#Matthias *insert whatever*

[r1ng-w0rm]

LBB! OC BIKER GANG (wip/concept??)

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Alrighty sooooooo I was thinking about one of my og/non fandom ocs- Roach [Roach is a hellracer/nascar racetrack owner within the swag pits of hell. He's also an engineer, but that's not important atm] B- and thinking about his character background got me interested in making a biker gang OC(?) for that awesome sim, Loveless Biker Boys (p.s u should play it <3).

CW/TW: Blood Oaths, uh.. Nascar murder durby? Suffocation/inhaling toxic gasses???

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◂◄Flamin' Biker Boys►▸

▸►Feel the burn! [Background info]◄◂

The Flamin' Biker Boys was a gang originally started by the one and only well known Nascar/Racetrack Murder Derby owner- Verner 'Roach' Hemp: A man who considers his racetrack to be the love of his life.

Though as the years passed, 'Nettie' and Matthias had moved near Roaches racetrack to help Roach manage the murder derby.. Then soon after that two more people joined (who'll be discussed later). Then after seeing the more than exciting beef going between the Loveless Bikers and the Rival Bikers, the group wanted to join in on the supposed violence. Thus the Flamin' Biker Boys were born!

But-.. How'd they come up with that name?.. Well they originally started with Irradiated Biker Boys due to the amount of nuclear waste around the racetrack and because their biker suit colors and uniforms were themed towards being neon green, but soon the radiation had bombarded its way into the derbies underground lounge...and as Roach walked down the concrete slab-like steps to inspect the issue- a sulphuric stench had already knocked it's way into Roaches brain, ridding his current state unconscious.. Though instead of killing him instantly, it mutated each sweat gland and pore within his body to produce a flammable substance- but instead of warning the rest, he was like "come down here so we can set our hair on fire and be cool!!🤓"

I haven't fully thought through the gangs status background so don't judge me(plz).

▸►MORE UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BLOCK UR FEED◄◂

▸►YES AND NO'S TO BECOMING A MEMBER. AKA WAYS INTO BECOMING AN OFFICIAL MEMBER◄◂

If you're thinking of joining these bad boys, here's a few things you gotta remember!

Be just a tad bit vehicle smart! (Whether you know a tiny bit or a lot)

Be able to withstand extremely high temperatures and violent conditions when you're on the race track.

Don't complain about the smell.

Please glare at the other biker groups to make yourself look cool!!

▸►IF YOU DO MAKE IT IN◄◂

While I will talk more about what'd each biker would do to welcome you in(due to each of them having special abilities to mutate you), Roach would most likely be the one to woo you into mutating to officially be a member. He'd probably lock you into the old irradiated lounge room to see if you'll survive.

If you do survive, Congrats! You got cool inflamed hair(or your pores can release a deadly gas.. There's actually multiple things you could possibly end up getting, I'm just naming the two most common).

If you don't survive, you're either a melted blob of flesh and bloody goop or you're charred to death.

▸►IF YOU DON'T MAKE IT IN◄◂

If you're wanting to go into a No Murder/Gore route: they'd probably just be like "I'm sorry, but go bother someone else"

If you want to go into a more violent route: there's multiple things that could happen- they burn you, you suffocate to death, you're handed over to the Rival Biker Boys uh... So on so forth.

▸►ABOUT THE BELOVED FLAMIN' RACER BOYS◄◂

These drawings are quick design concepts for them + Dante's official design

☣︎Dante-

A 30 year old, 6'4 god complexed man who still believes that Dice and Jeff are the same person disguised as two.

Dante's the supposed charisma of the group.

His flaims range between a multitude of colors, but mostly stay Highlighter yellow.

☣︎Moth-

A 26 year old, 6'6 eye sewn intelligent man whos IQ is above 200.

His name isn't actually Moth, it's Francis. The only reason why he's called Moth is because he called a wasp a moth and everyone absolutely destroyed his ego about it.

Moths flames usually remain teal or sea foam green.

☣︎Verner 'Roach' Hemp and 'NETTIE' Hemp

I put these two together because you guys already know a bit about them BUTTTT-

Two completely opposite brothers who don't actually hate eachother. Roach being 42 years old and 5'6, while 'NETTIE' is 51 and stands at 7'0.

The funny thing about these two is that Roach owns a Hellracing nascar murder derby while Nettie owns a hefty metal welding warehouse that specializes in creating absolutely screwed up violent vehicle parts.

Roaches his hair is more lava/corium-like than it is at being pure fire, but his magma hair is usually a salmon pink color.

'NETTIE' On the other hand can change the color of his inflamed skull. It was originally a pastel yellow, but he usually switches from a toxic green to a midnight purple.

☣︎Matthias *insert whatever*

A 35 year old, 6'4 man who deems himself the better twin between him and Tobias.

He's one of the racetracks 'enthusiastic' speakers/radio hosts. He specializes in making his own hazmat suits!

Matthias likes to keep his flames a classicorange! Totally not because he likes to mock his brain fried brother, but because he thinks orange actually suits him. (It doesn't, personally the rest see Matthias being a rose gold/dead pink kind of guy).

☣︎DOOBIE THE NEWBIE

An 18 year old, 5'9 man who idolizes the loveless biker boys just a bit too much.

Doobie (real name being: Dud) is a guy who originally sparked his stupid, drug-ridden way up to the top alongside his supposed childhood friend Neon, but instantly turned down Neons suggestion/invitation to join the rivals.

Doobie doesn't have any cool flame hair since he's the newbie, but his real hair is an auburn color.

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I plan on writing more for them(like their opinions on others etc)

[onlybeeewrites]

Whatever it takes (1/ )

Pairing: platonic!Oc x Liam Mairi, platonic!Oc x Xaden Riorson, Oc x iron squad

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Karina was nothing like her brother. Their father made sure to remind her of that. Now facing death in the face every day, she was glad she wasn’t. Now there are two Riorsons at Basgiath War College; what could go wrong?

Warnings: FOURTH WING SPOILERS, POSSIBLY SOME IRON FLAME SPOILERS — violence, mentions of death, scars, cursing, fire, parental death, bad parenting, and dragon attitude

Whatever It Takes series: Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stone steps of Basgiath War College’s turret stretched endlessly upward. Up, up, up. Each one worn smooth by the countless cadets who had dared to climb before. For Karina, it was the only thing keeping her from her from her family. It was twisted, really. The fact that the death sentence that was the Riders Quadrant was actually bringing her closer to what she wanted most. What she needed most. 

Behind her, her foster brother and arguably her best friend, Liam matched her pace as they climbed up the steps of the turret. His broad shoulders and easy demeanor a comforting presence amidst the tension that crackled in the air. The stuffy spiral stairway that was filled to the brim with cadets all willing to attempt to cross the parapet in hopes of surviving; to be Riders.

The wind outside whistled through the open windows as it  continued to grow restless, as if it was eager for the show that was about to begin. And Karina could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She tightened her grip on her pack, one that should be full but was packed with so little. Clothes. A book from home. And one nice dress. It wasn’t much. Not that she had much to begin with after she had to leave her home six years ago. 

But it was different now. 

She was different now.

“You’re smiling,” Liam says, sounding almost amused. “What, are you actually excited to cross the parapet?” His eyebrow was raised. His voice filling her ears despite the fact that hundreds of other twenty year old’s voices are echoing back and forth against the stone. All eager. But there was a handful there because of obligation. Some were there because legally they had to be. Not because they wanted the glory or power that came with being a Rider.

But against all odds, Karina smiles despite the hammering in her chest and slight tremor in her fingers.  

“No, but I am excited to see Xaden again.” The idea of seeing her brother after so long was the only thing that kept her going up those steps. Gods, did there need to be so many? Maybe she should have focused more on working on her legs than her sparring.

It had been now three years since Xaden had left and gone into the Rider’s Quadrant there at Basgiath.And it had been the longest three years she’d ever felt with only the occasional letters.  

Liam scoffs. “Of course you are. Should’ve known you’d be thinking about your brother over the life-threatening death walk we’re about to take.”

Karina rolls her eyes and resists the urge to hit him with her elbow, “And Bodhi. And Garrick. It’s been years, Liam. Six years, since I’ve seen them. Now they’re all big bad dragon riders. I can’t wait to-“

“Stress them out?”

A wicked, mischievous grew on her face, “Exactly,”

Soon, the line came to a stop as the first candidate reached the top. Swallowing, Karina looked upward, knowing that her brother was just a few dozen stairs away now. Her heart pounded at the idea of finally seeing him. The knot in her stomach tightened as one by one, the cadets ahead of her crossed the parapet.

As they slowly reached the top, the wind hit them like a wall, whipping through them. And Karina was grateful that she decided to braid her thick hair and pinned it into a neat, bun at the base of her neck. Even though stray curls whipped around her with the wind, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it could be if she hadn’t. Because now just a few feet before them stretched the parapet—a narrow stone bridge suspended 200 feet above a raging river, its uneven surface leading to the Riders Quadrant’s citadel. 

