#car accident death mention tw

[mikosouza]

— BASICS

Name: Miko Souza Age / D.O.B.: 30/04.14.1994 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis Male, He/Him, & Unsure Hometown: Hemlock Springs, WA Job position: Clerk at Ready Player One Education: Current Student (third year) Relationship status: Single Positive traits: (loyal, compassionate, courageous, reliable, confident) Negative traits: (reserved, temperamental, brazen, workaholic, pessimistic)

— BIOGRAPHY

death tw, car accident tw, bad parenting tw

(TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, CAR ACCIDENT, BAD PARENTING TW) Miko was born in Hemlock Springs to a family who didn’t have much to offer in terms of money and materialistic things. His sister joined the family early during the second year, but not too long after the arrival of his baby sister his mother passed due to a terrible car accident on her way home from work. Her death changed Miko's father forever, and life as Miko knew it.

His father took care of them at the best that bare minimum could offer. Once Miko was old enough, he began caring for both himself and his sister. His father drank away any extra cash they and, and eventually he stopped caring about the well-being of his kids. Still, it didn't stop him from drilling into Miko that HE would carry on the family name and there was no other path his father could see, or want, for his son. For the longest time, Miko followed that path.

He took over caring for his little sister and he was proud that there wasn’t a day his little sister would say ‘I want..’ and not be able to have whatever it was. Even if his father did not care to be around much, Miko made sure there was nothing but love in the household for his little sister.

(TW: DEATH MENTION, CAR ACCIDENT) Every Sunday Miko would take his sister to the park. He enjoyed showing her that life was as normal as it could be without a mother or a father around, and he was always trying to get her to be as much of a kid as possible. She was his world from the moment she was born. When Miko was thirteen, he took his sister to the park one tragic Sunday. He looked away from her for a SECOND and that’s all it took for her to run in the middle of the street for a rouge ball. By the time he had he turned to look at her all he saw was the car’s impact and his sister disappear beneath it. And as much as he screamed, cried, and tried his hardest to get her to respond to him, nothing changed the fact that his little light of joy was gone. His father never allowed him to forget that this was his fault, something that's remained cemented within him to this day.(end trigger)

As Miko got older he began to discover that his stomach seemed to tighten in knots whenever an attractive guy smiled in his direction. He found that his nights of passion with beautiful women no longer fulfilled him, but he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. He didn’t push further into his curiosity either because it infuriated him to think that he’d have to add another thing on the seemingly endless list of things for his father to be disappointed in him for. He had to carry the family name, somehow, and he did not need to add further bumps in the road. It didn't stop his mind from wandering.

He began to dive into school in order to keep himself busy. He's very passionate about marine life, and he is currently in his third year of college for his bachelors in the field. While he goes to school, he also works as a clerk at ready player one. Miko loves the job there and it does help pay the bills. thankfully, financial aid (so long as he keeps up good grades) helps over his studies. He is honestly just a guy with a big golden heart and some horrible puns to go with it.

CONNECTIONS & PLOTS:

A step sibling: his father isn't the most honest man. maybe this sibling occurred during an affair or after his mom passed. either way, we can plot it out and discuss!

Close Friend: he would love someone who he can talk to about any and everything with. he's a huge nerd, so he'd probably be constantly talking this person's ear off about something like dnd, sci-fi, ocean life, etc. true ride or dies type vibes!

Roommate (s): this can be open to one or two muses! the more the merrier, and we love pets up in this house! Miko is very friendly, but he also is probably the most quiet and shyest of the group/duo. would love like a new girl type of vibe!

Ex-hook up: perhaps this could be a summer fling that happened or just a drunken night! either way, we can make it awkward or angsty! could also be that they hooked up and now just joke about that night.

& MORE TBD

[u3pxx]

had the stray urge to design the gavin parents. what if kristoph was their favorite what then ...

cw: car crash mention below

thinking abt the "all gavins are terribly nearsighted" headcanon of mine. in my mind, the gavins have no concrete backstory bc i ain't got brain space for that pftt

but. i think they're similar to the skyes in which they lost their parents when they were still young. in a car accident where kristoph and klavier were the only ones who survived.

with klavier fast asleep.

kristoph was 17 and klavier was 9.

i am a "kristoph raised klavier by himself" truther bc of the [waves hands] implications of all that like wow!

(having to become a parent for your little brother the growing resentment of having to be the parent of your little brother but he's your little brother. you must remember that he's your little br

ANYWAYS , what if kristoph was their parent's favorite. like klavier was the happy precocious kid during family reunions yes, but what if bright, brilliant, and promising kristoph was their favorite. have you ever thought about th

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I realised too late that my brother and his girlfriend were working for Sweet Tooth and they basically went on a suicide mission where my dad crashed into their car and then Sweet Tooth crashed into my dad’s car and fed him poison sweets which made him laugh a lot and then he died.

[chickenlover-19]

Was inspired to go thru my wip folder and found the layouts for that comic I teased a while back, and. I really. Want to. Get back to this.

DP has me back in a chokehold, and honestly? I missed it a lot. And I’ve missed the people here.

Was in a really rough spot for a while and for the first time in a little while it feels like I can breathe again. Life update under the cut.

My grandfather passed a little while ago and I kinda dropped off the face of the planet. My family and I weren’t surprised by his passing, but we certainly weren’t expecting it.

