#even though I use his FC from the live - action .

[mignonricciardo]

home for the holidays | cp10

my american boy <3 this is something short with not a huge amount of plot that is entirely self indulgent. it's a few days late, but as it's still the holiday season, here it is :D [this is currently unedited]

summary: christian is a little homesick for the holidays. you have a plan for that. (2k words)

warnings: fluff 3x, some suggestive kisses, christmas!!!, mentions of chelsea fc

The match is a much needed win, but I’m nearly frozen and drenched by the end of it. I echo the complaints of some of the other girlfriends, commiserating with them over the poor weather as we wait for the team to make their way over the wet pitch toward us. The boys applaud the crowd behind the net, thanking the fans for their return to Stamford Bridge. Sophia bumps my elbow with hers as she speaks.

“How was Christmas this year?” she smiles gently. “I know you both were missing the states.”

“It was good,” I respond, feeling excitement at the surprise waiting at home for Christian. “We joined some friends who invited us to have the holidays with their families. We both just miss home around this time of year.”

She wraps a hand through my arm, linking our elbows together, “I can only imagine. Kai and I laugh all the time how two Americans met in London. Do you have any plans for the New Year?”

“I think Kai invited us out with you,” I smile, and she cheers when I reveal the invite. “Christian and I will definitely make an appearance. You know we’re both home bodies.”

She laughs, smiling as she tightens her arm in mine, “I love you both for it. Any plans tonight?”

I can’t help the smirk spreading on my face, “Can you keep a secret?”

She nods her head wildly with wide eyes and an excited smile, “What are you getting up to?”

“It’s a surprise,” I start, glancing to the team making their way toward us. My voice drops lower as they near us, “Because of the crazy schedule, we didn’t decorate much for Christmas. Just a small tree in the living room. Christmas is his favorite holiday, so even though it’s a little late, I decorated our entire apartment this morning pre-match before coming over. I’ve been running around all day making sure it’s perfect, and I planned a whole night for us to help with being homesick.”

My stomach lights up with butterflies as she smiles, commenting on how cute and heartfelt my actions are before the team is before us. She unlinks our arms before throwing hers around Kai, kissing his cheek and becoming absorbed in their own little world. Christian approaches slowly, wiping rain droplets from his forehead, and I lean into the railing to be closer toward him. Our fingers brush, and the butterflies in my stomach intensify. 

“That goal should’ve been yours,” I say with a soft smile. “And you should’ve gotten that call in the box.”

A grin finally breaks onto his face, tugging at his lips and revealing peeks at his dimples, “We should make you an official.”

Our fingers intertwine briefly, and I can’t help the blush lighting my cheeks, “I’d be a little biased, no?”

He laughs at my comment—a full-bellied laugh with his head thrown back and eyes shut. When he returns to meet my gaze, his expression is a little lighter, and the lines between his brows have eased. His voice is soft as he speaks, barely audible between Kai and Sophia and Mason with his family on either side of us.

“Are you okay to head home on your own for a bit? My hip is acting up again, so they’re going to take another look at it before I head home.”

I nod my head, fighting the grin trying to crawl onto my face. Perfect. My hand squeezes his, “Not a problem at all, Christian. I’ll work on dinner so it’s ready when you get home.”

He squeezes my hand back, smiling gently, “I love you.”

I watch as he walks toward the team tunnel with Mason chattering away next to him. He turns back near the tunnel’s edge, looking over his shoulder to meet my eyes, and he sends a small wave before continuing out of my sight. Sophia nudges me again, grinning as she whispers quietly, “You two are the cutest. I know that you’re both private, but the looks you give each other absolutely scream.”

I laugh at her comment, still grinning over Christian’s wave goodbye, “You and Kai reign supreme with your public displays. We’ll stick with a little handhold and quiet goodbyes.”

She laughs, keeping our arms linked all the way through Stamford Bridge. We hug goodbye before climbing into our cars, and she makes me promise to send her some pictures of the apartment and Christian’s reaction. The lights are twinkling through the big window into the living room, white lights glowing as large bursts of amber through the thick glass. The inside smells like balsam and cedar as I light the candles, and the obnoxious decorations make me chuckle to myself as I make sure everything is in place. The small tree we put up together twinkles with white lights and mismatched ornaments, and green and red garland line the doorways and hallways in the apartment. Stockings with our initials hang on the wall next to the couch. Christmas blankets are strewn across the couch, and the television shows a crackling fireplace. I quickly put the chocolate chip cookie dough into the oven, smiling to myself as I look around the apartment. A text from Christian pings on my phone saying he’s on his way, and I put Christmas mugs on the counter with a box of hot chocolate for when he arrives. A box wrapped in polar bears sits on the coffee table, To: Christian written across the top. I laugh every time I glance at my new pajamas—white long sleeves and red plaid shorts. The door knob rattles as Christian unlocks it while I’m pulling chocolate chip cookies from the oven. 

“Babe, you can see the tree’s lights from the parking lot-”

He stops in the threshold of the apartment, losing his train of thought as he looks at the Christmas explosion inside of our apartment. A smile tugs at his lips as his head swivels to look at everything from the stocking and the television fireplace to the garland across the room. 

“Surprise!” I cheer, setting the tray of cookies on the stovetop. 

“When did you have time to do this?” he asks with a growing smile, wrapping arms around me as I walk toward him.

I relish in the embrace, catching a whiff of his shampoo from his post-game shower, “This morning before I left for the game. Some finishing touches just now before you got home.”

He takes another look around the apartment, hands still resting loosely on my hips as my hands rest on his back. He laughs quietly before looking back down to me, “You do know how amazing you are, right?”

He leans down to kiss me gently before I answer. His kiss leaves me winded as butterflies erupt in my stomach and warmth spreads across my cheeks, “It doesn’t hurt to be reminded like that.”

Christian leaves another kiss on my lips, and I tug him toward the living room to give him the gift on the coffee table. He laughs as he looks at the wrapping paper, peeling it apart carefully before opening the box. He laughs wildly as he picks up the t-shirt and plaid pants out of it.

“You got us matching pajamas?” he’s laughing, but the twinkle in his eyes shows he appreciates the gesture. 

I nod my head, “I know you were feeling a little homesick, so I wanted to do all of this. It’s more like a Christmas at home. The matching pajamas were just a small touch, just for us.”

He smiles, pulling me in again toward his chest after setting the box on the couch, “I love this, and I love you.”

“It doesn’t end there,” I laugh quietly, voice muffled from being squished against his chest. “I have chocolate chip cookies, hot chocolate and Love Actually queued up on the TV.”

He groans, pulling me tighter against him, “God, I really love you.”

I echo his sentiment, kissing his cheek before sending him to get changed. Two mugs of steaming hot chocolate sit on the coffee table and a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, and I curl up on the couch with one of the blankets covered in polar bears in scarves as I wait for him to come out. He walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway with nothing but his socks and plaid pants on. I struggle to tear my eyes away from the sprawling tattoo on his arm or his abs flexing as he settles on the couch.

“No shirt?” I ask as he lifts a cookie toward his mouth.

He takes a bite, grinning as his cheeks turn pink, “We’ll call it a token of appreciation. I know you like to ogle but would never admit it.”

I elbow him in the ribs as he erupts in laughter, and he apologies as we settle into the couch together. I’m slotted against his side, one arm draped over my shoulders as I lean into his bare torso. His skin is warm against mine, and we melt into each other as the movie plays. I find myself becoming distracted with him—thoughts of him occupying my brain rather than the movie playing on the TV. His arm rests heavy across my shoulder, and fingers trace up and down my arm. I pull his other arm into my lap, fingers tracing tattoos staring at his wrist and working toward the inside of his elbow. He sighs contently at my touch, leaning further into me to kiss my forehead. The movie continues playing, but we become lost in each other. Christian plays with the ends of my hair and kneads the skin of my exposed thighs while my fingers trace tattoos spreading across his arm. 

“You know, I really appreciate this, babe,” he says quietly, chest rumbling against me. “I know you’re a little homesick, too, and I’m sorry my crazy schedule has kept us from the states for the holidays.”

“It’s not your fault,” I assure him, hand squeezing his arm. “I knew what I was signing up for. You’re worth it every time.”

He smiles at my cheesy comment, eyes catching mine with an adoring stare, “You’re home to me. I do miss my family and the states and the holidays with them, but you’re home. This is home. As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

Tears unexpectedly well in my eyes, and he just laughs quietly as he kisses me gently. It starts innocently, but I’m not sure which of us takes it beyond a chaste kiss. One of his hands slides to the back of my head, weaving into my hair, and my hips settle over his with my thighs on either side of his. His chest is warm beneath my fingertips, and the movie in the background becomes long forgotten. We break away from each other, breathless and giggling as the white string lights bathe us in an amber glow.

“What if I told you I had another surprise?” I whisper, wiggling my brows.

“I’d say Merry Christmas to me,” he grins, laughing along with me at his comment. 

“Listen, I know it’s not home, but I’m happy I could do something for you for the holidays,” I lean in to kiss his lips again. 

“This is the best. I’m at home, babe,” he smiles between kisses. “Now, what was that other surprise?”

[fanficfanattic]

For word Wednesday-

Word, ask, answer, or accept

I’ve got snippets for each word below the cut.

Word:

‘Shit’ he thinks as that registers. He hasn’t moved this fast in a while. But he can’t feel his knee, can’t feel the tightness in his chest. Because the second the door to the room is open he can hear that the screaming has stopped but now Jamie is just saying “no no no” over and over.

No one is in the room when Roy bursts in, something he didn’t even realize he was worried about until the relief swamped his body. It was short lived, though, because Jamie was trapped in whatever nightmare had its grip on him. He didn’t wake at Roy’s extremely loud entrance.

“Said no. Said no,” is somehow worse than just the single word had been. Is worse than the screams had been. But worse by far are the whimpers that are now scraping from his throat now that he isn’t talking anymore.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Roy allows himself that moment before pushing himself into action. He pulls from the well he uses with Phoebe. Because a screaming child is a screaming child. And whatever torture Tartt’s brain is putting him through is bad.

Ask:

He ignored the silence of the dressing room, didn’t let his brain take in what was probably a sea of stunned faces, and he continued his favored behavior of pretending Ted Lasso didn’t even exist.

His focus was 70% on the girl, 10% on her mum, and 20% on himself because he could be prone to sort of turning whispy as a human if he let himself get too distracted. Best to always know where his body was and what his hands were up to on good days. And a day where Roy Kent had already body checked him was not a good one.

Still, now that the girl’s mum was walking over to them, he could see the way her stride reflected her brother’s. Or, he had no idea who was older, maybe Roy’s stride reflected hers. Either way, now that he knew, he couldn’t unsee it. And he was developing a fear that he’d idly ask Roy something about her in the future and end up murdered for it.

That was a problem for future Jamie, though.

Answer: two snippets that are both from the same fic as this one

“I suspect I know the answer but have any of you heard from Jamie?” Ted had been upset at the Watford FC half to see Jamie had actually left. Someone explained that was a fineable offense, which didn’t make much sense to Ted. They were all rich. But he had planned to talk to Jamie about it during today’s practice. Except he didn’t show up.

