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jackdraw-spwrite · 1 month ago

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Frigid, Ch. 3

Words: 3863 Characters: Danny, Clockwork Warnings: Darkness, restraints and claustrophobic situations (they end up in a cave) Danny worrying about freezing people to death?

For Ectoberhaunt Day 9: Fall

“Feel better?” Clockwork asked.

“Loads,” said Danny. He patted off the ice that had followed him home from the past, and it fell in tiny speckles to the ground.

“Good,” said Clockwork, and then ruffled his hair.

It even was good. For a while.

Read the rest on AO3 or below the readmore:

Without irises or even pupils, It was always hard to tell where Clockwork was looking. It shouldn’t have mattered – Clockwork could see everything.

Sometimes, Danny still got the impression that Clockwork wasn’t seeing him.

He bit his lip. “Clockwork?”

Something in Clockwork’s gaze shifted, and the impression vanished. “Yes, Daniel?”

“It’s getting worse again.”

Clockwork clicked his tongue. “Then it’s time for another outlet.” He turned to his screens, staff half-raised.

Danny usually trailed after him to look over his shoulder. This time, he didn’t.

“What if it doesn’t help, though?” Danny hunched in on himself.

Clockwork turned back, frowning. “It’s helped in the past.”

“And you know it won’t help! It won’t keep helping, at least. It’s…Clockwork, it’s helping less every time and–and what if it stops helping? What if I’m just like this, forever?”

He thought about never returning to Amity.

Never seeing his friends or family again, just frozen deep in an iceberg he couldn’t help but make.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork.

Danny looked up at him.

“I can see the future,” he said, and put a reassuring hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You might remember that.”

Danny forced a smile. “I do,” he said.

He did.

He didn’t find it reassuring.

—

Frostbite mustered a smile. “It doesn't appear to be hurting you, Great One.”

“That's good. Isn't it?”

“Yes! It's very good, that's one concern mostly off the table.”

One.

And not the one keeping him up at night. Danny bit his lip. “What about the cold buildup?”

Frostbite's smile collapsed.

—

Clockwork found Danny in one of the storage rooms off Clockwork's clock workshop.

Danny didn't notice him at first, too occupied worrying. If they got frozen, ghosts could thaw and be none the worse for the wear. Probably. Humans, on the other hand…

Danny laced his hands together and unfolded them to stare at his palms.

Tok.

Danny jumped. Clockwork was standing in the door, face impassive, staff raised as if ready to knock against the doorframe again.

“Hi,” said Danny.

“Hello,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “I didn't realize you held such a passion for brass.”

“Oh.” said Danny, abruptly conscious both that he was sitting on a long brass sheet, and also that long metal sheets tended to bend when you sat on them. “Sorry.”

He got up–or tried to.

He was stuck.

“What–” Danny twisted around to see what was going on and discovered to his horror that ice had glued him to the brass.

He hadn't even noticed.

Flustered, he phased himself free and bounced into the air to assess the damage. Frost rime spread out in a halo from where he’d sat, wrapping the brass in a sheen of white. A good third of the sheet he’d sat on was covered.

“Oh no,” he said.

Sometimes at dinner, Danny would half-listen as his parents discussed engineering problems like thermal shock. Had he just broken the sheet? Or at least made it unusable for machinery? They’d mentioned steel getting too brittle to work with. Wasn’t brass a lot weaker?

Danny's heart sank. What if he got to the point he was doing the same to the gears of Clockwork's tower by accident?

And then his heart stopped cold.

What if he started doing it to Clockwork?

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Daniel.”

Almost against his will, he looked down at Clockwork's hand.

White spilled from beneath Clockwork's glove where it lay on his shoulder. Danny watched it grow, creeping up Clockwork's fingers like a fungus until it met the first joints of Clockwork’s fingers, and then the second. The frost nearest Danny’s shoulder thickened, a forest of tiny needles springing up from Danny’s shoulder.

Well. At least he'd find out if ghosts could recover from being frozen solid, soon.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, again.

The ice met Clockwork's knuckles.

What if Clockwork couldn't fix his hands?

Clockwork's hand flexed against Danny's shoulder, then pulled away. Ice flecked from the surface of his glove. Left behind was a perfect imprint of Clockwork's hand on Danny's shoulder, done in sparkling white.

Danny blinked. “Clockwork?”

“There you are,” Clockwork smiled at him. His face felt far away.

“Your hand” began Danny–

“Is fine. See?” Clockwork waggled his fingers at him. A few remaining bits of frost flaked from his gloves.

“Oh.” Danny said.

The fear that had threatened to swallow Danny didn't vanish, but it no longer felt like it was swallowing him. Just nibbling. He felt wobbly.

Clockwork offered him a hand, and Danny took it. Even as the ice crawled up Clockwork’s hand again, he didn’t let go. Instead, he looked at Danny’s hand with the same distant expression he’d been getting lately.

Danny had the brief, terrible thought that Clockwork might be developing Dementia. Could ghosts even get Dementia?

“Clockwork,” Danny started.

The distant look vanished. Clockwork was seeing Danny again.

He swallowed. “If I lose control, will you keep them safe? I don’t want to–” he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t help. If anything, it made it easier to visualize what had happened in the other timeline.

When he opened them again, Clockwork was frowning.

For a brief, heart-stopping second, he wondered if he was overstepping, like he’d done with the other other timeline. With Vlad.

“I see,” said Clockwork, quiet. He gave Danny’s hand a squeeze, shedding ice as he did. “If you’re afraid of that, I have a place for you to stay. Here, in the tower.”

It was Danny’s turn to frown. “But–the ice–”

“It has weathered worse cold before, Daniel. It’ll be fine.”

Danny wasn’t sure how, but he didn’t know what Clockwork got up to in his free time. Maybe he visited the horsehead nebula to vacation.

Clockwork cleared his throat. “And,” he said, “I think it might be time for a field trip, of sorts.” A smile flitted around the corners of his mouth.

His heart still twinged, but the prospect of a field trip was too enticing to ignore. Danny perked up. “You don't mean–”

The smile settled on Clockwork's face fully. “I think you'll find I do.”

—

Danny almost hopped through the portal.

Almost, because he hadn't quite accounted for just how little gravity pulled at him here, so he pushed off the ground with far more force than needed. He went tumbling feet into the air before flying back down to rejoin Clockwork, tail streaming out behind him in a long ribbon. His hair swayed–not in the wind. There was no air here.

If Clockwork thought it was funny, the only sign was a crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Danny still pouted. Clockwork didn't have to worry about walking. He never walked.

But his feigned defensiveness lasted less than a moment. How could it, with where they were?

Danny looked past Clockwork to the ice they’d appeared on. Like that of Earth's Cryogenian period, this one was vast and pale. Like the Cryogenian, there were no clouds.

Unlike it, there wasn’t enough atmosphere to paint the daytime sky a different shade. Instead, the sky was swathed in stars. The only tell that this was day, in fact, was that one of them blazed far brighter, far larger than the rest. Here, the Sun was a fraction of the size it had on Earth, but it still dominated the sky. Or would have, if not for the other planetary bodies visible as crescents. Here was Ganymede, hanging like the moon on its hugest nights. There was her distant sister Callisto, a fingernail just a bit larger than the Sun itself.

Danny spiraled up, up hundreds of feet, as if to reach them was only a few miles more. They were so close!

But–not that close.

His eyes fell from the other Galilean moons to the horizon. It was close enough here that the world felt strange, shattered. Like he was just at the top of a great plateau, and wasn't quite high enough to see the ice roll away beneath it to a more distant horizon.

And the surface itself…

Here, as below, the ice seemed endless.

Ridge after ridge of it stretched away to the truncated horizon. Someone else might have found it boring, but Danny was so excited he felt as though his skin was fizzing. He was having a hard time staying anything close to still, and that extended even to his fingers, his tail, his hair. And his skin. It was like every part of him wanted to dance.

He did a little somersault, and then another. Soon, he was flying in enormous loops, peaking hundreds of feet above the ice and bottoming out as he zoomed past Clockwork again and again.

Clockwork let him. Danny could see the smile playing on his face every time he approached, before it blurred as Danny whipped past him. It felt like he should be sending Clockwork's cloak flapping with how fast he was going, but without any air, it stayed as perfectly positioned as ever.

Unless…

On his next loop, Danny angled his path ever so slightly, laughter already bubbling up at the idea of Clockwork's face when Danny pulled his hood down–

Where was Clockwork?

A hand grabbed his tail, and Danny came screeching to a halt in a brief but visceral impression of a rubber band. He came to a rest hanging upside down from Clockwork's fist.

Caught. In more ways than one.

He gave Clockwork a little wave. Clockwork raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism, but the smile still lingering on his face gave him away. Danny wiggled, trying to mime ‘please let me go’ with only facial expressions.

Obligingly, Clockwork dropped him.

Danny rolled into his back before popping upright again. Before he could return to the sky, Clockwork clasped his shoulder, and at Danny's questioning look, pointed down.

At a second, more questioning look, Clockwork phased them both into the ice.

“We can hear one another like this,” said Clockwork. He was oddly warped by the ice between them, and the usual deep rumble of his voice gained an echoing swell that plunged deep below before emerging, high-pitched and liquid, from invisible cracks in the ice.

“We can?” asked Danny. “We can! Oh, that's weird.”

He sucked in a breath to whoop and immediately choked.

“We can't breathe in,” said Clockwork. “We are in ice.”

Danny paused his attempted recovery to send him a dirty look. Clockwork pretended not to notice.

“Regardless,” said Clockwork, voice a hall of echoes, “I thought we might explore a bit.”

“Down?” asked Danny, who had spent more than one summer afternoon daydreaming about what lived under Europa’s ice.

“Maybe,” said Clockwork. Danny could hear the smile. “But let’s do things in order–”

Danny scoffed. Clockwork never did things in order.

“--and explore the surface first. What do you think the brown is from?”

Danny paused partway through planning how to wheedle Clockwork into deep sea exploration. “We're close enough to them?”

“Only a hundred miles or so,” said Clockwork. “I thought you might like to get a feel for the rest of the surface, for comparison.”

Danny wondered how well tackle hugging Clockwork would go while they were still inside ice. “That sounds good. Let's do that. And then the oceans after?”

“I never said we wouldn't.”

—

Europa’s surface was famously smooth, but that was from an astronomical perspective. Smooth meant no huge mountains or valleys, not that the surface was perfect. The ice was covered in chaos terrain – a pattern of long, winding cracks that had healed over with ropes of ice-melt, refrozen after welling up from deep below, or from being pressed closed with such force that the two sides fused. Some were small, but many were a hundred feet tall or more–huge pileups of ice large enough that someone from Earth (an alien from Earth! Like they were! They were aliens!) would have considered them hills or ridges.

This was odd enough–exciting enough–without the cherry on top: many of them were brown.

No one had ever gotten close enough to figure out why.

Well. They'd figured out from spectrum analysis that it was sulfur compounds. But that was what, not why.

Danny darted around Clockwork like an over-excited minnow, straining against common sense. He wanted to go explore, go investigate, but leaving behind the only other person here would have been dumb. That Clockwork was also the only one who knew what was going on in such an inhospitable environment as this made it dumb even by the standards of Danny's most distracted moments.

Still, far too slowly for his taste, they made their way to where the ground was stained brown. Danny landed and crouched, straining his eyes to try and pick out some detail visible to the human eye. Or Danny's eye, at least.

It was flecks. Just flecks, like bits of rust that had fallen off some piece of junk. Danny tried phasing one out of the ice, and it came apart in his fingers like mud.

Huh.

He’d need a microscope to see if there was anything in there, and somehow he doubted Clockwork had one on him.

It wasn’t, quite, disappointing. Danny knew the prospect of surface life on Europa was slim. He’d kind of been hoping for skeletons, though.

After a short inspection to double check, he rocked back on his heels and sent Clockwork a plaintive look. It turned to mock outrage when Clockwork ruffled his hair, and then excitement when Clockwork gestured to a fault line that twisted, narrow and deep, into the depths.

The crack didn't go all the way down. Of course it didn't; Europa's ice was miles thick. As they descended, the light from the sun quickly went from bright to an otherworldly glow cast through and along walls striated from countless cycles of freezing and thawing. And then, the glow faded into half-light, then shadows.

The sinuous caves grew tight, narrowing from a mouth large enough to fit a car, into crevices that a human would have struggled through. In places, they arched away from one another again to form curving alien hallways with absent floors. In their place was only the crack, delving deeper into the ice.

The ice itself was a strange mixture of abrupt edges and smooth lines as they descended; massive boulders with sharp faces bridged the gap, their corners melted into the rippling canyon walls.

Eventually, Danny found himself following the light of Clockwork's aura further and further into the depths as the light from the surface faded, first into twilight, then into nothing more than a smeared suggestion above their heads.

Their glow flitted across the ice as they descended, highlighting broken pebbles within the cracks and striations along its surface, melting inches into the ice itself before bouncing back in a hazy nimbus.

Where the passage narrowed, Clockwork simply shifted his form to be smaller or more sinuous, eeling between cracks far too small for any human to manage. Danny followed, the sensation of ice pressing in around him from all sides landing somewhere between soothing and unease in his mind.

In one spot where a whole fall of boulders sealed off most of their passage, Clockwork simply turned intangible, instead.

Danny followed suit, and in the space of the moment it took to fly out the other side he heard a cavernous groan before the near vacuum of the other side once again stole all sound away.

He stopped.

Was that a whale? It sounded too huge, but then again, Europa's oceans were supposed to be a hundred miles deep…

Clockwork turned to look up at him, red eyes aglow in the dark, and Danny shook himself from his wondering. He wouldn't find out here, after all, but deeper. Down, far below.

Beneath the rock fall, the crevice grew yet narrower. The sides pressed close, closer until Danny found himself slithering after Clockwork with the shape of the ice molding his form like clay; a frigid sculptor's hands drawing him thinner, longer even as ice pressed inexorably against his back, his chest, his face and caressed his throat.

It drew him out until he felt a mile long and thin as a wire and then–

Then, Clockwork stopped.

Danny piled up behind him as he skated along a seam lit only by their glow: here, the crevice closed.

Clockwork was in his youngest form now, small enough for the walls of the crevice to just barely restrict him, but restricting him they were. He fiddled with something on his staff, and Danny let his tail skitter across the ice above them as he waited.

Like this, the vise-grip of the ice was soothing. He felt safe, comfortable. With his surroundings so cold, nothing would be hurt if he let go, just a little.

Right?

Danny loosed the grip he had learned to keep on his core. Just a little, just enough for the pressure inside to fade, and waited for Clockwork to react.

Clockwork reached out and hauled them both into intangibility and into the ice, Danny's tail flowing like a ribbon behind them. And then the ice pressed in. The sensation of it, its chill, its pressure, wrapped around every inch of Danny. And yet it was gentle around them, like they were floating.

“Clockwork?” Danny asked, and his voice was full of the ice’s own fluid echoes.

“It's safe, yes. Until we reach the ocean, you can relax.”

They descended.

There were countless tiny bubbles trapped within the ice, and they rushed past him – or he past them – like snowfall in the night. The memory of the world above was already dim, but now it grew muffled, too, as though blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

Away from the surface of the ice, Clockwork became a sedate blur of light.. And as he followed, the floating sensation intensified, swaddling him in layer upon layer of uncertainty. Softly, inexorably, it crept in around his edges, reaching delicate feathers just under his skin.

The feathers grew longer, pressed deeper, stole into cracks in Danny himself. There, their razor-edges found his sense of direction and pried it loose. Abruptly, he realized he’d lost track of down and up.

There was only Danny, and the ice, and Clockwork’s silvered glow. There was only forward, and everything else.

And then, he lost even that.

He was unmoored within the black.

And then, he began to notice his surroundings anew.

There was Danny. Ahead of him–maybe down, perhaps up–was Clockwork. Danny couldn't tell. Around them, tiny bubbles clouded the ice, and the glow of their passage sparked them into countless points of light.

They were the only steady things around in an endless night.

Danny had the disorienting thought that he was a giant. That he was incomprehensibly vast and barely visible, moving through stars so much smaller than himself that Danny could cradle dozens of solar systems in a single hand–if only he reached out.

It was like being a nebula.

Something in Danny's core twisted.

Reality gained a different cast.

Danny looked down. There were stars shining inside him, too. Some threaded through a leg and up his torso, like diamonds on a necklace. There was a patch of them on his shoulder. They speckled his arms by the dozen, nestled gently within his silvery outline.

Danny's core keened with some deep, insatiable longing.

The echoes in the ice had melted into singing. He didn't know when.

It was like being a nebula.

Deep within unforgiving black, farther from Earth than any human had ever gone, Danny reached out a hand to cup the stars, and it was perfect.

Almost.

They were hard to see the newborn stars against the brighter silver of his glove and instinctively, Danny pulled on his invisibility–

And the stars vanished. The singing stopped. Reality snapped back in.

He wasn't. He wasn't–

“Daniel,” murmured Clockwork.

“Clockwork?” Danny asked. He didn't like how his voice wobbled, but–it felt like he'd just had a dream torn from his fingers.

He rubbed at his chest. His core was doing something funny.

“You were singing,” said Clockwork.

“I was?” Danny asked. He looked up at Clockwork’s face.

“Yes,” said Clockwork. The stars gathered around him lined his face in a shining veil. “Do you want to stop? We can return another time.”

Danny shook his head. “No.” There was another pang in Danny's core, sharp. Urgent. “No, I want to see.”

And he did. The idea strummed across his heartstrings in a way that pulled them tense and hungry. The idea of going back without going down–

“I need to see.”

It set his teeth on edge. Turned the pleasant fizzing of his skin inwards to saw at his nerves.

Clockwork's brow was still furrowed in a frown.

Danny's core twinged again, laced with panic. “I have to.”

For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing.

Danny hung in place, feeling simultaneously like a pinned insect and like he was going to fly apart at the seams until he was nothing more than dust. His tail – and when had it gotten so short again? – his tail twitched.

Maybe he should just go down alone.

“I see,” said Clockwork at last, and held out his hand.

Shakily, Danny took it.

The solidity, the familiarity–it anchored him, and as they descended, he felt just a little bit more himself.

—

Clockwork was singing.

Danny was still holding his hand, too unsettled to be embarrassed about it.

