#and the first and most scarring abandonment he ever had was when his bio father left him to die | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mindcrowned · 6 months

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ryan. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

BASIC INFO

full name — Ryan Estrada(-Takashi) age — forty-four (january 19th) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual former occupation — teacher super power — power mimicry (lowkey rogue-like..ish) hero name — hoshii weapon — dual long scimitars katanas clothing style/ uniform — casual, fitting, nerdy / dark modern-y

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Pedro Pascal hair — brown / eyes — brown height — five foot & eleven inches build — kinda like a T, broad shoulders, muscled torso, slutty waist (it be thin ok), tho he has decently thick thighs, too but not insanely so scars — a few, but the only prominent ones are long strides across the backs of his thighs tattoos — he has a portrait of his (deceased) daughter & husband on his chest, right above his heart piercings — nipple piercings oops special characteristics — he’s broken and angry at the world, which translates into silence & bitterness

PERSONALITY

alignment — true chaotic neutral positive traits — protective, loyal, strong-willed, caring negative traits — bitter, short-tempered, stubborn hobbies — kenjutsu, cooking, avoiding people, spreading bitterness

MEDICAL INFO

mental — ptsd (watched his husband and child die), negative attitude physical — when he was younger, he got his shoulder dislocated and one of his older sisters thought she could pop it back in. she didn't and broke his shoulder. he can't life his right arm as high as the left one still, but only few know phobias — claustrophobia, haphephobia eyesight — wears glasses / contacts dominant hand — left hand drug use — nop alcohol use — occasionally diet — lived as a vegetarian because of his husband, but when he died.. he went back to a normal semi-healthy diet

SEXUAL

kinks — tba anti-kinks — tba sexual preference — bottom switch

BACKGROUND

birthplace — houston, TX (born) parents — (biological parents unknown) / Maria Estrada-Takashi (step-mother) & Asahi Estrada-Takashi (step-father) siblings — 2 older sisters who were also adopted by the Estradas; Amelie & Sorayja Estrada-Takashi education — education degree (to work as a teacher) notable skills — he grew up with a lot of japanese traditions/culture including tea ceremonies, calligraphy and the art of kenjutsu

BIO

(child abuse mention, murder mention, child death mention)

on a cold january morning in a small town not too far from houston, a young policeman named ryan mccormick found a little bundle of linen on the steps on his way to work. due to being a heavy smoker, the young deputy-in-training tended to enter the station through the back door & therefore the little boy wrapped abandoned the night prior was saved from spending more hours in the cold. thankfully. mccormick took the newborn to the hospital as swiftly as the old police car would allow, but thankfully houston had been blessed with somewhat decent temperatures, so the newborn would be okay. they said.

that was the first & last time ryan would ever see his savior, but not the last time he’d be reminded of his existence. the nice employees from the foster care office contacted by social services picked him up after a weekend at the hospital and he was named after his savior. little king. he was thought to take over the world in a quick stride, because as a newborn babe his little smile enchanted everybody who was blessed enough to be present for it.

the first family that contacted adoption services to meet little ryan would take him home with them, but only for a few months. he was brought back with the explanation that something had to be wrong with the child, because he never cried, he never screamed, he never even cooed. clearly, a well-behaved little boy couldn’t be normal, they thought. as a six month old little boy already rejected by one stats-wise perfect couple, his chances for an early adoption decreased rapidly with every passing day, especially because most couples were looking for younger children. babies. ryan, unfortunately, was running out of time only a few months after he was born.

when he passed the twelve-month mark, he was taken over by another foster care office - one that handled children, not newborns. his photo was sent to every couple looking to take care of a child, though unfortunately for him, the only interest was shown by an old couple eager to temporarily give foster care children a loving home. they weren’t looking for long-term responsibilities. a few months outside the sterile rooms of the facility would do him well, they thought.

elise & archibald johnson could be described as the most stereotypical sixty-plus year old farm-owner couple america had to offer. flags decorated not only the front of the house, but the back, too & little ryry would spend the next eight months with them. longer than anticipated by pretty much everybody & maybe they would’ve actually kept him longer, but archibald’s health began to deteriorate suddenly, so they could no longer look after the little boy.

cue, another few months with only sparse human interaction & yet, with a roof over his head & food a regular occurrence, some would say ryan was lucky. he was three years old when the next family decided to give him a chance. lucy & thomas jackson. houston simply has too many children in the social service system to ensure a stable & proper development for each & every single one, so ryan .. wasn’t quite as vocal as he should be, but the jacksons were patient & gentle - if firm in their approach with him, so the little boy soon developed an almost chatty attitude.

until this day, nobody knows why the jacksons returned a four-and-a-half year old toddler, but they did. by then, ryan had reached that age of he’s not longer utterly adorable & actual work, which was the reason he spent another year on the waiting list & at this point in time.. ryan began to understand what happened around him & of course one would wonder why other kids came & went, but not you. although that took another year to develop. almost six years old, ryan was once again sent to live with a family with three other foster kids to learn social etiquette.

not a good year.

ryan was returned with a broken arm, scars covering the backs of his thighs & a black eye. clumsy child. the next couple was somewhat different, because they’d wanted to adopt a child for a long time, but they didn’t qualify before & they didn’t have the funds for a newborn, so a six year old was the best they could do. it was fine with them. in their care, ryan discovered he wasn’t normal. except for being stronger than a child should be, the couple found… well, something else was wrong with the little boy in their care. sometimes when he touched them, not only would he scream & flee, but sometimes they’d feel their energy … drain rapidly. ryan was eight years old when these mishaps messed with the peace in the johnson household. it wasn’t until he was nine that he found the words to speak about what he was experiencing. thankfully, he had yet to meet another superhuman, because touching them would surely have sent the confused little boy into a frenzy unlike anything the johnsons ever experienced. a few months later, ryan was … once again, in his old room at foster care.

how he knew?

he felt it. the issue that caused his return to the facility this time was … not dealt with. he was left alone to fend for himself in a world that knew no mercy for a confused little boy’s struggles. so, besides knowing nobody wanted him, he also had powers to deal with.

school in the foster care system.. was okay. ryan knew most of the kids in class with him, so there was that. he might’ve made friends even, but due to images flooding his mind whenever one of the other boys jumped him to play, he ..retreated. he’d sit in the front of the class knowing only few would dare, he spent breaks in his room & generally stayed away from other kids. of course that was noticed, but he wasn’t hurting anybody, so they left him. once ryan learned to read.. he had only very few reasons to leave his room, ever.

he was eleven when the next foster family took him in. it didn’t go well. back in the residential foster care - a group home for school kids really. a new room, which ryan didn’t like at all. it was shared with three other boys. none of them respected his urge to keep distance between him & them. the worst two years of his life yet. he’d have taken the abusive rednecks from when he was four over this. he was the youngest in the room, definitely the nerdiest - as they called him & when he was prescribed glasses? life, as he knew it, was over for him. the bullying was .. tolerated by the caretakers in the hopes of turning the quiet little boy into a normal, more social child. safe to say it did the opposite.

ryan found safe places at the facility where he could spend as much of his days as possible for the next few years. his powers grew, but not in a good way. he felt himself change whenever the boys grabbed him or pushed him down to play stampede on his back. their thoughts echoing in his own mind, loud & clear like they were telling him of all the cruel things they yearned to unleash upon him, the pictures of …memories that definitely weren’t his still flooding his mind uncontrollably when they did, too. he had no way to control it, no way to escape the daily onslaught.

seriously, worst years of his life.

a few weeks before his fourteen’s birthday, he’d meet the owners of his … well, semi-forever home. he was so grateful to get out of that group home, he cried the entire four hour drive to his new home. well, not quite. he passed out halfway through. the house he woke up was the biggest & most beautiful one he’d ever seen. he had his own room. his own room. he knew this was what people called paradise without ever having seen anyplace else.

this time, though - everything was different. maria & asahi estrada-takashi sat him down & spoke with him, thinking that surely - he was old enough to be treated like an equal, at least ..closely to it. they explained that - so long as he wanted to, this would be his home. they heard of his struggles & unbeknownst to him, had been to visit at the facility where they witnessed enough to know they had to get him out. he wasn’t the only foster child at the estrada-takashi household. he shared it with two older girls who’d soon be his sisters - officially. a year after taking him in, the estrada-takashi’s officially adopted him.

ryan finally found a sense of normalcy. he expected them to send him away once they found out about his powers, but they didn’t. instead, they brought him his very first pair of gloves. he wore long sleeves most of the time anyway, so that pretty much made him as immune to accidentally getting touched as possible, but - even though his sisters teased him mercilessly, they respected him enough to not force anything on him. to get the young teen out of his room & books more, he was sent for hobbies that allowed distancing as much as possible. ryan was sent to learn how to ride & responsibility was taught by him taking care of the horse on three days of the week, too. besides that, he was trained in the art of kenjutsu to strengthen his body & calligraphy to exercise his mind while teaching him patience & that his urge to chase perfection in everything he did wasn’t a bad thing.

turned out he had an unexpected talent with the katana & actually found joy in practicing with it. it was all for fun. ever since he had the stability at home & a loving family to back him, he was doing much better & oftentimes left his room to socialize. after an incident at school, they gave him a somewhat exceptional permission to wear his gloves at all times, even during pe. sure, that didn’t exactly help his image in school, but he’d never been very popular. he’d always been told he wasn’t pretty & even his sisters sometimes teased him about his looks - they didn’t know that’d been a recurring happenstance & he .. never told them, so ryan went to school with only one goal in mind.

survive.

he had exceptional grades & graduated with flying colors, but due to his rather questionable upbringing & a lack of interesting bullet points on his resume, community college was as high as he’d go. which was where he met the potential love of his life. he fell fast & unbelievably hard. lucky for him, it only took a few weeks of hopeless pining for his classmate for him to be noticed. one would think with how quickly their love bloomed, that it would die out in spectacular colors not long after. but it didn’t.

victor lavine was his soulmate, it seemed. even when ryan explained the gloves & his strange powers, their love didn’t diminish - if anything, it burned brighter despite the obstacles ahead. intimacy. touch still being an issue for ryan, they took things slow. very slow. up until the point that there was nothing left to see when ryan & victor’s skin touched. there was one grand rule, though. an ultimatum victor left ryan to think over.

me or your powers.

admittedly, it wasn’t as severe an ultimatum as it sounded, there was no cure for superpowers, but victor - as one of the many people afraid of superhumans, would give true love a chance only if ryan abandoned his powers & the institute. he’d been in contact with them for a few months before he met victor & had been debating giving up his studied to live in a place that was more suited to the likes of him, where he’d learn to control his powers. before he met victor… that sounded pretty good. after, though? not good. the institute had been quite ..convincing. the unwanted child. with a story like his, ryan would surely draw attention to himself & that was what they wanted. attention, positive media, likes. desperate to be seen, to be loved, to be accepted, ryan chose love.

& he wouldn’t regret it for a long time. he became a teacher, as did victor. they managed to get into the same school afterwards. again fueling ryan’s conviction about them being soulmates. life was good. they moved into their own place soon a lot of states over, not the biggest house, but with decent income on both sides, they lived a comfortable life. moving to the big city had a lot of perks, but also ..not. more people meant that occasionally, ryan would run into other people like him, which … he felt before he saw them & it was during a car crash that he discovered he could ..absorb other superhuman’s powers. in a way. he had no idea how it worked at the time, but when a woman pulled him out of the wreck bare-handed .. by his neck, he felt his body freeze against his will & in her memories he could see why.

she was like him, but not quite. he didn’t tell victor about her when he got home that night. instead he experimented with his powers every now & then with the help of their dog. well, victor’s dog. they married a few years later & a few years after that, they saved a child from foster care. violet.

she was three years old at the time & would change their lives forever. she brought a light into their home that neither knew they were missing before. they were the perfect little family & they continued to be for a handful of years. life was sweet & fulfilling & for the longest time ryan thought he was going to grow old with victor by his side, violet would be living her own life one day, but she’d always come visit them, because she loved her fathers & knew what it was like not to have any.

but life as he saw in their future wasn’t meant to come true. not in this life anyway. ryan had been stuck late at school for a teacher-parent evening with a group of very concerned & incredibly chatty parents, so when he came home around eleven pm, he found the door ajar. inside… the sight that awaited him.. would haunt him until the end of his days, surely.

he found his home in shambles, blood spatters scattered, but most prominent was a drawn-out puddle leading into the kitchen, which was where he found his husband in a puddle of his own blood. he’d been beaten & stabbed repeatedly while trying to protect their daughter. ryan found whiskers - their dog, dead in the yard afterwards & violet’s lifeless body was discarded in the living room. victor had tried dragging himself towards her, but ended up stranded in the kitchen.

ryan… had been practicing. very low-key, but he still had a telepath’s powers on quick-dial. he’d been curious to find differences between them, but he never thought that’d be what helped him find out who broke into their home. victor fought. oh, he fought. ryan couldn’t tell if it had been the fear or the dying that caused for an almost violent reaction to his very clumsy tries at getting faces out of his husband’s head.

the ambulance was too late & the cops? they found nothing worth their time. meanwhile ryan… had three faces. as a widower with nothing left to lose, ryan set out to find them, find out why. find justice vengeance. he found them, eventually & he dealt with them...accordingly. he also found out the truth.

it was coincidence.

it wasn’t a planned assassination, it wasn’t someone he upset, it wasn’t someone who might’ve had it out for him. it wasn’t. these guys had seen their pretty little house, their cars & the suits they wore to work & thought they could make a fortune. with victor’s car at the repair shop & ryan’s at the school, they thought their time had come, only to be surprised by a dog & two very much alive humans at home. it was a coincidence that cost ryan everything.

now, he could’ve let that be the spark needed to pull him down the rabbit hole of villainy, could’ve let that be the catalyst to unleash his wrath upon everybody potentially crossing paths with him. but he didn’t. instead, he reconnected with the institute. they had double the story now, because the gruesome murder of a loving husband & daughter had made it to the eight pm news across social media.

broken-hearted & hardened by the sheer violence of life, ryan … returned to the institute - partially in the hopes of getting a second chance, but most of all? he wanted to find purpose again. because without his family .. life felt empty. he was but a shadow of his past self, the teacher cracking the worst dad jokes at the kids in class for a few giggles & to lighten the mood had lost the light in his heart. he’s not the stereotypical hero anymore; he’s short-tempered, eager to punish criminals solve crime, only barely semi-social these days & keeps the world at an arm’s length (including his teammates), he’s quiet & definitely not going to be a shining beacon of attention on social media on his own accord, but they knew his story would sell well regardless & paint Paragon Incorporation in a bright-as-fuck light.

the good samaritan & the mourning husband+father. a love story written in the stars, surely the world would agree?

#intro post.#*rolls out* not me having to force myself to stop #or else the bio would've gone on for dAYS

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bleakfated · 1 year

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INTERACTIONS. HEADCANONS. PHOTOS. IISMS. WISHLIST. OPENS. SC.

STATISTICS

BASICS: name: inias age: timeless gender & pronouns: agender, he/they sexuality: asexual faceclaim: michael b jordan occupation: angelic farm owner location: sonoma, california after he abandons heaven

PERSONALITY: positive traits: loyal, intuitive, peaceful, forgiving negative traits: idealistic, sensitive, nosy, obedient

APPEARANCE: scars: none tattoos: none piercings: none

VERSES

BIOGRAPHY

TL;DR

Inias is one of the youngest angels that God created and is in Castiel's garrison. Never fond of the destruction being a loyal angel sometimes entailed, many of his siblings believed him to be too weak. Still, Inias was loyal and always did what he was told. After the Winchesters thwarted the plan for the apocalypse, Inias was at a loss of what to do with himself without any direct orders. He was uninterested in participating in Raphael's destructive ways. When much of the angel garrison was destroyed by Castiel, he still valued his brother from all the time they had spent together. After he nearly was killed by a Leviathan while protecting the prophet and the fall of the angels due to Metatron, Inias settled onto a farm in Sonoma, California. He was done with the death and destruction now so intimately tied with Heaven.

FULL BIO

Inias is a peaceful, low-ranking angel of the lord. He was one of the youngest angels to be created by God, which allowed him a lot of time to learn under his siblings. A member of the same garrison as Castiel, Inias quickly grew fond of him. He tended to shy away from any of the archangels, their power and personalities could be rather intimidating. From the moment he came into existence, he knew that remaining loyal to God's wishes was of utmost importance. When Lucifer was cast out of Heaven due to his insubordination, it was enough to intimidate Inias to continue on his straight and narrow path, not that he even had any intention of deviation int he first place. While other siblings rebelled as well and some had nephilim, an abomination crossbreed between the angels and humans, Inias continued with whatever orders were passed his way.

The violence that started to rear its head often in the workings of Heaven not much later never sat well with him. The angels were responsible for keeping the universe balanced with the monsters that Lucifer and Eve had created and the humans that had turned evil themselves. Inias hated it and wished for the vision that his father had once had for Earth, idyllic and peaceful, but also understood the betrayal of Lucifer and humanity had broken something in his father. Much like Castiel, however, his memories of these dark times were often erased by Naomi and the others. After a while, he found a few pockets of people’s personal Heavens to spend time in. Whenever he could, he reveled in the peaceful moments so that he could tolerate the violence that he was forced to be witness to or participate in whenever anything got out of hand.

