#Blacksmith has some old burns because his job is dangerous but he loves his work

[tanunigans]

Back to it ! Only 48 hours away from my tablet and I felt like I was going mad-

Blacksmith and Reporter !

[hawkbucks]

It’s AUnytime which means I finally have an excuse to post a myriad of AU’s. Dragon Age!AU because I said so and also because the 4th game is coming out and I’m very, very excited for it, I love Dragon Age so much, thanks. Also: ROGUE 4 LIFE.

Idk when this takes place, so please do not ask me hgfjdksl I’m inclined to say after Inquisition but we all know how nothing is really set in stone with me so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Do not ask me where this takes place either, because I also don’t know. Ferelden? The Free Marches? Orlais? Nevarra? Who knows, because I certainly don’t. I said that but teyrn is a specifically Fereldan term, so they’re in Ferelden, I GUESS. Let’s pretend that Kinloch is… better (which would probably put this after Origins and sometime before Inquisition or… god, I should stop).

Anyway, basic stuuuuuuuff:

Anthony is the son of the influential teyrn Howard Stark. He comes into his magic at the age of 8 when he burns–and scars–a young Tiberius Stone after Tiberius kept harassing him. All his life, he’s grown up hearing about the dangers of magic: it’s a punishment bestowed by the Maker upon mankind for their ambition and greed. Wielders of magic are usually taken from their families when their powers manifest and brought to schools called Circles. Anthony, scared of both the implications of being imbued with magic and the very real threat of being separated from his family, flees.

‘Course, he’s 8 so he doesn’t get very far. They find him in a wheat field, scorched earth forming a circle around him. Maria begs H*ward to keep Anthony with them. She’ll find a teacher, pay them well, just please don’t let them take Anthony away. H*ward doesn’t really give a shit, though. Mage children cannot inherit land or fortune, so what’s the point of keeping Anthony? Plus, he’d be accused of nepotism and his reputation would go down the chamberpot.

He lets the Templars take Anthony away. It’s a shame, really. Anthony  has shown great prowess with an anvil and a pair of blacksmithing tools, and Howard has no doubt that Tony’s natural charisma would’ve been a great help in the court of Thedosian politics. The only thing they allow him to bring is a plush mabari that his mother bought for him when he was a wee bit younger (he named it “Dummy” and he’s refused to part with it ever). There are tears, yes, quite a bit of them. When Maria pulls away, her entire shoulder is soaked, but there really is nothing that she can do. As much as she hates H*ward’s decision, she also knew it was the only way Anthony could stay safe.

It is in the Circle that he meets one James Rhodes, the child of a fisherman and seamtress from some town near a lake whose name Anthony finds to be somewhat familiar. James is maybe a year or two older than him, and he’s the only one who didn’t scoff at him when he arrived. Plus, he helped get Dummy back from a bunch of other children who wanted to tease the new arrival. He’s also much kinder to Anthony than what Anthony would’ve expected, whether that means James giving Anthony the rest of his broth if he notices that he still looks rather hungry, or James draping another blanket around Anthony’s shoulders if he notices him shivering.

(This is, of course, thanks to the fact that James has been in the Circle for a good amount of time and he knows how crushing it can be to remain alone. In Anthony, he sees this kid who’s confused, scared, just had his blood taken to make a phylactery, and who reminds him so much of how he was like when he first came in, so he tries his best to make it better. He is far, far too young to be acting this old.)

Anthony eventually nicknames James “Rhodey,” and it sticks. However, James only lets Anthony call him that. He, in turn, nicknames Anthony “Tones.” “Tony” for something slightly shorter. They spend pretty much any moment that’s not studying or learning or sleeping with each other.

(Just adding this, but Tony is shown to be adept at Primal magic, particularly fire, while Rhodey has talent in the Force side of things.)

