Hiii! It's Amae here! I've decided to make another CoD OC RP blog and this time for my Medic OC, Petra. Feel free to send scenarios, asks or more ^^
But before we start that, RULES FOR RP:
1. NSFW: While I might write some smut or anything like that for my ship of Petra and Soap, sexual things in asks or scenarios won't be tolerated and will result in being ignored. But friendly bantering and a few innuendos make for some funny reactions from Petra.
2. Creator/Me: I don't mind if you talk to me in brackets for info, criticism or recommendations but flirting or moves made towards me won't be tolerated as I am a minor behind this girl.
3. Anything real world related/politics: I don't like it and Petra doesn't like it, simple as that.
4. Minors: Being honest, there's probably gonna a few of y'all interacting, so welcome but for the more mature topics, if you're sensitive to them, I'll use the NSFW/Mature feature to block it.
5. And last but not least, no hate or weird questions. I'm here to have fun and make my OC come to life, not to debate things like if trans people deserves rights or answer things that I don't feel comfortable with.
Also, I decided I'd tag all the blogs I'll make for the rest of my OCs here, so expect it to slowly fill up:
@colonel-valentino
Basically the same stuff as for Valentino's blog.
Here's info about the woman:
Name: Petra Novak
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Nationality: Slovenian
Ethnicity: Slovenian
Birthday: 25.4.2001
Sexuality: Bisexual
Body apperance:
Height: 5'6"
Weight: ? lbs
Body type: Soft natural
Skin color: Ivory
Hair and eyes:
Hair: Wavy and long, usually tied in a braid or bun if she's in the medbay
Hair color: Brown
She wears glasses.
Eyes: Glasz, soft but still pretty sharp, dark bags under them.
Distinguishing marks:
Glasses: They're prescription since she's far sighted, which means she can't see for shit from afar but can see properly up close. If she doesn't have her glasses on, she usually makes a squinting expression.
Scars: She has a few scars across her body, not as many as an average soldier but still has some. She has a scar across her lips and a few scars on her arms and neck.
Personality:
She's a kind woman. Also quite loyal, caring and patient but under that, she's stubborn, observant, grumpy and quick to anger if she's tired or people have been getting on her nerves.
Likes: Drawing, reading, doing medical paperwork whenever she's bored, hanging out with those she likes, teasing and annoying Soap.
Dislikes: Being bossed around a lot or by a person she hates,
Medical record:
Physical health: Healthy, fit for duty.
Mental health: She seems to be alright but sometimes shows signs of depression and social anxiety, along with being diagnosed with Asperger's.
On going: N/A
Service record:
Job: Field and On base Medic
Affiliations: Slovenian army (former), SAS TF-141
MOS:
Unit: Was in the Slovenian army for about 2 years before being transferred to TF-141
Clothing:
Civilian: Usually wears casual and comfortable things.
During the summer: T-shirt or tanktop, shorts, sandals or crocs if on break.
During winter: Thick jacket, hoodie, fuzzy on the inside sweatpants and winter boots.
In the field:
Wears her field medic uniform.
Tags!
#Amae's-ranting: Just me making posts every now and then about thoughts.
#Petra's-life: Might upload little tid bits of his lore in drawings or things like a written down thing.
#Petra-rp-chats: RP-ing.
#Petra-NSFW: If you're not comfortable with NSFW or really mature topics, feel free to block this tag right now.
He's never seen the need for sappy dribble, calling your partner every name under the sun and confessing your love to them on the daily. He's hardly a hold your hand in public or sweep you off of your feet type.
He never had any good examples of healthy romance in his life. His parents weren't the adoring type; their idea of love was ducking when something was thrown at your head. He never saw a purpose in wasting his time in short-lived relationships when a quick, nameless fuck could give him all he needed to get by.
He likes his space, he likes his freedom, and he likes not having to worry himself with someone at home who'll tire of his constant absence. He can't stand the whiny, clingy type.
Johnny, a contrary bastard by nature, snuck up on him. There was never a name for what they shared; half of the time, it was a brutal fuck, only evidenced by bruises left behind, and other times it was falling asleep on a couch next to each other because they were too tired to share a touch, and too stunted to discuss what the vulnerability of sleeping alongside the other meant.
Their intimacy was shared cigarettes, stealing the other's pint for a drink when their glass was empty and deliberately nudging aching ribs to hear the other swear.
The closest that Simon and the Scotsman ever got to truly looking like partners was when they were half-pissed and stumbled into a chippy, Johnny had grabbed his face and uttered a whole-hearted "God love ye," when Simon had paid for their dinner. Two fish suppers, one with mushy peas. Hardly a gift worthy of praise.
