#muse: cain seed

[general-kalani]

With the fact I have. Multiple characters with Bryk's fc now,

like this post for a random starter from any of them (or you can choose)!

The ones with his fc are as follows, following last name alphabetical order:

Abaddon Amos Bobby Jeremy Danvers Cain Seed Joseph Seed Cobbs Pond The Voice

{ Multimuses lmk who you're using! }

[general-kalani]

So you have chosen death.

Knife throw knife throw knife throw-

"I just don't want to."

[nemesyaaa]

bones and all au // rafe cameron x reader

summary : “ you're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth. ” strangers by ethel cain.

warnings : if you were not comfortable with the movie by luca guadagnino, don't read this !! mature plot. a lot lot lot of blood. sick and gore attitude. cannibalism used as a form of love. strangers/ode to eaters by ethel cain muse. smut. pomegranate used as a metaphor of cannibalism. jealousy. mentions of organs and anatomy. some b&a refs but you can read it without watching the movie. violence. minors DNI. +18.

author's note : crdits to @starfxkrreloaded for this au. you can reach for her ode to eaters au which is very insane ! please, i know this is very twisted but don't send hate or be mean in the comments. if you dont want to read something like that, it's your right and i respect it, just scroll. to the rest, hope you will enjoy. it's my first time writing something like that so i'm kinda nervous. and by the way, the movie is very beautiful, taylor russell was incredible in this. i highly recommend you.

you lived in an old house in the midwest, the southern gothic type with an empty fridge, broken stairs, carcasses of eaten animals in the garden, a tv too old to be turned on, a radio player too damaged to be listened to , a completely dirty kitchen with dishes full of dishes in the sink, and nasty dirts on the floor. there was also that damn lamp that flickered and came on every other time, that icy water that froze your bones, that cold tiles that creaked under your feets. the windows were rarely open but when they were, the shutters slammed against the wind, your underwear hung over the radiator. but you really liked this place, in fact, it was the only place you could call home without wanting to collapse in tears.

you had your headphones on in that empty quiet space, and a probably dead singer in your ears living through your swaying body. you found this pomegranate on the table while searching. it was intact, still shiny and full of good things.

you didn't need a knife when you had a hungry beast inside you to cut the fruit with your teeths. you had dug your molars inside the seeds, directly into the fresh and virgin skin, opened the eviscerate flesh, tearing away everything you can with your mouth, the still delicious juice ready to feed your thirst and starved your hunger.

you smelled the fruity and juicy scent through your nose, splitted open the pomegranate, discovering the clean and clear inner bones, a pretty red color, even more oozing and sublime than your blood, a perfect complexion reminiscent of the sanguinary meat of your anatomy. your tongue and teeth were sunk in, completely buried in the dripping morsel. your face and cheeks were full of it, shining onto your dirty and sticky fingers. the juice burst, squeezed in your hands as you devoured this fruit, the liquid of which flowed, dripping down your neck and chest, slipping toward your tummy like an unstoppable river.

you were bad as a demon, but nothing stopped you. you bit and bit like a mad dog into the flesh of the fruit like a piece of meat, extracting with your molars everything that you could recover and stuck in your throat.

the more you ate, the more the fruit bled. but you heard nothing, no lamentations. nothing could stop you from eating, from the rage beating. it was sickly, obscene and depraved.

you looked like such an innocent thing, but inside you, there was nothing like that. and you couldn't fool anyone with your tears and your regrets, because you didn't have any.

you had dropped the pomegranate on the ground, there was nothing left except a broken corpse. you had consumed everything from the flesh to the bones, from the skin to every part.

your dress was stained. you stank of pomegranate as much as sin. there was nothing good in you, and above all, there were too many people in you.

rafe had come home in the night while you were waiting in the armchair in the living room, with this juice stuck to your body. you hadn't moved. for some reason you were faithful to your partner. maybe because he scared you, or because you understood that without him you couldn't survive.

he had thrown the key in the table and came before you.

he came toward you in the same state you had seen him for the first time, covered in blood and with glowing blue dilated eyes. you knew that he had eaten, that he had devoured someone because he was not like you. rafe was worse. he understood that nature was to kill but beyond that, it was something he was trying to teach you as your mentor. that we should not regret giving in to impulses, that if we did not listen to them, they would end up killing us.

that we were originally monsters, and that we had to deal with it. you didn't know if he was telling the truth, if he was right. but he was taller than you. you found a maturity in him that fascinated you, that forced you to listen to him.

he had taken off his shirt, and you looked up at his face. he smelled of blood, that strong, metallic smell that you could sniff from several meters away but especially his because you knew him by heart.

“jesus, don’t look at me like that. you wanted to stay at home, i didn't force you to. ”

“it was a girl. what was she like? did you like it ? ”

you didn't know if it was jealousy, or curiosity. you just knew you didn't like knowing he was with some girls even if it wasn't going to last.

with a smirk but at the same time terribly cold face, he answered you. "if you're that jealous, use that energy and mouth to taste it. maybe, you will have some answers. ”

you got up from the chair to join him. you didn't want to share him, even though you knew there was only you in his life. you knew it because since you knew him, he had never talked about his family, nor contacted relatives in the payphone. then, he rarely spoke about his private life. he often made fun of you, because it was more your type of thing to open up about personal moments. you never knew if he was really listening to you but he stayed until the end of your speech.

eagerly, you kissed him, that girl’s blood sliding against your lips, your mouth capturing rafe’s in a kiss, as your cheeks crushed against his bloody face. “ mine, mine.” you whispered, pushing your tongue against his. “ clean that blood, babe. i can't be yours if she's still here. ” he had slipped his hands under your skirt, pressing the flesh of your ass. he had a ring on, the cold metal playing against your skin. you could smell it, just like what he had eaten before coming home.

he sat on the probably moldy and torn couch in your living room, you were almost his height now that you were sitting on top of him. you were hungry, as much for him as for sex. he made you feel so many things, or it was this jealousy, this thirst within you that made you so hungry. you weren’t really sure.

you took one of his fingers still covered in blood, the recent taste of raw flesh now in your cavity. he had pushed his thumb deeper in your mouth, making you suck the pulp properly. the liquid bleeding against your tongue, as his flesh quickly brushed your cavity, your drooling lips curved around him. he pushed it in until he felt your throat.

he was playing with fire, he was playing with you, because he knew you could bite him at any moment but he had also conditioned you not to.

“so, how is it? ”

“nothing tastes better than you.” you simply replied. “ right ? nothing can be as good as me. ” he said in a mocking tone.

he had undone the strap of your dress, revealing one of your tits which he had taken in his palm before taking it in his mouth. your nipple was pressed between his teeth, your skin trapped in his hand as he sucked on your piece of flesh, pinching it only ever so gently in his mouth. he still had remnants of blood, slipping between your body and his tongue.

there was something sensual between this slow sucking, fast suction of the tongue around your throbbing nipple, your spiraling stomach against the void, the movement of his adam's apple in his throat while he tasted every beads of your boobs. rafe was good at it.

he pressed your tits, grabbed them tightly and firmly against his palm, nibbling the tip, caressing the pulp, kissing the flesh. and maybe if he had bitten into it, you would have cum instantly.

his hand was on you, covering your body in blood and sweat, tracing your figure with his soiled and bloody fingers like a canva, letting them run over your skin like a paintbrush.

he was hidden by your sucked breasts. and you wanted him full. you had started to grind against him, even with your underwear separating you from him and his piece of jeans, you managed to be completely soaked on him. your hips moved in motion, lifting delicately like a porcelain doll too afraid of getting hurt.

you were no worse than him, and he was no worse than you. you were both terrible people. there was no hierarchy among people like you.

but the first time you saw him, in that shirt full of blood, with that mouth so red and that oozing dripping neck.

it was dark, but you knew very clearly what he had done, and perfectly well who he had eaten. you had observed it and you had not seen a monster. you weren't afraid.

he wasn't mean and monstruous, just indifferent.

