#basically just assumed the worst about me rather than trusting that i meant no harm. just needed some goddamn clarity jfc

[truly-fantastic-me]

I don't know who needs to hear this-you know what? Yes, I do. This is a PSA for the motherfuckers who think it's okay to take someone's boundary in bad faith just because it was said in a way that "triggered" them. Needing direct communication doesn't make someone "controlling." Not hiding from you when you happen to be in the same fucking building doesn't make someone a "bully."

No one, except for your perpetrators if you have any, is responsible for your triggers. No, I'm not saying it's your fault you have those triggers. Yes, I am saying that it's up to you to deal with them. While your friends, family, and significant others can help you deal with your triggers, they sure as shit ain't responsible for dealing with them for you. Be safer! Do better!

[guaxinimraccoon]

jesus christ why-

oh mY DEAR GOD-

FIRST OF ALL I'm SO sorry for taking so damn long to answer those, I've been really really busy and I'm very sorry, I'm doing my best to answer everybody ; o ;

BUT FINALLY let's talk about our big last Euphoria reveal (about four months ago but ok-), where I showed you guys that Alex is Brad's father and Elisa is Toby's mom.

"BUT GUAX WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? HOW?? WHEN??? WHERE??"

SHUSH , CALM YOUR TITS DOWN and let me explain:

Ok, so I'll be putting some links here and there because yes, Alex and Elisa's story is very, VERY connected to Brad and Toby's. 

And get ready for a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long post. You were warned.

As you all already know, Alex and Elisa had a troublesome meeting, but eventually got closer to each other, they fell in love yadda yadda yadda BUT their will to get closer to each other, in other words, their relationship brought HUGE consequences.

Yes, they did manage to build a healthy relationship, they were happy, they were fine.

But they were also adults, adults that wanted something serious and concrete, they couldn't spend the rest of their lives as forbbiden lovers.

So Elisa did something literally illegal. She did a potion that was forbidden by the Colony authorities - a shrunken potion - to get closer to Alex.

Those potions were never developed, they're rustic and really antique, so they could do more harm than good or not work at all.

But Alex didn't care, he took the risk and drank the potion to get closer to his girl, the woman that was the love of his life.

The effect of the potion is temporary, so Alex would drink them from time to time whenever he had the opportunity to visit the Colony, spend some time with Elisa and, of course, be a part of her life.

He wasn't just trying to "be like her", he was also trying to be a part of her home. He made friends with her friends, he met her family, he met new imps, new fairies, all of it under his "imp disguise". He even fought for the Colony at it's war times (that is lasting till the current story time). He EVEN presented himself with a more “impish name” - Turk - to make sure people wouldn’t suspect anything.

Of course, people eventually started to ask why didn’t he live in the Colony with Elisa, why did he only showed up from time to time. Alex and Elisa lied, obviously, they told everyone that Alex belonged to a secluded imp tribe that lived walking around the forest as nomads, which made sense since those types of imp communities do exist.

ANYWAY THE POINT IS Alex grew affectioned of those people and with their lifestyle. He started to feel like he was one of them. 

And, of course, he was now closer than he ever was to Elisa.

Since they were different species, they never worried about having kids. I’ve never said this before but Alex is a doctor, he knows about this stuff, so he always made sure to reassure Elisa that "they were their own condon" and, as sad as it may sound, they couldn't have kids.

... Or so Alex thought.

You know how tigers and lions can have offspring together? Yeah, it's the same thing.

It's very hard to happen, but they spent YEARS together if you know what I mean so yeah

That's how Alex and Elisa gave birth to their first child: Tobias, the only one of a specie that is a mix between human and imp.

His parents were really worried at first, afterall, they new NOTHING about Toby's condition. They didn't know if he was going to grow as large as a human or if he'd assume imp proportions forever. After some research with his son's blood, Alex found out that Toby was indeed half human and half imp, but he was predominantly physically an imp. That means his biological features are, mostly, imp like: he'd hardly grow as large as a human through his life's course and could live as a normal imp in the Colony. The fact that he showed talent for magic (once he was old enough to do so) and was able to do it just like any other imp in the Colony also made things easier.

Elisa and Alex chose to raise Toby in the Colony, they believed it’d be healthier and safer for him (especially after some events that I’ll be talking about in other posts), although it hurt Alex to pretend that he was an imp to his son and that he couldn’t see him everyday. 

Even if they couldn’t see each other everyday, Alex and Toby were very close. Toby loved his daddy very much and was very attached to him.

After five years after Toby was born, Elisa got pregnant again and gave birth to their second child: Bernardo (that’d eventually be nicknamed as “Brad”), one of the two only beings of the specie Alex and Elisa accidently created together.

For preucation, Alex took a bit of Brad’s blood and made some research, just like he did to Toby.

And what he found out wasn’t exactly... relieving.

Brad, just like Toby, was half human and half imp, but he had expressed mostly human features in his physical body. He was as small as a baby imp now, but it was a matter of time until he started to grow very VERY large.

Unlike Toby, Brad couldn’t live as an imp in the Colony and things got very complicated for them.

Alex wanted to leave. He told Elisa the Colony’s community would NEVER accept their youngest, they would never accept Alex and probably wouldn’t accept Toby either. They had to leave that place before they couldn’t hide the truth anymore, even if it cost revealing Toby, a five year old child, that most of his life was a lie.

But Elisa was hesitant. She didn’t want to leave her home, her parents, her friends. She knew Alex was right, they couldn’t stand that play for too long, but how to leave everything she had built behind? How to leave everything she knew as home behind? It wasn’t that easy.

Until something very bad happened.

Remember I said Alex made a few friends in the Colony? So, one of them was Stefan, a experienced fairy soldier that had known Elisa for as long as she was alive. He was pretty much her best friend (even if he was old enough to be her father) and now he was also great friends with Alex.

Stefan is important here. He has a very tragic backstory involving humans. He lost pretty much everything to them: his whole family and his wings, something that meant more than just flying to him.

So, as expected, he hates humans and truly believes that they are nothing more than monsters that try to manipulate you and to get advantage from imp’s and fairy’s magic. 

After some years, he started to get very suspicious over Alex. Some things weren’t making any sense anymore and that “nomad imp community” was starting to sound way more like an excuse than the actual truth. He simply didn’t understand what was stopping him to live with Elisa and his sons for once.

So he did some investigation. One day, he followed Alex (that he knew as Turk) out of the Colony, in one of the days he had only come to visit his family. Alex had said earlier that he had to “go back to his own society”. Yeah, right. Stefan was hiding the whole time and followed Alex till a good distane from the Colony’s limits. 

And he didn’t get exaclty happy to see his best friend growing impossibly huge out of nowhere.

Stefan now knew the truth: Alex was pretending to be an imp using shrinking potions. He didn’t belong to any nomad imp group, he was a human that lived in his own house and was coming to the Colony to play family with them.

Of course, he didn’t only felt betrayed, but pissed as fuck. Stefan didn’t waste any time: as soon as Alex came back to the Colony he confronted him. Alex tried to explain himself, but they only argued and ended up having a pretty bad fight.

In anger, Stefan didn’t want to hear no more explanations, so he told some of the Colony’s high authorities about Alex’s lies and that they had to do something about it. 

The Colony’s Council decided to call Elisa and solve things between imps and fairies only. But they showed her no mercy.

They basically gave her two options: or she’d prove her loyalty to the Colony and would kill her husband and her human son, or the Colony would sentence all of them to death penalty, including Toby and Brad, children that they claimed should have never been born. 

Elisa was in shatters. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t kill the man she loved and her baby child, she just couldn’t. She was about to accept the second option, rathering die with her family than killing them, but Stefan decided to help her out.

He wasn’t expecting the Council to be so cruel and he started to regret his decisions the moment he saw how Elisa was worried about her family and how much she loved them, even if they were human. He hated Alex and Brad, but seeing Elisa in excruciating pain over them was impossible for him, so he made up a plan with her to save everybody.

It cost Elisa to trust Stefan, he had told their secrets to the worst people possible, but she had no option aside from accepting his help and following his plan.

The plan was simple: Elisa would tell the Council she’d kill Alex and Brad and would tell Alex that she had changed her mind and that they should leave the Colony as soon as possible now that Stefan knew the truth.

Alex believed her and, after Stefan’s confirmation, so the Council did. The next step was to take Alex and Brad to the Colony’s limits, pretending they were about to leave. 

Then it happened.

Elisa made, with Stefan’s help, a huge barrier on the Colony’s frontier that didn’t allowed humans to cross it. It was basically a security method that they never thought it’d be necessary.

But now it was and it wasn’t meant to protect the ones inside the Colony...

Of course, Alex didn’t understand SHIT.

He spent MONTHS returning to the Colony in his shrinking form, trying to find a way to cross the barrier and to get Toby back. 

Or to talk to Elisa.

Or to understand.

Or anything.

He just wanted his family.

Eventually, his potions ended and he was left to raise Brad on his own and to never see his wife and oldest son again.

Since then, he hates Elisa. Or at least thinks he does. He’s just deeply mad at her, he doesn’t understand why she left them. 

He did everything for her. Denyed his own race, submitted himself to the dangerous effects of a extremely nocive potion which he faces the consequences till this day, did his fucking best to be the best father and husband his family could have-

All this love, all this effort, all this sweat and blood

Wasted.

It took years for him to fully recover. Aside from the health problems the abusive use of the shrinking potions brought, he also became alcohoolic. Because he wasn’t mentally estable enough, neither to take care of himself and of his very very small son, he went to live in his parents house. His family knew about Elisa and the children they had together, his folks actually liked her a lot so it saddened them as well that she simply abandoned Alex and Brad and that they would never see Toby again.

His family didn’t had to worry about Brad’s very little size for too long though, before he was one year old he had already reached his human size.

Anyway, Alex’s family gave him a huge help until he was healthy enough to take care of Brad, the only one left from the family he built.

Back to Elisa, she didn’t told Alex her plan because she KNEW he wouldn’t want to do it. She simply knew Alex would be too stubborn. He’d have wanted to try to escape or to face the Council. Both alternatives would get them all killed.

Toby didn’t understand why his mother did what she did. He was forced to go back home with her, screaming the whole time, saying that they left his father and brother behind while Elisa was crying endelessly.

Stefan came to them eventually and calmed Toby down. His heart broke when he saw Elisa. She was... not okay.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to assist her. He immediatly went to a representent of the Council and took them to Elisa and to the Colony’s frontier to prove that she had done it and did even more than she was suppose to. Of course, not without consequences to her sanity, she had just killed her husband and baby, of course she was in pain.

Nevertheless, the Council confirmed Elisa had done her part and left to leave her alone with the child they let live.

After that, Toby spent weeks returning to that spot of the frontier to look for his dad and brother. No sucess.

As time went by, he eventually forgot about Brad, he was very young when they tore apart and Elisa and Stefan never talked about him nor Alex. All he can remember is that there was a baby in the middle of that mess, but he can’t relate to it.

He kept the memories of his father though, who was closer to him, and till this day he believes he’s alive somewhere and that he can be found. But he has no idea he’s a human and has no idea of his own true nature.

Elisa and Alex miss their respective sons deeply and think about them everyday. They also miss each other very much and the first months after the incident were terribly agonizing for the both of them.

They kept going for the child that had remained for the both of them and raised them apart from each other. Alex never told Brad what happened and so Elisa did to Toby. Like that, none of the brothers knew about the existence of each other.

Until the day Toby was sent, coincidentally, to his “little” brother’s house

And none of them has no idea of this fucking long backstory I just spent four months writing :)

enjoy

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

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If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi. I hope you had/are having a great summer break. I (INTP) am hoping for some perspective about an issue. Recently, my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, became incredibly frustrated that I corrected her with an alleged “I know everything” attitude.

It’s an issue of concern because she revealed that I always do this. I guess this was the straw that broke it, especially given that what we were discussing was very trivial. (Maybe the frivolousness of the subject is precisely what made my correction seem more pedantic, unnecessary, arrogant.) She says that my attitude disregards her long life experience, and that if she were a stranger, she would think of me as a “snot-nosed brat who knows nothing about life” instead of as a “wise young person”, which is the viable alternative. She said that I am closed-minded and that I shoot everything down. (The problem of small-mindedness is what you addressed the only other time I wrote to you.)

I don’t know why I come off as arrogant. I’m sure that I’m not. I asked my mother what it was that made her think that, which she thought was a silly question because what she sensed was a general demeanor rather than specific behaviors. In the end we were only able to establish that my lack of eye contact was one of those factors. I can work on that, but surely that’s not determinant. What makes people think of others as arrogant? Should I stop correcting people? I don’t correct others in order to feel superior to them. I do it because I like to debate, in order to keep my thinking sharp, and because there is something painful about friends/family having false notions. I think it’s fair to say that my intention isn’t rooted in arrogant soils.

Granted, my suggestion of stopping correcting people is black-and-white, given that there is the grey option of changing the *way* I correct people. I’m just wondering if it’s an unhealthy habit in the first place. But given how prevalent a thought process it is (i.e. questioning people’s statements and finding faults), the process of getting rid of it may be akin to self-directed psychological violence. I mean, this is the same mode of being that makes me good at what I’m good at. (There’s also the option of keeping the thought process, but not correcting people aloud, but I don’t know what else there is to talk about other than analyzing ideas and their faults. Maybe I should analyze ideas for their strengths too, and express that side more than the faults.)

So anyway, let’s go with grey: So far I’ve tried thinking of an arrogant person that I know in order to understand my behavior, but I can’t think of anyone. Also, no matter how hard I try to put myself in someone else’s shoes in order to simulate an interaction with myself, it doesn’t really work, and I can’t see the arrogance, except if I were to just tell someone “that’s wrong” without any explanation. (I wonder if that’s what went wrong in the conversation with my mother.) Either way, this whole issue boils down to the fact that I’m not arrogant by any reasonable criteria that I found online, but that I come off as such. This was longer than intended. Thanks for your kindness and help.

-----------------------

Here are some questions for you to reflect on. They are meant to increase awareness of your underlying assumptions, beliefs, and values. Answer honestly:

Do you care about your mom? Do you care about how she's faring, what she's experiencing, what she's thinking or feeling, what she needs and desires, what she hopes for or aspires to, etc?

If you care, how do you SHOW your care to her?

If you don't care, how does that affect your behavior toward her?

Do you believe that the mother-child relationship only goes one-way? (Is it the mom's job to do for you but you owe her nothing?)

You say you like to debate to sharpen your mind. Innocent enough. I like to roller skate to keep myself physically fit. In an ideal world, I would never take my skates off. Does my enthusiasm for roller skating mean that I slap my skates on anywhere, any time? No. Surely it is inappropriate to skate around a hospital or the supermarket. Not only could I seriously harm myself, I would also be exhibiting flagrant disregard for the safety and well-being of others.

What you like to do for yourself sometimes comes into conflict with other people. If you care about people and hope to have healthy and happy relationships with them, you have to take their needs and wants into consideration in every interaction. You have to abide by ethical rules and principles that allow your needs to be met without neglecting the needs of others or interfering with their ability to get their needs met. Without ethics, society wouldn't be able to function, because it would just be a free-for-all.

You mention small-mindedness. It is quite small-minded to walk around the world only thinking about what you need/want. In the best case scenario, you are completely oblivious to others, and they will perceive you as clueless or self-absorbed. In the worst case scenario, you only interact with people for your own personal gain, and that would make you an exploitative or even abusive person. Is that the kind of person you want to be?

Do you basically treat people as though their sole purpose on earth is to debate you and help you sharpen your mind - to serve you? Do you launch into debates with people without asking for consent or checking to see if they want to be corrected? If you do, they will call you arrogant, not because you've put yourself on a pedestal and call yourself superior like an evil cartoon character, but because you are communicating to them that your needs/wants are most important AND you don't give a damn about theirs.

Webster's definition of arrogance: "an insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that you are better, smarter, or more important than other people". You believe that you know better, otherwise, you wouldn't grant yourself the social authority to intrude on people's boundaries, invalidate their experience, and correct them uninvited. You believe that you are smarter, otherwise, you wouldn't automatically assume the dominant social role of corrector. You behave as though you are the more important member of the relationship because your main priority is YOUR need to feel better (about your skills or about what others believe) while overlooking the other person's needs. Seems like you fit the definition quite well.

Despite that, I wouldn't call you arrogant because I understand that small-mindedness is a difficult problem to overcome. I see the effort that you're putting in to understand it. I'm charitable because I'm not the one who was hurt by your behavior. When people feel hurt, they often have difficulty expressing it. Maybe it comes out clumsily or they aren't able to explain their hurt without hurting you in return. Expressing one's true feelings is to make oneself vulnerable. If someone doesn't trust you to understand and validate their feelings or, worse, they believe that you will attack them for their feelings, they will not be completely honest with you. Your mom is trying her best to give you the benefit of the doubt by saying "if you were a stranger...", but she doesn't feel comfortable enough with you to express her hurt fully and explicitly as it happens. Why? Because the very reason she is hurt in the first place is that you have shown very little regard for her feelings. Following from the previous post of yours, the root of the problem is that you have such a poor understanding of feelings to begin with that you view them as inconsequential in yourself and others (very immature Fe).