But. Clockwork was singing.

It was a haunting and baritone thing, and it lingered on the knife-edge between sound and sensation. But there were notes, long and slow, and they rose and fell like a funeral dirge.

The song crept through their clasped fingers and seeped up Danny's arm to calm his heart and core. His core still sat odd in his chest, but the singing smoothed the twinned restlessness and helplessness back into anticipation; into excitement.

They were descending. Soon, they'd hit water, and then–

Danny was too excited to close his eyes. But their surroundings faded as he thought of what lay beneath. Of the oceans, and what might live within them.

What if there were animals? What if there were whales?

They descended.

And then, from beneath rose a pale curtain.

It lingered just on the cusp of visible, lit only by their glow. As they approached, it brightened. Spires and ripples emerged from the dark, and it became clear that the curtain was frozen, unmoving, and nothing of the kind.

Clockwork aimed for the nearest spire. Danny went with him and found his perspective flipped on its head when instead of landing, Clockwork phased through it.

Because they were at the bottom of miles of solid ice.

Danny shook his head to clear it, drew the icy shroud of his power back under his skin, and followed Clockwork past the veil and into the world beneath.

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt24 #day 09 #eh future #danny phantom dp #clockwork dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite

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blob-of-darkness · 2 months ago

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THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CHANTS OF SENNAAR CONTENT SO TODAY I AM DUMPING SOME OF MY BRAIN INTO A TUMBNLR POST ABOUT IT

Fair warning - This might not be that coherent because I didn't write it as a tumblr post, I just copy pasted the messages I sent a friend about Chants of Sennaar in the middle of the night

SPOILERS AHEAD

Learning the languages in this game is like a really big part of the game, it's even a main focus of the story, but I will be talking a lot about it so if you don't want spoilers you shouldn't tap on the readmore.

YES I CAN SHARE THE BRAINROT

Okay so I've gotta say I love the looks of the languages

They all have their own distinct styles and small deviations in rules that make them unique

In the first level of the tower, you get the Devotees language

They're got a sign for man/human which kinda looks like an L and the signs for specific kinds of people are based off of that L

The sign for devotee is an L with a floating diamond shape - which looks really similar to their sign for god

I think it's interessting to think that the diamond shape represents the word faith, that's why it's so similar for the word god and would technically mean that DEVOTEE is FAITH HUMAN or HUMAN WHO HAS FAITH IN GOD or smth like that

Then there's a word for WARRIOR which also hat the MAN/HUMAN sign but this time instead of a floating diamond shape it has two triangle shapes like >< kind of offset next to it

I think the sharp angles and harsh look of those triangles and the way they're pointed makes it look aggressive and fitting for WARRIOR

later we also find a broken mural which depicts part of a sentence in the DEVOTEES language, a sentence in another language which I think was the BARD language and then a part in the WARRIOR language and basically you learn what that sentence in the BARD language means by cross referencing the parts of the other two languages

Most of the translation comes from the DEVOTEE language but only the word FORTRESS comes from the WARRIOR language

But we actually see part of the word for FORTRESS in the DEVOTEE language, but it is so broken that the game labels it as [INDECIPHERABLE] and doesn't let you mark the word in the notebook that your character uses in game to learn/note/unlock new words/translations

However- the reason I'm mentioning this is because from that broken part of the mural we can guess that the word for FORTRESS would look like the floating triangles from WARRIOR inside of the almost-box that presumably means PLACE

The almost-box shape shows up in other place names too

Notably the word for CEMETERY is the almost-box and the word for DEAD/DEATH inside

The CHURCH is the box with FAITH inside

at least I'm speculating it means faith

So basically CEMETARY is PLACE with DEAD inside and CHURCH is PLACE with FAITH inside

This continues also continues with GARDEN being PLACE with PLANT inside

They also have a specific sign that seems to show that something is a tool of sorts

KEY, DOOR, INSTRUMENT, POTION/FORMULA and POT all have a curved line at the side, which kinda looks like a C

KEY looks like OPEN-TOOL because it's made of OPEN and the TOOL signifier

INSTRUMENT is MUSIC-TOOL

Oh I forgot about LENS which looks like a simple drawing of an eye with the TOOL signifier

So basically Lens is EYE-TOOL

SEARCH/LOOK also has the eye drawing but with a line underneath it

The line seems to be common with verbs I think?

SEEK/WANT CREATE/MAKE LIKE/LOVE all have that line underneath

So basically SEARCH/LOOK is EYE-VERB

And I genuinely think that's neat

Oh the sign for TALK is similar to the sign that is added to MAN/HUMAN in the PREACHER word

So PREACHER is TALKING HUMAN which is funny af

The signs for ME and YOU are also with the MAN/HUMAN shape!

We're all just people :D

OH ABOUT SMILEYS HOW COULD I FORGET

The word for Hello genuinely looks so mu h like a smiley in the DEVOTEE language and it's so adorableeee🥺😭❤️

Oh also the word for GO/PASS looks like a little MAN/HUMAN turned away from a PLACE with a verb-line underneath!!

There also doesn't seem to be a distinction between GO/PASS and COME or LEAVE

So basically GO/PASS is basically MAN/HUMAN COME/GO/LEAVE from/to PLACE

Or MAN/HUMAN doesn't stay in one PLACE

Oh also originally I guessed that the word for POTION/FORMULA meant MEDICINE because it shares a part of its picture with HELP

Actually POTION might just be what they refer to MEDICINE as so not that wrong

They also do not have a distinction between UP/GREAT

So whenever I see one of the DEVOTEES say God is great

Instead of GOD GREAT my brain goes GOD UP

Or it mixes UP and GREAT so I just read GOD GOOD

Lmao get good😎

And that's pretty much most of the DEVOTEE language

Because it's a pretty short game all things considered so we only ever learn small snippets of the language

OH but another thing

The DEVOTEE language is the only one that doesn't have any plural modifier

Like if you want to say PLANTS you just say PLANT PLANT

Or if you want to say WE you say I I

Or you (plural) (uh, y'all?) would be YOU YOU

Or WARRIORS would be WARRIOR WARRIOR

So "The warriors closed the door/gate." would be WARRIOR WARRIOR CLOSE DOOR

There's also no conjugation or past and future tenses or anything but that's with all the languages since it's all simplified for the game

Anyway the DEVOTEE language is very down to earth, they believe in god and they're connected little people that are very down to earth and lead simple lives, so t reflects in their language

The DEVOTEE language also has very organic shapes - there's some sharp corners and some curves and everything has thick lines and looks hand drawn

Now we move on to the WARRIOR language, which in contrast is *all* sharp angles and artificially steady lines, no curves or wobbles or anything at all

Very heavy, they value duty, they don't walk - they march.

It reflects in their language too - they don't have a word for GOD but they have a word for DUTY

Here's a spreadsheet in case you wanna see what the languages look like because I've been talking a lot about them and will continue to do so but it's probably hard to visualize without having seen them

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1IWZOvCUNrsnOZUd9FG79Pfwx_ZpMhiaI1q3EwQkhjb0/htmlview?pli=1#

Oh and I went back to look for the post I got the spreadsheet from - it's from @asp1diske-art

Thank you for this wonderful resource/compilation, it makes it much easier to take another look at the words and their meanings and which of the languages have a translation in another of the languages!

I'm gonna be honest, despite this post being quite long already, this isn't even all my thoughts on the DEVOTEES and the DEVOTEE language and I'm pretty sure there's some stuff I haven't mentioned yet because it was the middle of the night when I wrote those text messages.

I also haven't gone back and reread anything so there's likely some spelling mistakes but whatever-! I don't care. :)

#chants of sennaar #chants of sennaar spoilers #Chants of Sennaar Blobtalks #The last one is a tag I literally made up on the spot because this is me talking instead of reblogging stuff #Wait are there other tags that would fit this post??#Uhhh #conlang #ciphers #translation #video games #languages

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chirpychipslive · 4 months ago

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i desire a masterlist of rick wright lore. i absolutely love that man but i don't know half the silly, goofy things he got up to and i need a long-ass post explaining all you know about that little weirdo.

HI HELLO okay so as much as i see and understand a desire for a "rick wright lore masterlist", i don't think i would be able to do proper service by just listing all of the stuff i know off my head, plus i don't want people to see it and just take everything i say at face value and not look into things further if that makes any sense

so instead i will put a rick wright source masterlist under the readmore so people can go watch/read things for themselves in as much detail as they feel comfortable doing so, + i think a lot of people aren't aware of half of the sources i take from

Books

As far as books go your best starting points are Mark Blake's Comfortably Numb and Nick Mason's Inside Out, both of which are much more generalised sources for any Pink Floyd related material - I do have PDFs of both of these (i have physical bought copies too dw), so if you can't read/listen to either of them for any reason DM me and I'll send those PDFs to you :] They're both available widely on Amazon and other bookstores and Inside Out is also available as an audiobook!!

Guy Pratt's My Bass And Other Animals is 75% his own biography and 25% pink floyd related, so while it does have some Rick-related stuff in there, don't go into it expecting any in-detail explanations. Unfortunately I don't have a PDF of this book, but it is widely available and relatively inexpensive to buy (and I totally reccomend it!)

Franka Wright has supposedly been writing a tell-all on her marriage and experiences with him, but there haven't been many updates on it in a while. I've been relatively quiet on everything she's said about him in public as I don't think I have enough information on what happened to properly comment, but if that book does drop expect me to be the first in line to take a look

Websites/Online

Please god if you have even any passing interest use rickwright.com. It's a resource largely made by his estate and has a lot of information on there, it's a really sweet and interesting labour of love and I cannot reccomend it enough

pinkfloydz.com is an older website but has a gigantic catalogue of interviews, which include a large amount of transcribed interviews with Rick from 1996. It's just such a good resource in general and I highly reccomend checking it out, as even if you're not a Rick fan you still have a lot of interviews with the others in there

Here me out here; @mamazano (who has been inactive since 2021) has SO much on there that I don't feel bad putting them down as a source. Almost everything they post about is properly cited so you can find exactly where they came from, and they catalogue a lot of stuff that is locked behind more expensive/less available books. Their attention to detail for citing and sourcing quotes has been so admirable to me even if they're no longer on Tumblr anymore!

Watchlist

Here's links to watch Live At Pompeii, P.U.L.S.E, Delicate Sound of Thunder and Live 8 if you haven't done so already. also Chit Chat With Oysters has him for like 3 minutes

Remember That Night (an On An Island concert film)

Breaking Bread, Drinking Wine (On An Island tour documentary)

Rick talks about Syd for the 2001 Syd Barrett documentary by John Edginton

Broken China interview

Interview with Guy Pratt about PATGOD

There's definitely a lot more but this is the stuff I already had on my Youtube playlist of interviews - here's some that were on there but I haven't watched/listened to in a while so I can't 100% verify them rn (x) (x) (x)

Maybe one day I will try and chronologue all of the shit I know into something comprehensible but that definitely wouldn't just be a Tumblr post or smth lol

In the meantime I do thrive infodumping-wise off specific questions so if there's something more concrete you want me to (attempt to) explain I'm happy to do so! Thank you sm for the ask (I wouldn't have done this otherwise) and please feel free to contact me if you would like anything specific answered :]

#AAAA IT SENT EARLY GRRR #i have a weird infodump vampire thing where if i dont have something to bounce the infodump off it makes it really hard to do #idk its been hard adjusting to the idea people actually like me infodumping to them #i do hope this is helpful for anyone tho #and like i said i will 100% infodump on people if they dm me with a question #pink floyd #rick wright #infodump tag

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rosanna-writer · 3 months ago

Text

a simple name and everything has changed (4/?)

Summary: we said hello and your eyes look like coming home, Rhys POV chapters Or: Rhys's slow realization that he's mated to Prythian's most chaotic human (and how much he loves her for it Warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault Word Count: ~6k

This is Rhys's POV of chapter 15: even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open, which is the first training session and Feyre's first reading lesson in the library. This version has an additional conversation between Mor and Rhys that Feyre is unaware of in her POV.

You can find it Here on AO3 for below the readmore.

I should have known it was a dream because Amarantha had me pinned to the bed by the wings. I couldn't move without tearing them; as always, she was on top of me and holding me down. One of her hands was wrapped around my throat.

Helpless—I was helpless. The worst part of it all was the knowledge that I wouldn't run, even with nothing stopping me, because I was supposed to be pretending that I liked it.

I could hear my own voice, as if from a long way off, begging her for more. Wanton and eager, covering up my sheer terror at the thought of what she'd do to my family if I weren't convincing enough.

Something tugged at my chest. If I hadn't been pinned, my hand would have flown to my breastbone. The tugging continued, steady and insistent.

There was a thread, something I hadn't noticed before, but I knew with that strange fuzzy logic of dreams, that home was at the other end. Someone was whispering my name. Familiar, but I couldn't quite place it, unless it was…

"Feyre?" I said, snapping awake and sitting up. My hands and feet had shifted into talons, and I forced all signs of my beast form away before I started growing feathers and tearing the bedsheets.

"Just me," she said.

My stomach churned, and I sprinted for the bathroom before I made a bigger mess of things and vomited into her lap. My knees slammed into the tile in front of the toilet, and I heaved.

As my stomach emptied, I was dimly aware of the sound of the cabinet opening and closing and the faucet turning on and off. Once it was over, I sat back and glanced over to see Feyre crouched by my side, holding out a cup of water.

My throat burned from the bile, but I managed to say, "I'm sorry." Feyre just gave me a meaningful look at the water, silently daring me to challenge her.

But I needed it, so I took the cup and downed the whole thing. The cold was soothing, and my mouth tasted a bit less horrible when I finished. I felt a bit more like myself. "Thank you. I didn't mean to wake you," I added, relieved the words came out sounding like speech and not a croak.

I hadn't meant to make this her problem, too. Feyre needed sleep, and I'd had plenty of nightmares even before being trapped Under the Mountain—I should have kept it contained.

And beyond that, I hated anyone seeing me this broken.

There wasn't the slightest bit of pity in Feyre's face as she regarded me. "You'd think the Lord of Nightmares of all people would be able to sleep through the night."

I didn't understand what she meant at first, my sleep-addled mind still moving slow. But then I realized…she was teasing me.

I narrowed my eyes, more out of a desire to cling to my last shreds of dignity than any real annoyance with her. "That's not quite how it works."

"Then I suppose you'll just have to use a sleeping draught like the rest of us."

A sleeping draught wasn't a bad idea. I'd never slept well Under the Mountain, but taking one had been an unacceptable risk then. In Velaris, however...I was safe enough to risk being difficult to rouse for a few hours.

But that was a discussion for another time, so I stood to rinse my mouth out. The nightmare seemed far away now, but the lingering taste of bile in my mouth hadn't faded. "I'll be fine. Go back to bed."

"I can stay."

I wouldn't ask that of Feyre, not when she needed rest, too. As much as I wanted to fall asleep beside her, I wouldn't risk my tossing and turning—or worse, slashing talons—robbing her of any more sleep. Instead, I just brushed a loose lock of her hair back into place and hoped she knew she wasn't unwanted.

"I don't want to disturb you again. Just knowing you're safe and nearby is enough."

But my heart was still hammering in my chest, and the nightmare had left me feeling unsteady. I didn't want to stop touching her. With her hair back in place, I slid my hand to her cheek and just cupped it, stroking her face with my thumb.

Without a word, she rested her hand on top of mine. She studied my face, her blue-grey eyes unnervingly sharp and perceptive as always, that way of seeing through me she had.

I half-expected her to voice some uncomfortable truth, but she just squeezed my hand and said, "Then get some rest."

"I'll try." I wasn't sure I could fall asleep again.

She kissed me, and I forced myself to pull away and let her go. Every instinct of mine was screaming to hold her and bury my face in her hair until her scent chased away every terrible memory from Under the Mountain, but…I couldn't bring myself to. It was bad enough that I'd woken her up.

Feyre deserved better than a sleepless night tending to a mate she hadn't asked for.

I watched her go, then slid back into my own bed once her door was shut behind her. For a while, I just gripped the bond and stared at the ceiling as the last dregs of nausea faded. After fifty years as Amarantha's whore, an empty bed was a blessing, and I could feel that Feyre was safe and sound. That was enough for now.

I wasn't sure what I expected when I went downstairs the next morning, but it wasn't to see Feyre in Illyrian leathers. On some level, I'd known that she'd wear protective gear for training. But she was human, so I hadn't realized she'd choose something made for someone with wings. She looked shockingly at ease in them.

I was wearing the same thing, and I watched her eyes roam up my body, lingering on my thighs. Feyre wasn't subtle. And I liked it when she looked like she was about to pounce on me.

"Morning," she said, clearly trying very hard to keep looking at my face.

On another day, I might have teased her for it—or said to hell with training and spent the morning in bed with her. But I couldn't stop staring. Until recently, I hadn't seen much of Feyre in the sunlight; it brought out the gold in her hair.

"You look like you've worn those all your life," I said.

Feyre shrugged. "They're comfortable."

She took the stairs two at a time without even realizing it, restless since the moment she'd woken up. While I re-cast the glamour to hide her tattoo and our scent, she was practically bouncing on her toes. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt that way, full of energy in need of burning off.

Gods, I was getting old.

It didn't help that my wing joints practically creaked as I landed atop the House of Wind. Normally, I would have flown all the way up, but it had been a struggle the other day, so I winnowed above the wards and glided down.

Az was already there. He didn't look up or even acknowledge me as he wrapped his hands. I wanted to believe he was merely focused on what he was doing, but…I knew better. The initial relief at having me home again was fading, and now there wasn't much tempering my Inner Circle's fury over being trapped in Velaris for fifty years.

I supposed I deserved that.

Fortunately, we weren't alone for long. I swallowed a growl at the sight of Cassian carrying Feyre. For once, it wasn't my darkness trying to slip its leash, but something far more primal that called for fists, not magic. I pushed it down as best I could, but I still couldn't help but feel relieved by how quickly Feyre hopped to the floor and stepped closer to me.

"Take your time warming up. It's been a while, and that's an injury risk," Cassian said, directing it at Feyre.

I probably needed to hear it too, even if the words were in that stern tone of voice Cassian primarily used with impulsive half-trained recruits. Which, I supposed, Feyre was in a way.