Also, Harrowings! Harrowings are good and not at all traumatizing! Rhodey goes through his first. He’s just sitting there, eating some nice cheese with Tony, and bam! A couple of Templars take him because the enchanters decided he was ready. Thankfully, he’s able to resist the temptation of the demon and exit. Tony, when he sees him again, admits to nearly crying because he’s heard of the Harrowing—even if he doesn’t know what it specifically entails—and he was worried for Rhodey.

When Tony is taken for his Harrowing, Rhodey just prays to the Maker that he doesn’t find his best friend Tranquil or worse: with a sword driven through his body. But it’s all good. Tony comes back.

The Templars are hardasses, and some are just downright creepy, but thankfully none of them try to antagonize Tony or Rhodey.

I do want to have Pepper in this, but I was thinking of introducing her by having Tony and Rhodey eventually leave the Circle [whether through egress or me backtracking on my previous statement of not knowing when this takes place and having it be when the Breach appears in the sky and it All Goes To Hell therefore giving Tony and Rhodey a better chance to leave and not be found out] and coming across her humble little farm. She’d be older than they are and she’d have a husband, Harold/Happy, and she’d basically take them under her wing. “You’re not put off by the fact that we’re mages?” Rhodey would ask, and she’d shake her head. “Why should I be? You’re human like the rest of us. It just happens that you both are—” she’d look at the both of them up and down, taking in their robes, their silver rings, and the staves strapped to their backs— “more… talented than others.”

As for other characters, I am considering making Steve a Templar. His mother was a devout Chantry goer, and during their trips he’d see them and think they were doing the Maker’s work. Of course, he was a child, so he didn’t really… know about how terrible Templars can be, he just thought they would help protect the mages from people that wished them harm and from themselves if need be.

The only thing about him being a Templar is that I cannot see him putting aside his morals to blindly trust the command of a superior. He can’t be that emotionally rigid. “A Templar’s obedience to the Chantry is more important than their moral center.” “Bullshit,” Steven Grant Rogers replies, throwing his sword down on the ground.

If he were to be a Templar, he’d be one of those Templars that does not stand for any other Templar’s shenanigans. He calls out everyone and anyone, whether they be a lowly recruit or the goddamn Knight-Commander. He’s got a mouth; he’s going to use it. (He’s pretty sure there’s a contingent that’s planning his assassination. He wishes them luck, because he’s rather skilled in swordplay.) He’s not going to let them stray from their duty of protecting mages and the outside world.

There’s also lyrium and all that. Which brings me to Bucky. I could also make Bucky a Templar, and… it would make sense, right? A bit? That’s where him and Steve meet, and the both of them have such strong moral compasses that they hit it off almost immediately. It’s like they’re both going “Same hat! Same hat!”

Then, at some point, Bucky leaves to visit his family and he just doesn’t come back. I’m still rough on what happens, but obviously that would be the “Winter Soldier” part of his life where either a) whoever has him drastically increases his lyrium dosage to further heighten his abilities at the expense of horrific lyrium-induced nightmares and episodes of paranoia or b) red lyrium which is infinitely more worse and you know what, nah, I can’t do this to Bucky :(

Natasha is definitely a bard. Full stop. She’s a master in deception, manipulation, espionage, and she knows her way around a blade or two. She also has a delightful singing voice. However, even with the adrenaline rush of a job done right, the thrill of being caught spiking through her veins, she can’t say that she enjoys her job. It’s just that she’s good at it and Orlesian nobles are stacked with royals.

(Another option would be her being an Antivan Crow, because it certainly is as brutal as her backstory, but I just felt like her being a bard suited her better?)

Okay, that’s it for now before this gets too big gjfdkls

[overwatch-imagines-hub]

The Ladies With a Medic S/O:

Anon said: “I loved "the boys with a medic SO" could we get girls with medic SO too please? You're great :)”

Well you’re great too so thank you! vwv Sorry if this is a bit awkwardly written, by the way; I really had to think about the ladies’ perspectives, and towards the end my think tank was a little drained and I kept losing my train of thought. <’D I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Read “The Boys With a Medic S/O:” here!