I believe you have no ill-intent. I have said before that the typical Ti dom never sets out to hurt people on purpose. Rather, they hurt people unintentionally because their perspective is too small: 1) they don't grasp that other people's needs may be very different from their own and thereby fail to consider them, 2) they don't know how to empathize with different perspectives and validate them, and/or 3) they don't understand that SHOWING love and care is necessary for people to justify continued investment in the relationship.

In other words, Ti doms tend to hurt people out of negligence or acts of omission. Some of them get frustrated at not being able to solve their relationship problems. They might try to convince themselves that doing nothing means that no harm can be done, so they adopt a passive stance in the relationship and perhaps even train themselves to keep their mouth shut (self-violence). They fail to understand that there's more than one way to cause hurt. Instead of learning better relationship skills, they check out mentally and emotionally. Being checked out only makes it worse because you hurt yourself and you keep hurting others by being even less attentive to their needs.

The foundation of meaningful relationships is showing care. In a healthy relationship, people trust you to care for their emotional needs and not violate their personal boundaries. If you only attend to your own needs/wants in social interaction, you are signalling that you don't really care about the other person. This problem with your mom shows that you give little to no consideration for emotional needs and personal boundaries. If you don't want friends, it's entirely your choice to be alone for the rest of your life, pretending that you never leave any footprints behind you. If you want friends, you'll have to put out more effort to be a better friend, by paying more attention to the consequences of your behavior.

Doing things that violate trust and boundaries, even if unintentional, causes hurt. When people feel hurt and don't feel safe to express the hurt, they are liable to say/do negative things. To have good emotional intelligence is to see past the surface of their negative words/behavior and grasp the underlying emotional needs that were unmet and/or the personal boundaries that were violated. Only then can you be a morally responsible member of a relationship, in terms of owning all the ways that you impact people, both positively and negatively.

Arrogant people don't care about the social impact they produce. As long as they get what they want and don't lose anything, the existence of others is of little importance to them. If your mom is important to you, then learn how to show it better by listening to her when she tells you about her needs/wants. You hyperfocus on the literal meaning of the word "arrogant" and whether it is true/false of you, as though proving it false means that there's nothing wrong. You need to listen to the people you have hurt, if you want to understand why your behavior is hurtful. Alternatively, you need to educate yourself about emotional needs, interpersonal boundaries, and what constitutes un/ethical behavior and why.

[doozie97]

Genderfluid!Superhero Marc Anciel Headcanon

As conflicts escalate and the guardian of the Miraculouses is lost, Marinette is entrusted with the Miracle Box. She wonders if the jewelry would be safer from Hawkmoth and his steadily growing legion of villains if scattered and left under the care of trusted individuals, rather than kept together to be captured all at once in the worst case scenario. Plus, Ladybug could use the extra help. (If we’re assuming Marinette would choose all of her classmates because they’re the only people she can trust, I think Ladybug would find a way to contact and choose a small handful of heroes at a time. That way, when an Akuma attacks, Ms. Bustier’s class doesn’t suddenly all have to go to the washroom at once). Ladybug meets all the potential holders individually to give them their Miraculouses, rather than running back home in the middle of battle to pass them out one at a time.

Marc would be given the goat horn earrings, highlighting his parallels with Marinette, and mirroring his black and white colour scheme as Reverser. (Assuming these things are supposed to be earrings, idek)

The day Ladybug walks up to Marc Anciel and entrusts him with protecting the Miraculous of the Goat is one he’ll never forget. He was so unbelievably honoured that Ladybug, his idol and muse, would bestow someone like him of all people with such a sacred responsibility.

He’s especially relieved Ladybug wasn’t upset or creeped out by the comics he made with Nathaniel where he basically shipped her with one of her former adversaries. Secretly, having Ladybug as the protagonist was a scapegoat for his self-insert fanfics that indulge both his desire to be just like the powerful lady superhero, as well as his shameless crush on the Evillustrator. Which, by extension, includes his soft spoken civilian counterpart. Marc will take this fact to the grave.

When the Goat Kwami pops out of the box, Marc curls in on himself and let’s out a dying whale noise, because she’s just. SO. CUTE. His Kwami curls up into his big red hood when they travel together.

Marc and his Kwami quickly learn to love talking to each other and exchanging stories. The Goat Kwami enjoys the writer’s endless creativity and romanticism in his stories. While Marc is enraptured by the tales of previous owners and the true accounts of various historical events, making him just as knowledgeable about Kwamis and the Miraculouses as Alya after she shoots Trixx a million questions. He also learns a few things not even the original three holders are aware of, including how Kwamis can also disguise their owner’s voice if asked. “You guys never talked to your Kwamis about these things? You are carrying around literal GODS among men who’ve been around for millions of years in your pockets, and you don’t want to know everything about them?”.

In Marc’s room they spend hours together working out plot holes or inconsistencies with some of the writer’s original works or his trashiest fics he can’t bring himself to show Nathaniel. Though, most of the time it entails Marc solving the problems himself while his Kwami sits back and listens, devouring pretzels and other salty snacks.

Ladybug isn’t the only girl Marc admires. He feels the same way about Marinette, but he is also envious of her. She’s a fantastic friend and leader figure, and even got the attention of Nathaniel once. Marinette is everything Marc wants to be, but just can’t.

In the art room, Juleka, Rose, and sometimes Alix model for Marinette’s clothes. Marc helps takes photos, and the Goat Kwami ends up seeing them. He secretly wants to try on her designs, but is too afraid to ask, worrying that his friend would think it’s weird for a boy to request such a thing. His Kwami doesn’t really understand Marc’s hesitation, because while Kwamis use male and female pronouns when referring to each other, gender is still just another human social construct to them, and he thinks Marc would look great in a dress or a frilly hat. Those words meant a lot to him. (This headcanon is also accepting the idea that Kwamis use the same gender pronouns of their latest owners, since not all languages have gender-neutral pronouns.)

This conversation happens before all the heroes meet up to introduce each other. Ladybug recommends to everyone to decide on their hero persona in advance, from hero name to their very mannerisms and behaviours. “Become an entirely different person” she says. When the heroes meet up, Ladybug is pleasantly surprised to meet a goat themed super-heroine, with a female voice and all. “I just figured no one would question why Marc and a girl superhero are never around at the same time…you don’t think it’s weird, do you?” “Not at all!”

I can’t for the life of me think of a good french goat pun, but one hero name I thought of is ‘Silene‘, which is the genus of flowers whose petals look like goat hooves, and apparently represents ‘Youthful Love’ in flower language. It’s also a combination of the name Silenus, god of the Satyrs, and Selene, the moon goddess who was seduced by Pan. It was either that or “Panic”. “Pan….ic. Panic. Get it? Because I’m panicking on the inside”.

Joining the Art Room has allowed Marc to express his real sense of humor and show off some of his true colours, but it’s only when he is in his heroine persona that he feels safe enough to fully express his adoration for cute boys. Silene also adopts a much more ‘do no harm, take no bull’ attitude than Marc normally has. He’s dealt with a lot of things in the past before transferring to Collège Françoise Dupont, and quite frankly he’s tired of being pushed around.

One day Marc would tell the Goat Kwami about his crush on a boy in his class. Since “having a crush” is an expression that began in the late 1800s and the zodiac Kwamis haven’t had masters in centuries, he has no clue what Marc is talking about. “You want to CRUSH him? Have you tried using a boulder?” (English has too many idioms, man.)

Marc has to explain to him that having a crush means when you really really like someone and feel like you want to spend the rest of your life with them. The goat Kwami interprets this as something like how he feels towards the Horse Kwami (who just so happens to be under the ownership of a certain artistically talented redhead). Marc’s Kwami feels saddened by the fact that he likely won’t see his lifelong companion again until Nooroo and Duusu are retrieved, which is when Marc and all the other holders will have to give up their Miraculouses.

Over time, Marc becomes more open about himself, even in his civilian form, and becomes a better person because of his time as a Miraculous holder. Unlike with Ladybug and Chat Noir, neither Sirene or Marc is the mask. Both are very real to him. It’s just that Marc has to learn to be honest that both sides of him are valid. When it’s time for the two to separate, the Goat Kwami wants to stay with his holder. “Marc, I want to crush you.”

[funkymbtifiction]

Help! Can you be annoyed by your own cognitive functions in someone else?

I’m wondering if you can help me sort something out. For the longest time I’ve typed myself as an INFP - from back when I started with just the individual letters, but even reading everything here and considering the functions. I’ve always identified strongly with Fi, and the people in my life seem to agree that it’s a ‘central’ facet of my personality (a consistent theme during my wedding toasts was that I know what I want / who I am / what I think and I will often stubbornly hold to that) . However, I’ve never fit certain INFP stereotypes (being very sensitive to criticism, non-confrontational, or broody). But – I know not to trust type stereotypes and Fi/Ne always made sense to me.

But recently I’ve been questioning my type for one big reason: I have a close INFP friend who drives me CRAZY in very Fi-ways. She is basically an INFP stereotype: emotionally-driven artist, strong morals, deep self-doubt, very sensitive to any perceived slight, extremely creative and idealistic.

So my high-level question is: Is it possible to be annoyed by someone’s thinking process if they are the same type as you?

My more specific questions is: am I interpreting these scenarios correctly as examples of Fi-dom/Ne-aux in her – and is my annoyance at them an indication that I am NOT in fact Fi-dom/Ne-aux?

For example:

She has an extremely rigid idea of right/wrong and will write off anyone/anything if she believes they are wrong or ‘bad.’ She won’t even read books or articles by people if she doesn’t think she will agree with them. This drives me INSANE. It bothers me on some extremely deep level how close-minded she is and that she won’t even entertain ideas if she believes them to be counter to her values. I’ve had to avoid being around her at times because this rigidity is emotionally draining to me. I think maybe this is my Ne reacting very emotionally to her strong Fi.

She tends to interpret the actions of others as being targeted at her. For example, she has accused mutual friends of being ‘emotionally manipulative’ when they are simply expressing their feelings about how something she did impacted them. I have noticed that in order to get her to think about it differently, I have to first validate her initial feelings/judgements, and only then is she open to consider alternative explanations (classic Fi/Ne I assume – but to me it seems SO reactive – why put yourself through all that?).

She gets easily overwhelmed by stress and will quit/withdraw from things regardless of the impact of others (and without thinking of alternatives). For instance, she was planning an event for a group of friends that everyone was looking forward to (her idea). She became overwhelmed by the planning (inferior Te?) and canceled the entire thing. I understood that she was overwhelmed and thought it was appropriate for her to step down if it was causing her stress, but I was baffled that she wouldn’t think of other options that wouldn’t leave us all in the lurch. I suggested that I could take on hosting instead with the help of some other friends. I actually enjoy coordinating events so it was the obvious solution to most of us.

There are other example, but I’ll stop there. All of this is making me think that I might actually be an ENFP since my Ne seems to be confused/frustrated by her Fi a lot. Except – I’ve never really doubted being an introvert, despite being somewhat social and very people-oriented. I value my relationships highly, but am really most comfortable alone and always have been. Am I missing some explanation for why her Fi bothers me so much? Is it just because it’s not MY Fi with MY values/beliefs? Help!

It’s possible, yes, to be annoyed by people who share your functional stack, in the same order you have it. It often comes down to a case of a mature person finding an immature one irritating. ;)

From what you describe, there’s three possibilities here and one certainty.

Possibility #1: You are an ENFP. This is plausible, because Ne-doms are not very extroverted and a lot of ENFPs mistype as INFPs. The biggest and most observable difference between them is Ne-doms are instant reactors; there’s no delay between hearing a thing and responding to it. That’s why they have a reputation for being sarcastic, witty, even mean at times -- they hear something, they respond to it, and usually it in some way twists the situation around to mock it or show its weak spots. INFPs have a longer delay, due to an introvert-first process; they are more serious in general than the ENFP (unless they’re a 6w7, which brings an element of “funny” to soften them to appeal to others and deflect harm). Another good way to decide this is to decide if you suck more at Te (organizing) or Si (details) and look for evidence in your daily life.

Possibly #2: You are both INFPs and you’re just finding her annoying. If you’re sure about being Fi-dom, you form almost instant judgments on situations (and then open up with Ne, rather than the other way around), and you have a strong and competent Si... then yes, you’re an INFP.

Possibility #3: She’s an ISFP. You gave me plenty of examples of Fi-dom, but nothing to indicate she’s an intuitive, which means the likelihood of her being an ISFP is high. You should be seeing evidence of Ne, if it’s there (including her changing her mind a lot, over a relatively short span of time); and if it’s not, her “singular focus” could be because she doesn’t have it, and is prone to Fi/Ni loops. ISFPs are just as sensitive and creative as INFPs, but they have low Ni. Being super stubborn about sticking to a narrow point of view without intuitive nuance is the a habit of an unhealthy, looping ISFP --  low Ni locks onto “one interpretation” and misreads the situation. The Fi lacks sufficient Ni maturity to assess their conclusion as wrong, so defends it while rejecting external ideas.

Sounds like her, right?

The certainty is this:if she is an INFP (and not an ISFP in a loop) she is resisting Ne development.

If that is the case, that’s not good. At all. When Ne tries to kick on, healthy Fi users embrace it. It’s new. It’s interesting. It’s full of possibilities. It broadens their perspectives and their minds. It makes the INXP as they get older, “soften” their harsh dominant judgments and realize those judgments do not work in every single situation. It brings in nuance.

But less healthy Fi users don’t want nuance. That’s scary. They don’t want to challenge their point of view, out of fear they might lose it. Seeing the other side of something could shake them from their convictions, and that’s all they have. There are tons of people in this world, and very few of them will actively and open-mindedly go in to explore the opposing views without having a chip on their shoulder or something to prove. They’re scared of what might happen if they let go if their preconceptions and have to start from a blank slate. Some people are okay with uncertainty and not knowing. Your friend, thus far, is not one of them. If she’s Ne, she’s pushing away from Ne, coz it’s scary.

As a result, nothing in her stack is developing right. All she is, is Fi. That’s the central core of her being an identity. Her Ne isn’t working right, which means her Si won’t develop right, which means her Te hasn’t a hope in hell. And, there’s nothing you can do about it, except wait and watch. Life is not going to let her stay this way. It will teach her that these narrow views, and being needy and offended over nothing isn’t how reality works. Reality is, people want you to get the job done, and not be a baby about it. She will come to a crisis at some point in which she will have to choose whether to deny reality, and continue as she is (and face a lot of failure, disappointment and hardship, due to her poor cognitive stack development) or she will ... start developing Ne.

Ne will help her with Fi. It will allow her to be more objective and take things less personally, because instead of assuming the worst from her friends intentions (a hasty, bad intuitive knee-jerk connection -- reading into what’s there, based on feelings, instead of seeing what’s there and intuitively gathering the truth from it), she will stop to think, “Maybe they meant this... or that... or nothing at all... and I’m just overreacting.”

If you are both INFPs (and she sounds ISFP to me), your annoyance isn’t because you’re not her type, it’s because you embraced Ne and she hasn’t. Yet. She may still. Give it time. I understand how frustrating it can be to see someone self-sabotaging like that, and mistreating her friends by being overly self-preoccupied and easily offended, but have some compassion for her. For some reason, she is intimidated by Ne. And that’s sad. But it does not mean that someday down the line, she’ll grow up.

At some point, you had to make the same choice... and you matured. She can mature too. It’s not wrong to challenge her, though. Everyone needs friends to support and love them, and also call them out on their crap. ;)

- ENFP Mod

[perfectly-balanced]

Thanos, I understand that you're trying to accomplish something good from your perspective, but I think you're overlooking the resilience of human nature. Even if the Earth gets destroyed humanity would be able to find a way to escape, to go to another planet or solar system perhaps. That's the beauty of human nature, we adapt under any condition and overcome to survive.

Since you have come to me with a rational, at least in comparison to others, approach, I am inclined to humor your argument.

Even though of course the very thought that you believe you were able to come up with an angle that I, an immortal all-powerful being, was not able to is still naive at best and insulting at worst.

Now, I have many counters to your points, as just about everything you said is deeply flawed under closer inspection. First of all, the human race isn’t the only species I did what I did for, far from it. So even assuming your arguments were correct, which they aren’t, the same couldn’t be said for all the other species.

