#Just demons interacting= 🙌🙌🙌

[woonderfullie]

Black Butler II didn't really give us much, but what it did give us was just a house riddled with demons, most of which weren't even contractually obligated to be there.

I just like the idea of demons bothering their buddies on a contract - or better yet contract hot desking.

[rorah]

Yallo!

A bit random, but do you ever think about how potentially tragic of a character Byleth is, and how it's all dependent on if they get to forge bonds and a new path in life as a professor as we can see from both games?

They get to stray away from the mercenary lifestyle, albeit it was forced at first, and the label that was forcibly placed on them(Ashen Demon) that caused them to be negatively perceived for most of their life. Nobody besides Jeralt, their father, bothered to understand them, because their lack of emoting well would just scare people and make them think they're some emotionless husk. No friends, no support system, just the sword and Jeralt.

Like it's really telling how their first dialogue option in 3Houses is "I'm a demon" factored in with Byleth being surprised in Hopes that people weren't treating them as less when recruited.

Honestly I'd argue Byleth is rather complex in a behavioral sense.

Ah, sorry for the little ramble. As you can see, I am obsessed with this autist.

OOh hello! Not random at all. And if it's random you're coming to the right place because I love randomness 🙌 Thinking about Byleth makes me SOOOOOOOFFFFFTTTTTTT 😭 ngl, they have become one of my favorite characters in the process of trying to figure out their character throughout the several gameplays. And Hopes made it a punch in the guts 💔 but also give us voiced Byleth YAY. Yes, I think about the potential tragic of their character, their past and specially in Hopes that wrecks my heart and makes me cry like a baby in some random dark corner of my room. That notion of their first dialogue with Shez when recruited about everyone in the camp being nice breaks my heart a bit because it implies that even when working for the opposite faction you choose, they didn't get to interact any of the other characters we know. Not Jeralth fault by actively isolating them since he tells them to "try to fit in" when finally joining our ranks and yet, if they're with the "enemy", their mercenary group is still isolated from the main army and don't get to interact much. And if they do, is just the random average soldier who gets freaked out by their unnerving-ness as it's been implied. Byleth haven't grown and developed like they did in houses, so they still struggle.

You're so right about their complexity of their behavior. In my way to discover the Byleth, I found myself relating to them A LOT. But also had to be careful to not "project" too much into them. I like to look at the game's options and considering part of something Byleth would say either way (because there's really not many options to pick, most of them go around the same), character reactions to them, hopes, and also heroes' dialogues. I think Byleth is a beautiful character that deserve more credit and more focus It'd be great for the Autism representation and bring hope to the autists out here lol

[ddarker-dreams]

(i need to tame my demons after reading nexus 3 so I'll focus on something sfw, lock you mad lassie, you did it again)

Not n darling getting upset and feeling guilty over using mind control magic against a person literally about to kill her 😭

Goes to show what a good person she is inherently and how she values her morals and values ^0^

Also, can I just say?? N darling acting very professional, mature and strict when interacting with others but with blade? It's just soooo cute and endearing. And blade is such a nice boy! Minus when he's "in charge" 😭 (wouldn't even dream of complaining tho 🙌)

THANK YOU VERY MUUUCCCH

'mind control magic' GDRJKJGFKLS HELP

n darling is very hard on herself. it's almost a comfort at this point, since it's what she's most familiar with. this serves as a double-edged sword, since holding oneself to such high standards will lead to failure eventually... restarting the cycle of self-critique anew.

we have miss kafka to thank for n darling dropping all pretenses and luring out her unmannerly side. it's always laying dormant inside her, wanting to gnash its teeth yet being forced to smile prettily instead. her unconstrained honesty with blade has been slightly therapeutic for that reason. she can't get any enjoyment out of it with kafka because of how high her blood pressure gets.

blade's perfect though. he occasionally makes a snide comment which gives her an excuse to pounce, but isn't always a menace.

this poor girl needs a vacation.

[devinescribe]

Hello everyone! I have some kind of important news!

Over the past four or five years I have enjoyed writing for all of you. All the wonderful people I have met and all the things I have accomplished!

As many of you know, I have some unfinished stories.

However, I am struggling to update because I am not as passionate about this account as I was.

I, will not be writing anymore. I understand if many of you decide to not support the account anymore.

I will be giving this account to my friend. She is a very talented author, younger than me, however. So I have a blurb she has written about herself, and I’m sure that you will enjoy her writing.

“Hi! Im not comfortable giving my name on the internet but my usernames on most things is Devine.Scribe! I’m 17 years old, I’m starting college in two weeks majoring in history and minoring in poli sci. I’m from Puerto Rico as well, and know Spanish! Like my friend, I am more than willing to write for ethnic or plus size reader, because I am BOTH OF THOSE 🙌

It has saddened me to see my friend lose interest in their writing, and seeing them struggle with their life irl, and struggle with not being able to have a more consistent uploading schedule.

I promise I will not A, delete any of their works without expressed permission, and B, make their account into something they wouldn’t have wanted. We have similar writing styles.

I have been tasked with, when I’m able to, finish writing their stories (such as 100 Promises, and My Sunshine) but also to create my own stories that I have loved to make. I also only write xreaders, but for different fandoms!

Here are some I will be writing for, and characters:

Percy Jackson (Show and Books, I’ve loved them since the beginning!)

Luke Castellan

Percy Jackson

Leo Valdez

To start! I can always add more!

My Hero Academia

Neito Monoma

Iida Tenya

Hitoshi Shinsou

(to start, of course I can add more if asked!)

Miss Peregrine’s Home(Movie, just started the books!)

Enoch

Jake

(Any of the other children would be platonic or family type of stories)

FNAF(Games, not movie, loved it but want this lol)

Micheal Afton

William Afton

Gregory(PLATONIC PLATONIC PLATONIC OR SIBLINGS ONLY)

Sun and Moon (not sure about this one yet but I’m willing to try 🫡 )

Hunger Games(TBOSAS)

Treech(my beloved)

Coriolanus

Sejanus

(Willing to write for more!)

Defendants RoR (slayed)

Morgie Le Fay

James Hook

Hades

(Willing to try and write for others and the other movies)

IHNMAIMS

Ted

Am

(I really love this short story and I hate Harlan Ellison horrible horrible man booo I hope he hates me for writing about his characters like this)

Demon Slayer

Giyuu

Zenitsu

Inosuke

Tanjiro

Obanai

(Willing to write for others!!)

I like lots of different things so you can always ask and I’ll tell you if I write for them or not!

Some rules are that I’m 17, so I would appreciate if people younger than 16 wouldn’t interact. I know I cannot handle what people do or who interacts with my content, but just like my friend, I also can get into dark content and writing it. Please use caution when reading my works, I will put warnings if necessary.

I won’t write smut!

Almost everything else is on the table!

Some other things I WONT write about

Incest

Explicit rape scenes(can mention trauma of it and passing comments about the trauma but not explicit depictions of it)

Pedophilia

That’s it for now, but if it changes I will add it!

I totally understand if you guys who liked my friends writing want to unfollow the page! As well as I know they are older, so I understand if some pages who don’t like people below 18 interacting or following decide to unfollow this page! I hope I can write and make people happy!”

Once again, thank you for all of your support through out these past four years. It has been so wonderful to get to know everyone. I won’t disappear completely, Devine can upload things I write that I send to them! But for now, as I move into a new chapter of my own book, I’ll be signing off. Thank you so much for everything my dearest readers,

Sery-Chan-13, logging off ❤️

[thebeingofeverything]

The post from @teuf-el here reminded me I have this Master and Margarita aoex au planned 🙌 if I only had the time between this and my million other aus/wips 🥲 it'll technically be a prequel to the Briar Rose au series showing interactions between the kings before Mephisto decided to pursue the clone research and Azazel was still running around in his vessel. Mostly I just wanted to explore past shenanigans between the demon kings 😩

---

Professor and Ambrosius

Set in Russia before Abduxuel's death, Satan's arrival, Azazel's crystallization, and Lucifer's madness. Pre-Lucifer's decision to try the clones on Mephisto's suggestion. Faust is still alive, but beginning to consider suicide from grief. Faust is the Master who Mephisto wouldn't let die after his heartbreak and so stuck him in the asylum after convincing him to publish his novel. Margarita is still Marguerite from the actual Faust novel. Do a mesh of Faust and Master and Margarita plots.

