A young adult Foster drabble, five years prior to the events of How To Kill An Immortal
TW: violence and a lot of blood, and that's pretty much it :3
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Foster never exactly bothered to wash the blood of their hands at this point. They knew it'd be a permanent part of their very identity; whether that be physically or mentally, they didn't know yet. Hours spent scrubbing their hands clean, down to underneath their sharp fingernails, never satisfied them, so why bother anymore? They didn't want to spend more on their water bills than absolutely necessary.
They didn't know why they were complaining, though; after all, they kind of asked for this. It was partially their fault they got into this sketchy business, shedding blood for nothing more than money. And it wasn't like they could back out of it now, having been here since they were eighteen; they were twenty-one now, and despite how young they were, they already felt like they'd wasted their life doing this fuck-all excuse of a profession. They didn't doubt that they looked like they fit the part, too.
It was an average night for Foster; if the concept of an average night consisted of beating the crap out of some willing stranger in a crowded warehouse. Frigid midnight air nipped their blood-splattered skin, limbs stiff and sore, but pure adrenaline drove them onwards.
They had forgotten when their nose had begun to bleed, a metallic taste coating their tongue, but the pain had subsided to a small ache by now. Punch after kick after slice after scratch; they felt like a wild animal.
Their ears were ringing, and maybe that was from how loud the place was, or from being hit on the head one too many times. It didn't deter them.
Their movements faltered when their opponent fell limply to the ground, their own hands drenched in blood from the past few hours spent fighting back-to-back. With heaving breaths, they attempted to drown out the cacophony of cheering, leaving the vicinity with long strides before anyone could congratulate them up close.
They especially hated this part. Being congratulated, praised, for what? Potentially killing some random person for money? For fucking money? It was ridiculous to think that everyone thought that tj u wanted the praise.
They found their way outside the building, not bothering to clean their hands. One way or another, the blood will always remain.
The quiet of the night was welcome for once. The air inside made them feel lightheaded, but out here it was cold. Sure, it bit at their cuts and bruised flesh, but it was calming, in a strange way.
They hadn't noticed that they'd gotten company until the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat ripped them out of their train of thought. "Earth to Mr Canavan?"
"Mx Canavan, please."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Sure you are."
Their company responded with an amused chuckle, walking over to lean against the wall beside them. The man was larger than them, in both size and muscle, but his expression was almost compassionate. Milky white hair styled into an outgrown mullet, framing pale skin and paler eyes. A strong Texan accent pulled at his words. "What's got you so down, huh?"
A frown tugged at Foster's lips. "Bunch o' shit. Don't really know why you're so interested, though."
"Just thought I'd check in," He chuckled, "See how those fists of yours are handling so much action?"
"You're so funny."
"I like to think that I am."
A long stretch of silence followed, in which Foster took a small peak at the man. They'd seen him around in the fights every now and again. He looked like an interesting guy.
"..If you don't mind me being interested in your, uh.."
"My huh—?" He met their gaze, raising a platinum eyebrow. "My— Ah, I see. I don't mind."
Their own eyebrows raised in surprise. "...Albinism, innit?"
"Exactly that, young man.. wom—.. person? Is there a..?"
"Just use man for now, I don't care."
"If you say so," The man smiled, and continued. "Yeah, I've got albinism."
"You look cool."
"Thanks, kiddo."
"Don't call me that." They murmured, a certain light fading from their eyes.
"...Alright."
Another beat of silence.
"..What even is your name? I don't know you other than your surname."
"Uh.. I'm Foster, I guess."
"Interesting name."
Foster raised an eyebrow, but wasn't too bothered. They weren't going to bother analyzing whether that was sarcastic or not. "Thanks."
"Where're you from? I like your accent."
"Uhm, Durham. Not far from 'ere."
"Ah, I see. I've always liked you Brits' accents."
"...Alrighty then, mate."
The man sighed, wrapping a loose arm around Foster. "Come on. Don't want you getting too cold out here."
