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jugglegeeseplayer information.
name: Siobhan
are you over 18?: Yes
personal dw: I don’t use DW for anything but rp, so I don’t have one.
email/msn/aim/plurk/etc: Email: israfel1030@gmail.com
AIM: Blitztsunami
Plurk: Fiercebadrabbit
characters in abax: None
in character information.
series: Firefly
name: Hoban “Wash” Washburne
age: 33 (Guess)
sex: Male
race: Human
weight: 150 lbs. (guess)
height: 5’11”
[OPTIONAL] cause of death: Impaled by Reaver Harpoon
canon point: Directly from the end of Serenity.
previous cr: No
history: Hoban Washburne (Wash, because who wants to be called “Hoban?”) was born on a planet with pollution so thick he couldn’t see the stars, a situation that raised a powerful enough yearning to send him to flight school just to see what all the fuss was about. At the academy he earned a place at the top of the class but graduated second, thanks to the efforts of a friend who hacked his way into the records. During the Unification War, Wash served as a pilot, but was shot down on his first mission and served out the rest of the conflict as a POW, entertaining the other prisoners with shadow puppets.
Wars eventually end, and Wash had taken to the skies to see all the worlds he could. He traveled widely and wound up with a reputation for a fine pilot, earning himself a place on Serenity, Malcolm Reynolds’ generally derelict Firefly. He married the first mate, Zoe, and was seldom afforded opportunity to fight by her side. She was the warrior in the family. Wash had his own place onboard and in amid the crew’s various shenanigans.
He flew the ship in and out of a hundred wild altercations and adventures before he found himself and everyone he loved (and even liked a little) caught in the middle of a mess between all the great powers in the Verse, knee deep in mysteries and betrayals that touched on everyone who had to live under the variously benevolent thumb of the Alliance. Wash’s usual wholehearted, gleeful participation in the messes he and his motley family found themselves in led to his sudden death on the business end of a Reaver ship’s harpoon.
personality: Straightforward, mild, and indefatigably sweet natured, Wash is a natural Buddhist and a joy to be around, assuming a solid tolerance for gleeful nonsense. While Wash has been around the galaxy a few times and can be cynical at times, there’s a guilelessness about him. For a criminal, he’s painfully honest and lacks any kind of fighting instinct. He fundamentally lacks for malice and even when he’s trying to be angry or severe, he quickly boils down to slightly impolite and sulky. While there’s many a soul in the world with a little kid buried in there somewhere, Wash never really left behind the little boy longing for the stars.
While Wash never means any harm, he has a startling gift for sarcasm. Among those who know him, seemingly cutting remarks never really break the skin, but he’s still a constant stream of witty observation. His humor also carries a touch of the absurd and it’s impossible to break through his deadpan most of the time. It’s awfully hard to tell whether he’s serious. While Wash is fondest of his adored (and feared) wife, he collects friends readily. Everyone wants to hang out with the guy with the dinosaur collection. His basic friendliness does make him vulnerable to manipulation, but even so, he remains Wash. He can be tricked into being benign and cheerful and not much else, and he’s very indignant when he finds someone has been dishonest with him. Altogether a strange one to choose a life of criminality.
Though nearly everything is a joke with Wash, his quiet, smiling Zen mastery allows for deep, deadly calm when the situation arises. He deals with everyday crises with frantic flailing, and he’s always lived a life where crises were an everyday occurrence, but when need be he’s a steady pillar. If a contrary one. Wash has an opinion about everything, whether he’s particularly qualified or not, whatever the seriousness of the matter at hand. He quite dislikes it when his ideas are discounted just because he’s silly, but his attempts to stand up for himself on the grounds of righteous indignation or jealousy are about as effective as any efforts on his part that don’t involve driving something. As a rule, his reactions to trouble are inversely proportioned to the seriousness of a situation. If Wash is yelling sarcastic, panicked nonsense and waving his arms for emphasis, everything will probably be fine. If he’s quiet and collected, everyone might be doomed.
