#and also finally get a fc after being without one for so long

[thisisbecausepolyvoreclosed]

Main look for Eluf Asmundson in Julie And The Phantoms AU episode 1, Wake Up.

[talkdutchtome]

You Should Have Said No Chapter Six- Mean

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . mean - taylor swift)

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

a/n . . . i'm so sorry that it's been so long but here is chapter six. it is unfortuatly a lot of filler which i hate to do but i sat for ages trying to figure it out and i just couldn't move the story on without it. also i'm thinking on doing a mini .5 chapter with pierre's pov so let me know if this is something you'd want )

The first thing you noticed when you woke up on your hotel bed, still in the clothes and make up from last night, was the pounding headache that made you feel like room was spinning; the second thing you noticed was the overwhelming feeling of dread at the very pit of your stomach. Despite this, for a few blissful seconds you didn’t remember what it was you did that made you feel such a way. But when the realization hit you, the feeling of dread in your stomach started to rise to the back of your throat until you had to clamper off your bed and to the toilet to bring up the many, many tequila shots that you had taken last night. After getting everything up and feeling marginally better you sat on the hotel bathroom floor with your head between your knees and began processing what had happened last night. Max said you looked beautiful. You kissed Max. You kissed Max and then slammed the door in his face. Why would you do that? Do you like Max as more than a friend? What about Pierre? Questions ran through your head rapidly making the room spin even more than before. “I need to talk to Lila” you spoke aloud to yourself before finally getting the balance to stand up and walk towards the bedside table where your phone sat, although the messages waiting for you on the screen threatened to bring up the remaining food and drink in your stomach.  

Max Verstappen 

Hey Y/N, thanks for a good night last night. Let me know if you need a ride back to Monaco; Lando and Danny have already gone so it would just be us.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell were you supposed to do? It’s not like you can sit on a private plane for hours with Max after kissing him and then slamming the door in his face. He will inevitably have questions and considering you can’t even answer your own questions about your actions, you’d be willing to bet your life on the fact that you wouldn’t be able to answer his. After staring at his text for what felt like forever, you eventually decided that it would be best to just not reply right now and make your own way home. Space between yourself and the Dutchman was probably for the best, at least until you can figure out what the hell was going on.  

“Jesus Y/N I’ve been gone less than 24 hours, you can’t miss me that much already” you heard your best friend’s voice come through the speaker, she picked up on the first ring, of course she did; she always was able to tell when something was wrong. However, hearing her voice; rather than comforting you made you fall apart sobbing.  

“Y/N?? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Lila’s voice became concerned, she more than anyone knew that you didn’t like to cry and that you very rarely did.  

“I fucked up Lils. I really fucked up.” you told her through gasped breaths earning yourself a worried sigh from your best friend.  

“Okay what did-” she asked but you cut her off, unable to contain it any further. “I kissed Max” You braced yourself for Lila to scold you for being so stupid and careless, instead her amused laugh came pouring out of the speaker; only confusing you further.  

“Why is this a bad thing Y/N, he’s hot, you’re single. I don’t see the problem” she spoke after catching her breath from laughing. “Lila come on there’s about a hundred reasons why it’s a problem; I’m only just out of a long-term relationship, a relationship where I was engaged to be married. Max is Pierre’s friend, and this could ruin their relationship. Max is my friend, and this could defiantly ruin our relationship. Pierre is-” you rambled and when Lila saw that there was clearly no stopping point for your list, she interrupted you. “Babe, forget about Pierre for a second. Do you like Max?” Her question, though not entirely unexpected, made your head spin; did you like Max? He was attractive, there was no denying that, he was smart and funny and kind. Maybe you did like him. Maybe. Was it even possible to like someone so soon after such an intense break up. If you did like him what would that even mean? It’s not like you could be in a relationship with him, not after Pierre.  

“Helllo Y/N you still there?” Lila’s voice awoke you from your spiraling thoughts “ I’m going to assume that that long drawn-out silence means maybe. You know this doesn’t have to be a bad thing; he clearly likes you too. Nobody is saying you need to jump into a committed relationship with him straight away but what’s wrong with a bit of fun?”  

“No what about Pierre, that would kill him”  

“Kill him like he killed you?” her words cut deep. There was truth to them of course there was, after what Pierre did to you, you owe him nothing at all. But when you loved someone for 14 years how can you do something you know would crush them, even if they have hurt you. The ugly truth that you didn’t want to admit even to yourself, was that you weren’t even sure if your story with Pierre was over. The love you shared with Pierre was the strongest and most unwavering thing you had ever known until that night in Monaco. Pierre wasn’t just your boyfriend or your fiancé, he was your person. The dreams of having a family and growing old with him hadn’t just disappeared because of what he did.  

“I need to go Lila, I need to find a way back to Monaco” 

Arriving back to your flat in Monaco after a very long very hot commercial flight only further deepened your confusion. Here you were in the place that you and Pierre had made your own, the place that you had spent a large portion of your adult life living; but Pierre wasn’t here. Come to think of it you actually had no idea where he was or where he was living at the moment. As if on cue, at that moment your phone began to ring with Pierre’s name lighting up the screen; you thought about not answering- realistically nothing good could come from the conversation, but truth be told you missed him, you missed his presence and the way he made you feel.  

“Oh, hey Y/N. Sorry I didn’t think you were going to pick up. Are you back in Monaco?” he asked and his voice made your stomach flutter, you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself relax hearing that oh-so familiar voice.  

“Yeah, I just got back” 

“Okay can I come round?” he asked, and your heart dropped. As much as you did miss him and in theory wanted to be around him again, in practice it wasn’t something you thought should happen. In your heart you might still be holding out hope that there was a way to fix things but, in your head, you know there isn’t. But despite you’re not being sure that if, being around him in the place you built your lives together, your head would win over your heart. Could you be rational when the love of your life is standing in front of you? 

“It’s just I need to get some stuff and I wanted to talk. I need to know whether or not I need to look for somewhere to live.” He clarified and despite your better judgement you agreed. 

Once your phone call with Pierre had finished you caught sight of a notification on your phone that made your earth shake. Your dad had texted you. After your mum died, your dad began to spiral. He would get black out drunk every night just to numb the pain. He completely blanked you, citing that you just looked too much like your mother. Eventually the alcohol led to drugs and the drugs led to the loving, caring man you knew be replaced by somebody cold and heartless. Growing up in that environment was one of the worst, darkest periods of your life so when you grew older you got out of there. Since you had moved away from the small little town, haunted by the memories of what your life could have been if you mum didn’t die; contact between you and your dad had been extremely limited- only speaking once every few years. He knew that you were living with Pierre and working alongside him in Formula One but that was mostly it. Despite the fact that he could never find a nice word to say about you, he liked Pierre. He had told you on a number of occasions that Pierre was a good man and that you were extremely lucky to have him.  

The phone rang. He was calling you. Your heart rate increased, and you could feel the palms of your hands become clammy. In spite of all the horrible things he did and said to you over the years, he was still your dad; so, you answered.  

“Y/N. I need money.” his voice came through slurred. He was intoxicated, best case drunk worst case high. You had given money to him a handful of times but with your relationship with Pierre being up in the air and therefore potentially your job too, you just didn’t have the money to spare. 

“I’m sorry dad I can’t. I think I need to move soon so I can’t afford it” you spoke your voice no more than a whisper.  

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not loaded. I know how much Pierre makes” your breath hitched; you were going to need to tell him.  

“We are- Dad, Pierre and I aren’t together anymore. He ch-” he interrupted you before you could finish the sentence. 

“Oh, you stupid little bitch how did you let that happen. Pierre was the best thing that ever happened to you.” your eyes started to water, you opened your mouth to say something, but he continued. 

“Although it’s no surprise, he was always too good for you. I’m just shocked it took him this long to realize.” The tears were streaming down your face now, you wanted to argue, to put him in his place; but you couldn’t. 

“I know.” Your voice was weak, the words were met with a scoff from your father before he hung up, clearly done with the disappointment that was his only daughter. Loud sobs escaped your lips. He was right after all. Pierre had always been too good for you and it’s no surprise that he eventually found someone who was better. Your dad’s words were knives that he had used against me for years now, he would take pleasure in knocking me off my feet, take pleasure in making me feel like I’m nothing. This was nothing new, but the cuts stung so much deeper now, because you didn’t have the love of your life beside you, assuring that you dad is nothing but a mean man who would say whatever he could to hurt you.  

A knocking at the door pulled you from your thoughts but the tears wouldn’t stop falling, the sobs wouldn’t stop escaping. Trying to breathe whilst sitting still was almost impossible, there was no way you could get up to get to the door. So, you ignored it, willing whoever it was to go away. However instead of going away, the person behind the door simply put a key in the door and let himself in. It was Pierre. He ran towards you, clearly not expecting to see you in such a state.  

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What’s happened come on baby tell me” His soft voice spoke, he knelt to the ground Infront of the seat you were sat on, so your faces were level. His hands found your hair, brushing softly in an attempt to calm you down. You tried to explain, tried to tell him about your dad but between the sobs that broke up your words and the shortness of breath you had, Pierre couldn’t understand anything you were saying. Instead of pressuring you to explain, Pierre simply stood up, scooped you up in his arms and walked with you into the bedroom. Placing you gently onto the bed, he then got on too and held you tight. Whilst he was aware that he really had no right to do this anymore, you needed help right now and this is the way he had helped you a million times before with anxiety attacks. He sat with you in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering in your ear until you began to calm down and relax a bit. And when you were able to, you told him about your dad, and once you had started telling you just couldn’t seem to stop, so you told him about everything you were worried about this morning, including the feelings you had been having surrounding your relationship with Pierre as well as the kiss between you and Max. That last piece of information made his heart sink, he wanted to talk more about it, to find out everything that happened, was it Max that initiated it? Was it you? Despite that, however he knew that what you needed to talk about was your dad, so he put his feelings to one side and talked to you about your call with your dad.  

“You know that what he said isn’t true don’t you ma belle. In fact, it’s the opposite. You were always too good for me”. He whispered in your ear, still holding you tight. Eventually, sleep came, and in the arms of the person you have loved for 14 years, you had the best sleep you had had in a week.  

Waking up alone after falling asleep with someone was an extremely empty feeling, so when you woke up in bed by yourself a few hours later, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Your eyes fell to a note on the bedside table.  

I’m sorry I had to leave, but I didn’t think us sleeping in the bed right now was appropriate. I know how frazzled your brain can get after an anxiety attack and I didn’t want you to wake up with any regret. You know where I am if you need me.  

P. 

