always have and always will

elden vance aldridge. thirty-one. journliast.

[cruelcasualties]

ABOUT VANCE | So casually cruel in the name of being honest.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Elden "Vance" Aldridge

AGE: Thirty-One

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Tom Blyth

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Blonde, dyed brown

HEIGHT: 6'0"

DATE OF BIRTH: September 7th, 1992

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor's in Communications with a Minor in Advertisement

HOMETOWN: Great Bend, Kansas

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: Jewish

OCCUPATION: Journalist with Superbia

CHARACTER HISTORY

Vance thought finally understood the tales of angels and demons that his grandmother warned him of when he ventured off into the path of writing. It wasn't aimless and soul sucking like the jobs he carried before, but it surely devoured bits of his being as he poured his heart out for no one to even read them. He found his way following a photographer posing as a real journalist when he met an angel who defied the rumors of digital enhancement, who was breathtaking on all her own. It was then that he swore he understood everything the world had to offer, heart break included. He'd eventually get caught in his lie, but she'd stick around for a month, then two, then nine before she left the creation of their infatuation in his arms for him to care for.

For nearly two years, Vance followed his love across the globe chasing that feeling again. He swore she still loved him, but he rarely saw her. He was always one hotel off, one invitation wrong, one hour off before he could run into her again. All of the money he had went to chasing her, leaving nothing for their child. Unable to care for them, Vance gave them up when he returned home once and for all. He made some money detailing the corners of the fashion world he did linger and embed himself in to catch her again, finding a platform in the romanticism and distain he detailed back and forth. He found opportunity for his art, and eventually climbed his way to Superbia as a journalist that ate scandal like a snack and devoured the truth of it for lunch and dinner.

PRESENT DAY

It's been years since he's seen his former lover, and he feels even longer since he'd seen their child. One is splattered for the world to pick and prod across billboards and magazines, while the other lives in a photo tucked in a coat pocket he never puts on anymore. As far as he's concerned, that's another life but the guilt still eats at him. Vance devotes himself to the scandal, getting into the thick of it until he believes he's one of them with nothing to worry about but a starving body and a pretty smile, only to exploit their feelings beyond their appearances for another piece in Superbia. He doesn't care about those he hurts by falling in and out of love with them for a good source, let alone for a good story.

HEADCANONS

Vance has a subtle 1 star rating for notoriety simply because unless this world has a picture attached to it, no one remembers your name. When it comes to writing, his words stick to someone else's tongue and cause a murmur in crowds, but his name is easily forgotten.

He's known for writing pieces that praise the fashion industry in a way that's controversial. It makes you hate to love it, but still invigorates the reader's infatuation. However, he's no stranger to writing a scandal wrapped in a delivery that can be hard to swallow. He often lets the readers decide right and wrong, creating a tone that feeds into the murder the industry can get away with for simply being pretty.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Co-workers

Former Roommate

People in the fashion industry who knew him for following around his ex, Azucena de la Rosa, when he was nothing and just journaling about his experiences on the road in the smack middle of the biggest fashion events

People who read his articles about the fashion world when he was nothing, and recognize his name on the tabloids now

People he "dated" and hooked up with in the fashion industry to get a good story and broke their hears, because he's here for a good time not a long time and likes to play a simp

Enemies

A good influence, and a particular bad influence

Someone who knows about how he gave his daughter up for adoption

[stackhousesookie]

TOM BLYTH AS CORIOLANUS SNOW | THE HUNGER GAMES: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS & SNAKES

[zanephillips]

TOM BLYTH at the premiere of "The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes" in LA

[cruelcasualties]

Passed Alger Brook Road, I'm over the bridge A minute from home but I feel so far from it The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again The things that I lost here, the people I knew They got me surrounded for a mile or two The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel I'm back between villages and everything's still

[cruelcasualties]

open to: everyone location: local nashville club

The red hues of the lights that glittered around the club made Cade believe it was the hues of the sunrise, that he had been there far longer than most. It had dissolved quickly into another scheme, though, and once more time was no more than a construct within its walls. The bass swallowed him whole, and he tilted his head back into the black that danced behind his eyes. Exhaustion was close, but his fingers found his lips and parted them with a bitter pill. He wouldn’t be gone until they’d kick him out, which with his reputation, was always a hit or miss if someone would beat the bouncer to it. The stillness he found on the swarming dance floor tugged at him, a hand grabbing his and spinning him. He let our a roar of laughter, swearing he could see it vibrate of the perspiration that glistened off the bodies of those around him. “Woah, woah, slow down or I’m gonna be sick,” Cade laughed, but he dipped into the turn of the room to match the pace of the music. His own body became slick with something, possible the spill of a drink mute against the bass. “Shit.”

