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reginarubie · 3 years

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The difference between Anakin Skywalker and Daenerys Targaryen ~

Alternatively why, in my opinion (and I refer only show-wise and movie-wise) one is the fall of a hero and the other is the rise of a tyrant.

Under the cut more.

Now, I have stated more than once that it is possible that in the books Daenerys Targaryen will pull an Anakin Skywalker so still burn KL maybe for a honest mistake as she battles against fAegon or maybe because of a fit of rage (she is prone to those and it's canon) and will try to redeem herself during the Great War maybe even dying in the pursuit of her redemption.

Still, even if that was the case, there's a reason why I absolutely love Anakin Skywalker as a character as the fallen hero who died for love and a reason why I like Daenerys as a multi-facets characters but I do not love her.

Now, both characters have done unforgivable things. I don't hide from that, I mean Anakin killed all of those younglings and who knows how many people is his years as the Emperor henchman, Daenerys killed, burned, crucified and had children tortured (book) or fed her supposed opposititors to her dragons (show).

Yet, while their stories might be similar, if Daenerys really does burn KL and dies trying to redeem herself, I feel the heart of their stories in fundamentally different.

Anakin and Daenerys both start at a low point. Both are sympathetic in the beginning of their journey. Anakin is a slave in a far off planet at the edge of the galaxy while Daenerys is an exiled princess living off the courtesy of strangers who wants something from the last Targaryens, a girl who lived in poverty and often followed by assassins.

Both are compassion-filled or so it seems in the beginning.

Both feel strongly, wether it's fear, love or hate in all the arc of their journey. Both are rejected and only a person believes in them.

Anakin, no matter all he has done as a nine year old is rejected by the Jedi council and only Qui Gon Jinn believed in him being the Chosen One. Same as Daenerys is rejected by the lords and ladies of the continent as the true queen as they support the Baratheons or Starks or whoever else but her and only ser Jorah believes in her.

Then Qui Gon Jinn is killed and Obi Wan steps up.

Ser Jorah is discovered for his treachery and exiled and ser Barristan takes his mantle.

So far similar journey.

Anakin kills all the tusken; children, women and men. All of them to avenge his mother.

Daenerys crucifies all of those slavers - without even holding an investigation to see who of them has offered their child slaves to crucify them (again, the investigation before passing a sentence was done since the time of the romans, so around the time of Old Valyria in asoiaf). She does the same as Anakin when she burns down KL.

At first we see Anakin actually regrets or feels bad for what he did. He cries because of that, because he is grieving. He cry about it to Padme and she consoles him (not gonna delve into the Padme/Jon possible parallels right now) about it and he seems off for the better after it.

Daenerys does the same. Because she is grieving (ser Jorah, Missandei, Viserion, Rhaegal, Barristan, at least show wise) she burns down KL and kills everyone. Children, women, men, elderly, soldiers, civilians. She does not feel sorry for it. She does not cry. She gives conqueror-speeches. She basks in the fact that she has gotten the Iron throne (not that she has had revenge for the people she lost).

Why? Because their fall stems from different seeds.

Power for Daenerys.

Love for Anakin.

Anakin is pushed into the Dark side by rejection of his feelings by the Jedi council - he searches the guidance of Yoda and the only reply he gets is to learn to let go, but to a boy who has fought tooth and nail to finally have and loves so absolutely... I mean, if I was afraid of loosing someone and one to whom I went to get help told me to let go...I wouldn't take that counsel - but mostly because of love. He loves Padme and his fear of losing her is so great he is ready to condemn his whole soul to save her.

the Dark side then twists him and he wants power. But the root of Anakin character is love. In fact it's that same love he has arbored for his wife that pushes him right back in the light side by saving the galaxy and what has remained to him of her. His children. Her children.

He is a man of love. First and foremost.

What is Daenerys goal? The Iron throne. Power.

In the show she burns KL because she is grieving and the people rejects her, keeping to call Cersei queen and asking her help to be saved from Daenerys. That's what triggers her.

Otherwise, if it was only revenge against Cersei she would have went straight to the Red Keep. She would have not rained fire on the streets.

Power. She wants the Iron throne and the people of Westeros to accept her as their queen. They don't. She'll use fear to get power.

So, even if in the books the order of events gets reversed and Daenerys burns KL before dying trying to find redemption during the Great War still her character won't hold - at least to me - the same degree of feeling as the character of Anakin did.

Anakin actions always sparked from love. And not self-love, but love towards others (his wife and his children).

Daenerys actions always sparked from self-love (she believes she is to be loved and accepted and hailed as queen by everyone just because she is herself) and wants for power. What else of good was left to her character in the beginning she slowly lost when she choose time after time to use Fire and Blood instead of planting trees.

Just a side note.

Take the reaction of Padme and Jon and confront them. When Anakin kills the tuskens because of his grief he cries and she consoles him. When he kills the younglings and is twisted by the Dark side she shakes her head and still asks him to stop, to just be with her and leave behind the rest. He is too far gone. Jon goes to Daenerys and asks her, when he sees her feeling good and powerful for her conquest, if she has seen what she has done; but she is un-repeteant. She does not care. So Jon does not ask her to stay with him and just be with him, stop her dream of conquer the world to "free it", no when it is clear she is too far gone he plunges a knife in her chest (still horrendous the way it was written) to protect those he loves. His family.

Jon is the Anakin Skywalker in a way. He does not give in to the allure of the Dark side, even when he is tempted - he knows Daenerys loves him and would never kill him if he stays by her, or so he believes - no, he takes a step back and for those he loves (his siblings) he kills her the same way Anakin took a step back and killed Palpatine to save his son and his daughter because he knew he would die anyway and that Leia, if Luke kept saying no, would be the next.

So...

... Anakin was a hero who fell and rose (in a way, he is still a morally grey character to me)for love.

Daenerys was felled by love (in the show, as she loves Jon and because he choose those he loved most over her), but as Drogon points out to us what killed her was not love or fear. It was power, the cause of her fall, was the Iron throne. Was wanting it more than returning home to that house with the big red door and the lemon tree outside her window.

This is why I love the Anakin Skywalker from the movies, and why I like Daenerys as the multifaceted character she is, but she does not inspire in me the same degree of appreciation as Anakin Skywalker does.

#anakin skywalker #dark dany #anti-dany #anti-daenerys #fallen hero vs rise of a tyrant

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paperclipsandchalk · 5 years

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Good Kids:

Patton Pascal- Son of Rapunzel- His hair has the same magical properties Rapunzel's had, he uses special scissors to cut them since he doesn't like his hair being too long. There will be some days where he's too tired to cut his hair, it's a daily chore since his hair grows at a fast rate overnight. He has brown hair and green eyes, he has rectangular glasses and wears a golden flower crown. Patton wears a grey sweater that has many types of flower patterns down the sleeves, he wears khakis and no shoes. He is a happy go lucky guy who thinks brightly about the world, however, reality hits him little by little and he realizes the world is a messed up place. Patton and Logan are betrothed and have been since they were kids. Patton helps bring out the emotions in Logan and Logan helps bring out the rationality in Patton. Roman and Patton are close friends who are both on the track team. Patton and Remy get along nine times out of ten, the other one time out of ten is when Patton lectures him about not sleeping. Patton is around 5'7

Remy Bubbler- Son of Ariel- Remy is a half merman with a caffeine addiction, when he was younger he had sleep paralysis and it scared him into staying awake. He eventually found comfort in coffee, since he couldn't really talk to anyone about it he just bottled it up. There are some days he can't speak due to Ursula cursing him when he was five, that was because he talked to her son, Emile. Remy inherited his dad's black hair but his mother's blue eyes, his hair is a bit poofy. Remy wears a black leather jacket with a white shirt that says 'Sleep is for the weak, and I'm weak so see you in a week' and every time someone goes to read it he says "my eyes are up here". Coincidentally he wears glasses to cover his eyes from the sun, he has scaly freckles that shimmer in the sunlight and when he blushes they flare pink. He says "what up bishes" at least three times a day, unless he can't speak, then he signs it. Oh, and Remy is 5'11

Roman White- Son of Snow White- Roman, surprisingly, is really tan and fit. He's on the track team with Patton and he's always active outside whether it's putting on small plays for the children in town square or hanging out with his friends. Roman also knows a few languages such as Spanish and French, he was born into a big family consisting of six brothers and a cat named Acorn. He absolutely despises apples and prefers red grapes instead. Roman is tall, taller than Remy but shorter than Logan. Roman is about 6'1 with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He often wears a white button up shirt with a red vest over the top, he wears black dress pants and dress shoes. Roman always wants to stand out and he really cares what others think about him, that all goes out the window when he meets Virgil. Surprisingly, the two have a lot more in common than they thought.