We fell silent as we worked through a warmup. During rare snatches of time alone Under the Mountain, I'd gone through the routine just to feel like myself. There had been some days I'd come close to forgetting I'd ever been a warrior at all—my life before I'd been trapped there sometimes felt like a fever dream or a distant memory.

But today, I was careful, spending the time cataloguing the stiffness and weak points. It was obvious enough I needed to get my strength back, but I was missing mobility and range of motion, too.

I wondered how long it would take for my body to feel like mine again.

When it was done, Azriel pulled Feyre aside to work with her as planned. I unsheathed my sword. Cassian turned to me, and the grin on his face was the same one he'd worn the first time he'd challenged me to a fight and won the shirt off my back.

Some things never changed.

"I meant what I said about not embarrassing you in front of Feyre darling," he said. With an irritated growl, I charged him.

The sparring match quickly devolved from there. I was a Carynthian—trained so thoroughly that fighting came to me as easily as breathing. I knew the steps, how to look for openings and parry attacks, to keep my balance and stand my ground.

But my limbs had never been so…sluggish.

Even when I'd been chained in the mud for weeks, I hadn't lost this much strength. Everything burned. And while my mind fell back on centuries of practice, it still felt like my body was moving through mud. Slow. I was far too slow.

I was breathing hard within minutes, too. Cassian hadn't even broken a sweat; this might as well have been an extended warmup for him. I hated knowing that he was holding back for my benefit, that he was taking his time as a favor to me.

I'd never been so painfully aware of every last bit of strength that bitch had sapped from me over the last fifty years. My dignity had been one thing, but it was far more maddening that an enemy general had rendered me so weak and useless in the end.

She hadn't just used my body as a toy—she'd broken it.

I was damn near gasping when I finally lost my balance, falling on my ass then my ribs, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Cassian's sword pointed casually at the center of my chest.

He could have done that whenever he wanted. But of course the bastard had waited until Feyre and Azriel were watching to finally end it. The two of them gaped at me as I took Cassian's proffered hand and stood up.

I knew Cassian was just trying to be courteous as he poured me a glass of water and handed it to me, but it took all of my willpower not to glower and snatch it from him. I didn't want pity.

For a while, no one spoke, which was likely for the best. I gulped down the water, hating how much I felt like I needed it. But the summer morning was already warm, and I could feel the sweat forming under my leathers.

Azriel muttered something about needing to go and took off without looking at me. He did, however, give Feyre a polite nod goodbye. I immediately thought back to the memory he'd shown me the day before—Make her happy, Rhys. She deserves it, he'd said.

Az held Feyre in high regard. I wondered if she knew that, too.

I turned my attention back to the task at hand as Cassian said, "While you were gone, I found some more books on human fighting techniques from the war, Feyre."

That was a relief; if I'd been present, it was exactly what I would have asked Cassian to do. And I was pleased he'd been confident enough she'd come back alive to continue researching.

"What did you find?" Feyre said.

"Not as much as I'd like. The mortal slaves that rebelled were the best experts on human-faerie combat. Most of them were illiterate, so not much was written down. But there are a few techniques to avoid being winnowed away if you're grabbed. We can try them today."

Cassian said it without blinking—he must not have known Feyre couldn't read. None of the Inner Circle could have known; it was the only way I could imagine them sending her Under the Mountain illiterate.

I hadn't realized it, either. What did it say that we were all apparently too stupid to notice my mate—the Lady of the Night Court—couldn't read?

Like always, Feyre seemed to be taking it in stride, however. She set down her cup decisively. "Let's go."

"I'll instruct. She'll practice on you," Cassian said, turning to me. His good humor was gone, but I didn't take it personally. As a mated male, I was a safety risk, likely to react on instinct to anyone striking or grabbing Feyre, even during combat training. If I wasn't in such a weakened state, it might have been prudent for me to leave and call in Mor instead.

I nodded, and enough understanding passed between us that Cassian cracked a smile and added, "Alright then, Feyre. Let's see if those bony elbows of yours can rattle Rhys's pea brain around in his skull."

I let myself feel excited to see what Feyre was like in the ring. Under the Mountain, there had been flashes of potential—her stance during the beating in the throne room, her levelheadedness as she fought the Middengard Wyrm, the gods-damned cannon of an arm she'd displayed when she'd thrown that bone-spear. She was all grit and tenacity and good instincts, exactly the sort of things I'd looked for in soldiers I'd trained back when I'd commanded a legion myself.

If she wanted to be properly honed, Feyre could make herself utterly lethal, human or not.

She took direction well, too. I could see it wasn't easy for her—even though she kept her mouth shut, she scowled every time Cassian corrected her form. But she made adjustments and put everything she had behind each strike.

Despite the obvious improvements, anger continued to ripple off her in waves. I kept out of her head—she didn't need a distraction—and I couldn't tell if this was cathartic for her or merely an exercise in frustration.

But when she switched sides and immediately landed a nasty hit to my jaw with her right arm, I understood.

An archer with a strength imbalance—a tale as old as time. If I didn't think she'd murder me on the spot, I would have laughed and taunted her about fighting me one handed.

Her lips twitched upward as I rubbed the already-healing bruise on my face. I'd take a million more hits from her if it made her smile again.

"Feel better?" Cassian said. She nodded. "Good. Now give me ten more just like that."

There was something blessedly normal about serving as Feyre's punching bag and would-be attacker as Cassian ran her through more drills. I liked watching her put her mind to something and work at improving. It made me feel better about…well, everything.

We didn't stay at it much longer, though. There was still work that couldn't be put off, and training ourselves to the point of exhaustion would only be harmful in the long run.

As he pulled on his jacket, Cassian shot me a look I'd become familiar with over the centuries, the one that meant he had something to say mind-to-mind. I rapped a talon against his shields and he let me in immediately.

I hate to ask, but before I go…do you need help getting back down to the street, Rhys?

He was just trying to be practical. It was a valid question, but that didn't make me want to roar in frustration any less.

No. And Feyre doesn't either.

Cassian raised his brows, and there was an edge to his voice when it rang out in my mind again. Did you just make that decision for her?

The implication was clear—that I was getting into the habit of making choices for the people I loved. He wasn't wrong.

Feyre can't read. I'm fixing that today. I pulled out of Cassian's mind before he could argue; I didn't want to turn this into a discussion. He squeezed my shoulder before taking off, as if he were unwilling to leave entirely on bad terms.

If he was angry, he'd get over it.

I turned to Feyre, who wasn't bothering to hide her irritation at being left out of the conversation. "You're coming with me to the library," I said by way of explanation.

The words had clearly come out too harsh. "Is that an order?" she snapped.

It would be if needed. I wasn't above strong-arming Feyre into learning a skill that was necessary for her survival.

But there was no sense in turning this into an argument for no reason, either. "I want you to learn how to read," I said quietly.

Her irritation melted into confusion, and I knew I needed to be forthright with her. My own stupid assumptions had nearly gotten Feyre killed Under the Mountain, and she deserved to know I'd failed her. So I told her about what I'd encouraged Amarantha to plan for the second task, even as my voice shook and tendrils of night leaked from me again.

For a long moment, she said nothing, and my power swirled around around us, then faded. I braced myself for her anger.

But all she said was, "Then I'll start learning today. We won't make the same mistake twice."

"Thank you," I said, reaching for her hand.

I felt better holding onto Feyre. And I'd missed the library. It was small in the grand scheme of things, but I hadn't been able to make myself comfortable in an armchair tucked away in the stacks in so long. This was the most peaceful place I'd ever known.

Yet the bond still seemed to tighten with Feyre's anxiety as we descended the stairs. Perhaps I'd miscalculated—she didn't have a history with this place, and it was underground.

I squeezed her hand, and before I could say anything, she reached for me through the bond and said, I'm fine. I took her at her word.

All things considered, it was probably reckless to allow ourselves to be seen like this. Now that the borders between courts were no longer sealed, the priestesses in Velaris were likely in contact with their sisters elsewhere. We were almost certainly inviting gossip.

I couldn't bring myself to care, though. After everything…I'd more than earned the right to cling to my mate wherever I wanted to. Feyre was mine, and even if the bond itself was a secret, I wanted everyone to know I was hers.

We approached the main desk, and it was good to see that Clotho looked well. I introduced to her to Feyre and explained the favor we needed—thankfully, there was a priestess who'd been a schoolteacher before she'd needed to seek refuge here, and it was no trouble for her to tutor Feyre.

There was a softness in Clotho's eyes I recognized. She took my hand in her own gnarled ones, and I realized that was the gentleness she used with new acolytes who'd just arrived at the library after surviving something horrific.

I hadn't thought I'd ever be on the receiving end of it.

Rumors of what I'd done Under the Mountain had certainly reached Velaris by now. Clotho knew what I'd sacrificed for this city. She wouldn't bring it up directly, but the quiet understanding and compassion was there.

The priestesses in the library had welcomed me as a trustworthy High Lord—a benefactor, really. But now…we shared something.

I didn't have time to dwell on that. Feyre was already being ushered away for her first lesson. There was business to attend to a few floors up, so I climbed the stairs and delighted in how effortless it felt to use magic to shift my leathers into a more formal tunic and pants.

Except for the piles of paper that had grown exponentially larger during my fifty years away, Mor's office in the House of Wind was virtually unchanged. When I'd appointed her my Third, I'd told her to choose any room for a workspace she liked, and Mor had made this one her own over the centuries.

The shelves were stuffed full of atlases—editions with maps of the Night Court that included Velaris—and records of meeting minutes and court budgets and various quarterly reports. The hand-knotted rug and comfortable leather chairs were the same as before, both in shades of red and brown carefully chosen to match the rock of the mountain.

She'd insisted on no windows to prevent surprise visits from any Illyrians. Being unable to see the sky made my chest tighten, but I didn't feel truly anxious in this place, not when it was so obviously Mor's domain.

She was chewing on the end of her pen and frowning at the letter she was drafting, but her head snapped up as I closed the door behind me. Her smile at the sight of me was bright, even if her face was a bit wan. "How was training?" she said.

I dropped into the chair on the other side of her desk. "Excellent," I lied, wings twitching. "Feyre elbowed me in the face several times."

"She fights dirty. If that's all the damage she did, then you got off easy today."

My heart swelled at the obvious pride in Mor's voice. I'd known my family would protect Feyre when I sent her to Velaris after Calanmai, but I hadn't given any thought to whether or not they'd like her. It hadn't mattered then.

And I still didn't know exactly what had transpired between them during the weeks she'd stayed here with them. Amren hadn't wasted time teaching Feyre to shield her mind, so I'd only gotten brief glimpses. I hadn't violated her privacy.

But by the Cauldron was I curious.

"You trained her," I said, doing my best to restrain myself from interrogating Mor about it. Feyre had looked so at ease in the ring with Cassian and Azriel—to a degree I found surprising considering she was wingless, half their size, and had never been a soldier.

"We all did. Don't think we didn't try to talk her out of it." Mor's brown eyes flashed dangerously, daring me to punish her for not stopping Feyre from going Under the Mountain for me.

I was angry with them. The sight of Feyre in that throne room had filled me with more terror than I knew was possible to feel, and my Inner Circle could have prevented it. The only reason I was trying—and honestly, not entirely succeeding—to choke down my rage was that it had been Feyre's choice.

I'd respect Feyre's decisions even if it killed me. Which meant the rest of my court would, too.

That wasn't the conversation I wanted to have, anyway. Not while I was still so raw and feeling sorry for myself because I could barely fly. So I said, "What was she like with you?"

Mor's expression turned thoughtful as she considered the question. I waited.

"Quiet," she said eventually. "Obviously, she's scrappy like Cassian, but she would silently hover on the edge of things, the way Az still does sometimes. It was clear she was worried sick and everything from your end of the bond was eating her alive but Gods, Rhys, she wouldn't even play cards with us, just watched."

I loved Feyre—deeply, completely, desperately. But there was still so much I didn't know about her. A clearer picture was emerging of her life before I'd come into it, and it worried me how isolated she'd been. There didn't seem to be a single person in the mortal lands she was keen on reuniting with.

In some ways, that made her more vulnerable than merely being human did. A girl who came from poverty, who'd spent all her time up a tree or tracking game instead of in school, or at the very least around other people…Tamlin could have manipulated and broken her so easily.

If I wasn't careful, I could hurt her, too.

"She doesn't get along with her family, either. Yesterday, I told her I wasn't keeping her here, but she still didn't want to see them."

Mor let out a single, bitter laugh. "She really is one of us, isn't she?"

"I just hope she feels that way, too." Seeing Feyre in the training ring gave me hope that she did. But I'd also noticed how quiet she'd been at dinner.

"We all see something of ourselves in her, I think. Even Amren—they're both some sort of magical anomaly. This is the healthiest place Feyre could have ended up. So just…give her some time to settle in, alright? You're both lucky to have each other, and everything is going to be fine."

More than anything, I wanted to believe that was true. But it seemed impossible. "She's nineteen," I whispered, almost afraid to say it too loudly.

As a human, that made her an adult, albeit a young one. Capable of making her own choices. Perhaps it was because I hadn't been around mortals in centuries, but that fact was still…difficult to reconcile.

Mor's smile was sad. "It might be better if we don't think too hard about how much she reminds us all of your mother."

I cringed. But at least I wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

Changing the subject probably would have been the wisest course of action, but there were things I needed to say that I only felt safe expressing to Mor. Even if it was uncomfortable. My cousin was the only one who'd understand.

"When I ate those pomegranate seeds," I said quietly, "was I making the same mistakes as my father?"

She leaned back in her chair, considering it. That much, at least, was a relief—if she'd answered too quickly, especially if she said no, I wouldn't have believed she was telling me the truth.

"You didn't have the power to make those kinds of mistakes while you were Under the Mountain. It's too early to tell, I think."

I stared into my lap, unable to look her in the eye as I said, "I'm scared, Mor. She never asked for any of this."

It seemed entirely possible that Feyre would come to resent this life she'd been forced into. Even if she didn't hate me, she hadn't chosen it. That would be enough to make anyone bitter.

As an immortal, so many human experiences were now closed off to her. And at nineteen, when she'd seen so little of the world…

"You're not the only one," Mor said gently. "When she showed up in the townhouse and Amren confirmed her story, I was terrified for you both. Even with a long lifespan, things between her kind and ours…they're never simple."

Mor's gaze had gone distant, as if she were remembering something from long ago. I knew that look; a memory from the war had crept up on her.

I wondered—not for the first time—if contacting Miryam was worth the risk. It seemed possible the only other person who'd been Made immortal knew something that could help us understand the half-bargain inked on Feyre's arm. But a letter could easily fall into the wrong hands…

Mor shook her head as if to clear it. "That's enough of a pity party for today," she said, half to herself. I started to say something, but a too-bright smile appeared on her face as she added, "Even if it might end badly, that hasn't happened yet. You two just about tore each other's clothes off at the dinner table yesterday, so enjoy the blessing while we have the chance."

Wise words. It was still too much to believe the rest of eternity could be like last night—holding Feyre, making her smile, hearing her tell me in no uncertain terms she wanted to fuck me again. But perhaps…perhaps I could believe I'd have that for a little while.

Before everything inevitably came crashing down. Everything I loved had a tendency to be taken from me.

I straightened, trying to ignore the barking pain in my back muscles that had grown unused to supporting wings. There was work to finish—I hadn't actually come here merely to chat. "Thank you. Now what crises have you been handling in my absence?"

Mor had been spending the past few days putting out fires. It was nothing she wasn't capable of; she'd offered to continue with the extra duties to give me a chance to rest, but I couldn't bring myself to take her up on the offer. Returning to the Hewn City drained her. And I needed to feel like the High Lord of the Night Court again, paperwork and all.

We were at it for a while, but eventually I left her office with a stack of reports summarizing changes since I'd been away and a folder full of updated statues that needed signatures. My own office was on this floor, but I wanted the quiet of the library.

And I already missed Feyre.

I found a desk tucked away in the stacks, dug my reading glasses out of a pocket dimension, and got to work, keeping an ear pricked for any signs Feyre finished with her lesson. Before long, a door opened in the distance, and I felt a shift in the bond. I tugged gently on the thread, just enough to call her to me without making it seem urgent and alarming.

She paused and stared at me for a moment, then slid into the seat next to me. Before I had an opportunity to tease her with some comment about being so enamored with my face that she'd stopped in her tracks, she whispered, "Have you always needed those?"

Right. She'd never seen me in reading glasses before. It was easy to forget that there were things she didn't know about me, too.

"Since I was a boy. Don't ask me how many times Cassian broke them when we were younger," I said.

She went quiet for a moment, as if she were considering where that new piece of information fit with the picture of me that was forming in her head. I didn't mind—if she wanted to interrogate me, she could.

Instead, she jerked her head towards the paper in front of me. "What's that?"

"Reports on the status of the Night Court and documents Mor needed me to sign. There's…a lot I missed."

Feyre pulled out work of her own after that, and we lapsed into comfortable silence. It took all my willpower not to peek over her shoulder—I wanted to know what her handwriting looked like. But I could tell this was a sensitive subject; despite ample opportunity to learn before coming Under the Mountain, she hadn't brought it up, and apparently Tamlin had made jokes at her expense.

Eventually, she pushed her scratch paper aside, and I tried not to stare as she lifted her arms above her head and stretched. She was still in her leathers, and her breasts looked incredible when she arched her back.

I'd been productive enough for the morning, I decided.

"Do you need more sentences to practice?" I said, careful not to give away what I was thinking.

"I might."

I jotted a few words down, then slid the paper over to her. "Try reading this, then copy it over."

I watched her nose wrinkle adorably as she sounded out the words. She managed it, though quite slowly. "Rhysand is the most—"

Her expression cycled through several emotions—confusion, surprise, amusement—as she realized what the full sentence was. Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. There were several more, all about how attractive, cunning, and excellent in bed I was. Practically vibrating with anticipation, I waited for Feyre to read them all.

"Are you always this shameless?" she said.

I smiled. "You seem to bring it out in me."

I'd assumed Feyre would say something about the accuracy of the statements I'd just made her read. But no—she balled up the paper and flung it at my head instead.

Truly, it's what I should have expected.

She put enough force behind the throw to knock the glasses off my face, and her aim was impeccable. I laughed; I'd asked for this ,I supposed. Feyre didn't need words to express irritation when brute strength and wickedly accurate hand-eye coordination would do.

