#insanity-by-proxy

[sheikah]

So, in relation to your recent Sooric posts: I just have to say that I JUST started watching True Blood for the first time, so I SUUUPER appreciate seeing some True Blood content on my dash. (Also, I had just watched the ep where Sookie finds out that Eric bought her house when you posted about it, so the feels are fresh.)

Omg!! So happy to find someone else who's watching it haha. I realize that it's kind of wild, and toward the end the writing goes way off the rails. But as a lifelong fan of vampire stories and a Louisianan, this show will always have a special place in my heart. And Sooric is one of my all-time otps! Him buying her house is just my favorite gesture. And then him signing it back over to her so she can still withdraw her permission for him to be there whenever she wants!!!! He loved her so much :’( I'm gonna cry over them all over again istg...

[penguinpositivity]

This is for @witch-of-annwn / @insainity-by-proxy : Lexi is such a pure soul and an amazing writer and rp partner. The Emelia and her world are so in-depth and additive! I love writing with her so much and I love it when we get to talk OOC, there are very few people who my muses get to be their most authentic selves with and hers is one of them! If I had a bucket of hearts and stars I would just dump it on the mun, she's outstanding and deserves so much love and kindness

[parkersrevenge]

Shout out to the random con-man on The Dragon Prince for being such a dead-wringer for how I envision my bard/bloodhunter that I am considering this actual official art for my character.

[charleymountbatten]

Talking doesn’t always work. It’s a tough lesson to learn, especially for someone whose main defense is talking. I am somewhat decent with a bow, and I am growing pretty damn good with a sword. But talking has always been, and always will be, my first line of defense.

It doesn’t always work, as I said. People can’t always be manipulated, or charmed. They can’t always be calmed down.

Sometimes they will continue to hurt you no matter what. For every scenario in which talking de-escalated a situation, there have been just as many examples of it failing to help at all. The Minotaur, the banshee, most of my dealings with the Order... they all ended in a fight.

But at least I tried.

I talk, because I am good at it. I talk, because fighting can’t be.... shouldn’t be... our go-to solution for every fucking problem. I talk so we won’t get hurt. I talk so others won’t die. I talk for the slim, hopeless chance that human decency and diplomacy can win out over senseless violence and bloodshed.

I talk, and if our enemies draw first blood, I fight.

I talk, but if we draw first blood, I can’t help but question why I am a part of this party at all.

They fear I’m becoming a monster. I’m really starting to resent that implication.

I wonder how long the party will survive if I stop talking...

[spellsandpixiedust]

Lavender, Incense, Scars, Rainstorms

Ask-Meme

LAVENDER: Name something that relaxes you.

“Is not that hard and doesn’t necessarily involve questionable substances. Put on Songs Of Faith And Devotion, let me have a cuppa or somming more substantial, cadge have a smoke, too, and that’s it. Easy formula. Though - and now it’s gettin’ terribly soppy - what really has me blissfully relaxed is listening to another bloke’s heart beat, me arms wrapped around his body and his hand on the small of me back gently drawing invisible circles. It’s only when I lose myself with someone else that I find myself. Well, wasn’t that awfully specific? Yeah. Don’t whine and be glad I didn’t quote Franky Goes To Hollywood, even if the question was begging for it.”

INCENSE: List your three favorite scents.

“For one the smell of coffee in the mornin’. Then… uhm… that particular and long forgotten fragrance of combined new and stale smoke shrouding sweat and cheap perfume and booze, interlaced with semblances of synthetic hailing from the poor ventilation and the fog machine rendering the former completely redundant. Or for short: any club before the awful smoking ban. And third, let me try and reestablish me image as a semi-sophisticated person: the smell of dusty old books promising knowledge.”

SCARS: Share something difficult you’ve been through.

“Puberty counts, right…? Yeah, well. I know it’s not what ye meant. So… the following is not for the faint-hearted. Just a fair advice. Right. It’s no secret, sadly, I’ve made meself known a dark magician in the past. But it wasn’t as easy as just deciding on a one-eighty, ye know? I’ve… fuck, let’s face it: I was an addict. To boot. Blood magic it was, is, still. Cause while I’m painfully, pathetically human including no psychic abilities, using spells is just saying words and then being surprised shit actually happens. Not with blood magic. I can feel it. Me own magic running through me veins. I feel power. I feel meself. I feel whole. And the entire world changes in ways ye would never understand. Bit like an acid trip. Don’t ask. So… of course I needed new ways to induce a high, new spells, more powerful ones. It paid off me ego and it satisfied me bodily craving for a short while. I never failed, there was not one single spell I could not master, so abandoning all that, the high and the power and the only thing I was ever truly marvellous at, proved to be the first difficulty. The second being the actual cold turkey. And when I say difficult, I mean agonising. I locked meself in. Sealed the door magically for the course of one month, knowing full well if somming went pear shaped or if I miscalculated the amount of food I’d need I was done for. Then took me own voice. Can’t do magic without it. It was… terrifying to say the least. But it would be only for a month, yeah?, no biggie. And I was so wrong. I cried and screamed in silence for the most part, I tried to scratch me skin off, I even bit meself to bleed. Was cramping, sweating, trembling. Couldn’t walk, only crawl. Couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to eat. The only reason I recovered me will to survive was that I remembered if I died now, I’d go to Hell. So instead I went through Hell and cleaned up. That’s it. That’s one of the most difficult things I’ve been through.”

