#remmick rp

[manyimaginativemuses]

Remmick leaned against a tall pillar and stared up at the dark sky. Being alive for over 1000 years made him truly appreciate the way the stars shone up above, as those were some of the only things that didn’t change despite everything else moving so rapidly around him. Change was always something he struggled with, but he had to find ways to adapt, and the fact that his dark gift gave him access to memories of those he’d turned made it easier for him to do so.

And it made him feel less alone, atleast for a little while.

But that’s when he heard footsteps approaching, his glowing red eyes flickering over towards the sound as he cocked his head and tried to focus on whomever it was coming closer.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Independent Role playing blog for Remmick of the film Sinners Irish lore lovingly intwined | Horror and Mythology based Mature 21 + | Mun is 30 + Under Construction

Indoctrinated by : Mjǫðvitnir ( He, They, Them, Wraith, Monster )

Multi / Semi paragraph | Original characters welcomed

Multiverse | Alternate Universes | Cross - overs

Rules and Guidelines

Headcanons : Weaknesses | Backstory

Memes | Starters

Carrd : Remmick ( Under construction )

This blog is  ONLY  made for those who are  over the age of eighteen, no minors  will be permitted to take part. Mature Content inside. Dead Dove : Do Not Eat.  Devouring flesh, drinking blood, other visceral gore depictions and real life horrors ( racism , colonization ). These subjects will be present on this blog; I must stress, please do not follow if you are not comfortable with these topics. I feel I must remind some, that I do not condone the actions of this character written; his actions do not reflect the writer of this blog. He is an antagonist, and villain to some --though tragic, but still a villain in his own right and a monster in most light. Yes he is a powerful and ancient entity. This does not mean he goes without weaknesses that can nearly render him powerless and weaken him enough, reducing him less than yer average man.

[remmickofficial]

[snip]

Remmick takes in the broken furniture, the stake Lourdes holds aloft along with that useless knife. Is the stake for him or Ruthie? She certainly can't take out the both of him.

Cocking his head, Remmick only smiles. "Crawlin'? Aww, now darlin' I figured you two would like a heart to heart? Yeah," He murmurs while stepping aside so Ruthie can enter. She does so seamlessly the moment Remmick steps aside asif there was a silent command, closing the door behind her with a resounding click.

"-and you really gonna kill your friend here?" he continues, brows drawing together as he looks near sympathetic. "After all the trouble of bringin' her back. Ain't that right, Ruthie?"

Ruthie only has eyes for Lourdes, slowly approaching with a pleading look. "Lolo, please. This is better. You'll see if you just join us," She holds out her hands, imploring.

Tart Treat

Closed Starter for @hymnsforhire

A lady stepping away from The Raven's Nest during her shift isn't that unusual. Some gentleman clientele of the New Orleans establishment prefer not to hear the grunts and moans of other men while paying for their pleasure. Still, this particular whore wasn't known to scamper off with clients as such forays lack the in-house protections. Now, smoke breaks? Those were more in-line with her behavior. Behavior Remmick had been observing quietly while lurking the New Orleans streets over the past few days. Lone women were easy enough prey in such a city, and whores?

Oh, they're always looking for new clients.

Easy enough to coax her away from the safety of crowds, flashing those two gold coins. She'd latched right onto his arm with fake laughter and flattery. Getting her properly alone was no trouble neither, what with the woman's profession. An old shed in a more deserted section of the city, away from prying eyes and open ears works well enough. The perfect place for a tryst, or at least that's what the woman had expected. She'd purred such sweet nonsense in his ear, hands skimming up his shirt to push Remmick's suspenders off his shoulders. Hadn't even stiffened when he'd leaned in, mouth on her neck. Poor dear. She didn't even manage a scream as Remmick sunk his teeth in. Only a gagging gurgle of surprise as Remmick tore her throat out. Spat the skin and meat onto the floor before diving in, sealing his mouth over the gaping wound and drinking deep. The sound of thirsty gulps of blood fill the shed, with the excess dribbling down his chin and soaking into his shirt. The woman limp and glassy eyed in his hold as Remmick braces one arm against the wall, the other tight about her waist. It would look passionate if it weren't for all that blood. A sound makes his head snap up, a growl rumbling out of his throat at having his meat interrupted. Remmick stares at the open door of the shed and the figure of a woman silhouetted there, eyes flashing that eerie red in the low light. "Ain't you a nosy thing?" He smiles, the casual effect ruined by all that blood.