Logan Rose- Son of Belle- Logan is a well read kid who's betrothed to Patton and he wouldn't have it any other way. However, one thing has been bugging him the more he studied the past fairy tales, the villains kids were never given a chance. So he decided that his first decree as future king is that let the kids from the island come to school with them. Logan is 6'2, he wears a long black sleeved shirt with a blue tie, he also wears black jeans with dress shoes. He has circular glasses, he has brown eyes with light brown hair. No matter what he can't keep his hair tame, it bothers him all the time but Patton help brush and style it. He also carries around an enchanted rose, he doesn't know what's going to happen when all the petals fall off. It worries him, he doesn't even know where the rose came from but he can't get rid of it either. Sometimes Logan loses sight of his emotions but luckily he has Patton to help bring him back down.

Villain Kids:

Emile Picani- Son of Ursula- Emile is literally the friendliest person you'll ever meet on the island. He has a passion for swimming but doesn't get to do it often due to a barrier surrounding the island. One time he managed to escape the barrier somehow and met a boy, they became friends quickly but their parents found out. His mom cursed the boy despite her son's wish, time passed by and now Emile wants to right the wrong his mom did. He doesn't have tentacles but he has a pet octopus named Tentacles. Emile is around 5'4, he has blonde almost white hair and dark brown eyes, he has square glasses. He wears a black cardigan with a purple shirt underneath it, he also wears black pants. Emile also wears a seashell necklace his father gave him, he also has the warmest smile anyone has ever seen.

Virgil Malevolent- Son of Maleficent- Virgil and his mom never get along, she wants him to do stuff that he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be like her when he gets older. Virgil can cast spells, all he has to do is remember the correct words and he can cast it, or he can use his spellbook. However, his mom takes the spell book all the time so he's learned to memorize the spells that are important. Virgil wears a purple cloak that covers his outfit that his mother forces him to wear, it's a black suit with black gloves. He absolutely hates it, but he hates his hair even more. His hair has black roots but silver tips, he dyed the tips purple to spite his mom. Virgil also has dragon wings and piercing green eyes. He often doodles thing from different fairy tales, one time he accidentally draws Roman. Roman finds out and asks Virgil to teach him how to draw.

Remus Queen (White)- Son of Evil Queen- Remus was taken when he was a baby, the queen raised him to he her own. Since he grew up with the evil queen he has been obsessed with mirrors and the way they reflect things. Remus was given a magic mirror of his own, and sometimes he would see someone who looked just like him in the mirror, he would always have a sinking feeling that he was missing something. Remus has dark humor and often expresses it into stories of the different fairy tales but instead of a happy ending they all end how they were originally intended to. His favorite fruit is an apple specifically yellow/golden. Remus looks a lot like Roman except for he's pale, also he wears something similar to his real outfit except the shoulder pads are toned down a bit.

Deceit Facilier- Son of Dr. Facilier- Deceit is cunning and tricky, he plays with fate all the time but he'll never know his own. He messes with his tarot cards all the time because his friends in the shadows tell him to, but they can't seem to tell him how to handle his massive crush on his dark humored friend. Deceit has a problem with telling the truth, he believes a lie is way better than something true. Deceit basically wears the same thing he does in the videos except the cloak thing is actually a suit jacket with the tail that Dr. Facilier has on his. Deceit covers half of his face with a smiling mask that's white. He had a past relationship with Virgil but again it was a mutual break up. Deceit ends up becoming good friends with Patton, he also loves building things.

This took so long to do holy hecking heck! But those are in depth character descriptions and more information on them. You guys are gonna make me cry with how much support you guys gave that post, I did not expect it to blow up like it did! Now I'm motivated to create a plot and story to this that's loosely based on the movie, however, I wanted to get opinions on a few things:

1- With Emile's design, instead of actual hair should he have tentacles for hair instead? Like a splatoon character?

2- What should the name of the island and school be? I was thinking something along the lines of Mind Palace High.

3- What should the au be called????

Also a few side notes:

~ There will be ocs in here to fill the role of the unwelcoming crowd of students. I think Roman would fit in that role but I just can't see him being that mean to exclude them out, maybe at first he's hesitant to approach them but he quickly gets over it.

~ Who's ready to see some sibling bonding between Remus and Roman?

Ok, but thank you so much for supporting the idea, I didn't think people would actually like it. I really appreciate it <3

Tag List: @rainboots-are-for-snobs @thelesbianspoon @slitherynchiken @icequeenoriginal @rainbowgirl157 @scorching-scotch

#patton sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #emile picani #logicality #prinxiety #remy x emile #deceit x remus #sanders sides au

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celticfeather · 5 years

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Chapter 1: https://celticfeather.tumblr.com/post/188433697686/akatsuki-fic-campfires

Cannibals Chapter 3: The Lineage of Izanagi

-Uchiha Itachi-

Something particularly loveless prodded Itachi awake.

"You're the last watch till dawn," Kakuzu said. Itachi activated his sharingan as he woke, his dark eyes shifting to red. He could see Kakuzu's green ones were dilated near-sightlessly in the blackness.

Itachi rose and leapt up their chosen watchman's tree. The sharingan allowed him to see a wider spectrum of visible light than a normal human, and what should have been the black jungle night gained a strange ultraviolet tinge, a whitish-purple color somewhere between neon and dark that his language could not well describe. The stars and chakras shined different, coldly-bright, minty colors too. But he saw no glows of enemy shinobi in the night, just the gentle silver chakra silhouettes of sleeping birds and insects, and the three ninja below him. He let his sharingan fade. In an hour it had become bright enough for ordinary humans to see.

He alighted between the three ninja sleeping on the ground to no response. So much for Kisame's 'I only half sleep' claim.

Unsure of the best way to wake them, Itachi announced at normal volume, "It's dawn."

They rose quickly and quietly, professional in every mercenary sense of the word. For a troupe of cantankerous rogues, Itachi was surprised no one complained. He supposed that would resume once they decided they were no longer being hunted.

"No sign of the enemy since I've been awake," Itachi reported.

"Time to get the hell out of the land of Lightning. Anyone gotta take a piss, now's the time," Kakuzu said. After a short moment, the four ninja oriented themselves against the eastern dawn, and began leaping through the trees.

"Where's Zetsu when you need him?" Deidara muttered as they ran. "He'd say what Pain wants us to do about this."

"You don't need Pain or his pet mushroom. You have me," Kakuzu said.

"Yeah? And who made you second in command?"

"I'm the one who actually talks with our contractors. So naturally, I have our mission intel, and there's no reason to stop work."

"Hmpf," Deidara said.

"Since you fucked up the least, Kisame, I'll let you pick what you do." Kakuzu said. "You want to fix this Raikage incident, or make some money?"

Kisame looked at Itachi for his opinion. Itachi merely raised his eyebrows in reply.

"Make money," Kisame answered. Good. Itachi wanted to be away from this disaster.

"Great. You two go to this shithole village and kill their patriarch. When you're done with that, some pirates could use a lesson in not leaving witnesses." Kakuzu tossed a scroll to Kisame and one to Itachi, who each caught them deftly. Kakuzu then looked at Deidara.