As always, you humans remain self-centered and assume everything revolves around you, which is part of the problem that got you into this mess in the first place. To me, your kind is merely one infinitesimal grain of sand in the beach of the universe.

A particularly stubborn and irritating piece of sand, rougher than many of the others, mind you, and one insistent on getting into places it shouldn’t be, but still a single grain nonetheless.

Now, aside from that, as I said before I am immortal, which means I have been alive for a very long time. Long enough to have changed drastically since I was young.

I wasn’t always so intent on my current mission. Before I reached the conclusion that I would have to erase half of all life, I considered other options first. As in, all of them.

I was raised as a scientist, and so my first approach was naturally to eliminate all other possible solutions, the ‘nicer’ ones, first before resorting to drastic measures.

After my planet was destroyed, I traveled to many different worlds that were similarly on the brink of collapse, and ran experiments to test out my different options. Thousands of them. Even accounting for all of the variables, they all inevitably failed and the result remained the same: total self-destruction.

Believe me, I never wanted to harm anyone, and I never would have chose to do so without good reason. Had you known me as I was as a naive and helpful young man, you would believe me.

Now, from the experience of what I have observed and lived through, as well as just basic common sense, here is the truth. For convenience’s sake, let us merely talk about humans and Earth, since that is all you understandably know of.

The first flaw in your argument is that you are assuming that your planet will even see your own doom coming before it is too late. But all it takes is one event, one second to change everything.

For example, my own planet, Titan, appeared completely fine to the naked eye. It was only from studying and looking into the patterns and signs that I was able to predict what happened. But to anyone who simply lived there, everything seemed relatively fine.

Sure, there were massive population issues, as well as a shortage of food and other resources, but the same can be said for your planet, and you certainly wouldn’t consider that an apocalypse by any means.

Because you have grown up in a time when this is very normal, and likely haven’t had to deal with it yourself, slowly escalating warnings and catastrophes are expected for your society.

So even though your climate is changing and more damage is being done environmentally, you don’t take the increasing rate of hurricanes, floods, disease, starvation, fires and earthquakes to mean the world is ending. No, it is normal to you, what you have always known.

It is easier to get used to something when it is increased in gradual increments, and naturally humans as a whole are complacent in their ways of life until they are forced not to be, so as long as these inconvenient natural disasters are manageable, you will find a way to persevere through it. The sad fact is that most of you wouldn’t even notice your own total doom until it has already arrived.

After all, it is such an ugly concept that denial is truly the only option for most people until they are slapped in the face with the cold hard reality. But wouldn’t you rather take control of your own destiny for the better than to be at its mercy on its terms?

Regardless, as I was saying, on Titan things looked relatively fine on the surface, nothing to visually indicate the end of everything was near, which is why people were so quick to deny me. But I knew the truth, and just as I predicted, the first catastrophe to strike Titan came from the depths below.

Our planet’s surface was littered with cryovolcanoes, and our main center of population, the Eternal City, was surrounded by them. Everything seemed fine, up until the very moment when they erupted.

The initial wave of eruptions wiped out two-thirds of our population in one fell swoop. No one in their path even had time to escape. Most, I suspect, didn’t even see it coming. The spew of liquid nitrogen exploded miles above into the sky and flooded down, freezing the people solid until their corpses were reduced to broken little bits.

Unluckily for me but luckily for the universe, I was not on Titan during this time, as I had been banished into space by my own father, by my own government, for trying to help. I was spared the fate that so many suffered below me.

Of course, the volcanoes were merely the catalyst in a long series of resulting disasters that within days wiped out everyone who had survived that initial disaster. And that part I was there for but couldn’t ultimately do anything to help but put people who lay half-dead on the streets out of their misery.

The point is, chances are you won’t see destruction coming unless you know where to look and have the motivation, intelligence, opportunity and resources to look into it like I did.

But alright, let’s say for the sake of the argument that you are correct and enough people will see it coming. The first problem with that is that not everyone on Earth is of the same credibility and privilege.

Because you place your value socially on wealth and other material criteria, the smartest people are often not the ones in power. If someone smart enough to predict this sort of thing was able to in time, who’s to say anyone would even believe them?

Damn, you already have actual respected scientists on your planet coming forth daily with strong warnings, and no one of consequence listens or cares. Even citizens who do believe them forget about it quickly and go back to their daily lives and distractions. It’s all background noise until it affects them personally.

So somehow, the people who figured it out on Earth would need to convince the governments, the powers that be, of their validity, just like I had to try to do on Titan and many more planets.

And in my case, I was actually the son of the ruler of Titan, so I had the connections to back me up. On Titan our higher classes consisted of the most intelligent individuals rather than the wealthiest, and you would think rational men would be easier to convince of the truth than those who could profit from denying it, but alas.

All in all, even though I was not popular among my people, I still had more in my favor than a human would as your leaders are often corrupt and foolish and uneducated on scientific matters. I had all those advantages going for me, and yet I still wasn’t able to convince my government. That bodes ridiculously ill for the average human.

But again, let’s give you the benefit of the doubt and assume the best case scenario despite all reasoning. The next problem that comes up is that even if both the masses and the government do listen, the result is that only people with power and influence will be able to save themselves.

Rest assured that were the apocalypse on your door, the only people who would be able to buy a ticket off your planet would be the people who could literally buy a ticket off your planet. And trust me, it wouldn’t be cheap.

Why should it be the rich and powerful who get to live on to continue humanity’s legacy, when they are quite plainly the worst among you, the ones who got you into this mess in the first place? Would they not just repeat the same mistakes on their new planet?

The human race would quickly die out in these hostile foreign conditions not meant to host them, seeing as these are not the best of you to begin with. Your chance of survival as a race would die out with these people who do not carry the necessary traits for survival and are not qualified to represent you or anything greater than their own self-interest.

Keep in mind as well that these people are mostly older since the elderly tend to be wealthier, so they would not be able to reproduce very quickly if at all and would not have a lot of time to actually implement their changes to a new planet that they would need to terraform it to be suitable for human life. All signs point to them being one of if not the last generation regardless of leaving Earth.

Which brings me to my next point. Would those who escaped not just end up destroying other planets, either quickly or in the future? How is that fair to other planets, to other species even who may get invaded and corrupted by those unpleasant humans who were rich enough to escape?

Why continue the cycle to its bitter end until everything is gone and ruined, when my plan halts that downward spiral completely? Sure, you get to live, but at what cost?

As I said, I don’t only care about whether humanity lives on, but life as a whole. If humanity surviving means other life being negatively affected, then the choice is very clear to me which takes priority.

You see, you self-righteous humans who fight me claim to desire only to preserve the life I will take, but the truth is you think only of preserving your own lives and, selfishly, the people you care about, not life itself.

Which yes, saving loved ones first is still selfish because you only wish to save them because you personally would be affected by their absence. You save your children from me, yet you give no thought to the futures you leave those same children you leave behind.

The truth is that you only have selfish reasons for saving yourselves. You, the generations who have ruined the Earth to begin with and left this mess for others to clean up.

But then you get mad when I, a person with the desire and ability to fix things, come around and do exactly that cleaning for you. You are simply unhappy because you have to live to see it instead of shifting it off to your descendants once its not your problem anymore.

They deserve a voice advocating for their best interests too, you know, arguably more than you do, and I will always seek to stand up for the little guy, the ones those in power overlook and bully.

Just like the rich people who would leave this planet behind and go off to a new world, you, the very generations who have caused this mess, would simply ‘leave’ to a peaceful death content in being able to preserve your own moral self esteem and leave everyone else behind to suffer.

These people will die either way. At least with my plan, they disappear painlessly, with a snap of my fingers, a merciful end compared to the prolonged suffering and fear and confusion you would leave them with. I do not wish to cause them pain, they simply cease to exist in order to be spared a torturous life.

As I said before, I am old, and so this truth is all very apparent to me. I see the long game because of my age and experience, so quite frankly I care more about maintaining a future overall than I do about your individual happiness right now, because the generations of the past and present have done nothing to deserve what you would leave those of the future with.

The future is innocent and savable, seeds of potential and hope, whereas you are sinful and damned and your plight self-inflicted through selfishness and ignorance and laziness.

I know because I have seen it time and time again. I have not only thought this out, but lived it, for millennia upon millennia. Can you say the same? Do you have any right to call me crazy or deluded when you’ve never been through what I have?

I know people have taken to calling me 'mad’, but I am not insane, as many would have you believe. Especially because you simply cannot use human terms like 'crazy’ to compare to me because I am not human, and cannot be compared. There is no human word for my state of consciousness, it is beyond anything you could ever even comprehend.

And so the word 'insane’ as it relates to me is not only false but irrelevant because humans have no idea what it is like to live for thousands of years or the kind of change in perspective that brings when you can see the bigger picture outside of your own existence.

It brings wisdom, and eventually you reach a point where you achieve the highest form of yourself possible. I have already reached that potential through all of my experience.

I am a visionary, and historically, visionaries have not been treated the best. They all get called insane in their time, simply for seeing the larger story and daring to defy the norm.

So for you, a human who has never had to think about anything outside themselves, to consider life as a whole beyond the eighty or so years of your own life, my ideas seem mad. Because they affect your whole life, and to you, based on your perspective, eighty years is a long time, so obviously it seems much more harsh than it is objectively.

But the truth is, your individual eighty years don’t matter in the grand scheme of things once you are gone, and whether you’d like to believe it or not, the world doesn’t stop once you and everyone currently around you is dead. Your legacy continues only through the new generations who you have set up to take your place.

To you it might not matter what happens in the future because you won’t be around to see it, but for me, I see it all, generation after generation, and so each one is all the same to me.

I am not blessed with the same ignorance as you, I have been cursed with responsibility and opportunity that cannot be overlooked. Your flawed if noble intentions to preserve your lives matter to you, but not everyone is human and not everyone sees things that way.

There is an order to the universe, one that mortal beings have no business meddling in because they cannot fathom the big picture, how everything connects. 

And so like your gods from your religions on Earth, you simply must trust in your higher powers and believe that they have a grand design in mind that makes it all worth while, such as the Christian god did when he flooded Earth, an objectively cruel and vengeful act, for the greater good.

Which, curiously, people still defend him for and worship him regardless yet hate me for doing the same thing. You wouldn’t question whether you know better than a god, who can see all ends and beginnings, so why do you question me, for whom the same can be said?

The answer, I can tell, is simply because you do not like me on a personal level, and because it is easier to defend the actions of a god that occurred in the past and which you are standing on the other side of unaffected. Which is a foolish reason.

I have always said that if any of your very gods came down to Earth and stood before you, they would be rejected, attacked, defied, just like Christ himself was, to use another Christian example.

Society hated Christ in his time, it was only with the benefit of hindsight that people realized and appreciated his divinity, his pure intentions, the necessity of his actions, just like those of his 'father’s’.

Like the Romans, you may crucify me now, but my work has been accomplished and your future generations will thank me for it whether you like it or not. History will look down upon you, the selfish and misguided blasphemers who tried to save themselves at the cost of goodness.

Now, I believe I have explained everything adequately, so I will leave you with one final thought to counter your last claim.

If you humans are so resilient and capable of adapting under any circumstance, why weren’t you able to adapt to my snap? I agree that you are able to adapt theoretically, but your choices and refusals to adapt play a bigger role than your potential capabilities.

So long as you are unwilling, you will not adapt. The same applies to any potential disaster situation you are referring to if I were to have not intervened and let nature run its course.

Accept it, you will always deny and cling to your ways to the bitter end, unless you are forced to change. In this case, you were forced by me. You’re welcome.

[thequeensofmemes]

Reign Quotes

I never saw any ghosts.

But what if they saw you?

She had skinny legs, a missing front tooth, and opinions.

My dear, this was not an act of passion. It was treason.

Love is irrelevant to people like us.

I wonder whose face you're imagining in that target.

I would rather have hope with you than certainty with anyone else.

Win or lose, you will answer for it. That's what kings do.

You do have a way of leaving chaos in your wake.

She's not just an alliance. She's a girl.

I'm not sure words mean anything here.

We'll prove to them that our union is strong.

Treat them as friends until they prove themselves foes.

Contrary to public opinion, I do not relish destroying people's homes.

I don't care what you learn, as long as you don't forget.

We have positioned ourselves for the worst kind of pain.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.

I take things sometimes. It makes me feel better.

To see you smile is to feel the sun, your grace.

Do you flirt with everyone?

I'd probably say yes.

Killing isn't supposed to be easy. If your hands weren't shaking, you'd be him.

Close to death, apparently.

I'm glad that my unhappiness gives you so much pleasure.

Don't let fear keep you from greatness.

It could cost you your head.

If servants are gossiping about your unmade bed, it is too late to rectify the situation.

Men must find something to kill from time to time.

Accept that I have lost. I have.

I'm in a nunnery of one.

That's the kind of talk that gets bastards--and mistresses--beheaded.

History is written by the survivors. And I am surely that.

Tell me when you want me to stop.

Happiness is the one thing we queens can never have.

Arming yourself against me? Am I really that frightening?

Am I really stupid enough to find out?

My mother, she was behind this as well?

All her crimes against me were because she loved you.

I grow weary of your threats.

I grew weary of you a decade ago.

That half-blind portrait artist didn't realize I was sitting in a chair while my sister was standing, and now half the kingdom thinks I’m a dwarf.

Love is irrelevant to people like us, a privilege that we do not share.

There are two things I can't abide, betrayal and stupidity.

Next time you see a threat large or small, you cut it down like a weed.

I don't want to do this to you.

Too bad you didn't see this one coming.

When the ax falls on your neck, I will be there.

Off with you child. You've killed me enough for one day.

I don't 'attempt' to do anything--I do it.

Nature is not malignant.

Must I do everything? Shall I catch my head in my own hands, too?

So I sent you here to wed a king and find you engaged to a bastard.

Despite what you may think, I never intended to harm your family.

Sooner or later, blood will be spilled. It's just a matter of whose.

So he is mad...and a mad king incites chaos and rebellion.

I don't make love to you because I want a baby. I want a baby because I love you.

Those who look upon it are taken. And those who are taken die.

We are royals. We have the power to do terrible things. Without trust, we're nothing.

You? What do you have to complain about? You're now married to a beautiful woman of noble birth.

I won't pretend I love you, but we should probably start liking each other, at least.

My first duty is not to my mother.

Don't you think a royal crown suits me?

I'm too rich to care what people say.

Look where our hearts have led us. We've brought you shame.

I suppose innocence is all relative.

I always want to be there for you.

Don't beg. It invites pity and disdain.

Do all married couples have these struggles?

I think you've redefined marital discord.

Nothing bothers me more than problems I've already solved coming back to be problems again.

Am I the only one in this bed with something to forget?

I never dreamt that I'd be wed to a bastard with an imaginary title.

Losing bothers me.

Trust is a luxury I can no longer afford.

You shouldn't have to live like this.

What happens when being a good king means being a bad husband?

I don't need to be part of your schemes.

You no longer have the privilege of obeying your heart!

It isn't fair, the privileges we are given...or the prices we must pay for them.

When you are alone and miserable, remember this was the moment you threw your happiness away.

This marriage is no longer something that happened to me...you are what I want.

Don't get sentimental about a father who was never sentimental about you.

His life was there for the taking. So I took it.

Royals are always at war.

An interesting choice. Assuming you let her know she has one.

All I have to offer you...is me.

I've come to offer you something. The destruction of our mutual enemy.

Common lore is that your teeth are filed into points and your eyes are black with rage.

Ruling requires that your hands be drenched in blood.

What else could I be but a witch?

You are my husband and my king.

You crushed the rebellion by yourself.

If we die, it is at her hands. And if we live I will never forgive her for this.

I'm saying that should anything happen to either of us I hope that you'll remember me not as the man who lied or betrayed you, I hope you'll remember me as the man who would have cherished you if he'd had the chance.

And real love never fades, not truly.

Just know whatever happens, this is not the end I dreamed for us.

I refuse to surrender. My reign will not end without a fight.

Whose blood concerns you more, your husband or your lover's?

All that stands between him and the crown is my head.

Is this how it's going to be from now on? Both of us constantly wondering what the other is up to?

Long live his majesty.

Contempt alone is not enough to condemn a man. Even the contempt of a king.

We're all basically fallen women.

Our love will die here.

It was rather a miracle.

Just don't expect a fond farewell from me. Or my trust. Ever again.

Do not test my power and do not tempt my fury.

If I'm as responsible as you say, I will never forgive myself.

I never imagined you'd kill him by breaking his heart.

The truth of your betrayal was the last thing that he heard before he collapsed.

I will spill blood to defend what's mine.

So you're my new keeper.

You are a necessary evil whose orbit I can't seem to escape.

But you have to know, that no matter your choices, you still have a husband who would do anything to make you happy.

I opened my heart to a liar.

