#cyril can tag along too

[resident-cake-anon]

i personally think that catherine, claude, dedue, and petra need to form a support group

i know that they all have heard some absolute crap from intolerant hating ppl at garreg mach and personally i think they all need a safe space to talk about it

[feroluce]

Connecting dots tonight (didn't connect shit, I've connected them, etc) because of this post about item descriptions to do with Sampo I saw a few days ago and! I feel like there are so many interesting things that could be implied from this!! Because the recipe for the High-Tech Protective Gear is given to you by Bronya (before the IPC invaded Belobog!), who says this little interesting tidbit about it:

This is an item from before the Eternal Freeze, 700 years ago. Even to the rest of the universe, it would be SORELY outdated. It cannot be made in Belobog anymore due to the loss of entire eras. It is effectively useless; this recipe had to be somewhere gathering dust, kept around solely for archival purposes. There is no reason for Sampo to know about this item or have any idea how it works and yet. AND YET. He's just running around selling knock offs!!

He shouldn't even know how to make these, but the fact that he does means Sampo either

had the blueprints from off-world before he came to Belobog (most likely but also most boring answer)

broke into Qlipoth Fort and copied down the blueprints (completely plausible - he's possibly shown doing exactly that in his splash art)

found another copy out in the ruins of the old world (also completely plausible - Sampo is astoundingly resilient against both the Fragmentum and the cold, as noted by Lynx haha)

Meanwhile, the Inferior Protective Gear recipe comes from an NPC in the underground, and when she gives it to you, she talks about building robots and the robot fighting scene sorry about the quality I didn't have screenshots for her dialogue so I had to use wiki

Which makes me feel like it's safe to say that the inferior gear is mostly being used in the underground, especially by the vagrants and their robots for fights, because...well, who else would use it? Cocolia has made it illegal to explore too far into the Snow Plains, and besides, it's way too dangerous for most civilians even WITH gear. The Silvermane Guards are funded by official sources, they have no reason to rely on Sampo for armor. So it makes sense for an underground mechanic to know the recipe; there's probably not as much market for it up in the overworld.

And if you look at the descriptions, you can see why this probably wasn't something that could be made in Belobog anymore; it requires a charging system of some sort.

We know it's not a problem with the basic materials because all three ingredients can be found right in the administrative district. But the underground only has two of them; somehow, despite being in the planet's crust, and literally crawling with robots...there is no metal down there. It isn't found anywhere, sold by anyone, or dropped by anything. And metal just so happens to be the one ingredient Sampo replaces in his knock off version.

The Inferior Gear uses trash instead, something which, going by the words of that same mechanic, is MORE than abundant in the underground- any good quality parts are extremely difficult to come by down there.

Anyway, all his shadiness aside, I love the implication that Sampo is smart enough to be able to take this item that no one else on the planet probably knows anything about, and was able to figure out what he could replace, and how, and with what, in order to make it easily accessible to the people of the underground, even without access to overworld resources. Because his version DOES work! It literally gives you the exact same amount of defense boost as the IPC one!

Someone should absolutely still knock him around for it, though, world's most slappable face fr fjkdsjfdkjafk

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [1]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - cw: below the cut - 2.2k words

you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you.

Hello loves, a brief intermission from me (quick I promise) - I thought it would be fun to cross-post my Ao3 fic Houndtooth on tumblr. It is still in progress!

Needless to say, this fic comes with some content warnings: implied SA (not by Ghost), drug addiction, waterboarding, and heavy physical violence.

Reader insert goes by her alias, Mia, a name she invented to protect herself in her previous profession.

​If I cannot be feared, I must be loved.

There’s something special about you. 

Something sickly. 

Your body, your lips, your eyes. Bait like dripping entrails in a loose twine net; dragging bloody along the wooded, overgrown path of your life, and luring ravenous carnivores to your trail around every bend. 

It’s something you’ve grown accustomed to, expectant of – that lecherous scrutiny, from any man you have ever met, or ever might. Used to the huffing snouts that suck in the vapour of your beguiling skin, tonguing it like they might ever get to take a bite. 

Offering mouthfuls of yourself is the only way you have been able to keep them at bay. Appeasing when necessary. Rebuffing only when you can be certain that your extermination will not be the consequence. 

Sometimes they gnaw at you anyway. Sometimes their canines sink rapaciously into your soft flesh, popping through your skin like it’s the velvety hide of a peach. They drink the sweet pink syrup until you’re bled dry, careful to spit out the cyanide core once they've finished. 

Until that poisonous pit, coated in the stringy viscera that those teeth had missed, was all that was left of you. 

So, when your husband found you, dressed as the hound-bait character you played along the redlight strip, you were allured by the promise that he might plant you again. Maybe, with his exorbitant riches and clandestine occupation, he might water you and fertilise your soil, he might let your pit sprout into a sapling. Maybe, your branches might blossom again. 

When he expatriated you to Russia, his snow-blown motherland, you imagined yourself a Tsarina; jejunely clinging to his arm like you might fly away with him, carried to an undefiled paradise as though he were your archangel and you his rapture. 

That was the last time you loved him. 

