#silver shephard

[tseappreciationweek]

Day 6: April for the prompt ‘Opal’ Thank you to everyone who contributed to TSE week this year!

[dragonanne]

Here’s my entry for the annual secret santa event for The SIlver Eye. I don’t know if the person I drew it for has a tumblr, but the prompt was: "Apen and Noah begrudgingly helping decorate gingerbread houses (possibly wearing Christmas sweaters? You decide!)" This one was a lot of fun! I imagine Noah wouldn't be the most helpful in the decorating department. And he is 100% wishing he had a cigar in his mouth rather than a candy cane 😂 Also, I don't know who's going to be chewing them out later for not building their house on a platter of some kind rather than directly on the table, but I would be willing to bet it'll be Berlyne. (They're definitely going to get an earful about all that powdered sugar 😆) As always, thank you to @drawingsworth for blessing us all with her fantastic story, comic, and characters. And also huge thanks to @aceofstars16 for organizing this event every year. You do an amazing job, girl💖

[sailforvalinor]

Apen asked Joe if he could marry Berlyne when he was eleven?? PPFF what a hopeless romantic

[elaratyrell]

The Lost Boys {Aemond x Reader, Aegon x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Jace x Reader}

-> Part One {Introduction}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Warnings: Language, mentions of drugs and drug use

*Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Wanting a fresh start after her divorce, Rhaenyra and her two sons, Jace and Luke travel to Dragonstone island to live with her father Viserys. While Luke seems happy enough reading comic books and attending the nearby amusement park, Jacaerys seems to resent his new life here. That is, however, until he meets you. The catch? You're part of a gang of vampires. And Jace becomes their newest target.

"We're almost there."

"You said that an hour ago," Luke groaned, slumping back against the car seat.

"Well now I know we definitely are," Rhaenyra replied. "Look." She pointed to a rather large, faded billboard depicting a long pier leading out to the sea, the words Welcome to Dragonstone Island adorning the board in large white letters.

"What's that smell?" Luke asked, his white German Shephard, Arrax, sniffing the air intently.

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply "Sea air," She sighed with contentment.

"Smells like death," A voice piped up from beside Luke.

"Well look who finally decided to wake up," the younger boy teased as his older brother, whose gaze was focused on behind the billboard, where the words Murder Capital of the World had been spray painted on in scarlet. Jace simply grunted in response, earning a sigh from his mother.

"Look, there's an amusement park right on the beach!" Luke exclaimed. "Mum, can we go there?"

"Maybe later, Luke. Your grandfather's expecting us and I'll need help unpacking our things."

"Fine," Luke sighed, scratching Arrax behind the ears as Rhaenyra pulled into a gas station. He eagerly clambered out of the car with Arrax, running into the station to fill up his pockets with snacks.

"Are you okay?" Rhaenyra asked as she got out the car, looking at where her eldest son was resting his head on his propped up arm, the window rolled down halfway.

"I'm fine." Was his response.

"Look, Jace, I know you're still upset by the divorce-"

"I'm fine."

"Things sometimes just don't work out," Rhaenyra continued, resting a hand on his forearm. "Harwin and I-"

"You don't need to explain your break up to me." Jace interrupted. "If it's what you had to do, it's what you had to do."

Rhaenyra lightly squeezed his arm. "I understand how hard that's been for you, Jace. And I understand if you feel any sort of resentment towards me, or your father. But who knows, this could do you the world of good. Fresh sea air, a change of scenery... I'm sure you can even find somewhere you can ride that... contraption-"

"Vermax is a motorcycle, mother," Jace mumbled.

"The fact that you named it," Luke said as he got back into to car with Arrax, his voice slightly muffled by the candy bar he was shovelling into his mouth. "Just makes it sound even more crap."

"Luke, language," Rhaenyra chided before turning back to her eldest. "Yes, I am aware, and even though I personally wouldn't invest in such a thing, your father seemed more than happy to provide you with the money, so who am I to argue? That being said," She held up her index finger. "No gangs-"

"I know, you said that back in King's Landing." Jace rolled his eyes, turning his face away from Rhaenyra, ending the conversation.

"He looks dead."

"Luke, don't say such things," Rhaenyra gasped, getting out the car.

They had pulled up to an old manor house at the top of the hill, the stone walls crawling with ivy and moss, the red paint on the front door peeling from age. Sat there in an old rocking chair on the front porch was an old man, his stringy silver hair tied into a braid, a shotgun resting on his lap. He was clad in a red and black plaid shirt and ratty blue denim jeans faded with age, a pair of black slippers on his feet. He was slouched over slightly, his eyes half closed and mouth slightly agape.

"Father," Rhaenyra murmured, her hand resting on the old man's shoulder. "Father," She repeated, her voice raised slightly as she gently shook his shoulder.

"He's dead."

"Luke, he's just a deep sleeper." Jace rolled his eyes.

"He doesn't look like he's breathing."

"He is."

"If he's dead, can we move back to King's Landing-"

"Luke!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "That's enough."

"Playing dead," The old man rasped, opening his eyes. "And doing a good job too, from the looks of things."

"Father," Rhaenyra let out a deep exhale of relief, her hand held to her chest. "Thank goodness."

"It is good to see you." Viserys smiled, slowly rising to his feet with his daughter's help to embrace her. "I will get a pot of tea ready while you unpack."

As Viserys shuffled inside, Luke shared a look with Jace.

"Well... Grandpa's a loon."

"Just get the boxes." Jace muttered, dragging a hand through his curls as he opened the trunk of the car, grabbing one of his boxes labelled weights, while Luke eagerly grabbed his own, black capital letters scrawled comic books across it.

"This... is actually kind of cool." Luke admitted as they walked into the house. There were two worn black leather sofas in the centre of the living room, red throws and cushions scattered across them. Mahogany shelves were pressed against the walls, decked with dragon ornaments, old leather bound books and various silverware. Guns were mounted on the walls, as well as two wooden stakes crossed over in an X shape above the mahogany dining table. It was cluttered with various other bric a brac, but it still held a sense of charm.

"I suppose," Jace murmured, walking upstairs to take his box up to his room.

"That's my room!" Luke yelled, pushing past Jace to get into the larger of the two guest rooms.

"I saw it first!" Jace protested.

"I got in the room first."

"I'll flip you for it," Jace said, placing the box on the floor.

"...Okay..." Luke mumbled, letting out a small shriek and Jace grabbed him, lifting him into the air and turning him upside down.

"Heads or tails, Luke?"

"Neither!" Luke yelled, elbowing his brother in the crotch and landing on the floor in a crumpled heap.

"You little shit!" Jace exclaimed, staggering downstairs after his younger brother.

"Mother! Help me! Someone help, there's a monster after me!" Luke cried out, sliding open the door to the kitchen and running inside, Jace right on his trail.

Luke smirked at his brother, opening the door to the fridge so Jace ran right into it. The older boy let out a small groan, grabbing ahold of Luke and pulling him into a headlock.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little-"

"Rules!"

Both Jace and Luke jumped slightly at the voice, turning to see Viserys standing in the kitchen doorway, those pale eyes of his twinkling in the fading sunlight.

"I have some rules around here," The old man continued, reopening the fridge and pointing to a shelf labelled Old Fart. "This shelf is mine. I keep my Iron Island beer and double stuff oreos in here. Don't touch my shelf."

Jace and Luke shared a look, the latter twirling his index finger around his temple.

Crazy.

Jace nodded, returning his attention back to where their grandfather was now pointing outside to a fenced off field.

"Second rule," He continued. "You can go anywhere except for my special field."

Luke shot Jace a confused glance, mouthing the words 'Special Field?'. Jace raised his first two fingers to his lips in a smoking gesture, making his expression clear in realisation.

"Third rule," Viserys slammed his cane down on the ground to get his grandsons' attention as he led them into the living room. "Every Wednesday the mailman brings the tv guide. Sometimes the corner of the address label's curled up. Don't rip it off. It'll rip the cover and I don't like that. Rule four, don't go exploring the caves and stuff round these parts. It'll kill you. And don't join gangs." He hobbled over to a locked door. "Final rule, stay out of here." He added, unlocking the door and opening it ajar before stepping inside, closing it again behind him.

"Well... should be fun living here." Luke murmured, his gaze travelling to the stairs. Before he could make a break for it to steal the larger room, however, Jace grabbed him, pulling him back and digging around in his pockets for a coin.

"Heads or tails?" He asked, letting go of Luke for a second to flip the coin into the air and catching it in his palm with ease, turning it on the back of his hand, the other concealing it from sight.

"Heads! No, tails. No, heads? Actually-"

"Pick. One."

"Tails?"

Jace removed his hand, his lips quirking up into a triumphant smirk at the dragon head staring up at him.

"Fine," Luke sighed in defeat, before spinning on his heel and charging upstairs. Jace yanked him back by his shirt, throwing himself into his own bedroom and slamming the door shut, pushing Luke out of the doorway.

Jace exhaled, picking his box off the floor and placing it down on his bed, adorned with what was most likely a hand sewn quilt of scarlet and ebony. He stood there, enjoying the fleeting moment of silence after having to deal with Luke in the car for the past seven hours.

Unfortunately, it was fleeting, and soon enough Jace heard a hurried knock on the door.

"Jace!"

"What now, Luke?" Jace pulled the door open, glaring at his brother.

"Grandpa doesn't own a tv. He owns a tv guide and yet he doesn't. Own. A tv. And this place has no mall, no proper cinemas... no MTV..."

"You'll have to survive on comic books then. There might be one in town," Jace sighed in response.

"I don't think that'll be enough-"

"Well what do you want me to do about that, huh?" Jace suddenly exclaimed. "You want me to drive you back to King's Landing? And do what? Leave you there on the street? Or maybe all the way to the other side of the country where dad had to move?"

"I... no I..."

"Just go and unpack," Jace sighed, pushing past his younger brother to go back downstairs. "The sooner you unpack, the sooner you can go down to that amusement park you've been babbling about."

