#which while im sure it was justified must have been terrifying for her

[princekirijo]

Finally getting round to reading the Scarlet Pimpernel (free eBooks my beloved) and while I am really enjoying the story and everything is pretty easy to follow, the sheer royalist tones the book has is a lot

[mochuelovelli]

GAAAAHHH OKAY

Let's talk about the Timephoon Episodes

This is such an old topic of discourse but after reading many fanfics, videos, and some posts on the subject I have found little divergent takes on the whole subject.

While commentators are of the mind that, for the most part, the punishment and execution of said punishment for Louie's actions were partially if not fully justified but how she went about it was wrong.

Some fanfic writers and some subsects of the fandom but they are much more critical and often in a more black and white interpretation. Which is valid for vent art. However, I find both these portrayals to be lacking in some nuance.

Specifically when it it comes to who's to blame for the next 3 episodes, and to me, its more than just Della (and Louie but there really isn't much discourse here).

Let's start with Timephoon:

This pretty much solidifies their relationship throughout the episode[Also sorry for no captions]. Multiple times Della is shown to have a very laissez faire style of parenting as she primarily wants her kids to enjoy being kids and having fun. This is probably in part to her personality in general - which is probably what Beakley assumes here - however it is also her want to be loved by her children and even more critically, she doesn't ever want them to suffer like she did. Above all else, she wants them to be happy and feel confident in themselves. We see this in all the previous episode with her and her kids - From Dewey and reassuring him that he doesn't need to prove himself to her [notably in this episode she only shows concern when Dewey himself is in danger, she doesn't give a shit when he almost kills her] to Huey and helping him to have the most fun he possibly can, to even Webby and making sure that she also feels confident in herself regardless in how she goes about things.

Bringing up all these adventures does raise some pretty damning hypocrisy. Della encourage Dewey's reckless behavior in his episode. The lesson at the end wasn't, okay maybe we shouldn't be going on dangerous adventures, it was its okay to be afraid and you don't need to prove to me that you're great I already know you are. Huey's message was similar, albeit more low stakes. Webby's lesson wasn't even that she shouldn't be trying to take such risks to find adventure in the future, it was just a lesson in not being disappointed when things don't work the way you want.

So why wasn't Louie's adventure treated the same? Well... let's look at some more examples of Beakley V Della this episode before we answer that -

This is right before the kids find Bubba, Beakley's reaction is what most people would consider to be parental as she is concerned for the safety of the kids running out in a hurricane. Again we see Della acting casual.

Once Bubba is inside and Huey geeks out about him, Beakley actually smiles bc she knows that something like this means a lot to Huey [keep this in mind for l8r]. She only gets serious after Della says it's neat without much after thought so she gives the lesson of the episode - "Small problems become big problems later if not prevented early."

Next we have Della's faux attempt at being strict with her kids. Letting the irresponsible thing happen as long as they are "safe". While also harkening back to her previous episodes where she also is shown to have this attitude that "the kids can do anything as long as they are safe with ME or Scrooge or another SAFE adult", it is also good to note SCROOGE'S expression here to her patting herself on the back for her parenting. Now he could just be confused as to why Della is taking this "lesson" as a win, but he could be noticing that she really doesn't know what she is doing but unlike Beakley doesn't make any attempts to correct this.

Another scene that people often forget when reviewing this episode, just like with all her other kids she at first takes LOUIE'S side and decides they should just roll with the punches like always. Which honestly is sort if valid because that's kinda Scrooge's whole MO; though he also had others to there to keep him afloat but we all know someone like Scrooge, Della, and the kids hardly see that. I also want to hammer home that, just like with the other boys, she doesn't shy away from displaying that she loves them ALL. A few seconds later, it's subtle but she is shown smiling and patting Louie on the head because like the other kids she just wants him to feel supported. If I was to be critical, I would say this is possibly because she likes the IDEA of her boys more than them but I mean - this is pretty much everyone's attitude towards kids. It might be amplified bc of her trauma but it's not unusual. But even still I would argue that she mainly does love the boys for who they are as she is excited to get to know them.

After Della figures that they are looking for a "master thief", Scrooge and Beakley immediately know it's one of the kids. Shocking her since she later states she is of the belief that her kids are too "good" to do something like this. I also want to bring attention, again, to Beakley smiling (ik im putting a lot of stock into expressions but animation tends to do stuff like this for a reason). She is smiling at whom she expects is Dewey for messing with time and space. Bc even if she planned to scold him, she knows it's just their normal. Scrooge seems to also be of the same mind. Later Beakley gives a really good line about "Even good kids can do dumb things. We got to make sure those dumb things don't turn into bad things like destroying all of existence!".

