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gcthvile · 9 days

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Valora and Vaegon Targaryen

Valora

valora targaryen was born amidst the flames of ambition and the icy winds of the north in the year 105 AC, the eldest daughter of daemon targaryen and evelyn stark. from her first breath, she exuded the fiery spirit and indomitable will of her targaryen ancestors, a true dragon in the making. with hair as pale as winter's snow and eyes as green as the forests of the north, valora was a vision of beauty and strength from the moment she entered the world. her presence commanded attention, her every movement imbued with the grace and confidence of a dragon in flight. raised amidst the splendor of the red keep, valora embraced her targaryen heritage with pride, her spirit unyielding in the face of adversity. from a young age, she displayed a fierce independence and a hunger for greatness that set her apart from her peers. as she grew, valora's martial prowess became evident, her skill with sword and bow rivaled only by her ferocity in battle. she trained tirelessly alongside the knights and warriors of house stark and house targaryen, honing her abilities to a razor's edge in preparation for the challenges that lay ahead. yet, beneath her fiery exterior, valora harbored a deep sense of duty and loyalty to her family and her house. she stood as a steadfast defender of house stark and house targaryen, her unwavering resolve a beacon of hope amidst the chaos and uncertainty of the times.

on a first glance at valora targaryen, one would be struck by her commanding presence and fierce beauty, a true reflection of her noble heritage. adorned in garments of the finest targaryen silk and stark wool, her attire speaks of both elegance and strength, tailored to accentuate her slender form and martial prowess. around her neck, a simple yet elegant pendant hangs, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's wing, a subtle nod to her targaryen lineage. her ears are adorned with small silver earrings, their intricate designs reminiscent of the sigils of house stark and house targaryen, a testament to her dual heritage. in her hair, braids cascade like rivers of silver, woven with small gems and crystals that catch the light with every movement. her attire is practical yet refined, allowing for ease of movement on the battlefield while still maintaining a regal air befitting her noble birth.

as one spends more time in the company of valora, additional details about her character and personality would gradually come to light, revealing the complexity and depth of her nature. beyond her martial prowess and noble bearing, valora possesses a strength of character that is evident in every aspect of her being. she is fiercely independent and unyielding in the face of adversity, her resolve unwavering even in the darkest of times. valora's sense of duty to her family and her house runs deep, guiding her every action and decision. she is fiercely loyal to those she holds dear, willing to sacrifice everything to ensure their safety and prosperity. while Valora may project an aura of fierceness and determination, those who know her well understand that beneath her stoic exterior lies a heart filled with compassion and empathy. she cares deeply for the welfare of others, and will go to great lengths to help those in need, regardless of their station. despite her prowess on the battlefield, valora possesses a keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge. she is well-read and well-versed in a variety of subjects, from history and politics to philosophy and literature, and enjoys engaging in stimulating conversations with those who share her intellectual curiosity. valora holds a deep reverence for the traditions and customs of her noble lineage, particularly those of house stark and house targaryen. she takes pride in upholding the values of honor, duty, and loyalty that have guided her family for generations, and seeks to preserve their legacy for future generations to come. despite her outward strength and confidence, valora grapples with her own inner demons and insecurities, struggling to reconcile the expectations placed upon her by society with her own desires and ambitions. she wrestles with doubts and fears in the quiet moments of solitude, a reminder of her own humanity amidst the chaos of the world.

if valora truly trusts someone, they would be granted access to the deepest chambers of her heart and soul, revealing aspects of her character that she guards fiercely from the outside world. behind the armor of her fierce demeanor lies a vulnerability that she rarely shows to others. to those she trusts implicitly, valora would reveal her fears, doubts, and insecurities, allowing them to see the cracks in her facade and the struggles she faces in her quest for greatness. despite her outward stoicism, valora experiences a depth of emotion that runs as deep as the ocean. In moments of trust and intimacy, she would share her joys and sorrows, her triumphs and failures, allowing others to glimpse the full spectrum of her humanity. true strength, in valora's eyes, lies not in the absence of weakness, but in the ability to confront and overcome it. to those she trusts, she would reveal the true extent of her resilience and fortitude, showing them the depths of her courage and determination in the face of adversity. valora's trust is a precious gift, bestowed upon only a select few who have proven themselves worthy of her confidence. to those she trusts implicitly, she would offer her unwavering loyalty and support, standing by their side through thick and thin, no matter the cost. beneath her steely exterior, valora possesses a deep well of compassion and empathy for others. to those she trusts, she would extend a hand of kindness and understanding, offering comfort and solace in times of need and guidance in times of uncertainty.

valora's dragon hatching occurred during a momentous event in her life, marking a pivotal turning point in her journey as a dragonrider. the hatching took place amidst the fiery splendor of dragonstone, where ancient legends and prophecies whispered of the return of dragons to the world. the dragon that emerged from its egg bore a striking resemblance to its fiery heritage, its scales shimmering like molten gold in the light of the flames. With wings outstretched and eyes ablaze with primal fury, it exuded an aura of power and majesty that left all who beheld it in awe. as the flames subsided and the dragon took its first tentative steps, valora knew that she had been chosen for a greater purpose. with a heart full of courage and determination, she approached the dragon, extending her hand in a gesture of trust and friendship. in that moment, a bond was forged between valora and her dragon, a bond that transcended mere words and actions. zhe named her dragon "aurora," in honor of the fiery dawn that heralded the birth of a new era for house targaryen.

-valora is not only a skilled warrior but also a masterful dragonrider. she shares a deep bond with her dragon, aurora, and together they are an unstoppable force on the battlefield, their connection allowing them to anticipate each other's movements with uncanny precision. -valora possesses a keen strategic mind, able to devise cunning battle plans and outmaneuver her opponents with ease. she understands the importance of timing and positioning in warfare, using her intellect to turn the tide of battle in her favor. -despite her fiery temperament, valora is known for her level-headedness and pragmatism. she serves as a voice of reason and counsel to her family and allies, offering sage advice and guidance in times of crisis. -valora has a deep-seated sense of justice and compassion, often using her position of power to champion the rights of the downtrodden and oppressed. she is fiercely protective of those under her care, willing to lay down her life to ensure their safety and well-being. -valora is acutely aware of the weight of her family's legacy and the expectations placed upon her as a scion of house targaryen. she strives to honor the memory of her ancestors and uphold the values of honor, duty, and loyalty that have guided her house for generations. -valora is a lifelong learner, constantly seeking to expand her horizons and deepen her understanding of the world around her. She is well-versed in a variety of subjects, from history and politics to the arcane mysteries of magic and prophecy. -beneath her fierce exterior, valora possesses a heart as passionate and fiery as the dragons of old. she is driven by a burning desire to leave her mark on the world, to carve out a legacy worthy of her noble lineage and the dragonblood that flows through her veins.

Vaegon

vaegon targaryen, the youngest son of daemon targaryen and evelyn stark, emerged into the world amidst the swirling mists of the north in the year 113 AC. unlike his fiery sister, valora, vaegon bore a striking resemblance to his mother, with hair as black as midnight and eyes as violet as the evening sky. from a young age, vaegon displayed a quiet and contemplative nature, his thoughts often turning inward as he pondered the mysteries of the world around him. while his sister reveled in the thrill of battle and courtly intrigue, vaegon found solace in the tranquil solitude of the godswood, where he communed with the spirits of his ancestors beneath the whispering leaves of the ancient weirwood trees. though he lacked his sister's outward bravado, vaegon possessed a strength of character and resilience that set him apart. he was steadfast and unwavering in his loyalty to his family and his house, his every action guided by a sense of duty and honor that echoed the ancient oaths sworn by his forebears. as he matured, vaegon's strength and determination became evident to all who knew him, his quiet resolve a testament to the indomitable spirit of jouse stark and house targaryen. he trained diligently in the martial arts, honing his skills with sword and shield under the watchful eye of seasoned warriors, his every movement infused with a grace and precision that belied his youth. despite his reserved nature, vaegon possessed a fiery passion that burned brightly within him, a flame fueled by the dragonblood that flowed through his veins. though he may not have sought out glory or renown like his sister, he was no less determined to leave his mark on the world, to carve out a legacy worthy of his noble lineage and the ancient traditions of his house.

on a first glance at vaegon, one would be struck by his understated elegance and quiet strength, a true reflection of his noble lineage and character. adorned in garments of the finest northern wool and targaryen silk, his attire speaks of both practicality and refinement, tailored to accentuate his slender form and martial prowess. around his neck, vaegon wears a simple pendant fashioned from silver, bearing the sigils of house stark and house targaryen intertwined, a symbol of his dual heritage and unwavering loyalty to both. his ears are unadorned, his preference for simplicity and functionality evident in every aspect of his appearance. in his hair, vaegon's midnight-black locks are neatly trimmed and styled, framing his face with a sense of quiet dignity and resolve.

as one spends more time in the company of vaegon, additional details about his personality would gradually come to light, revealing the depth and complexity of his nature. beyond his reserved demeanor, vaegon possesses a keen intellect and sharp wit. he is well-read and well-versed in a variety of subjects, from history and strategy to philosophy and politics. in conversations, he demonstrates a depth of insight and understanding that belies his quiet nature. while vaegon may appear stoic on the surface, those who know him well understand that he experiences a full range of emotions beneath the mask of his composure. he is capable of great empathy and compassion, though he may not always show it openly. vaegon's sense of duty to his family and his house is unwavering, guiding his every action and decision. he takes his responsibilities seriously, willing to sacrifice his own desires for the greater good of those he serves. vaegon possesses a strategic mind, able to analyze situations and anticipate outcomes with remarkable clarity. He is skilled at devising plans and strategies, often serving as a valuable advisor to his family and allies in times of need. above all, vaegon is a loyal and dependable companion, steadfast in his support of those he cares about. he is a man of his word, his loyalty unwavering even in the face of adversity. vaegon finds solace and inspiration in the natural world, often seeking out moments of quiet contemplation amidst the beauty of the northern wilderness. He has a deep reverence for the ancient traditions of his house and the sacred bond between the starks and the land.

if vaegon truly trusts someone, they would be granted access to the deepest chambers of his heart and soul, revealing aspects of his character that he guards fiercely from the outside world. behind his stoic exterior lies a vulnerability that he rarely shows to others. to those he trusts implicitly, vaegon would reveal his fears, doubts, and insecurities, allowing them to see the inner struggles and complexities that shape his character. though he may appear reserved, vaegon experiences a depth of emotion that runs as deep as the ocean. in moments of trust and intimacy, he would share his joys and sorrows, his triumphs and failures, allowing others to glimpse the full spectrum of his humanity. true strength, in vaegon's eyes, lies not in the absence of weakness, but in the ability to confront and overcome it. to those he trusts, he would reveal the true extent of his resilience and fortitude, showing them the depths of his courage and determination in the face of adversity. vaegon's trust is a precious gift, bestowed upon only a select few who have proven themselves worthy of his confidence. To those he trusts implicitly, he would offer his unwavering loyalty and support, standing by their side through thick and thin, no matter the cost. beneath his reserved demeanor, vaegon possesses a deep well of compassion and empathy for others. to those he trusts, he would extend a hand of kindness and understanding, offering comfort and solace in times of need and guidance in times of uncertainty.

vaegon's journey to hatch his dragon was a tale of patience, perseverance, and spiritual awakening. unlike his sister valora, whose dragon hatched amidst the fiery splendor of dragonstone, vaegon's encounter with his dragon took place in the heart of the northern wilderness, amidst the ancient forests of the wolfswood. it was during a pilgrimage to the sacred grove of the old gods that vaegon experienced a profound spiritual awakening, his senses attuned to the whispers of the wind and the rustle of leaves. as he knelt before the towering weirwood tree, lost in silent communion with the spirits of his ancestors, a feeling of peace and serenity washed over him, filling him with a sense of purpose and clarity. in that moment of transcendent connection, vaegon felt a stirring deep within his soul, as if something ancient and primal had awakened within him. and then, with a deafening roar that echoed through the forest, a dragon emerged from the depths of the grove, its scales shimmering like emeralds in the dappled sunlight. unlike the fearsome dragons of old, this dragon possessed a serene and ethereal beauty, its form wreathed in wisps of mist and shadow. Its eyes, like pools of liquid silver, bore into vaegon's soul, filling him with a sense of wonder and awe. in that instant, vaegon knew that he had been chosen by the spirits of the forest to become a dragonrider, a guardian of the ancient bond between the starks and the land. with a heart full of reverence and gratitude, he approached the dragon, extending his hand in a gesture of trust and acceptance. and so, amidst the whispering trees of the wolfswood, vaegon forged a bond with his dragon, a bond that transcended the boundaries of time and space. he named his dragon "silvershade," in honor of its shimmering scales and the mystical aura that surrounded it, a testament to the sacred connection between man and beast, spirit and flesh.

additional details about vaegon

-vaegon possesses a deep connection to the mystical and magical forces that permeate the world of westeros. he is attuned to the ancient energies of the land, often finding solace and guidance in the whispers of the old gods and the spirits of his ancestors. -espite his martial upbringing, vaegon possesses a hidden talent for the arts. he is skilled in the practice of calligraphy and painting, often finding inspiration in the natural beauty of the northern landscape and the intricate patterns of the night sky. -vaegon is an avid reader and collector of books, with a vast library of tomes and scrolls that span a wide range of subjects. he finds solace in the written word, often losing himself in the pages of ancient texts and epic tales of heroism and adventure. -vaegon's thirst for knowledge knows no bounds, driving him to seek out new experiences and explore the mysteries of the world around him. he is a lifelong learner, constantly seeking to expand his horizons and deepen his understanding of the world and its inhabitants. -vaegon is deeply spiritual, with a reverence for the ancient traditions and rituals of his house and the mystical forces that govern the world. he spends hours in quiet contemplation and meditation, seeking to commune with the spirits of his ancestors and gain insight into the mysteries of the cosmos. -despite his targaryen heritage, vaegon holds a deep love for the morth and its people, seeing himself as a guardian of the ancient traditions and values that define the region. he is fiercely protective of the north and its way of life, willing to defend it against any who would seek to threaten its sovereignty.

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #house of the dragon oc #game of thrones oc #house of the dragon #game of thrones

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gcthvile · 10 days

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House Of The Dragon OC - Evelyn Stark

in the ancient halls of winterfell, amidst the howling winds and endless snows, there came forth a maiden of unparalleled beauty and grace. born in the year of 88 AC, evelyn stark emerged as the embodiment of winterfell's majesty, her visage renowned far and wide as the very essence of northern allure. but beauty, like the winter's frost, oft conceals depths untold. though she bore the title of "winterfell's beauty," evelyn was known far and wide as the ice queen, a moniker earned not for her chill demeanor alone, but for the steely resolve that lay beneath her fair countenance. from her earliest days, evelyn walked the hallowed halls of winterfell with a regal bearing, her every step echoing the legacy of her noble lineage. Yet, while her brother, cregan stark, reveled in the warmth of companionship, ebelyn found solace in the quiet solitude of the castle's icy embrace.

yet, amidst the frosty embrace of winterfell, evelyn's heart yearned for more than duty alone could provide. beneath her stoic exterior, a tempest of emotion raged, her dreams and desires tempered by the relentless demands of her birthright. as the years passed and her beauty blossomed, evelyn's reputation as winterfell's preeminent lady grew, her grace and poise a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of a land gripped by turmoil and strife. yet, with each passing day, the burden of leadership weighed ever heavier upon her shoulders, her resolve tested by the shifting sands of politics and the ever-present specter of treachery.

upon a first glance at evelyn, one would be captivated by her ethereal beauty, a vision of northern allure amidst the frosty halls of winterfell. adorned in garments of the finest northern wool, her attire speaks of timeless elegance and understated grace, tailored to perfection to accentuate her slender form and regal bearing. around her neck, a delicate silver necklace hangs, adorned with a pendant fashioned in the likeness of the direwolf sigil of house stark, a symbol of her unwavering loyalty to her noble lineage. her ears are adorned with simple yet elegant silver earrings, their subtle gleam catching the flickering torchlight as she moves with effortless grace. in her hair, intricately woven braids cascade like rivers of silver, their delicate strands interwoven with small pearls and crystals, each one a testament to the artistry of winterfell's skilled craftsmen. and upon her fingers, silver rings gleam like frost-kissed jewels, each one a token of her station and prestige, worn with a quiet confidence that speaks volumes of her noble birthright.

upon spending more time in the company of evelyn, one would come to appreciate the layers of complexity that lie beneath her serene facade. while her icy demeanor may initially seem aloof and distant, those who earn her trust will discover a fiercely loyal and compassionate soul, driven by a profound sense of duty and honor. in conversation, evelyn's intellect shines like a beacon, her keen mind able to dissect the intricacies of politics and strategy with ease. yet, beneath her steely exterior, there exists a wellspring of emotion, carefully guarded yet undeniable in its intensity. though she may rarely show it, her love for her family runs deep, a fierce and unyielding bond that shapes every decision she makes. despite her noble bearing, evelyn is not immune to the trials and tribulations of life in the north. beneath the weight of her responsibilities, there lies a vulnerability that few are privy to witness, a longing for connection and understanding amidst the tumult of her duties as a lady of winterfell.

if evelyn truly trusts someone, they would be granted access to the deepest recesses of her heart and soul, revealing aspects of her character that few have ever glimpsed. in the sanctuary of their confidence, she would shed the armor of her icy facade, allowing her vulnerability and humanity to shine through. those who earn evelyn's trust would witness a profound depth of emotion and empathy, hidden beneath layers of stoicism and reserve. they would come to understand the weight of her burdens and the sacrifices she has made in service to her family and her people, as well as the quiet strength that sustains her in the face of adversity. in moments of intimacy and trust, evelyn would share her hopes and fears, her dreams and aspirations, laying bare the innermost desires that drive her relentless pursuit of excellence. they would see the tenderness and affection that she reserves for those she holds dear, as well as the fierce protectiveness with which she guards their well-being.

the meeting between evelyn stark and daemon targaryen was a convergence of two worlds, each marked by its own legacy and lineage. it occurred in the hallowed halls of the red keep, amidst the splendor and intrigue of courtly affairs, where alliances were forged and destinies intertwined. arranged marriages were a common practice in the realm, a means of solidifying political alliances and securing the stability of the realm. thus, it was with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation that evelyn ventured into the lion's den, her heart heavy with the weight of duty and expectation. daemon, renowned for his fiery temperament and fierce ambition, awaited her arrival with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. their first encounter was marked by tension and uncertainty, as their contrasting personalities clashed like thunder and lightning in the stormy skies above. evelyn, with her steely resolve and unyielding demeanor, met daemon's aggression with a cool indifference, refusing to be cowed by his intimidating presence. and yet, beneath the surface, there flickered a spark of something undeniable, a mutual respect born of shared strength and determination.

valora and vaegon, the offsprings of evelyn stark and daemon targaryen, embodied the merging of two noble bloodlines, their unique heritage reflected in both their appearance and their personalities. valora, the eldest daughter, inherited her father's fiery spirit and indomitable will, a true targaryen through and through. with hair as pale as winter's snow and eyes as green as the forests of the north, she moved with the grace and confidence of a dragon in flight. fierce and independent, valora embraced her targaryen heritage with pride, her spirit unyielding in the face of adversity. in contrast, vaegon, the youngest son, bore a striking resemblance to his mother, with hair as black as midnight and eyes as violet as the evening sky. quiet and contemplative, he possessed the stark resilience and determination, tempered by the fiery passion of his targaryen blood. though he lacked his sister's outward bravado, vaegon's strength lay in his steadfastness and unwavering loyalty to his family and his house.

additional details about evelyn

-despite her noble upbringing, evelyn possesses a keen skill in combat, trained in the art of swordplay and archery from a young age. her prowess on the battlefield is matched only by her strategic brilliance, earning her the respect and admiration of allies and adversaries alike. -evelyn is an avid scholar, with a thirst for knowledge that rivals even the most learned maesters of the citadel. she spends countless hours poring over ancient tomes and scrolls, seeking to unlock the secrets of history and magic that lie hidden within the annals of time. -as lady of winterfell, evelyn's foremost duty is to safeguard the interests of house stark and the people of the north. she takes this responsibility seriously, standing as a stalwart defender against threats both foreign and domestic, her resolve unwavering in the face of adversity. -evelyn shares a deep reverence for the ancient traditions of the north, particularly the worship of the old gods of the forest. she finds solace amidst the towering weirwood trees of winterfell's godswood, where she seeks guidance and communion with the spirits of her ancestors. -beneath her stoic exterior, evelyn possesses a talent for music and poetry, skills she keeps hidden from all but her closest confidants. in moments of solitude, she can often be found composing melodies or penning verses that speak to the depths of her soul. -evelyn is a skilled diplomat and negotiator, adept at navigating the treacherous waters of courtly intrigue with grace and cunning. her keen insight and sharp wit make her a formidable opponent, her every move calculated to advance the interests of her house and her people. -evelyn harbors a deep love for the natural world, finding solace and serenity amidst the untamed beauty of the northern wilderness. she often retreats to the tranquil solitude of the wolfswood, where she can lose herself in the whispering winds and the gentle rustle of leaves, far from the intrigues of court and castle.