One step off that jet, the first leap with your exuberant paw; there was no paradise, no utopia waiting for you. Landing hard on icy cement, your husband was quick to stifle your lament. Offered you oxycodone like pebbles of dogfood in the palm of his hand, swearing you an unending supply – his remuneration for your services, whose nature you were not yet privy to. 

But those opioids were your wage. 

They were your shackles, too. 

Even if you managed to outrun your paralysing addiction to them, it didn’t take you long to be tackled and smothered by your intemperate dependence on your husband himself. 

On his status, on his money, on his reputation. 

Without, you would have been long used and discarded, tossed hollow and floppy like freshly flayed doeskin; exsanguinated by the very men he colludes with, the very creatures that slither into your home, that sit at your table and speak puzzles in their Cyrillic tongues. 

The very beasts who your husband endeavours to entertain and indulge with your presence at his side – a glittering trophy, or a ripe fruit, juicy and plump. He holds you in greedy hands and brandishes the shine of your skin, he polishes you with a firm palm on your ass, he boasts his possession of you with a hot tongue on your cheek. 

The prize they can never win, that’s what you are. The meal they can never devour. Only his teeth have the privilege of gorging on your supple flesh. 

With your English passport long stolen from you, you are left with no option but to be grateful for that fact – that your husband does not whore you out to his compatriots, does not sell your body for some other man to graze on or to pick at, like you used to do yourself. 

That is one of the few reprieves he offers you. 

Protection. 

Maybe, if you had never met him, you would have eventually crawled out of the chasm that your previous life had sunk to. If you had never met him, you might have found a way to break free from your dependence on those poppies. If you had never met him, you might have found worth for yourself beyond the coins hungry men would offer you in exchange for a taste of you. 

But any hope you may have had in those days is a distant, futile memory. A bittersweet daydream you sometimes venture to. 

Frozen in your sordid reality, you’ve no option but to indulge him. 

To oblige him, whatever he wants from you, you play the role he carved out just for you to fill. You massage his neck after a long day. You listen to his broken English as he does his best to explain what had happened at work, in as little detail as possible, in an effort to shield you from the truth of his profession. You swallow his cock when he asks you to. You pretend to let him satiate you all the same, a professional actor you are – you sing those moans for him, when he licks you, when he fucks you, when he pledges to impregnate you. 

He doesn’t know you’ve got a copper coil in your womb. You tell him there’s something wrong with his come, he doesn’t believe you. He sends you a doctor, and with his money, you pay them to lie. 

That’s the other perquisite, one you can’t belittle. 

His money. 

His mountains, mountains, mountains of money. 

None of it tangible, no real cash, no paper stacks tucked away in places any brave burglars might be able to find it. All of it digital, little numbers, binary code hidden behind so many layers of encryption it’s a wonder it can be counted at all. 

But there’s never a need to count it. All you know is that it is unending. 

He lets you spend it how you like, and there’s no amount of expenditure that could ever put a dent in his wealth large enough for him to notice. 

Still, the prince, he imprisons you in his castle. You can throw invisible money at whatever your bored and inebriated heart might desire, any priceless art, any extortionate car, any lavish designer shoes – and it means nothing. It fills no void. There’s nobody to show it off to. 

It appeased you, at first, after your stint of homelessness, then your weeks living in a dim red brothel, until he found you. When he offered you such a nauseating amount of money as payment for your salacious dance, that you felt your knees buckle beneath you at the sight of it. When he took you shopping and bought new lingerie to decorate you with, when he carted you giddy to his private jet. 

All too good to be true. 

And it was. 

Too late now, anyway. This is the hand you’ve been dealt; you play your cards as best you can. Close to your chest. Who knows when you’ll fold. 

You lean over the marble vanity, the harsh, downward lighting of the gaudy ensuite carves out the divots and lumps of your face that are typically imperceptible. 

You used to think you were beautiful. That’s what everyone told you. 

But watching your husband’s cold semen trickle down your décolletage, saturating and staining the invaluable lace and silk chiffon of your rosy babydoll, drying flaky on your skin – you can only see lipstick on a pig. An ugly little creature, destined for the slaughter. Your belly waiting to be made into crackling, your ass into bacon. It won’t be long now. 

You sense that you are beginning to overstay your welcome. What had once been pliancy had now turned stiff and sharp. Any sweetness you once felt for the man who swept you off your feet has since coagulated into bitter milk, too lumpy to swallow, so instead, you spit. 

The contempt inside your husband has been bubbling, fermenting. You can see it, and feel it, and taste it. He made it known to you especially tonight, fucking you with the brutality of a rabid animal, clutching and clawing, tugging and throwing, biting and beating. Painting you with his come to humiliate you, to degrade you, to remind you what you are, and always will be. He got some of it in your eye. 

There’s a bruise on your collarbone. It’s not the first he’s given you. It won’t be the last. 

You wipe away the crusting fluid with an opulent towel, dampened with warm water; lush white cotton turning creamy and black as it cleans away the come and mascara. You use it to dab clean your negligee. It’s your favourite one.  

Clink.

Your ears perk. 

Clash. 

Frozen on your feet, your head darts to face the door to the ensuite - heavy and ornate, it sits ajar. Last you checked, your husband was asleep, snoring like a fucking engine. The silence that follows the peculiar noise is what unsettles you most. 