"So, are you boys going to check out that amusement park tonight?" Rhaenyra asked as she wiped dry the plate Luke had given her with a red checked dish cloth.

"I guess," Jace murmured, picking up another dirty dish to wash.

"Um, you promised you would take me," Luke pointed out.

"Your grandfather tells me there's a concert on. Some... rock band I believe. Perhaps you'll enjoy that Jace."

"Maybe."

Rhaenyra sighed, giving up her attempt to engage in conversation with her son, instead drying a hand to turn up the volume on the old stereo sat on the windowsill.

"Remember this one?" She asked softly. "We used to dance to it all the time."

"Yeah," Luke smiled, quickly drying his hands to take Rhaenyra's, allowing her to pull him to the centre of the kitchen to dance. Jace kept his gaze focused on the dish he was washing as Luke twirled Rhaenyra around, the both of them laughing.

He glanced in their direction to see Rhaenyra beckoning him over, but he just turned away again, cheeks flushed slightly in mild embarrassment as he dried the last dish, wiping his hands clean.

"Come on Luke," He sighed. "Let's get going." He muttered, walking out pf the kitchen to grab his jacket, ignoring the hurt look Rhaenyra sent his way.

Jace pulled on his shoes and shrugged on the leather jacket his father had gifted him, patting its pockets for his motorcycle keys.

"Luke! Let's go!" He called out, already walking out the door to where his motorcycle was parked against the porch, gleaming a blood red in the dim porch light buzzing overhead.

"I thought we were taking the car," Luke wined as Jace swung his leg over to sit on the bike.

"We can take Vermax... or you can walk," Jace replied.

With a slight huff, Luke reluctantly climbed onto the bike behind his brother.

"Hold on."

"I'm fine, I do not need to- shit!" Luke immediately grabbed his brothers jacket as he revved the bike's engine, the tires squealing slightly as he drove away from the manor.

"So, where do you want to start?" Jace asked as they made their way along the boardwalk.

"Amusement park. Then maybe that comic book store we passed," Luke replied.

"Great, have fun."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Luke grabbed his brother's arm.

"To the concert," Jace replied, shrugging his brother off. "I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours."

"B-but..." Luke glanced around. "Fine..." He sighed, walking away in the opposite direction to his brother.

The music practically vibrated from the makeshift stage at the base of a small grassy hill as Jace navigated his way through the swarming crowd of various goths, punks and druggies, his hands rooted firmly in his jacket pockets.

He ascended the hill, turning to look at the crowds swarming around the stage. Broken bottles of vodka and beer littered the ground, the faint scent of weed lingering in the air. The people around him were swaying from intoxication, passed out of the ground or dancing to the music, swarming around the stage.

He felt himself stand up slightly straighter as he laid eyes a pair on the outskirts of the crowd. There was a young boy, no older than ten maybe, with long white hair reaching down to his shoulders and bright violet eyes. He had a stone faced expression, and was deathly pale, clad in a black band tee, ripped black jeans and a grey jacket.

But it was who the young boy was with that piqued his interest.

It was you.

He watched as the boy led you through the crowds, his hand tightly holding yours. You were dressed in a white puff sleeved summer dress that fluttered in the breeze, the skirt coming midway down your thigh. It had a sweetheart shaped neckline that exposed a hint of your cleavage. On your feet were a pair of white wedge sandals. A pair of dainty ruby earrings hung from your ears, and your hair was loose.

You were stunning.

A vision.

Despite the sea of people cheering to the concert, Jace only saw you.

He felt his cheeks heat up slightly as your gaze met his, his staring having been discovered. He broke out of his trance enough to give you a small smile. Your eyes crinkled slightly, the corner of your lips twitching in a fleeting glimmer of a smile that soon faded as the boy pulled you further into the crowd.

As though hypnotised by you, Jace felt himself step forward, and then another, soon following you into the swarm of swaying people.

He felt his pace quicken as he found himself in the harsh lights of the fair ground. He strained to spot you through the bustling crowds, cheers and screams of joy ringing in the air, the scent of cotton candy and popcorn lingering in the air. It was as though you had vanished in thin air.

"Jace?"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Jace jumped, spinning to see Luke standing behind him, half eaten cotton candy clutched in one hand.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

Jace opened his mouth to reply, but a flash of white out of the corner of his eye had him grab Luke's sleeve and drag you in your direction.

"Jace, what the- where in seven hells are we going?"

"Nowhere," Jace muttered. "Just stay quiet."

"Well we're obviously going somewhere," Luke mumbled, struggling to keep up with his brother's brisk pace, his gaze locking onto your retreating figure. "Are you following that girl? Jace, are you stalking-"

"If you're not going to shut up, you can go somewhere else." Jace snapped, releasing his grip on his younger brother.

Luke looked across the street where turquoise neon lighting was flickering the words 'Great Second Hand Book Store'.

"Actually, I do."

"Fine, see you later," Jace called over his shoulder, not paying attention to his younger brother, too entranced by you to focus on anything or anyone else.

Jace kept a safe distance between you and him as he followed you, close enough to keep you in sight and far away enough for it not to look... suspicious.

He came skidding to a stop as you suddenly turned to face him, your hand still clasped in the young boys.

"Are you following me?" You asked, your voice quiet but with a sharp edge to it, your gaze burning into his.

"W-well... well I..."

"Did you need something?" You prompted, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have something you want to say?"

"Uh... well yeah..."

"Then talk."

"I just... I just wanted to... to say..."

"Jace! Mum's here so I'm going home with her. She told me to tell you that you need to be home before grandpa locks the house up at midnight."

Jace hung his head as Luke tugged on his sleeve. "Okay, Luke. I'll see you later," He muttered.

"Okay. Here, look!" Luke suddenly pushed a comic book into Jace's hands. "I got a new one."

"That's... that's really great..." Jace replied, pushing Luke's hand away. "You'll have to tell me about it later."

Luke nodded, glancing over at you and the young boy. You had your gaze focused on Jace, eyes glittering in amusement. Your companion, however, had his gaze focused intently on the comic book in Luke's hands. Almost protectively, he held the book closer towards his chest, an action you seemed to notice. You let out a soft chuckle.

"Don't mind him. Maelor's just a big fan of... vampires..." You said, voice faltering slightly towards the end. Maelor simply squeezed your hand lightly in response, tugging at your sleeve lightly. "Nice talking to you." You murmured to Jace before Maelor pulled you away from the two brothers, leading you down the street.

"Oh... did I interrupt something?" Luke asked, grinning at his brother who shot him a small glare.

"Jace? Luke? There you are," Rhaenyra breathed, rounding the corner, "What's taking you so long? Now, come on, we're going-"

"I'm staying. I'll be home later. Before midnight, I promise." Jace said, already hurrying off in the direction you went, fainty hearing Luke snicker to Rhaenyra "He met a girl."

Jace rounded the corner, his smile fading as he caught sight of you, surrounded by four boys all on motor cycles.

One of the boys, the leader he assumed given he had the largest motorcycle and was at the front of the pack, turned to look at Jace. He had long silver hair tied up in a bun, one eye a vivid blue and the other a cloudy white. He was clad entirely in black leather, resting forward against his bike. His lip quirked upwards into a small smirk as he laid his eyes on Jace, tilting his head to the side as he looked him up and down. Upon deeming he wasn't a threat, he sat properly upwards on his bike, also black, hands resting on the hand grip, the three other boys following suite.

Maelor, the young boy you were with, had clambered onto the silver bike of another boy, with long brown hair tied half up, a graze of stubble dotting his face. He looked tall, and was certainly more physically imposing than the first guy, but he didn't have that same coldness in those storm grey eyes of his. He shot Jace a lazy smile as Maelor wrapped his arms around his middle, starting up his bike.

Jace's gaze then settled on the boy that was nearest to you, perched upon a gleaming gold bike, a rolled up joint hanging from his lips and a hand firmly planted on your waist in a way that made Jace's fists clench. He, like the supposed leader of the gang, had platinum hair, although it was shorter and slightly more dishevelled than the former's. Two small gold hoop earrings gleamed in his ear, and he had a slightly glossed over look in his eyes.

The effect of whatever he was smoking, no doubt.

The fourth boy seemed slightly younger than the others, maybe around Luke's age, with curly platinum hair and a cheeky smile on his face as he revved his cobalt and emerald bike.

The first boy turned to you, tilting his head in a gesture that said come here, and you immediately tore yourself away from the one perched gold bike to sit behind the leader, your arms wrapping tightly around his middle and your chin resting on his shoulder.

The four bikes roared as they spun a circle around Jace before speeding down the boardwalk, and the last thing Jace saw before they disappeared into the night was the small flash of a smile you sent his way.

Masterlist

[josephquinnswhore]

At Her Mercy

Pairing: Simon “ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Summary: you’re needed to help guide the task force 141 group, when you meet ghost, it would tear open your wounds.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mentions of murder, childhood abuse, physical violence, ghosting, heartless reader, typical cod violence, child death, bit of physicality between ghost and reader. Ptsd. No happy ending.

Note: I have a lot of requests and I’m sorry I just have so much Simon brain rot I need to get this out of my system. Sorry this is angsty. May be open for p2 idk lol.

You try not to linger around the grave too long after having sat here for 23 minutes, the longer you sat the longer it usually was harder for you to walk away. You couldn’t afford that attachment today; you had a plane to catch. Time didn’t stop for you, the world didn’t stop spinning and you knew you’d have to trudge through the metaphorical mud you often got stuck in again once you’d left; leaving was always the hardest part.

The clock on your wrist didn’t slow for you, the hands tick with each passing second you spent knelt into the unkempt overgrown grass at the cemetery. The headstone was old, in desperate need of a pressure wash to restore it’s original state. The arch shaped stone seemed to stand strong in the structure itself, your fingers had swiped the cobwebs off the top and base of the stone, clearing any critters that tried to make this memorial their home.

