Ismond Grace

If you'd like to die, you can call him Izzy if you're alone with him.

47

May 7th (Taurus)

Cis male (he/him)

Bisexual, though he doesn't really want to think about his same-gender attractions.

Family physician, murderer with no real pattern or ritual besides using the bodies of the victims to experiment upon and hone his craft as a doctor. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

Human

Biracial (White and Korean)

It used to be his wife, Amelia. You know. Before he murdered her in cold blood.

He hardly cares about his blood family, but the family he married into meant everything to him. Amelia was the light of his life, and he respected her father, Gerald, fiercely.

Ismond is a tall, lanky man with the beginning signs of age wrinkling his greying skin, black hair that shines almost purple in the sunlight.

In the beginning, he was kind to his wife and family. He supported her in all things, and he was generous with his love, time and money. As long as he got what he wanted from her, anyway. His psychological abuse was so subtle that not even Amelia knew he was doing it. Probably not even Ismond really knew how deeply he was carving into his wife's mind. But then something terrible happened between the pair, and he killed her. And he killed her father. And from that point on, he grew something of a victim complex that justified his own murders to him. His cruel, selfish wife made him this way! That's why he kills people. But honestly, he doesn't have a shred of remorse for his crimes and wouldn't even if he had no internal justification or fake sob story. He even feels something approaching relief every time he kills someone new - especially if they were a potential witness or someone who could have cracked his iron shell.

