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#{ ooc. }#( I'm sticking around hope you guys do as well )

It was about time things started picking up around here. Yong Soo was starting to get a little bored with the activity, or lack thereof, happening around the city of Seoul, and this was just the thing everyone needed to spice things up. And by everyone, he obviously meant himself. In his mind, everyone was he and he was everyone - no one else mattered. With his knife positioned between his fingers, he slowly twirled the weapon between them, whistling to himself as he made his way down the dark streets of the city. He could feel the tension in the air and it made him smile gleefully.

He glanced up at the nearest street sign, narrowing his eyes as he took in the script, before making a sharp left and turning down an alleyway - a shortcut of sorts to the destination he and Ilya had agreed to meet at. Yong Soo didn’t trust many people, but one of the few just so happened to be the taller male. They more or less understood each other and both held a mutual respect for the other - which was surprising. Yong Soo didn’t trust many people.

“What’s the good news, pal?” A grin placed on Yong Soo’s face as he approached Ilya, the question serving as he greeting as they came face to face. “What have you heard? Anything new?”

@ilyavasiliev

ilyavasiliev

Tension gathered in broad shoulders, pulling them taut and into a strong, unbreakable line. He cut an imposing figure, tall and seemingly unmovable as he stood in the middle of their agreed meeting point. It was not often Ilya utilized his height as a warning, preferring mere expression and intimidating aura coupled with his voice to encourage others not to cross or approach him. But, this night was different. This night there was blood in the air, Honesuki blood and it was unacceptable. The Spectre’s move for power needed to be halted, drawing him from the protection his position afforded and into the arms of his fellow brethren. Yong Soo had been his first call.

The wait was not long, the hint of a smile forming as a familiar form came into view. There were few people he genuinely cared for, even fewer he afforded a measure of trust to, and time had afforded Yong Soo a spot in both areas. As such, his voice held a note of warmth – a hint of teasing – when he answered. “I take it you’re thriving on the upcoming chaos?” A hum. “Outside of the pipe bombs, we’ve had multiple assassination attempts, general mayhem, and the ER got a rush of patients from a chemical bomb. They used chlorine as a component.” A frown marred his countenance. "Many of the patients will have permanent lung damage." The silence hung until he cleared his throat. "What news have you been privy to?"

#redlight.event #dicephalus #{ r. yongsoo }#{ p. bang bang }

#{ ooc. }#{ tbd. }

angelicsica

Visit Original Link

LE NOIR~

#{ музыка. }

leroy-merlin

#{ лицо. }

@susurrovs

A sense of calmness had enveloped the emergency room, patients few as the early morning hours ticked by. There would be more soon, experience whispering of hellish nights that had a peaceful beginning, but until then Ilya was determined to bask in it. Sipping still warm coffee, he set completed charts down in their designated area and surveyed the mountains that still awaited his perusal. Paperwork was his least favorite aspect of working in the medical field, a necessary evil that haunted his subconscious. Determined not to bend under its weight, he grabbed another file and trudged onward.

A few hours passed in relative silence, the scratch of pen to paper his only companion. In the midst of his last stack, a knock drew attention to a nurse standing by his door. She looked apologetic. “It’s your turn to oversee the residents. Only one is on duty right now. Your first patient is in 203.” At his nod, a patient file was passed to him and then she was gone. Smoothly standing, a few cracks could be heard as he stretched, Ilya headed toward the designated area.

{ Location: ER | Patient Name: Park Haneul | Patient Room: 203 | Patient Condition: Stable | Reason For Entering: headache, abdominal pain, fever, emesis | Given fluids for dehydration, extremely agitated, temperature normal, no emesis while in care }

Reviewing the file as he walked, his eyebrows furrowed. An answer niggled at the back of his head, but he would withhold his judgement. As he drew closer to the room, Ilya looked up and spotted a familiar face. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Hello Taemin, are you ready?”

#{ p. ER troubles }#susurrovs #{ r. taemin }#( I'm so sorry it's late )

kangez:

“I don’t need any fuckin’ stitches— ouch! Don’t touch it, damn idiot!” Ezra hissed as the figure before him began prodding at the exit wound of his latest gunshot. Needless to say, the male was not proud of himself. He’s not one to ever allow his target to set hands on him or scathe him in any which way. Tonight had been a messy encounter that Ezra could not wrap his mind around, his target was supposed to be alone, that’s what his informant had sent him as their last message… and when he entered the surrounding area of the club, his efforts had been wasted and he was showered in a rain of bullets. Good thing he’s quick on his feet. Yet the one thing he couldn’t swallow was the simple fact that he hadn’t been able to eliminate his mission and that… t h a t royally pissed him off.