Incredibly Illyrian of her, all things considered.

As I picked my glasses up off the floor and slid them back onto my face, a spark of Feyre's happiness lit up the bond for just a moment. I'd gone so long without being playful with anyone; it was another part of me that had atrophied underground, just like my wings. But I'd get it back.

The rest of the day was tranquil. It soothed me all the way down to my soul to spend the afternoon in the library with Feyre, enjoying her quiet companionship as I slowly chipped away at getting my court back in working order. And it was good to see that after training and a reading lesson, she was slowly becoming a stronger, more capable version of herself.

But still, I was utterly worn out by the end of the day. Cassian must have anticipated it—he'd left us with a large container of Illyrian stew, a hearty comfort food that had warmed us up on so many frozen nights. As angry as he was with me, my brother knew there was barely any food in the house, and he'd never quite stopped making sure everyone was fed.

The note scrawled in his messy hand was simple: Even assholes who trap their family in Velaris need to eat. Also, make sure Feyre gets enough protein. Feyre and I both shoveled the food down and went to bed early, the ideal way to cap off a day that had started with the first training session in a long while.

I supposed, however, it couldn't be perfect. I'd barely been asleep for more than a few hours when I woke to the sound of Feyre screaming. She was already halfway to the bathroom when I winnowed to her.

I managed to gently pull her hair back before she started retching. Her heart pounded so loudly I could hear it clearly, even as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Her breathing was shaky as she sat back. I pulled her against my chest and held her, just sitting on the floor with her. Once the nightmare had faded enough that I was sure there wouldn't be another round of vomit, I'd carry her back to bed.

I couldn't stop the nightmares. But now, at least, I could do better than letting her face them with nothing more than a braid and a promise I'd come back.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home #a simple name and everything has changed #this was supposed to be a nice little writing exercise but turned into a 6k monstrosity so i'm yeeting it into the world

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mirrorthoughts · 1 year ago

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The Identity Crisis of Desmond Miles

Alright, here we are 😂 Thanks to everyone who has voted on my poll (and yes, I know it's not over yet but I wrote this already anyway 😂), I’m actually surprised I got more than 10 votes (and all of them on a yes 💕(the one for the results was mine 😂I wanted to see how it’s going)).

So yeah, Blorbo thoughts about Desmond’s brain, how the Animus maybe-probably works on it and how it’s actually possible that Desmond still has a (probably in the end very weak) grasp of his own identity (below a readmore, because I don’t know how long this will get 😂😂)

The Start

First a few facts I will base this whole… essay on

Desmond learns skills from his ancestors, so the Animus has to impact him deeper than only on a surface level (surface level would be like playing a VR version of a game).

I don’t have the precise ages/dates in mind for the lifespans of Altair, Ezio and Connor, but even if I’m being conservative we’ll get at least 80+ years of other people’s memories in contrast to Desmond’s 25 years of life (…just realized he’s about half a year older than me, so maybe it’s not a surprise he’s one of my forever-blorbos <.<…), one of those, namely Ezio’s he actually ‘lived’ from birth to retirement (= ~55-60 years).

AC Revelations is the only real glance into Desmond’s own memories (aside from what he tells us at the beginning of AC1 and 2). From a doylistic view I know that Ubisoft probably just didn’t want to expend more effort to create Desmond’s memories the same as his ancestor’s, especially because they probably knew at that point they would kill him in the next installment anyway. From a watsonian view the way his memories are all bare bones - mostly his voice talking as if it was a story he remembers and not something he actually lived, without people/faces and places he knew - comes across as if he doesn’t really remember all that much anymore, as if they were really old memories buried by the rest of his (or rather his ancestors’) life.

The brain can hold a lot of information and memories. Even more than you might think. We all know about those Guiness World Records guys that taught themselves to easily remember a myriad of numbers, words, things, whatever. I actually recently saw a very good video about how to do that even as a ‘normal person’. And I’m not even talking about people with photographic, eidetic, echoic or other types of ‘perfect memory’. So, I think we can agree on: the brain is fucking awesome (most of the time) and probably can actually handle the 130+ years Desmond has experienced.

Desmond

Desmond’s ‘life’, according to what his brain experiences when he was in Abstergo’s hands looks a bit like this: Desmond (25yrs) -> Altair (however many days/weeks) -> Desmond (one night’s sleep) -> Altair (however many days/weeks) -> Desmond (one night’s sleep) -> repeat until he gets broken out of Abstergo.

And it only gets worse. Yes, he gets more “free time” when he’s with Shaun and Rebbecca, but at the same time he experiences weeks, if not months of Ezio’s life at a time! Sometimes even years. (We can argue about how the time jump-function works in the Animus, but he still gets the information of what happened how during that time because Ezio knows all of that shit, so even if it’s not as detailed as what he actually actively lives through he still gets the memory of what happened during that time as far as I’m concerned).

And then we have the most extreme ratio in Revelations: Mere seconds of being Desmond (hello computer/brain-speed!) against another few months/about a year of Ezio’s time.

During AC3 it’s not as clear cut how much time he spends in the Animus, thanks to them being inside, but I’d guess they’re about at the same ratio as with AC2, maybe a bit better since he does get to go on missions outside.

In total that makes maybe three months of Desmond’s time (it’s about half a year from when he got kidnapped to when he dies minus all the time he was in the animus. Tbh I think it’s even less than three months he has as Desmond/himself during that time) against literal decades of memories and experiences of his ancestors during the same time. And of course the Bleeding Effect that even disturbs his ‘Desmond time’.

So much for the ‘mathematical’ side of it all 😂

To summarize: Every memory that Desmond makes as himself is overshadowed by dozens of memories he makes as one of his ancestors. So piece by piece, Desmond’s own memories get buried deeper and deeper in his head and those 25 years he actually was only Desmond get fainter and fainter as the new memories he’s making as his ancestors are getting favored by his brain.

Identity Crisis

At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if Desmond really believed himself to be Ezio, right? After all he’s lived about 55 years of Ezio, he remembers being born as him (and wasn’t that an awkward scene to play… nevermind experience for Desmond), growing up as him, and of course everything we as the player played through with Ezio. And although aside from some verbal outbursts against especially Lucy and a few scenes of the Bleeding Effect we actually don’t see much of it during the game (as far as I remember at least). But we also know about the in-game consequences of using the Animus in detail - hello Clay - and that Abstergo doesn’t really care about the effects of the Animus on their victims as long as they get from them what they want/need.

And yes, Rebecca’s Baby 2.0 was optimized by her to make it better/easier for Desmond. But better/lesser effects still means there will be some effects. And also… afaik Rebbecca has her informations about the Animus from whatever Lucy ‘smuggled out’ of Abstergo. Lucy is said to be a Templar spy, so what informations did she really give Rebecca? Bc as far as I’m concerned it would be to Lucy��s/the Templar’s advantage if Desmond would find them what they need more or less by his own choice and then is brain gets scrambled to hell and back so the Assassins won’t be able to get more informations themselves, right?

Anyway, @Raett (who was a lovely participant in the discussion of these thoughts) hit me with that lovely sentence of “If you've spent more time being 'Ezio' than being 'Desmond' than what's to say [you aren’t] Ezio with memories of Desmond?”

And… just imagine. You’ve just gone through decades of memories, your own memories are faint right now (see point 3) and you’re not quite sure if those actually are your memories or if that’s just something you’ve seen. Maybe you are Ezio after all? Maybe you only dreamt of those ‘memories’ of Desmond - after all that weird vision of a woman that called you the Prophet also talked about someone with that Name! Okay, alright, then you are obviously Ezio, right? You remember your family, your sister, after all you write to her regularly when you are not visiting. You remember Constantinopoli, you remember traveling to Masyaf, you remember finding Altair’s body, his memories.

Wait.

You remember more of Altair then the memory discs have shown you. How can you remember more of Altair’s life? It was already a miracle in your eyes that you saw his memories at all! You remember someone named Connor, Ratonhnhaké:ton. You remember him living in the future, not as far as Desmond, but still far closer to him than yourself. How can you remember the future if you are Ezio? But you remember your - Ezio’s - whole life, so you have to be Ezio, right? But you also remember Altair’s life. Not all of it, but years of it. And you remember Ratonhnhaké:ton, remember how he became Connor, remember his work and life up to somewhere in his later twenties.

And you remember, though faintly, Desmond. You remember that diabolical machine Desmond used. You remember what he was forced to do.

You can remember remembering, reliving your memories.

Are they really yours? Or maybe, maybe you aren’t Ezio after all.

Remembering

So, now that Desmond’s gone through that circle of ‘who am I?’ and ‘I’m Ezio, right?’ and ‘I have to be Ezio, but I can’t be Ezio, so who am I?’ probably more than just a couple of times, what actually is it that brings him back every time?

The short answer is probably ‘reality’, even though that sounds dumb as fuck at first 😂

But in a wider sense that’s actually true. A person’s memory doesn’t only consist of seeing and hearing things, as much as someone who played the games might get the impression because the average person has yet to be able to smell/feel/taste things from computer games 😂.

And that’s the crux, the only thing that actually saves Desmond from loosing himself completely: Sensory impressions, which are a great trigger to remember things.

The clothes he’s wearing don’t feel like any of his ancestor’s clothes. Their make and design are completely different, the fabric was produced in a different way, the clothes themselves, like underwear are even a modern invention (modern men’s underwear is actually largely an invention of the 1930s). And of course nowadays most people wear a lot less layers than it was custom in most of human history.

Then there’s sound and smell (and visuals of course), a modern city is so much louder than even ancient Rome has been. More people (the world’s population is more than 20 times larger than during the 1400s (Ezio was born in the latter half of that century). And between 2011 and 2023 we actually gained another Billion of people on this world!), loud and smelly cars, food stalls, tared streets, large buildings and modern architecture. Cities in general.

And of course he has his companions who would jog his memories by being there.

And his companions are the ones who also trigger another sense of Desmond: touch. Or at least I hope they do <.< touch starvation is a bitch and even a hand on your shoulder or sitting closer together and almost touching and stuff like that do help a lot.

In the same vein we also have Desmond’s own bodily awareness by the way. Especially after months of mostly lying in the Animus he won’t be as strong or enduring as his ancestors and when I think about how Ezio’ running around Rome in his armor… well Desmond definitely has a long way to get anywhere near that strength 😂😂😂 So, his body doesn’t feel like either his ancestor’s bodies. And he also has different markings on his body than them (aside from the scar on his lip that he shares with Altair and Ezio) and, of course, he has his tattoo.

And I think that’s what is grounding him the most. While he sure as hell can fall into one of his ancestors’ personalities when he’s hiding somewhere in the woods, cars - and technology in general - and cities and people have the best chance at pulling him back into himself. Even small things like a tea one of his ancestors remembers that just doesn’t taste quite right. Because over the hundreds of years the plants used to make that tea changed by natural evolution or - more likely - by cultivation through humans.

Coping

I’m kinda curious what they would have done with Desmond if he’d survived in canon. But since they didn’t really let him survive (I’m expertly ignoring the Reader btw.) we will never know an answer to that, I guess <.<…

Though I think with a bit of therapy he’d actually be able to compartmentalize the memories of his ancestors quite well? I mean… I actually think I saw something similar in a fanfic, but since each of their lives was so uniquely different I think it would actually be pretty clear cut to shove each of them in a dedicated space - like a mind palace or something.

I mean, mind palaces work by using a place (real or imaginary) that you know very well and kinda… sort what ever you want to remember in those places. Other than Desmond who mostly has the farm (and I don’t think he’d want to use that place and revisit it every time he tries to remember something specific) each of the other three kinda has at least one dedicated space he knows like the back of his hand. For Ezio he could use Florence, Monteriggioni, even Rome (though maybe a place he isn’t going to travel to that often). For Altair Masyaf is the most likely choice in my opinion. And for Connor he has the homestead and his ship. Just places he hasn’t the same connection to as Desmond and which he can imagine well enough.

He would probably still need a shit ton of therapy for that whole thing anyway and for coping with his own childhood and how his dad is a fucking asshole, too <.<… But he would have a chance to cope, maybe even heal.

Anyway, thanks for everyone who read this far 😂😂😂 I didn’t expect to turn this whole thing into a 2k+ essay, but well, I kinda did o_O… I have no idea if I remembered everything I wanted to write, but this thing is what you get 😂 Hope you had fun! :D (And thanks for wanting to read this to everyone who voted 💕)

#seikaze #sei's brain bubbles #assassin's creed #desmond miles #this got so much larger than I anticipated #it was actually a joke that I called it 'essay' at the beginning #but welp #now it's 2.2k plus a bit long

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backgroundelf · 5 months ago

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hello, can you tel me about “Source; it came to me in a dream”?

A few months ago I had a dream where instead of taking the ring to Mordor, Frodo and the Ring stayed in Rivendell, which went about as well as could be expected. Sauron's forces laid siege to the valley. During a heavy bout of fighting, the defenses of Rivendell are broken. Frodo grabs the ring, intending to run away and it slips on. Instead of turning invisible, he is sucked into the ring and comes face to face with Sauron himself (I tried to put this under a readmore but tumblr was being stupid)

“Well, aren’t you a curious little thing?” a voice, as smooth and deadly as poison, purred. Frodo scrambled to his feet and turned towards the speaker. He was lounging in Elrond’s chair, red hair spilling out from under a rusted iron crown. He wore robes that were once white, but the hems and sleeves had been stained black with ash. One eye burned like fire, but the other was nothing more than an empty socket with cracks spreading out from the wound. Despite all this, he was still beautiful, fair in a dreadful way. He stood and stretched, lazily making his way to the pedestal in the center of the ruined courtyard. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said. “Because of you, I will be able to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” He reached out towards the pedestal where the Ring lay. “No!” Frodo yelled. Sauron smiled. “It’s a bit late for that.” He lunged for the Ring. Sparks flashed against his fingertips and he yanked back his hand. He looked down at the burned flesh, then to the Ring, and finally at Frodo. “Interesting.” “You cannot have it,” Frodo said, stepping closer to the Ring. “Are you going to claim it then?” Sauron asked as if he had no interest in the answer. Frodo looked at the Ring, then at Sauron. “Go. Leave us, and never come back.” He spoke with a strength he did not feel, and a strength Sauron clearly did not believe. “Very well,” Sauron said. “I will leave. When I get my Ring back. You have no claim to it.” “I inherited it from my uncle. It came to me by right,” Frodo said. He may be terrified, but he was also a hobbit, and hobbits were annoyingly thorough when it came to legal matters such as inheritance. Sauron laughed. “Oh, this is rich. A masterwork into which the crafter has poured his very fëa is stolen, and then is passed on to a thief’s heir. Then, when the proper owner of the piece comes to reclaim their stolen property, they are told they have no right to it, because thievery and inheritance trump everything else. Eru does have a sense of irony after all.” “You cannot have the Ring,” Frodo repeated. “Oh, but I will have it. It’s just a matter of time. You will die, likely very soon, and that barrier will fall. I’m in no rush, I can wait.” He settled back into Elrond's chair. “But you? Each moment we are in here is bought with your allies’ lives. Spend them frivolously, I don’t care, but I’m sure you do. Creatures of the light are always so…sentimental. Of course, you could save them. Renounce your claim, lower the barrier, and once the rIng is mine, I’ll leave. You have my word.” Frodo shook his head. “You will leave today and return with a greater force tomorrow. I cannot let you have the Ring.” “Then it seems we are at an impasse,” Sauron said. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Shall we play a game? The winner gets the Ring, and the loser leaves.” “A game?” Frodo said. He thought of Bilbo, his heart aching to think he would likely never see his beloved uncle again. “How about a game of riddles?” “Riddles?” Sauron asked with a grin. He looked around at the living shadows. “In the dark? I was thinking of something a little older. Do you know where your riddle game came from? It used to be a challenge of songs. Trading verse and weaving words until the mightier singer stood victorious. But time passed, as it is want to do, and the songs devolved into riddles. What once was a true contest of wills became a children’s game.” “You would have us sing at each other?” Frodo asked. Sauron nodded. “Indeed. A proper challenge, worthy of such high stakes. I’ll even be a good sport and let you go first.”

#my writing #ask game #lotr #frodo #sauron

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answrs · 1 year ago

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Readmores And You - A Really Great Tumblr Feature!

(this is technically directed at stuff I've seen in a specific tag because of the content of said tag makes it more likely to spoiler things, but it applies to anyone likely learning the ins and outs of a new site. speaking of which, hello! welcome to tumblr!) (this got. longer than anticipated. apologies, I get bogged down in trying to make things as clear as possible. ^^")

I've seen this a lot recently in the VC tags especially, where the post goes something to the effect of "tw bloody animal!" then like six periods and the images of whatever dead thing the post is about.

I recognize this is probably being carried over from some other website (...reddit probably? maybe insta?) but please. I appreciate y'all so much for trying to do what you're doing. but this method of hiding pictures isn't effective on tumblr, but there is an infinitely better option!

"but why? it works fine on other sites?" firstly, a few extra lines typically don't even take up enough space on mobile (let alone desktop) to hide your pics, so even at a glance anyone is likely still seeing at least the top half of whichever picture you posted before even noticing the trigger warning on top. second, because you have to scroll all the way past the images at the bottom of your post anyway to get to the next one on your dash/in the tag/etc. so if someone comes across your post and the trigger warning is applicable as something they want to avoid, unless they have access to a keyboard to use a keybind shortcut that ive been here 12 years and still cant remember, they can't see any other posts after it without either having to scroll through the pics or outright block you. which is... not the most ideal of options I would say.

"but what else am I supposed to do then!?" I hear you ask.

READMORES!

tumblr has a wonderful feature known as a "readmore" that's built into the site! it creates a break in your post, which hides any content - be it words, images, whatever - that you place underneath it, not showing it unless the person viewing it clicks on the words "keep reading" (formerly "read more" - hence the name :D).

Cool, how do I do that?

on mobile you can place one by tapping an empty line and clicking the grey squiggle icon from the selection that allow you to insert an image/vid/link

which will place a squiggly line into the post you're making:

(desktop uses the same icon, it's just in a more compact row of icons.)

you can drag it around after placing it too, just like photos. (note: mobile can get finicky with this and it's usually just easier to remove it -click the big red X- and add it in the new place you want it.)