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #hotd oc #house of the dragon oc #game of thrones oc #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #game of thrones

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gcthvile · 23 days

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thanks for the tag @gaminggirlsstuff !

four characters that make me say, "my man, my man, my man"

I'm not sure what to call this 💀

no pressure tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @rooster-84

And my man, thank you to my mannn 👏🏻💕

Thank you for tagging me @zae5 @dr-aegon @venmondiese @thought--bubble @targaryen-dynasty @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @madame-fear @niocel @wolfdressedinlace

four characters that make me say “my man, my man, my man”

yeah ewan gets featured twice, what about it?

No pressure tags ~ @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @faetreides @zaldritzosrose @rafescurtainbangz @connorsui @natti-ice @barbiedragon and anyone who wants to do it

#tag game

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gcthvile · 27 days

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Alaric Greenwood

Name: Alaric Greenwood

Age: 25 (at the time of being transported to the modern world)

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: bisexual

Background

Alaric Greenwood was born in the bustling streets of New York City in the late 1940s. From a young age, he exhibited exceptional intelligence and a strong sense of justice. His parents, both scientists working for the government, recognized his potential early on and encouraged his academic pursuits.

In his late teens, Alaric caught the attention of SHIELD recruiters due to his impressive performance in cryptography and espionage-related tasks. He quickly rose through the ranks, becoming one of the agency's most promising young agents in the 1970s.

During a routine mission involving experimental time-travel technology, Alaric found himself unexpectedly transported through time, landing in present-day New York City. Disoriented and confused, he realized that he had been thrust decades into the future, far beyond his original era.

Despite his initial shock, Alaric quickly adapted to his new surroundings, utilizing his training and intellect to navigate the modern world. However, he soon discovered that the time displacement had altered the fabric of reality, leaving him stranded in a world vastly different from the one he knew.

Personality

Alaric Greenwood is the epitome of a true gentleman, embodying the values of chivalry and kindness that defined the 1970s era. With his charming demeanor and warm smile, he effortlessly puts others at ease, always ready with a helping hand or a comforting word.

As a product of his time, Alaric possesses a strong sense of honor and integrity, holding himself to high moral standards even in the face of adversity. He believes in doing what's right, even when it's not the easiest path to take, and he isn't afraid to stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves.

Despite his gentlemanly demeanor, Alaric also has a playful side, enjoying good-natured banter and lighthearted humor with his friends and colleagues. He's quick with a joke or a witty retort, but always mindful of others' feelings and never at the expense of someone else's dignity.

In relationships, Alaric is a true romantic, with an old-fashioned belief in love and courtship. He treats others with respect and consideration, valuing communication and trust above all else. Whether it's with friends, family, or a romantic partner, Alaric's loyalty knows no bounds, and he will always go above and beyond to show his appreciation and affection.

The 70s family

During his time in the 70s as a young SHIELD agent, Alaric Greenwood had the opportunity to cross paths and become close with influential figures like Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, Elizabeth Stark, Hank Pym, Jarvis and Jason Underwood.

Peggy Carter

Peggy took Alaric under her wing, recognizing his potential and offering him guidance as he navigated the world of espionage. Their relationship was been built on mutual respect and trust, with Peggy serving as a mentor and mother figure to the young agent. Despite the generation gap, Peggy admired Alaric's determination and bravery, seeing in him the same qualities that made her a legendary agent.

Howard Stark

As a close friend and colleague of Peggy's, Howard also took an interest in Alaric's development as an agent. Howard might have even seen Alaric as a protege of sorts, appreciating his intelligence and enthusiasm for the work they did at SHIELD. Their relationship was marked by Howard's playful banter and Alaric's awe at the inventor's technological prowess. Howard even entrusted Alaric with the occasional babysitting duty for his young son, Tony, recognizing the young agent's sense of responsibility despite his youthful demeanor.

Elizabeth Stark

As Howard's sister and a fellow member of the SHIELD team, Elizabeth provided Alaric with another source of support and camaraderie. She acted as a confidante for him, offering advice and companionship as he adjusted to life as an agent. Elizabeth's presence added another layer of warmth and family to Alaric's relationships within the group.

Hank Pym

As a fellow scientist and colleague within SHIELD, Hank Pym shared a unique bond with Alaric, based on their shared love of technology and innovation. Hank mentored Alaric in the field of science, introducing him to new ideas and concepts that would aid him in his missions. Their relationship is characterized by mutual respect and intellectual curiosity, with Hank recognizing Alaric's potential to make significant contributions to their work at SHIELD.

Jarvis

As Howard Stark's loyal butler and confidante, Jarvis provided Alaric with a steady presence and a sense of stability within the hectic world of espionage. Jarvis might have taken on a paternal role towards Alaric, offering him guidance and wisdom as he navigated the challenges of being a young agent. Their relationship is marked by Jarvis's unwavering support and Alaric's deep respect for the elder man's wisdom and integrity.

Jason Underwood

As Peggy Carter's brother and a fellow member of the SHIELD team, Jason would have been like an older brother to Alaric, teasing him mercilessly but also looking out for him in the field. They shared a bond forged through shared experiences and a mutual desire to protect their loved ones. Jason offered Alaric advice and encouragement, helping him navigate the complexities of life as a SHIELD agent.

Modern world

In the modern world, SHIELD stumbled upon something weird—an anomaly messing with time. When they investigated, guess who they found? None other than Alaric Greenwood, looking lost and utterly confused.

SHIELD agents cautiously approached him, and Alaric was all questions. He couldn't wrap his head around how much time had passed. To him, it felt like he blinked and woke up in a totally different world, with crazy tall buildings and gadgets that belong in sci-fi movies.

After some back and forth, SHIELD brought him in for a chat, hoping he had some clues about the time craziness and his own time-traveling adventure. Despite feeling like a fish out of water, Alaric started to get the hang of things, especially with the help of his new buddies at SHIELD.

As he got used to the modern world, Alaric couldn't help but miss the simpler times. But he also saw the potential for making a difference here and now. With his old-school skills and a fresh perspective, he quickly became an asset to SHIELD, diving headfirst into unraveling the mysteries of the present while keeping his past close to his heart.

The Avengers

Tony Stark

As the son of Howard Stark, Tony had known Alaric from a young age, with Alaric occasionally babysitting him during his childhood. When Alaric suddenly finds himself transported to the modern world, he's understandably shocked to see the once-young Tony all grown up and now a renowned genius and superhero. Despite the time gap, Tony welcomes Alaric with open arms, grateful for the familiar face from his past.

Steve Rogers

Like Alaric, Steve Rogers also finds himself displaced in time, albeit from a different era. As fellow "old-timers" in a modern world, Alaric and Steve share a special camaraderie born from their shared experiences and struggles. Alaric respects Steve as a symbol of unwavering courage and integrity, admiring his steadfast commitment to doing what's right no matter the cost. In turn, Steve sees in Alaric a kindred spirit, someone who understands the challenges of adapting to a new era while holding onto the values of the past.

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha, with her sharp wit and formidable skills, initially views Alaric with a mixture of curiosity and caution. As they work together on missions, Natasha comes to appreciate Alaric's gentlemanly demeanor and unwavering dedication to the cause. She respects his integrity and values his perspective, especially when it comes to navigating the complexities of the modern world. Over time, they develop a strong bond built on mutual respect and trust, with Natasha often turning to Alaric as a confidante and ally.

Bruce Banner

Bruce Banner, the brilliant scientist plagued by his alter ego, the Hulk, finds a kindred spirit in Alaric Greenwood. Like Alaric, Bruce knows what it's like to feel out of place in the world, struggling to reconcile his past with his present reality. Despite their differences, Bruce admires Alaric's resilience and compassion, seeing in him a fellow seeker of truth and understanding. They bond over shared experiences and late-night conversations about science and philosophy, finding solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of their lives as Avengers.

Thor

Thor, with his larger-than-life presence and noble demeanor, initially sees Alaric as a curious anomaly from a distant past. However, as they fight side by side in battle and share tales of their respective homelands, Thor comes to appreciate Alaric's bravery and unwavering sense of honor. Their friendship blossoms as they exchange stories of valor and adventure, with Thor viewing Alaric as a worthy companion and ally in the ongoing struggle against evil.

Clint Barton

Clint Barton, the skilled marksman known as Hawkeye, forms a close bond with Alaric Greenwood based on their shared experiences as agents and their mutual respect for each other's abilities. Despite their different backgrounds, Clint and Alaric share a similar sense of humor and a penchant for mischief, often exchanging playful banter during downtime between missions. Clint sees in Alaric a kindred spirit, someone who understands the unique challenges of life as an Avenger and who always has his back in the heat of battle. Their friendship is forged in the fires of adversity, growing stronger with each passing adventure.

Fun facts:

Musical Talents: Despite his dedication to espionage, Alaric has a hidden talent for music. He's a skilled pianist and enjoys playing jazz tunes in his spare time, finding solace and joy in the melodies of his youth.

Gourmet Chef: Alaric is a surprisingly adept cook, specializing in classic 1970s cuisine with a modern twist. His signature dish is a hearty beef bourguignon, a recipe passed down from his mother, which he loves to prepare for his friends and teammates.

Vintage Fashion Enthusiast: With a keen eye for style, Alaric has a passion for vintage fashion from the 1970s. He's often seen sporting retro-inspired outfits, complete with wide-collar shirts, bell-bottom jeans, and suede jackets, adding a touch of old-school flair to his modern-day wardrobe.

Photographic Memory: Alaric possesses a photographic memory, allowing him to recall even the smallest details with remarkable accuracy. This skill comes in handy during missions, where his ability to remember faces, locations, and crucial information proves invaluable to the team.

Bookworm: Despite his adventurous lifestyle, Alaric is an avid reader and enjoys curling up with a good book whenever he gets the chance. His tastes are eclectic, ranging from classic spy novels to historical biographies, and he's always on the lookout for his next literary obsession.

Language Buff: Over the years, Alaric has picked up several languages during his travels and missions with SHIELD. He's fluent in French, Russian, and Mandarin, among others, making him a valuable asset in international operations and diplomatic negotiations.

Vintage Vinyl Collector: Alaric has a passion for music from the 1960s and 70s and is an avid collector of vintage vinyl records. His prized possession is a rare Beatles White Album, which he acquired during a mission in London.

Secret Poetry Enthusiast: Despite his tough exterior, Alaric has a soft spot for poetry and enjoys writing his own verses in his spare time. His favorite poets include Robert Frost and Maya Angelou, whose words inspire him to see beauty in the world around him.

hope you guys like him!

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc

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gcthvile · 30 days

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Thyri

Name: Thyri (formerly known as Milly Brandt on Earth)

Nicknames: Thy, Ri, As-Grouch (by Tony), Valky-Tude (also by Tony)

Age: 1,500 years old.

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: Pansexual

Background:

Thyri was born into a prestigious family in Asgard, the realm of the gods, known for their long lineage of legendary warriors. Her parents were revered warriors themselves, known for their bravery and unwavering loyalty to Asgard's cause. From a young age, Thyri was immersed in the traditions of her people, taught the ways of combat and valor alongside her siblings.

Growing up, Thyri idolized her parents and dreamed of following in their footsteps, eager to prove herself worthy of their legacy. Under their guidance, she honed her skills in swordsmanship and archery, displaying a natural talent for combat that surpassed even her siblings.

Tragedy struck when Thyri was still in her adolescence. During a fierce battle against the forces of darkness that threatened Asgard's peace, her parents fell in combat, sacrificing themselves to protect their comrades. Their loss left a profound void in Thyri's heart, fueling her determination to carry on their legacy and defend her homeland with unmatched ferocity.

Determined to honor her parents' memory, Thyri dedicated herself to her training, pushing herself to the limits of her abilities and beyond. Her relentless pursuit of perfection caught the attention of Odin himself, who saw in her the potential to become one of Asgard's greatest warriors.

Bestowed with the title of Valkyrie, Thyri joined the ranks of Asgard's elite guardians, tasked with the sacred duty of ushering fallen warriors to Valhalla. As a Valkyrie, she soared across the skies on her majestic steed, wielding her enchanted sword with grace and precision, inspiring fear in the hearts of Asgard's enemies.

But beneath her stoic facade, Thyri harbored doubts about the never-ending cycle of violence that consumed her homeland. She questioned the morality of war and longed for a world where peace could flourish without the need for bloodshed.

Her doubts came to a head during a pivotal battle against a powerful enemy that threatened to engulf the Nine Realms in darkness. As the conflict raged on, Thyri witnessed the senseless loss of life and the toll it took on both sides of the conflict. In a moment of clarity, she realized that there had to be another way to achieve justice and harmony, one that didn't rely on the sword alone.

Against Odin's orders to press the offensive, Thyri chose compassion over conquest, seeking to find a peaceful resolution to the conflict. Her decision sparked outrage among her fellow warriors, who saw her actions as a betrayal of Asgard's traditions.

Cast out from her homeland and stripped of her title as a Valkyrie, Thyri found herself adrift in the cosmos, haunted by the memories of her past and uncertain of her future. It was during her journey through the stars that she discovered Earth, a world brimming with life and diversity unlike anything she had ever known.

Inspired by the resilience of humanity and the spirit of cooperation among its people, Thyri vowed to protect this newfound home from any threats that may arise. Taking up the mantle of a fallen hero, she adopted the name Thyri, a symbol of her commitment to atone for her past and forge a new legacy as a guardian of Earth.

After arriving on Earth, Thyri, now operating under the alias Milly Brandt, found herself drawn into the clandestine world of SHIELD, the covert organization tasked with protecting the planet from extraterrestrial threats. Under the watchful eye of Nick Fury, she underwent intensive training and adapted to the nuances of life on Earth, all while keeping her true identity hidden from her new colleagues.

As Milly Brandt, she proved herself to be a valuable asset to SHIELD, utilizing her formidable combat skills and keen intellect to thwart numerous threats to global security. Her unwavering dedication and unassuming demeanor earned her the respect of her fellow agents, though few suspected the truth behind the enigmatic newcomer.

Despite her newfound purpose and sense of belonging within SHIELD, Thyri struggled with the weight of her past and the secrets she harbored. The memories of her life in Asgard and the choices that led to her exile weighed heavily on her conscience, threatening to unravel the fragile facade she had built on Earth.

As she delved deeper into her work at SHIELD, Thyri found herself confronted with echoes of her past, facing adversaries who tested her resolve and forced her to confront the demons she had long sought to bury. With each battle fought and each victory won, she grew more determined to redeem herself and make amends for the mistakes of her past.

But as tensions within SHIELD began to rise and dark forces threatened to tear the organization apart from within, Thyrinfound herself at a crossroads, torn between loyalty to her newfound allies and the truth of her identity. Forced to confront her past in order to secure the future of Earth, she embarked on a journey of self-discovery that would test the limits of her strength and resilience.

Reunion

As Thor's banishment to Earth unfolded, Thyri watched from afar, torn between conflicting emotions of relief and apprehension. She had worked tirelessly to conceal her true identity and distance herself from her past, fearing the consequences of her secret being exposed to the world.

When Thor's arrival on Earth coincided with Thyri's tenure at SHIELD, she found herself faced with a dilemma unlike any she had encountered before. Despite her efforts to maintain a low profile, the sudden reappearance of her former comrade threatened to upend the delicate balance she had worked so hard to maintain.

Desperate to avoid contact with Thor and the potential revelation of her true identity, Thyri kept her distance, watching from the shadows as he navigated the unfamiliar terrain of Midgard. But fate had other plans in store for them, as their paths inevitably crossed in a moment of chance encounter.

In a moment of excitement at seeing a familiar face from her past, Thyri's guard slipped, and she found herself face to face with Thor once more. Before she could stop him, he greeted her with open arms, oblivious to the danger his presence posed to her carefully guarded secret.