Foster gave him a look. "Why do you care so much?"
"I know a troubled person when I see one, young man."
They sighed, but didn't respond, instead just begrudgingly following him inside.
"Go clean yourself up, or whatever you need to do. I assume you're done for the night."
"Yeah, yeah, on it, boss." They drawled sarcastically, shoving their bloodied hands into the pockets of their jeans. The man responded with an amused scoff.
"What's your name, then? You know mine, it's only fair."
figured i would start this blog off with some photos of my current gameplay sims. i've been playing with them for awhile now (if you don't count the hiatus i went on for like a good year) and the recent addition to the family had been evelyn. hati was a child the last i played but now he's a teen, almost a young adult. i missed them so much. i hope you guys like them as much as i do ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა
okay so like. the monochrome mentality by riproducer. it's such a good song and I associate it with Forsaken Souls SO MUCH cuz it's literally the gist of the lore. I'll explain.
Vanté belongs to @er0s-1s-whump1ng / @paranoia-exe, and Ama and Fletcher were a collaborative oc between xir and myself!!
(readmore because oo ramble and this is. very messy. I'm sorry)
okay so. we've got what I assume is vflower's part in the song. the whole "gather round for all to see the hideous atrocious committed by this individual" — "let's put them right where they belong, this law defying individual" — "and once they are exposed we will annihilate them" — "to those of you they have infected, I'm calling out a roster of accumulating unsavoury sins" — "come on, get it over with! toss the poison down the hatch! their decomposed integrity with a rotten soul to match" — "I think that I can testify, we'd rather have them dead." deeefffinetly give The Survivors. I mean. they're literally a bunch of people who survived rayan when he was on a bloody murder spree lmao. especially Madir, Foster, Esrana and Amaryliss (as like Es and Zayn, I assume Ama hadn't interacted with Rayan prior to her joining TS, so I assume she'd be holding a grudge against Rayan for hurting Fletch?) because they all hate Rayan the most. they literally created TS to make him suffer for what he did. they literally see Rayan as Cora, even though he's trying to be better and he's nothing like Cora anymore. I dunno if I explained it well but the lyrics I chose definitely remind me of most of TS (excluding Ezra, Zayn and also kinda Ivy since xir's sorta neutral about Rayan)
and then there's what (I think) is the part sung by gumi!! lines such as "hey, tell me what they've done to you. this unsuspecting individual" — "to those of you this has affected, I'm calling out the monster that initiated this needless hatred" — "come on, just get over it, try to give them one more chance" remind me of Maddie and Vee, and basically anyone else who supports / has supported Rayan and was/is on his side! since Rayan had already served his time in prison, they probably believe The Survivors' actions are unnecessary, especially since it's been going on for so long. and then the whole "try to give them one more chance" is because like- Rayan's trying to improve, he's been trying to become a better person for a long, long time and he's doing the best he can. but, The Survivors are ignoring that.
another thing I'd like to note is the whole stanza after that:
this is definitely Ezra. he's conflicted: they're on Rayan's side, but then again, Rayan killed his older brother, who was practically the most important figure in his life.
AND THEN!!!! and then the majority of maika's part:
THIS IS RAYAN!! he's sick of the torture, the torment, the constant pain from his captors and he's sick of people fighting over him when he's immortal and can just deal with it until The Survivors die, and he's practically pleading TS to finish making him suffer because he's just bored of it.
I dunno if I explained this well but I hope the lyrics I chose conveyed it better!!
hello! this is just a fun little quiz that's going to assign you one of the pirates from my WIP [ temporarily titled Vertlea ]. I apologize
Hello! I made a quiz last night that's going to assign you one of my WIP characters!! The answers are kind of long but I had fun making it and would love to see your results. :)
colour is a thing I use very frequently in the process of designing my characters. they can all be reduced to a single colour that is incorporated in their design and / or personality in some way
for example:
Rayan's assigned colour is red. he has a warm colour scheme in his design, commonly wears red, and is always covered in blood. always
Foster is blue. in comparison, their design uses greys, blacks and of course, blues. their demeanour is equally as cold.