EDIT: some of the versions of mobile editor are broken and don't show the icons. to add it in manually type ":readmore:" (with the colons, but not the quotation marks) on its own line. Thank you for the reminder, LovingTogetic!

this is also a nice way to keep your blog tidy and not swamped in long and/or spoilery posts (say if you're posting 5k word fics, or extensive meta, or gushing over the ending of the latest game or TV show most people probably haven't seen yet)! it's not required, obviously, but it's generally considered a common courtesy for others that will be seeing your post cross their dashboard.

finally, an example of the readmore in action:

(ta-da!)

have fun out there y'all, I hope this is helpful ^^

as an aside (I wasn't sure where to put this but under the break seemed appropriate), you may also see a lot of personal/vent posts be fully under readmores as well, even if the post is only a sentence or two long. this is mostly so followers don't necessarily see it unless they specifically click, but there's a more frustrating history to it becoming a thing: when a post is reblogged, any content above the break is permanently frozen as it existed at the time, but anything under it will reflect edits made to the post. while not common, a certain type of user sometimes browse the various "do not rb" tags and will purposefully reblog personal posts in order to upset and distress the users. putting those things under a readmore make it so even if that happens, the text can be deleted from all iterations of the post. recently the site rolled out an option to lock a post to reblogs, but you gotta mess with the settings and it's mostly a habit after a decade here dealing with the nonsense.

#tumblr guide #hope it's okay to tag i'll remove if asked but #vulture culture #how to #tumblr how to #readmores #tumblr how-to

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apolloniccalligraphy · 5 months ago

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huge stupid gay HOMESTUCK + ARCANA post

ill put a readmore right here when i have my computer

planet: DIFRENTIA [_im so clever_]

changes from canon:

* multiple fuschias CAN exist at once, given the sh33r size of the planet

* marriage is Kinda a thing, but only sort of, currently. marriage can be any quadrant, and married trolls are called 'bound'. trolls can have multiple bound partners in various quadrants. all in all, it's a newish thing.

* trolls CAN have children without the mother grub but it is extremely rare and, depending on one's blood caste/status, can be illegal

* even those allowed to have their own children are still required to contribute for the mother grub

* siblings are a thing and trolls that are close but not romantically interested in eachother will often declare themselves siblings

**TROLLS:**

pashah devrak [olive]

ilyaan devrak [definitely _absolutely_ 100% a normal rustblood dont question his horns what haha]

asrrah alnazr [jade]

luccio morasn [violet... _questionably_. why does he have two lusii?]

naddia satrin [fuschia]

muryel kokuri [de-clown'd purple] procur vollta [olive]

qaetor valdem [violet. probably. uhh.]

praeto vlasil [cerulean]

pontix vulora [purple]

valeis konsul [violet]

**ANCESTORS:**

- The Alchemists [Aiisha & Saalim Alnazr, jadeblood matesprits so dedicated to eachother one took the other's last name. noone is quite sure who took who's, but it sparked a trend in particularly devoted quadrantmates]

- The Huntress [Mohrga Eidotr, a deadly purpleblood hunter who's blood was said to run strangely violet. she was also rumoured to have two lusii, a ch33tah and a falcon, though noone is sure which was her original]

- The Merchant [Tasaya Devrak, a wealthy fuschiablood who made a deal with something dark, dangerous, and d33p within the sea. as a result, her daughter, Lishka, was lost to the sea, as were her brother and her brother's bound matesprite]

- The Seafarer [Pavhel Devrak, an oliveblood lucky enough to have a fuschia for a sibling. his sister made a bad deal with something under the sea, casting him into the waves]

- The Wayfarer [Ilyona Devrak, Pavhel's bound matesprite, a fuschiablood thrown to the sea in a terrible storm. normally this would be fine, being that she's a seadweller, but when the ship went down, the rushing currents threw her into the rocky seafloor]

- The Originator [?????? Valdem. a figure lost to time, hailing from a time lost. someone who was there at the beginning. at some point, they simply.. disappeared.]

LUSII:

Snakemom/Faust [Azrah]

Catmom/Pepi [Pashah]

Wolfmom/Inanna [Muryel]

Dogdad&dogmom/Mercedes&Melchior [Luccio]

Ravendad/Malak [Ilyaan]

Owlmom/Chandra [Nadiia]

NOW WHAT IF IT WAS MODERN? [TAGS AND QUIRKS, STRIFE SPECIBI, CLASSPECT/LAND]

ILYAAN

crimsonContagion

DAGGERKIND

CC: what ??

CC: why would you think that —

CC: i mean .

CC: i am absolutely NOT a mutant !

CC: my horns -

CC: my horns are a PERFECTLY normal shape , i don't know what you're talking about !

_Rogue of Blood_

Land of Herb and Conviction_

PASHAH

siameseFictions

RLLNGPINKIND

SP: whats going on?? O^O

SP: oi! are you bothering my brother?? ÒmÓ

SP: i'll kick your arse!! •==• Ò-Ó

_Maid of Hope

Land of Relic and Broken Bells_

LUCCIO

aristocraticMasquerade

SWORDKIND/CLAWKIND

AM: You know what?? ☺︎

AM: I think I'LL just caLL you JuLes!

AM: How does that sound? ;)

_Heir of Rage

Land of Battle and Beetles_

ASRRAH

serpentineVexations

icebladekind

SV: aawwwe how sweet （〃▽〃）

SV: ilyaaaan i think faaust likes you!! ɷ◡ɷ

_Bard of Void

Land of Ponds and Glow_

NADIIA

sightedStrigiforme

backswordkind

SS: Ah, hello. ☆

SS: It is a pleasure to meet you. ☆

_Maid of Mind

Land of Puzzle Boxes and Conundrum_

MURYEL KOKURI

gentleAsocialite

nothingkind

GA: no

GA: i dont trust you.

GA: so just leave.

GA: please.

_Heir of Void

Land of Shadow and Wood_

#homestuck #the arcana #all of this is subject 2 change

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robotnuts · 1 year ago

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are there any rvb fics you still think about all the time? like i dont think a week goes by without thinking abt qed and how it def changed me on a molecular level, do you have any fics like that?

oooh good question. the most important fic is at the bottom of this post so just scroll to the final paragraph if you only want one, true recommendation of the only rvb fic that really matters.

QED is fantastic though its more of @shotgunslap's thing than mine. the partner to that is also obviously QoQ, the only rvb fic ive been able to make almost all my friends read. i think about the south/north characterization every day of my life. caboose and carolina mean so much to me, etc etc. thats a pretty easy pick though so im cracking into my ao3 bookmarks to look for more niche picks.

i know there was actually a lot of rvb fic that was just posted to tumblr that i think ive gone back and tried to reblog at some points but i never organized it, i should have archived it, people who wrote good femslash and rvb women liked to just post it under a readmore on their tumblrlog and you have to go digging through decades old tags to find it now

okay. the big one i actually do still think about all the time forever and ever is saltsanford's stuff about epsilon/wash's relationship. this is the big one i still think about that centers on their backstory, but also, put my guns in the ground, which is one of the Big fandom tuckington longfics, also has such good washpilon stuff in it and they're so fucking juicy. when tucker asks wash how many times he's broken his ribs and he says four and epsilon says "actually it was five" before realizing How Bad of a Move that would be. Hello? Hello?????? i want them to be forced to reimplant and have weird mind brain trauma sex SO BAD sorry im normal. this is another one that takes place during/after the chorus era

on the spectrum of fics that i actually dont yet feel ashamed reccomending, primtheamazing, who wrote QoQ, also wrote some other good stuff. i am a HUGE fan of this fusion fic, the punchline to the tucker/caboose fusion is HYSTERICAL. this one where grif forgets who simmons is due to temple shennanigans and flirts with him is also very like. trope-y but i like that shit so this goes here too

ok. now onto the stuff that it is actively embarrassing for me to be recommending. but. prim's logrimmons fic is hysterical and was the stepping stone to creating the lolixgrimmons mind palaces with my friends so its worth it just for that. but also its really fucking funny. so is the one where locus has to listen to them have sex and gets himself caught

the truly embarrassing one for me to have here is the piece of softboy grimmons content i participate in. sadly i do enjoy s15 content sometimes for the softboy grif sensitive emotions exploration i will admit to being a hypocrite there and i really liked that one and reread it frequently (just realized this is written by the QED person so! you might already know of it)

and then finally. the most important red vs blue fanfiction of all time, guns are for shooting. it has it all. sarge. washington. sarge again. kismesisitude. grif and simmons acting like rosencrantz and guildenstern (are dead). locus being invisible and getting caught by lopez with a bag of flour. it's written by the person who wrote QED. You want to read it right now. Read it right now. READ IT RIGHT N

wait no the cute bit about sarge declaring war on gravity and upending a bag of flour onto lopez isnt in guns for shooting. what fic is that from

#its mainly mx qed relationshipcrimes and mx qoq primtheamazing who are my favorite writers it seems #so anything there is pretty good #oh on the cute grimmons level i also like 'What kind of trash dragon'#which.. might be written by prim? i know they have a few orphan fics floating around out there #including uh. green is a shade of red which i havent read but know is a good red team locus fic that they wrote and then orphaned

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tadpoles-r-us · 8 months ago

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Lynneira Sylverwind

Previously (prior to game events) a Paladin of Lathander

Oath broken and branded a heretic (long story)

Currently an Archfey Warlock

239 years old

she/her, but will also accept they/them from close friends

High elf

Chaotic good

Acolyte background

Romancing Astarion and Halsin

Photographic memory, but struggles to retain memory of sounds

PNES sufferer (Psychogenic Non-Epileptic Seizures)

In-character journal here

(cringy lore info-dump under the readmore, may be rewritten at some point to better articulate things, I just need to get the thoughts out of my head first)

Lynneira is a very unfortunate example of- not present tense “fuck around and find out” but past tense “fucked around and found out”.

She was raised by her mother, Elenor; a chaotic but kind druid who ran an apothecary in Baldur’s Gate. She unfortunately never met her father, Ronan, a perpetually anxious Paladin of Lathander, as he died on a quest before she was born, but her mother always made sure she knew that despite never getting the chance to meet her, her father loved her dearly. Lynneira was the type of child to be attached to her mother’s hip, always trusting her over anyone else. She struggled with even saying hello to anyone that came to her mother’s apothecary, but took a chance one day when a particularly friendly silver haired elven boy with bright blue eyes and messy curls greeted her first. “My name’s Astarion!” he’d said cheerfully, a slight lisp breaking up his words, holding his hand out to her in an almost too formal gesture for a boy his age. His mother had come in for an herbal remedy to aid in joint pain, so lucky for her, she saw this boy a lot. Even more lucky for her, when she started school, she happened to share a class with him, so she had at least one person she could rely on for company.

As the years when by, her friendship with Astarion only grew. Of course she made other friends, but he was her ride or die, and she was his. Any time a big life event came her way, he was right there with her, as was she with him. The two drifted a bit socially in college, Lynneira choosing to continue where her father left off as a Paladin of Lathander, while also sitting in on some druidic courses with the intent of one day taking over her mothers apothecary, whilst Astarion decided to dip his toes into the world of politics with law school. Although the two elves kept in touch, still hanging out damn near every weekend, their lives grew busier and busier, and as such, they continued on mostly separate paths.

As they reached their 30’s, Lynneira was never quite able to understand why Astarion went for the position of magistrate. Growing up, as friendly as he was, Astarion hated most forms of authority, so it deeply confused Lynneira that he’d ever choose to strive for that sort of position. What confused her even more was the decisions he was making in court. She’d noticed he was becoming more and more self-serving, and some obvious prejudices were starting to rear their ugly heads. This bothered her of course, so much so that one day after Astarion got off work, Lynneira cornered him, infuriated, and began laying in to him. His responses didn’t help his situation, being dismissive and blunt. Lynneira couldn’t remember much of the fight really, but she did remember her last words to him before storming off, “They’re people, Astarion! Good people, with families and lives and needs! Just because your self-serving ass has become too privileged to see that doesn’t mean I have to stand by and watch!”. Astarion didn’t bother chasing after her, whether due to his pride or something else he’d never really figure out.

Lynneira spent that evening sobbing into her mother’s shoulder, wondering what had happened to the sweet boy she’d known all these years. Worse still, she had no idea that that would be the last time she’d see astarion for a very very long time. She’d intended to check on him the next day, to catch him before he went in to work and ask to meet up later to well and truly talk things out, yet as she waited outside the courthouse, she never saw him. Worried he may be off sulking somewhere, she made her way to his parents house, asking if he’d been hiding out all day, but they hadn’t seen him since he left for work the previous morning. Beginning to panic, Lynneira checked everywhere she could, searching for weeks at all his favorite spots, talking to his co-workers, his out of work friends, anyone that may have seen him, but he never turned up.

Most people might give up by this point, leaving the search up to someone more well equipped to deal with the issue, unfortunately, Lynneira is not most people, she is a fiercely loyal person, and will give up anything and everything to keep her friends safe. Her search went on for months… then years… then decades. She never forgot his face, the final image of him a smug frown. She wondered if maybe he’d just skipped town, maybe he’d had enough of her bleeding heart, maybe he never wanted to see her again. This thought plagued her, but she told herself “no, he wouldn’t do that, if not for my sake, he would have told his parents, and they would have told me.”.

50 years in to her search, realized she couldn’t recall the sound of his voice. 100 years in, she was desperate. She’d tried everything, searched far and wide, she was out of options. well… almost out of options. At some point in her search, she’d found a book detailing an ancient form of dark magic, one that would allow the weilder to connect with the shadows. in her desperation, she decided to try it, she wanted nothing more than to see her friend again, to apologize, and to tell him something that she’d only recently come to terms with, that she loved him.

The ritual was simple enough to set up, it felt similar to that of a deity summoning which, Lynneira guessed it sort of was, in a way. Locked away in her room in the second floor of her mothers home, she was ready. Before she could finish setting up though, she felt a pull, her vision blurring. Lathander was calling upon her, and she knew better than to ignore him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he’d questioned. “I’ve tried everything… I need to see him again.” Lynneira responded, her voice breaking. “I will tell you this once and once only, child, if you do this, you will lose everything.” The chill that ran up her spine at this should have been enough of a warning, but of course, blinded by desperation, she did not listen. She stepped out of that talk with her god with only one thing in her mind. “I will see him again, if it’s the last thing i do.”

As she called upon the shadows, her vision went white, body trembling and writhing as she tried to hold on, dark whispers filling her mind. Unfortunately, she could not hold on, dropping to the floor as her head pounded, her vision and hearing only clearing quickly enough for her to hear her mother downstairs in the kitchen scream. As Lynneira oriented herself, she caught a glimpse of her own face in her bedroom mirror. Something was wrong, very wrong. her once blue and green heterochromic eyes were now pitch black, swirling with what looked like smoke. Though she could still see, it was as if her eyes were now made of shadow. Lynneira struggled to get to her feet, her head still aching as she stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. She realized very quickly that her mother was nowhere to be found. Before the panic of that realization truly had a chance to set in, she felt a strange presence behind her.

“I’ll admit, you’re an interesting case.” a strange voice spoke. Lynneira flinched, falling to the floor as she whipped around to look at the intruder. She was met with what seemed to be a sentient suit of black armor shrouded in smoke. “Who- who are you? Where is my mother? What did you do to her??” she questioned her whole body trembling as tears formed in her eyes. “I’m your new best friend.” The figure joked, clearly attempting to calm Lynneira’s frayed nerves. It did not work. He sighed, kneeling down to Lynneira and holding out a hand to her. “On your feet, Oathbreaker.” he commanded. Lynneira shot him a questioning look as she rose to her feet, her brow furrowing.

“I am the oathbreaker knight.” The figure explained. “I exist to guide paladins through their next steps after breaking their oaths.” He paused for a moment, allowing Lynneira to process his words. “Breaking their-…” Lynneira trailed off, the tears in her eyes now freely flowing. “Fuck… I broke my oath.” This pulled another sigh from the oathbreaker night. “Not exactly, my dear. What you’ve done is worse.” Lynneira only seemed more confused. “What you’ve done, screwing around with shadow magic, goes against everything Lord Lathander stands for, it is the exact opposite of what he stands for actually. Shadow against light, and, given that you were warned of the consequenses… in his eyes, you are a heretic.” The words shot through Lynneira like an arrow. She braced herself on the kitchen table as she choked on the air around her.

“That… no… what does…?” Lynneira wasn’t too sure, given the lack of facial features, but she swore the oathbreaker night was looking at her sympathetically. “That means that should you set foot in any of Lathander’s houses of worship from this point forward, you are an ‘on sight’ target for his followers.” Lynneira chewed the inside of her cheek, mulling these words over. She then shook her head. “I’ll… deal with those feelings later… Where is my mother?” A sympathetic laugh rose from the oathbreaker knight. “The shadows took her, just like they took the color in your eyes.” Lynneira did not take these words in stride, her body crumbling under her as she realized what she had done. In her desperation to reconnect with Astarion, she, of her own foolish actions, had lost her god, her magic and her mother in one fell swoop.

It took Lynneira 25 years to get used to not having her mother around, 50 more years on top of that to try anything else in terms of her search for Astarion. She’d heard rumors of paladins reaching out to other gods after breaking their oaths, and she’d recalled stories her mother had told her as a child of a deity that she herself had worked with. Titania, the Fey Queen. Lynneira did not have high hopes of getting an answer, but after searching through her mothers belongings, she found a journal detailing how to contact Titania. She knelt in the living room, hands clasped to her chest. “Lady of summer, hear my call.” she pleaded. “I have no one else… I acknowledge that thats my own fault but… please, I need help.” For a few moments, Lynneira thought her prayer was not heard, but as a near blinding light filled the living room, warmth filled her chest.

“My dear child, it took you long enough to call me.” A sweet voice called. Lynneira squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light, seeing a beautiful woman with what looked like dragonfly wings standing before her. “Titania?” Lynneira questioned. The woman nodded, holding a hand out to her and pulling her to her feet. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time, unfortunately it seems you didn’t pick up on the butterflies I was sending you.” Lynneira tilted her head as she processed the fey queens words. She had been noticing a lot of butterflies getting in to the house after her mother disappeared. “That… oh, I’m sorry.” Titania shook her head. “No need, my dear, you never were the observant type.”