Life is better and danger is easier in the safety of the pilot’s chair. He doesn’t deal well with pain; eventually the angry firing of nerves can’t be overcome by raw snark. There’s as much principle as pragmatism at work, though. Wash has a profound aversion to physical violence in particular and conflict on a broader scale, but that tendency (which one could call cowardice or gentleness or both) is drowned out by a sense of duty born of compassion and, in one case, love. While he may hate combat, he doesn’t even hesitate plunging in when his friends are in danger, and when his wife needs him, there’s no stopping the man. Zoe is his totem and protector. Sometimes he forgets that she’s only human, but he never forgets how lucky he is. He’s still a bit unclear as to how he won that woman, and while she and her adventures threatened him with premature gray hair, he’d never wish for anyone else. As much as fretting and jealousy can weigh him down while his goddess is away, his place is in Zoe’s strong arms.
abilities/powers:
-Pilot of all trades: If you put him at the controls, Wash can drive anything. In fact, it’s his preferred method of solving any conflict. In a fight he’ll look for anything with wings or wheels he can shove in the direction of the baddies.
-Trickster: Wash isn’t the smartest, the toughest, the smoothest... Well, he lacks for any superlatives short of maybe “goofiest.” But between an indefatigable sense of humor, a bottomless well of energy, and an eye for turning situations to the only workable way, he gets by. He’s also good with puppets.
first person sample:
[The phone’s camera is aimed shakily at a faintly reflective window, barely catching the top of a blond head moving jerkily back and forth.]
Oh, who designed this... Qù chī dà biàn... Shén me niǎo! Where’s that light coming fr-- Oh, now it’s working.
[The camera is picked up and pointed at his pale face. A childish pout almost belies an edge of panic in his constantly moving eyes. He aims a condemnatory finger at the camera.]
You are a poorly designed piece of technology and I shun you! Anyway. As I meant to say. I’m not a thief-- Well, no, I absolutely am a thief, but I haven’t tried to make off with a whole vehicle right on the street since this one night in flight academy... Good times. I need some way to move around this hùnzhàng place until I find someone who knows what’s going on or where in the worlds I am. Or that was originally my plan. Nothing I do to this thing works.
[The camera points at a car, as silent and inert as any in the city.]
It is also a poorly designed piece of technology! But. Should I get it moving, let this be my witness, I’m only borrowing it. I’m in dire straits. My clothes are made of paper! Wǒpēi!
[Wash’s quiet tones leap to an indignant shout. The pout turns to a scowl and then a sigh, and with a bit of random wiggling the camera shuts off.]
third person sample:
“It’s ok. I’m a leaf on the wind.”
Funny how the captain’s voice, while soothing, didn’t mean much of anything in that eternal now. Right now every second was an eternity and every eternity was a second. Right now the rocks and the heavens switched places heartbeat to heartbeat and everything that meant anything rested on the slightest twitch of the littlest nerve.
Small explosion. Well, that was alright. Small explosions were pretty much small potatoes once you were used to Serenity. Kaylee would be on that. No worries. He tried to dismiss the small distraction, and then another as a small plastic dinosaur landed heavily on his lap. It was hard not to be distracted when everything was one moment, one tiny point in time where all things converged. “We’re almost though,” he volunteered in a detached deadpan.
Not that almost was a concept that could count, even if he weren’t living in a compressed moment. Not with enemies on all sides, debris and missiles careering through the black where it should be peaceful, with a thousand impacts threatening Serenity and everyone inside.
He pulled up, around, an over a massive boat as it fell into its component parts in a gruesome burst of energy. Just one more obstacle for now, just one more piece of eternity. Mal’s voice intruded again and he disagreed just to be contrary, barely aware of what he said. Awareness for now kept trying to settle on the radiant warmth and pillar of calm from behind him. From his wife.
Funny, too, how a pleasant, calming, reassuring distraction was still a distraction.
And then came the world below, firmly below now, and a cacophony of pleading, screaming destruction, and then quiet. Serenity was hurt, but she’d live, and so would everyone aboard. Time was up to its old tricks again, marching forward and bringing everyone and everything forward. Time there’d be now for mourning and coping and making it clear to the powers that be that nothing and nobody could stop the signal. Mal and Zoe’s heavy, frightened breathing turning to relief, even in the cold red light (how could something be red and still, wondered a man well acquainted with shadows) and his own along with.