"Deidara, you and Sasori will fix your fuck up. We don't want the Cloud or Mist investigating the Akatsuki. Blame it on different terrorists."

"How do we do that?"

"Doesn't matter," Kakuzu said.

Deidara frowned. But his calmness suggested he thought Sasori would know how to fix it.

They were soon over the border of the Land of Frost, where they said the brief goodbyes of stiff men. Itachi and Kisame continued west. Deidara went north. Kakuzu south. They stopped at a collection point on the way to get Kisame a new robe and gear, and began their ascent to the next mission's village in the afternoon.

They stopped along a river to prepare. The mint-colored alpine meltwater cooled the air in a low dense pocket from the beating sun. Itachi opened the scroll of mission intel and familiarized himself with the details. "Small town. Better we don't make a stir."

Kisame grunted in acknowledgement and stepped towards the river, swinging Samehada off his shoulder. He summoned a large deep-blue shark along the bank. It opened its mouth, and Kisame pressed the wrapped Samehada inside its white-fleshed throat. The two ninja being armed to the teeth was useful for intimidation, but a hindrance to infiltration. As if it was a loyal horse, Kisame patted the magical shark once on the muzzle once it closed its jaws around Samehada.

"You ever touch a shark before, Itachi? Try it."

Like he had been invited to partake in the most dangerous petting zoo, Itachi wet his feet at the bank where the shark, high as his hips, swayed half submerged. He thought the shark would look at him, or at least acknowledge him, but its circular black eyes didn't waver. With a slowness Itachi hoped the fish would interpret as respect, he brushed his palm against its exposed gray flank.

"It feels like sandpaper."

Kisame smiled. "Shark skin is actually made of dentin, the same material as teeth."

Because they need more of that, Itachi thought. He removed his hand, and deeming its duty done, the huge probably-sentient carnivore disappeared with a puff of mist to the realm Kisame had summoned it from.

"It's not easy to make a summoning contract with a shark, you know. Ninja tend to not come back," Kisame said.

"I thought you said sharks don't like how people taste."

"Oh, the sage sharks of Koraru Depths make exceptions for arrogant Mist chunin. You don't taste that bad."

He sent Kisame a reproachful look at his choice of pronouns, but Itachi's face was something of a resting scowl, so Kisame seemed not to notice.

To appear like a traveler of the civilian sort, Itachi untied his shuriken packs and the ninja headband. They kept their robes, no one yet recognized the red clouds as unique. He thought living in the forest on the run gave him enough of a convincingly rough appearance. Lifting his gaze from the water's reflection, he regarded his partner.

"Do I pass for a trader?"

"You look fine. It's your voice that's the problem."

"My voice?"

"I don't know how much you know about the Hidden Mist, but there we have a caste system, and the Hoshigaki belong to a certain caste. And people like me can tell by your dialect, Itachi, that you come from a noble family, and there's not a chance in hell you're a traveling merchant."

Itachi never thought of himself as in an upper class, and caste had been abolished in his land seventy years ago. Kisame's background in the Mist allowed him to perceive things that Itachi never intended to exude. "I see."

"Try gotcha, instead of I see."

"Gotcha."

Itachi pulled a piece of paper from the scroll and unfolded its careful nine-faceted square. A sketch of the man they were paid to kill stared back at them. Taika Hiroki. About sixty years old, leader of the local clan, someone had it out for him. Kisame nodded, having committed his face a last time to memory. Itachi burned the incriminating documents between his fingers.

The pair climbed ancient stairs carved from wood, stone, and roots, along a humid forested mountain crest. Traditional torii winged gates arched over their heads, and the small village soon appeared along a glacial lake between the mountains. A chunin posted at the doorless entrance looked the two travelers up and down. He pulled a root of wild licorice from his teeth before he spoke.

"What brings you to Honomura?"

"We're merchants," Kisame said.

"Here for the festival?"

"Of course."

The guard escorted them in. A minor official who clearly did not get enough visitors gave them each wooden travelers' passes. What a bothersome village.

Itachi felt more endangered in these hamlets. He paradoxically would be less noticed in a large ninja village. It was in these tribal redoubts, where most of the settlement consisted of a single clan, that he knew he was immediately recognized as an outsider. By the introductions they made with petty officials, the pair gleaned that three quarters of the settlement's two-hundred-odd population had the surname Taika, and it would not be easy to find theirs.

But the presence of the foreigners attracted mercifully little attention at the festival. Like moths drawn to the warm haze of paper lanterns, the outlaw pair wandered dazed to the center of the fairgrounds. After weeks in the forest they were transfixed by the live music, the vendors, and best, the greasy scent of real food -not whole animals- which glistened with salt and sauce. They looked at each other with testing eyes that betrayed the same poorly concealed thought.

"How much money do we have," Itachi said.

Kisame checked himself. "I've got eight hundred."

"I have one thousand."

Crap.

"I'll find some more money," Kisame said. Good. They were on the same line of the same page. In less than two minutes, Kisame had stolen a two centimeter wad of cash from a food stand.

Itachi's eyes darted from stand to stand. "What do you want to eat?"

"Do I look picky to you?"

Bristling with treasures —foods on sticks and cups of tea and sake between their knuckles— Itachi and Kisame seated themselves at one of many low tables near the town's stage and began to eat. Soon enough an announcer entered stage center, and introduced an act on the origin of deities.

"How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Average."

The play began as they ate, and rusted to art forms, Itachi found himself paying rapt attention. Two actors dressed in white robes, a woman and a spear-wielding man, stepped onto the stage, where white lanterns cast the empty scene in an ethereal fog. Dipping his spear into the water, or rather tapping the stage floor, the man created land, and the white-clouded lanterns slid on the string to be replaced with ones tinted a jungle green.

"Izanami and Izanagi," Itachi whispered to Kisame. "Siblings, but also..." he waved his hand in esoteric explanation.

The creation gods Izanami and Izanagi had several deformed and normative children. First born was Hiruko, stricken with a hunched back, and cast into a river. They had many others, at last birthing Kagutsuchi the fire god. Izanami died giving birth to the flaming infant.

"And with Izanami's end, the world's first death occurred, and with it the age of creation. Intent to amend his wife's unjust fate, Izanagi plunged into the underworld, which then, was not separated from the realm of men," the narrator read.

Izanami wandered through a darkened stage, and stopped short. Behind a veil shined the unmistakable silhouette of his beloved wife.

The curtain lifted, but the woman it revealed was not fair Izanami. The actress's serene white face-paint had become putrefied in death. Children's gasps accented the moment. Fingers curled in shock at his rancid beloved, Izanagi turned away. His wife was enraged at his superficial rejection, and spurred demons after her former lover. Izanagi raced from the underworld, off the stage, where demons in fur-rimmed masks chased him through the audience until Izanagi circled, panting but safe, back onto the stage of the surface world. He pushed a prop-boulder over the cave, forever sealing life from death.

The narrator stepped onto the stage, and a spotlight centered on him, with Izanagi bathing himself in background.

"Izanagi cleansed himself from the underworld in a rushing river. The water that streamed off his face became three new gods:"

The spotlight jumped to greet the new characters in regal dress:

"From one eye sprung the proud moon god, Tsukuyomi."

"From the nose, the mischievous god of sea and storm, Susanoo."

"And from the other eye, artful and enlightened, patron of our village: Amaterasu the sun."

"Amaterasu was by far the most righteous and beautiful of the three new gods," the narrator crooned, and stooped low to leer at her backside. Amaterasu raised her fan to her face, whumphing the announcer without a lapse in grace, and the audience laughed.

The three new gods greeted the world of men -the audience- each with kabuki flourishes that reflected their personalities. He thought Amaterasu made eye contact with him from behind her fan.

"Hm." Kisame smiled slightly and his pupils slid to Itachi.

Itachi sipped his tea. "We might be the most interesting thing that blew into this town in a week."

"You should talk with her."

"I'm not good at flirting."

Kisame snorted. "Just like your knowledge of religion."

"I'm not being modest. I haven't spoken with a girl my age in years. In this town, I'm just a merchant."