In a rush of emotions, Thor's exuberance betrayed Thyri's trust, as he unwittingly revealed her true identity to the others gathered around them. Shock and disbelief washed over her as the truth of her past was laid bare for all to see, threatening to unravel the fragile facade she had built on Earth.

As Thyri grappled with the fallout of Thor's revelation, she realized that the time for hiding was over. Embracing her true identity as a fallen hero from Asgard, she stood tall in the face of adversity, ready to confront the challenges that lay ahead with courage and determination.

Personality

Thyri possesses a rare combination of strength and vulnerability, shaped by her tumultuous past and unwavering sense of duty. Beneath her stoic exterior lies a compassionate soul, deeply affected by the suffering she has witnessed throughout her life. Despite the weight of her burdens, she remains fiercely determined and resilient, refusing to succumb to despair in the face of adversity.

Courageous and honorable to the core, Thyri embodies the virtues of a true warrior, guided by a steadfast moral compass and unwavering dedication to justice. She is willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good, even if it means confronting her own demons and making difficult choices along the way.

While Thyri may initially come across as guarded and aloof, she harbors a profound capacity for empathy and understanding, forged through her experiences on both Asgard and Earth. She forms deep connections with those she trusts, valuing loyalty and camaraderie above all else.

Despite her past mistakes and the scars they have left behind, Thyri refuses to dwell on regrets, choosing instead to focus on the future and the opportunities it holds for redemption and renewal. She approaches each challenge with a fierce determination and unwavering resolve, drawing strength from the bonds she shares with her allies and the knowledge that she is fighting for a cause greater than herself.

In moments of uncertainty or doubt, Thyri relies on her inner strength and resilience to persevere, refusing to back down in the face of overwhelming odds. Her journey of self-discovery and redemption serves as a testament to her indomitable spirit and unwavering commitment to forging a brighter future for herself and those she holds dear.

The Avengers

Thor

Thor's arrival on Earth marks a significant turning point in Thyri's journey, as his presence forces her to confront her past and embrace her true identity. Despite their initial differences and the challenges they face along the way, Thyri and Thor share a deep bond forged through their shared history as warriors of Asgard. As they navigate the complexities of life on Earth together, their relationship evolves from one of tentative allies to that of trusted confidants, united by a common purpose and a shared commitment to protecting their newfound home.

Steve Rogers

Thyri's relationship with Steve is characterized by mutual admiration and respect, rooted in their shared values of honor, duty, and sacrifice. As two warriors from vastly different backgrounds, they find common ground in their unwavering commitment to serving the greater good, often serving as each other's moral compass in times of uncertainty. Their camaraderie is built on a foundation of trust and mutual understanding, as they stand shoulder to shoulder in the face of adversity, ready to defend Earth against any threat that may arise.

Natasha Romanoff

Thyri's relationship with Natasha is one of cautious camaraderie, born out of mutual respect for each other's skills and abilities. Despite their differences in background and temperament, they share a deep understanding of the sacrifices required to be a warrior, and a willingness to put aside personal differences in pursuit of a common goal. As they fight alongside each other on the battlefield, they develop a bond built on trust and mutual reliance, forming a formidable team capable of taking on any challenge that comes their way.

Tony Stark

Thyri's relationship with Tony is characterized by a combination of admiration and exasperation, as they often find themselves at odds due to their differing approaches to problem-solving and conflict resolution. Despite their occasional clashes, they share a begrudging respect for each other's abilities and a mutual desire to protect Earth from any threat that may arise. Their dynamic is marked by witty banter and playful rivalry, tempered by a deep-seated sense of camaraderie born out of their shared experiences as members of the Avengers.

Clint Barton

Thyri's relationship with Clint is one of mutual respect and trust, grounded in their shared experiences as skilled fighters. Despite Clint's initial skepticism towards Thyri due to her mysterious past, they quickly develop a bond forged through their shared dedication to the team and their willingness to put their lives on the line for the greater good. As fellow warriors, they share a deep understanding of the sacrifices required to protect Earth, forming a formidable partnership on the battlefield characterized by seamless coordination and unwavering loyalty.

Bruce Banner

Thyri's relationship with Bruce, and his alter ego, The Hulk, is one marked by a mixture of awe and concern. Initially wary of Bruce's unpredictable transformations and the destructive power of Hulk, Thyri gradually comes to see past the surface to the man beneath the monster. As Bruce struggles to come to terms with his dual nature, Thyri serves as a steadfast ally and confidant, offering him support and understanding in moments of uncertainty and fear. Despite the challenges they face, their bond grows stronger over time, as they learn to trust each other and work together to harness Hulk's power for the greater good.

Other marvel characters

Loki

Thyri's relationship with Loki is one of profound complexity, shaped by a mixture of history, rivalry, and begrudging respect. As fellow inhabitants of Asgard, they share a long and tumultuous history, marked by moments of camaraderie as well as betrayal. Despite their differences and the animosity that often simmers beneath the surface, Thyri and Loki share a deep understanding of each other's struggles and motivations, forged through their shared experiences as members of Asgard's royal family. Though their relationship is fraught with tension and mistrust, they are bound together by a common heritage and a sense of obligation to their homeland, leading to moments of reluctant cooperation tempered by underlying suspicion.

Brunhilde

Thyri's relationship with Brunhilde, also known as Valkyrie, is one characterized by mutual respect, admiration, and a shared sense of duty. As fellow warriors of Asgard, they once fought side by side as members of the Valkyrior, tasked with defending the realm from threats both internal and external. Despite the tragic circumstances that led to Thyri's exile from Asgard, Brunhilde remains a steadfast ally and friend, offering her support and guidance as Thyri navigates the complexities of life on Earth. United by their shared experiences and a common bond forged through countless battles fought together, Thyri and Brunhilde stand as kindred spirits, bound by their unwavering commitment to protecting those in need and upholding the values of honor and valor that define their legacy as warriors of Asgard.

Stephen Strange

Thyri shares a mutual respect with Strange, admiring his mastery of the mystical arts and his dedication to protecting Earth from supernatural threats. Their paths occasionally intersect when facing otherworldly adversaries, and they form a formidable team when combining their unique skills and abilities.

Peter Parker

Thyri sees Peter as a kindred spirit, recognizing his youthful idealism and sense of responsibility. She admires his courage in the face of danger and often serves as a mentor figure, offering guidance and support as he navigates the challenges of being a young hero.

T'Challa

Thyri respects T'Challa's leadership and wisdom, recognizing him as a noble and honorable ruler. They share a common dedication to protecting the innocent and upholding justice, often collaborating on missions that require their combined strength and expertise.

Carol Danvers

Thyri admires Carol's strength and resilience, seeing her as a role model and fellow warrior. They share a deep bond forged through their experiences as powerful heroes, and Thyri often looks to Carol for guidance and inspiration in times of uncertainty.

Bucky Barnes

Thyri empathizes with Bucky's struggles with his past and his efforts to atone for his actions as a brainwashed assassin. They share a mutual respect forged through their experiences as warriors, and Thyri often serves as a confidant and ally to Bucky as he seeks redemption.

Wanda Maximoff

Thyri feels a sense of kinship with Wanda, empathizing with her struggles as a powerful being grappling with her own identity and place in the world. Despite their differences in background and abilities, they share a bond forged through shared experiences of loss and redemption, serving as sources of strength and support for each other in times of need.

Extra information

Despite her stoic demeanor on the battlefield, Thyri has a hidden talent for storytelling and enjoys regaling her fellow warriors with tales of Asgardian lore and epic battles from her homeland.

Thyri has a soft spot for animals, particularly horses, and often spends her downtime at the stables, bonding with the majestic creatures and honing her skills as a rider.

In addition to her prowess in combat, Thyri is also a skilled artist, finding solace and expression through painting and sketching during quiet moments of reflection.

Thyri has a weakness for Midgardian cuisine, especially Earth's desserts. She can often be found indulging in sweets like chocolate cake or ice cream, savoring each bite with childlike delight.

Despite her imposing stature and fearsome reputation on the battlefield, Thyri is surprisingly fond of music and has a talent for playing the harp, finding solace in its melodic strains during moments of solitude.

In her downtime, Thyri enjoys exploring the natural beauty of Earth, often taking long walks in the wilderness or hiking through rugged terrain to reconnect with the world around her.

Thyri harbors a secret love for poetry, often composing verses in her spare time as a way to express her innermost thoughts and emotions.

hope you guys like her!

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#charlie reblogs #I love getting to know new ocs #also I love Lesley-Ann Brandt #Her as Maze in Lucifer 🫠❤️‍🔥#<tags #i love her sm!!#like literally wife

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gcthvile · 1 month

Text

Thyri

Name: Thyri (formerly known as Milly Brandt on Earth)

Nicknames: Thy, Ri, As-Grouch (by Tony), Valky-Tude (also by Tony)

Age: 1,500 years old.

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: Pansexual

Background:

Reunion

Personality

The Avengers

Thor

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Tony Stark

Clint Barton

Bruce Banner

Other marvel characters

Loki

Brunhilde

Stephen Strange

Peter Parker

T'Challa

Carol Danvers

Bucky Barnes

Wanda Maximoff

Extra information

Despite her stoic demeanor on the battlefield, Thyri has a hidden talent for storytelling and enjoys regaling her fellow warriors with tales of Asgardian lore and epic battles from her homeland.

Thyri has a soft spot for animals, particularly horses, and often spends her downtime at the stables, bonding with the majestic creatures and honing her skills as a rider.

In addition to her prowess in combat, Thyri is also a skilled artist, finding solace and expression through painting and sketching during quiet moments of reflection.

Thyri has a weakness for Midgardian cuisine, especially Earth's desserts. She can often be found indulging in sweets like chocolate cake or ice cream, savoring each bite with childlike delight.

In her downtime, Thyri enjoys exploring the natural beauty of Earth, often taking long walks in the wilderness or hiking through rugged terrain to reconnect with the world around her.

Thyri harbors a secret love for poetry, often composing verses in her spare time as a way to express her innermost thoughts and emotions.

hope you guys like her!

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc

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gcthvile · 2 months

Text

Fractured Soul

Characters: Thiego Strange and Estella Strange

warnings: violence, angst

fandom: marvel

summary: Driven mad by loss, Thiego Strange unleashes darkness; hunting his sister through realities to save her from her death as the evil Darkhold corrupts his soul, damning him forever in the abyss of his creation.

The multiverse swirled around Thiego as he drifted between worlds, shadows of other lives glimpsed through tears in reality. Always he searched, guided by the cold whispers of the Darkhold.

This time, he found purchase in a form all too similar. His grey eyes opened to a mirrored Sanctum, then narrowed as dark magic surged within stolen flesh.

"Stella?" His voice, though not his own, echoed through empty halls. No reply came, setting his new heart racing.

Rushing through familiar rooms revealed only dust and silence. "Hermana, where are you?" Panic rising, Thiego tore through portals to the other dimensions, seeking any trace of her light.

In the mirror dimension, he finally stopped short. On the ground lay a girl, dark hair splayed in a halo of blood. His hands shook as he knelt, rolling her still form over to find eyes devoid of life gazing back, empty of the joy they once held.

A tear slipped down his stolen cheek, but no more sorrow could be felt - only an all-consuming rage. "Who did this to you?" he hissed, gathering Stella's fragile frame in twisted arms.

A presence intruded then, and Thiego whirled to see his alternate self staring in horror at the scene. "What have you done?" the other gasped, backing away in fear and disgust.

His voice a growl, Thiego advanced on the trembling form before him. "I? I have done nothing. But you...you failed to protect her." With a maddened cackle, dark magic writhed between his clenched fists. "For that, you must pay the ultimate price."

The other's screams rent the air, but Thiego felt only a grim satisfaction as he watched the final vestiges of light fade from wide, betrayed eyes. Another Thiego fallen, another Stella lost, but he felt one step closer to his goal - to undo his crimes, no matter the cost.

The sound of shattering reality echoed in the void as Thiego strode between worlds once more. His stolen body lay lifeless where he'd left it, another failure to add to a growing pile of ashes.

He emerged in a city under siege, spells and explosions lighting the chaotic night. A version of himself fought valiantly below, sending bursts of magic towards an advancing horde. But for all his skill, he was outnumbered - and so was she.

A flash of dark hair caught Thiego's eye, and his stolen heart froze. Stella battled back-to-back with her brother, protecting civilians as they fled destroyed buildings. But a mutant slipped through their defenses, claws slicing through the air.

Time seemed to slow as horror rooted Thiego in place. A screech, and Stella crumpled; his counterpart's anguished screams echoed her name to the uncaring stars.

Rage turned his vision red once more. With a wave of crackling energy, Thiego swept the remaining beasts from this world. The other sank to his knees amid the carnage, cradling Stella's still form as sobs wracked his bleeding form.

"You failed," Thiego hissed, dark presence announcing his arrival. Twinned grey eyes, one pair drowned in tears, snapped up to meet his cold gaze.

"I tried—" a hoarse whisper was all that could be uttered past guilt and grief.

A sneer twisted Thiego's face, corrupted by the blood on his hands and madness in his heart. "Not hard enough." Dark magic curled around clenched fists, eager to deliver punishment upon this broken shell who dared call himself Sorcerer Supreme.

Time lost all meaning as Thiego traveled the endless paths between lifelines. Stella's death played out in infinite variations, each one tearing him further into the abyss.

He saw her cut down in battle, ravaged by plague, struck down by common illness - any fate but growing old at his side was unacceptable. And with each failure came retribution, another version of himself destroyed for his inability to keep her safe.

Some Thiegos begged for the mercy of his blade, madness and grief consuming them from within. Others raged and wept, but met their end all the same upon his hands of twisting shadow.

He witnessed Stellas perish by manipulation, falling prey to those who sought to use her gift for evil. Times when even her power could not withstand the horrors that crept in shadows.

And through it all, the Darkhold fueled his rage, whispers dripping promises of undoing the past if only he had the strength to pay its price. Reality unraveled around the edges as Thiego plunged deeper into the void between, losing even the memory of why he quested to begin with.

All that remained was the cold need winding through his veins, to save her or punish any who failed - an endless, maddened loop with no escape but the complete destruction of all that ever was. His soul shattered into fragments scattered across infinities, leaving only an unleashed darkness in his place.

Months passed in the blink of an eye as Thiego drifted through reality itself, shattered psyche clinging to the ruins of a single goal - to undo what could not be changed.

He lost count of the Thiegos destroyed, the endless Stellas who slipped forever from his grasp no matter what path he took. All that remained was the howling emptiness and the Darkhold's cruel song, promises twisting into darker vows with every failure.

Time came when he could no longer remember why he quested, what face belonged to the light he chased through the long tunnels between worlds. There was only the seductive whispers from aged pages, realities unraveling at his merest thought as the book's pull overwhelmed his ravaged mind.

It was then that Thiego returned to his original universe, the first ghostly remnants of a life now lost to the ravages of torment. But where once stood a shining Sanctum and loved ones, now only ruins remained in his wake.

Here, in these bones of a dead world, the last shreds of his sanity fell away into the waiting jaws of the Darkhold. With a wave of crackling darkness to mirror the void within, Thiego rent reality asunder, tearing down all that yet stood with howls of maddened grief and rage.

In the smoking ashes of creation, only he stood amid a dead, formless waste wrought by his hand alone. The Darkhold's calls were silent now, its dark spells fully imprinted upon his blackened soul with none left to enact further tragic mercy upon.

Alone in the frigid dark he had made, the broken remnants that were Thiego Strange knew only an eternal abyss, damned to wander lifeless eternities with only memories of lost lights to keep him company in the lonely dark.

welp, enjoy this tiny bit of angst 😁

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc #thiego strange #estella strange #stephen strange

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gcthvile · 2 months

Text

My Goodbye

Characters: Finlay Holmes (OC) & Sherlock Holmes

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: none

Summary: After a case goes wrong due to Fin's sentiment, brothers Sherlock and Fin argue about the place of emotion in detective work, with Fin dismissed from Sherlock's tutelage as too weak, leading to a bitter rift between the two.

The moonlight shone through the window of 221B Baker Street. Finlay Holmes sat awake in the dark, unable to sleep as memories of Rose haunted his mind. He had tried everything to save her from the curse of lycanthropy but failed. All he had succeeded in doing was make her into a monster.

Fin heard footsteps descending the stairs and knew his brother Sherlock was awake too, no doubt thinking through their latest case. He wasn't surprised when Sherlock entered the living room and flipped the switch, light flooding the area.

"Still dwelling on past failures, Finlay?" Sherlock said coldly.

Fin didn't meet his gaze. "I only wanted to help her."

Sherlock scoffed. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. You let your emotions cloud your judgement and that is why the case was never solved."

"At least I cared about helping people!" Fin shot back, stung. "All you care about is proving how smart you are."

Sherlock's eyes flashed. "Caring is not an advantage, Finlay. I thought I had taught you that. Emotions will only drag you down and cause you to make mistakes."

"So I'm just supposed to shut off all my human feelings then?" Fin cried angrily.

"Feelings have no place in the logical pursuit of the truth," Sherlock said coldly. "Which is why you will never be as great a detective as I am. You're too weak."

Fin jumped up, fists clenched. "Just because you've cut yourself off from the world doesn't make you superior. There is strength in compassion."

Sherlock gazed at his brother dispassionately. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify your failure? Pity will not solve cases, Finlay. If you do not learn to control your emotions, you will only continue to fail."

Fin trembled with anger and pain, tears welling in his eyes. Without a word, he turned and fled up the stairs, unable to bear another word from his harsh brother. Sherlock watched him go impassively, but deep inside, he too felt a tiny flicker of regret at driving his younger sibling to such despair.

Fin reached the top of the stairs, breathing heavily. Sherlock's accusations had hit their mark - was he becoming too soft? Too prone to letting his heart rule his head?

He heard Sherlock ascending behind him. "You know I speak the truth, Finlay. Ever since that girl, you've been sloppy in your work."

Fin spun around angrily. "Don't bring Rose into this. I was trying to help her."

"And look where your efforts led - to failure and disaster. Your sentiment compromised the case from the beginning." Sherlock's eyes bored into his brother's. "You've let caring cloud your judgment. That will be your downfall if you do not learn control."

Fin knew deep down Sherlock was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Had he approached the case with more detachment from the start, things might have turned out differently. But could he truly shut off his capacity for empathy, as his brother seemed to have done?

Fin looked away, pained by the truth in Sherlock's words. Sherlock continued, his voice almost gentle in its reproach.

