#au task

- au task

The universe, which is faceted, like a diamond, fans out in infinite variation. Somewhere Ginny is not Ginny. Somewhere Ginny chose different. Or really somewhere someone chose Ginny.

task : Write an AU version of your character that you have never done before. It can be mythological, it can be historical. Describe where they would live, what time period, how their personality would be like, and what they would look like including their attire. Images for reference are required, minimum of 3, and one post per muse. At least 1 muse is required but if you wish to do more, that is welcomed.

@iincantatorum

AU: They Start Off Happy in This One

AU where Isabelle Purefoy along with her brother Devlin and their mother Jade actually turn out to be a stable and healthy family. Hades still left but Jade didn’t fall apart and lash out at her children. She picked herself up and took care of her children despite wanting to give up on finding her place in life. She didn’t disappear, thus Devlin never went to live in the system and Isabelle was never shipped off to Purefoy Manor. 

This would mean that Isabelle turned out to be far less immature and attention seeking growing up. She also would value humanity (her own and other people’s) more. 

Devlin and Isabelle still grow up close, bonding over their shared and developing powers.

They moved from New York City out to Saranac Lake when Isabelle turned ten. (x)

Instead of being homeschooled, Isabelle got to go to high school and have a normal social life. Of course, since Devlin was a model student, the teachers hold her in high expectations but per usual she has never disappointed. Just like Devlin, Isabelle graduated high school the top of her class. She decided to attend NYU for Computer Science and Engineering.

As she attended school she bartended near campus and freelanced with computer skills in her free time. She went home to Jade and visited Devlin during breaks. After getting her own apartment off campus she adopted a Scottish Deerhound named Shep.

To make things easy on herself, Isabelle filled her closet with mostly street clothes. She has at least five pairs of jeans, ten pairs of leggings, a lot of t-shirts and athletic shirts/tank tops, running shoes, tennis shoes. Most of her outfits end up covered in hair from Shep.

TASK 004: Slytherin Holly Garcia AU

                                                         "Or perhaps in Slytherin,                                                       You'll make your real friends,                                               Those c u n n i n g folk use any means,                                                           To achieve their ends.”

Growing up with a half-blood mother and muggleborn father, Holly was not taught the same blood purist ideals as her housemates were but she was taught how to invoke the traits that Slytherin house admires most into her life:

2015 saw money things for Casey that prior to ever meeting Tanzer, he’d never thought possible.. He had a ‘domestic’ job - working at a funeral home with Ryan Mackenzie, he was dating a proper bloke, and on top of that, he was in line to go to school.. It was hard, making up for more than 5 years worth of school, it took him the entirety of the 2 years that he’d spent just being at Tanzer’s side during his troubling times, to finally have all the knowledge he’d need to know for taking an equivalency test...

But at that two year mark, Tanzer laid some pretty heavy news on him, and in 2017, they went their separate ways. To say that he wasn’t devastated, was an understatement.. It was from that moment forward, he lost contact with his love, and his very best mate.. Damien was there, but he had warned him he wouldn’t be paying him much mind as he told him ‘ Tanzer would only hurt him again ‘ - and therefore, he suffered in his silence..

That period saw him drop everything, studying, preparing for his tests, even the good job he had with Ryan at the funeral home, and he fell right back into escorting.. Because escorting was easy to do.. Escorting didn’t force him to be happy, or to think about anything..or anyone.. He just made his money and he went on.. Nobody judged him as an escort.. They thanked him for his business and he never had to see them again.. He was safe, he was clean..

And then..suddenly he was weak.. and coughing up blood.. Vomiting everywhere.. Could barely keep his food down.. 

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, not until he went to the doctor.. It went on like that for a month or two, before finally- he convinced himself Spring of 2020, to go to the doctor.. And that’s when he got it. The diagnosis..

Casey had lung cancer.. The big C word- the disease that was hereditary in his family.. Blake had had it, and now ..so did he.. With no hope of ever getting the money, all he could do was once again suffer in silence as he’d grown so accustomed to, his wild lifestyle, hindered, his super rowdy attitude, stunted to a semi serious.. young man, who knew where he was headed..

Dakota Karr made her way down the streets of London, her head down and jacket pulled tight. It had been a few weeks since she'd left her ex and she was still terrified that he might find her. She had been using cash and had lost contact with all their old friends. She knew he was angry and she didn't blame him. She had fled in the middle of the night without a word, hiding from his abuse and threats. 

A cigarette hung between the boy's lips as he tried to smooth talk a potential client with an added few casual touches here and there. The guy was nervous, obviously a first timer. It didn't take long before he was following the man to his house and he was nestled under his larger frame, back pressing into the large mattress. Whore, prostitute, escort if you're feeling generous, whatever you want to call him. This had become his job because sex was the only thing he knew how to do.

When Claude left the orphanage and escaped from the grip of the caretaker he thought the world would be more welcoming to a kid like him. Unfortunately, his limited knowledge and lack of useful skills left him wandering the city as a street rat until he attracted the attention of another man very similar to his old caretaker. The idea of going back to being used every night disgusted him at first, yet when the mention of money came in to play he couldn't deny it. That's all that mattered to him anymore, money. It kept his stomach full, gave him a roof over his head, and the pleasure of the addicting cancer stick he stuck between his lips every now and then. The only regrets he has are the memories that slip further and further from his mind everyday.

All he knows are the bruising touches of the men he lays with instead of the warm hugs he can no longer remember the feeling of from his father. And the sultry whispers of the women that request his presence instead of the sweet lullaby made of increasingly fuzzy words that his mother would use to sing him goodnight. He regrets not being able to hold onto them. As every day and night passes by he finds himself becoming increasingly colder, to a point that it even disturbs him. He's aware someone his age, still considered a kid by some, shouldn't be this jaded. Too bad he never even got to have the experience of a normal kid, he wouldn't know where to start if he ever wanted to try to grasp an ounce of normalcy. All he could do was paste a smile on his face and force a laugh at his boss' or client's lame jokes.

To this day he still blames his caretaker for everything. The bastard had attempted to put him into some kind of sex hotel but before they could force him into the building, he broke from their hold and ran. Ran to the fate he had of being used, over and over again.

His reverie was broken by the sweet whispers of the man above him. Claude hated the kind clients the most. They made him sick to his stomach because for a few hours, he almost believed there was someone that cared about him. He preferred bruising fingers pressing into his skin rather than the gentle caresses he scarcely received. All his life he was taught that he was nothing more than a person to be used and he had the scars and bruises to prove it. In his small world of logic there were the users and the used. He would always be the latter.

Claude couldn't get out of the house fast enough once the man was finally done with him. Despite the client's gentle demeanor he was not the type to cuddle after sex. It made Claude feel even more used because usually he had a blissful awakening before he was slapped in the face by the fact that no one really cared for him. This man's attitude had changed as soon as he had gotten off. He handed Claude a wad of cash and shoved him out the door, clothes and hair heavily disheveled.