His reasoning made sense; with how confused you are right now, waking up to him next to you again would only make matters worse. It was late now, almost 11pm but as you had slept all day, there was no chance you were going to be able to go back to bed now, so instead you went to the living room and put on your favorite movie. You were so lost, so confused; but you couldn’t think about that right now. You needed to chill, to take a bit of time for yourself and forget about Max, forget about Pierre, forget about everything. About 20 minutes into your movie, however, there was a knock at the door once again. Even though you knew that there was going to be nobody standing there that you wanted to speak to right now, you went and answered it anyway. Stood in the darkness was Max Verstappen. His eyes poured directly into yours, his hands ran through his hair in the form of a nervous twitch.  

“Can we talk?” 

Taglist - @lordperceval-16 @omarsiglia @tom-rec @hiraethrhapsody @barnestatic @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @amalialeclerc @icarus-nex @reidsworld @simxican @idkiwantchocolatee @ruleroftheuniverse @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @bicchaan @leclercdream @be-your-coffee-pot @pjofics @yunnie-f1 @girlintheredscarf @larastark3107 @rosalysaoirse @mycenterfold @janeholt3 @daddyslittlevillain @gaslysainz @princessria127 @laneyspaulding19 @fangirl125reader

[saturnsmocha]

READ MY RULES BEFORE LIKING, COMMENTING, AND REBLOGGING!!!

Hey y'all! Remember when I said I had a Lucky Contestant FC of my very own? Well, here they are! They mainly appear wearing the mask, but I wanted to show off their face for this bio so y'all can get a taste of what they look like.

Onto my Contestant...

Leni Sorensen had it all. They were the star athlete/gymnast at their high school, found the perfect man and moved in with him in a nice house after graduating. But then, something crashed and burned in their mental state and now they've turned into a bitter adult who lives in a crappy rundown apartment, has gone through a breakup, dealing with a smoking addiction, and is struggling to find a job. Desperate to get their life back together, upon hearing that if you managed to find a VHS tape in one of the Frankie's Fruit Flake boxes, you'll be granted to participate in a private indoor gameshow with the promise of 5 million dollars, they obsessively remuage through every box for the to be signed up and luckily for them, they finally found it after 769 boxes. They even toke rehab to get rid of their addiction and train really hard so that they can regain their parkour skills in time for the game. Under the impression that it was a simple and harmless yet goofy gameshow like Wipeout, they quickly realize upon being accepted that this "gameshow" is actually a streaming podcast located in the dark web AKA a "red room", where sick fucks pay money to watch people get sliced up by saws, have their skins melted by toxic slime, and be hunted down and killed by monstrous versions of the mascots. With Leni being the only surviving "contestant" able to outwit the monsters with her athletic gift and win the prize, they ended up making the red room more money and is now forced to remain imprisoned at the Parkour Palace until the next season arrives, rather they accept the offer or not.

Extended Bio:

Full name: Magdalena Sorensen Nickname: Leni and Maggie (but if you value your life, don't call them that. Just don't) Age: 24 Gender: Nonbinary (goes by any pronouns) AFAB Nationality: Dutch-American Orientation: Bisexual Family: Mother and father, older sister named Amelia (26) and younger brother James (20) Personality: Leni is as confident and boisterous as they are arrogant. They often act rude, dismissive, and sarcastic. They have an ego the size of Jupiter, they know that they are a gifted athlete and won't let others forget. They believe in "survival of the fittest" and looks down at the more weaker ones, blaming them for their shortcomings and willing to leave them behind if they were in a survival setting.

Leni in general isn't the most pleasant person to be around, which was why they don't really have friends, not that they wanted any to begin with (or do they?). But… They are not without a few redeeming qualities… Right? Yes, their negatives do outway their positives, but Leni's not evil. The whole reason they wanted to enter the gameshow was not just because they want a better living space, but to also have a better living space and makes things right with their ex Brett, so they are capable of feeling remorse. Deep down, Leni does long for companionship, but they don't know how, and because of their crass attitude, no one's willing to tolerate them. Needless to say, they are one tough nut to crack.

Fun facts:

🐇Leni has near vision so she wears glasses, but she does sometimes wears contacts. They wore contacts during the gameshow. They hated wearing the mask and if they have an opportunity to take it off they will. 🐇Leni didn't have the best homelife. Their parents (although they love all three of their kids squally) have jobs that require them to work for long hours, so they're rarely at home and when they are, they are exhausted. But that is not the worst part, they often leave her at home with her older sister who makes it her goal to make Leni's life a living nightmare. James however, is the only one who sees the good in them (and still does) and has looked to them his life, but has unfortunately inherit some their boasting which they nowadays try to discourage. 🐇Before moving out, Leni was the one who does all the chores around the house and prepare food. Amelia is more concerned with being on the phone and James was little at the time, but as he grew up he tried to help their older sibling out. 🐇Outside of a boyfriend, Leni did have a small group of friends at one point, although they all got fed up with their prideful nature. 🐇When they're not training for season 58, Leni would try to come up with plans to escape, lay in bed all day, thinking back on their time with Brett and their friends in guilt or trying (and failing) to avoid conversing with Frankie. 🐇James refers to Leni as his "brother". Amelia and their parents refer to Leni as their "sister" and daughter. Brett referred to them by they/them pronouns. Frankie and Henry also refers to them by they/them pronouns. That was when they came out as nonbinary and say they don't mind being referred to as a "he", "she", or a "they". 🐇Leni sleeps in a fetal position and always hugs onto their pillow or blanket. 🐇Leni has a soft spot for animals, although she has a fear of rats, or atleast used to. It helps that every animal she comes across like her, or atleast don't mind her presence. 🐇During their imprisonment, they noticed an injured rat. Despite their phobia of rats, pity overcomes fear within them (and because they were desperate for a companion to stay sane) and they toke it upon themselves to try and nurse it to health. The rat started to imprint on them and they ended basically adopting it. They haven't thought up a name for it. 🐇Leni does become a amicable person in the future. The gameshow shattered their pride and made them question their motto especially regarding the Noob Noobs and eventually Henry. There are still a few bumps in the road, but they are trying their best to be nicer. Leni isn't fond of children. 🐇They hates anime and sees them as overrated and stupid. 🐇Leni thinks that vegans are pathetic. Leni is a big eater. 🐇Their favorite food are ramen noodles and their favorite drink is strawberry and cream soda. 🐇It's possible that her rudeness and sarcasm is also a defensive mechanism. 🐇They haven't been to college. 🐇They are suffering from nicotine withdrawals.

[strawbrygashez]

I read a bunch of soapshipping fanfics today and I love how so many of them give Tyler actual flaws and treat him more human than he ‘actually is’ in the movie and…I wanna share some hcs i have that make Tyler ‘not perfect’ as well. I get the point that in the movie Tyler was supposed to have none bc the narrator needs to drool over him & see him as godlike but whatever. That man has issues. You can especially see this during when he was going Joker mode when he was getting beat up by Lou. Anyways this is going under a cut bc it’s long

————————————————————————

• I’ll start with the out with one that’s most common which is that Tyler is soooo bad at sharing how he’s feeling or being super heartfelt. The only person he even tells his true deep emotions to is the narrator after they’ve been together for a while. I feel like he would be that way due to how he was raised and or trauma. Getting him to admit to feeling uncomfortable is hard too. He wants to come off confident all the time so he will just smile at whatever is thrown at him even if it’s making him upset or anything like that. Also of course he has a hard time expressing how just deeply in love he is with the narrator and how much he cares about him. (Which causes problems for them both but they work thru it. Nothing could keep the narrator away from Tyler at the end of the day.)

He wouldn’t admit it but I think maybe he also resents himself for not being able to say certain things easier. He knows he hurts the narrator sometimes when he’s not saying ‘the right things’ and he genuinely doesn’t mean to hurt him in that way.

•He can get pretty jealous. Not like how the narrator feels like he’s about to kill himself bc someone even glanced at Tyler but like, if Tyler thinks someone is being a little too friendly to narrator or if he thinks the narrator might enjoy being around someone else ‘too much’ he gets all huffy, smiles threateningly, and either interrogates the narrator over ‘what that was’ later or just roughs him up some when they are in private again. He hates the idea so much that the narrator could look up to someone the same way he does Tyler. He has questions going through his mind along the lines of how are they better than him? What does he see in them? Do they make him feel more loved? And etc.

Hypothetically he should know that the narrator would rather die than touch anyone else & that the narrator sees him as a God but,, Tyler is just like that :/

•Ok now for a not widely accepted hc about Tyler. I don’t think he’s that good at writing or reading. He’s not terrible at it but I think he really didn’t give a shit about most things in school besides history. (He could probably give a big whole speech about how bad school systems are)

He doesn’t really care that he’s not that good at either of those things but does get a little embarrassed about it when the narrator points out he spelled something wrong. He will just grumble about “who cares?” or “whatever dipshit.” The narrator doesn’t mind that Tyler’s not the best at it and helps him out when he needs to without picking on him.

•Kinda canon but he’s a act before thinking type of guy in most situations. He prides himself on it for the most part but also there is times where it doesn’t end well for him. He will defend himself about whatever he did ‘wrong’ for a while until he finally is some how able to admit he’s sorry and shouldn’t have done something (only to the narrator. He doesn’t care that much if it’s anyone else that isn’t especially close to him)

•I think he had a self h*rm problem growing up. He doesn’t do it anymore now that he’s older bc he has fight club and whatnot. I think SH helped him come up with FC since he thought physical pain always helps solve mental pain.

He doesn’t hide the old scars since he can blame it on like a ton of different things and people don’t have a reason to doubt him. Like he can say he got them from years of fighting, while running away after getting caught doing stuff he shouldn’t, stuff like that. Sometimes he also just doesn’t lie about it and just says straight up what they are from. It just depends on who and how he feels that day. Like mostly the only ppl who know what they are really from are the narrator & tylers close family and maybe Marla.

Not to be cringe…I know the “he kissed my scars 😢😢” things can be cringe (believe me I would know) but I think Tyler thinks it’s sweet when the narrator does kiss his. The narrator hates that Tyler ever felt like he had to do that (but at the same time is okay with fight club??? Lol) The narrator has stayed up in bed while Tyler is sleeping and just looked at all of them and thought to himself about how Tyler must of felt, why he felt like he had to, and all that.

•My man has some kinda mental illnesses. I couldn’t say what but he just does. He’s a very impulsive man and can become very manic is all I can really say.

•He will get ideas and plans in his head and focus on them a little too hard and it’s hard to pull him out of it. The narrator is really not someone who should be fussing at people for not sleeping but he does anyways. He offers to work out whatever plans or ideas Tyler has while Tyler rests. Sometimes Tyler will let him & sometimes not. If not, the narrator will at least stay close to him so they can talk about whatever is on Tylers mind.