“The fucking pre-madonna is probably trying to get back at you for benching him.” Roy grunted in annoyance to punctuate the end of his sentence.

+

Colin whispers to Isaac, “Ohhh Jamie is fucked,” and has a quiet laugh. Not quiet enough, as Ted hears it and orders them both to do a lap. No one else cracks a joke the rest of the day. They barely survive training. While everyone blames Jamie for Ted’s shitty mood, without him there it manages to remain internal. Thankfully. No one wants to miss lunch to run punishment laps.

On the way in, the only person willing to be anywhere near Ted and Beard is Roy. The lads are in front of him, with the coaches behind, and Roy would not admit on pain of death that he was eavesdropping.

“I told Rebecca that this isn’t something that I ever have or ever will find acceptable. So I’ll be joining her for lunch to discuss options.”

“Options?” Beards quiet question still managed to be heard by Roy.

“I still don’t fully know how loans work. But we cancel it from our end, right?” Ted’s voice couldn’t properly be described as venomous, but it was sharper than Roy had ever heard it. Sure, he had wanted to murder Tartt, but he couldn’t be the only reason Ted was so on edge.

“Yes, but maybe-“

“Unacceptable means not accepting it, Coach.”

Which was an extreme that Roy wasn’t aware Lasso was capable of being. He was a little impressed, and under almost any other circumstance he’d enjoy Tartt reaping what he’s sown. But this didn’t feel like a Tartt move. He wasn’t here to enjoy the chaos he was creating. And for all his faults he was a hard worker. He trained like every day was a match day.

Being ahead of them meant Roy had only a few extra seconds to see Rebecca, and Keeley -who was crying- with the entire dressing room silent. Either because of Rebecca, a crying Keeley, or both.

“Hey boss, you ready to-“ but Rebecca interrupted him smoothly.

“Coach Lasso, I looked into what might be delaying Jamie, as you asked, and found out it’s because he’s in hospital.”

He looked gobsmacked and Roy didn’t know if it was because Rebecca was making it appear as though he’d been concerned for Jamie rather than pissed, that he was injured in some way, or if he didn’t understand ‘in hospital’ as opposed to the America’s ‘in the hospital’. He wasn’t even going to try. Instead he focused on the person he actually cared about.

“You okay, Keeley?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t planned a follow up for whatever she was going to answer and none came to him with that.

“It’s being reported now, but only because The Sun apparently has someone recording police scanner communications…”

Accept:

The rest of the afternoon went normally. Except while going over his plan in his head, again, he thought of something new to consider. He needed to decide if he should drive himself or get an uber, so looked up the address, only to realize it was for a secondhand charity shop.

He told himself that maybe the listing hadn’t updated, and tried to look that up too. Then realized it would be easier to call the number to see if it got answered and what they’d say the address were.

It was still a second hand charity shop. And that fucking hurt, because he’d never done that to none of them. He was a prick to their faces.

Once he stopped himself from spinning out at that, he had to piece through what his response should be. Figured that just pretending like he forgot wasn’t the best choice. Cause that would make it obvious he knew he was tricked or, worse, that he had never intended to go at all. They’d tell Ted he was being a prick again.

But oh fuck, Ted said he wanted to hear about it. And Ted is exactly the kind of fake tv dad that would walk in the next day and be like “hey, son, did you and your buddies have fun?”

Jamie calls him half back into a panic to ask that he don’t say anything cause then they’d know that they had (kind of) successfully pranked him. That he had actually believed they’d started to accept him.

Ted starts in with “That doesn’t sound like a prank, it sounds cruel-“ but Jamie cuts him off. He can’t deal with that conversation right now. Maybe never.

“I know I weren’t good to them, so they’re still mad. And if they’re still mad, that’s on me, I’ll keep working at it. I’m not trying to get no one in trouble. Just. Don’t make it weird, please?”

And on the one hand, that is a mature thing for Jamie to realize, but Ted had been upset with Jamie when he was being mean. It isn’t any more acceptable for others to be mean now. But in the end, Ted does agree to not make it weird.

Unfortunately, Ted is a deeply weird person.

[theoddshq]

ISIDOROS VAUGHN (sophie thatcher fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!

ooc

Alias/Age/Pronouns/Timezone: Rory/27/they/he/cst

Triggers: [REDACTED]

If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why?: Effie for sure. I’m a fan of the glitzy Capitol characters, what can I say? Snow too, though. Definitely Snow. If you pull Iza’s lairs back far enough they’re just another deranged, selfish, pretty blonde who can and will kill without remorse. Layers.

Anything else?: i know i joked about hurting my own feelings with the last app but this one really got to me :( 

basics

SOPHIE THATCHER, GNC & NONBINARY, THEY/HE/ANY The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes ISIDOROS VAUGHN, a DISTRICT 1 TRIBUTE. Word around The Capitol is that they’re LOYAL AND CUNNING but can also be HARD- HEADED AND OBSESSIVE. According to sources, they’re 20 and were once described as silk and patterned lace, smooth, flawless skin, dramatic string music played in an opulent ballroom, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

Biography

It felt like there were plenty in District One who were frothing at the mouth to get a chance to compete in the Games, to chase after glory and honor and the spotlight. Isidoros, or as they preferred to be called– Izador– Iza, even-  had never been one of them. Iza was content with their life with their loving fathers, their brother and sister. They’d never taken a breath in which they weren’t doted on and spoiled within an inch of their life. Benjamin & Aleksandr Vaughn had come from generations and generations of importance and wealth, and their children had always known that they were destined to follow in the same footsteps.

For Iza, the meaning of life was found at fancy parties, amongst crowds of people, gorgeous clothing, gossip whispered behind lifted hands and table upon table filled most any delicacy or fancy drink imaginable. Being a socialite had it’s perks, from the stunning company to the delectable consumables, lively music and warm bodies. Sure, there was always that vague knowledge that it was possible that your name would be called at the reaping, your life disrupted until you’d survived enough years to have aged out… but it was a fair assumption that for every tribute drawn from District One there were twenty others ready to fight for their chance to take the stage. Iza wasn’t worried. Iza never worried about what felt like such a trivial risk, but at their father’s insistence– partook in basic survival and combat training, fully expecting never to use it in a circumstance where life was actually on the line.

Iza was going to be a chef, and Iza was going to be a trophy spouse. It wasn’t a sin to know what you wanted, or for what you wanted to consist of a life of finery and debauchery. It wasn’t so much a ten- year- plan as it was something Iza felt in his bones. They’d always gotten what he wanted before, had always accomplished whatever they set their mind to and their future would follow those same rules.

It might have, had one of the names called at the Reaping not belonged to Iza’s childhood love. It might have, had Iza not opened their mouth and volunteered, an action taken without thinking, without a second spared to consider the consequences. It might have, had Iza not found themself as one of District One’s tributes, sorely unprepared and for the first time in their life, drowning in uncertainty for what their future looked like… if they’d even have one at all.

writing sample 

[REDACTED]

stats

Please assign a point 1-3, (1 being little to no proficiency and 3 being high proficiency) to each of the following stats! To ensure your character isn’t “overpowered” make sure that you do not assign more than 20 points for your stats overall.

Deceive 2

Fight 2

Lore (knowledge) 2

Notice 3

Physique 1

Provoke 2

Rapport 2

Resourcefulness 2

Stealth 1

Will 3

extras

https://www.pinterest.com/nyctimus/oc-izador-vaughn-the-odds/

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Rheneas and the roller-coaster? (My apologies for inflicting this one on you)

Robin. What the hell did you just make me re-watch.

Heh heh. Actually, in all seriousness, it's imho... not horrible. It is however very bland. Like, I'd gotten through all of Season 7 once but I had no memory of this.

The plot is stupidly unbelievable—railway realism is thrown out the window. Then again it is far more plausible than "Rusty and the Boulder" sooooo...?

The episode simply feels like such a nothingburger than I can't even bring myself to detail all the ways in which it falls flat. Let's just agree that, well, it does. I get the sense it was written with the aim of doing Rheneas's character a long-overdue favor but in the end it's just filler.

Having stipulated, however, that this ep is a low point in season 7... there are actually a couple kudos I want to give it.

Mild kudos:

1) Hey, the "rollercoaster" runaway ride might have been silly and stupid... but it is kinda fun? A little? A pale shadow of the shenanigans of "Boulder," but I can tell the film crew were enjoying themselves. It seems obvious that Mitton wasn't really in charge of this one or, if he was, that he was entirely checked out. No, whoever directed this, you cannot make an interesting action sequence just by filming the whole thing with the camera tilted 90°... it takes a bit more than that.

But. Nevertheless. The detail of the props actually getting wet as they veer by the waterfall is such a nice touch:

This (live water!) ^ is the sort of thing that makes the model series so fun to watch, even when the writing is shit.

2) Is the writing all shit, though?

[Disclaimer: I feel the TVS has already established context/continuity in Season 6 for the NWR/Fat Controller having taken over the narrow-gauge railway and starting to make some drastic changes; we see the engines adjusting to a management style very different from what they experienced in the plots that were based on the books. So I take FC's and Rheneas's exchange in that spirit. He's trying to show a gentler side than "I'm going to shut down your entire line on a whim." Rheneas is especially keen to use this chance to prove himself to a somewhat capricious owner.]

On the one wheel, I sort of hate how this is another in a long line of episodes in this era that continue to baby-fy Rheneas and Skarloey (who are in need of kind, brave, clever Rusty to look after them in a cruel world).

On the other wheel, this particular story—if it is considered strictly on its own, and not in that sad, sorry context—I feel does a plausible job of characterizing Rheneas? Who is not an easy character to work with, since even Rev. Awdry left him quite undeveloped.

I can see people (probably yourself among them?) preferring other interpretations of Rheneas. But honestly... this one is valid. If you need him to have some sort of weakness or flaw to motivate a story, "fears he's not exciting enough to be of interest to a train full of kids" feels legitimate. In RWS, one of his things was very much always seeming to be overshadowed by Skarloey's charisma. He's the quieter and more serious of the pair, and while he gamely gives it a go he's also nervous and not at all comfortable when the Thin Controller puts him on the spot to give a little speech on his birthday.

The "insecurity" motive gets way overused in TVS, of course—but as of Season 7 it wasn't quite overused yet. And, obviously it would be stupid to have Rheneas feel he's not up to most jobs, given that at this point he's got over a hundred years of badassery under his boiler bands. But the specific charge of "this is a very special day for the kiddos; make sure it's memorable for them!"... like okay, I can actually roll with this and easily believe in a Rheneas that's secretly going, Well, fuck. Then why didn't you have literally anyone else do it? I'm not the entertaining one.

*insert cute image of Rheneas licking his thumb and quickly flipping a handbook entitled How To Be Fun*

Sooooo... yeah. It's not a good episode. But I don't actually find it dire. It's within the usual range of Season 7 bland.

(Which I used to think was the worst... until I watched the next few seasons. At least Season 7 bland was still short and sweet, clocking in at under 6 minutes a pop!)

