#misch speaks

[sydneyofalltrades]

me and my moots can’t die, we’re outliving elon musk

[ray-winters]

we just wanna hear any hcs you have for our boy misch

Alright, y’all asked for it, buckle up:

Mischa makes most of his money from an apprenticeship he has at the only tattoo parlor in Uranium City. He gets paid a bit, and on top of that he gets free tattoos (which is where he got all of his from). Plus it keeps him out of the house and also pisses his very traditionally valued adoptive parents off. Win win.

My Mischa only has tattoos on his right arm bc I am left handed so HE is left handed- he does his own tattoos mostly. He was going to start a sleeve on his left arm after he got home from the fall fair.

Speaking of his tattoos; the first tattoo he gave himself was one that says “Bad Egg” w/devil horns and a devil tail. “Bad Egg” was something his adoptive dad would frequently call him, so it was his way of reclaiming the name for himself, and pissing off his adoptive parents bc they were viciously anti-tattoo

He has another tattoo of a crescent moon with a “ - T” next to it bc he asked Talia to draw him something to put on his body. She drew the moon because of the time difference between Kyiv & Uranium, any time she sees the moon she knows she’s going to hear from Mischa soon. So she began to associate Mischa with the moon.

My personal fav tattoo I gave Mischa is that stereotypical “S” where you draw 6 lines and connect them. This is brand fucking new to Mischa, he had never seen it before, and he thought it was dope af, so he tattooed it on himself immediately.

He has a tattoo of a pot leaf, but it’s not very good so everyone always thinks it’s a Canadian maple leaf. Which drives him up the wall.

Mischa has taken in a small black cat that would hang around the tattoo parlor and would occasionally follow him home. It lives with him in the basement, it comes and goes, and it is a well kept hidden secret.

Mischa hangs at Noel’s house…a lot. Noel’s mom lets him stay the night often bc she knows about his home life and thinks it’s disgraceful, so she takes care of him.

Mischa was class clown and relatively popular at his high school in Ukraine- which is the polar opposite of how he’s received at St. Cassian’s. People either are afraid of him, or they try to make fun of him, so either way he has found himself alone most of the time.

He’d never admit it, but Mischa does actually enjoy hanging with the kids in the choir. He gets to hang with his bestie, Noel. He admires Constance’s patience and kindness, he thinks she’s probably the best person in Uranium. While he and Ocean get on each other’s nerves, there’s a small part of him that secretly looks forward to their fights. But only a little bit. He doesn’t notice Ricky is there until after the accident, and then spends a large chunk of his time trying to rectify that by getting to know/encourage Ricky.

He and Noel became friends bc some of the boys who were trying to bully Mischa were also bullying Noel. When Mischa was about to start defending Noel, Noel ended up proving he can defend himself with his quick wit rather than fists. This is a trait that Mischa admires a lot, so they pretty much joined forces that day and they’ve been the dynamic duo of Uranium City ever since.

Mischa has pretty severe abandonment issues and it prone to panic attacks because of it. He’s more of a “suffer in silence” kind of guy, so it takes someone with patience and kindness like Constance to give him some tips on how to calm himself down. I.E. remembering a calming situation like “climbing back into your bed in the morning and feeling the heat left over from your body.”

Mischa had been kicked out of a few schools in Uranium, and his adoptive figures (they’re not really parents, barely guardians) gave him one last chance at St. Cassian’s. When he was caught stealing the communion wine, Father Marcus told him he HAD to join the choir and that he HAD to at the very least sing at the competition. Which is why he doesn’t do any choreo during the opening number.

Addendum- he does ONE move during the opening number. The finger wag on “oh no no” because Noel came up with that move, and after Ocean tried to cut it, Mischa said it was the only move he’d do even if it was cut. So he forced her to keep the move in via malicious compliance.

Over the course of the musical, there isn’t really a moment where he thinks he’s gonna win. His life wasn’t fair, why should his death be any different.

He thinks Jane is THE coolest and THE most metal thing he’s ever seen. After she finishes her number, his heart is effectively broken for her.

When Constance punches Ocean, Mischa doesn’t have the “FUCK YEAH” reaction that you’d expect. It’s actually met with some sadness. He’s always encouraging Constance to stick up for herself, and to not take Ocean’s shit. But, he respects that she has patience and kindness. When Constance punches Ocean, he almost sees it as a failure on his part.

The reason in my head why Mischa and Ocean feud so much is because they remind each other of one another’s parents. Ocean is the poster child of excellence in Uranium, Mischa’s adoptive parents have said more than once that they wish he could “be like that Ocean girl” - on the contrary, Ocean has caught Mischa smoking weed before. His incredibly radically liberal world view reminds her of her hippy parents. They get that anger out at them on each other. But at the end of the show, they both have a deeper respect for one another. Ocean for Mischa because she sees the real him, who is gentle & compassionate. Mischa for Ocean because she does the most selfless thing she could possibly do, which he respects infinitely.

I’m sure I have more but these are the HC’s that immediately came to mind. This is what makes Majestic Rep’s Mischa, Mischa.

[haowenyang]

they teach eachother their native languages because the warehouse is boring as fuck (PUSHING MY SPANISH SPEAKING RICKY AGENDA)

example.

ricky: there’s gender rules too… like… uhhh beach is la playa while uh… the waiter is el camarero

mischa: this shit is too hard

ricky: misch, i am learning an entirely new alphabet for you HOW THE FUCK IS Н PRONOUNCED N…

mischa:

ricky:

mischa: magic

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Rtc headcanons

Have I talked about my trans Ocean and Mischa headcanons recently because they are and you can’t change my mind

Nobody knows Ocean is trans because she started transitioning when she was little and her parents didn’t enroll her in school until she was like 8 and managed to convince them that no the school system was not going to brainwash her

The only people who know about her are Noel and Constance

Mischa does not hide the fact that he’s trans because he knows that nobody’s gonna like. Challenge him on that fact. What are you gonna do, tell the 6 foot dude who stole wine from the church that he’s not a guy? Nah man, you just say okay and move on

Ocean finds out Noel is going to sneak out of town to go to a pride parade and makes him take the entire choir because they all wanted to go to one but Noel is the only one who has a consistently available car and can drive good

Constance gets her hair dyed rainbow

Ocean decided to get a rainbow flag, the lesbian flag, and the trans flag but she can’t keep it at her house so she asks Noel to keep it

Mischa wears a shirt that’s just the trans flag with the words “god knew I’d be too powerful with a dick”

Ricky puts a bunch of pride stickers on his wheelchair

Penny steals a sign from a protester and hits the protester with it

Noel knows sign language because Ricky taught it to him

Ocean is autistic. That’s it that’s the headcanon

Penny use to do gymnastics when she was little but got kicked out after attempting to bite a child

Ricky loves mochi ice cream and learned how to make it when he was 11

Mischa knows how to bake

Whenever Father Marcus doesn’t show up for class Noel and Ricky decide to have lessons called “sign language for dummies”

