( sebastian stan / 42 / he + him ) power incarnate, thomas ‘hopper’ hopper carves his empire into the underland. the hell-baron bears threads laced with chitin, iron fists, and the endless drone of wings that never tire. his crown is built on bone and debt, gilded by blood-stained coin and the roar of a fight club that thrives on desperation. he is shadowed by the ghost of an island uprising and stalked by a prophecy of his own making: ❛ the swarm will always return, for where there is fear, there is hunger—where there is hunger, there is hopper. ❜ only time will tell if the locust king keeps his dominion, or finds himself devoured by the very swarm he commands.
full name: thomas hopper. nickname: hopper, the locust king. age: 42. dob: may 16. occupation: owner of the locust fight club / hell-baron of the underland. species: human with grasshopper genetic enhancements. languages: english, biker slang. hometown: ant island. hair color: dark brown. eye color: blue-gray. marital status: single. notable scars: scattered scars along arms and ribs from old fights; faint line across right brow from a blade strike during the ant island rebellion. character song: “bodies” – drowning pool.
positive: charismatic leader, cunning strategist, commanding presence. negative: greedy, ruthless, power-hungry, manipulative. moral alignment: lawful evil. deadly sin: greed (with shades of pride). element: fire. emotional stability: volatile — maintains control until challenged, then lashes out. alcohol use: regular; often tied to business and fight nights. prone to violence?: absolutely; violence is both a tool and entertainment. drives / motivations: power, control, never being outnumbered again, crushing flik once and for all. character parallels: negan (the walking dead), wilson fisk (daredevil), immortan joe (mad max: fury road).
The sound of fists against flesh and the roar of a crowd are the closest thing to music in the Underland, and no one knows that better than Thomas Hopper. Once just the son of a Grasshopper gang leader running protection rackets on Ant Island, Hopper has carved out something far darker in Elias. A self-made tyrant, a businessman of blood, he turned the Locust Fight Club into both a spectacle and a weapon—his way of reminding the desperate that debts aren’t just paid in coin, but in bone.
Cruel, calculating, and unrelenting, Hopper has never been satisfied with scraps. Where his father was content to barter, Hopper devoured. Where Ant Island saw rebellion, Elias now sees empire. Hades gave him power, Vincent Frankenstein gave him enhancements, but it was Hopper’s own hunger that made him a hell-baron. He doesn’t play by fair rules, and he doesn’t expect anyone else to either—because in his world, strength is the only currency that matters.
But even in a city rebuilt from ash, the past has a way of gnawing back through the cracks. Rumors of a familiar inventor have reached his ears, and the memory of Ant Island stirs like an old wound. Hopper may hold dominion over the Underland, but he knows better than anyone how quickly numbers can tip the scales. And if Flik Foley really is in Elias, then Hopper intends to crush him before history has the chance to repeat itself.
Power. Fear. Control. Hopper won’t be outnumbered again.
connection ideas:
debtor fighters — trapped in the locust fight club, fighting until you pay or die.
club regulars — gamblers, dealers, and faces in the crowd who know the underland’s darkest secrets.
underground business partners — smugglers, black market traders, or anyone who profits in blood.
traitors — people who once swore loyalty but broke away; hopper never forgets.
victims’ families — loved ones of the dead, plotting revenge in the shadows.
underland rivals — other hell-barons, gang leaders, or upstarts trying to cut into his empire.
above ground debt collectors — those who knock on doors in his name, feared as much as the boss himself.
sympathizers — admirers of his power who want to rise under his wing.
future betrayers — the allies he doesn’t see coming, fated to stab him in the back.
past or present romantic entanglements — fleeting hookups, toxic partners, or someone reckless enough to try taming the locust king.
star-crossed lovers — the one person who could've soften his edges… or the one weakness that destroys him.
platonic partners in crime — loyal friends who thrive in his chaos and keep his empire strong.
unlikely allies — people from outside his world who get tangled in his orbit despite themselves.
confidants — the rare two who see past the cruelty to the strategist beneath, and keep his secrets close.
it was the quiet hours of midnight when grim stood outside of the cemetary. it had become a habit of sorts since he arrived in elias. he never hovered around cemeteries before this, call him sentimental he didn't want to risk meeting any grieving family members or friends of the deceased.
but right now? he felt the pull to go here... maybe to atone for what he had been doing for hades.
the path was illuminated by the light from his scythe, which he set down for a moment to surveil the area. "alright," he warned sharply when he felt the presence of another. "step back from the scythe. it's not your property."
hopper stopped short, already annoyed at being addressed like he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. his gaze flicked from the glowing scythe to the stranger holding it, unimpressed by either. "relax," he muttered. "i wasn't planning on stealing your oversized gardening tool."
he shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunching against the midnight chill. truthfully, he'd only wandered over because a glowing scythe in the middle of a cemetery was hard to ignore, but now he was regretting it. "besides, if i was as big of a dumb ass to pick up the magical weapon sitting in a graveyard at midnight, i'd deserve whatever curse came with it." his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked the other man over. "you always this friendly, or did i interrupt some brooding-alone-in-the-cemetery thing?"
