MOVED TO @JONVOSH

Small town detective: ALLISON JONVOSH. Indie fandomless oc written by Alt. Mobile navigation.

[jonvosh-a]

Blog moved!!!

Allison has been moved to @jonvosh! This blog is now an archive.

[jonvosh-a]

Blog moved!!!

Allison has been moved to @jonvosh! This blog is now an archive.

[jonvosh-a]

Blog moved!!!

Allison has been moved to @jonvosh! This blog is now an archive.

[gyllenhaalgifs]

[jonvosh-a]

is it just me or does the op.en st.arter tag kinda... suck big stinky balls

[samaraweaving]

What do you wear to bed? Nothing.

[screenshotsofdespair]

[wearepaladin]

[jonvosh-a]

fyrebranded

He’s never been one for being fawned over, and the poking, prodding attentions of the medics fall into Eurion’s definition of fawning. There are bandages and sponges and stitches and god only knows what else, he doesn’t register very much from within the fog surrounding his brain.

He manages to stay close enough to Jonvosh - a memorable name, he thinks, catchy - that he can batter him with questions laced with thinly-veiled anger.

“Where did they go?” He asks, bumping a medic that looks barely out of secondary school away from the colossal pain in his ribs. “Did they leave anything? Surely there are footprints leading from this place. I’ve bled enough to paint a wall, they can’t have all been wearing plastic booties.”

     "Oh yeah, they fucked up," Allison replies with an exaggerated nod. "So far we got some footprints and an AK in the lobby. We'll get 'em. Don't pull some Hollywood shit trying to get up and go after 'em," he adds — a lot of people he works with do that kind of thing. And frankly, Norwood looks to be in BAD shape. "Were they after you or was it wrong-place-wrong-time?"

[rpdepartment]

killer starters

20 starters | TW: murder, death, torture

« oh dear, that’s embarassing. that was supposed to kill you. »

« don’t waste your breath. i want to hear you beg for mercy. »

« you know you deserve this. »

« why, you ask? oh, there’s no reason. it’s simply fun. »

« ah, that scream! music to my ears… »

« stand up and fight. i don’t want this to be boring. »

« don’t worry, i’ll make it quick. »

« it’s a little too late for asking sorry, buddy! »

« the best part? there’s no way they even suspect me! »

« nobody will miss you, anyway. »

« now, don’t panic. we don’t want to make a scene, do we? »

« you’re still trying to defend yourself? i don’t know if you’re brave or simply pathetic. »

« do i slit your throat? rip out your guts? my, there are so many choices! »

« it’s you or [him/her/them/Name]. don’t you understand?! »

« you left me no choice. »

« i won’t kill you. not yet. i want you to beg for death. »

« will you stop struggling?! you’re just making things worse! »

« still breathing, are we? good. it would’ve been a shame seeing you die so quickly. »

« please… please, forgive me. »

« once i’m done with you, no one will even be able to recognize your corpse. »

[givemeangstymemes]

💠 Is there a Headcanon about my muse you want to know more about? Ask away!

[jonvosh-a]

ravnthatcher ( cont’d from here )

How many times had people told her to stop sticking her nose where it didn’t belong; how many times had she pursued the truth when it meant she might be putting her neck out on the line? There had been too many instances to count on both hands, and even as she sits across from the detective with a body that aches with each movement, she knows she can’t do what he’s suggesting. “I have to see it through,” she says firmly. It was foolish of her to think she could take something like this head on solo, but people deserved the truth. What if publishing the articles saved someone’s life and managed to put the monster who was Morningstar behind bars? Dropping the story wasn’t an option for Raven, even in her current condition.

“I’m not trying to cause you any trouble,” it was never her attention to cause someone else fighting the good fight any hassle. Raven remembered investigating the strange occurrences which happened in her home town, and being brought into the police station by Chief Jim Hopper. They had butted heads on multiple occasions, and he had saved her ass just as many times. The two of them had ultimately been working toward the same goal, but their approaches had differed and she was only a troublesome teenager back then. “I appreciate you doing your job, but this is something I have to do,” it was big talk for someone who had just come from the hospital for pursuing Morningstar in the first place, and she certainly wasn’t in any position to argue with a detective. Even if he told her to let it go, it wouldn’t sway her.