Millenia passed and things remained relatively the same as he and the other angels continued to watch humanity grow and develop on Earth. Disease and natural disasters came and went and Heaven was ever-expanding as faith remained alive and well after Jesus was put on Earth to remind humans of what Adam and Eve had failed to do, to remind them of how they were supposed to live. Direct orders from God ceased apart from a select few and orders in general slowly became less and less frequent until they all but stopped. Inias and others worried about their father, but continued to do their part in keeping Heaven running. Most never questioned that their father was continuing to make plans and look over his universe. However, the birth of the Winchesters started a downward spiral that nobody truly saw coming.

Most of Heaven knew the Winchesters were descended from Cain and Abel and that their line held the true vessels for Michael and Lucifer. Inias didn’t hear of Azazel’s plans for Sam and many other children until he had started his test to find the right person to open the gates of Hell. That action led to the path toward getting Lucifer out of the cage that he was imprisoned in. Talk about the upcoming battle between Michael and Lucifer was running rampant and Inias couldn't be more opposed to the idea. The idea of his siblings fighting like that disturbed Inias, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do but to remain loyal to his orders. Castiel was tasked with pulling Dean out of Hell, which started a long chain of the angels needing to resurrect the Winchesters to keep them alive for the battle.

Truthfully, Inias admired the Winchesters and all of the other hunters for what they did for humanity. He often wondered why angels themselves didn’t take care of the vermin that Lucifer and Eve had created, but knew it wasn’t his place to step in unless asked. Castiel fell as he grew more involved with the Winchesters and less inclined toward his orders. At the time, Inias felt sorry for his brother. His task had led him to a path that had caused him to fall. Others fell around or before this time as the angels were starting to grow uneasy with no guidance from God and the impending battle. When Lucifer and Michael both ended up trapped in the cage with the younger Winchester, Inias falsely hoped that it would be the end of the unrest in Heaven between his siblings. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case. Raphael became the leader in place of Michael and fighting continued to escalate.

Inias stayed out of the fighting altogether, perturbed by the inability to follow any orders. He didn’t know how to help. Then, Castiel declared himself the new God and killed many of the garrison that serviced Raphael. While it was hard to imagine that any good could come from that, he trusted Castiel’s instincts and knew that Raphael was eager to push for more destruction. However, Castiel soon became unhinged with power and the souls of the Leviathan he had taken in to gain power to end Raphael’s rule soon killed him. At this time, he stepped up alongside Hester as they were at the top of Castiel’s garrison and took over command for the remaining angels in their garrison.

When new prophet Kevin Tran came into power, indicating the death of Chuck Shurley, Inias descended with Hester to secure the prophet in hopes of getting more guidance from God. Surprisingly, they ran into Castiel. Inias was happy to see his brother, whereas Hester grew angry because she could tell he was out of his mind due to taking on Sam Winchester’s torment from his time in the cage. They were banished by the Winchesters before they can get their hands on the prophet, but soon found them again. Hester beat up Castiel despite Inias’s protests for a peaceful resolution since they had lost so many angels, but also because his brother had been through a lot and Inias cared for him. She was killed by the demon Meg. Inias and the other angels that had accompanied them stood down. After a moment with Castiel to say that he wished Castiel could come with them, he and the other angels took over the duty of protecting Kevin Tran.

He protected Kevin while he deciphered the demon tablet with other angels, but two of his other angels are killed by a Leviathan named Edgar when they go to visit Kevin’s mother. Inias and another barely escape with their lives. Inias returned to Heaven and worked under Naomi, because being a loyal servant of Heaven was all that he had known. However, he fell with the others when Metatron tricked Castiel into banishing all of the angels from Heaven. Once on Earth, mortally wounded, Inias found his vessel to heal in. Everything that Inias had ever known was stripped from him. He knew that he could no longer try to fight through the destruction that had become commonplace with Heaven. Instead, he found a ranch house with a small amount of property in Sonoma, California that he was able to acquire.

Since the fall, he has resided in the angel proof home, gardening and immersing himself in literature and other creations of humanity that he had admired from afar. He still has his angel radio and was briefly conflicted when he heard that Heaven didn't have power to keep it running years later, but ultimately continued to stay in hiding. As time on his own continued on, Inias started beekeeping and has built some on his property to house farm animals that he saves from abusive situations. To make a bit of money with the upkeep and watch humans find happiness in what he has built, his rescue farm and greenhouse are open to the public. Inias enjoys his time with humans, even when they find him rather eccentric while he tries to learn their dialect and customs.

#╰––– » 「 ⛦ 」 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁. ┊ inias

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handshealed · 6 months

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vincent. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

BASIC INFO

full name — Vincent Hale age — thirty-eight (october 27th) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual occupation — paramedic deity connection — apollo pet name — tba weapon / armor — daggers 2x + studded leather armor clothing style — casual

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Ian Bohen hair — dark blonde / eyes — blue height — five foot & ten inches build — there, he's been blessed with very very good genes bc he LOVES eating and isn't the biggest fan of working out, but still... y'know.. stays in shape scars — other than his heart lmao? teeny tiny little scar from when his appendix was removed (it was an emergency) tattoos — his brother's name's on his his arm, together with their birthdate piercings — he has pierced nipples, cause one of his former bfs liked it and he's a pushover and then he just kept them special characteristics — vincent is ... a ray of sunshine but with huge self-worth and abandonment issues. he will put everybody before himself, always. but no matter how sad he is, he'll attempt to keep that poster boy smile on his face sexual preference — bottom sub

PERSONALITY

alignment — ray of sunshine good positive traits — protective, caring, loyal, friendly negative traits — self-destructive, no self worth, insecure hobbies — hiking, enjoying nature, helping out where he can

MEDICAL INFO

mental — distinct lack of self worth, tends to feel like he's a bother physical — healthy bby phobias — abandonment issues eyesight — 18/20 dominant hand — right hand drug use — nop alcohol use — nop diet — food food food foooood. meat is a preference, but foooooooood.

BACKGROUND

birthplace — vernon hills, IL parents — Talia Hale (biological mother) & Apollo (biological father) siblings — anthony hale (older twin brother) pets — n/a education — high school diploma, emt + paramedic program graduate notable skills — can get by unnoticed easily bc he's not a v loud personality

BIO

Vincent was born two minutes and 33 seconds after his older brother Anthony. As a baby, he was the one to cry and giggle at the same time, amusing their parents and most likely sometimes even his twin brother. As a toddler, he was always a step behind, following his brother loyally, but still always only looking at the back of his head as Anthony moved forward determinedly. He didn’t mind though, Vincent never once felt unhappy about it. He cherished his brother dearly, even when he was only 3 years old - everybody could see just how much he admired him. It was never evaluated as a problem, quite the opposite, because Anthony was comfortable in his twin's presence.

The differences between them only grew more obvious as years went by, Vincent the shy & quiet one in the back while Anthony caught all the attention & shined brightly in it. Their mother died when they both were still little & nobody ever met their father, so they were raised by their older sister, Talia, who .. was loved by many, but when it was just them at home.. there was a different air to her. Vincent adored her, as he did ... most people, but he had to watch Anthony & her fight quite often. Of course he picked his brother's side. Always.

The first day at school, Anthony was there to comfort him. He always was. The big, protective brother and Vincent relished in it. &… they were never lonely, because they always had one another & nothing could get in-between them. Nothing.

Being born into one of the wealthiest families in the State, did come with ups & downs. Vincent had everything he could possibly want, growing up, but at the same time ... responsibility no child should be carrying around with them rested on his & Anthony's shoulders. With the twins building the family business' future, they had to be on their best behavior. Always.

But Talia underestimated the bond shared between twins - by far, especially with one of them never up to anything good & the other with an abnormal need to support the troublemaker. It started with little pranks, but as they grew older & Anthony even more confident... he also grew more ambitious & Vincent? He loved & admired his brother more than anything in the world.

Three weeks before their eleventh birthday, Talia had invited colleagues & neighbors over for a big gathering. Everybody of worth was huddled up in their house for the entire night & the boys had been reprimanded to behave. Safe to say they didn't. A scandal the neighborhood & Talia's colleagues would be talking about for a long time coming .... would be born tonight.

Long story short, Anthony thought messing wit the food would cause uproar, but it didn't, which woke the ambitious monster within him. It didn't end well. Not even Vincent can recall how it happened, but there was fire involved. A lot of it.

When blame was to be placed upon one of the twins, it wasn't Anthony who was declared culprit - Talia saw the worth in him, surely. She didn't. But she had a choice to make to fix the mess they had created & one of them had to pay for their sins, children or not. Vincent, the timid follower was useless in Talia's empire - dispensable. Anthony was the leader type, flaws or not. He was the confident, smart & independent leader she wanted. & so Vincent was officially banished & sent to a camp for troubled teens in Alaska, which was as far away as she managed to get him accepted in a few hour's time.

He didn't see it coming, but in the morning ... he found a car waiting. Unlike the other kids in BlueFire Wilderness, Vincent's stay didn't come with an expiration date, so he would be spending the next eight years there until he was old enough to decide about life by himself. He tried to escape, but even if he did, he wouldn't know where to go. But, abandoned by those he loved & alone in the world, Vincent didn't seek to get away from Camp anymore after the first months. Why bother when they forgot about him so easily?

Vincent didn't set foot in Camp Halfblood until he was fourteen, but then he'd spend the summers there at least - as was agreed on by Camp leaders. His first little dip into the truth of who his father was. His powers were ... not quite as attention-seeking as others, so it took everybody a long while to even notice. He doesn't remember when he first met his father, but it changed his life, even though he - too ...abandoned him.

When released from BlueFire Wilderness at the age of 18, Vincent became a paramedic. He'd always had that urge to help. Be it his brother or kids in camp. It didn't matter. Vincent was .. a helper & saving people's lives? Pretty good way to help.

It wasn't until about a decade later that Vincent decided to follow the call, both to find out more about who he is and what he is capable of, but also ...again, to help save lives where he can.

#pinned post.#vincent hale intro.

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cinnella · 3 years

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Name: Eris Zaramoza (chosen name); Yin Abo (birth name)

Age: 26 years old

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

Birthday: November 5th

Patron Arcana:

Death (Major); Queen of Cups (Minor)

Occupation: Magician and Shopkeeper; Former Necromancer

Height: 5'7" (1.71 m)

Weight: 64 kg (141 lbs)

Relatives:

Sethos Abo - older brother

Nuwa Abo - mother (deceased)

Kek Abo - father (deceased)

Xié Dongmei - aunt (deceased)

Origin: Born in Venterre, but grew up in Vesuvia

Race: Half chinese, half egyptian

Powers: Blue (astrology) and purple (divination) magic. Also has an affinity for controlling and summoning water

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, she's a 7

Backstory:

She was born in a small home in Venterre. Her father was already dead at the time of her birth, her brother only 5 years old and her mother deadly sick.

Only two days after her birth, her mom passed away, from the lack of proper medication. Sethos knew that she was way too young for him to take care of, so he tried to seek out their aunt, who lived on the other side of the city.

That night, he sat under a makeshift shelter with his baby sister, but he was so hungry that he had no other choice but to leave her there and try to find some food. Eventually, Yin started crying, which a passerby heard and when they found her, they took her with them.

Sethos was utterly crushed when he came back and she was gone... He tried to look for her, but he was so exhausted that he passed out in the middle of the street. Luckily, he was found by a woman with children and brought to her place.

When he had woken up, he explained his situation to her. The next morning, the woman helped him travel to his aunt's home. But by the time he got there and told her what happened to his sister and mother, Yin was already on a ship heading towards Vesuvia.

There, she was brought to an orphanage, in the South End, where multiple kids and babies from different places had been found, to be taken care of by people whom founded the building. She grew up a rather lonesome troublemaker. The caretakers were kind people, but the kids were mean. So she had no friends.

Soon enough, the adults had realized that most of the kids had no names, couldn't remember them or never knew them. So they took to liberty to name them, but because there were about 30 children and 15 adults, there was a lot of confusion and mis-naming.

They decided to teach the kids to read and write when they were old enough to understand the concepts, and on their 7th birthday, they'd choose their definitive name, something that they felt represented them.

And so, Yin Abo became Eris Zaramoza.

On that day, she met two kids that both looked younger than her. One was small and frail. Porcelain skin, black hair, mismatched eyes. Her name had been Saiya. The other was slightly taller than her. Umber skin, magenta eyes, jet black hair. The caretakers often called him Sykes. They were both known troublemakers and apparently, best friends.

They offered her to become friends and although she'd been sketchy about it, she agreed. They were her first friends, after all.

Years later, the three of them became inseparable and two new children joined their group, both of them noticeably younger. One had skin the color of limestone, ashy blond hair and silverish eyes. The other had dark espresso skin, curly chestnut hair and jade green eyes.

They were often referred to as "accidental troublemakers" because they did naughty things without even realizing it. These four kids became her kin, her family. For years upon years, the five of them brought migraines to the entirety of Vesuvia with their shenanigans. They were known as "the southenders".

The orphanage had a set rule. Despite the caretakers doing their best and raising the kids as their own, by the time Eris reached her adolescence, the amount of kids had doubled.

The set rule was that, once the kids would turn 17, they'd have to seek a home of their own. Eris is the eldest between her and her friends, so she had to leave first.

Heartbreaking as it was, they'd anticipated this for months. They'd made plans to try to find their roots. Upon talking with the adults, the one who'd found her so many years ago told her she'd been born in Venterre, near the west-coast.

After a couple of tear-filled fair-wells, she promised to visit from time to time, and then left to find her bloodrelatives. A couple of days later, looking through her instructions and map, she stood in front of an old, small house.

On the porch, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, was seated there. She called to him, asking if he could help her out. When he looked up, shock was written on both of their faces.

He had grey-ish short hair and sapphire blue eyes. His skin was just a little bit lighter than hers, scars on his nose and lips. Same round nose, same almond eyes, same strong eyebrows. The resemblance was groundbreaking, almost like looking into a mirror.

Though she never met him, she knew, deep down, that they were related. He was utterly convinced he was dreaming but she reassured him he wasn't. They didn't hug, for they barely knew each other, but they both cried. She was invited in his home, where their aunt had been preparing dinner. Eris' presence brought her to tears.

In the next few hours, while they dined, she learned that their names were Sethos and Dongmei, and that they were her older brother and aunt, respectively. She learned of her parents and their unfortunate fate, of the night Sethos lost her.

It was a relief to learn all this, and although she wanted to head back to Vesuvia, to her friends and find a home, she spent a couple of days with them. Dongmei mentioned that she had an abandoned magic shop in Vesuvia from her youth, close to the center of the city. Giving Eris the key, she told her to make her home there.

Once back home, it was time for Count Lucio's yearly Masquerade. There, she met Asra, whom she soon became close with. When she learned that he was an orphan, and had no place to stay, she offered him to live with her in the shop. It needed some repairs and a lot of cleaning but it was a start.

Years passed and they became closer. Unspoken feelings hanging in the air, but something stopped them from confessing. The Red Plague had arrived and it was taking anyone it could grasp. Eris and Asra, while discussing the situation one night, had an argument.

In the years he'd taught her magic, she'd also taught herself necromancy and wanted to help the plague doctors with the dead, possibly reverse their fate. But Asra didn't agree, "magic isn't supposed to work that way" he said.

So she ran away, found Julian and became his apprentice.

Soon died from the plague...

And the rest is history.

Personality: curious, caring, bold, kind, polite, calm, patient, self-less, motherly, gentle, open-minded, truthful, loyal, trustworthy, out-spoken, honest, stubborn, too forgiving and can never hold grudges for long

Interesting facts:

The small scars on the right side of her jaw, left collarbone and left shoulder are all from fainting while trying to get back her memories. Every time, she had the unfortunate luck of hitting something and scarring her skin.

She has a huge scar on her left thigh but she doesn't remember how she got it.

She also has an "apple of discord" tattoo on her right shoulder.

God forbid you ever make her wear gold, she cannot stand it. She only wears silver.

Although she's an ambivert, she leans towards introvert.

Hates lying and liars in general.

HAAAATES Lavender. Do not put her near those flowers.

Appearance: Sienna skin tone, wavy waist-length silver-white hair, bright ice blue eyes, pear-shaped fit body, B cup breasts.

Familiar: Kage, a sarcastic silver fox that can actually talk.

Voice claim: Margot Robbie

Full sprite:

Lmao sorry for the backstory being so long but.. My inner writer kinda jumped out. 😅

ANYWAYS I FINALLY DID IT, I MADE ERIS' BIO AND SPRITE!!

By the way, HUGE PROPS to my lovely beyotch @sahana-anand for giving me her bio template, it helped me SO MUCH. Thank you, love, couldn't have done it without you!

Hope you'll show some love to my girl Eris!

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #eris zaramoza #the arcana apprentice bio

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lizmisfitmuses · 3 years

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Castor and Fams Past

So my friend @theoneandonlymagiscientist asked me about Castor and Fams Past which I am probably not going to include in their bios. (I will most likely link this post in there but most of this is going to be under a read more because super angsty backstory tbh)

(tw for child abandonement, child abuse and child neglect)

Okay so Helios, Nerida, Celiban and Castor grew up together at an orphanage. They were all abandoned for different reasons.

So Hellios had just turned five when he was abandoned at the orphanage. He only had a note saying he was “cursed with fire” and that his parents couldn’t let him hurt his other siblings.

Nerida was the next to show up, abandoned a few months later as a babbling infant a few months old. She was left with no note but it didn’t take long for the older kids to figure out why she was abandoned when they gave her a bath and her legs turned into a tail.

When Nerida was two and Helios was eight, five year old Celiban apeared with a large scar across his jar and stitches over his left eye hidden by his hair. He had flickered invisible while his father was drunk and his father shattered a bottle of whiskey over the childs head. The head of the guard of the town he was from took him on horseback three towns over to this specific orphanage with orders to never tell Celiban where he came from.

