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@a-crimson-fucker said: "Heywatchadoing?" He says as he phases through a hedge behind them, attempting to scare the piss outta them.

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{!!} – With all the swiftness of a man predisposed to near-ceaseless apprehension of the world around him, the sudden verbalisation from behind paired with the unexpected appearance of a man through the slightly unconventional entryway of a hedge was all it took for Alexsander to deliver one solid blow to his face with full force. He only realised what he’d done once it was too late, but he didn’t appear to be particularly remorseful about his instinctive reaction to the prankster's tomfoolery nonetheless. In fact, he seemed positively irate.

❝Well, that was YOUR bloody fault, wasn’t it?!❞ He hotly declared, taking no blame for his reflexes given the antagonistic nature of the practical joke. ❝You bloody deserved that! I mean, what were you THINKING?! Sneaking up on me like that! You’re a complete & utter prat, that’s what you are!!❞ The dark faerie adjusted the knot in his tie, the effects of being startled still leaving him somewhat rattled. He never had been particularly good with surprises. ❝Bloody Hell…!❞

[swxpped]

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{!!} – He displayed the comportment to be expected of somebody who was, often deliberately, lacking in social relationships upon the unsolicited dialogue from the woman; constrained and unnatural. ❝Coffee can be pleasant from time to time, but I find tea tends to my maladies far more capably.❞ His voice delivered the response from a place of civility at best, undesiring of a more extensive conversation.

Quietly, he collected his dark oolong tea from the end of the counter when his name was called and left to find the table at which his manager was supposed to already be seated, but not before stealthily utilising the modern marvel that was contactless payment in order to cover the stranger’s coffee. A wordless apology for being uncommunicative. He hoped to God that she wouldn’t realise it was him, thus alleviating the need for her to come over and thank him. God willing, she would simply leave him alone, as he wished to be.

"You know, so far this day calls for more than just one cup of coffee."

@swxpped

[swxpped]

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{!!} – With courtesy to Pari, Alexsander applied his efforts to keeping his hands still when he recognised the subtle flicker of disquietude upon the snapping of the bone; an all too familiar trigger response. He had no objective to unsettle her. The broken shards of rib remained untouched where they had settled upon the tabletop. Alexsander failed to express his guilt.

It seemed, for a moment, that he didn’t quite know how to react when she raised her concern pertaining to the observable recurrence of his discontent. Perhaps it was fear that imbued his expression, mistrust, embarrassment, or was it outrage upon the subject having been raised? It seemed several ‘almosts’ of varying degrees stirred undecidedly within his blue eyes until he eventually settled upon something vaguely comparable to gratitude. He understood that Pari most likely meant him no harm. Still, Alexsander stumbled uncomfortably over his words, struggling with the extended stillness of his hands, though he persevered for her sake, ❝…Yes. I suppose I have become acclimatised to it…over time. It keeps me safe.❞ He couldn’t quite be sure why he was divulging this to her. Immediately, he rued the foolishness of his candour and quickly decided that he’d ought to reign in this strange, unanticipated compulsion to overshare. What in the bloody Hell was that all about...?

Leaving little pause for responsive dialogue, the changeling rose from his seat and recovered the damaged pieces of bone to his pocket, ashen with unease with regard to his own honesty, despite however little he had actually said. Yet, there still resided the faintest shadow of a smile that wanted so greatly to believe that he could trust her, but he knew better than to invent delusions of normality. For his accursed class, there was no such thing. It was somewhat of a comfort just to pretend though, if only for a moment. Alexsander lifted his briefcase, ❝Please excuse my sudden departure, I don't mean to be so terribly rude but I’ve a meeting with my manager at twelve and I must admit I am rather insistent upon punctuality.❞ He needn’t catch a steady glimpse of her gaze in order to estimate that she knew just as well as him that there was no such conference in his diary, but he knew the simple plausibility of his excuse would ultimately prevent her from inquiring any further. ❝May you have a very pleasant rest of your afternoon. Oh, and…Happy New Year, Ms. Pari.❞

In his haste to leave, it seemed he had left behind something of which he would later fret terribly over its whereabouts. A tattered photograph laying face down on the table, when flipped over would depict a sickly fair-skinned woman, corset-clad and with messy black hair hanging down in matted strings past her shoulders and a large pink peony tucked incongruously behind her ear. She was looking directly at the camera but her strained smile almost seemed to imply that she was under some kind of duress. On the border of the photograph, a date was pen crafted in what looked to be - but surely was not (?) - dried blood, '19.05.1851'.