Her eyes snapped to the figure leaning against the entrance to the parapet. Tall. Still about 10 inches taller than her, even though she was in her boots. But he was in all rider black. A new scar on his face that wasn’t there when he had left Lewellen. The stubble. But the familiar welcome of his onyx eyes that reminded her so much of home.  

Xaden had always been her home. Even when they were younger she would always follow along behind him and Garrick around their home. Even when Xaden would shoo her away to play with Bodhi instead. But mainly when their mother had left them.

Home no longer was a place.

It was her brother.

It was Xaden. 

It took her everything not to run right up to him. They were targets here, no matter how high  Xaden was in the ranks. She wasn’t. So she waited as one after another the Death Walk, as Liam called it. Besides, she was a Riorson, she had a reputation to uphold.

“Name?” The rider asked with an older looking scribe beside him. Her eyes snapped back towards him and cleared her throat. 

“Riorson, Karina.”

The moment she spoke the rider and scribe both froze for a split moment. Their eyes darting upward to look at her. And she knew exactly what they saw. A traitor. A marked one. Daughter to the Great Betrayer. Tyrrish blood. It was enough to put a target on her back. But she had that on the moment she was born into the Riorson family.

Her eyes moved away from the rider taking down the names, not bothering to wait to hear what other smart-ass comments they had to give her. Because she met the eyes of her big brother. The one who she was so fortunate enough to be with while they were fostered after the Apostasy. The one who helped her though the nightmares after watching their father and the others, being killed by dragon fire. The same brother who she soothed and helped clean his back after he had gotten the one hundred and seven cuts on his back. One scar for each of the children of the rebellion leaders. 

And now she stood before him. Insanely built. Tough and hardened. But alive. And that was more than anything else she could ask for. It was more than so many families could say about their children who even attempted. 

But his eyes read a different story than the bored expression on his face. As much as he tried to hide it, she could tell he was happy to see her. Irritated that she had to be there. 

“Riorson. Good to see you made it up in one piece,” Xaden said, his eyes darting briefly to Liam and nodding again, “both of you.”

Karina smiled, “well it helps that I kept up with my exercising and all,” she said simply, “you could look better. Though the scar makes you look ten times cooler than before.” She added with a smirk.

Xaden rolled his eyes, hiding his amusement. “Enough about my appearance, cadet. It’s your turn and you’re holding everyone up,” he said, nodding with indifference to the stone bridge ahead of her. He didn’t seem worried. Not that she could see anyway. Either before he didn’t want her to doubt herself or he had pure faith in her. Probably both. 

“I’ll see you in the other side,” Karina said as she heard Liam give his name to the rider keeping track. Taking a breath she stepped up onto the parapet and walked forward before pausing briefly.  

Karina looked upward to the sky as it was darkening. The wind picking up quickly. And she was honestly surprised it wasn’t raining yet. Maybe she’d be able to make it across before the storm got worse. She quickly checked herself over. Her plain long sleeve black shirt and pants, along with her sturdy boots were nothing fancy. 

But she had never been so grateful for her brother’s advice. Before arriving at Basgiath, he had told her the rules of the Riders Codex, the rules they all live by. And according to it, whatever you cross the parapet with is yours. So she did just that. 

On her waist, a leather belt held a set of daggers, each one sheathed and ready for her to grab easily. The first was positioned at her right hip, a slim, curved blade that could cut through skin like paper if she was quick enough. The second was tucked on her left thigh, a little smaller but no less dangerous. The third and final dagger was positioned at her waist. 

Their father had made sure to leave one of his daggers for her. And for her 20th birthday she was given it. As if a final gift from her father. And as much as she had a complicated relationship with him, she cherished those daggers close.

“Get on across, Riorson,” she heard Xaden’s voice scolding in her ears, and she shot him a playful glare over her shoulder. That must be his Wingleader voice Bodhi had written to her about.

“You should remember I don’t like to be rushed,” Karina said, but regardless looked ahead. Her brown eyes flickered upward at the swirling storm clouds above them. Any minute now it’s going to start downpouring. And she did not want to be on this death trap when it did. 

Karina took a deep breath, her gaze fixed ahead. The wind was stronger here, tugging at her clothing and tousling her hair. She could see faint markings on the stone—painted lines demarcating quarters of the bridge and indicating the halfway point. 

Taking a deep breath she calmed down her racing heart and stuck out her hands as she moved out, away from the safety of the battle monuments and into the open air. Goosebumps rising on her skin. The wind howled around her, and the chasm below seemed to yawn endlessly. Karina’s focus narrowed to the stone beneath her boots, the rhythm of her breathing. 

Focus. Breathe. One foot in front of the other.

That seemed to work for her. Eyes ahead, one step at a time. Before she realized, she reached the halfway point, marked by a faint red line. And for a moment Karina allowed herself a brief glance to the side. The view was breathtaking—the sprawling expanse of Basgiath, the winding river below, and the distant peaks beyond. 

Yes; even in this terrifying moment, with the storm waiting to unleash any moment, with the raging river, the wind, she couldn’t help but admire it. She was forced to be there. Stuck in what was supposed to be a death sentence. 

But Gods was it beautiful.

“Mairi, you’re up,” she heard her brother’s voice say, and a quick glance behind her showed that Liam took his place onto the parapet. But she quickly returned her focus to the path ahead. This wasn’t over just eh.

The final stretch approached, and the parapet began to widen slightly, the stone walls of the Riders Quadrant’s citadel becoming visible. The wind seemed to intensify here, swirling around the narrowing bridge. Her fingers brushing against the cool surface for added stability in those last several feet.

Karina felt like she could breathe as she finally stepped through the archway, her boots crunching on the gravel. The courtyard was expansive, capable of accommodating a thousand riders. Its layout resembled an angular teardrop, with the rounded end constituted by a massive outer wall at least ten feet thick, designed to support the weight of dragons perching upon them.  

“Name?” 

Karina’s eyes snapped to the red-headed rider with the parchment. She seemed to want to be anywhere but there. And Karina could only imagine how tiring it could be to take name after name after name.

“Riorson. Karina, Riorson,” she said, keeping her head up as the second year seemed to pause. The redhead looked up to her and narrowed her eyes for a moment, 

“Riorson?”

Karina crossed her arms over her chest, staring back at the older girl, refusing to look away. To back down. She couldn’t trust anyone here. No one but three other Marked ones. The risk of them coming after her were higher than most. Especially with her name attached, and with her brother here? Mixed with her father’s reputation? A recipe for disaster.

The second year just let out a small huff before nodding her head aside, “move on. Wait for assignments.” She said, and Karina smirked before moving to the side, grinning as she watched Liam cross easily. 

After he gave his name to the second-year, the two made their way through the crowd of cadets. New first-years, and returning second and third years all watching the eager cadets.

“I can’t believe we made it. I mean that parapet is no joke, I thought the wind was gonna take me a few times. I feel bad for whoever has to do that in that rain,” Liam said, grimacing at the sight of the rain and wind; both equally getting heavier.

Before Karina could respond, a hand grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back with tug. 

“Gotcha!” the voice boomed, teasing and familiar.

Without thinking, Karina’s body reacted faster than her mind could catch up. Her fist flew instinctively, connecting with something solid—a sharp crack filled the air. She felt the jolt of the punch travel through her arm, and a grunt echoed from the person she’d struck.

The hand released her immediately, and she spun around, heart hammering in her chest, ready to face whoever had dared to sneak up on her. Her hand flying to her hip to grab the closest dagger.

But then, her eyes met the unmistakable, grinning face of her cousin, Bodhi.

“Oh gods,” she muttered under her breath, feeling the color drain from her face. “Bodhi? What are you fucking stupid?”

Bodhi stumbled back, holding a hand to his jaw where her punch had landed. “Ouch,” he groaned, though the smirk never left his face. “Was that really necessary, Karina? Ever heard of a warm welcome?”

Karina  heart rate slowed as she realized who it was. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think it was you—” She stepped forward, before pausing and narrowing her eyes. “No, you know what? I take it back. That’s what you fucking get for sneaking up on me. I swear you were fucking asking for it,” she said with a huff.

Bodhi grinned wider, rubbing his jaw with a laugh. “I’ll survive.” He winked. “But you’re quick. I forgot how fast you are. That’ll come in handy for you here,”

Before Karina could say anything else, another voice interrupted their exchange.

“Is everything alright here?” Imogen’s voice rang out, carrying over the courtyard.

Karina turned to see Imogen and Garrick walking toward them, a mix of concern and amusement in their expressions. Imogen’s sharp eyes shifted from Karina to Bodhi and back again, her lips curving up into a smirk as she took in the scene.

“I think Bodhi learned his lesson,” Imogen teased, her voice light with amusement and heavy with sarcasm.

Garrick, ever the stoic one, raised an eyebrow. “Did you really have to punch him that hard?” He asked, though she didn’t miss the amused look in his eyes.

Karina’s shrugged, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me, especially after just crossing that parapet. He came up to me out of no where, he’s lucky I didn’t break his nose,”

“You’ve always been so violent” Bodhi teased with a chuckle, his expression still light. “But hey, good to know Karina still has a mean left hook.”