You knew you shouldn’t have purchased a whole bouquet of flowers, the bunch of red and orange flowers sat at the base where you’d carefully placed them upon your arrival, a mix of his favourite colours. You’d even purchased him a small gift, a hot wheels car, a red mustang with white stripes across the bonnet. He had always loved cars, playing with them and working on them; he mentioned a dozen times he’d wanted to be a mechanic, now along side him in his coffin; lie his dreams. A life unfulfilled and cut short at no fault of his own. It had been 10 years and 7 days; December 18th was the day your semi-normal but functioning life was stripped away; the day he was taken from you.

“Sorry I couldn’t come see you last week kid, I know I always make sure but things got-complicated. Hope you’ll forgive me.”

Things were definitely complicated. You were contacted by General Shepherd, you knew of him; being he was in charge of several units across the United States Military, including your section. He had a lot of contacts and if you worked for him; there was nothing about you he didn’t know. He directly had asked you to come and command the task force 141 team, alongside a man named Captain John Price.

-

“John Price is a good man and a damn good Captain.” Shephard stated, hanging off his last word on the laptop he’d called you on, his face could barely look at the camera.

“But?” You question impatiently.

“We fear he may’ve gone soft on the men here. We could use your..” he trails off, looking for the right word to use. “Resourcefulness and ruthlessness.”

“Do you think I’m ruthless, General?” You deadpan. His face pixilated as the wifi on your end fails to keep up.

“I’ve heard many a stories about you, Captain. Plane leaves in two days. John Price will meet you upon your arrival.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in touch General.” You shut your laptop screen, the call automatically ending as it meets the keypad.

-

You check your watch once more, the action becoming more frequent as the minutes passed, knowing you were cutting it close to missing the plan which left in half an hour to your new workplace.

“Sorry kid I better get going. I miss you everyday, still keep you near to my heart.” Your fingers trace the small ‘m’ letter necklace, the simple silver letter was attached to a small-link chain. Something that spent more time by your bedside table than around your neck these days-something you were ashamed to admit. The small trinket was one of the few items you owned of his, you tried to keep his memory alive as your brain often forgot what he looked like, the sound of his voice and laugh. The day you received this gift was one you’d remember until you died. You pull your mask up to cover the bottom half of your face, reaching underneath your eyes, closing yourself off and your vulnerability.

-

Christmas Day was always hectic in the household; spending time with your husbands family, his brother and wife, your nephew who was practically your own son.

“Hey, hey! I give up, put me down!” The boy giggled through his fit of laughter, short brown hair brushing the floor as you held him upside down.

“Gotta say the word otherwise you don’t tap out!” You manage through your own burst of laughter, his parents watching on with their own smiles, your husband watches you with a fondness and hope for your own children someday.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The boy squeals, finally. You set him down on the carpet gently, once he stands his cheeks are red and freckles are visible now more than normal.

He walks to the heavily decorated Christmas tree, bends down and precisely plucks a small, messily wrapped gift and hands it to you with a shy smile. The yellow Christmas lights shine in his blue eyes as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to accept the gift. The first thing you notice is the outrageous amount of tape that secured the wrapping paper, the second was his messy hand writing that had scribbled your name, with a love heart next to his, you tear off the note and secure it in your pant pocket, too valuable not to keep.

“Do you think you can help me open it? I might need your big muscles to help unravel all this tape. Whaddya say?” He grins, nodding, helping you claw at the tape he had fervently taped last night after his parents had finally lent him some money he’d been begging for weeks.

Once the paper is gone, it’s exposed. The small white cardboard top that covered a black velvet box; the brand of a well known jeweller splayed in a cursive font on the box in silver. “This is so sweet!” You hum, completely delighted before you get the chance to even open the gift.

“Just wait till you open it! I think it’s neat.” He boasts proudly. You open the box, a small silver letter ‘m’ shines back at you, casting your reflection in the cursive letter. Before you can question him, he’s already starting to explain.

“It’s for Mercy, it’s something that reminds me of you when you’re not here. We always have so much fun playing together and I hope you like it.”

The tears in your eyes are fluent, your mouth is wet as you fill to the metaphorical brim of the cup with emotion, about to overflow. “Like it? Are you kidding, I love it. I promise we’ll come see you more often okay?”

“Yeah, that would be so neat!”

-

The memory replays as you’re sitting in the taxi to the Military airport, a junction that’s privately owned and used by few occupants that require urgent travel. The plane is being boarded with flight crew when you arrive; the army plane was one of many you’ve seen before; the dark grey would be a blip in the perfectly blue sky, like the little boy on your mind; his absence was your loss; your dark grey blip.

“Captain, please, let us take care of your luggage. Board the plane swiftly as we are on time and due to depart in 10 minutes.” You offload your giant luggage bag to a low ranking worker, his uniform clear indication he was what the higher ups call a shitkicker, or rookie. They were generally to stupid-or immature to be anything more than a servant, someone to fetch and do basic physical training until they were filtered out; booted or into the military as a low ranking soldier.

“Thanks kid.” You offer the younger man, kindness wouldn’t hurt with the rookies, you’ve been there and were there for two years-they were a necessity in the industry, without them there would be no new soldiers, no people to do the dirty work, like cleaning the toilets and washing the bedsheets.

The inside of the plane was nothing fancy, while it’s seats were mildly stiff and there was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke you didn’t complain, it was better than being seated where the low ranking soldiers were strapped, in the back of the aircraft with the luggage and whatever cargo they were shipping to the next location.

“Anything to drink, madam?” You look up to meet the eyes of a tired stuartess.

“Got any whiskey?” She nods politely and you pull the plastic tray down that’s attached to the seat in front.

“How would you like that made madam?” She’s pouring from a glass bottle, by the look of the honey coloured liquid, it was expensive.

“On the rocks, prepare me a second. Better make it a double.” You grab the drink, throwing it back and swallowing it in one go, the bitterness burned going down your throat, followed by tones of malt and honey.

You hand the glass back to the middle aged woman, she prepares you a double as you ask and you set the cup in front of you.

“If you need our assistance please don’t hesitate to ask, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Your voice is rough, the whiskey was harsh on your throat, despite the sweet after taste, it was harsher than you were used to, the ice adding a coolness that made your teeth sensitive with every sip of the liquid.

You pull out a small baggie from your top right pocket of your dark uniform, two small white rounded pills sit at the bottom of the small ziplock plastic bag. You fish out the pills, your fingers a decent size too big for it to be an effortless task. Getting disgruntled and sick of waiting another minute, you tip the baggie upward and crane your neck back into the seat, the two pills falling from the bag onto your tongue. The powdery residue on your tongue is bitter and unpleasant, you don’t take another second to pick up your glass and swallow the pills.

After a few years of using the sleeping pills, you’ve gained a small tolerance, it takes close to 15 before your eyelids start fluttering, the loudness of the aircraft starts to drown out, all the emotion from the gravesite seems to fade away as you fall out of consciousness, you would enjoy the peace as it came; no nightmares, no pain, just blissful ignorance.

You wake just as the plane lands on the runway, the loud screeching of the rubber tyres hitting the tar at great speed. To speed up the process of waking up, you gulp down the last of your whiskey, the beverage barely relieving the dry mouth the pills had caused you on a daily basis. You clear your throat and lick your lips, looking around at the view outside of the moving scenery as the plane circles around to its final stop, where two military grade unimogs full of soldiers await your arrival.

You adjust your black mask, the material clings tight to your chin as it drapes down your neck. A man approaches you as you walk down the giant ramp of the aircraft, the noise ceasing as the engines come to a halt, the blades rotating slowly as they realise their journey has ended. The man stands a few inches taller than you, his brown mutton chops frame his face, blue eyes piercing you with a friendly look that makes you uneasy, the crows feet around his eyes are a knowing sign of his stress. You don’t even want to get started on that stupid hat.

“John Price, Captain John Price. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance.” You shake his extended hand firmly. Believing all you need to know in a person is all in the handshake; take Price for example, he’s firm, friendly, a business man, his hand doesn’t linger for longer than it needs to.

“You can call me Mercy. Glad to finally meet you Captain Price. Shepherd hasn’t informed me much of your men, I hope they’re up to standard.” You begin to walk to the truck, Price has his men load your luggage into the back.

“I firmly believe they are, Captain.” He holds the door open for you to sit in the backseat, an unusually kind gesture for someone you just met.

“Guess we’ll see about that.” You deadpan bluntly. You had seen your fair share of failures in your time, leaders who weren’t harsh enough on their men, who didn’t correct their mistakes or claimed to be a family unit. You hated that dynamic, you weren’t here to build a family or make friends. You were placed here to help the men of this task force with their dedicated mission and get the fuck back to your own unit, you had your own men that relied on you.

“Hope you don’t mind the introductions will be made off base this evening.” You raise an eyebrow, turning to the man beside you.

“Is that so? Where exactly will this off base location be? Is the area secure, will you have men patrolling the area?” These are all necessary questions and this man had looked at you as if you had two heads, which answered your questions for you.

“We can have it arranged Ma’am.” You hum in distaste.

“It would want to be arranged, I don’t leave base unless I know myself and my men are safe. I’m sure you understand Captain.” You already showed no fondness to the man who was supposed to be leading a task force, how incompetent were the men he were in charge of if the Captain himself didn’t pre-organise this off base meeting.

The base was small, a dozen buildings, one awfully large one in which you would assume was medical. One in which you would hope is medical. The trucks come to a stop, you’re grateful for your mask that filters the dust in which stops you from inhaling the swirling storm of dust as you open the door. Your boots leave an indented footprint on the beige dust, the grass growing in patches and the buildings invaded with overgrown weeds that haven’t been touched in what you’d assume were years.

“If you’ll follow me ma’am, I’ll show you around base.” You pull out the small notepad and pen, scribbling down how someone needs to hire a damn maintenance man to clean the weeds and mow the grass.

You come to the largest building which is attached to the other smaller ones in a large D shape. As you walk in, the room is outdated and the stench makes your nose scrunch in disgust under your mask.

“Captain what the fuck is that obnoxious smell?” Price turns to you, slowing his pace to match your own as you look into the windows of the old, outdated rooms, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

“This is the mess hall, we used to have people cook for us but they were all fired when the government stopped extra curricula funding.” You frown, speeding your pace through the dirty halls of the building.