The last to appear would be Castor at no older than a week. He was left with a note writen by his mother that he was cursed with evil magic but she didn’t have the heart to kill him. Eleven year old Helios took responsibility for him when he first arrived.

The lady who ran the orphanage was a sadistic monster. Not many of the children who lived at that place ever aged out. The older kids did their best to help raise the younger. It wasn’t a large orphanage, no more than fifteen or sixteen kids there at any one time.

Helios did his best to take care of the three ‘siblings’ he took under his wing. Celiban was a brilliant theif from a young age and was able to steal food from the nearby town without the Orphan Keeper finding out.

The other children were terrified of Helios and his siblings. /Especially/ Castor when his powers first started showing up. Luck manipulation mixed with stressfull situation is a terrible combination.

(Next few paragraphs are about how Castor got his scars, last chance to bail)

When Castor was about five and a half the Orphan Keeper pulled him aside and offered him a deal. She would provide his siblings with more food and clothes and things in excange for him doing her little ‘favors’. Castor, wanting to absolutely anything to help his older siblings agreed immediatly.

Unfortunatly those favors were the Orphan Keeper torturing him. Broken bones, whips, red hot pokers, knives, anything the sadistic monster could get her hands on. She knew dark magic, enough to heal his wounds enough for him to hide them from his siblings but it was painful. The wounds didn’t heal right and the scars look horrific because of the botched healing magic.

His necklace, which he claims was a gift from a friend, was actually from her. She stole it off the corpse of a moon elf. Castor uses it to mask his scars making his body look normal despite the deep damage done to it.

It was Celiban who figured out that the orphan keeper was hurting Castor, though to this day he has no idea how bad, just that Castor was limping on time and it was gone the next day. Even after all these years Castor is just as stuborn about making sure that they never find out about it.

That was their breaking point. They were planing on waiting until Helios turned eighteen to flee but unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way.

Celiban ended up killing the orphan keeper. Castor helped him while Helios and Nerida packed everything they could carry so they could get some distance from the orphanage before anyone found the body. Not like they would for a while after Celiban basically cremated her in her own torture dungoun after she died.

So the four of them were on their own and on the run. Caster had just turned seven at this point, Nerida was thirteen, Celiban fifteen and Helios almost eighteen.

It was several years before the siblings met Florus and Aella. Castor was the one to come home with the two children in his arms when he was twenty two. Florus was nine and little Aella was only a few months old. They all instantly adopted the two children into their family. Nerida taking the main role as care taker while the others worked, though her siblings are all very close to the two of them in their own ways.

(Okay I wrote this all in one go because I am typing fast. I am /sure/ I am going to revise this later)

#tw torture #tw child abuse #tw child neglect #backstory #Nerida #Celiban #Castor #Helios #Aella #Florus

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 3 years

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10. X Confirmed

Death had never been especially hard for Xander to accept. His mother died in front of him when he was young. He found it scary at first, but then curious. He didn’t know what an overdose was at the time. He’d been told at school that in case of an emergency, call 911, but his mom looked mostly the same way that she usually did. Sometimes, when she put the white stuff in her nose, she did weird things.

When she began to shake and flop around, to choke and gargle, he called out to her a few times, but then… she went to sleep. Which, in hindsight… usually happened whenever she carried her bottled drink. But, as far as her laying on the floor, eyes fluttering for a while, even the vomit wasn’t that strange for her… Usually she turned the other way… but if she was asleep, that wasn’t an emergency. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to call those people anyway. School rules and house rules were different and house rules mattered to his mom more. He was supposed to go to the neighbor’s and ask them to call his dad.

This was no emergency!

He went to school the next day and she was still there. He set breakfast next to her. Some toast and milk. He came home and she was still there. So was breakfast. Was this an emergency? He picked up her nose stuff and tried to give her some. She would probably jump right up. No. She didn’t. Maybe this might be an emergency. He headed to the neighbor’s, still had Mom’s nose stuff with him. The neighbor looked scared when she saw it. She tried to take it, but Xander insisted it was for his mom, but she was asleep on the floor and had been since yesterday.

So, she called his father and walked over to go check. When she did, she called 911. Xander’s father had not been around for a while. He would get mad and swing his fists at people… at Xander’s mom… at Xander. So, he didn’t live with them. That day, Xander found out that his mom wasn’t going to wake up from her sleep. “She was a cokehead. It happens,” his dad told him. Xander didn’t know what that meant, but what he figured out from swinging his fists at things when he got angry was that they went to sleep sometimes. Little animals. That meant that nose stuff wasn’t the only way. It also meant that when his dad got mad… it could happen to him.

By the time he left home and ran into his steward, he had fists swung at him more times than he could even count up to. If he was gonna go to sleep forever, he didn’t want it to be because of his dad. This was an emergency.

He never faced death again that up close and personal until his own life was on the line and Grace tried to get him out safely. He was terrified in the field by himself. Where could he go? He had no sense of direction. His dad probably wasn’t looking for him. His mom was asleep forever, and Grace was probably gonna get caught and killed too. He just sat in the field and cried. Insects kept crawling on him. He ignored a lot of them. Maybe he could just stay here forever and nothing would happen. Maybe… he could just lay down and go to sleep and not wake up again. Maybe there were no emergencies. Maybe death was a way to be free from emergencies..

Whenever Grace called him, he was still afraid, but happy to hear her voice. Was she coming to leave with him? To stay with him?

She was covered in blood. He had never seen so much. Not from fights, not from animals, and definitely not on people… Whenever they took the heads, he wondered, “Should we do something with those bodies? In the movies, they would hide them.”

“No. No. No… Wait… Yes…” She thought, “No. I read a crime story not too long ago. If they take fingerprints, you have to be a criminal for them to match them. We never did crimes before.”

However, whenever they did start to do crimes, Xander wondered, “Remember that field? Do you know where that was?”

“Near the abandoned train, right?”

“They’ve moved the train, now, but… maybe the field is still there.”

It was still there, but it looked different. It seemed greener than Xander remembered. It would still do. He grabbed a shovel and opened the trunk, sighing whenever Grace began to speak in her soft, but urgent voice. “We have to get a better system. You can’t just hit somebody in the head with a shovel and toss them in your trunk.”

“He was a steward. I confirmed it myself.”

“Well, as confident as I am in an X confirmed steward… We need to be careful.” The man started moving and she gasped and took the shovel to smash it into him to make him stop moving. She blew air from her lips and thought for a moment. “If you ever do this again, I need them researched, receipts created, and confirmation solid. Don’t just fly off the handle.”

“He kidnapped Jalicia with the intent to sell her. She was 3.”

“I know, I know… BUT, what I’m saying is… somebody is gonna be looking for this guy and nobody knows he did that, probably.”

“Who would look for this guy? He’s a loser.”

“A zero.” “Less than zero.”

She gasped, “He’s a null!” She laughed and grabbed the other shovel. “Dude, we also will need to be wearing something else. I love this Blood Orange shirt, and it’s ruined now. I’ll have to burn it or something.”

“Should… should we call Jalicia?” He wondered.

“And stress her out? No.”

“If I was her, I’d wanna know.”

She thought for a moment and looked around. Where this place was, she didn’t expect much traffic, so they probably were safe to move forward and still let their friend know about this. “Check with Heath. He’ll know whether or not that’s best.”

Heath and Jalicia met them out there and Jalicia looked at the man, “Yo… what the fuck, Xan? I’ve never seen this man before in my life, Bro. Did you kill him? Can we just drop him at the ER and dash?”

Xander shook his head at her and raised up the man’s sleeve to show a tattoo of a scorpion and a scar. “This is where you bit him.” They recognized the tattoo, and that did look like a bite mark. “I asked him what happened there and he said a kid bit him a long time ago. No… He said, “my kid bit me” a long time ago…” Xander was fuming again.

“I’m sold,” Heath said, his own jaw clenching as he grew protective over his girlfriend. “Who… owns this land? Because if they’re gonna farm it or something, they’ll find him.”

“But, if we buy it and it gets found some other way, then it points to us,” Grace said. “I’ll find out tomorrow. For now, we gotta bury this null.”

“The what?” Heath wondered.

“Null. Less than zero. I read it in a book once...”

She was always reading. She could read in multiple languages, and multiple avenues. She could read body language, social cues, people… why the fuck couldn’t she see how not okay Simon was?

As he recorded the dude’s address, he thought about the stern talking-to that Grace had given him about that first X on the way to the Field of Nulls. If they were going to be hunting predators and burying them, they needed to look into them, verify that they were either at the warehouse or into the crime scene within that time frame, and get as much information and dirt on them for it to be undeniable. Grace would look at the information to determine and if she wasn’t sure they were guilty, if there was a single chance that an X was not confirmable; she made a circle around them and held onto their information. There was likely a reason that they came up in shady business.

Sometimes, the proof came around. A few times, she just couldn’t stomach a mistake. They had been taken away from homes and families for years. She didn’t want to do that to someone else if she couldn’t say for sure they were responsible. He knew that he certainly couldn’t get an X put on Simon without proof, if even then.

Grace had gotten REAL cozy with her new little lap dog, and Xander did not like that. He didn’t like her bringing him into the fold, even if he was still in the dark. It was sloppy! They hadn’t vetted this guy! In fact, they didn’t let people in! Simon was the first outsider to have crossed over… since Hazel! Xander looked at Sunny, asleep in his bed, curled up with a pink narwhal stuffie, with an eye mask over her face and a bonnet on her head as he scribbled a note and slipped out of his apartment.

There was no doubt in his mind - the man was dangerous. He’d most likely escalate if openly challenged. Xander would just put him in the field… but he doesn’t lie to or keep secrets from Grace; and putting Simon in the field would make her very upset. Xander wasn’t quite prepared to risk that type of upset from her with nothing backing his suspicions. But, you couldn’t convince him that Simon wasn’t a serial killer!!!

Or… someone unsafe for them all, but mostly for Grace.

Whether it was the fact that it takes one to know one, just Simon being so strange in comparison to other people Xander had observed, or him just feeling threatened that Grace had a new person around… That she got close to him when Xander wasn’t there. That if he hadn’t slipped up again, this might not even still be a problem. That she was in danger and it might be HIS fault!

Initially, Xander told her to give Simon a chance, but he felt the dude proved that he couldn’t be trusted with boundaries and space… yet… there he was… in her life even deeper. Xander needed to confirm for himself and for Grace that Simon was simply a harmless creep and not a dangerous one.

Potential X: First - Observe the potential X in its natural habitat. How it walks and talks. Does it have friends and family at home or live alone? How often is it there and what does it do in it's free time?

“Potential X appears to live alone, has one pet as indicated on social media bios, and from a quick overview through the window - minimal security in place beyond a locked door. Background check came up clean, so if it is a danger, it is a crafty danger, because it hasn’t been caught or suspected of anything yet. It leaves early in the morning and goes… to the bookshop. Right. Everyday.”

Xander went across the street and ordered, then opened his laptop and watched the bookstore. He saw whenever Grace came in to work, Simon had rushed to open the door for her and… she… Kissed him??? On the cheek, but… she doesn’t DO that. This might be harder than Xander thought.

“Grace is very attached to X. Does she love him? It.” The X. Xander didn’t like to humanize the potential X. Grace would do that later, and highly likely go above and beyond for this one.

Xander ordered some lunch for Grace and went across the street with her known order. She came from clocking out and almost ran into him. “Whoa! Xan!” She cheered and tackled him into a hug. “Did you spring up to see me???”

“Yeah, I got your stupid lunch from the deli.”

She was eyeing him suspiciously. He knew why. He’d left this morning and Sunny most likely hit her up as soon as she found his note. He had technically been ‘missing’ that entire time, because none of his babysitters had eyes on him. But, she was soon comforted by the fact that she knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t, but she knew it wasn’t drugs. “That’s super awesome, but I was actually gonna head out of work early and go to Le Bistro Parfait!”

“Le what?”

“Simon’s mom’s place. I told you about it.”

“Right. Where is he?”

“Waiting,” she said with a huge smile.

“Like a good little lap dog.”

Grace booped his nose, “Don’t be jealous. You’ve got BOTH of your exes wrapped around your little finger.”

“Debatable. Also irrelevant.” He paused and looked at her solemnly. “ They’re Apex.”

“He’s good to me, Xander. He understands that I have all this stuff going on and he still likes to be around.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because, I’m charming and beautiful,” she said through her teeth.

“Right, but you’re also aloof, inconsiderate, self-absorbed, noncommittal, highly, HIGHLY traumatized, problematic, pretentious…”

“OH MY GOD, XANDER!” She said. Those things were true and were often reasons that she didn’t have successful real dates and never had a boyfriend, but with him just saying them like that… Shit was a little hurtful. Especially considering that Simon never said anything bad about her, ever. Fortunately, he showed up right when she was ready to fucking lose it on Xander.

“Xander,” Simon said and held his hand out to shake, an unreadable expression and wide fake smile on his face.

“Dude, you do this every time. I’m not shaking your hand, for all I know, you just rubbed one out so that you don’t get a hard on for Grace in front of your mom.” Xander said it very casually, but they all knew that he was 100% serious and he even looked disgusted for emphasis.

“Oh,” Simon said, pulling his hand back. “I absolutely didn’t do that, but I won’t offer you my hand again, Xander.” His eyes glinted as he lowered his forehead just a little bit…

The X is trying to intimidate me! Xander stepped forward and Grace stepped in front of him to give him a silent look to back down and took the lunch, “I will put this in the break room and have it for tomorrow. You wanna come to Le Bistro?” Her voice didn’t indicate anything, but Xander knew that face and he was on thin ice if he didn’t keep his wits about him with Simon. Simon obviously was much better at being fake than he was. Grace didn’t even acknowledge the way he’d just challenged him.

“Yep.” He stared Simon down as she vanished to the break room, still giving him her warning look. Xander rolled his eyes and asked, “How long has your mom had her place?”

“Oh… Since I was 10 or so. I definitely lost the spelling bee in 5th grade and she was there by then, because I’d practice over and over in a booth.”

“You did spelling bees?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was a spelling bee champion,” Simon bragged.

“When you were 10.”

“No… I lost that year, but it made me work harder for the next time. So… 11.”

Xander nodded, “When I was 11, I was sucking strange dick so somebody else could get paid, and smoking pot so I wouldn’t worry so much about sucking strange dick.”

“Oh… I’m… sorry… I’m presuming that no one would ever joke about something like that… So… Just… sorry.”

“Hey, it taught me a life skill that I’d need for money later sometimes,” Xander shrugged his shoulders and winked at him.

“How uh… How did you and Grace meet?” Simon asked, uncomfortably changing the subject.

“She hasn’t told you?” Simon shook his head. Grace has not opened up to the X about our troubled past. This is a sign that she is not as far into his deceit as I feared. “Then, I guess she has her reasons.”

“Okay. Well, we’ve covered ‘strange dick’ now… what’s the next conversation topic in Xander’s world?” Grace reappeared and Simon exhaled, “Oh thank God.” She laughed and locked arms with both of them. They gave each other fake casual looks, two sets of eyes studied every single detail in the other’s face and both noticed that fact, and that fact only. But, while Simon smirked and faced forward, Xander frowned, and she marched ahead, guiding them both.

She and Xander both rode with Simon. Xander was studying the backseat and the lock. If he had to sneak in here to grab Simon, he wanted to see if he could estimate success. “Your music sounds mad stalkerish,” Xander said. Simon tensed up and of course he noticed.

Grace threw Xander a look in the backseat, “Be nice, please.”

“I’m always nice,” Xander said and leaned forward to smell the seat. “Did you recently clean out your car?”

“I have a person who does that,” Simon said. Xander glared and Simon shook his head, “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I mean… It’s a regular service that I get done…”

“What is this scent?”

“I smell mandarin,” Grace said, with a smile.

“Huh. You love that smell. That’s a nice coincidence,” Xander said, staring at Simon in the rearview mirror. Simon wore that same smirk from earlier… he knew what Xander was doing. They got to the bistro, Xander got onto his phone and told Grace, “A thing came up. I guess I have to leave you with him.”

“Well… Do you need us to bring you back to your car?” She wondered.

“No. Enjoy your lunch date.” Grace gave him a hug and he noticed Simon shift a little, almost like he was coming forward. It was impulsive. He held the hug longer than necessary simply to gauge if it would have an effect.

“Please call somebody if you need anything,” Grace whispered, pulled back and cupped his face, then walked through the door that Simon held open for her.

For the last time that day, Simon and Xander stared at each other. “Good luck, Xander,” Simon said. What makes the X think that I need good luck? He went inside and stared at Xander through the window on his way to the booth with Grace.

Potential X: Survey the X’s personal spaces. Car, exceptionally clean, seemingly with all functional capacities of the vehicle’s expectations. Home…

Alexandria picked the lock, with furrowed eyebrows and checked the time on her phone. When he went inside, wearing gloves, of course, he noticed things, some immediately. “X is a massive nerd… with disposable income. Some of these figures definitely look expensive…” he recorded several of them. Simon had an entire wall of shelving dedicated to very detailed and realistic figures from various fandoms, grouped together by fandom. They were all handcrafted, but Xander couldn’t be sure if they had been purchased that way or if Simon had made them himself. The living room was spotless. Maybe it has a person for that, too.