Aarin is more of a pastel blue, due to the colour of their eyes and their withdrawn, quiet personality
Zuriel is orange. compared to Aarin, its design is warm and friendly, much like its personality. it and Aarin balance each other out perfectly
Ailean is a light, pale green. due to the white brightness of the lab and their own albinism, along with the fact his design is inspired by a hemlock flower, they have a pale, muted appearance
Madir is beige. this is mostly shown in his design, in the white streaks of his hair from his poliosis and his dark, neutral clothing style
Esrana is a dark purpleish-pink. purple is an elegant colour, wouldn't you say? perfectly describes her, from her hair to her silky smooth accent
Madison is a mahogany colour. a strong colour, yet warm and inviting. she could crush you if she were so inclined, and yet her hands are gentle
Kore is a smoky, foggy grey. hard and cold like stone, scrutinizing eyes judging your every move. a vile man, he is
Zayn is a lavender-ish colour. unlike Esrana, who's dark and unforgiving, he's a lighter, more easygoing person
Derwyn is a neon, bright pink. eager, bright, loud. the colour reminds me a lot of their wide, unblinking eyes
Ezra is white. like ailean, he has albinism, and this is incorporated in his design a lot. he has a pale, light colour scheme, and nobody can really tell whether or not he's actually okay with or against Foster's situation with a captive. he's just.. neutral. white
but what about Ruaridh, you say? well, they're a special case
the lab is the only thing Ruaridh has known. for their entire life, they've had nothing but the clothes that Derwyn gave them, nothing but the books Derwyn gave them, nothing but the injections that Derwyn injected. they've had no outside communication, had never seen the world, had never had a chance to gain their own colour, in a way. they don't exactly have a colour
Vanté Ramirez, Vesker Faithern and Fletcher O'Harris belong to my wonderful mutual, @er0s-1s-whump1ng / @paranoia-exe!! go check him out!!!!
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Looking down at the bloodied notebook he'd resented for so long stuffed into his bedside table, Rayan sighed. He swore to never re-read the notebook, reluctant to live out the years of captivity he went through, but.. he just couldn't handle it.
Vigorously snatching the notebook up, he flopped down onto his bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping bandaged arms around them. He despised how the damned thing felt so right in his hands; it fit in his grasp perfectly, cold and familiar.
He'd never admit it, but it took him a while to even start the first page, let alone open the notebook itself. He just stared at the cover, at the stickers — worn down with time, scratched or even peeling and ripped— caked in dried blood. His dried blood.
But eventually, to his own dismay, his finger clasped tighter around the notebook, and with strangely baited breath he flicked open to the first page. It seemed as though a nice little trip down memory lane was in order.
Zayn never exactly had a purpose for a notebook. Ring bound with multiple stickers he'd collected during their childhood stuck onto the cover, he just didn't know what to do with it. The useless thing was just.. laying around; plus, he had a diary of his own now. Esrana told him to give it to "the thing in the basement". And her reasoning behind giving it to Rayan? It was because both of them were useless. Great.
"Hey. I've got this for you. Es told me to hand it to you since I don't need it. It'll keep you occupied!" Rayan distinctly remembered Zayn telling him that before setting the notebook down in front of him, his soft Welsh accent ringing pleasantly in his ears.
Alas, Zayn handed it to Rayan during one of their visits, along with two pens. One's ink was in black, the other was in blue, since the former didn't know which colour he preferred. Looking back, it seemed to Rayan that he preferred blue, and the black pen he must've used to doodle and scribble in the margin of each page or wherever else he could fit it.
They promised to give Rayan new pens whenever they ran out and, as usual, he stuck to it; not once did Rayan see even a hint of the ink on either of the pens running dry.