"A kind, handsome one."

Itachi was struck that Kisame had called him 'kind.' He did not think Kisame would evaluate someone with that category. Not knowing how to take the compliment, Itachi stared back at the stage. Amaterasu and Susanoo competed over who was a stronger god. Amaterasu had just turned Susanoo's sword into five human beings, versus Susanoo's ability to spring only three from her necklace.

Their low table quaked. Kisame had plunged his cup down so hard and fast that his drink sloshed over the rim. His wide nose wrinkled and the stare Itachi met was battle-urgent.

"There's blood, buckets of it, enough to drain ten men."

Itachi forced his shoulders to relax. They must not act or show awareness of this yet. His eyes scanned the crowd as a cheering arose and the taiko drums beat an excited sinister trot into the space between his ribs. A column of fifteen men and boys carved a path like a wild river through the parade grounds, a coarse wooden platform undulating on the men's shoulders. Atop it glistened a bleeding heap of fresh red muscles and white fascia. It was a dead, skinned, horse.

Kisame squinted. "What the hell?"

"The crimes of Susanoo. Upset with his sister, he flayed the skin off Amaterasu's horse," Itachi explained. He also noted that in these conditions, Kisame could not differentiate human from animal blood.

Susanoo charmingly presented Amaterasu the horse carcass from the audience. Amaterasu strode off the stage in grief and anger, her silken white-red sleeves snapping, and the stage darkened with the egress of the dawn goddess, plunging the realm of men into darkness. Susanoo smirked and laughed, and the loping demons in fur-rimed masks began to howl. String instruments climaxed crescendo and fell, marking the end of the play's chapter. The audience gasped and clapped. The festival night was now without the Sun's guidance, and any kind of crookedness could occur before dawn returned.

The men heaped the horse onto a pyre, and a chunin lit it with a fire jutsu, enflaming a birchwood pile which was small enough that the meat might be cooked rather than carbonized. The village had a dark interpretation of their worship: Itachi thought that the goddess Amaterasu would not appreciate the flaying of another horse in her name. But the villagers seemed to like it.

"The Leaders of the Mist would consider this barbaric," Kisame said, his sly eyes smiling behind his cup.

Itachi matched Kisame's sentiment. No, the great ninja villages did not sacrifice simple horses to gods of sun, but sacrificed men and souls to gods of war. Gods they hailed each time they smithed a kunai, and who licked their lips at each newborn baby.

The next performance started, some students playing taiko drums. It was a banal sight compared to the play. Itachi ate his dango and drank his tea, listened to the music, and watched thick smoke rise from the pyre.

A gang of the village's teens stood by the pyre, the actress for Amaterasu among them. She had removed the headdress and white facepaint, but she still wore Amaterasu's red and white wake-sleeved furisode. One of the group looked at him and Kisame and giggled, as if discussing a dare. Then Amaterasu looked at the two travelers and grabbed a tray. He realized with a start that she was coming towards them. Kisame, who smelled caste like he smelled blood, tugged Itachi's robe, telling him that this is when merchants stood.

She dipped her head in greeting. "Excuse me sirs, my name is Taika Hato. I'm priestess at our temple and actress at the theater. We noticed you're not from around here. Would you like some horse flesh?"

Itachi blinked: the sun goddess Amaterasu had just offered him to eat her horse. He stumbled out a yes.

"And you, sir?"

"Please give me the shoulder, Miss Hato."

"Sure. May I ask your names?"

'Itachi' meant weasel. Weasels were small, ambitious, mean, and hungry. His parents' birth judgement had been imperfect: Itachi had become a man who was calm, sharp, and observant.

"I am Karasu. And this is my companion, Mekajiki. It's very good to meet you, and thank you for the food." Itachi bowed his head and gave himself a name meaning crow, and swordfish for Kisame.

"You're welcome! How was the show?"

"Your performance was stirring. I only hope your next act is soon: if I remember, demons terrorize everyone on earth until Amaterasu comes back," he said, trying his best to exude friendliness, but he had not spoken to anyone he considered a friend in years. He sat down, and with a gesture to the empty space, he invited Hato to join them if she wanted. He noticed Kisame's chin dip near-imperceptibly in approval of his manners.

"You know your religion," she said, taking a seat. "Stick around tomorrow at seven to see me kick Susanoo's butt. What brings you two here?"

"You mean, you can't tell by our dress?" Itachi asked.

"It is odd," she agreed.

Itachi smiled. "We're charcoal burners."

"So you...?"

"We fell trees, burn the logs in an earthen kiln using fire and water style, and then travel from village to village selling the charcoal. Smiths burn it to keep their forges at the correct temperature. It's also used in cooking, fertilizer, detergent, explosives, traditional medicine- even cosmetics. We've got a wagon full of it down the road."

Her look between the two men deduced Itachi was the fire user. "How good is your fire style?"

"Just the basics," he said modestly.

Hato's eyes changed from simply friendly to that of intrigue, and her expression became appraising and hopeful. "For the last act, the village guards cast fire jutsus as tributes to Amaterasu. You should join them."

"I couldn't possibly intrude on your ceremony as an outsider."

"When it comes to this ceremony, I am the authority. Plus, gifts from strangers mean more than gifts from friends, we say."

Itachi nodded. He would make an offering of flame to Amaterasu. And the girl, her representative, smiled with her eyes. "Thank you, Karasu! They'll love it."

Kisame stretched, looked at the two youths, and stood to leave. His gaze alerted Itachi not to expect his return. "I'm going to… get some more sake."

"You don't want to watch your friend perform?" Hato asked.

Kisame grinned and waved. "He's not so impressive."

Hato led Itachi backstage to meet the village's top military brass: a gaggle of four men spanning years fifteen to thirty who passed a ceramic bottle between them. The root-chewing gatekeeper was youngest among them. Hato was received warmly by the soldiers. She introduced Itachi as a pious charcoal merchant, and he was quickly ignored by the men.

For this dangerous and final act of the night, the stage had been stripped bare of its curtains and paper lanterns, and strapping men spilled buckets of water across the hardwood stage. A grinning bucket-spiller splashed the remaining water dregs onto the squealing children in the front row. From the backstage tent, Itachi watched the first four performers submit their offerings, each casting the biggest sun he could into the night sky in honor of Amaterasu. The crowd shrieked and laughed, fire reflecting on their wide scleras. Stepping forward for his turn, Itachi decided he would create a fireball that was the third largest- no need to upstage the locals.

Itachi mounted the stage as the penultimate performer left. His eye caught on Hato staring at him encouragingly, she flashed a thumbs-up, and he was bolstered with a better idea. Halting just one step onto the stage, Itachi faced profile, and his chest swelled like a bird. He blew, and his fire bloomed a deep ferrous red sparking with trace elements, and the chakra fireball sprinted across the stage in the shape of a stallion. Mane flaring, embers sparking from its light hooves, the fleet, shrieking horse appeared and faded in a vacuum roar. He returned backstage to raucous applause. When the soldiers' mouths gaped wide enough to catch frogs, a quiet grin cut Itachi's lips.

It hadn't been larger than yours, he thought.

Hato linked arms with him and led him through the festival crowds. She would introduce him to people and he would forget their names. Villagers welcomed him like a hero and plied him with sake. A kind old lady handed him a skewer with cubes of horseflesh. Any friend of Amaterasu was a friend of theirs. He was happy. Kisame was gone, the mission was something for tomorrow, Hato was a nice girl, and he could pretend to be normal for a night. Her attention made him feel pleasantly male, that he wasn't strange, isolated, murderous or evil.

She had showed him around the small town and they found themselves walking along the cold, white-graveled shores of the glacier lake. The gentle summer alpine night glowed cobalt blue, lightened by a huge low moon, whose coolness was relieving compared to the warm and dark frenzy of the blood festival.

"Actress and priestess," Itachi said as they strolled. "One's devout, and old people would say the other is sinful. I haven't met a person who's been both."