“They can be something, that’s for damn sure. I mean.. there’s nothing wrong with saying it like it is. Sometimes you just have to..”

Pari flinched at the snapping of the bone he was fiddling with, although she wasn’t entirely sure as to why that was. The thing was, she was more curious as to what was troubling Alexsander so much. She had been picking up on the signals for a little while.

“I do, as it happens. But.. you seem a little perturbed.”

[swxpped]

@burnlikeme sent a sentence starter: “I want to know why you care.”

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{!!} – Alexsander regarded the wounded man on the ground below with an arched brow, pale blue irises dancing indirectly around the other’s darkened sockets. He seemed unimpressed by the verbal admission of self-pity. ❝I try not to be a cruel man, but I am also not a particularly kind one. If you’re waiting for me to inspire you with some heartful speech comprised of preconceived insight into your value as a living organism, then I regretfully disappoint you.❞

He extended an arm out toward the injured party, a slight tremor in his right hand. ❝I saw what they did to you. That is all. Now take my hand, unless you so wish to bleed in the street, which I would not find ideal as it could cause an inquiry since you are, in fact, laying directly outside my home.❞ 

Home. That word felt strange upon his lips, almost like a lie, but the gothic mansion that towered above them was the closest thing he had to one, he must admit. An amalgamation of his interests all confined to one expansive building; a stronghold, built to keep people out and his personal life locked safely in. For Alexsander to open its doors to anybody besides his manager was a rare feat. If the stranger knew this, perhaps he’d think him a little less austere. ❝Come, it's dark. I’ll make some tea and patch you up.❞

[swxpped]

Anonymous said: You think you're so smart huh??

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{!!} – ❝Not at all.❞ Alexsander calmly rebutted, comprehensively unthreatened & unbothered by their misguided assumption of his conceit. He really couldn't be sure of why he seemed to get that a lot from people. ❝I’m fairly confident I’m of average intelligence.❞ By human standards, at the very least. ❝You just happen to be an idiot. You're also insecure.❞ He glanced the stranger up and down with distaste, casting judgment with both eye and speech uncivil. ❝Did they actually let you in here with that polyester suit or did you crawl in through the sewer pipes?❞ He tutted, dismissing them with an airily unconcerned wave in favour of nursing his cup of Golden Tips tea, much too sought after a blend to improperly appreciate, or he just might've taken fancy to pouring it unceremoniously over the stranger right where they stood. ❝Shameful.❞

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@freeddead sent a sentence starter: "You can't have fun with an unloaded gun. Or so I've heard, anyway."

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{!!} – ❝Oh – well, I don’t know about that!❞ Alexsander challenged the statement sedately whilst stirring his afternoon tea with the languid inattention of somebody preoccupied in contemplation, seemingly of the various black & white printed news clippings that scattered the tabletop. ❝You can achieve a rather satisfying thump from pistol-whipping your opponent upside the head with a revolver.❞ A knowing smile, barely there, preceded his mimicry of the words, ❝Or so I’ve heard, anyway.❞

[swxpped]

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{!!} – He almost felt compelled to roll his eyes at how annoyingly typical it was of Siegbert to interpret his reciprocation of the cat’s hostility with such an obvious bias. The cat hisses at him, so he hisses back, and now suddenly he’s the bad guy? If he were any crueller, perhaps he would’ve eaten the cat in the name of asserting dominance, just to spite it. Though Alexsander took no delight in harming animals for sport, no matter the intrusive thoughts that crossed his mind - however, repurposing roadkill for his personal consumption was never completely off the cards, as he was admittedly partial to the occasional cat meat stew among other roadside carcass-related cuisine - if one could categorise it as such. He would make a mental note to keep an eye out for the palace cat specifically, fully intending to cook it with potatoes should he ever coincidentally happen to find it lying dead on the motorway.