Maybe it was him reaching for the pills on his nightstand, or readjusting the eiderdown duvet he sleeps under. But you’d expect a grunt, at least, some huffs of complaint as he was forced to do something for himself for once. 

Instead, quiet. 

You know that your husband keeps guns around the estate. Both figuratively, in the forms of armed and well-paid sentries that roam the grounds and stand guard by the doors. And, literally. A pistol in the kitchen, a shotgun in his cupboard, an assault rifle under the coffee table. 

And, you remember, a Beretta under the sink. 

With quivering and cautious fingers, you reach for the brass handle of the drawer. 

“Милый?” Sweetie?

You utter it softly, hesitantly, sweetly. He once told you your accent sounds native when you pamper him with pet names. English is your first language, Russian now your second. He doesn’t know how much of it you can understand. More than he believes. 

But there is no answer from him. Not a word, nor a groan, nor a snore. 

“Все ли в порядке?” Is everything alright?

Your careful fingertips dive into the drawer, momentarily peeking down to find the black metal. A pant of relief jumps from your throat when your fingers find it, that cold handle; you take it in the palm of your hand, it moulds to your grip like it was made for you. 

He showed you once how to load it. 

You remember. 

You clutch the slide with a harsh grip, tugging it back, click-snap. 

The safety is off. You’re not that stupid. 

“Дорогой?” Sweetheart?

Calls turn to pleas. 

You know vaguely the line of work in which your husband is a kingpin. You know it most likely involves bloodshed. 

And, so, you guess it involves fucking people over. That it incites vengeance. That it creates martyrs. 

Normally, the guards help you sleep, their thudding boots and murmuring chatter keeping the retribution at bay. 

Why is it so quiet? 

Thud.

Creak.

Now you resent yourself for calling for him. You’ve made your position obvious. You’ve handed yourself on a platter. 

Perhaps you can sneak to the hallway. 

Or, perhaps you can simply check to see if it’s your husband, skulking around your bedroom and choosing to silently ignore you out of spite. 

So on your bare toes, you glide along the glossy tiled floor, pit pat, pit pat. Feline fingers clutch the edge of the door. You gently draw it open, ever so slowly, the golden hinges moaning quietly at their awakening. 

You hold your weapon by your side. You keep your finger off the trigger. God knows what you’d do if you shot your husband by accident. You might be better off just turning the gun on yourself, in that case, rather than be left to the dogs. You know what their teeth would do to you. 

The bedroom is dark. 

The silvery glow of the moon is the only source of light, bar the dim orange now emerging from the open ensuite door. Your kittenish shadow stretches out before you onto the velvety carpeted floor, your shape carved out even through the sheer fabric of your negligée. 

“Не двигайся, черт возьми.” Don’t fucking move.

Your breath lodges in your throat, wedged in your trachea like you had swallowed a jagged rock. 

Not your husband. 

No, that voice is far too deep, too grumbling, too threatening. 

So who? 

“Кто ты, черт возьми?” Who the fuck are you?

You hiss it, a growl, though only the kind a snarling little chihuahua might spit out when touched by an overbearing hand. 

Hidden from the moonlight, the figure prowls through the shadow. Towering, imperious, that silhouette renders you frigid - you swallow as much oxygen as your stiff diaphragm will allow you. Not much. 

Four red beads of light stretch in a line where his eyes should be, reminiscent of a hunting spider; high enough off the ground that it might be crawling up the walls, hanging from its silk, ready to ensnare you. No, that’s just how tall the beast is as it stalks you. 

The glint of the moon reflects off the glistening barrel of his gun. Gun feels like an understatement. It’s immense, black. Machine more fitting. Pointed at you. Coaxing. Warning. He gives it a shake. 

“Брось этот крошечный пистолет, шлюха.” Drop that little gun of yours, slut.

The more he talks, the more you doubt. His accent is weak. Not a Russian. 

“Чего ты хочешь, мудак? Деньги?” What do you want, asshole? Money?

He scoffs. Arrogant. Scornful. 

“I don’t want your fuckin’ blood money, you evil little bitch.” 

English. 

Explains the accent. 

But, you’re left with more questions. One, what the fuck? 

“Drop the gun. Or I might get your blood on that pretty dress.” 

You hesitate. He pounces. 

“Сейчас!” Now!

[mifluffy-thoughts]

About Sylus's Hair

Ok so, I have a lot of thoughts regarding Sylus's hair color. Why? Because throughout the Love series (which is currently just MLQC and LADS, and yes, that is its official name, per InFold's website), only two characters have had unnatural hair colors without an explanation; Sylus and Cyril. So far, there has been no case of "funky hair color because it just looks cool" which is a totally valid thing to do, but due to these explanations, I doubt is the case in this universe. Quick disclaimer before I begin tho, I am not an expert in the lore of either game and I could be wrong in some details, feel free to correct me. Also, MLQC and LADS are connected lore-wise, as a few aspects of their worlds (namely Evol, the STF and the importance of time in the world-building) are the same. Also, spoilers for MLQC from chapter 17 all the way to Season 2 chapter 4 and overall spoilers for all of LADS

In MLQC, there are many characters with unnatural hair colors. The only LIs with an unnatural hair color are Shaw and Kiro as Helios, 11 of the experts have unnatural hair colors (Arnold, Freeman, Punkilles, Job, Sersi, David Dean, Frankenstein, Iluka, Rabbitgirl, Lilina, Kim and George), and finally, Cyril. There may others in S2, but I haven't gotten past chapter 4.