Tip Jar

~~~

Ana Amari

Loves having a medic s/o

She, and more importantly her teammates, get into trouble much too often

So it’s nice to have someone to call at 3 am with anything from “I burned my finger making tea, come kiss it and make it better” to “Angela’s at the base and Jack just broke a hip trying to jumping from one rooftop to another”

“No, listen, I swear it’s his hip, okay?”

“It’s definitely not his leg or getting shot in the arm, it’s the whole hip.”

“He’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Cue Soldier’s irritated hollering in the background while you snicker and force yourself out of bed

You both know she’s capable of dealing with most of the stuff she calls you about on her own, but “It’s easier with a professional around!”

AKA, every single injury of any caliber is a reason to see and/or smooch each other, so it’s fine

She loves to make cheesy and/or flirty medic jokes

Several medicinal pet names as well

You tease her about her age and health to about the same caliber as she teases Jack about the same things

However, instead of grumbling, she usually turns the teasing back or makes some flirty joke about how you’re welcome to give her a full body exam to make sure her health checks out

She also likes to walk into the med bay unannounced simply to come see you

You’ll be in the middle of a teammate’s checkup and she’ll waltz in, say she was looking for a band-aid, grab one, and then wait outside for you to finish

Ashe

Low-key grateful you’re a medic

With her line of work and mainly being surrounded by fighter robots, she appreciates having a medic around

Now, of course B.O.B. has basic medical skills and she could smooch him too, but it just wouldn’t be the same

For whatever reason, she quite likes making that tease

Anyway, she thinks you being a medic is great and, for the most part, is respectful about it

Makes the occasional medical joke and/or pickup line

Probably didn’t tell you her profession at first because she thought you were too good a person to get involved with her lifestyle

To be completely honest, she probably doesn’t often call you for medic-related things regardless

Whether or not you’re willing to doesn’t mean she wants you to get involved

Has you on call when she knows she’s going on a dangerous heist or other mission though

Doesn’t want to worry you but at the same time knows you’re skilled and trustworthy

Brigitte

Thinks it’s really cool that you’re a medic

Would love to learn some stuff from you

She basic medical skills and knowledge, but having more could never hurt

Plus she loves to learn new useful stuff

So if you’re up for it, she’d love to have you mentor her a bit

Probably treats you like any other medic on the field though

If you’re not the closest one to call, she needs someone with more skill, and/or it’s not an emergency that concerns you (AKA, she’s not the one hurt) then you won’t be the one she calls

Always lets you know when she gets hurt, though, so you can worry over her and nurse her back to health

Low-key loves when you worry over even her slightest injury

Kiss! Her! Scratch! Better!

Super respectful of your work and doesn’t like to interrupt you

However, she has accidentally hurt herself once or twice while blacksmithing, and has ended up waiting for you to finish whatever you’re doing to help her out

D.Va

Also thinks it’s really cool that you’re a medic

You’re smart and skilled and she’s gonna rant and fawn about it forever

Loves to brag about you to people

Likes to hang around you while you do work--not even bothering, just hanging off to the side and watching you--and loves to listen to you talk about it

Seriously, she could listen to you talk about your job, about the tiniest and simplest tasks, for hours

Probably picks up a thing or two from listening and watching so much

She’ll be on the field and someone will get hurt and she’ll just start spewing instructions

Afterwards it’ll take her a second to realize what she did and she’ll be like “Wait, what? Cool!”

Then chirps about it to you later

“Baaaaaabe, I talked about some of your stuff today! Perks of having a medic partner, huh?”

You’re the first person she thinks to call in most serious positions

She knows you can get pretty busy, though, so she also has a backup plan

CoughMercyCough

Mei

Doesn’t think a whole lot of it other than she appreciates another smart/nerdy mind to talk to

Y’all just talk at each each other, her about science and you about your own practices

Some things overlap, so that’s fun

Both of you picking up bits of the other person’s knowledge from talking about such things so often

Essentially nerding out about smart things together

Often calls you with medical questions when she comes up with them or finds herself in a situation where she may need the information

