hedies : featuring muses ruined by jem for cityofhq
oliver gauthreux ( &. a need that grows teeth )
kadri candemir-gilbert ( &. what resembles the grave but isn't )
finnólfr mikjálsson ( &. the dull ache of eternity )
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always so prone to trouble , their youngest brother. like a hound that's caught a scent ..... but it made little difference who sought who in the end ----- the fates were equally unkind. and once they had a taste for you ?? a sigh. for a minute they just watched kol seethe. would an offered hand make a difference ?? should it ?? reconciliation was an easy word to say , but a much more difficult one to abide by. it was centuries old this schism. this ache. how different were they to an unwanted ghost ?? but what was family if not a haunting ?? a step forward. they glanced at kol curiously. " up to no good ?? "
@crimsonhabit
it'd been some time since their last tavern crawl ( the middle ages. sage was the orchestrator ---- as she so often was ). no , their time in the 21st century had been fleeting , a technicolor dream or apocryphal rumor ..... nothing to a century subsumed by the rabble of their own mind ( life and death and life again , godhood , transcendence , ego death , singularity , the rise and fall of nation states , a million fractal memories ---- all fake or else realer than this life would ever be ..... how they feared to shut their eyes ; how they feared to open them and realize this had all been a falsity ..... ). perhaps there was something to be said for making up for lost time ---- or for drinking to forget.
from their own miserable corner , they watched , sipping down a ---- well the bartender had called it some kind of beer ( but frankly , they weren't convinced ) as their sister arrived. the centuries granted her command , if nothing else ..... little girl gone. no doubt she and nik were still pulling at one another's hair , regardless. how tired they had made them in their rough-n-tumble youth. how finn missed being that kind of tired ..... they slid the empty glass in her direction.
" order something better for your brother , yes ?? i tire of fruit and flowers. "
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this violent scene laid down before you shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who's ever heard your name before. restlessness carries you back and forth through the battered bar, your boots leaving bloody footprints across the floor. not even the fresh bodies slow you down; you merely kick them out of your way. it's only a matter of time, you assume, before whoever made the monumental mistake of imprisoning you here realizes you're ruining the entire game of it. leaving a trail of corpses and mangled buildings in your wake.
perhaps that's them now. lingering in the doorway like a phantom spectator. you don't bother to look at them as you press a thumb to one corner of your mouth, wipe at the blood there. "make it worth my time or join the party," a broad gesture with your arm to indicate your carelessly arranged victims, "the choice is yours." more an illusion of choice, really, but semantics.
and there he was , casting shadows all these years later. such a senseless little monster , their brother. how high he'd built his castles of delusion ---- how far he had to fall. such was the nature of any tyrant or warlord , though. why he thought himself any different was beyond them ..... what a shame he hadn't just become a painter. finn had liked his paintings. still , they doubted they were about to make him any less paranoid. their little enfant terrible , their crown of thorns , their blackened heart ..... theirs. the second of the children they cradled , the first to leave them behind.
..... or had they made that up too ?? another star-spun delusion ?? a fairy- tale to glut themself upon. a shadow of timeless want ( visions darting in the peripheral , screaming and grasping ..... were they any less real than he ?? this conjured brother , this phantom pain ..... they'd kept them company when he hadn't , then abandoned them to their fate. black on black ---- the void ad infinitum. they'd been here before. they'd had this conversation a thousand times and would have it a thousand more ..... this aborted euthanasia. this purgatorial daydream ) did it matter if it wasn't real ?? did it matter if it was ??
leaden hand tries to wipe the glaucoma from their eyes , to dispel the too-bright rings of light. stepped over corpses ( how familiar this was ..... ). walked to the bar and poured two drinks. " i know why you're trapped here , lítill skratti. will you listen ?? "
confrontation was inevitable , but so soon ?? they never had enough time to find their footing , get a tenuous grasp on whatever new reality they were afflicted with .... always waking to a world of demands , it would seem. finn steeled themself ---- bracing for impact , ( so much as looking at him would rip open the wound : the ugly , festering rot that was centuries deep and none the closer to healing. how it bled and blackened. how it ached ) but what thing cut deeper than a brother ?? a moment passed. their eyes fixated on their little brother , eyes sticking to joints and the set of his eyes they were trying to make sense of a puzzle with a missing piece .... but they'd been away for too long , one too many maggots had feasted on the soft parts of their brain ----- now there were only holes where memories should be. what would wrongness even be for a creature such as their brother ?? an ill-fitting suit ?? " you look troubled .... dare i ask ?? " a question they doubted would be responded to in kind. whatever forthrightness had existed between them .... it'd been lost to time , past and future both. what was left was chasm and worthless words.
characters: lexi & kadri / @hedies
prompt: “If I listened to my heart, I’d never be able to do my job.”
