#Marselin

[metbuat]

Prezident açıqladı

“Olimpik Marsel”in prezidenti Pablo Lonqoriya “Mançester Yunayted”in hücumçusu Kriştianu Ronaldunu transfer edəcəkləri ilə bağlı yayılan xəbərlərə aydınlıq gətirib. Metbuat.org xəbər verir ki, “RMC Sport” onun dediklərini belə çatdırıb: “Kriştianu Ronaldu? Biz büdcəmizə uyğun heyət formalaşdırmalı, sabitliyi qorumalı və daha yaxşı olmağa can atmalıyıq. Ronaldu kimi böyük ulduzları transfer etmək…

[lightchayok]

[hskart]

My favorite girls. ^^^^ Yes, yes, it's the sketchbook drawing again. (Fionna was here, nooooo...).

[b0lyachka]

She is so..

[lampyr1s]

Well, that’s the end of pride month.

I think I should drop some arts :3

[khijenn]

[vseshlo]

its an old piece, i redraw it a bit because im so excited about fiona and cake

[marsselines]

JOB’S HOUSE.

AND THE LORD SAID TO SATAN, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED MY SERVANT JOB, THAT THERE IS NONE LIKE HIM ON THE EARTH, A BLAMELESS AND UPRIGHT MAN, WHO FEARS GOD AND TURNS AWAY FROM EVIL?

in the winter of 2015, a christmas mass took place inside what used to be “laura’s diner”. the abandoned building, just a few minutes walk from the grant teton mall, was hollowed out and redecorated, in what was the combination of over a year of work. in the makeshift pulpit was a woman many in the community had met before. some knew her from before the infection, as a vocal community member handing leaflets upon entrance of the church. some knew her from the very first few months, making the dangerous trek to the same church as before, now hosting moments of silent prayer for those left outside the quickly rising qz walls, some knew her from the preaching she did inside her living quarters, once the church was occupied by fedra for storage. in that christmas, a goal was reached. 

the pews were stolen from abandoned churches. the space was small, but fit many. quickly, the empty corners started piling up in boxes, labeled containers, bookshelves too. during events, the pews were leaned against the walls and tables took their place, or even empty space for dancing and mingling. the windows were not boarded up, but the door quickly gained a thick lock. where a menu used to be, was a cross. 

job’s house, as it was both known in the community and self-referred as by marseline well, was inspired by that very biblical lesson - it is a place of gratefulness, humility and perseverance. the world has ended, but the mission to god never ends, and they shall overcome this suffering. marseline well preached that all the time. but it was not just faith that lead to job’s house. community aid was a component from the very beginning. clothes are mended and traded back and forth. the bookshelves are accessible to the community. a few days a week, young children may come in to learn how to read, write, and religious studies. once a month, from the first month onward, devotees reunite spared resources and make a community meal. the children put on plays during christmas, and birthdays, baptisms, weddings and funerals take place inside those walls. 

when alexei volkov’s uprising took place, the church became even more secure in the community, due to marseline’s daughter-in-law’s position as an enforcer, and the amount of other high ranking people who frequent it. after all, soldiers still pray. it is understood that inside job’s house, without interfering or even getting within volkov’s radar, marseline well could do as she pleased. the portion of idaho falls residents affected by her is not even that significant, but rather a devout core group of families and the wandering seekers. however, that peace comes with a prize the priest was more than willing to pay. 

andreas, who had commanded worship in idaho falls right next to marseline well, before the end of the world, commented once on the ration shortages during a particularly tumultuous summer. he held hands around a long dinner table, watery soup in the middle, and quoted directly from the book of job. “the lord gave, and the lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the lord.” but not all of it was scripture. “but this lord has a name, and we should not forget that. the one man who decides if we live or starve in the sun, but his disciples stay full-” andreas was never allowed to finish. marseline gave a single look to some of the taller and bigger devotees, and they escorted the old priest out. he was never allowed back into service or any community activity, and it was said he feared facing marseline far too much to even come in for silent prayer. there is a clear rule inside job’s house: treason is met with exile. after all, the leader has been generous and they don’t want any troubles. 

in 2031, marseline well passed away, and eyes turned to her son, who had been expectedly active in job’s house. since then, not much has changed. the leader died during a potential turning point that never got fully turned, as the church adapted to the new needs of the world. the baseline as well as iconography was and is still catholic, but the ways of service slowly blended over the years, much to the excitement or dismay of some churchgoers. even the faith, itself, has become far more mixed, bringing in elements from various others. archie well kept that model without ever adding onto it. whilst marseline well had an iron fist, archie is respected and liked, but none of his gazes command a room. there have been questions about the future of job’s house, especially as it grows in members and itches at the seams. 