"Caring will not serve you well in our line of work, Finlay. I had hoped to teach you to shut away distractions and let logic be your guide. Like myself, and Mycroft. Where did I go wrong in your training that left you still susceptible to emotion over reason?"

Fin had no answer. Sherlock sighed. "I warned you attachment would only lead to heartache. The Rose case was a test, and you failed by becoming too personally invested. For your own good, I suggest honing your detachment. It is the path to becoming as great a thinker as I."

Sherlock regarded Fin coldly as he was met with silence. "It is clear my teachings have not stuck as they should. No more will I waste my time trying to mold you into the logical detective I had hoped for. You are dismissed from your apprenticeship."

Fin met his gaze defiantly. "You may claim emotion is a weakness, brother, but I believe true strength lies in maintaining one's humanity even in the darkest of times."

"Spare me your sentimental platitudes," Sherlock sneered. "I will solve my cases through reason alone. You are welcome to wallow in feelings and no doubt fail time and again as a result. Consider this my final lesson - caring will not make you a great man."

Fin glared at Sherlock, unwilling to back down from his principles even now. He scoffed as Sherlock dismissed him coldly.

"Of course this is how you react. Emotions are inconvenient to the great Sherlock Holmes, so you discard anyone touched by them. But we do not all have the luxury of shutting ourselves off from human connections and compassion."

Fin met Sherlock's icy gaze with mingled anger and sorrow. Despite their differences, part of him had always seen Sherlock as an older brother and mentor.

"While you retreat into your mind palace, I am left dealing with the real consequences of our cases. The lives impacted, the grief that remains. Tell me Sherlock - what good is brilliant deduction if it does not also serve to relieve suffering in this world?"

Sherlock did not deign to respond, but Fin saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Perhaps not all hope was lost that one day, Sherlock might learn there was merit to balancing logic with humanity.

Fin spoke to Sherlock with thinly veiled anger and pain, "So that is how you wish this to end - with your cold dismissal. Very well, brother. Consider me out of your precious mind palace from here on. I shall not darken your door with my inferior sentiments ever again."

He took a step closer to stare directly into Sherlock's impassive eyes. "You claim to do this for my sake, but we both know your pride cannot stand the existence of another viewpoint. No matter - from this day forth, I am excised from your life as neatly as one of your experiments. I wish you joy in your solitude, Sherlock Holmes."

With that bitter parting shot, Fin spun on his heel and strode toward the stairs, refusing to shed another tear where his brother could see. Though it pained him deeply, he vowed then and there to forge his own path without the elder Holmes' domineering shadow.

As Fin reached the stairs, Sherlock's icy voice stopped him in his tracks. "Do not flatter yourself that you were ever more than a subject in one of my experiments, Finlay. I aimed to sculpt an unfeeling machine for logic, not foster any lasting bond."

Fin turned to face Sherlock once more, eyes blazing with hurt pride. "And what a waste of potential your experiment proved to be, since sentiment yet remains in me as in any human being. I see now your true purpose was merely to prove your own brilliance, not impart any true wisdom."

Fin continued down the stairs, but then was overwhelmed by a surge of emotion as he heard no response from his brother. He turned back to face Sherlock, hands clenched tightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

"You claim such wisdom and intellect, brother, yet you remain alone with only your work for company. While I fight every day to ease suffering and make meaningful connections with others. Should friendship and love not be part of a full life, no matter the sacrifices? I pity you your isolation, even as you scorn mine as weakness."

Sherlock met his gaze coolly, giving no indication these words had landed. But Fin saw a tiny flicker of something - regret, loneliness, he could not be sure - flash behind the icy facade before Sherlock turned away once more.

Fin stood at the bottom of the stairs, tears still threatening to fall despite his best efforts. He wondered sadly if this rift could ever be healed.

Sherlock looked down at him coldly. "Your hope that I will one day see the value in sentiment is misplaced, little brother. Logic alone has served me well thus far in life. But by all means, waste your energy clinging to childish notions of compassion if you must. Time will show which of us has taken the wise path."

With that parting shot, Sherlock turned away once more. Fin sighed, heart heavy. He knew only time would tell if his brother could be swayed, or if this was truly goodbye to the mentor he had so respected. For now, all he could do was pursue his own vision of justice - one guided by both head and heart.

it's a bit shorter than my other fics but i hope you enjoy!

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock oc #finlay hokmes

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gcthvile · 2 months

Text

The Prince of Light and The Shadow King

Characters: Charming! Nikolai, Dark Prince! Alexander, Queen Baghra and King Eryk.

warnings: violence, abuse

fandom: OUAT

summary: Alexander's lust for power poisons the kingdom, but Nikolai's light still burns. As the Shadow King tightens his grip, Nikolai prepares to rise against the darkness forever oppressing their land.

In the kingdom of Vinterkyla, Queen Baghra rejoiced at the birth of her first son - Alexander, a healthy baby boy born under the light of the full moon.

From his first cries, all who heard knew this child was gifted, or cursed, with a power over shadows. Darkness itself seemed to swirl around the infant Alexander, dancing at his command.

Five long years passed with no further heirs. The prince grew into his gift, manipulating shadows with alarming precision for one so young. While a source of pride, Alexander's talents also brought unease to the court.

His eyes shone with an unnatural affinity for the dark arts, forbidden knowledge somehow calling to the prince even then. Alexander's soul seemed to blacken more each day, cruelty replacing childhood innocence.

Finally, the queen announced another royal birth was imminent. On a dawn full of promise, Prince Nikolai entered the world - a beacon of light to counter his elder brother's darkness.

Though smaller, Nikolai was fierce and strong. From the first, he displayed an affinity for banishing shadows with his joyful presence. But while the kingdom rejoiced over their newest prince, tensions were rising within the royal family.

Alexander grew fiercely possessive and jealous of the attention shown to Nikolai. And as the brothers grew into their powers, it became clear a great rivalry was blossoming between the Prince of Light and the Prince of Darkness.

"Come brother, let's see who masters the dark arts best."

Prince Alexander smirked down at Nikolai, only 10 winters to his 15. They stood in the shadowy training arena, a gift from their father meant to nurture the brothers' talents. But Alexander had more sinister plans.

"I do not wish to compete, Alexander," Nikolai said cautiously. "Our powers should be used to help people, not hurt each other."

"Help people?" Alexander spat. "Power is meant to rule people, Nikolai, not coddle them. And I will rule this land someday, with you as my humble servant..."

He flung out a hand, shadows lashing towards Nikolai faster than he could follow. Just in time, Nikolai brought up a shield of light, dissipating the tendrils into wisps of smoke.

"You will have to do better than that," smirked Nikolai, though fear curdled in his gut at his brother's malice. Alexander's eyes narrowed.

"So the little prince has some fight after all. Let us see how you handle this!" With a roar, a wave of pitch darkness slammed into Nikolai, sending him crashing through shields of light into the wall.

He gasped in pain as Alexander loomed over him, shadows wrapping his body like chains. "You were a mistake, Nikolai. Mother should have birthed me as an only child, to rule as I was meant to!"

His hand gripped Nikolai's throat as shadows curled around his windpipe. "This kingdom will be mine alone. Say farewell, little brother..."

Suddenly a light flared within Nikolai, banishing the shadows with an explosion of power. He collapsed, panting. "One...day...people will see...you for...what you are..."

Alexander's eyes blazed with loathing. This was only the beginning.

Several bitter winters had passed since the tragic demise of King Eryk and Queen Baghra. Though the cause was never determined, all knew Dark Prince Alexander had much to gain by their absence.

Within days, he had seized the throne of Vinterkyla, crowning himself King with ruthless efficiency. But Alexander's ambition was not sated with mere political power. He lusted to master the dark magics his parents had forbidden, including full command over shadows themselves.

To do so required energy, sacrifice...and a certain "assistant" to direct as a vessel for his experiments. Younger brother Nikolai was the perfect subject. Now at 20 winters to Alexander's 25, Nikolai remained defiantly loyal to their people - a threat to the new Shadow King.

Under guise of 'brotherly training,' Alexander relentlessly drilled Nikolai in the murkiest arts, draining his strength and will. "Again!" he would order, shadows lashing Nikolai's bleeding body as he struggled to obey dark summoning.

"You must learn to master your shadows fully, dear brother," Alexander crooned sadistically. "Only then can you fulfill your duty to our kingdom. Our people depend on you, after all..."

But as Nikolai healed lonely nights in his cell, mending slashes inflicted by his "teacher," doubts emerged. Had his parents truly died of plague as proclaimed? The haunting suspicions kindled Nikolai's first flames of rebellion against Alexander's "rule."

So when next summoned for "practice," Nikolai refused, staring defiantly into Alexander's coal-black eyes. "I will no longer be your puppet in these evil schemes. Release me, and our people, from your twisted games!"

Alexander's face twisted with murderous fury. At last, his brother dared defy him - an act of insolence that would not go unpunished.

"Insolent fool!" Alexander's eyes blazed with fury. "You dare oppose me? I am king!" Dark tendrils lashed out, slicing Nikolai's cheek before he could react.

"All this time I nurtured your powers, and this is how you repay me?" the Shadow King hissed. "You shall learn respect, dear brother, even if I must beat it into you!"

Steeling himself, Nikolai called to the light still burning deep within. A shield flared around his body, deflecting the next barrage of shadows. "No more will I be your plaything, Alexander! Release our people from your tyranny!"

Alexander howled with rage. The very stones of the castle shuddered as he summoned his full command over darkness. "So be it! If you will not serve willingly, then you shall know true suffering in your place!"

A great claw of shadows lunged, seizing Nikolai in an unbreakable grip. Try as he might, no flash of light could pierce the evil magic constricting tighter with each struggle.

"Take him to the depths!" Alexander spat at the waiting guards. "Let him rot in the eternal darkness where no light may find him. Perhaps that will break his defiant spirit at last."

As Nikolai was dragged kicking and screaming into the dungeon's black maw, he vowed this was not the end. Somewhere, deep within his soul, the spark of rebellion still glowed faint but fierce. One day, he would rise again.

Many bitter winters had passed for Prince Nikolai under the ruthless hand of his brother and the constant torture of being dragged back to the dungeon for evey small mistake. Through all the King's tortures to break his soul, the light within never fully died. Each flicker of hope buoyed Nikolai through the endless darkness.

Now at 25 years, his body and magic were strongest. Summoning every last bit of power, Nikolai blasted apart the cell seals in a brilliant flash. Guards screamed as their shadows melted, clearing Nikolai's escape route at last.

Bolting up rotting stairs into the icy night, Nikolai never looked back at the cursed fortress which had been his prison for so long. Silent as the snowfall, he fled into the woods, shadow walking for hours to throw off any pursuers.

Dawn was breaking when Nikolai finally collapsed, weary but free. Safe for now in a snowy glade, he allowed much-needed rest. But little did the runaway prince know, his absence had been discovered...

Back at the castle, Alexander raged for hours upon discovering Nikolai's cell empty. How dare that insolent brother defy him after all these years? The King vowed Nikolai would pay dearly if ever found.

"I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, my brother," Alexander snarled to his scrying pool, spying Nikolai unconscious on the edge of his domain. "Whatever misery you suffered is nothing compared to what awaits your return to my kingdom!"

His twisted laughter echoed through the trees carried on dark wings, announcing to all that the Shadow King's vengeance was at hand.

Nikolai shivered awake as sunlight warmed his cheeks, banishing the last vestiges of a nightmare. For the first time in years, his dreams had been solely his own. A fact not lost on the runaway prince as he took in his snowy surroundings.

"At last, I am truly free," Nikolai whispered to the glade, allowing a tentative smile. But dark flutters at the treeline stole away any joy. Shadows swirled between the trunks, searching...

"Did you believe it would be so easy to escape me, brother?" Alexander's voice carried on those evil wisps as he stalked into view. "No place on this earth is beyond my grasp, thanks to your years of...service."

The Shadow King's words dripped with twisted fondness. Nikolai rose unsteadily but did not back down. "I will never return to your twisted games, Alexander. My will is my own!"

A chorus of sibilant laughter answered. "On the contrary, little Nikolai. You have always been, and always will be, my pawn."

From the trees, legions of shadow creatures surged towards their master's prey. The brothers morphed into writhing silhouettes as shadow magic lit the glade in a chaotic dance.

But Nikolai had survived the darkness, and it had made him strong. A beacon flared, incinerating the first wave of monsters. The battle was joined - and at last, years of pent up vengeance would find their release.

Nikolai called upon all he had endured, channeling years of suffering into his magic. Flames roared from his hands, reducing Alexander's shadow beasts to wispy cinders on the freezing wind.

But for each monster fallen, two more arose from the inky masses at their master's command. Nikolai fought with the fury of one who had stared too long into the dark, matching each strike blow for blow.

Alexander gazed upon the fray with maddened glee. At last, his brother showed his true potential - a weapon the Shadow King still hoped to wield, despite all Nikolai's resistance.

"You fight well for a escaped prisoner, I'll allow. But you cannot stand against my full power forever!" Alexander threw back his head in a shrieking laugh that curdled the air.

Darkness swelled around them in a suffocating tide, engulfing the clearing. Nikolai's flames guttered under the oppressive shadows' weight, his light struggling to pierce the evil ink.

Was this to be his end, after coming so far? Nikolai refused to let it be so easily. Gathering his flagging strength for a final gambit, he unleashed a nova of solar brilliance.

The Shadow King's shrieks mingled with the dying squeals of his minions as Nikolai's flare countered the darkness in a calamitous explosion. When the smoke cleared, both brothers lay broken amid the clearing's ashes.

As the smoke cleared, Nikolai was the first to stir. Every fibre of his being ached, but he was alive - for now. Struggling to his feet, he spotted Alexander nearby, still unconscious amid the smoldering ashes.

An idea took hold in Nikolai's mind. After so long under this cruel man's thumb, a chance for vengeance was laid before him. With a whispered word, shadows snaked towards the Shadow King's prone form, coiling like serpents to strike.

Yet as they reared back to deliver a killing blow, Nikolai hesitated. Even after all the torment, some small part of his heart still clung to hope that the brother of his youth may one day return.

"Come back to the light, Alexander," he urged softly. "This path of darkness will only destroy you, as it has almost destroyed me. There is still hope for change..."

At that moment, Alexander stirred with a guttural groan. His ink-black eyes flickered open, locking immediately on Nikolai standing over him. Recognition dawned, followed by naked fury as he recalled their duel.

"You..." Alexander hissed through bloody teeth. With inhuman speed, he summoned a tendril to whip around Nikolai's ankle, yanking him off his feet. "I will end you for your insolence, once and for all!"

Darkness closed in as the Shadow King crawled on hands and knees towards his brother, ready to squeeze the life from him. But Nikolai was not out of tricks just yet.

The battle was over as Nikolai finally stood victorious over his brother's fallen form, the shadows answering his call began to recoil. Alexander lay unmoving, his corrupted essence burned away by Nikolai's holy power.

All seemed still, until a rasping chuckle rose from the Shadow King. "You...may have won this battle...brother. But the darkness is...eternal. I will...rise again."

With those ominous words, Alexander dissolved into a pool of inky smoke. It swirled together, compacting into a widening vortex that pulled his retreating form deep underground.

Nikolai watched in dismay, realizing the shadow portal would allow his brother to escape justice once more. But perhaps this fate was worse - to wander souls eternally, power broken but vengeance unquenched.

"This is not over, Alexander!" Nikolai called into the fading portal. "When next you rise, I will be waiting! The light will always stand against your darkness."

And with that, the vortex sealed shut, leaving no trace of the fallen Shadow King. Nikolai surveyed the ashes of conflict, knowing in his heart this was only the beginning. Someday, Alexander would return, reforged in darker magics than before.

I think I'm getting quite addicted to writing OUAT AU fics

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #ouat #once upon a time au #once upon a time #nikolai morozov #alexander morozov #prince charming #the dark prince

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gcthvile · 2 months

Text

You're losing me.

Pairing: Cole Lensherr (OC) x Helmut Zemo

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: angst

Summary: Cole and Zemo's love ends when Zemo leaves, despite Cole's desperation to stay connected. Alone and hollowed, Cole mourns what could have been as his broken heart surrenders to the loneliness.

Cole sat on the bench in the empty public park, Zemo's call haunting his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to forget his partner's words, that it was over, they had to part ways. But Cole knew that moment would come, as Zemo's quest for vengeance against those who took his family consumed him.

Zemo approached quietly, as was his way. Cole didn't turn, didn't meet his eyes, afraid of what he might see - or not see - in their haunted gray depths. "You've said your piece. Now say what you really came to say."

Zemo sighed softly. "There is nothing more, you know my path. But know that what we had..." he trailed off, as if the words pained him. Cole wanted to beg, to plead, but his pride held fast.

"Will you not even look at me?" Zemo asked. Cole turned then, seeing the conflict, the regret, but also the resolve. He knew nothing would sway Zemo from the course he had set himself upon.

"Some days, it's like I'm someone else," Cole said bitterly. "I watch you walk away, leaving me out here on my own, and it feels like you're taking everything. Guess I didn't realize everything means you."

Zemo reached out a brief moment, fingers brushing Cole's cheek, before dropping his hand once more. "Perhaps...when this is over..." he suggested, though they both knew that was a promise neither could truly make. With a sad half-smile, Zemo turned and walked away, disappearing into the gathering dusk as Cole fought the tears threatening to fall, feeling as though his heart was being torn from his chest with each step Zemo took, knowing he may never see him again but unable to call out, to stop him, pride and pain holding his silence.

"We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won't"

Cole watched Zemo walk away until his figure was lost to darkness. A solitary tear finally escaped, sliding slowly down his cheek. They had believed, somehow, that Zemo's quest could be sated, that vengeance would salve the wound in his soul and set him free to live again. But watching Zemo retreat into the night, Cole knew with sinking certainty that would never be the case. The pain and loss ran too deep, and Zemo was drowning in it, lost to the dark currents with no hope of surfacing again. This parting was no temporary one, but a final goodbye, as Zemo gave himself over fully to the shadows and Cole was left with only memories, and the knowledge that Zemo's cure had proven fictional - the damage was done, and nothing would heal the scars on both their hearts.

"Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time"

Cole returned to the home he and Zemo had shared, now empty of all but memories. He sat in the darkness, not bearing to turn on the lights that had once illuminated their joy and intimacy. How many hours had they spent in this very room, talking late into the night by the fire or curled together on the couch, each taking solace in the other's embrace?

Now loneliness pressed down with suffocating weight. Cole glanced around at familiar furnishings that seemed foreign and cold without Zemo's vital presence to give them life and meaning. He thought of simpler times, not realizing back then how fleeting they truly were. Zemo had always kept his past and future close, sharing little of either, and Cole wondered now if some part of Zemo had known even then how brief their time together would be.