“Clearly,” Imogen said dryly, her eyes twinkling with laughter as she glanced at Karina. “Should’ve known better than to sneak up on a Riorson.”

“Well, you should’ve seen the look on your face when I grabbed you,” Bodhi added with a laugh, now recovering from the punch, “You were ready to kill me.”

“I still might, depending on how much longer you keep running your mouth,” Karina shot back with a raised eyebrow, but there was no malice behind the words. 

Gods, she missed this. Missed him. Missed them. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Too long. It all had been much too long.

Garrick’s lip quirked to a smile. “But I have to admit, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Karina. We all knew you’d make it across, but I didn’t expect the fistfight at the end.”

Karina nodded in return, her own smirk growing at Garrick’s amusement. It sent easy always pulling a smile from him before, but now after three years in the Riders Quadrant? It felt like a special reward, “It’s been too long. I’ve missed you all. I’m glad to see everyone’s in one piece,”

“Well, as in one piece, as you can get,” Bodhi said, still rubbing his jaw lightly, “You’ll have to get used to seeing us more often. This is home now.”

Karina eyes scanned the courtyard as the others fell into step around her, each of them already making plans for what would come next. Training. Drills. Threshing. Everything to grind them into perfect weapons. It was one hell of a home.

“Right..” Karina muttered before her eyes flickered out the window as the rain now was completely lashing down. Like it had waited for Liam to get across before starting its release. Her eyes darted to the parapet, just in time to see a young woman with silver hair run the last few feet of the parapet. She had turned and held it to the groin of the male behind her.

Her eyes widened a bit. The hair alone, even through it was braided, told her everything she needed to know about her.

“Is that..?”

“Yes,” Imogen huffed, her eyes narrowed down at the rather short female who had now turned to give her name to the name keeper.  

“And Xaden…”     “Yep,” Bodhi said with a nod, glancing to Karina, “he already has a whole plan set. I would call it cute if he didn’t already threaten me,” he said, causing Karina to shake her head with amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~ Soon enough, the last candidate crosses the parapet hours later. By now it was late afternoon and the storm passed on. The sun beat down on them now, causing the air to become humid and sticky. As they all gathered, Leadership gathered as well on the dais to call the attention of the first-years.

Commandant Panchek takes the center of the dais and his voice rings out as he begins a whole speech about how three hundred and one of them made it across. And goes into further detail about how the Codex was what they would live by, how their professors would teach them everything they needed to know, and so on. 

“Riorson, Karina. Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing.” 

Karina frowned and glanced at Liam who was already in a different squad. Her heart fell but she also knew realistically the odds of them being put together was low. They tended to try and separate the marked ones. She looked ahead of her and moved forward through the crowd. She could see Xaden from the corner of her eye on the dais watching carefully as if someone was going to come out swinging at her. 

It was more comforting than the eyes and glares she received as she moved through the parting crowds. Karina stood with her head up among her squadmates. None seeming to have the same swirling black mark on their left arm like her own, but she would manage. She just has to survive until threshing. 

So she stood in place. Behind who she knew was Violet and her friend, a pretty dark skinned girl. More names were called. And soon enough cadets surrounded her making up her squad, and then her section, and then her wing.

The tall boy with light brown hair and freckles long his face to the right of her was the first to break the silence, “Hey, so… guess we’re all in this together now,” he said, offering a kind smile, his eyes flickered over the group. “I’m Sawyer,”

Karina’s eyes landed on Violet Sorrengail, who was standing beside the other girl, her posture tense, arms crossed over her chest as if bracing for impact. She hesitated as she glanced over her shoulder at Sawyer before say, her gaze darting from Karina to Xaden before finally settling back on Karina.

Karina caught the hesitation and couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t worry, Sorrengail,” she teased, voice light with amusement. “You’re my brother’s problem. My issue is with your mom, so don’t sweat it.”

Violet blinked, then exhaled sharply in what might’ve been a half-laugh, half-scoff. “Good to know, I’m…Violet,” she muttered, clearing her throat.

Beside her, the taller girl still looked wary, shifting slightly in place, “I’m Rhiannon,” she said, glancing hesitantly over Karina. But before she could say anything else, the shorter dark haired guy to the left of Karina leaned in with a dramatic whisper. “You look like you’re about to bolt. What, scared of a little Riorson?”

Rhiannon shot him a look, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction. “I’m not scared,” she shot back, lips twitching. “Just… cautious.”

The guy grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He looked over the group before looking Karina up and down with a smirk, “I’m Ridoc. You’ll need to know the same for later,”

Karina rolled her eyes and chuckled, “yeah good luck with that,” 

She then took a moment to have a look over the mismatched group that was now her squad. They weren’t a team. Not yet, at least. She could still see the distrust in their postures. But Sawyer seemed to be the most open to her, which was good at least. 

They continued to read off all the names until all three hundred and one cadets are organized into sections and squads. But then there was a pause. And Xaden moved to talk to the other Wingleaders. And her eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out what the hell her brother was trying to do.

Then after what seemed to be a rather long and heated discussion when the third year who was calling out the name nods to Xaden in a final approval and clears her throat. All the Wingleaders turn to face the cadets. 

“Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” she announced as she scripted something down on the parchment. All the cadets seemed to share a look amongst themselves. But their squad leader, Dain Aetos, seemed to just accept the orders. No questions asked. 

“Follow me,” was all Aetos said as the squad erupted in mourners. Though they followed Aetos to their new position in Fourth wing. Karina narrowed her eyes, darting around before she smirked in realization.

No fucking way.

Xaden had moved them to his wing. With Bodhi. Imogen. Garrick. Her family. A section and squad full of marked ones. Looking in front of her, she could see the moment Violet had the realization too. Karina couldn’t help but find it amusing. But she made a mental note on asking Xaden why he had done it in the first place; not that she was complaining. 

As the sections seemed to settle down into their official spots, Xaden then took to the center of the dais. Folding his arms over his chest as he looks over the hundreds of cadets littering the courtyard now in organized lines. And Karina could see how his eyes were analyzing each and every one of them. As if he could see right through each one of them. 

“You’re all cadets now,” he started, his voice booming across the courtyard, “yeah I’m sure you feel pretty badass now huh? Feeling pretty unstoppable, first-years?” He asks as the applause of the first-years fill the air, cheers and cocky woos.

But Karina didn’t, remaining still. She knew her brother. He wasn’t one to just praise a bunch of fresh cadets for walking across the bridge. It was a set up. And it seemed she was right. Because the next thing she knew, wing beats, filled the air. And dragons started to land amongst the masonry on the top of the walls. 

Beautiful creatures.

A red, a few greens, and a stunning blue. 

Their massive forms looming over them, their shadows casting and blocking out the sun. Screams filled the air. And a cadet runs. The red dragon seems to make an example and with a breath of fire, turns the cadet to ash. Two more cadets run from this. And then two more are dead.

What idiots.

The blue dragon turns its head towards directly at Karina. Tilting its head slightly, but those golden eyes threatening, but almost curious. She let out a huff of steam through her nostrils before turning her attention back to the rest of the crowd.

Sgaeyl. 

That had to have been Xaden’s dragon. She was just like what he had told her briefly in his letters. But words didn’t do her justice for how she looked in person. Let alone the massive size. Beautiful. But fucking terrifying.

After everything seemed to settle down again, Xaden looked over the crowd again with a rather bored expression on his face. “Anyone else change their mind? No?” He asked as he paused, “Good. Roughly half of you will be dead this time next year. A third after that. Here, no one cares who your parents are. King, noble, merchant, farmer, general. Here, you’re on your own,” he adds a bit too pointedly, his eyes landing on Violet.

“Tell me now if you still feel elite. Tell me if you still feel unstoppable. Untouchable,” a roar of fire blows over them from the blue dragon—Sgaeyl.

“Because you are not special, or valuable, or untouchable, to them,” Xaden continued, pointing to Sgaeyl. “To them? You’re replaceable. And at the very bottom of their food chain.” He finished scanning the crowd with an intimidating smirk.

“Welcome to the Riders Quadrant, first-years.”

[lilisouless]

Okay lets go

A reminder, this is just for fun and content, an exploration, something that doesn't matter. I don't want anyone to go and take screenshots and sending them to twitter going "this person doesn't agree with the canon couples!" "Lilisouless? more like lilibrainless!" and using my dear layer against me. This is purely experimental and if i catch any of you use this for real discourse i swear-!

Also i am sorry but i can't find the friends tiktok, there´s a similar one but i think it´s not the same. If someone gets it, let me know.

Okay, so lets see ships alternatives for the crows if they weren't with their canon LI

This wasn't exactly personal taste (you´ll understand when you read it) if it was personal taste and my multiship likeness it would be Nina/Inej, Kaz/Matthias, Wylan/Kuwei and Jesper with a self insert named Lulu. And obviously each partner options are on the case they don't have romantic feelings for their canon partner.

I did this thinking on story alternatives. Spoiler: there´s only one crow x crow pairing and most of them are crack ships. Now let´s star:

Nina, i name her first because this may be dissapointing: I think it should still be Hanne, technically cheating but i can take her old friend Nestor as a dead lover and Hanne as the eventual endgame. The difference being she actually encounters Hanne at the Ice Court then the Nik Duology happens.