The first few pages were worn and torn, some having been ripped out entirely. The ones that weren't were filled with notes in Zayn's unusually neat script about god knows what — from his time in school to his mother and Esrana, from simple reminders to full paragraphs of rambles. Rayan didn't have the heart to judge them, even now.
A couple pages after, and it was the start of Rayan's own ramblings. Oh, how Rayan dreaded this moment.
He set the notebook down in his lap, evergreen eyes skimming over the pages.
Date: ?
Time: ?
I don't know how this is meant to benefit me. Sure, the notebook's nice and all, I like it. I don't know. There's not much I can write in here, since my captivity isn't very special. I guess I can just I think nevermind. I'll just ramble about fuck all.
I hate this place. I can hardly sleep because I keep hearing footsteps from the floor above this fucking basement. I don't know how many of them there are. I know about the guy with the bat, and the one who keeps staring at me and who I've never really seen blinking yet, and the girl who's Zayn's sister. That's all. I swear there's more of them, though.
I can't be sure. But, at least Zayn gives me food and also gave me a blanket and some pillows so I can sleep. Sure, the ground isn't comfortable, but I can somewhat lay on the pillows, which is good enough. Totally not as if my back hurts already and this is just making it worse. Totally not. Why am I even mad at Zayn?
I'm gonna try and sleep. Emphasis on try. Everything hurts.
"God's sake.." Rayan mumbled hoarsely, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to admit, that one wasn't all bad. But, he knew worse was to come.
He flicked over to the next page.
Date: ? sometime in October (Zayn told me)
Time: ?
There's more of them. It's- this is ridiculous. Fucking Ezra???
I can't believe he'd side with them. Hell, I don't know what to say anymore. Fuck this shit.
I also keep getting hurt by the bat guy; their names Foster, apparently. I don't wanna explain what they did with that stupid fucking bat of theirs, other than they hit me somewhere on the back and it really hurts because they screwed fucking nails into the bat. I hate this.
I don't even know what I did wrong.
Rayan scoffed. "'I don't even know what I did wrong', my ass.."
His attention turned to the next page. A little more blood was splattered across the paper, and there were obvious signs he'd been crying when he wrote this.
Date: ?
Time: ?
Everything fucking hurts. More and more of them keep coming down and torturing me and hurting me and I'm just sick of this shit. I can't get even a moment of fucking peace anymore. What did I do?
He was surprised how short this one was. He couldn't remember why he had cut it so short in the first place.
The next page.
Date:
Time:
Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck. He- Holy shit.
I can't even fucking what the fuck. It hurts so bad. Fuck. Okay. I need to calm down.
Oh, no.
Rayan flicked to the next page with shaking hands.
Date:
Time:
Writing this whilst Zayn bandages me up. I'm so tired. So much has been going on.
Madir, he. He cut off my fucking leg. I had tried to escape by attacking Foster and getting out of the basement, and I was so fucking close when Madir got me (Madir's the one who keeps staring. I don't know what his problem is). Then.. I don't even wanna remember.
The torture's been getting worse. Esrana threw me out a window at one point. They've also found out that, despite me being immortal, I can somewhat die if they slit my throat. They keep doing it, and from what I understand they play some sort of game where they compete and the winner is the person who keeps me "dead" for the longest. So far, I think Ezra has.
I should've never started killing people. I've already served my time in prison, and now this? I don't deserve this I think I deserve it, though.
Next page, and this time Rayan had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from tearing up.
Date:
Time:
There's so much blood. The floor is stained with it, my restraints are stained with it, Hell, even my bed. Thankfully, Zayn let me out of the restraints so I can write.
I swear, this is the only thing I can rely on to not lose my fucking mind. The smell of blood and.. other stuff is intoxicating, I hate it. I hate this. I hate Esrana, and Foster, and Zayn, and Madir, and Ezra, and Fletcher— God, fucking Fletcher! We were friends! And now he just watches me waste away here?!