❝That isn’t true in the slightest.❞ Alexsander rebuffed Siegbert’s attempt to villainise him for his requital of the feline’s attitude, ❝Your cat, however, clearly hates me.❞ he made the scathing remark, embittered by the reactive effect that his curse so often evoked from animals - pets, especially. At heart, he wished that he could simply reach out to stroke the cat without it unsheathing its claws, or worse, meeting a premature expiration. ❝The rumours are false, by the way. I didn’t strangle my neighbour’s cat with a hosepipe.❞

Siegbert, strangely, could relate. He'd endured something similar recently and opened his mouth to tell the story of his notably absent rabbit when the cat hissed at the other and he actually hissed back. The prince turned his cat away slightly, creating a small buffer of distance between them.

"...You don't seem to be a cat person," he observed his brows narrowing slightly. He was warned that if animals or babies did not like someone, it was best to be wary of them.

[swxpped]

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{!!} – Alexsander was momentarily lost for words, not as of a result of the heartfelt sense of poignancy attached to the story, but because he - quite purposely, actually - hadn’t asked.

It occurred to him, far too late according to the other man’s expression, that he’d been expected to afford him some kind of consolation on the matter. Though, he was much too straightforward for the typical over-used insincerities that so often accompanied people “feeling sorry” for one another to feel genuine to his sense of self, preferring to bypass the damp eyes and the long, drawn-out “how awwwwwful, I’m sooooo sorry you went through that!”s and the breathless “oh, bless your heart!”s usually paired with pressing the palm of your hand over your bleeding heart. But Alexsander’s heart did not bleed for him, and he was nothing if not frank. Perhaps, he could offer him the essence of sympathy in the way of a short story of his own, not that he was especially one to share in the way of personal anecdotes, but since they were on the topic, he supposed, on the very narrowest shred of strained sociability…

He really ought to have chosen his words more carefully, but Alexsander wasn’t exactly known for his tact, nor his sensitivity. It was entirely likely that he thought he was being perfectly sympathetic. ❝I found a stray puppy once, when I was young. I'd named it Nettle. So, I wrapped it up in some old newspaper and tried to smuggle it inside. My father found us and consequently stomped it to death on the kitchen floor in order to teach me a lesson about sneaking out of the house without permission. I am sure that she, too, is...as you said, "happier" where she is now.❞ He remembered it all clearly, the sound of the snap of her tiny neck beneath his father's boot, the sharp, sudden outcry of a yelp before the deafening silence...and the spillage he'd had to clean up by command of his father after he'd all but mangled her body beneath his boot.

The faerie glanced sceptically within the glinted view of the palace cat, which promptly arched its back and hissed with deep-seated animosity in his direction, which, naturally, inspired Alexsander to hiss at it right back, teeth bared in vindictive requital.

"When I was young, I found a kitten," he was petting one of the palace cats. "I believe I called him Dustball? He was gray, you see."

"Anyway, one day he ran away and never returned. I was sad about it, but I like to think that he's happier wherever he is."

Actually, Dustball had died and his caretakers didn't have the heart to tell him.

[swxpped]

Re; {x} from @cantevenbeachhere

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{!!} – A sense of urgent disconcertion, ❝Please, do leave me out. In fact, I insist that you leave me out! Don’t touch me or I shan't be responsible for my actions! You do not have my consent! Bother some other gormless sod with your childish high jinks!❞

Seriously, the last thing Alexsander needed in this instance was physical contact. The aromatic musk of another guest’s cologne had been unpleasantly evocative to him just moments beforehand, his host father's mordant tone ringing in his ears. He held in contempt his own absurd inability to think past anachronistic wounds. This mental fixation on his past was ridiculous; infuriating and illogical, and yet ever-present despite this self-awareness. 

He didn’t explicitly mean to reject Ken’s kindness (however arbitrary) quite so nastily, but the fear - the fear attached to his trauma made him impulsively spiky and standoffish, behaviour for which he would often feel aptly guilty yet would scarcely express as such. Today, though, it seemed that Alexsander would commit to swallowing his pride; as he sensed a certain naivety to Ken that made it seem almost immoral to criticise him too harshly. Sort of like a toddling child. Or a sick and stupid pup with the incapacity to understand why it was being reprimanded for relieving itself on the carpet.

