#but the subdued body language in emotionally tense moments

[rosemarytales]

colin morgan is such a fine actor 200 dead 5000 injured

[gurguliare]

ooh ooh. can you dvd commentary "the wine we fought for" from "Are you a masochist, Schonkopf?" to "Schonkopf felt a fleeting moment of pity for that one other person, whose life and honor the firebombing must have saved"?

MY PLEASURE, THANKS. sorry this is super long because you picked a fresh ‘un.

“Are you a masochist, Schonkopf?” he said.

“Who, me?”

I obviously love Yang and Schonkopf’s stupid conversations in-show for a lot of reasons, but one is that Yang is a little less sure of his footing around Schonkopf than e.g. academy friends (and has reason to be!), so he puts more effort into actively turning the tables when he’s uncomfortable. He also spends less time playing dumb, I think because he finds Schonkopf’s incitement-to-revolt genuinely worrying and doesn’t want to give it any quarter—Schonkopf seems willing to take anything less than a flat denial as encouragement, so this makes some sense. Actually, Schonkopf might take encouragement from a flat denial, which is presumably why Yang always hears him out first, to make a point out of “it’s not that I don’t trust you enough to share my secret ambitions, it’s that I trust you and I DON’T HAVE SECRET AMBITIONS.” I also like that Yang’s efforts to wrongfoot him often work, at least a little, although he’s a recovery artist. But his recoveries involve digging himself deeper in/showing more of his hand, as far as personal investment is concerned. 

“Well, take this. I can’t imagine you’d enjoy seeing me paired off. It would offend your sense of justice—and rightly so. How can a man like me go courting?” With his free hand he drew a line across his neck. For the guillotine? “As for your other demands… If I seized control of the government, your life would become very boring. Subduing the populace, night raids—for a man of your talents, it’s a snore. We’d never go to war again. And yet you go on asking me to take up the mantle of power.”

I do think Yang kind of equates “Schonkopf urging dictatorship upon me” and “Schonkopf meddling in my love life.” Which is interesting, because… in some ways the show wants to set up the desire for a happy private life and the pressure to seize power (and protect himself) as opposing drives in Yang’s life, but obviously for Yang himself they both represent an unconscionable turn toward self-interest—toward self-interest and away from his obligation to, uh, all the people he’s blown up. I don’t know that Vermilion is really about Overcoming The Guilt so much as it is discovering a little humility; in targeting Reinhard and proposing to Frederica he’s slightly overriding the control freak instinct that says “you hold the ultimate power here and will fuck everything up personally.” But it’s charming to me when people are like “??? why doesn’t Yang ignore the order for the sake of the greater good,” when it’s made pretty explicit that if Yang were following his idea of a straight consequentialist agenda, he wouldn’t fight Reinhard at all…….. Well, and there’s more to it than that, because part of Yang’s brand of consequentialism is trying to force himself out of the headspace that believes perfectly informed decisions can ever be made by fumbling individuals. Still.

That said, I feel “your job would suck under the Yang Regime” is a pretty compelling argument and one Schonkopf should lend further consideration

“You’ve confused me with yourself,” Schonkopf said, after a pause. “A man so afraid of being bored, he closes his eyes to everything that might disappoint him.”

Yang blinked. But Schonkopf had warmed to his subject. “Now, me—though it might involve some personal sacrifice, I would find matters to interest me in your dictatorship. And if you were in love… ‘Yang Wen-li, laid low by passion!’ I admit, you’re not a natural. Is there any part you’re a natural for? But as we’ve discussed—you’re not a bad student.”

The most unrealistic part of this fic is the idea that this would in any way strike Yang as an odd or unprofessional thing for Schonkopf to say. But as I discovered while editing this scene, there’s actually no line weird enough that it DOES make sense as a trigger for Yang’s realization. I made the sort of boring decision while writing that… characterization-wise I am okay with Yang moving things along here, on the basis that Yang is interested in letting off some steam and has entered into that kind of self-soothing mindset he’ll increasingly show on the road to Vermilion. And I think if Yang were going to choose any time to hit on Schonkopf, or better yet blindside Schonkopf by arbitrarily declaring Schonkopf to have hit on him, it would certainly be as part of a high-level deflection away from one (1) question he doesn’t want to answer about Frederica and/or himself as a person who experiences positive desire. In this case actually it wasn’t a question, it was just Schonkopf suggesting he reach out to a grieving friend. Yang: What? No!!

Yang is also kind of the Aslan of LOGH in that whenever a person comes to him about a third party’s possible crush on him, he’s like, “no, I’m going to tell you about your crush now. no one is told any incriminating details but their own.”   

He leaned forward; and for once, Yang didn’t shrink away. Emboldened, Schonkopf wiggled his fingers in Yang’s face, invoking the spirit of a fairy godmother over a pumpkin. Yang moved his head to one side and squinted. “Are you making a pass at me?”

With the body language I did want to convey that Schonkopf has overshot his normal careful boundary-testing, partly because he’s feeling “vulnerable” about the one-sidedness of his investment—that’s part of what him ordering the autopsy under his own authority and then feeling weird about it is supposed to set up, though I don’t know if it works. 

It was natural to lower his hand. It was natural to smile pedantically, as if letting himself in on the joke.

