Fae Character - Blog Posts

Space: Hidden Scar

Fandom: Original Work

AU?: N/A

Extra: Original characters again, whoop whoop!!

Warnings: Stabbings, self blame, attack, bodily harm

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

The Warden Of Jejivan High Security Prison

The prison warden was an intimidating man, a tall fae with horns that looked sharper than a freshly sharpened blade. With his uniform and his flawless face, every inmate and worker within the prison assumed that was just how he was - a cold, physically flawless man who gave no sympathy. But, this couldn't be further from the truth.

Fëanor sat in his office with camera screens humming away to his left, his fountain pen scratching the page. He was leaning stressfully on his desk, his hand on his head and his elbow on the desk's surface, practically holding his head up. A new inmate had recently been put into solitary confinement, and the inmate was someone that Fëanor had known in the past. "How was the funeral...? Oh right, you couldn't attend, you were in a hospital bed... Kinda deserved considering you let my brother die...". Those had been the inmate's taunting words to Fëanor when they had arrived. The words that echoed through the warden's mind. Fëanor had to hold himself back from lashing out, keeping his cool.

He hadn't let anyone die, and if he could, he'd save all the victims he was unable to save. The inmate's brother was a victim to a case that had taken three teams of profilers and federal police to hunt down the criminal responsible. Fëanor was no stranger to the blame being put on him for 'not finding the criminal quicker', but he'd not expected the inmate to attack him - actually why the inmate was there, the only reason it'd taken so long to arrest him was because Fëanor hadn't been able to confirm who attacked him until the day prior to the inmate's arrival.

The attack was nothing special, except it'd been executed well. Fëanor had been at home when it happened, the attacker somehow breaking in with stealth akin to a vampire's. It'd started with the click of a gun being loaded to fire while Fëanor wasn't looking. The fae had looked at his assailant at that point, the gun firing and missing Fëanor by mere millimetres, the warden not even flinching. Silence had followed for a good few moments, until crashes of bodies falling into tables resonated through the room. The warden had fought back as much as he could, the assailant fighting tooth and nail to tire Fëanor out before slamming the battle of the pistol into the fae's jaw. The pain was dizzying, Fëanor's focus and concentration destroyed. Unable to fight back, Fëanor had no way to stop every sink of a blade into his body - arms, chest, stomach, legs - but all aimed perfectly so Fëanor wouldn't definitely die, but left enough of a chance it could happen. The assailant had leapt out of Fëanor's window by the time his neighbours came to him, having heard the commotion.

He'd been hospitalised for weeks afterwards, stitched up and hooked to wires and painkillers. He still felt the ache of the wounds through the painkillers, but any stronger of a dosage would kill him.

Fëanor hid the scars of the incident, feeling ashamed and full of self-hatred when he saw them himself. He hated it. If his teams and he had figured out who the criminal was sooner, his attacker's brother would still be alive. And, for once in his life, Fëanor blamed himself for it. He blamed himself, believing he deserved the attack, since he failed to save that guy.

No one knew about what happened to him, aside from his neighbours, and Fëanor planned to keep it that way. What would people think? The warden of Jejivan's most notorious prison being unable to defend himself? He'd be a laughing stock and a target.

The prison warden was an intimidating man, a tall fae with horns that looked sharper than a freshly sharpened blade. With his uniform and his flawless face, every inmate and worker within the prison assumed incorrectly about him - yes he was cold, but he was also scarred and ashamed, afraid to admit it aloud.

Bad Things Happen: Masterlist

So it's easier to locate all my BTH Bingo works, here's the master list!

Entry 1: It's Quiet... Too Quiet

Title: Revenge of the Ringmaster

Snippet: He didn't know. And yet he was the one blamed. He didn't know there was a monstrosity beneath the circus. Several heads, maybe 30 of them? He couldn't quite recall. Each head had black holes for eyes, with teeth like the spikes on a flail. He didn't know.

Entry 2: Dragging Themselves Along The Ground

Title: The Vampire King's Match

Snippet: He crashed to the ground, a blood-curdling shriek bubbling up and out his mouth. He didn't understand. His regeneration was impeccably fast, so why wasn't he regenerating?! "Silver is a beautiful yet dangerous thing... Is it not, Your Majesty?"

Entry 3: Go Through Me

Title: His Majesty's Horror

Snippet: They had her. They had her, somewhere in this disgusting building. And he would be damned if he failed to get her out. She had spent years protecting him from the violence of his father, now it was his turn to protect her from the violence of the world.

Entry 4: The Collector

Title: Kerosene's Collection

Snippet: Muffled screams and aimless kicks accompanied the man, his hand tangled into messy hair while his wrist was clung to. Not that he could feel it - metal had no nerves - and this pathetic, screaming scum was the reason behind the metal. He would take his sweet time with this one.

Entry 5: They Will Come For Me

Title: Rotten Escape

Snippet: She reached the gate, and almost as soon as she had, the gate swung over and she was hauled off the ground into the arms of a man. Pale tri-coloured hair was all it took for her to know that she was safe.

Entry 6: Nightmares

Title: A Nightmare For Death

Snippet: It was painful, watching him struggle with no way for Jester to help. If only he could take away all that horror, pain, trauma, terror... Everything that his beloved ever suffered. But of course, that isn't possible. Jester can only hold him while he sobs, gut-wrenching heaves of his chest as his hands cling tightly to Jester. Sounds that no one ever wants to hear from anyone. Sounds that no matter what happens, you want to protect them with your whole being.

Entry 7: Hidden Scars

Title: The Warden Of Jejivan High Security Prison

Snippet: Fëanor hid the scars of the incident, feeling ashamed and full of self-hatred when he saw them himself. He hated it. If his teams and he had figured out who the criminal was sooner, his attacker's brother would still be alive. And, for once in his life, Fëanor blamed himself for it. He blamed himself, believing he deserved the attack, since he failed to save that guy.

Entry 8: ???

Title:

Snippet:

Whatever, go my DnD character trauma

good moooorrning chatttt

I present, uh, sillies idk-

we have Yogurt, Mochi and Sphir (in that order)

Sphir was already a dnd character but I dnd-ified Yogurt and Mochi for a silly oneshot I’m deviously plotting

I figured well I made that last post and have like no proof of my claims so I might as well just share proof of my claims idk-