More often than not these questions result in a concerned you asking if she’s currently in the situation she’s describing

More often than not she says no

Roughly 30% she means it

Mercy

Appreciates the fact that she’s dating someone who understands what she’s going through most of the time

It’s nice to not have to explain everything in micro-details

Both of you being cute but also professional at work

Like you both focus on getting work done and are serious when needed

But also your desks face each other, you share each other’s work and food during lunch/break, and there’s a no PDA rule but y’all smooch and hold pinkies anyway and no one’s really mad about it because aww

Flirting in medical terms

Teasing in medical professional

The occasional medic pun

If one of you gets done with work before the other, you wait for the other to get done

You’ll wait for hours if you have to

Either piddling around or helping the other get their work done faster if you can

Going home together and just fuckin’ crashing

One of you flops on the couch while the other goes and heats up leftovers or orders food

Sitting together watching bad late-night/early-morning TV (depending on the time you get home) while ranting about your days

Angela complains about McCree a l o t

But also very lovingly talks about Fareeha and Ana, and teasingly talks about Jack

Either dragging each other to bed and holding each other up the entire time or falling asleep right there on the couch

Your days off are sparse and don’t line up very often, but when they do, it’s great

They’re either lazy days or date days and they’re always very soft and chill

Moira

Appreciates the like minds but otherwise doesn’t think much of it

When she realizes she likes you, she becomes a little iffy about letting you know about her experiments

If you’re up for it, she’ll probably ask for your input on them

Both to make said experiments a little more humane but also just to be around you more

The two of you don’t get to see each other very often but it’s always nice when you do

Moira’s not much of a PDA person but the only time she smiles (legitimately smiles, not a smirk or sneer) is when you walk into the room

It’s both sweet and terrifying to many of the other Talon members

At work, lunches and the occasional break are mainly the only times the two of you get to see each other

Stopping each other in the hall to talk until someone eventually comes and drags one of you away

Popping in each other’s offices for work things but also just to talk much longer than you’re supposed to stop and talk

Home life is very scattered

Again, neither of you get to see each other too often because Moira often stays at work much later than you can stay up and you often leave for work earlier in the morning

However, the two of you make it work

If you fall asleep on the couch waiting, you’ll wake up in bed snuggled by your girlfriend

You leave good morning notes and make Moira’s favorite coffee before leaving so she doesn’t have to rush her morning as much

Leaving notes for each other in general

Doing almost all of the chores and other at-home tasks together just to catch up and enjoy each other’s company

Days off are cleaning days, but, if you have multiple in a row, the two of you will alternate between cleaning days and chill days

Moira loves to take you out on days off, whether it be to lunch, to shop, to just walk around down, etc

Pharah

She thinks so highly of your work

Like she loves that you’re a doctor

Loves to be by your side off and on the field

She’s kind of become your designated guardian during missions at this point

You being there doesn’t distract her from her own work, but when you have to stop to help and heal teammates she makes a point to be nearby just in case someone tries to attack you

One of her casual pet names for you is Doc

She loves to talk with you about work

She herself has always been passionate about saving and protecting people, so she loves that you share those values

Asks you medical questions pretty often, both when she’s in a situation and not sure what she should do and just when the questions pop into her head

She’s had a decent amount of medical training herself but she picks up quite a bit more knowledge from you

Always pops in when she knows you have free time to make sure things are going well and you’re not overworking yourself or getting overwhelmed

Being a medic comes with its bloody business and she wants to make sure that doesn’t take too much of a toll on you

She stops by especially frequently when you get extremely busy (such as after a particularly difficult mission) or have to work overtime

Brings you snacks and drinks and makes sure you take your breaks

If she’s done with her own work, she’ll probably wait around the compound for you to get done

