The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
For Tyson this was a confusing statement. He didn't like what his instincts did to him. He didn't like being forced to eat raw meat, to get in peoples face when he felt territorial, attacking people and hurting them. He couldn't see how this would be the 'right idea'. "Hrrrr, dooon't waaaant to beeee rrrrr aniiimaaaal," he said, "grrrr nooot a mooonsterrrrr, hrrrr don't waaant to hurrrrt peeeoople." It was how he viewed himself, regardless of what others told him, he hurt people, and he couldn't see that as being anything other then something monstrous.
"Do you have to be a student?"
Tyson didn't exactly know. He didn't consider himself a student, he was here for rehabilitation and a cure to his condition. That didn't really qualify as being a student, so he supposed you didn't have to be one. "Hrrrrrr I doon't thiiink so." he said, "grrrrr not a stuuudeeent."
Then it occured to him that Adder may have already been through what he was going through. If he also had instincts, he must know a thing or two about controling them. "Hrrrr hoooow do yoooou coooontrrrroool iiiit?" he asked, a little more desperately then he would have liked. But honestly he was desperate. He was desperate for anything that would keep him from hurting more people.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
"Don't worry about it, you didn't reduce this wing of the Mansion to rubble, so we've seen worse."
Tyson mentally paused at that, wondering how exactly the mansion had gotten so bad that 'reduce to rubble' was not the worst they had seen. He had caught old scents of what he could only describe as char and smoke. He suddenly didn't feel quite as safe here as before, and a little paranoid about the roof suddenly coming down.
As Cafas asked how he was doing, Tyson wasn't exactly sure what he was asking for. He looked at the folder he was holding, wondering if it was a medical file or something. Maybe he had some news on his condition? His ears perked a little as he thought maybe, just maybe that they had figured something out. "Hrrrr ooookaay, loooud, rrrr aloot of smeeeells." A bit of an understatement, there was so many different scents and sounds that made living in the mansion horrible at certain times of the day, usually when everyone was in transit at the same time. Usually he took refuge at the greenhouse during these times where it was a lot less overwhelming.
"Hrrrr iiis theeerrrr... haavvvee theeeey..." he said, not sure how to ask the question. He didn't want to give his hopes up, but at the same time he desperatly wanted them to have found a way to fix him.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson looked the guy over, he was getting a high metallic scent off the guy, not so much coming from him as something he was in contact with frequently. And did his eyes just change color? If there was any question about if this guy was a mutant or not, then that gave him the evidence he needed. He offered his clawed hand, careful not to shred the guys hand by accident. His hands were not reliable for any amount of fine manipulation. He backed away from the door to allow the man to come in. He really didn't have to ask, it was not like he owned the room, the only part of him that thought of it as his was the animal side of him.
The room had several pieces of evidence of Tyson's issues with his new form. There was a bowl at the desk half full with water, the rest apparently spilled across the surface where it had splashed when Tyson had attempted to drink. There were scratches on the furniture, not deep, but obviously places his claws had inadvertently scratched up from handling. The waste basket was full of shredded and crumpled papers and broken pencils and pens, attempts Tyson had made at writing, but failed. There was a pile of clothing in the corner. Well, two actually, one was his clean clothes, the other ones he had eventually shredded trying to pull on. There were several snags in the carpet where his claws had caught, leaving the room looking a little worse for ware.
Tyson pulled the chair out from the desk and turned it around, leaving a new scratch in the wood before he sat down on the bed. "hrrrrrrrr sorrrrrrrrry aboouut rrrr the rrrrrroooom," he apologized, pretty sure a good chunk of the school's budget was probably being set apart for the damages he was causing. He didn't like the inconveniences he was causing, intentional or not. He ran his claws through his fur awkwardly, he still hadn't figured out a form of self comfort since his claws tended to scratch himself if he wasn't careful.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
"Hrrrrrrr siiince chaaaangee," growled Tyson, "rrrrr waaatch." He put his whole paw in the damp earth by the bank, and pushed the dirt around with his whole paw. He sketched out a few strait lines, until the clear letter "A" was easily discernable, though overly large since he was doing that with his whole arm. He then shifted slightly to the right and attempted to replicate this using his claws and fingers. This was the frustrating part. His fingers wouldn't respond the way he wanted, his hand wouldn't coordinate the way he wanted. As he clawed out a line, the next didn't connect, or the next, in either direction nor formation, leaving little more then a few crosscutting lines that looked nothing like an "A" . Continued tries yielded similar results, chicken scratches in the dirt that in no way resembled writing. He growled in frustration wiping the failed attempts away with one sweep of his paw.