Mrs. B exists stage right

All jokes aside, this must have been a nightmare for all of them but especially Della. She had just finally admitted that she was out of her depth and made another mistake in parenting. But now it seems like she lost her chance to rectify that. Because for all she knows, Mrs. B will never come back. This is import-ALLRIGHTWEGETIT

Della is then shown explicitly worried about her family. Emotions, insecurities and fear obviously getting the best of her. We don't know exactly what she is thinking but we know she is terrified of the possibility of losing one of her kids. When she asks about Louie, she probably thinks he must have disappeared without her knowing. That she might have already failed more than she could know, because she wasn't there to protect him. She doesn't know - she is "Della Duck" and she doesn't know how to fix this. She didn't expect everything to go so horribly wrong, but that's her theme isn't it?

She is both relieved and understandably PISSED when finding that Louie was responsible for almost destroying the fabric of reality (let me say this again, nearly destroying the fabric of reality). She goes scold both herself and her son about the danger he put them in. Later we see Della, the last one leave and seeing almost everyone she loves vanish. We don't know how long each of the characters who left were in the past but we can assume it was long enough to have to change clothes. Yeah this was probably more of a visual gag but like, the other past characters didn't change their outfits when they came to the present so - (also Launchpad was specific about knowing how the world ends so he had to be there enough for him to understand it). Side note someones gotta write fanfic of these characters time misadventures. I wonder if Dewey and Webby ran into Agent 22.

[Last picture of the infamous scene, side note did anyone notice Launchpad NODDING his head when Della mentioned his time schemes could've cost them their future? He's the only one who knows what happened so maybe Louie's misadventure has more impact than we think-]

Anyways, yeah we know what was said here. But I think it's important to see the reaction the other adults (sorry LP, and Gryo i GUESS) have here BC this is basically why I made this post. What Della decided to do was unquestionably the wrong decision, at least her way of going about it and I will not absolve her of her many MANY mistakes. However, let's remember she wasn't alone in any of this. She was with other parental figures who KNOW more about her kids than she does.

After Louie leaves, why did they think it was good to encourage this course of action? Why did they think giving full parental control to a PTSD, trauma survivor who barely got back less than a month ago was a good idea? Sure it's one thing to not want to overstep your boundaries but are you telling me they wouldn't want to guide her in the right direction at least? We KNOW both Beakley AND Scrooge have their grievences towards Della's parenting strategy or lack there of. Beakley so far doing the most to try and put her in the right direction (which speaks volumes to the problems Scrooge has).

So why wouldn't they explain that, hey, maybe taking away the one thing your kid thinks he is good at ISNT a great idea? Why didn't either say anything about their two day vacation? Something that came up presumingly on a whim and might of prevented (although i doubt it) Louie from trying to steal w/ time? He might have considered pushing back time schemes at least 3 days later. While Mrs. Beakley might be less aware of Louie's insecurities and ambitions, Scrooge definitely isn't. He should have talked to her, and hey we don't see what happens before they leave so maybe MAYBE they did. But again, I doubt it. Seeing as how they all agreed with her at the end, I don't see them trying to meddle with her.

But they should've. They are both experienced guardians and they have nothing to say to her? Plus Donald (goddamn it i almost finished a post w/o him) have THEM responsibility to take care of the kids NOT Della. So they are obligated to help her. Really, the other option other than just well negligence would be not thinking this punishment was a big deal. I wish this aspect was also scrutinized just as much as Della and Louies role in this arc.

Beakley and Scrooge (more so Scrooge) are just as much to blame in what happens as Della if not MORE since they know of her situation in only a way that an experience adult can. There is no excuse for their negligence.

[windschildfanfictionwriter]

The Post War Draco Arguement

It seems like everyone is weighing in on the idea of Draco Malfoy’s post book arc that apparently makes him a ‘good person’ because he ‘grew up’ and no longer tried to murder people or delight in their torture/death. 

Yeah. No. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione literally saved Draco’s life in the room of requirements and not even an hour later Draco is telling Death Eaters he is one of them in order to try to spare his own life. 

Draco didn’t become good. He just realized that he would go to jail and be punished for his misdeeds if he didn’t put on some good boy pants. He’s not pretending to be good, he is a coward who is too afraid to be the bad person that he was. 

