FILM

Ash Williams, EVIL DEAD.   Canon compliant.

Laurie Strode, HALLOWEEN.    Modern adaptation.

Sidney Prescott, SCREAM.    Modern adaptation. 

Tatum Riley, SCREAM.    Modern adaptation.

BOOKS/COMICS

Amy Elliott-Dunne, GONE GIRL.    Canon compliant. 

Camille Preaker, SHARP OBJECTS.    Canon compliant.

Carol Danvers, MARVEL COMICS.    Personal interpretation.

Clarice Starling, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS.    Personal interpretation.

Dick Grayson, DC COMICS.    Strictly Nightwing era. 

Hannibal Lector, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS.    Personal interpretation.

Kara Zor-El, DC COMICS.    Personal interpretation.

Kate Bishop, MARVEL COMICS.    Canon compliant.

Talia Al Ghul, DC COMICS.    Personal interpretation.

Tony Stark, MARVEL COMICS.    Canon compliant.

Wanda Maximoff, MARVEL COMICS.    Personal interpretation.

TELEVISION

Alison Dilaurentis, PRETTY LITTLE LIARS.    Personal interpretation.

Aria Montgomery, PRETTY LITTLE LIARS.    Personal interpretation.

Carl Grimes, THE WALKING DEAD.    Personal interpretation.

Christopher Pike, STAR TREK.    Strange New Worlds based.

Clarke Griffin, THE 100.    Personal interpretation.

Eddie Munson, STRANGER THINGS.    Canon compliant. 

Eleanor Crain, THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE.    Canon divergent.

Gerri Kellman, SUCCESSION.    Canon compliant.

James Kirk, STAR TREK.    Personal interpretation.

Jesse Pinkman, BREAKING BAD.    Canon compliant.

Kendall Roy, SUCCESSION.    Canon compliant.

Luke Crain, THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE.    Canon compliant.

Lydia Martin, TEEN WOLF.    Personal interpretation.

Malia Tate, TEEN WOLF.    Personal interpretation.

Robin Buckley, STRANGER THINGS.    Canon compliant.

Roman Roy, SUCCESSION.    Canon compliant. 

Steve Harrington, STRANGER THINGS.    Canon compliant.

Stiles Stilinski, TEEN WOLF.    Personal interpretation.

Tom Wambsgan, SUCCESSION.    Canon compliant.

Walter White, BREAKING BAD.    Primarily focused on ‘Heisenberg’.

VIDEO GAMES

Alex Mason, CALL OF DUTY.    Canon compliant. 

Amata Almodovar, FALLOUT.    Personal interpretation.

Butch Deloria, FALLOUT.    Personal interpretation.

Cole Cassidy, OVERWATCH.    Cyberpunk 2077 Based.

Elena Fisher, UNCHARTED.    Canon compliant.

Ellie Williams, THE LAST OF US.    Personal interpretation.

Emily Pope, CONTROL.    Personal interpretation.

Faith Seed, FAR CRY 5.    Personal interpretation.

Frank Woods, CALL OF DUTY.    Canon compliant.

Garrus Vakarian, MASS EFFECT.    Canon compliant.

Hana Song, OVERWATCH.    Cyberpunk 2077 Based.

Jimmy Hopkins, BULLY.    Canon compliant.

Joey Hudson, FAR CRY 5.    Canon compliant.

Johnny Silverhand, CYBERPUNK 2077.    Canon divergent.

Kaidan Alenko, MASS EFFECT.    Canon compliant.

Lara Croft, TOMB RAIDER.    Personal interpretation.

Leon Kennedy, RESIDENT EVIL.    Personal interpretation.

Miranda Lawson, MASS EFFECT.    Canon compliant.

Nathan Drake, UNCHARTED.    Canon compliant.

Sadie Adler, RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2.    Personal interpretation.

Samuel Drake, UNCHARTED.    Canon compliant.

Sara Ryder, MASS EFFECT ANDROMEDA.    Personal interpretation.

Scott Ryder, MASS EFFECT ANDROMEDA.    Personal interpretation. 

Simon Arish, CONTROL.    Personal interpretation.

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

Aalia Dennis, CYBERPUNK.    Assassin with the Willow Sisterhood.

Alaska Novell, FANDOMLESS.    Wicked Witch of the West.