And now I am lying for you, lying even to my brother, protecting you as you take comfort in the arms of another.

Build a future controlled by you, not the changeable heart of a woman.

When you were a child, there were dozens of little girls whose families begged me for that position, but I chose you because you played well together, because you didn't hurt or throw mud at her. But now you have done both.

You are on the cusp of losing your country.

You poisoned a king and a queen and I helped you get away with it. We each hold a noose for the other.

What I meant is your official mourning period is over.

You say that as if I just won a prize. You can't be serious.

Thank you for pointing out the obvious and will you please stop doting on my mother!

Thank you for pointing out the obvious and will you please stop doting on my mother!

Because I love you. And one of us should be happy.

There are those who merely believe they have power, and there are those who actually have it.

Oh, is that caring? It sounds to me like a man trying to tighten his grip on a woman.

Such haste! I haven't properly mocked you for saving the life of your mother's worst enemy.

Congratulations, you've used your knowledge of the heart's noblest emotion to manipulate and destroy someone.

I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm sleepwalking and I don't know how to wake up.

I will be your wife in name only.

Look where that love has brought us.

At least my family will cry at my funeral.

She sent you to woo me, didn't she?

The only alliance I'm interested is temporary, delicious and bad.

Do not seek to take before I can give.

here are some lines I will not cross even to save myself.

I wanted to give you the chance to do the right thing and I still believe you will.

It's a very romantic story, actually. Father threatened to kill them both if they didn't marry.

I need to handle this on my own and to do it my way. What I need from you is to be patient and to believe in me.

My dear, never give up a crown to anybody.

Are you seriously, seriously suggesting that you want to watch me bathe in return for getting my dowry back?

You know that as a Queen, you put on an act. You can't always show what's in your heart. The same is true for being a wife.

We're women. We're not allowed to have things of our own.

Do you worry that I can't bear you a child?

Does it bring us closer for you to know that your failure disappoints me beyond words?

In the name of justice and tolerance you will drive your people to civil war.

My ladies brought this to me months ago. I read it in an hour.

Have you ever been in love?

Don't you turn your back on me. I am more than your friend. I am your Queen!

I can't be ruled by desire. It's nothing to build a life on.

Your figure's gonna go to hell anyway so you might as well eat up. You are feeding the future King.

It's been some weeks now but I wanted to be sure and I am sure. I am with child, our child, at last!

You lie to your guests and then you threaten them with weapons? We will not be treated this way!

Asking you to know your place is like asking the sun not to shine.

It's must be hard. Once a Queen, now the Queen Mother. Decorative, like an expensive vase.

There's a new day coming, and you are on the wrong side.

Are all powerful men so insecure?

Innocent men shouldn't die alone.

You think you're untouchable, that your sins will stay buried, but they don't.

Of all the people you could have slept with, did it have to be one of my ladies? One of my closest friends?

I am your Queen. I command you.

One bedroom for husband and wife. Good luck with that!

Am I really planning a life, a future, without you?

I will not live in fear of her.

Are you trying to blame a woman for a man’s choices?

It was your spies who got that information to me wasn’t it.

I hope your wings are strong you vulture! You will be circling for quite some times.

What’s the cost of a king’s life?

I always knew we would be wed. Even when I first returned.

I see such beauty. Such beauty you have brought me.

You must wed again. You must love again.

I will never love anyone, the way I love you.

I can’t let him go.

Let him go, and hold on to me.

We were suppose to dance under the stars.

I may still a Queen.

Is that it? Our courtship is over. Was I wrong in thinking it was going well?

No matter what you might think, I can’t just force men to fall in love with me.

That is not a strategy.

I am a queen, about to marry a broken Prince for power...

I need proof before the wedding happens.

You two have become thick as thieves.

Do you still hold it agents me that I defended her agents a false accusation of murder?!

It's time to accept my fate

I will not be chased out of my country before I’ve even retuned.

I will fight fire, with fire.

The day may come where we may find ourselves on the battle field. What would you do then?

Impressive. Where did you learn to shoot like that?

Those memories are a part of me.

You love power!

You despise me, yet you expect a free ride!

I think I shall never see you again.

We have to stop them.

Give me your sword.

You took my heart! And now I’ve come to repay you.

I have come for my throne.

Queens do not bow to their subjects. It is in-fact, quite the other way around.

And may God, and your Queen. Have mercy of your soul.

Men don’t like taking orders from woman, they can barely stand speaking to them.

He knows I speak the truth.

Who cares about right or wrong, if you're dead!

I don’t have much to live for these days, but I would still die for my children.

She does have her moments doesn't she.

I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother you wanted me to be. I did my best.

Why would my presence startle you? Oh because you married my lover.

You requested a five course meals, I offer you seven!

Your love, it gave him so much joy, and that's what you must remember.

How can I pray to God, when I am certain he doesn’t not hear me.

My election could mean the end of your nation.

If I cannot disprove these charges I will swing from a rope.

What if he dies?!

We were here! We were playing a game of chess- which I won.

From the moment you were born, our relationship has been complicated.

We live in a word that undervalues woman.

I may be guilty of favouring my sons over my daughters.

And when you are wed, and you leave this home, it will break my heart.

You are offering me a kindness, a consideration I have rarely shown to you over the years.

Is it so unthinkable, a crime might take place in this castle that I had nothing to do with.

The butcher still insists on his innocents.

Just remember. Enjoy him, but never trust him.

I won’t be frightened into your arms by a dead rat, or a dead Cardinal!

If you think you are not going to talk, you are mistaken.

I don’t understand why we have to take time to visit the Generals.

A king should always deliver good news in person. Bad news should be sent by a messenger. Or let them find out on their own.

Go take back your country.

Our union is damaged beyond repair.

That’s the most flattering thing you’ve ever said to me.

Please tell me that wasn't you.

I need you here, too see you, even if I can’t touch you.

I am paying the price. I feel like a prisoner.

I am their Queen. Their whispers are treason.

Your highness, you are a vision.

This thing between us. It must end.

I’m ready to accept his proposal.

If is a fact of our time. A man rules his wife. Even if his wife is a Queen.

And it will be the challenge of my life, not to kill her.

Perhaps I forgot what it means to be a queen.

I shall never name an heir unless it is my own child.

To name a successor is to place a target on one's self.

Perhaps it better to outright refuse him. Be brutal and direct.

Don’t misjudge me. I am my father’s son.

All that’s left now, is for me to enjoy my final hours.

Well, I suppose you’ll have to settle with being the Queen of two nations, not three.

You cannot keep me in a cage. Even one built with love.

We were meant to be happy, and we were. But I have another fate.

Show people you are worthy of the post you hold, and no one will remember how you rose to it.

Love is never simple. Not that I'm any expert.

I was willing to give up so much for you. But now I want you out of my life. Forever.

Why must the fate of nations be decided in a shared bed?

I receive a letter from him nearly everyday. And I haven’t read one.

I can’t image what the night must be without the man you truly love.

Please go. While I still have the courage to say goodbye.

Sons of cobblers, doesn’t get to be with princesses.

I need to believe, that who we are, matters more than our station.

You are who you're born into, and nothing more than people say you are. You can pretend otherwise, but the world won’t pretend with you.

If you go on this mission. I’ll stop loving you!

From now on, you're only allowed to dream about me.

I have many children of my own you know. Some of them turn out quite well.

She is actually dead in’t she?

What is power, without love.

Be grateful for the fun you had, you must have know your time would come.

I expect you’ll be wearing that when we play cards tonight.

She handles tragedy with ruthless clarity.

I will not help you with this

Ask anyone. I’m as fickle as they come.

It's hard for all of us. Being part of this family.

I may be young, and inexperienced, but I promise I’ll give you an heir.

What’s this play about?

It’s a comedy about royals.

I hear the princess is worth looking at.

It's funny isn't in. Both of us here, we already know we've had our one true love.

You must rule your own heart, as firmly as you rule your subjects.

We may be the enemy, but I am not without my manners.

Your light as a feather, I swear!

Would you be interested in anything else? My chambers for example…

There’s the smile I was hoping for.

Allow me to charm you so more, and we’ll work on that next part.

Men forget, that woman have ears.

My child will be heir to her throne, to both Nations.

This is a course you cannot step back from. And if you take it, I fear I am looking at a dead woman.

We all die. The question is what we stood for while we lived.

Have you already named our children? Or did you leave that part for me?

I did not expect to like you. But I do.

Earn my respect then, as I earn the respect of my men. In combat!

Duels only lead to dead men, not respect.

Fists then. A boxing match. If you win, I bend the knee. But if I win, you will withdraw your marriage offer to the Queen.

I let you win that race.

How dare you, didn't you notice that I defied the queen of England for you!?

I’m going to be your husband.

I had a husband! and I loved him and he was murdered in cold blood before my eyes.

Before I met you, I loved someone. In that way that should've lasted a lifetime, but it didn't.

Let the danger come.

You will be my husband in name only. And we will never be happy.

It is my duty, my God-given birthright and my crown. And I will defend it from anyone who attempts to take it.

I had hoped that our marriage would be a partnership in every way. but with your drinking, your cheating, your blind ambition...

I know we hardly know each other, and yet here I am, asking you to risk everything for me.

With or without your crown. I would do anything for you.

I made you King. But we will never be equals.

You can’t expect everyone to be glad you are back at Court, some of us know you.

He will hang. And I will enjoy watching him die.

I didn't kill him, but justice needed to be done.

This vile act will not ease your pain!

Revenge is not meant to ease pain. It is meant to balance the scales.

He was an innocent man!

Men will never willingly bow to the weaker sex.

I put my trust in you, my Lord.

Well surely you don’t blame me.

How nice of you to take time out of your grievance to mock me.

What about the shame you've brought to this family? Not to mention this country and to God himself?!

I've learned never trust the beginning of a book.

I know this isn't what you wanted, but for now, this marriage will protect you.

When the time is right, I can make you a widow.

We need to show them you are not a monster, by showing them what you really are. A King.

Perhaps I shall have your throat slit in your sleep. Or have the villagers do it for me when they come for us to root out the beast we have protected.

I should have your entire family burned at the stake.

He was born first! That's all he has to do.

I have always put my children first. I have done terrible things! I have always done it for their good. But are they worth it?

Tell your son to come to court. Or I will have him dragged here. On his knees.

I will not be remembered as the Queen that drew first blood.

And I can't bear to lose you.

Our affair puts you in danger.

I won't ever tire of you.

He is a long-term confidante. A skilled advisor and diplomat, whose journeys, for the Crown, have met with spectacular success.

I represent something glorious, for everyone. And if you want to banish every person who is dazzled by me, we'll be a nation of mainly women.

You are more precious to me than my nation.

Speak! While there is still mercy in my heart!

I will bow to no man

I will face ever threat to my reign with sword in hand. And any who shall stand in my way shall fall.

I cannot have her blood on my hands. And I cannot let her go.

Look how far you’ve come. Trading your heart to rise in station.

Now that I know how things really work around here. I'm interested in getting to know you better.

Why should I be interested in you?

I was starting to think you didn't have it in you.

But let me offer some advice: next time you threaten someone, make sure you have proof. A theory is nothing more than a feather.

I am on no one's side, but my own.

Get out of my Court!

It’s fine. A daughter joining her mother for an evening stroll is hardly a crime.

The tears might be a bit much.

In a year, everything will be different. I'll have an heir.

I won’t fall in love with him. I promise!! Please have faith in me.

I was almost sent to a nunnery for following my heart!

I lost both the man I love and the man I could have loved.

I'm asking you to marry me. but I’m begging you to save your own life.

Tell me this. Do you think we can be happy together?

Your food is regularity tested for poison.

You're so clever.

Your lies come so easily.

You invited me here because you think of me, as often as I think of you.

He does have his father’s history to overcome.

I am an ambitious man. And if this is my one chance at King, I will take it.

If I am King for only as long as you live, then I say long live the Queen.

I don’t want to find love. I want to be loved.

It wasn’t easy, I paid a fortune.

The inevitable War of Two Queen.

May matrimony set you on a more honorable path.

I am married to the most powerful man in the world.

Stop starting at me witch!

You're a beautiful, ambitious, young woman who's learned to pull the strings of men, and yed can't see when her own strings are being pulled.

Being married to a woman who is in love with another, isn’t exactly the ideal union I dreamed of either.

Bastards and cheaters are not welcome on the Throne.

You will have love or an heir, but not both.

Lie to me again, and I will open you up right here, in your own house.

If you have a baby that isn’t yours, you’ll hang, unless you cooperate.

[houkuaichuii]

Take My Heart & Soul

“FIC EXCHANGE. I’LL GIVE YOU THE JEALOUS-PINING-MUSTANG ANGST AND YOU GIVE ME THE ANASTASIA AU.” - Chie, 2k17.

So a couple of days ago, I had a lovely discussion with Sarah (@queenwinry), which led to me screaming at her for an Anastasia!AU RoyAi fic of the famous boat scene, whilst offering this very angsty piece in return. I do highly suggest to read her one-shot after this as a pick-me-up! So make sure to do that!!

Word Count: 3,450.

Warning: Roy’s a... well, he’s drunk and he’s sad. I was not drunk during the process of writing this, however; I was just sad.

There was something unspoken about the winter air within the East City walls, something to which the drunken man could barely describe. It was calming, more so as the feeling of numbness ran through his fingers and his toes. However, he knew that there was much more to it than he could comprehend. Perhaps it was the way it nearly made him forget the ache within him, the pain that had taken place somewhere in his chest and called it its home. Or perhaps it could have been the number of drinks he had that night, but he shook his head at the notion and told himself that he was perfectly fine and was far from the edge.

He hadn’t appeared so intoxicated either; just a man who was enjoying a stroll during an ungodly hour. But Roy Mustang was a man who had mastered the game of facades, and was more than skilled enough to hide the truth to his character when it suited him.

So yes, he was drunk; his focus a haze, his mind a mess, but he knew where he was going as he walked through the empty streets. He followed a path he knew quite well, to a destination that was entirely committed to his memory through more ways than one. Or at least he believed so.

He was going home, that was what he convinced himself to do as he exited a deserted bar. But where was his home? Was it the empty apartment in between Fourth Ave and the Sixth, or was it a woman, who was enjoying her date with another? At the thought of the latter, short laughter escaped him, his heart far from being in it. Then again, his heart was never with him to begin with, as it was with the woman for as long as he could remember.

He had unknowingly given it as a whole, and once upon a time, he surmised that she had done the same. It was the basic belief of equivalent exchange; the well-known law of alchemy. And he, as an alchemist, nonetheless, lived by those words. But it seemed like he was proven wrong at some point, because of all things considered, it was more than obvious that her heart was not his to keep.

So many emotions dwelt in his core, just as how so many unanswered questions ran through that head of his. He was supposed to be a genius, the epitome of brilliance, an erudite--- he was the Hero of Ishval, the man who climbed the ranks too fast for his age. And yet there he was with his gaze dropped to the pavement, sadness claiming the colour of his eyes. He looked so wrong, he felt wrong too, though he could not bring himself to blame anyone else for the pain he was drowning in.

He waited far too long, assumed that he still had time, that she would have still been there at the end of the line. The universe, however, had other plans and the joke was on him. God, what a fool he was.

A selfish fool.

Roy knew that he should have been happy for her, even if it meant that her happiness did not mean him. He had acknowledged it long ago that she deserved someone better; someone who had not betrayed her trust, someone who did not remind her of a war, someone who saved her life rather than a broken man who was constantly dragging it into harm’s way. The woman he loved was in a good place, and he should have been content with such a simple fact. But the truth was the truth, and he was anything but. He was miserable, surrounded by darkness and living under a grey cloud.

And so he walked, and he walked, and he walked, the chill of winter biting at his nose and his cheeks. How does one escape the dark when the sun had left?

Everywhere he went, the whispers were there. There were the looks, the rumours that just did not stop. It all began as a simple matter, the idea that a doctor had plans to court the brigadier-general’s adjutant. It became a joke in the office, and at first, the woman in subject had no means to hold it in any form of regard. But everyone saw that the man was quite serious in the way he’d send in flowers, until he suddenly came to seek the captain for a dinner.

Of course jealousy had struck Roy immediately, and he was more than tempted to step forward. But noting that she deserved a break and that it was most likely a one-time thing, he merely held his tongue.

The action was evidently a bad choice, for dinners happened again, and numerous times after, leading to the words of engagement to reach his ears.

And that was when he had finally felt the soles of his feet hit rock bottom.

Everyone looked at him with confusion in their glances, wondering as to what his thoughts truly were. He kept to himself about the matter, albeit letting out a casual smile here, and his usual shrug there. “The Captain is in warrant of a happy ending, we should all just congratulate her.” Was what he told them. Even his ‘sisters’ heard of the talk, a flash of pity in their eyes whenever an Elizabeth was mentioned by someone who was uninformed. Still, he posed the image that he was truly all right, although those who knew him also knew otherwise.