[drcgonagehqs]

event 001 starter where: music city street fair → near the hottest chicken competition status: open

"fuck, yeah i can't do that." callum let out a breathy laugh, blinking back tears as he taste tested one of the signature flaming hot wings. he still swore going to college in new york screwed with his tastebuds. he would've taken this stuff like a champ when he was eighteen. callum wiped his hands with a napkin before promptly taking a step back and shaking his head at the competition's judge. he'd only entered on a dare and counted himself out after his very first bite— there went fifty bucks.

"hey, you got any water or something?" callum's mouth hung open as he huffed out quick, short breaths in attempt to cool off his tongue.

[cruelcasualties]

"Touch that fucking pitcher, and I will throw the rest of these wings at you," Cade said, scolding caught in his throat. His words scrapped against the roof of his mouth where they were delivered in a low and hoarse warning that had lost its threat. Pulling the gallon of water into his hands, he chugged as much as he could for relief but found none, "This water isn't doing anything!"

His cheeks were flush, the fluster climbing over his skin as he tried to continue the competition despite falling behind already.

"Fuck this," He announced, wiping his hands right on his jeans.

[maggiedereux]

Open Starter!

Location: Near one of the stages during the street fair 4 hours before her performance

She was late for the sound check. Her band was getting impatient and pissed off. She wasn't running on a lot of energy... except for maybe the champagne she was currently drinking from the bottle and the lines of coke she had snorted earlier.

Maggie hadn't slept in a few days... her battle with her mother over the album demos had hindered her sleep and kept her up at night.

She swallowed the champagne and went over to the stage, her husband not far behind her, a defeated look on his face. He had tried to stop her but... Maggie wasn't easy to stop when it came to her vices.

Maggie approached someone near the stage.

"You a roadie? Can you get me some more of this, please?" She asked holding up the bottle, she was obviously drunk and high.

"Maggie! We ready or not?" One of her band members said from the stage.

"Yeah!" She replied before turning back to the person near her that she had handed the bottle to.

"You can be my test audience. We're gonna do a sound check. Cheer if you like it, boo me if you hate it." She said jokingly with a smirk as she sniffled a bit before turning to go on stage only to turn back to the person who was nearby.

"Oh and if you see a mean looking old lady, can you like... tell her to leave... actually no, tell her to go fuck herself. I swear I'll give you a goddamn autograph or something." She said slightly slurring her words at the end of her sentence.

"Thanks." She stumbled up to the stage stairs before sitting down on the last step and laughing a bit.

"Fuck. Oh... I'm way too drunk for this sound check. Shit..." She muttered.

"Maggie! Are we doing the sound check or not!?" One of the guys on stage yelled.

All he got in return for an answer was a glare from her husband and a middle finger from Maggie aimed his way.

"Hey! You got anymore champagne?" She asked the person nearby she had been talking to.

"Can't get up these fucking steps, guess I'm singing from here then..." Maggie said with a shrug.

[cruelcasualties]

How Cade had gotten roped into this part of the Street Fair was a faint memory now, something he had nodded along to without paying much attention. He was in and out of the moment more and more as of late. The moment he felt grounded, there was always some place else he'd rather be and he'd lose touch all over again.

At the very least, Cade was scoring some points with the station's administration for taking on the task to help around. Most of his work thus far had been dedicated to running from one stage to the other to confirm some crumbled up list he held in his pocket to report to someone else, fill coolers, and nod along to whatever story was imposed on him about street fairs from the past.

What he hadn't expected was the scene before him now, a curious eye pulling out from backstage and into the grasp of the red-maned woman who was suppose to be in charge of the mic. Feedback cried out before being cut short, solution found quickly as though it was expected. He wasn't quite sure if he should set the bottle down or take it and call his shift over, but he was pinned to where he stood.