Alexsander tried to pay as little heed as possible to the tightening in his throat while he took a few moments to gather himself, his imminent apology entirely warranted, he realised. What in the world is wrong with you, bullying the vulnerable like that? You should know better than that by now. Pointed claws scratched at, grazed, and finally pierced his own palms, the trickling yield of blood clenched and concealed surreptitiously inside his fists folded uncomfortably into his crossed arms over his chest. His stare was fixated with set concentration upon the edge of the room, like a guilty dog afraid to meet its master's eye, aquiver with nerves and rooted to the spot. ❝…I’m sorry. Please, do try to forgive my discourtesy. I have no excuse to have been so unkind, and while I must still decline your…surprising extension of conviviality, I would like to sincerely apologise for my reaction to it. I am sure there are others whom would gratefully receive your warmth.❞

[swxpped]

Marvels of Insect Life. 1916. 

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{!!} – Would it have surprised Adam if Alexsander were to tell him that some of his best dead friends had been sex workers? His nonparticipation in hiring them for their services paired with the austerity of his comportment upon Adam having approached him at the wrong time was not at all synonymous with the condemnation of their profession, but the faerie would simply allow Adam to invent these preconceptions on his behalf, so long as he went away. People would believe what they wanted to, anyway. 

Engaging his abilities to his advantage, Alexsander conjured a thick wad of notes from what appeared to be thin air and disguised it as a box of playing cards to the rest of the bar’s clientele so that only he and Adam were fully attuned to the transaction. 

“A simple no would have been enough, sir.”

In Alexsander’s experience, a “simple no” had very rarely been enough. So, he paid Adam not to bother him while he continued to guard his drink like a hawk, in spite of his gradual intoxication. Where the Hell was his manager anyway? She was supposed to be here something close to an hour ago.

His expression remained immaculately deadpan in the face of Adam’s contrived smile, causing some ambiguity to his tone, though he wasn’t always as intentionally sarcastic as he seemed. ❝Have a pleasant rest of your evening.❞

Adam frowned not because he was rejected but because of the others tone. A condescending attitude he had encountered many times before,you see it all the time,people looking down on sex worker's, even in somewhere like hell. Well,no skin off his nose, he couldn't force anyone to want him and he was still being paid,which satisfied Val. A tight smile made it's way to his face as he held out his hand. "A simple no would have been enough, sir". @swxpped

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@rocxyoulikeahurricane said: "May I buy you a drink handsome ?" It's not often the prostitute calls out to someone directly but the man had intrigued him from the moment he saw him. Clad in leather the man winked a golden eye giving his best smile. Val probably wouldn't mind, he looked like he had plenty of money.

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{!!} – The provocative leather ensemble was indicative enough, but paired with the question, the escort’s intentions at the bar that night were expressly clear. Alexsander intended to make his equally as plain, turning his head slowly towards him with the lethargy concomitant with controlled drunkenness, mixed with an air of - certainly not disdain - but discernible apathy, if not only mild annoyance upon his personal space having been breached. ❝How about I pay you to leave without me and you never speak to or approach me ever again? I haven’t a problem with you but I should much prefer to be left alone. Thank you for your acquiescence.❞ he concluded bluntly, his scarred hand, adorned with several striking silver rings, instinctively shielding over the top of his drink from being tampered with. Call it learned diligence.

[swxpped]

Concerned Sentences, Vol. 7

(Concerned sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Is everything okay? You seem annoyed about something."

"I don't know why you do this to yourself. You know it doesn't help anything."

"You need to stop reading the news. It's bad for you."

"Doing something rash isn't going to bring him back."

"No, you're not doing this! You're going to kill yourself!"

"I can take care of myself just fine, alright?"

"I appreciate this concern, but I'm not like you, alright?"

"Sometimes, I think you might have a penchant for self-pity."

"There are always unintended consequences to everything we do."

"Yearning won't make it happen."

"When exactly was the last time you had a psych evaluation?"

"You can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try!"

"There's only so much that you can do, and you've obviously reached the limit!"

"I just don't understand why you work so hard to be alone."

"To deny who you are is much more painful than confronting what you hate about yourself."

"You don't need to trust them, but you do need to trust me."

"You're desperate and scared, and desperate people make mistakes."

"Battle scars are not always of the body."

"Denial can be a very powerful thing."

"Things like this - all things, in fact - have consequences."

"You're lonely, and sometimes loneliness turns to bitterness."

"Sometimes there are scars than cannot be seen."