On my way to his memorial, I was involved in a head on collision. Miraculously, no serious injuries occurred but my car was totaled. (For the record I was not at fault haha)

For a while, all I could think was “it’s just too much” because it just felt like shit just. would. not. stop. One of my family’s cats passed and a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer.

Looking back on it, it’s absurd that I didn’t believe that I was struggling with depression. It was a lot. And kind of still is to an extent. But I’m doing better.

Which is why I’m so happy that I’m wanting to draw again, that I’m back in the phandom and reconnecting with friends here.

Anyway, that’s all for for now folks (please, God, let that be all). Happy to be back here and hoping to be more active. Thanks for letting me ramble.

[thisbarbiereallylikesbirds]

YOU MUST TELL...........

how did Shen react to Lou's disappearance? Did she know he had a date with Big Mama? Did Shen know Lou was going to propose?

she knew about the date AND the proposal and...honestly thought he was gonna chicken out

due to the ~commitment issues~ this wasn't the first time Lou Jitsu said he was gonna propose, but it was the first time that he actually bought a ring (instead of panicking while he was at the jewelry store and buying a necklace or something)

at first when shen doesn't hear anything she assumes he didn't actually propose, or he did propose and she said no

after a bit she starts to wonder if she said yes and they ran off and eloped

after a significant amount of time has passed (enough that all future Lou Jitsu movies have been cancelled) she comes to the conclusion that he and Big Mama probably got into some car accident and died

she is obviously very upset by the fact that her two closest friends died, and wishes that she could have more closure, but accepts that she probably won't

...until one day post-movie when she receives a phone call from splinter

then she wants ANSWERS

[randomwriteronline]

His bad leg hurt like hell. Perditus clenched his teeth hard enough for his hairs to begin standing on their ends as he pulled himself out of the wreckage of his Thornatus.

Such a mighty vehicle, reduced to a pile of scraps.

Ain't that the way things go.

He looked down: like some sort of badly cut bread, chunks of fake meat parted to reveal that blasted prosthetic bone he was bound to until his flesh would at last be rotting off of him, scratched and bent and still half melted in places - a cheeky last parting gift from Death after he'd paid the rest of his life to evade it.

The ground beneath him was hard, and rocky, and uncomfortable to crawl upon on all fours. He had no other choice, so the stone kept digging into the heels of his palms and he kept biting back groans.

Then he came.

He made no light, no sound, no nothing, but he had a wire pinned to Perditus's neck, a mental link that grew slack or taut like a puppet's string: and he felt it pull suddenly, and a splendid smile came to into his thoughts before he even turned to see it.

Velika stood. He was tall, like this, unburdened by the broken body he'd forcibly fit himself within for centuries. His back was straight, his hair was long; his eyes had a shine to them, almost mischievous, almost genial, a bright intelligence that made his gaze so innocent, as though he could not hurt even the most insignificant of ants.

Velika stood, like he'd stood before him on that horrible day, identical in every way down to the very clothes he wore, down to his very expression: he stood like'd stood back then, looking every bit divine.

Numb uncaring nihilism squirmed within Perditus.

It fought, it thrashed, it rebelled, it clawed and gnawed and punched and kicked, but its adversary was too great: his last shield was torn apart from within, its guts spilled across oval pupils.

"NO!"

Velika stood, smile dropped.

"NO!" Perditus barked again, scrambling away, pain suddenly an afterthought in the wake of animalistic fear: "NO! NO! NO!"

Velika stood, with eyes wide and still from the surprise.

"NO! NO MORE! NO MORE! NO MORE!"

His hand searched for purchase. It found only a sharp descent which teared into it, ripping its wet flesh apart, and then a long void.

Velika stood frozen and unblinking as the frightened eyes capsized, disappeared from sight, when the body was dragged down the ravine by gravity as the Glatorian still screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and then did not scream anymore.

Perditus laid at the bottom of the cliff, curled up in a strange and ugly pose, at the end of the long intermittent trail of his blood.

He gazed into the rock with the same impossible terror.

Velika stood, staring at his bent neck from so high above him with only a blank expression. Then he simply left, as suddenly as he'd come: with no light, no sound, no nothing.

-

Gelu walked in: "Perditus is dead," he said gravely.

No reply came.

Then softly, very softly, Atakus spoke.

He said something, something indeed, but nobody understood it: his voice was too low, his breaths were too loud. He grasped his chest as he stumbled right into the wall - grasped at his frantically beating heart threatening to break his ribcage and rupture his lungs.

He walked out of the walls that had been his prison unhindered as no Agori nor Glatorian made any move to stop him. The Toa turned to look at them, confused by their paralysis, unsure what to do.

The Potori's escape was not a long one: his trembling limbs gave in as he fell on the sands, mere bio away from where he'd started.

A sound came out of his mouth.

And it rose, and it rose, and it rose, until it became a piercing wail.

From inside the small building, the others watched him. They watched him tear his armor off to beat his chest like a fury; they watched him grab at his wool and pull, pull, pull until it was torn off of him; they watched him fold in on himself, howling like a fox doomed to die in a forgotten rusted trap, as he he slammed his head into the ground over and over.

Raanu shot out an arm to block the Toa trying to reach the screaming thing: "Leave him," he murmured. "He'll be done soon."

"He's hurting himself," the artificial being replied, still puzzled, incapable of understanding, brilliant crystal eyes traveling between the elder and the sorry spectacle so close and yet so far from them, "He's hitting himself - what is happening? What is he doing?"

"He's mourning."

Atakus wailed.