How long he walked for, he could not say, but at the end of the night, he was climbing up a set of stairs. He counted the floors as he passed them amidst his daze, till he stopped in front of a certain door. He stared at it, his chest empty, yet heavy; his shoulders slouched in spite of being overcome with familiarity. He fished his key out of his pockets, but when it came to unlocking the door, it would not turn. He cursed under his breath, thinking that what he held in his hand was the key for the car he had left behind.

“What. A. Fucking. Idiot,” He called himself, banging his head against the door in defeat, one word after the other, “Can’t even get yourself into your own apartment.”

He was just so tired; beyond exhaustion as everything pulled back to port. He hadn’t been this bad since Hughes, but even then, he still had her: the only constant thing in his life.

To which will become not so constant anymore, for she’s been ripped out of his grasp before he even got a chance. He thought himself pathetic, all the while hating the man who stole the person he once called his.

Roy was supposed to be the one to show her the endless love and affection that he always did have for her. He was supposed to be the one who’d wake her up with kisses, who’d whisper sweet promises into her ear in the warmth of their bed. He was supposed to be the one who’d hold her hand as they took a walk through the park, letting Hayate chase the butterflies that would have caught his attention. He was supposed to be the one who’d wake up in the middle of night, just to soothe the cries of a child. Their child.

Roy was supposed to be the one to take her as his wife, to have and to hold, for better and for worst, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death did them part.

He was supposed to be the one, as she was the only one for him.

Drunk and alone with his thoughts, Roy was about to sit himself down onto the floor when the knob turned and the door was pulled open. A slightly dishevelled blonde peered at him from the other side, surprise entirely too transparent in the eyes that had watched over him for so long. He was surprised as well, so to speak, because what in the world was his captain doing in his apartment? He mirrored her look through his own bleariness, blinking to clear his view.

“Sir, are you okay?” She asked, concern loud in her voice.

“What are you doing here?” He returned.

There was a pause as Hawkeye scrutinised him, a crease between her perfectly lined brows; question evident in her expression. She then stepped out and closed the door behind her, holding onto the robe that she wore.

“Did you go out drinking with the boys again, sir?”

He shrugged, “Possibly, I don’t really remember. But what are you doing here?”

“This is my apartment.”

Well, that certainly said a lot.

As realisation dawned on him, Roy released a breath, then a scoff. His gaze dropped to the floor, eyes closing without a single reply. So this was where home was--- it was where his legs had led him to. What a joke. The place he considered as home wasn’t even his own, and there he was, standing before her like a lost dog. He should have apologised and bid his goodnight, but his mind was awake and he couldn’t stop what he said next.

“Please tell me you didn’t say ‘yes’, Hawkeye.”

“Sir?”

“That--- that man, I believe that he asked for your hand in marriage. Tell me that you didn’t accept the proposal.”

“I...”

“Goddamn it, Hawkeye!” He looked at her then, albeit too fast that the world suddenly turned and he stumbled back before regaining his footing. He saw her move forward, hands reaching out to steady him, but he lifted up his palm and breathed. No, he wasn’t allowed to feel her touch, lest he was willing to lose the small control he had left.

What a shameful sight he made; face red from the alcohol, his hair unruly from the amount of times he ran his fingers through it during the night. Then to add to the list, he had just shouted at his captain even though she was far from being at fault. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but it was where his heart was and it seemed like his mind wanted it back; as if he was ever going to get it back.

Roy looked at the woman again, stared as he searched for words to say.

I’m sorry.

Don’t go to him.

Please don’t leave me.

I don’t want to lose you.

I can’t lose you.

I’ve always loved you.

I love you.

It was Hawkeye who broke the silence, however.

“Sir, would you like for me to walk you home?”

“Please don’t marry him.” Was the answer he gave. As short and concise as it was, it was no more than a whisper; a plea as others would have called it. “Don’t do it, Riza.”

If he hadn’t been so intoxicated, he would have noticed the effect that her first name had on her. He would have seen how her eyes widened slightly, her hand tightening its hold on her bathrobe. It was her turn to stare at him, keeping up a mask of coolness. But after a moment or so, she swallowed faintly and spoke.

“Roy, I don’t think we should discuss this matter right now.”

“Really? Because I think that this is the best time to talk about this.”

“No, it’s really not. You’re not in the right state to organise your thoughts and this discussion is over.”

“Riza, if you would just listen to me---”

She cut him off there, the sharp edge of a knife heard in her tone, “You’re drunk; you don’t even know what you’re saying, let alone will remember when you wake up tomorrow.”

“To hell I don’t!” Roy finally snapped, causing for the other to steel herself as he chose to continue, “And even if I don’t remember what I say tonight, I’ll be fine as long as I say it. You need to hear this, Riza. I need to say this, because if I don’t...”

“Roy, don’t do this.”

“If I don’t tell you that I love you now, when will I ever?”

A pause.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

Taking in a deep breath as he moved back against the wall behind him, Roy tried to clear his incoherent mind. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the stranger that the other might become once he said his piece. After all, he almost lost her once before, and was on the verge of losing her again. The fear sickened him to no end, even through his uninhibited state. But the truth was in dire need to be expressed, and everyone knew that a drunken man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts.

“Because I’m scared, Riza,” He told her, “I’m scared of losing you.”

He heard her step towards him tentatively, the sound of her footfall loud amongst the silence that had then fallen upon them. Still, he kept himself in the dark, finding comfort in it.

“I thought I still had time, I thought that this could wait until I reached my goal--- I thought that you knew. But then the doctor came out of nowhere, and... I don’t know. I wanted to stop it, though. I wanted to say something to stop him from pursuing you, but when I saw you laughing with him, I just couldn’t take that happiness away from you.

“You deserve it. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this happy ending, and who am I to stop you from getting it? I’ve asked myself this question so many times throughout these past several months, and each time I do, I never get an answer. I tell myself that I have no right to step into your affairs, that you’re free to choose whomever you like. But at the same time, I realise that I’m as selfish as anyone and I start to hope that you’d find something you don’t like about him.”

Another moment of quietude, filled with nothing but a sigh from him.

“But seeing as to how things have turned out, that obviously didn’t happen and now here I am: drunk, tired, wishing that I was the one who’d hold you, wishing that I was able to freely show my love for you whenever I choose to; wishing that I was that man.

“I love you, Riza Hawkeye. And the more I think about it, the more I know that I always did love you. From the first moment you opened that door back when I was just starting out my apprenticeship, and up until this very moment, I’ve loved you.

“I love your smile, how it’s so subtle and hidden; it’s been the same for as long as I’ve known you. I love the focus in your eyes, the way your eyebrows furrow together when something’s in your mind. I love your determination, your courage, and your compassion. You are an amazing woman, Hawkeye; one hell of a woman, really.”

And as he readied himself for his final words, Roy had set his gaze upon her. What he found was unexpected, however, as rather than meeting the amber eyes he loved so dearly, what he saw was a woman with her head down, her blonde hair a curtain around her features. She had a hand to her mouth, her shoulders seemingly trembling.

“I’m sorry for all of the times I’ve hurt you. You deserve someone better than me. But Riza, please don’t go to him. Please don’t leave me. I’m not... I’m not telling you this as your commanding officer, but I’m asking you this as the boy who grew up with you, who has only ever considered you.

“I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: I can’t lose you. It is not that I don’t want to lose you, but it is more of the fact that I can’t. I know that it makes me sound selfish and egotistical, but I’m far from caring about my image at this point. This is the truth of how I feel for you, and I just need you to know that whatever happens, I will always love you.”

Unmoving from her spot, Riza did not respond, and Roy wanted nothing more than to envelope her into an embrace. For the first time in a long while, she looked so small, as delicate as he remembered her to be before the horrid of war. Oh, how he would have loved to go back to those times, when everything was simple and it was only the two of them in their world; no one else.

Just little Roy and Riza, the children who ran through open fields, the lake behind the trees being their destination. They were the children who walked under the moonlit sky, finally heading home after getting groceries from the nearby town. They were the youth who studied in candlelight together, secrets whispered between them. Just little Roy and Riza, the children who made promises to one another and were determined to keep them. Without a doubt, the promises were kept and new ones were made in their adulthood, forever binding them together.

Or maybe not.

“Riza?” Roy called, the silence suddenly becoming unbearable.

When she looked up, he was taken aback by the redness of her eyes, the tears that glinted under the hallway’s lighting. He clenched his teeth together, his hands curling into fists. He had hurt her again, and she was crying because of him. What was wrong with him?

“You are such a complete idiot,” Her voice cracked as she attempted to stifle her crying, causing for something within Roy to shatter, “Why couldn’t you just listen to me? I told you not to do this, and yet you still continued to make everything so complicated.”

Roy couldn’t hide the hurt that quickly struck his expression, her words understood immediately. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t form a response that would not have led the entire situation to an argument. Despite being as inebriated as he was then, he was earnest enough to note that he had done enough damage for the night. And so, he pushed himself off the wall, hands in his coat’s pockets and looked down on his polished shoes.

“You’re right. Maybe it would have been best if I hadn’t told you the truth, but you deserved to hear it, at least.” With that said, he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, his eyes quite sombre in comparison to the strength in his voice, “You should go back in, Captain, I’ve kept you out here long enough.”

At that second, the door opened and a man revealed himself groggily. He looked at Riza, who kept her back to him, before averting his attention to Roy. Traces of sleep was still visible across his chiselled features, and it did not go unnoticed that he was, in fact, shirtless. Roy nearly scorned at the sight of the other, vehemence growing in his being. Of course he was there, Roy wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Besides that, if he weren’t so in control, he might have set him aflame.

“Riza? What are you doing out here, it’s four in the morning.” The man asked, blinking the slumber away.

But before Hawkeye could answer, Brigadier-General Mustang spoke up, “I just needed to ask her a few things about the case. My apologies, I would have waited until later, but something urgent came up.”

“Some of us do need to sleep, Mustang,” The other countered, “Especially when Riza needs to rest after you make her work hard all day.”

“Matthew,” It was Hawkeye who raised her voice, “It’s fine. I was all ready awake and the case is vital, so it was only right for him to come to me as soon as possible. Go back in, I’ll join you soon.”

Just when the man was about to open his mouth for another retort, Mustang cleared his throat in interruption and said, “I’ve extended my stay long enough and I’ve heard what I needed to hear. Besides, the doctor’s right, you need to rest. Good night, Captain.” He gave his adjutant a short nod, although not quite meeting her eyes. He then ignored the other man, walking past him as he made his way back to the stairs. He could feel their attention on him with each measured step, his mind blank, except for the acknowledgment of the gnawing ache throughout his chest.

What a fool he was.

[hell-howling-a-blog]

1 through 5?

Crucial muse development questions - Accepting.

1. What would completely break your character?

I mean the show kind of answered this himself but I think it would really break him if any irreversible harm came to any of his loved ones or if any of them died, especially his sister.  I mean, he even admitted in the show that his sister was kept him going even through all the difficult and probably horrific shit he had to cope with as a teenager.  The whole reason he resolved to work so hard and eventually did end up working his way into a high ranking (as well as great paying) position was all to provide for his sister.  I think the most worrying implication of all is that he clearly prioritizes her life and well-being over his and while that’s not an inherently bad trait to have - it is a little troubling almost the lack of regard for his own safety and his own life he seems to have in comparison to hers.  

I feel like he’s the sort of character who’s extremely slow to open up and trust people and even much slower to form genuine emotional bonds and connections with people.  If he were to fully let down his guard around someone and something were to happen to them or if they betrayed him, saying he wouldn’t take it well would be a fucking understatement.  I don’t know if it would necessarily break him but it might sort of (in his mind) reaffirm his rather wary disposition around people and make him even leery of people who try to gain his trust.

2. What was the best thing in your character’s life?

Probably the marriage between his father and step-mother as well as meeting his younger step-sister for the first time, the show has been kind of ambiguous as to what exactly happened beforehand and in Yu-Gi-Oh! if an adult isn’t shown then you kind of tend to assume they’re dead and judging by the lack of mentions of her in the show, my guess is his biological mother probably died at an early age - way too early to have any real memories of her.  Maybe a little one here or there but not much so I like to think that for the extremely brief time they were a family, that meant a lot to him and although we don’t really know much about their backstories and probably won’t learn much more, I think the few glimpses we did get seemed to show a loving or at the very least a healthy family and as I touched on above, the whole reason he even pushed himself so hard was just to try and make his younger sister - someone who he has no blood obligation to - happy, to give her a better life.

3. What was the worst thing in your character’s life?

So if the best thing in his life was actually having and being part of a loving family, then imagine that being completely pulled out from under you.  Your parents are killed in an accident without any warning and you find yourself thrust into the adult world.  Your parents left behind some inheritance for you but asshole strangers steal it all away and all of your possessions are taken from you, including your house.  Your relatives are all either dead or don’t really enough to help you and you’re essentially left to fend for yourself and on top of that, you’ve got to look after a six year old and find a way to make enough money to provide for both of you, even if that includes doing shady shit that could more than likely get you in serious trouble.  

To put it lightly, that time was probably a complete nightmare for him, especially when you consider he was really only a teenager when all of this was going down.  A sixteen year old might have more emotional maturity and understanding than someone at the age of six but arguably, your teenage years are among some of the most important in your whole life - and his were essentially taken from him.  He never really got a chance to be a kid, he was essentially forced to grow up extremely quickly and probably had to learn not to show weakness, to close off his emotions.

Someone made a good point a while ago that I just want to reiterate - I don’t think his distant demeanor comes from a place of being deliberately neglectful or deliberately being an asshole to his sister.  If you think about it, he never really got a chance to mourn or emotionally cope with his situation - no one was really there for emotional support so how could he possibly give emotional support to someone and be their emotional anchor if he doesn’t even know what that is, himself?

Also just everything about the whole ‘Another’ ordeal - everything, from start to end.  That was like all of his worst fears coming true and being realized - his job and his family pretty much crumbling around him.

4. What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

Little things that got him through the nightmare ordeal in his life - trying to recall some of the happier times with his family, little things like watching the stars with his sister, trying to focus on the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ so to speak.  Trying to think of a happier future - a future in which they actually maybe have a home, regular meals, a steady income that doesn’t involve working with criminals or threat of violence.  I don’t really see him as the sentimental type or one who dwells on memories much but I do feel like they serve a sort of motivation for him if that makes sense.

5. Does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

This a tough one because he hasn’t even really been shown to have hobbies, which is pretty sad if you ask me.  I mean in between his job not allowing for much spare time and a lot of his thoughts either going to his job or to his sister, I don’t think he has much room for hobbies in between.  I like to think that his skill with computers might be considered a hobby of sorts - I mean he was shown hacking in the flashbacks and he works with security which is probably a very tech heavy job or at least requires some basic knowledge of tech and computers.  That’s something I’d very much like to discover with him though - what his hobbies are, what his aspirations are - aspirations that aren’t just revolving between his job or his sister.

[stilljumpingback]

(via Black Sails Episode 307 - XXV)

WELL-FORMED THOUGHTS

I keep wanting to prove that “civilization” is bad and the pirates are good.  And I can definitely make arguments to that effect:  Just this episode, we saw that civilization (personified by Woodes Rogers) is polite and reasonable when everything is going his way.  He’s happy to let Jack go, “no harm done,” so long as he gets his cache.  But as soon as he finds out that Spain wants Jack as well, Rogers easily betrays his promise to Jack.

There’s also Flint’s line about Rogers keeping the pirates from the beach by “keeping them in line with shame.”  The perks of civilization are upheld by shaming people into submission.  And when Flint refuses to submit to him, Rogers revokes pardons to the Walrus crew, thus explicitly making the pardons a means of control rather than of forgiveness.

But on the other hand…I don’t think it’s meant to be so simple as “these are the good guys and these are the bad guys.”  I believe Rogers when he accidentally repeats 210 Flint:  “If you insist on making me your villain, I’ll play the part.”  He doesn’t WANT to do bad things, just as Flint doesn’t.  This show is all about putting people into impossible situations so that their true feelings are revealed.

Perhaps the reason I empathize with the pirates so much is that they wear the worst of themselves on the outside, and slowly we see their goodness underneath, whereas civilization wears its goodness on the outside, and slowly we see its underbelly.  Like Jack said, “We’re all villains in Nassau.  Don’t think because you’re new you’re any different.”  At least the pirates are self-aware about their darkest impulses.

FRAGMENTED THOUGHTS

Max is once more trying to convince Anne to go with her plan rather than Jack’s, and I GET IT.  She’s scared that Spain is going to destroy Nassau if they don’t turn over the cache.  But I’m totally empathizing with Anne’s pain and confusion here.

