murdoc

For Queen and Country

@MiddleEarthRoze

Anyone who can tolerate him for more than five minutes deserves a medal tbh.

For Queen and Country

Posted. Can't say the same about Miles' relationship sheet tho.

*sweats nervously*

For Queen and Country

Location: The Early Bean
Interacting With: Barachiel _@Skelace

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Whenever Miles came to The Early Bean in the morning, he made it a point to waste as much of the barista’s time as possible. It wasn’t because he had nothing better to do, no. In fact, he had quite a number of things on his agenda, like getting to work, first and foremost; but alas, as luck would have it, the barista currently manning the counter was the one who insisted on spelling his name wrong every single time, and his dignity demanded he retaliate. The first few times it happened, Miles simply chalked it off as a careless mistake. Maybe he mumbled, maybe the guy couldn’t hear him properly over the din of the morning crowd - whatever the reason, he didn’t see the point in kicking up a fuss about it. People made mistakes, and that’s just the way it is. As time went on, however, the continued mistakes slowly began to grate on Miles’ nerves. How does one even find this many ways to misspell a name? This morning’s rendition was particularly creative, and he would’ve almost been impressed at the feat if he weren’t so peeved.

The pixie’s eyes narrow as he stares at the offending sharpie-inked letters on his coffee cup. M-Y-L-E-Z? Really? Who did he think he was? A scene kid from the early 2000s? In another life, he might’ve appreciated their rainbow-hued aesthetic, but he did not fancy being associated with such a shameful period of human history. Even he had standards, he’ll have you know.

…Anyway, where were we again?

Oh right, petty revenge.

Miles feels his irritation ignite a fire at the pit of his stomach, and he returns to his task to quell his frustration. Stepping up to the display fridge, he takes a dramatic sip of his cappuccino before motioning the barista over, a false smile plastered on his face. He knew - better than anyone - that with the threat of a reprimand from the manager, he wouldn’t dare ignore him.

“Hey, Ollie,” Miles almost hisses out the name, which really was rather impressive, given that there were no S’s present in ‘Ollie’. Truth be told, he had come up with a more fitting epithet for the ginger-haired barista a few days back, but he decides to keep it to himself, for the sake of public decency. He didn’t have to resort to such means to get back at a disrespectful brat, and he found that most of the time, passive-aggressiveness proved to be much more effective in the long run. “I think I want to try something new today. What’s good on the menu?”

“Well, today’s special is our homemade strawberry cheesecake-”

“Yikes, never mind. I don’t like strawberries. You should make raspberry cheesecake, raspberries are always good. What about that?” Miles questions, pointing at some kind of salad, pointedly ignoring the little label that indicated just what it was.

“Autumn kale salad.”

Miles’ expression twists into one of disgust, and he declares his revulsion verbally as well. “Ugh, kale. Truly one of God’s greatest mistakes.”

“Might I recommend your usual-”

“Cauliflower quiche?” Miles cuts Ollie off before he could go any further, pressing up even closer to the glass display. “Who in their right mind would put cauliflower in a quiche?”

The two’s exchange continues in such a manner for a whopping six-and-a-half minutes, and Miles only decides to put an end to it with a ‘you know what? I’ll just have my usual’ when the barista appeared sufficiently aggravated. Sure, it was paltry payback, but didn’t people always say it was the little things that made life worth living?

With a blueberry muffin in hand, and two coffees in the other, Miles starts to leave, though not before catching sight of a vaguely familiar face amongst the crowd. He felt positive that he’d seen the suited fellow around before, but somehow, his name escaped him.

Miles must’ve looked dumbstruck as he just stood there, rooted to the spot as the gears in his mind turn furiously to put a name to the face. It was something unorthodox, he remembers that from a conversation with his landlord, and it started with a ‘B’.

And then, all of a sudden, a metaphorical lightbulb flicks on, and it almost feels like he’d just won the lottery.

“Hey, Barachiel, right?” Miles waltzes closer to the man, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I think we might be neighbours.”

For Queen and Country

Location: Churchill Gardens, 3B → The Early Bean
Interacting With: -

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The first thing Miles notices when he wakes up is the cold, because of fucking course the radiator’s broken down again.

The second thing he notices, as he burrows further into the confines of his bed, is the metaphorical ice pick lodged into his brainstem. Honestly, Miles finds it ridiculous that even as a Fae, he had to suffer the drawbacks of copious ingestion of alcohol. They were, after all, magical beings from a separate dimension. You’d think they’d be able to get shitfaced without suffering the consequences.

