Real Name: Shaw Durand-Blazkowicz
Alias: Fiction, Ficky, Fick
Nationality: Greek/French Canadian (Martian)
Age: 42 (November 8th)
Height: 5' 10"
Relationship Status: Married
Sexuality: Grey-Aromantic Asexual (Gay)
Religion: Converted Jewish
Occupation: Prince Of Hell
Currently Living: The Red Keep, Kadingir Sanctum
Species: Ω Omega Level Psiot
Scars: Fick has a replacement robotic left arm

Powers: Mental Manipulation, Mechanical Manipulation, Flight, Telekinesis, Telepathy

Shaw spent his early and late teenage years writing various stories, stories that always showed him as a powerful, incredibly smart young man with the ability to fly and make anything he wanted happen. He was a troublemaker, never going too far but always getting into trouble, skipping school, and getting called out on being a typical asshole. Even in his small circle of friends he was thought unlikeable, yet his ability to write beautiful stories and prose was what drew people in.

He got his inspirations from seeing works from others who were fascinated by television shows and the worlds they could create on their own: Fanfiction was his brand and his words of choice. Starting early with trashy scifi shows, the popularity of sharing said stories online started to gain him a small following. His pompous attitude arose from his popularity, eventually causing him to get banned from several forums, and his dip into the literary world of the internet was cut short when a strange man approached him and told him he was something special, and could help him further unlock his gifts.

Activation started by being strapped to a machine, and being given a one in four chance of survival. When the gold flecked his eyes and the beams ebbed, he realized something changed, and it was something damn amazing. Fick was gifted the power of manipulation, able to change people's minds and implant memories and images in people's heads. He was also gifted limited telekenissis allowing him to fly, and even psionic blasts should he concentrate enough.

 He was approached to work with a team of others called "psiots", but was let go early on when he showed his personality was too much for the people around him, and how he had to constantly go out of his way to make people feel awkward about the guilty pleasures they had. If he found out anyone dabbled in his area of expertise, he wouldn't shut up.

Fiction is labeled as a trouble maker. Most can't stand him and others who tolerate him don't want him around. A lone wolf, he struggles to make interpersonal connections and friends, and is often made fun of or mocked by other psiots for his sad manipulation abilities and the fact that he has no friends. Dejected, he's considered joining the ranks of anti-hero and villainy, but his actual fear of getting killed keeps him reeled back.

He can be friendly when people get to know him, and more often than not, he's just a lonely, sad man trying to find a friend. Romance has often not worked well for him, as he has a hard time staying committed, but he could be convinced to try by the right man or woman should they ever come along. Despite how awkward he can be, he does try his best to keep his friends and allies close and protected.

Fick has fallen for the Marine, an enigmatic man who saved his ass from a demon attack on Mars. He owes Wil his life. The two reside in the Red Keep where Fick now acts as Prince. It's an odd life to get used to, but he'll figure it out.

Fick has an odd affinity for tattoos despite his body dysmorphia. His left arm was once covered in meaningful ink but since losing it he's had to compensate on other parts of his body. His prominate ones are a watercolor half sleeve of Mars and space, two bands across his right arm, a tattoo of a wedding ring on his right ring finger, and the number four inked in back across the leftside of his chest. More will come, knowing him.

Family (Nuclear)

Mother Agathe Durand
Father - David Durand
Brother - Silias Durand
Husband - William Joseph Blazkowicz III
Son - William Joseph David "Four" Blazkowicz IV

Right Hand of the Prince - Eka Iskandar

Far as he knows, he isn't related to anyone of any sort of celebrity.




Psiots are a concept created by Valiant Comics.
Shaw Durand is an OC inspired by the characters created by Valiant and the Doom/Wolf/Prey universes. He is an original concept, please do not borrow/steal it.

My name is Mori. I'm tired. I'm a bachelor's student. I hate it.


CHARACTER IS 18+ ONLY. I do not RP with minors.
Multi/Para Rp. One Paragraph minimum. Less is ignored. Semi Selective.
21+ | Though rare, sexual situations may occur ONLY when story calls for it.
13 year vet. Super picky. Been burned a lot, so I try and find what interests me and will check out everyone who adds me.
I work part time and go to school full time. I'm a busy person. I also have depression and am constantly working through treatments and it affects my writing at times. All I ask for is patience. You add, you start. Sometimes I will offer otherwise. 
Shaw Durand is an OC. His FC is Elias Toufexis


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  • (Hey there, how you been?)

  • Conspiracy theories? Why not? He shrugs and flips it over to read about it, then tucks it on his forming stack. He'll take that, too. Anything to pass the time. The pamplet confuses him at first, chiefly because he's never seen anything like it before. He studies it, not putting two and two together about who wrote it until he's told so. His reaction isn't harsh or dismissive. He simply nods and shows he will, slipping it with the two he's picked out due to Fick's offerings. He's still yet to say a word, but he's clearly listening and paying attention. He takes a sip of his coffee finally, having finished his scone already. He ate it very fast.

  • He curiousy studies the covers, pulling a Sci Fi novel named Omon Ra a little closer to himself. The cover intrigues him, all reds and blacks and very unorthodox in design. He turns it over and reads the blurb on the back, which takes him a little whlie. He taps it again. That's a good one. He'll take it. He reaches towards the most obvious horror novel he can see, though he doesn't look too enthused with Carrie. He knows the plot. There's no surprises there. He puts it back down and moves on.