It’s annoys Noel that Ocean is the one who is the best at it but like. What did he expect

Once Ricky’s parents can afford and AAC device he immediately makes it his life mission to learn how to speak as many languages as possible

Penny plays soccer and she is mvp almost every game

Ocean swears to hate most sports because they are “barbaric” except for soccer

She’s a huge soccer fan so she goes to all of Penny’s games

Mischa and Ricky go too and at every game at some point either Ocean or Ricky climb on Mischa’s shoulders

Noel loves to draw

Constance is actually on honor roll every year

If Ocean’s grades drop below a 95 she will cry

Mischa texts Talia whenever he takes a t-shot because hates needles and needs reassurance

When Mischa starts dating Noel Ocean gets so confused

Noel almost refuses to explain the idea of polyamory to her but Mischa thinks it’s funny to watch her head explode over things she doesn’t understand

They’re both very disappointed when she just goes “oh. okay” and then walks away

Noel and Talia are the best of friends

Penny can still do a bunch of gymnastics stuff she just doesn’t do it very often

Constance asks Ocean out first actually

Ocean spends like a full day avoiding her cause at first she things she’s joking then she freaks out because she’s had a crush on her for years then she thinks that Constance will be mad it took her so long to answer and not wanna date her anymore

Eventually Noel just locks the two of them in the choir room

Constance is also the one who asks Penny to join their relationship

Penny makes origami cats for Ricky

Ricky can pop a wheelie in his wheelchair

Skater boy Mischa and Penny

On the sidelines are Ocean and Noel going “be safe babe!” and “fuck it up Misch!!!” respectively

Ricky plays so many skating games

[ladyofrings]

Tending Wounds

No warnings, just Halbrand x my OC- She bails him out of jail and tends his wounds. (And some more teasing.)

-> My Masterlist

The market had already begun to fade into the soft shadows of evening when the rumors first reached her ears. Lothien had been weaving through the narrow, bustling streets of Númenor, her thoughts quiet as she went about the mundane tasks of her day. It was a low murmur at first, carried on the wind between two merchants haggling over their final sales, but the words grew sharper as she passed, halting her in her tracks.

A fight. A brawl, in the streets. And Halbrand’s name—spoken in hushed tones, like a whisper of something gone wrong.

Her heart clenched, the calm she’d carried with her all day replaced by a sudden urgency. She turned, following the path of the whispered gossip until her feet carried her toward the jail, the name of the man who had crossed her life with such unpredictability now at the forefront of her mind. Halbrand. What had he done this time?

The jail loomed ahead, a grim reminder of the city’s underbelly, worn stone walls soaked with the scent of salt and damp. Lothien’s steps slowed as she approached, the cold air around the building biting into her skin. She paused for a brief moment at the entrance, the stillness of the place a sharp contrast to the bustling streets she had just left behind.

Inside, a guard leaned lazily against the stone wall, his eyes lifting lazily to meet hers. He didn’t need her to speak. It was as if he already knew.

“Halbrand?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “He’s here.”

Lothien said nothing at first, her eyes hardening with determination. She followed the guard through the dim corridors, each step echoing against the walls, the chill of the air wrapping around her like a shroud. When they finally reached the cell, she found him sitting on a low wooden bench, his tunic disheveled, and a dark bruise blooming across his cheekbone. His lips were split, a faint trail of dried blood staining his skin.

Despite the wear and tear of the fight, Halbrand looked up at her with that familiar smirk, his stormy grey eyes flashing with something akin to amusement. But behind that roguish grin, there was something else—a heaviness he couldn’t quite hide.

“Lothien,” he greeted her, leaning back against the cold stone wall as if he had all the time in the world. “Didn’t think you’d come all the way down here for me.”

She stood in the doorway, her dark eyes steady as they took him in. “I heard what happened,” she said softly, though her voice carried an edge of frustration beneath the concern. “What did you get yourself into this time?”

Halbrand shrugged, the movement casual, as if being thrown into a cell was just another part of his day. “Misunderstanding, really.”

“A misunderstanding,” she echoed, raising a brow as she stepped closer, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “That landed you in a brawl and behind bars?”

He gave a low chuckle, his fingers brushing over the bruise on his cheek as though testing its tenderness. “I didn’t start it.”

“And yet, you’re the one sitting here,” she replied, her voice softening despite herself. There was something about seeing him like this, battered and still defiant, that stirred a quiet ache in her chest.

Halbrand’s smirk faded, but only slightly. “I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Lothien sighed, shaking her head as she glanced toward the guard who had brought her here. “How much to get him out?”

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her resolve. He rattled off the sum, and without hesitation, Lothien retrieved the coins from her pouch. The clink of metal echoed in the otherwise silent room as she handed them over, and the guard grunted, unlocking the cell door.

Halbrand stood, brushing himself off as if shaking off the weight of the fight. He paused as he passed by her, his hand grazing hers briefly. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, though there was still that edge of mischief lurking in his tone.

Lothien met his gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”

He blinked, tilting his head slightly as if the words surprised him. “Doing what?”

“Getting yourself into trouble,” she replied, her voice carrying a note of something deeper—something unspoken. “Keeping me out of the truth.”

Halbrand’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something vulnerable, something that almost felt like regret. But he covered it with a shrug, his smirk returning like a mask. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

“That’s not the point,” Lothien shot back, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to survive alone.”

They walked in silence for a while, the tension between them palpable, like the space they shared was heavy with things neither of them could say. The sun had dipped lower now, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets as the last of the vendors packed up their stalls. The scent of the sea was thick in the air, the wind carrying a slight chill as night began to settle over the city.

Halbrand broke the silence first, his voice low and rough. “I’ll be fine.”

Lothien stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. Her dark eyes searched his, looking for something—anything—that might help her understand. “You don’t have to keep pushing me away,” she said quietly. “Not everyone’s out to hurt you.”

For the briefest of moments, Halbrand’s smirk faltered. His stormy eyes softened, just enough for her to glimpse the man behind the mask. But then, just as quickly, he turned away, his shoulders stiff with something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated, his voice rougher now, as if he was convincing himself just as much as her.

Lothien sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get any more from him tonight. “Come on,” she said gently, stepping closer to him. “Let’s go home.”

The word hung in the air between them—*home*. It was something Halbrand had never quite had, not since they had met. But since he had been staying with her, sharing the small space they called theirs, the word had taken on a new meaning. It wasn’t just a place to sleep anymore—it was something more, something they both found comfort in.

As they walked toward the small house they now shared, Lothien stole a glance at him, watching the way the fading light played across his features. There was something in the way he held himself, a quiet strength beneath the bruises and the exhaustion. Something that drew her in, no matter how much trouble he found himself in.

Halbrand caught her staring and gave her a lopsided grin. “Enjoying the view?”

She rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Just wondering how much trouble you’ll get into tomorrow.”

His low chuckle sent a warmth through her, despite the coolness of the evening air. “No promises.”

