#* starter. open.

[tragedienes]

character: gideon open: m/f/nb plot: gideon is the quintessential commitment-phobe that thought he’d never want to get tied down. enter your muse. after a year of dating, gideon decided to propose on a whim, only for your muse to decline. a few weeks later, your muse is standing outside his front door. reasons for declining the proposal are up to you! jewish muses preferred, but not required. the only requirement is no victoria pedretti fcs, as that’s his sister’s canonical fc, and nothing t*boo.

gideon wasn’t the relationship type. everyone had known it, all his friends, his family, they lovingly (and sometimes distinctly unlovingly) jeered him for his problems with committing. they laughed at how he always had a revolving door of girlfriends and boyfriends, laughed at how he perfected the art of ghosting, thought it was funny that he was almost thirty and still lived like a frat boy (despite not having been in a frat in college). the only one who didn’t laugh was his mother, the only one who didn’t think it was funny that he was so lonely and didn’t seem to realize it. gideon didn’t think he could be blamed, the eldest child of two divorced parents that used their kids as cannon fodder in family court. levi and maureen didn’t exactly give the best example of marriage, and gideon thought it would just never happen to him, that he would never want it... until he met them. for once, something clicked in him, something that said he didn’t want to screw this up. their relationship had problems like any relationship did, but for a whole year, he had remained faithful, devoted. his proposal had been half-baked, thought up on a whim, but he assumed they were as in love with him as he had been with them. he never thought they would say no. just as he didn’t expect, after weeks of very little contact, for them to be standing in front of his apartment door. his hand flexed on the wood, tempted to slam it back in their face, but he restrained himself. “didn’t think i’d ever see you again.” gideon forced his voice to work, trying to sound cruel instead of hurt. “what do you want? your stuff? i already threw all that shit out.” he lied, moving the door forward a bit behind him so they couldn’t look inside.

[tragedienes]

character: summer open: m/f/nb plot: summer is a serial killer that mostly targets business men in a neighboring city. in the middle of killing some random man she met in a bar, your muse happens to come across her doing her favorite nighttime activity. it’s up to you if your muse was already aware of this and/or following her, or if they innocently come upon her in the act. this post was made using legacy editor, though beta is available on request!

summer sung did what she did secretly. sometimes she liked to classify it as a little side hobby, something she did to de-stress every few weeks (or days, more recently), but summer knew the truth: killing was what she did, a murderer was who she was. the time not spent killing was time wasted, time she had to endure. of course, to indulge her little habit, she had to play the part. smile, be pretty, look clean and pure when everything about her was dirty and fetid. the only time she actually felt peace was a moment like this, knife gripped tightly and cheap plastic poncho covering her clothes—as much as she’d like to downright bathe in the blood of men she killed, it was just easier this way, easier to clean up and easier to hide. his arterial blood splatter splattered against her face, a magnetic large smile growing underneath it, and it was in that inopportune moment that she heard the unmistakable sound of a witness. she had been caught at the point of kill, head whipping back to look at the warehouse door opened. heart beating even quicker, something she didn’t believe was possible from the adrenaline and excitement of her favorite act, summer stood still as the man gargled his own blood at her feet. suddenly, she pointed her trusty knife at her intruder, “unless you want to end up like him, walk the fuck away.”

[tragedienes]

character: hector open: m/f/nb plot: somewhat based on frank and julia in hellraiser/the hellbound heart. hector is a hedonist that enjoys ruining lives, and your muse is inexplicably in love with him. every couple of months, he comes crawling back to your muse when he needs a place to sleep and a fix of loving attention. months earlier, he broke your muse’s heart because he promised to actually be their stable, caring boyfriend and stay for good, only to unceremoniously leave in the middle of the night. now he’s come back, hoping they’ll accept him back into their arms (and life) once again. / heavily toxic, but not t*boo please.

it was a cycle that hector relied on, hoping it’d never break. he’d arrive, they’d hem and haw about allowing him back into their life, only to shortly fall back into bed together, then wait a few days before he left again. it was beneficial to hector, that’s why he needed their cycle more than he needed drugs or fucking or air. whenever he exhausted the patience of a friend, a mark, an enemy, all he had to do was take a short bus trip back to their house and soon he’d be welcomed back like a wartime lover. he entirely preyed on their trusting nature, their love for him, but he suspected they knew that. why else would they allow him back into their life so many times? they needed him as much as he needed them. did they not feel like a person if they weren’t caring for someone? did they only think themselves worthy in the context of a caretaker? hector, really, didn’t give a shit. he just wanted a place to sleep and a warm body to sleep next to. so, standing outside their door in the rain, his loud knocks on their front door, hector didn’t expect much resistance once they saw his face. especially not with the rain, and his wet, curly locks hanging in front of his face. once the door opened, he put on his best please-still-love-me smile and puppy dog eyes. “hey baby...” he shivered, partly because he was cold, partly for sympathy. “i’ve missed you.”