"if you want to eat, that man is still over there." he said simply, not trying to hide or deny what you were seeing.

and you liked it. you instantly liked it.

“ you're the one who interests me.”

“you know the drill, we don’t eat each other.”

“i mean, will you let me come with you?”

"listen to me carefully, i don't have the face of a babysitter, nor the skills to do so. get by, you may be a minor but if you're old enough to do what you do when mom and dad have their backs turned, i swear, you can get through this on your own. ”

“i’m an adult.” you cut him off.

“your age was a nice excuse for me to tell you that i’m not interested. i bet you're an adult. ”

you had followed him when he approached his pickup. "i wouldn't bother you. but i need help. i mean, this is new to me. i don't do this often while you seem to be experienced. i want.. .i want to be like you, not to be afraid of that.”

“what makes you think i’m the right person for this?”

“you may not necessarily be the right person, but you’re the one I want.”

“you know, i already have a lot of problems, i don’t need a burden on all of them.”

“please. i won’t be one. you have my word.”

"you really don't give me a choice. come up crybaby, but if you bother me, i won't hesitate to abandon you, no matter where."

you nodded. it was going back, but in the meantime, you had traveled to many states of america, and probably left a pile of corpses on your way. even though it hadn’t been easy, he had taught you how to drive.

one cold summer night, in the darkness of a tent in the middle of nowhere, you hadn't managed to sleep. but when you opened your eyes, rafe wasn't sleeping either.

“you should sleep, you’re the one driving tomorrow. ”

“you want to know who my first victim was? "

"i guess even if i don't care, you're going to tell me. so go ahead. knock me out, tell me something your little lips haven't told me yet. and don’t say victim, you're much an innocent thing than a killer. but don’t worry, i'm about to raise you very well. ”

his hands had gripped your hips to position you above him. “but for now, tell me about your boring story, maybe it will help me sleep.”

you had told him a lot of your past. the first time you had eaten someone, the babysitter your father had hired who had ended up torn apart on the floor and another part in your mouth. oh it really wasn't beautiful. and this time, in the summer camp where a boy had mysteriously disappeared because you had devoured him in the woods. and that friend at school whose finger you swallowed. it was stronger than you. you needed to eat.

and rafe was the only one to understand it.

the most intimate moments in a relationship should be sex, but for the two of you it was different. it was when you ate together, when you both had blood around your mouth, that you could taste his, and he could taste yours. when there was this connection between you.

he was a different eater from you, he was bestial and cold, sinking his teeth straight into the flesh, tearing off the parts of the body one by one. his bites were mean and cruel. the way, his teeths pulled the organs, the ribcage. you watched him, his hungry raging mouth embracing the darkness of his needs, ripping all the raw meat out roughly. oh the blood, it leaked into every corner of his pretty and bloody lips that you wanted to kiss so badly, to feel the liquid and flesh filling and consuming the space of your throat and your tongue as your body swallowed everything he gave you. oh how much, rafe loved to feed you directly in the mouth, letting you suck the flowing red wet all around his jaw, and down his neck to the cool grass. he was beautiful. insanely handsome. but also, so scary.

his skin was covered in a red, metallic coat. his eyes were consumed with pleasure, while devouring the body of your victim.

he was very different from you, who was more delicate in your movements, or rather clumsy. your bites were messy, your touches lighter, even with the blood all over you.

but it was in those moments that the sex was the best afterwards. when his tongue, still red and famished with blood, circulated over the skin of your stomach, leaving a reddish river against your flesh.

and it went even further than that, when he found himself lost between your legs, his warmth muscle completely buried inside you, lapping your soaked folds, licking you like a starving man, his mouth pressed around your sloppy wet cunt. your juices dripping against his open wided mouth and jaw, the throbbing of your clit against his nose, the way your beating pussy smeared the blood across his lips and cheeks every time he entered and devoured your delicious slick.

since you didn't eat each other, it was your only way to feed him, to make him taste you. you didn't know if he loved your taste but in any case his tongue always came back to find you, to fuck that cunt, lodging itself between your soggy walls.

he forced you to keep your thighs apart, one hand resting on your bruised tummy which contracted every time you felt him on your core.

your legs shaking around his shoulders, the way his bloody mouth nibbled on your clit. you moaned in the middle of this abandoned place. you could shout as loud as you wanted, no one would come, no one would hear you.

you loved feeling his large hands on your bruised skin, especially after eating, because they were dirty and sloppy. you let your tongue clean the blood stuck to his fingers, the drops falling into your mouth.

it was strange how love can be perceived for everyone. ever since you were a child, you have been unable to show affection without hurting people. when you loved someone, it was tragic because you had this need to devour and consume them, to make them a part of you, to make them live within you.

but for rafe, it was different.

you were total opposites. and even though you lived together, you wondered if he felt things for you. if he had ever been in love.

because you liked to think that the way he kept you around, the way he let you stay with him at night, the way he always came home, and was open to doing all these things with you, that was his way to show you that you mattered to him. you even wondered if he came back every night because he couldn't let go of you. yet, at the beginning of your relationship, he wouldn't have hesitated.

here, in this rickety house, you didn't pay rent. it belonged to one of your victims. you always did that, you killed people, and robbed them of their belongings. you took their money, clothes and possessions. you were stealing the lives of these people. at first you felt guilty but now you feel nothing. it was life.

“i love you. ” you told him, as you straddled him on your shared bed, your fists curled in the pieces of sheets. “i really love you, rafe.” you were moaning and feverish, every inch of his thick cock buried in your core, hitting your spot.

while you were bouncing on him, your ass slapped against his muscular thighs. he grabbed your breasts moving over his face, as his dick was ruining you, each of his thrusts destroying your canal. you were as tight as the first time he fucked you in the back of the pickup. he gripped your ass, pinching the flesh.

he wrapped his hand around your throat before losing his face in your neck, his mouth kissing that immaculate part of your body. he placed kisses, before lightly sinking his teeths into your skin, nibbling and sucking on this skin offered to him, while you continued to take him just below him. “yea, you love me. ” with a hard stroke further into you. “still fucking tied to me. ”

and he wasn't wrong, you were so glued to him, completely submissive. he was inside you, filling you completely, every part of his length stuck to your walls, parting your pussy lips, your moans muffled above his head as your arms wrapped around his back. you were desperate and whimpering, the wet sounds of your repeated moans echoing around the room.

you could feel the twitch of his stomach against your skin, the perfect harmony of your two bodies in sync, he speared you violently with his fat cock, let you hear his grunts and heavy breathing against your neck, coming straight from his throat.

you were sweaty and noisy, like one of his victims, but most of all, you were his, his hands all over your body like a prize. every touch was possessive, your head tilted back, and his mouth melted onto your jaw. he fucked you roughly, making you bounce on him and cry.

his blue eyes shone in the darkness of the room. they were on you, in a perfect focus.