When they reached the door, Halbrand hesitated for just a moment before following her inside. The familiar scent of home greeted them, warm and inviting. Lothien moved about the room, lighting a small lamp to chase away the shadows, her mind still lingering on the way he had looked at her—different from before. Softer, perhaps. More real.

Halbrand settled into a chair, his bruised hands resting on his knees as he watched her move. There was a quietness in him now, a stillness that wasn’t born of weariness, but something else. Something that came from knowing, in this moment, he wasn’t alone.

Lothien returned to his side with a bowl of water and a clean cloth, kneeling beside him as she reached for his hands. “Let me see those.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar smirk. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she replied softly, dipping the cloth into the water. “But I want to.”

Her touch was gentle as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something deeper, something fragile and new, and neither of them wanted to break it.

Halbrand watched her, his stormy eyes following the movements of her hands as they tended to his wounds. There was something in the way she cared for him, something that stirred a quiet longing in his chest—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re always getting into trouble,” she murmured, her voice soft and teasing, though the affection in her tone was unmistakable.

Halbrand chuckled, a low sound that made her heart skip a beat. “Keeps things interesting.”

Lothien shook her head, though she couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips. She reached up to clean the gash on his lip, her fingers brushing against his skin as she worked. The contact sent a jolt of something through the air between them, something neither of them could quite ignore.

“This one’s pretty bad,” she said softly, her thumb hovering near the corner of his mouth. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away.

Halbrand’s gaze softened, his voice low and rough. “It’s nothing.”

But Lothien didn’t look away. “Let me help.”

And for once, he didn’t argue.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth, casting its warm glow across the walls. The silence between them was thick, unspoken words hanging in the air as Lothien knelt beside him, the cloth in her hand gently pressing against the cut on his lip.

Halbrand had tried to brush off the injury with that familiar smirk, the one that always seemed to suggest he could take on the world and come out unscathed. But now, with her fingers so close to his face, with the warmth of her hand so near, something in him stilled. His grey eyes were half-lidded, lashes lowering as if the mere act of her caring for him was something to be savored.

"It’s just a scratch," he had said, though the flicker of pain across his brow had betrayed him.

Lothien’s eyes softened as she dabbed at the wound, her touch feather-light, her gaze lingering longer than she intended. "It doesn’t look like just a scratch," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment between them. She leaned in a little closer, her breath mingling with his as her focus remained on the cut.

Halbrand closed his eyes for a second, letting himself savor the feeling. Her hands, so gentle, were so different from the harshness he was used to, from the cold steel and rough edges of the world he moved in. Her touch was tender, almost intimate, and it stirred something deep inside him—something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Lothien’s eyes traced the hard lines of his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the exhaustion etched in every shadow. She had seen him like this before—bruised and battered—but tonight, it felt different. Perhaps it was the way the firelight danced across his features, softening the roughness just enough for her to see the man beneath the armor. Or perhaps it was simply that, for once, he was allowing her to take care of him.

"You don’t make it easy for me, do you?" she teased, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she tried to lighten the strange, heavy tension that had settled between them.

Halbrand’s eyes opened, that smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth once more, though this time it felt... softer, more real. "Where’s the fun in being easy?" he quipped, though there was a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Lothien chuckled, shaking her head slightly as she finished tending to the cut. But as she pulled back, her fingers lingered for just a moment too long, brushing against his skin in a way that made her heart stutter. She didn’t miss the way his gaze followed the movement, the intensity of his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

"There," she said softly, setting the cloth aside. "That should do it."

Halbrand’s eyes remained on her, watching her as if he was trying to memorize every detail—the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips pressed together in that quiet, determined way she had when she was focused. But when she pulled back, thinking the moment was over, his voice broke the silence again.

"You missed a spot," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Lothien blinked, confused for a moment. "Where?"

His hand lifted, fingers brushing just below his lip, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. "Right here."

She rolled her eyes, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible."

Halbrand shrugged, leaning back in the chair, the roguish air returning with a practiced ease. "I’ve heard that before."

With a soft sigh and a playful shake of her head, Lothien leaned in once more, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Her lips barely grazed the rough stubble of his skin, but it was enough—enough for the warmth of the fire to be nothing compared to the warmth that flared in her chest, the way her heart beat just a little faster. When she pulled back, she could feel the shift in the air between them, subtle but undeniable.

"Better?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Halbrand didn’t answer. His smirk had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened as they met hers. "Yeah," he said finally, his voice low, almost reverent. "Much better."

The silence that followed was different than before—no longer tense, but filled with something warmer, something that felt fragile and precious. Lothien stood, gathering the cloth and bowl, but her mind remained on the way he had looked at her, the way his voice had dropped when he spoke those words.

Halbrand watched her as she moved around the room, his gaze lingering on her longer than he meant it to. There was a shift in him, too—something deep, something he hadn’t expected. He was used to being alone, used to carrying his burdens in silence, but with her... with her, it felt different. She cared for him. Not just for the bruises or the cuts, but for him. And that scared him as much as it comforted him.

When Lothien returned, wiping her hands on a cloth, she glanced at him, her dark eyes filled with the same warmth that made his chest tighten. "You should get some rest," she said gently, though her words held a quiet command, as if she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Halbrand stood, stretching his sore muscles with a wince, but before he could move toward the small bed, something made him stop. He turned back, his hand reaching out to catch her wrist, his grip firm but not harsh.

Lothien looked up at him, surprised by the sudden contact, but it was the look in his eyes that caught her off guard. Gone was the smirk, the playful banter. What remained was something raw, something vulnerable.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quieter than before, sincere in a way that unsettled him.

His thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist, a small gesture, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her heart racing in her chest, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

"Just... stay out of trouble next time," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, though she tried to keep it steady.

He smiled, but it was different now—softer, more real. "No promises."

As Halbrand finally moved toward the bed, Lothien stood there for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him. The connection between them, so unspoken and fragile, had grown stronger in that quiet moment, and neither of them knew what it would mean.

But as the night deepened and the fire burned low, they both knew one thing for certain—something had changed. And there was no going back.

[stinkfacestories]

A For Effort (Commission)

You were slammed into the locker with such force that it took you a full minute to realize what had happened. The tall jock,known for his brute strength, had picked you up with ease and lifted you up to his level. You could feel the cold metal of the locker pressing against your back, the force leaving you dazed and disoriented.

As you looked up at the jock, you could smell his breath as he spoke, the stench overpowering. It was hot and stale, the smell clinging to your face, making it hard for you to breathe. His eyes were cold and hard, filled with contempt and hatred. You could see the remnants of food stuck in his teeth, he sure did love lunch.

His body odor was equally as overpowering, a combination of stale sweat and gym socks. The combination was overwhelming, making your eyes water and your stomach churn.

As he started to speak, you could see the spittle flying from his mouth, hitting your face and adding to the unpleasant sensation. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the sweat soaking through his clothes and onto yours. Being trapped in such close proximity to him was suffocating, the overwhelming smell making it hard for you to focus on his words.