I’m happy with this line because for me it immediately evokes OVA Schonkopf’s whole face situation. 

“I can’t say I’d thought of it. But for you, Admiral, I would make an exception…”

One question that it might be reasonable to address, now that I’ve gotten into it about all these… characterization considerations, for a very short and unimpassioned relationship upgrade scene… is why I didn’t just have Schonkopf initiate. And the answer is, because Schonkopf is a cowardly opportunist! Of sorts. I mean, he’s not Yang-level, but we see with Katerose how unwilling he is to go out of his way to do anything that might involve inconvenience for him, and I don’t think he’s so attracted to Yang he’d consider it worth the risk. Maybe. I mean, in general he’s not the sort of person who “risks” things for sex. It depends how you picture both FPA culture and the culture within the military, but I think especially in the first half of the show Schonkopf doesn’t seem confident enough about where to place Yang in any of that, even just as an “unsoldierly” person with all these performative civilian aspirations, that he’d put himself out there without some sign of interest from Yang. I think also with both Yang and Frederica he has this pre-emptive sour grapes thing of like, I don’t have a chance so I’m going to sublimate all my energy into weird interrogations of their joint ward, which Julian calls him out on in the one target practice scene, lol.

“No, really.” Schonkopf eased his weight off the desk and raised an eyebrow, a half a beat too late. Yang was practically glowing. His eyes had popped open. Disgusted, Schonkopf understood that he was ignoring any implications: he had the silly, brazen look he got when alone with an ideal puzzle. “I thought you were sour Frederica turned you down,” Yang stage-whispered, putting his hand flat on the desk in a covert slap of triumph. “I was too narrowminded. General, if you have a complaint—”

Yang is so dumb lol. None of the above commentary is meant to imply that this isn’t a genuine lightbulb moment for him, at least on a conscious level. Yang: “huh, this hot guy is constantly up in my business, I guess I can leverage his curiosity as loyalty” —> “ohhhhh he cares about me as a PERSON i can use him for SEX”

He paused. I should have timed it, Schonkopf thought, and folded his arms.

“How curious,” said Yang, leaning back. “I seem to have lost my head. I apologize if I said something in bad taste. It was a joke. Uh, a test?”

I wrote a less halfassed version of this and then had to ask myself whether Yang would put any effort whatsoever into offering someone ELSE a graceful exit.

Schonkopf shook his head. His arms stayed crossed. Yang stared up at him, and stifled a yawn. When the silence had gone on another moment, he appeared to sag. “This is difficult. Usually, the other person makes a move, and we’re interrupted by a firebombing,” he offered. “Well, I say usually. It’s only happened the once…”

“How would you know?” Schonkopf said, kissing him.

He felt Yang tense. The change was harsh. But, equally quickly, he relaxed, and even moved with the kiss. His hands settled on Schonkopf’s shoulders. Schonkopf felt a fleeting moment of pity for that one other person, whose life and honor the firebombing must have saved.

Anyway, my favorite thing about writing this scene was just that Schonkopf doesn’t know who Jessica Edwards is. Could Yang pull this line on Frederica? He could not! But Schonkopf, while a stalker, isn’t one of those weird stalkers who knows your dead friends’ names. Here, that puts him at a disadvantage.

“life and honor” — I like this bit because, although it’s just a joke, I enjoyed making Schonkopf be wrong in this fic, in general, as a dramatic irony thing but also because I like when characters are wryly, ruefully, or resignedly wrong. Like, they put some thought into this! Still wrong. And often the way in which they are wrong shows a real lack of imagination about how many different things can fail terribly—sure, getting emotionally involved with Yang is a bad idea and about to become a much worse one, but disengaging didn’t save Jessica. Yang is not the be-all and end-all of horrors awaiting anyone in LOGH universe, and it’s important that Schonkopf can’t see beyond that for even a second.

[supersleepygoat]

Better for Everyone: Part 4

Parings: Platonic Sam x Reader, Platonic John x Reader, Platonic Dean x Reader (this will change in subsequent chapters), Reader x OFC (Jonas)

Warnings: Minor Angst. Stockholm Syndrome Type of Situation-ish. Minor Violence. Language. Sexually Suggestive Comments.

Word Count: 3,251

Summary: The Reader spent most of her life with the Winchesters. She loves them like family but doesn’t feel like the feeling is mutual. When she is essentially kicked out of the Winchester clan she is left physically and emotionally vulnerable to dangerous situations. 

Series Masterlist 

Two Years Later

Jonas sits at the head of a large table with his signature smirk plastered on his face but an almost undetectable sense of worry in his eyes. He is pulled from his thoughts when the large doors across the room swing open and five of his vampires come in struggling to tame and hold down three rowdy Winchesters. 

John, Sam, and Dean each have their arms bound and a gag in their mouth to stifle their incessant threats and sarcastic banter. Jonas sits up straighter to address the new arrivals, “How many did they get this time?” he asks his bruised and bloodied comrades.

“They took down nine of us before we were able to subdue the dirty bastards” one vampire responds as he kicks John to his knees. Sam and Dean are also soon pushed down to sit on their knees as they await further instruction. 