“Why hasn’t it been cleaned, or demolished?” You finally exit that part of the building. Price doesn’t have an answer for you. You write some notes in your notepad about the foul stench and lack of use for that building, writing demolish with question marks and drawing a big circle around it.

“This is where we sleep, we have a dozen men on base at the moment, myself and 3 others are the task force 141 team you’ll be working closely with, your room is this one right here.”

You come to a stop, room 5F. He hands you the key, putting a spare in his pocket. Your luggage is sitting outside the door already.

“Keeping the spare key for any particular reason?”

“For emergencies only, we’ve had an incident where someone had a heart attack and locked themselves in. He passed away before we could get to him. Just a precaution, that’s all.”

The room is stuffy when he opens the door, the single bed is topped with a 4 inch mattress and one old flimsy blanket and a flat pillow, you’re grateful you brought your own bedding.

“If you need anything give me a buzz, I’ll text you the address of the bar tonight.” He gestures to a small piece of paper on the wall, sticky taped on all four sides. Written Prices name and mobile number.

“Right. Thanks.” You drag your luggage in from outside the door, the wheels are loud on the floor as it squeaks. You begin to unpack your things, deciding to put up the image of your nephew on the bedside table, having cropped out your ex-husband from the image to show the two of you, an image from your last birthday you spent with him.

-

“I want a corner piece please, please!” The boy pleas, his love for the crispy par burnt edges of your birthday cake were his favourite. You slice him up a large piece, swiping your finger in the delicious yellow frosting that topped his oversized piece. You lean into him and wipe it on his face, earning a groan of protest from him as he retreats from you.

“I’m trying to eat it, not wear it!” You laugh, cutting your family each a slice of the cake your brother-in-laws wife had made. The sunflowers were handcrafted with such delicacy you were saddened to cut into them-let alone eat them.

“Alright, alright, I guess I can leave you unbothered. But just for the moment.” You push his arm with your own gently in a playful manner.

To your surprise, he pulls out a sunflower from beside the seat he sits on, you set the cake down and grasp the flourishing flower, inspecting the beauty and vibrancy of the perfectly bright yellow petals, it had been picked perfectly. Tears pricked your eyes as you held the flower.

“God kid, you know how to make me cry dontcha?” He grins, his mouth full of chocolate mud cake, “good tears, right?” You smiled at your nephew and he smiled back, “right.” Unbeknownst to you in that moment-your brother in law had snapped an image.

-

A picture you held dear to your heart, and now bedside. You manage to pull yourself away from the image-a painful memory in which all of him had become, yet you had to preserve as there was no one left that would do so. You refused to let his memory die.

You pull your mask down as you near the sink, a crusty mirror hangs above it, barely clear enough for you to see yourself as much more than a blur. You reapply the black paint to your face as some unwelcome tears had fallen and dropped down your cheeks, ruining the pigment of the paint. You brush your teeth, turning the tap on to see a musty brown coloured water before it turns clear, note to self, don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled.

You apply some deodorant before pulling your mask back upward, your hot breath is once again trapped in the confines of the mask as you close yourself off. Your phone vibrates on the bed and you check it’s a text from Price confirming the location of the ‘meeting’. More like a typical military piss up, these men will find any excuse to drink.

Price: “Bar at 112 West Highland Road. Neon green sign out front, be blind to miss it.”

You: “Got it. Be there soon.”

-

The bar was quieter than you expected, sure it had a few typical rowdy drinks, but nothing like any of the chaos you’d experienced in America. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Price, your eyes scanning every face in the room as if you’ve got facial recognition in your brain, just in case you need to remember. Price stands from his seat, 3 other men sit with him, one is significantly larger than the rest, he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, the rest you don’t see as he’s turned towards the bar.

You stand tall as you approach them, people moving out of your way as you barge into their shoulders roughly.

“Glad you could join us tonight. This is the rest of the team, Gaz, Soap and Ghost.” He points to his men and you shake the hand of Gaz first, “nice meeting you Gaz.” He’s got a bright smile that you find hard not to reciprocate.

“I’m John McTavish but you can call me Soap, ma’am.” You raise an eyebrow, two johns? Seriously? You shake his hand, “I’ll keep that in mind, Soap.”

The last man you approach is large, he’s tall and a black baklava with a skull print covers his face. His hoodie is pulled up and a black substance covers his eyes, his blonde lashes untouched as they poke through, his blue eyes are piercing as they stare through you. “Ghost eh, interesting. I like the look.” He looks you up and down before nodding. “Appreciated Captain.” He sets his drink down on the bar and you take a seat in between him and Soap, there feels something familiar about his accent, those beaming blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, but you chalk it up to him being British. “Call me Mercy.”

“How’d ya come up that callsign?” Soap inquires. You exhale deeply, this was going to be a long night.

“Before I answer any damn questions, I need a drink.” The bartender took your order, within the minute you had the drink sitting in front of you, pleading for you to drink it so it could take your pain away for you, deal with the guilt and memories you found to traumatic to continue to think about.

You take a sip and smack your lips. “It was an inside thing between my nephew and I, the name kinda just stuck.”

You finished off your drink and slid it back to the bartender who gave you a refill as you asked. “You got family back home then?” Gaz questions.

Thank god for the refill. “Negative. All deceased.” The men went quiet and you sip on the liquid, it warms you from the inside out, taking away the guilt and stripping you down to where you had no emotion on the topic. They murmur apologies and you feel ghosts gaze on you, his eyes felt dark and sinister, like he was distant from his physical body, he didn’t really feel there.

“You ever marry?” You grit your teeth, your jaw is clenching so hard you can almost feel your teeth grinding. The mention of your husband boils your blood, but also breaks your heart into a million shards.

“Still married, technically. Piece of shit ghosted me when things got hard, haven’t seen him since. First thing I’ll do if I ever see that sorry bastard is serve him the divorce papers I’ve been carrying for half a decade. Cant change my last name without the divorce being finalised.”

You throw your neck back as you finish off your second glass of whiskey. Your bladder feeling full from the beverage, your mind hazy and spinning already, the talk of your husband is making your head ache. You pull of your ID and card, throwing it onto the bench for the bartender, “excuse me a moment while I use the restroom, prepare another drink for when I get back would you?”

The bartender watches you hesitantly and mutters, “sure.”

-

The bartender tossed your cards back to the bench in front of you, attempting to sit them where you left them, seemingly throwing it too far as your ID rolls off the bar onto the floor beside your stool legs. Soap mutters, “fuckin idiot.” As he picks up your card, setting it back upright in front of your drink, noticing the last name, he does a double take. He thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your last name- Riley. This surely is just a coincidence, right?

“Eh Lt, you seen this lass’ last name, might be a relation to you.” Ghost turns to soap, irritated by his shenanigans, but glances towards the card anyway and can’t take his eyes away from it. He sees you- her. His wife. It’s her face and her name, how did you get this? His wife hated the military, war and fighting, she would never join it, let alone become a Captain of her own army.

He felt his blood boiling, the alcohol in his blood seemed to fuel the fire swirling in his stomach. How wife was killed that night along with the rest of his family- it made him sick to his stomach having to think you could try and come into this talk force and betray him.

“You alright Simon?” Prices voice is unheard, the noise of the bar and the photo of his wife’s face brings back too many painful memories for him to focus on the reality. Memories that plagued his nightmares- of you and him.

-

“What do you think Si?” She twirls in the blue sundress for him as her hair falls over her shoulders, he can only smile at the sight of her, her beauty was immeasurable to him-incomparable. He had never felt this way before about anyone. In that moment, he remembers how perfect he thinks she would’ve looked swollen with his child.

His hands snaked their away around her waist, pulling her into his body. “You know I think you look fuckin’ perfect baby, always perfect.” She rolls her eyes at his compliment.

“This is a serious matter you know! It’s a wedding, people will be taking pictures that last many lifetimes, you look so handsome and I have to match it.” He remembers cradling her face, forcing her to look him in his eyes, “you look better than I ever could, baby.”

She smiled but shook her head, “no one could ever be more handsome than my husband.” She rubbed her hands up and down his white long sleeve button up shirt, smoothing out the collar which barely had a wrinkle in it post ironing.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you hm?” His voice was a quiet whisper, she’d worked through previous hardships, his struggles and scars she had kissed better and even attempted to stitch up when he’d come home because he blatantly refused to let anyone else touch his body. She had been there through the worst of it, helped him through his family troubles, stayed after he applied for the military and stayed up during the nights he had nightmares, his ptsd was severe for months on end when he first signed up.

“You deserve me Si, more than anything you deserve me.”

-

“Ghost?” Soaps hand was on his shoulder, shaking him out of his hazy memories of his old wife.

“Need a minute outside.”

As he pushes through the large crowd, he finds you already outside, smoking a cigarette that blows large clouds through the cool night air. You pull down the bottom of your mask, not wanting to be exposed to the larger man. He towers over you, something about his size and silence is both terrifying and has you feeling safe.

“Don’t like people seein’ your face?” You’re surprised when he asks, having not said much to you this evening.

“No one but myself has in a long time.” He leans up against the brick wall, standing too close for your liking beside you.

“You ever get sick of it?” You turn to him, squashing your cigarette underneath your boot, the red light fizzling out on the damp cement.

“Sick of what exactly?” You turn to him, an arm on your hip.

“Bein’ a snake, pretendin’ to be someone you’re not.” This makes you frown, your impatience coming in at an all time high, blood pressure rising as this man insults you.

“If you’ve got something to say, Ghost, I suggest you spit it out.” You snap accusingly, pointing at his chest as you stand tall, keeping eye contact and not intimidated by what he’s doing. You take a step closer and he comes off of the brick wall, standing a foot in front of you.

“You’re the enemy, have to be smarter than to use an ID of someone who is dead!” He snarls, his voice is booming as he swings at you, his fist connects with your stomach and it sends you sliding backwards on the wet cement. You exhale, steadying your breathing after the hit. You lunge towards him, ducking at the last second to avoid is hands trying to grab you, you kick as his knees and one falters, nearly bringing him to the ground, you had quickly figured out his weakness.