There is nothing in the books, in all seven books, to suggest otherwise. There are moments when he is terrified, traumatized, unbearably scared of the negative consequences he has wreaked upon himself, but there was no point where he felt compassion for others or regret. There was no moment where he went to Ron and was like... hey bro, you know how I poisoned you? You know, almost murdering you? Like, I’m totes sorry about that. I regret not only trying to murder Albus Dumbledore, but all the terrible side accidents that happened because of it. That must have been really painful and horrible for you, choking and suffocating and all that. 

Hey, Katie Bell, you know that horrible curse I put on you? Yeah, my bad. Knocked you out for your last season of Quidditch and nearly murdered you too, and destroyed all semblance of joy for your graduating year, but uh... totally wasn’t aiming for you? 

Nope, no remorse or regret, just gonna cry like a little fucking bitch in the bathroom about MY problems. Totally points to redemption. You betcha. 

The fact that people treated Ron like he was being immature for holding a grudge against him? Made me fucking livid. 

No, no, no, we don’t forgive people for trying to murder us. That’s just not healthy. “Forgiveness is not for the perpetrator, it is for the victim.” Some people will say. “So that they themselves can move passed the past and live a healthier life.” Sorry, but there’s a hard pass on that. 

Things that can be forgiven with time? 

A bully. 

If Draco had only bullied them, then sure. You’re both adults now. Maybe they’ll never be friends, but some hurtful words and such can be forgiven. 

But Draco Malfoy demonstrated time again to go passed simple bullying. He’s demonstrated pleasure at the thought of someone else’s death, has shown that he himself would want to be the cause of it, he attempted to murder Dumbledore- in the process nearly killing two students, and showed no remorse what so ever for either events. For either person. 

Only for himself. 

Draco Malfoy is a coward. He should have gone to jail for attempted murder, assault, endangerment, AND for being a Death Eater. Say all you want about him being a ‘child.’ He was well passed childhood. He was a teenager who was one year away from being an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. Young enough to be forgiven for mistakes (because everybody makes them) but not young enough to be forgiven for attempted murder. 

And before anyone comes up with any weak ass arguments about him having his parents held as hostages... are you out of your god damn mind? Draco was thrilled to be made a Death Eater. He practically glowed with the joy of it on the train ride. Your little head cannon is just that. An imaginary thing that doesn’t exist. No one was a hostage. 

No. Voldemort gave Draco a job he couldn’t possibly handle and sat back to watch the shit show unfold. Daddy was in jail and Mummy was off and making deals with Snape and her sister so they were no where near being held hostage by the dark lord. 

It was only when Draco realized how outclassed he was, how much of an idiot he was for thinking that he could do this, that his fear of not being able to complete the task (not the task itself, mind you) overwhelmed him and made him realize that his life was truly in danger.  

One of the failings of the books, I always thought, was allowing Draco Malfoy to (essentially) get away with everything. His family remained alive. He was safe. Free to get married and have kids, apparently. It was only the disdain of the the wizarding world he had to deal with and that seems to have been all but forgotten by the time the epilogue rolled around. 

While people like Tonks and Lupin, Sirius and Cedric, Fred and Colin and many more died... this motherfucker got to live. 

Its quite sickening. 

And then good people like Ron are just expected to shake his hand and let things just... be? Fuck that. Draco Malfoy deserved to be poisoned and cursed and dropped off the Astronomy Tower with the entirety of Hogwarts applauding his death before heading off to the Great Hall for tea. 

The trope of Draco Malfoy being ‘misunderstood’ is as unjustifiable as the one that states Ron Weasley is a bad friend. These tropes are born out of a problem with culture. The idea that the ‘bad boy’ no matter how terrible he is, no matter abusive or sickening his behavior can always be justified by a shitty passed or other excuses (Draco). On the other hand the idea that a genuinely good person who stands beside the hero is unforgivable for having moments of weakness, of being human, and who is not perfect is also apart of society. The sidekick who has one bad trait is considered to be unworthy while a bad guy is considered misunderstood for having one line in one book that wasn’t absolutely bad. 

Romance Novels are filled with Draco Malfoys. They glorify his type. My best friend (who adores the trash) went on an on about an assassin who kidnapped this woman against her will (but for her own good, apparently). This assassin forces her to stay on this island with him. Yet he is misunderstood. He was horribly abused as a child and had these malicious terrible things done so despite the fact that he is holding her against her will, he is the good guy. 

Another book summary from my bestie? This guy ignores this girls safe word and goes too far. Repeatedly. But no, its not his fault! Because he was raised this way. He’s a good guy. Really. 

Again and again and again she tells me about these romance novels and it truly sickens me. That woman are so into this concept. That the guy who is abusive and horrible and mentally fucked up is more desirable and interesting than the well rounded, genuinely good people in the world. 