“You’re not a doctor, ya fuckin’ imbecile. Get the fuck off me,” using the arm that had been wounded, he shoved the gang member away and felt a burning regret travel up his bicep. “Fuck!” He scowled, watching the deep red billow out through the threads of his ruined shirt, his jaw clenching repeatedly as he deals with the searing pain. “Haven’t ya heard of painkillers? Can I get some now or are you gonna stand here, lookin’ dumb?”

“Ungrateful prick,” is muttered under the nameless man’s breath as he tossed a card at Ezra’s chest, using his other hand to push his sunglasses back into place. “Boss wants you to wait for this kid to call, said he’ll fix you up real quick and have your ass back on the street in no time. Got it?” There’s no response as the assassin fumbled with the card in his hand, blank eyes scanning over the information presented.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious… a DOCTOR!?” Ezra bellowed, his chest heaving in place as he held up the contact’s info. “No way in hell am I getting mixed up with the likes of that, is he crazy!?” Having made his point very, very clear, Ezra disappeared back into his apartment and slammed the door shut, intent on drinking away the pain.

…that is until it became too much to bear, whiskey bottle conveniently emptied and his arm still throbbing. There was no way he was getting back to the streets to eliminate that rat in this state and even more so, he’d never be back on the streets if he lost his damned arm. So that’s how he found himself with his receiver pressed to his ear when his phone rang and his pride buried six feet, a gruff, “It’s you, right? Get the fuck over here before I change my mind.”

He almost laughed, blaming sleep deprivation and a rush of adrenaline after being on the phone with that man for this initial, and rather inappropriate, reaction. Catching himself so that none of his misplaced amusement was audible, Ilya hummed an affirmative. “And your address is...?” he inquired, semi-patiently waiting for the desired response. Attempting to capitalize on his patient’s willingness to be treated, he continued with an even, “What injuries do you have? The second-in-command did not feel the need to specify when he called.” Details were somewhat of a necessity in his line of work, and it irked him to go into any situation with more handicaps than was needed. An itch for more information tingled at the periphery.

Gods, he was tired, running a hand over his face in an attempt to rub the sleep away. Listening to whatever response the other deemed fit, Ilya grabbed an umbrella and began walking to his car. The trek was wet and cold, pant legs soaked by the time he settled into the driver’s seat. A rush of appreciation washed over him as he backed out and got on the road. The car was inconspicuous; black, of medium size (enough to fit two or three wounded individuals), and looked sleek enough to be pleasing but far from flashy. The trunk even had a hidden compartment for all of his medical supplies; a gift for graduation courtesy of Honesuki. As long as the car was nearby, he was a veritable walking ambulance. It wasn’t a requirement to do his job -- he’d learned enough, through extensive schooling and one too many very unpleasant experiences, to make common household items do the trick -- but it was a convenient option.

Rain unrelenting, his arrival to the designated address was slower than he’d have liked. He parked a short distance away, quickly grabbing everything required prior to locking his car. A short text was sent to warn the other of his arrival, phone slipped into a pocket immediately after. He walked into the complex casually, bag slung over his shoulder, pace picking up the second he was out of sight. Locating the designated apartment, knuckles rapped wood twice and then stilled as he waited to be granted entry. If the guy didn’t answer, for whatever reason, Ilya wasn’t above picking the lock. He’d rather have an angry patient than a dead one.

#{ r. ezra }#{ p. проси любовь. }#kangez #{ past!p. }#( tried to move things a long a little but if you need me to change anything let me know )

rlqiiuming:

Work was always where he felt calmest. It was nice, only having to focus on good things like making coffee, serving baked goods, and smiling at customers when interacting with them. He didn’t have to focus on his day life, of school and other activities. He just got to be himself for a little while, unworried and carefree. Even though he had the night shift, he still felt himself full of energy and was a bit jittery, maybe having to do with the face he had been drinking his own coffee over the course of his shift. He liked that he could work there despite his brightly colored hair, and his unusual available hours. He had only started worked the front in the last couple months as he was no longer mixing up the drinks due to his lack of language knowledge, and nothing had been happier. On busy days it was still hard for the foreigner to keep up with many orders in a language he was unfamiliar with, but no one had a problem helping him. Tonight had been slow though, so he had resorted to cleaning the counter for the nth time, wiping away nonexistence messes and impurities. When the door opened, he smiled from where he was, walking over to the register. A soft smile graced his features, nodding at the request. A familiar feeling came with the man who came in, and e had already had a good feeling what the man was going to order, Quiming had practically memorized his different orders by now. “Absolutely. I’ll have that out for you in a moment, will this be for here or to go?” He held his hand out, waiting for payment as he recited the price quietly, keeping with the quiet atmosphere.