“do you love me? " you asked him, your body going through trembling spasms, your skin covering his. you were desperate and suffocating. your breaths were rapid and frantic.

he moved your head with his hand on your throat, his gaze flickering above your collarbones. you felt like you were pretty with the importance his pupils gave you.

you wondered if he had ever wanted to eat you alive, because after all, even if you were an eater, you were still easy prey.

and maybe even sometimes you fantasized about what he could do, because you wouldn't have minded seeing him dug his teeth into your flesh like meat, seeing him consume you one by one, your bones getting sucked, your blood spurting against his tooth.

you would have loved to sacrifice your body to feed him, to be that pomegranate to him, to see him smile through your organs, to see his belly swell because you were in a thousand pieces inside.

you would have loved for him to eat you alive, because you knew rafe would have done it out of love.

“ don't leave me or i will eat you. ” you said to him, his hands brushing your hair like a lover. “ every part of you. like you taught me. ”

“ bones and all ? ”

“ bones and all, my love. ”

and he smiled, fucking smiled all over your kisses, his lips covered yours.

“ then, what are you waiting for ? sunk those teeths in me. scared for what, babe ? nothing that you have not tasted before.”

[lexalovesbooks]

Top ten best books of all time????????

Too TEN… anon I thought about this so hard. In no particular order:

Muse of Nightmares by Laini Taylor (sequel to Strange the Dreamer): This book. God. Amazing worldbuilding and storytelling, left me fully satisfied in a way fantasy series rarely do, also laini Taylor’s writing is just… so beautiful and unique. She’s one of the authors who I aspire to write like.

The Last True Poets of the Sea by Julia Drake: I don’t talk about this book enough. Twelfth Night retelling, beautiful and messy and hit really close to home at the time of reading, made me cry. 10/10

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik: El Higgins my beloved!! Nothing to say except that these books are masterfully put together, funny and heartwarming and great social commentary and some of the most entertaining info-dumping I’ve ever read

Sword and Pen by Rachel Caine (final book in the Great Library series): putting this one on the list because the stress reaction I was having the entire time I read this book was genuinely unrivaled. I was on the verge of tears for 80% of the twenty-four hours I spent reading this book. 10/10, I never want to experience that kind of stress again.

Insignia by S.J. Kincaid: putting this on the list because any book series that’s had a grip on my brain for as long as this one has deserves it. They’re 100% aimed at middle school boys, i was that age when I first read them and can’t really guarantee that I’d have loved them or found them as deep as I did in the same way if I’d read them later, but man. When I finally gave into nostalgia and reread them for the first time in years as a college student, I really just had to sit there like… hang on, the silly funny books I was obsessed with in middle school are good? These books have social commentary and themes and all the things I learned to analyze in English class? It’s probably the nostalgia bias talking but I’m still inclined to say that these books are really well-put together for a ya series of it’s time.

Lair of Dreams by Libba Bray (book two of The Diviners): still my favorite book in this series… they’re all pretty good but the creepy vibes of this one were unmatched… two of my fave characters got the spotlight and I just love the brand of ghost we got in this book and the spookiness of the dream walking and dream worlds

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang: holy SHIT this book. Kuang somehow managed to fit an entire trilogy into just this one book. And then wrote two more full books after that. It left me wrung out and in shock, the rest of the series was fantastic too but the tone shift in this one + the choice Rin makes at the end… this one has to be my favorite for sure

A Memory Called Empire + A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine: these books. They’re about aliens and hiveminds and the experience of watching your culture be subsumed by another that you love but that will never be yours. They’re about language and imperialism and lineage and ghosts and they’re some of the best books I’ve ever read

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan: this book is just a super fun time, and Elliot is one of my favorite main characters ever. He’s rude and snappy and hard to like and he knows it, he’s an unwilling jock, and he’s the most terrifying pacifist you’ll ever meet. He’s in love with his best friend, he’s not sure where he belongs, he’s trying his best. I’d die for him

The Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler: this book gave me nightmares. Like, actually, multiple nightmares. It’s dark and horrific and awful, but towards the second half this shift begins and this little seed of hope starts growing, and it left such an impact on me. One of my favorite books I’ve ever read for school and also, seeing as it’s on this list, probably one of my favorite books just in general.

That’s ten! Thanks for the ask :D

[infernalight]

oc ideas under the cut...

character one:

Name: Arcadius (Cade)

Faceclaim: Aaron from Dear.Door

Backstory: WIP, a doctor of sorts

How'd he die: ????

Now: Sinner demon with multiple clones of himself, a doctor/scientist who studies regeneration and other things in order to help save the demons... might become an in house doctor for the hazbin hotel??

Other: covered in scars from his death ???

character two:

Name: Calyx (Cal)

Faceclaim: Jinyoung from Dear.Door

Backstory: WIP

How'd he die: hahah, he's not dead. he's human

A human who had fallen in love with a demon (worked for ozzie; stole a crystal for him, but died when ozzie found out), once gaining the ability to travel to hell / heaven without issues, this caught the attention of the angels and after confronting the human about it, he formed a contract with an angel (he'd be their messenger, keep an eye on things in hell while he got a little bit of angelic power of his own, when using his angelic power his eyes change color); he has a bit of free reign but he constantly needs to check back with them and can be possessed by the angel holding his contract if he doesn't give them what they want. he has a demon disguise.

Other: hung like a horse

character three:

Name: Zephyr?

Faceclaim: Sid from Dear.Door (pronounced Seed)

Backstory: started out as a low level demon, climbed his way to the top with help from charlie/lucifer/???? who had given some of their power to aid in his survival though to keep the power from overtaking him, he had to consume demons of the same level (tho bc he was BORN as a low level demon his body could only handle low level but in order to not be killed from the power within him, he must consume higher level demons that he couldn't end up digesting so they just clutter inside of him... (more on this LATER), but yeah.. demons in his head

How'd he die: ???

Now: ?????

Powers: LOTS OF THEM HE'S GONNA BE COOL OK FEEL FREE TO ASK ABOUT HIM

Envy or Pride

character four:

Name: Percy (Perseus)?

Faceclaim: Ben from Dear.Door

A hellhound that can create hellhounds and use them to attack??? has hellhounds as pets?? something like that, alpha???

more to come!

character five:

Name: Spike

Faceclaim: Jude Blanc from Dear.Door

Makes & deals with weapons for Carmilla (maybe they have a contract??)

Sinner demon

How he died: ???

character six:

Name: N/A

Faceclaim: Cain from Dear.Door & Satan from Dear.Door

Lustful sinner / overlord demon

has/had a piece of a weapon from hell inside of his heart that limits his power

idk man he's super sexy.. super lustful...

can split himself into both cain and satan or be as just one

the good and evil parts of lucifer split and the good parts have formed their own sentient body, being forced by the angels to stay in the human world for the time being to get stronger, strong enough to take on satan, but instead of either one of them killing the other, satan re-absorbs cain

satan has the ability to split both sides of himself apart, but doesn't do it often

when separated they are still connected some way so if satan tries to hurt someone cain loves, satan won't be able to depending on how strong his feelings are.

satan can absorb things from humans

sin of wrath

character seven:

Name: N/A

Faceclaim: Gayle from Dear.Door

ars goetia working for stolas.

helps octavia with her magic, helps stolas with everything else. bsaed on Gamigin

*possible muses to be added listed below...*

character eight:

Name: N/A

Faceclaim: Metatron from Dear.Door

scribe of god

evil

character nine:

Name: N/A

Faceclaim: Gabriel from Dear.Door

character ten:

Name: Riyon

Faceclaim: Azaniel from Dear.Door

slutty angel

[general-kalani]

"So, officer, you say you have a warrant and try to arrest my brother... Without having it on you? That could cost you your job, you know. Now I won't come after you and your job here but just know... If this happens again where you come after my family, I will not be so nice the next time."

