( 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.
the beer was strategic, the only thing in this damn place that came with a cap. she stuck with those she could retrieve in a can despite how out of place it looked here - there was just something about this whole thing, about most things now, that made her wary of consumption. she flipped the tab of a coors light and took a sip.
his question threw her off - both because she wasn't sure why it mattered or why he cared. it wasn't like it was abnormal for people to have multiple jobs ... and what other skills could she use if not the ones she recently learned behind the bar? she frowned.
"isn't asking about my financial situation some sort of HR violation?" she asked, eyebrow raised. of course - the club didn't have a human resources department, but he had to know this line of questioning was not within his realm of business. she leaned forward anyway, signing as she relented. "i'm looking for a new apartment and need a second job. so unless you wanna offer me like a 50% raise right now, i'm shopping around."
she took another sip of her beer then, letting a beat pass between them. "why?" she paused again, a realization hitting. "and also , how do you know about that? what - are you having me fucking followed now?"
hopper stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. his tone stayed as flat as ever, absent of any real irritation. "word travels fast in the underland. people talk. especially when one of my bartenders starts asking around for another job."
he leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming once against the armrest before going still. "what i'm trying to figure out is why you didn't ask me for a raise first." there wasn't any accusation in his voice, only genuine confusion. "if money's the problem, you come to me before you start shopping around." his eyes settled on the coors light in her hand for a second before returning to her. "i'd rather keep what's mine than watch someone else think they can afford you."
⸻ 🌻 THE SOLSTICE SUMMER BALL SPARKLES WITH AN suffocating kind of enchantment ⸻ spectacle of color &. light that sweeps over the grand-ballroom like an delicate trap full of glitter &. rumor.
As everywhere she looked ⸻ the ballroom offered many possibility's ⸻ &. far to many ways for the evening to become an nightmare with her standing at its gravitational-center. While worrying about her own plant-magic sits heavy in her ⸻ thoughts ⸻ chest. What if she can't stop the mutations from happening? What if life around her was transforming ⸻ &. what does that say about her own plant-magic? As the 10-days at Arcane_Hollow taught her that containment . . . wasn't the same as understanding.
What was actually happening to her ⸻ because no one could explain why her plant-magic around her were mutating outside the Arcane_Hollow ⸻ as it was all caged &. controlled behind wards &. safe-intention ⸻ while it didn't really offer her any real answers ⸻ only holding the mutating problem . . . at bay. As she wants to run ⸻ escape ⸻ from the beauty around her &. ⸻ the weight of expectations ⸻ the weight of what could go wrong if she doesn't keep everything intact &. under-control. As she tried very hard to appear occupied rather than stranded.
Becoming an wallflower at the solstice-ball ⸻ rooted to an corner ⸻ watching behind glasses as the evening felt less like an celebration &. more like an social-experiment with to many variables. As she doesn't notice at first as an canary-rose was mutating on its own behind her. The petals began to glisten ⸻ glitter ⸻ &. take on an metallic-metalized rose-gold. As she felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine suddenly ⸻ as the stem twisted in like an serpents slowly converting into an coiling silver-thorned ⸻ metal-vined thief.
Behind her ⸻ the mutated rose extended its first metallic vine toward any metalized décor &. anyone to close to snatch something unexpectedly from ⸻ as the metal-disappeared bit-by-bit into the ⸻ searching &. twisting ⸻ metalized-vines &. bloom. As the ominous metalized-rose swallowed anything it could find ⸻ as it was growing in size along the wall spreading itself along the wall the more it consumed &. in its own boldness ⸻ it took much bigger risks.
hopper hadn't come to the ball expecting to find anything worth his attention. dancing, politics, small talk. it all blurred together into the same headache. but the movement creeping along the wall caught his eye almost immediately. instead of recoiling like everyone else inevitably would, he watched the silver vines curl around the nearest decoration with quiet interest. the rose wasn't dying. it was adapting. feeding. getting stronger with every piece of metal it swallowed.
his gaze shifted from the plant to the woman standing a few feet away. she looked nervous enough to bolt, which told him everything he needed to know. "yours?" he asked simply, jerking his chin toward the flower as another vine reached for a nearby ornament. there wasn't panic in his voice, only curiosity. "looks like it's hungry."
he stepped closer, unconcerned by the twisting vines. "y'know everyone else is gonna see a problem they need to stop." his eyes settled on her, calculating rather than judgmental. another vine wrapped around a metal fixture, and hopper watched it without flinching. "is this your creation?" he paused, the faintest smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "or are you controlling it?" he was only curious is all.
mandy almost didn't show up - wouldn't have if she hadn't found a dress she actually loved in consignment. there she stood in blood red lace like it belonged on her, draped in ways she hadn't expected when she threw it on. still, she felt out of place. like riff raff crashing a royal affair. it was strange how the whole town seemed to slow down just for these things.
that was what she was thinking about as she stood now in front of her boss, neither of them standing in the building one of them was usually always standing in. his words felt clunky, foreign, like the two of them couldn't interact outside of the locust fight club as easily as they could inside it. "thanks," she said simply, the sound sinking like a stone.
eyes scanned up and down, but her opinions stayed close to her chest. who knew exactly what the man considered a big deal, anyway? she blinked once before her gaze shifted to the drink station, away from the detailing on his sleeve.