Matthias: Saying Kaz is tempting, but i will actually say: Alys. She is is about the crows age after all. My reasoning was that she still has a personality extroverted enought to provide a fun constrast, matches Matthias´s gentlemany manners, i could see her being like "hey, you sound like one of the kidnappers, the one that rubbed my feet" and having a small lived romance., or he may as well even get to live here.

Wylan: Kuwei honestly, i see Wylan being nice to him until they sort of start being annoying to each other, then developing a frienship eventually when they bond over being lonely and the loss of their fathers (metaphorically with Wylan)

The next ones are on cancellable land, just remember this is purely an experiment.

Inej: if you are wondering why i didn't write Nina despite being a very Ninej enthusiast, well the think is that they´d be too perfect, beautiful but if i want the slowburn and something to build a main couple energry, i think Jesper would be a better fit. In canon, Inej was Jesper´s person before Wylan came, as much as he was besties with Bollinger and close to Kaz, she always was his best friend. Jesper also always respected her. Now their individual struggles could give a decent subplot, Jesper not feeling he is good enought to her so he wouldn't bother to pursuing but still supporting her, Inej being the only person who tries to understand him, to me they are better with someone inside the group that with an outsider.

Kaz: So Kaz is the one i decided won't be in a wholesome romantic storyline, that can only happen with Inej. No, i am not saying Imogen, she is fine as an ex, and i think (no joking i mean it) Matthias is not a bad option honestly, like helnik´s hostility without the fluff. But the actual proposal i have is this: Saskia. Or whatever her real name could be. You see, lets say she is another member of the crew, a spy for Rollins, maybe Kaz knows, maybe he doesn't, she may regret whagt happened to Jordie but doesn't know how to confess, maybe she didn't even know what she was doing since she was a child and wants revenge for whatever Kaz did to her, the posibilities are a lot enought to go crazy with the possible dynamic. Would probably not have a happy ending but would make an interesting story.

I would like to hear what alternatives people would give instead. Pure fanfic and au talk here, wheter if i agree or disagree.

[juravern]

1, 12, 14 for your choice of character!

Gods damn it, has it been almost 2 months? OTL I'm so sorry, I kept meaning to get around to replying to this and then just.... didn't LOL.

I'm answering for Matthias, my FFXIV main, since that's the game most frequently on my mind these days LMAO. Questions from this list!

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

Appearance. Ironically, I never considered any particularly notable features I wanted him to have; if anything, he was supposed to be kind of Just Some Guy, black hair and light brown skin and not ugly but not like remarkably handome or anything LMAO.

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

The fact that he's the player character in an MMORPG, and therefore when I'm toying with a fic idea focused on the other characters, I actually don't particularly want to write him specifically, just leave a vague sort of insert-your-Warrior-of-Light-here space/shape LOL.

....Also that character creation options have yet to really capture the exact look I want, and I just end up going 'eh it's in the general ballpark, good enough." I know some people will be like, mods or facecast or something, but ehhh.

14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

That he is of ambiguous and indeterminate ethnicity/race, a wanderer who never really fit in where he came from, nor particularly fits in anywhere he goes.

That he has the heart of a warrior and the soul of a scholar: he's fantastic at committing violence, likes the thrill and takes pride in being good at it, but he's also into nerd stuff, into the arts, into seeking knowledge for its own sake, and just generally like, not having to commit violence. He has to have that dichotomy of how, whatever he does, he's never able to be 100% fulfilled and happy.

As a bonus, take a screenshot of him, now with improved textures and new expansion-added combat job XDXD.

[crevassier]

It was like a bad dream- one of many that haunted his night when he was but a young boy. Cornered by Miklan, sometimes completely alone, other times surrounded by his friends and family yet they made no moves to help him. Be it to shield him or to repel the threat, they’d simply watch as his older brother inched closer and closer, a weapon in hand- sometimes an axe, a bat, a piece of wood, a sword, a lance. Always vague, but always a weapon, and always meant to put an end to his existence. For the longest time Sylvain basked in the comfort that these were nothing more than that, bad dreams that would never come to fruition. He was older now, he had friends and family to rely on, he had even his relic.

It wasn’t a scenario Sylvain ever thought would come to fruition, and yet here it was, beat by beat.

In his advance to deliver a second blow to further emphasize his point to Miklan, that this fight was pure nonsense and that he was better off dropping the weapon and leaving, his lance struck something else- not the armor covering his brother’s body, not even his skin or clothes, but rather it bounced off Lukas’ armor. As Sylvain stepped back to readjust his footing and catch a better look of the situation, golden hues changed from incredulous surprise to a frame of anger. No betrayal- he never trusted this guy, but anger.

“Why are you here? You got nothing to do with this.” Venom spilled through clenched teeth, all he was able to offer Lukas before his attention was piqued by movement to his left. In the first second there was warm comfort in his heart- his father had moved, perhaps he’d finally put an end to this. He’d stop Miklan and knock some sense into this random guy.

Rather, a bucket of cold water. Deal with it, essentially.

But before Sylvain could process either of the two emotions- anger at Lukas and betrayal at his father, Miklan rushed in suddenly, uninterrupted, weapon in hand and aiming for his middle. After so much talk of his being older and stronger now, that he wouldn’t let any of Miklan’s cheap tactics scare him anymore, that he knew better than to let his older brother feed on his pain and fear, in the end it was as good as nothing. It mattered little when his legs locked up, mind spiraling back into that one bad dream where a blade descended upon him as everyone watched and nobody lifted an arm to help, desperately hoping that he’d open his eyes and jolt awake on his bed, when instead all he felt was searing pain and a wet warmth in his middle.

All Sylvain had time for, in the end, was to drop his lance and try to shield his abdomen with his own forearms- a pitiful barrier against the smashing edge cutting deep into his skin and knocking him onto the ground below.

While he didn’t lose consciousness, he almost wished that he did. There was no discharge of adrenaline, no numbness, nothing. Sylvain’s back hit the ground with a thud and he was quick to start trying to support himself on his elbows only for a rush of pain to cause his movement to waver, instead deciding to roll to his side and slowly attempt to get up on shaky legs. Shock, this is shock, he quickly concluded. It wasn’t mortal, but it wasn’t a surface wound either. His eyes raced from his bleeding forearms, to his hands, to his middle- his white shirt cut and drenched in his own blood from the open wound, before finally looking back at those surrounding him.

There’s no stronger deterrent than Father, he once thought. With Matthias here, Miklan wouldn’t try anything funny.

Wrong. Matthias was here- he did nothing, and Miklan acted regardless.

And then that other guy, who had nothing to do with the situation and that had inserted himself in it just because, stepped in and protected Miklan of all people.

Whatever barriers the redhed thought existed keeping his brother from reaching him were but illusions after all. Even now, years later, the elder Gautier still had an effect on him. His heart still sank when they locked gazes, he still felt unsafe in his presence, nothing changed. He was older and stronger, but that was just in the physical sense. In spirit he was still that same little boy trapped in a cycle of torment within his own family. Every time he closed his eyes he found himself back there, under Miklan's looming shadow, moments before a hand roughly grabbed at his arm or hair.

He was alone in this. Nobody helped him despite his calls.

Be it out of fear for his own wellbeing, pain from the injury, or just a phantom reflex from years before to run and hide whenever Miklan was around, Sylvain mustered whatever strength he could to urge himself up on shaky legs and run away. He couldn’t be here anymore, he didn’t want to. He didn't even have it in him to cry.

He really was alone, after all.

Sylvain has been defeated!

@deliverred @cielenruine

wow i cant believe the gronder med tents offer free family counselling (i dont want it)

toa boel 2025 - medical camp | cielenruine

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake interview 2022 - Ave Corner Printing

in Japanese

Interview/Text | Yoshiyuki Suzuki | December 2022, photos by Matthias Matthies and Jens Koch

Some bits googly translated... but please read the entire interview, it's nice and long

🎹

――How are you doing now? Until RAMMSTEIN's tour resumes, can we take it easy for a while?

　“Right now, I am preparing various things for Christmas for my family. In January 2023, a reading tour of this book (“Today is the World’s Birthday”) is scheduled in Germany. Because this plan had been postponed for about two years due to the effects of the Covid-19 pandemic, so now it's time to do a reading tour as if the book had just been published. It's supposed to happen."

――"Today is the world's birthday" has a very unique composition, and it's a real-time depiction that starts from the waiting time for the live, and various recollections are inserted one after another. What was your intention in writing it this way?

　“At first, I had some ideas and interesting things that I wanted to write down. There were only loosely connected parts and it still didn't quite come together, so I had the idea to write about myself spending time in the backstage area before a concert. I got the idea to write what happened, and I was able to finish it in no time.I wanted to explain even a little to people (laughs), the band. What it's really like to work in. It's usually very different from what people imagine.When I was a kid, I listened to Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. To me, musicians like them are like gods, and those gods just walk up on stage, sing, and the whole world bows down at their feet... I don't even think that they are also living human beings. But even they have to go to the bathroom, they have to sleep at night, they have marital troubles, they're sick and in a bad mood... I only know shining songs. So I never imagined that a star like that [laughs] has to make music, how much work there is behind that short amount of time in a concert. "

--

――Well, you wrote in the book that you were a punk. Could you be a little more specific about this?