Always tries to get you relax and de-stress after work, whether that means going out for a cozy late night dinner, going to a funny movie, taking a hot bath, or straight-up flopping onto the couch and laying thre for several hours

Sombra

Before she actually got to know you and the two of you started dating, she probably thought you were kind of a pretentious prick

Similar to her current feelings about Moira

She has a thing against professionals in the medical, scientific, and law fields

Just authority figures in general

Don’t ask her why

Anyway

Doesn’t mind having a medic around considering the situations her teammates get into

Tries to convince you not to worry about herself, though

She’s not usually on the field anyway, and, when she is, she can handle herself

She just really doesn’t want you to be worrying about her

Upgrades all your gear, both your equipment in the med bay and what you wear on the field

Not gonna be having outdated equipment and pieces that might fritz out on her watch

Symmetra

Thinks very highly of your work

She just really appreciates what you do

Tries to make sure you don’t overwork yourself

Ironically, as much as she tries, she’s terrible at doing so for herself

When she notices you getting the slightest bit of tired, she does all in her power to make sure you’ll take a break

Beware

She’s a master negotiator and usually gets what she wants

Both of you just generally moderating each other so neither of you burn out

Sending each other messages at work checking up on each other

You’re both pretty busy but Symmetra’s schedule is usually more flexible

She has that power, being a higher up and all

She likes to pick you up and take you out of the compound during your lunches and breaks

Symmetra just waltzing in the med bay in a gorgeous suit to pick you up for lunch hoob o y

The lady’s quite health-oriented, so she tries to get you out of your hole as often as she can, especially considering some of the darker work you have to attend to

Tracer

Loooooves her smart medic s/o

She finds it super cool that you’re a medic, and is also super proud of you for doing what she considers the hardest part of the job

“All I have to do is run around and shoot things! You have to heal people! And do paperwork!”

She just

Fawns over you a lil bit

Just a little

Not a lot at all

Loves to listen to you talk about work, even though there’s quite a bit she doesn’t totally understand about it

Likes to listen to you rant about the more difficult parts of work as well; it’s good to get that stuff out there rather than tuck it away inside

She’s just a really good listener, honestly

Whenever you come home from a more difficult day at work, she’s prepared to go into comfort mode

Your favorite takeout? Ordered. A hot shower? Prepared. Fluffy pajamas? Sitting out, ready to be worn. Your favorite movies? Rented. Lena’s ears? Ready to listen.

She’s always still asleep by the time you have leave for work, but she’s always somehow awake whenever you get home, whether that be at 7 pm or 3 am

Even on missions, she’ll find out when you get home and make sure to call you and ask about your day

Widowmaker

Doesn’t think a whole lot of you being a medic, to be completely honest

As a lady of her apathetic nature, it’s a neither impressive nor boring detail

She thinks reasonably well of your profession and field, as they are the people saving lives, but that’s about it

She sometimes forgets how gruesome and dark the work can become, however, until you come home one day so emotionally drained from telling a family one of their members will never be coming home

Amelia’s just so used to the rough and gore herself that she doesn’t realize the toll it takes on others until she sees it

Although she’s not the best when it comes to emotional care and she’s a little spacey when it comes to remembering such things, she does her best to help you not become overwhelmed

She doesn’t normally visit you unprompted at work, but if she sees you in the halls or on one of your breaks or something, she’ll come chat

Zarya

She thinks very highly of people who do the more delicate and thoughtful work as opposed to someone just being out in the field

So she’s pretty impressed with you

Despite being the professional lady she is, that facade immediately cracks when the two of you start dating

She doesn’t let such a thing keep her from doing the important stuff, of course

However

She totally does steal you any chance she gets, either on your breaks or hers, to go be mushy

Smooching, giggle, holding hands, all that

If the two of you bump into each other in the hall, she’s tugging you somewhere more secluded to A) ask about your day B) smooch you a lot

