home. He loved his siblings and knew they loved him, even if he and his twin brother were always pranking them. They were carefree, and they had each other.

Fred was the one who first suggested the two go into business, and George was always the first to agree with his big brother. It felt like a dream, leaving the drudges of school behind and spending all day doing what he loved with the person he cared about most. They never fought. They had been a well-oiled machine since birth, so it only made sense that their business ran smoothly. The one knew where the others’ strengths and weaknesses lied. Fred was better at bargaining and he didn’t care what color the walls were, like George did. Growing up did not seem like growing up, because he had a partner by his side.

George was the one who first brought up going back to Hogwarts. Given their proximity to the Order of the Phoenix and Harry, fighting alongside them was their only option. Additionally, George felt they owed Harry for helping them start their business in the first place. He will always believe that the cause they fought for was noble and right, but he sometimes wonders if the victory was worth the loss. He doesn’t spend much time with folks of his past. George doesn’t want to, but a piece of him resents Harry. He would never tell anyone, but he wonders if they hadn’t gotten so close, felt it was necessary to fight alongside him, if Fred would still be here. He wonders If he wouldn’t fall asleep alone at his desk every night curled into a ball; he wonders if he would ever make a new product instead of staring, detached at the efforts that just remind him of his brother.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I feel like finding a post-war trio era rp with a unique plot that is also para-based is me asking for too much, and yet here you are!! I have never explored Post-War George and I think his trauma is so fascinating and it could affect his life in so many different ways, as it already has. The addition of the Returned is asking for more ~angst~ and boy am I here for it :) In particular, I am interested in exploring the dynamics George has with his siblings especially, as I am sure some of them have very different reactions to him kind of closing himself off for a bit, and his guilt is obviously through the roof because of it. But also all characters tbh!!! I love for plotting out entirely too much backstory haha.

ANYTHING ELSE? I made a mood board for George here! https://www.pinterest.com/ebateman64/ch-george-weasley/

And also some head canons!:

George has a hard time sleeping (he always has) but he actually enjoys sleeping in his office. The papers piled high, the Pygmy Puffs that squeak at night–the clutter and chaos actually feel like the most stable thing he has had in a long time. Immediately following the war, George stayed at the Burrow for a few weeks to be closer to his family, using it as an excuse to get any leftover stock that might still be in his childhood bedroom. But it was too troubling to sleep in that room. It was bare-boned, not only because he had taken most of his belongings, but because one of the beds was empty. After the first night, he slept on the couch in the living room instead.

While he barely feels the loss of his left ear these days, occasionally there is a ringing sound that fills his head and gives him migraines from the pain, major enough that he needs to lie down. This only happens occasionally, and he usually chooses to push through it by clasping his hand to his ear for a few minutes.

George actually used to care quite deeply about his appearance, however, that has definitely gone downhill in recent years. Some could say he is going to a “rugged” look, but it’s really just because he can’t be bothered to wash his hair. In the last couple of weeks, however, he has donned the old suit that he used to wear to work everyday. He can’t fill it out like he used to, but it gives him some semblance of hope.

#prioriacceptance #george weasley

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