"The truth is, despite you're abilities, you're still just one man."

"How are you really in the grand scheme of things?"

"She's using you, just like all the others."

"Listen, I really want to keep this between you and me. Why don't you start by just telling me the truth?"

"You're a bit out of it tonight."

"You can't hide out here forever, you know. You have to go home sometime."

"This must be a lot for you to process."

"I've known you for a decade. I know your behaviour patterns and how you think. You acted very out of character today."

"You seem like you're making up for lost time."

"You've got to learn to be the hero of your own life again."

"Actually, I don't smoke. Neither should you."

"Why should an accident happen? Are you concerned for your safety?"

"This hero stuff is only going to get somebody hurt."

"You like fighting, don't you?"

"I came as soon as I saw the morning paper. I thought you might need a friend."

"There's something not quite right with you today, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

"You need to decide what you want. Stop dwelling on what you can't have."

"Do you need a hug?"

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Moved from {x} because Tumblr Legacy threads are no longer able to be trimmed

@the-strongest-woman: Saitama glanced back towards the Tanktop to see him kiss his own muscles. For a long moment, she stared at him, her brow furrowed in disbelief. To any onlooker, it would be obvious how little she interacted with the other heroes in the Association--she knew narcissists tended to gravitate towards hero work, but it was a whole other thing to see it in action! It seemed she and the man were of a similar mind as they both gaped at the other hero. The man’s question caught her a little off-guard, and she couldn’t help but let out a quiet, surprised chuckle as she replied, “Oh, ah, we’re not exactly friends. But... I guess so? I mean, from what I hear, a lot of heroes act like that.” She could still remember how that one A-class hero--what was his name? Snake? Whatever--acted when she was inducted into the Association. A little more quietly, she added, “Though, I think the Tanktop group are in a class of their own.” In more ways than one. Right on cue, the Tanktop slurred something about how he was probably the greatest hero there, challenging anyone to come prove themselves better than him. Saitama, not wanting to make a fool of herself, silently hoped he wouldn’t turn his attention towards her. The man--Mr. Lovecraft, no, Alexsander--smiled back at her and bowed slightly, and that made her feel better for her little misstep. She returned the polite bow with one of her own. The strange way he smiled, as though he was simply doing what was expected more than anything, completely escaped her notice. He seemed nice enough, she thought. Certainly much nicer than a lot of the heroes gathered in the elegant ballroom. Though, now that she knew who she was talking to, the reporter glaring at them from nearby made a lot of sense! As did his earlier words about not trusting the words said in the press. Saitama hadn’t exactly done research on the man, as she had no interest in what the press had to say for the most part, but she knew he must be a powerful man to own such an elegant hotel, to be able to host the Hero Association. Remembering her manners at the last moment, she added, “It’s nice to meet you, si--Alexsander.” For a moment, she was quiet, then, before she could help herself, she added, “I’m sorry for how everyone’s acting. Well, um, not everyone, I suppose, but...” She glanced over in time to see the Tanktop in the middle of an arm wrestling contest with a female hero in all-pink spandex and with a shock of blonde hair. Ah. “I’d say heroes aren’t normally like this, but... well, that would be a lie.”

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{!!} – Alexsander was by no means whatsoever an aficionado when it came to the ins and outs of humanitarianism, but something about these people just didn’t sit right with him. These people weren’t role models, they were just professional braggarts with the ability to save people. One only need listen to their drunken blatherskite for as few as thirty seconds in order to gain keen insight into how scantly they actually cared about the people they had saved. Of course, they were proficient conquerors and had aided society in desisting many a worldwide catastrophe, but upon closer examination, it became crystal clear to Alexsander that the real catastrophe at which to be aghast was their attitudes. He got the distinct feeling that the greater good of the world and its people actually had very little to do with why these people had signed up to the Hero Association at all. Rich as it were of an ill-omened creature such as himself to cast his judgement, he couldn’t help but to feel the whole thing was in frightfully poor taste.