If you’re at a meeting together, she’ll sit by you and hold your hand and play with your fingers under the table

Always takes you out to lunch if you both have time

Again, she’s still a very professional lady

She’s just

Also a sap now

If she’s on a mission, she makes sure to call you a couple times a day to make sure you’re doing alright and not overworking yourself

TherewasanotherthingIwasgoingtoputaboutherbeingonamissionbutIjustforgotitson e v e r m i n d

When you’re both on the same mission, she becomes your bodyguard of sorts

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with NIKOLAI BORISOV, who is THIRTY years old. He is often called NICK BOTTOM and is NEUTRAL. They use HE/THEY pronouns.

His story began with a lighter, although it won’t end in the way most are probably inclined to think; he wasn’t a smoker, nor did he particularly enjoy the smell of them—cigarettes, that is, because there was a distinct difference between that of a trashcan fire and a cigarette smolder, and he’d defend such a notion damn near to the death. He was a PECULIAR boy, the sort other children avoided if they could help it, crossing on the opposite side of the street and insisting, for all the world, that they couldn’t come out to play, and so he made his own friends—the ruffians, the troublemakers, and perhaps his most favorites, the ARSONISTS. Nikolai Borisov fell in with the wrong crowd with eyes wide open—waltzed right into hell and had the gall to call it toasty—and there was never any hope for him to do otherwise. The son of a blacksmith and a lady of the night, he’d always seen schooling as something to be endured, not prolonged, and he’d found, at a rather young age, that it didn’t much suit him anyway. There were places to go and things to do that didn’t require a feigned appreciation of the arts, and he intended to explore them, full-throttle. While other children were tucked in at night with dreams of becoming doctors, lawyers, and—for the overly ambitious—astronauts, he roamed the lonely streets of his neighborhood with one mission in mind: to set the world ABLAZE.

And equipped with a worn-down box of matches, a pint of gasoline he’d stolen from his father, and a bag of potato chips he’d plucked from an abandoned school lunch uptown, he would. It kept him up at night, this pursuit of the thing he’d come to love like the brother he’d never had: FIRE, and the rush that came with it, the smoke, and the heat of it in his lungs, the comforting stench of it on his skin, in his hair. It was an addiction of sorts, making things burn, one he indulged in enough to garner first notice, and then alarm. They called it a crime, warned him that if the authorities didn’t catch up to him then karma certainly would, but he merely laughed his same startling, maniacal laugh, for a madman has little to fear from those who don’t understand his craft—the good he has to offer the world. He lived life like he had a secret the world was dying to know, and the condescension and outright hostility he received in return only served to fan the flames of his DETERMINATION. He would do what no one else would, and he would do it well.

The pinnacle of his career as a fireman—which he firmly insisted that he was, only with distinctly different training and an unconventional specialty—was when clients began to value his work half as much as he did, coming forward with cash rewards, first for odd jobs and then for big ones: setting fire to cars, to old houses, to stacks of paper he’d never cared enough to read. He made a life out of what he loved—made ART out of it, and despite a few dangerous brushes with the law, he made a name out of it. Borisov was what they called a warehouse name, uttered under one’s breath and scribbled on scraps of paper left at rendezvous points, and the best and worst part about him—depending solely on who you were—was that he was something of a nomad, always on the move, always looking to show another city just how good it looked in RED. It was on a particularly dull spring morning that he was summoned to Verona—some sort of party that needed a bit of SPARK, and he wasted no time in packing up his few belongings and making his way there, to the city of love, to do what he loved most.

His love affair with fire won’t end well; these things seldom do, but if it’ll make for a good show, he can’t say he’ll mind when it all goes down in flames. To be an arsonist is to be an artist, to play God in ways forbidden, and he revels in it all: the rush, the heat, the fear of one’s own creation rearing its ugly head and striking back. He is Frankenstein: a little mad, a little lonely, a man who dared to dream bigger than anyone else had before; he is ICARUS, flying too close to the sun. He is a wrecking ball, a time bomb, a demolitionist of all this city holds dear. The fall of an empire is but a TIME BOMB, and we live only in the flicker; you’ve been warned.

