Tumgik
#he chooses darla and she dies in his arms
Text
thinking about bernard always choosing compassion. about him always choosing love. the way tim goes, “and when you become a famous chef, you can turn them away at the door.” and the way bernard immediately goes, “i wouldn’t do that.” the way how even though his parents make it so fucking hard on him, he always tries his hardest to reach out, to keep trying to have a relationship with them. even though he truly believes that his father never wanted him, he keeps trying. the way he tries his hardest to see the kindness in everybody. just thinking about bernard and his ability to choose love and compassion every time.
226 notes · View notes
thedarkplume · 3 years
Note
Throwback Thursday
Dust off those browsers, friends. We’re gonna travel back in time to the stories that brought us into the fandom or the ones that have stuck with you through the years.
Share your super old faves and reblog them, showing the authors their classics are not forgotten. Leave them a love note showing them how much it means to you.
Then reblog the first story you wrote for your current fandom or even the first one you wrote for each fandom you belong to. The world is our oyster. Let’s rediscover some pearls.
I'm not going to lie. This Ask made me a little bit sad. There have been some really great writers on this site that have left us for unspecified reasons, and some for the childish bullying that seems to be a daily thing.
One of my favorite blogs was @chocolatecherubs. They were a blog that was written specifically for black female characters in the Marvel Universe, with Steve and Bucky as the central love interests, particularly during the 1940s.
However, all is not lost! There are still plenty of blogs that I follow and love and can always count on to provide the most entertainment you can achieve without picking up an actual book. One of the blogs who always delivers on this front regardless of the subject matter is the beautiful and talented @avintagekiss24 . I've been following her for a year and it has been a nonstop rollercoaster of fun, excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of heartbreak.
@avintagekiss24 has so many stories that I reread over and over again, it's nearly impossible to pick just one. But...if I did have to choose a classic in a split-second decision it would be Night Shift. This was my first time ever reading a story about Andy Barber and since then I have not stopped!
As for my own forays into fanfiction, I've written for Twilight, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cruel Intentions, a few WIPs for We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Knives Out, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and that's not counting all of the stories knocking around in my head vying for attention!
Here is a VERY old Buffy the Vampire Slayer story I wrote.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Buffy/Angelus
Setting: 1700s, New Colonies
A/N: This story is a little different from the others I’ve written. This story is set in the days of Angelus’ life when Drusilla had just turned Spike. Bear with me if everything is not exactly up to par historically – I am not a history buff! NSFW 18+ Warnings for offensive language, subject matter, violence, blood, gore, and sexual abuse.
His features could not be termed uninteresting—there lay in them something bold and daring—but the expression on the whole anything but benevolent. There were contempt and sarcasm in the cold dark eyes, whose glance, however, was at times so piercing that no one could endure it long.
from The Mysterious Stranger (1860) – Anonymous
What is obsession? Is it the madness that consumes a man when he’s confronted with the one thing he knows he is not supposed to have? Is it the burning desire to possess the aforementioned object, ensuring that she will only think of him as he only thinks of her? Angelus paced back and forth in his chosen room of the mansion. Darla was still off reconnecting with Dracula and giving Angelus some much-needed breathing room. While she was off having her own adventures, he moved his childe and grandchilde to the American Colonies. They were in the colony named New York. Angelus loved the New Colonies. The women were not as sexually repressed, and the humans as a whole were more trusting. Since their arrival, government officials, writers, artists, scholars – everyone who held wealth and power had invited Angelus, his “sister” Drusilla and her husband William, to parties. There was nothing Angelus enjoyed more than drunk socialites.
And it was at one of these parties that he saw her. The object of his obsession. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy, to those who knew her intimately. She had long, golden blonde hair, not unlike Darla’s, but hers had more of a silky texture. Her eyes were large and hazel, brimming with innocence. She had sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.
Angelus wanted her. He wanted to bury his fangs and his cock inside her. Her scent proved that she was untried, but that would only last so long. Angelus found out everything he could about her. She was promised to the governor’s son. She lived with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. She had a baby sister – Dawn – who caught pneumonia and died at the age of six. Her father worked as a developer for the colony and his wife owned a prominent boutique. She had two best friends, Willow Osbourne née Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, husband to the beautiful and licentious Cordelia Harris née Chase.
The first time Angelus spoke to her was at a party that was thrown by an oil barren. Angelus, as usual, found himself surrounded by three potential meals. Drusilla stood by William’s side, smiling proudly as he recited poetry. It was terrible, but the women thought it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.
“Do you hunt, Mr. McConroy?” one of the women – Mrs. O’Hara or something or another – said, pulling him from his thoughts.
Angelus flashed an enticing smile. “Why yes, Mrs. O’Hara. ‘Tis one of my many pleasures.”
She wet her lips and fluttered her eyes in what he was sure was meant to be attractive. “Well, in that case, you should come to my husband’s estate in the country. You two can hunt and later you could tell me more about your pleasures.”
“How can a man of sound mind resist such an enticing offer?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.
The woman continued to place unnecessary hints concerning secret rendezvous and Angelus almost lost control and snapped her neck on the spot until one of the younger women spoke up.
“There’s that Elizabeth Summers.”
Angelus’ attention immediately shifted, seeking out his dark obsession. She came in with her parents. Her large hazel eyes seemed sad, and Angelus suddenly wanted to seek out that which had caused her misery and destroy it. He wanted to be the sole source of any pain she felt. But he could not gaze upon his obsession in peace as one of the three women continued her verbal assault.
“How a strange girl like that was lucky enough to have a contract with Governor Finn’s son is baffling.”
“She is a strange one, Harmony,” Cordelia Harris vehemently agreed. “My husband says that she spends all of her time reading. Reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“Well, I hear that she wishes to become a writer! As if any respectable man would want anything written by a woman! A proper lady should spend her time learning to attend a household and concern herself with pleasing her husband.”
“Yes, well, we all know that Buffy,” she sneered the name. “Is as far from a lady as one can be. It baffles me why Alexander enjoys her company so. It’s embarrassing!” she glared as said husband made his way over to Buffy.
“I see nothing wrong with a properly educated woman, Mrs. Harris,” Angelus said, drawing their attention away from Buffy. “It would be refreshing to hear a woman contribute something to the conversation beyond how pretty the dresses are overseas.”