But alas, that was not the case, and he had the sinking feeling that the effects of one too many vodka shots would continue to linger throughout the rest of the day.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when a particularly strong gust of wind hits him right in the face, that Miles tumbles out of bed with an agonised moan, still wrapped in a cocoon of scratchy cotton sheets. He prays - actually prays - with all his heart that Mrs. Atkinson from the local salon would ring him up to say that he didn’t have to come into work that day, thus allowing him to spend his day curled up in a ball of self-pity, but that hope quickly dissolves with the ringing of the alarm clock, and he lets out another noise of nauseated distress before reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

Miles goes about his morning routine with a gruelling slowness, a far cry from his usual bouncing-off-the-walls persona. Every movement was an aching slog through his own personal hell, and it took him a good while before he started feeling less like a zombie. Of course, he still felt like shit, but he almost believed that after a cup of coffee, he could get through the day without keeling over and dying.

Key word: almost.

It takes him way too long, but Miles gets things done (courtesy of a face full of ice-cold water that’d sent him shrieking in surprise). His breath is minty fresh from brushing his teeth three times, and what used to be a cowlick-ridden bedhead has been successfully wrangled into a fauxhawk with half a can of hairspray. Throwing on whatever that’s clean - which, surprise surprise - consisted of a leather jacket, a black t-shirt and a pair of too-tight jeans, Miles makes a quick stop in front of the bathroom mirror with an armful of makeup to make sure that he no longer looked like he’d been out partying till five in the morning. Sure, he could just use a glamour, but he really couldn’t be bothered to keep it up the entire day, and with the recent anti-Other sentiment brewing amongst the humans, minimising the risk of getting found out sounded like the best course of action.

Now he’s probably gonna get yelled at for showing up late to work, but he’d be damned if he stepped out of his front door looking like a hot mess. He had a reputation to maintain.

...Well, it wasn’t a very good reputation, but you get the picture.

Pulling on a pair of black Doc Martens, woolly gloves, a scarf, plus an extra hoodie under his jacket because goddamn was it cold, he casts a glance back at his disaster zone of an apartment before venturing out into the frigid winter. Those fucking Unseelie Fae, Miles thinks to himself, lips curling into a scowl. He didn’t even have to watch the news to guess that this was all their doing.

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On his way to The Hair Lair - as he’s taken to calling the salon he works at - Miles wanders into a coffee shop, because hey, since he was already late, there wasn’t any harm getting his hands on a cuppa first, was there? And he’s sure that Mrs. Atkinson would appreciate him getting her a coffee as well… or at least that’s what he tells himself as he strides up to the counter, ordering two cappuccinos and contemplating a muffin.

Whether it was a stroke of bad luck, or simply just bad timing, Miles had somehow managed to miss every last bit of information regarding the Others on TV, with the one in the corner moving on from the morning news to its scheduled daytime programming. The Unseelie Fae’s continued protest, the Creature Rights Act, not to mention the murder of Nick Bloodfang at the hands of a group calling itself ‘Helsing’ - were all but unknown to him. But as the saying goes; what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, and he felt certain that once he got to work, he’d be caught up on all the latest gossip.

For Queen and Country

literally just woke up and there's already 20 IC posts SCREAMS

For Queen and Country

Miles Catrose

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| Name |

Miles Catrose

| Date of Birth |

Like, 1850-ish?

| Gender |

Male

| Sexuality |

Pansexual

| Occupation |

Hairdresser

| In-Depth Appearance |

As is characteristic of a pixie, Miles isn’t the tallest, nor the the most intimidating of figures. There’s only so much glamour can do, after all. He stands just a hair off 5’5”, with lean muscles and pale skin stretched over a lithely built frame. Much like how an animal puffs itself up to ward off any potential predators, Miles has taken to doing the same with his appearance. You’ll never see his hair in the same shade more than two weeks in a row, and it’s always something disgustingly bright. Furthermore, his skin is peppered with countless tattoos, again in an attempt to make himself look Edgy and Dangerous™. To name a few, the words ‘INHALE’ and ‘EXHALE’ are tattooed on his left and right thighs, two black X’s just above his navel, a crudely drawn crown on his left forearm, a small smiley face on his right hand, and a trail of wildflowers stretching from his right shoulder blade to halfway down his back.

Miles’ fashion sense appears to be perpetually stuck in the realm of 80s punk rock - studded leather jackets, ripped jeans, combat boots, pierced ears, you name it. Inversely, his features are delicate and elfin, similar to those of his mother’s, contrasting the clothes he wears and the false swagger imbued in every step he takes. He definitely tries too hard, but because he likes to think he’s an expert at these things, he somehow manages to make all of it look effortless. His hair is often teased into a fauxhawk (usually with at least half a can of hairspray), and on days where he’s feeling particularly vain, he even finds the time to slap on some makeup before heading out to work. It’s much easier to act like hot shit when you look like hot shit, and the disapproving looks he earns from judgemental old ladies are only an added bonus.