"Walk with me for a bit if you wouldn't mind, I think it's time we got to work on helping you."
Tyson rose to his feet, wondering how exactly she was going to go about that. It wasn't as if she could magically make him able to write and talk and stop chasing cats. His issue wasn't just one problems, it was a million problems. Still, he listened, taking shorter strides so as not to overtake Danica. The night didn't hinder him at all, even with the darkness encroaching on them, he could see perfectly well in the low light. He considered what Danica said... The foremost concern he had? He wasn't sure what that was, he had so many concerns it was hard to pick out which one he was most concerned about. Then one big one wiped away the others, "Hrrrrrrr huuuuurrrrrrting peeoople," he said, as he recalled the bloodbath he had inadvertently caused when a few anti-mutant thugs had cornered him in an alley. Technically it was self defense, but his instincts had still overtaken him and ended with him mauling three of them before he snapped out of it. Out of everything, that horrified him the most, when he became little more then a feral animal.
Then she mentioned positives. He couldn't really see how being a permanent wolf man who couldn't speak properly, write, or go into public without possibly endangering people could have. But he decided he would hear her out anyway, if nothing else then to get some perspective. "Rrrrrrr ssurrrrrrrre," he said, giving her permission to go into whatever she thought was great about his condition.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
With the theatrics out of the way, Tyson was feeling a bit more comfortable in his surroundings. While the smell and sound of the crowd could be overwhelming, the fact that people didn't even register the wolf in their midst helped put his mind at ease. He started to enjoy the concert for it's intended purpose. It also helped to have a new friend by his side. "Grrrr gooood musiiic," he commented, it was very different from the mainstream music, sort of a mix of new and old styles that seemed fitting with the leather and metal costumes that was steampunk. "Hrrrr whaaaat is rrrrrrr baaaands naameee?" he asked Elliott. Honestly he didn't know much about steampunk music artists, and having just wondered onto the scene, he hadn't seen any of the fliers that explained the performers at all. Honestly he could get into this, and considering how he went unnoticed it this crowd, it was a potential place he could fit in, if nothing else then liking the same music. True he wouldn't be wearing any body paint any time soon, but perhaps some silver and gold hairspray and he could pull off a 'steam wolf' look.
He glaced at the woman who had essentially lost her pet. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. But in all honesty, there was nothing he would be able to do. Even if he offered condolences, he wouldn't be able to do so without revealing his nature, and even if she didn't freak out, she was just as likely to blame him for what had happened, so he decided to just let it go. She would likely go on to pick out a new pet and get on with her life. It felt cruel, but then, he had lost his entire life when his father had activated his mutation, losing a pet was hardly comparable in the long run.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson understood all too well being targeted for looking different. True, he had never been called an alien, but being called a mutt and a dog were just an equivalent name. The biggest danger with him was how he reacted when backed into a corner. His instincts were sometimes more animals and they were humans, flight or fight with just part of that, and when he couldn't flee then his more Feral side had taken over. He'd rather not dwell on those thoughts too long.
"Hrr been attaacked beforrre," he said, "Ennnded rrrr baadly," he was taking a quick liking to Elliott, despite the weird scent he gave off, but he knew he would have to warn him about his more feral instincts, just to be safe. "Hrrr sooometiimees, dangerrrrous." Not that he wanted to be, he had little choice in the matter. When something set him off his instincts were generally faster then his human impulses. This was especially trying when it came to raw meat and small chasable animals. Elliott had seen his instincts in action a moment ago, though it was probably not the worst display all things considered.