　“In the old days, of course, punk meant being able to make music without being able to play an instrument well. It gave me the freedom to do whatever I wanted, even if I didn't have the background to play the piano or the guitar, and even if I didn't have a musical education, I had the courage to say, ``SEX PISTOLS is cool, and I want to try that kind of music.'' That's how I was lucky to be in a band with someone who didn't have a musical education, because it opened up the possibility of making a good band. Punk has changed now, and when I say 'I'm punk' now, I mean my inner attitude... I don't care about the details... that kind of thing. It's about attitude, like what kind of impression do you make on strangers? You can't do that, it's forbidden, it's not right, you can't do it... but I laugh and say it doesn't matter. When I say, 'I'm still punk at heart,' that's probably what I mean."

――Does that mean that it has a lot to do with inner freedom?

　"Yes. Freedom and not letting other people's opinions sway you. Go your own way, whether other people like it or not."

――It takes courage to stick to such an attitude.

　“It also means that you can’t meet people’s expectations, so there are times when you can’t meet the expectations of your fans. "

--

――Regarding “Dalai Lama”, although it is a relatively old song, the Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek recently wrote an article that highly praises it. Did you?

　"No, I do not know"

――Zizek is a big fan of yours, and you often refer to them in your critics.

　“It has been 30 years since RAMMSTEIN was formed, and we are part of the cultural history, and we are sometimes quoted. But we rarely read articles about bands because we want to make music free from other people's opinions. I don't even search the internet about it.

--

--When you read this book, you will understand that you are an "observer". In my opinion, the keyboard part tends to have an "objective stance" even among rock bands. What do you think?

　“Standing at the back [of the stage] and not being in the center definitely makes me feel at ease. It doesn't have to be.There are times when I can calmly stand behind and watch.And I like the time to move around with the band.That's the best part of touring life, more than concerts, being able to go to different countries. I like that there is so much to see and observe.”

--

――(about coming to Japan for a book tour) It is possible to solve the problem of interpreting. Please come!

　"Well, after the next RAMMSTEIN tour is over. After that, I'll have time to do that."

--thank you. Next year, except for the reading tour in January, are you planning to focus on your activities as a band for the rest of the year?

　“Next year, we will start the tour from May. We will perform on the same stage as this year, but we will add some new songs. We plan to play songs or want to play them.As for next year's tour, it's only in Europe so far."

――How long do you plan to continue working as RAMMSTEIN?

　"As long as it looks cool, we'll keep going. We're always checking the footage, watching it, and deciding if it's still going."

――All the Japanese fans are working hard to go to America and Europe to see RAMMSTEIN live, but I also want to experience your live a few more times.

　“The tour schedule is open to the public on the Internet, so please check there.

[rotzaprachim]

ship/char+word: nina/matthias and “hunger”; alternatively, your preferred winchester and “fix”

i am going to apologise that rather than writing you something fresh (which i COULD DO, WANT TO DO, and probably WILL DO because "hunger" is imho one of the great underrated helnik themes) instead i'm going to insert a chunk of a CK-compliant-ish WIP that's been floating in the nethersphere. trigger warnings definitely for some ableist thinking and messy stuff regarding food

Illness was so embarrassing. She’d spend a decade trying to persuade patients that their afflictions were medical rather than moral problems, that it was no divinely afflicted sin against their natures to be sick and the matter at hand was their well-being and what could be done on its behalf. And yet here she was a woman of twenty-some-odd years who could not get through the day without naps or coddling. She lost her focus. She lost her appetite. She wasn't hungry for anything at all. On a daily basis she found her head suddenly swimming and her vision grainy and no way to continue going about her business but to promptly lie down where she lay. She had waves of fatigue slam against her like tidal waves or seep in at her edges

“You just like broken things,” she told Matthias, a week past the initial withdrawal and therefor freed the prospect of any sort of clemency for her behaviour. “You like the idea you’re fixing something. Or protecting it. You don’t know who to be without anything to serve.”

“Eat your dinner” he told her, unflinching. He slid a plate her way. It was shashlik and flatbread from some greasy cart, but put on a plate in an attempt to look like an actual meal with some yogurt and actual tomatoes. This had Matthias written so profoundly all over it that she hated it deeply. No one else would go to the effort of buying vegetables while hiding out in a mausoleum . No one else would go he effort of buying her Ravkan food. And wasn’t that also so Matthias, to think he could tempt her finicky palette with the flavours of home, as if she had a homeland as straightforward and definable as his and had not spent a lifetime eating whatever she could find that would not kill her, nation be damned, and would have kept up doing it to this present moment if not for the fact something had gone seriously wrong? His affection felt like a heavy blanket she could not tear off and yet would freeze to the core without. And yet she could not stop him from acquiring baked pirozhki breakfasts and cardboard soup containers of borscht, because she wanted the taste of them too much, and even more bitterly savoured the way in which their flavour was ruined, like rusted silverware in her mouth. She could never go back to Ravka. It was not only a matter of the ticket home, of putting her feet back on the land that had made her, but the fact she had lived too long in the land of strangers to be anything other than something of a stranger herself.

“Takk for maten,” she told him, as bitchily as she could.

“And in Djel’s name we pray, amen.”

She stuck a piece of shashlik in her mouth. She’d never been so aware of the movement of her teeth desiccating dead animal cells, or on her second bite, how bread became pulpy mush before it was swallowed.

[heaven-in-a-wild-flower]

Congratulations on 100 followers! Here for the game: 💙 for Helnik! (but not sad please!)

Thanks! <3 <3 <3

Nina

Nina is confused, to say the least. Matthias has been vanishing off somewhere every few days a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. From 6 pm to 8 pm. At first, when she asked him if they could go for a movie and he said he was busy, she let it go. Then he came late for one of their at-home dinner dates, which she was a bit annoyed at but promptly forgot about it when he wrapped his arms around her and just held her for a few minutes. But slowly, she started to notice the pattern. Same three days. Same hours.

Whenever she asked, he'd have an excuse prepared. Whenever she called during those two hours he'd pick up and repeat the excuse. She's considered the obvious options. A surprise for her. But both her birthday and their anniversary has since passed and he's still not stopped whatever this is. An extra job. But he never has work from this elusive "job" so she's dismissed that too. A proposal. But they're already married so what would he even propose? And why would it take this long? Plus she knows that Matthias is not the type to take big life decisions without discussing it with her (they discussed the idea of marriage months before he proposed. She loved that he wouldn't do it without asking her first).

She has even considered the worst, most terrible thing, an affair. She dutifully sniffed his clothes for a smell of a new perfume and peered at them carefully to search for a differently coloured hair strand. When neither turned up, she was relieved but not too surprised, she didn't really think Matthias would do that to her.

She's tried all sorts of ways to figure out what it is. She's tried following him many many times yet he always loses her somehow. Out of desperation she even asked Inej once and he somehow managed to hide from her too! She's running out of patience and has decided to confront him tonight when he gets back from wherever it is he goes during this time. She's on her way home on this dreary Monday evening and she's already thinking of ways to bring it up. She's not too worried though, she has a few hours to think of it, it's only 5:30 pm.

Matthias

Matthias is excited for tonight. He's been prepping all day and he can't wait for Nina to come see. He's perfectly dressed for the task and is ready to go. He's also eager to end this secrecy. He knows Nina knows something is up. He's actually quite impressed that she managed to go this long without asking. He recollects her various other devious ways though, following him, even getting Inej to follow him (all he had to do was tell Inej the plan and she left him alone) and even calling him randomly to see whether he'd let something spill by mistake. He grins to himself, he loves the way her mind works.

He hears the door knob shake a bit and the sound of a key being inserted. He holds his breath as she walks in. And walks right past him into the living room, onto the sofa and collapses onto it with a sigh. He hears her muttering to herself, "oh he's gonna tell me today". He smiles and walks over to her.

"Nina."

Her eyes pop open and she looks at him as if she's seeing a ghost.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asks, bewildered.

"I live here, love," he quips, trying not to grin at her.

She narrows her eyes and is about to reply when he grabs her hand and tugs her to their dining table. She stands there gawking for a moment. Many moments. When it's been almost a minute she turns to him and seems to suddenly notice the apron he's wearing.

"You...did all this yourself?" she whispers. Even as she's looking at him, her eyes keep darting to the feast he's displayed on the table.

"I did," his voice reflecting the pride evident in his smile.

"Then...wait, is this related to your Monday-Wednesday-Friday ritual?" Her eyes are narrowed and her hands are on her waist.

"I took cooking classes, and baking ones too," he clarifies, eyes growing brighter and brighter.

"Ugh, I hate you," she groans, and then smooshes her face into his chest and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back, feeling his excitement melt into syrupy sweet contentment.