RAINSTORMS: What helps you fall asleep?

“Surprisingly enough, since I’ve done a lot to fuck up me sleeping pattern in the past, I don’t have trouble falling asleep. If I’m tired, I can just doss down anywhere. No going-to-bed rituals needed. Guess it’s been a great perk while I was roving around, occasionally sleeping in public libraries by day or in pedestrian subways when I was really unfortunate. As of today, I think the only requirement for me to fall asleep is that I am actually tired. Simple as that.”

[parkersrevenge]

DnD Quotes of the Night

Poltak the goliath fighter: Ok, you know what! That’s like a pot calling... a pot................ a... pot. ---

Igor the monk: That cocaine thing was a bad idea. ---

Poltak: Not matter what happens... I’m gonna throw Igor out a window. ---

Poltak (ooc): What are they bonding over?

Corellon the high-elf ranger: The fact that I have no place to sleep. ---

Ashley the alcoholic cleric (ooc): Ashley takes a drink.

Astraea the rogue, horrified (ooc): While on FIRE. ---

Mountbatten the bard, after giving two fallen soldiers a viking funeral, floating their small boats down the river: MY GONDOLANCES.

[charleymountbatten]

To Maximillian Archambault-Chavaniac Richelieu Ellingworth, Lord of Carcarron

Dearest Uncle Max,

I apologize for how long it has taken me to write to you, dear uncle. My adventures have taken me on quite a few different paths, and have left me precious little time to send any word to anyone else other than Papa. To fill you in, my trip to Mirrodell was quite uneventful. Upon arriving in the city, I took to seeing some of the sights, and have started to make a name for myself in the taverns around the city for my music. I have even found a talented young wizard named Theren, whose magic fits in perfectly with my music. We have a bit of an act going, and I think the two of us have a lot of potential to make it far together.

That said, things don’t always go perfectly while travelling, and my time has had just as many downs as I’ve had ups. All have been resolved, you’d be pleased to hear, and I have found myself in the good graces of the Lord of Mirrodell, who I believe you have known for many years now. At the very least, I know South Gil-Ithien’s exports are a lucrative commodity here, so I am hopefully safe in assuming you have had dealings with the Nicodemus family as a result of that at least once or twice.

However, there is one issue I would hope to have resolved sooner rather than later. As I’m sure Papa has filled you in on, I have found myself in the company of some truly wonderful people. Ashley Greenbrush, an officer in the Imperial Army and the heir to the Greenbrush Estate, of course. Poltak, one of my dearest friends, is the Helmsplitter of Clan Nos-Niboraii and leader of the Iron Helm- a highly respected position throughout all of Pellanophia. As to some of my other friends, they don’t have titles to claim, but I feel that such a thing shouldn’t matter in the first place. It is their content that determines their worth, not the luck of their birth, and I would stand by them a million times over before I would throw my lot in with some of the Lords and Ladies of Pellanophia. Which is where I humbly ask, if at all possible, for a bit of advice or help on your part.

The final member of my party is an elf, named Corellon Amaruil. Their father is a diplomat here in Mirrodell, and I have been led to believe he is a very high ranking member of society in Teshi Ashtar. His merits I have no doubts about. That being said, his manners are abysmal. He called both myself and my friends rabble, for a start, and that does not get into his comments about us in his writing. I honestly don’t care about that. You know full well the praise of nobility has never meant much to anyone in our family. What worries me is that Virdithas threatened that if he sees Corellon in our company again, they will pay dearly for it. Corellon deserves far kinder treatment than that, and I hate the implication that we are lesser beings unworthy of making alliances and friendship with high elves.

Please, if you could- send a dispatch to Lord Nicodemus, or the Elvenking, or even (for the fun of it) Virdithas himself, and let it be known in no plain terms that Corellon Amaruil, for the good of diplomatic relations, should be encouraged to join ranks with the heir to the Ellingworth dynasty. Politics in Pellanophia are fraught at the moment, and any chances to strengthen ties should be lauded, not punished.