Was it time to let go, to accept it was over and face the empty house and hollow future alone? The shadows held no answers, only specters of the past that mocked his solitude. With a weary sigh Cole rose, unable to endure the ghosts of memory a moment more. He left the darkness behind, but it remained imprinted on his heart.

"Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow"

Cole wandered the empty house once more, still unsure what to do with the remnants of his life with Zemo. So much of who he was had been entwined with the other man - should he simply purge it all, as if Zemo had never existed? But the thought of erasing their history together was its own anguish.

Yet staying here, surrounded daily by reminders of what was lost, threatened to break him further. Cole had risen from ashes before, reinvented himself when all seemed lost, but this loss cut deeper than any other. He was tired of fighting only to have hope ripped away yet again.

Zemo had done more than break his heart - he feared the other man may have destroyed Cole's very ability to heal and begin anew. Always before when battered and wounded, Cole had found resolve to fly once more. Now, he knew not if any power resided within him, any flames remained to be rekindled.

In the end, Cole decided to take one box of treasured memories, leaving the rest for another day. For now, survival would require distance from these rooms steeped in their shared history. Whether any ash-scattered phoenix could manage even that, Cole did not yet know.

"Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me"

As Zemo spoke of leaving, Cole felt himself dying inside. He struggled to comprehend how the man before him, who had given Cole purpose and passion, could walk away as if what they shared meant nothing. Zemo met his gaze briefly but offered no true explanation or reassurance, only vague words that did little to quell Cole's rapidly intensifying terror.

Cole's heart pounded frantically, feeling as it if threatened to shatter within his chest. His pulse echoed in his ears, the only thing he could hear over the roar of blood and mounting panic. With eyes pleading, desperate to glimpse even a hint of doubt or regret in Zemo's cool gray stare, Cole reached out a trembling hand to grasp Zemo's wrist weakly.

"Please..." Cole whispered, his voice cracking. Zemo gently but firmly removed Cole's grasp, and Cole saw with crushing finality that nothing he said or did would change the inevitable. With that, the last flame within Cole's heart was snuffed out, leaving behind only the charred remains of what once beat strong and sure. Zemo was truly lost to him now.

"Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?"

As Zemo turned to leave, Cole grasped his arm once more. "Say it," he begged brokenly, the pain and desperation in his eyes cutting deep.

Zemo hesitated, knowing the words were but bitter ash now. Yet he owed Cole this final kindness at least. "I loved you," Zemo said softly. "More than you knew."

Cole laughed mirthlessly. "No, you didn't. Not truly. If you had, you would see what this is doing to me. Every day I stared at you hoping, praying you would finally see. But you were always too busy planning your vengeance to notice me slowly dying inside from keeping this secret."

Tears glistened in those stormy eyes Zemo had always admired, the eyes that now saw him with such anguish and betrayal. Zemo had no defense, no explanation Cole would accept in his agony. Some pains were simply too deep for words to soothe.

With a heavy heart, Zemo gently released Cole's hand. "Farewell," he whispered, and was gone. Cole sank to his knees amid the wreckage, shattered beyond any hope of repair.

"And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition"

Cole sank down on the couch, his body heavy and aching as if every muscle had been pulled taut to the point of snapping. Grief and anguish swirled thickly around him, almost a tangible thing he could reach out and grasp in his fist.

He knew his turmoil and distress must be weighing on others as well. How selfish he was being, wallowing in his own pain without thought for how his suffering affected those around him. Zemo was gone - they all lost something with his departure, and yet here was Cole drowning in his private sorrow as if it was the only thing that mattered.

It was an imposition, he knew, to expect others to bear witness to his unraveling or pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He should be stronger than this, carry his grief silently as Zemo would rather than make a public spectacle of his despair. But strength had fled, leaving only hollowed-out ruin in its wake. All Cole could do was succumb to the darkness steadily strangling him from within.

"And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone"

Cole sat alone in the silent darkness, memories of his time with Zemo drifting bittersweet through his mind. He recalled lazy mornings waking in Zemo's arms, feeling sheer contentment in those quiet stolen moments before the demands of the day. Nights spent pour over old books or discussing philosophy and history by firelight, Zemo's passion for knowledge kindling Cole's own intellect.

Small touches and gestures that had simply been part of their everyday before now seemed precious - a hand guiding Cole's in a dance, fingers threading through his hair, the warmth of Zemo's smile, rarely shared but capable of lighting Cole's world when it appeared. Only now, through the harsh lens of loss, did Cole truly grasp how much he had taken for granted. These days of intimacy and understanding were behind them now, the realization leaving only emptiness in its wake. You never do know what you had, Cole thought sadly, until you find yourself with nothing at all.

"How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?"

Cole recalled the subtle shifts in Zemo in the weeks and months preceding their parting. There had been an increasing distance in Zemo's eyes, a hint of darkness creeping into his gaze that hadn't fully lifted even in their most intimate moments. His smiles came less easily, and he seemed to pull away emotionally when once they had been open books to one another.

At first Cole had tried to draw Zemo back out, concerned something weighed on his mind. But Zemo remained resignedly silent and aloof, no longer willing to share the thoughts that so obviously plagued him. As the distance between them stretched each day, Cole feared he was losing the man he loved to some interior abyss he could neither name nor navigate.

Each morning it took more effort to rouse even a glimmer of warmth from Zemo's cold exterior. Cole wondered how long they could continue like ghosts drifting past one another, until the sadness encircling them became something inescapable, and the men they used to be faded beyond any power to restore. It seemed Zemo had walked that line and crossed over, leaving Cole alone on the near side, grieving for what was lost.

"I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier"

Cole sat among the debris of his shattered world, exhaustion like lead in his bones. Though he tried to hide it, Zemo had always seen straight through to his core - and what had he found there? Only a man straining under the weight of another's burdens, doing all he could simply to keep standing as blow after blow fell.

He had spared nothing in caring for Zemo, holding his fractured soul in gentle hands and easing what pain he was able. In turn, Cole's own seams had slowly begun to tear under the pressure, leaked agony seeping through the cracks in his facade of strength. Always he strove to remain stalwart, a solid foundation for the other to lean on.

But foundations can crumble under enough strain, as Cole had finally at length done. Now surrounded by ruins, he questioned all that had come before - had he truly offered solace, or only served as another burden for Zemo to bear? Perhaps in caring so deeply for another, he had neglected his own wellbeing until there was nothing left to give. Cole wept now not only for their lost love, but for all the ways he may have failed the one person whose regard had meant most.

"And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her"

Cole knew that if he were to look within himself with brutal honesty, he too would not have chosen such a broken mate. All his value had been placed in another's hands, leaving himself neglected and wanting. He knew now that his endless deference to Zemo's every pain and need, however well-intentioned, had been borne not from pure caring alone - there were uglier motives entwined.

In pleasing Zemo so completely, in making himself indispensable, had he simply sought validation and purpose? Had he wrapped his own insecure soul in the guise of selflessness, so that Zemo's favor became the lens through which he viewed his worth? No wonder such a foundation proved perilously unstable, cracking under the slightest pressure once Zemo's regard began to waver.

"And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing)

To believe"

Cole knew Zemo was resolved to leave, yet in his eyes he dared to hope that some part of the man he loved remained, a part that could feel Cole's pain and be swayed. As Zemo turned to go, Cole's gaze bored into him with exhausted desperation.

"Please," Cole whispered, voice cracked and fraying like his ravaged heart. "If there is any part of you that can be reached...do something. Say anything to make this agony stop. Or if you cannot stay your hand, at least grant me some small sign that what we had was real to you."

A tear broke free, tracing the exquisite torment on Cole's face. "I have nothing left to sustain me if you go like this, without a word of comfort or care for what becomes of me. One word is all I ask to ease this void threatening to swallow me whole. Then I can let you walk away in peace."

Zemo met his pleading eyes but a moment. Some words passed between them, unspoken yet understood, before Zemo turned once more toward the darkness and was gone.

"Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore"

His heart shattered beyond repair, Cole withdrew into a pain so profound he could no longer bear another's touch or kindness. While friends reached out in concern, their words and comforts seemed hollow echoes that could not carry through the dense fog enveloping his soul.

Each day Cole faded further, going through motions of living while inside he ceased to do more than merely exist. His vibrant spirit had been severed from this mortal shell it once animated; only an echo remained, drifting wraithlike through the ruins of what was.

No pulse of life or hope stirred in the ashen wasteland Cole had become. His heart, once so full of passion and longing, lay stilled; no force of will seemed capable of jolting it to beat again. And so Cole dwelt as one already dead, wandering a purgatory of his own shattered making, lost to all in this world and the next.

decided that one of our OG couples deserved a fanfic of how the things ended between them, so there you go!😁

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc #cole lensherr #helmut zemo

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gcthvile · 2 months

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The Pirate and His Conjurer (OUAT AU!)

Pairing: Rumpel! Cole x CaptainHook! Jeremy

Fandom: Marvel, OUAT

Warnings: none

Summary: A treacherous trickster turns mutineer and seizes control of a pirate ship, but finds himself longing for the captain's affections.

Cole struggled against his bindings as the pirate crew hauled him aboard their massive vessel. Their raid must have gone south if they were taking prisoners, but little did they know he was more than just a simple trickster. As he was shoved unceremoniously onto the deck, Cole took in his surroundings, filing away any details that could later prove useful in a daring escape.

That's when he saw him. The pirate captain was bellowed orders at his men while scrutinizing the captured ship in the distance through a spyglass. Even from behind, Cole could sense the power and swagger oozing off the man. Then he turned, and Cole found himself drowning in a sea of piercing blue eyes.

This must be the infamous Captain Hook he'd heard tales about in taverns and ports - as daring as he was deadly handsome. Not that Cole would ever admit to being distracted by a pretty face, of course. As Jeremy stormed over, Cole schooled his features into an amused smirk.

"Well hello, Captain. I do apologize for crashing your little party uninvited," Cole purred, giving the ropes binding his wrists an exaggerated yank.

Jeremy's stoic expression didn't waver, but Cole saw a flicker of interest in those eyes. "Who are you and what are you doing sneaking around my raid?" he demanded.

Cole mulled over concocting a lie but then decided the truth may serve him better, for now. "Names Cole. I'm just a simple merchant traveling these waters when I happened upon your...activities. Isn't pillaging what pirates do best?"

Jeremy snorted. "Nothing simple about you, I'd wager. Men, take him below deck until I decide what to do with our stowaway."

The crew hauled Cole towards the hatch but not before he shot the captain a wicked grin. "I do hope we'll continue our charming conversation later, Captain. I so enjoy learning more about ambitious pirates like yourself..."

His taunt earned him a glare from Jeremy that sent a thrill through Cole's gut. Oh this was going to be fun indeed.

The pirate crew tossed Cole unceremoniously into the hold below deck. But he landed lightly on his feet, already scheming his next move. He paced around the confined space, running his fingers along the damp wooden walls inspecting for any weaknesses.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Cole heard footsteps approaching in the hall outside, followed by the creak of hinges as the door swung open. Backlit by lantern light, the silhouette that filled the doorway could only belong to one man.

"Cozy quarters you have here, Captain," Cole greeted Jeremy with a sly grin. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Jeremy snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, trickster. I merely came to see what manner of man has the gall to stowaway aboard my ship uninvited."

He studied Cole intently, as if trying to peel back the layers of mystery shrouding the stranger. Cole met his gaze unwaveringly, enjoying their tempestuous rapport.

"See anything you like?" Cole purred, giving a little spin to put himself on display.

Jeremy's stoic expression cracked ever so slightly, a glint of grudging amusement in his eyes. "You're a tricky one, I'll give you that. But it'll take more than smiles and pretty words to earn my trust. Why have you really come aboard my vessel?"

Cole circled closer, lowering his voice to an intimate murmur. "Let's just say I'm...invested in ensuring your latest raid goes according to plan, Captain. I may surprise you yet with how I can...assist you."

He traced a finger slowly along Jeremy's lapel, feeling the pirate captain's resolve wavering under his brazen touch. Their lips were mere inches apart now, tension crackling in the heated atmosphere.

Then Jeremy blinked and the trance was broken. He grabbed Cole's wandering hand sternly. "We'll see about that. For now, stay put like a good little stowaway until I return."

And with that final warning, he took his leave, leaving Cole alone with naught but fantasies to entertain himself. Things were certainly becoming more...interesting indeed.

Days passed as The Jolly Roger sailed onward through misty waters, its captain keeping Cole locked away below deck all the while. The trickster grew bored of his confined quarters, pacing like a caged animal and imagining all the mischief he could wreak if given free rein of the ship.

Late one night, Cole heard a commotion erupting on deck - shouts and clanging steel. An ambush? He strained his ears but the thick oak door muffled the sounds of battle. Then suddenly, footsteps pounded down the stairs and the lock scraped open with a gritty shriek.

Cole tensed, ready to pounce on his potential rescuer or assailant. But it was the captain himself, breathing hard and bloodied but triumphant. "We're under attack. If you've any magic up your sleeve, now's the time to prove your worth, trickster."

Cole smirked. "It's about time. Lead the way, Captain."

He followed Jeremy topside to chaos - another pirate vessel grappling with The Jolly Roger, boarders attempting to overtake the deck. Cole watched Jeremy cut down two men with fluid strikes of his namesake steel hook before joining the fray himself.

With a flick of his wrist, Cole sent two swordsmen tumbling overboard with spectral claws at their throats. He whirled, catching another across the jaw with a spinning kick before finishing him with a fireball. Jeremy stared, equal parts impressed and wary of Cole's prowess.

Together, they fought back to back, an unstoppable force. Cole's magic gave the pirates fits while Jeremy rallied his men with rousing cries. Slowly but surely, they gained the upper hand, clearing the deck of all invaders at last.

Panting amidst the carnage, Cole turned to Jeremy with a bloodthirsty grin. "Well Captain, it seems you have an...asset aboard after all. Do with me what you will now."

Jeremy eyed the trickster, his hatred for magic warring with newfound respect kindled in battle. "You've earned your keep for now. But don't think this changes anything between us, trickster."

Cole's smile only widened as he bowed low, dripping with insincere obedience. "As you command...Captain." Their tempestuous dance was only beginning.

In the aftermath of the battle, Jeremy retreated to his private quarters to tend his wounds. But he hadn't accounted for a certain trickster also seeking him out below deck.

Without bothering to knock, Cole swept inside and locked the door behind him. "Let me help with those injuries, Captain."

Jeremy glared, in no mood for games after the fray. "I don't need your magic, trickster."

"Hush now." Cole swatted away Jeremy's protests and set to work, gently cleaning and dressing the gashes with surprising care.

Jeremy watched him suspiciously but didn't pull away, captivated as always by Cole's mercurial nature. The trickster's touch sent sparks jolting through his veins, reawakening feelings best left dormant.

Cole sensed the shift and glanced up through thick lashes, smiling slyly at the pirate captain's turmoil. "You continue to intrigue me, Jeremy. Such a stalwart adversary one moment, vulnerable as any man the next. It's...fascinating."

His hand lingered at Jeremy's rugged jaw, thumb brushing softly over stubble. For a suspended heartbeat they wavered on the precipice, thirst and reason warring within.

Then Jeremy moved, closing the space between them in a crushing kiss that stole Cole's breath away. All the tension and passion they'd kept caged sprang forth in a wild torrent, clothes hastily discarded in their fervor.

After, they lay entwined, coming down from their high amidst the wreckage around them. Jeremy felt unmoored by the trickster once more, but for the first time allowed a glimmer of something bright and perilous to take root in his guarded heart.

Cole curled against him, sated and silent in the aftermath, though scheming as always. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted from the pirate captain at last.

Aboard The Jolly Roger, rumors had begun to spread about the pirate captain and the mysterious trickster now also claiming the ship as his own domain. The crew gossiped in hushed tones about the marks they'd spotted on Jeremy's neck, or the smug smiles Cole couldn't contain.

Jeremy's first mate was the first to confront him. "With respect captain, some of the men are startin' to doubt who's really in charge around here. That magic trickster has got you under his spell, if you'll pardon me sayin'."

Jeremy glowered, unwilling to show weakness. "Cole is...an asset. And what goes on between us is none of your concern. This is still my ship."

But deep down, even he questioned how long he could keep up the charade - or resist the lure of the chaos Cole represented. Their games had grown more private and intimate lately, as the trickster planted seeds of rebellion in the captain's mind.

That night, Jeremy sought Cole out in his quarters aboard the hold once more. "Your little games have gone on long enough. The crew questions my command. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cast you out."

Cole grinned like the cat who got the canary. "Because without me, this ship would be utterly boring, darling. Admit it - you've grown...accustomed to my peculiar brand of entertainment."

He waved a hand, conjuring dancing lights that swooped through the dank air. "With me at your side, you could accomplish so much more than merely pillaging vessels. We could plunder entire kingdoms...together."

Jeremy couldn't deny the appeal of unrestrained anarchy. And really, why should he continue to deny himself what - who - he wanted? With a growl, he pulled Cole in for a bruising kiss.

"Very well, trickster. We do it your way. But the first sign of treachery, and you walk the plank. Do I make myself clear?"

Cole chuckled darkly against Jeremy's lips. "Perfectly clear, captain. You won't regret this, I promise."

A wicked idea took form in his devious mind. He would need to fully cement his control, to stamp out any lingering doubts about where Jeremy's true loyalties lay.

The next morning, Cole summoned the crew to the main deck with a loud cracking of magic. When they arrived bleary-eyed, they found Jeremy bound to the mast, struggling in vain against the enchanted ropes.

"What's the meaning of this, Cole?!" Jeremy roared.

Cole smiled innocently. "Why, I'm merely taking the initiative, darling captain. We had an agreement to do things my way from now on, if you recall." He turned to the anxious onlookers.

"Your captain has grown soft, led astray by weakness and sentiment. But I aim to bring back the chaos and terror you pirates thrive upon! Who's with me?"

An uncertain murmur rippled through the men until Jeremy's first mate thrust forward, glaring daggers. "We don't take orders from scoundrels like you. Now release the captain before..."

"Before what? You'll mutiny?" Cole cackled. With a wave of his hand he flung the first mate overboard, ignoring Jeremy's howl of fury.

"Any other dissenters?" Silence met him, the crew cowed into submission. Cole snapped his fingers, freeing Jeremy.

"The ship is ours, my darling. Now, where shall our reign of anarchy begin?"