He spoke his mother tongue, his old stone dialect, calling helplessly for many things at once - a mother, a brother, a cousin, a lover, a friend, a healer, a patron, a slave, a warrior, a saint... What could he do? What could he do? There was no wail for a gambler, no wail for a beggar. No wail for someone he could not define, and so his grief-stricken mind cobbled together everything, everything, every form and code he could remember.

A voice reached him eventually, after his chest was battered with bruises and his nails had half shaven his head: the words entered his ears and made a nest within, forgotten immediately - except for one.

He turned his head with wrathful crazed eyes and teeth bared: "FRIEND!" he repeated spitefully: "We were no friends!"

He stood fulminously once more with his dagger in hand, unable and unwilling to recognize who he was talking to, unfocused vision incapable of distinguishing materials or colors or armor designs from one another from within the spiraling throes of his madness.

"If we'd met in the War he would have blown my head open!" he shrieked. "He would have run me over until my bones were fine mist, and I would have done the same to him!"

Just as quickly as his rage had come, it submitted to invincible pain: Atakus shivered harshly, losing his grip on his weapon and twisting his face into a horrible grimace, and clutched again his chest with a horrid strangled cry.

"Oh Perditus, oh Perditus..." he sobbed softly between heaving breaths. He panted as he tried desperately to suck in as much air as he could while sinking to his knees; his teeth gnashed together once more, with his horizontal pupils turned upwards towards his spooked interlocutor lit by a frightening fire and his voice pitched high into a garbled growl: "You have no idea what it means...! To be a debtor for life...! To have each new breathing second be an inescapable fee...! To have every moment of your life stolen from your hands, because that is how you paid your survival...!"

A groan left him, foam building in his mouth, trickling from his lips. He sunk blunt nails into his chest before slamming his fists into the hole his faulty heart called home until it adhered to the rhythm of his furious beating, until this body that stifled him like a too warm blanket followed his orders and kept functioning without needing the appearance that blasted loaner of a god, without forcing him to renew that contract he'd signed so young and foolish and close to an anguishing death.

"You don't understand!" he wailed, "You will never understand!"

Something struck him. Something rattled along the drumming of his infernal organ and sparked a wrong connection in his nerves, setting them on fire, devouring part of his brain.

Uncomprehending eyes watched him grab at the air behind his nape with crazed purpose, bringing it to his mouth where his dull straight teeth bit down on it as though it were a wire: he thrashed around it, pulling with his hands and jerking his head back repeatedly, violently, snarling like a rabid beast and desperately trying to cut something that wasn't there.

"BESTIAL THING!" he growled and spat and hissed, "BLASTED GREEDY BASTARD! HORRIBLE, DIGUSTING, DAMNED--"

With a horrid shriek he jolted again: his jaw snapped open, his fists parted with a sudden motion, and he stumbled back panting as if he'd just lifted the sky back into place.

"I DEFY YOU!" he howled into the nothingness. "I DESERT YOU!"

He laughed, horrid and mirthless, for only a moment.

Then he crumbled upon himself, clutching his chest again with both hands, whimpering in anguish.

"Perditus, Perditus, oh, Perditus..." they heard him sob under his breath like a prayer when they approached him, to bring him back in so that his sputtering heart could rest: "Oh Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses? Ḗmastan oi mónoi pou mporoúsame na kataláboume, oi mónoi… Oh, Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses móno se autón ton tromaktikó kósmo?"

-

"Perditus has died to evade me," Velika said with a blank expression.

Pohatu felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"What?"

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

He stared into the Great Being's unmoving eyes.

"What sort of question is that?" he asked, appalled.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"He's dead," the once Toa ignored him. He held his disgustingly soft face in his hands, still shocked. He would not pretend he'd liked the man for what little he'd known of him, not after his trap had almost gotten Kiina and Kopaka injured and was the reason he'd accepted to be stuck amongst these infuriating gods to keep them from trying to kill his siblings and friends; but he had still been a sapient living being like the rest of them, and the way his end was spoken of made his flesh seize within him until his mouth tasted nauseous and his vision was swimming. "He's dead - Mata Nui... What happened to him?"

"He's died to evade me." Velika repeated once more, empty tone unchanged. "Do you think he's made a good choice?"

Patience depleted, Pohatu snapped: "What does that even mean?"

"Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

Their brown eyes mirrored each other as they both stared.

"How are you this crosswired when you have no wires to cross?" the once Toa asked back.

Velika's mouth opened: "Ah ah," he said without intention. The sound fell from his parted lips like change from a broken vending machine. "Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

He stood across him, blocking the door completely with his silhouette: his back was straight, his head held still.

Pohatu bolted further away from him, suddenly terribly frightened, hitting his spine hard against the wall: "What is wrong with you!" he cried out.

Velika remained perfectly still, a pillar of salt unmoved by any and all passions: "Would you consider death a viable-"

His hand startled.

The words died on Velika's tongue, and he widened his eyes. He looked down to his palm: his ring finger stood out, dislocated, as if it had been yanked or bent with great force.

A strange hissed whine left him.

His eyes (not as blank as before, alight with pain and something close to fear) settled back on the Toa with a snapping movement as he hurriedly held his injured appendix in its twin: "You'll answer later." he decided for him.

His clothes rustled like leaves caught in a temperamental wind as he walked away at a quick pace, relieving the doorframe of his terrifying presence - abandoning only the vague shape of his own afterimage there, like a large spot of darkened static lingering in the vision of one who has looked into the sun too long.