Her return was swift and something nobody could truly prepare for, considering she wasn't entirely herself. Not really. A hollowed out shell, trying to come to terms with those that controlled her. But now? Was she free from their hold since returning to Mystic Falls 2.0? Or, were those that brought her back, just around the corner, waiting to call her back like their little lapdog?
“If I listened to my heart, I’d never be able to do my job.” The revenant muttered to herself, pondering if she even had such a thing anymore. Or was it just a feeling of what she remembered being there? Regardless, she knew that people she loved dearly were here, and the contemplation to avoid them entirely was rather high. For, would they even recognise her anymore? Could she put them in danger, if she was controlled in the most abhorent ways?
dead flitting about like fruitflies. popping up like daisies. here a twice-dead man. there a slayed sycophant. be they a revenant of a not-yet-ghost , they were everywhere. questions on questions. tears and last testaments. it was all getting pretty fucking tedious …. or maybe he was getting impatient waiting for his dead to burst forth from the dirt. to bubble up from the silt and mud and bumble his way. to him. to where he was waiting —- had always been waiting ( a light left on at night , an empty seat at the table , a book with the page saved ). but right now ?? right now it was just fucking irritating.
he took a seat beside a faintly familiar face ----- one he'd never gotten the chance to know ( damon's doing , as most things were ). " no. sometime you can't , " kadri admitted. leaned forward onto his elbows. pulled a cigarette from his pocket. lit it up and took a drag. offered it to her. " i think stefan would want to see you either way. i would. "
this felt familiar. rehearsed. the same role he’d watched tyler play since childhood —- the bravado of boyhood , the misplaced confidence. swagger and smile. needle and namecall. fake it till you make it. he was on the downward now , but he'd recover. kadri knew he would ..... but him ?? fuck , he was pathetic. stood here before one of the most obnoxious teenage boy's he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and still so ...... smitten. how he'd longed for this boy. spent nights twisting himself into knots , losing his goddamn mind ...... and for what ?? to wake in the morning , alone. to feel stupid and unwanted. ( a stomach full of wasps. skin crawling with maggots. wasn't that what love was ?? ) you would think he'd of grown out of it by now.
kadri snorted. he had a grating voice , huh ?? more proof the stupid motherfucker had never listened to himself speak. " fuck off. i'm doing you a favor. you look like you're one good gust of wind away from sleeping it off in the gutter. " had this been what tyler had been doing since arriving in la ?? at least it was more productive than getting himself maimed going after klaus ...... maybe. " you have an apartment i can drop you off at ?? " because he couldn't take him to his. wouldn't be able to bare it ----- being haunted by a ghost that was yet to be. his heart would split. tyler would touch him and blood would pool. love him though he did , he wasn't for him , not anymore.
kadri snorted. tyler's surprise wasn't lost on him ---- it was actually pretty damn hard to miss. but god , did it make fond. stupidly fond. ( how he wanted to carve out a space between his ribs to keep tyler. cut out all the superfluous organs and fascia and keep him. keep him safe and warm. nestled next to the heart. but he was trying to keep from swallowing the things he loved these days and his ribcage was as much a cage as any other. ) shoved restless hands in pocket ( don't touch. don't grab. don't be fucking weird , kadri ). raised an eyebrow. " taking a tour ?? " he teased , voice sardonic.
eyeroll. you'd think tyler would know better than to make nice with strangers ---- regardless of how familiar they might've looked ( you'd think he would've known better to stop for someone laying in the road at night. that he would've just sped up and ....... that was a lesson to beat into his head another day. ). " easy , boy , " he drawled , " -i'm too old for you. " a pause. " -besides i'm a romantic. you look a little too much like someone who'd be gone by morning. " half joke and half proven-right-one-too-many-times accusation. it didn't stop him from falling in step ( goddamn fool that he was ).
► FT. Kadri Candemire-Gilbert ( @hedies ) & Bonnie Bennett
It wasn’t that she was lost — Bonnie knew where she was, technically. Some half-abandoned corner of Los Angeles where the streetlights flickered like they were trying to communicate in Morse code. She just hadn’t expected him to be there.