Mephisto has to teach Amaimon the ✨importance of human currency✨ and why he can't just slap a handful of precious gemstones on a counter in exchange for delightful human creations. (BRS throwback).

Amaimon would prefer never paying for another thing again than be stuck in one of Samael's long-winded lessons.

And Abduxuel and Azazel are just along for the ride.

Amaimon is Hella, the succubus who's beginning to rot noticeably, though only to the extent Mephisto is in canon.

Behemoth is the cat.

Abduxuel is the patchwork man aka Korovyev, Mephisto is Woland.

Azazel is Azazello, but swap he and Hella's roles/personalities to match Amaimon's and Azazel's.

---

I have more for this but it's in my wips doc lololol

[stepswowdsen]

【FGO】 Beautiful Carnivore, The All-Ridiculing 💚🐈‍⬛

And here's the other batch of colour tests I did

Ashiya Douman doodle 💚 🐈‍⬛

OG + playing around with gradient maps (18 total)

The 1st one is the OG!

I'm just testing rough colours for now so it's super messy and not refined yet

I already loved the colours of the OG that I chose but the other are so cool to see. The way low opacity gradient maps shift the colours in subtle ways WHOAA

If you're curious, check out the Ashiya Douman vs. Dioscuri anthology comic here! Popular FGO fan-artist and official artist AU (@delete_au) has such gorgeous art~

Rambles

I've been obsessed with Ashiya Douman, the evil clown cat since December 2020. Didn't even take me a week to be obsessed. It took 5 days. Sen's Limbo December Descent 🙌

LimGuda is my comfort HC NBLNB ship 💚🧡 They've been one of my top fave ships since December 2020. The spice of a gay evil clown demon who hates humanity, with a karmic relationship of love/hate with the human they're in love with, is unparalleled.

I can’t get over how much I adore Douman. They’re simply the best. This chaos clown is a forever fave of mine~ I love how in-depth and nuanced this hot evil jester onmyouji is. The emotional nuance and complexity of this chara…

“WANTS TO WATCH THEM FALL TO HELL BUT UNWITTINGLY FALLS IN LOVE WITH THEM.” I’M DEVASTATED ABOUT THEM

The amount of detail that went into Douman's character and design is insane to me… Hasendow AKA Showichi Furumi (Douman's character artist/illustrator) has such a huge brain 🤯

My LimGuda collection is my pride and joy 🤭 When Douman first released on FGO NA in November 2022, this was my Douman pentagram setup. Douman merch summoning circle catalyst! We did summon an evil demon into my Chaldea~ Welcome home! You are now reunited with your WIFE 🫶

The clean up's gonna be hell with how detailed Douman's design is, but I love working with their colours! I wanna draw LimGuda in matching green and red Áo tấc so bad!!! Matching couple clothes~ 💘💞

Douman loves them with curses… LIKE A CAT TIPPING OVER VASES CUZ THEY WANT TO BE PAID ATTENTION TO. The whole “Limbo gets defeated/is overwhelmed by the power of feelies and their S/O’s Candid Sincerity" trope I love to see in their ship works that I wanna draw eventually btw… I wanna draw them lots!!!

Cinna said “Douman just reminds me of that ‘cat reacts to separation anxiety by trying to maul their owner’ thing I saw one time” LMAO

Ashiya Douman vs. Dioscuri Anthology Comic by AU

The Ashiya Douman vs. Dioscuri anthology comic has such beautiful art by AU (@/delete_au). Douman invited Ritsuka to fall into hell with them & now they're the one inviting him. Douman tells them that the two of them are "bound by unbreakable/inseparable fate." JAW DROP??? THIS IS GAY AS HELL 🏳️‍🌈 LIMGUDA IS REAL!!! 💚🧡

AU (@/delete_au) is a popular Fate/Grand Order (FGO or Fate/GO) fan artist that's been commissioned to draw official works for Fate (including official merch)

TYSM to Carli (@/carlikun) for translating it... I got stuck on some parts reading the JP version cuz of Douman's difficult, esoteric and archaic vocabulary... I got to clear things up reading the VN fan-TL, and it was interesting to see how it was translated in Viet, but yeah the EN fan-TL cleared up so many things for me.

They drew the Ashiya Douman vs. Dioscuri chapter in one of the FGO anthologies. LIMGUDA ALSO INTERACT IN IT, AND THERE'S TONS OF LIMGUDA FOOD HEHEHEHE... Their art is so gorgeous. They're one of my favourite FGO artists, their works are stunning.

THE WHOLE THING IS SO DELICIOUS SO I'LL JUST SHOW A COUPLE PAGES FROM THE END, BUT OH MY GOD???

I LOVE THEMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IS REALLLLLLL

Douman is gigantic. Ritsuka's 200 cm tall (~6"7) bf that loves them!!!

AU'S DOUMAN COMIC FROM THE FGO ANTHOLOGY COMIC WITH DOUMAN AND RITSUKA IS MAKING ME SCREAM WTF /pos /endearing

[witch-hazels-musings]

writing blog 101

First things first, what do you want to write about! You can build your writing blog around anything and everything - it’s fun to decorate your blog around your subject, so take your time!

Below are a few components of a writing blog! Each category can be done on one post or multiple (it just depends on your style!) 

📌Post Etiquette 

Pinned Post, what should be on it?

A Hello/Welcome

Short Bio

Fandom(s) (genshin impact, re-zero, demon slayer, etc) 

Rules / Requests

Anthology/Master list (to be made later)

Outside links (Kofi, A03, Twitter etc.) 

Extra: images / banners / emotes!

Rules

Make your rules clear and to the point (tell people what you will write and anything outside of that you won’t)

Characters you will / wont write for 

Genres (fluff/angst/etc)

SWF/NSF-W focus

what topics you will not write for -> these should be very specific, the more clear you make it the better readers will know what is outside of your comfort zone 

If you get a request you don’t like, or can’t write, answer it and let them know! Sometimes we get excited and forget to check something before sending it in. Sometimes we don’t think our request is uncomfortable - everyone is different (it’s okay to let people know you aren’t open to writing this or that - you show them respect and they will show it back to you 🙌)

Anthology/Master List

Create this early! You want a place to keep all the works you create so people can find them! (note that tumblr limits hyperlinks on a single post to 100*)

Organization is different per person, i organize mine by: Genre, Series, Character/region/place 

AND -> link to it on all your works to increase traffic

helpful link ->creating an anthology/master list

------

How to increase interactions 

talk with your followers 

run events on your page (make sure those rules are clear and posted - I recommend that you post the rules to every answered event ask so people can find it easier) 

react to replies 

have fun & be kind

Note: you might not be able to answer every ask you get, take your time, let people know if you need a minute and turn off asks if you need to!

How to increase notes / reblogs

Self-reblog your works

📌 how reblogs work

Make sure your tags are consistent 

post regularly (at least once a day, post something!) 

Note that new blogs may take a few days to show up on tags - your stuff is out there, Tumblr just wants to make sure you aren’t a bot*

---

Take breaks!! // Have fun!! 

I hope this helps and I wish you luck in whatever you decide!

[brothersgrim]

🙌🙌

send a 🙌 and i’ll introduce you to an npc related to my muse. || Accepting

This means any minor ‘background character’ in my Muse’s life, such as a relative, coworker, friend, rival, etc. that they interact with in their personal canon.