Jonas runs a frustrated hand down his face “Secure them and then leave us. We’ve got a lot to talk about” Jonas orders as a response as he smirks at the Winchester patriarch. 

Once each Winchester is shackled to the floor and the four men are left alone, Jonas claps his hands and rubs them together motioning that he is ready to start the long night they have a head of them. 

“Well I got to say, it took you guys long enough! I have to admit I was worried you Winchesters had lost your touch!” Jonas playfully suggests as he makes a theatrical stride over to his captive audience.

Dean mumbles something from behind his gag so Jonas saunters over and pulls the fabric from his mouth.

“What was that Deano? You gotta speak up for the whole class to hear you” Jonas taunts as he leans an ear toward Dean.

Dean smirks and repeats himself without the cloth barrier in his mouth “I said, you’re being a little harsh and judgey... we tracked you and your cronies down three days after catching wind of the dropping bodies and arriving in town. We made pretty good time… if I do say so myself���. Dean uses a self-satisfied and overly prideful tone in an attempt to catch his captor off guard but that is not what Jonas notices in Dean’s rebuttal.

“Wait a second… your here, breaking down my front door and killing my family all for the walking, talking blood bags we’ve dropped since we’ve come to town?” Jonas asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah, why the hell else would we stop by for a visit. It ain’t like you vamps are known for your hospitality and we stopped by for some iced tea and chit chat” Dean replied as if the answer to Jonas’ question was obvious.

The playfulness has now immediately left Jonas’ demeanour. His jaw ticks at Dean’s words and he walks over to lean his forearms on one of the chairs and bows his head in an attempt to reign in his rage. “Jesus fucking Christ” Jonas breathes out with a chuckle. “Here I thought you assholes finally pulled your heads out of your asses and came for her” Jonas said mostly to himself but the Winchesters heard him and gave each other unknowing looks of curiosity. 

“Came to get who?” Dean asked since he is the only one able to say anything audible.

Jonas snaps his head toward the man who interrupted his thoughts. “Two fucking years” Jonas shakes his head. “She stopped waiting for you. She has a new family”. 

The Winchesters stare at Jonas with wide eyes, all of them can guess who he is referring to but each man needs to hear Jonas verbally confirm their fears. 

“Y/N?” Dean weakly breathes out. The name unfamiliar on his tongue. They have not spoken about you in so long but that doesn’t mean you have strayed too far from each of their thoughts. 

“Bingo” Jonas touches his nose then points to Dean. “I’ve had her since the night you sorry sacks kicked her pretty little ass to the curb” Jonas strides over to crouch in front of Dean whose entire face has hardened, all remnants of that self-satisfied aurora gone. Jonas glances to Dean’s left and right to take in the sorrowful, angry, and shocked faces of the Winchester clan. “I guess I should thank you guys!” Jonas says in a cheeky tone “You know… the whole one man’s trash, another man’s treasure kind of thing” Jonas adds with a lick of his lips. 

Dean’s lips fall into a hard line and he narrows his eyes “You son of a bitch” Dean growls out. 

Jonas jumps to his feet and kicks Dean in the chest making him fall backwards “No! YOU are the stupid sons of bitches who let her go! YOU hurt her! Not me. I am her family!” Jonas loses his teasing tone and lets his rage come out in full force. Taking a moment to compose himself, he continues in a calm yet stern tone “She is mine”.

The Winchesters can only gape at the man with wide eyes. They’re guilt and regret has rendered them speechless. Dean pushes himself back to a seated position and breathes out lowly “Where is she?”.

Jonas scoffs “Now you care?” and with a roll of his eyes he doesn’t expect an answer so instead he continues “She’s in bed. But I think she’d be up for some company. What do you say we see if Sleeping Beauty wants to come out and play?”

You weren’t sleeping. You could never sleep whenever Jonas wasn’t next you. You’ve never told him that because you didn’t want him to know just how dependent you were on him. He had a job to do and didn’t need to be worrying about you, more than he already does. You simply stroked the sleeping cat that was curled up next to you until Jonas came back for you.

You were playing with the lace at the bottom of your night gown when you heard the doorknob to your bedroom start to turn. You quickly shift yourself into a sleeping position and pretended that you had just woken up. To your surprise it was Liam who entered the room and not Jonas. 

“What the hell Liam! Knock much!” You say as you cover your body with the silken bedding and away from the intruder’s stare. 

Liam rolls his eyes at you and simply reiterates Jonas’ demand “Get up girly… we got visitors and Jonas wants you to help him entertain our new guests”

“Wh-“ you start to question as you get yourself up and off the bed and reach for your clothes.

“No questions. And he wants you to come right now as you are, so you won’t be needing those” Liam interrupts as he gestures to the dress you were about to put on.

“What the hell! No way! This nightie barely covers anything! I’m not meeting new people with my ass hanging out and boobs on display for the world to see!” You raise your voice and cross your arms across your chest when you notice Liam is no longer talking to your face. “Exactly my point!” You say as you turn to throw your dress on but Liam grabs your arm and takes the dress from you. 

“Boss’ orders” Liam says now staring you in the eye a little too intensely. You know Jonas has strict ground rules about no one hurting you but you also know Liam hates you and is itching for an opportunity to take you down a level.