Simon isn't distraught; he isn't bursting at the seams with grief he can't voice. Many a man is a victim of the job; Johnny is no different from them, aside from the shitty haircut. He was granted the mercy of a quick death, and he took it for his country.
But on a rare occasion, outside of his rank, Simon will walk the streets of his town and encounter a fish and chip shop, a classic British staple. And he's faced with the daunting fact that the hands, rough, calloused hands that so carefully cradled his face, are now ash.
im the person they keep adding gratuitous & unnecessary violence & sex in movies for. im running every studio executive ragged asking for even more cock & gore in cinema they simply cant keep up
"You know what, I think I need to teach you a lesson."
Sylus smirks as you clamber off the bed. He's just barely covered by the satin sheet draped over his waist, his chest and neck marked with hickies. You'd been having a great night, but he just HAD to ruin it by pissing you off.
"And just how are you going to do that?" He teases, the mocking in his tone clear. But it fades when he sees what's in your hands, suddenly realizing the severity of the situation.
"I don't think that's necessary." His eyes have gone wide as you step closer with the cock cage in hand, complete with an evol resistant lock.
Of course, you'd had the whole thing specially made.
"I think it is." Still soft from his previous orgasm, you slip his cock inside, locking the metal around it and slipping the key around your neck. Just the sight of it resting between your breasts makes Sylus groan, tossing his head back.
"This...this is cruel, sweetie." He sighs as you trail your hands along his thighs, climbing up his body slowly. You don't hide your desire, and judging by the burning crimson in his eye, it's easily read.
"I think you deserve it though. Isn't that right?" Your cooing tone makes his hips jerk up, hissing in pain as he starts to get hard.
"Fuck...and just how long do you intend to torture me?" You're face to face with him now, hips just hovering above him and chest pressed to his. He could easily take the key like this, but he's too distracted by trying to keep himself soft to even move.
Leon had never realized just how small babies were until he finally held his own. As he rocks her back and forth, attempting to get her to fall asleep, he realizes that she’s almost as tiny as his hand. The tiny human that is half of him, yet not even one fourth his size.
She’s small, but she’s a little bundle of energy, he’ll give her that. As Leon’s eyes shut on their own, she looks up at him with wide eyes.
“C’mon, let’s go to sleep,” Leon says, hoping that she’ll magically understand. Yet she looks at him with wide eyes, absolutely full of energy. Leon swore he was a ball of energy until he had a baby– Now he knows what being sleep deprived truly is.
He closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side and letting out a fake snore to encourage her to sleep. It doesn't work in his favor, on the contrary, she giggles. Leon can’t help but chuckle at her reaction, kissing the top of her head and saying, “Guess that was funny, wasn’t it? I’m a pretty funny guy.”
“It’s late, honey. Won’t you let your daddy sleep?” he tries to argue, knowing that no amount of logic will get to her. “You seriously don’t want another baba? It’s three in the morning, honey.”
He looks down at her, hoping to see her eyes get heavy and a yawn escape her face. But no, she’s looking up at him curiously. He throws his head back, letting out a laugh in disbelief. He knows he won’t get any sleep tonight.
He just wants to get back to you and succumb to slumber, but it seems that his daughter has other plans for him. It’s fine though, she’ll never be this tiny ever again and he’ll make sure to enjoy every moment. He can’t think of a better way to lose sleep.
"Loving you is like a heartbeat, elusive and hard to grasp. Remembering you, yet unable to recall your very essence."
If his memory is good enough, he'll remember your face, your voice, your smell, your touch.
Justice, loyalty, warmth, steadfastness—these qualities make up John Mactavish.
Betrayal, bloodshed, loss, steel—these qualities make up "Soap."
But in reality, he will never forget you.
To him, you are like someone who stepped out of an ideal world. All memories of you will be carefully stored in the cleanest corner of his mind, meticulously reviewed at every moment.
Simon who's lived most of his life with a deep ache of loneliness in his chest that begs to be held
Simon who's childhood, military training, and overall trauma have conditioned him to push that ache into the back of his mind, telling himself he can “use it, push himself with it"
Simon who twists his thoughts to make himself believe he deserves this pain
Simon who only allows himself to think about and want the comfort of holding and being held by someone else when he's lying awake at night.
Sometimes in the barracks after a tough operation, sometimes when he's restless from weeks without a mission.
But every time he lets that train of thought go on, it always spirals into hopeful impossible thoughts of being loved, having someone to love, and even wondering if he could have more in life than the endless fighting and violence.
