#tarren nicholson

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—     Art Teacher     —

Tarren caught a glimpse of Lawrence’s latest “art project”, and as a fellow artist, he is very intrigued. 

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  Images of bloody hair littered in flowers, of a splayed spine filled lovingly with herbs, flash in Tarren’s mind as he knocks on his nervous friend’s apartment door. Tarren met the scruffy, muscular blonde in a bar while on this fun two-week-long get-away to the city. They got on well, and Lawrence let Tarren walk him home at Tarren’s insistence. All the way up to his door, as Tarren coaxed. 

  Tarren had only caught a glimpse of her, this temptress, this pale beauty. She was clearly not meant to be visible from the door, but Tarren did see, and he felt, and he wondered, and he dove within the waves of curiosity. 

  So, he knocks. 

  “Lawrence? Lawrence, darling! It’s Tarren, from last night." No response from the dark, covered windows. “Lawrence? Please do pardon my intrusion, I just have a query for you about the girl-!” Tarren cuts off his shouting as a crash and shuffling sounds from inside, followed by quickly thumping footsteps. 

  “Get inside.” Lawrence answers the door shirtless, face twisted up and mouth grimacing, flashing a small skinning knife. 

  “Oh now now, none of that mess, darling,” Tarren chuckles, flashing his own knife tucked into the inside of his shirt. Lawrence looks highly unamused, but Tarren, unaware, shoves past him into the apartment. Lawrence, seemingly shocked by this bold little bird now rummaging in his home, lowers his knife and stares blankly after. 

  Tarren inspects the whole of the apartment until- Yes, there she is! Just as beautiful and artistic and lovingly crafted as his glimpse implied, oh!

  “Oh~” he gasps, turning to Lawrence with a lovestricken smile. “Law, sweetie, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Lawrence’s face is twisted in what could be shock or maybe embarrassment, frozen in place a few paces away as his art rests in the hands of a near-stranger. But rather than horror or disgust, Tarren is blushing wildly, hugging the flower-coated decapitated head and spine to his chest; like it doesn’t matter, like killing and maiming and making anew is a normality to him. Lawrence doesn’t know what to feel, this is uncharted territory, this is new, this is... scary. The pure lust and shameless joy on the man’s face is scaring him. How can he be so shameless while clutching a corpse? Lawrence can never hold the dead without shame. 

  But rather than say any of that, Lawrence whispers: “ You... need to leave. Now.”

  “Oh come now, darling!” Tarren snaps, tossing the head back into her box. “Look I love it, your art, it’s beautiful! Sure your methods are brutish and messy, but dear-” Tarren rushes up to Lawrence who raises his knife to strike, but Tarren just touches Lawrence’s shoulders, eyes wild. “Dearest, let me teach you! Our passions, our visions combined- Imagine it!” Tarren is bright red, eyes wide and pupils blown. Lawrence can’t help his own dusting of pink along his cheeks at the physical contact. 

  “What- What do you mean? Teach me. Teach?” Lawrence’s voice is rising in volume, when Tarren’s hands come to rest on his cheeks, and he presses their lips together. 

  Lawrence blusters and shoves Tarren back hard, knocking him to the floor. Tarren screams in frustration and pulls his knife, lunging forwards and sticking the blade into Lawrence’s calf and twisting. Lawrence shouts and collapses heavily, rivulets of blood spurting from him instantly. Lawrence dropped his knife in the fall, and Tarren kicks it away, standing over him, uninjured. 

  “Testy, testy, aren’t you, dearest?” Tarren pants out. “No matter, I forgive you! But babe, you’ll bleed out very quickly without my help, you see, and I do think that makes you indebted to me for at least one art lesson, no?” 

  Lawrence is groaning in pain, clutching the wound and staring wide-eyed at the dark red puddle forming below him.

  “Art lesson? What are you talking about? You stabbed me! You- you stabbed me!”

  “I know, but you started it! I was merely defending myself. Now do you want my help stopping the blood or not? Trust me, I’m a doctor!” 

  Lawrence stares at his pale leg drenched in red, and realizes very quickly that he’s dying. The familiar ebb and flow of the river tugs the edges of his blurry vision. 