You pull your arm away and hold Liam’s gaze for a moment before walking towards the door. You hold your head high but in your mind, you are insecure about your current state of dress (or undress is more like it). 

Over the past two years Jonas has helped you overcome your insecurities around your body. He never fails to tell you - and show - you just how beautiful you are to him. The first time you were naked in front of him, every instinct you had told you to cover yourself, hide your imperfections, or suck in your stomach; your face turned red with shame because you expected him to hate what he saw just as much as you did. But he didn’t. He loved your body in ways that you thought was only possible in works of fiction. Now, you were not only comfortable with him seeing you completely exposed but thrived under his stare. 

However, now was a little different. The light blue and silky slip you wore didn’t leave much to the imagination. You know it is Jonas’ favourite and you should not be ashamed, but you are his. Only he should see you like this. But as usual you are quick to obey his orders. Making Jonas happy, pleasing him, that’s all that matters. Everything else, all your self-doubt, falls away. 

You walk into the dining room and see Jonas sitting at the head of the table. When he smiles at your entrance you blush and half skip/half run over to him. He leans back in his chair so you can take your rightful place on his lap. You sit sideways draping your bare feet over one armrest and wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into his chest. He kissed your forehead as you hummed happily into his neck. 

“Hi” was all he said with a soft and loving smile playing on his lips. You let out a small giggle in response before you remembered why you had been summoned. 

You perk your head up in sudden fear and embarrassment and looked around the darkened room for the visitors you were supposed to meet. Your eyes fell on three kneeling figures in the darkened corner of the room. You couldn’t make out any distinguishing features and their ominous presence made you tense in Jonas’ arms. 

“Easy Pet” he cooed. You visibly relaxed at his words and waited for him to explain. 

Turning you so you could face him, Jonas continued “I need you to stay calm Pet. You’ve been doing so well for me the past couple years and I need you to remember that I’m never going to let anything happen to you. But there is a chapter of your old life we need to close before we can be together. Forever”. 

You tensed again but this time it was because of Jonas’ words. ‘Forever’ holds a lot of implications in the mouth of a vampire. You had discussed the possibility of him turning you, so you could be together forever, but you never wanted to be a vampire. You loved being his mate but didn’t see why it was necessary that you change. You loved him and that would never change. Noticing your apprehension, Jonas holds you closer and you hear rustling coming from the dark corner. You instinctively turn your head to the noise but Jonas guides you face back in his direction with the soft touch of his fingertips on your chin. 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” you whisper to your mate.

“Yes Pet. You know I don’t want to upset you but something has come up”. He gestures for you to stand up and takes your hand as he guides you to the darkened corner. Jonas turns the lights on in the room and you stop in your tracks. You attempt to pull your arm away from Jonas believing that if you go back to bed then you’ll realize this was all a dream. However, Jonas’ firm hold on you grounded you in reality. This was real. The Winchesters are really here.

You look to Sam who has wide eyes that in a certain light look like they glisten with unshed tears. You turn to John whose stare cuts through you just like it always has. You can’t bring yourself to look at Dean. Even just imagining the look of disgust on his face is enough to reopen any wound that has healed in the last two years. 

When you duck behind Jonas’ broad shoulder as a shield against your former family’s gaze, Jonas turns to lean over and cup your cheeks in his large palms “I know this is hard Pet but they are only here so my girl can finally get closure”.

You meet his gaze with watery eyes “Please let them go,” you plead “they were fine without me and we were happy without them. Let’s just continue being happy. We don’t need them. I forgive them. They lead me to you. It was better for everyone”.

Jonas shakes his head solemnly “Sweetheart, I can’t let them go. Now that they know your here… their do-gooder hero bullshit won’t let them just walk away, they are Winchesters after all” Jonas tries to reason.

“They let me go once. They’ll do it again” you look over at the three men bound and kneeling on the ground “I thought myself a Winchester once, so I know they won’t like leaving me behind. But I also know family comes first and if forced to make a choice, they will choose each other over me”.

Jonas smiles sadly at you “I think you underestimate the power of their hero complex Pet. They can’t walk out of here alive and I think you should do the honours” Jonas adds as he unsheathes the knife on his hip and hands it to you.

“What! No! Jay, I won’t do it!” You try to pull away from him. “Please I’ll do anything just let them go!” You hear rustling coming from the men but keep your gaze on Jonas to let him know that this is nonnegotiable and you are not going to back down.

“Anything?” Jonas smirks as he pushes your body against the table behind you and runs his hand up your leg. 

“Don’t be gross” you give his shoulder a small shove and he just laughs as he backs away to walk toward the boys. “You can turn me” you breathe out and that catches his attention as he turns back to face you. “You can turn me, if you let them go unharmed. You can have me, all of me, forever”.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. But Pet, you know extortion isn’t my thing. I’ve never pressured you into anything and I sure as hell ain’t starting now, especially when it comes to ending our life”.

“But it’s not the end. I want to start my life with you. I’m yours. I want to give you everything”. You walk closer to him and place your palm on his cheek and he leans down to smell your wrist. “Please, I want you to make me yours, all yours. Turn me, mate me, breed me I don’t care as long as I’m with you. You saved me”. Not one syllable of your words is a lie. True, you want Jonas to have mercy on your former family, but even more so you want to make your mate happy because that would make you happy.