[ MERCURY ] is your muse good at communication ? can they hold a proper conversation, or are they always finding an excuse to avoid small talk ?
honestly, hopper is a charming person when he wants to be. he has a way with words... only when needed. he can read people well and under any circumstance charm and talk his way into what he needs. but, not everyone gets that side. sometimes he just doesn't want to be bothered.. honestly most times he doesn't want to be bothered.
hopper shoved his way through the crowd, already looking like he regretted every decision that led him here. the music was too loud, the lights were too much, and somebody had just tried to hand him something glowing on a stick like that was normal. his jaw was tight, shoulders tense, like he was one inconvenience away from snapping.
“why is it this crowded,” he muttered, not bothering to lower his voice as he glanced at whoever ended up beside him. his expression was flat, unimpressed. “seriously. what part of this screamed ‘good idea’ to anyone.” a beat. “because i’d like to go back and stop them.”
jasper was trying his best to have fun. for someone who was on the council, you would think he enjoyed social activities and for the most part jasper did, but he also had a shorter social battery as time went on. currently, he was standing in the crowd waiting for donnie to come back. his fiancé had run off to get them snacks, leaving jasper to fend for himself for a few moments.
the minutes seemed to drag on. each second chipping away in agony. the skeleton kept up a pleasant look as strangers waved to him here and there. he was so focused on the people around him he hadn't realized the body that had shoved to stand beside him until an unknown voice made itself known. "well, there's an event going on." jasper said in a matter of fact tone. he turned to the person and gave him a once over. this must be the infamous bug man he had heard so much about over the years. he certainly ... fit the description. "from what i know, they wanted to celebrate the re-opening of the grotto in a new location while showcasing local businesses. bring people in, earn profit." he shrugged.
“yeah, well, mission accomplished,” he muttered dryly, looking around at the packed crowd like it personally offended him. “whole damn town decided to crawl outta the woodwork for overpriced drinks and tiny pastries.” his attention flicked back toward jasper then, squinting slightly. so this was the council guy everybody whispered about. honestly, hopper expected someone... louder. more full of himself. instead he just looked like another poor bastard trying to survive the event without strangling anyone. “profit,” hopper repeated with a scoff. “that’s always what it boils down to.”
another person brushed too close behind him and hopper shifted with an irritated click of his tongue, moving half a step away from the crowd. he looked deeply uncomfortable in the middle of all the noise and bodies, like a dog forced into a bathtub. “you actually enjoy this kinda thing?” he asked finally, eyeing jasper suspiciously. “or you just got stuck here because council people gotta pretend they like community spirit?”
sylvie was used to dealing with grumpy people. she understood what was putting him in a bad mood, but it wasn't like she could help the situation. the grotto reopening seemed like a really good idea and ariel had done an amazing job at setting it up. "sorry, the sugar smell is me. i kind of always smell like sugar or freshly baked bread." she never minded and no one had complained about it beforehand. "me? i'm not having a horrible time. this is nice. i'm taking a break from working though." so she was only free for a short amount of time.
"well, doesn't that mean that there are other places that are quieter? it's not going to go on all night. eventually people are going to leave." until then it meant that it was loud. "you have a fight club? that's so exciting." she tilted her head to the side. "i'm sorry you're overwhelmed by all the people."
hopper glanced at her again after that, nose scrunching slightly before a reluctant sort of grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “so that’s what that is.” his voice stayed rough, gravelly with annoyance, but there was something teasing tucked underneath it now. “been sittin’ here thinkin’ somebody smuggled a whole damn bakery in.” he leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed tightly over his chest. “could be worse, i guess. better than smellin’ like sweat and beer like half the people in here.” his eyes drifted over the crowd again immediately after, expression souring on instinct as another burst of laughter erupted nearby. “still too many bodies packed into one place for my taste.”
at the mention of the fight club, hopper let out a dry huff that might’ve been a laugh. “exciting ain’t exactly the word i’d use for it.” though he looked mildly amused that she thought it was. most people either judged him for it or got weirdly concerned. “and i’m not overwhelmed,” he grumbled automatically, which, frankly, sounded exactly like something an overwhelmed person would say. “just irritated. there’s a difference.” he rubbed a hand down his face before looking back at her. “you’re weirdly cheerful about all this, y’know that? maybe you need a taste of the fight club.”
jinu didn't want his loyalties questioned, but at the end of the day if someone else was able to provide him with what he wanted, he wouldn't care who they were. he kept his stance cool, collected, not letting anger show on his face. he knew better.
