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you care.

So Will I.  (via rp-ask-memes)

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legends of tomorrow sentence starters ;

‘ i’m no one’s lapdog. ‘ ‘ you’re a special kind of crazy, i like it. ‘ ‘ so why don’t i get to play bad guy? ‘ ‘ can i burn some stuff now? ‘ ‘ you screwed up pretty good. ‘ ‘ your plan sucks, you know that right? ‘ ‘ i’m coming with you. ‘ ‘ i already got a partner. ‘ ‘ you just knocked me out! ‘ ‘ this ain’t over. ‘ ‘ i guess i dodged a bullet. ‘ ‘ you think i wanna be like you? ‘ ‘ thinking like that is what makes you a criminal. ‘ ‘ i take it back ( name ), you’re not completely useless after all. ‘ ‘ as many lifetimes as it takes, i know you’re worth the wait. ‘ ‘ your conceptions of romance need some work. ‘ ‘ i’m grateful for another opportunity to kill you. ‘ ‘ please just save your strength. ‘ ‘ i didn’t give you much of a choice the first time. ‘ ‘ i say we kick ( name )’s ass. ‘ ‘ i pay attention. ‘ ‘simple don’t mean easy. ‘ ‘ you’re not as thick as people say. ‘ ‘ thick — doesn’t that mean stupid? ‘ ‘ if you can’t kill your enemy, weaken him/her/them. ‘  ‘ you should have let me punch him/her/them. ‘ ‘ i thought i specifically said no weapons! ‘ ‘ i’m a monster. ‘ ‘ i’m not exactly asking, ( name ). ‘ ‘ is there anything you think about other than yourself? ‘ ‘ can i shoot him? ‘ ‘ you got a pair on you kid, i respect that. ‘ ‘ so no shooting? ‘ ‘ you can’t tell me you don’t wanna see what this baby can do. ‘ ‘ you sure have a lot of personal observations to make. ‘ ‘ fine, don’t talk to me. ‘ ‘ killing is never easy, especially for a good man. ‘ ‘ killing doesn’t make you a monster. ‘ ‘ history screwed me first. ‘ ‘ that’s a very pointed observation. ‘ ‘ don’t ever let anyone hurt you. ‘ ‘ no matter what you always have to look out for yourself. ‘ ‘ for a monster, you dance quite graceful. ‘ ‘ what the hell are parachute pants? ‘ ‘ i always wanted to be a spy. ‘ ‘ instead of dwelling on what’s wrong, let’s focus on the positive. ‘ ‘ are you quoting top gun? ‘ ‘ now you’re annoying in another language. ‘ ‘ i’m not a fan of feelings. ‘ ‘ you said i’d get to use my gun. ‘ ‘ i see we can add eavesdropping onto your criminal resume. ‘ ‘ oh, i love the cold. ‘ ‘ what a wuss. ‘ ‘no, this is a dictatorship where you get to call all the shots & i get to take all the shots. ‘ ‘when are you gonna learn that you are not my father. ‘ ‘ tried being the operative word. ‘ ‘ i think your problem is the opposite of mine. ‘ ‘ come on, are you scared? ‘ ‘ us criminals have a code; never leave one of your own behind! ‘

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murderer-of-an-empress:

Another moment of silence passed before he spoke. “I am glad you do not come much after your aunt.” If you knew where to look, there were indeed similarities between her and Delilah. The same fierce eyes, sharp cheekbones. And their affinity to magic. He wondered how much Corvo had told her about the powers of the void. “And I hope you either killed her or trapped her for good. She won’t give up. That is not her style.”

His voice was cold and his eyes burned with a cool disgust. But it faded as soon as he regained his composure. He had delivered his report about Delilah. Told his Empress what she needed to know. But now? He only huffed at her thanks and did not meet her eye. It would feel wrong if he just accepted her thanks. They owed each other nothing now. And where did this fact leave Daud?

They were alone, probably no one knew Daud was there. There would be a public outrage if people knew. The famed assassin in shackles. The crowd would scream for his blood. And Emily did not have any reason for keeping him alive. But did she have now? She shifted again, his arms and legs tingling in discomfort from kneeling that long in shackles. 

“What now, Empress? I have told everything you should know.” He sounded tired. “I won’t ask for my life again. I am tired of that. Just tell me what will happen now.”

