#the narrator.

[daggerdoggy]

tyler durden.

[frxderickb-blog]

introducing his royal highness, frederick matthias alexander baeder, the twenty-seven recently crowned king of austria. fearless, he is known to be the only of the three austrian brothers to return from the war. he looks a lot dominic sherwood.

‘suuup!! i am jae (she/her, 25, gmt-2) and very excited to be here!! i am awkward af, but i hope i can get to write with as many of you as i can. i never know what else to say so... let’s get to know more about ma boi! this is LONG AF, rip. also!! if you want to plot something, either pre-established or for a thread, like this post and i will drop you a message ^^;;

the second oldest of five siblings, frederick wasn’t meant to be king. he’s known this since he was born, knowing he was a prince and he had a duty with his country, but not one as huge as his older brother, albert.

he’s always been too protective, thinking the mission to look after his younger siblings and to defend the future king is on him. he’s always been particular close to maximilian, his younger brother: the boy had always brighten his days and his desire to fight for their country (when the war started) was inspiring.

it wasn’t much of a surprise when the three of them left to fight in the war, to be much closer than just hearing about it from the advisors—after four years since the war started (info: albert was 20, frederick was 18 and maximiliam was 16). as much as it broke his heart to know he would be apart from his sisters, frederick knew this was what he was supposed to do, what he and his brothers had to do: to defend their ground and allies.

however, it didn’t take too long for tragedy to start for the boys: max was the first to die in a battle against sweden, less than a year since they got actively involved in the war.

to lose one of them was hard for both of the remaining brothers—frederick became thirsty for blood against anyone who dared to come against them and many were the times albert had to hold him before he got himself killed as well.

it was, in fact, on one of these times that got the crown prince killed: the attempt to stop frederick, to keep them both more in the safe side than the one where their soldiers were. frederick doesn’t simply mourn his brother’s death, he blames himself and his stubborness—he had been seeing himself more as a soldier than a prince, and then, suddenly, he was the only one left. (info: albert died around a year ago, in 1531).

albert’s death was not enough to make him leave and stop putting himself in danger, though: even knowing he was the, now, crown prince, frederick would be found alongside his countrymen, ready for battles in which he was a great target by being the future king of austria. it took a great deal to take frederick out of the battlefield and put some sense in his head.

it was only a while before the war ended that he married rosalind blanchard, princess of england. the deal was simple: to make an ally out of an enemy, to help in the cease fire, for all of that supposedly end.

however, it never ended inside of frederick’s head. almost ten years in the war changes a man and he almost can’t recognize himself: he is not eighteen anymore, he is not the second oldest—he’s the king of austria, a crown he didn’t ask lying on his head, a marriage for alliances and peace; he’s lost too much.

to say the least, he has a lot of mental problems; he doesn’t sleep the whole night, he feels uncomfortable when surrounded by too many people at once, but all of these are masked by his serious expression towards most people, and by smiles when he is with his family.

his relation with his wife is... something. there isn’t a word yet, they are strangers who are slowly getting to know each other. frederick isn’t the most friendly and talkative, but rosalind knows he hears her as it isn’t hard to see him doing / saying things the exact way she suggests. one thing they seem to disagree fairly, though, is the matter of children: while rose is content with her flat belly, fred is not—but they’ve never really talked about it, or talked about anything related to their marriage.

now in italian court, he’s slowly learning more about his own role for his country, his duty, to behave as a king. he still seems rather quiet and cold, but would be seen softening whenever he is with his sisters.   

& that’s all. i know it is long and i know frederick seems like a hard character to come close to, but he is actually someone who suffered too much and needs to recover from the horrors he’s been through. he is still learning a lot and regaining his own personality by the time and there’s a lot of development to be done. that being said, i’m completely open for any plots and brainstorms! <3

[mildculthit]

‘  that  is  me .  that  is  me  to  a  fucking  tee .  ’ / Tyler narrator 💚

i look over at the magazine spread across his knee. IMPULSE CONTROL: SIX SIGNS YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE ANY. number four is circled in somebody else's blaring red biro: creates unnecessary conflict when bored.

then i look at tyler. ' that's a warning sign. '

but he looks pleased.

' it's not a horoscope, tyler. you're not supposed to find yourself in it. '

[mildculthit]

continued, @vishera:

“Bullshit.” Marla ragdolls onto their stained mattress, and the springs groan in tandem — an ugly metal cacophony that somehow comforts her. She sinks deeper and deeper, and quietly hopes that it’ll swallow her up forever, spitting out her thin bones with a final sputter. Goodbye, Marla Singer. We hardly knew ya. “ Phone didn’t ring.” Her laugh is thick with phlegm; with both amusement and annoyance. He’s been doing this shtick a lot lately. “ I was usin’ it, remember?”

i could've sworn i was holding it. i remember the weight of the receiver. the cord looped around my wrist. tyler's voice arriving in these bursts of static like he was calling from somewhere electricity wasn't meant to be in the first place.

' that's... ' i rub a hand over my face. blink once. hell, twice. the apartment hasn't changed. same nicotine stained ceiling. same mattress sagging toward the floor. same laundry in the corner of the room like it always is. same marla. ' —weird. you're sure? '

[mildculthit]

“is  letting  someone  win  in  chess  sapiosexual  bottoming?”  narrator

i stare at the chessboard and a second stretches between us while i take in the look on his face. the kind that belongs to someone who's already started celebrating before they've actually won.

' if it's easier to call it sapiosexual bottoming than say, i wanted them to smile when they won. '

i move a pawn and smile, all teeth. stupid motherfucker.

[mildculthit]

‘  at  the  end  of  the  day ,  people  really  are  disappointing ,  aren’t  they ?  ’ > narrator !

people don't wake up in the morning and decide to disappoint you. it's important to remember that. they wake up late. they miss their alarm. they drink burnt coffee in traffic. they spend eight hours pretending to care about jobs they hate so they can buy things they don't need. they apologise when they mean leave me the fuck alone. they say i'm fine because it's quicker than explaining they haven't felt like themselves in ten years.

i shake my head. ' i think they're exhausted. '

' they're carrying around too many versions of themselves. the one they are at work. the one they are with their parents. the one they become around someone they're trying to sleep with. the one they rehearse in the shower afterwards, thinking of all the things they probably shoulda said that woulda sounded more impressive. '

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk I have been ████ █████ and you've been doing your best impression of a functioning member of society. Please collect your identity crisis on the way out.

i shrug. ' by the time they get home, there's not much left. just enough energy to microwave dinner, watch something they won't remember tomorrow, and promise themselves they'll sort their life out on monday. '

[mildculthit]

"you're crazier than i thought." for the narrator mhm

' you should've met me six months ago. ' i almost smile. ' i had furniture instead of opinions back then. ' i knew the names of chairs better than i knew my own. the catalogue had more answers than i did.