ISABELLA GAGLIANO: Merriment. So he isn’t telling the truth – a flexible term employed by crucifix wheeling moralists – when he says that he can get her an “in” with the mob and leaves her to be sniffed out by them in a moment of great need. But it’s so amusing to see the way she gets riled up about things that she cares about, how rosy her cheeks get and how her voices rises twelve octaves from one syllable to the next. What makes it even more entertaining is the foolhardy trust she places in him, she believes in his faux name and his faux job description, in his faux genuineness and his faux tragic backstory that seems as if it was whisked straight out of a Greek tragedy. There is a special place in hell for people like him but – to tell the truth – he had thought she was pretty and wanted to impress her. It wasn’t his fault that she was an awful journalist that couldn’t get her facts straight.

THEODORA MOREAU: Hook-up. It was a mistake, but not in the sense that most one night stands tend to be. The truth of the matter was that he was both much bolder and much better-looking when the two of them were drunk, and as such, what came to pass between them was, for lack of a better word, an accident. They would’ve never given him a chance if not for the vodka, and he would’ve had the sense to shoot a bit lower if not for the whiskey. But an arsonist so loves to taunt an old flame, and one of the many things he never learned was when to keep his mouth shut. Here’s to stupid pride.

PAVEL LAM: Bastard. His first impression of the man that he was utterly and completely incompetent, a heathen with a vehement disregard for the blood, sweat, and care that went into the rigging of an elaborate explosive, and Lam has done little to convince him otherwise since. It was as if he’d taken a stroll through a museum with a sledgehammer when he’d tripped—the worst part was that he hadn’t even done it intentionally—over one of Borisov’s wires and lit up an otherwise dark alley three hours too soon, and for all his somewhat good intentions, he can’t bring himself to forgive the man his transgressions. Perhaps he’ll feel better once he sets the man’s hovel ablaze; there are few ills a well-lit fire can’t fix.

CASSIAN BHATT: Pursuit. There’s nothing more romantic than a street rat who had a liquor-induced, motel-fraught one night (it had been a whole day, actually) stand with one of the most influential men of Verona. Since then he has pursued the man whose face appears in news articles time and time again. He has him pursued him for money, for more sex, and – more importantly – for leverage, whenever he gets in a tight spot. He knows that Bhattregrets it as much as he regrets the multiplicity of absinthe shots on that night, but Nikolai can’t help it. Where there’s fire, there’s smoke, and where there’s smoke someone is highly likely to suffocate in some fashion or another. Isn’t that how the saying goes? No? Ah, well.

Nikolai is portrayed by BOYD HOLBROOK and was written by BREE. He is currently OPEN.

[archivesdiveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with NIKOLAI BORISOV, who is THIRTY years old. He is often called NICK BOTTOM and is NEUTRAL.

His story began with a lighter, although it won’t end in the way most are probably inclined to think; he wasn’t a smoker, nor did he particularly enjoy the smell of them—cigarettes, that is, because there was a distinct difference between that of a trashcan fire and a cigarette smolder, and he’d defend such a notion damn near to the death. He was a peculiar boy, the sort other children avoided if they could help it, crossing on the opposite side of the street and insisting, for all the world, that they couldn’t come out to play, and so he made his own friends—the ruffians, the troublemakers, and perhaps his most favorites, the arsonists. Nikolai Borisov fell in with the wrong crowd with eyes wide open—waltzed right into hell and had the gall to call it toasty—and there was never any hope for him to do otherwise. The son of a blacksmith and a lady of the night, he’d always seen schooling as something to be endured, not prolonged, and he’d found, at a rather young age, that it didn’t much suit him anyway. There were places to go and things to do that didn’t require a feigned appreciation of the arts, and he intended to explore them, full-throttle. While other children were tucked in at night with dreams of becoming doctors, lawyers, and—for the overly ambitious—astronauts, he roamed the lonely streets of his neighborhood with one mission in mind: to set the world ablaze.