If there’s one thing Miles hates, it’s standing up straight. Of course, addressing his posture could probably help with the whole 5’5” situation, but it’s far too much effort and he doesn’t wanna. Most of the time, you’ll find him standing with his shoulders rolled forward, hands stuck in his pockets as he puffs away on a cigarette. On occasion, when he can’t be bothered to cast a stronger glamour, fading bruises are visible on the surface of his skin. They’re mostly from getting thrown out of clubs after getting a tad too drunk on jello shots and picking a fight with some guy twice his size, but hey; live fast, die young, right?

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| Personality |

♦ Imaginative ♦ Methodical ♦ Capricious ♦ Arrogant ♦

With an ego bigger than his rather unimpressive frame, and a penchant for telling people to fuck off, it’s easy to peg Miles for a textbook case of Small Dog Syndrome. Naturally, this means that he isn’t the most pleasant person to be around. Though this isn’t to say he’s all bad - just that he’s hard to like. Callous, self-absorbed, and a little cruel from time to time, Miles can be said to be the archetypal enfant terrible. While he might not be the brightest, or the most knowledgeable, he is a good judge of character, and it takes little time for him to classify someone. He is particularly good at thinking on his feet, but doesn't often give much thought to long-term consequences.

Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his clients, whether they’re looking for some pixie dust (not a euphemism) or just a simple haircut, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want each and every time they come crawling back - provided they offer something in exchange, of course. As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his bluntness. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Miles considers himself the alpha dog in any situation he's in, but when faced with truly confident or successful people, he can become flustered and defensive, lashing out with increasingly nonsensical insults.

By nature, as a pixie of the Spring Court, Miles has always been an arrogant son of a bitch, used to guarding himself emotionally, which is something he does by being lacing his words with caustic sarcasm. He is comfortable with putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end, never hesitating to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Unlike his kin, however, Miles isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about. Yet in spite of all his flaws, he has never met a boundary he wouldn’t cross. He’ll go to bat for you if you make him laugh, if he likes your style, or if you have something that tickles his fancy (weed, cigarettes, and junk food, just as an FYI).

| Likes & Dislikes |

✔Clubbing
✔Mexican food
✔Cold weather
✔Leather jackets, just… so many leather jackets.
✔Cigarettes
✔Reality TV
✔Tattoos
✘Insects. Flying roaches are the bane of his existence.
✘Flavoured vodka
✘People being ignorant, especially on the Internet, because he can’t reach through the screen and punch them in the face.
✘Dubstep; they really need to stop playing that shit at clubs.
✘Mushrooms, both the hallucinogenic and culinary varieties.
✘Overpriced coffee (“I’m looking at you, Starbucks.”)

| History |

First of all, Miles would like to clarify that he was not, in fact, born from a baby’s first laugh. As far as he’s concerned, it’s just some bullshit circulated by uninformed idiots to give the Fae a bad name, and suffice to say, he’s not too happy about the whole affair.

Like most of his kind, Miles was born in Avalon, following the end of the Industrial Revolution. His parents were soldiers, part of the Seelie Court’s armed forces. For the most part, his early existence was spent in the lap of luxury, flittering from one place to the next in search of amusement. There wasn’t much a young Fae like him could do until he came of age, and he dreaded the possibility of one day becoming embroiled in the political machinations of the Court. He was happy practicing magic of his own free will; that is, until the Court called upon him to join the army.

Of course, with everyone watching, and his parents’ hard-earned reputation on the line, he could hardly say no.

Despite his original determination to do well, Miles soon found that joining the military was more than he bargained for. Instead of sending him into a frenzied bloodlust, the clanging of swords and the pained screams of their enemies left Miles cowering in fear, and soon enough, proved himself more of a liability than an asset. How he survived his first battles was a mystery to him, though he supposes hiding behind his comrades every time he was in danger had something to do with it.

He saw his exile coming from a mile away, and instead of waiting to be booted out, Miles left of his own accord, sparing himself no small amount of embarrassment. He knew, better than anyone, that he needed to leave and start a new life - an existence where he wouldn’t be judge or forced to be somebody he wasn’t. His parents were upset, of course, but that was mostly due to how much of a “disappointment” their son turned out to be. Miles had always been more proficient in the art of speechcraft as opposed to war, though all the same, he shunned the whisperers and patrons of the Seelie Court.