He glanced at the former mutt. He still hadn't figured out if he had been reacting because he had been another dog, or because he was a shifter. He guessed it was just his territorial side, since he was not experienced enough to tell. He would just be glad to get over the maul people uncontrollably part of it.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson was a little bit surprised by the lack of reaction from the reveal. Of course this was not the first time his appearance had been glossed over by another mutant. He really should stop getting surprised by these things. The rest of the crowd didn't seem aware enough to notice, either that or with all the costumes his own unusual features just weren't noticed. He supposed that was lucky, but still he didn't want to push his luck too far. He put out his hand to let the green skinned mutant pull him up, careful not to slice him with his claws. He pulled his hood back over his head, and gave a short growl "Hrrrrrr thhaaanks." He supposed at this point nobody actually cared enough to be paying attention to him. Between the music and costumes, they seemed none the wiser. He guessed that it would be OK for him to talk. Just as long as he didn't do something crazy like howling and barking loudly.
He wondered if he should introduce himself to the other mutant. He seemed OK with him justice at the mutants he had met seem to be. Of course actually striking up a conversation was a difficult matter for him. He still hadn't really figured out how to talk without his words slurring with growls as he attempted to shape his mouth around the words. As such his responses were were usually short since it was so hard to form intelligible sentences. "Grrrrr Tyson," he said, pointing a clawed hand to himself. As introductions went it was a bit primitive, he hoped that the guy wasn't offended by it.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson became tense as the metabot approached. Was it coming for him? He considered breaking into a run and getting out of there fast. He was pretty sure he could outpace it if he went all out. He had learned he was really fast if he went all fours. Wait... it passed them? Where was it going. That annoying little mutt was barking again, and then... it changed? Another shape shifting mutant? This was the second one he had seen now, he had a previous run in with a wolf shifter. Now a 'dog' shifter as well? Was he the only canine mutant without the ability to change his form? Life was seriously unfair. Why was it that he was the one stuck with a permanent muzzle?
The man ran their way, followed by the robot. Tyson wondered what he should do. Help the mutant? Help the meta? Do nothing? He didn't know enough to really make that call. He meta were supposed to be on the side of the law, so the man could be a criminal, but the institute was very pro-mutant, and his experience had told him that mutants usually helped one another on principle, like Danica had helped him when he was jumped. But that had been different, the robot couldn't hate mutants, it was a robot, didn't that mean it was pursuing a criminal?
Tyson was too caught up in his thoughts and indecision, and the man barged through, knocking Tyson off balance. The pursuing Meta pushed through as well, this time knocking Tyson completely off his feet, landing on his side, as he rolled to his back, his hood fell back, revealing his very canine face. He fumbled for a moment, trying to get back to his feet and pull his hood back up at the same time.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson didn't feel to great about his lapse in self control. Admittedly it was better then when he had totally lost it against the guys that had attacked him, but he still didn't like it when it happened. The woman probably thought he was a complete creep, and probably anyone watching him. Not a great feeling. Well there was little he could do about it now, the damage was already done. He looked at the green skinned mutant, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. It was hard for him having to be this way, not to be in control of himself. He hated it, it made him angry, though he was trying to remember that it was his fathers fault, trying to direct his anger at him rather then take it out on others. If this was any indication though, he was probably in need of some venting.
Then he saw the metabot. It was really his first time seeing one. Honestly it made him nervous. He had heard of them of course, who hadn't, the media made a big deal about them as the 'new' peacekeepers. For him though the walking collection of metal just felt unnatural against his feral side. Not that his human side was anymore at ease knowing it was there. After all he had mauled three people and pretty much left them for dead. True it was in self defense, but he didn't know if they had made it after the incident. For all he knew it may be looking for him, which was not a comforting thought at all. He pulled his hood over his head a little more on reflex, and contemplated moving on just in case.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson visibly stiffened when the woman with the dog came over. Not only because the dog was drawing attention to him, but because now he was dealing with a flux of territorial/domination instincts that were reacting the the little buggers yips. He felt it even around normal people, but with other canines it was twice as bad. Humans were merely intruders on his territory, but with canines it was as if he were under siege. Maybe this little mutt wasn't setting it off as badly as another wolf, but it was still enough to make it difficult not to snarl at it out loud. He just hoped that the woman didn't notice that his fur wasn't exactly just an article of clothing. He edged away from it, willing himself to remain silent, hands clenched tight and shaking slightly. He was in control... don't make a scene... just a dog.... don't need to do anything.... it's just a dog....