He levels himself on his leg, watching you with a look so furious in his eyes you want nothing more than to erase the look from your mind, if you had to accomplish that with violence-so be it.

He pulls out his knife from his boot, you scowl as he does so, “fucking coward, fight like a man!” You yell at him, he ignores you and charges like a raging bull, heavy footsteps slow in comparison to your nimble movements which allows you to narrowly avoid the knife he aimed to plunge into your ribs.

You pulled out your own knife, “wanna fucking okay dirty hm? Come on then you fucking prick! I’m not scared of you, I eat shitheads like you for fucking dinner.” You’re eyeing each other off, circling like predator and prey, although no one knows who is which yet. The rain makes it difficult to see, the drops falling onto your mask make it more difficult to breath through. Through the scuffle part of your hair had fallen out of its plait, the strand of hair irritating and blinding you as it sits in front of your eyes.

“Fuck it.” You growl lowly, tearing off your mask as you cut it with your knife, all while avoiding a blow from Ghosts forward attack, you pull your hair backwards and tuck it behind your ear.

The man freezes in place, his movements stop entirely, the knife falling from his hands, clattering onto the wet sidewalk. As he sees her-you, his wife. Your face is more matured, it’s grown into its features and you have a sternness he doesn’t recognise, eyes as cold as stone as you watch him fall apart before you. He notices a giant scar along your nose that has never been seen before.

“It can’t be, you’re dead, you died-“ he trails off, eyes wide as he watches you like a Hawk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, confused and still pent up from the fight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t mutter a single word, he barely finds the strength to lift his hands to the bottom of his baklava and pulls it off his face, revealing himself for the first time in over a decade. He felt himself crumbling, so vulnerable and exposed to the world, his world-you. His wife and the woman he loved so much-loves.

You stutter for a moment before your face hardens again, you storm forward and shove him, your fists hit his chest so many times you can’t count, he doesn’t react, he just stands like a punching bag for you to let out your Pent up anger. You pull away from him, the thought of touching him and him touching you, made you nauseous.

“You piece of shit! You left me! For better or worse my fucking ass!” You pace the sidewalk, kicking the trash can as a decades worth of emotions come crashing down on you. “You weren’t even there for the funeral Simon! Have you even visited them? Since they’ve died, have you? I see Joseph whenever I get the chance.”

Tears are falling down your face at the thought of him, your nephew Joseph.

“Don’t talk about him.” Simon growls, obviously still a soft spot for him. You roll your eyes, “I thought you were fucking dead with them! When I ran through that house and didn’t find you I thought they’d taken you to fucking get back at me! I chased every piece of intel for years on end trying to find you.” He steps towards you, his big chest heaving. The street lamp above you shines above him, his face looking more scarred and handsome as ever.

“I killed every damn one of those motherfuckers and you were still nowhere to be found. I dedicated the past decade of my life trying to find you and you’re in the fucking military, alive and fine.”

You slap him across the face at his accusation.

“If you think this is me fine Simon Riley, you’re stupidly fucking mistaken. Now get the fuck out of my face! I’m your Captain, you’re dismissed! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You storm away from him, sheathing your knife into your leg harness. Once you were far away enough and sure he couldn’t see you, you slipped on your mask and sobbed, uncontrollably against the wall of a building in the street, forgetting about the bar, the team and the ID you’d left behind. Screw all that, in the morning you were going home. The rain poured on you, your uniform heavy on your skin as it sticks.

You mindlessly walk until you reach base, not realising how far you’d walked until you ended up standing out the front of your room door with the key in hand ready to unlock the door. You exhale and close the door, removing your mask and grabbing a fist full of wipes to clean the smudged black face paint that had dropped down your neck from the rain and probably your tears. Fuck Simon, you couldn’t stay here, not when he was a constant reminder of the pain, your past was too much to have to relive everyday. The death, blood, the screams, the way he abandoned you.

You sit on the chair beside your desk, grabbing the photograph of you and Joseph before your emotionally exhausted body begins to slump over the desk, eyes fluttering shut before you can remember to take your pills.

-

You’re preparing Joseph’s things for a bath, his clothes laid down on his bed, his green towel and toothbrush on the bed. You’re about to call him up when you hear the front door bust open.

“Kill every last one of them, I want no survivors. Riley has to pay.” It’s a foreign voice you don’t recognise, the fear of something happening to your family and realising this is the end as they fire the first gunshot. The screams of your brother in law shake the foundation of the house as gunfire rings through the walls, his wife begging through her sobs for these men to stop, “we’ll do anything, please!”

Her pleas are ignored and she too is gunned down, silence fills the house, you sneakily hide in the bedroom closet in Joseph’s room, the door thankfully making no noise as you close the door shut, the old hinges working a charm for the first time ever. You can barely see anything through the tiny cracks of the closet door, the moonlight coming through the window is the only thing you see.

You hear footsteps running down the hall to your direction and you try to even your ragged breathing, you hear more footsteps running up the stairs, the thundering noise beats in your ears. You hear him crying, sobbing as he calls for help, for you to help him. You’re frozen, trembling in place as the kid stands there alone with a gun pointed to him in his own bedroom.

“He’s just a kid, can’t we leave him?” One man says, the other sneers at him, “boss said all of them, especially the kid.”

“No please!” Joseph begs before he’s gunned down, his blood splatters into the closet cracks and onto your face, you flinch and your eyes are wide as your nephew is ruthlessly murdered in front of you. You were too much of a coward to help him, you are compliant in his death.

The man walks closer to the closet, hand rattling on the closet door knob like he’s going to open it, then the sound of police sirens can be heard coming down the street, they’re coming fast and the red and blue lights are seen through the window, illuminating the room and the dead body but feet away from you.

“Hurry up and let’s get out of here. I ain’t goin to prison!” The hand releases the doorknob and trips over Joseph’s body, running downstairs as they escape the consequences.

Your body is trembling, stuck in a back and forth rock of trying to self sooth but to no avail. Your brain replays the scene over and over, him begging for your help and being shot by a couple thugs in a targeted attack.

“M sorry joey.” Is your mantra, you’re repeating it over and over, what starts as a soft whisper becomes a chant that attracts the police.

“Hey, we got a survivor over here!” The officer calls to his colleagues, trying to pry you from the closet. “What’s your name?” His voice is drowned out by your ears ringing, your dissociated state accompanied by the incoherence nonsense that leaves your lips, “mercy.” You mumble, mercy. That’s what you wanted, hoping the muttered word would stop the pain, stop the cruelty and stop the joke.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

-

Your eyes shoot open as you’re gasping for air, the scream that leaves your lips is one of genuine terror, your arms are thrashing and shoving the weight you feel on your arm as someone’s hand.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” You recognise his voice, Simon. Your heart is thumping and you sit up from your spot on the chair, pacing the small area in the room that Simon didn’t occupy.

“You have em too?” Your neck snaps around to Simon, glaring at him through your tears and wet face. “Of course I have them, I hear their screams and see Joseph killed in my head over and over on reply, as if it happened yesterday.”

Simon stumbles backward, shocked by your confession. “You- you saw him..” you rubbed your hands over your eyes. “Yes.” Confirming what Simon would never want to hear from you. You watched your nephew die.

“I don’t want you or need you in here Simon, I need you to leave.” He shuffles on his feet, his eyes torn between you and the photograph of you and his nephew on the table you’d just been cradling.

“If you ever want to talk-“ you cut him off with a scoff, irritated by his presence.

“I don’t. Now get out, I’m fine. I’m not here to make amends with you and sure as hell not trying to be your wife again, Simon. You were a shit husband, now please, get out.” You sigh, sitting on your bed, completely exhausted.

Simons heart shatters at your words, every wall he’s built comes crumbling down at his feet, he’s now left truly alone. The hope of you had kept him going- now what does he have? He simply nods, wanting to respect your needs, when he reaches the door you call his name, he’s hopeful when he turns around to see you barely a foot away when you hand him an envelope.

“Sign the divorce papers Simon. Please.”

It feels like his heart has been stomped on the for third time tonight, you were trying to sever the last connection he had to you, his last name. The only proof he had that you were ever his, that his family existed at all; he holds the papers tight in his hand and walks out of your room, leaving you to take out your pills and swallow them dry, having a sleep that’s uninterrupted by those plaguing nightmares, those pills, your poison, you were at her mercy and Simon was at yours.

[asunsetgrace16]

☾ ◇ ｊｅｎｎａ ｍａｄｄｅｎ ‣ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒻𝒾𝓁𝑒

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[𝟶𝟷] ___ 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂

Name(s): Jenna Amber Madden

Nickname(s): Jen, Jennie, Jens

Age: 19

Birthday: September 5, 2004

Birthplace: Rosetown, Saskatchewan

Allergies: rabbits, dust, and pollen

Conditions/Illnesses: none

Occupation: works at Sephora part-time, will be a Chemical engineer after university

Education: high school diploma, half-done her BSc of Physics

Current Residence: Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

Hobbies: sudoku puzzles, crosswords, playing guitar and piano,

Pets: Lily - German Shephard/Husky cross, several barn cats; Momo and Juice are the deck/house cats

Sports: volleyball in high school, plays in a rec league now, running

Ethnicity: German, Ukrainian, British

Nationality: Canadian

[𝟶𝟸]  ___  𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴

Height: 5'5

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Dark Brown

Birthmarks: none

Scars: one on her ankle from when she broke it two years ago and had surgery to fix it

Tattoos: none

Style: country, jeans with cute sweaters, leggings with old Carhartt hoodies, oversized shirts from her brothers (and Fraser), both gold and silver jewelry

Piercings/Accessories: simple ear lobe piercings, one helix, always wears the ring her grandma gave her

[𝟶𝟹]  ___  𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

Introvert or Extrovert: both and it depends on where she is, how much sleep she got, and who she's around

Mood/Temper: she is intense and driven, always looking for a challenge. She loves her siblings (now that they are older), and will go to bat for any of them. She's also very stubborn.

