ℑ𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔦𝔩 𝔴𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝑌𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑡'𝑎𝘩 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩. ᵂᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ˒ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗ' ʰᵉʳ

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Independent Role playing blog for Remmick of the film Sinners Irish lore lovingly intwined | Horror and Mythology based Mature 21 + | Mun is 30 + Under Construction

Visit Original Link

Indoctrinated by : Mjǫðvitnir ( He, They, Them, Wraith, Monster )

Multi / Semi paragraph | Original characters welcomed

Multiverse | Alternate Universes | Cross - overs

Rules and Guidelines

Headcanons : Weaknesses | Backstory

Memes | Starters

Carrd : Remmick ( Under construction )

Side Blogs : Ciarán Gallagher ( Sinners OC ) - first-born-of-a-lost-hive Jack Wynand / Ryan (Bɩɔsɦɔƈƙ ) - the-chain-holden

This blog is  ONLY  made for those who are  over the age of eighteen, no minors  will be permitted to take part. Mature Content inside. Dead Dove : Do Not Eat.  Devouring flesh, drinking blood, other visceral gore depictions and real life horrors ( racism , colonization ). These subjects will be present on this blog; I must stress, please do not follow if you are not comfortable with these topics. I feel I must remind some, that I do not condone the actions of this character written; his actions do not reflect the writer of this blog. He is an antagonist, and villain to some --though tragic, but still a monster in most light. Yes he is a powerful and ancient entity. This does not mean he goes without weaknesses that can nearly render him powerless and weaken him enough, reducing him less than yer average man.

[badge-heavy]

𐌉 𝖠𝝡 ꔋ𝘏𝗘 𝗟 𝖠 𝘞

Ᏼꭺꭰꮐꭼ - Ꮋꭼꭺꮩꭹ : ( An officer who relies aggressively on their badge to intimidate. Up to the point of an obsessive discourse in aesthetic over utter dominance. ) Independent and Explicitly Mature Role Playing Blog for Outlast Trial's Prime Asset Leland Coyle. Viewer Discretion Advised : 21 + Only. Mun is in his 30s.

𝖣𝗘𝖠𝖣 𝖣𝝤𝗩𝗘 : Dɔ Nɔʈ Eɑʈ. Visceral gore depictions and real life horrors ( Racism, sexism, ageism, classism, homophobia will be discussed and present. By default it will not be sugarcoated due to him being a product of his era. He is not a good guy in uniform. I repeat. He. Is. Not. A. Good. Guy. In. Uniform. Character has canon rooted prejudices. Certain slurs will be discussed through mutuals, over if they feel comfortable hearing them during replies or if I censor them. Colonization, child experimentation, child death, child abuse, SA abuse, child murder, addiction, gaslighting, mind control, and implied non consensual acts of various degrees ). These subjects will be present on this blog; I must stress, please do not follow if you are not comfortable with these topics. My own version of Coyle is a self-hating homophobic homosexual man. His aggression can easily be triggered at so much as a drop of a hat. With that feeling of ensnarement suffocating -- this is why he had issues with his wives in the past. What brought him to violence and misogyny. Which holds his marriages , in a sense, as nothing more than lavender marriage in deflection.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

I know I have been neglectin Remmy, I do apologise for that. But aside from just bein brain fuzzy, I've had low muse for him lately. I've been mostly occupyin me mind playin games and one in particular has it's hooks in me. Mostly bein over on Jackie -- but I made a new blog for a character that I really shouldn't have recently. Because I can barely keep up as is. Buuut , if anyone be interested. Here he be .

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Yᴏᴜ Mᴜsᴛ Hᴀᴠᴇ Uɴʀᴇᴍɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ Fᴀɪᴛʜ :