Cordelia Harris’ expression darkened so that if Angelus had been human, he might have been afraid. “Well,” she sniffed, highly offended. “It is upon the hour, and I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood and scowled at Angelus when he broke societal conventions and refused to stand when she did. “I bid you goodnight, Mrs. O’Hara, Harmony, Mr. McConroy.”
“Mrs. Harris,” his flourishing bow was meant and taken in all its mockery. He smirked as she huffed and stomped away. He watched her approach Buffy and Alexander, and used his enhanced hearing to listen in.
“…husband and I must be going,” she said in a clipped tone.
Buffy knew that her friend’s wife didn’t like her, but for Xander’s sake, she at least made an effort. “I am sorry that you must be leaving so soon. I hope you will feel well, Cordy.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, how many times must I remind you to call me Mrs. Harris?” she said tightly.
“Of course. I apologize.”
“Alexander.”
The dark-haired young man looked between his wife and his friend, wishing he could stay, but knowing he would never hear the last of it if he did. “Of course, dear. See you soon, Buffy.”
Her other friend, Willow, who had watched the scene from across the room, performed her usual damage control ritual. “You know I think one of these days he shall divorce her.”
“Willow!” she whispered, linking their arms. “You should not say such things.”
“Well, he should! I’m fairly certain the only reason he puts up with her is for the sex and we both know the pregnancy scare was the incentive for the marriage to start with…”
Angelus watched the two young women disappear out onto the gardens. “Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He left the woman at the table and sought out William. He didn’t have the same mental link with him as he did with Drusilla, but William could feel when his grandsire called him.
“You called?” he said, appearing moments later.
“Yes, I’m stepping out for a moment. Make sure no one sees Dru nibbling on the livestock.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s so special about this bird? I mean, she’s a cutie and all, but is she really worth our queen mother handing you your own arse?”
“What Darla doesn’t know won’t kill me.” Angelus knew William had a point. Darla was extremely jealous and possessive of him, but he was still sore around the edges where she was concerned, considering that she left him to die in a burning barn. Darla was his sire and that was a bond not easily broken, but nothing could reestablish the trust he lost for her. He glanced at Drusilla to see if she was keeping out of trouble and caught her thralling Harmony. “If you want the blonde as a party favor you should take her out of here. She’s as dumb as a post but has a pleasant peach scent to her.”
Angelus left his grandchilde to attend to Dru and followed Buffy’s scent through the large garden maze. She and her friend, Willow sat on a bench in front of a pond talking quietly.
“…says?”
“You mean when she’s not nursing a bottle? She blames me. She says even whores aren’t low enough to chase their own fathers,” she sniffled.
“Oh, Buffy, have you thought about telling Riley?”
“No, I can’t tell him, Will. If he thought for a moment that it’s gone further than a drunken fumbling, he’ll never speak to me again.”
“And right now, he’s your only way out,” Willow sighed in sympathy to her friend’s plight. “You know Oz and I will let you move in with us.”
“People will talk.”
“They’re already talking. One of New York’s most beloved sons married to a kike?”
“Willow!” Buffy admonished. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”
The redhead shrugged carelessly. “I have been called much worse. I am just telling you that Oz and I do not care what anyone else says about us.”
“I appreciate it. And if the wedding was happening later than next month I would say yes.”
“But what if he goes too far before Riley can save you?”
The unanswered question hung heavy in the air. Angelus seethed. He barely restrained himself from going back inside, grabbing Hank Summers and tearing off his worthless cock with his bare hands. It didn’t anger Angelus that the man was taking liberties with his daughter. It bothered him that his touch would not be the first she had known from a man.
“I should get back inside before Oz starts looking for me. Come with?”
“In a little while. I just want a little more time away from the noise.”
“Don’t take too long. Your parents,” she mumbled.
Angelus watched the Osbourne woman return to the party from his place in the shadows. He turned his attention back to Buffy realizing that they were finally alone. She leaned back, her hands flat on the bench and her face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her eyes were closed, and the subtle breeze disturbed the tendrils of silky tresses framing her face. Angelus had the perfect view of the golden skin of her smooth throat. His face shifted as he imagined sinking his fangs into her throat as her naked body writhed helplessly underneath his.
Buffy’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood and she looked around her as if sensing she was not alone. “Is someone there?” she called.
Angelus contained his excitement and returned to his human visage. “Just me,” he said, pretending as though he was simply out for a stroll through the garden’s maze. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Buffy stared at the man before her. She was certain that she had never seen him around before. He was tall, very tall. He had long dark hair that was bound behind his head. He had a wide mustache and she wondered if it was as soft as his hair looked. He had dark eyes. Eyes that were mischievous and secretive. She started to believe she was dreaming. She always thought Riley was cute in a boyish way, but this man before her with the long brown hair, his piercing dark eyes and his enticing smirk was…beautiful. His smirk seemed to widen, and Buffy realized with startling clarity that she was rather rudely staring at him.
“No, you did not frighten me, sir,” she recovered.
“You are Elizabeth Summers, correct?”
“Yes, but everyone calls me Buffy.”
He took her hand – it seemed tiny and engulfed by his – and pressed a small kiss to it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy. I am Angelus McConroy.”
Recognition flashed in her large hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. McConroy! You live in the Crawford’s old mansion. Your brother-in-law, William, is it? He ordered a gown from my mother’s boutique for your sister.”
Angelus suppressed another smirk. He had sent William on that particular mission to scout out the boutique and Buffy’s work hours, and to spread the word to the local undead community that she, her family and friends, were off limits.
“Yes, my family and I moved there a few months ago.”
Buffy fidgeted with her dress before resuming her place on the bench. “Would you…would you care to sit?” she offered timidly.
He flashed a dazzling smile and took his place beside her. “Now what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing out here all alone? It’s really not safe,” said the wolf to the rabbit.
Buffy glanced up at him and flushed as he stared down at her unblinkingly. “Oh, well, I just stepped out for a moment. Just for some air,” she shrugged.
“You don’t truly enjoy parties, do you?”
“They are…acceptable.”
“Ah, but a lass such as yourself would much rather be at home in front of the fire with a book. You prefer the silence and solitude to the noise and excitement.”
She flushed an attractive pink and looked up at him from under her lashes. “I realize that those are not exactly the qualities one looks for in a woman, but…”
“But you are far from a woman, lass. You’re still a wee child.” He watched appreciatively as her skin flushed a darker red.
“Sir, I will have you know that I am of sixteen years and will soon be a wife,” she said, not really succeeding in sounding offended.