Across from the figures wall was a workspace with a computer and… Xander looked at the desktop… Everything seemed set like it was getting ready for some photo shoot or something. “The X is meticulous in organizing it’s personal space. Everything is extremely clean and orderly, even this desk that’s totally decked out for gaming… but, he’s put away everything in a specified spot and left nothing even remotely off.” He turned and looked at the book shelf. The top row were his own works, with framed photos of himself and who Xander presumed were his mother… mothers? Maybe she was a lesbian, and a red headed sister. There were two photos of him and the sister (an old one and a current one, one of the whole group, one with him and his mom, and one of just the blond mom… so… that probably was merely a friend or cousin or something. He didn’t have a photo of just the two moms. But, the rows beneath his own books and those photos were all alphabetized.

Xander explored further. The kitchen was just as clean, just as orderly. It was a pretty big kitchen for one man who likely didn’t have many friends, and it sort of reminded him of a movie set of a spaceship. The appliances were mostly chrome or white, with lights and stuff. The refrigerator was definitely new and fancy. He peeked inside and it was fairly empty (or possibly it appeared that way because it was so big). There was an absurd amount of different milk in there, oranges, gouda… raspberry jam, cotton candy grapes… He slammed the fridge. “Grace has been either stashing groceries here or he’s been accommodating her when he shops. I refuse to believe that the few things that she has to have in her own fridge at all times just happen to be the things that he also keeps in his! The fuck is the bread?” He went to the pantry and groaned at how it was both a walk in, and also as neat as everything else. He found the bread and there it was… Marbled rye from her favorite bakery… Xander clenched his fists and left the pantry, slamming it shut.

Why are you so angry? You KNOW that she’s seeing him. She’s been seeing him now for damn near half of a year... He entered a room that confused him. There were all these… costumes… Some of them were on stands, several things on a few racks… He walked a little further in and saw a table with a sewing machine and a side table with various tools and a figurine on it. This room was less neat than the others, and there was corner with a three way mirror, a shelf of wigs, and a rack of weapons… “LARPing!” Xander said, “Or something like that. These are all… costume things…” He saw a mannequin that was formed remarkably like Simon (like he probably was under his clothes). “Did he have this made in his image?” He picked up the figurine and noted it was a dragon of some sort. He didn’t know from what. He set it back down and moved on to the next room.

The bedroom wasn’t as neat either… but Xander had a feeling that wasn’t necessarily Simon’s doing. Because those were Grace’s Date Night boots at the foot of the bed and the book on the nightstand was one that she had been reading recently. He rushed to see if she had already taken a drawer in his dresser. Neatly folded clothes in each drawer, with the exception of a locked one. Alexandria had to keep watch outside, so he had to see if he could break into it himself. Whenever he did, he wasn’t expecting to see that… Xander turned up his nose at what he presumed was Simon’a sex drawer… Well, the dildo was a dead giveaway, and the strap… there were women’s underwear and lube, and other… things. He shut it and tried to rig the lock back into place, grumbling, “Grace better not have been in this drawer with him!”

For years, Xander had been telling Grace to just rip off the bandaid and bone somebody. If she waited until she found the weirdest creep in Seattle to do that, he would never forgive himself. But, there was nothing there to help him. All that he had proved was that this guy was an Extreme Nerd Olympics gold medalist, into pegging, and most likely a simp… because housing her favorite groceries?

He opened another door and a white cat came running out, startling him. She rushed into living room and Xander chased her. That room was ridiculously clean. He couldn’t remember seeing any cat fur in it, and he certainly didn’t want to leave any. He caught up with her quite quickly and picked her up by the back of her neck. She struggled with him and he said to her face, “Listen, you little shit. I already don’t like cats…” He peeked into the room she’d come out of and saw it was an entire room set up like some type of cat paradise… He tossed her in and closed the door. Somehow THAT was the weirdest room that he had seen in the place.

He had run out of time. He was getting ready to leave whenever he heard somebody knocking on the door. Alexandria would have still been out there, so… it must have been her, signaling to him to leave. He rushed out of the back and made his way off of the property, waiting around the corner for her and texted her where.

“Hello?” Simon said.

She turned around and looked confused at him. “Hi… are you… here for Luca too?” He stared at her for a bit, looked her up and down, sizing her up, figuring something. “Sir? Is this where you’re going?” she pointed at the door.

“This is where I live. Who did you say you were?”

“I’m here for Luca Magnus.”

“Ah. Magnus. They’re next door,” He pointed in the direction and she laughed and gestured with her fingers shooting herself in the head. “Simple mistake for a stranger. The addresses are very similar. You don’t look like any company that I’ve ever noticed them have. I’m pretty observant.” He blinked his eyes and her and gave her a very small smile that she could tell was not friendly.

Still, hers was as she said, “I’m the new masseuse. Are they gonna send me right back where I came from when they see me?”

“If you don’t have your supplies in your car, probably.” he said, looking around for her car. His driveway was uphill and if she had parked down below and walked up, it was suspicious for her to not have a bag with oil in it, or something.

“I can’t drive up these hills and I wanted to make sure it was the right house first. Thanks for your help.” He watched her rush off and head towards the Magnus house. She didn’t get into a car or go to the house, and he hurried to unlock his door, pausing only to notice that the lock looked scratched up and he couldn’t remember it being that way before. He came inside and walked through, eyeing everything. It looked fine. Maybe she hadn’t accomplished getting inside. Maybe he caught her before she had a chance. She looked familiar, but he was more concerned about making sure that the house was clear and safe. He reached behind his bookshelf and retrieved one of his guns, readied himself as he peered through his home, room by room. Samantha rushed out of hers. Nobody was in there, not in her closet full of supplies, either. He went into the bathroom, all clear. The bedroom… he noticed that the drawer wasn’t straight. He shook it and it was loose, but still locked. He knew that he would have noticed if that drawer was off in any way. He checked his closet, only his daily wardrobe. He checked his hobby workroom, and it seemed fine too, but his dragon… it was facing the wrong way. He always set them down facing himself. It was turned around. He turned it back and let out a frustrated breath.

Somebody had been in there, but they were gone, now. He put his gun away. If it had been that woman, he must have caught her coming out. But, why was nothing missing? Why would she break in and not take anything? Why did she look familiar?

He texted Grace.

Simon: Might have to skip coming over tonight. Someone broke in my house.

Grace: WHAT? Are you okay? What did they do?

Simon: Nothing appears to be missing, but I want to be sure to change the locks, and I have a drawer to fix. I don’t want you to come over, because I’m not sure why they were here and I don’t want you in danger.

Grace: Awww, that’s adorable. No offense, but if danger were to come through, I think I’d be a little more likely to have to keep you safe, Mon Beau Petit.

Simon smiled and blushed. He didn’t know if she was being condescending or flirting, but he liked it. Whatever it was.

Simon: I would never allow it, My Doll.

Grace smiled so brightly that Simon hit her right back with an affectionate nickname that her face felt pained.

She was sad that they might not be getting together tonight. Simon had become a bit of an anchor for her. He comforted her without pressuring her, judging her, or pitying her. It was like he knew just how she worked, just how to treat her for the best results. She left work with her coffee in hand, it was chilly, but not cold yet and the florals of her rose, lavender and chamomile coffee were flooding through her sinuses and senses. She loved the tingling it sent through her, like a little cleansing at the end of a long day.

The train ride home felt lonely. She was never really alone. She often felt like she was being followed and usually, by demons. Other times, she hoped it was an angel. She smiled and opened her social media up as she sat on the vehicle, playing music and seeing what Xander got up to after he left her and Simon.

Alexandria texted her earlier that she was going to be with him today. That was reassuring, as something was going on with him. She didn’t know if that was simply how he was now, or if it was a cause for concern. But, she was not going to browbeat him and make things worse. Instead, she checked out his media, saw nothing. Checked Alexandria’s. Saw even less. She groaned. If they were sleeping together again, she might honestly lose her chill…

But, then she saw something on Simon’s page. It was a computer drawn image of someone that he probably got his friend to make for him (because, she didn’t think he was that quick with a computer, even having apparently been pretty good in school), but what she noticed was the bomb tattoo on the neck of the image.

It was a white woman with a ponytail and a hoodie pulled over her head, but she had a tattoo on her neck of one of those circle bombs from the cartoons, lit… Grace took a screenshot and sent it to Alexandria. “Explain this,” was all that she typed.

Alexandria’s bubbles showed up and stopped several times before she finally replied several minutes later with, “Please ask Xander.”

Grace opened a thread with the three of them and sent the very same message into it.

Xander replied: Can’t chat. Observing an X.

Grace: Why was Alexandria at Simon’s house earlier and…

Xander: Going dark.

Grace: Somebody better answer me.

Alexandria: I’ve got a client. If he doesn’t get in touch with you by the time I’m done, I’ll call you.

Grace texted Simon: Come over whenever you’ve finished with things. Bring a bag. Stay the night.

Simon didn’t really get to stay the night at Grace’s. The longest he had been there was that first time that she needed an alibi. Just the thought of being invited was everything to him, even with his preoccupied mind. He had to get to the storage unit and make sure that video cameras were able to record. It wasn’t that he intended to catch anything dirty (they weren’t like THAT, and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted them to be), but he did like having moments to relive over and over, where she smiled at him a certain way, or they held hands and you could just *see* the chemistry felt in the moment. He had opened the storage unit and went to set his bag down, figuring that he could simply set the recording and then dash out. He wasn’t expecting anybody to be at the storage at night, as they usually weren’t. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be met with a voice, and turn to see a face, and have it be Xander Helstrom, 747, Grace’s right hand, but…

“X marks the spot.”

11. This is Fucked Up

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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thedrown · 3 years

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GOTS Lore- Sikha’s Family

This lore tidbit isn’t BLAABR but instead me Star Wars story Ghosts of The Separatists! You may have noticed my love for the Kaleesh and while there are seemingly many Kaleesh characters, most are actually part of Sikha’s family so this entry will briefly take a deeper look into her background that her bio didn’t cover!

Sikha’s clan known as “Ourag” originate from the small port city of Shakren named after a Kaleesh Sith lord during the Cold War. As with most Kaleesh, ancestral reverence was important to her and Sikha’s ancestors played a significant role in turning Shakren into a hub of foreign trade during a previous generation of five siblings whom branched out to expand Kalee’s position in the galaxy. Two sisters left to neighboring Muunilinst and learned of trade and finance, a brother maintained tradition becoming a proud warlord of a small mercenary army in the Outer Rim, while the remaining two brothers remained on Kalee consolidating the outside resources and funds of their siblings into their hometown to overhaul and expand Shakren’s infrastructure into a small, but capable, spaceport and shipping dock. The combined efforts of these siblings’ wider worldview beyond Kalee pushed Shakren into the corporate eye attracting the IGBC and their subsidiaries and such investments laid a foundation for what was on a galactic level a minor trade spot but for the Kaleesh meant a stepping stone into greater regional affairs beyond mercenary work. The small industry these five brothers and sisters spearheaded laid the foundation for clan Ourag to be respected clan in Shakren as well as leave a significant amount of wealth to their descendants through their enterprises within the IGBC’s network of commerce. The city stands in the shadow of Kaleela but remains a bustling trade hub for Neimoidians, Muuns, and many other aliens overseeing business in the city with the IGBC, Baktoid Armor Workshop, and Hoersch-Kessel Drive all maintaining small facilities and cargo depots in it’s industrial shipping zone. While the Ourag’s business has since fallen under the IGBC, they maintain autonomy when it comes to affairs on Kalee and operate with minimal outside oversight due to the significant cultural nuances of the worlds masked denizens.

Beyond these enterprising ancestors clan Ourag has few claims to fame beyond one distant individual being a slave turned Sith apprentice during the time of the Old Republic which thus brings us to her immediate family and current generation during this time of the Secessionist Crisis and Clone Wars. Sikha’s grandfather was a veteran of both the Huk War and the even older Kaleesh-Bitthaevrian War having fought first hand beside and later against the Jedi during the conflicts. Recruited and trained by the Republic as a pilot, he bombed many Bitthaevrian bases and worlds and his deeds during this conflict would weigh on him in his old age though his immense feelings of betrayal from the Jedi during the Huk War left him largely dejected and withdrawn. It was only the onset of the Clone Wars did he spur back to life jumping into the pilots seat and acting volunteer to the CIS navy as a squadron leader deployed under the IGBC’s forces. His war stories acting as inspiration to a young Sikha, he only shed his withdrawn nature when it came to his grandchildren trying instill within them a nobility to their Kaleesh beliefs as a form of safeguarding their inevitable lives of combat from being manipulated as he once was by the Republic.

Following this are his two sons, Sikha’s father Aukad and her Uncle Isso San Ourag. Isso left Kalee at a young age being sent into an exchange program with Muuns to learn banking and gain greater exposure to the larger galaxy and as a result is scarcely much of a warrior and is a true and proper businessman and doesn’t even live on Kalee currently, residing instead on Scipio following the war encroaching upon Muunilinst and Mygeeto. While sporadically present in Sikha’s childhood, Isso holds a spot as a loving bringer of many curious gifts from beyond Kalee’s space and is someone she holds very dear. Isso’s younger brother Aukad on the other hand had to forgo a normal life when the the Huk War broke out when he was just entering adolescence and thus was thrusted upon an unrelentingly violent conflict that ravaged his home. All he had was his father who was forced to teach a young Aukad many difficult lessons in the name of survival, the scars of which haven’t fully healed. As a result of his stolen youth and strained relationship with his father, Aukad is an extremely protective father who’s jaded feelings towards his peoples fixation on warfare left a lingering cloud of concern when it came to raising his children in Kaleesh custom whilst fearing the outcome it could have in whatever conflict falls upon their world next. He is a deeply conflicted man feeling immense shame over the rift between him as his son, overwhelming fear of Sikha’s wellbeing both physically and emotionally now that she serves in the CIS, and self doubt as a father for his youngest daughter Aicha. Despite this, Sikha views him only as her perfect father regardless of flaws or familial loss and after the death of her mother the two came to rely on one another for their reunited family following Sikha’s return from Mandalore. While worrisome of the greater war, he actively serves in CIS intelligence in a largely unimportant listening post in the Kadok Regions under Admiral Riivas.

Speaking of, Sikha has two siblings in her older brother Takhan and little sister Aicha. Khan left Kalee and his family behind when Sikha was still little and she knows very little of him and her parent’s lack of explanation developed feelings of abandonment within her towards her older sibling, a sentiment that turned from somber to bitter following the death of their mother. Meanwhile, small innocent Aicha is fiercely protected from the outside world by both her overprotective father and her coddling overbearing older sister who both seek to give her a life away from their family tragedy and conflict. By in large they’ve succeeded to this end as she is largely unaware of problems both at home and the greater galaxy and is simply enjoying her childhood with only brief curiosity as to the ever diminishing size of their family as the war progresses. Khan, while absent from family and Kaleesh only in species not culture, has created a small mercenary army based on Jedha offering his security services to the highest bidder portraying himself as a carefree vagabond ignoring the considerable chip on his shoulder towards his home. He intentionally distances himself from all things Kalee even seldom wearing a mask and fully embracing greater galactic culture as a spacer with the constant comments on his lack of “Kaleeshness” being infuriating jabs to his ego though he simply presses on in his search of wealth he doesn’t even care for. His resentment for home is only tempered by his relationship with comrade and fellow bounty hunter Kla Sekkru. The peppy and excitable Trandoshan is close to her culture being a hunter purely for sport to gain Jagannath points yet is similar to Khan in that she appears highly irregular to most of her kind. Kla is endlessly energetic in pursuit of new experiences and methods of gaining points. Her joy in experimenting with her peoples deep rooted customs is a curiosity to Takhan who sees none of the burden his culture holds upon him holding Kla down, in fact it seems to drive her forward instead. The only person he’s ever opened up to and an object of fascination, Kla is something of Takhan’s missing piece though her whimsy persona diminishes his emotional sentimentality to unequivocal acceptance of who he his; Kla doesn’t act his therapist, being her loving self unchanged by his exposing of emotion means more than her sympathies ever could and she as such chooses to simply love him in the simplest form.

Lastly is Sikha’s unnamed mother. A hunter from the north who battled an everyday fight for survival while the Huk pillaged the rest of Kalee, she grew up close to family and communes of her small tribe trekking across the tundra with all tribesmen and women being a single unit united in survival and mutual care. It was during the warmer season where the blizzards broke did she and other young tribes members venture to the mainland to sell and trade their polar goods and she would meet Sikha’s father Aukad when he purchased meat from her only to spend all his budget on her handmade trinkets after instantly becoming infatuated with the heavy coated nomad. For the rest of the season he would visit her in the market and even help her sell her wares as the two bonded. It wasn’t long before the two were wed and she would return to the tundras for another season before returning to Aukad to stay for good, the time and distance had changed nothing and despite his coming of age, he took no additional wives despite the option and happily awaited his distant bride. They had a happy marriage living in the Ourag estate and raising their children alongside Isso and his family. Where Takhans departure weighed heavily on Aukad, his wife instead accepted her son’s decision hoping for his return once he concluded his personal journey and always made preparations at clan shrines awaiting his eventual return with calm confidence. Her warmth and caring nature while being deeply tied to northern Kaleesh customs lent to Sikha’s development as a more worldly and open individual who is Kaleesh first, but always seeking new and greater knowledge to expand upon herself. Despite her closeness to her father, Sikha takes far more after her mother though her death at the hands of Huk defending a young Sikha dramatically altered her disposition reserving the aspects of her mother behind a near impenetrable wall to all outsiders to her life and manifesting a stoic coldness at best and borderline sociopathic grudge to those she blames for tragedy at worst. The Huk War, death of mother, and time enslaved by the Hutts and subsequent freedom by Mandalorians distorted her mother’s values in Sikha making her present self someone who speaks of the morally gray whilst practicing only in black and whites.