An idea comes into her mind then, and she’s not sure if being jumped may have knocked a few screws loose or what because she doesn’t believe Allison would go for something so unorthodox, but she goes ahead with it anyway. “If you think I need protection, then be my protection. We can work on taking down Morningstar together,” Raven suggested. Allison may have had an arsenal of tools at his disposal with his being a detective, but she had her own ways of gaining information (which may have been outside the boundaries set by the law).

     He listens to her plight and while he is a kind man, it is that very kindness that makes him reluctant. She got jumped for writing about these guys; now she wants to snoop on them even more? She's crazy and damn if he doesn't completely relate to that. Justice is one hell of a drug. He'll never forget the years he spent chasing that high, even before he officially got into forensics. This girl could get hurt again. The higher-ups will never go for it... on their own.      He needs to stop being so empathetic.      "One, you're already causin' trouble an' it's not for me," he points out, quirking a brow at Raven and her bandaged wounds. "Two, if you keep publishing articles like this, you could put other people in danger. If it is an organized group, they'll go after anyone that looks at them wrong. Three, if you're as hell-bent on this as I think you are, you gotta CONVINCE me you can at least defend yourself, 'cause I know you're gonna run around trying to steal my thunder anyway. Gangs like that don't stop at beating you outside a grocery store."

[jonvosh-a]

ravnthatcher

“Good evening, Miss Ravenna. May I call you Ravenna? I do understand this is your first name, and so much more grown up than what you insist on being called,” the man in front of her speaks as he drags a chair across the concrete and places it across from her. He lowers himself in the chair and crosses one leg over the other. Raven couldn’t answer him even if she had wanted to with the duct tape covering her mouth, and with the rope binding her to the chair she’s unable to move. “I know you’ve been searching for me. How does it feel to be so close to your goal, and yet you’re still unable to obtain it?” he questioned, toying with her. The fear in the pit of her stomach begins to subside as it’s replaced by a boiling rage. Did that mean the man sitting across from her was actually Morningstar, and was he so confident in his abilities to evade them that he brave enough to reveal his face to her?

Morningstar leans forward and brushes a curl behind her ear, causing Raven to flinch in response. “You have such a lovely face,” he leans back in his chair, “be sure to go easy on her face. It would be such a shame to ruin such beauty,” he instructs the men standing behind him, but she doesn’t dare tear her eyes away from him as she memorizes every possible detail about the man that she possibly can. “I understand your father and brother have been placed in protective custody as a means to keep them from getting involved in all of this. Don’t fret, we will find them sooner or later. In the meantime, we’ll be keeping a close eye on that dear detective you’ve grown so fond of,” Morningstar promises, and rises from the chair before turning his back to her. “Let this be your last warning, Miss Ravenna. If we cross paths again, I will have you killed.” he threatens, and he’s blocked from her view as the men close ranks on her.

She hears his voice in the darkness, and for a moment she thinks she may be dead. Being dead would have been a relief as the pain consumes her when she parts her lips to call out to him. Raven wheezes when she inhales, unable to cry out at the sharp pain in her ribs. She coughs, her entire body throbbing with the pain it sends shooting through her like a bolt of lightning. Raven manages to lift her hand and weakly grasps onto his wrist holding the flashlight. “Allison,” she croaks. “I saw him- I saw Morningstar,”

     The detective's free hand hovers over Raven's numerous wounds as if to inspect them but he doesn't want to hurt her, so he refrains from touching. He does grant the assurance of patting her arm when she reaches for his wrist. She's a mess. He shouldn't have let her continue with her investigation. He didn't think the bastards would be able to take her from right under the PD's goddamn NOSE. Someone is at fault here. It's not the cops — he knows alot of the officers in this town and most of them are good people. It's not Raven, who is too hardheaded to quit. It's HIMSELF, for going against his better judgment. Allison takes out his radio and calls for the paramedics, his tone surprisingly firm.

     "You SAW him—!? Jesus Christ Thatcher, did HE do this to you?" He hooks the radio back onto his belt. "If he was here in person—— fuck. That's it. No more detective work for you, alright? I'll do my job, and you do yours. SAFELY. Can you stand?"

[jonvosh-a]

fyrebranded

He tastes iron on the back of his tongue, cold and sharp in muddy darkness. For a stretch, maybe minutes and maybe hours, he doesn’t move, barely breathes, just lets that bitterness prick at his tongue and the pain in his gut expand into something impossible.

There’s some distant noise, like music, or… no. No, a voice. Not music. Just a voice. It brings with it some clarity, some spark of light.

It’s the contact that rouses him.