“Yes, to Governor Finn’s lad no less. I find it difficult to see what it is the boy could have done to deserve the hand of such a fair lass.”
Her hazel eyes met his and she wore a smile befitting that of the most experienced of coquettes. “Do you tell all your ladies that, Mr. McConroy?”
“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.
She started laughing and Angelus thought it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. “You are indeed a charmer, Mr. McConroy. If I may be so bold…?”
“You may.”
“Why is there not a Mrs. McConroy? A gentleman such as yourself should have amassed quite the number of prospects from the fairer sex.”
Angelus, seeing his opportunity, angled his body towards hers. “Perhaps it is because a man can only have ale for so long before he starts to long for a fine wine.”
He could hear her heart pounding in fear and excitement as their seemingly innocent conversation began to take a different turn. “But what if you’re not supposed to have the wine?” she breathed.
“That’s when it’s the sweetest.” His hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered from the contact. “Look at me, Buff,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes.” Angelus knew he could have waited rather than jumping at the first opportunity to thrall her, but he was anxious to have her in his bed.
“You have pretty eyes.”
Angelus felt his eyebrows rise. You have pretty eyes? Angelus concentrated harder and Buffy flinched as he suddenly seemed to be scowling at her.
“What? Men can have pretty eyes,” she pouted slightly, thinking he was offended.
Angelus blinked. He surveyed her carefully, playing close attention not to let himself linger on her pouting pink lips. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to resist his thrall. No one had ever resisted! The girl was obviously human. She smelled human. She had a heartbeat. What had gone wrong? His eyebrows knitted together as he ran through any and all explanations as to why his gift had failed him. He felt her warm hand press against his own.
“Angelus? Is something wrong?”
He recovered, wearing his signature smirk. “You think my eyes are pretty, do ye?”
Buffy fiddled with the sleeves of her dress looking anywhere but at him. “Yes, they resemble little pools of chocolate.” She felt his fingers lace through hers and looked down. She liked the way their hands fit.
“Now which one of us is the charmer here, Buff?” he watched her shiver as his fingers idly stroked hers.
“There you are!”
Buffy stood, withdrawing her hand from Angelus, completely missing his darkened expression. “Riley,” she said, her heart pounding heavily as though she’d been caught doing something terribly wicked.
“I have been searching all over for you, Bethie.”
He took her hand in his own, missing her subtle wince at the nickname she loathed. “Forgive me if I have caused distress. I only stepped out for a moment.”
“Your mother and father are looking for you. They –.” Riley stopped short when he saw movement behind Buffy. “Hello,” he said to the man who sat on the bench watching them unabashedly. “I do not believe we have met. I am Riley Finn, Elizabeth’s husband-to-be.”
“Oh, yes, the governor’s boy,” Angelus said, taking in the blue-eyed baby-faced boy with mocking eyes.
Although the sarcasm went completely over the boy’s head as he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, Angelus smirk only grew when Buffy gave him a warning glare.
“Yes, yes, I am,” he said proudly.
“Riley, this is Mr. McConroy.”
Riley tensed slightly, something neither Angelus nor Buffy missed. “McConroy. You purchased the old Crawford Mansion.”
“Yes,” he confirmed, his eyes glinting slightly.
“Well, it was nice making your acquaintance, Mr. McConroy, but Elizabeth and I must be going.”
“Of course. Nice meeting you, Finn.” He turned his penetrating eyes to Buffy. He picked up her hand and gave her a lingering kiss that left her near breathless. “T’was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, Buffy.”
“Mr. McConroy,” she blushed.
Riley’s jaw clenched as he led Buffy away. But his annoyance over what he saw as a threat to his future wife was nothing compared to Angelus’ fury over Finn impeding the progress he had made.
“I do not trust that McConroy fellow,” he confided when they were of a safe distance away from him. Or so he thought. “He worries me.”
“Riley,” Buffy sighed. “Mr. McConroy is a nice man.”
“You know him well, then?”
“No. We only made acquaintance tonight.”
“Yet he already calls you Buffy.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Riley Finn, I do believe you are jealous.”
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “Do you find him attractive?”
Buffy blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is…agreeable. But it is you who will become my husband. Your name I will carry and your children I shall bear. Tell me once more why you are jealous?”
With a few well-executed words, Angelus could see Finn’s worries and inferiorities fade away. He leaned down and kissed her lips as carefully as if she were made of glass.
“Bethie?” he whispered, still holding her close.
“Yes?”
“If I asked you to do something, as your future husband, would you do it?”
Buffy tensed. Her small hands fisted the sides of his shirt as her mind twisted and turned over in itself. As her future husband, he could ask almost anything of her, and she was duty bound to obey. She trembled against him and swallowed the bile suddenly flooding her mouth. “Yes.”
“I wish for you to have no further contact with Mr. McConroy or any of his family.”
Buffy stepped back from him so that she could see into his eyes. “Riley, I have already told you that Mr. McConroy bears no threat to us.”
“But he does,” he argued. “Have you noticed the strange occurrences in our town?”
“Are you referring to Madeleine Archer?” Maddie Archer was two years younger than Buffy and had gone missing from her bed in the dead of night.
“Yes, as well as Rebekah Harte, Joshua Black, Edward Morton, Christine Adams, and countless others.”
“Riley, how do these unfortunate people pertain to you desiring distance between Mr. McConroy and myself?”
“They all vanished or perished inexplicably after McConroy, and his family took residence in the Crawford Mansion.”
“You are not suggesting…?” she gasped.
“There is something amiss about them. His sister is said to be touched in the mind, but there is more. She speaks in prophecies. Her husband, William, the poet, who may I say is not very good, he was seen with Rebekah Harte before she went missing. Then there is your new acquaintance. He never leaves the mansion during the day. He does not work and yet he attends every party and somehow amasses enough wealth to support his family. They have no servants or cooks. Their skin is unnaturally porcelain – must I go on?”
“Are you suggesting to me that Mr. McConroy, his sister and her husband may be…nefarious individuals?”
Riley smiled humorlessly. “Why does it frighten you to speak the word, Bethie? You once told me that what most would believe to be a monster, you see as a beast maintaining his nature.”
“I was referring to the work of Bram Stoker, Riley. Beasts exist, yes, but not of that sort, and certainly not amongst Mr. McConroy and his family.”
“You have always had faith in the most undeserving of creatures, Bethie.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a silver cross on a chain.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I wish you to wear it whenever you leave the mansion.”