  • He graciously accepts what he's been given and drops a $5 bill into the tip jar. No sugar or cream for him. Straight black or nothing, the only way he's ever taken it. As he waits for it to cool a bit so he can take a sip, he takes a bite of the scone while barely listening to Fick ramble on. Fick- what a strange name. He wonders where it came from. His answer is a resoudning shrug. He's not much of a reader, apparently, and seems to be open for suggestions. Sci Fi, thriller all sounds alright to him. He doesn't have a very refined pallete when it comes to this art form.

    ...or any art form that isn't rock music, actually.

  • Scones? Books? Questions? It’s a lot at once. He nods in consent to the question about food, clearly very willing to eat anything decent handed to him. He’s well-dressed though casual. His button down is flannel beneath his leather bomber jacket. His bootcut jeans top battered Timblands, and the sunglasses he’s pushed up on his head are nice looking but not ridiculously expensive. His throat bears some angry, white scar tissue. It’s hard to say what could have caused that.

  • 2018. Earth.

    Wil Blazkowicz is lonely, attempting to adjust to civilian life after a host of accolades, an intense recovery process, and a lot of medals he's already thrown straight in the trash save for the silver star he's got in his pocket. That one survived the trash can purge just because of the friends he lost when he earned it. By keeping it around, he's keeping them alive, somehow. That's how it feels to him, anyway, no matter how skewed.

    Television feels hollow. He can't exactly start a conversation to make a friend with no voice. Finally, after a lot of deliberation and a lot of aimless wandering, because right now his pension covers him without needing to attempt to work a job, he sets his mind on stopping at a used bookstore he's seen the storefront of across the street from himself several times.

    It's a thirty minute walk from his little apartment, which isn't so bad in this weather. It's breezy in Riverport, yes, but not chilly despite the waterfront. Somehow, it's always so perfectly mild here.

    Finally, he stops in front of the store, looks up to see its name, and walks inside, jingling the bell on the door's interior handle as he does so. The smells of pages, glue, shelving, upholstry, and coffee hit him immediately.


  • I love you so much I'd move hell and mars for you, honeybun.

  • You love me and you know it, sugar.

  • I'm not saying nothin'.

  • (Sure go right ahead.)
This reply was deleted.

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Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""Fine, fine. You can shoot her," Fick rolls his eyes. "Wil, can you finish up with Four? I'm sure Hobo Gunslinger wants to get this over with. He's havign a peas phase again," his son is so damn picky. Why can't he be like Wil and just eat everythin…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""Why?" Fick doesn't seem to believe him. He seems almost confused, almost BAFFLED, that someone isn't phased by him. Maybe he feels like he should threaten more. Maybe he should do something worse, maybe-
Fick is distracted again, eyeing his son a m…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
" "Not everyone," Fick gestures to Wil. "I've never once done anything to him. People like you, on the other hand, need someone to tell you what to do. I don't see what this is such a big deal. Especially when I can just say something else. And I'm f…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ updated their profile
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""And you'll take me with you," Fick repeats a little more forceful this time. The comment about his cooking seems to have won some favor, Fick isn't as harsh this time with his control, instead, it's more like a prod instead of a push. His good hand…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""DRUG YOU?!" Fick scoffs. "I made STEW. A good stew! Why would I drug you when I can just tell you what to do. Like, right now, I clould make you hop on one foot and pcik your nose. And it would feel so, so good doing it, but, I'm a good boy, and I…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""I don't want a cut, I want to set an example. And what makes you think I care about money? This is about territory. That's...Oh christ, I sound like Neegan," he takes a few moments to take that in, then clears his throat. "Anways, look, man, you kn…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ updated their profile photo
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Dr. Samuel Hayden
""Whatever you want. You can have it. I really want this to be a good, fresh start. I don't always get chances to start over," Fick seems pleased Wil is happy. That's all he wanted, really. He feels a bit out of the loop without such a secure connect…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""Yeah because I'm full of millions. My husband has a contracting job and I write books. Not all of us can be Alan Wake. If you want payment, then you'll take me to deal with this girl and let me kill her," wait, waaait, wow, where did that come from…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""Was that so hard?" Fick ticks his head and lets Charlie go. By now food is done, and he prepares a few bowls before they float in the air and land gently infront of his company. Four, on the other hand, will be fed once Fick eats. Finally ready, he…"
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""What is his name, and is he a threat to me?" Fick is cooking while he talks, having no qualms about what he's doing. Does he do this to his husband? His son? Who knows. But he seems more intent on knowing what this potential threat to his family is…"
May 15
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Dr. Samuel Hayden
""I just want you to be here. I don't expect anything else," Fick reaches over to run a hand over Wil's cruffy face, realizing just how much he missed it. "I don't want sex. I just want attention. And maybe some greasy food to share and maybe a rabbi…"
May 15
Fɪᴄᴋ Bʟᴀᴢᴋᴏ left a comment for Charlie Palmer
""What was the message?" Fick watches Charlie attempt to fight him with a snort. What is he doing? What an oddball. It's so strange seeing someone without powers act like he does, maybe if he gets more curious, he'll see if he can tap into that chip.…"
May 15