He dared to smile. “I am a leaf on the wind.” He turned toward Zoe, pride in his eyes like a little boy naming his first stars. “Watch how--”
And then the moment that was all moments was back again.
case no: No particular request.
name: Siobhan
are you over 18?: Yes
personal dw: I don’t use DW for anything but rp, so I don’t have one.
email/msn/aim/plurk/etc: Email: israfel1030@gmail.com
AIM: Blitztsunami
Plurk: Fiercebadrabbit
characters in abax: None
in character information.
series: Firefly
name: Hoban “Wash” Washburne
age: 33 (Guess)
sex: Male
race: Human
weight: 150 lbs. (guess)
height: 5’11”
[OPTIONAL] cause of death: Impaled by Reaver Harpoon
canon point: Directly from the end of Serenity.
previous cr: No
history: Hoban Washburne (Wash, because who wants to be called “Hoban?”) was born on a planet with pollution so thick he couldn’t see the stars, a situation that raised a powerful enough yearning to send him to flight school just to see what all the fuss was about. At the academy he earned a place at the top of the class but graduated second, thanks to the efforts of a friend who hacked his way into the records. During the Unification War, Wash served as a pilot, but was shot down on his first mission and served out the rest of the conflict as a POW, entertaining the other prisoners with shadow puppets.
Wars eventually end, and Wash had taken to the skies to see all the worlds he could. He traveled widely and wound up with a reputation for a fine pilot, earning himself a place on Serenity, Malcolm Reynolds’ generally derelict Firefly. He married the first mate, Zoe, and was seldom afforded opportunity to fight by her side. She was the warrior in the family. Wash had his own place onboard and in amid the crew’s various shenanigans.
He flew the ship in and out of a hundred wild altercations and adventures before he found himself and everyone he loved (and even liked a little) caught in the middle of a mess between all the great powers in the Verse, knee deep in mysteries and betrayals that touched on everyone who had to live under the variously benevolent thumb of the Alliance. Wash’s usual wholehearted, gleeful participation in the messes he and his motley family found themselves in led to his sudden death on the business end of a Reaver ship’s harpoon.
personality: Straightforward, mild, and indefatigably sweet natured, Wash is a natural Buddhist and a joy to be around, assuming a solid tolerance for gleeful nonsense. While Wash has been around the galaxy a few times and can be cynical at times, there’s a guilelessness about him. For a criminal, he’s painfully honest and lacks any kind of fighting instinct. He fundamentally lacks for malice and even when he’s trying to be angry or severe, he quickly boils down to slightly impolite and sulky. While there’s many a soul in the world with a little kid buried in there somewhere, Wash never really left behind the little boy longing for the stars.
While Wash never means any harm, he has a startling gift for sarcasm. Among those who know him, seemingly cutting remarks never really break the skin, but he’s still a constant stream of witty observation. His humor also carries a touch of the absurd and it’s impossible to break through his deadpan most of the time. It’s awfully hard to tell whether he’s serious. While Wash is fondest of his adored (and feared) wife, he collects friends readily. Everyone wants to hang out with the guy with the dinosaur collection. His basic friendliness does make him vulnerable to manipulation, but even so, he remains Wash. He can be tricked into being benign and cheerful and not much else, and he’s very indignant when he finds someone has been dishonest with him. Altogether a strange one to choose a life of criminality.
Though nearly everything is a joke with Wash, his quiet, smiling Zen mastery allows for deep, deadly calm when the situation arises. He deals with everyday crises with frantic flailing, and he’s always lived a life where crises were an everyday occurrence, but when need be he’s a steady pillar. If a contrary one. Wash has an opinion about everything, whether he’s particularly qualified or not, whatever the seriousness of the matter at hand. He quite dislikes it when his ideas are discounted just because he’s silly, but his attempts to stand up for himself on the grounds of righteous indignation or jealousy are about as effective as any efforts on his part that don’t involve driving something. As a rule, his reactions to trouble are inversely proportioned to the seriousness of a situation. If Wash is yelling sarcastic, panicked nonsense and waving his arms for emphasis, everything will probably be fine. If he’s quiet and collected, everyone might be doomed.