Now, all these (aside from Cyril, which I'll get into later) can easily be explained. Arnold, Punkilles, Job, David Dean, Frankenstein and Iluka are all tagged as rebels. Dying hair is something very commonly attributed to rebels in media and can sometimes be seen irl, so assuming they just dyed their hair wouldn't be too weird. Freeman is basically a mad scientist and has "conducted a great research in a basement lab" and holds a pink liquid in his sprite, so it can also be assumed his experiments just ended up dying his hair a pinkish-purple hue. As for Sersi, we know some form of magic is canonical to this universe, as shown through Rafayel's myths and story branch, Zayne's myths, and Westmoon. If Sersi is a real augr, it could explain her bluish hair (I'll go a bit more into detail when discussing the characters in LADS with odd hair colors). Then, Rabbitgirl is a biker, which, just like with the rebels, is something often associated with dyed hair. Lilina has this whole thing going on with pink, so no shock in thinking she dyed it for her aesthetic. Finally, Kim and George have jobs in which dyed hair is not something strange to see. Kim is a famous singer, and George is a TV personality.

Now, the experts required a bit of guesswork as we don't know anything about them beyond what is given in their resume except for Punkilles, who occasionally appears in the main story. For Shaw and Helios, the answer is given to us outright. In the main screen, if you touch Shaw's hair, he has a chance of saying "I didn't dye my hair. It's my natural hair color. [beat] You're so gullible. Do you just believe anything I say?" which basically confirms that his hair is dyed. Given his backstory as a criminal and potentially a runaway (if the theories that Gavin is his brother are to be believed) along with his personality, this isn't hard to believe. Then, according to u/montobedon on reddit, in S1 chapter 29 "there's a line about his hair transforming from silver to gold as he becomes kiro again". I am too lazy to check because it's kinda late and I'm going to sleep when I finish this LMAO. We know that the silver hair is not his natural hair color, as indicated by the cards that show him as a child, where he has blonde hair. So, once more, there's an explanation to be give for the unnatural hair colors. As for Cyril... things get very tricky there. Cyril returns in season 2, but, besides the one scene where he gets revealed to return, I have not gotten to any major plot moments with him in season 2, much less any that explain his grey hair. And Cyril is not an old man, he has been described as young in the story. The backstory we get indicates at something very traumatic occurring to him when he was young, but beyond that, there is nothing about his hair. And I mean nothing. You could argue it is a case of canities subita due to the trauma he went through when young, but that is a bit of a stretch.

Now, as far as I'm aware, only four characters (aside from Sylus) have unnatural hair colors; Rafayel, Algie, Konche and Elder Amund (who has hints of blue in his hair). The reason why can be easily inferred based on what these four have in common: they're Lemurian. This, along with Sersi, hint at the fact that beings with magic and/or mythical creatures can naturally have unnatural hair colors. Again, not confirmed, but very heavily implied.

All of this brings me back to Sylus. I've seen a few people on tiktok and reddit say Sylus has albinism due to his white hair, red eyes and distaste of the sun, but I really doubt that. People with albinism are extremely sensitive to the sun and are prone to burning, not tanning. Sylus has the darkest skin color of all the LIs in LADS. This should be enough to disprove that theory. But you could go a step further and point out the fact he has no major vision problems, while people with albinism have a myriad of vision problems beyond just needing glasses, none of which Sylus has shown (source). Sylus's white hair is a very deliberate decision, and the reason why is yet to be revealed. Whether it will be revealed later on, we don't know, but feel free to use this as evidence for any of your Sylus theories! Just please credit me. Finally, since you might be wondering why I'm not bringing up eye color as well, that's because unlike hair, strange eye colors are completely normal in this universe. Caleb, Lucien, Arnold, and Freeman have purple eyes, Rafayel has his duo-toned eyes, Cyril has teal colored eyes, Kalvin has yellow eyes, Iluka has pink eyes, Kim has grey-ish eyes, and Punkilles also has red eyes, just like Sylus. I think that in terms of eye color its just a matter of "it just looks neat!" One final note: I am also posting this on reddit under u/Mifluffy_brisas. Thanks for reading!

[reverieaudios]

My pages on here, because mobile is weird and doesn't always like to show them:

Other Places to Find Me

Tag List

Character Guides/Recommended Watch Order Below

(This is subject to change as the stories progress)

Honestly, the order that you watch the characters in isn't super important. Having said that though, here's a bit of a guide to help you along if needed:

For lore and wider worldbuilding-

Ellis, Cyril, Roman (also the 2 lore videos lol)

For characters that can stand alone without knowing much lore-

Casey, Gage, Dion (honestly quite a few of them but those are probably the most "stand alone" ones)

Characters whose stories intertwine + recommended watch order for them

Ellis, Cyril, Roman, Jacob, Nathaniel

Gage, Neo, Law, Desmond (order not really important for these ones)

Dion, Kane

Law, Marlowe, Axel (Each can probably stand on their own though, honestly)

And if you're just looking for specific vibes-

Axel - Essence eater who leans more into the incubus side of things than the vampire side, flirtatious, antagonizes to show affection, hostile-acquaintances-with-benefits (like Marlowe, it might be easier to watch Law first, but not 100% necessary)

Casey - Plant-dad, easily spooked like a small animal, Flustered™, friends to lovers, very soft

Cyril - Elven researcher, academic rivals, Tsundere™, the smartest idiot you'll ever meet, emotionally repressed

Desmond - Dragon-shifter, slow and methodical, a bit rigid until he gets comfortable, rough past that he's still healing from

Dion - Flame demon, chaos incarnate, impromptu roommate, boyish charm?