As always, I am

your most affectionate nephew,

Charlemagne Alistair Mountbatten

[charleymountbatten]

Dear Diary,

As I have already written a farewell to my father, which Astraea knows about and hopefully will deliver should the zombies eat my flesh, I have decided to vent in here. I feel bad enough about the snippy tone of the last letter I sent, so I can't bother him with this unless I make it out alive. Best he not know the details- he's been through enough.

We're currently in a small room in the catacombs, resting and healing up before we go deeper into the ruins. I know I'm really not entirely writing this for myself, as I can see Astraea watching me and giving me a look that just screams "I'm gonna read that". So hi, friend. A pleasure, as always.

You would think, knowing that even in my own journal I have no privacy, that this will be a show too. A good yarn, full of lies and over-exaggerations and humor. But I’m tired. I’m tired of lying to my father, and I’m tired of the act I perform for our party. So now it’s just me. The only problem is I don’t know who I am. I’m funny and sarcastic because it makes people like me. I’m generous with my money because it makes people like me. I know the customs and traditions of half the courts in Pellanophia- and was expected to be perfect everywhere I went since I was three years old. The life of a bard is one giant party, but it’s not free. Not in the way we make it seem. You’re controlled by custom- by preconceptions. My mother tried to keep me safe from the worst of a bard’s lifestyle, but a part of me wonders if she never knew what went on behind the closed doors of court, or never realized the extent of it. *I* never even questioned it until recently- the drugs... the sex in dark corners that I was never supposed to talk about... It was probably my own fault- I always liked to wander. It was how I met the kids of the Emperor and Empress. It was how I met a lot of fascinating people. And some less than savory ones. And wound up tied up in a labyrinth. Go figure.

The taverns were always a little seedy, but the most that ever happened in those was I would get drunk and go to bed. The palaces were the shit-holes. Nobles thinking they owned everything and everyone, whose idea of a good time was to introduce the innocent young bard to every vice imaginable, while his mom was off performing and hobnobbing with kings and celebrities. I’m sure her upbringing was probably similar to mine, or maybe it wasn’t and she genuinely had no idea, but I can’t help but feel… resentful, sometimes. I could never put my finger on what always bothered me, but I think it was that she never saw the effect the lifestyle had on me- coming back to our quarters at 15 years old with hangovers, love bites- the times I would still be high out of my mind the next morning or covered in bruises.- and she never noticed, not once. And I hate that I’m upset about it at all, because I’d do anything to have her back. Maybe that wasn’t the way I should have grown up. But I don’t know anything else. And it’s fucked, but it used to be so easy to catch someone’s eye. I never even had to try. Now it feels like no one is interested, and I know you don’t understand, but I don’t know how to cope when no one is interested. I genuinely don’t. My whole life has been one giant show, and this very well could be the grand finale, and here I am: Alone in a crypt with people who see what they want to see in me.

A party-er for Poltak. An asshole and a slut for Ashley. A cheerleader for Theren, a monster to Corellon, a bastard to Igor, and idiot to Nells, and a mystery to my best friend. Well, for her at least, here’s the mystery solved. I am everything and nothing. I am whatever people want me to be; as long as I please them or terrify them I’m happy. All I *want* is for someone to see past the personas and love me for who I am, but I don’t know who that is. I can’t expect someone to love an empty shell, but that’s all I seem to be.

The problem is I don’t like the actual person I seem to be letting out. I know I have a darker side. You’ve seen it. I’m unforgiving and cold, and I should be kinder to the scaly friends that we come across on our adventures. I shouldn’t fly off the handle, and I need to have more actual empathy. My temper gets me into trouble, but all my life I’ve been taught to repress it, and allowing it out might be the only time in my life I’ve ever felt in control of myself. Not long after my mother died, I got into a bit of trouble- a duel might have been involved, no big deal,- and the resulting description of myself throughout all of Carcarron was “mad, bad, and dangerous to know”. It’s not the nicest persona, but for once… it felt like my own. But I don’t want that to be my legacy. I want to be better. I need to be better.

I guess, diary/Astraea, I just want someone to know me, since no one does. And if I have any say in the person I really am, the true me, I want it to be good. I want to be worthy of the party, and your friendship. I want to keep you all safe, and for good and love to win over evil and the total bullshit of everything around us. I want to make people proud. I want to be the type of person I sing songs about. Another act for now, but maybe one that won’t be an act forever.

Oh joy, off to fight more monsters now. Should be great! Maybe they’ll have gold and shit. We both like gold and shit.

Lots of love, Charlemagne Mountbatten, whoever the fuck that is.

@sneakiestsneak @insanity-by-proxy