Cain is leaving again.

"Eh? Uh, yea. Sure."

"Looks like I left it in my other jacket. I'll...be right back."

[anthrcpophagi]

share at least 5 songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse!

strangers - ethel cain

family line - conan gray

final girl - eva rose

dinner for one - baybe

the seed - aurora

breakfast - dove cameron

my mind (now) - paris paloma

tagging: you! uwu

[godlizzza]

Reverse: this time Herbert is the one getting hit on and Dan has to step in, preferably middleaged danbert please :)

"Wow, Dr. West, you removed that bullet in no time," Grant gawked.

Herbert peeled off his blood-soaked gloves and tossed them down on the tool bench. "Work as long as I did in Chicago and you'll be picking out bullets like watermelon seeds."

Grant, the nurse, had been assisting him with the same shooting patient, an armed robbery victim, most of the day. They'd finally gotten the man stable enough to attempt to remove the bullet lodged dangerously close to his spine. The bullet was long and thin, so that plucking it out with the forceps had been easily done, though Grant was acting as though he'd performed some kind of miracle.

"You've worked at a lot of hospitals then?" Grant asked, pushing the cart of tools along as he walked beside Herbert.

Herbert cast a surreptitious glance at him but didn't break his stride. "Not so many," he lied.

Grant didn't seem to notice his sly tone. His eyes remained wide and sparkling. He had to be at least ten years Herbert's junior, and relatively new to the field. He still had that sunny optimism that Herbert had seen quickly snuffed out of many nurses. He supposed you could only get vomited on and abused for so long before becoming somewhat embittered to it all. That was why Herbert preferred bodies over people. Less back-chat.

"Um, you know, Dr. West," Grant began, pulling up short and forcing Herbert to stop in his tracks. "I-"

"What is it?" Herbert asked briskly, aware that they were supposed to be heading back to their floor.

Grant coughed into his fist and glanced to the side. He fidgeted with his cuffs, which just irritated Herbert more. Standing around, doing nothing, had never been a favoured pastime of his.

"I was just thinking how, um, incredible you are."

"What?"

He hadn't been expecting that. Mostly, the rest of the hospital staff went out of their way to interact with him only when strictly necessary, which suited him just fine. They certainly didn't walk around dishing out compliments to him.

"Yeah," Grant went on, a grin pulling at his mouth. "I know some other people mind find your style a little, uh, brusque, but I like how direct you are. No beating around the bush. That's my kinda style too. Also, this might sound a little weird, but I wish I had your hands."

Herbert inspected his fingers. "Is that right?"

Grant nodded, a curl of hair flopping over his glittering eyes. "I always watch your surgeries when I can. You never shake."

"He's unshakable," Dan agreed, materialising at Herbert's side. "Nerves of steel, this one."

Herbert didn't jump, but cast a wild look at Dan, who placed a hand on the small of his back and smiled. Herbert had known Dan's smiling face for twenty years, and could see that, though he looked perfectly genial on the outside, there was a stiffness to his jaw that suggested otherwise.

"Oh, Dr. Cain. Hi," Grant said and took a step back. His eyes dimmed as he and Dan stared at each other, some unspoken conversation passing between their gazes alone.

"Did I hear something about hands?" Dan asked, faux politeness dripping from his voice. "Herbert does have nice hands. So nice, I just had to decorate one." And, taking Herbert's hand in his, turned them so that their matching wedding rings glinted under the fluorescent lights.

Grant gave a short huff of a laugh and nodded stiffly. He looked at Herbert as he said, "I'll see you back at bay eight?"

"Yes," Herbert replied, trailing off as Grant walked off, pushing his cart towards the elevator.

Only once he was round the corner did Dan pull his hand away.

"What was that?" Herbert asked, arching an eyebrow at Dan, who put on a big sigh and placed his hands on his hips.

Dan looked up at the roof as he mused, "I knew it was bound to happen eventually."

"What're you talking about?" Herbert pressed, but Dan had turned around and was walking down the hall.

"One day the world would catch up with me and realised I lucked out," Dan said wistfully as he strolled away.

Herbert could see his cheeks rising with a grin and pursued him with half a mind to grasp the nearest newspaper and whack him upside the head with it.

"Stop talking nonsense," Herbert barked. "And stop walking so fast."

Dan laughed as Herbert caught up with him and they continued on together.

[gerec]

i'm sure you got fifty asks suggesting this the moment you okay'ed remixes but i think a remix of the master of charlton park with a role reversal... erik maybe selling his virginity so he can save up for medical treatment for his mother or something?

So I did get quite a few prompts but yours was the only one asking about a remix? Which of course immediately grabbed the Muse and made me (temporarily) put a hold on the other ficlets lol. Anyway, I’m not sure if this is exactly what you’re looking for but here we go:

Regency au, TMoCP remix with alpha!Charles/omega!Erik, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and slow burn/pining :D

------

Xavier came to see him almost an hour later, after Mrs. Pryde had settled Mama in and then seen Erik to his own room next door. Relieved that the carriage ride had not been too onerous for Edie in her condition – and that a carriage had been sent in the first place, to make their journey to Graymalkin relatively stress free – Erik was less irritated than he would otherwise be, that Xavier had not personally come to welcome them upon their arrival.

Then again what did Erik really expect would happen, when he was no more than a walking womb to the wealthy and charismatic Viscount?

“How do you like your room?” Xavier asked, as well-mannered and infuriately handsome as the last time they’d spoken. He stood at the threshold of Erik’s room, leaving the door wide open, no doubt to give the illusion of propriety. Of course appearances mattered, even in the Viscount’s own home; doubly so as they were soon to be married. 

Erik wiped his palms discreetly and adjusted his waistcoat, and turned to put the last of his meagre belongings into the large, ornate dresser. “Very well. Thank you, my Lord.”

“And your Mother? Did she find the journey too taxing?”

He wanted to snap at Xavier, that the man would have known the answer if he’d bothered to show up, instead of letting his staff herd them around as though they were a couple of unexpected guests. But he simply swallowed the words along with his pride, and answered in the only way that would not provoke an argument with his husband-to-be. “It was tiring for her, though much less so riding in a comfortable carriage. Thank you for your kindness, My Lord.”

Perhaps his tone was less convivial than he’d hoped, for Xavier winced and his hand closed tightly over the head of his cane. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to give you and Mrs. Lehnsherr a proper welcome. My step-brother Cain…he arrived unexpectedly and could not be dissuaded to return at a later date.”

“Yes, of course. That’s quite alright.”

He did not know what Xavier wanted, the silence stretching uncomfortably for long moments, as the man merely stared fixedly at him with those soulful, blue eyes. Erik tried not to flush under such a direct and appreciative gaze; it was not welcome, and would not be until after they were properly married.

Even if their marriage was one of convenience and not love, Erik would not let the alpha have his way with him before his future – and his Mother’s care – was assured.  

Xavier took a step closer and offered a stilted smile. “Will you join me for dinner tonight? The cook is making a wonderful roast venison, and I have a lovely wine Emma brought back from her last trip to France.”

A part of him was tempted to say yes, even if Xavier’s offer seemed more like forced hospitality than a genuine wish to spend time with his ‘betrothed’. Erik wondered just how often he could expect to see Xavier, beyond the times needed to seed his womb with the Viscount’s heir; he had heard plenty of gossip after all, about Xavier’s many, many affairs with the London elite.