Annie Monet, FANDOMLESS.    Final Girl turned Murderer.

Cresora Sagardottïr, SKYRIM.    The Dragonborn.

Dahlia Avesta, FAR CRY 5.    The Junior Deputy.

Eleanor Piessens, MASS EFFECT.    Botanist aboard the Tempest.

Galina Lebedev, CALL OF DUTY.     Bell from Cold War.

Julia Moore, MASS EFFECT.    Historian on the Citadel.

Marley Mayfield, STRANGER THINGS.    Sibling of Max Mayfield.

Mika Uzchia, DESTINY.    Guardian. 

Miguel Alveraz, FALLOUT.    Courier 6 from New Vegas.

Misha Contreras, CYBERPUNK.    Fashion Designer. 

Myron Ochoa, CYBERPUNK.    Fixer.

Nina Shepard, MASS EFFECT.    Commander Shepard.

Sienna Aquino, FALLOUT.    Courier. 

Theodora Ramos, FAR CRY NEW DAWN.    Security Captain.

Thompsy, CYBERPUNK.    Hacker.

Taio Bass, CYBERPUNK.    Officer with the NCPD.

Valerie Suk, CYBERPUNK.    V from Cyberpunk 2077.

domestic bliss dream of white picket fences with two kids in the front lawn.   that’s someone elses dream.   a dead someone else.   she’s dreaming of barbeque ribs.   her head tilts,  almost scurrying into the kitchen to lay eyes on said cleavers.   it’s a sickening smile,  the kind that sends most people scuttling away from her counter at work (teeth too sharp,  eyes not quite right— something that doesn’t feel human.)   fingers run over the blades,  eyes looking up to her wife with joy,  “ you’re so romantic.   look at them!   they’re so shiny!   i can’t wait to get them dirty. ”

“ ugh,  i met his wife at one of your conferences and i swear,  i couldn’t get her cheap perfume out of my coat for weeks.   bet she shows up to his funeral in some tacky michael kors dress with her knock off louis vuitton bag.   fucking kevin and whatever his wife’s name was.   i don’t remember,  she was a boring bitch.   anyone else going to move into your lab space after this or do you think they’ll get it? ”

her laptop screen is flipped down and set aside on the couch,  her body rising.   she makes her way into the kitchen,  a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips.    “glad ya’ like em.   i tried to remember what ya’ hated ‘bout the last ones.   these were the best ones i could find.”    the shelves were near-bare,  civilians preparing to lock themselves indoors for the night.   she couldn’t imagine the trepidation—  it almost makes her gag thinking about it.   rather than gagging,  she presses a chaste kiss onto her wife’s cheek—  her way of saying welcome home.

it’s a haunting.   there was a girl before darth revan,  there was a person.   a someone.   but who remembers her?   when did she entomb herself in layers of violence and cruelty— when did you stop letting yourself be a person?   (what if all darth revan was,   was a terrified little girl?)   you lied to your friends.   you looked them in the eye as you hunted down malak & revan but there you sat:   right there.   the galaxies greatest killer.   do you miss who you were?   was it easier when you were just a monster?   it doesn’t change all the terrible things you did but it changes how you see it.   you wanted darth revan dead.   do you still want them dead?

“ it’s fine.   you don’t sound like an ass.   it’s weird.   there isn’t an easy way to…  to do this.   but i don’t know who else to be.   what to do…   i don’t feel real.   the jedi made up ziha when they brainwashed me.   i was darth revan.   i did all those terrible and terrifying things.   i’m a monster.   i don’t know where i begin and revan ends but i know i’m not ziha.   do you hate me for this?   who i am? ”

“i don’t hate you.   trust me— i’ve tried.   i wanted to hate you when i found out.   but...  i believe that you’re not that person.   i have to believe it;  we’re on this ship together.”   he’s tried to fuel the hatred in his heart— anything to halt the emotions that surge throughout his veins during the day.   he wants to hate her.   he wants to hate her in the exact same way he hated saul for years,  the way he hated revan for how he corrupted his former mentor.   yet,  as she stands in front of him,  he can’t find a single bone in his body to do it.   all he feels is an urgency;  he has to protect her.   (whether it be from herself or malek,  he has to do it.)   