Reminder. Religious icons can harm and ward off Remmy. Only, and I do mean only, if they hold faith in that religious icon. This does not exclude Abrahamic icons. The headcanon I hold is solely based on faith rather than the item in itself. This is why Sammie's prayer didn't do a lick to Remmick. I mean, aside the fact that it was just a prayer and not something physically manifested and capable of being presented against him. But because Sammie's faith had already waned long before that night due to forced indoctrination. Which is why Remmick took spiel of how it was forced onto him too, how he hated those men, but also held habit of taking comfort in it. Because that was in fact, reflective over what Sammie had truly felt. Reaching for that connection to manipulate even if it was played on truth beneath the surface. Not that I am insinuating that Sammie hated his father, no , of course not. I am, however , insinuating that he hated the structure that his old man ruptures upon his freedom of expression. Thus forcing him to dissociate. Subconsciously lose faith. But in short, yes, crosses can serve as a powerful ward. It is only misinterpreted not to because many people didn't hold true unbridled faith into the icon for it to truly serve it's purpose. So it got jolted down into vampiric lore as being false. Crosses, St. Brigid's Cross , even iron horseshoes. Triskelion/Triskele etc. Abrahamic and Pagan faiths, their symbolism equals out the same when concerning the warding off a vampire. Some of these are bridged over from the Sluagh Sidhe as well. With Remmy having one foot in that realm -- it's cruel irony that some of these examples harm only him and not any of his progeny is due solely on that mark. As long as they hold onto their faith. It will do it's job and well. Other items that can cause harm : Rowan wood in particular is a type that could cause more pain than your standard oak stake. It is also capable of pinning him to the very soil symbolically, unable to move by it's divinity. Bells. Iron or silver, can deafen him. The chimes come fifty times the frequency it is delivering when concerning a vampire, or even a fae creature. It doesn't just disrupt his sense of hearing immensely, it stirs sharp, continuous pain deep within an ear canal. Causing desperate need for relief. Mirrors with silver backing causes a distorted reflection. Not necessarily a missing one, but one distorted. An item that can lift his glamour , exhibit his true attributes. However, if they do not hold a silver lining. His reflection is untouched, glamour intact.

[the-chain-holden]

I gave a few of the mutuals a heads up over on Remmick's blog. That I have been sufferin under illness that messes with me balance a bit for well over a month. Been under antibiotics and steroids for the past week and a half or so. They messed with me pretty bad, so now that the antibiotics ran their course. Let us hope I can eventually start comin back on here without the dizzy spells. Both Jackie and Remmick should be up and active again very soon.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Just a heads up to the mutuals who responded to the starter, I plan on replyin to every one of ya who gave it a hit. Just--- I've been massively medicated the past week. Antibiotics, steroids. The whole loopy mess. Have tons of fluid in me left ear that is just makin everythin difficult. Just wanted to come online to give y'all a heads up and that I have not disappeared again. I've just been .. . .. a lil too out of it.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

To answer the question on the minds of a few mutuals. Remmick can't turn into a bat per say, like one would see off media adaptions. Or described sometimes comically within literature. Instead, certain attributes mimic that familiar chase for nocturnal flight in such creatures. Now take that in account on top of his blood being tainted by the Sluagh, and we don't affiliate it then with just bats, but predatorial birds as well -- correlating something equivalent to these two in union :

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

тнє мσηѕтєя вєηєαтн тнє мαη :

Remmick's more monstrous attributes. This being an official concept -- it is what we could've gotten as an end result. From three toed talons, to elongated limbs and fingers . He held promise to be more bat-like; with wing furled at the underside of an arm. Or his wonky arse ears, that I am runnin with, is due to time worn injury. With that being said. Remmick's ear in particular was split down it's spine by none other than silver, around the medieval era, causin the regenerative process to heal all wrong. This shines through what glamour he mends as well. For a visible scar discolours a great deal of the underside cusp, stretching across outside lobe into the inner ear canal. Not fresh but aged. I'll add more to this of course.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Well.. . guess I did piss people off on here. Quite a few people have unfollowed me arse. A tad bit discouragin -- but okay .

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

To fall in suit of the theme for this month -- Happy Pride to all !

A reminder that Remmick is far from straight. In fact, he is a crooked ring thrice crossed -- and with the way historically theorized the Druids were. It would be one hundred percent canon. Pansexually polyamory within the most deadliest game. He don' bite hard, now. C'mon , darlin. Take a gamble.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

When ya know some people in a particular server over on discord don't like ya, but they think they're bein subtle about it -- yet their actions prove louder than words could ever condemn. It shouldn't bother me. Yet I think what presses the most is I can't seem to recall a single thing I did to warrant this behavior. So I'm left in that overthinkin stage if by chance I ever came off as an arsehole ? So I suppose I worry about that over on here too. Listen, if something I said or done upsets any of me mutuals . I want ya to come to me about it, for the love of the gods, please. I'm a reasonable fella, and more understandin than people seem to dub me. So if somethin doesn't sit right with ya, we can discuss it. Work through it, and correct anything that may or may not have went wrong. It's quite easy to misunderstand a text, and I rather be confronted than left on assumption.