You hear a low growl escape Jonas’ throat but it is cut short when Dean snaps his thumb out of place to slip his hand through the handcuffs binding him and lunges toward Jonas. However, Dean’s ankles are still bound therefore his surprise attack was unsuccessful. Hearing the commotion, the guards standing outside the room come in to subdue the wild Winchester. After letting Dean take a few hits Jonas’ finally listens to your pleas and he signals his guards to back off. 

“You think I’m the bad guy here, don’t you?” Jonas asks the now bleeding Winchester. “All of you, you think you can just-“ Jonas runs frustrated hand down his face “you broke her. I picked up the pieces. You-”.

You lightly touch Jonas’ arm, “Jay, let them go. It’s time to let go”.

The building anger in Jonas fades with your touch and he turns to face you once more “Go back upstairs Pet well I send them on their way” Jonas demands.

“Do you promise you won’t hurt them, because if you so much as-”

“You’ll do what?” Jonas asks playfully. “Relax Pet, I will not hurt a single strand of hair on their heads”. 

You nod and walk over to where the Winchesters are now being held down by the guards because they had become too restless. You get to your knees in front of Dean and raise a hand to wipe away the blood falling from beneath his eye. You’re not sure why but it is easier to face him now. You can look him in the eye. Maybe because it’s the last time you’ll ever see him or you know you found a true home with Jonas, either way you held his painful gaze for another moment before you got up, sparring a glance to the other two Winchesters and walked out of the room trusting your mate to honour his promise.  

The second the door closed behind you each Winchester steeled their composure to face the man before them. Jonas turns back around dramatically after watching you leave. “Well, you heard the lady I am not allowed to hurt you guys! But we both know it’s not that simple. She may have been a hunter but she’s still innocent enough to fail to see the hard realities. However, I am a man of my word. So, I won’t be hurting you but I cannot say the same for these fine gentlemen standing behind you” Jonas said while leaning his body to the left and gesturing to the other vampires in the room.

Jonas crouches down to get right in Dean’s face “Try not to think about the fact that while you are being slowly tortured to death I will be upstairs fucking and then draining the life outta our little lady. But don’t worry-“ Jonas pauses to raise his hands in a playfully defensive manner “when she comes back as one of us I’ll bring her back down to see if any of you folks are still alive and we’ll see if she’s feeling a little hungry”.

Jonas is about to get up off the floor when he instead inches toward John and in a whisper intentionally loud enough for everyone to hear he says “Did she ever call you Daddy? Because man to man, if she did…” Jonas sucks a breath in through his teeth “I don’t know how you ever controlled yourself. Every time she says it… I can’t help but bend her over the-” before Jonas can finish his thought John head-butts him causing him to stumble backwards. 

Lying on his back Jonas lets out a soft chuckle before getting off the ground “You know, the more you get me riled up the more I’m just going to take it out on Y/N” Jonas states matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry though, we both know she likes her punishments a little rough” Jonas continues as he wipes the blood from his lip and winks at the men kneeling before him. Turning to leave Jonas waves to the men in the room “Have at it boys! Have fun! Fuck knows I will be” he adds mostly to himself but knowing everyone could hear him. The door slammed shut behind him leaving the Winchesters in the capable hands of his cronies. 

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[penumbra-rp]

Ash, you will be playing the role of Amycus Carrow!

“How do you feel,” Amycus mocks hostilly, a scoff and a sharp roll of his eyes following. He takes off then, darting towards the right side of the court, racket striking the ball and letting it sail over the net. “What are you? My therapist? Asking me how I feel and shit all the fuckin’ time.” He feels everything. Always. And asking him about it only manages to make it worse.

Admin Becky: mark-me-down-as-scared-and-horny.gif because it’s quite frankly rude of Amycus to be so endearing in such a terrifyingly dangerous, diamond-cuttingly sharp, violently unhinged sort of way. What struck me the most about him is that is so unapologetically himself. He doesn’t try to hide his opinions and instead of letting his rage hinder him he has learned to use it to his advantage, embracing bloodshed and allowing himself to be useful to Riddle -- which succeeds in making him all the more deadly. He’s carving out a name for himself and unlike many of his peers is choosing fear over adoration. I can already tell that he’s here to cause trouble and I honestly can’t wait to witness the carnage. 

01. Out of Character

NAME: Ash

AGE: 25

YOUR BIRTHDAY: 01/24

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE: EST

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Amycus Carrow

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: 06/06

PERSONALITY:

(-) ABRASIVE – Amycus possesses a personality that the faint of heart cannot and will not be capable of handling. He’s overly aggressive and highly confrontational, with a tendency to rub people the wrong way from the moment they shake his hand, and he tips his head back and laughs when he succeeds. It makes it increasingly difficult to get to know and get close to someone like him. Harsh and insensitive, he cannot be bothered to spare a second thought for anyone else and their feelings, more importantly, he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. He finds that he doesn’t like most people anyways, so he thinks nothing of it as he pushes people away due to his annoyances and attitudes.