[faphomette]

roleplay interest??

was wondering if anyone was interested in writing Remmick for me against my female vampire oc?? Please be 18+ and be down to write nsfw and darker topics. Please reach out or interact with this post and I'll reach out 🖤

[violcntdelightsxx]

The feeling of dread had filled Mary almost instantly - at the sight of those eyes, who wouldn't be frightened? At least she had the good mind to take the weapon offered from Stack. Surely no one, not even whoever

(or whatever)

this man was, would advance at the sight of a pistol. At least she had thought that.

Mary had never heard him run up on her, but the moment she was snatched she felt that, and instantly she struggled. All she needed to do was aim the pistol probably and get a shot off. It would get this man away, and warn those inside. But that was when she felt the searing pain on the back of her shoulder, and she prepared to scream.

[oddfamiliar]

“S A M M E H”

[remmickofficial]

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

A ᴛᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀʟɪғᴇ :

" 𐌉t'𝙨 𝗳𝙧𝗼𝗺 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝙧𝗲𝗇t 𝗽𝗹𝖺���𝗲 𝗂𝗇'𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝙧𝗲𝗇t t𝗂𝗺𝗲, 𝘣𝗎t 𝙨𝗽𝗲𝗇𝖽𝙨 𝗃𝗎𝙨'𝖺 𝙨𝖺𝗺𝗲. "

What if the three gold coins that Remmick carries to his name hold more rarity than what many would presume ?

Here me out. There holds an obvious magnetism atop these coins which draw upon the human mind in ways that make resisting near impossible. Though some have accomplished it, the imminent regret of their choices almost always linger by in soon after. Stagnantly stamped along their mind over the possibilities had they just accepted. Something that goes beyond their gold allure, or their ancient stain embellished in a language many would surmise as an attached foreignity to this realm only. But what if the coins weren't of this realm at all. What if the Irishman had stolen it from the Sluagh , who in turn had received it from the Tuatha Dé Danann. They, who many consider the true natives of Ireland. Who when the ancestors of her people today, caused the Tuatha Dé Danann to migrate to a different realm all together. Parallel to Ireland's now perceived reality. So not only are these coins ancient, they aren't even of this realm at all. Which shadow casts this mysterious allure upon them, conjuring a deeply seeded yearning through a gravitational pull of magical properties. Calling out to those who give glance their way. I'll go one further to say, he uses them as tokens. Marked prey. A death toll if you will. That as long as the person of his interest hold onto these coins, Remmick has means of finding them, no matter how far they intend to flee. Utilized as a beacon. For the coins are now not only his possessively, but they're part of his essence. His own stain the Sluagh had given him, anchored onto those golden plates. Recognition over him being their rightful owner. This would also be how he has never lost them and has carried them throughout the centuries.

[evaamoor]

Went to see Sinners — and guess what? I'm officially adding that handsome devil to our rp..

[remmickofficial]

There's a stray dog been lurking around your porch. Eyes wet bluered and pleading.  Got a kind smile, a sweet manner about him.  Handsome, in his own unassuming way. Imploring. Harmless.  "Won't you let me in, darlin'? I'm starvin' out here." He's persistent. Determined.  A needy thing, looking for a gentle hand-  To hold? To bite.

1,300 year old Irish vampire far from home, wandering aimlessly. Only a few gold coins and a charming smile to his name. Manipulative, charismatic, and an eternal fan of music. Come and share your songs and stories.

The ask box is open. | Active Threads | RP Memes

Rules & Guidelines

18+ only. Minors will be blocked. Mun and muse are 21+.

Content on this block will contain dark themes. Possible content can include: gore, murder, noncon, sexual harassment. All the things Remmick does in Sinners.

If you let him in, he will kill you. Bad ends 300% possible. Join the hivemind. Fellowship and love.

This is an RP blog for Remmick, not a place for personalized Remmick x you/reader content. Shipping is possible, but only organically through long form RP based on chemistry between characters.

This is a side-blog, no follows will come from this account. 

Respect the IC / OOC line. Mun and Muse are two separate individuals. Opinions aren't shared.

No follower restrictions, but please don't reblog RP threads you're not involved in. Everything else is fair game.

Multi-ship, multi-fandom friendly. 

Duplicate friendly.

DMs are open but OOC. They are for OOC discussions and RP plotting only.

Sending an ask doesn't guarantee a response. Ask box abuse / spam will result in a block. 

