#but she craves her vendetta against mold man most of all

[cxtxphile]

her name is ebony darkness dementia raven way but we call her ligeia

sandworm oc sorta?? theres a second half to this drawing but this looked too cunt to not post it on its own

[vicecityhq-archive]

SUSPECT #021303, JEON ‘ALEXANDER MALKOV’ MINHO, EIGHTY-THREE YEAR OLD, NON-BINARY, VAMPIRE (PURE BLOOD), WANTED FOR GANG AFFILIATION WITH THE NIGHT BLOODS AS THEIR SECOND IN COMMAND. THEY ARE BELIEVED TO BE ARMED WITH TWIN CHIAPPA  RHINO 60DS REVOLVERS . SUSPECT IS SAID TO RESEMBLE KIM TAEHYUNG. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL POLICE DEPARTMENT IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION.

traits !

+ loyal, social, intelligent - ruthless, unstable, emotionally inept

the story !

nsfw, drugs, alcohol, abuse, murder, blood mention

They say that there is good in everyone, that underneath the hard surfaces and brick walls, theirs light to the madness. But those who have met Alexander, have eaten their own words, choked on their own ideals. The thought of ‘good’ finding a home in his heart seems more far fetch than any fairytale.

-          1936

The Chae family welcomed a new baby boy. Their only son born to an up and coming family empire, he was their prince, their sun when the skies were grey, and heat when the nights were cold. They cherished him in every form of the word, bred him to be the greatest the world had to offer. True light shined in him over the years, as he flanked around marble counter tops and brass pillars, indulged in butlers and nannies, quartz and gold a palace for a small, ambitious and rambunctious child, only wondering what the world had to offer him. He danced for them, the family coming to love their growing musical prodigy, sending him to the best studios and schools money could buy. How they loved their baby boy.

-          1950

Highschool seemed to bring many great opportunities for Minho, he came into his personality and out to the world. Made his family proud and created this persona of class president, of valedictorian. A mask of over appreciated talent in all forms, raw forms. A blinding face to the faculty and student body, and a large target to those who wanted his place. Poor, poor Minho, so naïve, the belief that he could change someone who he seemed to love, someone who’s life was intended for the streets, intended to be scrapped and buried, never to see the light of day again. Lucifer in his most prestigious and gorgeous form, adorned with a chiseled jaw that could rival Adonis, and a body that could rival David. Beauty so ethereal that even Aphrodite must bite her tongue and Minho fell, harder than he ever could. Too hard, and too fast, just to hit the concrete at full force, just to sink to the bottom of the ocean. He opened him up to the euphoria of sex, drugs and alcohol, the feeling of skipping class was heroine through his veins and smoke in his lungs. Coke lines instead of music staffs, soju bottles instead of dance lessons, and he craved it all, all so different from his cookie cutter life style. And he was blinded by love, and his family only saw the bad, while Minho, could only see the good, he was one of those people, the ones that were so sure that the world meant no evil that he was swept away by just that and oh how they hated their baby boy.

-          1952

They tore them apart, after two grueling years of watching their son diminish into something unrecognizable they tore them away from each other. A reform school they claimed would whip him back into shape just from nurturing and tough love alone, one masked by pearl gates and brass door knockers. All the way to Western Asia, they sent him hoping he’d come back a new boy, a new man. But they weren’t told about the extensive training, weren’t told about the weapon he’d become. How they would abuse him, strip him of his identity and show him how to use his striking looks for his own gain. They didn’t tell him about the monster he’d become, the new man that they’d create on their own accord. And he excelled, as he always did, climbing in their ranking and leaving bodies and broken bones behind him. His body filled, cut clean, and he followed orders to ever ‘t’. He was reformed sure, a weapon now, molded to their perfect standard, used and abused, raped and pillaged for their own use somewhere in the world, the wanted a monster, masked by something so beautiful and enticing, and so he became one.

-          1956

They assumed that he would continue to stay obedient, assumed he’d bend to their every will, for the rest of his life, but they were not careful, and let him in to close. He became conniving, manipulative, a teacher’s pet with a vendetta against the system and so he took the teacher’s job. Worked his way up until he was eye to eye to those that made him. And then, he destroyed them, and oh, how Olympus had fallen. He left with his life, though he cannot say much for the others. They had taken it all from him, he had no memories of what was before them, no images of family, of what an actual life was. Just a name. His father was long gone, not that he knew, not that he cared, but he took what was given to him, a bank account, frozen until he was eighteen, when he was supposed to return, five billion won, what was left of what they had, his mother fine  and comfortable and she came looking, more than once she came looking and each time he left, ran far away from her, he didn’t know her never knew her, not like she wanted. He had become something absent of emotions, absent of memories, he was just a name, but a name he could not live up to. Thus, he became, someone else, just as they wanted.

-          1958

He’d been in Seoul for a year and a half, blown through most his money, but created an empire of his own, under a different name. Alexander Kroft, a dead mans identity, Chae Minho no longer existed in his world, and maybe he left a grieving mother, but to him that was nothing, he only gained. He finessed his way to the top of the corporate chain, his intelligence intact, his body even more so, fine dining, and expensive gowns, those who came around him swooned and fanned cash his way, as long as they got a little something in return and he was no stranger to sharing his body. Networking with the right, or wrong people however you may see it, lead him to The Night Bloods, and subsequently Jeon Minki. He can’t explain the circumstances, nor will he ever but it was all so enticing, helping him reminisce on a time he’s isn’t too sure even happened, a time where dirty money was more appealing than a clean slate. Where using himself as a weapon came completely in handy. He was something they needed, and he was willing to charge.

-          2018

Leads him to establishing himself, in The Night Bloods and in life, his new identity had taken up a life of his own and became half of what he was and half a new man. He enrolled and graduated from a university, and even continued to work on his degree in the medical field only to push his own agenda, the more knowledge he had over the human body and mind, the easier it was to do his job. His missions masked by swanky business meets, or galas held on his own accord, using the name he created to get what he and they both needed. While just like the rest he is under he beck and call, something he was always used to doing. His drug habit reemerged, only it hadn’t taken over his life as it had before, here in Seoul it was silk robes and glitter, strange men, and women and burnt out cigarettes. Mental illness masked by the sweet high of sex and murder, and he isn’t a compassionate man. Blood fueled him, and turned him on, he could only laugh as they begged for their life. His mother still looks for him, dead ends cut by a knew identity, how do you like him now? Maybe he blames her for what he has become, but he has no intentions of returning.