“Even in the sunlight?” she quipped.
“Even in the sunlight,” he answered, unaffected by her glibness. “All of the victims’ blood was drained through small punctures to the throat.”
Buffy paled as she gasped. “What? But you never said anything!”
“My father thought it was best that the families were not informed of this. It would lead to panic and at this time, the authorities have declared it a beast. Wear it. For me.”
“Okay,” she whispered, still struggling with the concept of the creatures she learned of as a child could truly exist beyond the pages of a novel.
Riley secured the cross around Buffy’s neck and exhaled in relief. “Now I believe we should find your parents. They can hardly fault a man for enjoying the company of his love.”
The couple left the garden arm in arm, completely oblivious to the heavy stare on their backs.
Angelus was beside himself with fury when the Finn’s and the Summers left the Hardy Mansion. He had covered his tracks and the tracks of his childe and grandchilde carefully. Yet, the Finn boy seemed to have linked all of their victims back to them. Although he tried his best to come across as noble and caring in Buffy’s eyes, the boy was far more concerned with her affections rather than her safety. The thought in itself caused a malicious smirk to befall his angelic features. They would have to be careful. Meticulous. One mistake and all would be lost. Nevertheless, Angelus would have Buffy Summers…even if he had to eviscerate every townsman to get her.
Angelus itched to relieve his fury and he knew just how to do it.
“Margaret, is it?” she was nothing. An aide in the Hardy household with the burden of a fatherless son. She was not remotely attractive, and her blood was not in the slightest appealing. But her polite smile and cautious eyes appeased him.
“Yes, sir.”
“I regret to bother you as I can see you are terribly busy, but I am afraid I require your assistance.”
“In what way, sir?” still so trusting.
“Come with me, please.”
Ah. There is the hesitation. “Very well, sir.”
He led her to a dark corner underneath the stairs hidden from the rest of the intoxicated socialites. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it? Not complete privacy, but it should do for what I have in mind,” he said, letting his eyes drift over her, hoping to discomfort her. She predictably squirmed under his gaze, unaware that her used and aged body held no appeal for him.
“Sir, I…I should get back,” she stuttered, her heart pounding beautifully, forcing her blood to flow quicker through her arteries.
“Why not stay a while? After all, you did say you would help a fellow with his problem,” he purred, moving even closer to the frightful maid.
*“Sir, please, I should return to the party.”
*“Margaret, Margaret, there’s no hurry.”
She tried to pull away from him, hoping that someone might see. *“Mistress will be wondering…”
*“Sshh,” he cooed. “Mistress will be wondering how to get the good Reverend Chalmers into bed and will not notice the absence of canapé.” He stroked her chin for good measure, and she shuddered in spite of her fear. “Stay with me,” he urged.
Angelus could tell by her eyes that she was considering it. How could she not? A lowly maid, past her prime, receiving the attentions of the young and wealthy Mr. McConroy, a man that all women, be they married, betrothed, or divine worshippers, have attempted to lure into their beds.
*“Sir, people might talk,” she weakly protested. “I’ll be put out on the streets. My little boy would…I can’t lose this job,” she said, forgoing any thoughts she might have had about taking a chance with the beautiful Angelus McConroy.
Angelus, sensing her resolve, lost his temper. He grabbed her arms. *“Then you must keep quiet.”
*“You’re hurting me!” she said, speaking a little louder than she intended.
*“Ah! Cry out. Call for help. I’m sure Mistress will believe your behavior beyond reproach,” he sneered.
*“Please!” she gasped, wriggling in his embrace.
Angelus shook her roughly. *“Come, make a scene, huh?” he taunted. “Shall I?”
Margaret hesitated. *“No,” she whispered.
*“No, no. We’ll be as quiet as mice.”
Margaret lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. If she closed her eyes and didn’t put up a fight, maybe it would be over soon. No one would believe her if she said their familiarity was forced.
Angelus could almost taste her defeat. His face shifted and when she looked back up at him, her fear and terror flooded his senses. *“No matter what.”
*“Sir!” she trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “My son!”
Good, he had almost forgotten. *“Oh, he’ll make a fine dessert, huh?”
He grabbed her, sinking his fangs into her throat before she could scream. He drained her quickly. She was unsatisfying and not at all fulfilling. He released her, letting her body fall carelessly to the floor. He tucked her away in the corner, knowing one of the other servants or perhaps her Mistress herself would find her. Angelus maneuvered around the intoxicated guests, following Margaret’s scent to the servant’s quarters. He found Margaret’s whelp sleeping in his bed. He was a boy of no more than seven years. His hair was curly like his mother's and a brighter shade of blonde. Margaret’s pallet lay positioned beside the boy’s bed. The boy clutched a worn brown bear that was missing its left eye. He was a beautiful child, clearly taking after his father. The boy opened his eyes and startling emerald green eyes met his own.
“Are you an angel?” he whispered.
His lips twitched as he fought the smirk that threatened to reveal itself. “An angel?”
“Mum says when it’s time an angel will come and take me to see my Da. Will you take me?”
He arranged the boy’s body in his bed and retrieved his mother, placing her on top of her pallet. From a distance, it would look as If they were merely sleeping. He returned to his mansion an hour before sunrise.
“Daddy, we saved her for you!” Drusilla called over the screams.
He strolled down to the “playroom” in the cellar. The room smelled of sex, blood, and fear. The young woman from the party, Harmony, was naked and railroad spikes had been driven through her hands and ankles, courtesy of William. Her legs and stomach were flayed, and Drusilla greedily lapped up her flowing blood.
William leaned against the wall, a pipe in his hand. “How did it go with the bird?”
Before he could answer, Harmony turned towards Angelus. Her face had been clawed, most likely by Drusilla, and her right eye hung out of its socket and lay limply against her cheek. “Mr. McConroy, help! Please help me!” she whimpered.
A cold smirk drifted on his lips as he played with her blood-soaked hair. “I could help you, Harmony, but you would have to do something for me first,” he taunted.
“Anything, anything.”
“Open your mouth.” A single tear fell from her good eye. She opened her mouth without hesitation. Angelus released his semi-hard cock and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and gagged as his hand knotted in her hair. “She resisted my thrall.”
William pushed off from his relaxed stance against the wall. “Resisted? How the bloody hell did she do that?”
“Gee, William, I have no idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time,” he growled, shoving his entire length down Harmony’s throat.