She smiled. "Each coin has two sides, and the same goes for you. Where'd a merchant learn ninjutsu like that?"

"The road is dangerous… and," he whispered like sharing a secret, "Sometimes really boring."

"Hah! Can't be less interesting than here."

"Did you know, that was a curse you'd tell your enemies in the old days? 'May you live in interesting times'?"

"Sounds menacing when you say it. Can you do other ninja tricks?"

In a heartbeat, he threw three kunai in a perfect line along a slender birch, each resonating a deep thunk that merged into one. A white and gold moth fluttered impaled on the center knife. She gasped.

But when he looked back at her, her face seemed uncomfortable. The throw was well above chunin level, above most jounin. Itachi knew he should not be careless in his desire to impress her by throwing beyond the abilities of a merchant. But somehow, the throw had not pleased her.

"Is something wrong, Hato?"

"What I liked about your fire jutsu wasn't its killing power; it wasn't a weapon, it was art."

"Art..."

"It's like how you and Mekajiki use fire and water style to make charcoal. Your fire style painted Amaterasu's horse, and it was beautiful. Performance is art, and it makes people happy."

Itachi regurgitated what he knew of art. "Do you think art is a single rapturous instant, or eternal?"

"Weird question. Art isn't a period of time, but a place. It transports you somewhere you've never been before, to some feeling you've never felt before"

"Hm," Itachi pondered. He thought that was a better philosophy than that of either Deidara or Sasori. He wondered how mad they would be if he answered like that, and decided he would next time they asked his opinion. Which would probably be never.

She smiled at him. "I've got a stupid dream. Wanna hear it?"

"I'd love to."

"I dream to lead a group someday that practices more peaceful uses to ninjutsu than war. Even if it was just a traveling circus of theater artists, and all we accomplished was making some villagers laugh."

"You've already got a talent for performance. The road is dangerous, but train and surround yourself with others like you, and only a fool would rob you."

She smiled sadly. "Dad wants me to marry a prince in the next village."

"Bring the prince along."

The actress said nothing and skipped a stone over the lake. It failed after two stops, and she made a noise of embarrassment. Itachi picked up a small flat stone and also skipped it badly. Ripples in the lake reflected the moonbeams like bobbing driftwood.

"It's late," Itachi said after a while.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Itachi did not answer right away. She said, "Stay the night at my house."

Itachi bowed. "That's very generous of you. I would be happy to stay overnight in your stable, and my partner as well, if possible."

There was a sly shift of her eyes, lids heavy around her big, black pupils. "I think he'll have found an inn by now. But that shouldn't stop you."

Hato escorted him across flagstones that shone silver in the moonlight. Carrying their shoes, opening a sliding door with the utmost care, the two tiptoeing teens entered her sub-clan's complex and slipped into her bedroom.

Itachi set his shoes along the wall, wondering to what extent he should undress himself. When he turned around, Hato had knelt on her white futon. With her eyes trained at him, she slowly loosened the belt of her furisode to bare her chest. Itachi did the same. He reached to kiss her, she kissed him back. He shed the rest of his clothes, then did the same for her. He leaned into her. This is what people did.

He shuddered at the unfamiliarity when her weak hands touched his neck, they were warm and soft, hot as death-blood. He banished the rising memories, memories from the last time he did this, no, from the last time he thought he did this with Izumi that terrible night. Their bodies fit together like hot white ivory, and like smoke and steam, a very un-normal man tried his best to do this very normal thing.

Author's Note;

Heyo, thanks for supporting this fic. I plan to post Chapter 4 around Friday Nov 23. This will be a long dramatic fic with probably about 10-15 chapters this length, and I have a lot of progress made already.

Let me know your thoughts. And thanks of course to thanks again to beta myochiikurin!

Steadfast,

Kelto

Follow on FF or Ao3

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863

#split this one because it was too long #but chapter 3 yay!#this was delayed because i literally could not write the last paragraph how i wanted for two weeks #but its an important skill to just say yeah im 80 percent satisfied with this and publish it anyway #campfires #naruto #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfic #itachi #kisame #kisaita #celticfeather #keltodier #thanks for reading!

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xkuja · 5 years

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🌸 MUSE AESTHETICS 🌸

feel free to add to the list. repost, not reblog ! BOLD the aesthetic for your muse. italicize what can be taken two ways or applies only partially.

“just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl.” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “you’ll get it done before the day is up.” / GUILT THAT ISN’T YOURS TO HAVE. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / A FACE IN THE MIRROR THAT YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE. / “how could you do this to me?” / THE SHARP STING OF GUILT. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite./ THE FAMILY YOU NEVER HAD. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. /drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “you’re getting better.” / “they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly.” / YOU EDGE A BIT TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / WAVES RISE AND LEAVE THE FOAM BEHIND. / THE PRECIPICE YOU CALL HOME HAS A TIP YOU’LL REACH EVENTUALLY. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / THE SKY OPENS UP WHEN YOU SEE THEM. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “OH GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / YOU TRIED TO HELP, BUT IT ONLY GOT WORSE. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / YOU SMELL LIKE THE MOUNTAINS IN THE WINTER. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / YOUR SHOES ARE SHARP, BUT YOUR WIT IS EVEN SHARPER. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / THERE’S A PLACE YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE NO MATTER WHO TRIES TO STOP YOU. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “WE WANT YOU TO SUCCEED. I HOPE YOU CAN GRASP THAT.” / “they weren’t there when it happened.” / QUICK TO ANGER. / CORRUPTION. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /“you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. /“JUMP. I DARE YOU.” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “I WAS HOPING THAT YOU’D UNDERSTAND.” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / COURT HEARINGS. / “i miss you.” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. / “THEY SAY YOUR NAME IS DEATH.” / all-consuming passion. / THINK ABOUT THE THINGS YOU DID. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / HOW THE OTHER HALF DIES. / “have you ever thought about why trees bleed?” / your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “go down with me, fall with me.” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / THE LONG GAME. / RESTLESS HANDS. / IVY INFILTRATING AN EMPTY, CORRODED CHURCH. / YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO SPARE THEM. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / THE WORST MONSTERS WEAR THE FACES OF MEN. / “madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me.” / “MY BLOOD RAN COLD.” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / NO SCALES ARE STRONG ENOUGH TO JUDGE YOU.

TAGGED BY: @lonescion TAGGING: my bird just fell asleep in his food dish... he is so old.

#|| Is this Memes ||#barely any of these words fit him #but the shoes one is good

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dramaplustautology · 6 years

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Tariche

General Description

Tariche, which is an inversion and corruption of Ishtar, is a short young man who will say he’s sixty-nine years old if anyone asks. They eyes he’s got are pretty gold with literal sparkles shining in the iris (like Kirby’s new eyes in Star Allies) which resemble a starry vista. His hair’s black but he dyes it pretty hard, veering into platinum blond, and since he keeps it short, he’s got his roots showing more often than not. Refusing to use magic to dye it in solidarity with his buddies (which sounds like nothing but he can’t apply it to most other things considering the kind of creature he is), Tariche stinks of chemicals. Like his workplace, he sprays himself down with perfumes to keep the stink at bay, is what he’ll say but he finds that the mix of flowers, copper, and bitter chemicals puts people on edge.

Dr. Tariche’s mom was a true Hero and so was his older sister, according to him. He’s got a few moves of his own but Tariche preferred to put his talents to medicine and genuinely wanted to help others. The heroes in his family were his idols and as many heroes do, stuffed as many people as they could into their hearts. Tariche started practicing with good intentions, aiming to be like his mother and sister in his own way.

He’s a sharp boy, in mind and in action. With the complexities of social life and ethics though, it was black and white for far too long of a time. That’s why it hit him pretty hard when his sister let herself get cut to pieces after doing something that crashed him smack into some gray area.

Since then, Tariche hasn’t seen his sister at all. Where he’s gone, the only thing she can do is send her little brother gifts. Never letters.