[chiimaera]

KEIR MOREAU.    chaotic evil 

vampire, interview with a vampire + folklore fc: timothee chalamet.

dossier:                                   

keir is a villain in every sense of the word. in all his verses, he is a born psychopath with little empathy or full range of emotion. he is a manipulator and opportunist, he will always go down the road with the most reward even if its paved with blood and suffering. as long as its not him who is suffering, he is very goal oriented. his relationships are purely based off of how that person benefits him. he doesnt make friends or romanic connections because he likes someone, there is always a motive and purpose hes assigned to that person. sex, love, kindness, compassion are all tools hes learned to use to control the people around him and get what he wants. he can fake emotion with the best of them, using those emotions like masks. he is highly volatile, jealous, possessive and cold.              when it comes to dealing with keir, its better to be not noticed. to have his favor is dangerous because his eventful loss of interest may be a death sentence. he doesnt understand friendships or relationships, he only knows possession and control. if he feels that he is competing for someones attention, he will eliminate the loved ones of those who he deems as ‘his’. hes entertained by others pain though will rarely get his hands dirty unless he has to. a big part of his ability allows him to simply separate himself from others actions, creating a god-like untouchability that his thirst for power thrives on.

at over six foot with a lithe frame, he wears rings on each hand and a half human skull mask dipped in gold. this black filtered mask covers his nose and mouth, sporting sharpened incisors.          writers note: keir is evil and will do evil things. i may not write out those evil things in detail but it can be assumed that he will/has done horrible things to people. all ships will be toxic. in plots/threads, he is not meant to win and can be killed by the protagonists.                    

abilities: telekinesis, telepathy, mesmerism, along with enhanced senses, strength, and immortality. he is exceptionally strong at anything that deals with the mind 

background:                                   

in the 1700s, keir was born among a family of tailors but at a young age showed signs of his narcissistic and psychopathic tendencies. he had an innate ability to manipulate the people around him with little effort, mirroring emotions and inciting their beliefs. by the time he was coming of age, most of the village children either kept their distance or followed behind him, hanging on his every word. when he reached his teens, he was more trouble than the others knew what to do with. he lashed out over minor trouble, unafraid to truly hurt those who crossed him. it was his greed, his coldness and lack of honor that set him apart from the others. he would do whatever was necessary to win, be it cheating or intimidation. he could turn his peers against their parents, their countrymen and even their siblings with only a well-placed word.  

his father saw the darkness and sin in his son and banished him from his home at the age of sixteen, fearing what unrest he might cause. filled with animosity and hunger, his path crossed with an older man who offered him bread and a warm place to sleep. sir moreau saw potential in the boy, took him under his wing as a book keeper. over the years, moreau molded the boy and when the time was right, turned him into a vampire to truly be his son. you see, moreau was more than just a business man, he was a butcher. when he wasnt finding delight in hunting and torturing french commoners, he sold bodies to doctors and living slaves to vampires. his fledgling’s psychopathy worked well for him. 

as for keir, he found that there were plenty of others who were misplaced, discarded or lived in the shadows of society. He lacked empathy but practiced mirroring it in others, creating an illusion of camaraderie and power until they began to believe it. He honed this skill, gathering the banished, the outlaws and the deformed, demanding their loyalty in return for acceptance and absolution. his numbers grew. by the time he was a century old, he had a following the size of a small army. they believed him to be a savior, someone to call on when life got hard.

so he became their god and they became his right hand. for years, they participated in wars and revolutions, masking their blood thirst for righteousness. they took slaves, selling them to covens and any creature with deep pockets—even the aristocrats. keir is as cunning as he is ruthless, taking young children from their homes and teaching them what it meant to have real power, creating loyalty that only grew stronger with age. he never turned anyone, believing that their short lives made them more desperate to please. he kept his operation in the shadows just as his sire did, staying just off the radar of those who would oppose him. 

no one thought much of death and he was but a messenger. 

connections:  n/a

[thenexusofsouls]

Thor opened her eyes, any sign of emotion gone. “Aye, Mother, I understand perfectly.” As the princess, she needed to be strong emotionally. “Mother… why is love forbidden? I love you, Mother. Does that make me weak? If so, I am sorry, for I loved once and still do.” Thor winced, preparing for the worst. Would she be exiled? If so, Thor wanted to admit everything now. “The soldier, Basch… I love him.” ~ Thor

{ {i am the caretaker of souls} Wait... WAIT... Did you MEAN to create a crossover with two of my muses, or did you mean to write somebody else’s name there? Because... I know I always say that Basch is pretty married to his canon world and background, but... now I’m imagining Basch and Noah in Freya’s world, and I’m honestly here for it? Like... Take Landis and plop it into the world of Snow White / Winter’s War, and then have Freya conquer it when Basch and Noah are just boys. They start being trained as Huntsmen but maybe this time instead of Basch being the one to leave, Noah decides to leave. Maybe he doesn’t like Freya or he doesn’t see a future working for her. So Noah leaves and becomes part of Ravenna’s whole deal, maybe replacing Finn. Basch stays with Freya and replaces Eric (which is funny since I use CH as Basch’s live action FC anyway, haha). I’m just not sure why Basch would choose to stay with Freya. maybe he feels some kind of strange sense of loyalty to her? Maybe he senses some kind of fragility in her and feels hopeful that she’ll change someday? Or maybe he thinks that being forced to conquer other lands for her is a punishment for not being able to protect his parents and his own homeland? I can make this work, though, omg. But okay, like... is this a mutual thing between Thor and Basch, or does Thor only have a crush on him and hasn’t told him? Because I thought Thor was younger in this AU but I might be getting things mixed up. Not having actual threads I can refer back to and see what’s what really messes with my memory sometimes, haha. }

Freya couldn’t believe her ears, or maybe she just didn’t want to. “It is forbidden, because-!” she began, a rare instance in which she raised her voice, but she stopped short when Thor said she loved her... called her Mother again. Freya turned away, her back to Thor as she was stunned beyond words for a short while. She could not stay to Thor that she wished her to stop loving her, for that was not true. Likewise, she could not say that she loved Thor, even though that was true, because it broke the one law of her kingdom. A law punishable by death. But she could not impose that sentence upon Thor. Never.

But Thor didn’t stop there. She admitted to loving Basch, and the temperature of the room suddenly dropped another ten degrees. He was one of her best Huntsmen, if not the best. Freya had trusted him... but apparently she had been wrong. That explains it. I should have known that a man was behind her corruption. Men... are always the ruin of women. “It is... forbidden...” Freya started again, her voice now soft and gentle yet cold, “because it is dangerous. Love is a plague, a sickness which can take us all if we do not remain vigilant.” She turned to look at Thor, now fully in control of her emotions. “You must banish these thoughts of love, Thor. I’ll not tolerate them. I have done... too much for you to... see you ruin your life with love.”

With that, she spoke slowly and with icy precision. “Now... about Basch. What has he said to you? What has he done?” It was clear from her tone that she was furious with him already.

[animcmagere]

       This information will be adapted for most verses, when I make them there may be alterations, please read it & thank you for showing an interest. ^_^ This does hold spoilers from both the Comics & the Show, mostly the comics. Sorry!

      Feel free to skip around, I know it’s a lot of writing. It’s mostly for myself & if you wanna learn about how I’ll be writing Death while I work on the info page/bio, but please at least read the anthropomorphic personification section & even the Rule/Weaknesses section. Thanks!

      Death’s domain isn’t similar to Dream’s, they normally enjoy living amongst the mortals within their own small apartment. However they do have a domain of their own, it stands outside of time & between all planes of existence. Death normally takes charges there that need a little more time once they discover they’ve died. 

      It holds swirling staircases, Roman-esque fountains & pillars, along with living space for relaxation that looks similar to a mortal's living room. It’s vast, within the comics Death’s shown to take charges to miniature cities, forests & a study to sit down & enjoy something refreshing to drink. Someone who came there on their own had to sail over a river of blood in an umbrella, but the blood vanished down a drain sometime later. Within the depths of Death’s domain, farther away from their own space, it will alter & change depending on the being Death is talking to & their own personal routes/experiences/species.

      Death has also shown individuals a ‘life review’, likening it to the moment when someone’s life ‘flashes before their eyes’ & even showing them possibilities of where they may end up for their afterlife.

      There will not be many souls, spirits or beings within Death’s domain. In Sandman: Overture, Dream’s other versions were found within the deep depths of his domain. The cat version was even visited within the Netflix show. Death’s domain is hard to reach, at times, mostly it’s connected to the apartment that’s within the Mortal world. I’m sure somewhere deep within her domain the other versions can be found there like within Dreams. However, they will not be easy to find.

        What happens deep within the Sunless Lands, Death will never say. There will be mention of a difficult journey ahead but what exactly is never made clear nor will it ever. Even for those journey to those depths, if they’re not meant to know or experience it, they won’t.

       Spirits don’t often dwell within Death’s domain, there is only ever a mention of two caretakers but they are never shown. It is also not even made clear if what Death mentioned were actual beings or inanimate objects.

       However, If someone wishes to have a thread of their afterlife being within Death’s domain, similar to how the beings in Dream domain lives, no matter the fandom it is connected to, I will be open to the plot.

      Death has made a deal in the past, though when they have it isn’t with the person in question. In the comics they’ve denied people the ability to get their life back, avoided saying they’re not really dead & only having a near death experience, among other things. Within the comics, Death does bargain with a parent for the life of their infant child but has taken another life in the child’s place even after stating there is no balance to be maintained. It seems that the life in question has to be a willing one & that they’re flexible on who they take as a few people volunteered in that instance.

      Death as an Endless is all religions, races, species (alien, animal etc), genders, sexes, etc. In the comics there are issues with Dream & even Death changing shape when talking with people. Normally to make the individual more comfortable in the situation, at least for Death it is.

      I will be using comic icons for anyone who uses them, which Death is more white (absent of colour) or a pale peach colouring. I will also be using Kirby Howell-Baptiste as my main Live-Action FC & Death’s default appearance in many verses. I want to have other FCs for Death, but I mostly have angsty FCs in my folders & will be searching for them as I RP Death more.

      Sometimes Death may not even look humanoid. For instance, if the world I end up writing in is all animals I may write Death as a black long haired kitten or a black panther. An underwater world Death will probably be a dolphin or say a merperson. There may even be a rotting flesh bit, but I prefer the cheerful side of death so I may not even delve into that. Just to give a few examples.

      In a Pre-Vertigo story, Death once took the form of a distinguished middle-aged gentleman. As a man, Death developed an appreciation for human grief through the recently deceased Margaret Brennan. Death took Brennan as his bride. Death’s also shapeshifter in an Asian child & the archangel Azrael.

      In Sandman: Overture, Dream meets other versions of himself & there were three female Dreams at most, not that I can say the alien or mythical forms of Dream’s were easy to figure out, some of them I’m only guessing. I enjoy the idea of this, as it shows that the Endless will change themselves to better understand their charges. 