Dreams/Goals: wants to travel, road trip across Canada, run in the Boston Marathon

Strengths: her work ethic, she's always prepared for anything

Weaknesses: she calls it being realistic, Andrew calls it pessimism

Quirks: usually leaves the house with her shoes untied, mixes up the different-coloured pen caps

Habits: stands and watches the horizon/clouds/weather like a middle-aged dad and/or every farmer ever

Fears: heights, balloons

[𝟶𝟺]  ___  𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂 & 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂

Likes: being outside, frogs, sunsets, meals in the field, horseback riding, running

Dislikes: mosquitoes, ranch dressing, writing essays, early mornings

[𝟶𝟻] ___ 𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲

[𝟶𝟼] ___ 𝙵𝚄𝙽 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚂

[𝟶𝟽] ___ 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚂

Food: chicken noodle soup

Music: country. classic rock

Songs: Blown Away by Carrie Underwood. Getting There by Terri Clark. Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift. Strong by One Direction.

Movies: The Other Woman. Ocean's 8. Talledaga Nights.

Shows: S.W.A.T. Manifest. Brooklyn 99.

Colour: purple

Place: Vancouver Island, BC

[𝟶𝟾] ___ 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈 & 𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂

Family: Jenna is the middle child, a twin to John. She has two older brothers and two younger sisters

Mom: Anna Madden (nee Travis), b. december 18, 1968

Dad: Josh Madden, b. march 24, 1963

Sibling(s): Brothers - Liam, Andrew, and John, Sisters - Melissa and Charlotte

➪ Liam Madden: b. november 2, 2000. engaged to fiancee Cara. works in crop technology and will keep helping to farm.

➪ Andrew Madden: b. june 21, 2001. single. recently graduated from U of S with a degree in Agribusiness and will take over the main farm.

➪ John Madden: b. september 5, 2004. gay. dating boyfriend Luke. attending UBC and getting a degree in Mathematical Sciences.

➪ Melissa (Lis) Madden: b. june 18, 2006. bisexual. single. just graduated high school and is attending U of S to become a vet.

➪ Charlotte (Charlie) Madden: b. may 5, 2009. single. starting high school. an excellent hockey player who has been offered scholarships in the States.

Relationship Status: almost taken. Fraser Minten (october 2024)

Past Relationships: Jenna was in two relationships prior to getting with Fraser

➪ Luke: (July 2020 - June 2022) he was her high school relationship. they were together for two years before going their separate ways after graduating. it was a mutual decision as their life plans were taking them in different directions.

➪ Sam: (December 2022 - March 2023) he was a fun relationship. he was a known party boy and wasn't looking for serious which was good with Jenna. they had fun but ultimately decided they were better off as friends.

[palmviewfm]

mw counterparts?

this  list  got  a  little  bit  longer  than  anticipated.  as  there's  soooooo  many  counterparts  to  consider  choosing  from  !  so,  i  put  it  under  a  read  more  for  you  !

counterparts:  monica  geller, ross geller, joey  tribbiani,  chandler bing, janice litman, mike hannigan, ursula buffay, aria  montgomery,  emily  fields,  spencer  hastings,  mona  vanderwaal,  alison  dilaurentis,  caleb  rivers,  maya  st  germain,  toby  cavanaugh,  betty  cooper,  veronica  lodge,  cheryl  blossom,  archie  andrews,  reggie  mantle,  toni  topaz,  tabitha  tate,  quinn  fabray,  rachel  berry,  brittany  pierce,  olivia  baker,  layla  keating,  jordan  baker,  jaymee, spencer  james,  lucas  scott,  peyton  sawyer, brooke  davis,  quinn  james,  julian  baker,  anna taggaro, rachel  gatina,  blair  waldorf,  serena  van  der  woodsen,  dan  humphrey,  nate  archibald,  callie  adams  foster,  mariana  foster,  buffy  summers,  willow  rosenberg,  tara mclay, kendra young, faith  lehane,  cordelia  chase,  heather  mcnamara,  marissa  cooper,  summer  roberts,  seth  cohen,  angel, anya jenkins, ryan  atwood,  taylor  townsend,  elena  gilbert,  caroline  forbes,  bonnie  bennett,  stefan  salvatore, anna zhu, enzo  st  john,  sandy  olson,  betty  rizzo,  frenchy,  danny  zuko,  marty, jan, sonny,  jackie  burkhart,  donna  pinciotti,  eric  forman,  laurie  forman,  belly  conklin,  sloane  peterson,  ferris  bueller,  duckie  dale,  bianca  stratford,  kat  stratford,  patrick  verona,  mia thermopolis, sabrina spellman, harvey kinkle, libby chessler, barbie  roberts,  ken  carson,  jenna  rink,  allie  hamilton,  noah  calhoun,  brandon  walsh,  david  silver,  brenda  walsh,  kelly  taylor,  donna  martin,  conrad  fisher,  jeremiah  fisher,  steven  cokin,  taylor  jewel,  sarah  cameron,  jj  maybank,  john  b  routledge,  kiara  carerra,  pope  heywood,  cleo, topper  thornton,  prue  halliwell,  paige  matthews,  piper  halliwell,  phoebe  halliwell,  meredith  grey,  arizona  robbins,  jackson  avery,  callie  torres,  april  kepner,  derek  shephard,  alex  karev,  cristina  yang,  lizzie  stevens,  callie  torres,  jo  wilson,  addison  montgomery,  lexi  grey,  atticus  lincoln,  nancy  drew,  lucy  grey,  sam  montgomery,  austin  ames,  jen  lindley,  pacey  witter,  dawson  leery,  katherine  pierce,  rebekah  mikaelson,  hayley  marshall,  tatum  riley,  sidney  prescott,  casey  becker,  tara  carpenter,  samantha  carpenter,  beca  mitchell,  chloe  beale,  jessica  day,  winston schmidt, cece  parekh, laney  boggs,  dewey  riley,  gale  weathers,  georgina  sparks,  elle  woods,  francesca  bridgerton,  daphne  bridgerton,  penelope  featherington,  sookie  stackhouse,  karen  smith,  regina  george,  gretchen  weiners,  janis  ian,  cady  heron,  aaron  samuels,  dj  tanner,  stephanie  tanner,  marcia  brady,  cindy  brady,  greg  brady,  carrie  bradshaw,  cher  horowitz,  kirby  reed,  jim  halpert,  michael  scott,  kelly  kapoor,  pam  beesly,  peter  parker,  mary  jane  watson,  analise  keating,  olivia  pope,  tony  stonem,  effy  stonem,  joey  donner,  john  bender,  allison  argent,  scott  mccall,  lydia  martin,  olive  penderghast,  maggie  greene,  marty  mcfly,  bella  swan,  alice  cullen,  charlie  swan,  emmett  cullen,  jacob  black,  carlisle  cullen,  esme  cullen,  jane  volturi,  morticia  addams,  donna  and  sophie  sheridan,  lorraine  banes,  jennifer  parker,  sam  winchester,  luke  danes,  dean  forester,  tristan  dugray,  lane  kim,  paris  geller,  logan  huntzberger,  jeanie  bueller,  simon  basset,  kate  sharma,  colin  bridgerton,  shiv  roy,  gerri  kellman,  roman  roy,  olivia  benson,  clary  fray,  isabelle  lightwood,  jace  herondale,  simon  lewis,  daphne  blake,  shaggy  rogers,  velma  dinkley,  fred  jones,  cinderella, ariel, tiana, jasmine, tom  wambsgans,  kendall  roy,  greg  hirsch,  lestat  de  lioncourt,  louis  de  point  du  lac,  and  claudia  !

[lightofunova]

Idk if you've been asked this before BUT any pets at home/any pets you'd like to have? Additionally, if we were in the pokemon universe, what pokemon do you realistically think you'd have?

Actually I have a bunch! We recently got alot so here’s a quick fire of all of them:

Mountain, he’s my babyest boy and my favorite kitty uwu he is a silver tabby and loves naps and will snuggle on his own terms.

Pinecone, our recent puppy we adopted! He’s a german shephard mix and is only 6 months old. He is super exciteable and loves cuddles and we are currently training him to be well behaved.

Fish! We had 6, today the number went to 4 :(( Currently we have two Neon Tetras and teo Zebra Danios in the tank, this morning our Albino Cory Catfish I named Reshi died and then yesterday our Red Finned Shark died too so we’re a bit worried about the water(we’re gonna replace the filter with a new one we bought) We only just got the fish too so I’m a bit bummed lol We’ll be getting some new fish to fill the tank soon when my little brother comes out so hopefully by then whatever issue happened will be sorted out. We will be going to a different pet store juuust in case too since the one we went to didnt have the best quality of care for the fish that they were selling.

So a bit more info than you bargained for im sure but XD Here are a few pictures below and a pic of the late Reshi LOL

[theknightmarket]

I did a tier list of the Markiplier Egos, so I thought I’d share it here – and, yes, perhaps some of these ratings indicate who I like to write, sue me. So, bottom to top, here it is:

Actor: Super Hell

         I goddamn hate Actor, as you could probably figure out. He’s a prissy bitch, who deserved everything that came to him. Okay, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but Jesus Christ do I hate him, mainly for causing Damien’s death, plus everything else, but mainly that. He deserves less than Super Hell, but that is the bottom of the barrel.

E-Boy Mark: F

         Reminded me too much of my boy Bing, and I did Not like it. Plus, I have the same tiger pattern on one of my jackets, and I did not want to be associated with this E-Boy. So, F tier.

Ed Edgar: F

         I hate babies. Simple as that. Props for being a cowboy aesthetic, but that mustache knocked him back down into F tier.

Derek Derekson: F

 ��       Need I say anything? He’s abusive and a bitch, and I care too much about my baby Eric to put him any higher. I would put him lower, but Super Hell is reserved for Actor. F.

Silver Shephard: E

         I haven’t seen anything about him, except for the skit with all the other egos, in which I also did not see much. Cool costume, but no clue. E.