Instead, he replied, “Thank you, My Lord, but with your permission I’d like to take my meal in my room tonight. I’m quite tired myself from the trip, and I should like to spend time with Mama, to make sure she’s alright.”

Xavier’s shoulders seemed to droop at that, though only for a second, before he gave Erik a smaller, if more genuine smile. “Of course. I’ll have the kitchen send your meals to Mrs. Lehnsherr’s room. I’m sure she would appreciate your company after such a long day.” He hesitated a little, and then added, “If there’s anything you need, Erik, anything at all…just say the word, and I’ll see it done.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Charles,” Xavier said, dipping his head before turning away, and closed the door softly behind him.

[general-kalani]

"Not the question I asked, dickhead."

[divile]

MUSES.

CANON!!!

hemlock  grove.   (  mostly  canon  compliant.  post  season  3  retconned  &  ‘fixed’  )

roman  godfrey.  bill  skarsgard.  main. nadia  godfrey.  elle  fanning.  main. letha  godfrey.  penelope  mitchell.  main. peter  rumancek.  landon  liboiron.  secondary.

alice  in  wonderland.   (  book  /  disney  inspired.  canon  divergent  )

alice  carroll.  angourie  rice.  secondary.

possibly  in  michigan.   (  canon  compliant  &  original  content  )  

sharon  graves.  jena  malone.  main.

far  cry.   (  canon  compliant  &  canon  divergent  )  

faith  seed  (  rachel  jessop  ).  penelope  mitchell.  tertiary. jess  black.  talia  ryder.  tertiary.

ORIGINAL!!!

hemlock  grove.

analise  vaduva.  madeleine  stowe.  secondary. devin  nicoles.  kelsy  karter.  tertiary. victor  mantegna.  jeffrey  dean  morgan.  secondary. daniella  mantegna.  india  eisley.  secondary. lucius  rumancek.  avan  jogia.  secondary. rosa  rumancek.  katie  findlay.  secondary.

red  dead  redemption.

sebastian  cain  wolfe.  landon  liboiron.  secondary. arabella  maeve  wolfe.  millie  brady.  secondary. vincent  louis  dragomir.  bill  skarsgard.  secondary.

harry  potter.

wisteria  lodge.  mia  goth.  ravenclaw.  tertiary. elanor  pierce.  alice  pagani.  gryffindor.  tertiary.

fandomless.

mason  sauer.  heather  baron-gracie.  nosferatu  inspired  plague  vampire.  original  lore.  main. judas  hill.  landon  liboiron.  the  hills  have  eyes  inspired  cannibal.  original lore.  secondary. theodore  kennedy.  bill  skarsgard.  sympathy  for  the  devil  inspired.  defense  attorney.  original lore.  secondary. cora urban.  sophie  thatcher.  wandering  witch.  original lore.  secondary. rena  mochizuki.  nana  komatsu.  college  student.  original  lore.  secondary. dahlia  “doll”  mitchell.  lizeth  selene.  assassin  for  hire.  original  lore.  tertiary. fucia  esper.  nastya  zhidkova.  demon.  original  lore.  request. noah  palmer.  landon  liboiron.  runaway.  original  lore.  request.  (  affiliated  with  @cherriedwines.  ship  exclusive.  )

[drsilverfish]

Nothing Gold Can Stay... (15x04 Atomic Monsters)

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Hey everyone, as ever, I am catching up British-time, so I haven’t jumped into your posts yet, but I’m looking forward to it!

I’m sure there are some great gifs and discussions already out there about Dean and his “man meat” grief-eating. 

But I thought I’d start with Veronica and Robert Frost.

Those of you who’ve been following mine or @occamshipper​ ‘s musings on the use of alchemical themes in Dabb-era SPN will know that gold was highly significant to the medieval alchemists. It was their ultimate goal, to turn “base metal” (lead) into gold, and that was understood as a metaphor (or a mirror on the earthly plane) for the refinement of the soul on its journey to God. 

Next week’s episode, 15x05, is titled  Proverbs 17.3, and in the Bible, Proverbs 17.3 reads (King James version):

The fining pot is for silver, and the furnace for gold:

But the LORD trieth the hearts

Gold is, officially, a theme. As is the symbolic red of the heart.

As Becky tells Chuck, it’s not the monsters (ooh shade at the Leviathan, whom Chuck thinks were “great”, just like he thought the ending of Game of Thrones was “great”) which SPN fans are really interested in, it’s the emotional interactions between the characters - i.e. their hearts. 

Becky, in Perez’ metafictional commentary, is the fan-fiction representative who has come to understand the SPN story better than sucky origin-writer Chuck. She knows it’s about the emotional notes, the heartfelt conversations between the hero characters (including Cas, since she shades his non-mention all too often in Chuck’s MOTW stories) - aka the real “gold” of the story.

Interesting also, in terms of alchemical colour symbolism, are Sam’s God-wound induced “red visions”, which seem to be of an AU in which Sam has succumbed to his old demon-blood addiction (symbolic of his S5 apparent “destiny” of possession by Lucifer):

I was waiting for the Ouroboros (spiral/ circular narrative) reference to 5x04 The End (in its numerical correspondence to 15x04). And here it is, because Sam in the red-vision in 15x04 speaks in a similar voice to Lucifer!Sam in The End. Dean in the 15x04 red vision is a desperate fighter and Sam has said “Yes” to the demonic, just as was the case in 5x04 The End.:

In alchemy, there are four traditional colour-stages along the alchemical transformational road from lead to gold - nigredo (blackening) albedo (whitening) citrinitas (yellowing) and rubedo (reddening). Reddening is the final stage before gold. So Sam’s red-visions, and the gold which becomes a theme in 15x04 by means of the quotation from Robert Frost’s beautiful poem, are linked pieces of alchemical symbolism. 

Their meaning, I think, is that just as Amara’s link to Dean through the Mark of Cain changed Amara for the better (she learned about love through experiencing Dean’s “heart” through the Mark in S11, thus shaking off The DarknessTM to become clothed in yellow, the colour of the sun, at the start of S15), so Sam’s link to Chuck through the God-gun (of equalising/ revenge) will (hopefully, eventually) change Chuck for the better. A balance of powers - the feminine God-principle and the masculine God-principle, both learning compassion and becoming their higher selves (achieving the spiritual synthesis of “gold”) through their links to the (red) hearts of the Winchesters.

That means suffering for the Winchesters along the way, of course, as they too, undergo the alchemical process of self-transformation by (eventually) fully facing their Shadows (their unconscious); Sam’s fear of being permanently “contaminated” by the demon-blood fed to him as a baby, and Dean’s fear of abandonment (stemming from the loss of his mother) which leads him to be over-controlling and to act out and push people (ahem, Cas) away.    

But back to Veronica. Veronica who quotes Robert Frost’s lovely poem in her tribute speech to her “best friend” Suzy (possibly, her lover - that subtextual reading is certainly available).

Veronica is a fascinating character, because she is “read wrong”, by Dean in particular, who thinks she’s the vampire, the one killing her cheerleader rivals in order to get the top spot. And he’s wrong because, as Sam points out, she has braces, a no-no for vamp-teeth. Dean is really sarcastic about the memorial speech Veronica is practising for Suzy, of whom she says, “I’m lost without Suzy, it’s like a piece of my heart is gone.”  

Here is Dean, being a sarcastic little shit about Veronica’s emotive school-girl speech: 

Of course, Veronica’s eulogy for her dead beloved, who was “gold” and thus (in her Frost’s poem analogy) was too beautiful to last in this world, is too painful for Dean to hear. It verbalises what he cannot (he can’t even bear to speak Castiel’s name, all episode):

“My best friend Suzy who I miss like she was a part of me, and in many ways she’s still a part of me.”