It was like a tale he'd heard over and over again, but without the narrator in awe, it had lost its luster. Cade had heard stories over and over again of stumbling acts but how the star of the show always prevailed without a second guess from their on-lookers.

He acted as quickly as he could, replacing champagne for a stool set aside as he crossed to where she sat.

"I can help you, if you want," Cade offered, standing at the edge but not extending his hand just yet. If she wanted help, he'd lead her to whatever resolution he could muster in the moment. If not, he'd mind his place. "One step at a time, however you want. I've seen your shows before. I'm sure you don't need the whole slot for sound check, so the band and everyone else should survive if this takes a minute."

[cruelcasualties]

ABOUT CADE| You never really know a killer from savior.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Cade Rothschild

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Tom Holland

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: September 7th, 1996

AGE: Twenty-Six

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor's in Communications with a Minor in Advertisement & English from Columbia University

HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, New York

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: Jewish

OCCUPATION: Assistant at Radio Station, Dorian Thomas after hours on radio

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: MENTION OF ABDUCTION/DISAPPEARANCE]

Before his disappearance from the face of the world a year ago, Cade was, in fact, just another golden boy— at least that's what everyone thought. But not all that glitters is gold, and Cade finally learned that when he was accepted into an elite academic society at Columbia University. He'd been an anomaly as he spoke the part, held the curl of lip just right, but he hardly looked it. Cade's saving grace was how he somehow demanded attention without ever being seen in the back of the classroom. His voice called out from the farthest row, a squint away, seemingly the only one with reason.

He'd been taken under the wing of his peers under the impression that they'd be his guardians. Known to be quiet, he found somewhere to stand and be heard. They made Cade feel as though he was heaven sent and angel willed, but it would be a hard fall from grace after that. No matter how hard they tried to dress him up, there were parts of Cade that they couldn't deny could never be reassembled to fit in with him. Towards the end of his college days, he had scraped himself of every gold flake they pressed against him like it was grime. Many say it was maturity that got to him and why he abandoned the comfort of his so-called brothers, while others believe to this day that maybe they realized Cade wasn't as special as they anticipated. As for Cade, he believes it was just a matter of time before he'd be another fool to false fortune.

Feeling out of place his third year, Cade's sister had agreed to meet with him and venture out into the city together. They made plans to have lunch, he'd finally show her around after making a point of coming home and never going farther than Franklin street again. His life at the university and at home were separate. They would have to reschedule for the next day, and then maybe the day after, as she never made it to campus and no one had been able to trace her down since.

Her disappearance took a toll on Cade that those around him found difficult to handle, and they took a step back. His grades began to slip, and every promise he had fumbled around him. The position he was promised at one of the most sought after news station was compromised. However, he was able to prevail and graduated but he'd once again start at the bottom of a ladder. He ended up moving to Nashville where his sister always wanted to go in hopes that maybe she'd run off there, but it proved to just be wishful thinking five years down the line where he's been sitting as an assistant to a radio show.

PRESENT DAY

At a Christmas Party at the station a year ago, a drunken Cade climbed up to the broadcast wing of the building to recover. Panic had settled in, and once more, that feeling of being out of place and stuck struck again. He had signed on to the broadcast after hours and sent a message to his sister if she was out there about how he felt and ultimately talked himself down. The message had resonated with many listeners to the point that a few had asked the next day while calling in if they had ever resolved the caller's request believing that Cade had just been someone who dialed in. He'd get on every night and talk into the void of listeners out there hoping that it was his sister.

He ended up building a reputation for himself as Dorian Thomas, a radio show host after hours that spoke about his own worries and life and many related to it. He found resolve, and sometimes he didn't, and it was the most human anyone felt listening to anyone on air. He sneaks in from his own radio at home, figuring out the configuration to get on air.

The station has yet to know who is on, as Cade has burned all of his recordings and even changed his voice on air. No one has linked him to the persona, and the radio station's efforts vary as they get more listeners than they'd care to admit.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Co-workers

Roommate

Someone who knows he's Dorian Thomas

Childhood friends such as friends from secondary school in Brooklyn or people he took the subway to go see across town in secret, anyone who could have been a long distance friend since his university friends traveled a lot with him

People he went to school with at Columbia University, including those in the Brotherhood

[cruelcasualties]

aefterhours​:

Beating. His whole life there’s been this beating creature against his ribs. Clawing, begging to be free. Poison in his veins. A family trait. It wasn’t his. He’d say time and time again, he’d convince himself. He’s been like this his whole life. A hunger to know the universe, to let it sink it’s teeth into him and tear him apart until there’s nothing left. Nothing but blood and flesh, and matted mess of this rotting person that once was.