No format requirements or style preferences for Role-Play threads.

All content on this blog is fictional writing from the POV of Remmick of the movie Sinners(2025). The writing here is not intended to be official works related to the movie Sinners(2025), life advice, guidelines, or instructions.  

Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics

((If you see an off topic Reblog, no you didn't.🥺))

[remmickofficial]

[snip]

Eyes narrowing, Remmick gives Tess a speculative look at her comment on his voice. It's only been a blink of time in the South by his perspective, but he'd like to think blending in among regular folk is his forte regardless of the continent. Still, she didn't instantly go to ridiculing him but as a colored girl there was little reason for her to.

He side-steps the question all the same. "Ireland? Same as most places across the pond. Green hills rimmed by fog, as they say," Remmick continues as he slows his steps, letting Tess walk ahead of him backwards. He mimics her posture, hands clasped behind his back while trying to remind himself that he's playing nice. At the very least, he'll know where she lives. Discovering her connection to Sammie can come later.

Remmick's head cants to one side at her observation. "Did I? Heard tale of a musician with the voice of an angel. Sammie was his name, I recall," he lies effortlessly, smile on his lips. Her comment on obsession has his brows briefly lifting. Not a family member by that sort of talk.

"He ain't already in Nashville then?" Remmick ventures, carefully curious. "Still stuck 'bout these parts? Mhm, this ain't the sort of place a musician can get a proper start."

At the sight of the church, Remmick considers her in a new light. Things slowly slotting into place in his mind.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Tess," Remmick purrs as she slips into the safety of the church. That one last glance shows the vampire with a blank expression, gentlemanly airs dropped.

Where The Blood Calls Home

[snip] @remmickofficial

Tess barely has time to blink before he’s on her—shoulder gripped tight, her head tugged back like she’s nothin’ but a rabbit in a snare. She can see his teeth now, shark-like and snarlin’, all jagged ruin like they were carved for tearing. For a second, her breath stops cold in her chest. This is it, she thinks.

Then—something had happened. Watching as if an animal was denied its meal.

Tess knees had buckle a little, causing her to fall on the ground, landing on her backside with a small gasp, skirt flaring around her like a fallen magnolia blossom. Yet Tess’s own expression twisted in a split second of something sharp. “It ain’t called hoodoo,” she snaps.

Her voice trembles with leftover adrenaline, but it don’t shake her meaning. “And you—you tried to bite me!” Her hand clutches at the mojo bag, holding it close like it’s the only thing keepin’ her in this world. “Jesus Christ, you goddamn animal.”

Tess snatches up her scattered flowers with a huff, brushing dirt off the crushed petals with all the gentleness her temper’ll allow. “Damn near took my neck off.” she mutters, shooting a glare over her shoulder. “Ain’t got the decency to act right, but sure as hell got the nerve to breathe down a woman’s neck.”

With one last grumble under her breath—something colorful about bloodsuckers and swamp pests—she stomps off down the overgrown path toward her mama’s grave. “An’ don’t think I don’t hear you creepin’ behind me either,” she snaps, without turning. “If you’re gon’ haunt me like a damn mosquito, least you could do is carry somethin’.”

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

𝒯𝑜𝑜-ℛ𝒶-ℒ𝑜𝑜-ℛ𝒶-ℒ𝑜𝑜-ℛ𝒶𝓁

Starter : Open

It had been awful luck. That such a farm wagon had taken a rough handling by an animal beyond spooked ; if not due to his presence by approach. In which the horse had broken free of the hitch yoke and reins, dragging partial under body of it's cart in splintered oak across parched soil that had scorched amid sun a day prior. In it's panic it took barreling down the dirt road in a coat of sweat, agitated snorts and wails signifying the danger it felt. It was unfortunate that when the neck of the utility broke and solid oak spewed forth it's debris in shards. That shrapnel lodged itself into the young driver's jugular. Skewering her to it's spiked tongue off the undercarriage which rooted into earth during the initial break and forked juttingly upward against it's root just enough to hold her body within a slumped angled mess.