Once upon a time, Ismond Grace was a happy man. He was married to the woman of his dreams, he had a new father figure he could bond with and learn from, and he was making very good money. Sure, Amelia wasn't exactly sold on all this "marriage" and "settling down" and "childbirth" stuff, and he could tolerate that, but Ismond knew his love for her would change her mind one day. And for a time, he truly thought it did! Amelia discovered one day that she was pregnant - and Ismond's mind filled with all sorts of wonderful dreams. They were going to have a daughter, he was sure, and she would be just as beautiful as her mother, and Ismond would take care of her and protect her from the world for as long as he could. But... Then Amelia did something very stupid. Something very unfair. In some sort of fit of hysteria, she went and aborted the baby behind his back. Without his knowing. Without his consent. W-wasn't it. His baby too, Amelia? Didn't he get a say in all of this? Little did he know, it was HIM who taught her that she couldn't trust him with her true feelings. It was HIM who destroyed her sense of safety with him, with his constant manipulative, guilting, coercing behavior. They were going to be so hap..py together, the three of them. They were going to have a perfect life and they were going to be a family. But Amelia had to go and RUIN it, didn't she? B-but! But she couldn't know she ruined it. Not yet. He would be good! He would comply for a day... And then he'd gently bring up the topic. Then he'd gently, maturely express his feelings on the matter. They'd talk about it. His feelings would be heard. She would be so sorry, he could see it now. But... She wasn't sorry. She was crying, she was hiding her face from him, she was wailing like a hurt animal, but. She wasn't sorry. Not one bit. In fact - she wanted HIM to be sorry. She wanted HIM to apologize for the fact that she murdered their child. She wanted HIM to believe that somehow it was HIS fault that she couldn't trust him, that she couldn't feel safe in her own home anymore. And Amelia wanted a divorce. So he just. Hit her. He slammed her head against the wall. And he didn't stop. It wasn't until a few minutes after the screaming turned into gurgling sobs that he realized she was dead. But somehow, just after that, Gerald burst through the door. Were they conspiring together before she died? Disgusting. Gerald was just as selfish and rotten as Amelia, in the end. Gerald was bigger and stronger than Ismond, though, so what would he do? He ran down from the living room to their basement, where all Ismond's books were stored, where Ismond studied his craft in his spare time. And he hid behind one of the bookcases, just beside his beloved marble bust of Hippocrates. And when Gerald skulked near, he took Hippocrates and bashed Gerald's head in until he, too, stopped breathing. ... Well, he didn't do anything wrong, what's that look for? Amelia and Gerald had it coming, the conniving creatures that they were. But Ismond knew he could never be happy again, even though his tormentors were dead. From then on, Ismond changed his career from family physician to biological researcher. It was an excuse to hide his new penchant for opening people up and learning more about them than the college textbooks could ever teach him. After all - was there anymore room for mercy? Maybe he could find, deep inside of us, what makes women so cruel and selfish. What makes us want to destroy our husbands' happiness so much. He was miserable and he knew it, but what could he do? What could heal the open wound in his heart that his wife and father-in-law left? Well, a man named Bart Bottlem, apparently. This Bart fellow was tall, not too bright, and most of all, friendly. He worked in the facility that Ismond supplied with data and research as a secretary. And Bart was always the first to invite Ismond to office gatherings and parties, or even just out to the bar that Friday night to relax a little after a hard week's work. Ismond was disgusted. What was this man doing? He'd met friendly sorts like Bart before, but none of them so... Forward. What was Bart after? Ismond's secrets, perhaps?! Haha! Joke's on you, Bart, Ismond would die before he let anyone in on his secrets oh god Bart just kissed him on the lips. What? Why? He. What? Who? What day was this? Ismond had no idea how to handle this. Bart was already heading back to his own place. The gesture was so simple to stupid, dense Bart! It was a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was JUST a KISS. How was ISMOND supposed to deal with this?! A KISS! People kiss each other when they're romantically inclined towards each other. Ismond didn't necessarily fight back. He knows he would have if he didn't like the kiss. So was he romantically inclined towards Bart Bottlem? Was this ridiculous, hulking ape somehow getting to him? Well, there was only one thing to do. That very evening, Ismond ran back to the facility and packed his beloved marble bust of Hippocrates in his bag as he decided to follow Bart's general direction back to his own home, asking if he could spend the night. Bart handed him his address SO many times. And stupid Bart was delighted to let him in and be hospitable and friendly. He was a bit awkward, apologizing for the rushed, forced state of their kiss, and promised to do better next time. Cute. WAIT NO ISMOND MEANT THAT SARCASTICALLY shit now he really DOES think it was cute. So when Bart stood up to fetch them both a drink, Ismond lifted his weapon aloft and bashed Bart's head in, just like Gerald before him. And he dumped Bart Bottlem in the lake with a brick tied to his foot and never felt so free and relieved in all his life. No remorse. Bart didn't struggle nearly as much as Gerald, he found. Bart could have easily ripped Ismond's puny arms off. But he didn't. Huh. But Bart's disappearance hung a suspicious shade over Ismond and his trade, and before anyone could guess that he did it, he resigned from the facility, claiming that Bart's death would weigh down on him and his motivation to work. They were such good friends, it's a tragedy to see such a good man go. So he went back to being a family physician, and he was sure that he would never love anyone again. He'd learned his lesson until eleven-year-old Mary Molenstraat showed up on his table one day, bruises on her neck and arms. Her father said that she fell down the stairs. Her mother agreed, shaking. Ismond knew they were dirty liars. Ismond felt a deep sympathy for this Mary girl, a sympathy he didn't know existed inside him. He wished he could spirit her away from her parents and be her father. They would be so happy together, the two of them. Everything would be perfect and they would be a family. So while Ismond prepared to treat her black eye one day, he invited the girl's parents into his back office downstairs so they could discuss a better, more permanent solution to Mary's 'clumsiness'. Mary's parents didn't come out of his office for nearly an hour. She got the idea to go down and see what they were up to, because somewhere deep in her confused, battered heart, she loved them. She stumbled downstairs, opened the door - Ismond didn't think to lock it, he didn't think she'd - and saw her parents lying there on the floor. The only real indication that these were her parents was the clothes that they were wearing. Their faces were bashed in beyond recognition, shards of teeth poking out of mangled folds of muscle and almost-black blood. Ismond thought he could charm her by telling the truth. There's no way she could blame him! He did it for her, because he loves her and he's going to make everything okay again for the two of them. No one has to die ever again, because he knows how to be happy. Because now he has Mary and she has him and everything's going to be wonderful! Mary ran back up the stairs, screaming and crying, and Ismond knew he had to get out of town fast if he didn't want the electric chair. Once again, a woman broke his heart, even if it was a different part of his heart that started to crack first... But somehow, he didn't blame Mary. It wasn't her fault. For the first time in his life, it was his fault. Everything was his fault. He managed to barely escape the hands of the police in that town, and he continues to fear that they'll break down his door one day. He lives alone in a cottage in the woods, far from anyone he could possibly hurt. Now, he's sorry. Now he understands that Amelia acted out of fear, not selfishness. He understands that Gerald acted out of pain, not conspiracy. He understands that Bart acted out of love, not espionage. And he understands that Mary was broken and afraid. Anyone would have been if they found their parents dead like that, no matter how much their parents hurt them. Though Amelia's 'original sin' hurt him, he knows she didn't deserve his rage, she didn't deserve to die. They could have talked about it, they could have saved their marriage. He could have listened to her more when she spoke, and in return, she would speak more and speak honestly. Their life could have been perfect. They didn't need the white picket fence life, they needed what they had. He needed to appreciate what they had. And now that it's so far out of his reach, now that he bungled every chance he had to turn around, he appreciates it. He doesn't believe there's any future for him.

The occasional relief he feels from murdering a witness or sad fool who thinks they can make him happy. Oh, and macarons!

Everyone who's ever hurt or wronged him, himself, people who remind him of himself, the world in general and how it so cruelly takes and takes and takes

Firmness, assertiveness, cleverness, cunning, quick thinking, resourcefulness, a surprising amount of physical strength for his tiny little body

Self-centeredness, lack of self-awareness, ignorance, the tendency to throw blame at everyone else for his own problems, a warped sense of reality

Ismond Grace was actually made when I had an idea for a Minecraft horror map, in which the player explores his old home and discovers exactly what happened there.

Street Lamp - Wato [Iroha Nekomura]

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