Ellis - Nonbinary book nerd who runs a magical book shop, teasing but gentle, overall soft

Gage - Boy next door + local hellion vibes, domestic and soft but high energy

Jacob - More demons (metaphorical and literal), smooth-talking yandere with a strong emphasis on manipulation and gaslighting- tw heavy

Kane - Flame demon, stoic, confident, intrigue and political turmoil but also he's just vibing, best to watch Dion first

Law - Southern, single dad, soft and sweet with some angst/action sprinkled in, healer with an essence eater listener

Marlowe - Brooding, "too tired for this", detective/suspect, essence eater, might want to watch Law's first to get a better idea of how they work (but not 100% necessary)

Nathaniel - "Mad scientist who loves what he does a little too much" vibes, vaguely yandere-ish but also not technically, tw heavy

Neo - Fox-shifter, pining makes idiots of us all, tries to be cool and serious but fails spectacularly, not quite tsundere but close, overall soft

Roman - Vaguely British accent, time traveler, a bit chaotic, mix of angst, adventure, and soft

Hopefully this is helpful and doesn't just make everything even more confusing lmao

[not-a-space-alien]

Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset Chapter 29MS

Hi everyone!! Here we are. This is the last chapter of Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset. Thank you to everyone who's been reading along the way, and thank you to anyone reading after the fact! I have had such a blast with this story.

This is NOT the end of Valen's adventures with Lex and Ari. I still have a lot planned for these characters, so if you want to be notified when they come back, make sure you're on the tag list! Further writing in this series will use the same taglist as MMSS, unless you request to be taken off of it! And of course, we have a lot of fun K&J crossovers still to come!

Hope you enjoy!

Story masterpost

Warnings for this chapter: None

In this chapter: Valen panics as the walls close in around him, but Ari and Lex are able to help him once and for all.

***

Ari carried him gently up the stairs bridal-style, and he spent the evening in their bed squished between them.

Despite everything, it was the best he’d ever slept.  Despite everything, it was the happiest he’d ever been.

Until reality came crashing back down on him.

The phone rang the next morning at sunrise.  Ari grumbled out of bed to go downstairs and answer it.  Valen remained clinging to Lex, worried about who could be calling.

Ari came back up, still in her bathrobe and slippers.  “We have a situation,” she announced.  “That was Franklyn, calling to give us a friendly heads up.  Sarah called the guild and told them what happened.  That, combined with the fact that we used official guild resources to get the maps of vampire territory, tipped the higher ups off to what we did and now the director himself is out looking for us.”

Valen went rigid, holding Lex with absolute panic.  The director knew he was here, the boss vampire hunter, apparently a close personal friend of Nick’s to boot.  He burst into tears.  This was it.  He wasn’t safe with vampires, and he wasn’t safe with humans.  There was no place for him here or anywhere.  He’d almost managed to forget.

“We’ll run away,” Lex said.  “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Hold on,” Ari said.  She ground her teeth.  “Let’s not jump to that yet.”  She sat down on the bed, hand on her chin.  “Franklyn called to tip us off.  From the sound of it, the other hunters might be on our side too.  If we gather them all up to stand with us, the director will have to take us seriously.  Getting permission for Valen to be here would be way better than just making him be on the run for the rest of his life.”

Valen eased his death-grip on the blanket, lowering it down.  “Are-are you sure?”

“I know not everyone is going to take our side,” Lex said.  “What about Cyril and Isaiah?”

“We can just shoot them.”

“Okay, well let’s not jump to that yet.”

“Everyone already feels bad about letting Nick have Valen for so long,” Ari said.  “Everyone except Cyril and Isaiah ditched Nick after not too long.  All we have to do is let them meet Valen and tell them all what he was doing here to win them over.”

Valen wrung his hands.  That sounded extremely stressful.  He didn’t have a good feeling about betting his safety on his personal likeability, because people often misinterpreted his actions and attitude.  “Ari, I-I’m scared.”

Ari came over and put her strong arms around him.  “We will take care of you,” Ari said into his hair.  “I promise.  No matter what.  We went all the way to your husband’s estate to get you.  We’d do it again.”

Valen melted in her arms.  “Okay,” he whispered.  “I trust you.”

Ari kissed him on top of the head.  “And I’m not gonna take that for granted.”  She plopped him back into Lex’s arms.  “Lex, you and Bailey and Jerome keep an eye on him.  I’ve got some phone calls to make and some running around to do.”