In the end, he found himself in the mortal realm - clad in glamour, and possessing nothing but the clothes on his back. He spent about four decades travelling across the country, before finally settling down in Edgetoun in the late 90s. It wasn’t the biggest of places, nor was it the smallest, and it was easy enough to cover up his sudden arrival with his trademark Fae magic. Hiding in plain sight was, after all, one of his specialties.

For a while, Miles found himself doing odd jobs for money - everything from bussing tables to cleaning up bodies at the mortuary - and that was how he ended up getting a job at a local salon. It wasn’t quite what he’d been looking for, of course, but the pay wasn’t anything he could complain about, and he picked up some useful skills whilst sweeping up locks of abandoned hair. Miles has been living under different aliases for years, changing his identity as easily as slipping on a jacket. Needless to say, this has caused more than a few administrative problems, but as long as he stays alert and keep his explanations straight, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

| Family |

|| Tarragon Catrose | Father | 261 || - Miles remembers his father as an emotionally distant being, more concerned with his work than his family. He’s always been slightly afraid of Tarragon, and the thought of facing his wrath was one of the main contributing factors of Miles’ desertion.

|| Jessamine Redthorn | Mother | 270 || - Skilled in magic, Jessamine holds a high rank in the armed forces of the Seelie Court. Miles has his mother to thank for his own abilities, though it appeared to be the extent of their relationship.

Miles hasn’t seen either of his parents in years, and he doesn’t plan to. As far as he knows, they haven’t set foot into the mortal realm since the 19th century.

| Strengths |

• As is in his nature, Miles has a way with people; a silver-tongue, if you will. It's easy enough for him to nudge a decision in his favour, or even convince someone of a falsity.
• He doesn’t like to brag - just kidding, he totally does - but he’s quite the talented hairdresser. With just a few snips here and there, and maybe just a sprinkle of pixie dust, he can make even the most frazzled, bleach-ruined hair look presentable again.
• Miles is resourceful, able to think incredibly fast on his feet. While his long-term planning isn’t quite up to par, he’s quite proficient at making split-second decisions that rescue him from sticky situations.

| Weaknesses |

• Has a tendency of letting his emotions get the better of him, clouding his judgment.
• Miles isn’t terribly great at fighting, which is probably why he deserted the Seelie Army the moment things went South.
• Ridiculously fickle, Miles can never settle on something for an extended period of time.
• Arrogance is a huge problem for him, influenced by his past affiliation with the Spring Court.
• Long-term consequences escape his notice, and he doesn’t pay much thought to how his decisions might pay off or hinder him in the long run

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| Theme Song |

Crooked – G-DRAGON
<sub>“Leave me alone
I was alone anyway
I have no one, everything is meaningless
Take away the sugar-coated comfort
Tonight, I’ll be crooked

Will you not say anything for me tonight?
I didn’t know being alone would be this hard (I miss you)
Will you be my friend tonight?
On this good day, this beautiful day, this day where I miss you
Tonight, I’ll be crooked”</sub>

| House Number |

Churchill Gardens, 3B

| Extra Information |

-

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For Queen and Country

@murdoc Accepted. That's a perfect faceclaim for a Pixie :3

@McHaggis

Glad you like. I'll move him over. ;D

For Queen and Country

-snip-

For Queen and Country

Just a taste of the cuteness that is Alfie

WIP

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| N A M E |

Bai Chen

_{His birth name. He has since left the name behind him, and hates when others call him by it because of his association of it with his past which he is trying to move from. If anyone were to call him such, he'd probably be more than a little irritated.}

Alfie Liau

_{His new identity. Though he's had many other identities, this is his current. He hates when strangers call him by his first name, and prefers that people who do not know him call him Liau. However, he likes it a lot when close friends call him Alfie because he thinks it sounds cute.}

Giraffe | Giraffe Neck | Giraffe Boy

_{Unfortunately, due to his long neck, Alfie is often on the receiving end of animal comparisons. There are many different pet names people have come up with, but these seem to be the most common. Typically speaking, he's usually compared to giraffes, but flamingos have also been the subject of a nickname.}

| D A T E O F B I R T H |

Born: February 12, 1893
Turned: January 5, 1914

| G E N D E R |

Male

| S E X U A L I T Y |

Bisexual

| O C C U P A T I O N |

Chocolatier

_{Alfie is a mildly successful Chocolatier, meaning he is a professional chocolate chef. He owns a small chocolate shop called Sweet Bite where he accepts custom jobs but sells his own specially made chocolate as well. He has a few workers there who help him make the chocolate, but not many.}

| I N - D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E |

At least a paragraph, detailing your character’s appearance. Go into detail with clothing style, scars, posture, voice too, if you're keen!