“She’s not like the others,” Drusilla whispered. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She was having a vision.
“What do you see, pet?”
Just as Harmony’s heart stopped beating, Angelus felt his seed spurt into her mouth. He pulled out, using her hair to clean himself off, smiling lightly as his seed and her blood dripped from her mouth.
“She was almost Called.”
“Called?”
“As in…?” Angelus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“But the Powers…she was unworthy…innocent blood on her hands…now she is just a human.”
Angelus ran a hand through his hair, attempting to process what they had just learned. Buffy was meant to take the Calling. She was to be a Slayer, but she killed someone. The Powers deemed her unworthy and now she will never be a Slayer. But even though she didn’t have the Call, she was still equipped with the typical Slayer attributes. A mental block to resist the thrall. Possibly strength to fight against any demonic creature.
“Darla is going to kill you,” William snickered.
“Darla is too busy fucking Dracula to care what I do!”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
Drusilla hunched over, moaning and hugging her stomach. William’s good mood faded quickly as he and Angelus flocked to her side protectively. “What do you see, Dru?”
“Bad man…bad man…bad man…”
“What bad man? What is he doing?” Angelus questioned her as she leaned against William.
“Touching…bad touch…bad touch…wants to keep her…wants to hurt her…!” she moaned.
Angelus growled deeply, startling his childe and grandchilde. “Hank Summers is a dead man. William, at first dark, I need you to do something for me.”
1 note · View note
magical-girl-coral · 3 years
Note
you get two characters- Entrapta and Hordak!
Thank you, babe 💜 
First, Entrapta
Why I like them - she’s the best autism rep I’ve seen yet. She’s funny, brilliant, beautiful, and all-around best girl. Her complexity and brilliance will never be forgotten
Why I don’t - It’s not a problem with her as much as the writers. In the last season, her treatment has been awful which ruined some of her better moments. Out of context, they’re great, but in context, most things fall flat.
Favorite episode (scene if movie) -  Ignoring that one scene fans have already torn to pieces, the rescue from Beast Island was incredible.
Favorite season/movie - Season three. 
Favorite line - Everyone already knows the more iconic lines so I’m choosing my favorite underrated one, “Wait, do I have to explain math to you?”. I love unintentional sass.
Favorite outfit - Her space outfit.
OTP - Entrapdak, of course.
Brotp - Honestly? The Super Pal Trio. I miss their dynamics.
Head Canon - Entrapta secretly wanted revenge against the princesses for leaving her behind. Part of the reason why she joined the Horde so easily was that her anger took control of her actions. When Catra apologized on Darla, Entrapta remembered how her anger brought her nothing and forgave Catra instead.
Unpopular opinion - Entrtapta should have been allowed to get angry in season five. She was abandoned twice, almost died thanks to depression vines, and had to work with people who hated for weeks. I don’t care for emotional maturity, she already showed signs of anger and annoyance in the earlier season and with how the show treated her. Entrapta’s acceptance of Catra felt like a mix of “autistic character feels emotions like a robot” and “neurodivergent putting their feelings aside for a neurotypical.” It all just left a bitter taste in my mouth.
A wish - Please let her have a good break after this. She has been used enough.
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen - Getting together with Wrong Hordak. He’s like her fucking kid, y'all serious about this?
5 words to best describe them - brilliant, naive, funny, unique, and perfectly imperfect.
My nickname for them - tech wife.
Now, Hordak
Why I like them - The more complex villain in the last few years. A beautiful and tragic story arc with a happy ending that still makes me cry. One of the best written male characters in cartoon history and you can fight me on that.
Why I don’t - I don’t there is something I don’t like about them as much as the fandom sometimes. He’s not an innocent baby. He was a conqueror and a dictator with a lost cause who most likely killed Scopria’s family. Stop watering his character down so you guys will have your “unproblematic fave.”
Favorite episode (scene if movie) - The season finale of season four. The escalation of the events left me breathless and Hordak’s tears did something to me. Literally, everything about this episode was perfect.
Favorite season/movie - Season five. He was there for less than fifteen minutes but he still stole the show.
Favorite line - “I am Hordak, and I defy your will.” (Sidenote: I memorized his entire speech and practiced it before sleep for weeks. I love it that much)
Favorite outfit - His slutty battle outfit. Nothing says “how to make your ex take you back” like an open cut dress and a giant fucking arm gun.
OTP - Entrapdak
Brotp - Him and Adora. I feel like they’re going to talk a lot after some dust starts to settle.
Head Canon - Hordak sneezes just like Catra. They both got into a pollen field once and refuse to talk about it ever again.
Unpopular opinion - Hordak’s arc in season five was kind of clumsy. I found It odd how was there to find the Luvd crystal, be there for Prime’s speeches, see Prime look into his old vessel,  find Entrapta AND be the guard that stood next to her in Prime’s big final villain speech. It was all very convenient.
A wish - For Hordak to find out more about his own biology. I highly doubt he knows a lot thanks to Prime.
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen - NO ONE KILL OFF THE SPACEBAT. I FUCKING MEAN IT.
5 words to best describe them - intelligent, beautiful, hard-working, hot-headed, misunderstood.
My nickname for them - space-bat, emo space-bat, Entrapta’s trophy husband.
17 notes · View notes
scurvgirl · 6 years
Note
♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something, for Beauty and Marassal because I love them so much, best buds for life.
….I got carried away with this. Warnings for descriptions of a panic attack and a natural disaster. Note, because I’m not cruel, Darla is not dead. Also, if this doesn’t fit into any plans, feel to just view this as an AU. 
Marassal sips his peppermint tea leisurely, letting it warmhim and calm him. The anxiety of preparing his district for the lady Fen’Sulahn’smother’s visit has been weighing heavily on him and this is the first time inover two months he has been able to simply sit down and take a minute forhimself. Everything must be perfect, there are rumors that Fen’Sulahn and Mythalhave not exactly been seeing eye-to-eye on some matter, and the tension hasinevitably filtered down into the lower ranks.
Hence Marassal’s need for peppermint tea.
He is only halfway through his cup when the ground begins toshake violently. Marassal stands quickly despite the shifting earth and usherspeople inside, grabbing several guards to help him create a stable barrier. Achild starts to cry, clinging to her mother’s skirts as the building aroundthem heaves violently. The ground itself moves and breaks in the street, peoplescream and run in all directions. Barriers go up, the alarm goes off, and inthe distance, he sees a building slowly descend. Dust floods the streets whilethe ground continues to convulse.