Name: Willing ValdisAlias(es): Will (acquaintances), Willa, Willow, Will-You[-Kindly], Wallop, Brother dear/mine (Grace; sometimes the younger siblings would pick it up, as well, but Grace was the only one to use them all so frequently), Will O’ [the] Wisp (Mostly Grace, some others), Gravekeeper, Mortician, Witch, Witchblood, Hellspawn/Demonspawn, Demon, Conjurer, Devil-Worshipper, Heretic, Blasphemer, Sorcerer, etc. (general usage), Grandfather/Great Uncle (countless generations of Valdis, particularly in the American line(s)), That One (Valdis lines who cannot claim him and are bitter about it), the Transient, the Last [of] [the] Salem [Line/Heir/Valdis(es)] (general Valdises)Gender | Pronouns: Loosely attached to male, but might be nonbinary. He, him, his. Orientation: Pansexual demiromanticSpecies: Witch, at the very least human-passing  -> Following his death, his spirit lingers for centuries and adopts a more unholy specification. Some branches of the family claim he’s achieved a Demonic title of his own.Birthplace: Salem, Massachusetts, USABirthday: December 12 (Yule), 1671Occupation: Gravekeeper, mortician, undertaker, cult leader, witch/warlock/sorcererResidence: Salem, MAS (until early 1693); Following that, somewhere in what would eventually become south Connecticut. Following his death, wanders the afterlife, but occasionally is brought to/finds his way to the world of the living (especially during equinoxes and/or family gatherings, ESPECIALLY in America).Family: Embla Valdis (ancestor), Live-Thee-Well-In-Virtue (’Livia’) Valdis (Nee Barebone) (mother), Cormack Valdis (father), Lewis Valdis (uncle), Mary Valdis (aunt), Hark-The-Herald-Angels-Sing Barebone / ‘Herald Bonnie’ (uncle), Grace Valdis (twin sister, 15 mins younger), Septimus Valdis (younger brother, deceased), Clarity Valdis (younger sister, deceased), Convince Valdis (younger brother), Tacita Valdis (younger sister), Charis Valdis (younger sister, deceased), Theophilus ‘Theo’ Valdis (younger brother), Rabekka Valdis (nee Vassal) (wife), Thackeray Valdis (eldest son and heir), Johann Valdis (son), Ingrid Valdis (daughter), Verity Valdis (daughter), Elizabeth Valdis (youngest daughter, David’s twin), David Valdis (youngest son, Elizabeth’s twin), Increase Southwood (brother-in-law, to an extent), Ashes Valdis (Niece, Grace’s oldest and heir), Credence Valdis (nephew), Prudence Valdis (niece), Makepeace Valdis (youngest nephew), Abraham Bernard Valdis (descendant), Isabelle Patricia ‘Iza’ Valdis-Cowell (descendant), Adam Joseph ‘The Undertaker’ Valdis-Cowell (descendant), Kane Isaac Valdis-Cowell (descendant) Relation to the Brothers: AncestorMagical Prowess: Umbramancy, umbrakinesis, general shadow magic, general dark magic,  soul shepherding/judging, interplanar travel between the living and the afterlife, yard/liminality transferal (only one on record), nigh immortality (achieved after death)Burial Ground/Yard: Salem, originally; transferred to Connecticut Skills/Abilities: Public speaking and voice projection, manipulation, card tricks, wine connoisseur, always seems to know just the spot behind a dog’s ear to scratch and get the leg-thumps, foraging, sewing, whistling, carpentry, masonry, gravedigging, landscaping, can read anyone for filth, brilliant liar, herbalism, horseback riding, being better than everyone 24/7Likes: His graveyard, his twin sister, reading, animals, horseback riding, wine (especially imported), loose fabrics, the dark, playing cards, the smell of wood, candles, walks in the forest, fresh bread, rabbit meat, sacrifices, ritual nights, riddles, stars, solitude, flaunting, his family (especially his line), the sound of rivers, his coven, the dead, sarcasm, secrets, the market, Abigor, Mephistopholes, Babael, Euryonymous, Troian, Ashtaroth, Delepitorae, Leonard, Asmodeus, Hecate, Hades, Kobal, Metztli, Oroan, Thoth, Persephone, and Joan Jett, surprisingly enough. Dislikes: Bright days, the church, the witch hunters, bonfires, ‘lowbrow’ alcohol, people trying to show him up, mundane politics, wool, marshes, travelling by boat, the European branches, overly sweet things, low-quality wood or stone, anything/anyone that Grace dislikes, a disorganized work space, trumpets/horns, bright and vivid clothing, very outspoken or open people, the concept of twitter (introduced to him in samhain of 2017), motor vehicles, Adramalech, Baal, Amon, Lucifer, most fire demons (though he insists it be known that Kane is the exception).Deadly Sin: Pride/Vainglory. Cardinal Virtue: Prudence/Practical WisdomFears: Much like his great-to-the-nth-power grandson, he’s afraid of being burned alive. In his case, it’s at the stake, specifically. Beyond that, obscurity, but that’s really only after his death, as it would have consequences for his continued existence. Losing his sister. He was scared of rats when he was little, but grew to appreciate them by the time he was in his late teens. Biography: Willing is the first of his generation. In the Valdis family, that means something special: He’s in charge of the yard. In this case, it was the yard in Salem. It was a weird place. A good place, maybe, depending on the day. A bad place, depending on others. … He didn’t see it as bad, at first. It was home. It wasn’t perfect, of course. The people were superstitious, and it meant a lot of what he did had to be done in the shadows - but then, that was the family’s way, regardless. The moon was always kinder. -> For the most part, his life was simple. He was born on a cold morning in the family home, followed only fifteen minutes later by his twin sister, Grace. He was always glad to have her by his side, though their mother would occasionally say that, if they did everything else at the same time, why couldn’t they have come out that way? They’d always shrug and reply with some variant of “it doesn’t work that way”, even before they actually knew how it worked. They just assumed that had to be it, because if it was possible for them to do something together, they did. Everything about the twins complimented each other. Grace’s sense of humour was more outspoken and giggly, while Willing’s was more dry and sarcastic (though they could always get each other to laugh, no matter how hard the other tried not to). Willing was better with herbalism, while Grace preferred working with crystals. They were both literate, which was rare in the day, but they were quite proud of. They’d usually read to each other, their siblings, their parents, or the other members of the coven. Not the family, mind. The coven. -> A few generations - roughly two or three, depending on your math - before the twins were born, their branch of the family had joined a local coven. It happens, sometimes. Depending on the coven and the family head, it could be for multiple reasons: Perhaps it was for peacefully sharing territory; the exchange of knowledge (especially when coming to a new area); safety purposes; or, for more… Traditional, heads of family, finding suitable marriage partners. In a way, it was good for the twins. It gave them people they could be open around, given that, for most at the time, magic was a death sentence. It was the 1600s, after all. However, it was a bit confusing at times. The coven had their rules and practices. The Valdis family had their rules and practices. Those were often different. And, as most proud young people are wont to do, the twins thought their ways were the best. And, besides: they had duties. Being a Valdis is a lot of work, even today. Most people agree it was harder back then. So, for the twins, the coven was more of a social thing than anything else. And anyone who knew the twins would tell you that, while they were pleasant and polite enough…. Mostly, the two of them were their own social group. Even among their siblings. Oh, sure, they all got along well enough, they all worked together, all loved each other, but the twins were always a class apart from the rest. -> On the topic of those duties: Willing was the first-born. Only by fifteen minutes, but that’s all it takes. That meant he had to be ready to take over the Salem yard. And yes, it was just as much of a chore as it sounds. He had to learn the trade from his father from the moment he was old enough to understand basic speech. So did Grace. (Well, she wasn’t supposed to, technically, their parents just never bothered trying to separate them. It wouldn’t work, anyway.) He was never any stranger to death. This came from living in the graveyard, and just living in the time period. He and Grace were young when Septimus was born, and only a bit older when he died; Clarity came and went only a few years later. By the time they were teenagers, the two of them had watched another sibling die, as well. They’d grieved in their own way, stayed by their parents as they did, as well. They also accepted it as a fact of life. It’s just He played with the local children - especially those born into the coven - and his brothers and sisters who had survived, but always counted Grace as his best friend. He had his chores around the house. Mostly helping his father. As is often the case with a Valdis, they were the only morticians in the area, which meant that they were never worried about finances or work. It also meant that they were both masons and joiners, as someone had to make the coffins and the grave-markers, which in turn meant that they always had other services to offer the town. That, combined with trickery, deceit, being extremely cautious, and a few well-placed disappearances, made sure nobody caught on to what they were.