Flint standing at military attention while reporting to the Maroon Queen is Doing Things to my heart.  Of course, he’s doing less fun things to the Queen’s heart when he suggests turning her home into a battlefield and answers her very good questions with “I don’t know yet.”

Madi joins the Walrus crew!!!  But as an equal to Flint!!

Woodes Rogers wants to be the good guy so badly.  But Jack eloquently and brutally puts him in his place.

Jack:  Do you have a wife? Rogers:  I do. Jack:  How do you imagine she would feel if she were told you were suffering some awful, degrading abuse and that the only way she could end it would be to betray your trust?  How do you think she would feel if she betrayed you, knowing she likely lost that trust forever, and then learned the whole thing was based on a ruse?  And no one was harmed.  We’re all villains in Nassau.  Don’t think because you’re new you’re any different.

Max is legitimately upset that Spain now requires Jack along with the cache, meaning she lied to Anne.  Eleanor fights to protect Anne, knowing how much Max loves her.  THIS IS JUST SO GOOD.  This is how exes should treat each other.

“That fucking chair.  To gain it, it demands you win partners, call them friends, make them promises.  To keep it, it demands you break them all.  One day when all is settled here, we should burn that fucking chair.”

Max discusses the cost of becoming Eleanor in the same episode that Silver realizes the cost of becoming Flint!  Good writing.

Max warns Eleanor that Rogers will abandon her if she continues to compromise his position with his men…so Eleanor sleeps with him (her go-to desperate power move).  And I just?  I know some people see their love story as great, and I can see that Eleanor does love Rogers.  But this is not real love.  She doesn’t trust that he loves her back.  This is just Vane 2.0!  I don’t ship it.

Vane finds Featherstone, who gets Idelle.  I love this new, temporary triumvirate.  Featherstone is worried that Rogers is a shit, and I am too!

Madi and Eme!!  I love that Eme is still around, and more than that, that she’s secretly Mr. Scott’s agent!  Black Sails writers, continuing to ask the good questions: “How can we make our female characters even more awesome?”

“I understand this is the place cowards come to beg forgiveness from a king.  Sign your name to sleep easy, thinking all your sins have been absolved.  But some sins even a king can’t make clean.  You, all of you, every last rotten fuck on this island has crossed a man far less forgiving than old George will ever be.  I come as his right hand.  I come on a mission of mercy, to show you a path to his forgiveness.  I come on behalf of Captain Flint.” “Captain Flint is dead.” “Not anymore, he’s not.”

It is VERY GOOD to have Dufresne pop up and remind us of who Silver used to be, right before Silver reminds us who he is now by stomping Dufrense’s head in.  Repeatedly.

“Contented men have short memories”  vs. “My name is John Silver, and I’ve got a long fucking memory” is SO GOOD.

Caregiver Flint is ALSO my favorite (along with Revolutionary Flint and Strategist Flint, if you’re keeping score), and his going to Silver and asking, “Are you alright?  I wasn’t asking about the leg,” does so many things to my heart!  And just like Eleanor and Max, we get two colleagues discussing the cost of power.

Flint:  You were right.  About the toll it took, playing this part.  Losing Miranda, the things that losing Miranda drove me to.  So I know what you’re feeling in the moment. Silver:  I perceived its effects on you.  What I assumed was sorrow, loneliness, and worst of all terror at the thing you were becoming.  There is an element of this journey into the dark that I’m only now beginning to appreciate. Flint:  What’s that? Silver:  How good it feels.

My question is:  is this true of Flint as it is of Silver?  Did Flint enjoy the darkness?  He explicitly told Miranda that he hated his role as Flint more and more every day.  We’ve seen him do horrible things and then hide somewhere to cry.  On the other hand, I have a hard time believing he doesn’t derive SOME satisfaction in what he does (especially things like destroying Charles Town).  What do you think?  Is Silver misreading Flint and experiencing something separate?

Mrs. Mapleton is madam again, and she reveals the origin story of Eleanor/Max!  Which is basically that she suggested Eleanor get her rocks off with no emotional attachment, but then Eleanor got emotionally attached.  This makes me love her even more, actually?  It’s very Moulin Rouge.

Flint smiling at Rogers sitting on the beach oozes “Finally, a match for me.”  This is made extra satisfying when we remember that Rogers’ plan actually came from Eleanor!

Flint’s FACE when he’s greeted with Rogers saying, “Lord Thomas Hamilton.”  He was NOT expecting that.  But as he is phenomenal, he regains his footing and smirks a, “Clever” at Rogers’ transparent ploy to align Flint with him.

Flint:  So that’s what this is.  We’re all reasonable men, we all want the same thing?  You offer me a pardon, I accept it, this all ends? Rogers:  Maybe.  The pardons are on the table.  No one is being hanged.  No one’s even being tried.  They’ve all been forgiven, just as you wanted.  Just as Thomas Hamilton wanted.  So what is it that you’re fighting for that I’m not already offering? Flint:  Thomas Hamilton fought to introduce the pardons to make a point.  To seek to change England.  And he was killed for it.  His wife and I went to Charles Town to argue for the pardons, to make peace with England, and she was killed for it.  England has shown herself to me, gnarled and gray and spiteful of anyone who would find happiness under her rule.  I’m through seeking anything from England except for her departure from my island.

FLINT IS STILL DEFENDING THOMAS I’M DEAD

It must feel so good to say Thomas’s name out loud, to school some arrogant guy who thinks he understands Thomas and get to say, “I know every nuance of Thomas’s plan, LET ME TELL YOU IT.”

I totally forgot how that scene with Anne played out!  I was so upset for her, and then Vane appeared, and I was so relieved!

Anne and Vane (and Featherstone and Idelle) are very smart!  Now that Jack and the cache are in the same place, it forces people who couldn’t care less about Jack (i.e. Flint) to rescue him in order to retrieve the cache.

It’s VERY enjoyable to see all my favorite pirates on the same ship.  Jack isn’t there, but they’re talking about him, which I feel he would find satisfactory.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, SIDNEY!

You have been accepted for the role of ALEKSANDER MOROZOVA. Admin Bree: Sidney, I can't even express how excited I was to see your app in the inbox! The Darkling is a crucial character to the movement of the plot and the game as a whole, and I worried that we wouldn't have someone to take him up once more and play him—correctly, at that, but you did it, and you did it so well. The changes you made made an already great application even better, and your understanding of him shone through in every word. I can't wait to see what you do with him on the dash. Well done!  You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST.Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER ALIAS: Sidney. PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her. AGE: Twenty. TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m in EST for the summer! I’ll have a lot more free time since I’m home. I do have a part time job, and occasionally I’ll pick up some double shifts, but it’s not too time consuming. I’ll be able to check in daily and I’m always around to plot. As for when the fall semester starts, I go full time and work part time, but I’m usually pretty good at keeping up with things. I can usually respond to threads within 1-3 days and am always around to plot via IMs or Skype! On a numerical scale, I’d say 7-8/10 in the summer and 6-7/10 during school semesters! TRIGGERS: None. CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: Right now, I have Lucrecia. And I was also recently in OSB with Octavian. And I have Rita now.

IN CHARACTER DESIRED CHARACTER: Aleksander Morozova. (This would be my second character. I wasn’t sure if that needed specification!!)

Aleksander( ahl-ek-SAHN-der): A name of Polish origin and a cognate of the name Alexander which literally means defender of man. Some could argue this shows the true nature of the man who is most infamously known as The Darkling, but as we all know, a man’s humanity can change as quickly as darkness can snuff out light. Most notably, the name descends from none other than Alexander the Great: a true leader, a true conqueror, a ruler of empires. And Aleksander plans to do exactly same, by any means necessary.

Morozova (mor-oh-TSOH-vah): A common surname of Russian origin which is derived from the word moroz, which literally translates into frost. Aleksander has never been one to manipulate the elements, never a squaller or a tidemarker, so the literal translation of his name has often eluded him. That is, until he fully grasped the weight of his own power, of the shadows he can cast, of the darkness that spills so willingly from his fingertips. Perhaps it is comparable to the bitter chill of ice leaving its mark. Just as the cold consumes and obliterates, darkness is just as powerful, if not more. He takes pride in his last name and in the meaning behind it. Though this name has many meanings and many different faces associated with it, it is his. He’s worn it since he was a boy and it will live on long after he’s gone. And he foresees no end to the legend it has become.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? I have been in love with The Darkling since the first moment I saw him come to life on paper! Despite his games and his lies and all his flaws, I truly believe in his goodness. It’s deep down, trust me. Deep, deep, deep, deep down. But I think he’s more human than he’ll ever admit, because after all, what’s more human than succumbing to greed? Nothing.

Power has not been all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of, but oppression has a funny way of changing a young boy’s mind. And furthermore, witnessing injustice and suffering first hand can do wonders for a young man’s ambitions. I truly believe at the root of Aleksander you can find a pure and inherently good motive. If one were to examine his life and dig into his past, I think an exact moment can be found when he finally decided enough is enough. And since  then, he can no longer stand idly by while people, blessed with immense power just like him, endure the wrath of those who choose to persecute that which they do not understand.

And while power may be the key to success in the act of uprising an entire people, it also corrupts as viciously as a knife cuts or an arrow pierces. It’s fast, you never see it coming and it is likely you will not survive. Despite harnessing that power for good and creating a way of life for Grisha within Ravka, being the most powerful and revered Summoner to ever walk the Earth, it still isn’t enough for him!  

He’s insatiable. Each and every day his stomach rumbles with a hunger for more, with an incessant need to consume. He wants more and he will always, always, always justify ends with ruthless means. No matter who it hurts. And for a time, he probably truly believed it was all for his people. He told himself each and everyday that no matter what happened and despite whatever he did, it was all right because it was for them.  

But where is the line drawn? At what point will he admit that simply gaining power has become more exhilarating than liberating his people? They may simply call him The Darkling, but in truth, he is darkness. He will stop at nothing; he will let no one stand in his way. And they’re right to be afraid for Aleksander surely will not rest until he has swallowed the world in his darkness.  

Basically, I’m just really obsessed with this character!

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND? ONE: CONTROLLING HIS SHADOW FOLD — No good deed goes unpunished, especially when it is fueled by greed. The fold is a monster, one of his own creation, but it is his baby. His own terrifying and ugly production as a result of being far too in touch with his humanity. And despite all the destruction it has caused and all the lives it has taken, he is convinced it is the answer. Perhaps protection is what it once was for, but greed lies at the root. Always wanting more and never satisfied, Aleksander unleashed a beast upon Ravka—the home of his people. And while a noble goal (to protect his people and strike fear in their enemies) may have been the original idea, a way to keep Grisha safe from those who wish to harm them, it has grown into a wild and uncontrollable creature. Living, breathing darkness. And in truth, it has only made life harder for the residents of Ravka. Many have tried, out of necessity not want, to cross the Unsea and many have lost their lives during the process. That was never what Aleksander wanted, but sacrificing the few for the lives of the many is what makes a great leader.

Gaining control of the fold, of his monster, has always been a priority to him and now with his sights on the sun summoner, it is looking more and more like a reality rather than a distant dream. The way I see it, Aleksander will never be sated in his quest for power. Yes, he has end-game goals, lofty ones at that, but will it ever be enough? No. So much has already changed since he was called The Black Heretic. He created the fold to control his enemies and has been searching for the sun summoner, the one to complete him and sate his quest for power ever since. Now that she’s been found, all that’s left is to move forward with his plan, yes? But then what? Even if every other single territory submits to the Grisha, to him, will it be enough? He’s spent most of his life with this unruly beast as his greatest adversary; it may be his greatest creation as well, but it, in a very real sense, cannot be controlled. I really think he will go to great lengths, as he has done his entire life, to grab the reins, so to speak. But the first step is undoubtedly to gain control of her: Gemma. And I would love to see him use his wiles, his natural charm as a means to gain insight into her as a person and try to lure her into a trap perhaps. He’s powerful, some would even go so far as to say he’s all-powerful, Aleksander included, but will Gemma see past all that? Or fall victim? I don’t want to assume anything about her or claim to know what she would do, but the fold and her are nearly one in the same for him in the sense that he needs to have both of them under his thumb. And though she may look like an easy target, I have a feeling she won’t roll over quietly. So, he must make the allure of power, of ruling an entire country as appealing as it can be and convincing a girl she’s special wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s ever done.  

TWO: MANIPULATION IS AN ART — Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name? He’ll consume the world with darkness until all that is left is himself. All his life his only true companion has been found in the dark, flowing from his fingers in a swirl of dancing shadows. Tangible and ravaging—his power. And just like Aleksander, it is ravenous. Hungry for more, always more. More of what? Destruction. Ruination. Power. While it is has always been clear he is destined to walk the Earth alone, and he’s accepted that no one will ever really understand him, a part of him still calls for something. Always searching, always hunting, always planning for the future, for his people. He’s embraced his given name by now: The Darkling, and he’s come to love the fear and respect it invokes. Darkness is who he is; it is who he will always be. Moi soverennyi, they whisper. Moi soverennyi, they call. Moi soverennyi, they scream. But still, Aleksander can remember what it was like to be the simple boy in his mother’s arms. Innocent. Loved. Despite his age, his greed and his manipulative default setting, I really want to see him struggle with his morality. After all, to control them, you must understand them. But has he lost sight of what it means to be the champion, the leader of his people? With a name like The Darkling, it’s not surprising. But does he use this title, against his own people? Or was it meant to strike fear in those who simply do not understand them?  

Aleksander knows what it means to be molded and shaped into something someone else wants you to be. He understand what it means when people label you as something dark, something evil, something to be feared. But he also knows what it is like to have a thirst for power—for darkness—take root in your soul. He still remembers the days his mother pushed him until all he could feel was darkness, all he could see were shadows, all he could taste was black. She held him in the palm of her hand, twisting and contorting him into the ruthless being she knew he could be. Ironic that he chooses to do the same to those around him now, isn’t it? He holds his people as an artist holds clay, sculpting them into what he wants them to be. He’s made Os Alta the Grisha capital of the world, but did he ask if this is what they wanted? I cannot stress enough how much I love the inherent irony in a character like Aleksander. A young boy, born with no more than his mother’s bosom to call his own, grew up loved and praised and exalted. But inside him, she instilled a hunger. Too much praise can cause a boy to turn sour in the blink of an eye. Too much power can turn a man evil in mere moments. Is there no line he won’t cross? I really would love to explore Aleksander going to outrageous extremes to get the thing he wants most: more power. Whether it be sacrificing those closest to him or executing deals with other nations, or even lying and scheming behind the backs of his own people.  

THREE: AMBITION IS EVIL — Ever since he was a child and he learned what he could do—what he was—he has wanted a better life for him and his people. He’s watched entire villages of those like him burned to the ground, witnessed massacres and had a front row seat to countless slaughters. He grew up knowing nothing but the stain of Grisha blood and the smell of Grisha flesh. But enough was enough. He wanted respect for his life as well as his people’s, and he didn’t think that was too much to ask. Instead, they were treated as pariahs, glared at and whispered about, taken and experimented on, and even worse killed for simply being what they are: Grisha. And despite being the only one of his kind within this group, he still feels for them. He still weeps when they’re slandered and burned at the stake. He still rages when they’re taken and sliced open in the name of science and discovery. Being different does not mean you are lesser; Aleksander knows this. Your difference is what gives you power, my boy. And your power is unstoppable. Words of his mother, of course. But oppression runs deep, no matter the source from which it comes. And changing the minds of a hundred people may seem doable, but convincing an entire nation and its surrounding borders is no easy feat. It’s taken him years to get where he is today, taken him more effort and time and money than he ever thought necessary.  

It’s a never-ending battle, this fight for equality. Sacrifices were made, some by him and many, many more by his own people. Hell, there’s even an entire book dedicated to the martyrs of those who walked the Earth before them, but it will all be worth it when those who once set his people ablaze and spilled their innocent blood bow before him.  There is nothing more important to Aleksander than that. They will kneel, or he will make them. Either way, they will. I find it fascinating that injustice lies at the root of his ambitions, which over time have morphed and, as a result, gone askew. Deep down, I truly believe a young Aleksander could never imagine sacrificing his own people for this cause he’s deemed as righteous: a liberation of all Grisha. But it interests me even more how far away he’s drifted from this goal. And I want to explore his struggle between managing his selfish greed and his once selfless ambition. Power corrupts and he is a prime example of how far one can be lead off course while in bed with sovereignty.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: Yes! I’m always down for character deaths tbh! As long as the death and loss fit into and go along with the plot and it all feels organic!

IN DEPTH IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S): THEN: Fifteen years old His hands are numb. His fingertips twinge, bright red and stinging with pain felt all the way down to the bone. He’s spent the last hour with his body pressed into the freshly fallen snow, hiding out of view. His mother hovered a few feet behind him, keeping her head low as she knelt just inside the tree line. The small tent he’d slept in last night lay beside him in a heap atop the snow.  