•He actually used to hate his laugh a little when he was a young teen. He got over it after a couple years and now doesn’t give a fuck what others think. He will laugh as loud as he wants in a quiet room if he wants to.

•Going back to that manic thing, I think the narrator can usually calm him down. It especially helps if he’s holding Tyler and pulls him away from whatever has him worked up. Narrator will run his hand up and down Tylers back or just talk to him soothingly. Tyler is usually thankful for it once he’s calmed down.

•Canon-ish again but Tyler can get a bit in over his head with some stuff. He believes he can do just about anything which leads him to getting into situations where he finds out he actually has little to no idea what he’s doing. He had this problem as a teen too like he’d say stuff like “Sure I could fix your fence!!” or just like little odd jobs around the neighborhood and he actually doesn’t have much of a idea what’s going on but It helped him learn how to do all kinds of different things in the long run. He just always finds a way to make things work more often than not in his own ‘Tyler’ way.

•Okay often he really doesn’t genuinely care if someone wants to listen to his speeches/knowledge or not. He likes sharing them since he knows they’ve helped others but he’s been doing that for as long as he can remember even at inappropriate times. Like I dunno, as a kid at a funeral I could see him just telling some random person there about how he knows how bodies decompose, how bodies slowly rot and what each stage looks like. (I think that’s why he loves the narrator. He loves how randomly weird he is as well.)

•He needs attention all on him. He loves it so much and feeds off of it. His favorite kind of attention is from the narrator and he will get snarky and whatever when he feels like he isn’t getting enough from him but also he just thrives off attention from anyone in general. It’s what makes him carry himself so confidently. He knows people are dying for a minute of his time and to be the idealized version of himself he puts off.

•He doesn’t allow himself to cry in front of others. More than likely it’s because of his father saying boys shouldn’t cry or be weak. He knows it’s bullshit deep down but he still holds that mindset for himself. (If another dude is crying like the narrator, he won’t give them much shit for it.)

•My final idea for right now….he hates the doctors and all things like that. He can say a ton of reasons why but the main ones are he just feels super uncomfortable at places like that because either 1. He doesn’t want them going on about how bad his or the narrators health is & being really worried for them and questioning them.. or 2. He just finds it hard to be as snarky or smart to ‘em. They all don’t usually fall for his bs unless they are a part of fight club or project mayhem.

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT.1 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 806

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I throw my blanket off of me for what feels like the millionth time these past two hours. Shifting on my new bed. These covers were expensive, though it seems like I won't be fully enjoying them tonight.

My head is full of thoughts, making up certain scenario's over and over again. I turn my phone on again it unlocks immediately, the Face ID somehow recognizing my horribly tired state. "Oh thanks I guess", I mumble, a little offended.

My fingers instinctively tap onto my e-mail, opening that one message again. 'We welcome you for your first day at Liverpool FC next Monday'. The words read, it still felt weird. It wasn't like I had no experience at new clubs, no I had quite a bit of that, despite my age.

I never specifically dreamt of becoming a physiotherapist growing up. I had fantasies about literally every profession. I had my vast collection of career Barbies to thank for that. Although, I did have a preference of studying medicine, accompanied with the delight of my parents, though our relationship had never been the best. That's just what I did. I had met a lot of people during that time of my life, including my best girlfriends. Couldn't have gone through all those sleepless study sessions without them.

I did some research before graduating high school. Looking at all the bachelor studies universities close to me had to offer. Then I realized physiotherapy was my calling. My last year internship was then, by the fate of the universe at AFC Ajax. Thankfully, it wasn't far from home at all. The connections, knowledge and memories I had built there still manages put a smile on my face when I think of them. I was so lucky to be able to experience that. When they offered me a three year contract after graduating I didn't hesitate to sign. Those three years had me build up so much knowledge and the mentors were amazing people to look up to.

That's unfortunately also how I met my ex Theodore (Yes, he was as snobby as his name), he was a supporter, sitting in the VIP chairs. I can't lie and say it wasn't love at first sight, our relationship progressed from there.

Years later an insane offer was presented to me when I was nearing the end of my contract at Ajax. FC Barcelona's head physio wanted me on his team! He had heard about my skills from people in the industry. After much consideration and discussions with my loved ones I decided to accept my new job at FC Barcelona.

To my surprise my ex had also decided to move with me. After all he was practically filthy rich, living off ofhis mommy's money. So, he wasn't bound to be somewhere for work or anything. I can't help but roll my eyes when I think of what that man-child put me through. The only positive thing about him was the connections I built at parties and gatherings he made me go to as his little picture perfect girlfriend. Ladies, only date a rich man once for the connections and money. Don't let it drag on for to long though, know when to get out before it gets too toxic.

My time at FC Barcelona was amazing, though I didn't feel that free with my boyfriend breathing down my neck at anything I did. I worked hard, the players and staff were amazing. I still talk to some of them today, a message here and there to check in on each other. When me and Theo finally broke up I decided to move away and quit working at Barcelona, it was a difficult decision with many players and staff trying to convince me to stay, but I had to. Just to feel fully separated from him.

That puts me here in Liverpool, laying restlessly in my bed at almost two in the morning. I glance outside my apartment, my curtains half drawn. Some of the city lights reflecting back onto the window glass. A smile replaces my previously anxious expression. Working hard and spending hard had its perks.

I turn my phone off, placing my head on my new not-yet-comfortable pillow, grabbing another one for comfort. My racing thoughts tire me out, my eyes fluttering shut, curious for what will happen tomorrow...

[roxannepolice]

This could be a seperate one shot to dismiss for being too long? But I really, really wanted the Master to do something... well, beneficial to others, not exactly selfless... so I ended up throwing in Cthulhu on Premiere League finals (bless John Simm and his love for Manchester United)

London's streets were oddly empty, even for the standards of Premier League's finals (Manchester United vs. Liverpool FC). The Tesco cashier hardly looking up from their phone while checking him out was a bit odd, but well. Maybe the match was really good, the Doctor thought, walking happily towards Temple-Nobles' house. It was good for humans to transfer their needs of competition and presitge on something as fundamentally harmless as sport, he supposed. Watching people turning everything into art was always a pleasure. Maybe the Doctor would even sit down in front of the telly for the last few minutes. He didn't really care much for football, but quality game was quality game. He wondered if Donna, Rose and Sylvia were watching, too, if it was that good. Shaun and the Master were watching anyway, that was sure.

Things between the Doctor and the Master were... good, these past few months since Donna's birthday. Him developing an interest for something as non-hostile as football was just the tip of the iceberg. The not talking treatment the Doctor was getting at first was definitely gone, the two of them became Rose's sculptures primary reviewers, and maybe they weren't holding hands while out shopping, but shopping together they did. And neither of them ever acknowledged it, but each time they needed to sleep, the other would surreptitiously crawl into the other's bed, only to continue not ackowledging it in the morning. On one memorable occasion, which involved Shaun heading out for a "boys and boys-presenting only" weekend trip, Donna crawled in between them, too, and woke up very much not eaten or otherwise injured.

So yes, things were good.

- So, what's the result? - the Doctor asked cheerfully no one in particular as he entered the house. No one, in particular or general, answered.

- That intense? - he spoke again, this time to Shaun, expected, and Rose and Sylvia, unexpected, glued to the TV screen. They all shushed him, without so much as a glance. The Doctor frowned and turned to the screen as well.

- And now, after the ad break, we return to what the Internet has already dubbed the Lovecraft Finals - the speaker stated from the BBC studio. The Doctor frowned even harder. - To remind all our respected viewers, during the Premier League final match between Manchester United and Liverpool FC, a giant antropomorphic octopus appeared on the pitch and ate one of assitant referees-

- What?!!! - the Doctor exclaimed, and was again shushed by Temple-Nobles.

- - leaving the referee Evelyn Bhait to try an get the situation under control.

The speaker and his studio was replaced by a video of a giant, if somewhat transluscent, antropomorphic octopus emerging in the middle of the football pitch, and picking up one of linesmen and shoving them into its tentacled mouth. A loud shriek was followed by a whole stadium of camera flashes. The creature then garbled out some noises that could only be described as "something between bubbles and a tsunami" and stretched its hands - and wings - to the sky.

- Why isn't anyone doing anything?!!!! - the Doctor exclaimed, getting Shaun and Rose to groan in irritation and move closer to the telly, but at least Sylvia was as outspoken as ever.

- They are doing something, you know! - the old woman chastised him. - Security even tried to evacuate the stadium, but no one in the audience would move until the match is over. Can't say I blame them, this looks like an obvious trick by Liverpool*, better to watch until the end. Also, the referee tried to show that thing a red card, except she can't until she knows its name... And of course, they need to find another assistant referee... And time for my Finish Line is in just seven minutes!

*At 67th minute, when the creature appeared, Liverpool was loosing 2:3.

- WHAT?! - the Doctor exclaimed even louder. This was usually the point where he would give some well-meaning in a long run criticism of human nature, but he had a strange feeling this had less to do with human nature than British culture.

- Breaking news! - the speaker announced - With UNIT technology, it was possible to translate what the AO - you get it, AO? - he winked - has said!

The screen was filled with unmoving spikes on top and a moving dot on the bottom.

- I am Cthulhu, the Great One - a robotic voice followed the dot - and I have been summoned by your excitement and frustration! I shall now feast upon them until I become whole again and end the reign of human on the planet that is rightfully mine and my bretheren's!

The speaker reappeared on the screen.

- With that terrific news, I now connect you to Jill, our pitch correspondent! - the screen got divided between the studio speaker and a live correspondent.

- Thank you, James! - the correspondent, Jill, stated - Yes, this is terrific news, indeed, as now referee Bhait can finally show Cthuhlu its due red card, and there she isssss, whistling at the creature with a red card!

The screen was now showing a dark skinned athletic woman jogging with a whistle in her mouth and a red card in her hand. A bar reading "Cthulhu" now appeared at the bottom, with a red square soon following.

- But what is that?!!!!! - Jill shouted. - The AO, great name, James, seems unbothered and is nowhere near leaving the pitch! In fact - AAAA! - it's picking up referee Bhait and bringing her close to its mouth!...

- WON'T ANYBODY DO ANYTHING?!!!! - the Doctor yelled and looked around for the TARDIS. She wasn't there in the garden. - Where's my TARDIS? - he followed with a note of panic in his voice. And then he realised something else. - Where's Donna?! WHERE'S THE MASTER?!!!!