-> That is, until the witch hunt. You know which one. -> A lot of people assume that the only victims of the witch hunt were women. That’s not true. They were the main victims, yes, but, look in your history books: Men were tortured and killed, too. So Willing wasn’t just afraid for Grace’s safety. He had to worry for his own. For the entire coven. And especially for his parents. They weren’t particularly old - only in their early 40′s, and had an estimated good twenty years before there ought to be concern - but still. The twins worried for their family. For you see, working with the dead isn’t the safest business. Neither was being different. The Valdises were different. Very different. They keep to themselves. They are not terribly open about their beliefs. They dressed in black (because it was harder to ruin with chemical or dirt stains). And the scars on their hands? (Which, by the way, are a sure sign of a Valdis?) Sure signs of witchcraft. The fact that Grace ad Willing, both old enough to marry, were not married yet (especially in Grace’s case) had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nor the fact that they didn’t get along with a handful of the others in town. Not at all.-> For the Valdises, it started slow.  Yes, people were beginning to suspect they were witches, but they were also the only morticians in town. When there are so many deaths, you need someone to handle it. So there was just whispers. And then Cormack, the twins’ father and current head of the yard, fell ill. It happens. Normally, the family was wealthy enough to afford a doctor, and had their own ways of dealing with sickness. This time, when they called the doctor, the doctor did not answer. He claimed that he was ‘too busy’. Livia Valdis and her children were not easily fooled. Cormack, unfortunately, passed. Willing became the new head of the family. It was not a happy occasion. The only bright side to it is that he was surrounded by his siblings (Lewis and Mary), his wife, and his surviving children: Willing and Grace, Convince, Tacita, and Theophilus. (Generally, a Valdis will never let one of their own pass alone.) Willing built the casket. Willing dug the grave. They all attended the funeral. Very few members of the coven attended. They couldn’t; it wasn’t safe. Not for anyone. If they all associated with each other, they’d all be on the chopping block. Or, as it were, the stake. Willing understood, mostly. Losing family is hard; losing family to cruelty is harder. He gets it. Hell, he even somewhat gets the lack of outright retaliation. The lack of vengeance. It could make things worse. But god, it was so hard to not demand blood for blood. So he did. Valdises are no strangers to death, especially not at their hands. The Powers That Be do ask for payment when they grant favours. Nobody was going to miss a witch hunter or two. -> So he took a few lives. Mostly the men who went after Grace and Tacita. Rejecting a marriage proposal, or any kind of proposition, from the wrong person was a death sentence. But you couldn’t reject them if they were gone. Grace and Tacita helped him in this - Grace especially (shy, kind little Tacita mostly just went along for the ride. She never doubted her dear older siblings, but she was always timid, and the mass hysteria didn’t help that), as did Convince and Theophilus. The Coven distanced themselves from the family, officially branding the Valdises (at least this branch) as warlocks. Nobody blamed them. Willing was a bit too busy trying to get rid of the hunters to care. Of course, no matter how pure your intentions, Karma has a say. -> It wasn’t long before members of the coven were targeted. The only surprise was that it had taken as long as it had. (Willing and those he still spoke to all agreed that it was just proof that this whole affair was never about witches in the first place as much as it was about instilling fear and solidifying power.) And that… Well, it made Willing feel almost guilty. Maybe he had brought this down on them. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he should have just killed them all outright. Maybe that would have made him like the hunters. There were a lot of maybes. Not a lot of definitives. One of the only things he was definitely sure of was that he had paid for the safety of his siblings in full. That, and that Salem was no longer a place for them. They had to leave. And the yard had to come with them. -> Now, ‘yard’ is a vague term. I won’t bore you with all of the details, but it’s more of a liminal space, where the boundaries between the living and the dead, the natural and supernatural, are thin, than a literal ‘yard’. A tear in the fabric of normalcy. So, as you can imagine, moving that doesn’t work. Full-stop. It just shouldn’t be possible. But, telling a Valdis that they cannot do something is a great way to make them want to do something. (That might just be the human condition.) Willing and Grace were no exceptions. Willing especially. He was the head of their branch, after all. If anyone could do it, he could, he thought. So he did. It nearly killed him. Grace had to haul him onto the wagon they used to escape. (The two of them had already sent the younger ones away. Convince, Tacita, and Theophilus. They were long gone. And yes, for those curious, they did go on to live better lives.) He never wrote down how he did it. Some people, later on, would claim to have it figured out; they all died. One or two claimed to have found his notes. Also dead. There are some in Clan Valdis who say Willing’s legacy isn’t just in the fact that Salem isn’t a yard any more (still weird, and still returning to liminality, but not an official yard), but in the fact that so many sub-branches had to scramble to take control after the former heads went and offed themselves trying to be him. He does not know what to think of this. He chooses to greet it with slightly bewildered and somewhat amused, but very distant, interest. -> Grace took care of them for most of the trip out of Salem. It took a while for Willing to be back on his feet. A few days, in fact. What he’d done was as exhausting as it was impressive. Once he was back on his feet, the two of them carried on as they always had: Together. It was how things were meant to be. They moved to the south-west; it seemed as good a direction as any. They just knew that they had to travel, and that they couldn’t do so forever. Supplies only last so long, and, besides, Willing only had so long to transfer the liminality. Even he couldn’t hang on to it forever. And life on the road is hard. They settled in a small village, more of a mismatched gathering of other wanderers, that had been thrown together in what would eventually become Connecticut. It was quiet. It was hard. … But it was nice. The twins stuck together, as they always did. Willing set the liminality loose in Connecticut, which, I’m told, explains a lot. He never forgot Salem. Not when he got in touch with his siblings again (though rather unconventional means) at the next Samhain. Not when he met his wife, Rabekka, among the settlers. Not when they had children. And he made sure those children did not forget Salem, either. No, they didn’t live it, but he told them stories, passed on lessons. Made sure they never forgot the cruelty of man. They never forgot the power of a debt well-paid. What happened when people were made too aware of what they were and what they could do. But also, the value of community, family, banding together… And, you know, ritualistic sacrifices. They are Valdises. -> Grace would travel just north, a day or two’s ride, and stumbled upon a yard of her own. On one hand, Willing was glad to have his sister stay, and was proud of her for making her own way and finding a yard to watch over, elevating herself to the head of a new branch. All the same, it did make the two of them think that maybe, just maybe, they should have done a bit more explanation before dropping the liminality from Salem where they had. Whoops. -> Willing eventually died of old age (he was about 71), passing the torch onto his oldest son, Thackeray. He was sure that he left his yard in good hands. He never doubted his son for a second. He was glad to go to an eternal rest. … That’s not exactly what happened. Do to his own magical prowess, and the fact that people would tell his story and speak his name for over four hundred years, kept his soul bound to existence. For four. Hundred. Years. … He tries to make the best of it. The good news is, as his twin, an equally powerful warlock, and an integral part of his story, Grace has stuck around, too. They pop up into the world of the living, now and again - only on days when the fabric of normalcy is stretched too thin, like Yule, Samhain, and Beltane, and during family gatherings, most specifically those in America. … Yes, they could go to the European branches. No, they don’t want to. No, you can’t change their minds. (And don’t ask them about the latest gossip in the afterlife. They will NOT shut up about it.) Theme Song(s): Blood on my Name || The Brothers BrightQuote: “Well, I admit, that is quite unfortunate, but, if I may: That really sounds like more of a ‘you’ problem. I think I’m quite alright watching you flounder further into your grave - don’t you think, Gracie? - Try not to suffocate on your way down.”