Eurion jolts, pain crashing over him like an ocean of hammers. His lip curls into a snarl, and he stares into the eyes of a man he’s never seen in his life.

“Who the hell are you? What the hell happened?”

     The other detective moves so Allison puts a hand on his shoulder to discourage him from moving. He's lucid— so that's good. "I'm Detective Allison Jonvosh, and we're still workin' on the details," he answers somewhat warily. "Started as a robbery and got outta control. One of the suspects already has a different case against him, so..."      Several EMTs rush in to check over Eurion and his wounds. A few cops enter as well to double-check for other survivors.

[harvxyspecter-blog]

Please reblog if you play a character who is 30 years of age or older

I don’t care if it’s an OC or a canon character, and while I play a human, I don’t care if your fandom isn’t but for the love of god, why is everyone in their twenties? Give me some mid thirties or even some fourties. Hell, throw me some silver foxes. Please.

[jonvosh-a]

waywardsignns

Shit … he really wasn’t going to let this go, now was he? Grimacing, Liam looked regretfully towards the door that could so easily be his escape route before sighing as he resigned himself to this fate. “No, its not high school … I went someplace else …” looking to him with a rather unamused expression, he gestured towards teh table that was the furthest place away from prying eyes and ears.

“Wait for me there … I need to order coffee and get waffles coming before we have this conversation…” looking towards the woman who’d take the order, it wasn’t too much longer before Liam approached Allison, sitting down opposite of him with a heavy sigh.

“So do you remember when you went to Spirit Lake? Spent the summer there?”

     Something's OFF and it's grinding his gears that he can't figure it out. He obliges and carries his own breakfast to the table in the corner. The waitress, Debbie, gives him a pointed look before taking Liam's order.

     When Liam finally arrives at the table, Allison feels like he's sitting on pins and needles. Of course he remembers that camp — probably one of the best parts of his childhood. Coffee mug lingering by his lips, he nods. "Sure. Really great place. I only hung around a few people. The boys were rowdy as all hell, but I think I got my first massive crush there. We spent most of the time together and sh—..."      His rambling makes him realize WHO he's talking to, without Liam needing to question further. As soon as Allison recalls "the one that got away," he realizes he's looking directly at... him. The difference between now and then — sparing the obvious — is that now he's not worried about having feelings for a man.      He's just flustered that he said it aloud before he realized.      "Uh, oh, my god. Hah." Coffee now forgotten, he sets it back on the table. "You're— it's YOU. Hey. Great to see you again. Is it hot in here?"

[jonvosh-a]

@fyrebranded liked for a starter. ( Norwood )

     "Hey, he's one of ours!"

     "Wake up, buddy. You'll be alright. Come on." Eurion's badge reflects a bit of light, which is what led him here. Allison is on one knee with two fingers pressed against the other detective's neck to check his pulse. Still alive, despite the countless bullets and bloodstains littering the room. Looks like Eurion is wounded. Most likely shot, since blood is blossoming from one area on his shirt. Allison doesn't actually know his name so he has to fish for the man's ID to get it.      "Norwood!" He speaks a bit louder and pats Eurion's cheek in hopes of rousing him. Then lifts the radio from his own belt and calls for backup.

[jonvosh-a]

@ravnthatcher​ liked for a starter.

     With Raven's help they have come closer to locating one of Morningstar's figureheads. ( Everyone at the station agrees it's a terrible idea, and even though Allison agrees, with his tenure he convinced them to give her a chance. ) If their leads up to this point have been accurate, they may be able to make an ARREST tonight. They're far from being done with the case, but another man behind bars will be another step closer.

     The most recent lead is a warehouse — fucking typical — where vehicles associated with the gang have been spotted recently. It's dark inside and he doesn't risk turning on any lights, in case he isn't alone. With one hand on the holster of his gun he creeps through the building. At first it's just crates stacked atop one another, pallets of glass and materials for packacking, other such nondescript warehouse-y stuff. It is when he starts snooping in the side rooms that something is obviously wrong.      Small details at first. A bullet casing under the table in one room, traces of drug use and distribution. Then drops of dried blood on the floor in another room. Abandoned pieces of rope, stains that leave a bad feeling in his gut, it just gets worse the further he goes. And then he finds Raven.      "Oh, SHIT." he curses under his breath and rushes to her side, kneeling next to the filing cabinet that almost hid her from view. "How did you get— Raven, can you hear me?"