He tried to focus more on the music, but the little yapper was persistent. It began growling and snapping at his feet. He wasn't wearing shoes, they didn't fit his feet properly, so he was getting nipped each time. A growl was starting in the back of his throat. If he could have spoken he would have said something like: 'For Christ sakes lady control your dog and get away from me'. Unfortunately that was not an option and he couldn't hold it in anymore. He stooped down so the dog alone could see under his hood and snarled fiercely. The dog got the message immediately, whimpered and hid behind the woman in fear. "What the hell? What's wrong with you!?" said the woman, scooping up the frightened dog and turning and walking off, clearly upset. Fortunately it didn't seem like she had actually caught onto what was under the hood, merely pissed off at some apparent weirdo freaking out her dog.
Tyson breathed deep, trying to compose himself. Aside from a few brief stares from a few people, it didn't seem like anyone was interested enough to pursue anything. None of their business, so why should they? Close call, he just had to calm down.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Over his time at the institute, Tyson had begun to learn a few things about scents. It wasn't like most people made it out to be, when you watched a documentary about blood hounds and wolves, they act as if each species had a scent by which they could be identified. While this was true to some extent, Tyson was finding that there was so much more to it then that. While a species did have some common elements, it was not the only thing. Everything had a unique scent to it, regardless of wither it was the same species or not, combining elements of their biology with their diet, and mixing in the places they had been, things they had handled and worn. He could, with a little effort, determine that the guy standing over there was a vegetarian. The girl over there worked in a cosmetic store from the numerous scents of perfumes and powders on her, even if it was overlaid with the body paint she was currently wearing. The kid with his mom liked peanut butter and honey, and the guy sporting a top hat had fresh tattoos hidden under his clothes from the smell of blood and ink. Each scent seemed to register somewhere in his head automatically, picking out those subtle details that he had never been able to detect as a human.
Then to his surprise he smelt something... smelt something... he didn't know? It was not something that he recognized, but not in a way that was simply not having experienced before. It was something that seemed to simply... not register. It had a unique scent, no doubt about that, it was a weird sensation, it was a definite scent but it was as if sense of smell was a index, but there was no slot for this one. It was not a plant, animal, or mineral that registered, some mystery element that whatever built in instincts he was now programed with had no answer for. It caused him an shudder involuntarily, not from fear or disgust, just from the weird... absence that felt unsettling.
"Hey there, you don't seem all that into the style of the day. Just checking things out? You should definitely stick around. Honeybee is one of my favorites."
The voice came from the same direction as the scent, and Tyson looked to see the person, another steampunk fan with goggle and a duster jacket sporting green body pai... wait, he sniffed again, definitely the weird scent, but he couldn't smell the chemical smell that the other painted people had. Natural? Maybe a mutant then? That would explain the weird smell at least. He had already learned that some mutants gave off atypical types of scents, Xavia for instance smelled like a walking rose bush.
He wasn't sure what to do at first. Answering him would result in the growling and snarling that he had yet to get over every time he tried to talk. He didn't want to alarm anyone by accident, and he didn't want to attract undue attention, not after last time. He decided he would have to keep silent for now, and just nodded, exaggerating it just bit so that it could be seen without him having to remove the hood. He hoped that was enough for the guy, and maybe he would just think he was shy or introverted, or else someone of few words. He just didn't want to make a scene.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson heard it long before he could see what was going on. He could hear a lot of people and of course the music that was going on. Besides the snippets of radio, iPod, and computer songs that he heard around the Institute, he hadn't really taking the time to appreciate some good music. He's mind had been on other things, like keeping himself from going crazy due to the promptings of his new body and adjusting to his new life. He hadn't really thought much about it, but now with the music blaring in the streets he found himself missing it a bit. So he started towards the sound of the crowd, stealing himself against the influx of sounds that assaulted his ears. His enhanced hearing made it a lot more difficult to enjoy, but he supposed he would have to get used to that sooner or later. As he got closer he started to see the costumes people were wearing. He knew about the steam punk style, there were plenty of online sites that showed it off. Of course he had never really gotten into it himself, but he had to admit it did look cool even if it was not something he would wear himself. Not that he could actually wear much anymore, nowadays he was limited to a permanent fur coat.