Jeremy surged forward the moment the ropes fell away, grabbing a fistful of Cole's shirt with a snarl.

"You've gone too far this time, trickster," he spat, blue eyes blazing. Cole merely smiled wider, thriving off Jeremy's rage.

"Come now, it was all part of the plan!" Cole cooed, untroubled by the pirate's wrath. "We stand united before the crew as their unquestioned leaders. All according to your wishes, dear captain."

Jeremy gave Cole a rough shake. "I never wanted a mutiny against my own men! He was loyal, and you cast him aside without care."

Cole's smile faded as irritation seeped in. "Loyal to you, perhaps, but not to our cause. Some sacrifice was required to cement my authority."

"Your authority?" Jeremy laughed harshly. "This was never about ruling together, was it? You planned to usurp me from the start, trickster."

He shoved Cole away in disgust. The crew watched warily, unsure who to side with in this volatile power struggle.

Cole's eyes darkened. "Need I remind you which one of us holds real power here, captain? I gave you a gift in letting you keep your petty title, but don't delude yourself into thinking you still command anything."

Jeremy went still, expression shuttering. When he spoke, his voice held a deadly calm. "We'll see about that. Men! This mongrel thinks to steal our ship. I say it's past time he walked the plank."

Cole grinned darkly, fear melting into sinister mirth as the crew closed in on him. How cute they thought a few pirates in shirtsleeves posed any threat.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, inky shadows materialized on the deck, rising into hulking forms twice the size of a man. The shadow creatures hesitated, awaiting their master's command.

"Gentlemen, I'd advise against coming any closer," Cole purred. His eyes shone with malice as he scrutinized the crew one by one.

"You there - with the gaudy earring. Let's start with you." The shadow creature lurched towards its target, seizing the man effortlessly despite his struggling.

"Please, have mercy!" he begged. Cole cocked his head, feigning consideration. Then with a scowl, he snapped his fingers. The shadow's claws dug deeper, wrenching a howl from its prey as his leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Cole surveyed the crew's horrified faces, relishing their dread. "Let that be a lesson. Any other volunteers to cross me?” His shadows growled in warning, hovering protectively by their master's sides.

Jeremy could only watch helplessly, powerless against Cole's sorcery for the first time. Their game had taken a vicious new turn, and innocent blood now stained the conjurer's hands.

The trickster was unmasked at last - a heartless monster lurking beneath the charm. Jeremy vowed then and there he would destroy Cole, or die trying to reclaim what was rightfully his.

With Jeremy and the crew cowed into obedience, Cole had all but officially claimed The Jolly Roger as his domain. Yet despite attaining the power and fear he so craved, a festering seed of doubt lingered in his heart.

Whenever icy blue eyes met his from across the quarterdeck, full of loathing and resentment, Cole felt a pang deep in his core that unsettled him. He told himself it was mere wounded pride at Jeremy's insolence in the face of his defeat.

But in solitary moments, when no mask or bravado could deceive even himself, Cole was forced to confront an alien emotion that left him hollow and aching. He missed their games and wordplay, the thrill of anticipation whenever Jeremy would indulge one of his schemes.

All he'd wanted was control and adulation as his due. So why did subjugating the captain leave him feeling so unmoored and fragile inside? Nights were the worst, an eternity of loneliness in his chamber as strange memories drifted through his mind.

Laughter echoing through shadows. The glint of sunset on steel. A calloused hand brushing his cheek, as blue eyes looked upon him not with hatred, but...something else. Cole clutched his head, cursing his sudden fits of weakness.

What was happening to him? How could one man undo him so completely without even trying? Cole knew then he had to find some way to win back what he'd lost, and understand the bitter yearning that now ruled his every waking thought. Even if it meant unraveling the tricky game they'd played from the very beginning.

Cole paced his dimly lit cabin like a caged animal, gnawing resentment and confusion warring within. He needed answers, and there was only one person who could provide them.

With a snap of magic, Cole transported himself to the captain's quarters in a swirl of shadows. Jeremy shot up from his cot, instantly on guard at the intrusion.

"What do you want, trickster?" he spat, calloused hand flying to the dagger at his hip. But Cole held up his hands in a gesture of peace, much to the pirate's surprise.

"I come without threats or charm for once, captain," Cole said slowly. "I merely wished to...understand."

Jeremy barked a harsh laugh. "Understand what? That you've ruined any chance of loyalty or trust with your manipulation and blood magic?"

Cole flinched, the blows landing deeper than any dagger ever could. Still, he met Jeremy's hateful gaze steadily.

"Why do I care what you think of me?" he demanded softly. "Your hatred should be of no consequence. Yet...it tears at me in a way I don't comprehend."

Jeremy studied him suspiciously, seeing the rawness lurking beneath Cole's guarded veneer. For a long moment they simply breathed the same air, waves of emotion rocking between them.

Then Jeremy sighed wearily and gestured to the bed. "Sit. It seems we have much left to discuss, trickster, and daylight will reveal truths the dark obscures."

Cole went without question, hope and uncertainty stirring anew in his turbulent heart. He perched cautiously on the edge of the captain's narrow bed, feeling strangely vulnerable under Jeremy's steady gaze. A multitude of thoughts and feelings swirled within, just below the surface, clamoring to be freed.

"When first we met, I thought this was merely another game to amuse myself," Cole began hesitantly. "But somewhere along the way...something changed within me that I don't comprehend. Your hatred cuts deeper than any blade ever could."

He lifted remorseful eyes to Jeremy's stony face. "I only wanted power, yet subduing you has brought me no joy. Each rejection chips away at something vital I didn't know I had until now. I must understand - why do you haunt me so?"

Jeremy studied the trickster keenly, seeing past the mask of pride to glimpses of raw humanity seldom revealed. Yet still doubts lingered, walls erected through betrayal that could not fall so easily.

"You toyed with my crew, wounded men under my care," Jeremy rumbled. "Give me one reason I should trust your aim is true understanding, and not more manipulation."

Cole extended empty hands, pleading. "You have every right to loathe me, captain, yet I am at your mercy. Use me as you see fit to find the answers we both seek. I vow no magic or deception - only the truth, as best I can offer it."

A tense silence passed as hope and skepticism warred in Jeremy's gaze. At last he nodded once. "Very well, trickster. Let our talk begin."

Cole let out a quiet breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Now came the difficult part - opening himself up with raw sincerity, something deeply uncomfortable for one used to masking vulnerabilities.

"For so long it was just me against the world, relying only on my wits and magic to survive each day," he began. "I witnessed humanity at its worst - the greed, cruelty, indifference. It was easier to view others as playthings rather than fellow beings."

His lips quirked ruefully. "And then I met you, Captain. A man of passion and principle, yet unafraid to bend rules when it suited. You were...a challenge, unlike any I'd faced. I found myself wanting nothing more than to unravel the mystery of you."

Cole met Jeremy's watchful gaze openly. "Somewhere in our games, I stopped seeing you as a means to an end. Your good opinion became of paramount importance, though I've only now begun to understand why. When you look at me with such hatred..."

He faltered, brow furrowing as if physically pained. "It tears at something vital within me. I've never felt so...exposed. So please, if you can offer any insight - why do I care what you think?"

Jeremy held Cole's anguished stare for a long moment, weighing his sincerity. At last, he spoke.

"You care because against all odds, trickster, you've come to see me not just as a rival - but as something more."

Cole blinked, taken aback by Jeremy's words. Something more? The idea was utterly foreign, yet somehow made perfect sense.

"More?" he echoed faintly. Always adaptable, his quick mind was already discarding old assumptions to analyze this revelation from a new perspective.

Jeremy regarded him steadily. "Aye. Somewhere between our battles of will and cunning, a bond was forged whether we wished it or not. One does not crave another's approval so desperately without...affection lingering beneath."

The word hung heavy in the air between them. Cole's brows knit as conflicting emotions warred within - fear and longing, shame and yearning all tangled together.

Was it possible he'd come to care for this infuriating, steadfast pirate in more ways than intended? The idea terrified as much as it drew him in.

After a long moment Cole spoke again, voice thin and vulnerable. "And what of you, Captain? Do you think you could ever...see me as more than a rival?"

Jeremy sighed, face softening with sympathy for once as the trickster's uncertainty. Tentatively, he reached out to clasp Cole's shoulder in an unfamiliar gesture of solace.

"Much has passed between us, 'tis true. But there may yet be hope, if you prove willing to start anew - without power plays or deception." He searched Cole's face intently. "Can you do that, trickster?"

Cole let out a shaky breath, nodding. Whatever this strangeness was between them, he found he wanted nothing more than to understand...and perhaps rekindle what once was, in time.

"I will try, Captain. For you."

Jeremy searched Cole's face, seeing only sincerity in his conflicted gaze. The trickster had come far in baring his soul so openly; redemption would be an arduous road, but hope remained where before was only hatred.

Slowly, cautiously, Jeremy retracted his hand from Cole's shoulder. But instead of pulling away fully, his calloused fingers found Cole's and linked them together - an unspoken peace offering between former enemies turned tentative allies.

Cole stared down at their joined hands, eyes widening in wonder and not a little fear. But he did not withdraw, gripped by unfamiliar yet potent emotions awakened by Jeremy's small gesture of trust.

When Cole met the captain's eyes once more, Jeremy offered a small smile - the merest curl of his weathered lips, yet it lit his sharp features and warmed his azure eyes. "There may be promise of something more between us, trickster. But for now, let our talk continue in kinder spirits."

Cole nodded, returning a shy smile of his own. Words escaped him in that moment, but their clasped hands spoke volumes - of understanding gained, bridges mended, and potential blossoming where only ashes remained before.

As dawn's rosy light began to filter through the cabin's grimy windows, Cole released the nervous breath he'd not realized he was holding.

The golden light of dawn limned Jeremy's noble profile, reminding Cole all over again why he fell for this stalwart pirate. His gaze traced each weathered scar and line of strain, feeling anew the tangled mess of emotions this man alone could stir.

Without thinking he leaned in, following some instinct deeper than magic or guile. At the last moment he hesitated, searching Jeremy's eyes for permission or denial.

What he found was a quiet desire long buried beneath past hurts and suspicion. It was all the encouragement Cole needed to close the final distance between them.

His lips met Jeremy's in a soft kiss, close-mouthed and chaste yet lingering. After the anger and betrayal, such intimacy felt startling yet right - two souls seeing each other clearly at last.

Jeremy's calloused hand rose to cradle Cole's jaw, tracing the sharp angles in a tender caress as they kissed slowly, learning each other anew. No urgency marred the tender moment, only patience and fragile hope blooming where once was only doubt.

When at last they parted, Jeremy rested his forehead against Cole's, breathing the same air in a wordless communion of hearts and souls. Cole had never known such depths of emotion could exist beyond desire and fear.

"This changes things between us, trickster," Jeremy murmured. "No more tricks or power games. If you want this - want us - it must be as equals."

Cole nodded, filled to bursting with unfamiliar yet wondrous feelings. "I understand, Captain. Whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart - I will do it."

And for the first time since arriving on this ship of scoundrels and scars, Cole felt he had truly found a home.

there we go, hope you guys like the fic! i know it's a bit long but i just had to write one for these two since we already have a lot of OUAT stories with the other couples 🥰

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #marvel #ouat #ouat au #rumplestiltskin #captain hook #cole lensherr #jeremy michaelis #once upon a time au #fantasy rp

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gcthvile · 2 months

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Brixton Thompson

"My father is the worst man alive

and I'm his only son."

Name: Brixton Thompson

Age: 20

Height: 6'2

Sexuality: unlabeled

Powers: mind control (the ability to control another person's mind through literal verbal commands and make them completely obedient to him)

Backstory

Brixton's tale begins with a dark legacy intertwined with the infamous Kilgrave, the man with the power to control minds with a mere whisper. Born to this villainous figure and an unwitting victim, Brixton's life was ensnared in a web of manipulation and despair from the moment he took his first breath.

From a young age, Brixton exhibited signs of inheriting his father's cursed ability. His innocent commands to play or be comforted twisted the wills of those around him, leaving a trail of unwitting subjects in his wake. But unlike Kilgrave, whose control was wielded with callous intent, Brixton recoiled from the realization of his power's potential for harm.

Growing up under Kilgrave's watchful eye was a suffocating experience. The weight of his father's expectations bore down on Brixton, a constant reminder of the dark path laid out before him. Kilgrave, ever disappointed by his son's reluctance to embrace his villainous legacy, sought to mold Brixton into his image—a ruthless manipulator capable of bending the world to his will.

Despite his inner turmoil, Brixton yearned for his father's approval, a longing that drove him to suppress his own moral compass in a desperate bid to please Kilgrave. He found himself committing acts of cruelty and coercion under his father's command, each action a betrayal of his own values.

But beneath the surface, a spark of defiance smoldered within Brixton. He harbored secret dreams of breaking free from Kilgrave's influence, of forging his own path untainted by his father's dark legacy. Yet, the fear of disappointing Kilgrave and facing his wrath kept him shackled to his fate.

As Brixton matured, so too did his resolve to resist his father's control. He his escape from Kilgrave's grasp, knowing that the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty.

Haunted

Even after breaking free from his father's immediate influence, the specter of Kilgrave continued to cast a long shadow over Brixton's life. The echoes of his father's commands lingered in the recesses of his mind, an indelible imprint that colored his every thought and action.

Haunted by the memories of the sinister deeds he committed under Kilgrave's control, Brixton found himself wrestling with guilt and self-doubt. Nightmares plagued his sleep, vivid visions of the past playing out in a cruel loop, a constant reminder of the darkness he sought to escape.

The fear of inadvertently inheriting Kilgrave's malevolence tormented Brixton, driving him to question every impulse and decision. He became hyper-aware of the potential harm he could inflict with his powers, tiptoeing on the edge of paranoia to ensure he never became a mirror image of his villainous father.

The psychological scars ran deep, affecting Brixton's ability to trust and form meaningful connections. Afraid of being a danger to those he cared about, he kept others at arm's length, creating an emotional distance that served as both a shield and a prison.

Even as Brixton attempted to forge a new identity, the legacy of Kilgrave's malevolence seemed inescapable. The world, too, was quick to judge him based on his infamous lineage, making every step toward redemption an uphill battle.

Personality

Brixton's upbringing under the oppressive influence of Kilgrave, coupled with the weight of his own internal struggles, left him emotionally stunted and withdrawn. From a young age, Brixton learned to suppress his emotions as a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma of his past. The guilt and shame he felt over his actions under Kilgrave's control led him to bury his feelings deep within himself, afraid of the darkness that lurked within.

Growing up in an environment where trust was a luxury and vulnerability was a weakness, Brixton struggled to form genuine connections with others. The fear of inadvertently manipulating or harming those around him kept him at a distance, leading to a profound sense of loneliness and isolation.

The weight of his past and the constant struggle to reconcile his own identity with the legacy of his father's villainy took a toll on Brixton's mental health. He battled with feelings of hopelessness and despair, trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and doubt that seemed impossible to break.

Brixton's lack of emotional expression and social isolation contributed to his shyness and awkwardness in social situations. He found it difficult to engage with others on a meaningful level, preferring the safety of solitude to the unpredictability of human interaction. Brixton's quiet demeanor stemmed from a reluctance to draw attention to himself, fearing the repercussions of revealing too much of his true self to the world. He became accustomed to keeping his thoughts and feelings guarded, speaking only when necessary and often choosing silence as a form of self-protection.

The intentional isolation imposed by Kilgrave, driven by his desire to mold Brixton into a mirror image of himself, further exacerbated Brixton's challenges in developing social skills. Brixton's restricted interactions with the outside world deprived him of the normal social experiences crucial for the development of healthy social skills. His father's control-fueled isolation left him ill-equipped to navigate the complexities of human relationships.

The absence of diverse social interactions during his formative years hindered Brixton's ability to understand social cues, norms, and dynamics. As a result, he found himself ill-prepared to engage with others in a manner that felt natural or relatable.

Having experienced the manipulative power of his own abilities, Brixton harbored a deep-seated fear of inadvertently manipulating those around him. This fear acted as a barrier, preventing him from fully engaging in social situations and creating a self-imposed isolation to protect others from his perceived threat.

Kilgrave's attempt to create a copy of himself through Brixton led to a fundamental distrust of others. Brixton struggled to discern genuine intentions from potential manipulations, making it challenging for him to form authentic connections based on trust and mutual understanding.

The lack of exposure to social settings and the fear of judgment due to his father's legacy fueled social anxiety in Brixton. He felt a constant pressure to conform to expectations and worried about the consequences of his interactions, making each social encounter a source of stress.

The saviour

The relationship between Brixton and Jessica Jones is one forged in the crucible of shared trauma and redemption. Jessica, having her own history with Kilgrave, becomes a beacon of understanding and support for Brixton as she rescues him from the clutches of his malevolent father. Jessica assumes the role of a guardian, breaking the chains of Brixton's past by liberating him from Kilgrave's influence. In doing so, she becomes a warden of sorts, not only safeguarding him from physical threats but also guiding him through the treacherous terrain of emotional recovery.

Their connection is rooted in the shared trauma of Kilgrave's manipulation. Both survivors of his mind-controlling powers, Jessica and Brixton find solace in the understanding that only someone who has faced such darkness can truly comprehend the depth of their pain.

Jessica, having navigated the aftermath of her own entanglement with Kilgrave, becomes a mentor to Brixton. She imparts wisdom gained from her experiences, helping him navigate the complexities of his powers, identity, and the challenging journey toward self-acceptance. Jessica's presence serves as a catalyst for Brixton's redemption and healing. Through her guidance, he begins to confront the shadows of his past, gradually learning to forgive himself for the actions committed under Kilgrave's influence and working towards a brighter, self-determined future.

Jessica provides unwavering support for Brixton, recognizing his struggle to break free from the legacy of his father. In moments of doubt and darkness, she stands by his side, offering a steadying presence that encourages him to face the demons within and emerge stronger. Their relationship evolves into a bond that goes beyond the conventional definitions of family. Jessica becomes a pillar of support, and together they form a found family—one forged not by blood, but by shared resilience and the determination to rise above the scars of their past.

Hobbies

Despite his isolation, Brixton manages to find solace and expression through hobbies that allow him moments of escape from the weight of his past. Having limited exposure to the outside world, might find solace in books. Reading becomes a means for him to explore different perspectives, escape into fantastical realms, and gain insights into human emotions and relationships.

Whether through drawing, painting, or other forms of artistic expression, Brixton channels his emotions into creative outlets. Art becomes a silent language through which he communicates the complexities of his inner world.

