#I posted this as private instead of public 😐

[venillopewrites]

E. Vale, the Hunter.

In the heart of a clandestine facility, a human existence is severed from its own past. Memories, like delicate wisps of smoke, are mercilessly snuffed out, leaving behind a barren landscape within the depths of their mind.

Once a person of warmth and dreams, their essence is crushed, shattered, and remade in a grotesque image of what was before. With surgical precision, extensive machinations rewire their neural pathways, erasing the tapestry of a life that once bloomed with color. Like an artist scraping a canvas clean, their identity is reduced to a blank slate, a vessel now primed solely for obedience to those behind the mirrored glass.

In the recesses of their hollowed mind, shards of echoes linger, flickering like forgotten embers. Fleeting sensations of love, joy, and sorrow try to claw their way back to the surface but are held captive, imprisoned by the chains of artificial oblivion. Their heart, once brimming with emotions, beats now to the mechanical rhythm of obedience, a cadence set by the unseen puppeteers.

Immersed in the darkest arts of manipulation, they are reborn as a lethal instrument of destruction. The corporation, hailed as heroes but hungry for power, molds them into a merciless predator, a creature of instinct and precision. They become the embodiment of a weapon, honed to exterminate without remorse or hesitation.

Adorned in obsidian armor, their eyes mirror the void that consumes their memories—a chilling reflection of a soul teetering on the precipice of forgotten humanity. Infiltrating the world under the guise of normalcy, they prowl like a phantom, hunting down targets assigned by the corporation's merciless hand.

Yet, amid the bloodstained tapestry woven by their actions, fragments of their lost self whisper to them in moments of solitude. A flicker of doubt, an ember of longing, entwined with the shadows of their tormented soul. Buried beneath layers of manipulation, a dormant soul yearns to ignite, a beacon of hope awaiting its resurgence.

GENERAL:

Vale is, for the lack of a better term, a corpse, a machine, and a ghost. The first and only successful venture towards mind control, a corrupted science veiled as a cure for disease, a promised respite from a painful decay of the brain.

Before they were the phantom they are today, Vale was but another poor soul born into a life of misery and pain. However, with a family to love and adore, Vale never complained, never strayed from their side, and in the end, gave up their life for them.

Anyone in the Pens could tell about the horrors they face; Polluted, deadly air, poverty, starvation, addictions borne from desperation; There are few stories that end happily in the endless mazes of the forgotten city. Forced to survive in an environment not suitable for human life, Vale learned to fight before they learned to walk. Gifted as a child, their name still lingers within the walls of the legal fight clubs dominating the unstable economy within the Pens. Relentless, fearsome, unstoppable; They were all that and more. 

One poor decision, a brash swing of a blade, was all it took to change the course of one life. With threats and repercussions looming, Vale had no choice but to yield and sign themselves into servitude until the debt was paid. But deception runs deep in the minds of madmen, and a believable lie would result in the loss of whoever Vale was before the merciless conditioning they were subjected to within those remote laboratories. Through unimaginable brutality, whatever made Vale an individual was chipped away until the primal instinct to survive was the only thing lingering. Reluctant acceptance was how it began, but through the years even that small shred of defiance was snuffed out, forgotten.

With a safeguard surgically implanted deep within their brain, Vale became nothing but a machine. A miracle, the sole survivor left from a group of ten, the only remainder of a study deemed too time-consuming after the failed specimen were hauled away and set ablaze within a mass grave. The rancid smell of those carcasses still linger in Vale’s mind, infiltrating their dreams as a strange, forgotten memory.

APPEARANCE:

Standing at an impressive 6'3" in height, Vale exudes a commanding presence that demands attention, whether they want it or not. Their light blonde hair is fashioned in a stylish undercut, with the longest tips falling just past their ears if left unstyled. On the job, they keep it meticulously slicked back or woven into a practical French braid, ensuring their hair stays out of the way during the tasks.