(-) IRASCIBLE – A young man with a short fuse, Amycus has a legendary temper, known for being ‘perpetually angry’ by his peers. He is quick to infuriate and prone to mood swings, going from crackling embers to a full blaze within mere moments without much warning. He’s volatile, known to lash out at anyone and anything when his temper is triggered. Incredibly irritable, the Carrow boy has always been hot-tempered and testy, more at home with his fury than anything else. And this fury manifests itself into cruelty and ruthlessness. His actions are driven by rage and spite, above any other motivations, leading him to wild and wicked behaviors. Fighting and cursing and initiating arguments are his ways to handle his problems, sooner spitting or throwing a punch to make a point.

(-) IMPETUOUS – The easiest way to make Amycus do something is to tell him that he can’t, tell him that he won’t. With his lack of regard for others, and a devil may care attitude towards most things, Amycus will dive headfirst into anything even if he cannot see the bottom. They call him reckless, call him rampant, and they wouldn’t be incorrect. Logistics are lost on him, seeing A and knowing he needs to get to B, and so he simply charges towards it without forethought. He’s a fast moving man, always has been and always would be, and his life needs to keep up the pace with his mind. While his sister possesses a penchant for thought and calculation, Amycus is a man of action (and not just action, but reaction too), and that’s what makes him useful.

(+) PASSIONATE – For someone who says they don’t care about anything, Amycus will certainly be the first one to get worked up when it comes to certain things that are important to him. He’s extremely emotionally expressive. His passion manifests in the intensity with which he does all things, never quitting halfway through, always seeing things to their completion once he starts them. It makes for a rather lethal force of nature once his path is set. It’s in the conviction with which he speaks about everything, forceful and animated with the inflection of his words and strong in the language he chooses. While it often prompts others to tell him to calm down or lighten up – Amycus does not know the meaning of such words, cannot comply with such requests. His passion makes him determined, drives him to continue, gives him the grit to persevere when others would give up.

(+) CLEVER – Amycus is not exactly the most brilliant, intellectual, I-have-top-marks-in-my-class kind of ‘smart’. But he’s a problem solver by nature, and it’s the engineer in him that is prone to thinking critically (if properly motivated to do so – that’s the important part). He has much more potential than he allows people to know, mostly because he doesn’t feel to expend the energy. Violence is what he’s known for, not his brain, and he uses that – letting others count on his dependable nature, and shocking them as he allows himself to be underestimated. But if you give Amycus a problem, it’s guaranteed he’ll figure it out. He’s an out of the box thinker, a quick thinker, rather resourceful and works best on his feet, in the moment, in the midst of action.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Prelude | The bad guy always has a very specific type of man in his back pocket – a secret weapon, a wild card, a loose canon of sorts. One they release when all else fails, one they unchain with the knowledge that destruction is eminent but necessary. A man just as, if not more dangerous, more deadly, than himself. A vicious, feral creature – with his true nature kept suppressed and subdued by gilded societal cages, his thirst for blood and violence going unquenched as the only sustenance fit enough to fuel his fury. It’s rather difficult to find someone like that…but only if you don’t know where to look. There’s always been something off, something predatory in those near-black eyes of his – immortalized in family portraits within the compound estate, and plastered over covers of GQ and Forbes. Something unsettling that triggered that fight or flight response in the pit of your stomach as it clenches and twists. It speaks to something unhinged, something untamed in the Carrow heir. He slinks and stalks through the streets, the silk of his shirts as dark as the dead of night – a panther camouflaged amidst a jungle of concrete. It seems he hides from high points, rooftops and ledges, body tense and about to ambush, always ready for attack. And when he smiles, it’s more a bearing of fangs than anything else. It’s fear that creates the foundations of his reputation. There’s a reason the stories festered and grew, there’s a reason that his every step caused yet another glance averted, caused bodies to part along sidewalks to not be in his path, caused his enemies, his sister’s enemies, his family’s enemies, to turn and retreat. It’s all so they might not end up like the others that have fallen by his hand. They call him a menace – good for nothing but destroying. And it just so happens, Amycus Carrow fits Tom Riddle’s criteria to a T.

Two | He has his father’s looks – edges sharp and features dark, but it is his mother’s temper that is passed down to him like a most coveted heirloom. Unruly. It’s the first word that comes to mind to describe him. He lived violently, turbulently. This whirlwind of a boy. He is everything his sister is not. Fire where she is ice, passion where she is poised. They couldn’t take their eyes off of him for a single moment without consequence. But there was no room for whirlwinds in their society, only proper little lads with firm handshakes who knew which spoon to use for soup and tea. So his mother smooths his hair down with careful brush strokes (to press his horns back in, most likely). Tells him to smile and play nice with the other boys (to hide his sharpened teeth, of course). Forcing his essence – his wildness – into order – perhaps, because she knew what it was capable of. He hated every correction of his mother’s fingertips, wincing and whining and snapping his jaws as she straightened his collar and re-tied his bowtie, fixing the disheveled wrinkles that only appeared because he thought it’d be a good idea to fight with one of the little Rowle boys in the park for bothering his sister. His mother leaves and he loosens his tie – the chain – around his neck. That’s better.