"What the fuck did you do, you greasy little nerd?" Jimmy growled, his lip curling in disgust. His eyes were filled with anger and contempt as he glared at you, his entire body tense with rage. The way he spat out the words made it clear that he had no respect for your kind. His words were dripping with contempt. It was clear that he was superior to you in every way, and that he took pleasure in that fact.

Jimmy's bulky frame loomed over you, his biceps bulging and his chest heaving with anger. His strength was intimidating, and you could see the veins popping out on his arms. He stood tall, his broad shoulders and thick neck giving casting an imposing presence. He was the epitome of physical strength, and you couldn't help but feel small and weak in comparison. His muscles rippled as he flexed, the sight of his raw power making it clear that he could easily kick your ass.

"I didn't do anything Mr. Gunderson. Nothing" you said.

You had written his english essay the week before. There is no way anyone would have known. It was flawless. It was the most masterful essay that this school had ever seen.

"You got me a fucking A. They want me to read it in front of everyone. I thought I told you nothing higher than a B minus?" He growled as he gripped you tight.

He had just finished a grueling practice session, his body drenched in the salty-sweet aroma. The pungent scent of his sweat filled the air, the musky odor emanating from his pores. His clothes were saturated with it, the fabric clinging to his skin. The combination of the scent of his sweat and the acrid smell of the sports equipment created an overpowering stench. Droplets of sweat fell from his hair, releasing the unique blend of his natural body odor. 

You went to apologize, but he was in no mood to hear it. As soon as you opened your mouth, he twisted inward, his face contorting in anger, and smothered your face in his right armpit. The stench of his unwashed body and sweat was overwhelming, the smell so potent that it made your eyes water. The warmth of his body and the dampness of his armpit added to the suffocating sensation, making it hard for you to breathe. You struggled to break free, but his grip was too strong, and you were trapped in the cloud of his body. It left you lightheaded and disoriented, struggling to keep your composure as you were engulfed in the stench.

"You fucking nerds. I warned you what would happen if you fucked this up" Jimmy said.

"No please, not that"

He placed you on the ground with care, the cold concrete biting into your skin. He then picked up the bucket beside him and placed it over your head, the rim of the metal container pressing against your forehead. The top of the bucket had been cut out, so you were looking up at Jimmy's smiling face, his expression a mix of mischief and glee. As you stared up at him, a pungent smell wafted down from above. It wasn't long before he turned around and began to lower himself onto the bucket, his body weight causing the metal to creak and groan. His ass spilled out of his football pants as he pulled them down, revealing his sweaty, dirty underwear. The smell of his unwashed body and the pungent aroma of his ass filled your nostrils as he sat down on the bucket, trapping you beneath him.

He was less than an inch from your face. Jimmy did two things well, football, and shop class. He had built this thing to accommodate every curve of his muscled ass. He called it the Beef Bucket, and it was his crowning achievement. He reserved it for those who really pissed him off.

He let you stew there for a moment, allowing the raw, unadulterated scents to permeate your senses. The pungent odors of sweat and body odor, mixed with the acrid smell of the metal bucket and the musty scent of the concrete floor, filled your nostrils and lingered in your throat. He seemed to take pleasure in the discomfort it caused, giving you just the right amount of time to fully soak in the overwhelming stench. 

Then he let it out

His cheeks clapped as he ripped a classic, epic, legendary Gunderson fart. You had heard it before, but it had always been in open areas where the air could move freely. But in the beef bucket you were trapped, there was no escape from the putrid stench that filled the small space. Every last rancid whiff of chili and hotdog-scented gas was allowed to settle on your face like fog on a September morning. The stench was  of rotting meat and spoiled dairy was mixed with the acrid smell of sulfur and the musty scent of old socks. The combination was almost unbearable, the stench so potent that it seemed to cling to your skin and hair. You could feel the smell seeping into your clothes, the odor clinging to the fabric, refusing to be washed away.

The smell was so overpowering that it made it hard for you to breathe. Your eyes began to water, and your throat constricted, as if trying to shut out the smell. You could feel your stomach churning, the smell triggering an almost visceral reaction. The sensation of being trapped in such close proximity to the smell was suffocating, the overwhelming stench making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

Jimmy got off the bucket and peered into it, his eyes locking onto your face with a wicked grin. The smile on his face was sinister, the corners of his mouth turned up in a cruel sneer. His eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and malice, as if he was relishing in the discomfort he caused. He seemed to take pleasure in your predicament, the sight of you trapped in the bucket providing him with a twisted form of entertainment.

"Hold on tight, you little piece of shit," Jimmy snarled, his lips curled into a cruel sneer. "Because I ain't finished with you yet." His voice was filled with anger and malice, the words spoken through gritted teeth. His eyes were dark and full of hatred, the expression on his face one of fierce determination. It was clear that he had no intention of letting you off the hook, that he was going to make you pay. He was going to make sure that you suffered, and that you would remember this encounter for a long time to come

[madirat]

Mischa Bachinski x Reader pt.1

honestly i only made this bcuz I fell in love with a lot of the Mischa actors and mischa

🇺🇦🎢

The room was cold. Too cold to say the least. You only had your boyfriend in your cold bedroom with you. You two were alone trying to warm up. Your parents had left on a vacation to who knows where, and had left your bedroom air conditioning on and you had no clue what button lead to your room. "Mischa, do you wanna go upstairs and cuddle on the warm couch?" You asked him. Mischa was the cuddle master. He loved cuddles and holding you and not letting go. "Yeah I'm coming!" He had responded to you. As soon as you both had got on the couch you realized that you should put a movie or something on. He had already started to get up before you could. He giggled at you trying to take the remote away from him. "You're so cute when you want something." He teased you. "Misch-" Before you could speak he kissed you. "I love you cutie!" He made you so flustered and you loved it and he did too. "I love you too silly!" You said. You two haven't even put a movie on and you two were already cuddling. He was so warm and cuddly. You then kissed him and you both had a make out session. You fell asleep a while after all the fun. He was tightly holding you on the couch protecting you from any harm.

Sorry this is short but I'm still practicing my writing.

[beatrix2712]

“Is that what you think of yourself? That everything good about you came from a fucking church? Atroxus didn’t make you special by choosing you. He chose you because you already were, and even when you were eight Mother-damned years old, he knew that. You owe him nothing. Nothing. I’ll tell you what you’ll have if you lose the sun, Mische. You’ll have a soul gentler than any vampire’s I’ve ever known. You’ll have an incredible magic and the skill to wield it better than the bastard who gave it to you. You’ll have a soft heart and a sharp wit and the wisdom to know when to use one or the other. You’ll have countless inane questions and horrible taste in food and a penchant for making lost souls love you.” I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. He leaned closer until his forehead touched mine. “And if you’ll take it, Mische Iliae, you will have me, too.”