***

The director could be convinced, if the circumstances were right.  It was now her mission to make those circumstances happen.

She had to gather up the rest of the hunters from this base.  She could get them all on her side if she said the right things.

It was a good time for it, since all the hunters on patrol that night had just come back at daybreak.  There were a few pairs that were off-duty tonight, who Ari managed to get ahold of by phone or just driving over to their house.

Even the ones who were not particularly enthusiastic about it knew something was going on, and that was enough to get them all to gather at the base.

Even Cyril and Isaiah were there.  She knew they were going to cause problems, but best to have it happen now while everyone was there.

She told them everything.  She told them why Valen was here, who he was, what he’d done.  How he’d killed Nick in self-defense.  How Ari would do anything to defend him.  How they all bore responsibility for this, and how they had an opportunity to fix it now.

There were arguments and questions.  There were skeptical people being convinced.  There were fistfights, when Cyril and Isaiah were, as predicted, the last holdouts who were furious with Ari.

The tide turned when the rest of the hunters kicked Cyril and Isaiah out, and that was when Ari knew she’d done what she needed to do.  

Ari told all the other hunters to get ready for her to bring Valen over, expecting the hunter’s HQ to be the best place for the confrontation with the director to happen.  She then sped back home.

***

They helped Valen get some better clothes, long-sleeved shirts and boots more to his style, things that had been left behind at his house on human territory that they’d retrieved after he’d left.  They even found a mask for him to wear, putting together the same outfit he’d used to walk outside during the day in the past.

He was once again shrouded in black cloth, like a grim reaper walking out and about.  He was perfectly protected from the sunlight and he had four vampire hunters on his side to escort him around and keep him safe.

He was terrified.

Lex and Ari and Bailey and Jerome had all gotten out of the van, standing in the parking lot of the hunter’s base, trying to coax him to come out.  Valen stayed huddled in the corner.  His mask hid it, but they could all hear him crying.  “Are you sure I can’t just stay in the van?” he tried.

Lex’s heart broke.  He deserved so much better than this, being so scared even when surrounded by people who wanted to help him.  “It’ll be okay,” Lex said.  “For real this time.”  She held her hand out for him to take.  “If you trust me one more time, I promise I won’t let you down again.”

Valen took her hand with a shaking, be-gloved hand of his own.  He stepped out and let himself be steered into the hunter’s compound.

His heart pounded, terror coursing through him.  The last time he’d been brought in through this door, it’d been in a cage and for the purpose of months of brutal torture.  He would have frozen and been unable to take himself inside if not for the four humans half-pushing him in.

They stepped into the building.  All the hunters were gathered in the main room, and they all turned to face him.  Valen let out a whimper and clung to Ari’s side.

Ari put an arm around him, drawing him forward.  “Everyone, this is Valen.  You all know who he is, but let’s meet him properly this time.”

One of them stepped forward, rubbing his arm and looking embarrassed.  “Hey.  Um.  My name's Franklyn.  Um… I wanted to apologize.  I think we all… know what we let happen to you wasn't right.  I'm sorry.  We let you down.  Ari tells us you're here to try and make things better between humans and vampires.  If you're still down for that, we'd like to help.”

Valen slowly uncurled himself from Ari.  “Really?”

“Yeah, man.”

Valen took his mask off, dangling it from one hand, feeling okay looking at them eye to eye now.  Despite their declaration, a few of them shuffled nervously as he made eye contact with them.

“I've stood by and witnessed my fair share of atrocities that I didn't stop,” Valen said.  His voice shook, but only a little.  Lex and Ari having one hand on him each helped.  “What's important is that we forge a better future together.”

Panic surged through Valen as the hunters crowded in on him, but it was because they were cheering and slapping him on the back.  Ari started swatting them away, noting his discomfort.

“The boys have been working on something for you,” Ari said, to deflect.  “In the basement.”

The basement, the awful basement where he'd been trapped.  His trembling started up again.

“It's okay,” Lex soothed.  “Ari took care of everything.  You can trust us.”

It was half out of trust, half out of catatonic fear that he let himself be led back down to the basement.  He kept his eyes squeezed shut until they got to the bottom of the stairs.

The basement was… empty.  Of all the things that had been in it last time he was here.  The blood had been scrubbed away, there were no longer silver implements scattered about.

There were a few lab benches with some scattered labware on top.  Valen slowly uncrunched himself.  “Um, I'm not sure I understand.”

“We're offering to make this your lab,” Ari said.  “‘course, you went through some pretty fucked up shit here, so if you don't want that, you don't have to take it.  It's your space now.  If you tell us to fill it up with cement, we will.  But everyone agreed that’s what should happen, now.  We’re all on your side here, and we want you to stay here with us where we can protect you.”

Valen slowly turned around in the space.  It felt different now that it was empty.  He felt safer, here with his friends.

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this, but… maybe taking control of this space would be good for him.  To have agency over what had happened to him, to have authority here.  To overwrite the memories with new ones.

“We're going to pitch it to the director when he gets here,” Lex said.  “He's a very strategic man, so he'll be able to see that you're an asset.”

Valen turned and planted his face in Ari.  “I'd like to try,” he said tearfully.  “Thank you.”