Beyond this Sikha’s uncle Isso also has two wives who both serve in the CIS on the frontlines as shocktroopers while their triplet sons all joined the Bounty Hunter’s Guild to gain martial experience being sporty and supportive cousins to Sikha while their mothers were the ones who trained Sikha and caught her up to the Kaleesh rites and customs lost during her time away from Kalee post Huk enslavement.

#star wars #gots #ghosts of the separatists #clone wars #kaleesh #sikha san ourag #sivkhalen #comic #lore #writing #original story

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jupitermelichios · 4 years

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Smallville S2E23: Exodus

Nothing happens in this episode and then everything happens. Pacing!

Also Lex gets married off screen becuase the writers are wildly misled about which characters their audience is invested in.

Credit to Tom Welling, for 2002 that is some pretty decent screaming at nothing in the hope that it will make sense once the CGI is added in.

So we open with Jor-El speaking to Clark, giving the standard ‘reject the puny humans and join with me’ kryptonian bullshit, and as part of that he makes projections of Lana and the Kents, and a) he made the Lana projection significantly shorter than Kristen Kruek, and b) instead of just turning off the projection when he’s done with it he uses an effect I can only describe as ‘I don’t feel so good Mr El’

Okay on the one hand angry cupboard sex doctor is 100% justified in being angry at Lex admitting he broke into her office at the beginning of the season, but god damn it their relationship was one of the only compelling things in this fucking show!

Two horses. Lana has two horses again. Did she retrieve the one she left in the graveyard in the first episode?! Did she retrieve one of the many many others that fell into plot holes and disappeared between seasons? Although one of them is piebald, and I’m certain we’ve never seen a piebald horse before, so maybe she went and bought one to replace the last eight she abandoned

Oh god, they just made it really explicit the only person Lex has to take relationship advice from is professional sex pest Clark Kent, no wonder he fucked shit up with angry cupboard sex doctor.

Lionel and Clark are completely alone, in an underground cave, and Lionel still feels the need to whisper all his lines, just for the drama of it. God I love Lionel Luthor.

Oh wow, Chloe is wearing a pale pink Cheongsam over flared jeans, which is the single most 2000 thing I have even seen in my life.

So Jor-El is A Lot in this, and his idea of a compelling argument for why Clark should renounce his human family and take over the world is to levitate Clark and burn the superman logo into his chest with lazers, right across his nipples. Which is certainly an arguement.

Ugh I hate that I’m rooting for Lex and angry cupboard sex doctor even though I know Lex is going do a full villain heel-turn any time now, but I’m so fucking invested at this point and there is literally nothing else in this barren wasteland of a show for me to care about, so fuck it, I’m rooting for them anyway

In order to get both Clark’s shiny new superman scar and Pete’s face into shot at the same time, that shot was framed like Pete is thinking about licking Clark’s nipples, which was a Choice

Pete is 100% going to grow up to be the kind of asshole who writes op eds about how anyone can own property if they just try because he inherited a house at sixteen and got a 6 figure salary thanks to nepotism and if lazy poor people tried harder they could do the same

“There’s something I have to do, I can’t tell you what just know it’s for our future” then followed up a “I just want to remember this moment”. I’m assuming Lana now thinks Clark is going on a killing spree, because that’s the kind of thing people only say in movies before they go on killing sprees and/or hand themselves over to the bad guys to be murdered, and tragically Clark cannot be murdered yet because no one evil knows about the kryptonite thing

I hate Jonathan Kent so much but also I am so invested in Lex getting father figures so this whole Jonathan giving him a Kent family traditional wedding gift thing has me very torn

Jesus fuck I hate Chloe Sullivan. She’s apparently shocked and betrayed that Clark IS INTO LANA. We are two fucking seasons into this sickening bullshit and instead of just being sad that the dude she likes is dating someone else, she’s furious and screaming at him that he betrayed her trust. By fancying the person he’s been consistently into since he was like 3 years old

FFS Lex’s fucking wedding happens off screen so we can spend more time on Clark’s absolute fucking bullshit. Oh, and Clark missed his best friend’s wedding. The wedding at which he was supposed to be best man. Because he’s the absolute worst person in the world

So in literally less than 30 seconds with almost no build up, Clark blew up his entire house in an attempt to murder the tech-ghost of his dead bio-dad, nearly killed his parents in a car crash, and caused his mom to have a miscarriage. The rest of the episode is filler with a tiny bit of relationship drama. You know, like a well paced episode of TV!

On that theme, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE POINT OF THE PREGNANCY SUBPLOT?!!!!!! It’s taken up so much fucking time in this season and the pay off was meaningless. Martha could have had a concussion and it would have achieved the exact same thing without the need for that complete culdesac of a subplot!

So after we skip the wedding entirely, because it’s not like we’ve had five or six episodes build up, we cut to Lex and angry cupboard sex doctor on their private jet drinking champagne on their way to the honey moon, and firstly the editing implies this is happening at the same time as the house blowing up and holy shit I think that might be a record for the quickest wedding ever (and apparently they didn’t bother with a reception), and secondly it’s framed like she’s poisoned Lex and I have absolutely no fucking idea why she would do that

Okay so after the weird “I’m going to do something terrible but it’s for us” dialogue Lana turns up to find Clark standing in the exploded ruins of his house. And then he tells her he did this. And at no point does it occur to her that Clark was clearly making explosives in the basement. I mean, he wasn’t doing that, but literally all evidence points to that. But she’s just like ‘no clark, how could you possibly have caused a massive explosion that’s not a thing humans can do’

So Chloe’s teamed up with Lionel because she’s sad about the shock reveal that when Clark said he fancied Lana he wasn’t lying, and just in case we didn’t realise this was a villain heel-turn, they’ve dressed her in all black, with twice as much make-up as normal, and also made her hair all spikey in a style we haven’t seen since the red kryptonite episode. Subtlety!

Holy shit we’re getting a drug addiction subplot. Why the fuck are we getting a drug addiction subplot?! Who on the writing staff thought they were competent enough to handle that, because whoever it was was so very very wrong

Okay time out, how the fuck tall is Kristen Kruek?! Because over the course of this episode she’s been the same height as Tom Welling, taller than him, barely come up his his nipples, and about a head shorter. I need answers, right the fuck now!

So Clark just dosed himself up on red kryptonite, stole a motobike, and noped the fuck out of the show. Is it too much to hope that he doesn’t come back and the show just continues on without him because I would honestly be so up for that. Chloe and Lana could go back to being cute sisters instead of fighting over a man barely worth spitting for never mind throwing hands with your best friend, the Kents could adopt Lex and then when he’s had some father-son bonding time Lex could then have Jonathan quietly murdered, Martha could marry Lionel… There’s literally no downsides to cutting Clark out of the show.

Okay so apparently angry cupboard sex doctor drugged Lex, waited until the plane was in the air and then she and the pilots fucking parachute jumped out the plane leaving Lex to crash into the ocean and die and like, him stealing medical files from her was fucked up, but I really don’t feel like it was fucked up enough to warrant going full Bane!

#smallville #smallville recaps #charlie watches a thing #smallville s3 luthor family drama is all i want

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radioactive-park · 4 years

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Dogpoo Petuski Application

IN CHARACTER:

Name: Devin “Dogpoo/Dogtooth/Dev” Petuski - I am fully aware that it isn’t his name, but I can’t take Dogpoo as a name seriously (There will be something in ‘bio’ about that) Age: 24 years old Gender (pronouns): Cis male, he/him Sexuality: Pansexual? Bisexual? Who knows! Occupation/Role: Owns a butchery type deal. Does alright taxidermy on the side. Goes out hunting regularly. Location/Faction: Centennial City Personality: - Devin is at first glance, quiet and introverted. Deciding that, since he lives in the ’big,scary city’, he would rather be a loner and not speak to many people outside work circumstances. This, combined with trust issues is not a fun combo. While he does hate it sometimes, he knows that is what keeps him safe. When he does speak to people however, he does it with the utmost respect and manners. Having manners might just make someone’s day, after all. He always tries to have a very positive outlook, or well, as positive as one could be in the wasteland. Always walking with a smile on his face, but don’t be fooled into thinking that he is naïve or gullible. He is very quick to realize when he’s been lied to. - He can get very protective of who and what he cares about, to the extent that he’d rather die trying than give up what’s being protected. - He keeps his promises and stays loyal to those who stay loyal to him, until given reason not to be. - He has literally no patience for snobby/bitchy types. It is the only time he doesn’t stick to being friendly. If a snobby type enters the butchery, don’t be surprised if he tells you to fuck off. - Unless you’ve personally hurt him a lot, he will not hold a grudge. He will shrug it off and, you guessed it, not care. - A brave bastard. He will not even flinch if you pull a gun or knife on him (Unless you’re, as an example, a CC military type). Stupid brave, to put it simply. - Has slight abandonment issues, but hey, can’t be abandoned if there’s nobody to abandon you. Bio (It’s not up to Gregory’s app’s standard I apologise x-x): Born and raised in Centennial city, where he still lives to this day.

At the time of his birth, Devin was nameless. His parents, back then, were completely clueless on what to name their baby boy. Like most wasteland parents they feared that he wouldn’t manage to live long. That, even when they were living inside the safe walls of the city, danger would still swoop in and take him from them. So, he was simply referred to as ’son’ and ’boy’ to start with.

His parents ran a butchery in the city, a surprisingly successful one at that. One night, when Devin was barely a year old still, his father offered to watch him while his mother was out buying a few things for the house. His father, somewhat careless, left him to crawl around and play with some things while he was busy preparing what would be sold the next day. Devin took interest in the family’s dog, who often stood by in case he could possibly get meat scraps. When the dog walked off to go outside for…business, Dev followed close by. By the time his father realized he was missing, he was just…sitting outside, playing with, you guessed it, the dog’s poop. Can’t really blame him for it, he was just a little kid. A baby. That earned him the nickname ’Dogpoo’. Originally his mother was against it, it was a very silly nickname to go by, but she was reasoned with to accept it. Said that it was only a temporary nickname. They were still unsure whether he would live past the age of 5. Nothing personal or against him, they loved him very much, but with the amount of dangers in the wasteland it was a possibility that he would die young.

That was not the case.

Through the years, to his parents’ surprise, he managed to stay alive. From a young age, he showed interest in following in his parents’ footsteps. So, they taught him everything they knew. Proper hunting, skinning, knowing what cuts are used for what, what to dispose of and watch out for, even things like sewing, reading and a hint of writing. He also learned how to cook a variety of foods from a variety of items, not only meat. He avoided joining the CC’s ranks as a guard or mercenary, rather slowly started helping more and more around the butchery.

It took him until the age of about 11 or 12 to realize what he is called, and what it was. At 16, he also figured out that his parents weren’t sure that he would live as long as he did, which is why he didn’t really have a proper name. He hated being known only by a dumb nickname purely for his mistake as a baby. He was being mocked for it behind his back, he was sure of it. So he slowly began reading up and figuring out what he would name himself. He asked for suggestions. Wrote down possible names. Anything. If people asked about his name, about ’Dogpoo’, he would say that it was misheard. That it was actually ’Dogtooth’. He stuck with that every time he was asked. While out hunting on his own for the first time, he had his first run in with something that would not die easily by a few shots from a hunting rifle. He wasn’t afraid of it, rather cautious and curious. It wasn’t until he was pinned down, blood streaming down his face from being clawed that he realized he made a mistake getting close to it. He barely made it out alive, and if it wasn’t for the beast seeing other humans messing with it’s nest, he probably would have died right then and there. He still has the scars. Another time, not too soon after that, he experienced radiation for the first time ever. He could feel it damaging him almost, but he would not be defeated by it. He didn’t want to become a ghoul either from making stupid decisions. This was where he started putting together gasmasks of his own design from old, broken ones he had bought, traded for or found. One was based of a dog, similar to the family dog years back. The other was based off what he called a ’tusk-beast’, a weird animal he saw in form of a broken, ruined statue in the city. Those would protect him to an extent, and hide his face.

Fast forward to 2279, almost 2280. One day, Dogpoo was left in charge of the butchery for the day, while his parents went out for their weekly hunting trip. It was a quiet day, not too much going on in terms of sales. He spent his time removing the guts from the baby gecko who would become the taxidermized mascot of sorts for the place, Steven. It started getting later and later, but rather than fearing the worst, Dogpoo accepted that his parents had possibly gotten lost, or had decided to camp out for the night. He made a promise to himself that he would keep running the family business, rather than closing it for the time being. He knew that they would be proud of him for it. Only recently, a few months back to be exact, he took the day to make it official, that he was named Devin, that nobody could argue. Not even his parents.

Up until this day, though, he is still waiting for their return. Not as Dogpoo Petuski, but as Devin Petuski.

Headcanons: - This boy has never learned to shoot anything other than a variety of hunting rifles. - Fairly skilled with knives, cleavers and saws, only because of the butchery. - Has a huge claw scar across his face from getting attacked by some creature while out hunting. Very self-conscious about it. - He tends to pay others for meat, just in case it runs out or he couldn’t find anything on his own. He doesn’t care what type of meat it is, as long as it’s still semi-edible and not completely toxic it’s fine. - Strong distaste for human flesh, but will sell it under names such as ’Squirrel-on-a-stick’ or ’Iguana bits’. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. - The uses of the gasmasks: The dog one is worn when working. The elephant one is worn when out and about, either hunting, scavenging, or whatever the case might be. It is very rare to see him in public without the masks. He wears them for various reasons - Protection against radiation, to hide his scar and to hide his embarrassment for being called and known as ’Dogpoo’ for most of his life. - He goes by ’Dogtooth’ around strangers, such as butchery customers and traders. Only once he feels he could trust the person, or the person knows his name, he’s okay with going by ’Devin’. - It is unknown how he keeps the place cold. He doesn’t even know. Wouldn’t catch him complaining, though. - He literally has no idea about anything or anyone outside of the CC and the small radius around it where he hunts. - He has been trying to perfect his taxidermy technique. His only successful one so far has been a baby gecko. He stands in the corner next to the door of the butchery. Dev calls him ’Steven’. - Dev can read numbers and do basic equations (add, subtract, multiply, divide). He keeps a small notebook in which he writes down things such as expenses, money made for the day, how much he has to pay people and so on. - No, the money made is not kept at the butchery, nor does he keep it on him. So don’t even try to rob him. - Will try to befriend anyone and everyone. Very friendly, even to those who are not friendly towards him…. In most cases. - Seems to speak with a slight Canadian accent. - Not afraid to get dirty - No matter if it’s mud, blood, or anything else. - This boy hasn’t had a decent haircut since he was born. When it gets too long, he cuts it himself. Send help. - He sticks to the laws, rules and regulations of the city to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. - He is a pretty decent wasteland chef and yes, he will make you food if you ask him to. (Once again, if something needs to be changed, I have no problem with doing so)

#application #submission #accepted #south park #south park rp

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neontigrr · 4 years

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damn rylan, back at it again with the loveable idiots — hello everyone & meet natalie, 29, devil’s disciple and sad sack of shit. she’s a recovering addict and an artist, part-time waitress at hale’s diner, part-time gardener at greer’s greenhouse, full time nerd and tiger enthusiast. find her info, facts & wanted connections below!! TW: DRUG ABUSE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, OVERDOSING.