Familiarity lingered at the edges of perception, exhaustion smoothing some of his sharp edges. It was a dangerous combination, one that he attempted to shake himself out of. Such was the problem with frequenting any establishment; a modicum of comfort could form and create an illusion of safety. A pretty lie in the cold world they lived in, but a lie all the same. Even so, he kept coming. Kept giving small smiles to the man who made his coffee. It was foolish, but he was weak to the modicum of normalcy this interaction afforded him.

At the question, a hum of contemplation left him. “For here, please.” he all but whispered, naturally low voice trapping the words deep in his chest. The decision was made on impulse, a break from the regular pattern of his nights there. For once he would take a minute to breathe, would sit inside instead of trudging onward. With a surety that was not felt, Ilya handed over the exact amount plus his customary tip. This was the only place that made any beverage exactly to his liking, and he tipped generously as such. Another smile formed across his lips, but he stifled it. Gaze darting to the name tag pinned on the other’s chest, he added a soft and somewhat unnecessary, “Thank you, Quiming.”

Turning slightly to survey the cafe, he picked a table that shared one of the walls and went to take a seat. Inhaling deeply and exhaling a quiet sigh, he dragged his gaze to the decor as the sounds of coffee being made filled the silence.

#{ r. quiming }#{ p. cinnamon coffee }#rlquiiuming #( I hope this is okay )

aprilnam:

It was surprisingly warm when April woke up that morning, which was why she had decided to go out and get some fresh air. Usually on her days off she decided to stay hold up in her apartment, working on multiple pieces of art at a time. She was very finicky when it came to how she worked, and often times switched between projects just to keep things new and fresh. But how could she stay indoors when the sun was shining and it was the first time in months that she could go outside without having to wear a huge winter coat?

That’s how she found herself in the park, sitting on a park bench, sketchpad in lap and pencil in hand. Her brown eyes scanned the entire park, trying to find something to draw inspiration from? A tree? Flowers? She shook her head - all too obvious and cliché. Plus, she’d drawn plenty of pictures of nature in her years of artistry. It wasn’t until her eyes ran across a tall stranger quite a ways away that she stopped and inspiration struck.

Before she could stop herself, her hand began moving, skillfully sketching the sharp planes of his features. She paused a few times throughout her piece, taking a few moments to stare at him to get his facial features right. It wasn’t until she looked up about the fourth or fifth time that she found him standing right in front of her. She jumped slightly, holding her sketchbook against her chest.

“Staring? Who’s staring at you? I wasn’t staring.”

A laugh was stifled at her startled reaction, intently studying her features as she protested. No deeper lie could be detected, so he kept his posture semi-relaxed. Up close, the woman’s beauty seemed to magnify and he allowed himself to appreciate it as one would a painting. Keeping the perusal brief, he felt a smile tug at his lips. A breeze caressed his skin and hair lazily, reminding him of what a beautiful day it was. A little bit of internal tension eased.

Her defensive body language drew his gaze downward, what appeared to be a notebook tighyly pressed to her chest. She was hiding whatever was on the page, and his suspicions grew. “You weren’t?” The inquiry held a note of disbelief, tone just a touch lighter as if to tease. “Then I was just imagining you staring at me and doing something in that notebook?” An eyebrow rose as he posed the question, as if daring her to deny it a second time. The latter part was an educated guess, hoping such a simple maneuver would get her to tip her hand. Curiosity was always a weakspot of his, and it wasn’t likely he was going to let this go easily.

#{ p. is it just a dream? }#{ r. april }#aprilnam #( sorry it's sorter )#( also your icon went away??? )

babydollmato

#{ лицо. }

It was as they received their tenth critical patient, struggling to breathe as a toxic substance constricted their lungs and burned their skin, that Ilya knew this day would not be an easy one. Bodies shattered and minds numb from the shock and pain, a pattern had begun to emerge only to be confirmed by a police officer who had followed his wounded partner in. A chemical bomb had gone off, masked individuals seen fleeing the scene prior to detonation. A high concentration of chlorine gas had flooded the area, resulting in the mass of injured flooding the ER. Another critical case arrived before he could discern more and his world narrowed to alleviating whatever suffering he could. “I need more saline and another ventilator. Now!”