His keen ears picked up the sound of a car pulling up outside.  Despite his vote of confidence, he moaned in terror and hid under one of the lab benches.

“Okay, that's okay,” Lex said.  “It's gonna be okay, but if it makes you feel safer to hide down here for a bit, you can do that.”

All four of the humans went upstairs, leaving Valen alone.  

The sound of conversation from upstairs.  It went on and on.  Valen hyperventilated and scrambled further into the room, fumbling hand clutching the doorknob to the darkroom where Nick had always developed his photos.  He fell into the room and jammed himself under the sink, pupils dilating wide in the darkness.

Footsteps on the stairs.  “He's down here?” said an unfamiliar voice.   A man.  The director.

He couldn't force his limbs to move.  He stayed where he was.

The door of the dark room creaked open.  It was Lex.  “Hey,” she said with slight amusement.  “It's okay to come out.”

Valen shakily took her hand and let her pull him out.

Lex and Ari were alone in the room with a very serious-looking man with sandy hair and bite mark scars on his neck.

“Director,” Ari said courteously.  “This is Valen.”

Valen gave into his nervous instinct to curtsey.  “Hello Directly–Director Hunter–”

The director’s stony face broke into a laugh.  “Yes, I'd expect that reaction from anyone in your position.”  He extended a hand.  “Better late than never on proper introductions, right?

Valen shook his hand.  This was the director, the one who’d allowed him to be tortured.  Were they just going to shake hands like that hadn’t happened? 

“Firm grip!” the director exclaimed.  Valen had trained himself to squeeze people's hands hard during handshakes because it was something men seemed to place inordinate value on, the firmness of the handshake.  He could easily crush the director's hand right now, but that probably wouldn't endear him to anyone.

“Alexis and Ari have informed me of the proposition the hunters at this base came up with for you,” the director continued.  “I wasn't aware you possessed your own scientific training.  I admit I was a bit hesitant about the idea at first.  It’s unconventional, but it would be a waste to not have you take Nick's place.”

The hair on Valen’s neck stood up.  “You want me to-”

“Not experiment on live vampires, if that's what you're worried about.  No, I think it's obvious by now that was… a mistake.  It was wrong to let that go on, and now we should move past it for the common good.”  That was something, at least.  “Which is why, along with the job offer, I want to extend to you the offer of safety within human territory.  You'd be under my personal protection.  I've been informed of your experiments to try and create artificial blood, and I'd like you to continue them here with Lex and Ari.”

He didn’t fully trust the director after everything, but… that was too much to pass up.  That was everything he wanted.  Could it really be that easy?

But no, it hadn’t been easy.  It had been hard.  But maybe it had been worth it, to get here.  “I'll do it.”  

The director smiled.  “Then let's get your lab set up so we can start making a better future together.”

***

Tag list <3

@aceouttatime

@annablogsposts

@cc1010foxy

@darlingwhump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@dokidokisadness

@emcscared-whumps

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@some-thrilling-heroics

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@the-scrapegoat

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpycries

@whumpsday

@writereleaserepeat

[fireemblems24]

Golden Wildfire Ch 15 (Final)

Guys, I think this is finally it, the last chapter

MAIN STORY

We're . . . not going to get an answer about Shez, are we? Would I if I recruited Byleth?

Which, now that I think about it, that was really anticlimatic death.

Also, Claude wants Dimitri and Faerghus to survive, but Rhea to die. Edelgard doesn't want Dimitri and Faerghus to survive, but also wants Rhea to die. So why the hell is Claude letting Edelgard right Dimitri while he fights Rhea? What's stopping Edelgard from killing Dimitri and taking all the Faerghus land she desperately wants? He knows Rhea was only an excuse for her.

I guess just another "Claude is an idiot" point or the writers not giving a single shit about him or this route and only caring about Dimitri and Edelgard.

Claude is suddenly reading Dimitri's mind. He thinks Dimitri wants him to dissolve the central church. This is . . . beyond stupid. Claude is literally imagining the enemy wants he wishes the enemy would want. This is such a stupid thing to do in war. Dimitri has never showed signs of wanting the church dissolved.

Also, blaming all of Fodlan's problems on Rhea is so dumb and such childish thinking too.

They really were like, go Claude, we'll give you nothing! in the writer's room.

If I cared about Claude, I'd be livid. I doubt many Dimitri or Edelgard fans are upset though.

Man, the character list is so much smaller in this route.

MAP/SIDE BATTLES

So annoyed this one has a bunch of side quests. I'm sooooo close to finishing this game.

Aww, an Alliance NPC talked about how much she likes Seteth and hopes he survives.

Ouch! Yuri! When he questions the validity of Claude's plans, Shez assures him it's the only way to pave the future, and he has the audacity to say "I guess now isn't the time to be wondering who exactly is included in this future we're dreaming about." He's calling Claude out on his shit big time. Yuri just does not fit here.

Ashe keeps talking about Dimitri. He's miserable.

Hapi doesn't want to kill Rhea :(

Ohhh, interesting, so Raphael doesn't like how we've been fighting. Shez can agree or disagree. I agreed in both SB and GW. In GW, she says their actions are too haphazard, but in SB, she says they're being too brutal and not letting anyone surrender. Curious differences (ofc Raphael just wants to eat and party, that's what he disagrees with, it's Shez's perceptions that made me interested).