Name: Chester Dylan HansonAlias(es): Ches (friends), Chestnut (Mother), Chewey (Great-Aunt Lynn), Brother Chester (General, in the Valley), Ches the Mess (teenage years mostly), Hands-on Hanson (adulthood), Brancher (Middleschool only), Goldielocks (Coach Roy Aberforth, high school onwards; spreads to a few others), Handsome Hanson (football nickname), Casper (general, after age 11, Valley folk only and typically only on certain nights/around the time the stories start circling again)Gender | Pronouns: Male. He, him, his. Orientation: Heterosexual aromanticSpecies: HumanBirthplace: Death Valley, Texas, USABirthday: June 4, 1964Occupation: Paperboy (age 10-13), butcher’s apprentice (age 13-16), butcher at Hanson and Sons Co. Quality Meats (age 17+)Residence: Death Valley, TexasFamily: Cutler Martin “Doc” Hanson (father), Carver Lee Hanson (older brother), Melissa-May Anne Hanson (Nee Bywater) (mother), Dannie Jules Hanson (younger sister), Officer Cooper James Hanson (uncle), the many members of the Bywater clan (relatives), Nina Beatrice Hanson (nee Russel) (sister in law), Chandler Eric “Chucky” Hanson (nephew)Relation to Brothers: Childhood schoolmate, often antagonisticMagical Prowess:Burial Ground/Yard:Skills/Abilities: Rock climbing, dirt biking, football (fullback/running back), butchering, has had at least the third highest score on the arcade’s pacman machine since fifth grade, decent at skateboarding, decent scrapper, darts, can get blood out of anything, has one of the biggest retro action figure collections in town, can hold his liquor better than you’d expect. Also, very good with hair spray. Likes: Football, the Death Valley High (DVH) Devils, the Fantastic Four, double cheese burgers with extra pickles and hot sauce with a strawberry float and dill fries from Old Sam’s, riding his bike or hiking in the desert, video games, working out, playing darts, the Incredible Hulk, swimming in the reservoir, fixing his hair, his car, hanging out with his friends, sunny mornings, his baby sister (most days), a sharp cleaver.Dislikes: Batman, the dark, being alone, boiled carrots, most of his family, trees, the Dusty River Secondary Dragons,  big cities and the people who come from them, dark chocolate, Keep Out/No Trespassing signs, dressing up, ‘the witches’ (clan Valdis), slow or quiet music, dust storms, golf, croquet, the guys at the Rattler who hog the jukebox, humidity, night shifts. Deadly Sin: Wrath.Cardinal Virtue: Fortitude/Courage.Fears: The dark (umbraphobia). Night time (nyctophobia). Death, especially his own (thanatophobia). The local magic users (Valdophobia). Pretty common, in the valley, but most people agree he’s a special case. Biography: Chester is a Death Valley native. He grew up there. He’ll die there. Just like all the others. Like most people, he’d say it’s a pretty quiet place, if you ignore the odd scream or two. It’s nice - everyone knows everyone. By the time he was five, he knew the name of basically the entire town. He’d also met the boys who would be his best friends for the rest of his life: Marty Peters, Kevin West, Jake DuPonte, and Freddy Winters. They went to preschool together, but then, all the kids in the valley did (with a few very rare exceptions. Same with grade school. He didn’t like math, but enjoyed science. Like most kids his age, if you asked, he’d tell you his favourite part of school was recess. Kickball and tag especially. He always liked running around, as do most kids his age. If you asked him his least favourite part of school? Going home. -> Home was rough for Chester. Not bad, just rough. His parents didn’t hit him. Didn’t hit any of the kids. In fact, there wasn’t anything that could really be called ‘abuse’. It was just… Strict. There were high expectations. It comes from being the son of a butcher, he’d tell you. Force of habit. If there was a problem with the meat in the shop, people could get sick or worse. So, no mistakes. Same at home. No mistakes. Very strict standards all around. And then there’s the pressure that comes with being the second son. Carver came first. He was about six years older. When Chester was learning to speak, Carver was reading aloud. When he was learning to walk, Carver was running. When Chester was learning how to use training wheels, Carver was tearing it up on a mountain bike. Chester always felt a step (or six) behind. Carver, who - while not malicious - was often too busy to play with his younger brother, didn’t notice. And Carver was the one who was gonna take over the butcher shop, that both of them wound up working at anyway. Chester wasn’t sure why he was there half the time. Ugh. At least it was a bit of money. It fueled his pacman addiction, and he and his pals monopolized that machine every weekend and most evenings, too. He got so many cheap plastic rings out of the prize bin.-> So Chester grew up feeling second best. Always. He never really had an outlet for this, or any way to express it, since he didn’t fully understand it, himself. He just… Never felt good. He just figured that’s how it went for everyone. That’s not to say that he liked feeling like second best. He hated it. So, if he couldn’t be better than his brother, he’d be better than everyone else. In other words, he was a bit of a bully. ‘A bit’ is putting it mildly - Chester terrorized the kids of the Valley. The only exceptions were his friends and lackies - Marty, Kevin, Jake, and Freddy. He was in charge, but they were a team. They went everywhere together. They were all there when each other first showed off a lack of training wheels on their bikes. They were there when it was time to go tearing through the desert trails. And the few side-streets and back alleys that occupy the Valley. They were all there when an eleven-year old Chester, when challenged, decided to try jumping off one of the higher, wilder parts of the reservoir. … And when, as a result, he got suck in a dead tree hanging out from the ledge. And they stayed with him (except Kevin, who was the best runner and went for help) until his uncle Cooper came to the rescue. That was rough. They were there when people spread that story around, and were there when they had to beat the taunts out of the other local kids. That was rough. It never really left. They pretended people forgot. (They didn’t. Small townfolk rarely forget anything.) They studied together, they slummed around Old Sam’s together, they went to the arcade and the roller rink together. They all tried out for the football team. Kevin got on. He was still the best runner. Jake made it in, too. He was a pretty big, broad guy. Marty made it on… As water boy. Whatever. It was still credit, and he still got to hang with his friends, and he didn’t have to actually do anything. It was good enough. And Chester made the team, too (and would be team Captain in the later years of high school). He was thrilled. Not only was it bragging rights, but it was also something Carver never did. (Carver played baseball instead.) It was something just for him. He loved it. And it helped him with his dad, too. Cutler was never very… Warm. He was a very reserved man. But he did love his son. Every time there was a football game, the butcher shop closed down so he could watch. Win or lose, he’d take Chester out for dinner afterwards, always to Old Sam’s, and usually just the two of them (though on bigger games, especially when they’d won, sometimes Chester’s gang would be invited along, too). Cutler was still quiet, so there wasn’t a lot of talking, but it was nice. It made Chester feel like his dad actually cared about him as more than just a back-up kid (or, as Carver might have called him during a heated argument, ‘the accident baby’). Between that and the football, Chester, in the words of most people, ‘calmed down’ a lot. He felt better about himself, and that changed a lot. … It’s not the only thing, though. There’s one event he hasn’t told anyone about that really set him on the path to becoming a better person. And, yes, it does involve the brothers. -> Chester only ever rarely bothered Adam. He was older than Adam, yeah, but not by much. And Adam was a scrapper by nature. He fought back, and he fought hard. Yeah, when they worked as a group, they’d usually win, but not without their fair share of bruises and scrapes (and, oddly, burns, jagged patterns zig-zagging across arms if they picked a fight on a bad day). It wasn’t worth it. Bullies prefer easy pray. … Like his little brother. Little kids are an easy target, and Kane’s three years younger than Chester and Co. And, since the elementary school let out early, once they moved up to middle school, it was pretty easy to catch him alone. So Kane found himself on the receiving end of a few scrapes and rough-ups. It didn’t take long for Adam to intervene. It also didn’t take long for Kane to demand fighting lessons from his big brother and take matters into his own hands. That took the fun out of it. What really took the wind out of his sails was when, on Devil’s Night, Adam decided to get his payback for bothering Kane. All it took were a few well-placed effigies (the replicated corpses Taker sometimes brings out), a bit of magic here and there, and, after seeing his own dead self only to have it vanish when he brought someone to look, Chester got the message, along with a good few months’ worth of nightmares. He tried to tell people. It didn’t really work out. It was dismissed as his imagination running wild on a night when they were prone to do such things, a prank gone wrong, or even just part of living in such a strange place. There was never any proof, one way or the other. Nobody had seen the bodies or illusions. Nobody had seen Adam anywhere near the area - not even Chester - but he just knew. It didn’t go anywhere. So he just hid at home for a few days. Got teased by his brother, checked on by his friends, and fussed over by his mother and younger sister. And then he tried to move on. But that, combined with a lifted self-esteem and greater social circle from football and a slowly-improving relationship with his dad, really spurred him to clean up his act. He still wasn’t a perfect guy, but he wasn’t nearly as much of an ‘aggro jerk’ as he used to be. People are pretty relieved about that. -> On the topic of his sister, Dannie: She’s probably the only person he’s never yelled at. Full-stop. She’s five years younger than him (making her a full eleven years younger than Carver), and she looks up to him like a tourist looks up to the statue of liberty. She adores her big brother. Having someone who so genuinely thought he was legitimately awesome was wild for him. He loves her. She confides in him a lot, and he’s more than willing to throw hands for her. There are more than a few photos of him holding a game-winning balls in his hands and having Dannie riding on his shoulders. Chester’s dated a lot of girls, but he’ll say the only one who’s been able to make him genuinely happy is his baby sister. He doesn’t understand a lot of what she talks about, but, whatever. Just as long as she doesn’t think beating him at pinball makes her unbeatable, or anything. He’ll kick her ass next time.Theme Song(s): Heathens (Cover) - HalestormQuote:“What’d’ya mean, no? Just get your freakass brother to do it.  […] One a’ you two damn witches oughtta be enough, right? Unless you’re chicken.”