      Death’s pronouns are she/they & they do prefer to be called Sister, but will also welcome neutral alternatives. I may change pronouns as I write or just use Death & the Endless a lot depending on mood. If Death ever shapeshifts into a man their pronouns will be he/they & would prefer brother when in their siblings’ presence.

      More information on anthropomorphic personification found here.

      Death is of all religions, I am not. If you want a thread for a specific religious thing or the like, or to even bring it up. Please let me know, I’ll be down. I just have to research it. Also, if there are any cultural specific topics please give me a heads up.

      Death normally knows an individual's true name & title upon meeting them, whether it’s the day of them being mortal or not. However, if your muse is trans, Death will see that name as their true name & use pronouns accordingly. Anyone else will have to correct Death to their nickname or preferred name.

      I’m fine with your muse knowing who Death is. In the show & in comics it happens more times than it doesn’t. Some people won’t know until they try to figure it out. Others will know right away. Death will normally just avoid answering or distract if they’re not a soul they’re there to collect at times. Other times they will plainly state who they are. It depends on the person & interaction.

      Death’s appearance will alter considering they’re a shapeshifter, along with various clothing, piercings & accessories within an instant. In the DC Encyclopedia everything for death is listed as varies, but I will have a few things the same. Death’s style will always be a form of black casual/dress attire, whether it’s nu goth, gothic, dark grunge, goth dress, dark dress or dark punk. There may be an accent of colour in their clothing but the only time they wear another colour is when they’re in mourning. 

      Tattoo’s & piercings may come & go depending on Death’s mood or if their charge is comforted by the sight of them.

      Death will mostly have; grey eyes (normally lighter hues), black hair, nails & lip stick. Black eyeliner that is in an Egyptian style of some kind, normally a small swirl beneath their right eye.

      Death wears red when in mourning for a sibling or a loved one. They also hate the old fashioned dress attire they have to wear around the dinner table with their siblings. There is a deep dislike towards the robe & scythe, Death will make their displeasure known & probably prank someone if a preference for that is made clear. They have tricked a spirit into eating Delirium's creative ice cream of bicycle parts, cotton balls, along with all types of interesting textures when it happened.

      Death is ageless but normally shows herself as a teenager in the comics, for my own peace of mind & considering she doesn’t really look like a teenager in the comics or show to me, I will have her look 20 or older. She is as old as the first lifeform of the universe & I’ll leave her shapeshifting into a child to her consoling the dead, not all of the dead, it just makes it easier for me. Please don’t flirt if Death’s a kid.

      For anyone that finds the appearance of a finely crisply dressed person more comforting, Death will use Illusion Magic instead of shapeshifting, mainly for the fact they dislike it but will still appear that way for someone’s comfort. If Death spends a lot of time with someone, they may end up taking the form they shift into around them more perminantly.

      Death’s sigil of power is the ankh, in every Universe I write her in, she’ll have one hanging from her neck. Within her sibling’s galleries an ankh lies within a picture frame so they can call to her or summon her when they have need of her.

      If a world I write in doesn’t hold the symbol it’ll still be around Death’s neck, but it may just look more of that world. For instance, if I ever write a FFVII verse it is likely that the ankh will look like it’s made of something similar to the lifestream.

      Death is not held by all of the same rules their siblings are. Destruction has started that Death can do whatever they wants to. However Death does not sleep around nor do they easily end up entangled within relationships. They’re possibly even Demiromantic & Demisexual or just extremely picky. However if it does end up happening, that caring for their lover/partner will be carried through all Universes & remembered even if that person is not there. It is unlikely this will ever be brought up.

      However, as Death’s touch can be the literal touch of death, she may have a hard time getting entangled with mortal beings. (For Gods, Demigods, Powerful Otherworldly Beings, Half-Demons I will leave it up to you if Death’s touch hurts your muse.)

      All planes & domains within existence are open to Death. There are no rules of etiquette for Death to enter another domain, no matter what that domain may be. they may go through the ritual if there is something of importance needing to be discussed, but it is unlikely & depends on the plot or subject matter. If anything, it may be a passing conversation as Death appears to pick up or drop off a soul. The amount of time Death stays there depends on how busy they are. If there is a crisis about the dead rising, a natural disaster or even a massive war, where a lot of beings are dying, Death will be in a rush as they can’t even slow down for one manifestation of themself to take a breath.

      Death will never grow weaker or be easier to kill if they shed the blood of the Endless, whether it’s Death’s siblings or one of their descendants. Death may make threats to some of their siblings, however there is not any real drive for them to even enact vengeance, spite or violence. As she commonly states ‘all things come to me in the end’. She can & has played pranks on mortals, so I wouldn’t put it past her to do it to her sibling. However, it’ll most likely be something that helps them laugh instead of annoys them.

      I honestly love Death’s siblings & family both in the show & in comics. If you want to define things, no matter how knowledgeable you are with either canon, you are welcome! Feel free to jump into my DMs, inbox or what have you to throw something at me. I love them.

      There are a few things that Death does have to follow. All of the Endless are barred from entering a crypt within the Necropolis Litharge where their funeral garbs are kept. Why they are barred is unknown, but Despair makes a point of 'even our sister cannot enter' meaning Death since she was talking to Delirium.

      Another is that there are certain beings who are beyond their jurisdiction & cannot be taken by them, but only Lucifer Morningstar has been revealed as one of these in the comics. Mad Hattie & Hob were revealed within the show. It has been hinted that if someone has sold their soul to someone else, they’ll no longer be one of Death’s charges.

      Don’t let the comic icons of Death’s siblings fool you, I love them all & I love them in Netflix’s show. Unfortunately Only the twins & obviously Dream were in the show, I just didn’t want to mix live action with comic icons. Hopefully the other siblings will be present in the next Sandman season. If your muse is one of Death’s siblings, no matter the timeline in the comics or if they’re from the Show, Death will consider them as always living unless you have something in your headcanon’s saying otherwise. List of all family members below.

      Delirium (youngest sister), Desire (younger sibling), Despair I (younger sister), Despair II (younger sister), Destiny (older brother), Destruction (younger brother), Dream I (Morpheus, younger brother), Dream II (Daniel, younger/youngest brother), Orpheus (nephew), Miranda Walker (niece), Rose Walker (grandniece), Jed Walker (grandnephew)

      People usually give Death things for free, whether it’s food, alcohol, or other items. It doesn’t always happen, but it usually does happen so it’ll come up in threads.

      Death normally doesn’t touch the souls of the beings that dwell within the Dreaming, in case Dream wishes to revive any of his creations or the beings who’s souls they brought there at one time or another.

      Death has on more than one occasion, requested that her little brother intervein after she’s taken someone to their afterlife, especially if she deems their afterlife unjust. Or just suggests he do so because they fit in with his want to preserve stories.

      I gave myself a refresher of the New Earth DC comics & the Vertigo comics of Death, jumping about like a yo-yo (basically reread Death’s specific comics, even the ones in the comic series I’m still rereading.). I can honestly say I am not a fan of the Death in Rebirth. That Death shapeshifts a lot, I like that, but the character wasn’t often in many books nor around their siblings. Unless you count an arm coming into the panel. So I will not be writing as them, I am open to adapting some of the incidents for RP if someone wants to however.

      If you wish to plot something comic oriented I’m down, if it’s from the Sandman or the Dreaming comics, I may be a little slow. I’m still working my way through them, so if you want to plot a focus for it, just throw me the issue numbers & I’ll play another round of catch up.

Spoiler’s Ahead

New Earth Wiki for DC & Vertigo

Death Netflix’s Wiki

Death’s Comic Sandman Wiki

Death’s disambiguation

Best Death moments in DC & Vertigo

Death Reading Order

Death on ComicVine

DC Showcase

Pages

Powers

Bio is a work in progress, wikis found in ‘spoiler’s ahead' section

[diamonddrive91]

Going down the list of old charas I’m gonna info dump about because I miss them...next up is Assana Boliguard. Gonna include a gif of the FC I used for her (since hers wants to cooperate unlike the Historia boys -.-)

FC: Vanessa Hudgens

Assana is a chameleon. She’s able to adapt to any role, any situation, in a matter of minutes. Tough as nails and prone to keeping her distance, Assana doesn’t really reveal her true self to anyone. Except her twin brother, Brooke. There are no secrets between her and Brooke. She tells him absolutely everything, even the stuff their superiors would really rather she didn’t. Not like Brooke couldn’t uncover that stuff himself, doing the work he does. But it’s the true, absolute trust between them that makes it so he doesn’t have to.

Assana often goes simply by the name ‘A’, at least with Brooke and the few others she’s close to. Her distancing of others is a rather helpful tool for work, allowing her to get in, get what needs doing done, and get out without too much remorse or guilt. As a spy and assassin, that sort of thing has proven invaluable more often than not for her. In terms of job frequency and duration, Assana’s often used on longer stints though the shorter ones aren’t uncommon. 

Assana is playful, competitive, and honestly tends to have little personal regard for rules. What that means is Assana often instigates mayhem and competitions that her superiors would rather she not when she’s back at home base. Paintball inside headquarters is a whole other level when she gets it started or is involved. The use of air vents is something she’s well known for during such things. But Assana is smart, even if she won’t admit it, and can come up with believable excuses on the fly. She’s a fantastic debater and has yet to get in trouble for anything she’s instigated at headquarters both thanks to that and the people she’s close to, who for the most part, are in high ranking positions. 

Assana is the last living Wyddloezyl of the Aporis line, as Brooke takes after their father and his side of the family in terms of species. As such, Assana has no one to compare to in terms of power or control for her line. The Aporis line of Wyddloezyl has explosion manifestation, manipulation, and negation as their particular brand of power and Assana is incredibly talented with that. She’s managed to control her power for the most part by tying it to an activating phrase: “click click boom”. The problem with this is that she doesn’t even need to actually speak the phrase. Even thinking it is enough to unleash her power. So while opponents often believe she is incapable of using her power when she can’t speak, the truth is Assana is still incredibly dangerous as long as she’s conscious. But that isn’t just because of her power. Truth is, Assana is deadly without having to rely on her power and in fact, often does not. If you get her using her power, it’s usually a fairly quick way of knowing you done goofed or that something else has gone wrong.

Aside from her brother, Assana’s aunt an duncle are her only remaining family. While the twins are easily closest to their uncle, Assana easily takes the most after their aunt, having adopted so much of the other woman’s mannerisms and actions/reactions that it’s been stated many times that it’s like dealing with a younger version of Margarethe all over again.

[katherine-mcnamara]

yeah i think, im uncomfy with dominic sherwood being used in the rp because sometimes muns in defense of him swing to the other side of the pendulum too hard and act like it was no big deal at all, and i would rather not touch those issues with a ten foot pole, but i have nothing against him as an actor and i wouldnt boycott him or whatever. there is nuance to these situations, and ultimately its to the discretion of the people writing (as a group or as an individual), and we can leave it at that...

unless a fc is a whole ass criminal, in which case, maybe reconsider. and i can see where people get combative, since defense of an actor's actions can sometimes turn into accepting an actor's actions as anything less than what it was.

unless a fc is a whole ass criminal, in which case, maybe reconsider.