She caught sight of him leaning against a rusted fence, like the universe had dropped him in the middle of her night. Not Jeremy, but enough like him that something in her chest tightened and unclenched in the same breath.
"Kadri?" she called, stepping closer, hair pulled back and hoodie zipped halfway up against the breeze. “This city really knows how to make a person feel like they’ve stepped into someone else’s dream.”
She offered a smile — small but real — and let her eyes scan him for signs of trouble.
“You’re a vision,” she added, teasing but sincere. “Kind of a weird one, but… still. It’s good to see a familiar face.”
She shoved her hands into her pockets, eyes steady on his.
“So. have you ever felt this removed from your own time… because I do. ”
" bonnie. " half-acknowledgement , half-proclamation of some sudden stroke of luck. if there was one thing kadri had faith in , it wasn't god or time or fate ----- it was bonnie fucking bennett. in this case , meaning : he wasn't alone. there was someone else who knew him. something to hold on to ( and wasn't that what she had always been ?? ripping him from the grave and fashioning him into a lazarus of her making ( at too great a cost ...... ) , dragging him from the blood-haze when everything had been kill kill kill kill ( not elena , not alaric ---- bonnie ) , always bonnie ). their relationship might've changed. they might've changed ...... but the roots of some things ran too deep. if he tried to uproot it , excise it , pieces of himself would come away.
a slow smile. " most people would call that a nightmare. " mirroring her , he shoved his hands in his pockets. " -but it's good to see you too , bonnie. seriously. " god knows everyone else he'd come across was a too-young version of the people he knew ( fucking gag ) or a ghost ( not much better ). barked a laugh , harsh and cruelly amused. " removed from time ?? i feel removed from reality. this is ....... " not something he expected to see. not something he should be alive to see. not something he wanted to be alive to see ( hadn't once been enough ?? ). " -something else. " he sighed. shifted from foot to foot. " -but how are you dealing ?? keeping fed ?? have a place to stay ?? "
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↳ ⸻ @nexvsvorti said : don't misread this as friendship
" ain't never said it was friendship i was lookin' after , honey , " oliver drawled. a wink. the way he figured it , what a person said didn't matter half as much as what they did ...... and she was here , wasn't she ?? again. " now you gonna sit your little ass down and buy me a drink or we gonna keep pretendin' like you don't like me none ?? "
being a person was .... well , god's honest truth was that he didn't know just what it was like yet. the last time he played at human he was five-foot-nothing and lived in east fucking jesus. now ?? now he got to relearn everything ---- keep the claws at bay and the growling at a minimum. fuck. how did folks live ?? it was so .... claustrophobic. the city. his skin. the wolf. like tomorrow he'd wake up , slough off this misshapen body , and emerge. eat the man ( his soft belly , his blind eyes , his idle hands ) , spare the wolf ..... but this was him ..... or it had been. was supposed to be. it didn't change the fact he wasn't any good at it.
oliver grabbed isaac as he strode by , turning on his heel to fall in stride. " you reckon ?? " he tried to keep the skepticism from his voice for isaac's sake but ...... eyes darted around. too much noise. too many smells. no places to run ...... just buildings. " thinkin' my better half ain't gonna like this none to much ...... " a pause. he tried to shake the thoughts from his head. " you's gotta place yet , honey ?? "
a low laugh. oliver closed his eyes. pressed close. isaac was something solid and warm. something he could sink his claws into ; burrow deep and find a home. it had been the first thing he’d learned as a child ---- if he was starved for love , desperate for a place to rest , vying for comfort , it was isaac he could run to. fingers grasped and dug deep. bruising. it was a comfort that things might’ve changed , but izzy still smelled like pack —- like the first home he’d ever known. and really , all that expectation couldn't of been easy for poor isaac , but he'd always dealt. dealt with the broken bones and incoherent rage. the heart-rot and hunger. dealt with every godforsaken thing oliver could throw at him ( everything he would throw at him still ) ..... and here he still was.