[mistchievous]

🥰 🔥 🐍

(this ask game is so you 😂, love it)

I have a brand, Sonia. What can I say? 🤣💖

That brand is chaos.

🥰 - What’s your favorite thing about me?

YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR! <3

Sonia, you're constantly making me laugh and smile literally every single time we interact. You brighten my days with your mere presence. I fucking adore you for it. Stay winning! 💖

🔥 - How much of a mess am I on a scale of 1-10?

Babe, you're a nine. 🤣 I'm concerned about you and I don't even know why. You just have the vibes of someone who is constantly running behind on things and running around in a panic. 😂 And then you're on here just flailing about like a chaos demon and spreading the gospel of New Texas. What else am I supposed to think? 🤣

🐍 - What animal would you say I am and why?

You’re a sloth. 😂🦥 A master at hanging out and doing things in your own time and at your own speed. Cute af and laidback! Fun to have a parties. 😌 You’ll outlive all of us, and you’re faster in the water than you are on land. 🤣 Legally blind 👓, would starve to death with a full stomach 🍕, and will scream when you’re ready to mate. 💑👩‍❤️‍👩

Send me three emojis! 🙌

[brothersgrim]

🙌

Send a 🙌 and I’ll introduce you to an NPC related to my Muse. || Accepting

This means any minor ‘background character’ in my Muse’s life, such as a relative, coworker, friend, rival, etc. that they interact with in their personal canon.

And you asked for one for each so let’s go.

Name: Isabelle Patricia Valdis-Cowell (Nee Valdis)Aliases: [Miss/Mrs./Mama] Iza, Mama (by Adam and Kane), the funeral witchGender/orientation: Cis female, pansexual panromantic (She/her/hers)Species: Warlock, humanity debatableFamily: J.T. Cowell (Husband), Adam Valdis-Cowell (Son), Kane Valdis-Cowell (Son), Abraham Bernard Valdis (Father, deceased), Tulip Marie Valdis (Nee Baines) (Mother, deceased), Vanessa Leanne Valdis (Sister, deceased)Residence: Valdis Family Funeral Home and Mortuary, Death Valley, TexasOccupation: Secretary, sorceress, graveyard keeper, matriarch of the Valdis clan’s valley (main) branch, technically cult leader, mortician, coroner.Face Claim: Janet Montgomery (especially in Salem)Skills and Abilities: Black magic, demonic rites, omens/fortune telling, safe passage through the yard, shepherding of souls; Makes the best blueberry cinnamon pancakes, according to her boys (cooking/baking); Sewing, storytelling, quite good at lullabies; frustratingly good at poker, sudoku, and crosswords; history buff who can and will go on about it all; upsettingly high pain tolerance; can work around any schedule and balance any finances. Always on time. Also, not bad at dancing. Biography: Isabelle Valdis is the first in line for her family. That means a lot in the Valdis clan. It means that she gets control of the yard, and all the power it brings. … All of the responsibility, too. She’s known that for her whole life. Her father’s raised her to take on his duties when he passes. Most people hear that and think it must have been a loveless, or at the very least difficult, upbringing. Yes, there was a lot of work. Yes, there was a learning. But she was happy. She was loved. Her mother had been a witch, but had left her coven and so abandoned the title, but not the knowledge that came with it. For first four years of her life, Iza was the only recipient of that knowledge. Then her sister was born. Vanessa, Nessa to her friends, was next in line. That meant, no matter what she did, she would never have the power that Iza had. There were times this caused tension, of course, but not much. It’s just how it was for the family. And, as they got older, Vanessa decided she’d be happier without the responsibility. She could travel. Do as she pleased. It was nice. And Iza, for what it was worth, could stay in her yard as the matriarch of their clan. (And it never coven, always clan, just like it was never Izzy, always Iza.)

The sisters grew up in the valley, as did generations of their family before them. And they could both tell you exactly how many generations, too. Even name them off, if you asked, with, of course, emphasis on the first borns. They went to the same school as all of the other valley kids did. They played and swam in the reservoir. Skipped through the gravestones and hummed to the crows. Minded their sacrifices, and because of that could tell time at a much younger age than their classmates. They kept their secrets, and, with their parents, kept the oddities and abnormalities of the valley at bay, just as they always had, and so the townsfolk tolerated the strange family out by the graveyard, just as they always had. It was a nice life. Unconventional, but nice. As did all members of their family, they counted denizens of the underworld among their peers just as much as denizens of the valley. It was through eldritch whispers and phone calls that the sisters stayed on contact when Vanessa decided to strike out in the world. It was these whispers that notified the remaining Valdises of the Valley that the lifestyle of Las Vegas had caught up to Nessa a little too quickly. They mourned, of course. It was a tragedy. Being surrounded by death from day one does little to numb the loss of one of your own. That’s not to say any of them were surprised. There had been a single crow flying overhead when Nessa left. That always meant bad luck. It also meant that Iza was the last person left to keep watch over the strange little graveyard on the edge of the valley (excepting, of course, for her parents).

Iza was well-known for being pretty. Some would even call her beautiful. It was a distant sort of beauty, though. Ethereal. Off-putting in its unnatural-ness. She wasn’t a cold person by any means. She always had a smile and a joke or quip to share. She just seemed constantly detached from reality, just by a hair’s breadth. She had a few suitors, here and there. Some claimed to have gotten past that stage, but nobody ever knew if it was true. If you asked, she’d just as soon as laugh as shrug it off. Nobody could ever figure her out. And, of course, nobody wanted to stay at the funeral home on the edge of the valley, especially over night. There were… Stories. The sort of Stories that were always referred to with a capital S, even in verbal conversation. Nobody wanted to see how true they were. So, she remained unmarried. She was asked once by Mrs. Ludgate, while delivering a special package designed to ease Mr. Ludgate Sr.’s arthritis, if that bothered her. She had paused a moment, tilting her head just to the side and quirking her lips in that peculiar way of hers, before decisively brushing hair over her shoulder and replying that it didn’t. These things had a way of sorting themselves out, after all. Mrs. Ludgate thanked her for the package, hurried inside, and wondered if she ought to pray a bit extra on Sundays.

It was not long after that particular conversation that a sandstorm came to the valley. It brought with it one J.T. Cowell, ragged and weary from travel. Of course the Valdises welcomed him with open arms. They’re warlocks, not savages. Sometimes you have to take what fate throws at you in stride. Besides, what you put out into the world will come back at you threefold; everyone knew that, they’d say. (False. Not quite everyone.) So, provided they knock the appropriate amount of times, you can never be too generous with your hospitality.

That one dinner turned into a string of dinners. Iza thought he was charming. It did make things more difficult, though. He wasn’t Of the Blood. The more he knew, the more danger he’d be in. Besides, telling everything would spoil the fun.