I'm just gonna answer this first because GET 👏 BETTER 👏IDOLS👏

I'm ngl and say I don't see where those types of fans are coming from. Like it 100% was not nothing, and he himself has refused to let people diminish it to nothing. But when 99% of the people coming at you for liking dom, for using dom, and being like he should be banned, are out there using m*tt who was apart of the same thing dom did, has never apologised, and was only upset because it was done ON LIVE, making it clear that it was something they did to each other, how they greeted each other. This whole ass STRAIGHT man who was a part of it then had the motherfucking AUDACITY to think he had to be in the video where dom apologised and look upset and disappointed. Not any of the lgbt cast not to apologise himself for it CLEARLY being a greeting they both used, no. Because this CIS STRAIGHT WHITE MAN, decided he could be there because he played a gay man on tv. HE'S STRAIGHT.

When you get people being absolutely gross about dom and demonising him but being totally fine with all lives matter tweeting, r/ joke making, arguing with people over "having the right/it was just a joke" about the s/a "joke", refusing to apologise, marrying and moving in with a very trump supporting family and the tweets of this are gone now but given his marriage/inlaws/his own father being forced to resign from office for his program racial profiling, i believe it, but being seen at trump rallies, the silence over palenstine when AGAIN during blm he tweeted all lives matter and none of y'all even CARED. He broke quarantine when it was at it's height and everywhere was severly locked down to leave his newborn baby in another state to go fly and party and get drunk.

but he's not banned.

So I don't really blame people being overdefensive of dom. when that is the rpc/fandom/people's in general reaction. Like you will not see m/tt on banned lists when dom is. even though he was part of the thing that got dom blacklisted.

Like I'm overdefensive of dom like people attacking him but giving that thing over there a free pass I got no time for. But I will never say what he's done doesn't matter. Because that erases all the apologies, all the good he's done, how he's grown. You can't have one without the other. So agreed there. I aint touching THAT with a barge pole either.

Like I always say. Ban whoever makes you uncomfy/you don't like. But don't harass me or others over dom when m/tt gets a free pass. you will get your feelings hurt. Especially because multiple PSA'S have been made and get a ton of hits daily. op's have shared their statcounter stats with me so I know people KNOW about m/tts shitty behaviour. they just free pass because they find him attractive when you can find 80 of him at walmart. he's not hard to replace. in fact use a black, indigenous, or turkish replacement just to say f you to his dads specific racial profiling program. or a latine to say f you to him being cast as a certain someone because he LOOKED similar to the others cast in the family.

Sorry this went all sorts of off topic but if i missed any of your points please lmk!!!

Also if people want to talk to me about this please censor full names so it doesn't go in their tag!!

[cavehags]

wait what do u think would happen if richmond fc crash landed on yellowjackets mountain (or like the UK equivalent i guess)

oh my godddd okay. timeline-wise, let's say this happens to the ted lasso guys around mid-s1, after dani has arrived but before jamie gets sent back to manchester. so the gang's all here except for jan maas (sorry jan i love u girl). and rebecca, keeley, and higgins flew separately. sorry :(

the plane goes down, and ted doesn't panic. right away, he springs into action from his seat in the front of the cabin. he turns around and immediately he's ushering everyone off who can walk and pairing people up to help each other. they only have one frantic minute, maybe two, but they make it count. roy's leg was pinned by the bar cart, so sam and moe bend down to free him. dani all but carries nate off the plane. beard makes quick work of checking the cockpit to see if he can do anything to help the pilots, and when he comes across a bloody and unsalvageable mess, he closes the cockpit door to keep anyone else from seeing it before hustling off to help the survivors.

there are a lot of injuries, but mostly cuts and bruises. in a stroke of especially bad luck, nate has what looks like a broken right arm and a sprained left ankle, leaving him quite helpless. roy's leg is in even worse shape, mostly skinned from the knee down. after beard spends some hours sewing up the gash (rip to the numerous shirts that gave their lives to blot roy's bleeding), his captain's armband is repurposed as a grim bandage over the part of the injury that wasn't quite so bad as to require stitches. putting any weight on the leg at all is out of the question.

beard is the team's de facto doctor and nurse. at one point roy even protests that his sister is a doctor so he knows his way around a wound. ted very kindly shushes him so that beard can work.

two teammates from the reserve squad didn't survive, plus the two pilots. they have a memorial the first night.

no one has any cell service, so it's agreed that everyone will keep their phones off to preserve battery. each day, ted picks two of the players to trek out in a different direction and go just a little bit farther than their teammates went the day before before turning their phones on to see what they get. it's understood that this whole routine can only last a week at max before the turned-off phones die for good, so the exercise feels really grim. to counter that, ted tries to make it fun, challenging each day's hikers to do some ridiculous fitness challenge when they're out on their own. it actually has the desired effect. inevitably, doing pull-ups from a tree branch while singing out one's teammate's football chant will make anyone laugh. the effects on team morale are modest, but they are felt.

sleeping outside isn't comfortable for anyone. roy is horrified to realize that his injury means he can't walk to a private area to wash up or use the bathroom, and not for lack of trying. he urges the rest of the team to move the main camp further away so that his space can be just his own. instead of abandoning their captain while he's nursing a traumatic injury (good idea though roy!), the team work together to create a privacy barrier for roy. he's touched, but he curses at them in miserable gratitude.

due to the obscene amount of lucozade sport the team had onboard, the question of fresh water doesn't come up right away. when it does, it's almost an accident; jamie and richard were on their daily cell service check when they stumbled upon a lake. unbeknownst to jamie and richard, ted had hesitated to pair them up together, or frankly to send either of them out at all, knowing that neither one is overly endowed with sense--but ruling out all the dumbest players would be a slippery slope till there was no one left, so he did. it is unfortunate, then, that they were the ones who happened to find the lake, because getting back to camp takes nearly all of their collective brain cells. finding their way back to the lake with the rest of the team and all their kit takes a solid three days, and that's with the added benefit of beard's tracking skills to speed up the process. that's three days to replicate a walk that took under four hours the first time. there are many wrong turns. roy, who has to lean on isaac in order to walk and hates every second of it, nearly throttles jamie after an hour-long detour downhill through the mud ends with him falling on his face. after that, it's another whole day of walking before they finally reach water and roy gets to wash up.

they don't make it there until just after dark on the third day, so they camp on the beach for the night. (wary to sleep out in the open after his poor sense of direction nearly compelled a mud-splattered roy to murder him in cold blood, jamie sleeps between colin and isaac for security. they're not feeling too keen on him either--but jamie doesn't think they'd let him die.)

in the morning, dani wakes everyone up by shouting about god and sunlight the coming of rescue. everyone blearily rubs sleep out of their eyes before they realize that he's talking about a glint of light reflecting off of something shiny in the trees. ted has gotten it into everyone's heads by now that that they don't go running off without the buddy system, so dani waits until thierry begrudgingly gets to his feet before sprinting off toward the light, thierry trotting behind him at a more moderate pace.

when they return, dani insists that it's not rescue, but everyone still must follow them out to the light right away. "what's out there, fellas?" ted asks, to which dani just responds in a reverent whisper, "outlets."

there are indeed outlets in the cabin and a mad dash ensues during which everyone with an iphone charger races to commandeer one for himself. ted looks at beard and beard back at ted. "it's starting to look like one of those black friday stampedes," ted observes, with a tone that implies "should i call it off?" beard takes control of the situation by informing them all that if they blow the generator, there'll be no more phones for potentially a lot longer than they've already gone without. it's agreed that one person may charge his phone at a time, on a rotation to be determined by nate the great, and the daily cell service check will become more of a constant shared duty than a revolving chore.

that day, they get comfortable and pick places to sleep and take a bunch of ussies on dani's phone (the first to be charged up, which everyone agrees is more than fair). it's not until jamie howls "my hair looks shit, don't post that!" that they all remember they're in the wilderness.

ted quietly charges his phone every night, blue light lighting up his face as he watches videos of henry when everyone else is asleep. sometimes, beard will sit up with him and appear to be reading a book in insomniac solidarity until he says something like "he's a really good climber" or "he could do legos at the competitive level, you know." at every mention of henry, ted's heart explodes with gratitude.

the team are vegetarians for, like, a while. although the lack of protein is throwing off the players' meal plan, no one is exactly eager to pick up the gun they find in the house and point it at something. isaac says something about how how gaffer's the american, after all, he should know his way around a gun--but beard shoots him a hard look before he can say that again in ted's earshot, and indeed, ted never touches the thing. beard knows ted's triggers well enough to know that a loaded gun would be... well, a loaded gun, as far as ted's psychology is concerned.

roy is doing pretty badly with the whole being-incapacitated thing. being old and slow was bad enough, but not being able to walk unaided is a final humiliation that he doesn't think he can live with. when dani surprises him with a gift he found in the woods that turns out to be a bit of wood he whittled into the shape of a cane, roy loses it. he thanks dani through gritted teeth (because not even roy kent can bring himself to shout at dani rojas), and with the help of the horrifyingly useful gift, hobbles outside and lumbers around in the woods for a couple hours until sundown. when he returns, he drags behind him a pig that he killed by strategically falling on top of it. ("so you could say you made your injury work for you, if you feel like looking at a silver lining," ted tells him with an air of forced cheer. roy growls at him, which is pretty much what ted expected.)

roy and nate make miserable eye contact around the bonfire while everyone else eats roast pork. finally roy caves and reaches for a piece, eyeing nate like "i won't tell if you won't."

after a while, roy starts to heal, but the damage he did to his opposite knee from hobbling around on his good leg doesn't seem like it's going away. for a while, he keeps the cane buried under his bed for the sake of his pride (because yes, being the oldest and the most injured means he got a bed, and he tries hard to appreciate that as the gift that it is to not have to sleep on the floor instead of being furious and embarrassed about it). but the more he's able to walk without it most of the time, the more he recognizes that simply having the cane on him would give him peace of mind for the moments when his knee spasms and suddenly he can't. also, and he's prepared to admit this bit to the first person to ask him about it--it's bloody useful when it comes to bashing whatever animal he's found to serve them all for dinner. so he keeps hunting and he keeps the cane.

there's a night when they all get high on mushrooms (on purpose; sam finds them and presents them to beard, who recognizes the genus and gets the whole team's consent before putting them in some tea. sam personally abstains and decides to act as more of a chaperone). it ends up being really chill, actually. mostly they just share some secrets and talk about death.

high on mushrooms, jamie and roy babble about how much they miss keeley. at some point, the babbling turns into sobbing in each other's arms. watching them with wide eyes, sam dares to think that the two rivals might finally be coming to some kind of understanding.

there are fights sometimes--like the day jamie nearly takes colin's head off for nicking the last of his pomade--but nothing rises to urgent levels. mostly, arguments are settled with words while ted mediates.

there's not much cult stuff, either--while the entire team would admit to believing in ghosts, and that skeleton they found crumbling in the loft was nobody's favorite part of the house, the closest thing they have to cultlike devotion to anything is their appreciation for the screeners of lust conquers all that jamie has downloaded on his phone. ("they keep calling me asking me to be on it! had to see what it was about, didn't i?") it's not great telly, but at least it's something to watch if they all cluster around and stay very, very quiet. when they reach the end of the batch of episodes jamie has saved, they're all in a bit of a mood about not knowing how the season ends--but roy is able to solve that problem by relaying the finale to them, eliciting gasps in all the right places. the mums he did yoga with were very faithful to their telly schedule.

overall, it's tough being stuck out there, but they're alive, and they have ted and beard to care for them emotionally and quasi-medically, and they have their phones, which offer a lot of very welcome distractions even if none of them involve communication. one day sam finds an open clearing where they can play football, and that's a game changer--they play reserves versus starters, with ted and nate filling in the gaps on the reserve side and beard playing for roy. with the addition of football to their little routine, life out there starts to just feel like living.

and no one eats anyone. okay this post is 2,000 words long so BYE!