a small chiding noise. for all that it'd taken from him , he'd never faulted what he was ..... but that was a hill for another day. " i's gotta place. uglier than homemade sin , but it'll keep you. don't got to pay for it none , neither. " a pause. " -well , not after i sweet talk jack into fixin' her sinks and all. " what was jackson going to do ?? say no ?? tell him to live on the street ?? wouldn't be real alpha-like. " might be good to have someplace to bring mia 'n ry 'round to once we find 'em. " for isaac's sake , he wasn't entertaining anything else. a grin. he squeezed his brother's shoulder. voice got soft. " missed you too , baby. "
you picture a REVENANT with the eyes of LEO SUTER. they are NONBINARY, called THEY/THEM, and they value THEIR MISERABLE LITTLE FAMILY FREEDOM & AUTONOMY above all else. they blame THE INITIATIVE for their imprisonment because THEY WERE HAPPY BEING DEAD. the song GREY DAYS & CHELSEA WOLFE has echoed their path for 1000+ years. i didn’t say a name, but FINN MIKAELSON popped into your head, didn’t they?
FULL NAME : finnólfr mikjálsson
SPECIES : original vampire
GENDER : nonbinary
AGE : very , very old
PRONOUNS : they / them
SEXUALITY : bisexual
MBTI : istj
ENNEAGRAM : type 1 ( sx )
TAROT : the chariot
CHARACTER TROPES : and i must scream , what have i become , who wants to live forever , death seeker , disowned sibling , horror hunger , kill the ones you love , cain and abel , roaring rampage of revenge , you are what you hate , used to be a sweet kid , no place for me there , fallen hero
FAMILY : mikael & esther ( parents ) , freya , elijah , klaus , kol , rebekah & henrik mikaelson ( siblings ) , marcel gerard ( nephew ? brother-in-law ? ) , hayley marshall ( sibling-in-laws or close enough ) , zahara ( wife ) , ayana ( mother-in-law )
* & ◞ 𝐢𝐢 . BACKGROUND .
all you ever wished for was a good death. a quick blade to the neck , a spear through the heart —- to be eased into the meadows of fólkvangr where freyja ( and perhaps even your wife ) awaits. denied and denied again …. your brother , your mother , the snare of the other side , the initiative, it keeps you. this affliction denies you what you’re owed. the rot in your veins festers. and still , you persist.
you loved them once ( and maybe somewhere in your volcanic heart , still did ). how could you not ?? cradled in your arms , they were small and strange and needy. some you held before their father did , woke in the night to watch eagle-eyed and rock to sleep when mother was too bone-tired. and as they grew , they burst with life. a painter , a diplomat , a romantic , a strategist , an idealist ….. so different and so the same —- all hell-bent on needling you into insanity. when you marry zahara , you leave the home with some reluctance. eager as you were to start a family of your own , your ties to the one you had ran blood deep.
henrik’s death didn’t just end his life. your mother’s grief turned pernicious. when you woke after your father turned his blade on you , it was in a skin that fit differently. zahara’s love was mixed with revulsion. ayana had warned your mother of the consequences and she hadn’t listened. now she and the tribesmen you’d come to call family lay to waste. your home in ashes. your brother’s memory tainted. you should’ve agreed when zahara offered you a swift death. instead , you follow your siblings.
your little monsters. your enfants terrible. you’d loved them from the moment they were born , since childhood ….. but children are meant to grow. their games were less charming when they used fangs and claws in the place of wooden swords , their selfishness and anger less innocent. they tear through towns and people without thought or care. there was no honor , no purpose , only gluttony. you were no stranger to blood or death ( had relished in it , from time to time ) but this was ….. this was something else entirely. you talk yourself hoarse speaking of discretion and care. they think you droll. you think you’re trying to save them from themselves. still , you don’t leave.
really you should have expected the dagger to the back.
when you wake , you’re in hell. stretching out before you , is a centuries long void. in that time , you live a thousand lives and forget them just as quickly. you hear the voice of your brother or your wife or a stranger ( they all blend together , in the end ) you wake only to find it was a dream. you scream without sound. you wait for someone.
no one comes.
when elijah pulls the dagger from your chest , some part of you is tempted to stay in the coffin. you’ve forgotten who you are. around you , the world screams. it’s all too much for your addled mind. you stumble through the motions of life with a throbbing migraine and a tremble in your hands. the visions that kept you company in your coffin haven’t left you. you know nothing of love and trust , only the yawning chasm you were left in. it hurts. they hadn’t thought of you once and it hurts. when your mother tells you that they’ve spawned more monsters ( hundreds ?? thousands ?? how many ripped through the streets as their siblings had ?? ) you’re horrified. after everything , death would be a gift —– even if it was one your siblings had no intentions of accepting.