“We all are,” she says wryly, a slightly bitter twist to her lips. “And don’t worry -- I took care of her.” Her right hand lifts and rests on her left, bringing attention to the black silk cloth wrapped around it, a decoration absent on her right. Her father wears the same, though his is cotton and tailored into his sleeve; she’ll have to find a way to do that with her coat someday, she thinks. She has too much clothing to do hat to them all. That, or learn to like gloves. “She’ll never harm anyone again. I made sure of it.”

Being marked is...not what she expected, she reflects. She doesn’t feel any different, act any different. Nothing has changed, save for the things she can do and her...odd friendship with the black-eyed boy that gave her this mark. She enjoys his company, strange as she finds it -- and she’s sure he finds it strange, too. He doesn’t seem to have had the luxury of friends very often.

But three of those ‘friends’ are here in this room now, aren’t they? Corvo, herself...and Daud before her. He’s marked, too, she knows that. It’s kind of funny -- are they the only three left in the world, now that Delilah’s gone? A dying breed.

“What now?” She repeats. The words she plans to say taste strange on her tongue, and she knows they’ll never stop being so. But this is necessary -- she sees the strain on her father’s face every day, and knows this must be done. He does too, and they understand each other, and love each other all the more for it. She doesn’t know what she’d do without her father.

“What now is this,” she begins. “For the past fifteen years, my father has been acting both as the Royal Protector and the Royal Spymaster. Many people have said over the years that this is a conflict of interest, and still others have expressed concern over it. I trust my father implicitly, of course, but I am still Empress.” A deep breath. “The public’s concern, and the strain the dual roles puts on Corvo, leads me to this. Before the Morley Insurrection, the office of Spymaster existed in secrecy, and I plan to keep it that way. I need someone I can trust, but at the same time, someone who has no loyalty to anyone in the Tower -- including me, if need be. That brings me to you. You’re the only one Corvo and I could think of for this. Whatever happened in the past aside, I have to make this choice as Empress, not as Emily Kaldwin, and I’ve made it.” A deep breath. “I want you to work for me, Daud, as my Spymaster.”

Keep your enemies close

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So I was playing with my brand new ASUS tablet today (long story) and I have a tablet pen, so I…figured I’d take it for a test run! So here are my crazy kids. Probably will draw some of my OCs later, in the meantime have these. God, Corvo came out so well.

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Do you remember the stories you read as a child? About heroes and adventures, and friendship strong enough to save the day? All that time, they were preparing you for this.

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Who is your fc for Emily?

[[ Oooh, well for DH2 Emily it’s Olivia Wilde, actually! Her eyes and face are really similar to Emily so….

I mean look how great she is 8D

(for little Emily I had someone in mind but can’t really remember who it was, so in the meantime I’m using the girl who played Lucy Pevensie in Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe)

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murderer-of-an-empress:

“That makes me wonder what kind of friends you keep.” Remaining calm just got a notch harder. There were precious few people who know him good enough they would include him in favours. Probably one of his men but who? But when silence stretched between them, he only huffed and made himself a reminder to ask again when things….well when things were a bit less tense than this.

So he listened in silence. I wonder how she found out about me and Delilah. Either she did mention me or maybe one of her witches. I just hope she dealt with her once and for all. He shifted slightly, not wanting to admit how uncomfortable this position was. I am sure getting old. “Very well then. It is not like I am in a position to decline. Besides.”, he paused, casting a glance at Corvo and then back at her. “You will be the first ones to hear what happened. And I think you deserve to know.”

“It started just after the assassination.” He wondered if they would flinch of that memory, which each of them shared but in positions that could not be more different. “The Outsider warned me of a name. Delilah. Six months later, I got word of a whaling ship with that name. I tracked down any information I could get. It appeared that Delilah had been a bakery apprentice at the tower.” He paused and looked at Corvo, wondering if he remembered her from then. 

“I found her at last, trying to take down my gang. I followed her trail to Brigmore Manor. She had built herself a coven of witches, being blessed just like we are.” I wonder if the Outsider still favours you, Corvo. “Her magic builds around paintings. I don’t know how, but she can paint gateways into the void, or impose statues with her will. But of course she was not satisfied with that. She had set her eyes on a better prize.” Daud fixed Emily with his eyes. “You.” 

“She wanted your throne. To rule. And she had been preparing a ritual to do just that. That was just before your father came for me.” It feels like a lifetime ago. “She was trying to push your spirit out of your body and enter it. Rule through you. She was half mad with the obsession to rule. Her witches would follow her. And we both got a taste of how that would be. An Empire at Delilah’s feet. I followed her into the void and managed to twist the ritual in a way that she got bound into the void instead of your spirit.”