When a lull in the action arrived, he sought refuge in the employee lounge for a few seconds. His shift had been slated to end hours previous but Ilya knew he would not be leaving. There were more cases on the way and the hospital needed everyone tonight. Palms digging into blurring eyesight briefly, he let out a deep sigh. At this rate he’d burnout before the week ended, briefly considering filing for a shift change so he could get some more rest. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Surprisingly, his Honesuki cell phone had yet to go off. The jury was still out on if he was relieved or worried about that fact. Loyalty tugged at consciousness and soul alike, demanding that he check on his fellow members. He soothed it with a promise to check in later, when it was safer to do so. Settling into one of the chairs, calloused fingertips searched for the aspirin he’d left in his pocket to alleviate his impending ills. He stayed there long enough for the buzzing in his head to lessen, swallowing the pill with a little water as thoughts were collected and sorted.

A chemical bomb detonated in a highly populated area of Seoul, right on the heels of the pipe bombs found in Little Tokyo. If this was Spectre, then it seemed casualties would not be limited to the Honesuki members. None of the people that had been under his hands had been faces he’d recognized, but he was one of three other doctors and over a dozen nurses currently on shift. There could be members of his gang in the ER and it was that thought that spurred him up again. Muscles protesting the movement, any piece of exhaustion was stowed. He could rest when he was dead.

Gait soundless and steady from years of practice, he departed.

#redlight.event #redlightpreevent.starter #tw. bomb mention #{ p.event }#( this is open to anyone and can be used multiple times should multiple people want to use it )#{ p. continued casualties }#( this is long af sorry )

∞🎒✉

Headcanon Questions: Open

∞: Is there something about your muse that has been constant throughout their life?

His silence and immense patience. Due to his introverted nature and careful upbringing, Ilya observes everything and will rarely open his mouth without careful consideration. There are exceptions, of course, moments of levity and brevity, but he’ll always be a quiet individual. As for the patience, it came from the combination of having a sibling, very diplomatic parents, and his natural inclination towards a wait and see approach. He’s always played the long game when it came to getting what he wants.

🎒: What does your muse normally keep in their bag?

A notebook, a set of pencils and pens, his stethoscope, an emergency medical kit (that he compiled himself and that is refreshed regularly), his hospital ID, wallet, a few cell phones, energy bars, etc. Some miscellaneous items can be found in it depending on where he is or what he’s doing, but those are the basics.

✉: What is something your muse would write about?

His patients. His experiments. He has a tendency to keep logs about his gang’s general health, written in code and regularly burned when the information isn’t needed anymore. Or he’s memorized every detail.

#anharu #{ r. haru }#{ Игры. }

🍕 and ✈

Headcanon Questions: Open

🍕: What’s your muses favourite food?

Pirozhki. borshct, bliny, kimchi, bulgogi. Most of his happy childhood memories include his parent’s home cooking and their attempts at making (and then buying) Korean dishes to expose him to the culture he was born in. At this time he prefers to make his own food, but will frequently buy small pastries when he’s running late.

✈: How far has your muse travelled away from their home?

Very far. Home used to be a small house in Omsk, Russia. Some days it still is, when it grows cold and snow covers the ground. For the most part, though, it’s somewhere in London. Natalya moves too much for home to be a physical location.

#jitaemoons #{ r. jitae }#{ Игры. }

frivolous-wonderer

Visit Original Link

#{ музыка. }

@kangez

He had not taken more than three steps as a man free from another nightmarish double shift when the call came. The ringtone was shrill in the quiet hallway, prompting a minute flinch as he transferred what he was holding onto one arm. Surprisingly steady hands pulled out a slim, black flip phone from his back pocket, dark eyes scanning the ID presented on reflex alone. Only one entity called him on this number, one that would never take no for an answer. Ilya bit back a sigh and pressed the green button.

“Hello?” came his rough inquiry, throat cleared discreetly in an attempt to minimize any disrespect his gruffness could cause; such were the woes of a bass vocal range. A staticky chuckle reached through the line, wrapping phantom limbs around his heart just to squeeze. He ducked into a quiet alcove while he listened.

“Doctor,” it whispered. “I know you’ve had a rough week, my deepest condolences.” False pity from a fake facade. ”I must inform you, however, that duty calls. It is time. Are you ready?” He took a breath. The mock sympathy burned as he swallowed it, forcing the bursts of remembered pain caused by a cruel blade and that sweet voice far away. Not now. “Yes.”

Reality bent into fantasy right before his tired eyes as that deceptively soft voice delivered the necessary information. A medical assignment with an unknown location, a patient prone to violence, a code word for safety, and two important phone numbers were conveyed. His confirmation of accepting and understanding the details ended the conversation, deft fingers immediately dialing one of the numbers he’d been given. As the line rang, he continued onward towards the exit. Each step stripped emotional vulnerability from him until there was nothing left to purge.