[axwalker]

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone​ to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC. 

Words: 4,110 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!! 

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?” 

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

 “Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack. 

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”  

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent. 

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?” 

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.” 

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up. 

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony. 

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence. 

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done. 

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.” 

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long. 

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality. 

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.” 

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was. 

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.  

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. 

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me. 

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.” 

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.” 

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion. 

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.” 

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—” 

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

 I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City. 

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.” 

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…” 

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

 I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along. 

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper. 

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

 Drake

 What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me. 

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.” 

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.” 

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.” 

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

 “I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.” 

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly. 

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.” 

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand. 

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.” 

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside. 

“What can I do?” I ask. 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead. 

 “Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” 

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. 

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine. 

“I can’t just leave, can I?” 

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?” 

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

 “I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?” 

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.” 

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.” 

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything. 

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

[smol-nevi]

I don't generally make this kind of thing a habit, but I think if you happen to be on the Crystal RP Discord, aka @crystal-rp-ffxiv, you should probably be aware of this kind of behavior, so here goes.

If you're on Crystal RP and the admin team decides they don't like you, you're going to be living under a microscope while they wait for you to mess up, if not bait you, probably while making up conspiracies about you as well. As for how I know this, I was a moderator for about a week's duration and saw it first-hand.

Unapologetically lengthy post. Receipts in the link above, long version below the cut.

From the first time I looked in the mod chat I knew something was wrong. I read backwards in the channel, thinking I'd acclimate myself and see what kind of rules precedents had been set and that sort of thing. I mostly just found out that they had it out for a particular member (at the time using the name Jericho) for not much reason. They'd spent a troubling amount of time over the past few months watching him and another member like vultures, believing them to be the same person and waiting for them to make some kind of mistake that would justify banning both of them...despite keeping different schedules, having different personalities and typing habits, and visibly being two different people. The admin team had come to the conclusion that Jericho was a troll who wanted to make them look bad, and anything he said or did was scrutinized to a ridiculous degree for evidence that would corroborate their belief.

Except none of the things they believed at all were true: he'd had a minor argument via DM with the head admin Benjimir Thursby's wife, Tessariel Aerlinn, who had made an overly broad statement about anime and Asian culture. Jericho had told her that overgeneralization about 'Asian culture' is potentially racist, and she became extremely angry, saying that because she's Asian, she can't be racist against Asians. After that, it seemed that Jericho was considered fair game for whatever retaliatory actions the two of them could justify.

Even a cursory glance at actual racism in Asia pokes Tessariel's statement entirely full of holes, and having personally read the conversation I didn't see anything actually inaccurate in his statement even if she believed it didn't apply to her. I asked what he had done that would merit such a response, because it felt very disproportionate to anything I'd ever seen him do publicly, and that was what I was told. The exchange via DMs had been screencapped and kept in a channel for evidence, and while I didn't get a copy of it, I did read it, and I said that I thought it sounded awfully one-sided and punitive and would have been much better as an actual conversation. I also expressed that I was concerned how much of the channel had been solely devoted to what was basically a witch hunt, considering that some of the server members had over the course of the past couple of months commented that the admins' behavior towards Jericho seemed biased.

I basically got a pat on the head and told that my opinion was "valued" but wrong. This would happen a lot over the course of the week.

Shit continued to escalate. Their favorite punching bag, who was acutely aware of the grudge by now and probably trying to be nice and discuss something that he thought they could all talk about, brought up some articles that stated that LOTRO might be having a graphical overhaul. This actually ended in him being put into some kind of time-out mute, because "everyone knows those articles are debunked already" despite them still being hosted on reputable games news sites. Back-channel, the admin consensus was that he was in fact trying to bait Benjimir and Tessariel into somehow looking stupid in public, because [paraphrasing] 'he knows how important LOTRO is to them.'

Benjimir in fact went off publicly about how he knows the dev team and they sent him 'personalized swag' for 'being himself' and that everyone should just listen to him because he's right. Someone else made a reasonable request for sources on statements that Benjimir made about the LOTRO improvements not happening, and they immediately became the team's private #2 punching bag.

The whole time I reiterated that this was really uncomfortable and I had serious concerns about the way they were handling Jericho. And as always I received a pat on the head and was told to not worry about it, there were really good reasons for it, really. He was 'bringing down the quality of discourse' on the server somehow. Benjimir decided that the only way he would unmute Jericho is if Jericho talked directly to him, and that Jericho tried to talk to any of the more level-headed members of the team first was taken as obvious evidence that he wanted to evade rules and create problems. I asked when we planned to unmute him, and Tessariel immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had messaged me, which wasn't incorrect but the way she worded it felt highly accusatory and I was beginning to feel that I was also in trouble somehow for not agreeing with the rest of the team.

Things came to a head quickly when I woke up and looked at the mod chat and they were having an animated conversation that started with Benjimir asking if it was 'bad that he was laughing at Jericho' and most of the rest of the team talking about how he was stupid, uninformed, a troll, etc. for the sin of having some misgivings about cryptocurrency, of all the things. One of the mods self-described their behavior as bullying. I said that this was extremely unprofessional and that I thought they should keep conversation to actual moderation matters, and if they had a personal disagreement with a server member they should handle it in a personal venue, not via official server moderation channels.

I was, for the final time, patted on the head, and told that this was not something they would consider, because the moderation team 'needs to be able to vent for their mental health' (never mind that the job was not stressful except for the rest of the team committing worse behavior than the server members) and that maybe I was in fact too sensitive for the job. Benjimir heavily implied that I had become too close to Jericho and was being manipulated, managed to misgender me somehow despite my having used solely male or neutral pronouns the entire time I'd been on the server, and after relating a story in which a couple of years ago a well-liked moderator left after having the same complaints as I did (which he saw nothing at all troubling about), suggested that I should be demoted to babysitting the lore channel.

So I took some time to collect receipts, which are linked at the top of the post, and told him where to shove it.

Since that time, things have actually somehow gotten worse on Crystal RP. Benjimir posted an entire page screed vaguely talking about "rampant negativity" that stated anyone with questions should DM him.

Upon DMing him with questions, Jericho was banned, the only reason given being that he was a 'poor fit' for the server in some vague way. I was immediately banned afterwards for calling out this decision as being driven by a personal vendetta in the feedback channel and let him know afterwards via DMs in no uncertain terms that I had logged everything I needed and would be building my case (and that he is an asshole). Jericho was reinstated, though I'm not sure what the conditions of his return were as that was after my ban and I didn't ask since I didn't want to stress him out further. Benjimir also reprimanded someone for discussing asexuality, stating in a DM to them that the conversation was somehow ERP related. I called him out on this via DM as well. Tessariel was not much later caught posting my last DMs to Benjimir in an entirely unrelated server, though she didn't include the part after that where I brought up his aphobia (during Pride Month, in a server with a rainbow icon no less). Benjimir for some reason decided to suddenly start following my FC's Tumblr well after our falling-out.

And as of today (6/24), Crystal RP now has seven pages of draconian rules, because it wasn't micromanaged hard enough before or something. Notably, a lot of these rules describe behaviors that they wanted to punish Jericho for but couldn't at the time justify, or that they'd like to punish me for but have nothing they can do to me. Or they exist to justify their own behavior, as now seen in the very beginning of the channel:

"This approach also provides our volunteers with leeway to act in good faith without the burden befitting a professional occupation."

"So we afford them the means to speak openly, vent, lament, candidly and yes, sometimes crassly and raw about everything and one."

Not only did they behave unprofessionally and shit-talk before, they have now encoded in the rules that this is acceptable and even good moderator behavior, because they saw someone else do it so it's fine (a lot of this wording is very similar to what I was told when I protested it). So rather than address anything I ever said past or present, Benjimir is choosing to double down and giving himself and his team explicit permission to be shitty, right in the opening paragraphs where you'd have expected a mission statement or at least some sort of welcome.

Which is about all you need to know about that server and its owners, in my estimation. I'd considered not even posting to Tumblr about it, but given that it's only getting worse, I think it should be generally known that this is how you can expect to potentially be treated.

[decennia]

Ok I just gave up catching up on my dash full stop because Clementine and George and Wildest Dreams got my brain like this:

I feel I desperately need to make an OC for George but he is YOUR precious lol

So instead while I'm here, give me and I mean GIVE all your George and Clementine headcanon

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS FINISHING UP SOME GIFS ✨

First things first, that image lives in my mind rent free.

Second things second, please create an OC for George holy shit please yes?! George has already been romantically (or at least sexually, because Sable is a hoe) linked to Ellis Grant from @chlobenet (nothing ever came of it, George developed an infatuation and was perpetually rebuffed by our Lord and Saviour Miss Grant), @perfectlystiles' Laurel Chase, and @randomestfandoms-ocs' Reese Masrani. It is my goal to accumulate enough George Cassidy romantic interests that I can make a Wives of Henry the Eighth edit, so literally go nuts. Everyone, Create An OC To Thirst Over George Cassidy Challenge!

The best thing about George and the other Corpsemen is that the only thing that makes them Jurassic World OCs is that they happen to be hired there. It is by no means their entire story, and although they've been around for literally three days (?!) I keep thinking of more and more things about them and I keep building their backstories to the point where dinosaurs are literally the least craziest thing they've experienced.

If I were to sum up Clem and George's relationship in a gif, though:

(This got hella out of hand so keep reading under the cut if you want to know more about George and Clementine.)

A brief history on George "Sable" Cassidy and Clementine "Calico" Roscoe:

He is known as "George" to his friends, and "Cassidy" to his enemies. "Sable" when he's on the job, and "hers" when they're alone.

But it wasn't always like that. I'm not going to bore you with the details about George's fatherless upbringing, or his reasons for joining the British military, or how he'd always been a bit of a troubled kid. Where his story really begins is when he directly disobeys orders and murders the military hostages who were responsible for the attack on his unit. He is dishonourably discharged, and is sent back to the U.K. to await trial for murder and treason.