"yeah," he muttered. "not gonna turn down a free beer." before he started his interrogation he allowed her to get him a beer. he twisted the cap off against the edge of the table without much effort, taking a long drink before letting out a quiet exhale. the tension in his shoulders eased just enough to be noticeable, though the permanent scowl never really left his face.
he leaned back against his chair, bottle hanging loosely from his fingers as his gaze settled on the other. "so..." he said after a beat of silence. "wanna tell me why you were job hunting at inferno?" his tone wasn't accusing, just direct.
king's pencil stilled mid-spin as he blinked once and lifted his head toward the stranger, studying him with open curiosity "..research," he repeated with scrunched-up eyebrows “definitely research.” he shut the notebook with a gentle thump against his palm. “i have notes and everything. which makes it official.” clover gave a proud little chirp from the fountain's edge. "see" king gestured toward the bird. “even my assistant agrees.”
the title earned another puff of feathers, which caused a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth before his attention returned to the stranger. “besides..” his gaze wandered briefly toward the ballroom where music drifted through the open window “if I were sneaking around, i'd be doing a pretty terrible job of it."
he tapped the cover of the notebook with the eraser of his pencil. "figured the gardens would give me a better vantage point. you can actually hear the fountain out here.in there, everything sort of... blends together" he tilted his head ever so slightly, curiosity replaced with playful defensiveness. "since you've already concluded my methodology is nonsense, what brought you out here?"
hopper stared at him for a beat, then at the bird, then back to the notebook like he was genuinely debating whether he'd wandered into some elaborate prank. "right," he muttered flatly. "your assistant's got a real convincing argument." his arms folded across his chest, expression unimpressed despite the corner of his mouth threatening the faintest twitch. "research. if you say so."
his gaze drifted toward the ballroom before settling back on king. "noise." the answer came without hesitation. "too many people saying they're having the night of their lives. i needed a smoke and five minutes where nobody was talking..." he jerked his chin toward the fountain. "this was quiet until i found someone conducting a scientific study on... water?"
the lanterns glowed like captured stars and somewhere inside, people moved together as though they'd been born knowing every step. it was all so beautiful. King had lasted nearly twenty minutes before quietly slipping outside. The gardens were mercifully calmer. moonlight spilled across the stone paths while the warm hum of the celebration drifted through the open windows behind him. close enough to enjoy but without being swallowed by it. perched on the edge of a marble fountain, he balanced a small leather notebook against one knee. the tip of his pencil scratched thoughtfully across the page. observations: apparently, dancing becomes significantly less terrifying when everyone is wearing flowers. he paused before crossing it out. ...needs further study. another line. secondary observation: birds receive considerably more compliments than humans at formal gatherings. clover was comfortably nestled beside him, puffed up with unmistakable pride. “don't let it go to your head.” an indignant chirp. he smiled despite himself before turning another page, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers as he glanced back toward the glowing ballroom. “ suppose,” he murmured,
“if someone were to interrupt my incredibly important research.....i'd allow it."
"research?" hopper's voice came flatly as he wandered into the garden, hands buried deep in his pockets. his gaze flicked from king to the notebook, then to the smug-looking bird perched beside him. "looks more like sneaking around to me."
he stopped beside the fountain, eyeing the ballroom through the open windows before giving a quiet grunt. "good choice, though. in there you've got people pretending they enjoy small talk. out here it's just you, a bird, and whatever nonsense you've convinced yourself is scientific."
hopper wasn't exactly thrilled about being at the solstice ball, but he couldn't deny that mandy had managed to look surprisingly put together. his gaze lingered for a moment before he caught himself and immediately looked away, arms crossing over his chest.
"you look... decent," he muttered, the closest thing to a compliment he was willing to give. after a beat, he added with a slight frown, "don't make a big deal out of it."
Her temper was rampant, a trait she was told many times could use work, but she didn't see the flaw in. Fire was fuel. She wouldn't dim herself in any aspect, even her rage. "Did I stutter?" she asked, brow raised. There was always a threatening undertone in Semra's words. Intimidation brought her glee. She would only find that satisfaction at the bottom of the barrel here. The man in front of her wasn't someone she could easily snap in half, though that wouldn't stop her from trying.