“ i am good, i’m not lying!  i— ”    it takes him a moment to hold his tongue,  reframe his composure & breathe for a moment.   how does she know anyways?   she always knows,  he’s never gotten away with anything (she seems to see all:  judge, jury & executioner).   but he’s good!   it’s not his fault, & he’s tempted to pout,  call it unfair but it’s instead a smirk,  an ooze of natural charm.    “ mhm,  technically echo caused the explosion.   i may have installed the parts— with the help of ahsoka mind you,  that caused the explosion but echo pressed the button that caused the explosion— when he wasn’t meant to by the way.   so,  you see— i did not cause an explosion.   there just was an unrelated to me explosion.   which means i’m still good. ”

“let me get this straight:  you built a flamethrower,  which exploded,  but you had nothing to do with it because echo pressed the button—  not you?   so because of all this,  you are still good and didn’t lie?”    it’s hard to stifle the laughter threatening to spill out,  but she manages by pressing her lips together,  eyebrows raised as if at any second they could extend pass her hairline.   (tasha’s learned over the months to expect the unexexpected with him;  he’ll always manage to find someway to create the tiniest bit of chaos in a day.)    “that’s not exactly how this works,  you know?   you built the thing,  you didn’t tell him not to press the button—  it’s still,  ultimately,  your problem.   it still exploded.  so,  yeah:  you lied.”    a look of faux pity spreads across features,  her grasp on his chin tightening the ever slightest.   she’ll make him closet his pride and eat it like a disgraced little pig;  she always does.   “bad little boys get punished,  and it seems like you’re overdue a lesson with this lying fiasco.   do you disagree with that?”

“ hi.   i haven’t blown anything up today.   promise. ”    lie.   he’d spent the afternoon with ahsoka & echo attempting to turn echo’s prosthetic arm into a flamethrower (because obi-wan has specifically said that anakin couldn’t turn his arm into a flamethrower.   he never said that anakin couldn’t turn echo’s arm into a flamthrower.)   the problem is just that sourcing fuel a miniature flamethrower into an arm is more difficult then making the actual flamethrower itself.   plan b is just turning the arm into a lightsaber—  another thing obi-wan said he couldn’t do.    “ i’ve been good,  yeah? ”

ahsoka had visited earlier— a nightly ritual at this rate.   a recollection of the day had already been spilled  (and laughed about,  but anakin doesn’t need to know about that part)  and she knows the truth.   it’s enough to make her peer up from the datapad in her grasp and narrow her eyes at him.    “you’ve been good?”    she repeats,  mockery lingering on the tip of her tongue.   if that’s the hill he wants to die on,  fine— she’s dealt with worse scenarios and worse lies from him.   rising from the chair she’d been perched upon,  she walks over to him,  a hand gripping his jaw.   she casts his gaze down to her,  an brow raising.    “a flamethrower doesn’t ring any bells?   none at all?   i thought good boys don’t lie.”

“ i should have said it earlier but thanks, ”   micah’s been on her ass since day zero,  and it could be sexism— it could be racism,  but it’s probably both.   she’s still been nervously trying to find her place in the gang,  wondering if they’ll stay in the same spot long enough for her to start growing vegetables in the ground or if she’s changed one wandering life for another.   “ i keep wanting to sock him in the mouth but i don’t want to stoop to his level— plus,  it will probably give him another reason to call me…  trash. ” 

but sadie is nice & new enough to the world of riding with the van der linde (basically kidnapped by them,  it seems) & she’s happy to be around another woman who realizes that there is more to life then washing potatoes (and while in all fairness,  she does quite like peeling vegetables:  there is more so much more to life then that.)   “ i don’t understand why dutch keeps him around anyways.   useless lump of a man,  seems far more trouble then he’s worth. ”

she feels bad— she was in lyuba’s shoes not too long ago,  the freshest meat of the van der linde gang.   (even if it was perhaps a mild case of stockholm syndrome.)   the words are enough to bring a smile to her face,  a rarity of these times, and even a soft chuckle.    “don’t worry ‘bout it.   next time,  if you don’t wanna’ sock him,  i will.   someone needs to teach him a lesson or two,  i swear.”    she dreams of socking micah in the face almost every night—  at least it’d fulfill some of the anger that boils inside the pit of her stomach.

he’s never going to look your way.   she knows this.   the world hasn’t been shy telling her what it thinks of her & where she belongs.   (all you’re good for— people like you only ever going to get work as carnies.   too lazy to work.   dirty thief.   untouchable.   a sinister woman of the occult.   you’re a roadside trick,  they want to hear good fortunes from you and then call the sheriff on you when they’re done.)   so she sits by the fire,  cutting carrots into the stew pot and waiting for a change that sure ain’t going to happen in her life time.   he’s only going to see you like the rest of the world does.