He’d beg the universe to take him. Night after night. Let me be free. Let him escape like all the others who crossed into his life. 

Nolan asks Arden because he understands- he knows what it is to kill someone. By intention or accident. He knows blood caked under his nails, and dirt clawing. He looks to Arden. And he understands. It’s written all over the man’s face, the blood that stains him. 

He pours Arden another drink, his mind trying not to drift to blood sprawled on the floor, or gunshots ringing against his ears. “She doesn’t seem like her anymore.” His statement is simple- not an accusation, not anything beyond an observation. Thinking back to his last interactions with her. Lost.

“You’re not a bad man, Arden.”

“That doesn’t make up for the rest of me, Nolan,” He countered. The beast that so many believed was dormant slept with its claws buried in Arden’s soul, every breath he took that was too greedy to fuel the human would be torn at even in its slumber. “I don’t have to be a bad man but it doesn’t mean I’m saved. Or good. I think it’s the human part that got her killed. It was the ignorance. I thought I could fix him, and spare him... and I just ruined them both, Nolan. I ruined them both worse than I ruined me.” He fumbled across the table for the bottle, the glass crying out in protest as he slid it towards him. Another swig, and it didn’t burn as much as it did before. There was no punishment left for him. This was his burden to carry.

[cruelcasualties]

vclaudia​:

          there    were    many    supernaturals    out    there    ,    many    weapons    directed    at    them    that    could    do    some    real    damage    if    people    didn’t    know    what    they    were    dealing    with.        “     he    won’t    bleed    out    ,    arden.     ”        she’d    been    through    her    trial    and    error    days    ,    through    hours    spent    wondering    if    she    was    doing    the    right    thing    or    worsening    a    wound    to    the    point    of    no    return.    she’d    studied    for    years    and    years    ,    now    able    to    be    confident    in    her    ability    to    do    as    much    as    she    could    possibly    do    without    the    stress    of    making    a    mistake.    after    all    ,    claudia    was    as    close    to    a    perfectionist    as    someone    could    get    after    all    her    years    of    being    isolated.

          the    towels    were    put    to    good    use    instantly    to    stop    the    bleeding.    still    ,    she    couldn’t    fathom    settling    her    full    irritation    at    having    to    replace    all    of    them    after    this    because    no    amount    of    washing    would    get    the    stains    out.    this    was    a    kid    ,    though    ,    and    she    couldn’t    be    selfish.    she’s    calm    in    opposition    to    the    thrashing    and    clawing    on    the    boy’s    part    ,    hands    as    steady    as    can    be    as    they    inspected    the    wound    further    to    make    sure    the    silver    was    the    most    of    their    worries.        “     well    ,    i    would    suggest    a    sedative    ,    but    if    he’s    that    young    and    new    to    all    this    …    i    don’t    think    it’d    last    long.     ”        at    least    the    bleeding    was    slowing    now    ,    which    was    a    good    sign    in    itself.    all    claudia    could    do    was    hope    that    time    was    on    her    side    and    would    allow    her    to    do    things    properly.    the    young    ones    were    unpredictable.        “     just    …    keep    him    still.    if    you    can’t    ,    i    will    and    you’re    the    one    who’s    gonna    have    to    take    the    bullet    out.    i    don’t    think    any    of    us    want    that.     ”

“He triggered his curse a month ago, hence the apparent ignorance that got him shot at,” Arden grumbled, wrapping his arm under the boy’s and then over his chest to keep him lying flat against the table. “I’ll do my best. I don’t care if he scars. You do whatever it takes to keep him alive, and I’ll pay you double, Claudia. You just hold up your end of bargain.”

The boy cried out between them, dazed as the pain became too much for him to bare. It was a scene Arden was familiar with and he was certain that both him and Claudia could hear the softening of his heart beat as his consciousness drifted away. They could only hope he’d stay quiet just a little bit longer, or he’d stay quiet forever if she couldn’t find the silver buried in the wound.

END.