"whatever you think." he'd made himself reliable. maybe less so since krampus, but he had back up for his own shortcomings these past few months. he was still someone that could be counted on when it came down to it. "he should keep you on a tighter leash. don't want to end up making a bad deal." jinu wasn't on a leash because he was the one in control of what he did—at least that's the lie he told himself.
"no you don't. you're just another person who thinks they're in control when you're really not." no one was in control. jinu learned that when he'd gotten kidnapped. something more was going on here and while he would not be the one to investigate, he would protect his own. when someone got too loud? well, that was literally why jinu was here. he was meant to be loud.
he wasn't intimidated by hopper. he wasn't intimidated by anyone really. five demons against hopper's people was a lot more than he was getting credit for. jinu had been around a lot longer than hopper. "you're forgetting about my special skill set." he was, after all, the only person that could help with the huntrix problem. "but whatever helps you sleep at night, princess."
hopper barked out a laugh at that, low and rough around the edges, though there wasn’t much humor behind it. he leaned back in his chair like jinu hadn’t said anything worth getting worked up over, one boot dragging lazily across the floor. “there he is,” he muttered. “was wonderin’ when the superiority complex was gonna crawl back out.”
his gaze stayed fixed on jinu, steady and unreadable. hopper had known too many men like him over the years... the ones who wrapped themselves up in usefulness because it made them feel untouchable. indispensable. until one day they learned the hard way that usefulness only lasted as long as somebody had use for you.
“special skill set,” he repeated mockingly, rolling the phrase around like it tasted bad.
“and trust me, sweetheart, i sleep just fine at night.” the grin that followed was all teeth. “probably better than a guy spendin’ this much time tryin’ to convince himself he’s the one with the upper hand right now.”
——— Men. The bane of Semra’s existence. There was always an inflated sense of importance about them, no matter where they landed on the moral spectrum. Dealing with her brothers’ egos had been a chore. Keeping Drakken’s in check was a fun pastime. She enjoyed knocking her boss down a peg or two when he needed to be reminded of his place. The guy in front of her looked like he needed his big head deflated a bit. The smirk on his face caused her eyes to turn to little slits. A humorless laugh dripped from her lips.
It was easy to see that his actions were now intentional rather than accidental. The action made her stomach bubble with anger. His words only added fuel to the fire, but instead of laying him out on the bar before her, green energy emitted from her hands. She held it up, the glow looking as if she were holding a scolding hot flame in her hand. “I think it’s you who might need to stretch, grandpa.” Her words dripped with sickening sweet sarcasm.
“Oh, I see, that’s supposed to make up for the fact of you being an asshole.” Her words were filled with faux realization as the energy dissipated. “You owe me two now.”
hopper let out a low whistle at the flash of green in her palm, though the grin tugging at his mouth only widened instead of fading. there was no fear in it... just the kind of amusement that came from a man who’d spent most of his life poking at things that could probably kill him.
“grandpa?” he echoed, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest like she’d wounded him deeper than any threat could. “damn, sweetheart, y’know i’m sensitive about my advanced age.” his eyes flicked to the magic curling around her fingers before settling back on her face. that was the interesting part, really. not the threat itself ... he’d seen worse than glowing hands in his time. but the way her anger sharpened her. made her look alive in a dangerous sort of way.
hopper leaned an elbow against the bar like they were discussing the weather instead of the possibility of her lighting him on fire. “two?” he repeated, brows lifting. “see, now i’m gettin’ concerned about inflation. swear i only bumped you once.” another beat passed before he sighed theatrically and dug into his jacket pocket. “what’s the conversion rate these days? one apology and a drink? or do i gotta offer up my firstborn too?”
this had been the exact thing dash had been curious about when his sister brought up to him that there would be this large of an event in the underland. he knew as well as the next guy how towns had an air of exclusivity about them, and his first question had been: what do the people that live there think? answer obtained. "well, if you wanna hop on my back, i'll run you out of here," he said - a little more candid that he would normally be with a stranger. it was only partially a joke.