“ arthur!   the stew is goin’ to be a couple more hours i— oh.   you didn’t have to do it right away.   i mean,  i’m so grateful but y’didn’t have to go out of your way to find the sage for me.   i know you’ve got far more important things to then go hunting for plants. ”

“c’mon now,  you know that stew ain’t the same without the sage.   remember the last time without it.”   he hands her the sage,  fingers scratch through mussed hair as he grins.   he likes her.   in a way,  he’s nearly convinced she likes him.   but then she’s distant from him—  an arms length away but never quite close enough for him to grasp entirely.   (he doesn’t understand her and maybe that’s why he’s drawn to her—  in a world that he understands well,  she’s the odd ball of the equation.)    “we all like it with the sage.”

“tough shit,  bitch.”    carrying product throughout the wasteland is hard—  it’s even harder with gen bitching his ear off about it.   [50 pounds of meth is nothing,  he’s carried more than that multiple times.]   cerulean hues land on her leg,  though.   the one thing that separates the two—  enough for jesse to sigh in exasperation as he halts in his tracks,  fingers relieving the duffle bag’s strap from her shoulder before he slings it across his own.    “better?   jesus fucking christ,  if we’re late to this meeting,  i’m going to kill you.   well,  actually,  gus might kill you before i can,  but i’ll come back in the afterlife or whatever the fuck exists,  &  i’ll kill you there.”    there’s a hidden truth behind his words,  even if he’s exaggerating.   (these are the last people you want to piss off in the capital wasteland;  jesse’s been on the receiving end before,  &  he’ll make sure it’s not his ass on the line today.) 

his wife.   his best friend.   his ultimate demise.   (she will be the reason he fails in the world,  tom knows this.   he’s been aware of it ever since the first date.)   he once had a soul,  morals that would have risen him above this occasions.   those have been buried in minnesota,  though—  nowadays,  he’s laden in gold  &  the prestige grows like a parasite inside his head.   [he once asked greg if he’d be willing to make a deal with the devil.   the truth was:  tom had sold his soul a long time ago.]   it’s hard to stare into her eyes,  looking into his inevitable downfall;  everything he’d ever done,  it’d been for them.   for the first time,  he wasn’t going in circles chasing after his tail;  he’d finally caught it.   the first time he’d grown his balls back,  the first time in a long time he felt happy.   (should he feel guilty when he looks at her?   knowing the dagger he’s plunged into her back,  knowing how he swore an oath in marriage to stand by her side?   and yet here he stood,  on the opposite isle,  eating from the hand that’s taken from him before.)   he feels nothing but happiness;  a blissfulness he hasn’t felt since the last time he was in saint paul.   [is this what it feels like to be a winner?]

a loud bark of laughter bubbles up her throat,  eyes widening—  are you serious right now?   it nearly takes her back,  enough for her to need a second to regain her composure.   once she does,  she takes a deep breath,  head shaking.    “you don’t have to worry about that.   last time i got drunk,  i ended up blacking out and spent the night flirting with three of my friends.   apparently.   obviously,  the whole blackout thing puts a hinge in trying to remember.”   it’s the truth.   the big fat ugly truth of someone who can’t handle their liquor.   she meekly shrugs her shoulders,  lips pressing themselves together momentarily.

this wasn’t how he’d expected things to go.   a hero,  a savior—  someone brave who’d stepped up to the plate.   the last person he’d ever expect to be darth revan  &  yet,  here he stood;  right in front of her.    he thinks about saul—  the revenge he’s craved for years  &  now,  blood-soaked hands near regret the decision.   the words are unescapeable:  she’s darth revan.   darth revan is alive.   (is she,  though?   does darth revan stand in front of him?)    he’s always trusted his gut;  he should’ve continued to trust it.   this is screwed up.