Nina

How could he do this to her? How dare he! He can't just be this thoughtful and sweet and- oh screw this! She pulls away and presses her lips to his, trying to convey all her bittersweet emotions about this (such lies, there is not a single bitter emotion right now, she feels as if she is about to explode with all the love blooming inside her).

She kisses him, thank you and I love you and I cannot believe you did this.

And he kisses her back, I would do anything for you and I love you too and How can you not believe I'd learn to make the one thing you love as much as you love me (food, that is)?

After lots of kissing, they sit together and eat. Nina is in awe of all the wonderful things Matthias has made and Matthias is in awe of Nina, not because of how fast she manages to finish all the food, but just because.

[aria-bun]

Wylan: *almost gets beaten to death*

Matthias: I am here to help!

Kaz, from the corner: Fuck off, *insert whatever angel is in Fjerdan*, this one's mine

Matthias: You're no help here, Demjin

Kaz, mocking: "you're no help here, demjin" why dont you grow a pair and find a new insult, dumbass.

because its in my mind today heres a basic overview of my soc fantasy au (ik grishaverse counts as fantasy but this is like typical fantasy au)!! but if anyone wants me to explain more feel free to like. ask about it.

if you ask anyone in ketterdam who kaz brekker is, they’ll tell you any number of things. but the most common is that he disappears without a trace and reappears someplace else with no means to explain.

some will say that in the right light you can see his eyes flash pure white, the sharp angles of his face distort slightly, see an odd black smoke pouring from his sleeves of around his collar.

but it’s a fact that he stays around the disgraced son of one of the merchant council members. he’s always near to where brekker was last seen, and quite often left bruised and knocked out. he’ll tell you he’s fine, that he’d just fallen asleep and obviously got kicked. it’s a lie, and if you looked under the merchling’s gloves, you’d see tendrils of smoky black tingeing the fingers on his left hand, a gradient from black to the pale colour of his skin. it’s the same for his right arm, but instead of pure black it’s a dark grey.

that was the case for years, until that hellgate breakout, and now his right arm is slowly going from grey to blinding white.

wylan doesn’t understand why until he runs- literally- into a necromancer and her partner.

[arcxnumvitae]

🔥 + vocal Matthias

Send me  🔥 + a word and I will write a NSFW headcanon for my muse.

@strawberryxdreams

I don’t really know if there’s a term for, as part of a praise kink, being the one to give praise? Or if that just falls under the umbrella of “praise kink” too. Anyways, probably unsurprisingly considering his domain, Matthias loves talking to his partners in the act and going on and on. About how amazing they look, about how whatever (insert thing here) feels, compliments abound. It’s impossible for him to keep quiet even if he wanted to, it’s almost like a constant stream of thought for him.

[musicallisto]

the door to heaven and hell?

i want a sneak peek 👀

i already posted a sneak peek of this one actually! it will be a one-shot based on matthias helvar (from six of crows), with no reader insert - just a piece about him and his inner turmoil because I Love Angst(tm). most importantly, it will follow his own conception of “Djel” / his god, and his worldview and how it evolves throughout the events of the two books - particularly three times where he almost died that are... dubiously canon, but I don’t care - it’s for Storytelling Purposes. anyway, I’m very excited about it because I love diving into pre-existing characters’ psyches and exploring their emotional growth. I don’t think this particular piece will be very popular but whatever, it’s therapy <3

[ofleuchtenberg]

✧ ━━ the courts of switzerland present Matthias of Burgundy, Landgrave of Leuchtenberg. the 29 year old had been charming and decisive before the break of war but have now become  possessive and impulsive. HE  is often remembered by their likeness to Max Irons and light curls were slicked back, illuminating the cerulean blue of his eyes, devouring everything in his father’s court that he believed should be his as the gold rings decorated his hands a symbol of his own importance. the rumor mills of europe claim that his allegiance lies with Germany and he is for WAR.

FULL NAME - Matthias burgundy landgrave of Lichtenberg

MEANING ;

Matthias-  In Biblical Names the meaning of the name Matthias is: The gift of the Lord.

MONIKERS / NICKNAMES ;

Matt- usually by his brothers and sisters

Matty - this nickname irritates him and is often used by people, mostly, family, to irk him. 

TITLE - landgrave of leuchtenberg

GENDER & PRONOUNS - cis male, he/him

ETHNICITY - White 

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE - October 14th, 1532. , 29 years old.

ZODIAC SIGN - Libra

ORIENTATION - heterosexual

MARITAL STATUS - Married to Johanna,  landgrave of Lichtenberg

OCCUPATION -  landgrave of Lichtenberg, the German kings bastard

CURRENT LOCATION - sasso corbaro castle, germany

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH - sasso corbaro castle, germany

RESIDENCES - sasso corbaro castle, germany

RELIGIOUS VIEWS - Born and raised a Catholic, but a convert in order to assure Maximilian of his loyalty.

EDUCATION - Highly educated, Matthias may not be legitimate but he has all the perks of a prince in terms of education. He was mostly taught history, language and literature but has focused on politics and diplomacy with little to do with the arts. 

LANGUAGES SPOKEN - German ( native ), Latin, French and English (fluent) and a little bit of Russian.

Born from one of Maximilian’s many rendezvous, this time with one of the daughters of the Duke of Burgundy, Matthias is keen to insert himself into the German court ─ and if he was to have his way, on the most important position, upon the throne. Despite his illegitimacy, he believes himself a better choice, one that would not ruin the country like his brother, or have it stick through his father’s backwards views. Born and raised a Catholic, but a convert in order to assure Maximilian of his loyalty, he aspires to chain his ambition to his ties to the Holy Roman Empire, for, in his opinion, that is the surest way back to righteous glory.    

ALLEGIANCES ;

Schleswig-Holstein

Germany

Holy Roman Empire.

FAMILY ;

King Maximilian II - father

Daughter of the Duke of Burgandy - mother (unknown)

Duchess Agneta of Sweden  - former stepmother (deceased) 

Queen Elisabeth of Austria  - stepmother

Duchess Eleonora Maria of Mecklenburg-Schwerin -  legitimate younger half-sister

Duchess Friederike Anna of Mecklenburg-Strelitz -legitimate younger half-sister

Crown Prince Leopold - legitimate younger half brother

Matthias of Burgundy, Landgrave of Leuchtenberg - legitimate younger half-sister

Johanna, Landgravine of Leuchtenberg - Wife

Ferdinand of Lorraine  - younger bastard half brother

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM - Max Irons

HAIR COLOUR / STYLE - fair, almost golden that shines in the light. It has slight curls that he slicks back for formal occasions such as weddings, coronations etc

EYE COLOUR / SHAPE - green  

HEIGHT - 6 feet 2 inches

BUILD -  athletic, slight muscular.

SPEECH STYLE -  Usually he is found whispering in whatever ear he can or listening to the secrets of his father’s court to use for his own advantage. When he wants to be heard, he will with a smooth and alluring voice that can be almost musical. 

RECOGNIZABLE MARKINGS - Matthias has faint scars over various parts of his body from training and battles. His worst one is one on his chest that he is self-conscious about. 

BEAUTY HABITS - Daily/nightly baths, brushing his hair

PERSONALITY

TROPES -  -  Imposter/Pretender — They are intelligent and take advantage of situations and characters -  Observer — They often witness all that goes on, but remain quiet and calm throughout

INSPIRATIONS ;

HISTORICAL - Prince John of England (John Lackland) and William Marshall.

ENNEAGRAM - type 8, the challenger 

ALIGNMENT - Chaotic Neutral

TEMPERAMENT - choleric

HOGWARTS HOUSE - Slytherin

POSITIVE TRAITS - charming, intelligent, intuitive, strategic, perceptive, decisive, witty

NEGATIVE TRAITS - jealous, spiteful, bitter, resentful, secretive, guarded, pessimistic

HABITS - bites his nails when stressed 

HOBBIES - horse riding, reading, swordplay, archery, playing cards

USUAL DEMEANOR - Calm and composed though it usually hides his searing rage

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS - N/A

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION - N/A

PHOBIAS ;

Aquaphobia, on the other hand, is a social phobia that is defined as the persistent, unwarranted and irrational fear of water

ALLERGIES - none

SLEEPING HABITS - Matthias is a light sleeper and can usually last on four to five hours a night

SOCIABILITY - He has to be social as his lands and influence depend on it 

ADDICTIONS - none

[angrysnakes]

2-17 for the ask thing? ;3

Idk if you meant 2 and 17 or 2 through 17 but I'll do the latter bc that's what it looks like lol

1: How tall or short do you wish you were?

I think 5'10" or around there would be a really good height. I'm 5'5 and I'm p dysphoric about my height so I would like to be a little taller but not too tall

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

Hhh I have quite a few pets I'd like! I want a kai Ken dog, a horse, chickens, cows (probably brown swiss breed), several different snakes and lizards, pigeons, etc etc

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?

Ok ok my friends irl say my closet looks like a lesbian's wardrobe and like they're not wrong. I love plaid and button up shirts. I really love the Gay Farmer aesthetic

4: What was your favorite video game growing up?