Piercing gray eyes, enhanced with implanted technology, shine with a white or pale blue luminescence, especially in the dark corners of the Pens where they patrol for the Host. If one manages to push past the fear of those cold, calculating eyes on oneself and dare take a closer look, it's apparent that their eyes are slightly down turned and framed by long, dark lashes that don't match the color of their hair. Nearly inconceivable freckles run over the expanse of their sharp cheekbones and pointed nose, but to witness such a detail would be impossible without greeting Death within the same moment.

Their skin, a weathered and bronze brown, tells tales of countless battles. This complexion, while marked by years of harsh conditions and tools of torture, softens under a soft light that reveals constellations of freckles still serving as a reminder that the body was once pure and untouched by violence.

An athletic physique, sculpted through physical prowess and a life of constant movement complements their formidable presence. Scars adorn their body haphazardly, but with uncanny similarity to one another. Among these marks, a jagged and pronounced scar stretches across their face, traversing from the bridge of their nose to just under the right ear. A similar scar, uneven and untreated in its severity, runs up from their left elbow and snakes towards their shoulder where it tapers off into smaller scars.

Their left forearm and hand, replaced entirely by prosthetics, work as a tool as much as an appendage. Crafted with precision and incorporating advanced technology, these cybernetic enhancements seamlessly integrate into their physique, functioning as an extension of their being. 

Whether on the job or in their downtime, Vale prefers tactical gear, and will never be caught wearing anything impractical. Even in civilian attire they favor muted colors that blend into the surroundings, opting for dark t-shirts and cargo pants, occasionally complemented by a leather or bomber jacket for a touch of rugged style.

PERSONALITY:

Clad in a cold, emotionless mask, Vale exudes an air of hostility towards everyone, but especially the Host, as they’re driven by a singular purpose — to eliminate them. All their interactions are laced with a venomous yet detached disdain, words growled with robotic apathy. Their demeanor is unyielding, eyes devoid of warmth or compassion towards those daring to stand in their way, be they human or something else entirely.

However, beneath the armor of their erased emotional responses, cracks begin to form. Old memories, whispers from a forgotten past, they creep into the recesses of their mind, creating hairline fractures in their seemingly impenetrable mask. Fragments of their former self resurface, casting doubt upon the righteousness of their mission.

With each flicker of remembrance, their thoughts find momentary clarity. The weight of familiarity tugs at their heart, nudging Vale towards a gnawing realization that something isn't right. The carefully crafted shell of emotionlessness begins to crack, revealing glimpses of confusion before a switch is flicked and the anomalous thoughts are replaced by scorching pain, a flame to incinerate any seeds of disobedience.

FUN STUFF:

MBTI: ISTJ

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil / Chaotic Good (Conditional)

HOROSCOPE: Scorpio

LIKES: The moment before sunset, plain crackers, sitting on rooftops of skyscrapers

DISLIKES: Silk sheets, the texture of melted chocolate on their hands, visiting the Pens

COMFORT FOOD: Spanakopita

HOBBY: Forgotten [Was parkour]

PETS: A random house spider called Titan. Not a pet, just a creature sharing space.

MOODBOARD:

[burntb4bydoll]

WOAHH NO WAY IM ACTUALLY WRITING FOR ONCE?!?!?? CRAZYYYYY!!!! This is my first time writing for Ville so im sorry if it feels super inaccurate!!😭

Ville Valo general dating headcannons

•ok so hes a bit of a grump…

•hes just got a lot of attitude so it seems like hes pissed off a lot of the time but hes actually a big softie🤭

•LOVES to keep his arm around you when you go out in public (hes also subtly squeezing your ass and boobs the whole time but he likes to act all innocent afterwards🙄)

•lots of interviewers like to bring up your relationship and sometimes they talk about you very passive aggressively, and he absolutely despises it. He quickly shuts them down by interrupting them , making very rude and stand-offish comments towards them until they change the subject

•and yk his petty ass wont let it go so the rest of the interview is so awkward

•he also laughs every time some female interviewer flirts with him. HE CANT HELP IT ITS JUST SO AWKWARD AND FUNNY TO HIM (hes trying his best to be respectful he just cant hold it in for long😭)

•you probably have to clean his house a lot cuz he doesn’t do it and like HAVE YOU SEEN THAT SHIT… ITS A WRECK.