“I had to stop her. Simple as that. She almost tore my gang apart and would do the same with the Empire. And I was the only one able to stop her.” But there was no pride in his story. He just did what needed to be done. 

“My friends are no better or worse than yours,” she says with a faint smile. And that’s true. Billie, her friend and his. Whaler and captain. She’d never have thought she’d have a friend in common with Daud, of all people, but here we are. Here we are.

She deserves to know...she appreciates that. She wonders if he knows about the coup, about Delilah’s return. What has he heard, hiding as he has? What does he know? What can she surprise him with? Her Mark, at least -- that’s new enough. He’ll be shocked. The little princess, grown and brave and with magic of her own. Chosen by the Outsider. But then, given what he says...he might well expect it. The Outsider chose her long ago, the day he sent Daud after Delilah.

Her hands clench on the arms of the throne when he mentions the assassination, stifling an undignified shudder. She sees Corvo close his eyes, pain flashing across his face at both that and the reminder of the six months he’d spent in Coldridge. But that would mean...that would mean this had been going on at the same time as Corvo’s work with the Loyalists? The irony would have made her smile if it didn’t sting.

“We know,” she says quietly. “She was my aunt.”

He doesn’t know that, she knows that much. It wouldn’t be known. No one knew, not until the coup, and even then, she doesn’t know if half the people who had heard believed her. She had certainly had trouble with it, but...she knew it was true. 

She swallows at the rest of his tale. Brigmore...that explains why Zhukov had been there. Had he been looking for witch’s bones, or witch’s charms? Or both? And to think of what she’d nearly done was terrifying. Worse than sitting on her throne, Delilah would have sat in her skin. It makes her flesh crawl and she can see Corvo’s face matches her own in its surprised disgust. “I know what she could do, seen it,” she says. “But I didn’t know that.” 

She’s quiet for a long moment, they both are. She had been aware that he’d saved her, in a distant sort of way, but now it was fact standing before her.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For saving my life.” A deep breath. 

And now she has to make her choice -- in fact, she thinks she already has. Half of her hates it (the half that’s a bereaved daughter still grieving), but half of her knows it’s what’s...not right, but what’s necessary. 

Keep your enemies close

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Florence and the Machine - Howl

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Emily spent six months being held at the Golden Cat in the courtesans’ dormitory, of course she has seen the suffering of the girls there and it probably stayed with her. So, when she became the Empress, she wanted to do something to make life of those girls, the ones without any other prospects than being “bastard daughters and extra mouths that can’t be fed.”, easier and better and that’s what she did.  And recruiting women into the guard, all across the Empire, was just a start.

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They would always underestimate her And the strength that held her high With a lifted chin, defiant eyes, They believed she only belonged to the fairytales Composed of pastels and ivory towers, When she was made from blood reds and forest greens, Walking through the sun dappled paths With wolves stalking in the shadows, But unlike those foolish men The wolves would never strike, For even the wolf knows the difference Between those who are strong And those who are not, And her vibrant beauty was not to be mistaken And she did not need a man painted in the image of a savior, For a Queen stood where many saw a mere princess.

“The Way of Wolves” (Part Six). (via ashtheblueeyedpoet)

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murderer-of-an-empress:

The Empress before him looked stern. Sharp, just like on the posters. But seeing her live, breathing was something different. And void, she had grown. She was no girl anymore. And to his credit, he had seen to that when he had stabbed her mother in front of her eyes. Being an Empress made you grow up quick. Being her, even more. And he realized he was staring and then tore his gaze from her. They were alone in the throne room. Only Corvo was there. “Private audience. I am honored.”

He felt the cold creeping in from the ground and he only shifted slightly. It was probably not wise to move too much with both of them watching him like hawks. It was, in a way, flattering. Time had passed for everyone here and himself and Corvo bore marks of time’s passage. Whose blade had dulled more? That was the unspoken question here in the room.

“I guess I have to be grateful you let me keep my head. For now at least.” He swallowed and considered his next words. By now, he could have been far away. If things would go smooth, maybe he could make a run for it and hope not too much blood would be spilled. “Though I don’t like being kept prisoner.” He could understand it though. Anything less would be foolish. I wonder how much she remembers from that time. If she remembers how she had fought him when he had carried her off to the Pendletons.

“But yes I remember very well. I am not that old yet.” He could not help letting snark creep in his voice. Maybe he has grown bitter. Probably. “Therefore I will do my best to deliver answers, your Majesty. Though they might not please you.”