She has never, not once, described a healthy relationship in the hundreds and hundreds of books she’s read. Its all equally sickening. 

Which is why people find Severus Snape to be good. It’s why people prefer the Draco Malfoy’s to the sweet Ronald Weasley’s. They have a fascination with the mentally fucked up. They find a thrill with unraveling the reasoning behind it and for trying to draw out the good in all that fucked up-ness. 

The Romance Genre is the highest grossing Genre in all of literature. More than Sci-Fi or fantasty or Young Adult. This Genre, primarily bought by woman, is filled to the brim with abusive, terrible behavior that is glorified and giggled over. 

Because its popular. 

Because it sells. 

That is why Draco Malfoy is popular even though he has no right to be. It is vicious and ugly and sickening, but true, none the less. People like abusive assholes and they’ll fall over themselves to give them excuses. 

#Anti-Draco #HarryPotter #DracoMalfoy #Bully 

[taexual]

HOLIC - 6 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: minimal mentions of suggestive themes

words: 1.8k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

          prev / next

As the doorbell rang for the second time – someone was evidently very eager to be let in – you proceeded to give in to the fright. You weren’t freaking out just because no one aside from Jaebum – who watched you with confused eyes – knew where you lived yet, but also because whoever was behind that door was bound to get the wrong idea after they saw you and Jaebum half-naked, both wearing towels.

Inhaling deeply, you headed for the door, glancing through the peephole.

“Who is it?” Jaebum whisper-yelled, approaching you from behind and squatting slightly as if someone could have seen him.

“I don’t know,” you said, squinting to make out the person behind the door. “Looks like a girl.”

“A girl?” Jaebum straightened and you turned around, slightly alarmed by the sudden panic in his voice. “What does she look like?”

“I have no idea,” you turned back around to check the person out again. They pressed the doorbell again and you flinched. “Jesus, can she wait for just one minute? I can’t see anything properly.”

Jaebum looked pale. Not just his face, but his whole body seemed to lose color and you were very confused as you watched him take a long, deep breath and then walk past you towards the door.

“Go,” he told you. “Stay in your room, okay? I’ll take care of this.”

You frowned, unsure what was there to take care of, but you complied nevertheless, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable explaining because of both of your lack of proper clothing if Jaebum actually knew the girl behind the door. And he sure looked like he did, judging from how terrified he became just at the thought of opening the door to her.

Trying to tame your curiosity – you couldn’t remember him mention any sort of problematic partners that he could have been avoiding, – you entered your room, closing the door and immediately leaning against it, because the taming didn’t really work. You wanted to know who the girl was and what was her relationship with your roommate.

You couldn’t help but eavesdrop just a little bit.

You heard Jaebum open the door and then silence followed. You suddenly found a reason that justified listening to them: if they got into a fight, you’d have to go out there and separate them before they started to throw pieces of furniture; not that you had many of those yet.

“Uh, can I help you?” Jaebum asked.

The surprise in his voice suggested that he didn’t actually know the girl behind the door, after all.

“No, um, I’m just—” you heard the girl start to speak. She didn’t just sound slightly awkward, she also seemed to be just as shocked. You didn’t blame her, Jaebum had opened the door to her in only a towel. That had to be a sight to behold. “I’m Lily. I live on this floor and I just saw you move in, so I thought I’d stop by and bring this.”

She must have been the girl you’ve caught staring at you a few nights ago, when you and Jaebum had ordered the furniture to be delivered. She did seem to be really curious about you two, but as you listened to her sweet voice through the door, you figured it wasn’t really you she was interested in.

“Cupcakes,” Jaebum commented, probably in regards to the welcome gift Lily, the neighbor, had brought. “Well, thank you very much. That’s very kind of you. Would you like to—”

You pulled away from the door. Now that you’d learned he didn’t really know the girl, after all, you didn’t have any more reasons to listen to them and, truth be told, you weren’t all that curious to hear their conversation anymore, either. You were still, however, wondering why Jaebum looked like he’d seen a ghost when you mentioned a girl standing behind your door.

Knowing very well how ridiculous and – probably – far-fetched this thought was, you debated if, perhaps, Jaebum had a secret wife he’d married and was now running from by living in inconspicuous apartments. That’d have explained why he was so opposed to the thought of the two of you living together. Then again, you weren’t exactly excited about the prospect of that, either, so maybe Jaebum’s weird reaction and his general rude behavior towards you were unrelated to his past relationships. Besides, if he had a wife, would he have still slept with you a few nights ago?

Despite all of these doubts and explanations you came up with in your mind, you still wanted to find out who was it really that Jaebum had so dreaded to see.