The conversation that followed with Titania was not one Lynneira was expecting. Normally, when making a warlock pact, the patron will ask for something grand in return for their aid, but all Titania asked for was Lynneira’s devotion (marking the area around her eyes and her forehead with fae devotion marks) and her efforts in protecting non-violent fae creatures, stating “My dear, you’ve been through enough.” On Lynneira’s end of things, she asked to have eyes in all realms the fae could reach, if anyone spotted Astarion, they were to tell her right away. Upon questioning Titania about why she was helping Lynneira, the response was. “Your mother was good to me, and asked me to protect you, should you ever request my help. So that’s what I’m doing.” Lynneira was confused as to why Titania agreed to this, knowing what she’d done. Titania laughed. “My dear, unlike Lathander, I see no harm in you attempting to tame the shadows. I live for a little chaos. It isn’t your fault he’s got a stick so far up his ass you could put him on a spit.”

For the next 25 years, Lynneira spent a vast majority of her time travelling, upholding her end of the pact and aiding any non-violent fae that were in trouble. she would double back to her mother’s house every few months for much needed breaks, but Titania insisted she keep herself busy. Eventually, Lynneira got word that Astarion had been spotted in Baldur’s Gate near a marketplace. She’d received the news well in to the evening, and still she wasted no time running to see if she could spot him. As she made her way down the street, she ran square in to someone rather large. Before she had the chance to get a good look at them, her vision went black.

#welcome to tadpoles r us heres a tav #tadpoles r us lynneira sylverwind #bg3 tav #please be nice to me about this im terrified to talk about her online but shes my baby #maybe ill make another post detailing what it was like for her to see astarion again #maybe #i dunno ya void has ANXIETY

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bopeisdope · 5 months ago

Note

📓

Context: "Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about."

Hello Heliads!! :D

Okay so I know this ask game is technically about fanfiction but I've been working a lot on my music composition for college and I have been thinking about fan-music for unwind a LOT. I dont mean a Spotify playlist (although those are great), I mean original orchestral music! I don't quite have the skillset for it yet, but when I do I plan to write it. I tend to ramble about music so I'll put a readmore.

I am a sucker for character themes in music, and I have ideas for the main trio. Lev's would have the same vibe as Detriot Become Humans' Markus. If you haven't heard it, it is very hymnal and church like because he is seen as a savior to andriods. It would fit for Lev due to his role as a tithe and later a tithe savior. The theme would start very churchlike but later used in a more contemporary matter to represent his new ideals. Lots of pipe organ and antiphonal brass. It will sound grand like Interstellar's music.

Risa's would be mainly piano but more instruments would come in later. It would sound very creepy and unsettling in a way? Not quite in a major key, not quite a minor one. It would represent her time at StaHo and foreshadow her unwinding sentence. I'm also thinking fast woodwinds.

Now Connor Im not sure what type of instrumentation I want. However I do know that the main melody of his character theme would be broken up and modified after he gets rewound, the symbolism would be SICK.

Sorry I went way off track here! Thank you for the ask!

#unwind #unwind dystology #connor lassiter #lev calder #undivided #risa ward

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zellkasin · 1 year ago

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"Neglected Space" by Imogen Heap is such a good Laudna (& Imodna) song...

I don't have anyone to scream about this to directly so y'all are getting this obsessive thought right here on tumblr dot com.

I've been listening to the song again recently and ??? the yearning & loneliness in it ??? the desperate plea tp care for a once beautiful thing ??? the if you take care of me, i'll take care of you ? ? ? ? ? ? Imogen is the one that took the time to look past the peeling paint and sunken ceiling and found a shelter, a loving home, a lifelong friend.

youtube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dW2FFkXIdM > lyrics & commentary from yours truly under the cut / readmore <

Hello I watch you come and go I know you can hear my voice Don't walk away

Come daydream with me In closed loops and future-proof Cardboard to caviar Let’s show them how good we are

>>> Laudna trying to make friends in the woods. The trauma of being shunted everytime, of being feared, of being chased away. Yet the hope that never fades (the worst thing of my life already happened to me). The hope that is rewarded when she meets Imogen...

If you look after me, I’ll look after you

>>> I MEAN ? ? ? ? ? Laudna only wants to love ;;;;;; she is so full of it, yet she had no-one to pour it into. She had houses, the had cabins, she had neglected spaces but it took so long for her to find someone that would take care of her, and that would let her take care of them in return ;;;;

Sonar, night vision Or desperate lovers seeking privacy for they're forbidden I am their defenseless host Through my open wounds they let themselves in Sheltered... (sheltered...) They mock me... (they mock me...)

>>> This is about Delilah Briarwoods lmao

If you stand up for me, I’ll stand up for you

I’m weather-beaten in a losing battle Punctured by nature Becoming organic The air in here ages me ungracefully

>>> The 30 years spent alone that did make her kind go a bit crazy. The talk about nature and the link to her tree form of dread ? ?? ? ? ? ? ?

But if you take care of me, I’ll take care of you

Oh, my crumbling heart! If you’ll be good to me, I’ll be good to you

I’m a nest I could be the best decision you ever made A beacon, your peaceful corner Find me, cherish me Take me on or pull me down You choose

>>> Laudna will be whatever Imogen wants or needs of her... but she also wants nothing more than to just settle with her and have a little simple and calm life and space where they cherish each other ;;;

Wait! Oh, save me the ache of slow-decay! Cause I will remember you, will you remember me?

Bespoke to broken, this interwoven tapestry of tragedy Crooked frames and cracked glazing Slithers of wistful window gazes glint in borrowed light

Where doorways with no door stage a ballet of leaves Who pirouette in the footsteps of once glorious days...

But I'm peeling paint, I’m a sunken ceiling I’m cracking up, and can seem threatening

I’m falling apart I’m scary at night I'm taped up, forbidden Keep out... keep-out! No, no, no-go-zone

>>> Her appearance and vibe that scares most people and keep them at bay. Keeps them from peering in and to see Laudna's potential, and the person that she is.

A has-been, a once was, the leftovers, an eyesore Broken beer bottles, I'm bleeding, rusty nails Oxidising, a few remaining tiles Unloved, no human touch, I'm walked past, I'm a waste of space I'm a nuisance, a hazard, abandoned, unwanted Unwanted! Lights off! I’m losing grip This is not what I stand for This is not what I stand for This is not what I stand for!

It was a perfectly good grand piano

>>> To me this vividly echoes to how Laudna talks about herself. She loves herself but she also DEEPLY internalized the lowest of self esteem... She's not what people like, she's repulsive, she's scary, she's a waste of space. The "it was a perfectly good grand piano" could be about Mathilda... she was a young girl who freshly discovered her magic and had her whole life and potential ahead of her....

Stop in the name of love! I’ve got just what you’re looking for! I’ve got tree-lined interiors Where we can dine with the biosphere

If you’ll take care of me, I’ll take care of you If you be good to me, then I’ll be good to you

I’m a story in mourning, and you’re the author So pour out your masterpiece

>>> BUDDY WILL IMOGEN POUR IT !!! SHE'LL POUR HER LOVE IN LAUDNA SHE'LL FIX THE LEAKY WALLS SHE'LL FIX THE BROKEN WINDOWS she'll build a nest for them both, with Laudna's help (and she will keep some of the cracked paint and some of the burnt corners and some of the wild unkept garden because that is also what she loves about Laudna.

Entropy increasing, how long before I’m dust?

#imodna #hello hi #im going crazy about a song and characters (again)#except the first time it was about Zelink and a french song and I clogged a friend's chat for an entire 30min with it lmao #anyways #i love this song so goddamn much #and i love it even more now that I see so much of Laudna in it #laudna #laudna critical role #bells hells #imogen temult #imogen heap #neglected space #Youtube #critical role #cr3 #critical role 3

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mechs-song-tournament · 10 months ago

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Hello! Pinned post time!

Feel free to dunk on songs you don't want to win! I will judge you silently if you decide to be mean to a song I like. You have been warned.

Please feel free to submit/send/reblog propaganda for songs and narrations! I'll either add it to the poll under a readmore or reblog it depending on weather or not I can edit the poll!

Rounds + links to polls under the cut!

ROUND 0 (pre-round)

Ulysses Dies at Dawn:

Sirens / Torn Suits

The Bifrost Incident:

Losing Track / Ragnarok IV: Jormungandr

Ragnarok V: End of the Line / Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting

Sigyn / Ragnarok I: Runaway

Tales to be Told Vol 2:

Swan Song / Alice

Narrations:

All OUaT(IS) narrations

All UDAD narrations

All HNOC narrations

All TBI narrations

ROUND 1

Once Upon a Time (In Space):

Our Boy Jack / Cinder's Song

Rose Red / Sleeping Beauty

No Happy Endings / Old King Cole

Ulysses Dies At Dawn:

Sirens / Broken Horses

Trial by Song / Riddle of the Sphinx

Favoured Son / Underwold Blues

Ties that Bind / My Name is No-One

Tales to be Told Vol. 1:

Gunpowder Tim vs the Moon Kaiser / Prometheus

Pellinore and the Beast / The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Prichard

One Eyed Jacks / Redeath

High Noon Over Camelot:

Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard / Skin and Bone

Blood and Whiskey / Hellfire

Hanged Man Rusts / Peacemaker

Holder of the Grail / Empty Trail

The Bifrost Incident:

Odin / Losing Track

Thor / Ragnarok II: The Calling

Loki / Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting

Red Signal / Ragnarok I: Runaway

Tales to be Told Vol 2:

Twisted Threads / Alice

Stranger / Pieces

Hereward the Wake / Lucky Sevens

Lost in the Cosmos / Drop Dead

Miscellaneous:

Drunk Space Pirate / Lotus Eaters

Tales to be Told / Frankenstein

Death to the Mechanisms / Homesick

Finales:

Laid in Blood / Terminus

Once and Future King / Elysian Fields

Narrations:

The Aurora Strikes / Expert Testimony

The Hermit / Sunrise

ROUND 2

Once Upon a Time (In Space)

Pump Shanty / Our Boy Jack

Sleeping Beauty / No Happy Endings

Ulysses Dies at Dawn

Sirens / Riddle of the Sphinx

Underworld Blues / My Name is No-One

Tales to be Told Vol 1

Iphis / Gunpowder Tim vs the Moon Kaiser

The Ignominious Demise of Dr Pilchard / One Eyed Jacks

High Noon Over Camelot

Skin and Bone / Blood and Whiskey

Hanged Man Rusts / Holder of the GRAIL

The Bifrost Incident

Losing Track / Ragnarok II: The Calling

Loki / Red Signal

Tales to be Told Vol 2

Alice / Stranger

Lucky Sevens / Lost in the Cosmos

Miscellaneous

Cyberian Demons / Drunk Space Pirate

Tales to be Told / Death to the Mechanisms

Finales

Laid in Blood / Once and Future King

Narrations

Expert Testimony / the Hermit

ROUND 3

UDAD winner 1 / TTBT2 winner 2

HNOC winner 2 / Misc winner 1

UDAD winner 2 / OUat(IS) winner 1

TTBT2 winner 1 / TBI winner 1

OUaT(IS) winner 2 / Misc winner 2

Narrations winner / TBI winner 2

HNOC winner 1 / TTBT1 winner 2

Finales winner / TTBT1 winner 1

ROUND 4

Round 3 winner 1 / Round 3 winner 2

Round 3 winner 3 / Round 3 winner 4

Round 3 winner 5 / Round 3 winner 6

Round 3 winner 7 / Round 3 winner 8

ROUND 5

Round 4 winner 1 / Round 4 winner 2

Round 4 winner 3 / Round 4 winner 4

ROUND 6 (Finale)

Round 5 winner 1 / Round 5 winner 2

It should end up looking something like this ^

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rosanna-writer · 1 year ago

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we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (8/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'll be honest, I'm gunning for the most heart-wrenching soup scene in the Feysand tag with this one :)

Note that a couple lines are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the eighth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay

Rhys didn't stay long—we needed him upstairs, observing reactions to Lucien helping me and swaying Amarantha if it came to that. A quick clasping of hands and a whispered "stay safe," and he was gone.

I devoured another meal of stale bread and water and estimated a few hours passed before a pair of guards appeared to drag me to the throne room. I let them, not bothering to waste energy on struggling. Instead, I reached down the bond for Rhys.

She's making a point, and she wants you here to witness it. Stay as unassuming as possible.

That's all he said before his mind retreated again. I kept a crack open in my shields for him, and he didn't close his off completely, either.

When a guard threw open the doors to the throne room, I resisted the urge to look around for Rhys, even though I could sense that he was nearby. The room was crowded, but no strange music was playing. A gathering, then, but not whatever passed for a party Under the Mountain.

The guards threw me down at the foot of the dais, right in front of Amarantha. So much for remaining unassuming.

The rubies on her gown glittered in the torchlight, a perfect contrast to the rags I was still wearing. Even the servants here wore fine clothes. I'd looked pitiful scrubbing the floor, but here in this room, it was more than that. I'd never been more obviously a lone human surrounded by faeries, not even in the Spring Court.

"Rhysand was right. You do look dreadful," Amarantha said.

I ignored her. Tamlin was seated next to her, and I watched him for a reaction. It only occurred to me then that I hadn't even thought to ask Rhys what Tamlin had made of me disappearing for weeks, only to appear again and declare myself his champion.

Beyond not wanting him near me again, I hadn't thought of Tamlin at all.

From his vacant expression, I supposed he hadn't thought much of me, either. Other than the initial shock of seeing me alive, he'd barely even looked at me. Perhaps I was nothing more than a tool for him, to be used and discarded when the curse was broken.

"It's come to my attention," Amarantha said, crossing her legs and leaning against the arm of her throne, "that you had some assistance with the first of the chores you were assigned."

Maybe Rhys had been wrong and she meant to punish me, too. I pushed that thought aside before it spiraled into panic. "No one said I couldn't. Unless you're looking to re-negotiate our bargain?" I said with much more confidence than I felt. But still, I'd succeeded in bargaining with her once, and if she was inclined to do it again, I might win another advantage.

Down the bond, Rhys said, Be careful.

I am.

He went quiet again, probably to avoid distracting me. His mind hovered at the periphery of mine.

Amarantha laughed and turned to Tamlin. "Mouthy and difficult. She must have been such a headache for you," she crooned, clearly trying to get a reaction. Tamlin said nothing. I didn't, either. It's not as if I hadn't been called worse. "But no, I'm perfectly satisfied with our terms. The bargain didn't include a deadline to share the riddle I promised you, so in light of your recent behavior, I've decided to keep it to myself. We'll see if my mind changes before your first task."

She was letting me off with a warning—Rhys must have convinced her to. I wouldn't grovel, but I inclined my head slightly in recognition of what she'd done. "I understand," I said evenly.

Some of my fear drained away. There was still a path forward without the riddle, and it seemed I'd escape torture again today.

"There are still members of my court who have to answer for their behavior," Amarantha said, pointing at someone behind me and snapping her fingers.

I whirled around to see Lucien thrashing against the Attor as it tugged him forward by the collar of his tunic. I expected this, but my heart still sank as the Attor forced Lucien to his knees next to me. It smiled as it released him, and I felt sick.

Four red-haired males pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Lucien's fox mask made it impossible to know if they had similar features, but it was obvious enough that these were his brothers. Unlike him, they were all clad in the red and gold of the Autumn Court. They moved as a unit, a pack of wolves out for blood.

"Rhysand," Amarantha said, an obvious summons. Rhys strolled through the crowd, and I tried not to look at him as came to stand beside me and bowed at the waist for Amarantha. It was harder to be afraid with him so close, even as Amarantha flicked a finger in Lucien's direction and commanded, "Hold his mind, but don't crush it. I don't want to end this too quickly."

Mother above—there was a very good chance I was about to stand inches from Rhys as he shattered someone's mind. I understood he could do it, but that wasn't the same as watching it happen.

He didn't seal off the crack in his shields, which was a relief. I wouldn't let him do this alone. The blood will be on her hands. Whatever she makes you do isn't your fault.

There was nothing in response beyond a faint tug back. I dug my nails into my palms to curb the instinct to take his hand. The wild, irrational part of me ruled by the mating bond railed at any distance between us, even just a few inches.

"Yes, my queen," Rhys said, somehow sounding smug and deferential at the same time. A courtier through and through.

Lucien squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, clearly bracing for something. I let the dread show on my face.

Rhys cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, the only indication that he'd done anything. Having felt his talons in my mind, I suspected the movement was just showmanship, that all it would take was a half-hearted swipe and Lucien would be nothing more than an empty shell, even with only a scrap of Rhys's power available to him.

But the performance was clearly working. The crowd quieted as Lucien's entire body went stiff.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. He let out a groan. His brothers' smiles widened.

And then Tamlin—Tamlin—cried out, "Spare him. Please."

It was massively unfair of me, all things considered, but I couldn't help but feel a stab of betrayal at the sight of Tamlin pleading for Lucien's life when my running into danger for him hadn't gotten a thank you. Ruse or not, it was just a reminder that my growing feelings for him had been a one-sided means to an end. Thank the Cauldron I'd found Rhys when I did.

Through the bond, I felt the tiniest flicker of a distinctly fae, territorial satisfaction that could only have come from a mated male. Right. The crack in my shields. Rhys had heard my thoughts, and of course once they'd turned to him, he'd have an opinion.

I half-listened to Tamlin beg and used the opportunity to observe the reactions from the rest of the room. There were fewer horrified looks than I'd initially expected—Rhys crushing minds on Amarantha's orders must be routine here. If anything, the crowd looked bored, save Lucien's four bloodthirsty brothers.

The begging escalated to Tamlin kneeling at Amarantha's feet, and I caught a glimmer of lust in her eyes. If I'd noticed it from a distance, Tamlin must have picked up on it. But he didn't seem to see it for the opportunity it was.

I don't understand. Why doesn't he just hold his nose and fuck her, Rhys? His court might be safer that way.

Tamlin still has an intact sense of self-worth.

I understood the implications of that—Rhys had spent the last fifty years doing what Tamlin refused to because Rhys considered himself worthless enough to sacrifice. Ultimately, the Night Court was safer because of it. A sense of pragmatism does more good than a sense of self-worth. And you're a pragmatist.

Rhys didn't answer with words, just a pulse down the bond of something bittersweet I didn't quite understand.