“It’s not a matter of honor,” Emily says, trying to remain calm, keep her composure. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she loses it -- scream at him, cry, throw a punch? Her feelings are conflicted. “It’s a matter of not wanting you executed just yet, and making your capture public would require me to do just that.” 

She pauses. “It’s also a favor,” she admits. “For a friend.” Meagan -- Billie. This is for her. She’ll write her sometime soon, to tell her the news. It’s for her sake, partially, that Daud isn’t dead already. Billie had helped her so much, been honest with her and didn’t expect forgiveness...it had earned her former leader a reprieve.

She takes a long breath, steadying herself. “No one likes being kept prisoner,” she says dryly, her voice a bit sharper than intended -- though she doesn’t really mind that so much. “I’d like to meet the person who does. But don’t worry; it won’t be for long.” She has her questions, and then...depending on the answers, she’ll make her choice.

Her mouth twitches at the comment he makes about his age. Yes, there is grey in his hair, lines on his face, but the same is true for her father, still standing next to Daud with an unreadable expression. And her father can hold his own. “I wouldn’t dare presume to underestimate you due to age,” she adds. “I know better than that.”

Another deep breath. “I’m not looking for answers that will please me,” she says, voice sharp again. “I’m looking for the truth. Honesty. That’s all.”

A third breath, and a question that’s been weighing on her for the better part of a year. “I want you to tell me exactly what happened between you and Delilah fifteen years ago,” she says, and sits back, waiting. “I want to know everything.”

Let him think this is because of the coup last year, she won’t mind. That’s part of it, but not all of it. Part of it is...she wants to hear it from him, what she’d heard on that audiograph. She wants confirmation -- why he dealt with her.

Keep your enemies close

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reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

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Dear Diary

Send my muse ‘Dear Diary’ and they will write a diary entry about your character!

        20th day, Month of Harvests, 1852

Corvo always taught me to appreciate everyone you meet, from the lowliest gutter orphan to the most high-ranked noble. You don’t know who will help you, who will be useful, who can be a friend -- trust your gut, but appreciate those who you think you can trust.

For instance, the doctor I ran into -- I had a nasty little accident with a springrazor, and I needed a bit of help quick; I mean, it’s not really a good thing to be running around bleeding when you’re trying to be stealthy. Lucky for me there was a doctor I found in an old apartment, and they were very helpful.

I owe them quite a bit. I’ll have to think about how I can repay them.

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dear diary - jindosh

Send my muse ‘Dear Diary’ and they will write a diary entry about your character!

     22nd Day, Month of Nets, 1852

I’m going to strangle Kirin Jindosh in his sleep. I am. I’m trying very hard to be polite and civil and Empresslike, but by the Void is he making it hard. If he makes one more snide comment about my intellect, I’ll throw him overboard and we’ll see if Grand Inventors can swim.

So what if I can’t solve that stupid riddle?! I don’t have the patience. It’s stupid! Who makes a lock into a paragraph-long logic puzzle?! Infuriatingly annoying inventors, that’s who!

Ughhhhh.

But he is brilliant, I can’t deny that. And I need it – need his genus. I love Anton, but I know he won’t stay when this is over. He’s too tired. And sweet Piero can’t work alone, he’s getting old. Even if he’s infuriating…he’s smart, and as Empress, I’ll need that. Even if as Emily, I want to punch him in the throat.

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dear diary - Hypatia

Send my muse ‘Dear Diary’ and they will write a diary entry about your character!

     20th day, Month of Harvests, 1852

Woke up this morning to something that actually smelled like food. Not that Meagan’s food isn’t edible, it’s just…uh…something? Not what I’m used to, I guess, though, i’m going to have to get used to it sooner or later. But not today!

Today, Dr. Hypatia made breakfast! It was Serkonan, I think, blood ox sausage and grilled flatbread and some spices I probably wouldn’t know the names of anyway, and she salvaged some tomatoes from the kitchen. It was fantastic. She said that as a philosopher, cooking sometimes comes easy, because it’s a matter of precise measurements and all that. She’s not creative, but she can follow recipes.

She’s really nice, Dr. Hypatia. Tired, a little, in the same way my father is; the exhaustion of seeing too much. I can’t blame her – I only saw one of the Crown Killer’s crime scenes, maybe two, and…that serum, ugh. I feel terrible, that she was made to do that. I’m glad she’s recovering.

When all this is over, I want to help. Maybe find some coin to give her to restore Addermire properly, something to fund her research to help the miners. She deserves it.