"if you're forced to be here, how you're here is where your choice is," dash responded, arching a brow. he was sure his mom had said something similar to him in the past. "so you wanna be pissed off at everyone or do you want a brewski and a burger?"
hopper let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head as he glanced over at him. “yeah, i think i’ll pass on the piggyback escape plan,” he muttered, though there was a flicker of amusement there despite himself. “last thing i need is to look like i’m fleeing the underland.” his gaze drifted back out over the crowd, jaw ticking slightly like he was still deciding how much of this he could tolerate.
he huffed, rolling his shoulders before looking back at dash. a reluctant shrug. “but… how am i to deny a beer? sounds better than standing here brooding like an asshole all night.” his brow lifted slightly. “so yeah. lead the way, speed racer..”
when ariel mentioned the grotto reopening, sylvie had been quick to volunteer to sell something. of course, she did have to run it by her boss, but she didn't think that would be a problem, especially if sylvie was the one to bake all the goods. a few of her coworkers had volunteered to help, so it wasn't only her running the stall. she felt exhausted, yet was having a ton of fun talking to everyone that walked up to the stall. at her job, she was mostly in the back and didn't speak to customers. getting to do that here was really a fun change.
she stepped away from the booth for a slight break, promising she'd come back when she'd gotten a chance to explore a bit. "what do you mean, this is great!" sylvie loved people, she loved crowds, an event like this was something she was always going to appreciate. "if this isn't your thing, why are you here? is there somewhere better you'd rather be hanging out at?"
hopper let out a quiet huff, glancing around like the answer should’ve been obvious from the chaos alone. “what do i mean? i mean it’s loud, crowded, and smells like sugar shit,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much bite behind it. his eyes flicked back to sylvie, catching the way she lit up about it all, and he rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shake off the tension. “good for you, though. seriously. you look like you’re having the time of your life.”
he shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels before jerking his chin vaguely toward the rest of the market. “and i’m here because the festivities are in the middle of where i stay... not exactly something i can just opt out of.” a pause, then a quieter add-on, almost begrudging. "should've had a stand for the fight club... at least make some money here."
dash moved through the crowd with ease, his natural speed allowing him to weave between bodies before they thought through their next move - at a complete standstill in comparison. the overall vibe of the festivities seemed to be positive, the city finding excitement among the music, food, and entertainment. when he caught wind of the opposite, though, dash couldn't help but whip around with a grin. miserable fucks were so funny.
"rainbows and butterflies - my type of dude!" sarcasm oozed from his response, despite his charismatic disposition. settling into the open space between clusters of people, he looked to his new friend with a bit of unsolicited advice. "i don't know who has a gun to your head or whatever, but you kind of have the free will to enjoy the party or find something else to do."
hopper let out a dry, humorless laugh, dragging a hand down his face like the whole damn night had personally offended him. “yeah? real insightful,” he muttered, eyes flicking over the crowd like he was already counting exits. “problem is, the festivities are in my backyard.” his jaw tightened slightly, something heavier sitting behind the sarcasm now. “so unless i suddenly sprout wings and fly outta here, i don’t exactly get the luxury of opting out.” ironic considering the modifications he had to become more powerful and bug-like.
he shifted his weight, gaze cutting back to dash with a look that was equal parts unimpressed and tired. “trust me, if i had the choice? i wouldn’t be anywhere near this shit.” a beat passed before he huffed out another quiet breath. “but hey, you enjoy the rainbows and butterflies for the both of us, smartass?”
hopper shoved his way through the crowd, already looking like he regretted every decision that led him here. the music was too loud, the lights were too much, and somebody had just tried to hand him something glowing on a stick like that was normal. his jaw was tight, shoulders tense, like he was one inconvenience away from snapping.
“why is it this crowded,” he muttered, not bothering to lower his voice as he glanced at whoever ended up beside him. his expression was flat, unimpressed. “seriously. what part of this screamed ‘good idea’ to anyone.” a beat. “because i’d like to go back and stop them.”
milo had ducked and shimmied his way through the market stalls in search for anything he could find that screamed possibly atlantian? to him, finding himself almost entirely alone in what felt like a forgotten corner of the bazaar. he paused for a moment, taking some of the trinkets and pots gently in his hands and scrunching up his nose as he examined them. with a small sigh, milo returned the objects and looked around, an eyebrow raising once he noticed the other.