As you locked your bedroom and headed to find an outfit in one of the boxes you still haven’t unpacked, you could still hear Jaebum and Lily talk inside of the apartment. He had invited her in and taken her to the kitchen – which was literally right outside of your bedroom – so you had no trouble hearing what they were talking about and, really, you’d have rather not.

“Have you lived here for a long time?” you heard Jaebum ask her.

“Not really, I actually moved in a few months ago myself,” Lily replied.

“Wow, really?” Jaebum asked in a very exaggerated voice. He was clearly trying to suck up to her and, based on the way you heard her giggle, it was working. “I should be bringing you a welcome gift as well then, shouldn’t I?”

You found yourself groaning. He was absolutely hitting on her.

“Oh, no, there’s no need,” Lily told him. “No one welcomed me to the building, though. I guess I just wanted to be one of the few pleasant neighbors on this floor.”

And she was encouraging him, too!

Grabbing your hairdryer from one of the boxes, you plugged it in. Not only did you need to dry your hair, but the loud whirring sound was also going to ensure you didn’t hear any of Jaebum’s flirting outside of your room. You didn’t really mind that he was hitting on your neighbor – at least, you thought you didn’t – but you still felt irritated. Maybe it was the frustration caused by the lack of hot water that escalated when paired up with the realization that if Jaebum ended up having a one-night-stand with an actually pleasant-seeming neighbor, you’d end up truly avoiding her for the rest of your life. And – aside from her weird staring when you first saw her – Lily really did seem nice.

Somehow, you hated admitting that, so, choosing to focus your mind on something else instead, you turned the hairdryer on to finally tune out every other sound in the apartment.

You heard the door of the apartment close about three seconds after you finished drying your hair and changed into actual clothes. This perfect timing allowed you to open the room just when Jaebum stopped outside of your door with a huge grin on his face.

“What?” you fired immediately, not too thrilled to see him look so happy after meeting your neighbor.

“I got her number,” Jaebum declared proudly, raising his phone for you to look.

“Congratulations,” you replied dryly, not even attempting to look for reasons why he felt the need to gloat about this. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

A little confused why you’d bring that up, Jaebum waved his hand, dismissing it.

“Work starts after lunch, there’s plenty of time to prepare for that,” he said. “I’ll be home late today, by the way. Got that date tonight.”

Suddenly, you didn’t like Lily particularly much anymore. You’d analyze why that was later. Right now you needed to go out and meet up with your friend May. Her offer to get drunk on Monday was starting to sound better with each passing second.

“Fantastic,” you said, your voice still lacking emotion. “Get the hot water fixed while I’m out.”

“Oh, but you said it yourself, I have to go to work,” Jaebum replied, opening the door of his room. “And then I have a date to prepare for.”

He got the weirdest grin on his face whenever he mentioned that date, almost as if he was only bringing it up to show off. Maybe not to you, specifically, but just in general.

You were suddenly reminded of his weird reaction about there being a girl behind the door. Maybe he was only excited about this whole ordeal because he hadn’t seen the person he was dreading to see when he opened the door.

“Why are you so happy about this?” you chose to ask him outright instead of just speculating. “It’s just a date. You can’t be that excited only because you’re probably getting laid.”

He laughed and then expertly avoided your question by replying, “probably is not a word in my vocabulary.”

“Right,” you groaned. “Whatever. I’m leaving. Fix the hot water before you go to work or else.”

“Oh, you like me too much to threaten me properly,” Jaebum teased and his smile frustrated you even more. “That’s cute.”

Not saying anything else – because now was the time to start throwing punches, instead of words, – you walked out of the apartment, looking around the hall to see if you’d run into Lily – you didn’t – and then locking the door before heading towards the staircase.

As you climbed down, after having finally escaped Jaebum, you had to admit to yourself that there was a small part of you that was jealous. You were just going out to hang out with your friend, maybe get some drinks, but Jaebum was going on a date.

Your mind had really created two different images for Jaebum; there was Def – the sweet, future roommate – and there was Jaebum – the rude current roommate who broke your bed and turned the hot water off just to spite you – and so, because of this, you weren’t jealous of Lily. You’d convinced yourself it’d be awful to endure a whole date with Jaebum, even though the rational part of your brain was able to tell that, actually, he wasn’t that bad. If anything, he was a great conversationalist who had a lot in common with you.

But you didn’t want to go on a date with him. No way. You were just jealous of the simple fact that he had someone to go on a date with – while you didn’t –  and he wasn’t shy to gloat about it. That was all there was.

           chapter directory

[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.