  “Fine, help me,” Lawrence shouts hoarsely. Tarren grins and pulls his emergency kit out of his back pocket, bending down and applying pressure with a random shirt off the floor. He hums an old fishing tune until the bleeding stops. Lawrence breathes heavily, staring him down with wary, reddened eyes. 

  “You’ll learn to appreciate it soon, darling, swear it.” Tarren pulls out and unfolds a small IV bag and wipes his arm clean, readying to draw his own blood to give to his patient. “By the time we’ve finished our lessons I’d wager you’ll understand beauty and the art of love like never before!” He strokes Lawrence’s cheek softly as those wide baby blues meet his hazel. Lawrence pulls away softly, unsure and vaguely terrified by the oddity of this man. 

  “I’ll make an artist of you yet, Lawrence Oleander~” 

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Surprisingly I think Lawrence and Tarren would get along really well if they met in a bar or randomly on the street. To Tarren, Lawrence would just look like a nervous but well-meaning man, tall and blonde and kind of cute in his scruffiness. To Lawrence, Tarren would just look like a quiet, polite, and flirtatious small-town man who is being very kind and understanding with him. 

It’s only after they discovered each other’s “tendencies” that things would go awry. 

Tarren hates brutish or impulsive killers. He considers them shameful and a disgrace to the beauty he tries to create. If he discovered one of Lawrence’s bodies after already having grown close to him, Tarren would feel utterly betrayed. 

“How could you? You’re one of those- those brutes! It’s all a game to you, my art, my life, my passion, it's just a silly game! A little way to get your anger out on weaker ones, isn’t that right, you freak?” All screamed while thrashing at Lawrence with a knife, beet red in the face. 

And of course, Lawrence our unstable friend, as we know, doesn’t take kindly to being shouted at or called names. :)

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Pet names for a soon-to-be-corpse

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Tarren is the type of guy to burst into sobs if you called him “babygirl”

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5, 10, 22, 23, 29, 30, 45 for Tarren

Thank you for asking about my gross little man! Enjoy learning about him. <3 

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On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

  Nicotine gum, his burner flip phones, a vintage portable tapedeck and a few cassettes, a falling apart leather wallet, and a ballpoint pen. He’s very minimalistic in what identifying objects he carries, just in case. 

  Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

  The more the better for Tarren. He feels safer when cocooned by something and having lots of weight against his body. (If you laid across his back and put all your weight on him he’d instantly be in love)

  What does your character like in other people?

  In friends or family, Tarren likes when people can be comfortable in silence. But he also enjoys letting people talk for hours on something they’re passionate about. He loves people also passionate about death, talking to him about morbid historical facts will get him blushing fast. He likes other folk from small towns and loves gushing about his little seaside community. 

  In victims, he seeks out loud, rambunctious people on purpose. Tarren likes when they put up a fight and scream before they die. The juxtaposition between screaming, flailing life and quiet, rasping, peaceful death is part of what attracts him. He also is incredibly fond of redheads. 

  What does your character dislike in other people?

  Assumptive people and, strangely, murderous behavior. He considers his methods graceful and beautiful, while other killers are brutes and ‘freaks’. 

  He also dislikes city people in general, considering them judgemental and objectifying of small towns like his. 

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

  Well, considering as a child his number one fantasy was being a plague doctor... Technically he’s livin’ the dream! 

  In seriousness though, Tarren’s first major fascination as a kid was The Black Death and plague doctor’s role in it. All he would talk about and dress as was plague doctors. He was incredibly knowledgeable on herbology and medieval medicine from a young age and uses that knowledge in his methods of killing.

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

  Tarren is disgusted by killers that use guns or other brute-force methods. The ruining maiming, of what could have been such gorgeous bodies repulses him immensely. 

  He also considers eating pizza with ranch dressing a hate crime lol. 

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

  Tarren believes, or hopes at least, that he can feel himself, his energy, his life, mold into the earth and carry on in the soil and in the mouths of worms and dogs. He believes all “soul” within a person is redistributed to the Earth. This belief comforts him immensely and he fantasizes about it often.