Pohatu waited, and waited, until the sound of his steps disappeared.

"There's something wrong with him," he murmured.

"I noticed," Takanuva tried to joke from his hiding spot as his armor slowly reflected the light in the room in a way that colored it white and gold once more.

But his older brother did not laugh, gazing past the door, still fearing the return of that unnatural empty voice, those unnatural empty eyes: "I mean it," he whispered, dead serious, thinking of Bohrok: "There's something wrong with him."

-

shout-out to The End Of Hope by @bread-into-toast, which grabbed me by the fucking throat this evening and is the sole reason any of this got written. wonderful zine. delightfully unsettling. go read it.

[joen-lenawley]

Why do so many people who draw fanart of Billy Shears make him evil and holding a knife and sadistic and covered in blood? It’s not like he murdered Paul in the original conspiracy theory. People claim that Paul died in a car crash (“he blew his mind out in a car”), so it wouldn’t really make sense for him to depicted as a murderous psychopath. I get that people do make AUs where he is (I love the “A Day in the Life” comic), but art like that out of context bothers me a little. Plus, if he murdered Paul, why would the Beatles want a murderer replacing their bandmate? Do what you want, though, I’m not your mom and this is completely trivial.

Anyways, sorry, I’ve been getting obsessed with Paul is Dead lately. I don’t believe in it (obviously), but it’s super fascinating. Might write something based on it.

[tul1ps1]

𓂀 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𓂀

satoru gojo x y/n angst.

tw: overdose, grieving a dead loved one

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

nights with you suddenly turned into sleepless nights alone. satoru laid in bed, the time was now 4 AM. only the sounds of raindrops and thunder roaring were heard outside. a tear slipped down his pale skin as he scrolled through a photo album of you two. he clicked on a video where you were eating ice cream. your laughs almost brought a smile to his face, yet stabbed his heart. how long has it been without you? he missed the way your warm lips felt on his. the way your light up any room you walked into. how soft your skin felt. how a simple touch would warm his body. it wasn’t fair. how could you leave him like this? he didn’t know if he was more mad at the world, himself, or you. no, he could never be mad at you. anytime satoru felt alone, as if no one understood him, you always reassured him. you held him, took care of him, and loved him. so much he questioned if you were real sometimes. even though it hurt, he continued to scroll through the album. the more pictures he saw of you two together, the more tears he cried. he remembered how frequently you complimented his eyes. you said they reminded you of the deep blue sea. you said they gleamed in the moonlight, and shined in the sunlight. he knew that you wouldn’t want him to be like this, to be crying so much, to be hurting. no, you would want him to be happy. unfortunately, you were his happiness. he physically cant live without his one true love. his other half. if only he could go back. to see you once more. that beautiful smile and those breathtaking eyes. he cant stand listening to your voicemails anymore. hearing your voice through a recording wasn’t the same.

“satoru! my love, pick up the phone it’s urgent!”

january 23rd, 2024

“hi love, im waiting on some friends and ill be back home soon, dont stay up late waiting on me. i love you.”

march 15th, 2024

“baby i miss you soooo much. im stuck at the airport but ill see you sooo soon. i love you satoru, bye!”

may 31st, 2024

“im on my way home toru, im taking a uber so dont worry about picking me up haha. be there soon. i cant wait to see your handsome smile. see ya, i love you.”

may 31st, 2024

why? why did you have to uber home? why couldn’t he have just picked you up? you could’ve still been here. crys turned into sobs. satoru couldnt do anything now. he cant go back in time and save you from that car accident. he closed his eyes and saw you. for the first time in a while he felt peace. the sight of you brought him comfort. but when he opened his eyes you were gone and the throbbing pain retuned. he knew what he had to do. theres only one way he could be with you once more. there would be no more pain. just you two together forever, like it should’ve been. he got up and swallowed as many pills as he could find. followed along with his mental pain, was now physical pain. it didn’t matter to him. satoru went back to lay down. he closed his eyes once more and saw you again. he saw your beautiful soul again.

[sterlingxlevin]

closed starter: @dancingdanvers

where: Sterling's house

Sterling had done everything she could to keep her mind off the car accident since it happened. She had scratches and bruises but thankfully nothing terrible. It was Liza who'd gotten the worst of it and it was so upsetting to see her sister upset and hurt. But Sterling was also struggling. She blamed herself for it happening and she kept thinking about their mom since she was lost in an accident when Sterling was six.

But, trying to keep her mind off things, Sterling kept inviting friends over her house to spend time with her. One of those friends being Sloane. "We could go into town and get some coffee? Or we could watch a movie and order takeout." She shrugged, trying to come up with something fun for them to do.

[lifewithchronicpain]

I already knew this, but my mom was reminding me when she was complaining about people saying they don't drive any better if they see "baby on board" signs on a car. First off, okay, you're an asshole.

But more importantly, That's Not Why They Were Created! It's so if the car is in an accident, rescue workers know they need to look for a baby. Back when I was growing up especially, car seats were not made as well and it could go flying in a crash. If the baby is unconscious or just being quiet, because they do that too, and the adult is unconscious or dead, they can't tell them there was a baby.

So like, I hope you drive safe anyway, but the "baby on board" signs aren't trying to be some status symbol of parenthood. They're a safety step in case of the worst.