The Songbird and the Heart of Stone

[theink-stainedfolk]

OC Music Taste Tag

Thank you for the tag @willtheweaver

I hope ya'll don't mind me using multiple ocs. And pardon me for going into too much depth. But i think music sometimes works as a medium to see through people too. So I'll also explain.

Fated to Defy

Han Joon-oh / Juno

Given Joon-oh’s struggles with self-worth and his emotional, almost melancholic nature, he’d probably gravitate towards a mix of emotional ballads and introspective indie tracks. Expect him to listen to:

Phoebe Bridgers for those reflective, self-examining lyrics that hit too close to home.

Troye Sivan because his open LGBTQ identity would resonate with Joon-oh, especially with tracks like “Bloom” or “My My My!”

The Weeknd because let's be real—Joon-oh’s seductive new appearance post-transmigration demands something with a sensual edge, so “Earned It” would be on repeat. Lol

He might even listen to Eyes Don't Lie by Isabel LaRosa, given that it's already stuck in your head and would perfectly fit his vibe.

Melian Draegonhart

Melian’s initially aloof but deeply emotional personality would lead him toward something more intense, dark, and dramatic:

Hozier would suit his dramatic flair, with tracks like “Take Me to Church” speaking to the deep longing and complex emotions beneath his villainous exterior.

Deftones for the brooding, sultry, and borderline obsessive side of his character. Think “Change (In the House of Flies)” with its moody undertones.

Classical music – I can also see Melian listening to something haunting and dark like Rachmaninoff or Beethoven when he's alone, reflecting on the burden of his existence and fate.

Surprisingly, Melian might have a soft spot for Lana Del Rey. Her hauntingly glamorous yet tragic aura would appeal to his yearning for something beautiful and unattainable.

Crimson Threads

Rosaire Fabyan

He’s charismatic, calculated, and loves controlling situations while maintaining a flawless image.

Pop Hits & Dance Tracks – Think Ariana Grande, Dua Lipa, or The Weeknd. Something upbeat that matches his effortless charm and can keep him energized.

Smooth Jazz & Lo-fi – Rosaire also enjoys music that he can relax to in the background while working. Artists like Tom Misch or lo-fi playlists would suit his cool, intellectual side.

Vintage Classics – Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin—music from the classic crooners that speak to his sophisticated side. Something timeless and effortlessly suave, much like Rosaire himself.

But for something surprising… he might secretly listen to 2000s emo bands (My Chemical Romance, Panic! At The Disco) for those rare moments when he’s not feeling as in control and needs a throwback to release tension.

Leisle Harpham

Leisle is emotionally raw, blunt, and overpowered.

Alt-Rock/Indie – Leisle might like bands like Arctic Monkeys, Tame Impala, or The Black Keys. Something with a rebellious, confident vibe that mirrors his own chaotic energy.

Rap/Hip-Hop – Artists like Kendrick Lamar or J. Cole. Leisle appreciates lyricism and emotional depth, and rap would let him vibe with songs that speak to real-world grit and power struggles.

Acoustic/Indie Folk – For those rare, quieter moments, Leisle might enjoy music like Bon Iver or The Lumineers. Something raw and reflective, matching his emotionally intelligent side.

The surprise? He might be the type to have hyperpop like Charli XCX or 100 gecs secretly tucked away in his playlist for those moments when he wants to let loose and shock Rosaire with something unpredictable.

Eclipsed Hearts

Shion Kisaragi

Shion probably has a soft spot for unexpected genres. Despite his cool, charismatic demeanor, I could see him secretly enjoying something soothing or laid-back, like indie pop or alternative R&B. He might surprise everyone by listening to artists like The Weeknd or Tame Impala. He'd also appreciate something with a bit of edge, like The Neighbourhood or even Deftones for those intense, introspective nights.

Raoul Kiràly

Raoul, being newer to the vampire world and still grappling with his humanity, would gravitate towards something soulful or reflective. He might listen to Sampha or James Blake, something that lets him sit with his thoughts. But when he's feeling energized, he could be into some retro-inspired pop, like Dua Lipa or even The 1975—songs that remind him of simpler times but with a modern twist.

Whispers of Shadow & Love

Vesperine Chevalier:

Given her adventurous spirit and how diving is part of her life, Vesperine might surprise people by being into high-energy pop hits and electronic dance music (EDM). Songs like “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd or “Levitating” by Dua Lipa might make her feel energized and free when she’s in or near the water. However, she might have a guilty pleasure for mellow indie pop on calm days, like “Sea Girls” or “Florence and the Machine.” Arkyn Fontaine:

Arkyn, despite his intensity, probably listens to very chill, almost zen-like music when no one’s looking. He'd have something like lo-fi beats playing to help him stay calm and keep his mind sharp, especially while working or plotting. He might also surprise people with a love for classic rock or 90s alt-rock bands like Radiohead or Nirvana when he's feeling more introspective or needs to tune out the world. Cleo: Cleo would absolutely have the loudest, most energetic playlist. Think upbeat pop-punk or fast-tempo alternative rock. She’s all about girl power anthems, so she’d jam out to Paramore, Avril Lavigne, and Billie Eilish. Her Spotify is all about that “good vibes only” energy, with a hint of rebellion. When in a really good mood, though, she’s blasting feel-good bops from Lizzo or Doja Cat. Caden: Caden seems like the kind of person who’d have an eclectic taste, but he'd secretly be a sucker for 2000s R&B or acoustic singer-songwriters. Think John Mayer or Leon Bridges. He likes soulful tunes that make him reflect. But don't be shocked if he also listens to nostalgic 90s and early 2000s hits, or has a few guilty pleasure cheesy pop songs like Backstreet Boys or Bruno Mars thrown into the mix.

---

I'll tag @finickyfelix @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally

@the-golden-comet @thecomfywriter @roarintheheavens @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable

[gccdstories]

@siderealxmelody / *

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒, and he's not about to let her go alone. He doesn't trust them, not a single one of them. His eyes are alert, closely watching them, even as Mische kneels down where the young one sits by the window.

She shares a look with Raihn, when the little one speaks. She's still so young, and Raihn wonders just what all she'd been through to get such a haunted look in her eyes.

What traumas she's endured already, in such a short life--

❝ Like what? ❞ Raihn's hand stays on the hilt of his blade, his back and shoulders still tense as she backs away. Like he'll fight his way out of this if it turns poorly. For Mische, at least, he'd fight through anything.

What happened to you? Mische asks her, her voice a hell of a lot softer, kinder, than Raihn's.