Rose only shushed him again and pointed to the screen while placing a crisp in her mouth. A thrumming noise was barely audible.

- But the day's surprises are not over yet, James! What is that, a police box?! - Jill exclaimed as the TARDIS materialized on the pitch of London Stadium. The door flung open. - Another two unwarranted people enter the pitch! It's a... a redhead in a bathrobe! And mud mask! And a short, round faced man in Manchester colours and a hoodie! - Jill continued, while the Doctor wailed to no one's notice. - They are carrying megaphones! And the redhead has some kind of... remote control? Can't tell from here, play the sounds from the pitch, James!

The correspondent's too calm, all things considered, commentary was replaced first by the shouts of the audience, frantic whistling of the referee, and bubbling noises of Cthulhu, and then by a voice which could only belong to the Master.

- Hey, you there, squid face! Cooee! - the Time Lord (in Rose's handmade bunny slippers) was shouting through the megaphone, taking Cthulu's attention away from the terrified referee in its grasp. - Yes, down here, you giant waste of emotional energy! Listen here. I am the Master, and I. want. to. finish. watching. my. Premier League. finals!

- And I am Donna Noble! - Donna's voice yelled through the other megaphone. - And I don't give a damn about football, but my mom wants to watch her favourite quiz show and you're disrupting BBC's schedule!

The AO let out a series of bubbling noises.

- Yeah, yeah, I get it! Admire, if anything! But pick some other time! Winter Olympics, they're boring as *BEEP* - BBC's vulgarities muting mechanism was apparently working well.

Another series of bubbling noises.

- Oh yeah?! Well - the Master produced a corresponding series of bubbling noises, which was fortunate for all the audience, but unfortunate for the Doctor who did not cover his ears in time to avoid the TARDIS translating what the Time Lord said. Suffice to say, it involved Cthulhu's mother.

Cthulhu roared, and for a moment it lost all of its transluscence as it shoved towards Donna and the Master.

- Now, Donna! - the Master yelled and Donna directed the "remote control" towards the eldritch creature. In a moment, it shrunk until it was slightly smaller than the ball beside it. The stadium roared as the two humanoid figures embraced each other like football players after a goal. The Doctor let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

- Oh my Lord in heavens, did you see that, Jill?!!! - James yelled from the studio, which erupted in its own share of joyful roars.

- Yes, I did see that, James! Cthulhu has been turned into a pet squid! - Jill answered as, at the corner of the screen, Donna picked the creature up into a fishbowl. The Master was doing a triumphant jog around the pitch, ending in an equally triumphant fall on his knees, arms spread wide, while cameras were flashing. Jill and, apparently, the cameraperson, ran towards Donna before she could reach the TARDIS. - Ms? Hey, ms! - the correpondent shouted. - Could you tell us a bit about what just happened?

- What? Oh, yes - Donna placed the aquarium carefully on the grass and turned to the stabilized camera. - Is my hair alright? - she turned to the correpondent, apparently not caring for the dry greenish brown mud on her face.

- Yes, it looks great! But what just happened?!

- Well, the Ma- I mean my friend's friend Harry, was watching the match with my husband, Shaun - hello, dear! - she waved to the camera and Shaun waved back, laughing - were watching the match. I never cared much for football myself, but, boys will be boys as they say, but suddenly they both started yelling, that is yelling louder than usual, so I come into the living room, and there's this giant squid on the pitch, talking about how she's going to feast on people's emotions, but the Ma- Harry won't have it, Manchester was winning, thank you very much - Shaun is for Liverpool, by the way - and so he drags me to the TA- the disappearing police box over there, because he can't fly it, you see, the Do- my friend John biolocked it against him, and says "get us over there!" and see, my mom wanted to watch the Finish Line at the usual hour, so of course I agreed, won't let some stupid football match change her schedule! and he keeps talking about the stupid Sensorite ruining his fun and picks up the tissue compresor and two megaphones, and I'm like "but I know of Sensorites, they're very peaceful!" and he goes "and Time Lords are very not into football, yet here we are" - Donna's imitation of the Master would have to be kept hidden away from him for all eternity - and I say, "so Cthulhu, he's like a renegade Sensorite?" and he's like "she's like a renegade Sensorite, yes", so I go, "she?", and he says "yes, she, what, do you also think she was talking in only one modality?", and I say nothing, so he scoffs and goes "these things feed on emotions, so no wonder she got attracted to a Premier League final match, what with all the remote ways to watch it you now have, but she's still technically dead, so she first needs to suck in all that excitement to become corporal, so the plan is, we piss her off just enough for her to become tangible and blast her with the good old tissue compressor and voila, a pet eldrich squid! You handle the compressor, BUT DON'T BREAK IT, I know how to piss off Sensorites better than you", and I say "hang on, but doesn't that thing kill things?", and he goes "much as it would please me to put you in the moral dilemma of choosing between the whole of your species and an eldritch squid from another planet, ms Noble-", he's a right bastard, make no mistake, "- I'm afraid not. She's not exactly alive, waits dreaming or whatever, so my baby will only make her very, very small, but still as alive as the emotion goo can keep you alive. Then just put her in a teleempathy-proof fishbowl" - here he produced one - "and Rose will have a pokemon she won't even have to feed!", hello, Rose, you're getting a pet! - Donna picked up the aquarium with a rather angry but very much alive Cthlulhu, the Now-Not-Exactly-Great One, and Rose waved back, and whistled with her fingers.

The Doctor didn't even want to guess what his face was doing. Probably something similar to Jill's, but for different reasons.

- Uuuuhhhh, ok, right, thank you, ms Noble, that explains everything, but what is this?! - the correspondent turned to something she was more familiar with. - The referee is showing a yellow card to the Master! He took off his shirt, so it seems right, but he's not happy about it!

The screen was now showing a, indeed, shirtless Master arguing with the referee while she tried to calm him down. A bar at the bottom now read "Harold Ansox", followed by a yellow square. The Time Lord was very much not having it, but Donna ran over and tried to deescalate the situation, just like a fellow club member calming another down. The Master added some muted yells and obscene gestures, but allowed himself to be dragged to the TARDIS by Donna. By the end he was even making friendlier gestures at the audience. Once the two of them, along with Cthulhu the Pet Squid, were on board, the ship dematerialized.

- Well, that sure was exciting! - James was saying with somewhat unusual excitement in the BBC studio. - But what is that? Referee Bhait is ending the match!!! A rematch will be due soon, but for now the match is over! The members of both teams are exstatic! Hugging one another, club or no club! This, ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereof, is what football is about! Competition, but with respect and love! I think we should almost thank Cthulhu for reminding us of this! Take it over, Alex!

- Yes, a lovely picture - a disinterested voice droned. - We thank all the viewers of BBC for being with us on this fantastic occasion. But now, for some competition completely void of respect and love - The Finish Line! After the ad break, of course.

Sylvia clapped her hands in joy at the news her favourite quiz show would start on schedule, after all, while in the garden the TARDIS materialized. Donna was first to appear in the door, but was carefully carrying a fishbowl with a renegade Sensorite inside, so she got pushed aside by the Master.

- Oi, watch it! - she shouted, while Cthulhu clutched onto small rocks for last bits of her dignity.

- Oi, watch it yourself! - the Master shouted back and strolled quickly to the telly. - And what the fuck is that? - he asked at the sight of a man explaining why the tampons he uses are better than others.

- The ad break! - Sylvia informed cheerfully. - I really must thank you, I can't stand it when The Finish Line is off schedule! - the old woman turned to the screen and turned off her hearing aid, just in case.

The Doctor ran over to Donna once she put down Cthulhu, the Great One, and hugged her tight.

- Are you alright? - he asked while the Master was raging at the telly and threatening referee Bhait with being eaten for dinner.

- Yeah, yeah, I'm fine - she answered, and didn't even have the good sense to sound relieved. She pulled away from him and smiled brightly. - Guess you had a point, he makes a good show if nothing else.

The unnamed Time Lord in question stormed by them, still shouting that he's going back and eating that damn referee, can share with Cthulhu if she really wants, but so help him Rassilon, Manchester was winning, and Donna snorted.

- Better go after him, you know.

The Doctor swallowed, nodded, and followed the other Time Lord into the TARDIS.

- I don't give a fuck about your biolocks! - the Master was yelling at the console, still in the Manchester United hoodie and bunny slippers. - You are taking me back there or I'll turn you into a paradox machine again!

The TARDIS remained unmoved by the Master's threats while the Doctor closed the door and crossed the ramp towards the console at a steady but brisk pace. He grabbed the Master's arm firmly.

- Well, guess what- what, no I was just threatening her, you know I even can't do any of- that Master was cut off as the Doctor pressed him hard to his chest, burying his face in the other's shoulder. Centuries of pain, years of bliss, and now this. He never felt happier in his long, long life.

- I'm also not actually going to eat that stupid referee, just scare her a bit-

- I love you - the Doctor said, just loud enough to sound firm. The Master tried to jerk away.

- OK, that's too much, I will just bribe her if that's what you want-

- Stop it. I love you.

The Master went still. Unnaturally still. His arms were stiff along his body. The Doctor didn't care. He hugged him tighter.

- No, you don't.

- Yes, I do.

- Liar.

- Not now.

- Take it back - the Master almost wailed and succeeded in pushing himself away from the Doctor enough to look at his face. The other Time Lord allowed it, but still held him firm. There was something resembling fear in the Master's face.

- I won't. I never will - the Doctor cupped the Master's face gently, while his other hand remained steadfast on his waist.

- You're only saying this because I did something nice! - the younger - much, much younger - Time Lord squeeked.

- Yes, but no - the Doctor smiled, brushing his thumb again the salt-and-pepper goatee. - Yes, it is hard for me to say. But I mean always. I love you - he repeated, lowering his hand to now hold the back of the Master's head. There were tears in both of the Time Lords' eyes, but only one would ever admit to them. - I love you, truly and deeply. Now and always. Over whatever you've done or will do - the Doctor swallowed, as a flash of ruined Gallifrey appeared in his mind - I love you.

The Master swallowed.

- I'm not saying it back - he spat, his voice defiant despite the wetness.

- You don't have to.

- I hate you - the Master spat again, though it sounded like he meant the opposite. Or not the opposite. Just the negation. The same force in the other direction.

- I know - the Doctor murmured and gently pressed against the back of his best enemy's head.

The foreheads met first and they both gasped softly. Connecting in thoughts was one thing. They had to do it for exams with all sorts of people who had little interesting to share. Connecting in feelings, quite another.