nowadays, church is always open. during the day, members have roles and schedules, taking shifts to simply upkeep and protect the space. people come and go to pray in silence, listen to preaching, the reading of scripture, return a book and take a coat, drop the children off for school. during the night, those with the keys often do come in too and leave the door unlocked behind them during the duration of whatever brings them there. it is not hard to ask to come into job’s house, nor is it to find it, as one of the few nearby buildings with clear upkeep, and the small wooden board over the entry door, spelling out the name of the holy sanctuary. 

job’s house was mostly spared from the terrible storm of may of 2044, safe for a few broken windows. in the aftermath, it is a place of mourning, aid collecting, hope, and perhaps even fear of more divine retribution.

[dlya-dyshi]

[nelefinn]

     𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 [2/𝟸] 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙴 𝟹𝟶𝚃𝙷, 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁.

     Smoke billowed into the dark sky, a grey monstrosity gaping its maws at the stars. It filled the air with the scent of charcoal and sulfur, hair from the corpses below sparking in the flames. Nele reached back to retie the bandana covering the lower half of her face, wiping her hands on her thighs before she bent down to haul another body into the fire. This was one she recognized more than most, though she’d never gotten to know her well. Marseline. Too young. Her features are nearly unrecognizable, half her face chewed to the bone, though even if she didn’t reconize her, the supple youth of what remained was enough to know it was too soon. Nele knelt, lifting her stiff and heavy torso to pile it over her shoulder, a low grunt escaping her as she stood. It was odd, how little she felt, how the smell of burning bodies didn’t make her stomach turn. She was encased in ice, her warm center put into hibernation, and she couldn’t recall exactly when that had happened. She’d been so young when it happened, but she’d lived some before, so why did it seem so far away?

     Because it was. It was a faint shadow in her past, so indiscernible she forgot it even existed. So pale, she was able to burn the dead with no reaction. She knew it wasn’t right; she knew she was supposed to feel more, but she simply… didn’t. A light sigh was the only reaction given before she tossed the young woman in with the rest, eyes squinting against the harsh smoke as she watched her torn clothing burst into flame. And then, she did feel something. White, hot anger to match the fire — because how had they let this happen? And yet, didn’t it always come to this?

     Nele wiped her forearm over her furrowed brow, her gloved hands and shirt decorated with smeared blood, the crimson on her neck glistening as it mixed with sweat. A crunch behind her; the sound of a footfall, and she turned her head, peering over her shoulder to see who was approaching. Most of the others had taken a break — and most of the others preferred a different clean-up job — but Nele had kept working, because sitting still, even for nourishment, wasn’t an option. She’d keep moving until she was spent, until the idea of sleeping on the crowded mall floors seemed a bit more enticing. Until the rage leapt into the fire with the corpses. Until she could breathe. 

     “You happen to bring back out anything from snack time?”

[gabe-reyes]

Who: closed ! @kinderdays​​​ When: July 1st Where: Grand Teton Mall; quarantine

Marseline Wells was dead.

Gabriel hadn’t known her long, only the month or so since his arrival at Idaho Falls. But even in that short amount of time she’d become a coworker, a confidant, a friend. He was supposed to look after her. Take her under his wing. Teach her how to do the trade she’d been reading about in books, to become a healer.

She’d been a natural, she didn’t need him.

He had no right to the tears that stung at the back of his eyes at the loss of her. There were people here who had truly known her, for the twenty-one years she’d lived here in Idaho Falls. The people here who had been her real family. But he couldn’t help the feelings that stirred in his chest.

Returning to Ophelia, Gabe settles down beside her, offering the pitiful ration he’d managed to collect. “You should eat,” he tells her, his voice gentle as he nudges the food in her direction.

[cordiiceps]

—  grand teton mall,  30th june 2044,  with matty alston.  @mattyalston​

she only had a few months with marseline well. only a few months of comparing her silently to farah. comparitively it’s nothing close to the loss she’d feel if it was gabriel, or the older sister she never had in eva. but marsie out of all of them, was most like farah. part of her feels guilty to be mourning, when she knows at least part of that is tied to the death of someone else. but in her sadness, she hopes she can give matty something to hold onto. 

she holds his hand tightly, not a care in the world for how tightly he grips hers. physical pain has always been easier than the emotional. her free hand wraps gently around his forearm. it’s a silent assurance, a promise even. you are not alone in your sadness. 

the two stand in the car park, watching the pile of bodies slowly turn to ash. the fire is strong enough to make her squint occasionally, and the heat doesn’t help the wetness of her eyes. suri sniffs as she watches the spot where marsie’s body was left, barely recognisable. “how long did you know her?” she asks quietly, resting her head against his shoulder. “she was a lot like my sister. good at patching people up.”