[swearwolfx-archive]

Full Name: Remus John Lupin Age: 22 Birthday: March 10, 1960 Zodiac Sign: Pisces Blood Status: Half-blood & Werewolf Affiliation: Order of the Phoenix Occupation: Metalcharmer Sexuality: Bisexual Birthplace: Cardiff, Wales Currently living: Soho - London, England Faceclaim: Jack Wolfe Height: 5'9" Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Scars: Many all over his body from werewolf transformations Tattoos: None School: Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Extracurriculars: Prefect, dueling club Parents: Lyall & Hope (nee Howell) Lupin Siblings: None Wand: 10 ¼", Cypress, Unicorn hair, pliant Patronus: Wolf Boggart: The full moon Pets:

TRAITS

(+) observant, adaptable, witty ( -) insecure, sarcastic, stubborn

GROWING UP

Remus’ first clear memory was one of pain. Of waking to the chill of an open window just before teeth ripped at his flesh and shouting erupted from the hallway. Curses flying everywhere and the sight of a fleeing wolf. He had been just 5 when Fenrir had taken his childhood from him, the night his father’s eyes became haunted, blaming himself for bringing this upon his son. From then on his life was pain, countless healer visits telling his parents the same thing, that there was no cure. It was a lonely life, being forbidden to play with other children, constantly moving so no one would discover him. His father not able to meet his gaze as he chained his child and placed silencing charms on the room. But as he grew so did his strength and he became harder to contain, and his hopes of ever attending Hogwarts became further away. Sheer willpower was no match against the beast he had become, self-hatred running rampant through him, biting and scratching himself to try and curb the monster but it wasn't satisfied.

Lyall did his best for his son, providing him an education at home, starting his magical education as he feared his child would never be allowed to attend school. The fears they both shared didn’t come to pass though as Dumbledore came to see Remus just after his eleventh birthday and assured him that he would be allowed to attend and that arrangements had already been made. It was more than he had ever hoped, to attend a magical school and be around other children. It was also frightening, worrying that someone may discover him, that even though he may be able to be among them he would never be able to truly let them know him. As if they knew what he truly was they would run from him in fear, so he would have to keep them all at arms length. Despite this he was grateful, having heard his father’s stories of Hogwarts and wanting to learn magic in such a place. And maybe he could learn how to better hide himself there, to keep himself concealed, to eventually heal his own injuries.

START OF THE WAR

During his childhood he had become good at not attracting attention to himself during the day, at being quiet and making himself small so people wouldn’t notice him. This was something he kept up at school, speaking quietly and never volunteering anything himself. Somehow despite this he became friends with his fellow dorm mates, now having to provide excuses for his monthly absences terrified of what they would think if they found out. But his friends were clever and figured out what he was in their second year and their acceptance went so deep that they became animagi to further support him and keep him company during his transformations as he wasn’t a danger to other animals. They achieved it in their fifth year and with their influence he was able to keep a little more of his mind during his transformations despite his body still being very much a wolf. It was this year he became a prefect allowing him more freedom to be out after hours.

It was with his friends he was finally able to let go and be himself, no longer feeling fear of rejection and judgment, but instead safe and accepted. His personality flourished, he was still studious and quiet but he became more of a prankster like his friends letting himself be led into mischief and sometimes doing the leading but not as often as Sirius or James by any means. It was a happy time for him despite the war outside the walls as he had never experienced friendship before. Even with this new found freedom he kept his grades up and graduated with outstanding grades which would have meant the pick of jobs but the happy bubble he had been living in popped as soon as he left school. In the real world people would start to notice his absences or other signs of his lycanthropy so he had to be very careful of any job he took. There was no Dumbledore around to cover for him now. He couldn’t be around aurors who were trained to look for signs or some of the other ministry departments where eyes would be on him. Remus went to work as a metalcharmer, he had always been good with charms and the work was solitary allowing him to largely work from his flat going to the shops when necessary to bring in the items. It granted him a great deal of freedom for being away when necessary and no eye possibly catching onto the signs of what he was.

His mother became ill and soon passed away, but the only solace he took in it was that she wasn’t a victim of war, but it hurt nonetheless. He wanted to provide comfort for his father but he didn’t want to ruin his peaceful existence and threw suspicion on him again as he had done when he was a child. Now free of school and his bubble he took an active interest in the war joining the Order with his friends. He wanted to believe there was a world where blood status didn’t matter, and maybe one day where what he was didn’t either, where he wouldn’t be viewed as a monster.

PRESENT TIME

The betrayal of one of his best friends hit him hard and left him feeling vulnerable that he had put his trust in someone who betrayed them so completely, and someone who knew his darkest secret. With the invention of the wolfsbane potion gaining more control on his transformations was within reach, but the potion was complex and the ingredients expensive. He did what he could to find most of them in the surrounding forests, finding another werewolf while he was there that offered help. Hearing of his struggle Dumbledore enlisted help from a skilled potion maker within the order. This gesture didn’t come without a cost though, Dumbledore wanted him more in control so he could have his wits about him when dealing with the other wolves and navigate the danger with a clear head to track them down and convince them to join their side. The prospect of seeking out feral wolves was terrifying but he had to do his part. Remus owed his very life to Dumbledore, he wouldn’t have anything without him and was indebted to the man. In his eyes he could do no wrong and trusted his judgment implicitly and would do whatever was asked of him. It was a dangerous mission, but anything related to such a mission for the Order was and he thought it worthwhile, turning werewolves away from Voldemort and the darkness of their nature, to show them there could be another way. This new potion while not a cure gave them a hope of living with their affliction, a chance at a better life.

HEADCANONS

Since he wasn’t allowed to play with other children he became an avid reader, having his adventures without ever leaving his room, dreaming of the day he might be able to have a real one

He had small adventures in the wooded areas around his house but only during the day and always alone

Remus always has chocolate on hand, in the early days after his transformations his father would offer it to him afterwards to try and make him feel a little better. Now it is an ingrained habit, not sure if it actually makes him feel better or just brings him back to the comfort his father was trying to provide.

When he is nervous or anxious he finds himself rubbing the scar on his shoulder and in really bad moments pressing hard against it as if trying to draw the pain out of it to remind him of what he’s gone through, what he’s survived and that he could survive whatever this new challenge was too. In his darkest moments, it sometimes backfires just further reminding him that he isn’t actually human anymore.

If he was able to choose a career he would have liked to be a healer, he is good at healing magic after mending his own injuries and likes to help people but many at the hospital were those who used to treat him and they would never let someone like him in such a job fearing he would infect others and he was sure even if the ones who treated him weren’t around the others would recognize him for what he was seeing the symptoms

Being in relationships is hard for him due to his feelings of self-worth due to the monster within him and how if he really cared for the person they deserved more than a monster. But he could never let them know why as he didn’t want to let them in on his secret. If/when they saw his scars he would make up some excuse about being attacked by a wild animal and left scared.

Started thinking about the metal charmer profession from an early age with his father's education they had looked for careers he might be able to do with his condition that didn’t involve being around other people.

He has a nervous habit of fidgeting, biting at his lip, pulling at his sweater, scratching at the back of his hands, etc, feeling people’s attention focused on him often makes him uncomfortable in his own skin as if they might see something he doesn’t want them to.

Remus tends to cover his insecurities with a lot of sarcasm, deflecting the attention away from himself.