“Are we being attacked?”
“What’s going on?!”
“It’s the Nameless!”
The people cry around him, and he struggles to think pastthe heavy drum of his heart. Think, think, think!
“Earthquakes can be natural phenomena!” He says suddenly,not entirely convinced himself, “there is no need to panic! Please stay calm.”He returns his focus to his portion of the barrier and tries to not panichimself.
This can’t be real, this can’t be happening!
As suddenly it started, it ends. The buildings groan at theeffort to remain standing but no tremors come after a long moment. Marassal andthe guards cautiously let their barrier down.
“We need to start evacuations to the main palace, it’sreinforced so you should be safe there. If not, there are eluvians that cantake everyone to other cities if need be. Everyone! Listen, we are heading tothe palace, it is not safe yet to go to your homes.” He catches his breath andturns to the guards, their faces serious and concerned. Questions start to fly onlyfor him to quickly say that he too has little idea of what has happened.
Could it be an attack? Yes, it’s possible, but it’s alsovery possible it’s just a natural earthquake. Could it be an accident? Yes, itcould. There are too many explanations to justify panicking about a singularone…but that also means that there is little reason to not panic at all.
Marassal and the guards begin the process of herding thecitizens towards Fen’Sulahn’s palace, collecting people as they go. He givesinstructions to guards, acting as their temporary captain as manager for thedistrict, and since none of them have received orders from the captain.
“Get people to the palace! Search buildings to make sure you’regetting everyone!” He orders. The guards nod and begin to go search for people,naturally dividing into task forces – mainly into rescue and escort teams. Thealarms are still going off, hounds are howling and some of the larger ones havetheir people on their backs, running toward the palace.
The little girl in Marassal’s group is crying still, even asshe clings to her mother.
Not much farther, thankfully.
When they finally reach the palace, Marassal quickly usherseveryone inside, commanding the guards to raise barriers up and to continue escortingpeople to the safest parts of the palace.
“Send word to Fen’Sulahn immediately!”
“I am here! What happened?!” His lady strides throughquickly from a wing and he bows fast before explaining.
“An earthquake of some sort, a building collapsed, I’veordered the guards to evacuate everyone to the palace and through the Eluviansto other cities if need be.” He follows her out to the great doors, stillshaking but he will keep with this, he has a responsibility. She nods and isabout to reply when another tremor rocks through the city.
“Protect Fen’Sulahn!” The guards call but Marassal isalready bringing a barrier up around them. Thankfully, the tremor is shorterand weaker than the main quake from earlier, and the palace, as Marassal had promised,does not budge.
“Good work. You! Gather my troops for search and rescue. Marassal,remain here and organize evacuation efforts, send people to other cities – but notto Arlathan! If this is Nameless, they will be searching for a way to Arlathan!To smaller cities.”
“My lady, it is not safe for you here,” one of the guardsprotests.
“I have been on battlefields much deadlier than this, worry forthe People, not me.” And with that word, she shifts into her great wolf formand runs down to the city in her own rescue efforts.
Marassal takes a breath and rushes into the palace, quickly prioritizingthose who need to be evacuated first. The little girl and her mother, he needsto get them to safety. He needs to get them allto safety. He sends each group through with two guards, making sure tochoose Fen’Sulahn’s lesser known cities, places where the Nameless are lesslikely to target.
More people start to pour in and he does his best to divvy everyoneup accordingly. The palace has four main eluvians, that means he can have eachone open to a different city for evacuation. He gets the guards to set up arotation and after the first few groups, he stops sending guards in, hopefullyassuming every is safe.
Another tremor shakes the city, and even in the palace theycan hear the groaning of the earth, the sounds of the city shaking echoes throughthe stoned hallways like a beast roaring announcing its arrival.
There are wards, weare safe, Marassal must remind himself, even as everyone gasps, a fewscream, many sob in terror. Stay calm,stay calm, you’re in charge.
“Stop! Healers coming through!” One of the guards calls fromone of the eluvians.
“Good! Everyone, hunker down for a moment!” Marassal shoutsfrom his position overlooking the mass of people waiting to be evacuated.
Healers rush through the nearest eluvian and Marassal pointsto where the wounded are being directed, half of the group heads in thatdirection while the rest of them head out into the city. Another eluvian linepauses while a contingent of troops barrel through.
Marassal tries not to think about how he hasn’t seen many ofhis friends. Some make sense, they’re most likely aiding in the recovery efforts,but others…
Where is Beauty?
But then the lines resume, and he is distracted by usheringpeople into the correct lanes. It’s mercifully distracting, even if it doesincrease his sense of impending danger and doom. He throws himself into the work,anxiety and worry increasing with time, until he looks around to see…no one.
“That’s everyone!” A guard reports after hours and hours ofwork.
“What?” He breathes as the guard takes Marassal’s arm toguide him through an eluvian.
“Those who could be evacuated, have been. Fen’Sulahn isstill conducting her investigation, it’s time to go, Marassal.”
“No, that can’t be everyone! Where…where…” but he doesn’tget a chance to finish his question as he is practically shoved through themirror. He reaches the other side, safely in one of Fen’Sulahn’s smallerpalaces in a city that is mostly military base.
His chest heaves and aches, his arms beginning to tremble.No, no, this is wrong. Where is Beauty?
After a moment, the guard taps his shoulder and he realizeseveryone is looking to him. Why? What can he do? This…he wasn’t trained for this! Crisis management is not hisforte, they’re all lucky he’s gotten them this far.
Marassal swallows and tries to calm his hands and heartbefore speaking, “Our lady is still investigating. I have no word of the cause.Everyone who could be evacuated, has been. We are to stay here. I…will – is therea city manager here?” He asks. His people need food, bedding, temporary livingnecessities.
“Here, sir, Hithril, here to help.” A robust elf approacheshim, and shakes his hand but he is so wound up he has trouble not jerking hishand back in overwhelming sensation. He nods, steeling himself to continue,even as his body tries to stop.
“Marassal. The people will need healing, food, drink, placesto rest –
“It’s already being taken care of; the evacuees are beingdirected to the great rooms of the palace and food is being brought up from themarketplace. The city’s healers are already here, working on those most inneed.” Hithril says, leading Marassal through the palace where people are beingdirected. The great hall is where most have been set up, while individual bedroomshave been turned into centers for the healers. The kitchens are alight withactivity to start creating enough food for the demand.