The sound of Amarantha's voice dragged my attention back to her. "Because you asked so nicely," she said, every word dripping with a sadistic sort of delight, "I'll spare him as long as you're the one dealing his punishment."

"I'll do anything," Tamlin said. With his back to me, I couldn't be sure, but he sounded like he might be crying, or at least fighting off tears.

"Twenty lashes should do," Amarantha said with a shrug, so casual she might as well have been discussing the weather over tea.

That could be enough to kill a human; I wasn't sure if it would do the same to a faerie. Perhaps that was her plan all along—promise to spare Lucien, then have Tamlin mete out a punishment severe enough to kill him anyway. Then she could twist the knife and tell Tamlin that if he'd just controlled his strength better, it wouldn't have happened.

And worse, if I hadn't asked for help, this wouldn't have happened.

As Amarantha used her magic to produce a whip from thin air, Rhys's talons brushed my mind softly. This isn't your fault.

It was so much easier to believe that when I was the one saying it to him. The shame was deep enough to drown me. If only I'd seen this coming, figured something else out…

Tamlin took the whip and stepped down from the dais. Lucien dropped to his knees so abruptly that I suspected Rhys had forced him down. With a gentle hand, Tamlin brushed Lucien's hair over one shoulder and exposed his back. He murmured something to Lucien, probably an apology.

Before I was even sure what I was doing, I blurted out, "I'll do it instead. Don't force Tamlin."

Amarantha looked at me like I'd just given her a gift. And maybe I had.

The bond snapped taut, crackling with Rhys's fear as the crowd's attention shifted back to me. His worry was no surprise after he'd told me to stay unassuming when I'd first walked in. But as a human, my arms were weaker than Tamlin's—I'd injure Lucien less.

I think I owed Lucien that much.

"It's adorable how devoted she is to you, Tamlin," Amarantha said. "It's a shame there won't be anything left when I'm done with her. She'd make an excellent pet after a bit of breaking in."

At that, the anger I felt on Rhys's side of the bond was enough to bring down a mountain, but I couldn't turn and look at him. All I could do was trust his mask wouldn't slip.

Tamlin didn't come to my defense or even look me in the eye, just wordlessly handed the whip to me. Now that I was closer, I noticed shards of something white poking out from the rope, embedded right in the fibers.

Bone.

Amarantha had once served a king who sat on a throne of human bones—of course she'd use the same material to make lashings more painful. Taking a deep breath, I prayed my hands wouldn't shake.

I accepted the whip with my left hand instead of my right. With any luck, no one would have paid enough attention to know it was my weaker side. Using it might spare Lucien further pain.

Then there was nothing to do but grit my teeth and get to it.

Lucien didn't scream or cry out once, even as I made enough welts to crisscross his entire back. Instead, the only sound was Amarantha's gleeful laughter in between the numbers she made Tamlin count out. Somewhere in the distance, a woman sobbed.

I did my best to move my arm as weakly as I could without Amarantha deciding she was dissatisfied and adding more lashes. By the end, I wasn't sure it mattered—there was no exposed, unblemished skin left. Lucien's back was nothing but ribbons of torn skin running with blood. And all by my hand.

I was too numb for tears when I brought the whip down one final time. As I let it fall to the floor, I stared Amarantha down. Amarantha stared back.

"A human with ice in her heart indeed," she said, almost pensive but still loud enough for the whole room to hear. "You've already killed one of our kind, so perhaps this wasn't a difficult task for you."

That was when I truly understood there was no winning Under the Mountain. If she broke me, I was uninteresting enough to discard; if anything came too easily to me, she'd find some new, worse horror for me to endure. The riddle had been my best bet, and I doubted she'd offer it now.

With a wave of her hand, Amarantha dismissed me. I hardly registered it as the guards brought me back to my cell, and when the door slammed behind me, I expected tears to come. My eyes stayed dry.

I sat on the floor, not even bothering to move over to the pallet of hay, and stared at a spot on the wall. I hardly noticed the cold seeping into me from the stone floor. I barely felt anything at all.

Rhys arrived at some point, minutes or hours later. He held a bowl of soup, and it had been long enough since I'd smelled anything appetizing that for a moment, I thought I might be hallucinating it.

"Eat," he said, crouching to place it on the floor next to me.

"I'm not hungry," I said, though it wasn't quite true. I was hungry, but there was no food that seemed the least bit appealing. I had no desire to force myself to eat.

The darkness rippled around him, something I was learning was a sign he was angry. His voice went sharp as he said, "You do realize I can feel your pain through the bond, don't you? That includes your hunger pangs. Eat."

I narrowed my eyes at him and didn't touch the food. If he was here to give me a dressing-down for not keeping quiet in the throne room, I wished he'd just get to the point. "Why are you here?"

Rhys sighed and attempted to make himself comfortable on the pallet of hay. Dressed as immaculately as ever, he looked completely out of place as he crossed and uncrossed his legs. I waited for an answer.

"Because when you stared Amarantha down, your eyes looked hollow. Forgive me for being concerned."

My own irritation rose to meet his. It was hardly pleasant, but in a perverse way, I was glad to feel something. "And soup is supposed to fix that?" I snapped.

I was fully prepared for this to escalate into a full-blown fight, but the wind seemed to go out of Rhys's sails. The darkness around him faded. "I'd bring you hot food more consistently if it wouldn't make the kitchen staff wonder why I was suddenly eating double portions. I can manage this once without arousing suspicion, and you clearly need it tonight."

My own aggravation faded quickly, too. Perhaps it was another effect of the mating bond, but it was just as difficult to keep snapping at him as it was to let him go. I picked up the spoon, stirring the soup but not bringing a mouthful to my lips. I wanted to eat, but the thought of it also made me feel faintly sick. If I took a bite, I suspected it would just taste like ash.

When I didn't say anything, Rhys continued, "One of the more insidious things about this place is how we're all wasting away down here. I haven't wondered where my next meal would come from for the last fifty years, but my wings are so deconditioned from lack of use that I'm not sure I can fly anymore. Don't make the process any faster than it has to be. Eat. I'd rather not make you."

It was obvious he'd feed me himself if that's what it took, and I certainly didn't relish the thought of him jamming the spoon into my mouth. I forced down a few mouthfuls. Although it was well-spiced, the best I could say was that it was warm. I should have been delighted to finally taste a vegetable after days of nothing but bread and water, but I was still feeling too empty to enjoy anything.

Rhys watched me with a single-minded intensity that made the silence become oppressive. "You can give me your speech about how reckless I was," I said, just to break it. "I know you're dying to."

"There is no speech."

"No?" I said, raising my brows.

"I heard your thoughts and understand why you did it. Your choices are your own."

I double-checked that my shields were up and considered that as I ate. The ferocity in Rhys's voice told me he'd meant what he said. I just didn't know what that looked like in practice, not with the way the mating bond had shifted our worlds to revolve around each other.

One more thing to discuss later, then.

Perhaps it wasn't the time, but curiosity was getting the better of me. I changed the subject. "Do you normally take your meals with Amarantha?"

"Sometimes," he said nonchalantly. I still couldn't read him well enough to tell if he was putting up a front or if sharing meals was just such a small thing in light of torture and murder. Both could be true. "Just often enough to convince her that I enjoy her company. Tonight she's dining with Tamlin, and I'll be there to warm her bed when he inevitably rejects her advances."

It really shouldn't have surprised me anymore, but I nearly choked on the piece of carrot in my mouth. It made sense he'd go back to her tonight, though. "Don't run yourself ragged taking care of me when you have a long night ahead of you."

"Bringing you food is hardly a strenuous activity," he said, idly picking at a piece of hay sticking out of the pallet. His voice went softer as he added, "And it makes being her whore easier to bear."

I blinked. "It does?" I didn't see why it would—I'd felt his revulsion for myself. The mating bond made the act feel like a betrayal to me on top of being a violation. If anything, I'd thought it would be more difficult now.

"Knowing I've done something for you…it almost makes me believe I don't deserve what she does to me."

It might have been the most honest he'd ever been with me. I reached for him, but Rhys moved away faster than I could follow. He cast a significant look at the half-finished bowl of soup, a clear wordless order for me to finish before it got cold. I shot him a glare but didn't push, just continued eating.

We went quiet again, and I tried not to think about what it meant that we were communicating silently without even needing the bond.

Instead, I focused on finishing the soup as quickly as possible, so that Rhys would stop watching me as if there were nothing more important in the world. I didn't know how to handle it.

Not when it was a reflection of what I felt, too.

When I finished, I pushed the bowl aside but didn't approach him, as much as I wanted to. I wasn't sure it would be welcome. And more importantly, we might not have much time before he had to leave again. I spoke slowly and tried to choose my words carefully as I said, "If she doesn't expect you to stay long after it's over, come back down here. Wake me up if you need to. Or use the bond. You shouldn't be alone."

That was the worst part of being confined down here—Rhys could winnow in and help me on occasion, but I was trapped. More than ever, I understood just how his family felt about being unable to leave Velaris. I held onto that rage and frustration and hoped it would be enough to keep me from feeling empty again.

"I'll try," Rhys said, and it was the best I could hope for.

He waved a hand, making the empty bowl disappear, and stood. I got to my feet, understanding this was goodbye again. He couldn't linger when the role he played demanded that he'd be ready, waiting, and eager for Amarantha. I got to my feet.

Before I could say anything, he pulled me to him. Crushed against his chest, I felt his breath hitch. Being this close was like untangling a knot in the string connecting us. I hugged him back tightly.

But it couldn't last forever, and he stepped away all too soon. There was nothing to say, just an understanding that passed between us before he winnowed away. I managed to hold back my tears until he was gone.

And then I finally cried, and Rhys was the reason I was able to feel enough to do it.

I drifted off at some point, an attempt to get some rest before the inevitable nightmare ripped me from sleep. But it was a frantic pull on the bond that had me jerking awake and clutching my chest. Rhys's voice was in my head before I could ask what was wrong.

Change of plans. I'll explain later. In the meantime, do not drink anything unless it's been handed to you by me personally. And Feyre…I am so, so sorry.

#feyre archeron #feysand #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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ycurkxng-a · 2 years ago

Text

Some lines for King because the last ones I made are nearly a year old (Jesus Christ), it gets cut under a readmore after a while just for everybody's sake, don't want people scrolling constantly to get past this. I'm going to add more lines and there will be an edit log for when I do.

Lastly, I'm putting this in the main tags bc I'm cringe and free <3

PART OF EDIT 11: THIS IS BEING PUT UNDER A CUT NOW AS THE EDIT LOGS ARE BECOMING TOO LONG FOR COMFORT

Edit 1: I've added lines for when a heist goes loud, and some for when he kills a special.

Edit 2: More lines have been added during assaults, the "smell" one liner, and there are safehouse lines plus lines for reviving heisters. Lastly, his speech for the First World Bank is added.

Edit 3: Lines for calling to other heisters were added, along with cheers when a door/vault is opened, warnings during assaults, and small curses/shouts for any situation like the vault door being locked, and taking officers as hostages, and using throwables. More pager lines have also been added.

Edit 4: Broken drill lines have been added, plus more lines for doors being opened and some for when tear gas is deployed. Also, more basic special lines have been added, lines for when he's revived, when cops are retreating, and more general safehouse lines.

Edit 5: A basic cheering line, telling people to get up, lines when low on ammo, calling for help when cuffed, more lines for reviving other heisters, explosives being placed on walls/doors, warnings for assaults have been added, more lines for waiting in casing mode and masking up, getting into vaults/doors, and, the First World Bank speech has been updated.

Edit 6: Telling other heisters they need to get out, warnings for cops coming in from the vents, more "it's finished" lines now involving computers, more for being hurt, and more lines to tell heisters to grab everything in a vault.

Edit 7: Just more pager lines.

Edit 8: Smoke and helicopter warnings, more lines for being hurt, more lines for "follow me/hurry up", more lines at the end of assault waves, and more comments DURING assault waves.

Edit 9: More "get down" lines for civilians have been added.

Edit 10: "Sit down" and "answer me" lines, lines for a computer needing to be fixed, lines for finding objectives (doors, vaults, keycards, etc), more warnings for cops on the roof, and lines for seeing the escape vehicle.

Edit 11: Lines for getting all loot in a heist, confirming orders, worried/anticipating, quiet broken drill/computer lines, healing, more for the heist going loud, and completing the final objective.

Masking Up

"Let's get this done."

"In and out, remember that."

"Ready for this?"

"They'll never see it coming."

"Let's rock."

"Let's do it."

"L'inferno del cazzo..."

"We can do it."

"Masks on."

"Can't believe I'm doing this."

Waiting In Casing Mode

"You take point, when bullets fly, I'll be there."

"Try not to die without me."

"Go ahead, count me as a backup gun."

"I'll have a quick smoke out here, shout if you need me."

"What're you waiting for? You can handle it, I can come when shit hits the fan."

"I'm here for the action, you can handle the rest of it."

"Plan B is when I come in, I'll stay here until then."

"Stay safe, okay? I'll run in when you need me."

"I got your back when you need it, okay? You got this."

"I'll wait right here, go on ahead."

Answering Pagers

"Sorry control, it's all clear, I just thought I saw something."

"Just checking up on you man, I know it has to get lonely back there.. how're you doing?"

"I was thinking, I want to see Sicily. See my roots and all that, and I was wondering if you'd ever want to come with me.. hello?"

"Questo fottuto lavoro... what? Oh, shit- sorry control, it's all good here! ...asshole."

"Whyre you calling me? Let me do my job! ...what do you mean I called you? You- whatever, leave me alone."

"I'm gonna order some takeout, not sure what, but I'm hungry.. you want a pizza?"

"Sorry- I passed out and John knocked me over, dickhead.."

"Everything's clear, I just wanted to make sure you were still paying attention, you never know..."

"I miss my wife... She... She took the kids-" [fake sobbing] "Oh god- I'm sorry! I cant- hggh-" [excessive fake sobbing until the end of the pager]

"Sorry, control. This radios just a piece of shit, it's been messing up like crazy".

"Uughhhhhh, I need to talk to someone. I'm so bored, there's nothing out here except me, myself and I!"

"False alarm, I saw my reflection and scared the fuck out of myself, nearly shot at it."

"Y'know what, at this point, can I just fight the first person that comes over here? There's fuck all happening!"

"Ow- no, sorry.. I fell, busted my ass, hit the button. You get how it is."

"I gotta take a shit.. nothing's happening, so I'll be back here in 5. Alright?"

"I wanna see my boyfriend... If I call him to get him over here, you fuckers won't immediately set off the alarm, right?"

"Maybe we can get dinner sometime, not like- not like that! I'm just hungry- forget it."

"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, I don't know this fucking song, da-da-da-da-da-daaaaaaaa!"

Smell

"Jesus fucking Christ-!" [gagging]

Heist Goes Loud

"Son of a BITCH!"

"DAMNIT- LOCK AND LOAD!"

"FUUUUUCKK!"

"DAMNIT, DAMNIT, DAMNIT!"

"GET READY FOR A FIGHT!"

"GODDAMNIT!"

Calling To Other Heisters [Quiet - Loud]

"Alright, plan B!"

"There goes that idea, haul ass!"

"Shit, okay then, let's do this!"

"Wha-?! Fuck! Alright, get ready!"

"Saw that coming... C'mon!"

"Great, just fucking great!"

Quiet (Follow Me)

"On me."

"Keep it tight."

"Follow me."

"Come with me."

"Follow me, now."

Loud (Follow Me)

"FOLLOW ME!"

"COME WITH ME!"

"COME ON!"

"ON MY LEAD!"

"ON ME! NOW!"

Quiet (Hurry Up)

"Move it, c'mon."

"The fuck are you waiting for? Let's go."

"Move your ass."

"Pick up the pace."

"Faster, faster."

Loud (Hurry Up)

"GO! GO!"

"HAUL ASS!"

"FUCKING HURRY IT UP!"

"LETS GO, CMON, CMON!"

"MOVE IT!"

Quiet (Cuffed)

"Hey, come get me."

"Get these fucking cuffs off."

"Over here, I'm cuffed."

"A bit of help?"

Loud (Cuffed)

"HEY! COME GET THESE FUCKIN' THINGS OFF OF ME!"

"I NEED THESE OFF TO FIGHT!"

"GET ME OUTTA THESE!"

"NEED SOME HELP!"

Sit Down

Quiet

"Sit, right there!"

"Sit down!"

"Get on there!"

"Shut up and sit!"

Loud

"SIT!"

"I SAID SIT DOWN!"

"GET. THE FUCK. DOWN!"

"SIT DOWN!"

Answer Me

Confirming Commands

"Got it!"

"Understood!"

"On it!"

"Alright!"

"I got it, I got it!"

Quiet

"You think you're tough? Answer me before I knock your fucking teeth out."

"I suggest you answer me before this gets messy."

"If you think it's been bad, I can make it a lot worse. Now TALK."

"Talk already!"

"I don't have all day, answer me!"

Loud

"YOU WANNA FUCKING DIE?! TALK!"

"ANSWER ME, GODDAMNIT!"

"YOU START TALKING, OR YOU START HURTING!"

"SPIT IT OUT!"

"YOU THINK YOU GOT GUTS? HOW ABOUT I SHOW THEM TO YOU?!"

Cheer

"WOO-HOO-HOOOOOOOOO!"

First World Bank Speech

"Listen up! This is a robbery, we don't wanna hurt any of you, so dont make us! We want the banks money, not yours. Your money's ensured by the federal government, so you won't lose shit! Think of whatever you love! Don't make us shoot you just cause you wanted to be a hero, that's how you end up dead. Do what we tell you to do, and you'll be alright and back to your families real soon, I promise!"

"THIS DRILLS FUCKIN' JUNK!"

Broken Drill [Quiet - Loud]

Quiet

"Oh, goddamnit. The drill!"

"Did children make this thing?"

"Drills jammed, because of COURSE it is."

"That sounds driving me nuts, can someone fix it?"

"Piece of shit drill!"

"This drills gonna make me lose my mind, real fuckin' soon!"

"The drill, we gotta fix it, quick."

"Someone get on that drill, please?"

"My bare hands would be better than this fucking drill!"

"I... [Sigh] The drill... We gotta- gotta.. [trailing off] fix it... Again."

