#thfsdotiee

[themswritinwords]

The Hundred Fifty Seven Deaths of the Immortal Ethan Ellis: Cast profiles: Ethan Ellis

The man himself (Ethan) - he/him; 24 years old biologically, 310 years old chronologically; Quietly Depressed Optimist in Desperate Need of a Hug and a Nap

Depressed, traumatized, self-sacrificial, dysfunctional, exhausted--what's not to relate to love?

Just woke up during his own autopsy. That's definitely not going to unearth any poorly-buried Issues!

What do you mean endless gallows humor and self deprecation aren't healthy coping mechanisms?

*slaps bruised and blood-stained noggin* This bad boy can fit so much mental illness and metaphor in him.

The result of a necromancer-wannabe's attempts at immortality; ex-human-guinea-pig with all of the attendant moral, philosophical, and psychological conundrums that come with death being a temporary condition.

One of three "successful" experiments. The other two adjusted pretty well, all things considered. Ethan did not.

Alas, they didn't have therapy in colonial America. You know what they did have, though? An abundance of dangerous life paths and causes worth dying for. That's not gonna reinforce any dangerous thought patterns or unhealthy mental states, I'm sure!

Longest streak between deaths has been just shy of 4 years. All but one of them has been his own dang fault. He is fully aware of this, but in a deeper sense, he is entirely unaware of this.

Always cared more about others than himself. This got infinitely worse when he realized he could die without consequences (supposedly).

Animals hate him! and no that is not just the start of a clickbait article. Every animal he's met since getting immortal'd has tried to put him back in the ground. He used to be a cat person, though.

Chronically friendless and self-isolated. People don't handle the dead guy coming back to life very well, and he's gotten more than one witness in life-ruining trouble by reviving in front of them. He finds it easier to just stay away from people on all but a surface level. (Again, I can't imagine that's going to cause problems down the line....)

Travels like an overripe peach, which is to say he is the King of Motion Sickness

Repeated resurrection has turned the man into a caloric dumpster. Over the course of a day and a half he consumes ~30 chicken nuggets, four burgers, a large fry, a medium bag of chips, a popsicle, and half a cup of ice and he's still desperately hungry.

Flip flops between annoying little brother energy and annoyed big brother energy depending on who he's arguing with at the time.

Wants: Everyone and Everything to leave him tf alone (also a shower)

Needs: One good reason to live and way fewer reasons to get himself killed

Immediate goals: Keep his only friends from getting dragged down with him and all his issues

Long term goals: None, and that's rather the point (not that this is a recurring theme in my characters or anything....)

Character arc can best be described as: that quote that's like "Dying is easy, living is hard;" the shift from hope, caring, and love as passive traits to hope, caring, and love as active choices worth making

Favorite things about writing him

The Catharsis. There's a reason so many of my OCs end up with mental illnesses and unhealthy patterns of thought. Ethan is just the most explicit of these self-inserts.

The snarcasm and humor were both challenging and so fun. I'm not a witty person by nature, so it took a bit of perspective shift to get right. I think I got better a dialogue overall by writing him.

He's a very internal and thought-ful person, and it was an interesting balance to write. He always thinks more than he says and feels more than he thinks.

Not to toot my own horn, but his third act breakdown and "Oh Sh*t" moment were a delight to write and some of my strongest writing moments.

His voice is very informal and sarcastic, and it was fun to write genuine horror in a goofball, this-might-as-well-happen sort of way.

[themswritinwords]

Tagged by @thewritingautisticat for OC Felony Bingo!

Hard to decide who it was funnier to answer for, but I had to go with my Certified Identity Thief, Ethan Ellis.

Genuinely shocked that in ~300 years of making himself a general nuisance, he still didn't manage a bingo. Ethan's just too good an egg to genuinely hurt people in a trial-able way. As a legitimate soldier of a legitimized government during declared wartime and under direction from his commanding officers, war kills (still rare) don't count as felonies. Also, yes, technically he killed [redacted], and yes it was sort of premeditated, but it was also 100% self defense, and [redacted] may or may not have been human at the time. So it doesn't really count either.

But if you do choose to count those, then double bingo!

Tagging @kittytheroseofkirea, @daisywords, and @wordsnstuff (no pressure), and leaving an open tag for anyone who wants to play. Blank bingo board under the cut.

[themswritinwords]

Find the Word Tag III

Tagged by @blind-the-winds

Tagging @stesierra @silvertalonwritblr and @cwritesfiction for the words truth, flight, counter, and mist.

Also leaving an open tag for anyone who would like to participate, and your words will be stay, price, trouble, and hold.

My words were frankly, forest, fix, fade, and friend. I pulled from The Hundred Fifty Seven Deaths of the Immortal Ethan Ellis, though I had to change tense/grammar because "frankly" didn't happen, and "fade" in the present tense happened right in the middle of a big spoilerous pivotal scene.

frankly

“I’ll be frank with ya, E,” Ira said solemnly as he pulled an ancient ten dollar bill out of an even ancienter leather billfold. “God love ya, and so do I, but yer about as dense as cold molasses and yer feet are even colder.”

forest

Over his twenty-odd years, Ethan had made it a point to stay out of the woods where there wasn’t a path—those stories Mam had told him about children getting eaten by wolves and witches had stuck with him. So he wasn’t exactly an expert on the matter of forests at twilight. Still, even he had enough experience to know that this particular forest was far too quiet. No movement in the sparse undergrowth or thick-laid leaf litter. No reaction to his presence from animals of any kind, large or small. Not so much as a birdsong or insect buzzing. The only sound that reached his straining ears was his own quick, shallow breath and the damp shuffle of his bare feet on the debris of the forest floor.

fix

Her feet sounded rapidly on the stairs and immediately returned with the same speed. She held a small leather bag out triumphantly. “If we’re gonna figure out how to fix it, we need to know exactly what it’s doing to you. Feel up to moving?” “That depends,” Ethan said warily. “How far, where to, and what’s in the bag?” Rolling her eyes, Anna crossed the living room and turned on a floor lamp, then spread Ethan’s couch blanket onto the ground. “Just over here, just over here, and exam equipment.” “What was that last one?” Ethan gulped. “I just want to get a look at how your body is handling this,” Anna explained. She knelt beside the blanket, patted it invitingly, and began taking things out of the bag. A stethoscope, one of those triangle hammers for testing reflexes, fancy forehead thermometer, even an ear flashlight. “Why do you just have these things in your house?” Ethan murmured, watching her remove a blood pressure cuff.

fade(d)

The muzzle flashed. But the pain never hit. Suddenly, Ethan was standing above himself, looking down at the moment as a bystander. A cold wind ruffled his hair, and something hard and sharp clawed up his back, slipping tenderly around his shoulders. Oh Ethan. You always were a bold one. The stench of decay flowed over him as bony fingers stroked the sweat-limp hair from his forehead. The scene before him faded into a dark void, and hot breath whispered on the back of his neck. I’m going to miss that, you know.

friend

Ethan spat aside the tiny flashlight he had pilfered from Lee’s glovebox. “What?” He started shuffling back out again. “You might wanna stay under there,” Anna suggested. “Your friend is back.” Blinking in the sunlight as he emerged, Ethan followed Lee’s surreptitious pointing toward the abandoned storefront. There, under the awning, the man from outside the Auto Zone had parked his cart and was resting against one of the concrete pillars. Lee gave Ethan a warning look. “I don’t want—” “Incidents,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “I know.”