"Most men with an inflated sense of self are." The sweetheart earned an eye roll from her, but she simmered down enough to disengage. "You don't strike me as the sensitive type." Drakken was the perfect case of sensitivity. He was just as much of a loose cannon as she was. It's why they worked so well together. Semra mirrored Hopper. She leaned her weight on her own elbow, eyes tracking him like a tiger stalking its prey. Her interest was piqued. She wondered what this man could possibly do next. "I thought Hades paid you well? Surely you could scrounge for a dollar or two. One for bumping into me. Two for daring to speak to me." She mused. Her head tilted back and forth as she weighed her options. "Sure, a groveling apology and a drink will suffice. Keep any and all spawn far from me."
hopper let out a tired sigh through his nose, like she'd just confirmed every expectation he'd had from the start. "there it is," he muttered. "knew we'd get to the part where i was supposed to apologize for survivin' the collision." he dug into his pocket, pulled out a couple of crumpled bills, and held them between two fingers before tucking them right back where they'd come from. "thought about it. passed." the corner of his mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "hades pays me just fine. doesn't mean i'm in the habit of rewarding bad attitudes from beautiful women."
he pushed himself upright and brushed nonexistent dust from his sleeve. "you can buy your own drink, sweetheart." the nickname was just as deliberate as before. "and if you're still this mad over somebody bumping into you by the end of the night, i'd recommend finding a hobby. punching people in my ring pays better than arguing with me for free."
spending so much time in a bakery and the kitchen at home meant she always smelled vaguely like some kind of pastry or spice. sylvie never minded. she really liked the sugary smell, though she did prefer a lemon or orange scent above sugar. "no, just me. although it's probably since i've been working all night." she wouldn't say it was the most unpleasant smell. working in a bar would mean she'd smell like cheap beer and sweat and that didn't sound fun either. "sometimes i smell like beer if i'm using it in my cooking." sylvie looked around at all the people milling about. "well there ought to be somewhere quiet to go. it can't all be like this." there were a lot of people here, which was nice for ariel and anyone working tonight, but not so much for people who liked a different kind of loudness.
"how can a fight club not be exciting?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. sylvie was certain it didn't matter what time period someone lived, there would always be people paying to see other people fighting. "people used to pay other people to fight with jousts on horseback. fight clubs have always existed." and maybe it was concerning, but there were rules to these things. people probably didn't end up dead every day or at all. "oh, well. irritated." sylvie laughed at the comment. "i don't know how to fight, so i wouldn't be very good at it." she probably should learn. quite a few people said that it was dangerous here.
hopper snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. "trust me, smelling like bread beats smelling like blood or whatever's been fermenting behind a tavern." his nose wrinkled as if he'd recalled all three at once. at her hopeful glance around the crowd, he gave a lazy gesture toward the edge of the market. "head far enough away from the music and people start remembering they like personal space. you'll find your quiet eventually." when she started defending fight clubs, he let out a low, unimpressed grunt. "i run a fight club, sweetheart. i'm legally obligated to tell you they're exciting.'"
his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. "keep it that way. not knowing how to fight isn't the worst thing in the world if you also know when to walk away." he shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded toward the quieter end of the market. " you should go enjoy the festival i can tell you shouldn't be seen with the likes of me. i've got enough people making bad decisions on my payroll without adding a pretty little baker to the list."
jinu stopped caring what people thought about him a long time ago. those feelings about caring what people thought had faded along with what little human emotions he still felt. he knew he was nothing more than a foot soldier right now and that he wasn't anything other than someone who was doing exactly what he was told. he wanted to make himself indispensable because that meant he was closer to getting what he wanted. "i think you're mistaking me for someone else." the idol liked to think that he had a general idea of what was going on, even if he didn't care about their petty squabbles and goals. he was doing what he was doing to get his life back and nothing else.
he didn't see anyone else here doing something about huntrix or who knew the history of their special skills more than he did. of course he wanted to know more, he'd learn it eventually—at least he hoped. jinu was older than most people thought, he had more knowledge. he'd watched empires fall, break, crumble and be put back together again, stronger in places, weaker in others.
"you don't know anything about me." which was true, but no one knew anything about him because he tried to make himself unknowable. jinu liked to be a level of unpredictable.