[savannahovalles]

​​​​​​​statistics .

full name :  savannah ovalles

nickname(s) / alias(es) :  sav, whatever anyone calls her. 

age / dob :  27, march 10th.

hometown :  new orleans, louisiana

length in new york :  one week, but was in new york previously a few years ago

gender / pronouns :  cis woman, she & her

orientation :  bisexual , biromantic 

faceclaim :  priscilla quintana

language(s) spoken : english and spanish 

accent :  southern 

hair : shoulder length,  dark 

height : 5 ‘ 5.

tattoos : an array of tiny tattoos scattered in different areas of her body

piercings : two on each ear lobes, belly button .

shortened biography .

triggers: alcoholism and death mentions .

savannah ovalles grew up in an extremely small town in georgia where her family looked perfect from the outside but had been anything but. her mother struggled with ongoing alcohol abuse, and her father left without as much as a warning when she was thirteen, leaving her and her older brother henry to basically  fend for themselves. henry, a star athlete and beloved figure in their small town, seemed to always carry the weight of their family dynamic on his shoulders — though, he tried his best to conceal it as much as he possibly could. he promised savannah they’d leave their town behind one day, but it was a dream that instantly shattered when he died in a car accident at seventeen. his first vacation home after going to college in florida. savannah, having been in the car that night,  was the only survivor and his loss sent her spiraling further into a life of turmoil. her mother’s addiction worsened, turning into blame and abuse directed at savannah. by eighteen, tired and broken, she packed her bags, left her small town behind, and disappeared without as much as a goodbye to anyone within her town. with hopes that by severing all times with that town and her life, she’d be able to start fresh – pretend as if that was a life she’d never live through. 

for years, savannah wandered, searching for something she couldn’t quite name nor did she ever try to distinguish what she was looking for. the first few years since running away had been spent in florida, chasing the life her brother once described after moving there himself, but it never felt … right. there was a restless feeling within her and it took up a look of courage (and as much money as she could save up) before savannah also kissed florida goodbye. she began moving from state to state, taking on odd jobs, and living in the cheapest places she could find. each stop offered a glimpse of something new, but nothing ever strong enough to convince her to stay. now, her journey has brought her back to new york. she’s found a small studio apartment, a bartending job, and maybe—just maybe—a place that feels like home. still, how long would it take before savannah decides that new york isn’t enough for her? how long before the urge to leave calls her again?

click here to read the full biography.

[eviexwatson]

[ciswoman and she/her/hers] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [EVELYN “EVIE” WATSON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [MAYA HAWKE]. You must be the [TWENTY-SEVEN] year old [ATTENDANT at SWEET NOTHINGS BAKERY]. Word is you’re [EASY-GOING] but can also be a bit [SELF-DESTRUCTIVE] and your favorite song is [POISON by ALICE COOPER]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER’S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌁𐌀𐌔𐌉𐌂𐌔

Name: Evelyn Renae Watson Nickname: Evie Birthday: August 5th Zodiac: Leo Age: 26 Face Claim: Maya Hawke Occupation: Attendant Gender: Ciswoman Pronouns: She/Her Sexual Orientation: Bisexual  Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

𐌃𐌄𐌄𐌐𐌄𐌓 𐌃𐌉ᕓ𐌄

Myers-Briggs: ISTP-T Positive Traits: Adaptable, Alert, Creative, Easy-Going, independent, Uninhibited, Private, Observant, Witty  Negative Traits: Abrasive, Addictive, Insecure, Rebellious, Hot-Headed, Self-Destructive, Temperamental, Withdrawn Hobbies: Graffiti art, Smoking, Poetry, Make-up, Nail art, Skateboarding, Rock Collecting, Thrifting

𐌉𐌌𐌐Ꝋ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌍𐌕 𐌔𐌕𐌵𐌅𐌅

TW: Parental death, car accident, mention of abuse, drug/substance abuse, overdose allusion

There are a great many things that Evie would much rather do than discuss her childhood or her parents. Like walking over heated, rusted nails, swimming in shark-infested waters with a heavily bleeding wound, or touching the hot eye of a stove without submerging her hand in water beforehand. All of these would be considerably less painful than drudging through old memories she tries her best to repress to this day.

Where do I even begin? I suppose the beginning would be best. Evelyn Renae Watson was born in mid-July, her parents were Everett and Mary-Ann Watson. Her mother was a waitress at a local diner. Her father was a well-respected officer of the ABPD, who performed his duties well and was known to be a stickler to the rules. And for the most part, when at home, he was decent enough. Sure, there may have been times when he got a little loud and would yell, especially if he had been drinking.

It wasn’t until Evie was around six that it changed. Her and her mother had gone to visit some relatives, and Evie ended up chasing after a ball one of her cousins threw at her, running out into the road, right in the way of a speeding truck, the driver neither slowing down nor paying attention. Mary-Ann rushed out to push Evie out of the way. And while Evie made it out mostly unscathed, save for a few scrapes from being shoved onto the concrete, her mother was fatally wounded. It was quite the story for a few weeks. A mother giving her life to save her child in a heroic display. Most of the family and family friends knew it was just a freak accident and never once blamed Evie for it. One person did: her father, vehemently so.

His drinking had become more frequent, and when he drank, he liked to remind her that if it weren’t for her, her mother would still be there, how it should have been her instead and many other horrible things that should have never been said to a child or to another person. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay verbal for long… As you could imagine, this had quite a negative effect on Evie. In her self-esteem as she got older. In her ability to make genuine connections with her peers. Even her grades began to suffer once she realized that doing well in school wasn’t going to help.