He manages an escape and goes dark; during which time, Clementine Roscoe, an agent at Interpol, is assigned his case. Unfortunately, after a year of searching (one close call where he was literally within breathing distance of Roscoe ) and a thousand too many mistaken sightings after that, the case goes cold, and she is assigned another case, one which results in the death of her entire family.

Clementine resigns from her position after she is denied leave to pursue the murderers, and spends the next few years methodically hunting down and executing the list of people she knew to be responsible. It was enough to impress Malcolm Drake, who located and recruited her into the Corpse Corporals (aka Gucci Suicide Squad).

All this time, Cassidy had been residing in Southern Africa, making a hefty living as a poacher under ever-changing pseudonyms (I had to make y'all understand that Sable is a bad man but y'all be forgiving Tom for murder and incest so here we are but honestly did it even work because here I am, being fooled, alongside you 😭). He runs a pretty decent operation, also dabbling in the smuggling of weaponry, and he lives a comfortable life. That is, until he is betrayed by his business partners (a brother-sister duo, FCs Megan Fox and Aidan Turner? Idk, still debating) and pushed out of the business under threat of death.

He is rescued by Malcolm, who has managed to track him down, and in exchange for his life spared, he agrees to work for Malcolm. His reunion with Clem is incredibly tense, with both of them pulling their guns on each other and refusing to work together. Malcolm snaps some sense into them (that, and the sum of the payload which had so many 0's added to the end, you couldn't be sure what the number really was other than "a lot") and they swallow their pride and work together.

They would continue to work together as Calico and Sable for the years to come, and when I say it is a slow burn, I do mean THE SLOWEST OF THE SLOW. But there is definitely a fuck ton of sexual tension thrown in there for angst, and a couple of near brushes with death (hazard of the job, really).

George is a prolific man whore, and he's bisexual and proud. So Clem has gotten used to an endless slew of people of all genders cumming coming and going from his hotel room, especially during the long cons where the Corpsemen go deep undercover for months at a time (Hector doesn't come on those jobs, he's got a family to worry about. He taps out at a month, max, if he doesn't get to leave to see his family).

George Cassidy is not a man who is used to not getting what he wants, but Clementine Roscoe is the only exception to that rule. He has come to view her as "unobtainable," this irreverent forbidden thing that he must not ruin. By the time the heat of their mutual hate had dissipated, it had turned into a friendship, and although there was an undeniable electric tension between them, they have never done anything about it. But it has that "will definitely be the best sex of your life" kinda energy.

They fight quite a lot, and disagree on almost everything. Have they tried to kill each other? Oh, absolutely. But they're also professionals, and although Clementine and George may be going at it, it never bothers Malcolm, because he knows that Calico and Sable will put those differences aside and do the damn job.

Clem only involves herself in George's sex life when it comes to people who she considers friends. She has the warnings already mentally scripted, because the thing about George Cassidy is that he cares about no one but himself, and nothing but his holy trinity: blood, money, and sex. He's an emotionally devoid sociopath at the best of times, and at the worst, he's a well oiled and dangerous killing machine.

He is not a good man, Clementine knows, but sometimes, you don't want a good man.

I have a gifset in store involving the two of them, and I'm busy compiling a list of headcanons as we speak. If you want, I can tag you in it :)

But this is everything about their past and a bit of their present, so if you want to create an OC please do and tag me so I can write up a crossover and make some gifs 💕

(And before anyone comes for me, yes, I am aware of the fact that George "Sable" Cassidy is a very toxic and fucking despicable man, I created him, and I made him that way. I am not condoning his actions, nor would I want to be in a relationship with him in real life, but this is fiction. It is not meant to be taken seriously, if you don't like my hot mercenary boyfriend, then please unfollow me, because he is my current obsession, and I cannot promise that I will not be thirsting for him on my TL at any and all hours).

[palmett-hoes]

this was originally meant to be a response/follow-up to @i-did 's post about race in the aftg fandom (that you should read). i ran it by him first and asked permission to add, but then we decided it was too long so i should make it its own post

---

i want to talk about fandom's take on the twins' race because it's rather glaring in the fandom that andrew (and then aaron by necessity) are often portrayed as the only white characters on the team and i have to question why?

there's nothing in the backstories that would mean writing them as POC would fling them headlong into offensive stereotypes that the fandom hasn't bypassed over to make another fox a POC.

they have a history of addiction? but it's okay for matt and seth to be addicts and be brown.

they're violent? but it's okay for renee to be non-white and a former gang member.

they're blond and 'pale'¹? but allison can be a WOC and bleach her hair without saying it explicitly? renee can have white rainbow hair no matter the AU? neil can be a blue-eyed redhead and still be drawn darker skinned half the time?

'pale' in and of itself is a very vague word that's only brought up in the context of comparison to notably dark skinned nicky. it's completely relative, and multi-racial families where people look wildly different from each other exist (pretty commonly). or if you're prescriptivist how about the multiple ways a POC can still be a natural blond including but not limited to pigmentation conditions or being mixed race? similarly, i think less than a quarter of the FCs i've seen for andrew over the years have been natural blonds themselves.

so if our holdups aren't about racial stereotyping and they aren't about the incredibly vague character descriptions, then why are the twins always white when it's approached as a good thing that no one else is? when i've seen multiple different posts lauding the fandom for adding diversity where nora didn't write it, except for here?

.

to be completely, bluntly honest, it's because we as a majority-white fandom are uncomfortable when we are not the central characters. or maybe we are uncomfortable when people of color ARE the central characters. i don't think there's much of a difference.

we are comfortable writing and drawing nicky, the upperclassmen, then kevin (in that order) as poc because, simply, we use them as background characters. they are rarely the main characters of fics, or have their own storylines in them; it all revolves around andreil.

.

additionally, while i've used neil up to now as an example of the fandom being OKAY with writing POC, let's also admit that it's an,, imperfect representation, as he will often be racially ambiguous with no explicit ethnicity, he will be the lightest skinned of the foxes of color, and he will still have eurocentric features. also it's genuinely a toss up as to whether he's drawn brown or not, there are still plenty of white neils, much more than there are white dans and matts and renees (not an attack on anyone who draws white neils, simply a statement) and FCs and edits of him still tend to be white people.

he's a bit of a schrödinger's person of color, not really any one thing or another, very few people being willing to take a hard stance on him and do the work of taking that decision under consideration when writing and drawing him.

(quick shout-out here to @hi-raethia for making content about an explicitly chinese interpretation of neil).

(additionally, to be as clear about my intended message as possible, this isn't a statement on the politics of passing or undermining the ethnicities of lightskinned poc, this is about a lack of detail being put into making a character a character of color in any thoughtful, meaningful, or significant way)

.

so when i talk about the centralization of white people in fandom, neil gets to be included, perhaps with a footnote indicating that this is somewhat of a more complicated statement than it is with lily-white andrew minyard.

nevertheless, i feel comfortable saying that 75% of fandom content revolves around andrew and neil, major exceptions only being jerejean which are often stand-alone from the foxes, and the rising branch of kevaaron shippers. however both of those ships are actually subject to this exact same criticism, as ships between a a flat-out white character and a dubiously "non-white" character who can also be white sometimes. it varies.

conspicuously, content about the UPPERCLASSMEN tends to revolve around andrew and neil.

fics where the upperclassmen are the pov character are often outside-perspective fics on andreil.

HC posts about the upperclassmen, especially matt, will devote major portions to his time spent helping, hanging with, and thinking about andrew and/or neil.

secondary ships like danmatt or renison tend to be just that, secondary ships moving in the background of andreil-focused works. they get more of a,,, scenic shout-out than a storyline

it is only comfortable for us to write these characters as characters of color if they revolve entirely around white characters

.

.

.

so after all that? what should we do, as a white-majority fandom? what should YOU, specifically, as a white person, do?

i hate to talk about a problem without also talking about solutions, and i try not to carp on something i don't want to be an active part of fixing. public criticism without an action plan only leads to hurt feelings and guilt, and that's never my intention when bringing this up. my goal is to address a general problem, not anyone specific's personal failings.

in all honesty leaning completely into all of the foxes being people of color, though i think neat and i certainly support, is not the best solution, and would be more of a hollow action than anything else without addressing the underlying problems that lead to the development of this dynamic.

i think the best thing to do would be to 1. do some research on writing poc, usually by following some writing-specific blogs like @writingwithcolor or @pocinmymedia . look up the 'black best friend' trope and really spend some time tjinking about it. spend an hour seeking out a random assortment of blogs that interest you that are also run by people of color. checking through tags like drawingwhileblack or blacktober may be good kickoff points.

tumblr is great because with an hour of active work to find these blogs, you can then go months passively seeing content from them. try not to interact, actually, simply watch and listen and become familiar with general trends and concerns in different communities. remember that every blog is run by an individual person, not an elected representative of their race, and always keep this in mind.

you are teaching YOURSELF that people of color are individuals, they have interests and inner lives that don't revolve around whiteness, that don't revolve around YOU

at the same time, 2. challenge yourself as a creator to make more content about the upperclassmen, specifically. make art about them doing stuff as a group separate from neil and andrew's group. find a compilation of 'draw the squad' memes and draw/tag the upperclassmen only. make jokes where they talk to each other. write some meta about their character motivations. write a fic where andreil isn't even mentioned, it can be super short, you can even use a prompt generator.

as a reader, reread their backstories in the extra content. reread son nefes. use ao3's filtering system to read some fics about JUST the upperclassmen, few and far apart though they may be.

if we've decided that the upperclassmen are people of color then lean into that, and learn to CARE about them on their own merit, because they are the most underutilized characters in the fandom. we need to make content centralized around them to combat the fact that fandom centralizes whiteness

[reushq]

ABOUT

Name: Zagreus Rhea. Occupation: Part-time worker in Elysium, Styx, or wherever he remembers to show up. Heir to Khton Corporate. Age: late 20s. Gender & Pronouns: utp. FC Suggestions: David Corenswet, Deakan Bluman, Maxence-Danet Fauvel. (negotiable). Can be seen: planning rooftop parties with Hypnos, struggling to make it as a media celebrity, competing in virtual reality games, trying out shirt after shirt, bored at the Styx till, even more bored over ledgers, practicing with Achilles, avoiding The Furies. 

STATS

Influence  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Charisma  ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ Protection  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Information  ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Experience  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

CODEX

The day Zagreus was born was marred with great peaks of joy... and incomparable valleys of grief. His mother’s death in childbirth reveals once more the nature of The Fates. Hades cursed Chaos and welcomed his son in one breath. That night, he buried his wife and cradled his boy with the same hand. Even if Zagreus may not recall a moment in which his father was tender, I remember Hades’ soothing the wailing babe in Persephone’s gardens. He would be there night after night, while his grief - and his empire - were still young and raw. ‘He knows someone is missing,’ he once said, with a rare hint of sorrow in his gaze.

Of course, these days, Hades’ sorrow has different reasons. The wailing babe has grown into a smiling heir, who prefers quick indulgences over the grit of daily business. Some of his pastimes are harmless. Others might even prove useful in another family branch. Just look at his knack for making connections - and his innate charm, which makes him both unforgettable... and utterly forgivable. Does it not echo the ways of Olympe?