BIO:

at ten she’s a spark begging to be ignited. a kid with a bright imagination, but her parents aren’t happy. school is hard for the girl who’ll spend hours covering textbooks in flowers — why should two plus two matter, she thinks, when i can make the paper bloom into whole gardens, full of creatures staring back at me, when i can create my own world? her parents have never been the kind to waste their days daydreaming. they look at their youngest daughter and think: where does she take it? all this carefree passion of hers, where does it come from? she lacks her father’s disposition for numbers, how clinically pristine they look when lined up one after the other, and how satisfying they feel when preceded by a plus sign on a bank invoice. she has none of her mother’s backbone, the way she carries herself as if pure, molten gold flew into her veins — staring everyone down, making herself taller. she seems to only have eyes for fleeting things, mundane passions: for her colors, for the music of a guitar, for the way the desert sand blows into her hair at sundown. come a couple years, all she has eyes of is the boy playing his guitar among the wrecks of a car parts graveyard — says his name is elvis and she knows that isn’t true, but in las vegas, somehow, you can make yourself be whoever you want to be. she smiles, and says her name is tiger instead: in another life, perhaps, she was fierce and with a bite.

at seventeen she’s golden spotlights on the vegas strip. atomic bomb waiting to explode, all summer glare and midnight rides into nowhere: it’s her and elvis in his daddy’s car and it feels like they could conquer the world, if they wanted. he sings to her, she dances for him, characters straight out of a ‘50s song, loaded with a naivety that tastes like the american dream. no time for overbearing parents, no attention paid in school: it’s just them, skin on skin, flowers blooming from her fingers in spray paint over abandoned buildings. this could last forever, she thinks, she begs, she prays: a life like this could last forever. (a life like this drains the best of her). elvis was born to be a king like his namesake, and he’s got dreams of fame and glory that don’t contemplate her presence. street artists never become rockstars, and she has time for nothing more than the creatures lunging out of her fingers, onto the paper. she’s skin and bones, ink and notes, like she could live off of music and drawings alone — and him, always him, a golden god, a forbidden hymn. the night he signs his first record deal she grabs her inks and her pens — draws a present on his skin, a crown for the king to be. and as she draws, she prays: that their dreams can be true, that this is not a happy chorus in a ballad, but a rock opera, a discography for the ages to come. she prays for him like a beggar at an altar: and maybe there’s magic in that crown she draws, there’s truth in the prayer she pours into it. he wins his dreams and leaves her behind: prayers always require sacrifices.

at twenty-two she’s broken lightbulbs under strangers’ feet. she’s shards of glass she could cut people with, but it’s herself she harms; see, elvis’ gone but there’s tons of friends in his place. there’s mary jane, addy, crystal, lucy and all her diamonds. vegas is a wonderland, a new high hidden ‘round every corner, and kind people willing to hand ‘em out like candy to an hazy, improvised alice — the drawings grow darker now, shadows with caved-in eyes and hollow chests. the colors don’t come the way they used to, and when they do they all look like a shade of nightmares — blood red, nausea green, despair blue. she looks for answers in his songs: on the radio, in her mind, she swears he still sings about her. has to follow him to the middle of the desert, to a festival where he stands on a stage and people swear he looks just like the real thing, the king himself. she doesn’t see him, though, but a hole where all her strength used to be, the us against the world turned into the open jaws of a ravenous monster: us against the world, and then the world collapses. wonderland turns to the land of nightmares, and the needle, it is her salvation — down the rabbit hole, she thinks, and someone must come out on the other side. either her, or the ghost of her. either her, or her evil turned to flesh. there is no white rabbit but a man — a good man, a honest man, with an inclination to fixing broken things. he helps her up to her fit, treats her alike his daughter and his sister, and when he begins asking her to help fix the remains of a broken bike, she begins to wonder whether he isn’t trying to fix her, too. sometimes he calls her tiger and she remembers when she fancied herself a wild and untamed thing, escaping cages, just following her instincts. under the heat of the south-west sun, she smiles. maybe all tigers were lost creatures at first.

at twenty-nine she’s neon gas begging to be lit up. there’s a tiger on her forearm, hides the scars of a previous life. there’s always ink under her fingernails, sometimes it seems it shines in the dark. charming has become her home: the devil’s disciples, her family. the bike she’d begun to fix with the man who helped her now bears the name of tempest, and she rides it out with the devils letting it add to the spirit in her heart — wild, untamed, free. her family becomes charming, becomes the devils, becomes rett, lani and rowan. she’s made herself a home in the sand: an old garage, turned inside out, now overflowing with flowers and colors, sparkling gems and drawings hanging at every corner — and a canary, otis, that sings her to sleep every night. she’s called it dustland, a sort of mythical place at the edge of charming, willing to welcome all the broken, all the wounded and the lost. but she loses herself too, now and then. at times she looks past the profiles of houses and buildings, and knows there’s a den of wolves in there, which hold the key to that rabbit hole she once lost herself in. at night, when the desert gets cold and her bones don’t feel anything like a tiger’s — she swears she can hear the wolves howl, beckoning. when she does, she turns to the ink to remind herself of how life was drained out of all shades, because of the needles in her arm. sometimes it’s enough to keep her breathing to the night. sometimes.

ABOUT:

• ‘heart over matter’, because she barely ever acts on anything other than pure instinct. • she lives in a refurnished garage on the edge of town, and she’s given it the name of ‘dustland’. it’s full of trinkets and good luck charms, colors and drawings hanging on every corner, flowers, healing gems and her bird, a pet canary named otis. it’s a big enough place to hide people who need to lie low for a while, people who need to get patched up or goods that need to be out of the radar of unwanted visitors. • the above mentioned ways the dustland has been used before are also some of the biggest ways in which nat contributes to the mc. she’s not much use in a fight, but is resourceful enough to always find ways to help and prove her belonging in the club, be it by smuggling goods, helping the wounded, whatever it’s required that doesn’t imply bloodshed. • when she isn’t working, you will find her drawing on virtually any available surface. she tends to create beautiful, meaningful portraits for the people she loves the most too — they’re all some sort of surreal, odd watercolor portrait. • she has several tattoos other than the devils’ one, the most prominent one on her right arm: a big, colorful tiger she got about a year since her arrival in charming. it was a drawing she made channeling the nickname rett had given her, and it was inked by none other than the original nat, natalia ballard. • she’s a vegan, and a creative cook — she loves creating elaborate salad mixes and cakes with unexpected ingredients (flowers, herbs, peculiar fruits she seeks out at farmer’s markets, etc). • her bike, tempest, is a bike she and rett fixed back up while he was helping her get clean. it’s a little old and rusty, but still fights to this day (and nat finds the symbolism in it lovely).

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

coworkers/superiors at either of her two jobs (hale's diner/greer's greenhouse). someone from the gang who knows her / elvis / any of her friends, since they were all pretty involved in the drug dealing business. someone from the gang who might tempt her with substances again. fwbs (none of these will become actual relationships because she's taken, in that sense, but it might be a fun, or even relatively toxic, dynamic until then). people within the mc she's closest to — sibling figures, people who have a special connection with her, people who can't stand her, people who will often ask for favors such as hiding someone at her place or smuggle something somewhere. neighbors of sorts (she lives on the edge of town, in a garage basically in the desert, but there could be someone in the neighborhood who occasionally drops by for a coffee or something). friends from the auto shop! her bike, tempest, is an old thing she put back together with the help of rett, but it still needs constant care. i'd love for someone from charming auto to be telling her this bike needs to move on to its next life, ngl. enemies (it's rare for nat not to be well-inclined towards someone, but sometimes she gets a bad vibe from people and will turn stone-cold to them, and that's a dynamic i'd very much like to explore). some sort of trainer who might help her grow at least some fight in the physical sense. + literally anything, i'm down for whatever dynamic so just hit me up!!

#charming.intro #FILE / mister cut me some slack.#drug abuse /#overdose /#when will i chill it with the idiots w good hair? never !#anyway nat's an old muse of mine #and means a lot to me #so i'm excited to bring her around <3

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cinnella · 3 years

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Name: Libelle Abrams (chosen name); Varda Lesedi (birth name)

Age: 22 years old

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Demi-homosexual

Zodiac sign: Libra

Birthday: October 7th

Patron Arcana: Justice (Major); Queen of Swords (Minor)

Occupation: Magician, healer, painter and gardener

Height: 5'9" (1.76 m)

Weight: 194 lbs (88 kg)

Relatives:

Briella Lesedi - mother (deceased)

Abanus Lesedi - father (deceased)

Gushvin Basu - distant family friend

Origin: Born in the Catclaw Desert, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: African-American

Powers: White (purification) and healing magic, as well as telekinesis and precognitive dreaming

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, she's a strong 8.5

Backstory:

During the beautiful sunset of the Catclaw Desert, little Varda was born not far off from their home, where her parents had built their sculpture selling stand.

About 7 months later, while they were enjoying their time at home, their friend, Gushvin, hurried to tell them that an unexpected aggressive sand storm started heading their way.

They made sure to give Varda to him as he was faster and went ahead of them. They tragically got swept away by the storm and inhaled too much sand. They were found without breath or pulse hours later.

As selfish as it was of him, Gushvin didn't want to take care of a child, so he made sure to find someone willing enough to do that, soon running into a person who said they specifically searched for orphaned children that needed care.

After a couple of days of traveling, they arrived in sunny Vesuvia, where Varda was brought to the orphanage in the South End. There she was cared for and raised like promised.

She grew up to be one of the sweetest but most naive kids there. One day during lunch, she noticed a kid was sitting alone at his table, sulking and not eating. She approached him and offered to eat with him.

He had silverish eyes and ash-blond hair and the kindest smile she'd ever seen. She'd heard the adults call him Lucas and she knew he was kind of a troublemaker, but he seemed so lonely. They became best friends almost instantly, and always spent time together.

Some years later, when both of them were around 5 years old, they befriended three other kids, all significantly older than them. She learned that their names were Eris, Syro and Morana, and immediately became worried.

They were the biggest scoundrels in the entire orphanage, and quite honestly, all of South End. But Lucas insisted that they join their group. And she trusted him.

She didn't think that these four kids would become so important to her, that they'd become her family. But they did, and she couldn't be more thankful.

When it became clear enough to the adults that they couldn't raise nameless kids, the more capable ones took to teaching them the importance of knowing how to read and write and then they could choose a name for themselves, on their 7th birthday.

Soon enough, her sweet 7th rolled around and after months of searching, she found a name that would complete her.

And so, Varda Lesedi became Libelle Abrams.

Lucas, not much later, also changed his name, to Calyx. Libelle thought it was such a beautiful name for him.

Many years passed by with the four causing as much trouble as possible, to her unfortunate luck. But once she approached her preteens, devastating news came with them. When they'd reach the age of 17, they would need to leave, one by one, and search for a different home.

They discussed about it, made plans and set goals to find their homelands, their roots and possibly their families.

Obviously, Eris was first in line to leave as the eldest between them. Then Morana with Syro. It was only her and Calyx left. She made the promise to not abandon him there and take him with her when the time would come.

And she did. After celebrating her 17th birthday and talking with the one that had found her so many years ago, they set out to travel towards the Catclaw Desert. The journey was a couple of days long and it took them almost as much to find the one who knew about her parents.

Gushvin was sat on the bench in front of his home when they approached, and when Libelle called out to him, he recognized her immediately. There was some confusion with her name at first, but they quickly caught onto everything.

He told her everything that had happened the day she became an orphan and although he was hesitant, he confessed how selfish he'd been back then, something he regretted deeply and hadn't let him sleep properly since then.

All of the discoveries shocked her beyond belief, so much so that she wanted to go back to Vesuvia right away. After a while of mulling over everything she found out, she decided to focus on helping her best friend.

Luck had seemed to smile upon them, because Eris insisted on tagging along with them. After all, they had to travel across the sea all the way to the Macawi Port.

After even more shocking reveals about Calyx' parents, none of them wanted to know anything more, so at dawn they started back home.

Now, Libelle could focus on the things that she wanted to do most. She learned how to become a professional healer and magician, so she would help people in need. Around that time, her secret powers slowly surfaced as well.

She realized she could move objects with the will of her mind and at night, she would have visions and dreams of the future. After consulting with an expert in healing magic, she discovered that most people have these gifts and adviced her to learn to control them.

Everything was fine in her life until the Red Plague rained upon them and they each made the decision to leave Vesuvia. Well, all except for Eris. She wanted to help the doctors with the dead, confided to Libelle that she'd taught herself necromancy and wanted to reverse their deaths.

Eris had been too stubborn to listen to reason, so they had no choice but to leave her behind. Syro and Morana left for the Southern Spines, while Eris specifically told Libelle and Calyx to go to Venterre and find her brother, Sethos. He would shelter them until the nightmare would be over.

So they did, they took the first boat straight to the west coast of Venterre, where they ran into the young man in question.

When they finished explaining everything to him, he insisted they go back and get her too, but there would have been no use in doing so. His sister would have been way too stubborn to listen to anyone.

Days later, a letter arrived in their mailbox and all three were devastated to find out Eris died from the plague. Libelle and Calyx were sobbing messes and Sethos almost thrashed the room before collapsing too.

They informed the other two through a letter as well, but they figured there would be massive delays because of the distance, so they didn't expect an answer right away.

Suddenly, about 6 days later, Libelle had a dream, of Eris being alive. It had felt so real she woke up in a cold sweat and with tears in her eyes, she went to wake up the other two, shaking them hard.

She couldn't form clear words but Calyx caught onto it right away, and while with shaky hands, Libelle explained that she could sense Eris' aura and presence in the real world.

Although Sethos was very skeptical about it, he would have rather held onto the tiniest string of hope that she was indeed alive than live with the thought of losing his sister a second time.

So they wrote another letter to Syro and Morana and immediately packed their things and headed back to Vesuvia in plain midnight.

True to everything Libelle said and sensed, Eris was alive. How, they didn't know, until they spoke to Asra, one of her older friends and apparently, the one who brought her back. She was shocked to find it involved a deal with the Devil. She'd heard of the sacrifices needed to make such deals.

After about 3 years of total absence, Syro and Morana also arrived in Vesuvia and the shock cycle began again.

Not much later, when Eris got assigned to solve the mystery of Count Lucio's murder and catch his fugitive murderer, everyone offered to do something to help her out.

Though she was shy about it, she could sense that the Countess, Nadia, needed help as well. So Libelle suggested assisting her in whatever Nadia would need.

She didn't expect to catch feelings, but she didn't complain either.

Personality: shy, sensitive, kind-hearted, gentle, imaginitive, creative, generous, loyal, honest, trustworthy, observant, reliable, cheerful, too forgiving and sometimes naive

Interesting facts:

Although it isn't very noticeable, she does have a white lotus tattoo on her left middle finger.

Her wrists are littered with past self-harm scars, which the others love to kiss just to make her feel better about them.

She is very insecure about her body, but she has the others to lift her moods up when she's down.

Has an entire collection of earrings, but her favorites are the peacock feathers.

Even though she wakes up early in the morning, she usually takes a nap in the afternoon.

Her thighs and hips are full of stretch marks.

Has the biggest sweet tooth in the world.

Can play the clarinet, but you would have to really indulge her to get her to sing on it for you.

Appearance: Dark espresso skin tone, neck-length curly chestnut brown hair, dyed periwinkle blue halfway down, jade green eyes, chubby slight hourglass body shape, D cup breasts

Familiar: Lumi, a cute and sweet stoat but a sneaky little thief all the same

Voice claim: Dana Gourrier

Full sprite:

WOOOHOOOO I FINISHED ALL MY MCS' BIOS AND I'M SO HAPPY!!

My girl turned out so damn beautiful too and I'm just hhnnnnn- 😖💜

PLEASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE AS WELL!!! ✨

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #libelle abrams

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stephenjcmes · 4 years

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HELLO HELLO!

NAME/ALIAS: Sami or Sam. Some people call me Sami Sweetheart ❤️

TIMEZONE: MST

RANDOM FACT: I’ve lost count of the amount of tattoos I have. My favorite drink during flights is a mimosa (or five). I haven’t had a natural hair color in at least 5 years. Bath bombs are the best. Literally. Treat yourselves! I’ve been on a Marvel kick thanks to Disney + lol.

TAGGING: @miamiintros

OWEN LEWIS

BIOGRAPHY: Read Here.

––– chris evans, 34, male, he/him // in COCONUT GROVE, you’ll find OWEN LEWIS who’s lived there for THIRTY-FOUR YEARS and they spend their days working as FIREFIGHTER. They’ve been described as RECORD PLAYERS SPINNING B SIDES OF OLD 45’S, WORN JEANS, AN ALWAYS EMPTY FRIDGE, A MEDICINE CABINET FULL OF DOCTOR’S ORDERS by the people that know them. Which makes sense when you consider that they can be ADAPTABLE + COMPASSIONATE but also ALOOF + DEPRECIATING. –––

BACKGROUND: Born and raised in Miami he grew up wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps. The man was a well known and highly respected journalist, which Owen, who idolized his old man, would collect all the clippings of his articles and keep them in a book. It was around when he started playing sports and becoming very good that he had the realization that he didn’t really have the talent for writing. He pursued football and won championships with his high school team but after graduation he turned to public service rather than going on to university. It was a big fight between his father and himself because his father believed he could’ve gone all the way to the NFL and considered it wasted potential. They were at odds ever since that moment. Once he became a firefighter he went on to coach football at the local high school and eventually at a community college. He loves the sport and wants to help the youth succeed. About 3 to 4 years into his career his got stuck in an apartment building during a rescue and had to jump out of the 16th story window to escape the fire. The near death experience left him scarred and he suffered with night terrors for years. Owen would wake up thrashing and screaming sometimes and he nearly hurt his girlfriend at the time. It caused him to stay away from permanent relationships for fears of what could happen out of his control. Once whomever he was seeing would fall asleep he would either slip out or go sleep on the coach, and if he was ever questioned on his behavior he would become evasive and end the relationship. He didn’t want to lose his job so he kept quiet and started therapy and eventually things got a bit better. Currently he still struggles a bit and the night terrors aren’t very frequent at all anymore but he still has trouble connecting into any permanent relationship.

HEADCANONS: Here we gooo!

The relationship Owen has with his father is so strained and they haven’t spoken in years since he took a different path in life that his father didn’t want for him. They’ve avoided each other for years, mostly Owen avoiding him and spending time with his mother during holiday visits and. Or calling her once in a while to check-in. Whenever he and his dad do talk, his father is fairly engaging but Owen remains a bit bitter. What he doesn’t know is that his father keeps a collection of all of Owens successes, whether it’s from work and rescues he does with the firehouse or wins with his football team he coaches his father keeps a collection of all the news clippings.

When he ran and jumped out of the 16th story window, he had resigned to the fact that he was likely going to die because it was either going to be the fire that got him or the fall from 16 stories down. When he woke up in the hospital with nothing much more than scratches and a separated shoulder he was shocked and still doesn’t understand the second chance. It’s something he sometimes contemplates, wondering if he’s doing enough with his life. What saved him was that he landed on the roof of the building next door a few stories down.

For a short time, somewhere between one and two years, after his near death experience he got hooked on pain killers. Owen was recovering from the injury to his shoulder and went on a bit of a downward spiral until a friend helped him get into therapy and ween himself off the prescription medications.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Siblings — I never specified in his bio about siblings because I wanted it to be as open as possible for plotting. I’ve envisioned that he has two younger siblings. The gender doesn’t matter to me, I would just love to have some family connections for him!

Best friend — I would love for this connection to be with someone he’s known most of his life, since high school or so, that way they could’ve gone through all the major things in life at each other’s side.