Three | Other children become means of entertainment, punching bags and spit targets. Throwing rocks at them from the top of the jungle gym he’d claimed as his throne. He’s the sudden push that sends others toppling from the slide because it’s his. He’s the one to create minions of his classmates, leveraging the safety of their toys so they’d commandeer all the red crayons because that was his color. Amycus was a mean little boy. And he grows into a cruel young man – with eyes like daggers and a tongue like a blade. His blood sings in tones of violence, misbehaving his favorite thing, and fighting his sport of choice – always stirring the pot, looking to get a rise out of others, returning home with bloody fists and a bloody face for his sister to clean up. He’s sent to boarding school then, his parents seeking reform and discipline that he desperately needed. After that, they submit his application to Hogwarts – not attending university was not an option, but they allow him the illusion of choice even as his major is selected for him. He will study Engineering, they decide, just as Alecto studies Business. There is a strategy in that – one collecting knowledge that the other doesn’t, filling in the gaps that would make them the perfect unit fit to lead at the helm of Carrow Energy together. He studies because apparently a piece of paper means something, even with an empire inked into his parent’s will for him to inherit. But he graduates and trades his diploma for a seat at the head of the boardroom table beside Alecto’s. Amycus knows nothing of the petroleum sector, cares none about oil rigs being created in their name and the forests sacrificed by pollution from it – but he knows electricity, knows energy, finds it fascinating for it’s capacity to create power just as it has the capacity to destroy. While he might not care for the conversation, he relishes in making the board members squirm under the intensity of his gaze, making them cling to edges of their seats waiting for him to fly off the handle at even the smallest offense.

Four | He’s a flash in the crowd, a blur of motion hidden between immaculately dressed bodies, camouflaged beneath designer fabrics, swinging chandeliers playing tricks of light that allow you to see him and then make him vanish, blended in until he wishes to be seen. So it’s easy for him to disappear when he gets his assignment. The rev of a Ducati in the moonlight, he slides down the visor of his helmet and takes off. It’s only then that they realize he’s gone. When Forbes calls, intent on congratulating him and Alecto on making their Most Influential list for the third time, he can’t come to the phone. He’s busy. Hands slicked with the crimson of blood – he’d never be able to swipe to answer. They’ll leave a message. While Carrow Energy is meant to be his livelihood, his heart will never be in it. Clean energy projects and electricity reduction plans pale in comparison to the real work that he’s entrusted to do for the Death Eaters. ‘Give them a taste of hell,’ Riddle’s voice sounds in his ear. A whistleblower’s head cradled in his hands, a sharp twist, a neck snapped. The call to darkness is relentless, and Amycus can’t help but pick up every time, asserting his dominance and inflicting his wild brand of violence wherever his mad eyes set themselves.

INTERVIEW:

“Mr. Carrow?”

The pleasant voice of the Carrow’s in-housekeeper, Camila, carries across the courtyard towards him.

“Digame,” Amycus responds, a tennis racket flipped in his hand, his wrist rotating as he prepped himself to practice. The machine revs up, spits out a yellow ball – one he whacks forcefully towards the back gate.

“Los periodistas de GQ están aquí. Your interview is now, they tell me.”

“That’s today? Puta madre…”

He allows her to let them into the compound, but he doesn’t stop the machine, lets it continue to fire out tennis balls only to be met with aggressive swings. “You caught me during practice, lads. Want to try?” Holding out his racket, to the videographer, who promptly shakes his head, adjusting the massive camera poised on his shoulder. A low growl rumbles at the back of his throat as he twists with alarming speed to clip the ball sailing their way. “Well,” Amycus impatiently waves the racket around, knocking it beneath one journalist’s notepad and letting it fall to the floor, only to jab it harshly into his chest a moment after. “Are we doing this or no?”  

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

“How do you feel,” Amycus mocks hostilly, a scoff and a sharp roll of his eyes following. He takes off then, darting towards the right side of the court, racket striking the ball and letting it sail over the net. “What are you? My therapist? Asking me how I feel and shit all the fuckin’ time.” He feels everything. Always. And asking him about it only manages to make it worse. His eyes widen, he clicks his tongue, “Ay Dio – I’m sorry. You probably cannot print curses, eh?” Inhaling slowly, he purses his lips, giving a lazy shrug of his shoulder, as if he cannot be bothered to lift them both at the same time  “I hate it.” His expression is serious, jaw flexing. “I mean, everyday I get to do what I want. I come and go as I please, I don’t report to a single damn person in that building. It’s just awful,” the grin that slides across his lips is the same as a blade’s edge, slick and sharp, as sarcasm embeds within his words.