A sneaking suspicion took hold as he opened the backdoor to find the heavens pouring rain as if a biblical flood was on the horizon: there would be no time for sleep tonight. Amongst the pitter-patter of raindrops someone on the other end picked up.

#{ p. проси любовь. }#{ r. ezra }#( I tried omf )#( let me know if you need me to change anything )#{ past!p. }

thememesource

house of cards (US) starters

from the first season. content warning: violence, sexuality, profanity, gendered slurs.

❝ I have no patience for useless things. ❞

❝ I love that woman. I love her more than sharks love blood. ❞

❝ I almost pity him. ❞

❝ Wait. We’re in a very gray area. Ethically. Legally. Which I’m okay with – ❞

❝ We’re in the same boat now. Take care not to tip it over. I can only save one of us from drowning. ❞

❝ Centuries from now, when people watch this footage, who will they see smiling just at the edge of the frame? ❞

❝ They talk while I sit quietly and imagine their lightly salted faces frying in a skillet. ❞

❝ Such a waste of talent. ❞

❝ What a martyr craves more than anything is a sword to fall on, so you sharpen the blade, hold it at just the right angle, and then 3, 2, 1– ❞

❝ Nobody can hear you. Nobody cares about you. Nothing will come of this. ❞

❝ You want my advice? ❞

❝ Treading water is the same as drowning, for people like you and me. ❞

❝ I know all about hate. ❞

❝ Maybe it’s best he died so young. He wasn’t doing much but taking up space. ❞

❝ You don’t have to lecture me like a little girl. ❞

❝ You’ve got a long way to go. Don’t be so arrogant. ❞

❝ It’s so refreshing to work with someone who’ll throw a saddle on a gift horse rather than look it in the mouth. ❞

❝ I don’t think you appreciate anything. I think you’re an ungrateful, self-entitled little c– ❞

❝ Cunt. You’re a cunt. ❞

❝ Friends make the worst enemies. ❞

❝ Nobody tells me when to work and when to play. ❞

❝ That’s a rookie mistake. ❞

❝ Are you letting pride cloud your judgment? ❞

❝ I promise you’ll never be bored. ❞

❝ The most you’ll ever make of yourself is blowing men like me. ❞

❝ I can smell the cock on your breath from here. ❞

❝ You think you can get under my skin? ❞

❝ You’re too intimidating. ❞

❝ Do you get off on this or something? ❞

❝ There’s no better way to overpower a trickle of doubt than with a flood of naked truth. ❞

❝ I have to be ruthless, because failure is not an option. ❞

❝ So, you’re fuckin’ my son? ❞

❝ Here’s another truth that’s gonna be hard to swallow: I’m all you’ve got. ❞

❝ I’m not going to lie. I despise children. There. I’ve said it. ❞

❝ So, a piece of advice as far as career strategies go: It’s not worth fucking your way to the middle. ❞

❝ Proximity to power deludes some into believing they wield it. ❞

❝ A great man once said, everything is about sex. Except sex. Sex is about power. ❞

❝ I have zero tolerance for betrayal, which they will soon indelibly learn. ❞

❝ You don’t understand, I’m not afraid of you anymore. ❞

❝ Such a shame, how naive you are. ❞

❝ I just thought I should open those big bright eyes. ❞

❝ You want me to teach you? ❞

❝ I wanted to be significant. ❞

❝ I envy your free spirit, and I’m attracted to it, but not all of us have that luxury. ❞

❝ What I chose was a man I could love for more than a week. ❞

❝ Fact, I have something that you want. You have something that I want. ❞

❝ Have I said something amusing? ❞

❝ He doesn’t measure his wealth in private jets, but purchased souls. ❞

❝ Of all the things I hold in high regards, rules are not one of them. ❞

❝ Are you even capable of language, or do you only understand depravity? ❞

❝ Have the courage in death that you never had in life. ❞

❝ I pray to myself, for myself. ❞

❝ I won’t let people like you fuck up the world my child has to live in. ❞

❝ Am I an enemy you want to make? ❞

❝ You can’t purchase loyalty. Not the sort I have in mind. ❞

#{ memes. }

minhyuq

from your (questionable) bath robe, curly hair, full cheeks & huge smile to your silent but observant personality, we’re so happy to have you back as b.a.p’s leader! i hope this day you realise how special you are & bask in all the praises that we give you! ♡

happy #bbangday my angel ✨

#{ лицо. }#( happy birthday to my muse and byg !!! )

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