Their lips touched in a stupid, romanticized remnant of mammal parents passing chewed food into their offsprings' mouths. The Master's hands became flexible enough to touch the Doctor's back, unsure at first, but then grabbing like onto a lifebuoy. The kiss oscilated between passionate and gentle, angry and loving, playful and dead serious, and neither of them wanted to end it.

The lighting in the console room became warmer. The jukebox turned on of its own accord.

I tried to find her cause I can't resist her I never knew just how much I missed her Sorrow, sorrow...

- Oooh, damn that stupid ship of yours!!! - the Master groaned, but didn't really pull away.

The Doctor only laughed, and again pressed his temple to the other Time Lord's. The Master did not pull away. Not for the life of him, this or any other.

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that GABRIELA DANTES.. they're a 25-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being ATTENTION-SEEKING & UNRULY but there are some people who have seen them being COQUETTISH & TENACIOUS. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of a wardrobe of skimpy outfits, long nights at the dance studio, and waiting for your big break, but that could just be because they're considered the CHORUS GIRL around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

You had it figured out since you were in school Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool So overnight you look like a '60s queen

OVERVIEW

Name: Gabriela Socorro Dantes

Nickname(s): Gabby

DOB: July 14, 2099

Age: 25

FC: Becky G

Height: 5'1"

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation: Back-up Dancer / Aspiring Theatre Actress

Relationship Status: Single (Closed)

[+] extroverted, coquettish, tenacious [–] unruly, attention-seeking, single-minded

BIOGRAPHY

tw: parental abandonment

Gabriela and her twin brother Freddie were born to teenage parents. Unwilling to sacrifice her own future, their mother left for college shortly after getting out of the hospital, abandoning their father Hector to raise them by himself.

Luckily, they were surrounded by a large extended family including their paternal grandparents, their aunts and uncle, and their cousins Mick and Jaime (and later Minnie and Julie). They are technically their second cousins but they've never bothered with the distinction. Family is family, and they're all very close.

Even with their family's support, it was difficult for Gabriela to grow up without a mother, and a lot of her behaviour was and still is motivated by that absence—even if she refuses to admit it. The only emotion that she does express about it is anger, because that's easier than confronting the fact that she misses someone she never even knew, which she thinks is a stupid way to feel anyway.

Between her and Freddie, she was always the more extroverted one who loved taking up space and being visible. She was also more likely to misbehave, break the rules, talk back to their dad, and generally make things difficult for everyone. She didn't want to be difficult, but acting out was how she avoided facing the fact that she was hurting, and she never really grew up from that.

Gabriela's need to be the centre of attention quickly evolved into a passion for performing. She took any chance that she could to sing, dance, and act, mostly through extracurriculars at school because participation was free.

Against all odds, and in spite of being up against people who had been able to pay for classes their entire lives, she managed to get into a performing arts school for college. She made some close friends there, but the environment was extremely competitive and her teachers were brutal. One instructor in particular took it upon himself to constantly belittle her, telling her that she didn't have what it takes to make it, and that she would never amount to anything.

However, his lack of belief in her only seemed to fuel Gabriela more. She had a lifetime of experience running on spite and she wasn't about to stop now.

Since graduating, she has been able to keep a steady gig as a dancer while working to catch her big break. She has a handful of ensemble credits, but her most notable job has been as a back-up dancer for Stevie Sparks.

Gabriela loves what she does, because it is the only way that she knows how to express herself freely. What she refuses to acknowledge is how much she craves external validation—and that there is a part of her that feels the need to perform in some vain hope that her mother will finally see her and come back.

[humblemooncat]

Happy 10th Anniversary to what has become my favorite MMO I've ever played.

I went into why and when I started playing here, but I figured I'd go more in-depth on my characters (and why Ki'to is my main) in this post since it's finally Rising time again.

Warning, long ass rambling post ahead

As I had mentioned, I started playing in late 2020 when a couple friends I played D&D with introduced me to it.

At that time, I created my first character Suna Amantius (Whom I still have for nostalgia, but don't play). Since au ra were free to play at that time, I made her a pink raen Arcanist. Yes, back when carbies gave every arcanist heart palpitations because they used aoe without asking. Thus why it took me a long time to pick it back up again.

The very first screen I got in cc while making her. <3

We only played together a few times, but since I was so deep into Genshin, I ended up uninstalling since XIV's a massive space-hog.

When I picked it back up for the free 30 days after my other friend bought me the game & expacks, I ended up making a viera named Bunilla Chai over on Faerie since my little brother was playing over there at the time. She was a WHM, and another I have kept for nostalgia's sake. (I sadly don't have a screen for her, but she's cute. uwu)

I kinda main-hopped for a while after I got back into the game and actually subbed in September of '21. I played with Bunilla for a little while, but when the option to make male viera came out with EW, I ended up making one by the name of Kieran Vashanti (The surname being an homage to my old TERA character of the same name; Kieran actually went on to become Seire, and now Vikesh). I co-mained him alongside Orias, my longest-standing OC, who actually started out as an Elezen.

Kieran / Seire / Vikesh

Orias

How it started > where it went > where we are now

I also ended up making a lalafell since I saw how much fun my mother seemed to be having with her own. My dear little Sprout Arboris. <3

The best pic I have of her. xD

I rotated through this menagerie of mains for a while until I fanta'd and renamed Sprout. Her new name? Nox Vitae.

Yup. My horrible son was initially a sweet lalafell lady. xD Though he did go through one hell of a transition, from fem lala, to fem viera, to fem miqo, to masc viera (this was about when I had come out to my friends, so I embraced it in my main at the time as well. As such, he started out looking like a self-insert, but took on his own traits after a while. This is also why he is canonically trans ftm, as I see both viera transformations as canon for him. His fem form being what was canon in appearance for Vitae when he and U'nhea were sprouts)

(I did miss Sprout after a while though, so I remade her on Zalera later.)

Alongside Nox, who was my main for a while, I also had an alt on Siren I used to play with other friends, A'razi Tia. He was my first introduction to Monk, as well as catboys. To say I took maybe too many pictures admiring him is an understatement. Before Ki'to, he was my most gposed character. xD

We ended up moving data centers a little while after last rising, and then is when I created Y'rhala and Ki'to, whom I played as alts while I switched back to A'razi for most things.

Once I hit the CT ARs with Razi, my social anxiety got the best of me, and I decided to run an alt for a while and redo ARR. So I picked back up with Ki'to, whom I had made as a pretty ashen moon keeper simply to grab the moonfire outfit last year.

He wasn't meant to be more than an alt. Honestly, he looked like a fuckboy and it made me laugh when I logged him.

Look at this fuckin' nerd. I do miss his ashen kitty days, truth be told, but I can't fanta him now. He wouldn't look right any other way.

He looked like this until I reached post-ARR. I ended up using his ARR fanta to make him a self-insert, thus his baby-faced face 3 catboy era.

Thankfully, with the FC he joined, I ended up getting help powering through CT and finishing ARR fully. It was post-ARR that I got another fanta and gave him more defined features with face 4, and gave him the face he's known for today.

As I put it on my personal discord:

It wasn't too long after this that I made this blog and captured his adventures through HW and beyond. It was then that I committed to making him my main, as the story had sucked me in and he was my protagonist. I couldn't imagine any other in his place.

Though, the story isn't the only reason he's become my most robust OC ever, that came through story and interactions over here. I'm constantly thankful that I decided to make this blog when I did, because using it as an outlet for headcanons and getting asks from the friends I've made during his journey has made him such a well-rounded character with a clear personality and character arc.

I am very grateful for those of you I've met here, not only have you been some of the best people I've met through this game, but you've all helped to shape Ki'to in some small way. The man fights for love because he was made from love. <3

Hope you enjoyed my rambling about my journey, and happy Rising my friends! Here's to 10 more years! /toast

[kingbriar]

⟨Seth Rollins. cis male. he/they. 37.⟩ We just saw Ansel Briar entering L’Antique C’est Chic. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with the Jolly Rogers and that they also go by the King of Hearts. Be careful, they work for them as an assassin and can sometimes be bored by repetition, jealous, petty, or even bloodthirsty but I’ve also heard some people say that they were dedicated, confident and quite stylish.— Moss. they/them. 23. EST. violence against children (< 10)

AESTHETIC | MUSIC | LONDON FALLING RPG

STATS

Real name: Ansel Ford Briar

Code name: King of Hearts

Alliance: Jolly Rogers

Job: Contract Assassin. (Works part time coaching at Crossfit North London, esp in conditioning. Bit of a reputation for being intense, but that’s the point, right?)

Age: 37

Physical: 6'1", 225 lbs

Birthplace: Houlton, Maine, US

DOB: August 10, 1986

Star sign: Leo

Gender: Male-adjacent (he/they) 

Sexuality: Bisexual disaster

FC: Seth Rollins

Family: Dan Briar (Father), Evelyn Summers-Briar (Mother), Four Siblings (I'll name 'em someday), Rebecca Briar (formerly Ballagh, Ex-Wife)

BIOGRAPHY

Ansel’s from the sticks. His father was a hunter first and owner of the local general store second, born and raised in the woods of northern Maine, where his mother settled there later with a group of poets and artists who were inspired by the quiet snowy mountains and the way the sun shines through the leaves. Those same mountains meant she had to be driven nearly two hours in the family’s beater red pickup to the nearest hospital to bring him and his younger siblings into the world. All of them were hard on her, but that didn’t stop them from having five kids. 

His mother called him Ansel, after Ansel Adams. His dad said that was some pretentious bullshit and always called him Andy, or the leader of the pack, so Ansel did his best to step up and be the best role model he could. He started following his father out hunting when he was five, and maybe they should’ve started worrying when he took to it so quickly. Maybe Ansel had a couple too many questions about how to balance wearing camo to blend in with bright, flashy hunter oranges and yellows, but was happy enough to sit still and quiet, listening for a broken twig or rustling leaves, and he never cried when his dad showed how they’d have to slit a buck’s throat to kill it quickly if the first shot didn’t get it done. Ansel killed his first deer at 8 without his dad holding the rifle steady, skinned it a little too quickly and held onto the antlers as a trophy as long as he could.

Ansel went to a university in Boston, and both reveled in finally being a small fish in a much bigger pond, and itched for attention. He studied literature to keep his mother happy, spent hours hitting the gym to look more impressive than he was and make up for the lack of mountains to climb, and made the rounds through anyone looking for a messy one-night stand. 

But then met Rebecca Ballagh in some 300 level poetry class he suddenly had to pretend he cared about. She was something special, had enough of a dangerous edge that Ansel couldn’t get bored of her if he tried. He met her family at a shooting range outside the city after dating for about a year, and they offered to put him up and give him a job if he wanted to stay in Boston. It took him a little too long to realize her family were the last, quiet dregs of the Winter Hill Gang and US-based IRA that were slowly building themselves back up, but hey, the one thing he’d missed about home was hunting. 