[canadiandogt33th]

coffeewithliteraturee

A 1947 illustration by Hannes Bok for Clarence E. Flynn’s poem “DEATH”—a pulp-era piece that personifies death as a calm guide. The angel isn’t menacing; he’s almost gentle, framed with a skull and stone, recasting death as a friend who frees travelers from time and “turns the page.”

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

Lone silhouette of a shape barely defined as man, stirred from the savagery put on display. Hunched over in captive danglement. Chains conceived from iron, that bound wrist on either side; arms sprawled wide across an yew lumber plank upon his backside. The culprit of his suspension. Silver carpenter nails driven through the crease of dual palms, the anchor which kept him. With root of it's structure that barely held the creature upright. Solidified in soil and rock upon an vast field unhindered from tree lines and it's potential coverage from the sun at daybreak, held promise of an foreordained burn. Proclaimed punishment over the death toll he orchestrated within the nearby village. " Psst, hey.. yeh -- lookin' at'ya , dove. " His expression bore intrigue despite what marred the depiction; seared wounds from flame and silver the night prior had made it hard to determine a face at all, with all what destruction wrought. A lone Cerulean hue; with it's distressed ring of carmine loitering the outer iris edge, compared off it's swollen and charred twin -- perceived, for now, as his only form of sight. Peaking out from sweat dipped tresses and discoloured blemishes.

His brow pressed amid determination whilst he called out to the strange scent. Trying to vert his gaze as much he could muster off it's partially blind position his head was obstructed to be in. The collar and lock union tethering him to surrounding chain. Which obscured his point of view any further than a marginal lift. " I ain't done no wrong, they gon' an nabbed tha wrong man -- please, " he ushered in convincing distress. Pain layered it's cadence. Time was of the essence whilst morning light threatened it's delivered misery along indicative dew and atmospheric shift. " Help a feller out, will y'ah ? Unbind me , I ain't got tha strength -- mercy, please ! " Urgency had risen such pleas from the temperature spike in early prime spiraling him into mild panic. " I'll fr'ever be n' yer debt ! I'll offer y'ah coin ! " Sold exclaim barely reached above a whimpering catch. " 'Ave plenty o'it -- anyt'in ye want ! Jus' help me .. " Twisting tongue slithered onto foreign lilt absentmindedly with cost over the propinquity inner turmoil folded.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

In the followin two weeks, I finally plan on gettin back into replies. I will however warn, I can't be so sure they will be me usual length. They may be fairly short in comparison to the usual. Point of the matter is, I just need to lock in and write.

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

𝓥𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊 :

Tɪɱє Iɱɱєɱơɾɪʌʅ Pɾơɱɪƨє : This particular verse had been on my mind forever. Recently brought back into light by a wonderful piece of art that can be viewed here .

A time where forests thrived, predators were vast and diverse -- wolves interwoven in correlated balance and tipped fear. Ireland 455 AD : the creature eventually known as Remmick , was once known as Cian O'Rinn. A young filí amongst a respectable Druidic family. A young man who thrived amidst his abilities to his people. With second sight in accordance to the nature bound along ancestral lines reaching as far back to The Tuatha Dé Danann. A time where the fiery star gave prosperity rather than dread -- a human memory. [ This verse is set for a human Remmick and may be expansive to the Unseen world and the creatures ( Fae and Fae-like ) that inhabit within it. It may also be good to note that this is a time in Ireland when English was not Éire's primary language. I may or may not incorporate a few Gaeilge verses here and there. But because most of the mutuals do not speak it, I will provide English, but it will be established that he is speaking to them in his mother's tongue.. ]

[soil-from-slaghtaverty]

After cryin over a certain art of a young filí Remmy, I kind of want to make a verse for his sixteen - eighteen year old self amongst Druidic Ireland. Or maybe make it a verse to be played that essentially equals out as a dream verse. Where his memories resurface whilst his physical body remains in torpor. 😭 Would anyone be interested in that ? Human Remmick. Course, accordin to me headcanons, Remmick had not been his name then. Remmick was the result he adapted throughout centuries of anglicization. Keep in mind that this is also around 455 AD Ireland.

[pointyshoesmf]

Different place, Different time

I am alive if anyones curious, just in a crazy art block and kinda going insane over diploma

I am back in a fucking building again (severly Jack O'Connell pilled), might as well post it i guess