In the quiet moments of his isolated existence, Brixton might discover the power of music to evoke emotions and provide a sense of connection. He could develop a passion for playing an instrument or curate playlists that resonate with his feelings.

Brixton might immerse himself in self-education, using the resources available to him to learn about a variety of subjects. This intellectual pursuit becomes a way for him to broaden his understanding of the world beyond his confines.

Seeking an outlet for the pent-up frustration and a desire to reclaim control over his body, Brixton could take up martial arts or engage in physical training. This not only serves as a form of self-discipline but also empowers him in the face of his traumatic past.

Brixton may find solace in putting pen to paper, whether through creative writing, poetry, or journaling. This becomes a private space where he can express his thoughts, reflections, and aspirations.

Engaging in puzzles, whether they be intricate jigsaw puzzles, crosswords, or strategy games, could appeal to Brixton's analytical mind. These activities become a mental escape and a challenge that distracts him from the haunting memories.

well, hope you like him!

@missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc

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gcthvile · 3 months

Text

An Unholy Alliance

Couple: Felicia MacLeod (OC) x Dean Winchester

Fandom: Supernatural

Warnings: none

Summary: A hunter and a demon are forced to work together, yet again. But this time working as a team awakens sparks between them despite his reluctance.

Felicia huffed as she looked out the passenger window of the Impala. Of all people, her dimwit brother had to assign her to work with Dean Winchester, she's already lost count of how many time Crowley did that to her, at this point, she was starting to think he was doing it on purpose. This man was more annoying than helpful in her opinion.

As they drove down the rural road towards their latest case, Dean's eyes kept flitting between Felicia and the road. "Let me get this straight, Crowley actually expects us to work together?"

"Don't look so pleased about it, darling." Felicia replied boredly, examining her nails. "It's not like I want to be stuck with you either."

"Good, cause hunting with a demon is bad enough, but you again? No thanks." Dean scoffed.

Felicia rolled her eyes. "You're no picnic either. At least tell me about this case so I know what I'm wasting my time with."

Dean briefly summarized the case - mysterious disappearances and strange attacks in a small town. Several witnesses claimed to see strange glowing eyes in the dark.

"Sounds like our run of the mill shapeshifter then." Felicia mused. "Should be simple."

"Don't get cocky. We don't know enough yet." Dean warned as he pulled up to the local motel.

A smile played on Felicia's lips. "We'll see about that darling. You go check us in. I'll start interrogating the locals and get us some real leads." Without waiting for a response, she flashed out of the car. Dean grimaced. This was going to be a long case.

Felicia flashed into the busy street outside the local diner. Her smoky gray eyes scanned the patrons through the large front window. There, in a corner booth, sat two young women gossiping over coffee. Perfect targets.

In an instant she was inside, sliding smoothly into their booth with a sly grin. "Ladies, you don't mind if I join do you? I couldn't help but overhear you discussing the strange goings on in this town. I'm new here and desperately seeking some insight."

The women exchanged a nervous glance. "Who are you?" Asked the brunette warily.

"Where are my manners? Name's Felicia." She purred, reaching across the table to shake their hands in turn. Both women visibly shuddered at her touch, but didn't pull away. Good, her demonic allure was already working on them.

"I'm Claire, this is Jess." The brunette replied hesitantly. "What do you want to know exactly?"

Felicia tilted her head, eyes flashing darkly. "Tell me everything. No details too insignificant. I want to know it all."

Claire launched into the reports of missing hikers and campers in the nearby woods. As she spoke, Felicia casually traced patterns on the back of Jess' hand, keeping the blonde enthralled. By the time Claire finished, Jess was practically salivating.

Felicia smirked. "Fascinating. You've been most helpful." She dug a scrap of paper from her pocket with her room number scribbled on. "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to stop by."

With a wink she slid smoothly from the booth, satisfied with the first leads for her and her reluctant partner to investigate. Now back to the motel to scheme.

Felicia flashed back to the motel, finding Dean just entering their room. "Well that was quicker than expected." He commented, throwing his duffel on one of the beds.

Felicia sauntered in behind him. "What can I say, I work fast. Already have us a few leads too."

Dean raised a brow skeptically. "Do tell."

Flopping back on the other bed, Felicia recounted what she had learned from the girls. Dean listened with a frown, not looking pleased about her interrogation tactics.

"So the woods are our first stop. I say we start tracking at dusk, better chance of stumbling on any monsters that way." Felicia proposed.

"Or we could talk to the sherriff first, get the official reports." Dean countered.

Felicia groaned dramatically. "You and your proper procedures are no fun, Dean. The girls were much more willing to share than some stuffy cop." She flashed him a mischievous grin. "Don't tell me you're not at least a little intrigued by my methods?"

Dean huffed. "Your methods involve scaring innocent civilians half to death. We do this my way."

Rising from the bed with a huff, Felicia sauntered over to invade his space, looking up at him through her lashes. "Don't be like that, darling. I know you love it when I get us answers fast." She purred, running a finger along his chest.

Dean scowled, batting her hand away. "Knock it off. No flirting is getting us out of seeing the sheriff today. Now come on before I leave you behind."

Felicia pouted as Dean stormed out. Maybe working with the hunter wouldn't be as fun as she hoped, but that just meant she'd have to try harder to get under his skin.

Dean slammed the Impala door as he slid into the driver's seat, grumbling under his breath. Felicia slid into the passenger seat with a smirk.

"Aww don't be like that, Squirrel. I was just having a little fun with you." She cooed.

Dean started the car with more force than necessary. "Well knock it off. I'm not interested."

Felicia pouted dramatically. "You wound me, darling. Most men are putty in my hands. What's it gonna take to crack that hard exterior of yours, I wonder?"

Dean glared at her as he pulled out. "You know, working with you would be a lot easier if you'd actually help the case instead of screwing around."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "I told you, I already got us solid leads. But if you're so determined to waste time with the sheriff..." She trailed off suggestively.

Dean ignored her insinuation. "Information is only useful if it's verified. Now are you going to behave yourself at the station or do I have to put you on a leash?"

Felicia grinned wickedly. "Kinkier than I expected, Dean. You sure know how to show a girl a good time." Dean groaned in frustration. This was going to be a REALLY long afternoon.

They pulled up to the station. As Dean got out, Felicia flashed to his side, hooking her arm through his with a flirty smile. "Lead the way, partner."

Dean sighed heavily but didn't protest, resigned to a lot of disapproving looks from the cops. This case was off to a great start.

Dean pushed through the doors of the police station, Felicia still clinging smugly to his arm. All conversation in the room stopped as eyes turned to take in the unusual pair.

A grizzled officer behind the desk glowered at them. "Can I help you folks?"

"I'm David, this is Fiona. We're here about the disappearance cases." Dean replied professionally, showing the fake badges.

The officer eyed Felicia warily. "You FBI?"

Before Dean could respond, Felicia flashed her most disarming smile. "Private investigators. But don't worry, we can be very... discreet." She purred.

Dean elbowed her sharply. "Ignore her. Can you tell us what you've got?"

The officer sighed and launched into the details. Felicia listened intently while subtly caressing Dean's bicep, just to watch him twitch in annoyance. According to the reports, eight hikers and campers had gone missing over the past month in the forest surrounding the town. All left camp in the evenings and were never seen again.

"Anything useful in the woods?" Dean asked once the report was finished.

The officer shook his head. "Search parties found nothing but shredded clothes and a lot of strange tracks we couldn't ID."

Felicia perked up. "Mind if we take a look at what you've got? A fresh pair of eyes might notice something new."

The offer was clearly reluctant but the man nodded, leading them to an evidence room in back. Felicia gleefully released Dean's arm to pore over photos and articles left behind.

After a moment, she straightened with a curious look. "Dean, take a gander at these tracks for me."

Dean made his way over to where Felicia was examining the photos of strange tracks found at one of the crime scenes. He peered down, furrowing his brow as he took them in.

"What am I looking at?" Dean asked gruffly. "These could be from any number of animals."

Felicia tilted her head with a sly smile. "But you and I both know there's more out there than mere animals, wouldn't you agree?"

Dean shot her an annoyed look but had to concede the point. After years hunting the supernatural, he'd seen his fair share of creatures leave strange traces.

Felicia's smile widened at Dean's hesitation. "My thought exactly. See how the toes seem elongated, almost talon-like? And the spacing is off for any normal predator." Her eyes glinted with excitement. "I'd wager we're dealing with a rugaru."

Dean brows raised in surprise. Rugarus were nasty creatures, homicidally hungry for human flesh. If Felicia was right, they were in for a nasty fight.

"It's just a theory." Dean cautioned. "We'll need more evidence before we go charging in."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Always so cautious. When was the last time one of my theories led us astray?" She held his gaze temptingly. "Admit it, you're starting to enjoy working with me."

Dean huffed, looking away. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We still work better apart." Yet he couldn't deny her idea seemed plausible. Against his better judgment, he was beginning to appreciate her unique skills and instincts. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

Felicia smirked, sensing Dean's resolve weakening. "You say that now, but I know you'll be singing a different tune once we take this rugaru down together."

Dean sighed wearily. "Let's just focus on getting more proof first, okay?" He turned to leave the evidence room.

Felicia flashed in front of him, blocking his path with a wicked grin. "Eager to get back to the case, are we? I like a man with focus." She traced a finger along his chest teasingly. "Though I must admit, I enjoy distracting you even more."

Dean gripped her wrist to still her hand, meeting her eyes with an unreadable expression. For a moment they stood frozen, electricity seeming to crackle between them.

Then Dean releases her slowly. "Stop messing around. We've got a job to do." Yet as he walked away, Felicia swore she saw the faintest twitch of a smile.

She followed, feeling unusually triumphant. Maybe winning over the righteous man wouldn't be so impossible after all. By the time they ganked this rugaru, she'd have him wrapped around her little finger.

"So if it is a rugaru, we'll need to lure it out of hiding." Dean mused as they exited the station.

Felicia paused, struck by inspiration. "Actually, I may have a better idea. One that involves considerably less risk to us and a lot more fun." She flashed Dean a wicked grin. "Care to play bait, darling?"

Dean eyed Felicia warily. "What kind of plan involves me as bait?"

Felicia smirked. "The fun kind. All we need to do is leave a tempting trail back to where we've set a trap. The rugaru won't be able to resist fresh meat." She traced a finger down Dean's chest. "And what better bait than a big, strong hunter?"

"Oh no way. I'm not letting myself get eaten just so you can have your thrills." Dean argued.

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Please, like I'd let it get that far. I'll be lurking invisibly the whole time to jump in and save you at the last minute." She ran her hands up his arms suggestively. "You'll be in perfectly safe hands, I promise."

Dean still looked doubtful. Felicia leaned in close enough to feel his breath on her lips. "Trust me darling, it'll be fun. I'll make it worth your while..."

She knew he was moments away from caving. Dean might try to resist her charms but they both knew he'd crack eventually. Before he could respond though, Felicia's head jerked up at the sound of screams echoing through the trees.

"Looks like our rugaru found another victim first." Felicia said seriously.

Dean nodded, slipping into hunter mode. "Let's move. You lead the way and I'll cover our backs."

Felicia flashed him a quick wink before flashing away, senses stretched out to track the distressed cries for help. Dean revved the Impala and tore after her trail of sulfur smoke. It was showtime.

The sounds of struggle grew louder as they closed in on the source. Felicia appeared to Dean, grabbing his hand. "This way, it's just ahead."

Together they burst into a small clearing to find the rugaru bearing down on a cowering teenage boy. Without hesitation, Dean raised his pistol and fired a shot that tore through the monster's bicep. It howled and whipped around to face the new threat.

The rugaru snarled at Dean and Felicia, blood dripping from its wounded arm. Felicia smirked, drawing her own weapon - a wicked looking blade encrusted with demonic symbols.

"Looks like dinner's cancelled, big guy." She taunted. "How about you pick on someone your own size instead?"

With a roar, the monster charged. Felicia met it head on with a fierce battle cry, diving into hand to hand combat with seemingly reckless abandon. But Dean knew from experience she was always several steps ahead.

While the rugaru was distracted swiping at Felicia, Dean circled around behind and took aim again. This time his bullet found its mark between the creature's massive shoulder blades. It howled and fell to one knee, giving Felicia an opening to deliver a killing stroke across its throat.

Black ichor spurted as the rugaru collapsed dead at their feet. Felicia flashed Dean a triumphant grin, hair and clothes splattered with viscera. "And that's how it's done, darling!"

Dean allowed himself a faint smile in return before turning to check on the traumatized teen. "You okay, kid? Think you can make it home alright?"

The boy could only nod mutely, still in shock. Dean gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder before ushering him off into the trees, keeping watch til he was out of sight.

When he turned back, Felicia was giving him a look of naked appreciation. "Not bad teamwork, if I do say so myself. Tell me that wasn't at least a little fun, Dean."

For once, Dean didn't argue. Saving civilians and taking down monsters - that was what he lived for. And he had to admit, working with Felicia had its perks too when they weren't at each other's throats. Against his better judgment, he flashed her a crooked grin.

"Maybe you're growing on me a bit, she-demon. Don't let it go to your head though."

Felicia threw her head back with a delighted cackle. This partnership was really starting to heat up.

Felicia smirked, beyond pleased with how the night was progressing. Victory always tasted sweeter when shared with a handsome partner.

"So now that the case is solved, what do you say we go celebrate our success?" She slid closer to Dean, running her knife along his collarbone teasingly.

To her surprise, Dean actually chuckled. "Normally I'd say you're buying the drinks. But considering you're related to Crowley..."

Felicia pouted playfully. "You wound me! I'll have you know I can be very generous when properly motivated."

"Is that so?" Dean regarded her thoughtfully. "Alright then, demon, you're on. One drink, your treat. But then we part ways for good."

Felicia raised a brow. So he was willing to indulge her after all. This was going even better than planned.

She flashed them away in a burst of sulfur, reappearing inside a rowdy bar in a seedy part of town. Dean stared around in mild surprise as Felicia dragged him to the counter.

"Two of your finest whiskey, bartender!" She cried theatrically. The bartender slid them over warily, eyeing Felicia like she might blow the place sky high.

Dean gave a bemused snort and raised his glass in a toast. "To surviving another day."

Felicia clicked her glass against his. "And to many more hunts together in the future."

Dean choked on his sip at that, coughing as Felicia cackled. But when he met her gaze again, his eyes held a glint of amusement rather than irritation.

Maybe working with the she-demon wouldn't be such a chore after all. Stranger things had happened in Dean Winchester's life. And Felicia was nothing if not entertaining.

hope you guys like the fic!

@jackiequick @missstrawbs2001 @blueboirick @cherrysft @gaminggirlsstuff @meiramel

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #supernatural oc #supernatural x oc #dean winchester x oc

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gcthvile · 3 months

Text

Felicia MacLeod

Name: Felicia MacLeod

Age: 343

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: Pan

Family:

Mother - Rowena Macleod

Father - name unknown

Brother - Fergus Roderick Macleod/Crowley

Background

Felicia MacLeod was born in the late 17th century in the Scottish Highlands, into a family of modest means. As the younger sister of Fergus MacLeod, who later became known as Crowley, she grew up in his shadow. Unlike her brother, Felicia possessed a natural charm and cunning intellect from a young age. However, she lacked Crowley's ambition to rise above their humble beginnings through legitimate means.

Frustrated by societal limitations, Felicia sought out forbidden knowledge and stumbled upon an ancient occult manuscript. In her pursuit of power, she inadvertently made a deal with a crossroads demon, trading her soul for unparalleled charisma and cunning. The pact transformed her into a captivating force, allowing her to manipulate and deceive effortlessly.

Personality

Felicia MacLeod's like that friend who always seems to have the perfect line to smooth things over, but behind the charm, she's got this devious streak a mile wide. She's the person at the party who effortlessly glides between conversations, leaving a trail of intrigue and manipulation in her wake.

She's got this knack for making people think they're the most important person in the room, all while secretly plotting her next move. Selfish? Oh yeah, it's all about Felicia and what she wants. She's not one to shy away from stepping on a few toes (or more) to get what she desires.

And then there's the evil bit. It's not the twirling-mustache kind, but more of a subtle, dark energy that hangs around her. She finds a sort of twisted joy in causing chaos, and it's hard to tell where the charming act ends and the genuine malevolence begins.

But here's the kicker – despite all this, she's the kind of person you might not suspect. She'll share a laugh, clink glasses, and all the while be weaving a web of schemes and secrets.

Devilish siblings

Crowley and Felicia – it's like a demonic version of a dysfunctional family reunion. They're bound by blood, yeah, but it's not all hugs and sibling love. Picture two scheming demons, each with their own agenda, teaming up for the sake of Hellish shenanigans.

Crowley, being the big shot in Hell, spots Felicia's potential for causing mayhem, and suddenly, they're this dynamic duo of darkness. It's all about mutual benefits – they scratch each other's demonic backs to climb the infernal ladder.

But let's not kid ourselves. Beneath the surface, it's a game of one-upmanship. They've got this unspoken rivalry, always eyeing each other suspiciously. Felicia's got her own plans, and Crowley, being the sly demon he is, is always playing chess with Hell's pieces.

Their chats probably sound like a mix of devilish banter and subtle threats. Deep down, there's this weird demon camaraderie, but it's fragile. In Hell, alliances are as stable as a house of cards in a tornado.

So, yeah, they're your typical sibling drama, just add in demonic powers and a sprinkle of Hellfire, and you've got the relationship between Felicia and Crowley. It's like family game night in the underworld, but with more backstabbing.

The Squirrel and The Moose

Felicia and the Winchesters – it's like this never-ending rollercoaster of trust issues and mind games. At first, she waltzes in all charming and helpful, making them think she's on Team Winchester.

Thing is, the Winchesters ain't no rookies when it comes to the supernatural. They've seen it all – demons, angels, you name it. But somehow, Felicia manages to pull the wool over their eyes. It's like they know she's up to no good, but her charm game is so strong that they can't resist giving her the benefit of the doubt.

They catch a whiff of her shenanigans, start connecting the dots, but before they know it, Felicia's thrown in a witty one-liner or flashed that killer smile, and bam! They're back to square one, questioning if maybe she's not as bad as they thought.

It's a love-hate thing – they know she's trouble, but there's this weird respect for her skills. Even when they catch her in the act, it's like she's got this supernatural charisma that makes them second-guess their own instincts.