The sudden isolation was sobering since Tariche has a particular power. If someone with a functioning mind knows something, Tariche will know it too. For now, it’s limited to people he’s seen face to face but slowly he’s been able to steal information from reading their writing or looking at their photos. But, it’s only information.

The emotion that gives context to the hard numbers and words are lost to him even when he’s told outright. Tariche can’t understand the minute complexities that can be pinned to the endless stream of information flowing into his head.

Take the gifts his brother sends him from who knows where. They’re apologies for not being around because he’s too dangerous to be around. He’d be a bad influence. Tariche understands the apology, that’s easy, but the hard facts say that his brother poses an extremely minimal threat to him. He doesn’t really get that his brother would know this but feel much different.

Same with his mother, who he hadn’t met until he was fresh out of childhood. Due to certain circumstances, his mother had to give her kids up. She could have kept them of course but “if you had been around, your life wouldn’t have been happy. Even worse, I’m afraid my life would have been much better.”

‘You don’t know for sure,’ is what Tariche thought. There was no way to know if that was true. Either way, there could be no comparison. Not knowing frustrated Tariche and gave him an aching empty feeling he tried to fill as much as possible.

But learning from his family, a heart can’t hold that much. Not without exploding and he knew with the way he was, that kind of mess wasn’t something he could walk away from. So, the rule became four close people and as adrenaline pumping, violent emotions to properly understand and keep him full. It can’t be irritation, it has to be rage. Never melancholy, there has to be unrelenting misery. Those are way easier to understand and he’ll put his back into wringing them out from anyone who can give it to him.

Anything else is irrelevant.

Instead of worrying about the little things, Tariche set out to stimulate himself to avoid having to be alone with his own thoughts. Knowing everything other people did was really boring so he tries to see everything exciting first-hand; an awful way of doing things with medical knowledge and an unhealthy curiosity to go with it.

Though he does pursue situations that are risky with no sure vision of the outcome, Tariche isn’t that reckless. He’s careful to be able to have an out so he can go on to discover more and more. That being said, he’s a huge masochist. Gives him a rush and anyone that can give him that rush easy as breathing, he’ll be all over them, self-preservation be damned.

So what’s he doing with the Thorn, having killed and replaced one of the doctors willing (read: blackmailed into) working with them? It’s very risky and Tariche has no idea what’s going to happen if he gets found out. Plus, there’s a lot of things going on in their everyday dealings to squeeze that sweet sweet adrenaline out of his abused kidneys.

Or maybe, he’s hoping that the Rose can find his mother while they’re sweeping Lore for anything with a hint of magic. Tariche doesn’t know why he wants that or for what reason. Who knows how his mother is going to react either. But that’s the best part.

Despite all that nasty stuff though, he has four chambers in his heart and it takes hard work and diligence to keep them healthy. At least with love, he knows that it’s something you work hard for.

Freely given? Definitely can’t make sense of that.

True Form/Past Life Notes

With how Tariche knows what people ‘think’ to be fact kind of steps too close to just straight up mind reading but I wanted it to be like books, y’know? Yeah there’s data in them but frequent tests, context, and it being widely agreed upon is what makes it information. So no matter what you read, you gotta practice critical thinking (which tariche is too lazy to do sometimes) I was thinking maybe instead of his past deity self being representative of all knowledge, he could be human knowledge. But then i thought it over more and well, that’s redundant. And like it’s kinda dumb that there might be another guy out there, who’s just the Snake Knowledge. How to swallow rats whole.

Tariche looks like a bundle of every living thing’s knowledge. But it’s much less intense than what Ty looks like, if that what Tariche chooses to do. It’s kind of like a book, he can present himself as something that children can understand or can become so complicated that your eyes burn looking at him. Even worse is if he decides to bring to the surface that whole “What Man Shouldn’t Know” kind of information. The stuff that horror literature makes such big stuff about. The stuff that makes people go insane looking at.

But it doesn’t have to be that way cause Tariche could bury it under a mountain of more mundane things. So instead of a witness going insane from the revelation, they could leave knowing waaaaay too much about cooking. Like, now they know 45 different ways to make a pie. Putting it that way can make it sound like he could help so many people out by being a good teacher but he’s lazy and dislikes spending time on strangers. “Do I look like a charity?”

If he were to draw it out, he’d just make a ball of squiggles with a pen to make it easier to understand but really, what he looks like is what learning feels like. Think of an epiphany or the moment where you finally get a math problem right.

Yeah, it sounds really complicated and annoying to present himself in a way that’s understandable to friends. Which sucks cause he feels most comfortable in this form and that makes him super jealous of his older sister.

History/Very Rough Draft

Tariche's history from start to somewhere in the present?

So like, he remembers everything really well, even being in his mom's womb, and why he likes eating cucumbers. (Ty thought she was getting fat or something so she tried to diet)

His knowledge powers were there when he was omg...gestating....

but it didn't bother him as much cause they were just words that didn't make sense to him until he was born. He was just happy to be warm and listen to the voices outside

(don't quote me on this)

so he hears a lot of voices including his mom and his sister, and a few others that pop up a lot of times, many of them sound kind, others sound like nightmares

but somewhere in the middle, Ty realized she wasn't fat and ran off somewhere to be with brhandy and tariche quietly. Tariche doesn't get like, hard facts yet but he feels the absolute fear and exhaustion his mom goes through. And floating upside down not being able to do anything drives him nuts drives him even more nuts when he's born cause now he has a solid world to put facts too, but he's a baby. he can't even control when he cries and pees himself. I imagine having an adult brain and not being able to control basic body functions is the worst.

So like, He knows tons and tons of things that could be helpful but his stupid baby hands and baby mouth can't form words. his arms are too weak to even lift a pen, and brhandy or ty keep picking him up whenever he tries to draw things in like, dirt or flour. But he's cool even tho he can't properly communicate cause Ty and Brhandy take care of him.

Then Ty has to leave cause of something, like problems with people needing a hero again. it's bad this time. She doesn't want to put Brhandy and Tariche through hardships or put them in danger, and since most people don't know they exist, she has to leave them behind in a nice orphanage.

now, Tariche knows how ty can get out of this, or how to solve the problem quickly but he's a baby, he can't say anything. it just sounds like slurred kicking and crying while Bhrandy holds him as they watch Ty disappear.

skip to like, a few years later and the siblings aren't adopted yet (they never will) but brhandy's old enough to take care of them both, do odd jobs, and train to be a knight.

Tariche is a lot quieter when he's a kid, and doesn't want to tell Brhandy about his powers cause he's afraid she'll hate him if he know how to keep their mom around does like, some bad things like drink and smoke cause he knows that'll keep his head clear even for little bits at a time, at age five.

but it's like not hardcore bad, brhandy is happy and the other kids at the orphanage are nice, even visit sometimes when they get adopted.

hey make a lot of friends, and when one of them is about to go to a happy home, they get trampled by a horse or something breaks their leg real bad and it gets infected.

Tariche knows how to fix this, he knows how to do the surgery, and what kind of medicine to give them, but his stupid kid hands shake too much to be able to help them, and makes it worse when he snuck in to try surgery.

Brhandy hides it from everyone that he may have helped their friend die faster but they also would have died anyways. She's more worried that tariche is gonna beat himself up for this

And he totally fucking does but it actually motivates him to train and practice so his body can catch up to his mind. So maybe next time, he can actually do stuff right for once.

He actually does great, becomes an amazing doctor and follows brhandy to a richer place where she can serve the nobility there

He's happier, has dropped the smoking just in time cause he's started to cough a lot, and also does stuff as a vet cause he really likes dogs

And then the stuff happens with brhandy where she accidentally finds out about what her powers are like, and it had rained too much in a place in the sandsea, and a lot of people caught disease from the bacteria that rose up from the ground, and killed a lot of people. (She like, can make it rain a lot. But only if she breathes. If she holds her breath, it won't rain but it's uncomfortable to painful for her)

Brhandy comes home and takes the hit for the horrible crime

Tariche knows that this isn't her fault and someone in the nobility had noticed, and tricked her into getting rid of an enemy in the chaos of the rainfall, but Brhandy is really guilty, and decides to stay in prison until her execution. And Tariche knows how to break her out, which route to take in, and how to escape, but he's a spindly nerd.