He is the voice of reason among the marauders, though he participates he tries to dissuade them from the really crazy ones. He is able to temper them just enough for it not to get totally out of control… most of the time.

He wears a crescent moon necklace, which seems an odd choice since the moon is what turns him into a monster, but the crescent of it is when he’s himself and it reminds him that he is not just the monster he becomes during the full moon. It's almost a talisman for him that he often rubs when he is feeling stressed or at odds with himself.

Remus likes to paint or draw, finding it soothing to get lost in the work much like his books and he is able to create rather than destroy.

His growth and overall physique may have been stunted due to the werewolf gene/virus being introduced to his system at such a young age and the fact he fought it rather than gave in to it. His theory is if you give into the wolf, give into the bloodlust and animal nature it would accelerate growth, making you a strong wolf for the pack. Or you fought it and it kept you weak, easy prey for others in the pack to remove the weakest link. His body fought it like a virus rather than embraced it like Fenrir.

[sydneyofalltrades]

so many musicals i used to enjoy are coming back to me. is it a sign? should i post more musical content?

[stainedglass-lantern]

hmmph you got me there. wording is important. i'll do my best!!

it may be mean or wrong, but that makes me happy. i also just have acquaintances. what about family? most people are close to at least some family members.

soothing voice? now i wanna know what you sound like. you could post a voice note but maybe that's asking for too much... i've also hypnotized someone! Just one person, and i think it probably only worked because they trust me a lot.

hmmm rather than scare me, it makes my heart flutter. is violence fun? why? or is it more of a way to correct behavior. i guess it could be both though..

auugghh, i am not fond of traditional "darlings" either. but i have to ask. are you really ok with those sorts of things? just, a lot of people say they'd looove to be stalked and obsessed over, and then freak when y'know, they get what they asked for. i have stalked people. irl and online, though online is what i have more experience with... i'm decent at finding addresses, names, etc. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

ooooh, speaking of names, what should i call you? kine? kakine?

Kine works just fine. So you know the manga? Haha. I’m glad for that.

It’s fine, personally. I tend to think friends can be troublesome to my means when I find someone truly intriguing. No family. Im estranged.

Trust is very important, for the ease of who you are hypnotizing. Lowers defenses. Things are misch easier when they simply let you in.

I’m very sadistic. I want to know all faces of my puppet, in any situation. In every situation. Fear, pain and anger are very primal emotions. Knowing the base of a person, their truest intent, tearing through the things they were taught, or what is socially acceptable, is being the most bare and truthful one another can be. At least, in my belief.

(But it is enjoyable, yes. I’d say both correction and for the view as well.)

Do as you please. If anything, come to me with what you have. I’d be happy to hear what you find in time.

maybe I’ll find you first. :)

[harrison-abbott]

Many of the urban scenes filmed outdoors were actually shot in St Petersburg. This was because the architecture of the city was similar to then-Berlin, and due to there being little modernisation in many parts of the town, as well as almost no advertisement.

Bruno Ganz studied the only known recording of Hitler when he was speaking in private. I.e., his voice which was him speaking without a microphone – when he wasn’t giving a speech. Thus, Ganz was able to hear what Hitler sounded like in an everyday manner.

Ganz also studied Parkinson’s disease in a hospital in order to gear up for the portrayal.

Only one of the 37 real life characters in the film was alive when the film was released – which was Rochus Misch, who was the last survivor of Hitler’s bunker.

[charliekillenmusic2023]

Press Release for My Dream Gig at 606 Jazz Club

Loyle Carner at the 606 Jazz Club

We are excited to welcome rapper Loyle Carner to play at the 606 Jazz Club on the 6th October 2024. As the musician celebrates his 30th birthday he will take this time for a small, intimate gig with his biggest fans and family to recount his illustrious career through a mixture of songs and spoken word poetry. He will be supported by a live jazz band including Tom Misch on guitar and Jordan Rakei on keys, both long-time collaborators with Carner, and the rest of the band being filled by members of Ezra Collective.

Speaking to Loyle Carner about his plans for this event, he plans to make it a celebration of all the amazing music and opportunities he has been lucky to be a part of. He has an idea for a long show with a mixture of some instrumental versions of songs that inspired him, some spoken word interludes about his life and family, and some new unreleased music.

Loyle Carner has been releasing music since 2014 with his ep ‘A Little Late’. This led him to success in the mid to late 2010s as he was playing festivals and supporting acts like MF Doom, Nas and Joey Badass. His influences are wide-reaching, citing American hip-hop and British grime for his music and authors Benjamin Zephaniah and Langston Hughes for his lyricism. Carner brings a new energy to rap music and effortlessly blends samples from jazz, pop or even recordings of telephone conversations with his family into smooth beats that he raps over freely.

This gig will be unmissable as he reminisces on his earlier work and is supported by a live band instead of using backing tracks like at most of his gigs. Many of the artists that he has worked with who are forging their own way to critical acclaim will be there to support him, like Jorja Smith, Kofi Stone and Rejjie Snow. Guitarist Tom Misch has been working with Carner for years and they have both appeared as collaborators on many of each other’s tracks, Misch has appeared as a special guest at multiple performances for Carner and their chemistry is undeniable.

The 606 Jazz Club is a small, intimate venue and a far reach from the spaces that Carner usually performs in. This event gives fans a much closer view to feel connected to the music and as he is supported by a full band, it will be a unique experience to hear his songs being played by live musicians. The 606 Jazz Club rarely plays host to events like this, but this night will be magical. 

Overall, there are many reasons why this gig will be special from the amazing musicianship that will be on show to the wild birthday celebrations that will occur afterwards, it is a once in a lifetime performance.

[swearwolfx]

Full Name: Remus John Lupin Age: 22 Birthday: March 10, 1960 Zodiac Sign: Pisces Blood Status: Half-blood & Werewolf Affiliation: Order of the Phoenix Occupation: Metalcharmer Sexuality: Bisexual Birthplace: Cardiff, Wales Currently living: Soho - London, England Faceclaim: Jack Wolfe Height: 5'9" Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Scars: Many all over his body from werewolf transformations Tattoos: None School: Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Extracurriculars: Prefect, dueling club Parents: Lyall & Hope (nee Howell) Lupin Siblings: None Wand: 10 ¼", Cypress, Unicorn hair, pliant Patronus: Wolf Boggart: The full moon Pets:

TRAITS

(+) observant, adaptable, witty ( -) insecure, sarcastic, stubborn

GROWING UP

Remus’ first clear memory was one of pain. Of waking to the chill of an open window just before teeth ripped at his flesh and shouting erupted from the hallway. Curses flying everywhere and the sight of a fleeing wolf. He had been just 5 when Fenrir had taken his childhood from him, the night his father’s eyes became haunted, blaming himself for bringing this upon his son. From then on his life was pain, countless healer visits telling his parents the same thing, that there was no cure. It was a lonely life, being forbidden to play with other children, constantly moving so no one would discover him. His father not able to meet his gaze as he chained his child and placed silencing charms on the room. But as he grew so did his strength and he became harder to contain, and his hopes of ever attending Hogwarts became further away. Sheer willpower was no match against the beast he had become, self-hatred running rampant through him, biting and scratching himself to try and curb the monster but it wasn't satisfied.