She kept up with her studies, of course. Honed her family’s craft under her father, and learned about the matrilineal magic on her mother’s side. Not quite on par with the gravekeepers, but useful and interesting, nonetheless. She kept up her business about town. Many folks came to her to ask about the newcomer. Small towns, even those as secretive as the valley, love gossip. She rarely fed into it, though. Only ever tilted her head in that way of hers and smiled and gave the most sparing of details as she brought a special bottle (and some homemade cookies) to Mrs. Winters, who’d been having terrible back aches recently.

It was about four years later that the rumour mills got some new gossip: J.T. (still called the newcomer by some, but in an almost fond way now) and Iza were getting married. Some people thought they took things a bit fast. Others said it had taken more than long enough. Iza, for the record, thought it had taken the perfect amount of time. He’d become acclimated to the yard, and it to him. With the right steps and rituals, he’d be safe enough to start really knowing things, too.

She could finally introduce him to the hooded folks who insisted on forming cults around the family. They’d been starting to ask after him, so it was about time. They were at the ceremony, as well. Or, a few of them were. Not all of them, as they wouldn’t fit. The townsfolk came, too, though Mr. Reid, the preacher, sat in the crowd. Abraham conducted the ceremony, and nobody questioned where his authority came from. (You learned not to question the Valdises.) It was short, but everyone would agree, lovely, in its own detached, ethereal way. Very fitting. There was dancing, and music, and food and laughter. J.T.’s city dancing was a bit different than the local style, but after a few fumbled attempts, most people had found a happy middle-ground. The wine helped speed the process along. They were expecting their first child not long after. This set Iza’s mind at ease, as the succession would be carried on, and also, her parents hadn’t been faring very well. Adam was able to meet his grandparents, but only briefly. They’d retired long before he was born, so their passing didn’t change much for J.T., but it changed quite a bit for Iza. She was in charge of the yard, now, and all of the oddities that came with it. Of course, she was no stranger to death. Nobody in the family was. But it always hurt to lose a family member. The infernal beings she communicated with were quite happy to let her check in on the two of them when she’d like, so long as she kept up with the sacrifices, which helped, but it was never quite the same.

As always, she left most of the practical work to her husband, and his apprentice. She handled the more important things. The magic things. The things the other two couldn’t do. Not of the blood, you see. It would be dangerous for them to get too involved. So, she just handled it all on her own. She handled the phone calls, too. (Sometimes, those were part of the magic things.) It was one of these magic things that resulted in the conception of Kane. It was a simple ritual, really, and harmless if you ignored the fact that there was at least a 50% chance that the other party involved would end up dead. If not for that, she would have just relied on her husband. Interestingly, Paul did not die. Iza did not know how to feel about this. She settled on vaguely curious, somewhat surprised, but otherwise indifferent. Whatever. At least it meant less work for her husband. Then baby number 2 happened. It’s an interesting sensation, not being clear on who the father is. She already had to deal with the fact that it was going to be a magic child. She figured she’d deal with it as it came. There wasn’t anything she could do (or, wanted to do) to change this. She liked kids, and it would be good to have someone for Adam to play with. … Someone like him. It’d be good for all of them. She didn’t expect for Paul to be there forever, either. He was just learning. She figured he’d get his degree and move on to the city. The death valley yard had always been a family affair, after all. The boys would take over when they were old enough.

So now she had two little ones to teach the old ways. And to teach other things, too, of course. Important things. How to read, how to get all the extra icing off of the mixer when they were helping to ‘clean’ it, how best to win over Old Mrs. Miller at the bakery. You know, the real life skills. She made sure they minded their sacrifices and learned the importance of punctuality. How to properly respect Them. Most importantly, she taught them that they would always belong to the yard, to the family, and they would always be safe and loved within the home. It was safe.

She thought it was safe. She’d thought it would be a normal night. A normal sacrifice. As normal as anything ever is around the yard. Maybe she had a bit of a bad feeling, but that was to be expected on a night such as that. She’d distracted herself with thoughts of what to do for Adam’s birthday party tomorrow. The process she’d been practicing year and year again. Then the explosion rocked the house. Her home. Her family’s home. 

The fire spread fast. Faster than she’d seen before. She barely made it out of her room, flames gnashing teeth against her skin. She found her baby in the inferno. Held on to his hand as desperately as she could, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. She was there. For whatever good it did, she was there. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t know what to do. The last coherent thought she had was that, if any of her sacrifices had ever meant anything, the powers that be would make sure that her little boy survived.

Themesong: The Devil’s Backbone - The Civil Wars || Shuteye - Stealing SheepQuote: “That’s right. You respect them, you be polite, and you mind your pleases and thank-yous, but you don’t be afraid. You don’t ever be afraid. Because they can’t hurt you, not in this house.”

Name: Jacob Theodore CowellAliases: J.T., J (by Iza, mostly, though some others use it as well), Jake (Early childhood only), Jakob Jr. (Early childhood only), Teddy (Early childhood only), Teddy Jr. (Early childhood only), Pa[pa] (by Adam and Kane), the mortician, Red (by Nel and Joe)Gender/orientation: Cis male, heterosexual heteroromantic (He/him/his)Species: HumanFamily: Iza Valdis-Cowell (Nee Valdis) (Wife), Adam Valdis-Cowell (Son), Kane Valdis-Cowell (Son, not biological), Anabelle Louisa ‘Nel’ Cowell (Sister), Joseph Patrick Cowell (Brother, deceased), Liam Douglas Porter (Brother in law), Irene Heather Sutherland (Nee Cowell) (Sister), Oscar Howard Sutherland (Brother in law), Ryan Edward Cowell (Brother), Emmaline Daphne Cowell (Sister, deceased), Theodore Bartholomew Cowell (Father, deceased), Julia Kathrine Cowell (Nee Fontaine) (Mother, deceased) Residence: Valdis Family Funeral Home and Mortuary, Death Valley, Texas (current), Green River Ranch, Houston, Texas (childhood)Occupation: Gravedigger, mortician, coroner, carpenter (currently); previously: ranch hand, groundskeeper, chef, dishwasher, dogwalker. Face Claim: James Badge Dale (Especially in the Lone Ranger). Skills and Abilities: Carpentry, grave digging, motorcycle repair and riding, can and will hide cookies and snacks everywhere without people finding them, can quote most old crime dramas or detective books, very good at cutting grass, can play a harmonica, decent shot with a rifle, sons say he gives great shoulder rides, an odd ability to accept the weird things that go on, remarkably fast learner, somehow does not terribly embarrass himself in front of his crush, can and will nap anywhere, great with a lasso, horseback riding and cattle herding. Biography: J.T. likes to call himself a simple man. Always has been. nothing special there. He came from a big bunch of kids who grew up together on the family ranch on the outskirts of Houston. A bunch of hellions and rascals, people would say, but good kids. Spent most of their day at school or doing chores, and when unoccupied, each and every one of them had stories of sneaking into the Erikson orchard or playing with the calves or getting caught up to their knees in river mud hunting frogs or trying to charm the folks at the cafe out of a milkshake or two, with mixed results. They bickered and squabbled, as siblings sometimes did, but they loved each other, and any grievances were as short-lived and inconsequential as the mayflies that buzzed about their ears.

J.T. was the third oldest. Joe came first, and then Nel. She was only three minutes older than J.T., but she liked to pretend that counted. He always disagreed. After him came Emma, then Ryan, then Irene. J.T. was the first of his many siblings to go through a crisis of identity. He was named for his father, Theodore (Theo for short), and his grandfather, Jakob. When he was young, people referred to him as Jake. Some called him Jakob Jr., even though it wasn’t spelled the same way, and grandpa’s name was said closer to ‘Yakob’ than anything with a J. That didn’t work. Some people tried calling him Teddy (and Teddy Jr.). That didn’t fly, either. When he was on the cusp between twelve and thirteen, he put his foot down. From that day on, it was J.T. Most people were just glad that the confusion was gone. One Jacob - or Yakob - one Theodore, one J.T. Much easier come dinner time.