[feralsfm]

location: the gas station status: open to all

The days had been slow recently, and the nights even slower. Moth beating against shop front windows, fluttering towards the glowing light. Coyotes cross the long stretch of road where no other life seems to stir. She watches them, eye lights catching off the reflection of the giant illuminating light that just says ‘GAS’.

Bored, resting chin against her hand on the counter just waiting, she’s thankful to see a customer pull into bays outside. Gum popped between her glossed lips, she makes her way outside, grabbing the pump to start filling the other’s vehicle. “Where are you off to this time of night?”

[cruelcasualties]

 The motorcycle came to a stop with a sputter, and Atticus stepped off of it with a stumble in his step. The whiskey had just started to take effect, but it would leave as soon as it came. Damn his tolerance, and damn the healing of his body against any threat even if he tried his best to welcome it. He’d preferred to ride it out with the wind cutting into his cheeks, let his skin burn just as much as his throat had under the sip of that amber fire, but he hadn’t taken into account just how far he’d gone his last ride. 

As he removed his helmet, he saw that it wasn’t a trick. He knew that voice and that silhouette in front of him.

“I’ll be back for family breakfast, Drew, don’t you worry,” He muttered, teeth gritted together as he watched her fill the motorcycle. He didn’t want to involved his siblings in his whereabouts outside of Hellhound duties, and even then, he kept the details vague. This was personal, but she didn’t need to know that.

[tvandfilm]

The O.C.  |  2x12 - “The Lonely Hearts Club”

[cruelcasualties]

chronicxwanderlust​:

The twenty was slipped into her pocket without much regard other than to verify its worth, tucked into the wad of cash growing slowly between the denim. Even if she sold everything on the tables–hell, even if she sold the tables themselves–she wasn’t sure that she’d have enough to cover the cost of Helen’s burial, not without coughing up some of her own funds (a detail that she’d already grappled with the reality of upon seeing the state of things). She knew it would be a small price to pay if it meant being one step closer to being done with this place, to being free from it once and for all. She used to think that there was nothing in the world that could ever bring her back. Now at least she’d know it was true.

Her eyes immediately fell to the welted skin along Arden’s palm, the sight only grotesque enough to hitch a breath in her throat. Her gaze lifted from the injured hand to the man who wore it, the confusion clear on Marley’s face. She remembered when the Bishops had died. How though they’d been taken into the care of their grandfather, it’d been Arden and the second eldest who’d lead that family. They used to say how well adjusted he was. How, even in the face of a tragedy, he managed to keep a good head on his shoulders, and do what needed to be done for his family. Marley wondered what they said about him now. The man who stood there before her, inflicting pain upon himself, and appearing almost proud. She wasn’t sure what to make of him, but something in his eyes left her feeling unsettled. Empty.

She forced herself to look away, coming back to herself with a blink, attention directed back to the table of scattered belongings before them. “They ain’t mine.” She found it hard to believe that he hadn’t heard what’d occurred there, but he had just confessed that he didn’t lie unless necessary. “S’not like she needs them where she’s at, anyways.”

How had he not realized it before? Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare to look over at the lot number that burned in the asphalt not too far from them, Arden confirmed that this was, in fact, Helen Callaghan’s trailer. The trailer park hadn’t been meant for people to stay, and despite how much longer those opportunities were for the people of Skull due to their afflictions, they didn’t always take it. There was a constant shift in certain corners and he had simply never paid mind unless it was an unfamiliar face. 

Cue Marley.

It was only now that he could remember her more clearly. She was just a few years older than Graham, and a few years younger than their sister— just a few years younger than Wren, too. It was only a matter of a small sliver of time that had kept their paths from crossing and weaving, especially since Marley had been one of the few to get out. Her mother, however, Arden had come to know well because of her abilities. Their alliance had been quiet and now Arden wondered if Helen had mentioned it to her before her passing. He wanted to doubt it. 

“You’re Helen’s kid?” He asked, a solid confirmation what he wanted. “I didn’t realize this was her place.”