"whatever, people like you get complacent up there, thinking you're on top when really you're also only a pawn." there was no upper hand her, that was the point. jinu knew that he wasn't better because he was a foot soldier, but he was aware that anyone could be replaced.
hopper let the silence hang for a second before giving a tired, humorless huff. "good. stay unknowable. makes everyone's life easier." there wasn't any bite left in his voice, just the flat exhaustion of someone who'd heard the same speech dressed up a hundred different ways. "and for the record, maybe i don't know you. but, i know your type. people convinced they've got one hand on the leash while someone's got the other wrapped around their throat." his shoulders rose in a careless shrug. "whether that fits you or not ain't my problem."
he pushed off the wall, adjusting the strap slung over his shoulder. "you keep tellin' yourself everyone's a pawn in your little game if it helps you sleep. maybe you're right." hopper started walking past him, not bothering to look back. "the difference is i've got no interest in your game when i'm winning my own." with a dismissive wave of his hand, he added, "try not to get yourself killed chasing whatever it is you're after. pissing off hades is a nightmare."
hopper's demeanour doesn't affect milo (or, at least, he tries his best not to act like it gets his back up a little), a small smile curving at the sides of his mouth. "why would that be such a crazy thing? are you not much of a collector type?" a small voice in the back of milo's head presses that he probably shouldn't poke the bear when it came to strangers around here, but he tries to make a point to not judge a book by it's cover, or by it's somewhat initial coldness.
"interrogating? don't you have to be intimidating to interrogate someone? last i checked, i'm just a guy looking for some trinkets in the back end of a dark market -- nothing untoward going on here at all." milo picks up one of the pots that hopper had nudged, quiet for a moment as he observed it in his hands. there's a short pause before milo's expression turns more serious and concerned. "do you really think this was a dead person's? does it seem cursed to you?"
hopper stared at him for a long beat, looking thoroughly unimpressed before dragging a hand down his face. "you're askin' the wrong guy. i don't collect things, i collect fighters." his eyes flicked to the pot in milo's hands, and a dry sigh escaped him. "and if you have to ask whether somethin' seems cursed, you're already halfway to buying it." he reached over, took the pot with little ceremony, turned it over once, then set it back down with a dull clunk. "could've belonged to a dead person. could've belonged to an old lady who made terrible soup. 'round here, the odds aren't exactly in your favor either way." hopper shrugged one shoulder, already sounding tired of the conversation. "if it starts whispering your name at three in the morning, bring it back. otherwise, congratulations. you've got yourself an ugly pot."
grim tried to maintain his composure, but the urgency in his steps as he walked closer to the scythe said otherwise. with a possessive curl of his fingers around the handle, he pulled his treasured gift near his body and gave thomas a scan. grim had seen the man around the underland, knew of his reputation. so, grim knew to tread carefully.
"i wasn't brooding," he responded. he titled his head back slightly. "i was observing." was all he offered as an explanation. grim kept a steely gaze on thomas. "and what are you doing here?"
hopper's eyes flicked from grim's hand wrapped around the scythe to his face, the corner of his mouth twitching with something that almost resembled amusement. "observing," he repeated dryly. "right. and i'm a ray of sunshine." he shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "relax. if i wanted your fancy stick, i would've taken it while you were busy observing." his gaze lingered on the weapon another second before returning to grim. "it's yours. wasn't planning on changing that."
he shrugged one shoulder at the question, expression flattening again. "same thing everyone else does. existing." the answer came with all the enthusiasm of someone discussing the weather. "underland's only so big before you start running into the same miserable faces over and over." after a beat, he glanced around the cemetery before looking back at him. "figured i'd take a walk somewhere people tend to mind their own business. then i found you. so much for that."
Logan took another drag before exhaling smoke toward the neon haze hanging near the ceiling. His suit jacket was slung over his shoulder rather than worn properly, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark curls slightly damp from the rain outside. The small horns beginning to curl through his hair were more visible tonight beneath the casino lights, though he’d stopped trying to hide them weeks ago.
People stared sometimes. He stared back harder. Movement near the staircase finally pulled his attention away from the floor below. Logan glanced over, expression unreadable at first before one side of his mouth tugged upward faintly.
“Lemme guess,” he said dryly, voice carrying easily over the music. “You’re either here to ask me for a favor, threaten me, or complain about the new management. Hopefully not the third one. I’m really trying to keep morale up around here.”
hopper snorted as he came to a stop beside the railing, resting both forearms against it while he looked down at the casino floor instead of logan. "if i wanted to threaten you, you'd know it." the words came with the usual gravel in his voice, though there wasn't much bite behind them. after a beat, he glanced sideways, brow lifting. "and i don't care enough about morale to complain about it." his fingers drummed once against the wood before he let out a slow sigh. "so, congratulations. you guessed right."
he scratched at the back of his neck, looking about as pleased to be asking as someone headed to their own execution. "need a favor." the admission tasted sour. "there's someone i need intel on, and they frequent your little casino. figured if anyone's got eyes and ears spread around this place, it'd be you." hopper shot him a look that practically dared him to make a joke out of it.
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.