Powers:

Felicia's demonic nature enhances her natural charm, making her exceptionally charismatic. She can effortlessly manipulate and influence others, bending them to her will through the sheer force of her presence.

Her powers extend to the realm of mental manipulation. Felicia can plant suggestions, create illusions, and alter perceptions, playing mind games to further her agenda.

Like many demons, Felicia has telekinetic abilities, allowing her to move objects with the power of her mind. This power comes in handy for both subtle manipulation and more overt displays of supernatural prowess.

As a demon, Felicia is ageless and immune to mortal ailments. She doesn't age and is impervious to conventional forms of harm.

Felicia has access to occult knowledge and demonic secrets. This knowledge aids her in crafting dark rituals, forming alliances with other supernatural entities, and staying one step ahead of her adversaries.

Like other demons, Felicia can transform into a cloud of black smoke, allowing her to move swiftly and undetected. This ability is useful for infiltration and escape.

Her demonic form grants her increased physical strength, enabling her to overpower humans and confront other supernatural beings.

And lastly Felicia can teleport from one location to another instantaneously, facilitating her ability to appear and disappear at will.

hope you guys like her!

@missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #supernatural #supernatural oc #supernatural x oc

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gcthvile · 3 months

Text

thanks for the tag, lor!

their relationship survived through want and compromise - a testament to what could emerge when unexpected pieces aligned.

Last Sentence Tag Game

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Thanks to @missflufffanfics for tagging me!

This is for a Gale x Gwen (Single Mom!Tav) one shot I'm chipping away at.

"Honestly, the amount of running he had grown accustomed to since the crash would have been frightful even a month before."

Tagging: @kittttycakes, @leighsartworks216, @any59, @can-of-pringles, @interwebseriesfan24, @auroramagpie, @jo-harrington, and anyone else who wants to join in.

#tag game #ask to tag

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gcthvile · 3 months

Text

Spider-boy, King of Thieves.

summary: the lines blur as rei stark, the king of thieves, and his archenemy, peter parker or spider-man, join forces against a new threat. their alliance sparks forbidden desires challenging longtime roles. as loyalties shift amid the shadows of a power struggle, will a deception unravel or ignite something far more dangerous in the city that never sleeps?

couple: rei stark (oc) x peter parker

warnings: slightly suggestive content towards the end

fandom: marvel

the streets of new york echoed with the sounds of conflict once more. web and repulsor blasts lit up the night as the familiar figures of spideran and the king danced their waltz of evasion and attack.

"giving up yet, your highness?" taunted spider-man as he flipped out of the way of a repulsor beam.

rei chuckled darkly as his armor hovered nearby. "not a chance, bug. i've only just begun!"

they launched back into the fray, exchanging blows both physical and verbal. over time, their fights had fallen into a practiced ritual - testing skills and wits without intent to seriously harm. the adrenaline rush and challenge was what kept drawing them together, time and again.

tonight, it seemed their dance was drawing to a close once peter disarmed rei with a well-placed web shot. "nice try, stark. i'd say your little heist attempt is a failure."

rei scowled up at him from the ground, but it lacked venom. a glint of amusement shone in his eyes. "you win this round, bug. though I'll be back to try again, so don't get too comfortable."

peter smirked behind his mask. "i look forward to it, your majesty." he shot a web and swung off into the night.

their little games were becoming dangerously entertaining. but neither could have predicted the high stakes clash just over the horizon that would force them to work as a team. and uncover hidden dynamics neither expected...

rumblings of unrest had been stirring in the underbelly of the city for weeks. a new power was rising, one far more ruthless and reckless than even the king. at first, it was little things - businesses "sold" under duress, territories quietly seized.

but then the corpses started appearing, bearing signs of savage brutality. anyone who dared resist this mysterious new force met grisly ends. word on the streets hinted at a shadow organization flooding the streets with highly dangerous weapons.

for rei, it represented the first real threat to his authority since taking the throne. spies reported this new gang, led by a man only known as vulture, aimed to topple all established powers to rule unchallenged through fear.

peter, meanwhile, began encountering vulture's weapons during nightly patrols. powerful, unregulated explosives and firearms unlike anything he'd seen before. bodies left in his wake told of a viciousness that made even seasoned criminals blanch.

both started piecing the clues together. they realized this was bigger than a simple turf war, and neither could hope to defeat such a relentless enemy acting alone. for the sake of the city, a temporary alliance may be the only way to ensure its survival...and theirs.

but first, they'd need to overcome their pride and distrust. a meeting would need to be arranged, despite the personal animosity between them. the fate of new york demanded it - if they didn't unite to stop vulture, he would destroy them all.

"to what do i owe the displeasure, spider-man?" rei drawled as peter swung into the deserted warehouse.

peter pushed back his growing annoyance. this was important. "we need to talk, stark. there's a new threat-"

"so I've heard," interrupted rei lazily from where he lounged. "this vulture seems to be moving in on my operations. quite rude of him, really."

"this is serious," insisted peter. "he's already killed dozens. we can't keep butting heads with each other if he means to destroy everything."

rei inspected his nails disinterestedly. "and why should I care what happens to you and this city? as long as my empire remains intact, what do I owe these people?"

peter balled his fists, struggling to remain calm. "we both know you don't really mean that. deep down you do have a code, as twisted as it is." he took a slow breath. "we need to team up, like it or not. It's our only chance."

rei arched a sculpted brow, finally deigning to look at him fully. "work with the itsy bitsy spider? I think not. give me one good reason I shouldn't leave you for the vultures, hmm?"

"because together we stand a chance," said peter, meeting that flinty gaze steadily. "but divided, we both fall. your call, stark. what's it going to be - ally or enemy?"

rei tapped his chin thoughtfully, making a show of considering peter's proposal.

"you make a fair point, as loathe as I am to admit it," he conceded at last. "very well, it seems we have no other choice. an alliance - for now."

"wonderful," said peter dryly. "now what's our next move against vulture?"

"patience, bug. strategizing takes time, not that a simpleton like you would understand." rei smirked, earning a glare. "vulture has been frustratingly elusive so far. we'll need to draw him out."

"any ideas how?" challenged peter.

a wicked gleam entered rei's eyes. "as a matter of fact, I believe I have the perfect bait...you."

peter blinked in surprise. "me? why would he be interested in-"

"you're the lone thorn in his side so far, spider. taking you out of the picture would clear a major obstacle." rei circled lazily, scanning leter up and down in a way that made him feel distinctly prey-like.

"and how do you propose using me as bait, exactly?" asked peter suspiciously.

rei's smile was all sharp teeth. "leave the details to me, bugaboo. all you need to do is play your part when the time comes. unless you'd rather I find...alternative motivation?"

peter repressed a shiver. working with rei stark was sure to be a dangerous game indeed.

the time for planning had passed. rei's elaborate scheme was primed, and now it was time for peter to play his part as bait.

"you're sure this will work?" asked peter, not for the first time. a lingering shred of self-preservation made him hesitant.

rei rolled his eyes as he fitted a tracer to peter's suit. "for the last time, yes. now stop fidgeting." his touch lingered on peter's hip, smirking at the sharp inhale it drew.

peter scowled, slapping his hand away. "focus, stark."

"oh, i am." rei's gaze gleamed with intention as he stepped back. "ready when you are, bug. go make yourself a tantalizing target for our feathered friend."

with an uneasy glance at rei, peter swung off into the dusk. he wasn't sure which role made him more nervous - bait, or whatever game rei seemed determined to drag him into. pushing those thoughts aside, he started stirring up trouble, making himself a noisy target.

it didn't take long before he sensed eyes upon him. a looming figure swooped down and attacks rained - but these he barely had to dodge. vulture had taken the bait, and rei was no doubt tracking their movement.

sure enough, when peter faked capture to lure vulture to a secluded spot, rei was waiting with weapons primed. their unlikely alliance sprang into coordinated attack, catching vulture utterly off guard between spider and thief.

in minutes, the fearsome villain lay defeated at their feet. peter grinned at rei in flushed triumph, surprised by how natural their teamwork had felt. but the king of thieves seemed far more interested in claiming his reward...

rei stepped closer to peter, a triumphant smirk curving his lips. "well done, spider. it seems our partnership was fruitful after all."

"yeah, i suppose teaming up wasn't so bad." peter felt a nervous flutter as rei's hand came up to grasp his arm. "so...i guess our business is concluded?"

"concluded?" rei laughed softly. "sweetheart, the night is young. and I believe a reward is in order for my invaluable bait."

before peter could react, rei tugged him into a kiss. his lips were firm yet surprisingly gentle against peter's astonished mouth. electric heat shot through peter's veins as he kissed back without thinking.

when they parted, peter stared wide-eyed. "rei, i...we can't. you're a criminal, i'm a hero."

rei only smiled wickedly. "and yet, did we not just work marvelously as a team? your morals seem rather flexible when it suits you, little spider." He nuzzled peter's jaw, drawing a shiver.

"maybe..." peter wavered, torn between duty and the undeniable spark between them. could he allow himself this, even if just for one night? rei made a compelling case, as always.

rei sensed his surrender. "come home with me, sweetheart. i'll show you pleasures unlike any good girl or boy could offer." his voice dropped to a sinful purr. "let's see how far that flexibility can take you..."

against all better judgment, peter found himself saying "okay." just for one night...

what began as a one night encounter blossomed into something deeper for peter and rei against all odds. somehow, their partnership in defeating vulture had unlocked an undeniable connection between them.

where once they were enemies, now they fell into an intricate dance - fighting crime during the day as their alter egos, only to come together under cover of darkness in heated embraces. rei continued his schemes, but turned his ambition towards less harmful targets at peter's insistence.

their relationship defied definition. they were allies in some ways, antagonists in others, and something altogether softer and needier when alone. rei's lust for challenge and thrill now extended to pleasing peter as much as himself.

peter knew he should end this dance with the king of thieves. but there was solace and pleasure in rei's arms unlike anything he found elsewhere. and for all his notorious deeds, rei proved fiercely devoted and protective of what was his behind closed doors.

somehow, against every expectation, their partnership worked. they pushed and challenged one another in turn, inspiring each to explore grey areas of their natures neither knew existed. new york's protector and its most cunning criminal formed an unlikely balance.

and so the dance continued between spider-man and his king, weaving a delicate equilibrium through the streets of their city by night while keeping up appearances as adversaries by day. their relationship survived through want and compromise - a testament to what could emerge when unexpected pieces aligned.

there we go, hope you'll like it!

@jackiequick @missstrawbs2001 @blueboirick @meiramel @cherrysft

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc #spider man #peter parker x oc

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gcthvile · 3 months

Text

Mazikeen Bennett

Name: Mazikeen "Maze" Bennett

Age: 17

Height: 175

Sexuality: lesbian

Face claim: Emmy Myers

Mazikeen Bennett, the queen of sarcasm, navigating the drama of teenage life in suburbia. She had the whole clumsy-but-charming routine down pat, with parents who were supportive but perpetually perplexed by their quirky daughter.

Academically, she was on point, but her mind was always in the stars. Science fiction was her jam, and daydreaming about escaping the ordinary was her favorite pastime.

Then, in a twist of fate straight out of a movie, Mazikeen stumbled upon something bizarre in an old warehouse. Little did she know, it triggered a cosmic ripple effect that caught the attention of the Tenth Doctor. Imagine his surprise finding this sarcastic, accidentally adventurous teenager at the heart of it all.

Cue the TARDIS entrance and an invite for Mazikeen to join the Doctor on a rollercoaster of time and space. Suddenly, her life went from ordinary to extraordinary, with each Doctor bringing new quirks, challenges, and mind-bending adventures. Mazikeen became the unexpected hero of her own sci-fi saga.

Mazikeen is a vibrant girl with a personality that's a delightful mix of quirks and charm. She is the queen of sarcasm. Her quick wit and sharp tongue add a humorous edge to even the most challenging situations. She's the master of playful banter, making her a perfect companion for the Doctor's eccentric adventures.

Despite her intelligence, Mazikeen has a knack for finding herself in confusing situations. Her clumsy tendencies often lead to unexpected escapades, turning mishaps into memorable moments. It's not unusual for her to stumble into trouble, quite literally.

Mazikeen's awkward charm endears her to those around her. Her genuine and unfiltered reactions create an authentic and relatable character. She navigates social situations with a mix of awkwardness and endearing sincerity.

Beneath the sarcasm and clumsiness lies a fiercely protective nature. Mazikeen cares deeply for the Doctor and anyone else she considers part of her cosmic family. She won't hesitate to step up and defend her friends against whatever time and space throw their way.

Mazikeen's curiosity about the universe and her adventurous spirit make her an ideal companion for the Doctor. She embraces the unknown with enthusiasm, finding joy in exploring the wonders of time and space.

Relationships with each of the Doctors.

10th Doctor:

So, Mazikeen kicks things off with the Tenth Doctor. Picture it like the cool mentor and the sarcastic sidekick having a blast in the TARDIS. They clicked right away, turning every adventure into a mix of wisdom and accidental fun.

11th Doctor:

Then bam, regeneration hits, and now it's the Eleventh Doctor with his bowties and quirks. Mazikeen just rolls with it, adding her own sarcasm to the mix. Think of them as the dynamic duo of time-traveling banter and unexpected escapades.

12th Doctor:

The Twelfth Doctor comes in, a bit more serious, but Mazikeen's quick wit keeps things interesting. It's like a blend of gruffness and charm, tackling time's craziness together.

13th Doctor:

Finally, the Thirteenth Doctor brings in a fresh dose of wonder and optimism. Mazikeen's adventurous spirit syncs perfectly with the Doctor's enthusiasm. They become this awesome duo exploring the universe and having a blast.

A gift from the Doctor

The Doctor, later on gave Mazikeen a little gadget as a gift, a pocket-sized translator. That thing was a game-changer in their space adventures. Picture this tiny device – it's like Mazikeen's secret weapon.

This translator was like magic. It could decipher all those weird alien languages. So, Mazikeen went from "What are you saying?" to chatting it up with all kinds of extraterrestrial beings. It made communication a breeze, and suddenly, the whole universe was her conversational playground. But it wasn't just about words. This gizmo turned Mazikeen into a cultural ambassador. She'd help aliens understand each other, turning potential clashes into interstellar friendships. It was like the ultimate icebreaker, breaking down barriers and fostering unity.

Oh, and let's not forget the laughs. The translator had a mind of its own, sometimes spitting out translations that were downright hilarious. It brought comic relief to their adventures, turning tense moments into shared laughs between Mazikeen and the Doctor.

That little gadget wasn't just a tool; it was a symbol of trust and partnership. The Doctor handing it over was like saying, "Hey, you're a crucial part of this cosmic team." It became a bond between them, reinforcing Mazikeen's role as more than just a companion – she was family.

Relationships with the other companions

Mazikeen was also known to some of the Doctor's other companions, like Rose Tyler, Captain Jack Harkness, Amy and Rory Pond, River Song and Clara Oswald.

Rose Tyler:

Rose was like the big sister Mazikeen never knew she needed. They swapped stories, cracked jokes, and faced alien weirdness together. Rose's kindness mixed with Mazikeen's sarcasm made for a dynamic duo that brought a cozy family vibe to the TARDIS.

Captain Jack Harkness:

Oh, Captain Jack and Mazikeen – talk about banter! Jack teased her about clumsy moves, and she dished out eye-rolling comebacks. Despite the teasing, there was a mentor vibe, with Jack sharing his timeless wisdom.

Amy and Rory Pond:

Enter the Ponds – Amy, the adventurous soul, clicked instantly with Mazikeen. They shared wild stories and found humor in the chaos. Rory, the protective older brother type, couldn't help but keep an eye out for the clumsy one. The three of them turned the TARDIS into a quirky family hangout.

River Song:

River's mysterious aura intrigued Mazikeen. They had girl talks about timey-wimey love stuff, and Mazikeen was fascinated by River's complex connection with the Doctor. There was a bond formed over shared laughter and a love for unraveling the mysteries of time.

Clara Oswald:

Clara and Mazikeen hit it off like partners in crime. Clara's curiosity blended with Mazikeen's wit, creating a dynamic duo full of energy. They faced the wildness of time and space with a mix of enthusiasm and humor. Clara's guidance helped Mazikeen navigate the crazy ride of being a companion.

Hobbies

Given Mazikeen's adventurous life with the Doctor, her hobbies are as diverse and unique as the cosmic landscapes they explored.

Mazikeen had a penchant for documenting her adventures. Whether through witty prose or doodles in a journal, capturing the craziness of time and space was a therapeutic hobby for her.

With that handy pocket-sized translator, Mazikeen developed a fascination for alien languages. She'd spend her downtime picking up phrases from different species, turning it into a quirky linguistic hobby.

Armed with a sonic screwdriver and a keen eye, Mazikeen would take up space photography. Capturing breathtaking vistas on alien planets or snapping candid shots of the Doctor mid-adventure was her way of preserving memories.

Mazikeen also enjoyed creating virtual adventures or reliving iconic moments from Earth's history. It was her way of adding a touch of normalcy to their otherwise extraordinary life.

Given her quick wit, Mazikeen also enjoyed solving time-related puzzles. She'd have a collection of mind-bending paradoxes or riddles that she tackled during moments of downtime, adding a mental challenge to her life on the TARDIS.

Traveling through time and space introduced Mazikeen to a multitude of tea varieties. She developed a love for exploring different cultures through their tea rituals, collecting unique blends from each era and civilization.

A foodie at heart, Mazikeen experimented with cooking alien dishes using ingredients collected during their travels. It was a way for her to connect with the diverse cultures they encounter.

If the TARDIS is equipped with a vast library, Mazikeen would also indulge in reading various works from across the universe. She would even have her own interstellar book club with fellow companions.

Conclusion:

And so, Mazikeen's wild ride through time and space comes to a crossroads. The TARDIS humming in the background, a bunch of quirky friends, and Mazikeen standing there, faced with the big decision – to keep exploring the universe or find a cozy spot to kick back.

With a heart full of memories, laughter, and maybe a bit of chaos, Mazikeen's journey feels like a movie with an epic soundtrack. Whether she decides to stick around on Earth or hitch another ride in the TARDIS, the adventures keep going.

So, it's not really a conclusion; it's more like a cosmic cliffhanger. Mazikeen, with her sarcastic charm and protective instincts, leaves an everlasting mark on the Doctor's timeline and the vastness of space. The TARDIS doors are open, and the possibilities are as infinite as the stars.

hope you like her! my first ever doctor who oc🥰

@missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @mallowbee4 @meiramel

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #oc introduction #doctor who rp #doctor who #doctor who oc

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