More time passes as he is thrown into more work of managingeveryone, keeping their fears and concerns low even as his own willpower isstretched far beyond his limit. Communications start to arrive with missivesfrom troops, reports of the dead, but so far, no foul-play has been detected,though the investigation is ongoing.
Beauty is not on the list of dead. A small comfort.
It is late when all the fires have been put out. No one inhis group has died, and word from the other cities reports the same. They’realive. They’re all alive. Good, that’s good, he can…stop. It is all he can doto find a small, quiet, secluded room before he collapses to the floor, greatsobs wracking his body. Breathing becomes staggered as all the fear and paniche’s been shoving to the side bludgeons him with built up force.
Marassal curls in on himself, terrified and paralyzed allthe same.
Beauty is missing. Darla, his beloved hound, was at thegroomers, getting shampooed and pampered. They’re missing and there is nothing more he can do.
The filth and the grime feel like they weigh him down,pressing him closing to the floor as he tries to reconcile all the fear in him.But it is time, not…not anything else that eventually has him moving to a moresitting position, leaning against the wall, crying instead of sobbing. Theemotions around him are thick and turbulent, polluting the entirety of theroom. It is better though, better than the immense crushing sensation he hadfelt.
It is, of course, at this precise moment, when he is stillcrying and a mess that the doorcreeks open.
“Marassal?”
That voice, he knows that voice!
“Beauty?” He asks in disbelief, voice cracking with his cries.The door opens more and yes it’sBeauty! With little Gra’Mi at his feet! None of them looking worse for wear,miraculously.
“Marassal,” Beauty says, collapsing next to next Marassal,pulling him close. Relief floods through Marassal as he presses as closely toBeauty as he can, burying his face into Beauty’s hair. He cries and feels, unableto disguise or hold anything back. Beauty just holds Marassal tight, his ownfears and relief mingling with Marassal’s.
“I was with Fen’Sulahn today, she had a meeting with hermother. I had to stay to placate while Fen’Sulahn returned to Adahlan. I couldbarely keep calm when I heard it was yourdistrict.”
Beauty is untouched then, safe all the way in Arlathan allday while Marassal fretted and stressed to get everyone safe.
“I thought…I thought,” he stammers. Beauty smooths Marassal’shair back, softly cooing at him.
“I know, I thought so too.”
Marassal doesn’t know how long they stay like that, holding ontoeach other simply to reassure that the other is safe and unharmed. Marassal isdusty and sweaty and none to pleasant to smell, but he is undamaged. Beautystill smells like his favorite perfume, his clothes are still soft, even ifthey are slightly rumpled form the day.
His breathing begins to regulate itself, his heartrate slows,and eventually, Marassal finds the ability to stand and move to the bed. Beautyfollows him and they end up wrapped together on the bed as well, unable to letgo of the other’s comfort just yet.
“Where’s Darla?” Beauty asks softly. Well, perhaps Marassalis not done crying for the evening.
11 notes · View notes
sinscaught · 4 years
Text
;files
Name: Noel (last name unknown) Age: Unknown, died when eighteen Date of Birth/Date of Death: December 24th/February 12th Place of Birth: Unknown Gender: Male (DFAB) Race/Species: Demon/Reindeer Language(s): English, Latin
Physical Description Height: 4′6″ Weight: Unknown
Sin: Envy
Eternal Punishment: The soft jingling of bells whenever he moves.
Weapon of Choice: Christmas tree shaped Shuriken stars/blades
Body Type: Slender, wide hips, thick thighs Eyes: Light blue irises, pupils are darker blue and so is the sclera Fur: Off white/gray, and light blue
Occupation: Part-time secretary, searching for a new job
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Bubbly & extroverted, a bit of a daredevil & prankster, ill tempered, gets jealous easily Mental illness(es)/disorders: borderline personality disorder, PTSD Sexual Preferences: Asexual Demiromantic Place/Type of Residence: Family: Winthrop & Cadence (parents), Hollie (twin sister)
Trivia:
-his favorite holiday is Christmas.
-LOVES to sing holiday songs!
-loves to play pranks on others, no matter how cruel the prank.
-rarely leaves Hollie’s side.
-is a HUGE Alastor fan.
-has normal demonic powers/magic, but also has the power of shadow manipulation.
VA: Hikaru Hitachiin (Todd Michael Haberkorn)
Name: Hollie (last name unknown) Age: Unknown, died when eighteen Date of Birth/Date of Death: December 24th/February 12th Place of Birth: Unknown Gender: Female Race/Species: Demon/Reindeer Language(s): English, Latin
Physical Description Height: 4′6″ Weight: Unknown
Sin: Envy
Eternal Punishment: The soft jingling of bells whenever she moves.
Weapon of Choice: Peppermint stick shaped scythe
Body Type: Slender, slightly wide hips, thick thighs Eyes: Light red with darker red pupils & sclera Fur: Off white/gray, and light red
Occupation: Part time secretary, searching for a new job
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: A little more reserved than her brother, impish, gets jealous easily, sensitive Mental illness(es)/disorders: generalized anxiety disorder, PTSD, borderline personality disorder Sexual Preferences: Asexual Panromantic Place/Type of Residence: Family: Winthrop & Cadence (parents), Noel (twin brother)
Trivia:
-like Noel, her favorite holiday is Christmas.
-she knows how to ballroom dance.
-she adores Christmas songs.
-rarely leaves Noel’s side.
-is a HUGE Alastor fan.
-has normal demonic powers/magic, but also has the power of shadow manipulation.
VA: Kaoru Hitachiin (Greg Ayres)
BACKSTORY:
* The twins were born in a quiet town on the eve of Christmas. Winthrop & Cadence named them ‘Noelle’ & ‘Hollie’. Noel was physically born female, choosing to go by the ‘male’ version of his name when he came out at age fourteen. The twins adored Christmas, just as their own parents did. The family was incredibly loving and close, nothing could break their bond.
* Sadly, their mother fell ill one night and for four months was bedridden. On Christmas day, Cadence revealed to the twins… that she was dying. Lung cancer, perhaps if it’d been detected earlier things would have turned out better. Not wanting them to be sad on such a special holiday, Cadence ignored her pain to ensure they all had a wonderful Christmas. Tears were shed, of course, but the twins didn’t resent the holiday even though they should. No, it made them appreciate it even more. Later that night… Cadence passed in her sleep.