Lyall did his best for his son, providing him an education at home, starting his magical education as he feared his child would never be allowed to attend school. The fears they both shared didn’t come to pass though as Dumbledore came to see Remus just after his eleventh birthday and assured him that he would be allowed to attend and that arrangements had already been made. It was more than he had ever hoped, to attend a magical school and be around other children. It was also frightening, worrying that someone may discover him, that even though he may be able to be among them he would never be able to truly let them know him. As if they knew what he truly was they would run from him in fear, so he would have to keep them all at arms length. Despite this he was grateful, having heard his father’s stories of Hogwarts and wanting to learn magic in such a place. And maybe he could learn how to better hide himself there, to keep himself concealed, to eventually heal his own injuries.

START OF THE WAR

During his childhood he had become good at not attracting attention to himself during the day, at being quiet and making himself small so people wouldn’t notice him. This was something he kept up at school, speaking quietly and never volunteering anything himself. Somehow despite this he became friends with his fellow dorm mates, now having to provide excuses for his monthly absences terrified of what they would think if they found out. But his friends were clever and figured out what he was in their second year and their acceptance went so deep that they became animagi to further support him and keep him company during his transformations as he wasn’t a danger to other animals. They achieved it in their fifth year and with their influence he was able to keep a little more of his mind during his transformations despite his body still being very much a wolf. It was this year he became a prefect allowing him more freedom to be out after hours.

It was with his friends he was finally able to let go and be himself, no longer feeling fear of rejection and judgment, but instead safe and accepted. His personality flourished, he was still studious and quiet but he became more of a prankster like his friends letting himself be led into mischief and sometimes doing the leading but not as often as Sirius or James by any means. It was a happy time for him despite the war outside the walls as he had never experienced friendship before. Even with this new found freedom he kept his grades up and graduated with outstanding grades which would have meant the pick of jobs but the happy bubble he had been living in popped as soon as he left school. In the real world people would start to notice his absences or other signs of his lycanthropy so he had to be very careful of any job he took. There was no Dumbledore around to cover for him now. He couldn’t be around aurors who were trained to look for signs or some of the other ministry departments where eyes would be on him. Remus went to work as a metalcharmer, he had always been good with charms and the work was solitary allowing him to largely work from his flat going to the shops when necessary to bring in the items. It granted him a great deal of freedom for being away when necessary and no eye possibly catching onto the signs of what he was.

His mother became ill and soon passed away, but the only solace he took in it was that she wasn’t a victim of war, but it hurt nonetheless. He wanted to provide comfort for his father but he didn’t want to ruin his peaceful existence and threw suspicion on him again as he had done when he was a child. Now free of school and his bubble he took an active interest in the war joining the Order with his friends. He wanted to believe there was a world where blood status didn’t matter, and maybe one day where what he was didn’t either, where he wouldn’t be viewed as a monster.

PRESENT TIME

The betrayal of one of his best friends hit him hard and left him feeling vulnerable that he had put his trust in someone who betrayed them so completely, and someone who knew his darkest secret. With the invention of the wolfsbane potion gaining more control on his transformations was within reach, but the potion was complex and the ingredients expensive. He did what he could to find most of them in the surrounding forests, finding another werewolf while he was there that offered help. Hearing of his struggle Dumbledore enlisted help from a skilled potion maker within the order. This gesture didn’t come without a cost though, Dumbledore wanted him more in control so he could have his wits about him when dealing with the other wolves and navigate the danger with a clear head to track them down and convince them to join their side. The prospect of seeking out feral wolves was terrifying but he had to do his part. Remus owed his very life to Dumbledore, he wouldn’t have anything without him and was indebted to the man. In his eyes he could do no wrong and trusted his judgment implicitly and would do whatever was asked of him. It was a dangerous mission, but anything related to such a mission for the Order was and he thought it worthwhile, turning werewolves away from Voldemort and the darkness of their nature, to show them there could be another way. This new potion while not a cure gave them a hope of living with their affliction, a chance at a better life.

HEADCANONS

Since he wasn’t allowed to play with other children he became an avid reader, having his adventures without ever leaving his room, dreaming of the day he might be able to have a real one

He had small adventures in the wooded areas around his house but only during the day and always alone

Remus always has chocolate on hand, in the early days after his transformations his father would offer it to him afterwards to try and make him feel a little better. Now it is an ingrained habit, not sure if it actually makes him feel better or just brings him back to the comfort his father was trying to provide.

When he is nervous or anxious he finds himself rubbing the scar on his shoulder and in really bad moments pressing hard against it as if trying to draw the pain out of it to remind him of what he’s gone through, what he’s survived and that he could survive whatever this new challenge was too. In his darkest moments, it sometimes backfires just further reminding him that he isn’t actually human anymore.

If he was able to choose a career he would have liked to be a healer, he is good at healing magic after mending his own injuries and likes to help people but many at the hospital were those who used to treat him and they would never let someone like him in such a job fearing he would infect others and he was sure even if the ones who treated him weren’t around the others would recognize him for what he was seeing the symptoms

Being in relationships is hard for him due to his feelings of self-worth due to the monster within him and how if he really cared for the person they deserved more than a monster. But he could never let them know why as he didn’t want to let them in on his secret. If/when they saw his scars he would make up some excuse about being attacked by a wild animal and left scared.

Started thinking about the metal charmer profession from an early age with his father's education they had looked for careers he might be able to do with his condition that didn’t involve being around other people.

He has a nervous habit of fidgeting, biting at his lip, pulling at his sweater, scratching at the back of his hands, etc, feeling people’s attention focused on him often makes him uncomfortable in his own skin as if they might see something he doesn’t want them to.

Remus tends to cover his insecurities with a lot of sarcasm, deflecting the attention away from himself.

He is the voice of reason among the marauders, though he participates he tries to dissuade them from the really crazy ones. He is able to temper them just enough for it not to get totally out of control… most of the time.

He wears a crescent moon necklace, which seems an odd choice since the moon is what turns him into a monster, but the crescent of it is when he’s himself and it reminds him that he is not just the monster he becomes during the full moon. It's almost a talisman for him that he often rubs when he is feeling stressed or at odds with himself.

Remus likes to paint or draw, finding it soothing to get lost in the work much like his books and he is able to create rather than destroy.

His growth and overall physique may have been stunted due to the werewolf gene/virus being introduced to his system at such a young age and the fact he fought it rather than gave in to it. His theory is if you give into the wolf, give into the bloodlust and animal nature it would accelerate growth, making you a strong wolf for the pack. Or you fought it and it kept you weak, easy prey for others in the pack to remove the weakest link. His body fought it like a virus rather than embraced it like Fenrir.