Essence of her spoils pooling within a cascading river down it's stem whilst the soil eagerly soaked up the young woman's vitae; staining the earth's crust vibrant crimson. Providing damp sustenance abroad her wake. Her rustic smell bore an intoxicating lure whilst this exposed vein in life loitered the mile radius. It drew him closer to her disaster. Where death instantly took her. Upon closer inspection, he saw amongst her arms, stirring past the shawl warped over her lap, movement. Promptly being hit with a secondary scent atop it's cause. One that entailed a sweetened aroma. Then the horrid cry of an infant gave sound to it's distress, announcing it's presence and unfortunate circumstance. He mingled up to the toe hitch, outstretching a singular hand to merge up between fabric. Cold, calloused, fingers sought for the child's own. Allowing it's timid acknowledgment to curl a tiny hand encompassing an extended pinky with it's abnormal elongated nail and curvature. Remmick took to coaxing sway upon the reaching assistance, bringing his thumb across it's now bridged appendage. A comforting gesture he falsified.

" Easy t'ere lil feller. Uncle Remmy be 'ere, " despite the words offering comfort. Strained suspense enunciated them. As he made grab for both child and shawl to scoop into arms. " Don' worry 'bout mama. She's jus' restin now, " he cooed at the small bundle. Yet the Irish immigrant's stare didn't offer kindness, in it's stead provoked a darker source riddled with hunger. As he swept the child from the wagon, turning away from the wreckage. Carmine hues shimmered past innovation. Watching delicate movement of this little life that had not been on this earth for but a year. He surveyed the child the same way a predator weighed in it's options.

" Woul' ya like a lullaby , lil one ? " Yet his demeanor took lax, beyond the suggestive curdled a darker syllable to his berceuse. A predator's promise -- indirect , but written behind the eyes which never wavered from their food source. Rocking the infant amid his arms along a gentle and coaxing delay.

[officalpreacherboy]

OH WHAT THE HELL—.

M’ NOT LETTING YA’LL IN. Gosh!

[the-devil-and-his-banjo]

Survival

Remmick ran, again, too much of this damn running nonsense in the last few days... few months really... Blood painting his skin and clothes as he wandered through the early twilight... the air felt cold... heavy... he was losing blood... a lot of it.

The juke joint had turned into a complete failure... he'd cut the ties he had with his thrall, they can fend for themselves... it buys him time anyways... For what felt like eternity its self... he stumbled along the river bank... slipping in a few times... sometimes having to stay down for a few minutes to recoup some strength to get back up...

This sort of pain was familiar, didn't make it hurt no less... so... when he found a road and started following it... he limped along, holding pressure to the hole in his midsection that was pouring blood, the gunshots all up his chest and shoulders felt like hell but that stake wound was hurtin the worst...

As the sun just started to peek up along the horizon... he found a way to a town... slinking in back alleys and behind houses to find somewhere to hide...

That came in the shape of a old abandoned half fallen down house out of the way from everything... he tested the entryway... no owners... so... he stumbled in and tried to prepare what he could for the sunlight hours.... found some old curtains and ripped them with claws and teeth to make makeshift bandages to stay the bleeding... a cold feverish sweat had broken out across his brow, hands were trembling... he needed rest... and blood... if he could muster the strength to hunt it... but for now, the old mattress in the one remaining standing room and moving cabinets and anything else to cover the windows and everything was gonna have to do...

As he collapsed on the mattress, pain finally took its proper foothold, through tears and gritted teeth... he tried to find sleep, exhaustion soon overtaking him as he dozed off under a moth-eaten blanket and listened to the world starting to wake up outside... unaware he had left a trail for a predator of a familiar kind...

Yet his vaugely broken form crumbled on the mattress unconsious and the overwhelming stench of blood and pain and fear would easily make his scent as a vampire near unnoticed...

--------------------------

@eternallydamned1 If you like it hop on in!

[elaineemoore]

Elaine “Sage” Moore (21) is a girl of contrasts.

With a soft and delicate appearance that could almost rival a nymph, she moves with an air of gentle grace. Her love for nature and mystery only serves to further contribute to her appearance, evoking the image of a tame young woman.

However, when the need arises, the steel beneath her soft exterior shines through. Beneath her gentle facade lies a hidden toughness, a resilience born from her rugged upbringing in the shadow of her older brothers’ military past, and the spiritual guidance of Elijah’s bound lover—Annie.

In simple terms: she’d kill you, dead—with good reason of course.

“ some people may call her: ellie, laney, sage ”

fc is taylor russel

minors dni (admin is 20)

racism, homophobia, transphobia, sexism etc is absolutely not allowed or tolerated here.

[remmickofficial]

What happened to your bals, Remmick???

Remmick stares a beat, expression a blank white sheet of paper. There's a small twitch before he manages to rasp," That Russian bitch kicked me in the balls, is what."