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| P E R S O N A L I T Y |

♦ Arrogant ♦ Glib ♦ Mischievous ♦ Insatiable ♦

At least a paragraph or two detailing your character’s personality. Positive and negative, please!

| L I K E S & D I S L I K E S |

✔At least seven likes.
✔
✔
✔
✔
✔
✔

✘At least seven dislikes.
✘
✘
✘
✘
✘
✘

| H I S T O R Y |

Alfie, then known as Bai, was the seventh son of seven sons to a poor couple living in Taiwan. He was born two years before Japan pressed Taiwan under their thumb, and those two years were spent blissfully unaware. There is not much to tell about his childhood, he spent his time helping his parents on their small plot of farmland, and eventually fell in love with his childhood sweetheart, Hualiang (who was a boy, though his parents didn’t know this of course). They spent their time loitering in the fields, staring at clouds, and pretending as if the world didn’t exist around them.

However, growing up where the Japanese ruled his life, Bai was becoming increasingly unhappy. Around the age of nineteen, Bai got involved in the Taiwanese resistance against the Japanese and, in 1914, Bai was introduced to Yu Qingfang’s resistance through Hualiang. For four months, Bai trained in fighting under Yu Qingfang’s crowd until, one night, Hualiang and he were lying in bed. They were peacefully resting in each other’s arms when Hualiang was getting rowdy; Bai had let it happen, indulging who he thought was the love of his life, when he felt sharp piercing into his neck. Bai had meant to move away from Hualiang, to stop it from going further, when he felt a sharper pain, a twist of the neck, and a distinct snapping noise, all of it accompanying silence and black.

Once he woke up, Bai wished that he was still dead. It was a conspiracy of the vampiric sorts that Bai didn’t appreciate. Yu Qingfang was afraid of losing and was in the process of building up a vampire army in order to overthrow the Japanese. Bai only stayed with the resistance because, despite how Hualiang wronged him, Bai still loved him. The climax of the Japanese rule on Taiwan and the end of Bai’s life happened during the Tapani Incident in 1915. The resistance movements banded together and attacked Japanese police stations, attempting to get rid of them once and for all. In the process, people died and, seeing the vampires attack the people so viciously, Bai began to question whether it was worth it or not. After a miscalculation and a bullet to the stomach, Bai fled the temple. Hualiang was dedicated to the cause, too dedicated in Bai’s opinion, and sneered at Bai for his desertion. Eventually, Bai fled Taiwan, too.

His life after that became a blur. Though, at first, Bai was disdainful towards his vampire nature, only drinking animal blood and avoiding humans at all cost, Bai ultimately fell into the worst of ways. Bai seemingly stopped caring about human life – it wasn’t a sudden snap, but a gradual thing that Bai didn’t see until too late – and human blood was so good. In tribute to his transformation, Bai changed his name and continually changed his name every couple of years once he got bored with the one he chose.

He was William when he came to London. William something – he doesn’t quite remember the surname he chose. It was during World War II that he came, coming from the United States of America. At first he stayed by himself, until he found a place in The Collective. The Collective, despite having certain tendencies he once abhorred, made him feel like he belonged somewhere, and so he settled there permanently and became known as Alfie.

Nowadays, Alfie has found his calling – chocolate and cats – and spends his time working at his chocolate store, a certified Chocolatier and owner, or playing with his adorable Savannah cat that cost him £12000. He likes the occasional one-night stand and night out, but mostly enjoys staying in. However, ever since the Others have been found out, he’s worried his neighbors might become suspicious of him due to his semi-shut in nature (though there doesn’t really seem to be anything to worry about). In order to avoid suspicion, Alfie has been making it a point to be nice to his neighbors and every human he meets, so as to avoid accusations.

| F A M I L Y |

|| Boots | F1 Savannah Cat || - Alfie's current cat whose in their prime. He's energetic, but docile, and is doted on by Alfie. Alfie likes to put him in clothes and Boots seems to just accept it now. At night, Boots will thump his back leg against Alfie's door in order to come inside; as such, Alfie always allows Boots to sleep in the bed with him (under the covers and all) unless he be deprived of sleep.

| S T R E N G T H S |

• Three only.

| W E A K N E S S E S |

• Three (or more).

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| T H E M E S O N G |

Bad To The Bone – George Thorogood
_{"Bad to the bone
Bad to the bone
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
Bad to the bone”}

| H O U S E N U M B E R |

Choose from the list. Some characters have housemates (because I want to force character interaction lel).

| E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N |

Anything else.

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@Apokalipse

how dare you

he's TOO ADORABLE

_{internally screaming bc got7}

For Queen and Country

-snip-