Smoke billows from the wreckage, embers glowing every so often—every time the wind blows. It meets the sky with ambivalence, sullying the perfectly tame white sky with its taunting black cloud. Aleksander can’t help but wonder if people feel the same way about him, but the thought vanishes quickly when the wind shifts and the stench hits his nostrils. Not from the tents that lie in ruin just down the hill, no, but from the pile of bodies that lay at the feet of the soldiers.  

Burnt flesh.  

The realization brings a sour taste to the tip of his tongue and he swallows hard. The harsh, cold air makes it feel like sandpaper lines his throats and the urge to cough creeps up. It erupts from his lips before he can stop it and the soldier at the bottom of the hill snaps his head up in Aleksander’s direction. Silently, he curses himself and buries his head deep into the snow, but he should know better. It’s useless to hide; they always find you.

“Well, what are you waiting for, you lazy shit! Go get him!” The soldier takes off on a run, his boots crunching violently atop the snow and it grows louder lunging toward Aleksander. His heart pounds in rhythm with his steps, but he’s positive it seizes within his chest and renders him dead for a full minute when the soldier forcibly sends him down with the others.

He slams hard into the man who he’d only just met three days prior, effectively knocking him down. But the two are both yanked to their knees quicker than they can even think to lick their wounds. Something over his shoulder calls to him, beckons him to turn his attention as well as his head in the direction of his mother. She stands behind a tree, head peeking out every so often, and he swears he can see tears rolling down her cheeks—something he’s never, ever seen before; his mother crying.

“Well, well, well, what do we have over there?” The solder releases his gun; it falls to his side and, just for a moment, Aleksander thinks he can be quick enough to grab it. He can snatch it from the man, turn his own gun back on him and save his people. ”Is that your mother, boy?” The man’s words slice through his fantasy just as the villain always does to the hero.  

“She a freak like you?” The soldier next to him taunts, a menacing smile spread across his mouth. He looks from one to the other, slowly, with disgust apparent in his quartz eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Bind him. Now.” The man on the end takes a step forward as he reaches for the extra rope chained to his belt. “You—” he points to a third, “go get her.”

“She has nothing to do with this.” His voice is low, assured, but still it comes out far weaker than he intends; it’s filled with far more emotion than he should reveal at a time like this.  

“Ah,” the one in front of him notes, pulling up the fabric of his pants at the thighs and bending at his knees. He’s at Aleksander’s level now, eye to eye—villain to hero. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“No, please. Leave her ou—”

In the blink of an eye, the man raises his arm and lands his palm along Aleksander’s face. It stings, the slap to his cheek; it brings tears to his eyes, and he feels like surrendering. He wants to stop running; to stop hiding; to stop being hunted. Maybe resigning himself is the only option. At least if he’s gone, no other Grisha village will fall simply because he and his mother had arrived. But there has to be more than this, he thinks. More than running, more than hiding, more than just surviving.  

He wants to live.

He wants to fight.  

And with that realization, he pushes himself to his feet and stands tall. His power follows in tandem, growing just as he rises. It swirls within him, heading toward his hands, strong and solid—a deadly weapon to wield. He sucks in a sharp breath as he raises his right arm up above his head. Anger mixes with darkness to create an unstoppable force, and he summons it to the surface.

As fast as a crack of lightning, he slashes his arm down and across on an angle. It sounds like the snap of a whip, echoing along the trees and causing a hush among those around him. But they cannot look away, and neither can he. Blood begins to spill from the cut along the man’s bald head, seeping down and running along his cheeks. Slowly, his head splits in two, followed by his neck, then his torso. When Aleksander blinks and reopens his eyes, his jaw slacks and falls slightly agape.  

“The Cut.”  

Someone behind him whispers and he snaps his head back, glaring at them quizzically. The what? He goes to speak, but in the corner of his eye, he can see a soldier reaching for his gun. There’s no time to think, no time to weigh his options or beg for forgiveness. What’s done is done. His mother’s voice rings true throughout his clouded mind. If she could see him now, with a man split in two lying dead at his feet, would she think him a monster? Would she cower as the others that surround him have done? They’ve grabbed their children, pulled them close, yanked them as far away from him as they can get.

They’ll be afraid of you, Aleksander. But fear is good. Fear you can control.

A gunshot sounds. A Grisha falls to the snow, blood pooling beneath their lifeless body, tainting the once white snow with crimson, but Aleksander cannot see it as anything other than hatred, once again, invading his home. That familiar anger begins to creep in, but he welcomes it with open arms. He lets it engulf him; he lets it take control. Wisps of black billow from his palms, and with little effort, he commands it toward the soldiers—the rotten men who dare to take the life of his people. It envelops them in darkness, and they cry; they plead for mercy. But Aleksander cannot grant them something they do not deserve.  

And with one clench of his fist, the shadows clench around their throats. Tighter and tighter, until every last inch of life—of light—is stolen from them. He can feel it; he can feel their last dying breath in the palms of his hands.

He has all the control.

He can decide their fate.

He gets to choose who lives and who dies.

And with one swift glance to the people on his side of this mere battle; with one look at their faces, he basks in the triumph in their eyes and steals every soldier’s last ounce of life.

NOW: Age unknown “Moi soverennyi.” They greet him as he enters, heads bowed and hands folded identically. The only thing that sets them apart are the colors of their kefta. Distantly, he wonders if he’d assigned them that way on purpose. He remembers a time when all he could think of was inclusion, but it hadn’t taken long to split up a united people; for blue to mean something entirely different than red, or black. Of course, his is singular in color. He stands out. The only one to walk hand-in-hand with darkness.

With a flick of his wrist, he dismisses their stance of adoration as the door closes behind him. Murmurs begin, hushed voices enveloping the room once more as he makes his way to his seat. Naturally, it’s at the head of the table and raised slightly higher than the rest of the chairs.  

“Where are we with the expeditions?” He asks before he sits, and those deemed worthy enough to sit in his war room scramble quickly, rummaging through the papers before him. Frustration ignites and he shakes his head furiously. “Clear the table. Show me on the map. Now.”  

“Yes, Moi soverennyi,” one of them quivers, scooping up the country figurines and placing them along the map.

“Right away,” the other follows, and Aleksander watches him carefully as he places a caravan just south of Sikursk.

“They’re only at Sikursk? I was assured they would arrive in Shu Han by this morning.”  

“Yes, Moi soverennyi. I am aware, but we just received word less than an hour ago of their delay. Something about an attack while trying to cross through Koba.”

“An attack? What sort of attack?” No one answers him. They continue to squirm and shuffle, reading and rereading the same papers over and over. “Answer me.” He doesn’t shout; he rarely ever does. But he has a tone, one unmistakable to those who are closest to him. But still nothing, still silence, still defiance, if you were to ask Aleksander.

“Moi soverennyi, please,” a familiar voice cuts through the chaos of the room, along with slicing through his rising anger. “Allow me to explain.”

“Please do.”

“As you know, Shu Han has been the rather difficult territory to do business with. Yes, we may have worked our way into their leader’s pocket, but still—” he pauses, clasping an arm on a fellow corporalki, “there are…. shall we say, radicals.”  

“Radicals.” He echoes the word, chewing it uneasily between his lips.

“Yes, radicals. Those who deem it necessary to attack our caravan and injury seven of our people. Two of whom may not live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.” He pauses as he rounds the other end of the table, stopping briefly to lock his gaze with Aleksander, but as quick as their eyes meet, Altan glances back at the floor. “So, you see, Moi soverennyi, it was out of their control.”  

He shudders at the thought of his people being blindsided. He needs more information; needs to know exactly what happened. And more than anything, he wants the culprits found, tried and gutted.  

“Very well,” he says simply. “I’d like a briefing after, but in the meantime send Vera with a team of four and two riders.”

“Yes, Moi soverennyi. As you wish.” He nods and returns back to his post, walking behind Aleksander and taking the seat to his right.  

“And what of Novyi Zem? How many survived The Fold?” Aleksander sits, observing as the rest of the men place pieces all across the map. It looks as if it is a game, he thinks. One I intend to win, a much deeper and far darker part of him replies.  

“Not many, Moi soverennyi, but we have high hopes for the next car—” the man’s words are cut short by the slam of the door against the wall. He sighs with frustration, running his fingertips roughly along the edge of his jaw.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Moi soverennyi, but it is of the utmost impor—”

With a slam of his fist to the table, the wood cracks with a sharp snap and the mouths of every single person within the room slam shut, eyes wide with horror. But the one who spoke, Fyodor, looks more irritated than afraid.  

“Please, Moi sov—” he tries again, but Aleksander holds a hand up.  

“You do not understand, Moi soverennyi. Please allow us to explain.” This time it is Svetlana who speaks, her voice grating and unnerving as it dances along his very last nerve.

“Fine, fine out with it, Gavrikova. Speak.” He orders her as he’s done so many times before, but his eyes never leave the map on the table before him.  

“We found her, Moi soverennyi,” she pauses, head turning toward Adrik on her left, then on Fyodor to her right. Her cheeks flush with excitement as her gaze makes its way back to Aleksander and he takes note of her chest as it swells with pride.  

“We found your Summoner.”

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Svetlana.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, a defeated sigh brushing past his lips slowly.

“I would never joke of such a thing, Moi soverennyi,” she takes another step toward the table, gathering more of her composure once she stops, slowly tucking her arms behind her back and nodding assuredly. “I,” she emphasizes the same way a petulant child does, “found her. She awaits your arrival. In your office.”

MOMENTS LATER — The Darkling’s Office He pauses in front of the door, straining his ears as he leans in for the tenth time. He hears nothing once again, but he still isn’t quite sure what he expected. Crying, perhaps? It is always so much easier to get them to cooperate when they’re motivated by fear—such an easy emotion to manipulate. It is the very reason he has stayed in power for all these years; he is revered by some, but feared by all.  

This girl, the one they tell him can take the eyes of men with only light must be quite different.

Deciding he simply cannot wait any longer, he pushes aside all reservations and lets the wave of childlike excitement wash over him—that of a timid young boy unwrapping a present on his name day. Charcoal hues land on her as the door swings open and she takes his breath away, this girl who hath summoned light, this anomaly, this Sankta, and damn if she was not the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on. Gentle and delicate yet shoulders held high, chin risen and eyes narrowed on the ruler of his—of her—people.  

“What do they call you?” He takes a step toward her, nearly crossing half the room in one stride, but he stops in his place and chooses to lock his arms behind his back as he waits for an answer, for this interaction shall tell him all he needs to know about the girl.  

“Gemma.” Her voice is flat, emotionless, but Aleksander knows better than to trust a woman’s voice; they have tells, as does anyone, and he’ll soon learn hers as well.  

“And what do you know of us? Of your people?” It’s subtle, the inflection; an idea carefully placed in the midst of an innocent question. They will be your people soon enough.

“Not much,” she clears her throats and folds her arms across her chest, eyes still trained to the rug instead of looking to him with the respect he demands of all his pupils, a respect he has rightfully earned, but he cannot fault the girl for being uneducated in their ways.  

“Right, I suppose nothing is a more accurate description,” another step and he reaches her side, and with a small gesture of his arm, he cups her chin gently and forces her attention to him. “But you are very aware of what we—what you—are capable of.” It’s a statement and he speaks it with a coy twist to his lips, a subtle mention of her checkered past and the certain power she is capable of.

She doesn’t answer, not at first, and so they linger there in this moment, with her chin in his hand and their eyes locked. “Tell me, Gemma,” he drops her chin along with his gaze and turns on his heel, striding away in the opposite direction, “did you know the man whose sight you stole?”

“No,” she pleads, emotion breaking through steel composure, “but I did not mean to hurt him.”

“Of course you did.”

“No,” she says firmly, with an ever-so-slight nod of her head. “It was an accident.”

“Breaking a glass is an accident.” He stops once he reaches the other side of the room. “Dropping papers is an accident.” He turns slowly, rounding his neck quicker than his body so as to lock their eyes once more, and he narrows his gaze once her glance meets his. “Getting caught was surely an accident as well, but—” he lets the silence linger, a pregnant pause in anticipation of what words are to come, and perhaps she already knows them. “Blinding a man, well, that is surely no accident.”

She doesn’t answer and all that remains by way of a reaction is the small scowl she offers, but it would seem she’s fighting that rage, that very anger that got her here. And so he walks back toward her slowly, the only noise in the room is his boots as they hit the stone, but then he speaks again. “Tell me, was this the first time you summoned light?”

“Yes.”

“Never before? Have you since?”  

“No. Well,” she pauses, glancing away from him, “I haven’t tried.”

Interesting. He ponders a world in which someone awakens with power and then proceeds to deny it any life. “And what did it feel like? Can you remember anything about that exact moment?”

Her mouth falls agape, eyes slightly widened with what Aleksander can only imagine to be horror at having to recall a moment in which she took a man’s life, but he can no longer recall such a remorse. He’s taken too many lives, perhaps, to be able to feel any such thing, but he needs to inspect her motivations. How had she remained unnoticed for so long?  

“I’d rather not relive the moment!” He voice grows louder, angrier and a smile spreads slowly across his lips as he tap dances along her very last nerve, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean the moment when you hurt him, I meant the moment when you let the light take over. Do you remember it?” Do you remember the power?

He listens carefully at first as she begins, and it’s almost heartwarming how she stutters and hesitates to reveal just how wonderful it felt, like a warm hug from a friend or the kiss of first light on a clear day. So many metaphors, so many ways to describe the light, all of which he’s never experienced or witnessed, but each entice him more than the last. And the distant thought lingers as she continues on: does darkness even exist without light?  

“Show me,” he interrupts her with a stern voice, somewhat demanding, just as a child demands attention.  

“I… I don’t know how. I don’t even know how it happened in the first place!” She’s panicking, inching away from him as reality sets back in. No longer are the two sharing stories of power, but instead they have ventured back to prisoner and warden.  

“Well, Gemma,” he exaggerates her name with a flick of his wrist as he inches toward her slowly, “one of the benefits of being The Darkling is being an amplifier.” She stares up at him slightly confused, and suddenly it sets in just how uneducated she truly his about herself and the small science. “An amplifier, person or object, enhances the abilities of any Grisha. And usually my most trusted Grisha receive amplifiers as a gift from me,” he pauses for a moment, reaching his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair as bright as the sun from her face, “for their service and to show how greatly they are appreciated.” Still, she seems confused, albeit less than she was before, but there is still a twist to her brow. “Amplifiers will help you project your power farther, it will enhance it and it will make you stronger, perhaps even offer you a bit more control.” He finishes with a small smirk.  

“But for now, all you have is me.”

He takes another half step and closes all the distance between them, but turns slowly so his shoulders are squared with hers. And with minimal concentration and a small dance of his fingertips, darkness emerges. It’s thick like smoke but far more buoyant, and it spreads like wildfire, engulfing everything within the room in blackness, including her. Gemma’s face falls out of view, but he reaches out to her, locking his hand around her forearm.  

“Show me.” His voice is low, deep, almost disembodied if it weren’t for the fact that his arm was latched onto her. But still, she struggles. She doubts herself and her abilities, but Aleksander knows this legend, this fairytale of a girl, and he knows exactly what she is capable of. She just requires a little push. And with that thought, he tightens his grasp on her ever so lightly, and calls out to that light within her. Show yourself, it says. Show me.  

And show it she does.  

It comes in short bursts at first, little spurts and flickers of light emerge from the end of her fingertips, so he focuses his energy, his voice as he calls to it, that power within her, and then it comes rushing out, flowing like a geyser of warm sunlight. And it isn’t long until her light begins to push away the darkness between them, consuming it and turning it into something better, something pure, something less dark. For a moment they linger, eyes locked as her light and his darkness swirl within the confines of his office. And if one were to ask Aleksander, he’d say black and white had never looked so good together. Like calls to like. And it was clear they were far more alike than he could have ever imagined. It was all so clear now, his path to righteousness and it is one he intends to walk with Gemma, the Sun Summoner, by his side.

“Now,” he starts, voice slightly raised to make himself heard over the swirl of light and dark around them, “take it all, Gemma.” He gives her another light squeeze, mostly for encouragement and her eyes fall shut. He watches in amazement as every inch of darkness, every curl of blackness is pushed away and all that remains is light—is her.  