[idahofallshq]

03: BLOOD & BLAME. 25TH JUNE - 16TH JULY, 2044.

TW: DEATH, HANGING, GORE.

30th june.

it starts with screams. some human, some less so. 

the sun hasn't so much as reached the highest point in the sky when the mall becomes cold with panic. the first scream is undeniably human, horror-struck and bone chilling. everyone inside the building hears it. then they hear the second scream, no, a screech. it can't be, can it?

the mall breaks out in a frenzy. it's not just one person who turned in their sleep. it's a few, then it's a dozen, then there's too many to keep track of. it's a massacre, and the infection doesn't discriminate. it takes the old, the healthy, and the young. their blood now stains the floors of grand teton mall.

once the last infected is cut down, the powers of observation push through the fight or flight. the runners may be dead, but there are still residents who have signs of sickness. and yet, no scratches or bites in sight. it's in this quieter evaluation of the damage done that discordant laughter cuts through the air. 

there is a man that no one can claim to know very well. some have seen him in the kitchens, some have seen him sitting alone. his laugh is maniacal, and there's satisfaction in his eyes. he is grabbed by the neck, but it does not cut him short.

“the oracle said it would be beautiful.” and he smiles in a way that says and he was right.

the mall goes under quarantine within the hour. no one can leave, no one can enter. 89 bodies are dragged out to be burned. among them, the body of marseline well. twenty-one years young, and mauled almost to the point of being unrecognisable. the young medic in training's end is perhaps one of the most shocking. after all, she was left struggling with a runner until it chewed and ripped her to the bone.

2nd july.

the quarantine is lifted, but not before more infected bodies are thrown onto the fire in the car park. the death count rises to 104.

it's a little after midday when alexei orders every resident to congregate outside the mall. he stands tall on the roof of a truck, waiting for them to arrive. the truck is parked under a street lamp, and from it, hangs a noose. next to alexei, some might recognise the man laughing after the initial outbreak. he's bloody, swaying weakly, with his hands and feet bound together. he's not laughing anymore.

silence falls over the street and alexei smiles. “i've gathered you all here today for answers,” he starts, almost humbly, as if he's giving idaho falls more than it deserves, “the outbreak in the mall was no accident, and we have our culprit.” alexei turns to the prisoner, grabbing his chin as the weak man recoils. “this man comes from up north, yellowstone. some of you might know what sort of people reside there, but for those of you who don't, the people of the national park believe the infection is a gift from god.” there's an outbreak of laughter and jeering, but it stops as soon as alexei holds out his palm. “it was their intention to begin a purge in idaho falls, but they didn't do a good enough job.” cheers come from alexei's most staunch followers, insults hurled at the cultist.

“it seems some of us have forgotten what happens when you stand against me.” there's a beat where alexei looks into the crowd, eyes falling on individuals who have caught too much of his attention as of late. including his last remaining child.

alexei steps down from the roof of the truck, and his brother takes his place at the prisoner's side. alexei's executioner holds the cultist still as he begins to struggle, and puts the noose around his neck. it tightens, and the executioner drives the truck just far enough so the prisoner falls. silence washes over the crowd. there haven't been public hangings since the uprising.

the cultist struggles. he gasps for air. his face turns red, then purple. then his body falls still.

alexei returns to the roof of the truck, not so much as a glance in the direction of the hanged man. “i think you'll all be relieved to hear that there is a silver lining amongst our loss. i will be promoting twenty of you to the rank of enforcer. those of you who have shown resolve, ingenuity, leadership, but most importantly, loyalty, over the past month will be given the privilege to serve under me directly, for the betterment of the zone.” alexei reads out one by one, the names of the residents who will now have enough rations to keep their stomachs from growling. there's jealousy cutting through the wake of the public hanging. alexei reads out the nineteenth name, and then stops. “the last spot is up for grabs. see, i need you all to do something for me. one of my enforcers, mike giraldi, was found dead, but not because of infection. there were no signs of poisoning, scratches, or bites. no, mike was found stabbed, by very human hands. the last spot for enforcer goes to whomever brings me the culprit. you have two weeks.”

it's a tempting reward. even to those who don't want the responsibility of the role, being promoted means more food, better sleeping conditions, and a degree of safety and protection not extended to anyone else. already, bonds are being worn away, and suspicious glances are passed through the masses. the seed of distrust has been sown, and in times of shortages and countless deaths, that seed blooms quickly.

an enforcer takes the stage on the roof of the truck to deliver some changes coming into effect. travelling restrictions are being introduced for resident's safety. from now on, residents may only leave their station with the permission of or by request of alexei or an enforcer. it is also outlined that alexei will only accept evidence in the form of a written and signed or verbal confession from the accused.