At some point, though she doesn’t exactly remember specifically when, as her childhood is just a blur at this point, she found an old luggage case full of old stuff tucked away in the attic. She was bored, her father wasn’t home, and TV wasn’t allowed in the house. Inside the case, she found a bunch of… Mostly stupid stuff. A bunch of old band tees with the pictures faded or crackled. What stood out the most to her was a Walkman, as well as a couple of mix tapes filled with her favorite classical rock songs, the words ‘Mary’s tunes’ and ‘Mary’s tunes #2’ written in faded ink. These were her mother’s. It still worked after putting in some batteries she found, and she never parted with it since.

While it was difficult for her to make friends and get close to people, it wasn’t impossible. She had a few shallow friendships, and only a few she would consider close friends.  It was safe to say that a few of her friends' parents didn’t approve of her. She was, after all, the angry, troubled child who never applied herself (unless it was something that she found to be interesting), got in trouble smoking cigarettes in the girls’ bathroom, skipped class, and occasionally got into fights.

Despite this, Evie found her people. Together, the group got into all sorts of mischief. Sneaking out, drinking, smoking. 

However, that wasn’t enough to help her cope with the pain of her trauma. So, the first time she was offered weed, she took it and never looked back. It helped tremendously, until eventually, it didn’t as well.

Evie slowly began to dabble into harder drugs. Up until she was eighteen, that was her norm. Carefully navigating her father’s temper, and sneaking out to hang out with her friends, Evie secretly got a job so that she could move out as soon as possible. After graduation, and once she was eighteen, she worked up the nerve to finally move out. She just.. Kinda left one day when he was at work.

After that, things seemed to get better, though there were several times when she spiraled. Evie got into trouble with the law often, either late at night when she would get caught tagging a place and would lose all of her spray paint, or whenever she’d be caught with drug paraphernalia.

There were times Evie found herself wanting to get clean, but doing so on your own without any support was more than impossible. She’d be clean for a few weeks to even months before a relapse until she eventually relapsed. Her last relapse led her straight into a hospital, which saved her life, then rehab.

She’s back in Aurora Bay with her twelve-month recovery token always tucked away in her pocket to remind herself of how far she’s come.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[elithatcher]

in character

Name: Elias Thatcher

Faceclaim: Nicolas Galitzine

Gender��& Pronouns: Cis male & He/him

Age: 31

Birthday: April, 13, 1993

Occupation: Baker at Tasty Treats

Neighborhood: Midtown.

Does your character have a secret? He's heavily dependent on cocaine but likes to pretend it's not a problem.

biography

bullying mention tw, car accident tw, death tw

Elias Thatcher was born on a spring day in April in Chicago, Illinois. From their choice of movies to music, and fashion, Elias's parents were totally stuck in the 80's and 90's. As it would turn out, he' would end up with similar taste as his parents. He has also always lived in this dream that one day he’ll get to star in his real-life version of an 80’s romcom movie. Complete with a big stereo blasting some love song outside of someone's window and everything. Despite his positive outlook of the world around him life was not kind to the Thatcher family. They never had a lot of money to give, what little they did have had to go to rent, bills, and food. So needless to say, Elias got a lot of his clothes from thrift stores or hand me downs from his cousins. It used to cause him to get picked on by a lot of the kids in his school, but he didn't care. He was never ashamed of his thrift store clothes, he loved thrifting, he just never understood why those kids had to be so cruel about it.

He was fifteen when the car accident happened. Elias and his parents were on their way back home with some pizza and movies, after a long day of Christmas shopping, when the collision with another car occurred. It really was just a tragic accident due to slippery roads and cars sliding left and right. He made it out with minor injuries, most of the impact happening at the front of the car, but his parents did not share the same fate. From that day forward, Christmas has never been the same for Elias. He went on to move in with his grandparents, who lived in Jacksonville, Florida. Then, life continued to have its ups and downs for Elias. Losing his parents made him spiral a bit, which in turn caused a lot of arguments between him and loved ones. Yet, despite it all, Eli still tried to keep a positive outlook.

Eventually he ends up moving back to Chicago for college and lives with some friends.  He meets a girl who will go on to become his girlfriend for a year before she ends up breaking up with him by drunk cheating with a mutual friend. It hurt but he got over it rather quickly, and then he figured out college wasn't really for him.  So, Elias lives on the road for a bit with some friends, straight out of his backpack, with nothing but the bit of money he made from street performing random 80’s covers; his favorite one was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money. He came across Wilmington by complete coincidence. Him and his friends ended up staying in the coastal town longer than intended and by the time they were ready to leave Eli was not. He was able to put down first months' rent with someone who lived in Midtown, moved in, and began his life in Wilmington. He's been living in town for four years now, and he discovered his passion for baking three years ago.

[guiltswept]

WE'RE  MAKING  OUT  INSIDE  CRASHED  CARS  /  WE'RE  SLEEPING  THROUGH  ALL  OUR  MEMORIES  /  I  USED  TO  WASTE  MY  TIME  DREAMING  OF  BEING  ALIVE  /  (  NOW  I  ONLY  WASTE  IT  DREAMING  OF  YOU  )  —  MEET  BABE  MORI.