death brings no peace. trapped on the other side , you wander. you plot. you look for your wife or your sister and come up naught. when you’re yet again resurrected , you’re world-weary and bone-bitter. your siblings have spent your death doing what they may. the town is overrun by monsters. you’re plagued by life. esther promises redemption , but you only look for resolution. you find damnation. your father's ( or brother's ) fury comes easy, but it doesn't suit you. how far you go to prove your point ---- how much of yourself you lose. you cross the lines you've drawn and become nothing but worse for it....and still, there's no resolution, only that blackening, fetid hate that leeches you ( or is it hurt ? one's so much easier to admit to....). you die again.
you're resurrected again. this time, words are said. fences are tenuously mended ( who doesn't love the dying? ) and when you die, it's surrounded by the children you'd loved ---- and perhaps are finally able to admit you still do. it's final and it's good. you're ready for death to take you. you've been ready for a thousand years. so you die again.
you're resurrected again.
and oh, how you rage against it. left alone, you eviscerate yourself ---- quite literally ---- but apparently that isn't anything that can't be mended by a few stitches and a steady hand. they torture. bribe. barter. beg. you're woefully indifferent. there's nothing to sway you. how could there be? they've stolen your death. trapped you in your body and cursed you with life ( again). in retaliation, they keep you in a glorified freezer and wait for you to break. fortunately, you've grown used to isolation.
they take you out at the world's end. there are rules.
“If I listened to my heart, I’d never be able to do my job.”
“I lost my magic. Twice. And I’m just coming to terms with how useless I am without it.”
“Every demon you banish ends up on the other side of that rift ready to come back again, and again, and again, until everybody in this city is dead.”
”Your bedside manner is abysmal.”
“The only thing worth falling in love with is the word itself.”
“Your powers were incredible, but that’s not why I fell in love with you. I fell in love with you because you’re wise, and you’re generous, and you’re brave! You’re incredible! I just…when you walk into a room there’s a spark in you, magic or not, that lights up everything and everyone around you. I won’t lose you. I can’t.”
“Don’t misread this as friendship.”
“Life is not what you want to do; it’s about what must be done.”
“Maybe what I did was wrong and selfish, but my heart was breaking.”
”I will never stop needing you.”
“Never trust a person who can’t lie. They find much more inventive ways to stab you in the back.”
“It feels like Metallica’s rehearsing in my head.”
“Well, I don’t want to bite you anymore.”
“I know you can color outside the lines. You’re just not letting yourself think that way.”
“When it comes to having a family, you wouldn’t be doing it alone.”
“Whatever you do, don’t lose hope.”
“Emotions are nothing but a distraction. You’re ruled by them.”
“In this family we break noses and accept consequences.”
“Emotions are never black and white. They’re more like symptoms.“
“I’m nothing more than a monster.”
“You’re immortal. Time is on your side.”
“I was thinking…life is too precious to waste any time on stupid things like pinky swears.”
“I don’t know who I am anymore. There’s darkness in me. It’s always been there.”
“It’s love that makes you fight harder for what you want.”
“Passion makes you dangerous.”
“It’s like my brain is telling me to do one thing and my heart another.”
“Heroes aren’t always the ones who win. They’re the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don’t give up. That’s what makes them heroes.“
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grin split his face in two. sure , oliver didn't care for strangers touching him all that much , but he could make an exception for a pretty face , couldn't he ?? " aww honey , i ain't the one to go askin' directions from. i'll have you walkin' all over hell's half acre. " a pause. " -but i reckon i could buy you a drink when we find one , if you's hurtin' for company. "
goddamn. she even said yes. well , wasn't he one lucky bastard ?? they better be careful or he'd fall in love. oliver always did reckon he was a romantic at heart ( a dog gnawing at drywall , desperate for a fill of something , to once feel sated , to once rid himself of the bleeding chasm of need that lay in his stomach ..... and to never succeed. always slavering over some small affection , reactive ----- bite or bend ?? hit dog'll holler. he'd always been an obstinate bitch. )
he fell in step beside them , content to follow their lead ( it wasn't anything hard to do ). " well ain't that sweet ?? pretty name for a pretty face , " he teased. " oliver , " he shot her an easy smile , " -but i reckon i'll let you call me ollie. " streets passed in a haze , people coalesced into a nameless , faceless mob , sounds and scents and visions ----- all new. all uncomfortable. twelve years. it'd been twelve goddamned years .....
" take it you ain't from 'round these parts ?? "
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