Like all of his siblings, J.T. helped out on the ranch. He liked riding the most, and had a knack for getting mischievous calves to behave. While he wasn’t the best at hiding, he was great at seeking, and, as any older sibling knows, being able to keep kids entertained is a quickly-learned skill. He didn’t really have much of a life plan. Didn’t think he’d need one. He just assumed he’d work at the ranch when he got older. It wouldn’t get passed to him, of course. Not unless his parents decided to be weirdly spiteful. It’d go to Joe, but he’d always promised that he’d never let his own brother go hungry. If J wanted to stick around and work for him, he’d be more than welcome.

Then the war started. The Cold War may not have seen any battles, but it did see conscription. J.T., for his part, had seen what conscription did. An old soldier - Old Man Black, Fred to his friends - lived not too far from the ranch, and, sitting on his porch chair with his crutches across his lap, he’d told more than a few curious young boys stories of what war was really like. J.T. didn’t want anything to do with it, so he ran. He didn’t know where he was going. All that mattered was that it was wherever the war wasn’t. (Joe didn’t run. He joined the army and was moved away, leaving the ranch to Nel. He’d later pass away during a tour. When J.T. eventually got in contact with his family again, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for this.)

J.T. was on the road for some time. A lot of walking, a lot of hitchhiking. A lot of sleepless nights and odd jobs to put a roof over his head. A lot of skipping to the next town when people started to get suspicious. That’s how he found himself in the valley.

He didn’t even know there was a town there.

He was sure it hadn’t been on the map a minute ago.

But, then again, who was he to question it? So he did what he did whenever he came to a new town; He tried to find a place to stay. The valley was a typical small town in that its residents were not kind to outsiders, especially raggedy ones that showed up out of the blue with little by way of money and rifles slung over their backs (he wasn’t dim enough to travel unarmed). Unsurprisingly, no doors were opened to him. With a dust storm visible on the horizon, he had no choice but to turn to the last remaining option: the eerie funeral home on the edge of town. There was a car in the drive, so he had to assume people were there. He knocked on the door. It opened. J.T. found himself looking up, which he was not accustomed to doing. Before he could get a word in edgewise, he was told that he looked exhausted, and all but shoved into the entrance way. According to his new host, he was just in time for dinner. The towering statue of a man (who J.T. would eventually come to know as Abe, the master of the yard) called to someone inside the home, and J.T. found himself suddenly unable to speak.

Oh.

Well, he might not know how the valley worked (or, in that moment, how to form coherent sentences), but he did know how to behave in front of a lady. He was raised beside a barn, not in one. He joined them for dinner that night, was given a hot shower and a place to stay. Even got to wash his clothes. At breakfast the next morning, he was told that he could stay as long as he’d like, provided he helped around the property. That seemed fair enough to him, and so, once he could tear his eyes away from the sly smile of the mortician’s daughter, he agreed. And so it was that he became the mortician’s apprentice. It wasn’t all at once, of course. It started with simple chores around the house. Then helping him measure out the wood. Keeping tools organized, cataloging the different chemicals. Before he knew it, J.T. was building caskets of his own, and dressing up corpses… Well, not with the best of them. Abraham was the best, is what J.T. would tell anyone who asked. He himself just did the best he could. That applied to his work as a mortician, and his attempts to woo ‘Miss Iza’. He was head over heels, as anyone could see. He found her to be whip-smart and beautiful, but even more than that, she was funny. They had a similar sense of humour, and could often be found laughing together as he trailed along behind her like a faithful bloodhound. Anything she needed done, he’d do. In turn, she helped him feel a bit more at ease about all the odd goings-on around the home. Yes, it was normal to have that many crows. Yes, that head did move around the yard sometimes, but no, it wouldn’t hurt you. Yes, we do hang cinnamon in every outwards-facing door and yes, it is important. It became a running joke in the family that, whenever J.T. called Iza’s name in a bewildered and slightly hesitant voice, it meant he had discovered something new, and that it ought to happen at least once a day or they weren’t doing their jobs right.

Eventually, he just stopped being surprised. There’s only so much weird one can take before it stops seeming weird and just becomes normal. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t bat an eye when the young man who would become his assistant showed up at their door. They let him stay the night, gave him food and a place to sleep. Adam, not quite one year old at the time, was quite perplexed at all of this, and preferred just huddling in his parents’ arms and staring. Abraham had passed not too long before, and so J.T. thought the Newcomer’s (a title no longer belonging to him) arrival was quite timely. Work had been piling up, and he was the father of a young child. So he took Paul under his wing. The man was relatively quick to learn, J.T. supposed, if not a bit socially awkward. It would be a bit longer before he got invited out with his mentor to drinking and pool nights down at the pub.

Much like his wife before him, J.T. would be flocked with locals asking after the stranger he’d taken in. He was much less secretive, and spent more than a few nights regaling the friends he’d made with tales of his apprentice’s oddities. He couldn’t complain, though. The boy was clever and got the work done, and that’s all he could ask. He gave Paul a lot of work, especially when his second child was on the way. Had to take care of the missus and the little one, after all. And the soon-to-be little one. He was happy. He knew he probably wouldn’t have as many kids as his own parents had; the funeral home wasn’t big enough. Hell, he wasn’t sure that the valley itself was big enough. But he thought that it was important for his son to have a sibling. He couldn’t imagine growing up alone.

Parenthood, he’d discovered, was not too dissimilar to being an older sibling. there was more to it, of course. More work. More sleepless nights. Oddly enough, more embarrassing things saved up to talk about at weddings. (He hadn’t seen that one coming.) His boys were troublemakers, and he didn’t understand one half of where they came from (he made sure to make himself scarce when they were doing the Unexplainable Business with their mama), but he adored them. Little scamps. He had no idea where all of their energy came from. One second, they’d be in the yard, then the workshop, then the embalming room, and he’d have no idea how they got there. Adam especially was good at turning up in otherwise locked rooms. It took a while for J.T. to stop jumping out of his skin whenever that happened. Just part of parenthood, he told himself. Didn’t seem to be hurting anybody. At least he hadn’t set the couch on fire, like Kane had that one time. It had taken forever to get the smoke smell out.

J.T. didn’t feel like an outsider in the valley any more. He hadn’t felt that way for a long time. Hadn’t left, either. The need never arose. He had come to the realization that the valley was about as self-contained as it got, and that he didn’t mind at all. … But his family was out there. Not his wife and kids, but his siblings. He realized about then that he hadn’t spoken to them for a while. Not since before he got married. … Oh. He had a few things to catch them up on. Whoops. Might want to do that now.

So he did. Took some effort, but he was able to call the ranch again. Nel answered. Their parents had retired (still alive, fortunately, just retired), Joe was dead, and surprise, she was now an aunt to two kids. Both of them were faced with more information than they’d expected upon waking up that morning. It was another phone call or two before the awkwardness faded. There was something odd about knowing someone like the back of your hand, losing sight of them briefly, and then suddenly knowing nothing. It’s jarring. They had a lot of things to work out. Once it was all taken care of, they actually arranged to have the boys come up to the ranch a few times in the summer breaks. Might not have been the same as living there, but he was glad the two of them got to experience Houston life, even a little bit. They talked about making it more of a regular thing. Let the boys learn how to ride, how to herd, how to run a different kind of yard, and give the ranch a few extra hands.

He’d had a lot of plans for his boys as they grew up. He never got to see it happen.

He’d been downstairs when the fire broke out. He could have made it to the door. He wasn’t that far away, just in the waiting room going over what he’d have to get done tomorrow. Yes, they should have been celebrating, but there’s only so long you can postpone an embalming before it becomes a mess. He could have reached the door, could have broken a window. But his wife was upstairs. His youngest was upstairs.

(He was grateful for having sent Adam out for those extra chores. At least he would be safe.)

If he left them to die, he’d have no reason to live. 

Given that he never made it out, it seemed he didn’t have much reason to worry about that.

Themesong: Crazy Train (Wild West Edition) - samuraiguitarist || Way Down We Go - KALEOQuote: “And Paul… Paul, my oldest friend this side of the Mississippi. I only got one thing to say to you: There ain’t no laws in Hell, partner. I’ll be waiting.”