SKYWALKER.

Account is under co at the moment but it'll look decent when done. Alternative universe Ryan. This description will be in character soon.

[dont-b-a-cunt]

ONESHOT || NO NAME

SUMMARY »» During a scheduled save, the crowd surrounds and Ryan begins to feel paranoid. He begins to spiral into insecurity and anger.

WARNINGS »» Erratic behaviour, disassociation, delusional thoughts, just generally strange all around, description of death, gore, murder.

POV »» 1st PERSON PRESENT

WORD COUNT »» 846

NOTES »» Forgot what inspired this but yah. Kind of character study, kind of random oneshot. i was very stoned when I wrote this.

The constant droning of voices grates on my nerves, I can hear it all. The heartbeats, so frantic and small. The droplets of spit dripping from their screaming mouths, asking a million questions at once. They all hope, they all pray that I’ll hear them. But I don’t. I can hear everything and nothing all at once and it drills into my skull with such an intensity that I almost believe it’s breached my skin and crawled out of me. My lip twitches, the mask slips and I’m here. 

I’m grounded, or something close. There is no blurry window in front of what I am seeing and I see it all. Horrible. Their faces so twisted and so very close, admiring like they had the right. The urge to rip through them takes a hold of me, fills my chest with this lightness and my face with a heaviness. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like an awareness of myself, of others, of being seen. I’m not sure what I’m doing with my face, I know I’m not smiling anymore, but it doesn’t matter.

They don’t seem to blink, or back away, they only get closer. Phones, cameras, flashes, they can see it. They can all see it on me. I can’t stop it. What’s wrong with me? My hand comes up to rub across my face, the touch of my own hand on my own face feels distant. I blink endlessly, I’m not sure if it’s because of the flashes anymore or if I’m trying to wake up. 

I slap someone’s hand out of my way, I don’t bother to know what they were doing, pushing through the crowd of people. I’m stepping on someone’s leg, I feel it, but I can hear them whimper and scramble away and take photos from slightly further away. I push and they relent because what else could they do. They don’t have a choice and they shouldn’t. 

They’re all so small, so insignificant. I’m better, I have to be. My feet feel so clumsy, stepping in front of me out of rhythm, I know I’m making these actions. I know my brain is telling my body to stretch and step and yet I feel utterly out of control. I’m not here, not really. I haven’t been myself for a long time. I can’t remember the last time I really did something good or kind, there’s no room for it anymore.

I’m gone, under all this, there is no real me left anymore. I’ve known this for a while, I think. I wish I knew what I felt. I wish I could just stop trying, I wish I could just be better. But wishes aren’t real and nobody is coming to save me. I did this to myself, I shouldn’t pity myself really, I’m entirely responsible for everything I’ve done and yet I can’t feel bad for it without feeling bad for myself. 

There is something wrong in me. I’m not sure who put it there or if it’s always been inside me. It’s entirely possible that it’s just who I am, I’m poison to this world. I’m poison posing as a cure and I can feel it. There’s no humane way around me, there are no people, there isn’t a world out there, not really. It’s all just dust floating through the air, travelling to the next place, the next trend, the next president and the next hand to shake.

It all drones on, I’ve been here before and I’ll be here again and again and again. It won’t ever stop.

A hand grasps my shoulder, I don’t think. Before I know it, I’m spinning around and my hand cuts through their skin like butter, I don’t look. My fingers tear through sinew, I desecrate anything I come into contact with and my fingertips peek through the other side with my palm ripping through shortly after. 

My hand and suit are dampened by common blood and still I will not stop myself. I take my other hand and wedge it through the wound, I hear their screams, that shrill rattling scream when they know they’re going to die. It doesn’t make me feel much anymore. My hand passes through and I pull them outwards, rending through this human and watching as the muscle tried so desperately to stay together, stringing and shredding itself as their organs were bared to the world. They shit themselves, they piss themselves and then their heart stops beating like any human. 

It’s over before I know it, they lay still now, terror and misfortune written over their face. I am not sure when the blood sprayed on my face but I lick my lips free of it. Once more, I am cleansed. This will happen again, everyone in the crowd in front of me will be bought off or dead by the morning. 

I cross my hands over my head and pull my arms down, launching through the air as I felt the blood slip from my body and fall back to the Earth. 

[dont-b-a-cunt]

INTRODUCING SKYWALKER || RYAN GILLMAN

TLDR; Admin is 18, acc is under co, alternative universe rp, Ryan is an asshole weirdo, Homelander is dead, I do crossover and normal acc interactions.

Ask and lit blog. I needed somewhere to put my Ryan. I will still be answering asks. This is an alternative universe concept account thing where Ryan replaces Homelander as the leader of the seven after he 'goes mysteriously silent during a covert operation. Timeline is between season 4 and 5. He is called Skywalker (I know it's like star wars but. Homeboy is diabolical I will not be calling him Homeboy).

WARNINGS; He is very unhinged and strange, this is entirely on purpose. He is very much a teenager with extreme pressure on him to be perfect, so he will have mood swings. He's just generally all over the place and very erratic. He may be inclined to prejudiced behaviour (not including racism or xenophobia). Topics that may be displayed inappropriately due to character: murder, exploitation, poverty, corruption, elitism, general political views and Igbtq+ issues and ideology.

Mun/out of character info.

I'm 18 years old, I'm an autist, l'm an OSSD-1B system, I have a myriad of disorders and I am a trans man. There will be mature and adult themes on this blog so if you're a minor l'd suggest to just not. I don't have any triggers so l'll respond to pretty much anything. If I don't want to respond to your ask, I won't, any negative reaction Ryan has is entirely in character. I will do non-rp account asks along with character asks, crossover asks etc. I have around 6-8 years of writing experience. I am scottish and peruvian, I have never been to America so if I get shit wrong, that's why.

Character info.

Ryan does not like to talk about his mother, he will dodge any questions regarding her. He is often brutally honest and does not care about how Vought has to manage his image. The reason he is even leading The Seven is because he spent more time with Homelander during his childhood and was manipulated and swayed over to a mindset closer to his father's. Despite this, he has feelings of resentment and inadequacy towards his father.

Homelander is dead. As of now, it's intentionally unknown who killed him or what manner of death he had, but it wasn't Ryan. He has some serious identity issues due to being pushed into his father's shoes and has a lot of conflicting views and beliefs.

I am portraying Ryan with conduct disorder and overt NPD, keep that in mind. He will view any asks by deceased people or people out of universe as visions' or real things happening to him but are usually hallucinations in universe.

Okay, thank you. This will look prettier and be more concise soon I promise.

[michael-comeau]

Sometimes i eek