A person ain’t too different from a deer, to a wolf. Everything bleeds the same.

But now that he ran with a pack again, it came with new rules. Clean up, cut your hair, kid. Pipe down. Dress like everyone else. Wear black. Shut the fuck up and become a ghost. Becca helped when she could, but she liked him better this way too. Colder, a soldier. They got married in 1998, and Ansel didn’t quite look like himself in the pictures.

He tried as hard as he could to just focus on blending in- you don’t wear camo without orange, you’ll get shot- but the longer he stayed, the whole gang made his skin crawl. Every hit was scripted down to the second, and if he deviated from it in the moment to keep himself alive and useful he got beat down and hung out to dry in front of the rest of the gang. He started spending more time at their local crossfit box than with his wife. At least something was intensive enough to make him feel something. But even that after a while started to feel monotonous. The same fights with the family. The same rotation of classes and workouts and late night jobs. The same accusations that he was having an affair with his trainer. Always the fucking same. Boredom sunk its claws into him, but breaking routine only shortened his leash. 

They slowly fell apart over seven years, until Becca served him their divorce papers in 2004. Maybe he bitterly sent an anonymous tip to the local PD about the plans for the family’s next few moves the day before they had to appear in court. Served them right, Ansel thought. At least until cops had barricaded the entrance to his new studio apartment he just finished moving into a week later, saying that they’d been given anonymous information that warranted arrest and trial.

He didn’t know who else to call except one of the gang’s lawyers, who came in all smug smiles and talked him through exactly what had been given to the cops like he’d written up the list. With the given evidence, he would have done life in prison and paid thousands of dollars in fines on top of legal fees. But by already coming back to them? The gang could put in some work, get it down to a lot of hearsay and a manslaughter charge on one of the hits that Ansel had really fucked up. The angle was clear, and the gang were convinced that by getting it down to ONLY 15 years in a State Prison, he’d have to come crawling back to them on his knees. He walked free in 2019, finally sick of sick of sewing orange and camo, but with enough scattered online classes for a quasi fashion degree and a developed enough collection that he could apply and get his visa to work a brutal, grunt seamstress job at Burberry, and get the fuck away from Boston before he could even be approached by his former pack.

Being American and an ex-convict did him very little favors and that job was falling through before he knew it, but he had found a couple crossfit boxes along the way, and did his best to fight off the bone-deep itch to draw blood other than pricking his own fingers, and take sharpened fabric scissors to someone’s flesh. The wolf was almost free of his chains, screaming to be fed so he could be truly free and then suddenly he’d killed his landlord after Burberry fired him and Ansel couldn’t quite scratch together rent. A vague shape of a heart carved into the side of his neck with a kitchen knife just so he could watch it bleed. Instinct took over, and he covered his ass, watched the press run wild, and was quickly approached by a different sort of pack. Not a family, like Winter hill, but a crew. The Jolly Rodgers.

[leaffiii]

*shows up from the sewers like alligator, with headcanons and 1 drabble in teeth* hello :)

I like to think that Pharaoh man is the old man of this team.

Maybe he was fighting along with other robots in Hard war somewhere far away, was able to survive and run away from government long enough to be considered a legent, waiting for the right moment to rejoin in this lost war again.

Maybe he heard about Silicon city's many attends from other robots to overthrow humans ones again but without any luck and decided to lend his hand there. And so he travels and eventually arrives and joins your terrorist club. Maybe he even seems badass first time we get to his introduction. A legend thought to be long gone, a experienced warrior that can survive in extreme situations, a hard war veteran and ect.

And then hes like "how do you do fellow kids" and the badass points that he has? Long gone.

Expect the "in my time-" and "I've seen better" routine. And don't even try to ask about his past, because you just will be stuck in unskipable cutscene of him telling you all about it, like at least 3 hours, bare minimum. Usually the victim of this "cutscene" is Hard man, because he's to slow to make a getaway in time before Pharaoh starts telling story and to nice to actually walk out if he started it.

Also i just think that solar shot (or whatever Pharaoh uses) is actually one of few things that beats Hard mans defense. Like, dude can be dence as much as he wants but can he stand the plazma with a heat that feels like surface of the sun?

Imagine Snake asking Pharaoh about Hard war, and thinking that now that he has a literal veteran he won't need to steal documents about that ever again and walking out of that same room 12 hours later and be like: i wish that i was stealing documents and failed rather than be stuck in a room with him like this ever again.

Pharaoh is pretty affectionate toward Metal man but in a "grandfather that tells u suck after barely telling that he's proud of you" kinda way. Like "man, Metal you actually not half bad with repair stuff, i dont feel anything wrong with my arm animore. But i still had better, so you have room to improve."

Also Pharaoh sometimes uses slangs in hes speeches, so it leads to situations like this:

Hope you recovered from whatever you had and that you have a great day! Bye *goes back into sewers*

Reaches out of my trashcan and munches on this like a raccoon eating grapes (Had a busy day lol but FINALLY got on my laptop to reply)

Oh my GOD this is such a treat, actually!! I've been having a bit of trouble characterizing him and this is PERFECT for him. Pharaoh being a veteran is such a good idea! It also officially marks him as the oldest of the group. I'm still deciding on what his abilities will be specifically, since I'm trying not to have too much overlap between them lol. Poor Hard Man though, big man has to deal with so much lol

I do imagine Pharaoh and Skull being from the same creator (Some FC version of Dr. Cossack) BUT keep in mind I haven't touched the comics at all, aside from skimming the articles on the Wiki. This is already an AU of sorts anyways, which I'll elaborate on eventually. That being said I think Toad should also have come from the same creator for shits and giggles lmao THAT DOES REMIND ME i gotta finish Pharaoh's ref, hes been legless for so long oops (and I gotta do one for Metal and the last two guys. whoops.) I recovered from my cold a bit ago, I'm doing well now!

[theretirementstory]

Not long now until the BIG day…… I think I am starting to get excited 😜, now that really is a big surprise to me.

It’s been a busy week, it was the last two sessions of radiotherapy and I had my final consultation with the radiotherapy doctor. I said I was going to gradually re-introduce “forbidden�� foods and did I……… well I had been dreaming of chicken fajitas and I had those on Wednesday so I guess not 😂.

The weather hasn’t been too good, lots of rain and mist with a smattering of sunshine thrown in. I never heard back from the roofer so I guess I will just have to be patient and wait for the dry weather to arrive when he will come and fix the problem.

I encountered a problem with my Orange TV Box, I was ready to watch the third episode of “Vera” on Sunday evening, however when it came on it didn’t switch to English language as usual. I rang Orange on Monday to try to get it sorted and at one point I thought we had solved it but no. The lady rang me back on Tuesday and we agreed there must be a problem with the box. I was told to take the box back to an Orange shop. Now we don’t have one in town and the nearest is 100 km round trip 🙄 anyway I went on Wednesday in the pouring rain. It’s years since I had been in the centre of Chaumont and I was surprised by the number of shops that were there. I got the new box and in the afternoon decided to set it up. Imagine my surprise when, set up, I had no sound or vision. I made a call again to Orange and after speaking to a man twice (without the problem being solved) I rang again and got a lady who did a lot of tests at her end and got it all sorted, even the problem with getting programmes in the original version. How pleased I am but very sad that I missed Vera in English.

Pauline and I decided to go to the cinema on Thursday night, to see Napoleon. The start time was 8:15 and it ran for 2.5 hours so I was going to have a really late night. We both enjoyed it very much and after picking up the flyer decided there was another film we would like to see. “La Tresse” (The Braid) so we are going on Monday evening, start time that night is 9pm!

I went to the cinema again on Friday evening (alone) the flyer said the movie was on at 18:30 and ran for 1h 27m so I would be home after 8pm. The film was in original version and looking at the actors I should have realised not in English, it was in Japanese 😂😂 with French subtitles. I stayed because the title was “Perfect Days” and the soundtrack included Perfect Day by Lou Reed with the talented Mick Ronson on piano, songs by The Animals (can you guess which song?) and Nina Simone to name but a few. I sang along (not loudly) but obviously loud enough that the lady two rows in front said to me at the end “English songs, for you to sing”. I wasn’t too concerned about being heard, there were only 4 of us watching the movie. Any thoughts of getting home just after 8pm were dashed as I checked my watch at 8:15 and the film was still in “full flow”. It was 9pm when I finally got home so it was straight to bed for me!

This week “The Ex-Graduate” has been unwell and couldn’t go into work for two days. It sounds as if she had ‘flu symptoms. On Friday she had an interview for a “real” job in her chosen profession. She messaged to say the interview was rotten, she was so nervous and didn’t know what she had rambled on about. Then later messaged to say she had been offered the job! Wow, good on you girl. I was so excited I couldn’t type my congratulations so rang her instead. How wonderful 🥳🥳.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has had another busy week and also a busy weekend. He is catching up with pals before Xmas, was at his work Christmas “do” last night and has usual weekend activities like good shopping to get sorted 😳.

The person formerly known as “The Daddy” now to be known as “The Photographer” due to his activities at Scarborough Athletic FC and also advertisements for clothes firms, restaurants etc. He also has had a busy weekend, my gorgeous grandchildren are with him and it was a Saturday off work so it meant he spent longer with the children. He went to his work Christmas “do” last night but reckoned on being home by 9pm (even with an hours drive). Blimey, not the work Christmas do I remember, where it involved all night, quite a few beverages and good food. Apparently the children are now being taken to the cinema to see a recorded panto. Funnily enough, I was looking at my legs this morning and remembering back to when I played the Prince in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs wearing my principle boy outfit, exposing a lot of leg, I think I have those shapely legs back again (my thoughts entirely) 😂😂.

Anie came to see me on Wednesday evening bearing Christmas gifts. She was thrilled with the Christmas cactus and when I handed over two other presents she exclaimed it was too much. How much is too much I ask myself, she has been an absolute wonder while I have been ill as have lots of other friends. She was leaving to stay with her son on Thursday, he would then take her to CDG airport for her flight on Friday. So she will be there now, with her family and granddaughter, Blanche.

Monique didn’t get to see me this week either as she had to go to physio for her sciatica. She is going to come down on Monday afternoon, I just hope her plant is ok and will last through Christmas and New Year.

I have just had a message from a lady who attended the knitting group before Covid. She has extended an open invitation to me, to visit her at home. How very kind. I guess I will be stuffing dates, making mince pies and peppermint creams to take with me.