Life is better and danger is easier in the safety of the pilot’s chair. He doesn’t deal well with pain; eventually the angry firing of nerves can’t be overcome by raw snark. There’s as much principle as pragmatism at work, though. Wash has a profound aversion to physical violence in particular and conflict on a broader scale, but that tendency (which one could call cowardice or gentleness or both) is drowned out by a sense of duty born of compassion and, in one case, love. While he may hate combat, he doesn’t even hesitate plunging in when his friends are in danger, and when his wife needs him, there’s no stopping the man. Zoe is his totem and protector. Sometimes he forgets that she’s only human, but he never forgets how lucky he is. He’s still a bit unclear as to how he won that woman, and while she and her adventures threatened him with premature gray hair, he’d never wish for anyone else. As much as fretting and jealousy can weigh him down while his goddess is away, his place is in Zoe’s strong arms.
abilities/powers:
-Pilot of all trades: If you put him at the controls, Wash can drive anything. In fact, it’s his preferred method of solving any conflict. In a fight he’ll look for anything with wings or wheels he can shove in the direction of the baddies.
-Trickster: Wash isn’t the smartest, the toughest, the smoothest... Well, he lacks for any superlatives short of maybe “goofiest.” But between an indefatigable sense of humor, a bottomless well of energy, and an eye for turning situations to the only workable way, he gets by. He’s also good with puppets.
first person sample:
[The phone’s camera is aimed shakily at a faintly reflective window, barely catching the top of a blond head moving jerkily back and forth.]
Oh, who designed this... Qù chī dà biàn... Shén me niǎo! Where’s that light coming fr-- Oh, now it’s working.
[The camera is picked up and pointed at his pale face. A childish pout almost belies an edge of panic in his constantly moving eyes. He aims a condemnatory finger at the camera.]
You are a poorly designed piece of technology and I shun you! Anyway. As I meant to say. I’m not a thief-- Well, no, I absolutely am a thief, but I haven’t tried to make off with a whole vehicle right on the street since this one night in flight academy... Good times. I need some way to move around this hùnzhàng place until I find someone who knows what’s going on or where in the worlds I am. Or that was originally my plan. Nothing I do to this thing works.
[The camera points at a car, as silent and inert as any in the city.]
It is also a poorly designed piece of technology! But. Should I get it moving, let this be my witness, I’m only borrowing it. I’m in dire straits. My clothes are made of paper! Wǒpēi!
[Wash’s quiet tones leap to an indignant shout. The pout turns to a scowl and then a sigh, and with a bit of random wiggling the camera shuts off.]
third person sample:
“It’s ok. I’m a leaf on the wind.”
Funny how the captain’s voice, while soothing, didn’t mean much of anything in that eternal now. Right now every second was an eternity and every eternity was a second. Right now the rocks and the heavens switched places heartbeat to heartbeat and everything that meant anything rested on the slightest twitch of the littlest nerve.
Small explosion. Well, that was alright. Small explosions were pretty much small potatoes once you were used to Serenity. Kaylee would be on that. No worries. He tried to dismiss the small distraction, and then another as a small plastic dinosaur landed heavily on his lap. It was hard not to be distracted when everything was one moment, one tiny point in time where all things converged. “We’re almost though,” he volunteered in a detached deadpan.
Not that almost was a concept that could count, even if he weren’t living in a compressed moment. Not with enemies on all sides, debris and missiles careering through the black where it should be peaceful, with a thousand impacts threatening Serenity and everyone inside.
He pulled up, around, an over a massive boat as it fell into its component parts in a gruesome burst of energy. Just one more obstacle for now, just one more piece of eternity. Mal’s voice intruded again and he disagreed just to be contrary, barely aware of what he said. Awareness for now kept trying to settle on the radiant warmth and pillar of calm from behind him. From his wife.
Funny, too, how a pleasant, calming, reassuring distraction was still a distraction.
And then came the world below, firmly below now, and a cacophony of pleading, screaming destruction, and then quiet. Serenity was hurt, but she’d live, and so would everyone aboard. Time was up to its old tricks again, marching forward and bringing everyone and everything forward. Time there’d be now for mourning and coping and making it clear to the powers that be that nothing and nobody could stop the signal. Mal and Zoe’s heavy, frightened breathing turning to relief, even in the cold red light (how could something be red and still, wondered a man well acquainted with shadows) and his own along with.
He dared to smile. “I am a leaf on the wind.” He turned toward Zoe, pride in his eyes like a little boy naming his first stars. “Watch how--”
And then the moment that was all moments was back again.
case no: No particular request.