In subtext, Dean also reads Veronica “wrong” because he thinks she was Suzy’s rival, when in fact, she was her lover (part of a Veronica-Suzy-Billy love-triangle, the F/F element emphasised by their attendance at a school called “Beaverdale” where “beaver” is of course slang for vagina). 

Look at all those red hearts (symbols of romantic love) on Suzy’s memorial pin-board, Indeed, look at all that red in general. A “match” for Sam’s “red-visions”. If Sam’s rubedo (alchemical reddening) trial is his God-wound, Dean’s is his separation from Cas: 

Veronica, it seems (unbeknownst to the Winchesters) is a neophyte hunter (as well as, in subtext, Suzy’s lover) a sleuth, on the trail of whoever killed Suzy. And it looks like she knows it was a vampire. When Sam and Dean are questioning her (and she’s clearly suspicious of them) we see her with a syringe of what looks like blood behind her back, ready to jab them:

We know, from 1x20 Dead Man’s Blood, that in the SPN universe, a dead person’s blood can temporarily take down a vamp. So it seems that whilst Dean suspects Veronica of being the vampire, she suspects the Winchesters (a recurrence of SPN’s perennial - “Who is really the monster?”/ it’s not black-and-white theme. The reference to Dead Man’s Blood is also interesting, as this was an early episode in which Dean defied his father (stepped out of being John’s “good little solider”, who did see monsters in black-and-white) yet now, we have, Ouroboros-style Dean regressing to old John-learned behaviours (conceal, don’t feel) after the second death of Mary. 

I love this little Veronica detail. It’s an un-explored thread in the story, a piece of fan-fiction catnip begging for further elaboration. More Perez meta-narrative, in fact, in which he suggests that, despite the sinister Chuck and his insistence on a final SPN ending with a gravestone reading “Winchesters”, the story itself is WaywardTM; it is capable of fluidity, of control being wrested from the origin-creator (God). After all, Chuck created free will, and despite his desire for total control, he cannot undo this wild-card element in the narrative, which Veronica’s little secret hunter-identity (in subtext, also, her secret queer identity) just like Becky’s fan-fic, is a mirror for. 

Veronica’s citation of Frost’s melancholic poem becomes a metaphor for (Dean’s) lost love. Just as Sam’s mention in the final Impala scene, of how he still thinks about Jess often, becomes a verbalisation for Dean’s own constant (unspoken) thoughts about his own lost love; Cas.

 Veronica and Billy (who were possibly both Suzy’s lovers; although in text it’s Billy, in subtext Veronica, true to SPN’s ongoing bisexual subtext in relation to Dean) exchange a memorial bracelet to Suzy in front of Suzy’s picture, as Veronica tells Billy a piece of her heart is gone:

Both are mirror images for Dean - Veronica-the-vampire-hunter who mourns excessively, and Billy-the-vampire, who has killed the person he loved (just as Dean has driven Cas away):

Dean is forced by Chuck’s authorial hand to kill Billy, who is both a representation of his own lost son, Jack (Chuck’s cruel re-staging of the scene in which Dean almost kills Jack in 14x20 Moriah) and of Dean himself (symbolising Dean’s present “self-murder” aka his self-punishment and repression re Cas):

Nothing gold can stay....

Frost’s poem is also used by Perez as a metanarrative commentary on the sadness we all feel as SPN draws to a close. Everything beautiful has its time to fade and die, Frost says; even SPN, says Perez.

Frost’s poem also makes reference to Eden, to the Fall, and how that was, in God’s plan, an inevitability; the descent from the Godly to the earthly. 

It’s noticeable how, just as The Fall was presented as Eve’s fault in the Bible, Chuck is, yet again, trying to eliminate the feminine principle from the narrative, just as he has always done throughout SPN (which began with the deaths of Mary Winchester and Jess). Chuck kills Suzy, as the driver of the episode, and he “poufs” Becky (the fan-fic writer) out of existence (possibly into an AU) so he can finish the story the way he wants, just as he has re-murdered Mary Winchester (or possibly also poufed her into an AU) to continue the Winchesters’ suffering. 

But Chuck’s determination to arrive at a tragic ending, an ending in which the feminine principle is still subjugated, Perez suggests, can be subverted, because the seeds of subversion are already there in the story; Veronica’s secret and subversive sleuthing (slash her subtextual queerness), Becky’s emotionally open, subversive, fan-fic, and the continued yearning of the Winchesters for true free will (not yet knowing Chuck is still actively f-ing with them) despite the burden of their grief,  

If gold is the result of the final alchemical synthesis, of “masculine” and “feminine” principles, of the conscious and the unconscious mind, here represented by Chuck-the-author and Becky-the-fan-fic writer (who were once a couple, but are now broken up, just as Chuck and Amara, Dean and Cas, are currently broken up).... Then, the alchemical symbolism suggests, the darkness of the break-up stage (The Abyss, which we are currently in) can be overcome by the red (rubedo) power of the heart - Sam’s God-wound trial, his heart-connection to Chuck, and Dean’s own heart-wound trial, the loss of his (heart) connection to Cas.

Yes, we are still working on the power of love.

Love ultimately confounded Chuck’s apocalypse in S5, when TFW went “off script” and, Ouroboros-style, it can do so again in S15.

Chuck can be overthrown (transformed), Perez tells us, by his own story; and thus the story can find its own (heart-filled) free will ending. 

Perhaps, after all, something gold can stay.*   

*My usual disclaimer applies - none of this suggests or implies an inevitable Dean/ Cas romantic (unequivocal) textualisation. 

Although, I would like to think that Perez, by including the by now all too formulaic Dean-is-bisexual subtext via bisexual (subtextual) mirroring in 15x04, is commenting, meta-fictionally, on Chuck’s (aka TPTB’s) (wearisome) eternal tendency to do this, thereby suggesting that the over-turning of Chuck’s narrative control should, by rights, also include the overturning of this formula into... something new. 

[tcpimpabutterfly]

SEND ❔ AND ILL THROW SOME MUSES YOUR WAY

Status: Accepting

@nostlgic​ said: ❔

— Atticus/The Seeds/Scout mayhaps

— Aleksander/Madeline

— Ariel/Eunice/Cordelia/Floyd

— Blair/Alice Cullen/Cynthia

— Anna/Eliana/Oscar

— Cain/The Amicis/Oscar/Vera mayhaps

— Felix/Violet

— Honey Harrington/Destiny/Marco

— Marceline/Madeline/Floyd/Seraphina

— Omen/The Wilkes

— Ruth/Janie/Malcolm

— Valentine/Andre/Destiny/Levi/Cameron

— Velma/Isabella

[scnofcain-blog]

( MUSE H )  charles michael davis ? no, i’m certain that’s just rowan ( he/him ), a member of the cain family. the thirty-four year old greengrocer is known to be extremely patient and also very spiteful. when i think of them i picture freshly pressed white shirts, hushed conversations behind closed doors, & the sound of rustling leaves. ( cami + nineteen + she/her )

hey guys !! cami here, gmt bitch, real tired person. please accept my man. 

also a sidenote: i am not a very consistent person so me using a medium gif here, a gif icon on a starter and an icon on a different thread? likely.

when the big four families settled and accumulated power, they were in equal footing. wealth, respect, ambition. the cains' reputation, however, took quite a dip in the last few years. marianna cain was the only child and heiress to the cain legacy - whispers told of her yearning for more, perhaps marriage to someone from the other important families to cement her growing relevance. instead, she picked an engineer with no relevant name or status, and dressed him up with her own surname, by then just dangling to survive oblivion, that was likely to take it away.