I can’t see there being much knitting done between now and Christmas Day.

I took a watch to the jewellers in town yesterday for a new battery. While I was there I spotted a rather beautiful ruby necklace. Now my grandmother’s engagement ring has a beautiful red stone in and I am going to take the ring to see how close the colour is to the stone on the necklace and I may well buy the necklace. It has been made by the jeweller so I reckon it will be a “one off”. Of course I will have to try the necklace to make sure it has a long enough chain etc but with all the weight I have lost this year I think my neck size has reduced too.

Now to the music part of the blog, I thought a quick look at the Christmas number 1’s in the UK might be a good place to look but goodness me, I couldn’t really pick a good one out of them. So instead let me pick two songs from an artist who’s music I have loved since the sixties. The first is from 1970 and the second from 1976 the songs are by Diana Ross and the first is “Reach out and Touch” and the second is “Love Hangover” as I have said previously it’s not just the lyrics but the music that appeals to me on a lot of my choice of records.

The photos this week were taken in Chaumont (in the pouring rain).

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home JIM HOPPER(harrison ford fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

[HARRISON FORD, CISMALE, HE/HIM] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [JIM HOPPER]? Old friends remember them as [DRY + CARING] but also [CYNICAL + STUBBORN], no wonder they’re still known as [FAT RAMBO] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [65] and some people say they remind them of [A GREASY AMERICAN BREAKFAST WITH DRIP COFFEE, A WIDE-BRIMMED TAN HAT, MUSTY CABIN WOOD, AND THE DEAFENING CRACK OF A SMITH & WESTON 66].

POST 1986

[I will be adding to this with time. I simply need something in the void before I back out]

When life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt – Oh, does Jim remember the hurt. There was no shortage of it after Eleven and Will’s funerals. As one would expect, he lived in a long fog after the loss of his second daughter. He struggled to reel himself into stability, spending many evenings talking up a half-sober storm with side-by-tombstones in Hawkins Cemetery. Jim tried his best to keep his days busy and settled back into a workflow at Hawkins PD soon after the deaths, but no amount of Whiskey or puttering helped him escape the ache of grief. He had to face it. Joyce was an incredible anchor for him during this time. To this day he’s not sure how she managed to be so strong – dealing with the aftermath of Will’s death, taking care of the others, and tending to his own pitiful rut. She was truly a light for him and the community. Consequently, the pair grew inseparable after their collective losses – mostly knowing that they weren’t alone in the pain. Rumours abounded about a potential romance between the pair, but a relationship never officialized for them between the years of 1986 to 2006. They were happy in friendship and that was simply enough for both.

Jim’s reluctant retirement from the Hawkins Police force came in the Spring of 1999. Most of the department was sad to see him go (others unified with a collective sigh of relief), but it was time to take a step back and slow down (according to Joyce). She tried looping him into activities around town, get him involved in community, help with some gardening in the backyard but it wasn’t long until the boredom set in. Thankfully Murray saved him from the misery of retired life with a proposition to take on some work with The Watcher. It renewed a needed sense of purpose in Jim’s life. He threw himself (and his fists) into whatever investigations required a little elbow grease. It was a good way to keep himself busy. Jim did what was needed of him without question, driving out of town to be the unassuming muscle behind whatever lead was being sleuthed on … Probably executed with a lot more force than he’d ever to admit to either Murray or Nancy, but neither of them would ever have to know! This chunk of his life was marked with sleepless nights in questionable motel beds, bustling from gas station to gas station in true gritty americana fashion. The years and wrinkles piled on quicker this way. So did his grumpiness.

Jim managed to take Joyce out for one last dinner at Enzo’s before her final emergency surgery. That night was the last time either of them had a conversation outside the confines of her hospital room. The proposition was initially met with resistance by her medical team. It took some convincing but enough careful planning eventually swayed them all (specifically Jonathan) to let him roll Joyce and her oxygen tank out of the oncology unit without much fuss. Jim pulled out his finest button down and slacks for the occasion. It was cheerful evening of greasy bread baskets and occasional tears as they reminisced over a candlelit dining table. Time slipped away from the pair that night. If either of them squinted hard enough, they were back in 1955 – both puffing on cigarettes in the Hawkins High parking lot, contemplating what the fuck their lives would look like after graduation. It certainly didn’t look anything close to this …  and like all good things in Jim’s life, their flicker of joy at Enzo’s had to end too.

The drinking started to get out of hand after Joyce’s passing. As much as he’s been encouraged to remember the good times and work his way through the first foot stones of grief, the loss of his best friend (and community pillar) came with an emptiness that only cigars and whiskey seemed to fill. Joyce had told him to keep it together, to try and live out his days happy & fulfilled – maybe even find a hobby besides beating people up for The Watcher. It simply wasn’t in the cards for poor old Jim. He found himself pulling away from those around him, fully shutting himself into his reclusive cabin on the edge of town. And while he’s managed to remain relatively stable for Jonathan and Murray, there’s no denying that a bottle or flask is never far from reach after the cabin door closes behind him. Jim’s vulnerability has only slipped up reluctantly on a few occasions. Jonathan himself has received a handful of 2am calls from bar owners asking him to pick up the washed-up police chief passed out on their bar. The little taxi rescue routine has been kept on the down low between them – it’s become a quiet understanding of their mutual grief and, honestly, a sadness that neither of them are fully prepared to acknowledge.

These days Jim doesn’t leave the confines of his musty cabin often except to grab necessities and slide the pizza man a tip. There’s truly not much that can faze Jim Hopper these days. The sorrow itself manifests differently depending on the time of day – or whether you’ve caught him before or after his morning coffee and bourbon. He’s generally more irritable and true party pooper, though it isn’t new for anyone who knows a lick about him around town!

Time Capsule:

In 1986 Jim left an empty box of Eggo Waffles in the time capsule on behalf of El Hopper. There’s a note for the kiddo slipped inside.

Pinterest:

https://pin.it/4oX7qwV

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3A3EAZAbaFi7WHPbmdSY7D?si=e669c696b6ef4818&pt=ff92880c2862d53d7d78fa52ddc664db

[monstershearts]

Fausto Damiano

Species: Dhampir (formerly human)

Age: 100 (turned at 21 in 1942)

Nationality: Italian

Ethnicity: Greek, Italian, unknown

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Biromantic, Demisexual

Alignment: Neutral Evil or Lawful Neutral

Occupation: Army Field Medic (formerly), Antique Dealer (current)

FC: Damiano David

Appearance: Dark hair, brown(occasionally red) eyes, pale skin, several tattoos, 5'11", medium build. Usually wears a leather motorcycle jacket that he’s had since the ‘40s with several pins, patches, and enchantments on it(functions as +1 armor and a Cloak of the Bat), as well as ripped jeans, black biker boots, a studded black belt, several rings, bracelets, wristbands, tied handkerchiefs, and occasionally chokers. Also tends to wear eyeliner and smudged black eyeshadow.

Personality: Snarky, self-serving, a bit of a coward but for very good reason, flirtatious, clever, sharp wit, devoted to Hades and Persephone, cares deeply for humans but pretends he doesn’t, refuses to leave his humanity behind, deeply loyal, family is incredibly important to him, highly charismatic, somewhat socially awkward, high anxiety.

Powers/Abilities: doesn’t age, can walk on walls and ceilings, can cast healing and necromantic spells given to him by his gods, inhumanly fast and agile, vampiric bite, can transform into a bat because of an enchanted pin he always wears, will become a full vampire once he finally kills a human, immune to disease, talented cook, fashion designer, musician, and seamstress.

Weaknesses: Mortality, emotional manipulation

Mental Health: PTSD, anxiety, depression

Likes: Cooking for his partner, pomegranates, designing and making his own clothes, flirting, singing, dancing, guitar, bats, black cats, traveling the world, D&D.

Dislikes: Guns, fireworks, rich assholes, being used and manipulated, small spaces, fascists, bigots, most vampires.

Languages: Italian, Latin, Greek, English

Background:

Fausto Damiano was a soldier on the wrong side of a war that had no right side. A field medic with no love for violence and an outright hatred for those who used it to gain power over others, he did his best to help his fellow soldiers after getting drafted, but he could not find it within himself to truly believe in the cause they were fighting for. It wasn’t long before he made a plan to desert. His escape from the battlefield was nearly flawless; no one noticed him slinking away amidst the chaos and bloodshed, and he made it out unscathed.

He spent the next year hopping from town to town, village to village, stealing whatever he had to in order to survive and romancing every beautiful, naïve young lady he came across. He enjoyed the freedom he’d earned for himself without a care for what it might have cost others. However, in time, there was a girl he met who managed to catch more than just his eye. She was the daughter of a nobleman, already betrothed to marry another of her station, but she was far too good for that. To Fausto, she was every bit as radiant as Juliet was to Romeo, though she was equally as cunning as she was beautiful. As these stories are wont to turn out, she gripped his heart and became his downfall. He began to court her in secret, walking the streets by moonlight and sharing stolen kisses and secrets. It only took a month for Fausto to propose, and after careful consideration, she accepted…on one condition. The man to whom she had been betrothed had a mysterious yet incredibly wealthy benefactor who was rumored to be in possession of a very powerful amulet. She so coveted it, stating that it would make her happier than any engagement ring.

Naturally, Fausto set out to steal it for her, using all of his wile and guile to infiltrate the ancient mansion of the benefactor. He’d managed to get the amulet in hand when he was finally caught, though the fate that befell him was much worse, in his mind, than any prison sentence or death penalty. The benefactor and owner of the mansion was deceptively youthful and beautiful, appearing to only be a decade older than him at the most. Rather than calling for guards or law enforcement, the man gave him a crooked and disarming smile that made him question a lot of things about himself, then politely informed Fausto that his lady love had tricked the boy in order to make good on a deal they’d made. He then explained that he was a Vampire Lord by the name of Count Mortimer Ambrose, and that he desired to turn Fausto rather than kill him because of his inhuman beauty. Fausto tried to run, almost refusing to believe any of it, but the Count caught him easily, seducing and bedding him before feasting on his blood and transforming him into a vampire. A part of him died that night that he thought could never be reborn.

The half-century that followed was miserable for Fausto. He tried several times to escape, but was never successful, even after the Count moved his coven to America following the end of the Second World War. Forced to comply and watch as countless innocents were slaughtered by his coven, he eventually concluded that it would be best for him to simply play his part until the perfect opportunity finally came along. He devoted himself to learning magic in the meantime, leaning on the guidance of Hades and Persephone to aid him and give him at least some shred of hope.