And equipped with a worn-down box of matches, a pint of gasoline he’d stolen from his father, and a bag of potato chips he’d plucked from an abandoned school lunch uptown, he would. It kept him up at night, this pursuit of the thing he’d come to love like the brother he’d never had: fire, and the rush that came with it, the smoke, and the heat of it in his lungs, the comforting stench of it on his skin, in his hair. It was an addiction of sorts, making things burn, one he indulged in enough to garner first notice, and then alarm. They called it a crime, warned him that if the authorities didn’t catch up to him then karma certainly would, but he merely laughed his same startling, maniacal laugh, for a madman has little to fear from those who don’t understand his craft—the good he has to offer the world. He lived life like he had a secret the world was dying to know, and the condescension and outright hostility he received in return only served to fan the flames of his determination. He would do what no one else would, and he would do it well.

The pinnacle of his career as a fireman—which he firmly insisted that he was, only with distinctly different training and an unconventional specialty—was when clients began to value his work half as much as he did, coming forward with cash rewards, first for odd jobs and then for big ones: setting fire to cars, to old houses, to stacks of paper he’d never cared enough to read. He made a life out of what he loved—made art out of it, and despite a few dangerous brushes with the law, he made a name out of it. Borisov was what they called a warehouse name, uttered under one’s breath and scribbled on scraps of paper left at rendezvous points, and the best and worst part about him—depending solely on who you were—was that he was something of a nomad, always on the move, always looking to show another city just how good it looked in red. It was on a particularly dull spring morning that he was summoned to Verona—some sort of party that needed a bit of spark, and he wasted no time in packing up his few belongings and making his way there, to the city of love, to do what he loved most.

His love affair with fire won’t end well; these things seldom do, but if it’ll make for a good show, he can’t say he’ll mind when it all goes down in flames. To be an arsonist is to be an artist, to play God in ways forbidden, and he revels in it all: the rush, the heat, the fear of one’s own creation rearing its ugly head and striking back. He is Frankenstein: a little mad, a little lonely, a man who dared to dream bigger than anyone else had before; he is Icarus, flying too close to the sun. He is a wrecking ball, a time bomb, a demolitionist of all this city holds dear. The fall of an empire is but a time bomb, and we live only in the flicker; you’ve been warned.

Severine Croft: Contractor. The only thing worse than not being invited to the most prestigious party to hit the streets of Verona in years is being only half-invited, hired to play a part in pulling off the magic but never allowed to lift the veil of secrecy. He thought when he’d accepted the job that he’d been paid to run away to the circus, but Ms. Croft, all smoke and mirrors and red lipstick and demands, seems to have had other plans. He’d like to say that he’s a man largely unbothered, both by her insistence that the circus’s secrets remain that—secrets, and the strange happenings he’s endured in and immediately preceding or following her presence, but he’s never been a terrific liar, nor has he ever had much shame. Let her play ringmaster; you can’t start a fire without a spark.

Theodora Moreau: Hook-up. It was a mistake, but not in the sense that most one night stands tend to be. The truth of the matter was that he was both much bolder and much better-looking when the two of them were drunk, and as such, what came to pass between them was, for lack of a better word, an accident. They would’ve never given him a chance if not for the vodka, and he would’ve had the sense to shoot a bit lower if not for the whiskey. But an arsonist so loves to taunt an old flame, and one of the many things he never learned was when to keep his mouth shut. Here’s to stupid pride.

Pavel Lam: Bastard. His first impression of the man that he was utterly and completely incompetent, a heathen with a vehement disregard for the blood, sweat, and care that went into the rigging of an elaborate explosive, and Lam has done little to convince him otherwise since. It was as if he’d taken a stroll through a museum with a sledgehammer when he’d tripped—the worst part was that he hadn’t even done it intentionally—over one of Borisov’s wires and lit up an otherwise dark alley three hours too soon, and for all his somewhat good intentions, he can’t bring himself to forgive the man his transgressions. Perhaps he’ll feel better once he sets the man’s hovel ablaze; there are few ills a well-lit fire can’t fix.

Nikolai is portrayed by SEBASTIAN STAN. He is currently OPEN FOR AUDITIONS.