[tragedienes]

character: finn open: m/f/nb plot: finn is a priest at the local catholic church. recently he’s gotten very close to your muse (up to you as to why), one of his parishioners, and people are starting to talk. after his bishop gives him a lecture, finn decides it would be best to keep his distance from your muse.

it probably wasn’t the best decision for them to meet in the church late in the evening. especially not hours after his own bishop told him to keep his relationship with his flock strictly professional—wasn’t he in the profession of comforting souls? finn wanted to say that, but he knew better than to backtalk to bishop sanderson. he had wanted to say that, but truthfully, he had to concede that they were getting a little too close, more friends than priest and parishioner. so, he had called them to the church as if it was one of their regular meetings, sitting in the pews together innocently. leaning forward, finnegan had a feeling this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped. “i know i’ve been a comfort to you these past few weeks,” finnegan smiled softly, reassuringly, “but i think it would be best for our interactions to be kept strictly to mass for the time being.”

[tragedienes]

character: frank open: m/f/nb plot: frank is a private investigator that rarely gives a shit about his job. your muse has hired him or is going to hire him for a reason that’s up to you. working an unrelated case, he got the snot beat out of him the night before, which doesn’t really give off the best impression.

“kelleher investigations.” frank greeted laconically, not bothering to take his eyes off the magazine in his hands. his legs propped up on his desk and leaning back in his chair, he looked as if he was nearly falling asleep. he only noticed the intruder when they walked further into his office. he moved his legs off the desk and sat up straighter, trying to look a little bit more professional despite his battered appearance. “oh, hi,” his grin easily slipped over his face, making the bruise over his eye shine just a little bit more. “i know, i know, i look like shit, but you should see the other guy.” frank was lying, the other guy didn’t have a scratch on him, but that was to be expected when tailing some casino owner with big bodyguards. he was probably lucky he wasn’t dead. “what's up?”

[tragedienes]

character: finn open: m/f/nb plot: finn is a priest at the local catholic church. your muse is either being haunted/possessed or someone in their family is, and they’ve come to finn to ask for help in the middle of the night. it’s up to you if your muse is a parishioner of his church or meeting each other for the first time.

“i’m...” father finnegan was struck silent. his job was to know exactly what to say, and when to say it, but they uncharacteristically had him at a loss for words. “i’m sorry you’re... dealing with this.” he tried to say diplomatically, treading carefully. “but i need more information before i can call the vatican,” or the archbishop for that matter, “there’s procedures in place. i want to help you, i do, but it’s very late at night. i can’t do much for you at this time.” he hated how unhelpful he was sounding, but he wasn’t sure what the actual procedures were in a situation like this. of course he had learned about spirits and demons in seminary school, but it all seemed so far away from him now. “do you feel safe going home? you can stay here if you need to.” 

[tragedienes]

character: luther open: m/f/nb plot: luther is a political journalist that was writing an exposé on your muse’s father. your muse knew about this article and was helping luther gather evidence on their father, only to change their mind at last minute and alert their father of luther’s article. your muse’s father, being a very powerful politician, easily killed the story. now that his career has basically been ruined and your muse betrayed him, luther writes trashy articles for a true crime tabloid website and is extremely bitter, only to find your muse on his doorstep one day confessing their love for him.

he should’ve slammed the door shut in their face. he had to blame it on pure shock that he didn’t, disbelief that they’d ever show their face around him ever again. his career was over before it ever really began, all thanks to them and their nefarious father, and now they were standing in the threshold of his apartment, begging for forgiveness. “jesus christ...” luther hissed, shaking his head. “you’re really going to do this? ruin my life and then five months later, come back and say you’re sorry? say that you love me?”

[tragedienes]

character: mokhtar open: f/nb (23+, but age gap encouraged) plot: mokhtar is a forty year old published poet who is big in the la art scene. your muse is his date to an industry shindig in a trendy cocktail bar; they’ve only been dating for a few weeks at this point, and mokhtar’s starting to have his doubts.

sitting next to his date, a small table in a sea of drunken patrons, mokhtar was experiencing a feeling that was coming upon him more and more since turning the big four-oh: being out of place. mokhtar never felt all that included in any situation, due to many factors, but it was out of place in a different way. instead of being too brown, or too artsy, he was now too old. he could usually own that feeling, he could use it to make himself feel better, more creative, than any stranger off the street. his talent got him fame (in small ways, in the only ways that mattered), money, esteem, even dates. it was probably the only reason his date was with him that night, and mokhtar feared he’d have to get used to the idea that women were now only going to be using him for his money, now that he was old. giving them a curious glance, his hands folded over his chest protectively. “do you... feel weird? being here with me?”