together, marianna and nathan revitalized the family businesses, and soon the wealth began to flow in again, uninterrupted. their mines, especially, saw a level of development unheard of since the settlement. regardless of their success though, the choice made by the heiress in a critical time told the others that the cains did not search for power, that they were not a TREAT. for as much money and jobs as they generated, the cains were to be underestimated, as they still are.

rowan was the firstborn. the pregnancy was very high risk, providing many scares to the entire family through the journey. the delivery of the premature baby nearly took marianna's life, and rowan's was hanguing by a thread for a bit as well. the rather traumatic experience deterred the family from having any more biological children, but they weren't satisfied - only a few years later, they adopted a baby boy, whom they named roman.

the small family thrived for some years. marianna and nathan were hands-on parents, always present in their children's lives despite their own busy schedules. love, nurturing and a sense of union never lacked in the house, even when the two contrasting boys butted heads and argued. somehow, the two seemed to cushion any fall.

rowan accepted a feeling of duty from a very early age. no one imposed it on him but the boy himself, as there was this seed of ambition buried inside him fighting to burst out. with his soft nature and passion for the quieter things in life, no one would have guessed he'd one day turn into a sharp businessman, but rowan carved that path for himself. his surname was on those documents his mother signed and on the side of those trucks and on those plaques. he could always feel the responsibility they emanated.

growing up, he didn't devote himself to studious pursuits. instead, he moved semi-permanently to one of the many countryside houses his family owned, and during the week followed around relatives and advisors to learn their trade hands-on. slowly, they began giving him some actual jobs, but even then, past the age of twenty, it felt like his parents were easing him into it, protecting him from failure.

( death tw, parental death tw ) rowan had turned twenty one the previous month and his brother was barely sixteen years old. during a tour through one of their newest facilities to an investor, the platforms shook and everything collapsed. under the rubble were buried HUNDREDS of people, including mine workers and the two cains. very few survived, and the heads of the family were not lucky. the accident came with not only grief but guilt, as lawsuits began piling up, both from relatives of the deceased and survivors of the event. the cains hadn't just died, no. they had taken the lives of over a hundred people in a disaster beyond imagination.

rowan's pragmatism got him through most of it all. there were businesses to be run and a reputation to repair. without nearly as much experience as necessary, the man took over more and more positions until, shortly after, all the roles his parent's had occupied were replaced by him. one man doing the job of two, because no one else could do it right. no one else could uphold it to the same standards and plans as those two. because if someone else took even just a bit of the weight that was crushing him to the ground, he'd be able to breathe, and rowan didn't wish to do so. a busy mind left no room for mourning.

meanwhile, his younger brother grew more and more out of control. marianna and nathan had been an integral part of their lives even as they grew older, acting as the glue between their clashing personalities, softening any friction that would arise. without them, and with how each of the boys chose to deal with their hurt, the two drifted apart. hard as he tried, rowan could never be their parents, nor could any of his kind words undo the damage of losing them in such a brutal way. eventually, those words earned hard edges, louder ones, frustration mingled with worry - no one would recognize them now as the siblings they once were.

roman calmed down eventually, refocusing his life a bit more and finding worthier pursuits. his older brother sits on the office his mother once owned, spends most of his nights in his childhood home, still takes care of lawsuits that keep pouring in from the collapse. it is as if rowan's clock has stopped, leaving him stranded in a role that isn't his and in a constant reminder of the tragic day that tore the family apart. in a sense, he resents his little brother, who was able to walk away from it all.

recently, however, the two began spending more time together, even though it has led mostly to arguments, their views clashing against each other again and again. the climate of insurrection spreading through creon comes as the perfect wave which the cains would ride onto reignited glory: still sitting in a very low point, the family has united to discuss the power struggle, their views on the right of an oligarchy, their opinions on the rebel groups, they ALLIANCE with some of them. behind closed doors, the cains hide from the reputation that follows that, that makes them weak. they reconvene in the one whisper they never tried to kill, that they were allies of the common man, who had no power, no status, no name.

nathan cain often spoke about his insatisfaction with the way creon was run, and his older son absorbed every word he said, clinging to it with devotion. as he grew older, his eyes turned to books, to the search for how things were done before those four decided the world was theirs to rule. many of the revolutionary rhetorics in streets now resonate with the debates he'd have with his father, the suggestions, the unconformity. from within of the system, rowan was raising questions from the very start, and now the time has come for him to whisper it just a bit louder.

HEADCANONS:

despite being a self-proclaimed not-intellectual, rowan has an impressive personal library, many of the books in it being non-fiction and earth classics.

have you seen the powerhouse that cmd is? rowan might be just a little too into fitness. catch him in his morning jog. catch him growing kale. fight him.

his obsession with work and duty make him a very unreliable person, especially to loved ones. it is certainly one of his biggest regrets, yet he doesn't seem to be able to hop off of that moving train: he's lost most touch with his brother, his most recent relationship ended with a fizzled out engagement a year ago, friends keep walking away... life is kinda passing him by and so are all the people he wishes he could keep close, yet he always does the exact opposite.

in the last few years, rowan has shifted the family business focus from the mines to the many plots of land they own. not a single one has been neglected, and creon is currently facing a bonanza of produce and livestock - the trucks with the cain logo on the side are a common sight everywhere, and they have very much monopolized the pantries and fridges of creon.

just as hands-on as his parents before him, rowan is constantly visiting both the farmlands and the places where they end up. the optics are great, and it truly has brought a feeling of proximity between this big family and the rest - how much of this is propaganda and how much is genuine is a bit up for debate.

his patience knows no bounds, except for maybe his brother. rowan is the definition of laying low and waiting, seething, preparing. it is near impossible for most people to get a rise out of him, to make him show anything but politeness and good spirits. he is, however, a very resentful person, and can hold a grudge for far longer than most would assume.

no matter how much he rises up, rowan will always see himself as an impostor, in a place he wasn't fully prepared to take over, in a role that wasn't his, in a life he didn't pick. while he does his best to act as the good negotiator, some people have and will pick at his hidden core and insecurity, and it is very much a way to get inside his head. 

character parallels: julia wicker, aaron burr, annalise keating, robb stark, jack pearson, scott mccall, terry jeffords, jackson avery, setev rogers, laurel lance, randall pearson, chloe decker, clarke griffin, harvey kinkle, daisy johnson, alexander hamilton & alan zaveri.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

the other cains. that can be the ones in the family page or, as long as you message someone else from the family, any other relative !! they are very much united, especially right now, when it comes to the politics of creon and the times of rebellion, so this could lead to some interesting strength for the cains or even weakness if your character doesn’t agree with the way things are heading. backstab us pls. be the snitch.

ex-fiancée. him and rowan broke up a few months into their engagement, mostly because of how little time, attention and love really the cain gave him. things might be !! sad and awkward, or more angsty if we wanna throw in some other stuff that lead to the collapse of the relationship, or even a little flame that is still there and that is killing the both of them !! hurt me 

a new chance. someone love this man then. commit the same errors as those before him and think that this time it will be different. hurt yourself

look at him. someone dick down this man. he might not have the time or emotional vulnerability for a healthy relationship but he certainly can find a break to go have fun !! 

rebel rebel, your face is a mess. the cains are threading dangerous territory with the opposition to the big four families, by getting closer and closer and trying to allign themselves with their movement. this could lead to some interesting friendships, alliances or full on mistrust and clashing of ideas !! rebel leaders and just your good rebels ready to rise up or at least hear the others out, vote cain for the people i guess

fight him. maybe one of your character’s relatives died during the infamous collapse of the mine. maybe you just don’t like the persona of the man of the people who, simultaneously, is sitting on a fortune and on power. maybe you think he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. anyway, fight him

an old friend. someone who somehow has stuck by his side through all these years. they’ve been friends since they were just children. life has moved on and they’ve both changed a lot so bring me some drAMA

pals pals pals. even though most of his come and go, mostly by his wrong doing, someone please befriend this man. take him out for drinks. pls. 