When he tries to break in to get his sis, he gets beat up real bad, and and watches brhandy get drawn and quartered.

Tariche is pretty upset, understatement. And manages to find her body parts and found them to be still alive, just in pieces and unconscious. Ty wasn't human and they aren't either. You can't kill them like that normally, but it sucks to not have a body. He gets manic, tries to put her back together but can't manage it cause he doesn't know how to, and this is his first time not knowing something cause the knowledge doesn't exist.

But since he is "knowledge" he can just conjure it up. He actually does it accidentally, and then lost the ability to cry. He can create knowledge but doing that is like an action that accepts that he isn't human, and takes away a human function.

And the way to get her back together is very difficult, and he can't do it in a way that would fit Brhandy's morals. he would need to practice a lot, cause one shot is gonna bring her back but if he fails, it's over forever.

He wants to practice but he'd only be able to do it on other humans, and that'll kill them, but humans killed bhrandy after they used her, and her morals was what got her dismembered in the first place. so actually fuck it. he wasn't good enough to help her or themselves, so he'll just be bad

he starts learning a lot, gets sneaky, always smells a little like blood so he goes nuts on bath and body works kind of things. it's also stuff that brhandy was into so maybe that'll comfort her even tho she's sleeping.

Then he like, finds that he's not getting enough subjects on his own, and he's not getting any better at the procedure, gets worried that he really is a shitty person and isn't trying hard enough cause he actually doesn't love his sister.

He has to turn to sponsors or an employer for help.

and his reputation has apparently proceeded him cause he's promised a high standing right away, and a meeting with the big boss.

Then tariche recognizes the man's voice.

And he's so mad

he's super pissed when he looks at his father cause, this is why he's like this right?

Scum of the earth that only uses his family as an excuse for his sadism

But that's ok, as long as he gets Brhandy put back together, it's good. He's started on a job and he hates leaving things unfinished

so maybe when Brhandy has her head back on, minus all the things that got her killed in the first place, Tariche can take his head off, and finally rest.

Misc Details:

He’s a huge masochist sure, but no needles. Dr. Tariche hates needles and will close his eyes when he’s administering vaccines.

On the subject of needles, the good doctor found a way to both control a person’s movements, change the way a person thinks, and what they think about. Tariche can only do a few at a time but somehow, he can skip all that conditioning stuff by himself but for someone else to do it, they have to use tools. Tariche could teach them if he didn’t black out from looking at the needles.

Why he figured out the needle method in the first place has to do with being able to control people in the first place. If he practices this over anyone, he loses a bodily function. If he continues to use it, it’ll reduce him to having to be on a life support system but stop short of halting his heart. He’s used it all of once and lost the ability to cry when he’s sad.

If there’s an equivalent of Body and Bath Works around, count Tariche as their number shitty customer.

Of course he’ll wash his hands but you need to beat him over the head to make him wear gloves.

Throat punching is his favorite move for some reason. Maybe he wants to get rid of that pesky adam’s apple keeping him away.

No more doctor related things but he’s creeped out by dolls. Tariche can’t throw away the ones his brother sends him but he wishes they could have been cool rocks or whatever.

Tariche has corset piercings on his back. Why? Why.

No one’s sure if he calls tools primitive because he’s from the future or if it’s cause he sucks.

In DF at least, he's the illegitimate son of the main hero character and theano

#Tariche (Info)#Definitely not going to stay the same #The more I think about things the more they change #it's more about his feelings rn

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egotisticle · 6 years

Text

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST. bold the aesthetic for your muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways or applies only partially.

you’re a rotten monster. / “ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ because monsters don’t get to live happily ever after. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / maybe if you scrub hard enough, that rot will fall away. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ if you touch my brother I swear I will kill you all ! ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ jump. I dare you. ” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, & you don’t know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. / “ they say your name is death. ” / “ there’s so much blood on your hands & agony in your soul. How are you surviving, monster ? ” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things ; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” / your family would crash headfirst against the rocks in a storm to give you the world. & so would you, even though you feel like you’re worthless & a burden to them. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to spare them / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ” / “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you. / they created you, but do not love you, & they never will. / “ Would you destroy yourself if it saves those you love ? ” / dead flowers placed in front of a grave with alarmingly fresh dirt. / the grave isn’t yours, but it should be. / if there is a God, any God at all, how do I kill Him for everything he’s done to me ? / in the end, you will be alone

tagged by: @gavechoice

tagging: anyone who wants to delay drafts a bit longer

#┊♚┊ − ❛ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶦᶜ ❜#long post for ts #((this is specifically for his main verse))#((and man. was this fun to fill out. neat imagery))

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ryanthevagabondhaywood · 6 years

Text

Repost, not reblog.

Bold the aesthetic for your muse.

Italicize what can be taken two ways or applies only partially.

you’re a rotten monster. / “ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. /you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ because monsters don’t get to live happily ever after. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. /“ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / maybe if you scrub hard enough, that rot will fall away. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ if you touch my brother I swear I will kill you all ! ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ jump. I dare you. ” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, & you don’t know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. / “ they say your name is death. ” / “ there’s so much blood on your hands & agony in your soul. How are you surviving, monster ? ” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things ; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” / your family would crash headfirst against the rocks in a storm to give you the world. & so would you, even though you feel like you’re worthless & a burden to them. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to spare them / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ” / “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you. / they created you, but do not love you, & they never will. / “ Would you destroy yourself if it saves those you love ? ” / dead flowers placed in front of a grave with alarmingly fresh dirt. / the grave isn’t yours, but it should be. / if there is a God, any God at all, how do I kill Him for everything he’s done to me ? / in the end, you will be alone / red stars in a white space / you are the halo that i hang myself with / where there is no skin, just scar tissue / he walks into the sun and burns / there are ghosts now where i want you to be / sunlight in a smile that wilts over the years / touching where you once were and remembering / god has nothing to do with this / this is always the worst part / maybe your sunlight will scare the darkness out of me

I tag @gcldenfool

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help-from-above · 6 years

Text

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST. bold the aesthetic for your muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways or applies only partially.

tagged by:

tagging: @ryanthevagabondhaywood @illmortalhd @gangrieve

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sunyri · 6 years

Text

Famous first lines of poetry BOLD the ones that apply to your muse

TAGGED: Stolen ! TAGGING: Anyone who wants to do this as well.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked // tyger tyger, burning bright // i have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm to-night. // let us go then, you and i, // april is the cruelest month, // pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // there is a place where the sidewalk ends // i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // whose woods these are i think i know // let us twain walk aside from the rest; // once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, // i taught myself to live simply and wisely // it so happens i am sick of being a man // i wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun ? // o my luve is like a red, red rose // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me, // it was many and many a year ago, // you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.// hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island,

remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveller from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves // this is thy hour o soul, // when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, // and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you; // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; // to see a world in a grain of sand //is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man, // that crazed girl improving her music. // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // in flanders’ fields the poppies blow // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // it may be misery not to sing at all, // if starry space no limit knows

come live with me and be my love // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense // bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do i love thee? let me count the ways. //heaven is what i cannot reach ! // my dear, my dear, i know // in visions of the dark night// shall i compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break // she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not all a dream. // he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. // “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” // pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. // “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” // guilt that isn’t yours to have. // it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. // chains. // “ how could you do this to me? ”// the sharp sting of guilt. // you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. // the family you never had. // falling backwards through time. // quicksand. //drowning, but you don’t save yourself. // “you’re getting better. ” // “they smile like a snake.” // you’re the stars and the sky. // there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. // they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. // “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” // you edge a bit too close to the sun. // another ghost to take your place after every stumble. // deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. // rock candy melting in water. // waves rise and leave the foam behind. // the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. // happiness is the best front a man can take. // “i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before.” // you disagree; they’re more beautiful. //discomfort at the tiniest of touches. // the sky opens up when you see them. // rain comes down. // poppy fields. // your sanity hanging by a thread. // “oh god, what have you done? ” // roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. // they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. // you try to help, but it only got worse. //now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. //

adam & eve in the garden. // a temptress in crisp button-downs.// “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” // they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. // the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. // sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. // yes saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. // crisp green apples piled up on the table. // your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. // what a pretty one, they say. // you laugh without humor. // a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. // there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. // the seat of power fits like a glove. // heavy is the head that wears the crown. // you share a space, but not a mind. // they think you are weak; you are, maybe. // “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” // an empty bird’s nest. // broken pencil tips. // there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. // “we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” // “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” // corruption. // there’s a red string tying you together. // the scent of whiskey on the horizon. // “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” // pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. // 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. // you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. // always walking on sunshine. // there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. // hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. // you drift, but you know where you’re going. // no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. // the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. // court hearings. // “ I miss you. ” // siblings are a funny thing. // they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. // blackbird screaming // wake in nightmares // are you an illusion? // I don’t feel real. // who is in control?

