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Plenty of humans were monstrous, and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.

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VAUGHAN MADRIGAL

no one suffers as beautifully as you.

  info 001.    N/SFW
Minors do not interact sexually. Vaughan may post slightly NSFW posts from time to time but will generally be SFW. Following this, sexual relations will only be entertained depending on his closeness with the other character.

  info 002.    AVAILABILITY
Vaughan's mun is of age and is busy with other responsibilities outside RPW so expect slow replies. Other communication channels will be given selectively.

  infor 003.    IC Interactions
Generally mostly IC during interactions so questions pertaining to mun will be entertained based on closeness.

  info 004.    PLOTS
May or may not post plots and written pieces with dark themes, proceed with caution.

  info 005.    FACE CLAIMS
Not affiliated with any of the face claims used by the character in any way, shape, or matter. Do NOT associate Vaughan with any of the face claims used. This account is for ROLEPLAYING PURPOSES ONLY

  info 006.    DNF
Do not follow if you're homophobic, transphobic, 88M supporter, DDS, non-shipper, here for drama.

  PERSONALITY    VAUGHAN is an intriguing mix of extroversion and unpredictability. His humor is unique—sarcastic and full of sass, making him someone who’s not afraid to speak his mind and push boundaries. His quick comebacks and playful teasing make him both entertaining and a bit of a troublemaker, especially when he’s in a good mood. Though he doesn’t always take life too seriously, he’s incredibly perceptive, using his humor to disarm people and keep them on their toes.Though he shies away from attention, there's a certain magnetism about him—something that draws people in without him even trying. His work as a tattoo artist and painter reflects his deep sensitivity and understanding of human emotion, often translating those feelings into his art with raw, unfiltered expression.Underneath the sarcasm and bravado, he’s a fiercely independent soul who’s constantly challenging the expectations around him, embracing his freedom with a defiant streak

  APPEARANCE   Vaughan has a sharp, striking look with messy dark hair and expressive, mischievous eyes that reflect his playful and sarcastic nature. With a lean, athletic build, he carries himself confidently in casual, edgy clothes—often in leather jackets, graphic tees, and ripped jeans. Tattoos peek from under his sleeves, adding to his effortlessly cool vibe.

  backstory   Vaughan Madrigal was supposed to be a legacy.Born into the influential Madrigal family—his father a formidable politician and his older brother groomed to follow—the path before him was carved in marble, polished and pristine. But while the men in his family thrived under the weight of legacy, Vaughan felt it like a shackle. Where others saw power, he saw a prison. And where his father saw potential, Vaughan saw the quiet death of everything that made him feel alive.He had always been drawn to colors that bled, lines that whispered, and ink that told stories the world was too afraid to say aloud. Sketchbooks hidden under debate prep. Doodles during campaign rallies. And finally, the breaking point—a mural, painted in secret, that depicted the corruption he saw behind closed doors. When his father found out, the fallout was catastrophic.He left. Just like that. No press release. No public statement. Just a note on the kitchen counter and a one-way ticket out of the capital. France, Italy, and New York, Vaughan kept moving. He lived in tiny apartments, friends' couches, and an abandoned warehouse.Now, he lives under the name Vaughan—no titles, no honorifics. By day, he’s a tattoo artist with a six-month waitlist and a reputation for designing pieces that feel like soulprints. His paintings—raw, expressive, sometimes haunting—hang in underground galleries and whispered-about art spaces. But by night, he shifts again. A midnight courier for the untraceable, the unclaimed, the undone. If it's impossible, it finds its way to Vaughan.People say he never gets caught. That he’s lucky. That things just fall into place for him. No one knows that it’s not luck—it’s a debt. A favor the old gods still haven’t repaid.He doesn’t talk to his father. Doesn’t answer his brother’s calls. But sometimes, quietly, he sends his mother postcards. Always signed with a little sketch in the corner. Always without a return address.He says he’s never been freer.But sometimes—when the night is too quiet and the city too loud—he wonders what freedom really cost.

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I AM NOT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, I AM WHAT I CHOOSE TO BECOME

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