Sneering inwardly when the other Tanktop began to run his mouth about how he was literally God’s gift to the world, Alexsander suppressed the rising impulse to harness the misfortune that his dark influence could wreak to enchant the ridiculous gobshite to trip forthwith over thin air and snap at the fucking ankles just to teach him a well-deserved lesson about being an insufferable blowhard. He’d done it before, and if he focused enough, Alexsander was almost certain that he could do it again, but the fey decided against it on the very thinnest sliver of clemency. After all, he was very tired and it was his venue that was hosting this total farce of an event, so he supposed he should do what he could to accomplish the most favourable outcome. Had this not been the case, he may not have been so lenient, and the Tanktop could’ve ended up in intensive care without much of a fathomable recollection of how he had ended up there.

The host spoke earnestly, ❝Please, feel no responsibility to apologise on behalf of your colleagues. They are of absolutely no discredit to you.❞ He knew first-hand the effects of being tarred with the same brush as one’s associates. According to some, he was every bit as much of a child-eating, woman-napping wretch as the rest of the Unseelie class. He saw no sense in judging Saitama upon the shortcomings, however tremendous, of the other participants in the Hero Association, though Alexsander would keep his guard up in the same way he always did, just in case this really was some kind of elaborately calculated deception with his reputation as the object of their ridicule or attack.

A surreptitious glance at his watch proceeded the inevitability of his social battery beginning to wear rather too thin to be ignored, and so the changeling felt it best to find a way to politely abscond from the gathering without a fuss before he actually started to snap at some of these ridiculous pantomime characters, to reluctantly return a little later on in the evening. A brief moment of hesitation passed between them before Alexsander broached the subject, not wanting to appear in a hurry to bring the conversation to a close, be it as he was, ❝You wouldn’t have happened to have spoken to a Ms. Caroline Myers here tonight, would you...? My assistant seems to have disappeared yet again into the masses, and I would very much like for you to meet her – that is, if you would be so kind as to oblige, of course.❞

Caroline, you indispensable idle chatterer, where are you…? Oh. There she was. Laughing performatively with her arm draped loosely around the neck of a brawny fellow donning what appeared to be about two-foot long shoulder pads. Surely, an outfit that extravagant would hinder his ability to save the world...? It was by this moment in time that Alexsander came to the realisation that he actually, in fact, did not care enough to prolong his pondering of the inane & that he really just wanted nothing more than to escape into a quiet room with the familiar comfort of a large pot of scalding hot tea. Having procured her attention, the assistant in question came wandering obediently to his heel, having seen this far too many a time not to have 'got the memo', swooping in with the watchful vigilance of a hawk to smile, talk, and distract the hind legs off the other woman in order to allow Alexsander to feign a weary smile and murmur something indistinct about needing to speak to somebody, and take his leave.

Just one hour, to recharge, away from the organised chaos. What could possibly go wrong in an hour? Everything, his proclivity to catastrophise chimed in, but Alexsander would do his best to quell those nagging concerns, for the time being at least.

[swxpped]

Anonymous said: Unalive yourself!

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{!!} – ❝Now, you see, this is precisely what is wrong with today’s society! Why can’t you just tell me to kill myself like any self-respecting person over the age of thirty? There comes a point amidst all this censorship malarkey at which your words completely lose their potency. If you’re going to attempt to goad me into suicide, bloody do it properly!❞ Alexsander should probably be careful what he wished for, but Christ!

The decline in the standard of psychological torment these days was far more concerning to him than the threat itself, by which he appeared to remain exclusively unmoved. The self-inflicted scars around both his wrists were proof enough that he’d contended with far more consequential troubles in life than a petty fool who shouted dialectical inadequacies such as “unalive yourself” at him from a cowardly distance.

And yet, Alexsander still happened to find himself tugging subtly at his cuffs to conceal them from sight, suddenly achingly aware of these flaws to his skin.

[swxpped]

{It's Alexsander's 200th Birthday!!!! <3}

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@erotichorrors sent a sentence starter: ❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

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{!!} – His entire body seemed to recoil in instantaneous and all-consuming mortification, his jaw clenching tightly with disgust and an underlying feeling of apprehension, if not fear, making him feel sick to his stomach. Quickly, it transposed outwardly with a prominent sense of indignation, outrage maddening his now oxford blue eyes upon having been scandalised with such flagrant and direct obscenity. Alexsander swiftly rose to his full height from where he had bent over to retrieve his pen from the floor to jab it accusatorily in Frank’s direction, ❝Look here, there is no need for that! If you’re going to be bloody vulgar, then I shan’t be doing business with you! Do you want this deal or not?❞