Childhood friends — People from his neighborhood, school, or from the football team.

Friends — Give him all the friends please! I love me some great brotps! Male or female!

Coworkers — Anyone that would work through the firehouse! Fellow firefighters, paramedics, or clerical staff.

Past flings — Since he doesn’t generally have any relationships that last more than a few months he would have had quite a few flings in his life.

Current flings — Anyone he might’ve dated recently, within the past year or is currently in the mix of things with!

Confidant — This is a very very wanted connection because this person would be the one that he’s spoken with about his issues and they helped him in the past to straighten himself out. Such as supporting him as he weened off the medications and also helping him get into therapy.

JESSICA WINTERS

BIOGRAPHY: Read here.

––– jenna dewan, 32, female, she/her // in SOUTH BEACH, you’ll find JESSICA WINTERS who’s lived there for THIRTY-TWO YEARS and they spend their days working as OWNER OF BODICE NIGHTCLUB. They’ve been described as CLAW MARKS IN ANYTHING SHE’S HAD TO LET GO OF, MISSED CALLS AND UNHEARD VOICEMAILS, RED SOLED HEELS PAIRED WITH JEANS, AND LAST NIGHT’S TAKEOUT CONTAINERS SCATTERED ON THE COFFEE TABLE by the people that know them. Which makes sense when you consider that they can be HARDWORKING + ADAPTABLE but also INSECURE + CLINGY. –––

BACKGROUND: Growing up in Miami, Jessica thought her childhood was pretty average and a bit boring. Her family had an image of being very clean cut and fit into the middle class neighborhood so well that they went unnoticed. With her father being the only member of the family bringing in an income, they lived a bit beyond their actual means. So in school she was unpopular because she didn’t have the latest looks or the fanciest things, her parents couldn’t afford them for her. It was only the start of the social bullying she faced, it got worse when her father’s affair happened and her mother seemingly disappeared from Miami and their lives after dropping her and her younger brother off at their father’s mistress’s house and then burning down the house she’d grown up in. It was a culture shock to go from struggling for a decent meal and a new pair of shoes to live in a mansion, thanks to the woman her father had been seeing. The mistress was a best selling author in the romance genre, she had an expensive estate complete with staff and being completely lost... Jessica took advantage. Eventually her father married the author but then also eventually ended up having an affair on her too. Jessica was out of the house by then and in college, attending the University of Miami too chicken to pursue her real dream in art and painting and instead majored in business. During college she met a man she would marry after they graduated, she started her own business, a nightclub on South Beach named Bodice with her best friend, and lived in a bit of bliss for a while. Eventually, Jessica’s insecurities and issues sabotaged her marriage and he filed for divorce, unable to put up with her anymore. She of course didn’t make it easy on him and prolonged the proceedings as long as possible, and even once it’s been finalized she still can’t leave him alone as they “try” to move on.

HEADCANONS: Here we gooo!

During her teenage years when she struggled with first being poor and not fitting in, then with what happened to her family, Jessica found her escape into art. She enjoyed painting and visiting the art district, spent many days in Wynwood and dreamed of one day being an artist for a living. Often she would walk through galleries and speak with the curators to pick their brains, and sometimes she would be lucky to meet and talk with the artists themselves. When it came to actually pursuing her dream and talent she chickened out, her insecurities got the better of her, but she still very much supports the art scene.

The nightclub she co-owns and started up with her best friend is Bodice and she didn’t want it to just be another club on the strip. It’s got burlesque dancers that perform shows a few nights each week, two floors plus a large patio that offers a beautiful view of the beach and ocean. It’s a place thats a bit of a mix of lounge, nightclub, theater, and bar.

Once her marriage deteriorated and she ended up a divorcee, Jessica began drinking too much and partying too hard. She had her license taken away from too many DUIs and had one too many one night stands and flings to try and cure her loneliness and soothe the constant ache of her abandonment issues. Now she has to get around by way of driver and hates it because it makes her feel similar to her first step mother, the famous author.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Younger brother — I didn’t name him in her bio to give anyone interested a bit of freedom but he’s a couple of years younger and they were really close as kids. She used to look after him and they clung to each other through all their family drama and trauma.

Friends — Honestly, give me all the brotps imaginable! I live for them!

Childhood friends — Before her parents divorce and she was dropped off at the ritzy author’s mansion, Jessica lived in an average middle class neighborhood and would spend the days running around with the kids in the neighborhood!

School friends — Anyone that she could’ve gone to elementary or high school with! They were friends and social while there but didn’t really live in close neighborhoods or near each other.

Petty drama — I didn’t want to label this as bullies or tormenters but these would be people she didn’t get along with at school. The girls that back then would give her shit about not quite fitting in or give her a hard time about the family drama. It was a scandal given that the author was famous, so it made the local social pages.

Employees — Dancers, bartenders, DJs, manager, accountant, and really anyone that would be interested in working at Bodice.

Flings — Since her divorce Jess has been careless but in need of some kind of affection and validation. She had a few short lived attempts at trying to move on.

One night stands — Pretty much the same as flings. Basically she needed the arms and affection of someone for a night.

I tried to keep these short and reasonable! I’m always up for plotting and chatting so always feel free to message me at any time! I’m happy to share my discord with anyone as well :)

#miamiintro #jessica winters.#owen lewis.

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sdohertys · 4 years

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GENERAL:

NAME: Scarlett Marina Kaufman Doherty

NICKNAME: Some people call her Scar, much to her irritation. It’s not even a cute nickname.

BIRTHDAY: January 16

AGE: 34.

GENDER: Cis Female.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Petaluma, California.

PLACES LIVED SINCE: Oakland, CA; Walnut Creek, CA

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Walnut Creek, CA

NATIONALITY: American.

ETHNICITY: Ashkenazi Jewish.

PARENTS’ NAMES: Adina and Vadim Kaufman.

NUMBER OF SIBLINGS: None.

PERSONALITY TYPE: ESTP- A - THE ENTREPRENEUR

body image mention, abandonment, death (cancer)

RELATIONSHIP WITH FAMILY: Strained. One-sided. Basically non-existent. When Scarlett hit her teen years, she’d come to the conclusion that her mother wanted a child, but she didn’t want to be a mother to that child. Their conversations consisted mainly of Scarlett’s appearance and body image, pushing her to be the most prim and proper of ladies. Her mother never called her beautiful. Vadim, on the other hand, was never around to have a real conversation with his daughter, having gone out to meet with his mistress of the year. Might as well not even have a father. She’s cut herself off from her family to the point where she legally changed her last name so she could pretend she was not related to them. After getting many phone calls from her mom when she first moved away, Scarlett changed her phone number and blocked her mom from every social media platform.

CHILDHOOD TRAUMA: When Adina found out about her husband’s many affairs, she blamed Scarlett’s birth, having said that if she never gave birth to Scarlett perhaps her figure could still be desirable enough for her husband. She then proceeded to send ten year old Scarlett away to live with a Filipino couple in their mid-50s in Oakland, who raised her until she turned 17. Scarlett continued to feel unwanted by her own mother.

PHYSICAL:

HEIGHT: 5′4″

WEIGHT: 120 lbs.

BUILD: Slim and petite.

HAIR COLOR: Dark brown.

USUAL HAIR STYLE: She styles it differently every other day, but when she’s concentrating, she pulls it back in a high ponytail. When it’s down, the length is just two inches below her shoulder blades.

EYE COLOR: Her right eye is green-blue and her left eye is a hazel color.

GLASSES? CONTACTS?: Neither.

STYLE OF DRESS/TYPICAL OUTFIT(S): Scarlett dresses in very trendy, designer clothing. A casual coffee outfit would be a cream colored blouse with dark wash skinny jeans and a pair of brown booties, with her hair in a messy bun and gold hoop earrings.

TYPICAL STYLE OF SHOES: High heels.

JEWELRY? TATTOOS? PIERCINGS?: She got her belly button pierced in high school, and she also has her ears typically pierced.

SCARS: She has a scar toward the back of her neck, right below her ear from trying to cut her own hair when she was nine years old. Her mother was less than pleased, to say the least.

UNIQUE MANNERISMS/PHYSICAL HABITS: She’ll lick her lips almost every time she takes a sip of coffee. When she’s drinking wine, she likes to tap her index finger just below the rim.

ATHLETICISM: She’s not into fitness, like at all. She loves to eat and she loves to drink. Her main source of exercise is walking for miles in her heels and running around stores.

HEALTH PROBLEMS/ILLNESSES: None.

INTELLECT:

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High school diploma.

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: Fluent in both English and Russian, but English is her first language. She also can have conversational French. Conversational Tagalog also.

LEVEL OF SELF-ESTEEM: It had taken a while for Scarlett to be comfortable in her own skin, just because her entire life she was told by her mother that she was never good enough, never pretty enough, or smart enough. As she continued to build her business, slept around with as many people as she desired, her confidence grew. People tell her she’s beautiful, and she never disagrees.

GIFTS/TALENTS: Public speaking, flattering, styling and outfitting someone. Pretending her parents don’t exist.

MATHEMATICAL?: NOPE. The only time she’s mathematical is when she’s figuring out how much she’ll save on a sale.

MAKES DECISIONS BASED MOSTLY ON EMOTIONS, OR ON LOGIC?: Both, I wanna say. Scarlett can be impulsive and controlling at times, but that’s driven by anger, irritation and lust. She usually cuts off most emotions when it comes to people.

LIFE PHILOSOPHY: When you don’t have your shit together, you have to dress like you do.

RELIGIOUS STANCE: She was raised Jewish but she’s not particularly religious.

CAUTIOUS OR DARING?: Daring.

MOST SENSITIVE ABOUT/VULNERABLE TO: Her childhood. Having moved across the country where hardly anyone knew her at the age of eighteen, it was a chance to have a fresh start.

OPTIMIST OR PESSIMIST?: Pessimist.

EXTROVERT OR INTROVERT?: Extrovert.

RELATIONSHIPS:

CURRENT RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

PAST RELATIONSHIPS: ( cancer tw, death tw)Scarlett has only ever had one serious relationship when she was 25. He was the definition of the perfect boyfriend, everything she thought she should want but nothing seemed right. Two years into their relationship, he proposed and impulsively she accepted believing she was in love with him. Just days later she regretted her decision. Thinking she would catch wedding fever, she stuck to the engagement and continued to plan out the wedding but emotionally became distant from her fiance. A year into their engagement they were married, and just six months after they finally wed, she decided she was going to divorce him. She met with an attorney and was near ready to serve the papers when he told her he was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. He fought for 7 months. She’s harbored a substantial amount of guilt knowing that as he was dying, she wanted to leave him.

Nothing else is worth mentioning. She usually keeps her relationships casual, hardly sleeps with anyone more than twice, and even that’s pushing it.

PRIMARY REASON FOR BEING BROKEN UP WITH: Emotionally distant, doesn’t want another serious relationship.

PRIMARY REASONS FOR BREAKING UP WITH PEOPLE: Doesn’t want a serious relationship.

EVER CHEATED?: No, not at all. She would never do that to someone because she saw the damage her father did from his multiple affairs.

BEEN CHEATED ON: No. Other than her three year relationship, she hasn’t been in a relationship serious enough for it to get to that point.

LEVEL OF SEXUAL EXPERIENCE: She doesn’t date, but she frequently has one night stands.

STORY OF FIRST KISS: Her first kiss was with her best friend in 8th grade during a sleepover when she suggested that they should kiss since Scarlett said she was bored.

STORY OF LOSS OF VIRGINITY: It’s nothing exciting. In fact, it’s quite cliche which she hates. She lost her virginity the night of Junior Prom with a guy she had AP Bio with.

A SOCIAL PERSON?: Superficially, yes, but he’s very particular with who he deems as a close friend.

MOST COMFORTABLE AROUND: A bottle of red wine.

OLDEST FRIEND: CONNECTION OPEN.

HOW DOES HE THINK OTHERS PERCEIVE HER?: Charismatic, witty, beautiful.

HOW DO OTHERS ACTUALLY PERCEIVE HER?: Brutal, pretentious, beautiful

SECRETS:

LIFE GOALS: Still up in the air.

DREAMS: To be a stylist on a Hollywood-type of level.

GREATEST FEARS: Not living an exciting life/growing complacent.

MOST ASHAMED OF: Her parents.

CRIMES COMMITTED (WAS HE CAUGHT? CHARGED?): Underage drinking, but I mean, lmao. She also stole a pair of shoes from a department store when she was 14, but was never caught.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD?: Night Owl.

LIGHT OR HEAVY SLEEPER?: Heavy sleeper.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Eh.

FAVORITE FOOD: Sinigang and rice. Half of her childhood consisted of her learning how to make Filipino dishes because of who she lived with.

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Highkey salad. Highkey, anything vegan.

FAVORITE BOOK: Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead by Sheryl Sandberg

LEAST FAVORITE BOOK: Doesn’t care enough to have a least favorite book.

FAVORITE MOVIE: She’ll say Roman Holiday but it’s really Terms of Endearment.

LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE: The Notebook.

FAVORITE SONG: Linger by The Cranberries but anything by Barry White. She loves Motown.

FAVORITE SPORT: She loves basketball and is biased toward the Golden State Warriors.

COFFEE OR TEA?: Wine. But coffee, yeah.

CRUNCHY OR SMOOTH PEANUT BUTTER?: Crunchy.

TYPE OF CAR HE DRIVES: Silver Rolls Royce.

LEFTY OR RIGHTY?: Right-handed.

FAVORITE COLOR: Burgundy.

CUSSER?: All the time.

SMOKER? DRINKER? DRUG USER?: She used to smoke, but quit after she ended her engagement. But yes, drinker. Loves to drink. It’s her favorite hobby.

BIGGEST REGRET: Letting her marriage go on for too long.

PETS: None.

#about.

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mutantsrisingrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations HAILEY! You’ve been accepted as JANUS.

Hailey, you took Jacksons skeleton and delivered it to us on a silver platter. I’m truly speechless at how you captured their ability to never be the same person twice. “He has never been content with one face, even before his abilities developed.” Who is Jackson deep down, does he even know that? Having them figure out who their are on a personally level and within the grand scheme of things. I also can’t believe you made me choose between two of my fave white boys.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Hailey

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST: I would say around a 5 activity wise. I usually work five days of the week now (but sometimes more) so although my hours are funky I usually have time to reply to dms after or before work, and get replies up during at least two days of the week!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jackson Raemers / Janus

GENDER/PRONOUNS: he / they

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

They are the wind beneath your sails, the bandage over your wound, and the realization that it never meant anything to them.

Jackson may never covet your gilded spotlight but you would be a fool to underestimate him for it. Though he works best from the shadows, obscured by the weight of faces and names that are not his own, it’s his fingerprints that stain the success of all who wield him. He slips effortlessly through cracks others would be constrained by, both unnoticed and undetected, though the impact of his presence are neither of those things. Though you may be unable to place your overlooked hero on the streets, you will never forget how effortlessly he stanched the troubles that bleed from your veins before slipping from your grasp, another unknown stranger in the crowd. Jackson’s someone you’d want on your side, both capable and necessary, but is it because his heart blooms for your cause, or simply because it’s expected of him? So quickly shifting, so carefully adapting, if you were to blink, you might miss him, but is that not his charm? His name will never spill from your lips in adoration, yet it does nothing to still the parts of him that jump to prove himself worthy of such. Both the optimism that manifests when you most need it and the invisible force that gently urges you onward when you’ve lost hope; Jackson prioritizes that which beckons his assistance most urgently with greedy delight, perhaps, in a desperate attempt to fill the void of not knowing yet what it is that they need themselves.

The cut you get on your finger from opening a letter and the blood that stains the white carpet when it drips down.

Jackson, like most others, is a product of their past, though it’s with great strides that they aren’t entirely felled by the memory of their own. Enough has been taken from him that he resents every fragment of himself still coerced into something bitter and unfamiliar; the scars of wounds that will never heal correctly. Though he’s convinced that his purpose in the Jem Family is to spare future mutants from suffering the same fate as him, and his companions, he knows there’s a more sinister, albeit spurned, intent that resides deep within his heart. Is it truly for the betterment of all mutants? Or is there a part of them that selfishly yearns for the violent demise of the humans that hurt him? Jackson battles with his morality, determined not to become the very monster he feared as a child, though he worries what’s left of his purity may already be touched crimson by this bitterness. There are thoughts even Jackson shies away from, scared to grapple with the stranger that resides in the dark crevices of his mind. They’re already fighting one monster, what’s another?

They are the fake label that is stitched onto a shirt then sold for hundreds of dollars, the flake that comes off of a gold bar to reveal that it’s copper, and the cheap paint that washes away when an itchy suspicion turns out to be true.

They are intimately familiar with disappointment. Watching the glimmer in your eye fade after the fraudulence of their fantasies surface. That pang of realization that he is nothing more than a cheap imitation of the person you most want; someone that Jackson, himself, could never be. At times, they too wish to be the greater, more gilded thing, punished by the reminder that it’s just an act, and underneath it all, he still remains himself. His ability is but a taste of more, followed by the wrenching of such from greedy fingers as the curtain falls. With the gift to be anyone in the world, why would you ever want to be yourself? He hardly ever is, the details of his forgotten identity swept under the rug in favor of better, more appealing, traits he’s adopted. Though his ability is mighty, Jackson often wonders what would be left of him without it. Would he ever be enough, if not for the weight of power at his restless fingertips? Years of his life were overshadowed by those abilities, and how deftly he could demonstrate them. But would he carry any value, at all, when stripped of them?