Once the room is back to normal and the light begins to fade, he releases her arm slowly and heaves a happy sigh. “Well, that will certainly make for quite the show at the Fete. We’ll be the main attraction.“ He takes a step back and watches her closely. She’s breathless, but he swears he can see a distinct happiness in the corner of her eye. That’s right, he thinks. "With me by your side, Gemma,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, making sure each phrase paints a precise picture in her mind, “only great things will come." But only he knows the true meaning: with you by my side, I’ll rule the world.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS: 1. ASTROLOGY: Sagittarius — Born a young, idealistic boy, Aleksander saw the world with goggles for most of his childhood, unaware of the tragedy of his kind, but he’s always been acutely aware of his and his mother’s own strife. But once he learned, and witnessed firsthand the kind of suffering Grisha can incur for simply being who and what they are, ambition and hope for change pushed him to achieve anything he set his mind to. Aleksander being the sagittarius he is, he has the innate ability to turn thoughts and ideas into concrete actions. He can also be unbearably impatient and ridiculously stubborn, but if you are on his side and agree with him, then it’s a good thing because he will always fight hardest for what he is adamant about. But when he’s not working far too hard in the war room, he’s plenty capable of having a good sense of humor and quick wit, he just reserves it for the rarest of occasions.

2. MBTI: ENTJ - The Commander — Confident and charismatic, Aleksander was born to lead, born to draw in a crowd and keep them listening. Ever since he was a boy, he’s been driven. Toward what? It doesn’t matter because whatever he sets his mind on, his determination and sharp mind are there to guide him toward success. Whether it be a small boy seeking a treat before dinner or a grown man hellbent on ruling the world. Despite all setbacks and regardless of any obstacles, both will prevail.

3. CHARACTER ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil — Though I do believe Aleksander most likely started in a very different place on the spectrum of alignment (more along the lines of chaotic good), currently he’s a man who will do whatever he wants without any regard for anyone else. And though his word is bond and he will stand by what he promises, one can never be sure he’s telling the truth. If someone’s goals get in the way of his own, then crush you he will because nothing is as important to him as his own beliefs and ideals. He’s fiercely loyal when he wants to be and, in return, appreciates loyalty from his people. But the second you do not fall in line or share his same beliefs, you have signed your own death warrant and therefore become expendable.

4. STYLE: Aleksander keeps his facial hair short and neatly trimmed. Sometimes a five o’clock shadow can appear, but only if he wants it to. He’s rarely found ever sporting a beard, preferring to keep his face clean shaven always. His hair is parted perfectly, centered over his left eyebrow. It is combed on either side and slicked back. Few have seen him with his hair unkempt for he wishes to always give off a togetherness, an ease to being the ruler of an entire people. He’s a very reserved man and has very few ticks or bad habits. His nails are always perfectly trimmed and his skin is soft and smooth despite his age. And he rarely ever blemishes, but if he does, it is taken care of immediately by a healer. Image is important for someone like him. Vain? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely. You don’t become renowned by being an unattractive mess.  

5. DETACHMENT: Aleksander has lived a thousand lifetimes, each of them very different from the last, but ending the same each time. In devastation. In death. In destruction. He has lost a thousand friends, watched a thousand loves die. It is the very reason, for as long as he can recall, he dismisses intimacy. He bats it away like a pestering fly. He slays it like a monster who lurks beneath the bed. There are few he trusts and even fewer he tolerates for he feels—he knows—no matter what, no one will ever understand him. He walks this Earth alone. He fights his demons alone. He rules his people alone. He’s long lost all hope in finding a companion, a love to last. Too much loss, too much defeat can cause a man’s heart to grow cold and resign itself to darkness. And if he’s being honest, at this point, hope is a fairytale and all that remains true is power. if life were a book, his would be littered with pages upon pages of tragedies, of loss, of grief, but power—power is something that has always been consistent; always been reliable. He can lean on power, feel it as he holds it tightly in the palm of his hand. He can wear it like a crown, wield it like a sword against his enemies, donning it by way of a kefta on his shoulders (which is notably black and of singular design). Power has become his most trusted ally, his most honorable friend, his most dependable subject. And power alone shall be his companion.

6. GRISHA: Aleksander may have lived his childhood being the only one of his kind, but that does not mean he doesn’t have his people. And though his lips are normally set into a firm line and not a single emotion can be read from his face, he cares deeply for the Grisha. It should be more than evident in how hard he’s worked for them, grabbing them and thrusting them to the top. He’s made them revered throughout Ravka. And for as long as he can remember, he’s shared the same beliefs, the same dreams as his fellow Grisha: to be free from persecution; to no longer have to run and hide; to rise up. It took time to break free from the chains of oppression, to shed the horrid treatment they’d endured for centuries, but rise they did. An idea became a movement, and a movement became a home, and with a home came an army to defend it. Equality may have been the dream long ago, but now it’s a distant memory. He and his people deserved more; they know their worth. They may be the second army now, but it is only a matter of time until they are the only army.

7. MOI SOVERENNYI: Like any father, Aleksander loved his children, his Grisha. He showered them in gifts, in keftas, in palaces, in elegance, and in return they thrust him upon a dais and called him Moi soverennyi. And for years this was enough. The rewards bestowed upon him whenever he looked his saved people in the face, appreciation enveloping him in the the kind of warm hug he never received as a child. He became their ruler. Leader of the Grisha. Commander of the Second Army. The Darkling. And with time came results. His people were no longer burned and murdered, but praised and beloved. But time has shown him that love, despite its abilities and power, is never truly enough. While most have succumb to the Grisha, tolerating them, appreciating them, even going so far as to seek out their gifts, there are still those who refuse. Aleksander loves his people, cares for them as if they were his own kin—and to him, they are—but he will stop at nothing to make them see, every last one. Even if it means sacrificing a few for the good of the many. He will do anything to make it known to those from Fjerda to Shu Han, from Novyi Zem to Os Kervo: “Welcome to The Age of Grisha; we are here to stay.”

EXTRAS: I have a graphic I made here.

Connection Expansions: GEMMA — The long awaited equal; the sun summoner. There is no one else like us, he’ll whisper. I have waited centuries for you, he’ll purr. We can rule together, you and I, he’ll coo. Anything to convince the girl of her worth, of her power, of their likeness. He knows exactly what she’s capable of. She is an unruly thing, but Aleksander has never shied away from a challenge. He wants to guide her, to control her, to use her for a very singular purpose, but she doesn’t need to know that. For years, he’s wandered alone but now, finally, where he is darkness, she is the newfound light. Like calls to like. They have the ability to complete each other, to rule. And despite all her stubbornness and the headaches it causes him, still he finds himself fascinated, enticed by her elusivity and beckoned by her elegance. He longs to corrupt her, to stain her perfect porcelain skin with a hint of darkness. And though she may resist at first, he shall stop at nothing to draw her close.

ALTAN — Possibly the only person he trusts but definitely not fully; Aleksander would never be so frivolous with his loyalties, and he’ll never truly trust in anyone other than himself. He knows better, but Altan comes close. The heartrender has proven his loyalties time and time again. He’s worked his way up to the coveted role of Aleksander’s right hand, anyone and everyone is replaceable, even him. And regardless of how easily Altan falls to his knees before him and despite how loyal he claims to be, Aleksander knows that look in his eye. Fear. But fear is good, fear makes a man loyal. But fear also has a way of burrowing deep down in a man’s gut; it has a way of eating at him, making way for doubt to take root. And it most definitely has a way of letting betrayal slip right through the door.  

SVETLANA — She’s like a gnat flying and buzzing relentlessly about his head, irritating to say the least but he takes note of her strength, of her ability to conquer when the time comes. He admires the way men fall to their knees of their own volition for her; she never has to command them. Could she be useful? Time will tell. After all, she is the loyal oprichnik who brought him the sun summoner. Perhaps she cannot be as bad as he thinks. Only time will tell.  

ANYTHING ELSE? I made some changes, added some things and tweaked others (hopefully for the better!!), but I just genuinely wanted to give it another shot because I so thoroughly enjoy the series and the roleplay you all have created!!! And thanks for taking the time to read (again). :) My fave book is Catcher in the Rye.

[tavis-of-bannorn]

Washed Up

@elfrootemporium washed!up verse chat log. Will continue as a thread as discussed. Under the cut for length. <3

Tavis: <joined the Herald and some others on a journey to West Hill. There were reports of strange activity in the area and some individuals waiting to be recruited within the city. He wasn't really certain why the Inquisition had sent him along with. He is more than capable in a fight but never has he joined the Herald before and most of them seem suspicious of him. They had imprisoned him for a time, after all, so he is surprised they trusted him at all.>

<They finished with their recruitment in the city and made their way towards the coast where a rift is spotted along the shore. After some tiresome fighting, the Herald closes it and they make their way along the beach to make camp.>

<Once camp is set he wanders off to explore the beach a little enjoying the rare moment of respite, reveling in the feeling of sand between his toes and the refreshing sea air.>

<His eyes drift towards the shore and up ahead he notices a body laying still. He furrows his brow in concern and runs up to see a woman laying still. He fully expects the worst, but kneels down and checks her pulse and he is relieved to find she is still alive. But she clearly was just washed in from the sea, her clothing is soaked and the waves were close enough to brush her feet as they rose and fell.>

<Tavis carefully shifts her on her back> Can you hear me?<he says loud enough to try and reach her, repeating it before giving her enough of a shake to wake her if water isn't in her lungs and there is no response. He places a finger on her neck and then a hand on her chest giving a breath of relief well she is breathing at least but hardly. His face turns serious and focused and he presses on her chest just hard enough to get her breathing, and then carefully tilts her head back, closing her nose with fingers and meets her lips breathing air into her lungs. He does this repeatedly, over and over until he gets her to breathe again and dearly hopes he can save her> Imogen: What she remembered the most was the cold. It seeped into her skin, into her bones like the water seeped into her lungs burning and choking her insides. Then the darkness and nightmares claimed her: green swirling fog, grotesque monsters trying to devour her, voices screaming and talking over one another in her head.

And then they were quiet save for one. It was distant, concerned; though the words were unfamiliar they began pulling her from the darkness of her dreams. Warm lips against her forcing air into her burning lungs. Soft pressure on her chest waking her abruptly as the water was violently forced from her lungs.

She rolled over on her side, coughing and sputtering until she felt she could breathe again. Tavis: Tavis leaned back quickly as she came up for air and water left her in significant force. The concern was back on his face, a look of care as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He had some healing potions with him luckily and turned to release a vial from his belt. It could help any internal damage caused from the pressure and unconsciousness at least.

"I very nearly lost you. Do you know where you are?" He spoke softly and as calmly as possible, not really sure how lucid the woman would be, so he kept speaking. Emerald eyes were fixed on her and he held the potion out for her to take with a soft nod. "It will help you heal." Imogen: Imogen couldn't tell if she was awake or still dreaming. Sure, she hurt everywhere inside and out. But the land wasn't like anything she'd ever seen before, she couldn't understand what the man was saying to her. Speaking of the man holding the small bottle to her ... he... wasn't like anyone she'd ever met before: his skin was so very pale, hair so very red, curious tattoos drawn across his face and... her curiosity overrode any fear or sense of propriety and she reached up toward his long ear, running her finger along the outside of it, examining it. Who was he? What was he?

A bit of the fear came prickling back and she quickly pulled her hand back, scooting away from him a bit. Tavis: Tavis' eyes drifted to the side as he felt the tingle from her touch drawing up his ear. His head remained unmoving, he was rather confused by the gesture but more than a little intrigued by the odd directness. His eyes drifted back towards her, brow slowly rising in some amusement. Why is this strange human fondling my ear? He gave a soft chuckle at that before she pulled away and he blinked at the suddenness.

He wasn't really sure what to do, clearly words weren't helping. He had no idea why that woman would have been unconscious on the shore. It was clearly an accident at sea or something like that. Or perhaps she escaped from a slaver ship, he heard rumors that the area was notorious for having many slavers about but generally the elves were the ones they stole away, not humans.

He put a hand up, a small indication that he meant no harm and he nodded as she backed away then gave her space.

"I mean no harm," he said in a soft reassuring tone, and tried to meet her eyes, his own quiet and a little curious. "But I understand why you would be wary of a random elf hovering over you on the beach," he continued and set the vial down between them, still crouched down in front of her and laced his fingers together. "I would like to help you if you'll allow it." Imogen: Taking a good look at her surroundings she realized that she was alone, in this strange world, with this strange person, with nothing but the clothes on her back. The wet... clingy...clothes. She watched him carefully as he moved, waiting for the slightest sign that he might try to hurt her. But he was slow, deliberate as though he understood. She eyed the vial between them. If their positions were reversed, she'd try to help... perhaps it was for the pain, her injuries? Still, she shoudl still be careful.

Imogen picked up the vial and held it to him. /"You first."/ If she didn't understand his words, she doubted he understood  what she was saying, so she hoped he understood she wasn't rejecting his help. Just... being cautious. Tavis: He watched her as she examined her surroundings and he also took note that she only had her clothes. And her clothes were quite strange as well, he glanced at the difference of style, one that he had never seen before. But he supposed he had never been further north than the Free Marches so perhaps she was Antivan or Rivaini. Rivain seemed the closest possible location that he could assume just by looking at her but it was still off.

He glanced at the vial before giving her a very intrigued look at the words. They were short and sweet but he knew for sure that was not an Antivan tongue and he had heard Rivaini pirates speaking in the past. Nor was it Qunlat or anything he had heard before. Which was the only reason that he gave the slightest pause.

Tavis gave a nod in understanding and carefully reached for the vial, tipping his head back and taking a little swig, enough to prove it wasn't poisonous. His nose twitched at the taste, he always hated the taste of that particular potion, it had a harsh bite to it but he was used to it by now. He swallowed and let it sit a moment, long enough to indicate that, if it were poisonous, it would have affected him by then.

With an arm outstretched, he handed it back to her, giving a small smile and a hum instead of words, because it seemed she did not speak the common tongue. Imogen: She waited a moment, watching him intently for any sign of adverse effects. When she was sure he wasn't going to fall over dead right there in front of her, she mirrored his movements as she drank the potion herself right down to the same nose twitch at the taste.

Now what?  

She fingered the bottle as she looked over him again, fascinated by elongated, pointy ears. She'd never seen such a person before. Tavis: He watched the woman as she took the bottle and shifted to a more casual position, sitting on the sand and folding his legs. He merely looked at her because clearly words were pointless but they still slipped out regardless.

"Well then..." He gave a lilting chuckle and smiled more a little more amusement touching his eyes at the situation.

So he couldn't speak and facial expressions, tone and body movements only did so much unless people were well acquainted, they had just met. His gaze drew away from hers and he leaned to the side, propping himself up with one arm and considered the sand.

Well he could draw something to speak, but what? And he wasn't particularily good at drawing either. But he could draw basic things in sand to get something across.

He gave her a soft glance, lips quirking before he turned so he sat next to her at a respectful distance. A long finger began forming lines and shapes in the sand until ended up looking like a ship. He glanced to the side, giving an inquisitive look as if his eyes placed a question mark at the end. It was the closest he could get to using pictures to communicate what was happening really so he just drew what he thought of first. Imogen: Imogen shivered in the cool breeze and wrapped her arms around herself as she watched him draw in the sand. A ship? Did she come over on a ship? She nodded and then reached over and drew two other ships, a storm cloud, and bolts of lightning striking the ships. Tavis: Tavis watched her drawing, happily noting that she understood his question. So there was a storm and she survived somehow. He gave a glance towards her and noticed her shivering and shrugged his cloak off before wrapping it around her shoulders. A smile touched his lips before he went back to think of what to draw.

He drew something akin to a campfire, logs underneath and a flame atop it, with lines above it to indicate smoke. Next to it he drew a tent and a few stick figures with smiles. That was the best to indicate that the people were friendly. He didn't want to lead her into a camp with people in it without telling her first.

Then he nodded to his left where the campsite was. He wasn't really sure what to draw to indicate that she would be safe or what to do to prove it to her, that was the dilemma. Imogen: It didn't escape her notice that she was the only one from any of the ships on the beach. Was she the only survivor? Were the others further along the beach? Both thoughts made her queasy. If she were the only one, she'd have to figure out what to do all on her own. If she wasn't...well, that was a whole other well of problems she'd have to deal with.

Imogen followed the man's gaze to a campsite in the distance. More than likely his than any of hers. But what if she wasn't the first he found?

She leaned over their sand drawing, once again adding to it. She drew several small people on the ship, pointed to them, then tilted her head in question. Have you seen them? Tavis: He wondered where the others were as well when he gazed at her drawing. He had seen no others but that didn't necessarily mean they were gone, they could have been further along the shore. But it was amazing that this woman was alive at all, he doubted there would be other survivors, given her condition.

Tavis glanced at her, sadness touching his eyes with the slightest frown. His head gave a soft shake 'no' and he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." He said softly, his tone sympathetic. He knew she couldn't understand but hoped she could at least hear it in his tone.

His hand fell from her shoulder and he pointed towards her, then towards himself before placing two fingers towards his eyes and out to the beach. He made another gesture towards her drawing of her people on the ship and then nodded. We can search for them.