#MUSEings

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writerspink · 5 years

Text

K-12 Words

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1.2

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apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

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exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

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stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

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feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

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yenrps · 7 years

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Acting is the expression of a neurotic impulse. It’s a bum’s life. The principal benefit acting has afforded me is the money to pay for my psychoanalysis. — Marlon Brando

CHARACTER SUMMARY

Fame has always been an unavoidable part of his life, no point in downplaying or omitting that. It’s hardly manageable for a kid growing up not to endure whispers in the hallway and people poking questions at his mother’s health and whether or not she will make a comeback. For Alexander, dodging all of this unwanted attention was a tiresome sport in his childhood, and continues well into his adolescent years. Because his family is one rooted in the public eye. Almost everyone, mind you, except for him. If there is anything about Alexander that is undoubtedly certain, it’s that he hasn’t got the faintest idea what he wants to do with his life, not least of all because his older siblings have all commendable carriers in the limelight, all of which have served to rekindle their station as a celebrity clan, of sorts.

By contrast, Alexander knows he’s the outsider, the quiet one, the dreamer and artist; the one branded as a genius because some doctors once insisted that his linguistic capabilities far surpassed that of his peers. But what he wants more than all these promising labels is a shot at normalcy - at being a normal kid without the need to impress anyone or live up to this idealized and glamorized idea what he ought to be.

The only impasse is his passion: acting, namely, which requires an audience he is not ready to face, as aimlessly as he tries to figure out who he is, and how to be comfortable in his own skin. Only when he can shed his skin does Alexander breathe freely, secure in the constraints of being somebody else. Poetry, drawing, acting - these three are his loyal companions. In a way, all he needs is right there, in art, for it opens up the possibility of sharing without exposing himself. The fear of being misunderstood is much too crippling to be courageous. His motivation, his fuel, therefore, is to find himself in between piles of different personalities, hoping he’ll feel comfortable with being just himself some day.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

Generally, off stage run-ins with Alexander vary greatly. Even his pitch and voice texture seems more a spectrum than a fixed tone, as he mostly just carries on being a poseur around people - including but not limited to what he sounds like. To customers at the shop, his voice is quiet yet attentive and pleasant. Soft, in short, so that regulars have quickly come to appreciate such a polite and soft-spoken boy, in spite of his easily forgettable appearance from short-cut, jet black hair to light-brown, kind yet perceptive eyes and high collared shirts. Every now and then, though, his tattooes peek through, tiny art bits crafted mostly by Avery, his co-worker and friend, from colored to black and white. Most motives convey his personality, all of which are placed in private or easily coverable places. From swallows to lizards and trampled roses, everything is there in his rapidly growing collection of tattoos. In the hope that, someday, there will be a person special enough to uncover and look at him;see him.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

What you get will be an expedition of masks; a panorama, one more vibrant and beautiful than the other. But most importantly, it’s what people want to see. This, Alexander will readily and willingly display without any word of complaint. A contagious grin, a lilt in his voice as he responds - optimism all around. Beneath it, however, loom self-absorbed doubts, all-defying pessimism down to almost nihilistic streaks and self-pity - the ugly, labyrinthine passage he allows scarcely few to see. Nobody wants that, he’d argue, withdrawing instead even further from himself to welcome others, and to be regarded as a positive influence. The only thing he can’t readily fake off stage is confidence - especially towards assertive, fiercely capable and sure-footed personages.

What are Alexander’s greatest gifts to aligning talent and technique as an actor are likewise his greatest weaknesses beyond art: hypersensitivity and introspection. While it is easy to become immersed in a role, it has become quite the chore to be just himself, and so the acting never ends.

Examined in close, intimate moments, it is said he is too intense, and his doubts and overwhelming sensitivity a turn off. It’s not that he is a fragile boy about to break; the crux boils down to his fear to be misunderstood and to lose any chance of finding friends - or most notably a partner - to accept him as the compassionate, tactful, sensual man that he is, without looking away from his self-consciousness, the tiring transitions between two absolutes (e.g. blind idealism and crushing pessimism), his struggle to relate to others, and his inability to manage in a practical world.

Essentially, Alexander is a liar with the penchant for it, missteps notwithstanding. Most of what is appealing about him remains an act in the end, no matter how free, daredevil-like and fun he may be around you - any closer scrutiny and one will knock over Pandora’s box, to put a top to his energetic demeanor, and the ‘thinking while doing’ philosophy which he has adopted and taken to heart. Because, at his core, he is either dumb or lion-hearted enough to still believe there is a place for authenticity and idealism in this piss-poor-poseur production that is this world?

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

Technically, Alexander speaks three languages to varying degrees of proficiency starting with his mother tongue, Japanese, and ending with Avery’s insistence on teaching him German. English is undoubtedly the language he has gained fluency in while only being able to come up to a lower intermediate level in Japanese, which secretly bothers him more than he lets on, not least of all because it puts a barrier between his grandparents and himself when he’s visiting – and his siblings, to some extent, as he is the only one struggling – so it equally annoys him that, even though both languages are hardly comparable in any objective sense, he seems to be having a much easier time learning German where he’s already at a lower intermediate level despite only having studied it for a little over two years.

Now, having always had a natural affinity for languages, Alexander easily picks up new languages with little difficulty. His heart, however, beats in accordance with the bard’s works, hence his decision to have loitered around England for a while to pursue an English degree. No art school, despite his parent’s attempts to pester him into giving it a try. His artistic prowess notwithstanding, Alexander has likewise undergone training as an aspiring actor, even having starred in a few low-budget productions at his local theatre back in his hometown. Indeed, he even is in charge of an acting course for children from nine to thirteen – naturally with the main focus being on Shakespearean plays.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

Despite genuine efforts being made, Alexander is not the ideal friend he thinks he is, often being at odds with how he wants them to act and what they’re really like. This, in turn, accentuates his inability to sustain his empathy off-stage. Consequently, there is this disconnect between him and others, this distance that cannot be breached no matter how buoyant or otherwise uncomplicated he comes across. As a result of this, Alexander has been called selfish, self-absorbed, whiny, vain, pretentious - just too much work.

Having always been the odd kid cradling outrageously expensive special editions of classics and Classics alike, he isn’t necessarily close to his family. At least conventionally, Alexander returns the sentiment of love - really, he does - but neither can they identify, much less understand them - nor can he understand their motivations for pushing him, relentlessly so, to publish his works and move up the prestigious ladder of receiving the recognition they believe he deserves. Put simply, his tendency to idealize people - to dehumanize them, in a sense - and to admire anyone and everyone on a pedestal puts him at a disadvantage and, in the same vein, in the unpleasant position of never feeling close to anybody.

Inspired by: an actor’s panel I found on Youtube, Dandelion, very loosely (TW)

#bio outline #bio outline;Alexander

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