* The twins, though still had Christmas in their hearts, no longer had kindness. Because of their mother’s death, they decided the only friends they needed were each other. They grew bitter and envious of others, especially those who had mothers, and chose to delve into rather… illegal practices such as theft, street fights, and arson.
* Their poor father couldn’t stop them no matter what he did or said, and soon after turning eighteen both twins were chased down by police. Because of their resistance and criminal record, they were shot and killed.
* Sent to Hell for their crimes, they now work as secretaries for some boring company.
____
Name: Maven Age: Unknown Date of Birth/Date of Death: Unknown Place of Birth: Unknown Gender: Male Race/Species: Demon/Cat Language(s): English, Latin
Physical Description Height: 5′0″ Weight: Unknown
Body Type: Slender Eyes: Green, very dull yellow-green sclera Fur: Dark green, has gray-green skin
Nose: Black
Occupation: Demon-for-hire
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Crude, pushy, stubborn, wild, fun loving, daredevil Mental illness(es)/disorders: borderline personality disorder Sexual Preferences: Demisexual Demiromantic Place/Type of Residence: Lives in a small apartment somewhere in Hell Family: Unknown
Trivia:
-was a con artist during his mortal years.
-can shapeshift.
-can make deals.
Voice Claim: Alex Brightman 
----
Name (and Mortal Name): Chiffon / Colette Dupree Nickname(s): Age: Unknown, died in her mid-twenties Date of Birth/Date of Death: Unknown Place of Birth: Nice, France Gender: Female Race/Species: Demon/Dog (specifically, a Papillon) Language(s): French (native), English (fluent)
Physical Description Height: 4′2″ Weight: Unknown
Body Type: Hourglass, petite, has soft plush thighs Eyes: Deep purple and light purple Fur: Pastel pink for the most part, has incredibly light pink freckles on her face and very light pink stocking markings on her arms. Tail has a heart shaped marking tipped a darker pink.
Occupation: Fashion Model
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Mood can change at the drop of a hat. Affable upon first meetings but will turn sour if she dislikes someone. Dramatic, sensitive. Spiteful and vengeful. Mental illness(es)/disorders: Borderline Personality Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, anxiety, depression Sexual Preferences: Pansexual Panromantic Place/Type of Residence: Lives in a penthouse in Pentagram City Family: Bastien & Maribel Dupree (parents), Capucine & Delphine Dupree (older sisters, known now in Hell as ‘Satin’ & ‘Silk’)
Death Caused By: Poison
Death Year: 2012
Sins Committed: Murder, Conning
Abilities: ‘normal’ demonic abilities, can shriek/scream so loudly that it bursts/shatters eardrums
Weapon(s) of Choice: Boomerang bows (some of the bows she wears are sharp enough to make someone bleed), three distinct daggers
Trivia:
-teeth are a deep pink shade. One tooth always sticks out.
-absolutely despises her sisters.
-embraces Pastel Goth fashion / aesthetic.
-used to have an incredibly heavy accent. Hired a vocal coach to learn how to get rid of it.
-sounds like Darla Dimple. (Antagonist from C/ats Don’t Dance).
-much like Satin & Silk, Chiffon was raised to be a con artist. Her parents were con artists and wanted their children to be ones as well. It wasn’t too long before the family became wealthy because of this.
-she knows how to pickpocket, pick locks, and how to hotwire cars.
-murdered quite a number of people, including her parents.
-grew up learning how to play the piano.
-----
Name (and Mortal Name): Hazel / Unknown Nickname(s): Age: Unknown Date of Birth/Date of Death: Unknown Place of Birth: Salem, Massachusetts  Gender: Female Race/Species: Demon/Bat Language(s): English, Latin, French
Physical Description Height: 5′6″ Weight: Unknown
Body Type: Petite, hourglass
Occupation: Apothecary 
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Calm, stubborn, quiet Mental illness(es)/disorders: Borderline Personality Disorder Sexual Preferences: Homosexual Homoromantic Place/Type of Residence: Lives in a penthouse in Pentagram City Family: Unknown
Death Caused By: Burning
Sins Committed: Murder, Sacrifice, ‘Dark Magic’, Arson
Abilities: ‘normal’ demonic abilities, necromancy, shadow manipulation
Weapon(s) of Choice: 
Trivia:
-was ironically burned at the stake because she was a witch. 
-----
Name: Jasper Age: 24 Date of Birth/Date of Death: Unknown Place of Birth: North Dakota Gender: Male Race/Species: Demon/Fox Language(s): English, Latin
Physical Description Height: 6′8″ Weight: Unknown
Body Type: Slender Eyes: Light pink and darker pink Fur: Deep orange, tail is tipped deep red, inside of ears are deep red
Nose: Pink
Occupation: Ringmaster / Ringleader
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Charming, manipulative, polite upon first interactions, stubborn, deceitful, violent, power hungry Mental illness(es)/disorders: borderline personality disorder Sexual Preferences: Pansexual Panromantic Place/Type of Residence: Lives in a small apartment somewhere in Hell Family: Unknown
Trivia:
-was a ringmaster when he was mortal. Tortured his workers and even murdered some. Now is a ringmaster in Hell.
-was killed by one of his workers who had enough, stabbing him six times.
-his mask is removable but ONLY by him; if anyone tries touching it he won’t be too happy.
-without the mask he has a fox’s face, and his ears are usually hidden beneath his top hat. Has a light pink scar across his eye.
-has a soft spot for children.
Voice Claim: Ryan Reynolds
-----
Name: Pyxie Age: 27 Place of Birth: Imp City Gender: Female Race/Species: Imp Language(s): English, Latin
Physical Description Height: 4′9″ Weight: Unknown
Body Type: Curvy
Occupation: Lead Singer of Wild 0nes, a band made up of her and her brothers Bruiser & Butch
Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: A bit of a wild child & daredevil, hot headed, loyal, stubborn, determined to prove herself Mental illness(es)/disorders: borderline personality disorder, depression, PTSD Sexual Preferences: Bisexual Biromantic Place/Type of Residence: Lives in a small apartment somewhere in Imp City Family: Parents are unknown, Bruiser & Butch (older brothers)
Trivia:
-was raised by her brothers; their parents died when she was born in a random accident.
-she has a tail, but it was mangled during a fight with a higher class demon. Now, it’s just a stub.
-has a metallic bat as a weapon.
-small but fighty-- I mean, mighty. 
Voice Claim: Amy Lee
0 notes