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

“You listen to Latin music?” An inquisitive brow risen, flicking his attention towards his Apple Watch, connecting it to the bluetooth speakers outside, and turning up the volume. “Listen to this. It’s by J Balvin and Bad Bunny.” He presses play and the sounds of YO LE LLEGO fills the manicured grassy grounds. “Dónde e’ que están los cuartos, ‘manito, ey, y yo le llego,” the words roll smooth over his tongue, tone low, as it transports him to the other night, the song blasting in his Ferrari at 1AM as he headed towards The Dungeon, speeding through reds with the top down and sunglasses slid over his eyes. It’s the only song fitting. The only song to describe Amycus Carrow: “They’re saying – where the drinks, and the women, and the money, and my people are? That’s where I’ll be.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“It doesn’t…” Amycus says, only for his eyes to squint up at the beaming sun in contemplation, bringing up a hand to act as a makeshift visor, “But it also does.” The Carrows have built their empire on the foundations of fear and intimidation in order to breed respect. It’s with this familial reputation that Amycus has carved out a reputation of his own – known for being the worst of all who possess their name, whispers carried along the city’s dark underbelly of his savagery. And it is on this same reputation coupled with his vicious exploits, that makes him known. But, it can also be said that Amycus cannot bring himself to care about what others think of him. Given his frequent trips to Scotland Yard, decorated in handcuffs, and brawls within The Dungeon’s walls being part of news highlight reels, Amycus can’t bring himself to care of what people say, as they’ll always talk, always judge. Just so long as they don’t do either to his face…

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

“I’m the favorite,” Amycus gives a rather rare boast, using his racket to dribble one of the yellow balls that landed by his feet, only to smack it into the back gate with a powerful swing. It’s not often that he brags of his favor over Alecto, quick to dispel the thoughts, only whipping the truth out as a secret weapon when he wished to win an argument as a teen against her. “So yeah, we’re rather close, my parents and I.” Many parents do their best to rid their children of the nagging thought that one is better than the other, that one is more favored, more special. But his mother and father couldn’t seemed to be bothered with the courtesy. It was Amycus who was praised after even the most minute achievements. It was Amycus whose fencing matches and debate competitions were attended with undying support. And it is Amycus that is praised for strides the company takes with himself and his sister serving as new leadership. “They say I take after mami – apparently, she gifted me her temper. And her rasp of a voice.” But the idea is sound and spot on. Even he finds his heartbeat picks up pace if she even so much as raises her voice.

v. What languages can you speak?

“Two – Spanish and English. Fluently. Clearly.” He says Spanish first because he considers it his first language. He learned that the sky was azul before he knew what blue was. With Latino parents, the language was spoken in the Carrow estate from he was born and it’s the language he reverts to when he’s with family, when he steps foot onto the compound. It’s this same fluency that causes him to thrive with his overseas contacts in Mexico. “`Lecto is the…polyglot. That’s the word right? Poly…glot? That’s so ugly. Why is English so ugly,” he wrinkles his nose in distaste, shaking his head, “Linguista, is what she is. I think she knows like…German or some shit. Like, who needs German? To do anything?”

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“What kind of pinche question is that?” His face screws up like he smells something bad, just imagining smoke and burning wood and it tickles his nose. In fact, he raises his racket-hand to swipe the back of his palm beneath his nose for good measure before twirling it between his fingers to let it’s point stare the reporter in the face. “ Don’t speak that kind of thing into the air, eh,” he threatens darkly. Because God forbid something happen to his home, his sanctuary, just about the only place where he feels truly at ease, he’d hunt down this reporter and his videographers and his supervisors and lastly his family and skin them alive. “But I’d take the dogs. Stuff is…stuff. It can be replaced. But Santo and Diosa. They mean a lot to me. Not a lot of things do.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

Pretty sure you could have Google’d this one, pendejo, he mutters beneath his breath. The Carrow heir hadn’t seen the point of school, not at the time, not when the company was his to inherit eventually. But when his great great grandfather Aurelio came to this country, he made it so that his grandfather had all the opportunities he didn’t. It was a task carried forward, and forward again – so Amycus had no choice but to obtain a degree, as ignorance was something his parents wouldn’t allow to be attached to their name. The course catalog is something he skims over carelessly as he sips his morning tea. A boy at eighteen smirking wickedly across the table as he tells them ‘Modern Dance’ at the Hufflepuff School had really piqued his interest. It’s swiftly shot down, as he knows it would be. “I studied engineering at the Gryffindor School,” he confesses, “I actually started at the Slytherin School, studying law.” Amycus scoffs, shaking his head. What a joke that first year had been. “Imagine me? A lawyer? Mothers and fuckers of the jury, type shit. But my father thought since I liked to argue so much I’d be good at it. He wasn’t wrong or anything, but…I couldn’t be a lawyer, not with my record.” Shrugging, he thinks not of his multiple counts of assault, disorderly conduct, vandalism, trespassing, and reckless driving, creating stain after inky stain on what could have been a pristine reputation. “Crimson was always more my color, anyways.”

vix. What is your social media username?

Amycus blinks. Once. Twice. The muscles in his jaw clenching and releasing, in his irritation. Of all the senseless questions, this one had to be the worst of them. “Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the…Google? You know, you put things in, you search them, and you find things you want to know?” He pauses the ball machine, and puts a hand out to the reporter, “Your phone. Unlock it.” His requests are met with apprehension, sure, but they do not go unheeded, the device slid into his awaiting palm. His fingers are lightning quick as he taps at keys, typing his own name into the search engine. “Oh – look, that’s me. There’s my picture, and the Carrow Energy website, and oh! Look at that. That’s my handle. Amycuscarrow – all one word. All in a matter of seconds. Crazy right?” His wild eyes stare across at the journalist, before locking his phone and tucking it into the man’s jacket pocket. “Got any other questions, or can I finish practicing my backhand swing?”