I've felt too sick to eat and sleep. I don't care anymore. I doubt people even remember me. I hope Maddie's okay. And Vee. And.. I don't know. Who do I have?
I'm gonna try and escape. I can't walk, given my leg from the thigh down is missing, but.. whatever. I'll manage.
Next page. This one seemed more recent.
Date:
Time:
It didn't work as well as the other times. There's a fucking- I don't what it is, but it's stuck in my other leg and practically keeping me impaled and pinned onto the floor. It hurts so bad.
I've given up trying to fight by now. I just want to make it stop. I wish I could die. I wish I never existed. I wish I never began killing people. I wish I could kill myself.
I deserve this.
Rayan's spare hand ran over his prosthetic leg, sighing. He never realized how much he himself had suffered. It all felt unreal. It's why he thought about it as if it were just a story, or a silly nightmare. Everything was silly at this point.
He flicked past the other pages, skimming through them, until one near the end of the notebook caught his eyes. Reading cautiously, he placed his chin on his hand and couldn't help but notice his handwriting was more neat. And no blood was splattered on the page.
Date: 26/10
Time: 3:26 PM
It's my birthday! I forgot how old I am. I'm in the hospital right now, I think. It's a long story, but I'm alone right now, save for Maddie sleeping and Vee idly talking to me. I've got plenty of time.
The Survivors got arrested. I escaped from the police - they scare me, okay? I thought they were gonna hurt me - and went to god-knows-where. I stayed homeless for a time, occasionally couch surfing or staying at a new friend's house. She's called Evelyn. She's nice.
Anyway. Maddie and Vee eventually found me, and took me home and then (after seeing how shitty I looked) took me to the hospital instead. It's been a funny couple of days, especially with me learning that these doctors don't want to hurt me and that the things being put into my body won't harm me, but.. at least I'm free. They're gonna get me a prosthetic soon.
I get to see Vesk again. I get to see Theo. And Maddie's fiance, Vivian. Maddie's reluctant to invite me to the wedding, since she knows I need time to recover, but I can tell she really does want to.
Something feels wrong, though. That I don't deserve to rest. I keep imagining restraints around me. I keep hearing them laugh. I keep.. nevermind. It's fine, though.
I don't think I'm gonna be sharing what's in this notebook. It's better to keep it a secret. I don't want people worrying about me more than they already are. Especially Maddie.
Maddie's waking up, I think. I'm home now. I think. I'm gonna be okay now. I think. I don't know. I hope so.
Rayan suddenly glanced up as he heard his bedroom door creak open, squinting up at Vanté. He was a mere silhouette against the absurdly bright hallway light. The notebook slammed shut.
"Hi, Vee." They both grinned.
"Hey," The demon responded, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly in Rayan's ears. "Mum's called you down three times, cause we're going out for dinner today. She said you can bring Tadhg if you want to, too. You coming?"
He chuckled, getting up with a soft groan and setting his notebook down, grabbing a jacket as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be down in a sec. Is this—" he gestured to his outfit— "too flashy?"
"Of course not," Vanté waved off his question with a smile. "It's perfect."
"Oh, hush."
Both of them couldn't help but laugh. Vanté's diamond eyes glanced downwards, noticing the notebook. "What's that?"
"Huh-? Oh, that?" Rayan chuckled nervously, quickly shoving the book under his pillow. "Just a uh- a thing."
The demon didn't respond directly, but gave him a knowing smile. Rayan had an inkling the demon had experienced something similar to what he himself was feeling.
Before the silence could get more uncomfortable than it already was, the demon grabbed the immortal's hand and dragged him out of the room, earning a surprised laugh from the latter. "Come on, lazy ass. Don't bother getting platforms, it's a long walk.
"Awwhh, we're not driving there?"
"It's not that bad, kid."
"Hey- I'm not a kid!"
"You are to me!"
They both laughed. Maybe life wasn't that bad after all.