Yet, every now and then, his actions deal real damage. Look no further than last month’s business meeting, where Zagreus turned up dressed in silken pajamas. ‘I was told it’d be online’, he apologised, his glittering winkle in tow. I feel compelled to defend him... but the people willl not. Tartarus is not Olympe, and one needs discipline to survive it. Such scenes cast a stain on his father’s image - which, as I suspect, is actually their purpose. 

It is difficult to account for their animosity. As a young child, Zagreus was desperate for Hades’ approval, and tried to impress him at every turn. Perhaps praise was slow to come. Perhaps too much was asked - not just of son, but also of father. Perhaps neither understood the other’s pain - an the absence that bound them. Whatever the reason, the wedge grew. 

The tipping point came with an attempt on the boy’s life. Peleus, a rival from the old gangs, moved against the King. His plan was as ancient as Chaos itself: topple the throne from its weakest link. As everyone knows, he failed. Peleus’ own child betrayed him to Hades, and pledged themself in his service—where brave Achilles remains ever since. Yet here lies the difference. What Hades remembers from that sordid night is retribution: the blow that razed Peleus’ family to the ground, and the strategy it took to cover the bloodshed. What Zagreus remembers is his hospital bedside: empty, with not a trace of his father in sight.

Nowadays, Zagreus is perfectly healthy... as his Tala profile too often shows us. But he is living on borrowed mercy. Whenever a new scandal crops up, everyone expects this is the last we will hear of the Lively Prince. Surely, this is his final strike. Surely, he will be shipped off to some remote corner, enrolled in a high-security academy, disowned for good. Yet his father extends chance after chance. Which is not to say he doesn’t also extend punishment. Just recall how he forbade the prince to leave Tartarus. I think the embargo is still ongoing... though perhaps the recent invitation to Olympe will change that?  

CONNECTIONS

Familial connections: Hades (father, ought to lower his expectations.... and just quit being such a prick). Persephone (mother, deceased, a wound with no closing). Zeus (the badass uncle). Poseidon (the fun uncle). Hera (aunt, awkward affection). Artemis (cousin, irreplacable companion). Apollo (cousin... kinda snobby, yea?). Athena (cousin, intelligent and lets you know it... like ten times an hour). Hermes (cousin, way cooler than anyone who knows math should be). Dionysus (cousin, best event organizer, absolute goals). Ares (cousin, intimidating, annoyingly detached).

Professional connections: Nyx (supposedly employer, actually supportive mentor). Charon (always seems to know where he is). Theseus (insufferable bore). Minotaur (insufferable bruiser). Megara (coworker, exes, don’t ask). Tisiphone (fascinating to watch at cards, a menace to play with). Alecto (coworker... can’t she just let you win once?).

Social connections: Achilles (former instructor, forever a guiding hand). Orpheus (happy they got out, morose over their absence). Dusa (partners in misery, makes a mean Arcadian Mule). Eurydice (best karaoke buddy... though kinda odd lately). Hypnos (drug supplier, friends since time immemorial). Thanatos (will he, won’t he?).  

WRITTEN BY N/A.

[thenexusofsouls]

Muse: Aurelien

[Bio and other information below the cut!]

Type of Character & Fandom/Source Material: Aurelien is a shade, a species of shadow creature or shadowkin. He was born human and by his twenties became a paladin, which he remained until his late thirties. But after being captured by a priest of a rival god to his own, Aurelien was forcibly transformed into a shade through a dark ritual. He is immortal and stuck in shade form forever as a result. I used to write him over at @a-very-proper-shxde​.

Random Mun Notes: Aurelien is from a fantasy novel and group of short stories I wrote years ago. He is from the same world as Jix ( @xleafyheartx​ ) and Strychthia ( @strychthia​ ). He has absolutely nothing to do with my Apparition muse that haunts another muse on this blog, Ethan, however Aurelien is a similar creature to the Apparition. He has a much nicer and more pleasant demeanor than it does, though. In Aurelien’s world, shades do exist as naturally-occurring creatures native to the Shadowrealm, a dimension that parallels our own. Through mishaps of magic, deliberate tampering by a priest or mage, or the talents of a shadowwalker, the Shadowrealm can be accessed and humans can pass to and from it. So, too, can shadowkin. I am fine with saying that the Shadowrealm is the same dimension the Apparition comes from, if anyone wants to talk to Aurelien about the Apparition or Ethan’s situation and cross these two muse worlds/verses.

FC: This being a fantasy creature OC, I don't have a live action FC. I have a few pictures I have found over the years that fit how I visualize him in my head (such as the one above which I edited to have the right color eyes), so I just use those. Below are some examples:

And my personal favorite... being caught on someone’s security camera in their apartment. XD

He can change his shadowstuffs at will to resemble a certain shape or not, so sometimes he has arm- and leg-like appendages and sometimes he is just an amorphous cloud.

VC: Aurelien's voice claim is Grimoire Weiss from NieR. You can listen here if you aren’t familiar with the game. He’s the floating book character. (You don’t have to listen to the end, just from 5:15 to 6:05. I’ve linked it right where he talks for a bit to other characters so you don’t have to hunt around.) So although your muse can’t see a mouth moving with Aurelien when he speaks, he’ll just float before them and they’ll hear this voice as if it were a person speaking. And yes, he has the same level of sass as Grimoire Weiss. Oh man is Aurelien a sassy shade, haha.

Race: A shade, which is a shadow creature of intermediate power. A shadeling would be weaker, and a Penumbral Sentinel would be far stronger, but all are under the mantle of shadowkin. 

Gender: Mentally he identifies as male, since that’s what he was as a human being, but physically he is without gender.

Eyes: Two glowing, red, floating rubies

Height: It varies depending on the concentration and strength of his shadowstuffs, but usually 5-5.5 feet or so.

Age: He doesn’t really know, but more than several hundred years at this point. He was in his 30s as a human when he “died” and became a shade.

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Asexual

Occupation: Curious wanderer? Sassy interjector? That person who comments when you never asked? Haha. And often, a friend.

Family: None anymore.

Potentially Triggering Material in Threads: Ritualistic murder and child harm (only in terms of how he was created as a shade, should a muse ask and he be willing to explain). Maybe loneliness and depression as well. Definitely survivor’s guilt.

Negative Personality Traits: He can be very arrogant and entitled at times. He also lacks patience and is easily frustrated. And he’s incredibly stubborn.

Positive Personality Traits: He is genuinely good-hearted and inclined to help those who need it. He is also empathetic, even though sometimes he may act like he doesn’t care. That’s just an emotional defense mechanism.

Background & General Info: Aurelien is a shade, a species of shadowkin. Shadowkin are creatures made literally of shadow, which is actually concentrated negative energy. I don’t mean negative as in bad or evil, although it can certainly take on that character. Negative here means literally negatively charged, cool or cold, and dark sometimes to the point of blocking out all light if dense enough. Shades “live” due to a power source, usually found in their eyes. Their eyes are typically magically charged gemstones, in Aurelien’s case two rubies. This can happen naturally, because of divine intervention, or as a result of humans tampering with powerful magicks. The gemstone eyes are suspended in a cloud of black, cracking, cool/cold, negatively charged material that look and feels like mist or smoke. It is called shadowstuffs. Shades can be severely injured and rendered dormant if they are attacked with positive energy or holy magic and their shadowstuffs are burned away. In that case, their eyes will remain and he shadowstuffs will slowly regenerate over time. If the eyes are dispelled, meaning the magic in them is dissipated or gotten rid of, the shade will “die” and cease to exist.

Aurelien was transformed into a shade by an evil priest who captured him for use in a dark ritual. The priest served a god of corruption, so capturing a paladin of Light and imprisoning him for eternity in the body of a shade is corruption at its finest and gained him boons with his god. The ritual involved two innocent sacrifices (in Aurelien’s case, an old woman and a six year-old girl) whose souls were used to fuel the transformation ritual. This is always how shades are artificially made through magic, which makes them not only tragic but also carry with them some remnants of the consciousnesses of the people used to create them. So Aurelien has his main personality and mind, but then in the background there are faint remnants of the old woman and he girl. They are forever bonded together and he cannot set them free. As a paladin, the knowledge that two innocent people were killed because of him is extremely painful for Aurelien and is very difficult for him to talk about. He has survivor’s guilt and feels immense shame as a result, even though his own existence after the fact was very tortured and he suffered as much if not more than they did.

Shades are not killed by light, but they have an aversion to it, mostly because it tends to also carry warmth with it which can dry out and begin to reduce the size of their shadowstuffs. The greater and denser their cloud of shadowstuffs, the more powerful shades will be. When thriving, shades are capable of some magic, can pass from the Shadowrealm to the Real and back again with ease, and can attack and harm humans.

Aurelien is not a natural shade, so his situation is unique. Natural shades behave much like demons, perpetrating mischievous or harmful acts against human beings. Aurelien, however, has the soul of a human paladin, a warrior for Light. This clash between his mind and “heart” and the natural inclinations of his shadowstuffs is a painful one, but it’s a fight Aurelien is winning. Sometimes he has a short temper or can become irritable, but largely he remains in full control of himself and thinks, speaks, and behaves like a human paladin, not a harmful shadow creature.

Aurelien is intelligent and rather a proper sort, as his former url suggests. (See his VC listed above to hear how he sounds when he speaks.) He will err on the side of propriety and politeness, maintaining a level of civility and etiquette rarely seen among his kind.

Potential Starter Ideas:

Anywhere there are shadows, Aurelien can travel. He might pop up in an alley. Or in your muse’s apartment. Or literally anywhere else where there is even a sliver of shadow available.

He could be snooping around where your muse lives...

...or your muse could startle him or otherwise run into him accidentally.

He could also save your muse from harm somehow, or direct them if they are lost.

Or... maybe he was attacked and rendered only a pair of dimly glowing rubies... that your muse thinks are pretty and takes home...

Fun facts: 

Aurelien gets perturbed and annoyed in a rather amusing manner whenever humans get to close to or even pass through his shadowstuffs. Although it causes him no pain, it is a strange sensation, and he will usually go off on people who do, citing the need for personal space and telling them to be more considerate. If he gets to the point of trusting someone very much, he may let them touch his shadowstuffs, but he prefers a warning first. For anyone who does touch it, it feels like cool mist or fog, it’s a little moist, and sometimes it results in goosebumps or a feelings of static energy on the skin. It’s otherwise harmless, though, unless Aurelien chooses it to be, which he almost never does to humans.

When Aurelien gets really excited or happy about something, he will vibrate. This is the result of the atoms within his shadowstuffs becoming energetically excited and causing the molecules to oscillate at high rates, and is entirely involuntary.

When he gets angry or very scared, his eyes glow even brighter, a sign that he is bolstering himself and preparing to attack if necessary.

If his shadowstuffs become depleted, your muse can help him by giving him cold, dark, moist places to reside. Such places will allow him to accumulate more negative energy and thus replenish and grow his shadowstuffs. So for example, a dark closet, a refrigerator that has its internal light disabled, or a basement.