[cruelcasualties]

chronicxwanderlust​:

Why didn’t they come after me, or you, or the entire Bishop line to plant a new head and let it tumble? It wasn’t until Arden spoke it aloud that Graham had even realized that he’d been thinking the same thing, in the back of his mind. If this had been a slight against werewolves, against the Hellhounds, then there was a more obvious play to have been put into motion. An entire founding family, in tact and residing in Skull…the churn in Graham’s stomach wasn’t so much at the thought of his own demise, if at all, more than it was at the thought of his sibling’s. Of, despite everything the last ten years had pushed between them, Arden’s. He could picture it too clearly, images fueled by the memories of the previous Bishop funerals. He’d attended three already in his twenty eight years of life. Nearly half of his family lost, and he had yet to even see thirty. Would he ever?

Graham’s silent for a moment longer, gears turning in his head, jaw set tight. His eyes dropped to the paper once more, the grip of which left a different photo exposed to view: smaller in size, a portrait of Deputy Mayor Darwin Taylor. The churning feeling in Graham’s stomach had not subsided. “…how much do you know? About him?” Graham lifted his gaze from the newspaper back to Arden, holding out the image, as if it weren’t clear who he was referring to. He knew Arden took it upon himself, as their grandfather had, to take note of everyone who came and went within their town. Taylor wasn’t from Skull, but when exactly he’d moved there, Graham couldn’t recall.

“Not much,” Arden said. “Because he’s made sure of it. Anything that I could find from he came from is limited, or he’s clean for now. No one’s that clean, though, Graham. Not even you.”

There’s a distain in his words, but they’re driven with purpose beyond his own grief that Graham wouldn’t be able to understand. The veil of ignorance he still awarded his brother was a form of preservation Arden tried to inflict, but he found himself testing its limits. His vile thoughts against him were spawned in the act committed against both their wills because even if it was the beast, it was still Graham’s hands pointed with claws and his teeth that had wrapped around Arden’s throat and withered Wren to nothing. But it was Graham, who Arden had raised longer than their own parents. That was the only reason he hadn’t sought vengeance, or any form of balance where one life was tormented for the other. Arden simply nicked him when he found he couldn’t bite him tongue any longer, or ignored him as much as he could. 

“I don’t know what he wants, but he wants something. I don’t know if he’s working his way around us to strike later, or he’s serving a different purpose all together.”

[cruelcasualties]

aefterhours​:

Ringing still swells in his ears- why are they ringing? He forgot long ago, that gun. Those hands of his trembling. Grappling. Weathered from years. The venom that dripped from his fingertips- he’d now lick clean of the blood and dirt and poison. Just in hopes that his could bring something other than pain.

Perhaps he could touch something, someone- and there would be more than rot extended. That beating mass of a being with crimson blood dried against his features and staining his hands. And God how he’d pray for it to be his own blood, his own pain. Let him know something other than these emotions that swallow him. Give reason to the pain. Let him know pain again, excruciating and searing. Leaving him with bruises against his skin, and shattered bones where he longs to be whole.

He’s almost certain words are going to leave his mouth, but they catch in the back of his throat as silence washes over the two of them. As dense as the air that circulates them, how the man wishes he thought Arden was joking. But there was a weight to the words that carry the universe with them. Lifting the glass to his lips to wash away the words that catch in his mouth. “I think we’re all covered in dirt from this town. It chokes us from the moment we learnt to breathe.” Pouring them both another drink, perhaps too many all too quickly but he longed for that poison they both craved.

“Did you kill her?”

Nolan’s entertaining him, he’s certain of it, until his own curiosity pours out with another round. It’s not judgement, not overly curious, but he knows he has to answer. It’s an invitation to share more than a demand, and Arden knows better than to ignore them. It won’t set him free but the burden will be shared.  

While his friend is human, and wields the power to turn Arden a shade of green, he knows he’s not as innocent as the lore claims him to be. The two throw themselves all in, claim a freefall, because its that danger that rips them apart from the weight of all they’ve done for just a little while. They’re rarely discussed it, but they knew that while there wasn’t blood under their fingernails, they had scars from scrubbing them clean. To kill is just as part of the nature of man as it was beast. It was Arden’s human ambition that created a scarlet wake more than the animal he’d become. When he was a boy, he’d been forced to try and wake it but it was mortal hands that carried out the task. 

"No, it wasn’t me,” He found himself unraveling from another confession. He seemed to sink deeper into the chair he sat in. “I didn’t do it, but I still played a part. I let her be there. I needed her there and that’s how it started.”