...content warnings for... parental & familial death, mentions of a car accident, night terrors, stalking, harassment, implied gun violence, and drugs.

profile.

full name — paloma mori.

nickname(s) — babe! that chick over there. friend :)

place of birth — blue harbor, illinois.

date of birth & age — august 13th, 1997. twenty7.

gender / pronouns — demi woman, she / they.

sexuality — bisexual.

occupation — stripper at tba. amateur taxidermist. scene queen. professional raver. PLUR princess.

astrology — leo sun, leo moon, leo rising.

residence — her family's apartment above their beer & noodle shop in cardinal hill. the apartment is a mix of fratboyisms ( liquor bottles as decor, beer boxes as wallpaper, led strip lights half - falling off the walls ) and babe's... everything ( random crystals and band posters, cheetah print, loose plastic beads in every corner because none of them vacuum enough... so many taxidermy projects ).

interests — stick and poke tattoos; giving and receiving. edm. "scenecore". bright, neon colors. never washing her eyeliner off. pop punk. whiny vocals. nostalgic cartoons. fun and silly taxidermy. cooking for her friends; cooking as a release. dancing, in all forms. candy. glittery stickers. cheetah print. sex and love, and sex without love. skateboarding. reacting impulsively. demonias. fishnets. graffiti and vandalism. adrenaline rushes and cheap thrills. doing what she's told not to do. living her best life even if it's doomed. beer. her grandfather's recipes. mdma. loud, crunchy, static.

aversions — admitting that she has a god complex. taking responsibility for her actions. the way she can't stop when she cries. being dismissed. not being adored and loved. being alone for too long; long periods of silence. people who take themselves too seriously. being shamed. taking her medication. sleeping; her night terrors. thunderstorms, though she says she loves them. muted colors. art museums. bras. when she's not the one to end the relationship. being confronted with the truth, or reality.

quirks — falls in love and/or lust too easily, and will spend weeks fantasizing and obsessing over one person at a time. never lasts long in relationships except for one that's constantly on the frays. has no volume control in public and speaks without thinking. can be insensitive at times. loves convincing others to get matching tattoos with her. kicks in her sleep ( when it occurs ). always says she can handle her liquor but is always the first one drunk. is minorly allergic to alcohol but it will not stop her.

most played — IN MY MOUTH by black dresses.

notable features — straight black bangs and even straighter hair that's always tangled in the wind. a collection of glitter that never leaves her face. a few lovingly placed beauty marks and a full bottom lip that's always bitten raw.

general disposition — electric, energetic; a nonstop force until she's simply not.

character study — ilana wexler ( broad city ) & juliet starling ( lollipop chainsaw ).

background.

parental death / car accident; she's raised by her maternal grandfather and uncle, smack dab between her two brothers - their parents died in a car crash when her younger brother was just a baby, babe still too young to remember them much, or the accident that took place.

they live in a small apartment atop their grandfather's restaurant - a small noodle & beer shop that welds just enough profit for them to get by.

has been called babe her entire life - sometimes her grandfather says its because after her older brother had watched the movie of the same name, he thought she looked so pink and pig - like.

night terrors; is diagnosed with night terrors at a very young age - her cries and screams wake their household nightly, tiny limbs thrashing about like undergoing an exorcism. every night, on repeat - again and again. sleep paralysis becomes common - strange figures always lurking in her doorway, fingers curling over her doorframe - insomnia after that, because babe can no longer stand to sleep.

as a kid there's only so many explanations to her diagnosis - none feel right, a girl always in denial - settles on the belief that maybe she's a medium. that maybe what she sees are just spirits reaching out for her - wanting her help. she's so young, her family just thinks she'll grow out of the belief - but she never does. it's better than acknowledging the truth - of the deaths she's tethered to.

grows up the weird girl - the girl who talks to nothing, the girl who says she's really seen bloody mary in the mirror - the girl who's always bruised from taking a fall from her skateboard, over and over again - the girl who never learns. the girl who set the robotics club room on fire, and was banned from competitions from there on. always plenty smart - but terrible at utilizing it.

death; her grandfather dies shortly after babe's high school graduation - and college seems like a distant memory. she'd been serious about it, once - but now she needs to help out where she can. her uncle's taking over the restaurant with her oldest brother in tow - her youngest already picking up jobs when he should be studying. babe hates to see them struggle - hates how palpable the grief is in the air, how thick it is - how she can barely breathe.

she gets a job at the strip club as a dancer - she's young and charismatic, muscle built from years of roughhousing - it reels in plenty money, enough to help out her household and have some leftover. she picks up taxidermy classes, because college still seems so far away - babe knows how to move forward, but not how to pick up the pieces and continue where she's left off - dozens of projects left half - finished, plenty of relationships dropped without warning. the only constants are her best friend since diapers, practically, and the boyfriend she breaks up with, but never truly leaves. she's known him for so long - it feels impossible to ever really part.

stalking / harassment / gun violence; years later - babe's a known face at the club with a plethora of regulars, customers who adore not just her body, but her personality, who respect her - who pay her plenty. a new customer begins to get a bit too - affectionate towards babe. too close, too interested. the club's good about discomfort - and he's escorted off premises after he tries to follow her into the dressing rooms. it doesn't end after that - an obsession that carries outside of the club, that follows her - he follows her, to and 'fro - the police useless, because he hasn't touched her - and when her oldest brother finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands. the man doesn't die - but he comes close to it, and when the police come knocking this time 'round - it's babe's uncle who steps up; who confesses to the crime. a crime he hasn't committed - but will protect his family from.

it's been a year since then; her oldest brother's taken over their family's restaurant - and the guilt swallows babe daily. she's only semi - recently gone back to work, much to the protest of her brothers; her oldest brother still upset about her decision, and still not talking to her.