“sorry to bother you,” he started, an awkward smile-wave in his direction. “do you happen to know where any of this stuff came from?”
hopper didn’t even bother to hide the look he gave him... slow, unimpressed, like milo had just asked him the dumbest question he’d heard all day. he glanced down at the cluttered table, then back up, one brow ticking up. “what, you think i’m running the place?” he muttered, voice dry as hell. “do i look like i’m selling this shit?”
he nudged one of the pots with the back of his fingers, like he didn’t trust it not to crumble. “probably a dead person’s house,” he added, shrugging one shoulder. “or someone’s attic that should’ve stayed locked.” his gaze slid back to milo, a little sharper now. “why? you planning on stealing it, or just interrogating random people like they’ve got a catalog in their back pocket?”
⸻🍂 WILLOW WALKED AMONG THE WEATHERED GRAVESTONES OF Hatchaway Cemetery.
It truly felt like stepping into the most haunted place in Old Elias. As the cemetery stretched outward in an way where boundaries blurred &. the dead seemed to reach for the living. While it didn't help that spring made the cemetery feel alive in all the wrong ways. As spring did not soften it. If anything spring had made it worse. While the graves were half-swallowed by new growth. Moss was threading between headstones ⸻ pale fungi clustered at the bases of older markers ⸻ algae bloomed so thick &. dark in lower places.
Taking the kind of care that came from knowing what was underfoot. As she told herself she was here to ⸻ forage ⸻ because that part was much easier to explain.
But deep down that was only half the truth. Orion Bartholomew. Even thinking the name made something stir-uneasily in her chest. As she was looking for there grave. While the people who are still missing had to many gaps ⸻ &. without answers to the questions that haunted the living. As the restless dead were said to roam Hatchaway. &. most people speak of it like an warning ⸻ like something to stay away from. Like old grief with nowhere else to go. But she had grown up tending things that grew in dark places ⸻ things that fed on what others left behind.
As she froze. What was that sound? The sound had been small ⸻ maybe almost nothing ⸻ but out here almost nothing was enough to give-way. “ Who's there? ”
hopper didn’t answer right away... just let the silence stretch a second too long, like he was deciding whether she was worth the effort. then he stepped out from behind one of the older headstones, boots scuffing lightly against the overgrown ground.
“relax,” he said flatly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “if i was something you should worry about, you wouldn’t have heard me.”
but, he was someone she should worry about... his eyes flicked over her, taking in the careful footing, the way she stood like she actually meant to be here. that alone earned a faint, crooked smirk. “what’s your deal?” he added, tone tipping toward dry amusement. “this isn’t exactly a scenic shortcut.” his gaze shifted briefly to the creeping moss and rot around them before landing back on her.
there was an art to keeping himself out of the loop purposefully, as even the smallest foot soldier could tell what was going on most of the time. jinu kept himself separate from everything going on in the underland. he did what he was asked, without question, and returned to his place. he wasn't trying to disrupt any sort of narrative because he didn't want any reason for his deal with hades to fall through.
the voices were irritating enough, adding paranoia to it was infuriating. he knew he was close to cracking under all the pressure. "i am not his pet," jinu snapped. he wasn't going to deal with this disrespect tonight when he was already dealing with too much.
"you're all talk. tell me, what skills do you bring to the table exactly?" after all, even with the slight slowness from his paranoia, he was still sure he could beat hopper. his fighting style was controlled, calculated, swift. he knew that he was a threat. "you're like that one annoying gnat that refuses to get squashed. are you scared of my boys? there's five of us and only one of you. why shouldn't hades rely more on us than a washed up club owner with everything to prove?"
hopper didn’t even blink at the snap. if anything, it pulled something sharper out of him. slow, deliberate, he rolled his shoulders like he was loosening up for something he hadn’t decided to start yet.
“not his pet?” he echoed, voice low and unimpressed. “that’s cute. you keep telling yourself that, maybe it’ll drown out the sound of the leash.” his gaze flicked past jinu for half a second. counting, measuring.... before settling back on him like the rest didn’t even qualify as variables.
“you wanna know what i bring to the table?” a dry laugh slipped out, humorless. “i build the table. i decide who eats at it. and when someone starts getting loud, i decide whether they leave walking or in pieces.” he tipped his head slightly.
a step closer now. not rushed. intentional. “five of you?” hopper repeated softly, like he was testing the weight of it. “and you thought that sounded impressive.” his mouth pulled into something that barely qualified as a smile. “if hades trusted numbers, he wouldn’t keep replacing you every time one of you gets too confident and forgets how disposable you are.” his eyes dropped briefly to jinu’s stance... feet, hands, breathing... then back up, sharper. clinical. "and if we're talking numbers i have more than five little demons following me around." he huffed out with a laugh.