He stopped at the outer edge of the audience, it was about as close as he could get before it became too much for his hearing. That and the smell. The crowd gave off a myriad of scents, the musky scent of leather, the chemical scent of paints, various plastics and metals, no doubt the materials used in the costumes. Tyson would not be able to get much closer than this, not without being overwhelmed. Instead he just try to enjoy the music, and try to block out everything else. Well not quite everything, he of course kept his eye out for anyone headed his direction. Lack of awareness is what has led to his last attack, he didn't want to be taken by surprise again. Keep his head low, watch out for danger, and just enjoy what little normality he could get out of this.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson had had it rough in the past week. Between all the issues at his new body posed for him, and being attacked on his first outing out of the city, he was not feeling all that confident about attempting another venture out into the city. Of course she was staying away from the commercial district now, not only because that was where he was attacked, but because that is where he had lost control the first time. He didn't want to repeat of that, it was hard enough convincing himself that he was still himself, he didn't need a constant reminder of what he had done every time he looked at a stray alley. Still he couldn't hold himself up at the Institute forever he would just go stir crazy. True that it had a lot of things meant entertain, but half of those things were restricted from him due to just simple design of his body. And anyone would get cabin fever if they were forced to stay in the same place, the same building, the same room. So here he was tempting fate again.
of course he was not doing everything the same as the first time it went out. He was taking a move he had learned from Danica and keeping his face covered. It's taking a while to find a hoodie big enough for him. Even then he had had to remove the sleeves. It wasn't much to be honest, but it was the best he could do at the moment. Anyone who looked it would still see the fur and claws, but at least his face was covered up somewhat. He could only hope that was enough to avoid unwanted attention. He walked through the residential district, looking around at the different attractions and bars I'm wondering what exactly would be a good idea for him to have some fun. He was under age so drinking was out of the question, and walking into a bar would probably be a bad idea anyway. It was hard for him to imagine what exactly he could do that wouldn't end in disaster. At least he was out the Institute for now, and he would find someway to blow off some steam.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson took the tench-coat in one hand, leaving a bloody paw print that was camouflaged by the black coloration. He didn't try putting it on, he knew his claws would shred the sleeves if he tried to fit it on him, especially with the size difference. Instead he draped it over his shoulder and head, covering up as much blood as he could and keeping his hands concealed. He would still look a sight, but people would not see the blood, not unless the looked under the coat, and the furry legs and claws were probably enough to dissuade the curious.
He fell in behind Darkshift, letting her lead the way. He wasn't in any condition to argue where he went, but it had to be away from here, away from the scent of blood and his actions. He listened to Darkshifts name, thinking it probably wasn't her real name. He knew some mutants used pseudo-names that related to their abilities, so he figured that was what she was giving him. "Rrrrrrr Tyson," he said in return, he didn't have a second name, nor did he really think he needed one since he was hoping for a cure.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Messed with his head was an understatement. He didn't even realize when he lapsed into animal behavior until it was far too late. Wither it was devouring raw meat, getting in someones face for intruding on his territory, or, embarrassingly enough, chasing small animals or balls, his animal side was quicker to respond then his human side.
As Danica examined his, well, to be honest, paw was likely a better description then hand, he noted the difference, large, padded, tipped with non-retractable claws. He had tried clipping them, but they tended to grow back fairly quickly, and if he cut them to the point of the quick, they grew back faster as his body apparently registered it as an injury. His real problem though was they didn't respond the way a normal set of hands did. He couldn't maneuver them the way he had his regular hands, they simply didn't respond the same way. Part of it was probably the redesign of his body, but it also seemed to be like his brain was rewired to the point where he couldn't coordinate them. Even tracing words in the dirt was impossible for him unless he dragged his entire paw through the dirt, unsuitable for anything requiring fine dexterity. He was having to relearn basic skills just to attempt to do what a 5 year old could do. "Rrrrr dooon't worrrrrk like norrrrmaaaal haaaandss," he said.
“For what it's worth, I accept you the way you are, hair, claws, teeth and all.”
"Hrrrrr thhhrranks," he said, though it lacked much enthusiasm. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the sentiment, but he had already learned that accepting him at the institute was all but automatic. Everyone he had really met had accepted his appearance without question. He supposed it was just part of being a mutant that other mutants just accepted whatever you were stuck with, so while it was nice, it didn't carry as much weight as it would coming from someone who was not already predisposed to accept him.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