facts & temperaments.

has unironically called herself an empath and in her defense she sort of is. feels emotions so so deeply that they hurt. a big crier, can't help it. tends to let them get the best of her - an irrational thinker who always jumps to conclusions, whether it's about you loving or hating her.

a little performative, dramatic - feels like she needs to be, like if she's not a caricature of sunshine then she's just the girl with a should - be - dead stalker and an incarcerated uncle. the girl with the dead animals, and the profuse swearing of mediumship.

a big - time partier, a known raver; self - proclaimed scene queen. always wearing rave attire, even in the cold - loves big, bold colors, the more neon the better, her arms consistently covered in kandi that she gives out like candy to her most favorite people of the week, sometimes the hour.

drugs; big big big on psychedelics and like. party drugs. loves poppers. will never admit that she has a problem - thinks she can always just reel it in.

has probably said rawr :3 in the past 24 hours.

loud and bold and talkative - isn't afraid to point out things that others may not; doesn't get the hint when to shut up. a bit of a blabbermouth, but she can't help it.

needs to be validated often that she's still liked and loved and adored, it's a bit of a problem. tends to latch onto others and form the occasional obsessive attachment. it's no big deal. sometimes it lasts for days, sometimes months. she finds most people interesting, and sometimes the most random things draw her in. thinks there's more beneath every person and she wants to know Every Layer.

a little hypersexual - a coping mechanism to deal with. Everything. but also just loves love! will also get incredibly jealous at times, but it's almost as a joke? but only babe finds it funny, and only after everyone's like babe wtf? then she's like omg jk haha im not that possessive :3 (kind of is)

once again, a big crier - at minor inconveniences, at sad movies, at misunderstandings; even when angry, it's just more tears. purposefully wears mascara that runs for the aesthetic. has probably never taken her eyeliner off.

big on adrenaline - seeking and cheap thrills. loves the idea of overcoming danger. believes in ghosts and cryptids and probably wants to fuck mothman, experiences medium revelations like several times a day.

has several tattoos that are just the @'s of people she's fucked whether it's their instagram or twitch or what. she thinks it's funny. and it's like, girl? kind of matches how her shitty little honda civic that's always falling apart is covered in bumper stickers on the outside and like. actual stickers on the inside. like she's just vomited lisa frank.

downs several monsters or various other energy drinks a day. aforementioned car's floor is littered with the crushed cans and general. gross shit ngl. we love her though.<3

[wulfsmilk]

❛      this   haunting   is   a   bad   dream      .   .   .      ❜

morfydd   clark,   thirtyfive,   cis   woman,   she/her   𓇢𓆸   my   my,   if   it   isn't   mabel   deering,   my   favorite   mourning   dove   in   town.   you   know,   though   people   say   they   can   be   rather   faraway   and   timorous,   i   know   they’re   really   softhearted   and   sentimental.   but   hey,   what   do   i   know?   i’ve   only   known   them   for   their   entire   life.   if   you   need   to   get   in   touch,   you   can   probably   find   them   working   as   a   front   desk   clerk   at   the   bobcat   inn.

blackwater   native   ﹠   former   local   recluse;   a   shy   and   nervous   youth   who   always   felt   a   bit   apart   from   her   peers   ﹙   even   those   strange   and   fascinating   folk   so   common   to   these   parts   ﹚   ,   prone   to   woolgathering   and   detachment

sort   of   stumbled   through   life   for   a   long   time,   searching   for   something   that   fit   —   feared   becoming   a   burden   to   family,   who   really   did   try   their   best   but   never   quite   knew   her

not   that   she   knew   herself,   even;   she   never   blamed   them

﹠   love   can't   make   everything   right,   mabel   knows   that   now

so   perhaps   then   it   was   a   kind   of   magic   that   brought patrick   to   her,   a   patient   soul   who   seemed   to   understand   mabel   in   spite   of   herself

the   lights   in   the   haunted   house   that   was   her   spirit   seemed   all   to   spark   on

﹙   and   i   imagine   him   being   a   pillar   of   the   community   as   well,   at least for appearances' sake, salt   of   the   earth   type;   helped   her   grow   and   become   better   involved   ﹚

they   were   married   in   october,   a   perfect   autumn   evening   —   much   of   said   community   would   have   been   invited,   i'd   like   to   think

and   if   life   were   fair,   the   story   would   stop   here,   in   their   happily   ever   after

vagueness   bc   you   know   i   love   never   finalizing   any   details   —   but   just   six   months   ago,   patrick   died   in   what   was   believed   to   be   a   hit-and-run   accident   .   .   .   and   maybe   it   was   that,   and   maybe   there   was   actually   something   supernatural   behind   it   all?   but   who   knows,   really.   i   don't.   do   you?

mabel   has   been   understandably   distraught,   but   seems   to   be   falling   ever   deeper   into   grief   with   each   passing   hour

it it   no   wonder,   then,   that   she   seeks   the   riverman.   she   feels   she   is   quite   empty   as   she   is,   now.   the   lights   have   all   gone   out.   her   soul   seems   a   small   price   to   pay   in   exchange   for   her   beloved's   life   —   and   she   would   pay   more   than   that,   besides.   anything   to   bring   him   back   across   the   veil.

yk   she's   giving   a   little   eleanor   vance,   a   little   sally   owens,   a   little   survivor's   guilt,   the   perpetual   mourning   dove