Finally, on Halloween of 1985, Fausto managed to manipulate a group of college kids who were dared to stay the night in the manor into helping him escape, framing it as him helping them to survive his Maker’s dark machinations and escape with their lives. The group fought hard, having raided the armory with Fausto’s help, and the desperate Dhampir took the opportunity to extricate himself from the manor amongst them before disappearing into the night. He’s spent the last few decades roaming up and down the Eastern Seaboard, staying in certain places long enough to either grab a quick meal and a bit of a rest or blend in and lay low. New York is by far his favorite haunt.

[strxngertogether]

Laura Tully

[30-55, FBI agent (Crimes Against Children, Sex Crimes)/teacher, trans woman, she/her, lesbian, fc: Candis Cayne]

Having been forced out of the closet at a young age to her unsupportive family, Laura spent most of her teens and young adulthood on the streets. She found sanctuary in the local queer community, couch surfing as she did her best to still attend high school in hopes of graduating with a high gpa and going to a good college. She finished high school but not without an immense amount of trouble. She didn't do as well she hoped and graduated with a handful of Cs, but most of her grades were much lower. The instability made life hard, but what she hadn't expected was finding herself in a merry-go-round of abusive older men and that was what really made it near impossible to apply herself as well as she thought she could. She punished herself for falling asleep in class, being unable to wrap her mind around what she deemed incredibly simple, and a million other things. If she could find someway to blame herself for something, she would as she thought it would make her work harder, but it only made her dig a bigger pit inside of herself.

When she was twenty-three though, she met an older woman who took an interest in her. Laura found herself fascinated and wanting to be just like her. The woman took Laura under her wing and within a few months, Laura was crashing in her spare bedroom. She was provided with a stable home, help to get the education she needed, and someone who actually cared for her.

Getting the help, stability, and care she finally needed, she found her way through college far easier than she had high school. She finally managed to get a degree in social work and criminal justice. Knowing she wanted to follow in the footsteps of the woman who took her in, Laura applied to the first entry level position at the fbi she could and eventually worked her way up to the Crimes Against Children Unit where she worked for fourteen years. Working in such a high intensity job for so long left Laura fraying at the edges and desperate for a change. She took a long vacation with the hopes that it would be enough to ease her mind, but she found herself fixating heavily on her job despite her efforts to relax, so she returned but instead to the Sex Crimes Unit. It was another last ditch effort to keep the only job she'd ever known, but that attempt led to the mental breakdown that nearly took her life in more than one way. She'd found herself desperately needing to solve each case, no matter the risk to her own life and often making incredibly irresponsible, unnecessary, and dangerous decisions while also feeling deeply suicidal in what was supposed to be her downtime. After nearly dying at work, she was forced to take leave for both her own safety and others' safety as she had proven she could no longer do her job.

Ultimately, her leave of absence led to Laura quitting as she'd finally realized that the FBI was no longer the right fit for her despite and because she had worked there for so many years. She spent the next few years solely attending therapy and working on herself as she knew she could not keep on living the way she had been. She then decided to go down the path of getting her teaching credentials before slowly making her way back into the workforce; starting out as a substitute and eventually taking on a job as a full time teacher. She primarily works with fourth graders, but has taken on classes as young as kindergarten and as old as eighth grade. She has considered becoming a foster parent, but as of right now, does not feel ready to take on that responsibility despite her long held desire to be a mother.

[ansicred]

BLOG CHECK-IN UPDATE!!

Right so, I've been doing a lot of posting since the last update and I think it's time to have another check-in post. First up: a periodical reminder for people to pay close attention to the ratings and warnings in my one-shots posts and their tags -- they're there for a reason and if you go into a one-shot thinking I won't be graphic or explicit about certain subjects (yes, including the ones that are sex-related), you'd be very wrong and I'm not going to wrap anyone in cotton wool about anything I write.

Second: as you'll no doubt have noticed, I've posted a new character whose name is Neil and he's my third Alan FC werewolf. His universe isn't something that I've necessarily put much thought into but I do wanna do some figuring out with him and post anything I do with him and his universe here -- this blog is a kind of weird writing-based sketchbook for me, after all. His universe is set in late 1969, hence his birthdate being in 1919, and due to the nature of the ideas for it in my head, and what Neil goes through, I'm giving any one-shots featuring him a baseline lowest rating of twelve (12) unless it's something really, really milquetoast and fluffy (eg: anything involving Neil and his youngest daughter, Christine). You can find him here.

Third: I do have plans to finish Jonah (WATD Verse)'s character sheet and he'll be up as soon as I've done that, as well as a one-shot featuring him and Nina I've had in my head for quite some time now (but I can't really write and post it without having first finished Jonah's sheet or I'll break my brain), so look out for those!

Fourth: I've started a newer version of a screenplay/TV script version of the Odd Foxes story that I plan to go into and work on on occasion so if I disappear off this blog for long strings of time, that's probably why. That said, I will continue to write Odd Foxes related one-shots and post them here because I love those silly fox bois and they're fun to write.

Fifth: Damaged Goods will have a slight direction shift, I've decided, wherein Felix and Azz interact more often and their individual stories become one. How I'll write that and in what format, I don't know yet but I'll still be doing one-shots for DG whenever I get the urge to do so.

Sixth: WATD I'm in the sketch-plan phase for a book/novel version of Bleddyn's story, so the one-shots will be more frequent as I figure out exactly what I'm doing with that idea and what sort of vibe I want/need for the book.

Seventh: I'll be making more OC graphics as well at some point, likely when I'm hit by inspiration. Plus, I'll have more mini lore dumps scattered about -- most likely Odd Foxes, WATD, and DG related, but I might also include MRC and Tide Down, depends on how I'm feeling.

Finally: My mam is going to Ireland for a few days next week, so I'll be babysitting my youngest sisters at her house while she's away. I'll be taking my laptop so I can do some one-shots & things, so I won't be away away, but I'll be far less frequent in posting compared to how I've been lately, especially when my sisters get home from school. In the meantime, like I say, I've got some stuff in the pipeline and they'll be up as and when I get to/finish them, so be on the look out!

For now though, you can leave me questions/comments/whathaveyou (including anonymously) in my inbox and I'll get back to you ASAP!

See you at the next update!! 🦊7

[dhampiravidi]

TSC/TMI OC - Oraia

form adapted from this template!

BASIC

Name: Oriana "Oraia" Haven

Birthplace: Nueva Orleans de Baja Luisiana de Nueva España (present-day New Orleans, USA)

Birthday: May. 9, 1795 (biologically 24/chronologically 212 in 2007)

Race: Warlock; parents are Michaelle Durand (Human Witch) & Juan "Mad Jack" Gabriel Hernández aka Belphegor (Greater Demon)

Ethnicity: Dominican Creole (Spaniard, French, Dahomean)

Sexuality: Pansexual

APPEARANCE

Overall: Oraia appears as a typical female in her thirties, standing at approximately 5'5" (1.65 m) with a toned physique and tanned light brown skin. Her dark brown hair is naturally tousled with bouncy, tight waves. As the decades pass, she tries different hairstyles, but she tends to wear her hair loose with just a couple of strands sectioned off. Her eyes are a light sea green. She has warlock marks consisting of the ears of a doe and transparent fish scales in patches covering her skin. Oraia's magic looks like mercury--silvery-white liquid metal. Nowadays, she tends to dress somewhere between what mundanes call "bohemian" and "chic", wearing short, lacy tops and high-waisted pants with open blazers, or long, thin A-line dresses. Both of her ears are pierced at the lobe, orbital, helix, and the sideways industrial point. The only makeup she wears is eyeliner (unless you count her always-colorful nails).

FC: Hannah John-Kamen

BACKGROUND

She was born to the Dominican Creole woman, Michaelle Durand (who was a free woman of color) and the Prince of Hell, Belphegor. Belphegor had just come off several years of plundering throughout the Atlantic as Captain Mad Jack, a Spanish pirate. He then decided to explore the colonized New World, which is where he met Michaelle on the then-named French colony of Saint-Domingue in the Caribbean. She initially thought that he, as a European man, was only interested in having her as his placée (a free woman of color who had children by and could get property from the European man who she entered into an agreement with, despite not being married to him in the eyes of the Christian church). However, he was genuinely attracted to her. He courted her as one would back then and began teaching her magic once he realized her family preferred pagan traditions to Christianity. By the time he and Michaelle left the Caribbean (fleeing the Haitian Revolution) for North America, she was pregnant. They were in love until Belphegor showed his temper on several occasions. On one such occasion, a man called Michaelle by a slur. Belphegor beat that man until he was pulled away, blood on his clothes. And when he and his wife would get into arguments, he'd get loud and break things. It was something that his wife grew increasingly tired of until she finally told him to go. Oraia doesn't remember most of that, but Belphegor would contact her as she got older, more after her mom died. By then, Oraia had a pretty good idea of how the mundane world worked, how to do a few elemental spells, how to speak Creole French, and how to cook well enough for herself. Belphegor would take her traveling, using his ability to open portals (which she'd unknowingly inherited). While he was there, his supposed White status kept her safe, but he was teaching her enough magic to fight lower demons if it came to that, plus how to speak Chthonian, the language of warlock magic. He also introduced her to the Shadow World, which made her happy--her warlock marks as well as her ethnicity had been met with mixed reactions in the mundane world. In the Shadow World, if you hadn't done anything to piss anyone off, you had some respect. The warlock gained a reputation for her ability to acquire precious objects, cast strong elemental spells, and show kindness to children and animals.

PERSONALITY

Overall: There is not a person that Oraia is afraid to approach. This extends to speaking to children, lesser demons, and Shadowhunters, though she isn't dumb enough to do so without some defensive magic at the ready. If she gets an idea in her head, she’s very eager to see it through–and sometimes that’s not the healthiest option. Overall, Oraia is a compassionate, loyal, and positive person. Few things make her angry--but if you do make her angry, she’ll quickly resolve the issue, then go back to drinking or partying or whatever it was she was doing moments ago. Close friends are her family. When she isn’t looking for an adventure or trying to help someone, she’s being hedonistic: enjoying sex, socializing, and sunbathing.

Hobbies: exploring, dancing, partying, having sex, helping kids

Fear(s): never having a family of her own; being isolated

Languages: French, Creole French, Chthonian, English, Spanish

FAVOURITES

Food: bananas foster

Drink: a paloma or a mojito

Colour: sky blue

Season: spring or summer

Scent: vanilla

Music: 80s and 90s pop, or anything fast from a violin

Time of Day: noon

Item: one of her mom's scarves

Movie: Grease

Type(s) of Magic: elemental, dimensional