They are your wildest dreams come true, willing to do what it takes to get you to believe in their lies.

Jackson dons a separate mask for every one person; figuratively, though at times, literally. He has never been content with one face, even before his abilities developed. Jackson has been abandoned and overlooked too often not to revel in the warm light of adoration, no matter the cost. He can feel your ease when he seemingly leans in the very direction you hoped he’d go, or the spark of elation when he fulfills muted desires. It’s a drug, that praise, and he longs for its buzz. Perhaps he bends the truth at times to sell the vision; that he’s exactly who you want him to be. But is it such a crime when you’re both getting what you long for most? Even when wearing the face he was born with, Jackson will tug at the details of himself until they smooth to your liking; until you weaken for the portrait he’s painted. His tongue may be as gifted as his mutant abilities, able to angle the truth that lay right in front of your very eyes. But when his pretty lies fail, there is always another identity lying in wait, convincing you to love him, no matter what it takes, no matter how little you truly know the illusion that desperately beckons your worship.

BIO: TW (ABUSE, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME)

Jackson had often wondered if it was his mother’s eyes, or his father’s, reflected back at him in the mirror. If the chilling sensation that zipped up their vertebrae in the dark was inherited, or simply a product of their own cowardice. How much of him was comprised of people he was not given the chance to remember, and how much had begun with him, and him alone? Having been given up for adoption at birth, Jackson willed his own conclusions. The first foster family he can recall were the Wilsons, and he had just turned six. Even then, he was enthralled with the parents that had abandoned him, devising make believe anecdotes about each that were far more charming and warmhearted than the inferior truth. But Jackson grew, and so did his stories. Childish fibs about how he was the spitting image of his father, or how his mother used to be read him stories every night blossomed into tales of ship crashes and war stories. He longed for the startled admiration of the other children he roomed with; the closest thing to family the boy had ever known. Jackson was lucky, his time in the foster care system had been undeniably better than that of most.

In fact, it was only after his removal that life began its downslide.

He lived in his fourth home, with the Jefferson family, in the two story brick at the end of the street. Jackson was eleven at the time. Then, he was only vaguely familiar with mutants, and of the whispers they elicited among the streets. He had no reason to think he could be one, of course, so it came as quite a shock when a foster sister attempted to tattle on Jackson and they were able to perfectly mimic the girlish whine of her voice in jest. Their flawless recitation had been no parlor trick, nor mundane talent. But the incident slipped away with little interest, having been confined to Jackson and their adolescent witness. Still, the memory of its inhumane nature simmered within him, and he longed to see if he could repeat it; a child experimenting with a new toy. After the others had gone to bed, and the house was blanketed in eerie silence, Jackson pulled the covers over his head with a mirror in one hand and a flashlight in the other. It began with impressions of voices he was familiar with; Allison Jefferon’s shrill, demanding pitch, Peter Jefferson’s gravely grumbling. It was astonishing, how his tongue so effortlessly disguised itself as one right after the other. The boy spent nights grinning ear to ear beneath his sheets, delighted with the newfound ability.

But just as quickly delight bled into panic. One afternoon, in an argument with the same rambunctious sister, Jackson thought it funny to mock her insults. But, rather than the unfamiliar tone they had practiced, they were met with their own voice. Still, shock and fear contorted the girl’s expression, sending her sprinting into the next room despite their nervous pleas for an explanation. Instead they were met with Peter Jefferson, who demanded to know how this was possible while blocking the exit of Jackson’s room. It was only with a side glance at the closet mirror that the boy saw themselves for what they had become; a direct copy of the girl whose reactions they so enjoyed. Though it was their own voice that yelled out in panic, and their own fingers that tore at the skin that did not belong to them, they instead appeared as the same sister that now cowered from them. Try as he might to reverse the sight, Jackson remained a prisoner in his own body, terrified he would be buried as this strange and unusual anomaly.

Many distressed phone calls later and Jackson was removed from the foster home by men he did not recognize, shut into a stranger’s car with no goodbyes or answers. It was with terror that they were confined to a windowless van, their heart frantically galloping in their chest. He choked on questions, and begged for help, but his captors remained silent. When he finally arrived at his destination it mirrored a hospital; sterile, cold, disarming. Jackson thought, briefly, he had been taken somewhere that could right this mistake, and return him to the person he had been before, with those fearful eyes of his lost mother or father. But he would never again be that child, and he quickly discovered the truth of his unwanted fifth home, undeniably less a home than it was a punishment.

There were various testing facilities surrounding the city of Chicago, though at the time Jackson was ignorant to their existence. Now, he was ensnared by one; a child called by a monster’s name. Mutant. He could remember the kids at school, how they had sneered the word. How Allison Jefferson had once called them abominations when the title was mentioned on the six o’clock news. It must be a mistake, he’d assured himself, shaking fingers grasping at the fabric of their allocated uniform. But quickly, and without mercy, what remained of his humanity was stripped. The boy who longed to be more human than all of the others reduced to a guinea pig. They couldn’t find one more cooperative than Jackson though, who would rather suffer through bouts of exhaustion after the abuse of their abilities than deny the facility what they demanded of him. Perhaps it was fear, or the lingering hope that his entrapment served a larger, more benevolent purpose, that pushed him past his hard limits time and time again. There were occasions when he was returned to his room so badly shaken and weary that all he could do was lay on the cold linoleum and consider the people and places from his childhood stories; the heroes he wanted to be, and the exotic lands he longed for.

There were times even Jackson’s impeccable behavior was not enough. Moments when he had proudly displayed a perfect recreation of the photograph they provided only to be struck by someone or jolted with electricity in response. At times the abuse grew so detrimental to their health they wondered what could possibly remain of them when it was all over, if it was ever to be over. Eventually the hope for escape dwindled, and they grew accustomed to the constant beep of monitors, and the purging of all freedom or individuality. Jackson’s childhood had been brutally ripped from him and because of it he expected far more of himself than any normal teenager would. If his abilities were what they wanted most, what stifled the pain, if for only a moment, he would give it to them. He would harness and sharpen his shifting skins until there was nothing left for them to want from him; until he reached the peak of his power and they were, at last, forced to accept his limit.

Jackson’s abilities were his lifeline. From the ashes of his optimism grew determination, and though he focused on his power for the wrong reasons, it was this concentration that spared him long nights of agony. The unrelenting practice redirected his mind, and maintained its sharpness, pinning it instead to a goal that Jackson desperately grasped for. Relief. It was his only outlet behind the guarded walls of the facility, and even with shaking hands he would muster its presence, as much for himself as for the scientists that watched on in scrutiny. What else did he have? No family, no friends, and no future if this torture was to continue. Only himself, and the identities he nurtured for his own feeble sanity.

It was by sheer luck his fellow mutants were less easily appeased than Jackson. He can still remember the vivid blare of warning sirens, a red haze painting the nauseating white of the walls. A fire maybe, or a raid. One could only guess what had become of the real world while Jackson withered away behind bars. But it was not flames that licked his cage, or the rumblings of a distant bomb, but another subject. A group, rather, of others like Jackson who had tired of their binds and created a key where there was not one to be found. In a flurry, the door to his confine was opened, and the various boys and girls, both adult and child, fled toward liberation. They were escaping. A plan so harrowing and disillusioned that it had not occurred to Jackson to consider. Had they gotten help? Who had organized it? How had they known he was there, waiting, clueless? He was left to his thoughts, the hall clearing as quickly as it had filled with terrified mutants, bound for freedom. At any moment the guards would surely return, tightening the leashes upon their throats to reel them back to their chambers.

Time had blurred together, minutes languidly blended into one exhausting eternity as Jackson remained curled in a ball against the clinical white of his room. So many unfamiliar faces had passed, restless, wild, in their search for sanctuary, but Jackson was rooted to the floor. His knees trembling against his chest in panic. If the punishment for existing scarred their skin and bruised their bone, what would become of those mutants that greedily chased more? The temptation was so great Jackson vibrated with it, the need aching in his heavy chest, but they had been bitten too many times among these corridors. Maybe it was a test. Perhaps, he would lie in wait, cooperative and meek, and the guards would have mercy on him in the wake of his pristine behavior. He could not fathom the alternative. A life somehow worse than the one that already clung to his weary bones like shackles. Jackson couldn’t, in good conscience, betray himself that carelessly. Ultimately, it was not that fearful boy who made the decision. But rather a fellow mutant, who beckoned him. Who encircled his wrist in their grasp and pulled him loose from his submission. It was the turning point of his world, that day, and yet it crashes on his conscious like roaring waves. A blink of relieved mutants there, a glimpse of determined hands pulling him through the wreckage of the facility, a glance at the gentle expressions that lulled him into a car, much the same as the van he arrived in. The day returned in fragments, then his chest had heaved too rapidly, his head split with far too much tension, to place every minute detail. But since, every relocated shard has surfaced with gratitude.

Jackson had never heard of the Jem Family before his escape. Until they had dusted the ash from him, like a forgotten phoenix who not yet had the strength to rise themselves. In a sense, they were his sixth foster home. The one that finally stuck, resolute and steadfast. In their embrace he found acceptance, unlike that he’d ever known before them. When his fingers shook and his gaze flickered away from contact, they were there. When he resented himself, and the abilities that had slipped the cruel noose around his throat for many years, they were there. The same power that had worked as a desperate distraction now served as a wicked reminder of his time spent in captivity. They felt less like his, as if he had robbed the facility of their cherished work. For a time, Jackson imagined that being ordinary would be easier. Better. He abandoned his talents for those more socially accepted, and after years of grappling with the sickly feeling that blossomed at his mutant traits, enrolled in college. He would find a new talent, one that even the humans that ostracized him could appreciate.

He had been robbed of so much normalcy. He finally had a real family, and still, it was not enough. Selfishly, he wanted more. The job, the house, the wife. The future that had been dangled in front of his eyes, and subsequently, severed while imprisoned. If Jackson could blend in, and escape the mutant brand, perhaps it was not yet lost. The aspirations he had once daydreamed about could be fulfilled, if only he could swallow the half of himself that stood in the way. The half of himself that had already unraveled his hopes once before. But he had far better control now; never again would he look in the mirror and be startled by what he saw. His abilities could only rear their ugly head if he allowed them to, if he summoned them, and then, just entering adulthood, he planned not to. They would suffocate alongside all of the memories he carried of being abnormal.

Perhaps, in a sense, that was Jackson’s teen rebellion. It could have lasted, possibly, had the local news not carried such concerning developments on mutants around the country. Every day they were confronted with horror stories, some far worse than what Jackson himself had endured. The Jem family made it a point not to shield him from every horrific detail, instead swaddling him in positive reinforcement. The trick was not to comply to the country’s social norms, but to demand equal treatment for those who could not meet the impossible standards. They hammered it into his brain. The cause had saved him. Did he not want to do the same for others? Did he not want to be the salvation for some other trembling child, starved of freedom?

The more the surrounding abuse escalated, the more inclined Jackson was to entertain his once banished abilities. It took no shortage of support, and encouragement from the Jem Family. Especially as his eyes glazed over, and his heart squeezed beneath his ribcage; the torment Jackson endured present in every celebrated advancement of his powers. It, at times, hurt. In the same way it might have to break through the steel of unwanted chains. Repression was no light weight, and Jackson, like Atlas, had shouldered far too much for far too long. But in time, he could feel how it sloughed off his shoulders. How he breathed a little easier with the gentle coaxing from those that could truly understand him, and the pain of a past he longed to forget. He was no longer that scared child, fending for itself. He was not alone anymore, a solitary sacrifice to science. He was part of something. Something with claws and razor sharp teeth that could seize back all that had been stolen from Jackson.

He only hopes he was not rescued from one monster, and fated to become another. At times, Jackson carries more humanity than those entirely so. Living with the burden of remaining soft in a world that so often yearned to splinter his edges into something deadly. But how can he shy away from its violence without hiding from those that plead for his help? How can he betray those that are what he, at his core, is himself? A mutant.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

LUCA MENDOZA: Many would never gravitate to Jackson without his illusions and honeyed words, yet when Luca caught him on a bad day they were all ears and, under their willful gaze, he found plenty to say. He knows he’s skirting sharpened edges with Luca, but when they look at Jackson they give him nothing; no hint to mold himself around. All that remains is himself, and the words that fall unbidden at Luca’s presence. Maybe he’s a fool to trust them as he does, baring his heart to someone that would just as surely carve him of it, yet he does in spite of the warnings. Perhaps because Luca’s strength, no matter how off-putting to some, ensnares him like an unsuspecting moth to a flame that fails to find its own. I would love to see as the two develop whether there will come a day where there’s something they can’t agree on or look past and it grows to cause fissures in the wall they’ve built around their relationship. Or if, oppositely, one is driven to do something out of character in order to protect/appease the other and it changes them as a person, and ultimately the dynamic the two share.

NEVE KAPLAN: The first person to ever truly know Jackson, and the first to love him in spite of it. Because it was, no matter how she shies from the emotion, love. How freeing it was to meet someone who could liberate them from their net of lies and niceties, and embrace the less glamorous parts of him. In Neve’s presence they never felt the urge to bite their tongue, or swallow thoughts for her to deem them worthy. During the course of their relationship, he’d tasted the normalcy he so craved as a teenager. The bliss of routine he never thought could belong to someone like himself. Slowly, his veil of shame lifted as Neve demanded to see the presence beyond. Who was he to deny her anything when she’d given him everything? A family, a love, a confidante. But while the girl had filled Jackson’s wanting hands, he had failed to return the favor. More than he, she yearned for retribution. The very desire he often wrestled and longed to suffocate bloomed within Neve effortlessly. As time wore on, it became clear which of the two she held dearer to her heart, despite Jackson’s efforts. She will always be the one that got away, though he fears she will become a stranger to even herself as obsession needles at the parts of her he most adored. Pain festering within her until the person he once loved becomes swallowed whole in its mutiny.

As a child, Jackson’s mind was plagued with selfless heroes and hedonistic adventures. In Neve he sees the bones of those imagined villains, and he fears she will meet the same fate should he not intervene. I can’t wait to see these two interact! Jackson will always carry this unique bond with her and I’d love to see what he’d do to protect it. How will her motivations intersect with his own and those of the Jem Family? Will it one day cause problems for the others he considers family, and will he be forced to decide between the two? Could Neve eventually cross a line even Jackson can’t defend, or will he submerge himself in the same depravity in hopes of pulling her free from it? I think he is hopelessly attached to Neve and I’d love to see the depths he’d go and the sacrifices he’d make to salvage what remains of her.

CAIN DOUGLAS: Jackson is someone who aches to be liked, and Cain seems to enjoy pressing their thumb against the wound. Sure, he may be far too careless or distracted at times but the doctor’s rage is unmatched. He’s not sure of the exact moment he fingered the wrong button on Douglas, but how he yearns to undo it. No matter how he tries to joke and soften their demeanor he’s met with unparalleled annoyance. Still, if Jackson is anything, it’s persistent, and in the wake of Cain’s rejection he finds himself searching for common ground. Usually, he finds more give in the walls he prods, but with the doctor they’ve found disappointingly little. In an attempt to ease their dislike and garner their help, Jackson’s even resorted to offering them bits of information. A secret here, a weighted question there, waiting eagerly for that flicker of interest in their glare. But should it not manifest, Jackson is relieved for the input, no matter how hostile or unhelpful. Though Cain might simmer at the sight of him, Jackson can’t deny the way he lingers on their words and reactions, in careful observation. There’s a lot to learn from someone so seemingly opposite to himself, and if the two are fated to spend so many hours together, he just might take advantage of it. I’m really interested to see how this could progress! Jackson garners respect for Cain despite their differences, and I’d like to see if eventually he could pique their interest, perhaps with something serious or dire that he meant to keep quiet from the others. Or if it’s as simple as Jackson finally proving himself with some unexpected act that meets Cain’s standards. Otherwise, I do love enemies and it’d, oppositely, be super fun to see how Cain’s annoyance could blossom and what it would create within Jackson to be met with such growing aggression when they ache for the opposite.

EXTRA: a pinterest board here (x)

HEADCANONS

Began to collect a lot of house plants aftering dating Neve but her green thumb never rubbed off. It took days of research just to learn how to keep a succulent alive for longer than a week at a time.

Really enjoys reading and, in particular, immersing themselves in stories/poems with heros and travel tales.

Outside of his mutant abilities, Jackson grew to be quite an actor due to his careful observation of those around him. It mainly stemmed from self defense reasons: foster care, and entrapment, but stuck over time. He has no desire to pursue it, but it’s a good party trick for telling stories (that are not always factual) and jokes at parties. It’s only when those pesky feelings interfere that their body betrays them, and their gift falls to the wayside.

Jackson is bisexual/biromantic and awful at dating.

A documentary junkie. Whether it’s something he’s interested in or not, Jackson breezed through the Netflix selections in a week, trying to expand their horizons. They would blame it on general research for facts and details that might be of use while masquerading as someone else, but he really just wants to collect hobbies and knowledge in search of fulfillment.

Very simplistic/minimal taste in both clothes and interior decorating (which means, in so many words, they’re too lazy to venture outside their comfort zone.)

A dog person with no dogs. 10/10 will pet your dog.

Likes being outdoors and feels like he’s suffocating if he doesn’t get out often enough. Outside of needing company and hating to be alone for extended periods, he starts to feel trapped if he doesn’t get fresh air and room to roam after long intervals stuck between four walls.

ANYTHING ELSE: If possible I might prefer an alt fc of Richard Madden but if you’re attached to Jack Lowden no worries!

#accepted #accepted: janus

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