I didnt get to play a lot of video games but I loved nintendogs and this ds sonic game I cant remember the name of

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day:

I think about my dog, my job, and joey

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say?

Full of bottled emotions: prone to explode

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]?

I didnt get a thing so :(

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]

I THINK it was phlegmatic but I cant remember??? I took a test for it but honest to God dont remember what I got. Dont even remember what they mean lol sorry more of an mbti person

9: Are you ticklish?

Not particularly but if I'm already giddy I can be prone to being ticklish

10: Are you allergic to anything?

Just this type of antibiotic, nothing interesting

11: What’s your sexuality?

Bi/pan but prefer bi

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa?

Tea!! Especially iced

13: Are you a cat or dog person?

I slightly prefer dogs but I'm not fond of people that call themselves "dog people" so I never call myself that

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson?

Vampire hands down

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber?

Jenna marbles. She's just does whatever the fuck she wants and we should all strive to be like that

16: How tall are you?

5'5" as mentioned previously

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?

I've already changed my name so I dont wanna change it again but if I HAD to I would probably change it to Matteus or something bc it sounds like basically the Norwegian version of Matthias

[rubisaurus98]

wheel of fortune and justice?

The Wheel of Fortune: What are your character’s proudest successes?

Alastor’s are, in order, becoming a Demon Slayer-worthy Summoner alongside his friends, marrying Matthias, battling his grief, supporting his living friends and keeping Vulcan Flash afloat for as long as he had after Dawnsmarr, finding and connecting with Ren, relinquishing the position of Captain to someone capable enough, and raising Marena and Alric into functioning members of Elgaian society. 

Justice: When has your character felt satisfied with the conclusion to a major dispute or concern?

“Hey. Well, if Seria doesn’t want to help manage that new division, then I will.”

For Ren, this was when she made her argument for why she’ll be a valuable asset to the Otherworldly Investigation Division. How her position as Elgaia’s greatest hero and as an Avatar Proxy could be, not just for combating the Abel Faction, but also in the long-term, whatever that could entail.

“Renata Crux, I name you co-director of the Otherworldly Investigation Division.”

*insert collective “WHAT?!” from everyone minus Ren and the Elders*

[gavvaiins]

writing & rules

ʕ∙ჲ∙ʔ hello, hello

writing is something i enjoy, something I do for fun. motivation comes and goes, and sometimes i’m a real slow-poke. writing is meant to be fun; this is why i’ve a love-hate relationship with “requests”. they’re fun and can be helpful, since maybe you’ve to write somethingh you usually don’t write. so, you learn. but you can feel pressured by it too.

- so, if requests are open and it takes longer for them to write or other stories, headcanons, whatever appear first, please do not be mad. most likely i’m just taking it slow … or im very uninspired.

« RULES »

please only sent in your ideas WHEN requests are ✨ open ✨

balance your requests well: don’t simply send one word but also don’t hand in a full fleshed out plots and stories. - pls, no simple “kissing character xy” or [insert a whole book/movie plot including the character of your wishes]

please include the full name [first and last, if they have one] of the character

usually I write female y/n characters, so please note if you want gender neutral or male character [i’ve to admit i haven’t written male characters yet]

I can refuse requests if they’re not according to the rules or I don’t feel comfortable to write

I do write for:

bridgerton

the bridgerton brotherts

prince friedrich

grishaverse

alina starkov

matthias helvar

nikolai lantsov

marvel

steven grant

peter parker

basically for any character I’ve written before however, it’s possible to ask for a character, that I have never had in mind writing for :’) - requests being some sort of practise and so on, broaden your horizon etc.

I do NOT write:

NSWF - smut or any pnp won’t happen, however intimacies can be hinted, mentioned and so on

gore, eating disorders, self-harm, sexual assault, abuse, suicide …

for real people or celebrities

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper - (Assistant Reanimator : Part Three

Also on FFdotnet and Ao3

With apologies to H.P. Lovecraft - A modern retelling of Herbert West - Reanimator.  Written for the 2017 Sherlolly Halloween fest.

Part Three - The Plague-Daemon

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that your associate brought a man back from the dead?” Sherlock scoffed.

Molly reared back as far as her chair would let her, releasing his hand in the process.  “I don’t expect you to believe anything, Sherlock.  I’m simply telling you what happened.”

He immediately regretted the harsh disbelief that had coloured his tone and words.  His mouth opened as he fumbled for something to say that would convince her to continue, but Molly spoke first.

“It’s-It’s all right.”  She drew in a deep breath and gave him the barest hint of a forgiving smile.  “I’d probably feel just the same if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Her gaze darted toward the box for a moment, then back to him.  “Unfortunately, the story is only going to get stranger from there.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The barn fire had set their research back considerably. All of their notes, several variations of the serum, their equipment . . . all of it was lost.  Months of effort, years in Herbert’s case, were destroyed in the flames.

Herbert had been working on his graduate studies and Molly was still working toward her doctorate when the H1N1 outbreak of 2009 reached critical levels.  

The Arkham hospital was filled with the sick and dying. Some of the poor unfortunate souls were nurses and doctors themselves.  

The desperate need for able hands meant the graduate students and upperclassman from the medical school were asked to volunteer at the severally understaffed hospital.  Even Herbert, who had been on the outs with the dean, Dr Halsey, and been lured into service with the promise of the return of his temporarily revoked privileges in the dissection lab.

At first, Molly hadn’t understood why Herbert was so enthusiastic about his time amongst the coughing population.  He tended to lose interest in the recovering patients, choosing to take on the worst cases that the other doctors were more than happy to pass along.

Then he stopped her on her way out of the building after a long morning at Miskatonic and an even longer afternoon at the hospital.

“Mrs Matthias was one of yours, wasn’t she?”

Molly scrunched her nose as she tried to match a face to the name.  “Yeah, she’s not responding to treatment, so I . . . Wait.  What do you mean ‘was’ one of mine?  What happened?”

“I believe you were with another patient when she went into arrest.  Dr Wilkes called her an hour and a half ago.  She’s already been moved to the basement to free up her bed.  You know what that means.”

“Oh God.”  She barely had a second to mourn for the woman she hardly knew before Herbert grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.  “Please tell me you aren’t . . . Not here.   Not now!”

But he was.

Molly kept sending furtive glances toward the door to the body coolers, convinced that someone would burst through with and catch them at any moment.  Herbert rolled his eyes at her concern.  “We’re doctors, Molly.  Very nearly. We’re allowed to be here, Mrs Matthias was your patient.”

“Is that-Is that why you brought me down here?  To act as a cover for-for whatever it is you’re doing?”  She didn’t wait for him to reply as she stepped closer to the drawer he’d pulled out from one of the lockers.  “What are you doing, anyway?  Have you managed to recreate the serum already?”

Herbert set his messenger bag on the slab and pulled a small zippered case out of it.  He opened it as he answered, “Recreated, improved, and have begun testing it.  Mrs Matthias will be subject number three on this round of trials.”

“Three?” Molly yelped.  She quickly glanced around and lowered her voice.  “You never mentioned starting the tests again.”

“You’ve had other things to focus on the last few months, haven’t you?”  He pulled a syringe filled with a sickly yellow-green fluid that seemed to give off a faint glow.  “How is your father, by the way?”

She frowned; whether at the question or at the way Herbert had yanked the zipper of the body bag down and pushed her head to the side so he could insert the syringe needle into the corpse’s neck, she wasn’t sure. “He’s still weak from the latest round of chemo, but the prognosis is . . . good.”

He depressed the plunger and gave her a pitying look. “Good, Molly.  Really?”

She wanted nothing more than to focus on something other than her father’s condition.  “You said this was test number three.”

Herbert pulled out a second syringe and held it at the ready. “Number one was a failure.  But there were observable reactions with two. Shallow respiration, eyes opened.”

Molly was drawn in despite herself.  “And then?”

“And then nothing.”  He hurried to the other side of the slab and injected the contents of the second syringe into the flesh behind the body’s ear.  “It’s a process.  You know that.  Trial and error.”

They both leaned over Mrs Matthias and waited. Less than a minute later, the dead woman gasped and opened her eyes.  Molly swore that Mrs Matthias focused on her for one long moment with a wide-eyed, almost feral expression.  Then one rotten breath escaped Mrs Matthias’ lips and the body stilled for the last time.

Molly jumped when her mobile chippered with a text alert. Almost immediately, Herbert’s did the same.  She pulled hers from her bag and quickly read the text that had been sent to all the students that had agreed to offer assistance during the epidemic.  “It’s Dr Halsey.  He’s collapsed.”

“I’m not surprised.”  Herbert packed away his things, carefully tucking the zippered case into his bag.  “He’s been coughing for days.  I know Carmichael told him to rest, said he would be no good to the patients if he continued to run himself down.  Any idiot worth his degree would have been able to see the man was sick, not exhausted.”

“The flu?”  Molly hadn’t seen the dean in more than a week, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she might have been able to do something to prevent his collapse.  Most likely not.