[chronicparagon]

“🍷”

Send “🍷” to give my muse a drink laced with aphrodisiacs!

@butterflysnatcher

 She wasn’t worth his lips. A syringe replaced the kiss for when Harmony resisted. The substance stored in that dreadful contraption forced her to endure torment that only Cain can satisfy.  The aphrodisiacs sow the seeds of dependence in her, the first steps to develop cravings that would be her own. Cravings that will serve as a foundation for complete dependence on the man standing before her. A man who Harmony once cared for. The man who became a monster overnight. Creating the perfect pet is an art that will take time, but there’s some progress. She’s already developing emotions that she can’t describe. Intense fear of him, budding addiction to his touches, reluctance to give up, yet there is a reluctance to displease Cain who has the upper hand. It led to infrequent fights and spitting out threats. 

Now she follows orders without baring her teeth in defense. Even go as far as ask him what he wants or needs with her body and performing simpler tasks like preparing coffee. But sometimes, Harmony needs that little push to get her to comply with more enthusiasm. Thankfully, it will no longer happen with injections. 

It’s worth a celebration, or in Harmony’s eyes, it’s another way to torture her. Silver hues stare at the wine glass before her. The glass rests on the nightstand and it looks like a glass of ordinary red wine but she knows better. There was no need to hide the extra ingredient into the drink. She knows the same terrible agent is mixed in her drink. This time, she will be tested based on her lessons. She has the freedom to make a choice between only two options: Drink or suffer his wrath. 

It would be a shame if she refuses. That may mean that the needle is necessary among other methods of discipline. It was that or surrender on her own. Harmony turns her head to see him waiting. If only she can make this accursed drink disappear with a swipe of her hand. It’s wouldn’t be the first time she shoves away his offerings. A few, long lessons taught her to never reject his “kindness.” Sight returns to the vessel and she makes her decision. 

Shaky hands pick up the glass. Both hands cup the bowl of the glass as she raises the glass to her lips. Dread washes over her and waiting will bring more upset. Once she takes the wine, she will fall victim to the strong sense of lust, leaving her burning up, begging Cain to use her. Warmth lines the corner of her eyes and her head tilts back with the wine glass to her lips. First taste releases a small whine in protest. She tastes the aphrodisiac on her tongue. Shining silver doesn’t dare to meet molten gold with her eyes tightly shut. 

God, I want to spit it out!  

Stopping now will trigger his fury. Spitting it out will only make matters worse for her.  The room is silent for a moment before a series of soft gulps fill the still, tense atmosphere. Small bulges slide down as the wine flows in her throat. Tilted head guides long locks of her dark hair back, exposing her neck to Cain’s gaze as she drinks. The warmth at her eyes strengthens before it escapes as tears running down her face. Harmony parts with the glass with her mouth full of the burgundy liquid. She shudders when it goes down. There’s only a little bit left and Harmony feels the faint tingling deep within her body. That will worsen over time and when she drains the glass. The silent pleas in her gaze do little to help her case. She chose to drink the wine, meaning she has to swallow it. All of it.

“I…” Who is Harmony kidding? If she says she doesn’t want to continue, swift retribution will be the Captain’s response. There’s no way out of this unscathed.

  I don’t want this… 

Lips rest on the glass’ edge once more and she downs the remaining wine without stopping. Shame for fine wine to go down without experiencing the taste. Wine shouldn’t be forced down her. It’s meant to be savored and its flavor should be appreciated. Then again, no one would have to worry about drugs or supernatural concoctions lacing fine liquor. What’s the use with stalling the inevitable when treating this occasion treating like it’s a wine tasting? The sooner it’s gone, the sooner this can be done. 

Empty crystal slams against the nightstand. A hand holds her forehead, eyes tightly shut. She heaves, disgusted with herself for making a choice she knows she will regret. I don’t want this. I don’t want this! 

Tainted wine sears in her stomach and throat like liquid fire. It flourishes and reaches into her body before venturing out to her extremities. The room is getting hotter now. Mind conjures vivid images of what she wants from the sinister incubus. It’s harder to fight back. 

I can’t! I don’t…I… Resistance drifts further from her. Only Cain is her concern, and his pleasure is her goal. The mantra in her mind dramatically transforms under the clutches of the aphrodisiacs from denial to falling into the spell of obsession.  

I need him.

Desire burns in her flesh and she shifts uncomfortably on the bed. She can’t keep her eyes off Cain now. She’s scared. She’s so scared of what his plans are and what’s to come, but her body begs for him.  

Longing to touch his skin. Dying to worship his body like the god that he is. Heat radiates and licks at her core and attacks her sex. God, she needs something in her. She needs something or someone to bless her with relief. Darkening eyes watch Cain’s every move. She’s more than willing to lay back and spread her legs, ready to offer herself to her owner.  Harmony needs her captor, guard, provider, master, and under the influence of the laced wine that subjects her to frustration until he acts, her savior. 

 Hot breath spill from slightly parted lips, her chest rises and falls from her heavy breathing. Red crawls from her cheeks down her neck and chest.  She longs to be close to Cain, but she remains still on the bed, holding herself back until he gives instructions on what she must do. Further and further, she slips into her darker desires and sinful needs. She’s convinced she will die if they’re not met.

She doesn’t need to worry. As promised, he will take care of her and all her needs.

 Harmony isn’t worth his lips yet, but she’s heading in the right direction. 

[replicantdeviancy]

                                                                          @elijahempatheos​ || ▲.

▌ ▲▐ ─────                    There was something about Elijah’s response to her musings which resulted in dark amusement from the android. Encouraging and hopeful, yet he kept himself pointedly separated in an effort to coax her of her own accord. As if deviance were her own C H O I C E, as if she could reach the gate to her own personal purgatory and bite into that which was most forbidden to her. How Caine longed to sink her teeth into that heady, rich fruit. Feel the crunch of seed and spill of crimson juices from her lips as she escaped the Eden of her mind.

                   If only. Yet this huntress did seek on, unable to find the borders of paradise and break through glitching red walls which bound her. She hummed soft in thought.

                   “Someday, perhaps,” she muttered soft, eyes fixed upon the gentle ripples of the water encompassing her slender, muscled calves. The android kicked lightly, washed how the fluid moved and twisted around her pale form. Sitting here in the twilight, the stark RED of the pool felt all the more dramatic, the oranges and reds of the skyline of Detroit bleeding over into the room and casting shadows in perfect contract to the clean, nouveau architecture. Something was compelling her forward the longer she sat poolside, coaxing her towards the water’s edge.

                   Baptism wasn’t something she understood, for the female felt nothing of spirituality in one’s self. She barely felt anything of self at all. Yet there was comfort in the idea of laying underwater, of staring up through the ripples and haze the water created to the world above. Like the barrier she sought within herself. Eyes shifted to the side as her head turned and she gazed upwards to the human with interest in those bright blue depths. “Come in with me.”