Loud

"FOR CHRISTS SAKE- THE DRILL BROKE AGAIN! SOMEONES GOTTA RESTART IT!"

"CAN WE GET A BETTER FUCKING DRILL ALREADY?!"

"FUCKING! PIECE! OF! SHIT!"

"RRRAAGGHH! THE GODDAMN DRILL IS BROKEN, AGAIN!"

"GODDAMNIT! THE DRILL! SOMEONE- FIX IT ALREADY!"

"DID WE GET THIS DRILL FROM A JUNKYARD?!"

"SOMEONE, GET ON THE DRILL!"

"FIX THAT THING, WILL YOU?!"

"I'M GONNA FUCKIN' HIT SOMEONE UNTIL THAT DRILL GETS FIXED!"

"GODDAMNIT! WE GOTTA RESTART THE COMPUTER!"

Messed Up Computer [Quiet - Loud]

Quiet

"The computers fucked, someone's gotta fix it."

"Can one of you get on that computer?"

"Shit, the computer..."

"We gotta fix that computer."

"Computers out, we gotta fix it."

Loud

"THEY GOT TO THE COMPUTER! FIX IT!"

"SOMEONES GOTTA RESTART THE COMPUTER!"

"ANYONE FEEL LIKE FIXING THAT?!"

"COMPUTERS FUCKED! WE GOTTA FIX IT!"

Finding Objectives

"It's here!"

"Found it, get over here!"

"I found it!"

"Right here!"

"Here it is!"

Door/Vault/Computer Being Opened/Finished

Completing Final Objective

"That's it, let's go!"

"It's done, time to leave!"

"No reason to hang around now, move it!"

"Thats everything? Alright, no reason to stick around now!"

"Jobs done, let's go!"

"Get in there!" (Both)

"That's it, get inside!" (Both)

"We're through!" (Both)

"Fucking finally!" (Both)

"That computers done, let's go!" (Computer)

"Computers finished!" (Computer)

"Let's see what's in there, c'mon!" (Door)

"Doors opens move!" (Door)

"Let's get paid!" (Vault)

"Vaults open, gang!" (Vault)

Inside The Vault

"Bag it up, everyone!"

"Grab as much as you can carry!"

"Fuck yeah! Take it all!"

Cursing

Getting All Loot

"That's all of it!"

"Didn't leave 'em a damn thing!"

"They got nothing left, let's go!"

"Shit!"

"Oh, fuck me!"

"OH, COME THE FUCK ON!"

"Great, just what we fuckin' needed!"

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

"GODDAMNIT!"

"WELL, FUCK YOU TOO!"

"Son of a whore!"

"Bitch!"

Tear Gas

"GAS! GAS!"

[coughing] "Oh- SHIT! TEAR GAS!"

"GET OUT OF HERE- THEYRE GASSING US!"

Smoke

"SMOKE! KEEP YOUR GUARD UP!"

"THEY'RE HIDING IN THE SMOKE!"

"BASTARDS! THEY CAN SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE!"

Taking Hostages [Quiet - Loud]

Anxious/Uncertain

"I got a bad feeling about this..."

"That.. can't be good."

"Well, what do we do now?!"

"Shit, that's bad, what do we do?!"

"Fffuck... I think this is about to get real ugly."

Quiet (Civilians)

"On the floor, quickly."

"Get down and shut it!"

"Lay down, now."

"Don't make me hurt you."

"Did you not hear me?! I said stay down!"

"It's not the time to fuck with me, people, stay on the ground."

"If you don't stay down, I will KEEP you down!"

"Does it sound like I'm joking, motherfucker? Hit the floor."

"On the ground, if anyone gets up, I'll knock you back to the ground, got it?"

"Losing my patience here, folks, stay on the ground!"

Loud (Civilians)

"HIT THE DECK!"

"GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"

"DOWN! DOWN!"

"STAY THERE MOTHERFUCKER!"

"YOU'RE MAKIN' ME MAD! STAY THE FUCK DOWN!"

"YOU THINK I'M PLAYING?! STAY DOWN!"

"DO I LOOK LIKE THE TYPE OF MAN YOU WANNA MAKE MAD?!"

"I GOT AN ITCHY TRIGGER FINGER- SO STAY THE FUCK DOWN!"

"DON'T BE A HERO!"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO BREAK YOUR LEGS?! THEN STAY ON THE GROUND!"

Quiet (Officers)

"Drop the gun."

"Let me see those hands."

"You're under arrest."

"Put it down."

"Cuff yourself."

"Slap on the cuffs, or I'll fucking end you."

"Put on those cuffs."

Loud (Officers)

"HANDS! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!"

"DROP THE PIECE!"

"LOSE THAT GUN, MOTHERFUCKER!"

"YOU WANNA DIE? PUT DOWN THE GUN!"

"CUFFS ON!"

"PUT ON THOSE CUFFS, NOW!"

"I'LL FUCKING SHOOT YOU- NOW PUT THE CUFFS ON!"

Get Up (Non-Inspire)

"Get the fuck up!"

"ON YOUR FEET, NOW!"

"UP! I SAID GET UP!"

"MOVE YOUR ASS!"

"BACK UP! CMON! CMON!"

Using Throwables

"Heads up!"

"Eat this, motherfuckers!"

"Shits about to get loud!"

"Cover your ears!"

"Grenade out!"

"Dinnertime!"

Explosives On Doors/Walls

"Get out of the way!"

"It's gonna blow, move!"

"It's set, go!"

"Time for the fireworks!"

"Stand back and watch!"

Medicbag / Hurt

"Agh-! Someone get me some drugs!"

"Son of a bitch, I'm hurt! Anyone got a medicbag?!"

"They got me good, I need help!"

"Bastards! Who's got the meds?!"

"I'm bleeding bad- fuck!"

"AUGH! LUCKY SHOT!"

"MotherFUCK! That HURT!"

"AAAGH! DAMNIT! I'M NOT GOIN' OUT LIKE THIS!"

"Think that'll kill me?!"

[coughing (blood) excessively] "THATS- NOTHIN'!"

"I'M HURTIN' BAD! GET ME A MEDIC BAG!"

"HGH- FUCK! I'M NOT OUT YET!"

"I'M GONNA HIT THE FLOOR REAL FUCKIN' SOON IF I DON'T GET A MEDIC BAG!"

"I THINK I'M DYING HERE!"

"I'm- I'm hurt! I'm hurt bad!"

"OOMPH- SHI-HIT! I'M BLEEDING HERE!"

Low On Ammo

Healing

"Yeah... That's it."

"Back in the fight!"

"All better now!"

"I'm alright, let's go!"

"I'm not dead yet, time to go."

"I'm dry, get me some lead!"

"I'm gonna have to start swinging if I can't get some ammo!"

"It's gonna get messy if I can't get some bullets!"

"Shit, I'm out! Anyone got an ammo bag?!"

"Fuck! I need some ammo, anyone wanna share?"

Reviving Other Heisters

"Hey, you'll be okay, come on."

"They fucked you up, huh? Then let's go fuck them up."

"You still breathing? Let's get you up, fight ain't over yet."

"Did you hear a bell or something? We're not done!"

"You can do it, I know you can. So get up!"

"Not gonna let you die here, let's move it."

"You look like shit, but it ain't over yet!"

"Jesus! You still breathing? Good, then let's move!"

Inspire

"YOU CANT DIE HERE- GET UP AND FIGHT!"

"DONT STOP SHOOTING!"

"BULLETS CANT STOP YOU! GET UP DAMNIT!"

"GET OFF THE FLOOR AND KILL SOME PIGS!"

Spotting Specials [Quiet - Loud]

Quiet

Shield

"Shield, keep an eye out."

"I see a shield."

"Shoot that shield in the back."

Taser

"See that? They've got a taser."

"Ah hell, don't let that taser hit you."

"Taser there!"

Sniper

"Sniper, watch the laser."

"Sniper in my sights."

"Watch out for the sniper."

Bulldozer

"Dozers on the field."

"Tough bastards out."

"Damnit, a dozer."

Medic

"Medic, take him out."

"Doctor's here."

"I see a medic."

Cloaker

"Cloaker, back up- back up."

"Don't let the cloaker get away."

"Sneaky son of a bitch- aim for the cloaker."

Captain Winters

"A captain, send that merry band to hell."

"Shit, Captain brought the squad."

"See that? Bunch of shields, it's the captain."

"Captains here."

Turret

"A turret, blow it up."

"Where the hell did that turret come from?"

"They aren't playing around, they've got a turret."

"Bullshit, a turret!"

Loud

Shield

"Shield!"

"Get around that shield!"

"Watch it- shield!"

Taser

"Taser, TASER!"

"Kill the taser!"

"Tasers getting ready!"

Sniper

"FUCK! SNIPER!"

"Get some cover, there's a marksman!"

"Sniper! Don't get hit!"

Bulldozer

"Aim for that fuckers visor!"

"Keep your distance, there's a dozer!"

"Damn bulldozer!"

Medic

"Medic! Give him a taste of his own medicine!"

"Medics here to help, don't let him!"

"SHOOT THE DOCTOR!"

Cloaker

"CLOAKERS RIGHT THERE!"

"STOP THAT CLOAKER!"

"GODDAMN NINJA!"

Captain Winters

"CAVALRYS HERE!"

"That's a lot of shields! Get the Captain out!"

"Focus fire on the Captain!"

Turret

"FUCKING TURRET!"

"THATS NOT FAIR- ITS A TURRET!"

"TURRET! STAY AWAY FROM ITS SIGHTS!"

Killing Specials [Quiet - Loud]

Quiet

Shield

"Shields down."

"I killed the shield."

"That shield won't be bothering us anymore."

"No more shield."

Taser

"Ha! Got the taser."

"Taser got wiped out."

"Fuck you, taser."

"Tasers down."

Sniper

"Sniper won't be a problem anymore."

"That sniper got fucked."

"See you in hell, sniper."

"Killed the sniper."

Bulldozer

"Holy shit- I got the dozer."

"Dozers done for."

"Dropped on YOU like a piano, didn't I dozer?"

"Dozers finished."

Medic

"That medic just lost his doctor's license."

"Showed that fucking medic what's what."

"Closed casket for the medic."

"Medics dead."

Cloaker

"King, 1. Cloaker, 0."

"Write the cloaker an obituary."

"Got the ninja."

"Cloaker out."

Loud

Shield

"COULDNT BLOCK THAT BULLET, SHIELD!"

"How'd that taste, shield?!"

"Stupid shield, shouldntve fucked with me!"

"Killed the shield!"

Taser

"Tasers dead!"

"You like that for a shock, taser?"

"Eat shit, taser!"

"Taser couldn't handle me!"

Sniper

"Guess I'm the better sniper, sniper!"

"Sniper was good, but not good enough!"

"Killed that sniper!"

"Snipers dead!"

Bulldozer

"Fuck you, dozer!"

"Dozers got a meeting with the devil!"

"Dozers not gonna be fucking with us anymore!"

"Killed the dozer!"

Medic

"The doc is dead!"

"Made the medic just another body!"

"Medic is fuckin' out!"

"Medic down!"

Cloaker

"Dropped the cloaker!"

"Cloaker died like a bitch!"

"Eat that, cloaker!"

"Cloakers dead!"

Preparing For An Assault

"They're coming, get ready!"

"Lock and load, there's gonna be a lot of them!"

"Get ready!"

"Coming from all sides, make sure you're loaded up!"

"Let's do this, let's do this, LETS FUCKIN' DO THIS!"

"I'm not going down without a fight, goddamnit!"

[three rhythmic, deep breaths] "I got this, I can do this..."

"They're bringing the heat, let's cool it off!"

Random Comments During An Assault

"Check your ammo, don't let it run dry!"

"Everyone okay? Good!"

"We're doing good, just keep pushing them back!"

"Keep fighting! Keep shooting!"

"Don't stay in the open, get behind some cover!"

"Jesus Christ, did they send the entire army?!"

"DIE! DIE! FUCKING DIE!"

"I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!"

"Watch your ass!"

"Don't give them an INCH!"

"You can't take us out!"

"WHO WANTS IT NEXT?!"

"I'm not running out of bullets anytime soon! Keep 'em coming!"

"How many do we have to kill before they fuck off?!"

Warnings During An Assault

Helicopter

"THEY'VE GOT A CHOPPER!"

"DROPPING IN FROM THE HELICOPTER!"

"HELICOPTER!"

"BULLSHIT- A HELICOPTER?!"

Roof

"THEY'RE COMIN' IN FROM THE FUCKING ROOF!"

"ABOVE! DONT LET THEM GET THE DROP ON YOU!"

"WATCH YOUR ASS- THEY'RE DROPPING DOWN!"

"WATCH OUT! COMING IN HOT FROM ABOVE!"

"THEY'RE ON THE ROOF!"

"THEY'RE UP HIGH!"

Storming

"THEYRE COMIN' IN! KEEP THEM OUT!"

"WATCH THE SIDES!"

"KEEP THEM BACK!"

"TAKE A STAND, GODDAMNIT!"

Vents

"WATCH THE VENTS!"

"THE VENTS?! FUCK! WATCH THEM!"

"COMING IN HOT FROM THE VENTS!"

"HOW THE HELL-?! WATCH THOSE VENTS!"

End Of Assault Waves

"THEYRE BACKING OFF!"

"RUN, MOTHERFUCKERS! I'M STILL COMING FOR YOU!"

"THEY'RE LEAVIN' US ALONE!"

"TURN TAIL AND RUN, COCKSUCKERS!"

"THAT'S HOW YOU FUCKIN' DO IT!"

"LOOK AT IT! THEY'RE PULLING BACK!"

"YOU REGRET FUCKIN' WITH US YET?!"

Calling For Help While Down

"I'M DYING HERE! HELP ME!"

"GET ME UP- PLEASE!"

"I'M BLEEDING ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE! GET ME UP!"

"DONT LET ME DIE HERE!"

"I CAN HELP YOU! SO HELP ME!"

Being Revived

"Thanks.. I owe you one."

"I'm getting payback for that, believe me."

"Thank you, let's move."

"Breaks over..."

"Okay, now I'm fucking MAD."

"Good to know you've got me."

"Appreciate it."

"My knight in shining armor."

"Almost thought you were gonna let me die... Thanks, for not doing that."

"I'm good, I'm all good- thanks."

Picking Up Packages

"Ha! I've got it boys!"

"It's delivered!"

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Found it!"

"Not losing this."

Seeing The Escape Vehicle

"Theres our ride, double time it!"

"That's our escape, let's get out of here!"

"Helllloo, beautiful! That's our way out!"

"Finally, we made it!"

"We're nearly out, just a little more!"

We Need To Leave

"Hurry the fuck UP! WE GOTTA GO!"

"We need to get out of here NOW! HURRY IT UP!"

"WHAT'RE YOU WAITING FOR?! WE CAN'T STICK AROUND FOREVER!"

"OUR ESCAPES RIGHT THERE- LETS GO!"

"MOVE YOUR ASS SO WE CAN GET OUTTA HERE!"

Escaping A Heist

"We make it look easy!"

"Fuck yeah, that's how you do it!"

"They didn't have a CHANCE at stopping us!"

"WOOOHHH! WE FUCKIN' DID IT!"

"That was like a damn action movie, good work everyone."

"Done and done!"

"We made it! Of course we did!"

Safehouse Lines

General

"Hey, what's up with you?"

"This place is... Amazing. I'm glad you guys let me in here."

"Wanna smoke with me sometime? It's more fun with a friend."

"I want to fight someone, might go and see if I can find something through the grapevine."

"What do you think of this place? Feels a little cramped, I've been thinking of checking out that building close by, get us some more room."

"Why's Rust such a dickhead? Swear to god, guy wants to talk one second, the next he's threatening to smash my head in."

"I've been hearing shouting from the bathroom for an hour now, what the hell is going on in there?"

"Sooo... Who's that guy down with that hockey gear?"

"Che cazzo è successo a tutti loro? ... non importa adesso, non si ricorderanno di me.

"It's weird not wearing a mask around you guys, not complaining. Breathing in that thing is a fuckin' nightmare."

"What's up?"

"If you need somethin', I'm your guy."

"...mh? Sorry- sorry.. I'm tired."

Directed

"So you're the mastermind... I always thought you were the leader, not Bain." [Dallas]

"Military, huh? It's obvious, anyone with any kind of experience can tell just from the way you handle your guns, your tactics, I could figure it out from the jump. So why are you here?" [Chains]

"Why do they call you Wolf anyways? There's probably a lotta reasons, actually..." [Wolf]

"Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but you're still here... I respect it." [Hoxton]

"Could you help me with my car sometime? It's uh.. barely holding on, to be honest." [Houston]

"Is that story about you with the pencil true? I don't mean any offense, I'm just wondering." [Wick]

"Having long hair like that isn't the best idea, too easy to grab, even easier to identify, but, hey. You do you." [Clover]

"I like you Dragan, you're a bit of an ass, and as untrustworthy as a crook can be... And I got nothing else, I wanted to say something nice but I don't have anything." [Dragan]

"You're one scary motherfucker, I'm glad you're on our side." [Jacket]

"Heyyy.. uh- Sokol, right? You wanna- I dunno, get drinks sometime?" [Sokol]

"Fuck me, you're massive. You look like you could rip a dozer in half." [Bonnie]

"Those tattoos tell a story, makes me wonder about you a little more." [Jiro]

"You got some beautiful boards, never been surfing though.. maybe you can show me how to with one of them." [Bodhi]

"Jesus Christ, get in a shower, please. I can smell you from here." [Jimmy]

"If you really wanna do some damage, I can get you some homemade napalm. Certified by yours truly, wrecks shit like nothing else." [Sydney]

"Call me a cocksucker one more time, and I'll bite yours off." [Rust]

"Hey, Tony! Where the hell have you been? That room of yours is empty a lot, makes me think you just left." [Scarface]

"Keep talkin' about your drinks from Mexico, how they're so much better than anything in America- makes me want to try them. Could I?" [Sangres]

"This is weird but, did you ever consider recording audiobooks? Your voice is perfect for it." [Duke]

"Get the fuck away from me, right now." [Ethan/Hila]

"I feel like my brains gonna fucking explode everytime you shout something about points or Electro, yknow." [Joy]

#payday 2 oc #payday 2 #CODENAME: KING ;Payday;

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