Link to<a class="link link--internal" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fblackdahliaroleplaying.com%2Findex.php%3Fthreads%2Fmy-peeps.192%2F%23post-2053&amp;hash=8fb24bf8c03ff749de1cd2578797d876" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/index.php?threads/my-peeps.192/#post-2053">Mark</a><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<li data-xf-list-type="ol">3 paragraph minimum</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">For MxF your character must be dominant. We can talk about being a switch, but please bring something good if that is the case.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">For MxM there will be no smut, just a stranger helping a former football hero</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">Please post a face claim in your first reply.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">Once someone replies I will have a staff member move this to roleplay execution.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">PM me with questions</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ol">Have fun.</li>
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</div>Five years ago----SuperBowl between Seattle Seahawks and Cleveland Browns in Seattle, Wa<br/><br/>"Hello everyone I am Joe Buck, along side me is Troy Aikman and welcome to the most anticipated day of the football season. It is SuperBowl Sunday and what a showdown we have for you here today between the fifteen and one Cleveland Browns and the fourteen and two Seattle Seahawks who were lucky enough to make it to the SuperBowl the same year they were hosting it. So Troy, what do you see as the biggest difference as we head into this game?" The announcer in the booth turned to his broadcast partner, a former quarterback, to look for his insight into the game itself. It was a beautiful day in Seattle, nice weather for early February, and the stadium was jam packed full of crazy fans who were ready for an epic showdown.<br/><br/>"Well Joe if there was a key to this game it would be the play of the two quarterbacks. For Cleveland you have third year quarterback Mark Windham who is as sharp as any quarterback I have ever seen. Statistically he is on pace to set every record a quarterback can have, he led the league in passing yards, yards per throw, yards per completion, completion percentage, and touchdowns. Expect them to air it out today and test this young Seahawks secondary..."<br/><br/>The analysis would continue, positives and negatives from both sides were pointed out. Back in the locker room twenty-five year old Mark Windham was knelt down in prayer. He had faced big game situations before, he had led the University of Washington to four straight collegiate National Championships, winning them all with ease. He knew how to perform on a big stage, and yet here in front of his hometown crowd in Seattle, playing on the opposite side for the first time in his life, he was nervous. He didn't know how the fans would react to him, would they cheer or boo him, of course Seattle fans were amazing, they loved former players, and were kind to those who left for choices not their own. He would have loved to have been drafted by Seattle, but they had an established quarterback, and Cleveland had badly needed one.<br/><br/>The game was filled with ups and downs, both teams had stellar defenses and both offenses ran into their fair share of troubles in the first half before breaking out in the second half with some great adjustments. With thirty seconds left in the game Mark had the Browns driving deep into Seattle territory, they were down by three, thirty-two to thirty-five. Mark wanted the touchdown, no overtime.<br/><br/>~perspective of the broadcast team<br/>The voice of Joe Buck called the action, "...and Mark drops back to pass, he finds a target and fires, TOUCHDOWN." Silence then fell throughout the entire stadium, the cameras that Joe and Troy used to help with their play calling panned to where Mark was lying on the ground. "It looks like Mark was hit on the play and... oh my..."<br/><br/>Troy cut in, "That doesn't look good Joe." The cameras shifted their view to the commentators as the view on the field was too gruesome. "The trainers rushing the field immediately is not a good sign at all Joe, the way he was grabbing his left leg was not good at all."<br/><br/>~back down on the field<br/>A thunderous roar from the crowd as the pass was complete for a touchdown drowned out the scream from Mark as a Seattle defender ran helmet first into his left leg. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Holy fucking shit my knee, my knee!" Trainers and medical personnel from both teams rushed the field immediately, the ambulance was driven out almost immediately as a hush fell over the stadium. The touchdown seemingly not very important anymore. His impressive stat line for the game as insignificant as the purpose of a flea. The players from both teams knelt down in prayer as an aircast was placed on his left leg around the knee and he was taken to the hospital immediately.<br/><br/>Several hours later the results came back not good, in fact not good was an understatement, they were the worst possible news a football player could receive. His career was over, done for, he had shattered his patella and torn every ligament in his knee. He would be getting an artificial replacement, but his days of running and taking hits were over.<br/><br/>~present day, Seattle, Wa<br/><br/>The morning started off rough for Mark, his head was spinning from the case of Budweiser he had polished off the evening before. The sliver of sunlight that crept in through the bedroom window of his houseboat greeted him with evil intentions, or so he thought. The phantom pain in his knee was subtle this morning, more of a dull ache, it had all been in his head, and for five years it still plagued him. He had nothing to do today, much like most days for the last three years, there was simply nothing that held his interest long enough short of drinking and just watching out over Lake Washington.<br/><br/>The six foot four inch, brown hair, brown eyed, out of shape former quarterback rolled out of bed with a groan. He scratched his balls through his black boxers and made his way to his feet, kicking an empty can of beer out of his path. He made his way to the shower to get rid of the funk that surrounded his body and when he was done he would settle on a white t-shirt that fit him snuggly and a pair of blue board shorts to go along with his flip flops. His life had only one way to go and that was up, there was not much lower his mental health could go.