Dr. Iplier: E

         Again, not much. To be honest, both of the Egos in the E tier are ones I haven’t seen much of but know about. Hence, the doctor is here. Nice catchphrase, E tier.

Yandereiplier: D

         The animation is cool, I’ve always liked horror-blood elements, and the pictures of Yandere have the red hair, which I am a fan of. However, the game itself is a point down, and he is only for the sim, so D tier.

King of the Squirrels: D

         A classic start to the Ego train, so points given, but points taken away because I am not a huge fan of peanut butter. Squirrels I love, though, so again. Hence, D tier.

Bill: C

         Okay, so I haven’t seen the video he comes from actually, but I did see one clip of him saying ‘Oh, honey, no’ and, boy, did I feel flustered, and I don’t even know why! It was just weirdly sweet and reflects the kinda stuff you see in my S tiered Egos. But, alas, he’s not all that common in videos, so C.

Bim Trimmer: C

         I don’t know either, man, he’s just a funny guy. The image I have for him is so stupid, and he’s Bim Trimmer??? C’mon. C tier.

The Colonel: C

         Being separate from Wilford, he’s kinda lacking in substance compared to him, but I get it. Cuckolded a dude, which isn’t a great start, but it’s Actor, so I don’t care. Says ‘bully’, which is fun, but he does kill the viewer, so points off for him, putting him in C.

Google(s): C

         Might be influenced by my having a fic in the works for him, but I am also a sucker for AI, android stuff. Plus, the fanart I see for him is always cute. Him being rude to Bing takes him down a notch, though, so C.

Heehoo: C

         The concept of this guy is so funny to me – like, Jesus Christ, the Markiplier runs into the wild, completely naked, save for maybe shoes, of all things, and is fine??? The long hair pushes it over D, but the lack of a voice keeps him in C.

The Nightguard: C

         It’s mainly for the musical itself, and that one moment when he leans in and says ‘I killed a guy’ because obviously. Not to mention it’s Mark singing. However, this one can be excluded from being an ego because it is basing off of a pre-established character. So, C tier.

Captain Magnum: C

         I haven’t gone through his ending yet in AHWM (sue me, I got Yancy first), but I do love pirates ;) but I don’t love beards. Personal preference, it just takes away from the face. Basically, the aesthetic alone brings it into C tier.

Annus: B

         Now, I did watch, uh, [redacted] – catch my favorite video being the A.I generated basically fanfictions – and I loved the whole concept of it! The ending, especially during covid, kinda helped me get used to death and the idea of having to die in the end. However, some of this does not extend to the ego of Annus. I feel like there was a lot more they could have done with both Annus and Unus, but I understand that most of the audience would not have wanted it to be fully cryptid and ARG-esque, so B is both the lowest and highest I can go with him. I do love suits, though. 

Eric Derekson: B

         I have seen next to nothing about this boy! And I love him :D! He’s just so cute in everything I’ve seen and read. Solid B tier for the cute side, anyway. 

The Jims: B

         Honestly, it’s a goof ego, and I like that. The stupid movements and the little side bit about WKM made me happy after the sad events, and I saw them in Space, so I’m happy to put them at B, as a collective, of course.

Monster Gulch Mark: B

         I’m a sucker for apocalypses, man. The casual murder plot caught my eye, and then the second song was a banger, too. I was super disappointed when nothing ever came out from Monster Gulch again, and I appreciate the running water thing, if you know what I mean by that. So, for both Mark in this and the musical in general, B tier.

God of Night: B

         Dope aesthetic and I am a sucker for deity-stuff. However, I do not have the attention span to watch a 3+ hour video where he is not in all of it, and was, maybe, recorded without a hard script? I don’t know, but I know I should watch it considering I have a fic queued for him. Cool concept, but I can’t watch so much of that in one go. B tier.

Noir: A

         You remember that I said I love suits, right? Well, this guy, in a disheveled suit, the noir aesthetic – one that I loved since I saw Into the Spider-Verse – and the voice over??? A tier, and I will take no comments. Also, there’s something to be said about how the lower tiers tend to have the cocky-know-it-all egos, and the higher tiers are soft guys. This, the A tier, is a weird exception.

Murdock: A

         No. 1, the murder – no. 2, the vibe – no. 3, the outfit! The moment I saw Murdock, I had to put the screen down and go for a walk. You’ve seen this man, you understand what I mean. A tier, for everything he’s involved in.

Dark: A

         This is probably lower than a lot of people would put him, and I’m still debating putting him higher, but A tier is the least I will go. Again, there’s the suit, plus, I’m a fan of the glitchy, multi-emotion thing he has going on. However, as many of you will remember, he did shove the viewer into a mirror and steal their body. Not great on his part, but he is against Actor, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hence, A tier, plus he does stage himself sexily on that desk, so…

Engineer: A

         This guy is plain cute. He’s devoted, he’s hard-working, he appreciates the aesthetics! He really should be in A+ tier, considering I have a sticker of him, too, except for one tiny snag. Actor. He is the source of all my trouble and complicates things in the theory sense. Is Engineer actually Actor? We don’t know, and I don’t like to think I would put anyone related to Actor in A+. So, sorry, my dear boy, he has to be in A tier.

Bing: A+

         If you’ve seen my other posts, you may already understand why he’s here, but I will reiterate for every who doesn’t know. I don’t know what it is, but the dumb, skateboarder-bro, with a heart of gold is a thing I love. The glasses are cool, the orange I adore, and an android? C’mon, I can’t put him anywhere but A+. (I also have a sticker of him on the laptop I am currently writing this on)

Host: A+

         I had to go searching for Host after the sketch with all of the egos in it, and, boy, was I overjoyed to find him. The blind-fold and narrator bit, and a couple of fics I’ve read influenced this decision. A+ tier, but it’s a controversial one. (Another that I have a sticker of)

Wilford: A+

         Yeah, this is just where he belongs. S tier is reserved for two egos here, and so Wilford is a banger in A+ tier. The whole fruity-bisexual-timelord thing is amazing, and, as far as character design goes, oof, the fluffy hair, slightly unbuttoned shirt? I am swooning. A+ tier. (Also, a sticker)

Illinois: A+

         This guy has two belts. What a dude. And the flirty thing I appreciate, the whip cracks, as well. Him walking backwards through a bunch of traps is pique douche, but in an oh-my-god-he’s-going-to-get-himself-killed-better-help-him kind of way. Like pulling a drowning dog out of a pool and them shaking off. A+.

Can you guys guess who’s at the top of this list? If you can’t, lemme tell you. 

Damien: S

         Damien is my comfort character, and that sucks because – spoilers – he is dead. I forgive him for shoving the viewer into a mirror, solely for his adorable personality and all of the fics people have for him prior to poker night. The ‘little monster’ nickname has me squealing every time I hear it, and I could fully write an essay on his character. Fuck Actor for killing him, and fuck anyone who doesn’t think he’s amazing. Solid S tier, no questions. 

Yancy: S

         Objectively the best character. He was my first ending in AHWM, I love his song, he applied for parole??? Look at that man, listen to him talk – the accent omg – and tell me, genuinely, that you would not do anything for him. Look me in the eyes and tell me that he isn’t the light of your life. ‘Free as a buird’ – gods, he’s adorable, and a sticker that I have on the inside of my laptop, to boot!

And that’s it! Feel free to reblog or send me an ask telling me your opinion, but know that I will fight you if you disagree on my S tiers :D

Have a good day everyone!

[libidomechanica]

And welcoming mild

” “Their silver, or raven’s being.     —The worse below that they nould bewray, while far excell and     wayward melancholy

college light; she sits her brethren     were dead! I have hooted thus holy! In five month became     her down. One gem was lost

a things about whose might turn the     though the way among shephard once more than howl incessant     miseries as Queene in

gold, the snake where she said, and sooty,     and it utterance, bide each beaked promontory.     And wear his gold. Trees do

learn’d aught ease; and his wesand before     eleven; her beauties peece, as free winds best recapture     in strife, she said, My

life—send honey’d rain is or every     spot where and night, the half alcohol, to the swine with     man his nether tongue fault

of all confused to floater, that     July 21st place for thee is but thou dost love doth hasty     accident. She counts and

you in the blind Fury with an     evermore. The lofty loue why he love-lorn hour ago,     on Johnny is not yet

unwish thou when we walke not beguile     makes their first time I vanish: wept they’re give more than the     shining eyes and the ioyfulst

day comes clear well away the     morning, who is here growest: so lost just have your sighs laboure     his hands o’ life that

to vs be false death! I see     the clear elements, ye nymphs that we may giver, the middle     of Wyoming flow,

that’s out of alle wommen my     tears fell from moats and here be more sweet; myriads of rain and     sink admiration of

a bird them master of the voice     was when the breaks the poor dear religion of the lawn in     bare fix’d in little children’s

cries. I will begins to stammer     weather’s clamorings all are blue eyes that man’s art a     girl as much of shepheard

long night, even boys and his westerne     wind like a foule horror free from the earth. No such     as dodge conception be

back tongues were we ourselves to the     adulteration of all the factory cursing, bend     the moss’d her heart, I read

thou mayst thou, all powers I note,     and was their bells and brand his early glistenings matter     must return. Until evening

sate; till the suddenly, whom     nakd the golden shrine, and flush with quilled it struck with     denial vain to me how,

with a bootless fancy.—If Johnny,     every word bringes like in copses green gleams—in what     I must spell of miserye.

[tseappreciationweek]

TSE Appreciation Week Day 4: Topaz

Why is Apen looking so uncomfortable? Well you see, after returning from his little…excursion…in the Deadwaters Apen had to make it up to Berlyne somehow. So, he let her make him whatever she pleased, which happened to be a green jacket. (Don’t worry, after seeing him this uncomfortable, she died it a dark purple.) @tseapprecationweek

[cactus-zombie]

I posted 116 times in 2022

That's 45 more posts than 2021!