[bellamuertes]

“We’re in league with the Beast now and we have to make a really big impression on him! And to do that, we’re going to have to butcher you. And bleed you. And then Dirk here is gonna wear your face. Relax – I’m kidding about the face. The rest is gonna happen, though.”

Adam Brody as Nikolai Wolf in Jennifer’s Body (2009), dir. Karyn Kusama

[cruelcasualties]

chronicxwanderlust​:

There was a certain kind of pride that flooded him at the sight of Arden’s grin, the sound of his laughter. The notion that something he said was funny enough to evoke that kind of reaction from his brother. His brother, who’d taken on the weight of fatherhood in the prime of his adulthood, carrying it across his shoulders without so much a second thought. He hadn’t recognized it at first, but as Graham grew older, as they both did, the sign of Arden’s step into their father’s shoes grew more apparent. Long over were the days of heads bent over math homework or grilled cheese sandwiches, or looping the knot of his tie around his neck for first dances, but steady was Arden’s presence, however Graham needed it. A brother. A father. A friend. There would never be the words to be able to express the gratitude Graham felt, the honor he carried to have grown up under his guidance, but there was this. These moments. He hoped it was enough.

“What a way to go, huh?” Lighthearted words for the very deep fear he felt, but he kept those thoughts at bay, not wanting to let them taint this moment. The curse did not own him. Arden believed that he could go out and live his life, his human life, and he’d never steered him wrong before. Besides, if he’d truly been that worried about him, he never would have pushed for Graham to accept UCLA’s offer in the first place, no matter how badly he wanted it.

Silence fell between the two once more, Graham pondering the question, though he managed a half smile at the quip about the laundry. Was he ready for it? To no longer share a space with his siblings? To learn a new town? Not recognize every face at every corner? Teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, head slowly beginning to nod with his answer. “…I think so.” He hadn’t had much room for independence in Skull, but everyone had to learn sometime, right? He grew silent once more, contemplating his next question, before it ultimately passed his lips. “Did you ever consider it? Leaving, I mean.” He wasn’t sure of the plans Arden had had before the death of their parents. If he’d had any dreams put on hold.

Despite the devotion Arden had to his siblings now, it hadn’t been an easy transition. There was an initial rejection driven by his own grief and the revelation that although he had lost his parents, he was far too old to be an orphan. In a life where the violence they choked on was balanced by prolonged life, time had suddenly sped up. He had just found independence, and then he had to bury those he was suppose to leave behind. He couldn’t bury himself, but he could certainly try drowning to lie side by side to them. Arden drank endlessly for months, and while he bit a slurring tongue to hold it in place, that drunken smile was present and it was then that Arden had taught them all his devotion to faking it.

It was a short lived madness, but the dips in his skin from where it ate at his soul remained. He spent as much time as he could making up for it, even if it meant driving a small wedge between him and his siblings again. He had eliminated any boundary between them in his grief, awarding them the same independence he had upon his growing up, old, and out. Arden had come back, smarter in balancing sobriety and the methods he used to fill in the holes left in the wake of their parents’ passing, and it wasn’t peaceful at first. He had stripped Graham of the adulthood he’d allowed him in his negligence, but in turn, he assured him that his survival wasn’t of his concern yet. It was Arden’s and it would be until the day he couldn’t see them.

There were secrets that they didn’t know about their own mother and father, and it was a front Arden had to adopt in order to care for them as best he could. Arden hadn’t realized it until they came to light under the manipulation of their grandfather who had sold out his own son in the hope, in the certainty, that Arden would be his evolved heir. He knew then that in order to be the man they needed him to be, he needed them to know that he had faults but not that he was helpless. He’d have to find solution, but he’s never tell them what it was. It would keep Nathan from looking to corrupt him siblings anymore than the prized curse that loomed over them. If he could just get them out of Skull before Nathan’s wrath eventually touched them. 

“More than once... all the time , but I know what’s out there,” Arden admitted, reflecting upon the time when he had left their side. He never shied away from the time in which he had dismissed it all. “I had the chance to see what’s wrong and what’s right out there, but after Mom and Dad died, this is where I belong. Out there, you can’t talk about the same things, Graham. It’s really just stories out there, and you have to be a lot more careful. You’re normal now, though, so take advantage of it. You know better because you grew up in Skull. Don’t come back unless you have to.”