•Ville is often found on the couch writing new songs, and he loves when you come and sit next to him while he does it. Hes a busy man so its one a the few times you get to have a moment of silence with him

•lorddd ik that man REAKS of cigarettes, alcohol and probably a bit of sweat😭 you gotta make him shower with you most times cuz he hates it and wont do it on his own🙄

•yall seen that beanie he wore over that greasy ass hair? Yeah, he likes to sneak up behind you and pull it over your head so that it completely covers your face. He thinks hes absolutely hilarious😐 that shit smells so bad like sweat and dirty hair pls wash it for your own sake.

•honestly i cant see him being huge on fancy dates. I feel like he would prefer to just go on a walk at nighttime or go to some random bar instead

•that doesn’t mean hes not romantic tho. Everyone knows just how romantic he can be

•he’ll draw/paint you little pictures and write a short little poem for you alongside it. Hes very thoughtful and romantic about it

•gives very specific compliments. Its never just “you look pretty” it’s always something very thought out and sweet.

•he doesn’t realize it, but his voice always gets so much softer and sweeter when he talks to you. One second he’ll be arguing with someone and cussing them out but the second he sees you hes all like “oh hi my love, I’ve been wondering where you were” in the most gentle tone ever

•can and will write you songs that only you’re allowed to hear. He wants you to feel special so he keeps his super meaningful songs about you private.

•although he will write songs about you and actually release them ofc

•would totally get a tattoo dedicated to you

(AHHH IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS IM SCARED ITS GONNA BE SO INACCURATE AND CRINGY.)

[mafaldaknows]

Funny how calling timothee a fuckboy is so wrong, but writing how timothee is a sub and fucking a married man is totally fine... you really just seem to be upset with the insinuation that timothee sleeps with women

Hello, Anon:

It’s been an entertaining morning watching you and your cohorts twist yourselves into pretzels trying to convince me that I’m wrong.

Kindly please direct me to the posts in my blog where I say any of those things.

I choose not to place any specific labels on Timmy because I don’t know him and know nothing about his private life, and who he chooses to his sleep with is immaterial to me.

I know that many of my mutuals disagree with my viewpoint, and yet they are gracious and generous enough to allow me to hold my own opinions. We can peacefully co-exist on the same ship, even if we come from different ports of call.

But I can only ever speak for myself. I don’t represent anyone’s viewpoint but my own.

And I’m not upset by that insinuation at all, Anon. If that’s his truth, then so be it.

But I am flabbergasted that any grown adult would have the audacity to call someone, anyone, a fuckboy in public, without the expectation of backlash, because it’s rude, disrespectful, and potentially harmful to the image Timothée Chalamet has worked so hard to build. It insults his artistry and dedication to his craft to objectify him in this way, imho, and can only ever present him in a negative light, despite your insistence that it’s not a slur.

His teen fans on Instagram and Twitter might love it, but grown adult investors with deep pockets funding his future projects — you know, his employers — might not see it that way. And as we know all too well, all it takes is one whiff of scandal to destroy a blossoming career.

This is why this conversation is important, and why we must be mindful of the language that we use about each other, even celebrities, on social media. They have rights too. If we’ve learned nothing else in the last nine months, it’s that words have the power to influence people’s perceptions, for better or worse. The wrong words can literally destroy someone’s life.

But many of you are missing my point entirely, choosing instead to attack me from some misplaced moral high ground, because it’s easier than addressing the real issue, which is that you can’t get any straighter than a fuckboy, am I right?

Thanks for your comment. 😐