3rd - 16th july.

a cold war begins. neighbour turns on neighbour as residents fight for the spot that will guarantee safety in such turbulent times. some try to find the culprit, others use it as an opportunity to incriminate and, hopefully, get rid of enemies and problems. confessions roll in as the weeks go by, and a considerable amount are fabricated. alexei knows this, he was rooting for this. trust amongst residents is being torn apart, and with it, alexei's control over the zone intensifies. few blink when someone gets whisked away from the streets in broad daylight, for they know the resident will return, leaving behind a shaky signature in a blood stained paper with truths or lies.

what lengths will you go to to ensure starvation doesn't take you before something else does?

but there's a light at the end of this tunnel, barely a flicker, or is it a spark? unbeknownst to the tyrant and his loyalists, rebellion takes a stance, and with all eyes on finding alexei his culprit, there's room for a brave few to begin gathering quiet forces.

ADMIN NOTES:

all characters (not all idaho residents) are stuck in grand teton mall for the quarantine, but you are free to decide how your character ended up there, either on purpose by trying to save others or being unable to escape the chaos. 

if you'd like one of your character's NPCs to die in the outbreak, you don't have to approach an admin about it. 

signed confessions don't have to be authentic, but please don't fabricate a confession for a character without plotting it with the respective player first. your characters can also have submitted confessions (fabricated or not) for NPCs if you want your character to look good in alexei's eyes. you can either write up a confession and post it to the dash, or message an admin letting us know who your character has submitted confessions from.

the 20th spot for enforcer will be awarded in the next timestamp, and this role will be chosen by us admins. we will pick a character/player that we think would make the most of this role as there will be plot implications for this role. if you really like the sound of this, then please message an admin and we will consider your wishes in the final decision. 

we actually encourage characters to get into some trouble in this timestamp because alexei will be keeping a note of those who've stepped out of line but won't be punishing anyone heavily but mike's killer for now. getting your character on alexei's bad side will help with future plot drops and give your characters some fun plots, so if you like the idea of this, then please message an admin and we can plot something.

30TH JUNE.

OPHELIA sees eddie, son of the late cook raymond, stabbing mike.

MATTY see's OPHELIA running from mike's body and confronts her about it.

VINCENT manages to get the word out about the outbreak and reaches ZAHRA over the radio.

SIMON and DOMINIC, amidst the chaos, find an unknown laughing man. they grab the cultist and lock him up for interrogation.

3RD JULY.

JESSE, found injured near mike's body in the outbreak, is interrogated by NIKOLAI.

5TH JULY.

ANSO suspects DAIYU, and asks her about the murder on patrol.

9TH JULY.

NELE corners GABRIEL and questions him about his whereabouts around the time of the outbreak.

11TH JULY.

in a joint effort, JOHANA and ORION corner a too-loud cook and attempt to gain a confession. the cook’s friends intervene. [result up to players]

13TH JULY.

MARA approaches ZAHRA about enlisting her help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

FELIX approaches EVA about enlisting her help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

14TH JULY.

TEDDY approaches GILBERT about enlisting his help in fighting back quietly against alexei.

SURI suspects HENRIK and tries to ask him questions over dinner.

[emeraldbutterfly11]