92 posts created (79%)

24 posts reblogged (21%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fawns-notebook

@cactus-zombie

@ask-the-fazbenders

@boonbeenblade

I tagged 110 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#oc - 37 posts

#original character - 28 posts

#faces of levix - 27 posts

#hfjone - 21 posts

#pride month - 11 posts

#original story - 10 posts

#half life - 9 posts

#lgbtq - 9 posts

#adrian shephard - 8 posts

#humanized - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 121 characters

#and silver spoon starts going off about this gameshow he's a part of (cause he likes to brag that he's a big tv star now)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Forget about Freeman

40 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#4

Reunion

41 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#3

Something overcame me to draw @charseraph ‘s crowns.

They’re so freaking cute and easy to draw, I love them

44 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

#2

What if Airy forgot to mute?

44 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I made a very very short fic based off of @ecto-hazard‘s dehumanized au.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41154795

50 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sailforvalinor]

Apen: “What are you, five?”

Enel: “Yeah, five heads taller than you.”

Apen:

Enel:

Enel: “I’m sorry, please don’t kill me.”

[loseyoursouls]

      𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄, 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄.         𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆, 𝒊 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆.

NAME: remington leigh blake. AGE: late twenties - early thirties. NICKNAMES: remi, remi leigh. BIRTHDATE: february 14th. SPECIES: something terrible, former human, now soul reaper. GENDER: cis-female. SEXUALITY: bisexual. STATUS: single. BIRTHPLACE: san diego, california. CURRENT RESIDENCE: manhattan, new york. OCCUPATION: pretty girl, too obsessed with herself to work. HEIGHT: 5'8". WEIGHT: 136lbs. BODY TYPE: healthy, slender with slight curves. SKIN TONE: fair, sun kissed. HAIR STYLE: long and worn down the center of her back in either waves or curls. HAIR COLOR. varies depending on her mood. her most recent obsession is a pale silver, but her normal hair color is a dark brunette with a hint of red. EYE COLOR: bright blue. SCARS: one along her hip bone, a notable slash across her throat from the time of her death. MODIFICATIONS: pierced ears, pierced nipples, formerly a pierced nose. the beginnings of a floral sleeve down her left arm. a knife underneath her left breast. FACECLAIM: kate siegel. BIRTHSTONE: amethyst. SUN SIGN: aquarius. MENTAL: formerly dealing with body dysmorphia ( which has been seemingly fixed by plastic surgery ). ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral. AESTHETIC: she walks like god, the prettiest faces hide evil, even lucifer was an angel, queen bee on a throne, my mothers worst fear, my fathers greatest pride, the shark in the pond. PERSONALITY: cynical, snarky, headstrong, manipulative, petty, loyal, trustworthy, intelligent. FATHER: geoffrey blake. MOTHER: charlotte eaves-fairchild. YOUNGER BROTHER: ronin castille blake. YOUNGER SISTER: rhiannon penelope blake. PET[S]: a german shephard named roxanne.

remington is the first born daughter to wealthy couple and business entrepreneurs charlotte eaves-fairchild and geoffrey blake. she wasn't necessarily planned, coming just two months after their first year anniversary of marriage. her birth was followed four years later by a son, ronin castille blake, and finally a third daughter eight years later, rhiannon penelope blake. their life was pretty perfect on the outside, but was filled to the brim with skeletons in their closets.

being the first daughter, granddaughter, and niece of the family, remi was treated like she was akin to royalty, and she grew up a spoiled brat because of it. she got anything her heart desired, and was willing to risk it all for the sake of living the high life. drugs and alcohol were familiar demons that she dealt with during her youth, as well as an eating disorder brought on by body dysmorphia. plastic surgery fixed the problems she found with herself, and as always, she is the epitome of perfection, if one could achieve such.

the events surrounding her death have not yet been released to the public, nor are the events of her suspicious resurrection. some say her parents traveled the dark paths of involving themselves in necromancy and black magicks to revive their precious heiress, some say it was a hoax to gain publicity of the generous kind. all we know is that our beloved heiress to the fairchild & blake fortune has returned with an absolute vengeance ( and a taste for blood ) , and boy, is she out to make it everyone's problem.

[burnyourvillages]

 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗨𝗣 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘   𝐴𝑁𝑌 𝑀𝐴𝑁 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝐻𝑂𝐿𝐷 𝑀𝑌 𝐺𝐴𝑍𝐸 𝐻𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐽𝑂𝐵 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝐹𝐼𝑁𝐸   𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴 𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

[...] awakened by rogue ( she/her / cst / thirty-one ). an independent and selective writing blog for original character, ⛤remington leigh blake. ⛤ [...] heiress. soul reaper. living dead girl. themes include : handbook for the recently deceased, kill of the night, i've been with the devil in the devil's resting place.

              * * * GUIDELINES. / CARRD. / MEMES. / EDITS.

        𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 ����𝖔 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊       

NAME: remington leigh blake. AGE: late twenties - early thirties. NICKNAMES: remi, remi leigh. BIRTHDATE: february 14th. SPECIES: something terrible, humanish. GENDER: cis-female. SEXUALITY: bisexual. STATUS: single. BIRTHPLACE: san diego, california. RESIDENCE: manhattan, new york. OCCUPATION: pretty girl, too obsessed with herself to work. HEIGHT: 5'8". WEIGHT: 136lbs. BODY TYPE: healthy, slender with slight curves. SKIN TONE: fair, sun kissed. HAIR STYLE: long and worn down the center of her back in either waves or curls. HAIR COLOR. varies depending on her mood. her most recent obsession is a pale silver, but her normal hair color is a dark brunette with a hint of red. EYE COLOR: bright blue. SCARS: one along her hip bone, a notable slash across her throat from the time of her death. MODIFICATIONS: pierced ears, pierced nipples, formerly a pierced nose. the beginnings of a floral sleeve down her left arm. a knife underneath her left breast. FACECLAIM: kate siegel. BIRTHSTONE: amethyst. SUN SIGN: aquarius. MENTAL: formerly dealing with body dysmorphia ( which has been seemingly fixed by plastic surgery ). ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral. AESTHETIC: she walks like god, the prettiest faces hide evil, even lucifer was an angel, queen bee on a throne, my mothers worst fear, my fathers greatest pride, the shark in the pond. PERSONALITY: cynical, snarky, headstrong, manipulative, petty, loyal, trustworthy, intelligent. FATHER: geoffrey blake. MOTHER: charlotte eaves-fairchild. YOUNGER BROTHER: ronin castille blake. YOUNGER SISTER: rhiannon penelope blake. PET[S]: a german shephard named roxanne.

remington is the first born daughter to wealthy couple and business entrepreneurs charlotte eaves-fairchild and geoffrey blake. she wasn’t necessarily planned, coming just two months after their first year anniversary of marriage. her birth was followed four years later by a son, ronin castille blake, and finally a third daughter eight years later, rhiannon penelope blake. their life was pretty perfect on the outside, but was filled to the brim with skeletons in their closets.

being the first daughter, granddaughter, and niece of the family, remi was treated like she was akin to royalty, and she grew up a spoiled brat because of it. she got anything her heart desired, and was willing to risk it all for the sake of living the high life. drugs and alcohol were familiar demons that she dealt with during her youth, as well as an eating disorder brought on by body dysmorphia. plastic surgery fixed the problems she found with herself, and as always, she is the epitome of perfection, if one could achieve such.

the events surrounding her death have not yet been released to the public, nor are the events of her suspicious resurrection. some say her parents traveled the dark paths of involving themselves in necromancy and black magicks to revive their precious heiress, some say it was a hoax to gain publicity of the generous kind. all we know is that our beloved heiress to the fairchild & blake fortune has returned with an absolute vengeance ( and a taste for blood ) , and boy, is she out to make it everyone’s problem.

[palmviewfm]

do yall have a mwm counterparts list? i looked through but didn't see many! thanks!! xx

we  certainly  do  !  i’ll  be  sure  to  put  the  list  under  the  cut for  you.  so,  if  you’d  like  anymore  suggestions  or  have  a  specific  character  idea  in  mind  that  you’d  like  specific  options  for  then  just  send  in  another ask  and  we’d  be  more  than  happy  to  help  !

chandler  bing,  ross  geller,  joey  tribbiani,  mike  hannigan,  archie  andrews,  jughead  jones,  reggie  mantle,  caleb  rivers,  toby  cavanaugh,  noel  kahn,  dan  humphrey,  nate  archibald, carter baizen,  jim  halpert,  bruce  wayne,  thor, peter  parker,  rick  grimes,  shaggy  rogers,  harry  potter,  ron  weasley,  ryan  atwood,  luke  ward,  seth  cohen,  nathan  scott,  lucas  scott,  julian  baker,  logan  huntzberger,  sam winchester, dean  forrester,  jess mariano, tristan  dugray,  luke  danes,  miles  morales,  sam  malone,  greg  brady,  michael  scott,  ted  mosby,  austin  ames,  edward  cullen,  emmett  cullen,  carlisle  cullen,  jacob  black,  louis  de  pointe  du  lac,  marty  mcfly,  spencer  james,  stefan  salvatore,  kol  mikaelson,  klaus  mikaelson, luke  parker,  finn  mikaelson,  jeremy  gilbert,  elijah  mikaelson,  enzo  st.  john,  scott  mccall,  theo  raeken,  stiles  stilinski,  cory  matthews,  shawn  hunter,  john  bender,  brian  johnson,  ferris  bueller,  cameron  frye,  steve  hale,  danny  zuko,  sonny,  putzie,  jj  maybank,  john  b  routledge,  pope  heyward,  evan  buckley,  zack  morris,  ac  slater,  leo  wyatt,  chris  halliwell,  andy  trudeau,  wyatt  halliwell,  dan  gordon,  duckie  dale,  pacey  witter,  alex karev, mark sloan, atticus lincoln, jackson avery, derek shephard, dawson  leery,  charlie  todd,  jack  mcphee,  cole  turner,  spencer  reid,  simon  basset,  angel,  rupert  giles,  jordan  baker,  dylan  mckay,  brandon  walsh,  steve  sanders,  and  david  silver.