“Undoubtedly,” Herbert agreed.  He finished zipping Mrs Matthias back into the body bag, and pushed the locker drawer shut.  “Go home, Molly.  With one less doctor on the rotation, our work load will only get worse over the next few days.  Sleep while you can.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“He was taking advantage of the epidemic to experiment on dead bodies.”  Sherlock grimaced, obviously disturbed enough to restate the obvious. Something he would have pounced on with derision if someone else had done it.

“Pot, kettle.”  Molly rolled her eyes and waved her hands toward the morgue and the ceiling above, indicating the rest of the floors of the building. “Look where we are, right now.  We’re in a bloody teaching hospital, Sherlock. Bodies are donated for study all the time.  How many corpses have you, personally, experimented on?  And you’re not even a student.  Half the time it’s not even for a case, just your own morbid curiosity.”

He sighed and tilted his head in silent acknowledgement of her point.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Five days later, Dr Halsey aspirated in his hospital bed and died.

Herbert invited her to his flat that night, to commiserate over Halsey’s death with a bottle of Scotch.  She’d been tired, exhausted really; but it wasn’t often that Herbert reached out for human contact, so she couldn’t bring herself to turn him down.

“I’m so sorry.  I know how much you looked up to him.  We all did.”  Molly sipped her Scotch, careful to nurse the drink so that she wouldn’t end up fuzzy headed and tipsy.

“He was . . . my mentor my first few years at Miskatonic. He supported my research in the beginning, when so many others scoffed in my face.”  Herbert set his glass to the side and pushed his chair away from the small kitchen table they’d been sitting at.  “And that’s why I’m going to bring him back.”

Molly immediately felt ill.  “No.  No, no, no. You can’t.”

“I can and I will.”  He held out his hand to her.  “Are you going to help me, Molly?  Or are you going to let a brilliant mind like Halsey’s fade away without even an attempt to save him from the dark void of death?”

“But last week?  Mrs Matthias.  The serum didn’t work.”  Reluctantly, she let him take her hand and ease her out of her chair.

“That was last week.  I’ve altered the formula again; ran computer simulation after simulation, and they all exceed my expectations.  I think we can do it this time.”  

The way he said ‘we can do it’—with such childlike hope and excitement—had her hesitantly agreeing.  “Do you need me to drive us to the hospital?”

“Why?”  He grinned. “I’ve got everything we need right here, in the spare room.”

She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach again. “Everything?”  Surely he didn’t mean . . .

Her fears were confirmed by the sight of Dr Halsey, still in the hospital gown he’d been wearing when they had wheeled him to the basement morgue, laid out upon the bare mattress in the tiny spare room.

Herbert had already set out a tray (one that looked to have been stolen from the university canteen) with half-a-dozen syringes on the bed.

“You really think you’ve got it this time?” she couldn’t help asking as she fumbled on a pair of latex gloves.  

He smiled, pleased to see she had agreed to assist so easily.  “Only one way to find out.”

“Would you like to do the honours?”  Herbert held the first syringe out to her.  “Or would you prefer to stand by in case chest compressions are needed?”

Molly still remembered the quarter of an hour spent hovering over the body in the barn, working to manually circulate the serum through the corpse’s veins.  She’d been sore for days after.  She took the syringe and waited for him to indicate where he wanted the first injection to be administered.

She was readying the fourth syringe, careful to stay out of Herbert’s way as he straddled Halsey and prepared to begin compressions. Suddenly, the body jerked; Halsey’s back arched until only his shoulders and hips touched the bed.  Herbert fell to the side and rolled onto the floor. The memory of Mrs Matthias’ expression before she’d died for the second time made Molly step back in fearful apprehension.  

Herbert popped up, eager and undeterred.  “This is it, Molly.  He’s coming to!”

Halsey’s eyes had opened, his body relaxing into the mattress now that the initial muscular spasms were finished.  

“Doctor Halsey, can you hear me?  Can you speak?”  Herbert reached for the older man’s wrist, but Halsey yanked it back with a snarl.

Molly finally found her voice.  “Sir?  Are you . . . What was it like?  Do you remember anything?”  She was desperate to know what awaited her father when he died.

Halsey twitched and turned his face toward her. Molly took another inadvertent step back.  Whatever Herbert had brought back, it wasn’t Halsey.  At least not as she remembered him.  Instead of an advanced mind and benevolent nature, the creature on the bed was all base instinct and primal anger.

It lunged toward her with its hands curled into claws, and Molly screamed.  Herbert launched himself across the bed and rolled to his feet between her and Halsey.

“The mini-fridge behind you, find something to knock him out. We need to sedate him and get him restrained.  Move, Molly!”

She broke out of her stupor and pried open the cabinet to find vial after vial of drugs and chemicals that had clearly been stolen from the hospital.  She heard something crash behind her, an unholy howl, and then her own yelp rang in her ears as Herbert crashed into her back.  She dropped the bottle she’d been holding, crying out as the glass shattered at her feet.  Something yanked at her hair, pulling her backward.  Just as a strong hand wrapped around her throat, Herbert swung a metal desk lamp past her shoulder.  She heard a sickening thunk as the base of the lamp connected, then Halsey’s nails dug deep into her skin before releasing her.  Herbert dragged her away, once again placing himself between Molly and Halsey in some strange, uncharacteristic burst of chivalry.

Blood streamed down Halsey’s forehead, partially blinding the man who was literally frothing from the mouth.  He snarled, spittle dribbling down his chin, then spun around and ran toward the lone window in the room.  Herbert cried out “No!” as Halsey threw himself through the glass and loped out into the night.

“Jesus,” Molly rasped through her abused throat.  “What the hell was that?”

Herbert didn’t get a chance to answer as someone began to pound on the door to his flat.

“West?  Open up! Can you hear me, man?  I’ve called the police!”

He grimaced.  “Damn it.  We’ll never be able to explain all of this.”

Molly stripped off her latex gloves and tossed them aside, her mind already shifting through options for damage control.  “Answer it.  Tell them-tell them a strange man knocked on the door asking for help, and then shoved his way in and-and attacked us.  Stall them as long as you can.  Go!”

He was able to buy her two minutes, during which she hid the remaining syringes of serum and pulled various pieces of equipment from where they’d been stored on shelves hanging on the wall.  By the time the concerned upstairs neighbour pushed his way into the room, the desktop had been set up to resemble the sort of chemistry experiment one would find in a first semester class at uni.  The average non-scientist would be fooled, but anyone with a background in advanced chemistry would know it was a fake with a simple glance.  

Molly sat on the edge of the bed and held a clean flannel to the scratches on her neck.

“What the hell is going on?”  The neighbour pushed past West and knelt at her feet.  “Miss?  Are you all right?”

“Yes, I . . .”  She met Herbert’s eyes over the neighbour’s head.  He nodded.  Molly dropped her eyes and shuddered.  “We were working, and that man . . . He must have known we’re medical students and have been working at the hospital . . .”

Herbert picked up the story when she faltered.  “He fell into a rage when he couldn’t find the drugs he was looking for.  He attacked my associate, and escaped through the window when we managed to fight him off.”

The neighbour finally got a good look at the room, and slowly stood up.  “What were you doing in here, West?  What is all this crap?”

“She told you, Schneider.  We’re med students, and we’ve been working with patients at the hospital since the epidemic started.  We’re trying to create an alternative treatment for the virus.  A new, more potent vaccine.”

“Here?  Isn’t that dangerous?  Are we going to get sick?”  Schneider jerked back from Molly, as if he were afraid she was contagious.    

As police sirens echoed through the streets of Arkham, Molly was once again reminded of that horrible night in the barn and the eerie story in the newspaper about the desecrated grave.  What new horror awaited the town with the Halsey creature on the loose?  

Both of the local papers were full of sensational accounts of brutal home invasions for the next two weeks.  Five homes broken into over a period of twelve days.  Only two survivors left to tell tales of a crazed madman with superhuman strength and no mercy.  Eleven bodies torn to pieces by human hands.  

The papers christened the murderer the Cannibal Killer once a loose lipped constable let slip that certain details from the crime scenes.  Soft tissues had been removed from several of the bodies, teeth marks left in flesh, chunks of meat ripped from limbs.  The sort of grisly tidbits people loved to read about over their morning pancakes and coffee.

He was eventually apprehended on the fourteenth night of his rampage; spotted in an alley with a dead stray cat dangling from his fist.  He ran out of the alley, slamming the policeman into a brick wall hard enough to break his arm.  A group of police and volunteers armed with guns and flashlights followed his trail to a forgotten tool shed hidden behind overgrown brush on someone’s property. He’d made a nest for himself; stockpiling rotting meat and piles of discarded clothes and blankets obviously scavenged from dumpsters and trash cans.  

Apparently, no one made the connection between the snapping, snarling madman who refused to utter a single coherent word and the recently deceased and well-respected Dr Halsey.

The Cannibal Killer was quickly deemed unfit to stand trial, and was immediately committed to a padded cell at the Arkham Asylum.  In a matter of months, he had become the stuff of urban legends.

Rumours spread through the hospital about a misplaced body, but no one in the morgue would admit to anything (and risk losing their jobs).  Someone was laid to rest in Halsey’s grave, but Molly knew it hadn’t been the good doctor.