“Marseline!”, my mother would yell out loud to me in her Spanish accent. She would vocalize it in such an impatient-with-me tone. I know she loved me as her daughter. As a person? I would beg to differ. I love her as my mother, too. The detachment was always present between us, lingering like a silver lining. The only time I recall being attached to her is when she had a miscarriage with my brother. I was around 10 or 11. My mother had a decent upbringing. Herself and her younger sisters, my aunts, were raised in a academically supported home. My grandmother wasn’t really in the picture, she wasn’t really nurturing. It’s that same mother wound that bonded my mother to my father. And voíla! Here I am. My mother doesn’t even think her father is her biological dad due to my grandmothers hidden infidelity issues. My maternal grandmother is a full Puerto Rican woman from New York. She met my grandfather while she was working at Broadway doing theatre design, and they moved to California to get married and start a new life. She wasn’t an immigrant but my grandfather was, he is Irish and Belgian with some Italian ancestry. My first aunt looks exactly like him, she’s the eldest, and has blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and is really tall. My mother is technically the middle child and she doesn’t anything like them. She looks more like my grandmother but my mother looks more Latina. Really curly brown hair. My other aunts look differently as well. It’s weird. I love and respect my grandma anyways. It doesn’t bother me that she cheated because to me, she was always a spiritual woman firm in her beliefs. I admired that. And maybe (I think sometimes) she sensed the good in my grandpa, but he couldn’t match her spiritual development. Even though he always accepted it. They had their own paths. My mother has resentment for my grandma in this way. She feels she should’ve been more nurturing, more of a mother. I understand. My mother suspects her biological father to be a Mexican man my grandmother was involved with in her Chicano/lucumí community. My mother isn’t “religious” or believes in a monotheistic god. She believes in nature and art, or the concept of Jah, which my father introduced to her. My father being a Jamaican Caribbean born man. He steered away from his culture’s conformities too. My parents are good people overall. I respect what they’ve contributed to society and to the modern art world. I’m so different from them, but maybe that’s just dualistic thinking on my behalf. I want questions unanswered to be answered. I’m the replica of another. The enigmatic cataclysmic star. Unavoidably exploding and rebirthing itself over and over again. A galactic prototype. It’s so strange, I have the distinct memory of hearing music as a child and allowing the flow of rhythm to control my movements. I crave to feel that feeling of liveliness. And hope it stays with me permanently like the tattoos on my body. To synchronize in harmony. Like listening to alternative music. My mother’s voice vibrates my brain, down to flesh and bone. I’m an only child. I don’t remember what it feels like not to feel alone. I have my son Eleven now. But it still feels strange. My heart has grown a billion times more in height and width since his birth. I can hear her cries, when she finds out she’s a grandmother herself. The beauty of that humanity. To be mentally organized as I am, I would like to think of it as a benefit, but no it’s been a burden. Shiva is my only call back to center (within). My strong likes and dislikes. There’s no difference, no significance. I’ll read, and walk and talk and sing and bathe and cry and meditate and drink and eat and daydream. It’s time to heal the mother wound

[rwlkdraw]

Marselin!

[ofmythsandfables]

R.owena R.avenclaw

starter call | open starters | aesthetics | headcanons | photos

VERSES

Wit Beyond Measure (Aged 33 ; FC: K.atie Mc.Grath)

Modern verse, years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Rowena Marseline R.avenclaw Dawson is a descendent of one of the four founders. Although born in Scotland, she was raised in England, but decided to move back to Scotland once old enough. She is an Astronomy professor and on the council with Hogwarts’ latest headmaster. Rowena enjoys charting the stars in her spare time, as well as organizing events for the students and staff to participate in. If she would have it her way though, she’d be in her quarters or at her cottage in Scotland reading with a nice cup of tea.

Fair R.avenclaw from Glen (Aged 35; FC: K.atie Mc.Grath)

Takes place in the 11th century. Ro.wena Ra.venclaw has come together with three other wonderful wizards and witches to create a school for young mages to learn how to properly use magic, calling the school Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rowena lives on property along with her daughter Helena and teaches Astronomy and Flying.

Seventh Year (Aged 18 ; FC: G.race Ph.ipps)

Rowena Dawson is in her seventh year at H.ogwarts, learning to become a professor for the very school she’d come to call home. She’s a descendant of the founder of her house, and such notoriety comes with certain expectations for her that causes the young witch to stress and feel anxious at times. She’s curious, fun-loving, and loves to read, but she’d rather be at a quidditch game or studying the stars and moon phases.

Force of Nature (Witcher Verse ; FC: K.atie Mc.Grath)

Rowena was a sorceress for the Queen of Lyria and Rivia for many years, but forewent being employed by the queen to roam the continent on her own. She doesn’t settle down in a place for too long, because mages are frowned upon in most areas, but she enjoys the adventure and what her journey could bring. Her dream is to eventually settle somewhere safe to live out her life without facing discrimination or persecution for being different.

Lady Ra.venclaw (Br.idgerton AU ; FC: K.atie Mc.Grath)

Ro.wena was born into a wealthy family. Her father is the Duke of Lancaster and her mother, the Duchess. Ro.wena grew up an only child, and thus was raised to be the heir. She grew up to be a free spirited woman of the times, but that didn't mean she took her place as Lady any less serious. Ro.wena knew what her place was in society, she just wasn't one to shy away from being on the same level of men, if not higher, at times. During her travels with her family, she met a military nobleman whom she fell in love with and married not long after. Their marriage flourished, even so much as to bring her husband overseas with her. Unfortunately, due to a war in his country that he had to partake in, he was fatally wounded, leaving R.owena deeply distraught and head of his estate. It took her some years to heal, but it wasn't an easy road. Now a widow and trying to take on Regency England once more, Lady Ra.venclaw mingles among high society again. Will she find herself another match? Only time will tell...