Gilbert and Dimitri talking. Dimitri arriving has boosted moral. But it's the same for his enemies.

Dimitri's concerned about Rhea and learns that they're prepared for battle. Dimitri can't help them :(

Dimitri ordered his citizens to evacuate because he's worried about what the Alliance will do, but isn't convinced Claude wants to destroy his Kingdom.

I love Dimitri doubling down on protecting his people above all else here. Gustave is upset about abandoning Rhea. Dimitri is too, but he's willing to be the bad guy if it saves a single life in Faerghus.

A side mission involved defeating Cyril :( And now Flayn :(

SHEZ & RAPHAEL A

Soldiers are happier. Shez can guess war turning in our favor or pay raise.

If you ever needed proof that Raphael is an idiot, he argues that wouldn't make sense because not everyone is motivated by money. Like, seriously, tell me a single soldier there who gives a flying shit about what some king says. The only route this wouldn't be true in is AG since they're fighting for their lives.

Anyways, it's actually the food.

Shez talks about how a good meal rather than scapes is a good motivator. And honestly, good point.

Raphael talks about being an innkeeper. Honestly, he'd be such a fun boss to have, but he'll need to hire someone to handle the logistics lol.

Raphael asks Shez to tag along. I can either be nice and agree or not make promises. Being mean to Raphael is basically bullying.

Shez either way still considers being a mercenary, but I love the idea of Shez and Raphael running an inn together.

LYSITHEA & RAPHAEL A

Wonder why they choose Lysithea of all people to reach A with Raphael.

She studied too long and is out after dark, so obviously scared. She tries to convince herself the weird noises is Raphael.

But it's not this time, bc he shows up and asks what's the creepy noise lol. Poor Lysithea.

Now she's properly freaked out. Poor girl.

It's probably just a cat, but she thinks it's a ghost.

Lysithea goes to investigate too or else she'll be alone.

I guessed wrong. It's a puppy, not a cat. Poor doggy is hungry, and Raphael knows the dog.

Lysithea is like, if you knew the dog, how come you didn't know that? lol.

HILDA & DOROTHEA B

A fan gave Dorothea a bracelet, and she appreciates the support. Hilda wishes she had one too.

Dorothea tells Hilda no one is better in the whole army at makeup and accessories.

The support addresses how Hilda makes her own accessories.

Dorothea talks about plant design trends. So like real life lol.

Hilda asks Dorothea about her makeup. She tries to stick for ones that are actually good for the body. Which, is really good considering what they used to use for makeup.

They want to keep chatting over tea.

Honestly, I love seeing two girls just chat about girly things without anyone putting it down.

It's nice, in general, how the Fodlan games don't put down the women who are really into fashion and the ones who don't care. Everyone is allowed to just exist, and it's great.

LYSITHEA PARALOGUE

Does she get her own because her paired up one is in SB?

She apologizes to Count Glouster for all the chaos Ordelia causes, but he apologizes for not taking care of it. She understands how important it is for him to protect the bridge.

Her father is buddies with Lorenz's father.

Shez comes with news about Ordelia under attack.

No one else can help. Lysithea says she didn't realize how Claude could be so cruel. Shez tries to defend him by saying she's all the way out here, and Lysithea claps back. Team Lysithea here.

Shez thought Count Glouster would we dead weight. She was right. Idiot almost died. Shez and Lysithea were fine.

He looks forward to the day both aren't leaders anymore so they can just be friends and thinks Lysithea would be a worthy heir :( Poor Lysithea, she faltered at that.

Glouster did nothing to help Lysithea's father because he led the pro-Empire nobles.

MARIANNE & YURI A

Yuri sees Marianne out late and worried that she was going to leave like she thought about, but she was just walking her horse.

Then we get the classic "..." and "..." response. Since the ye ole days characters have done that in FE supports.

Marianne is like, why were you worried, then goes off how she's just a burden, and Yuri is like stop that, now.

Yuri is allergic to horses and cats? :((( Poor guy. That would suck.

That's why he was always giving Marianne funny looks, because he was about to sneeze and she's always around horses, lamo.

It's nice seeing Yuri be nice. But if he was mean to Marianne, like how can you be mean to Marianne?

Yuri dreams of being able to spent time with the animals he's allergic too, so he accepts Marianne's offer to use magic to try to help. I hope it works.

HILDA & DOROTHEA A

Hilda is trying to figure out what's wrong with one of her accessories. She thinks it's missing something.

Dorothea offers to help out, and is really impressed with Hilda's craftsmanship. And honestly, there's a picture and it looks pretty.

Hilda likes Dorothea's suggestion.

Dorothea also offers to buy the accessories for the opera, and use that to advertise them too.

Hilda is more than happy with that suggestion.

Hilda actually wants to open her own school to teach people craftsmanship, and thinks she can partner with Dorothea on that too.

MARIANNE & IGNATZ A

A pegasus that Ignatz was helping said "bring me more hay, four eyes." to Ignatz, Marianne interpreted. She rightly called it rude lamo.

Ignatz used to ride pegasus with his mother, she used to be a pegasus knight. I wonder if that's why he wants to be a knight.

He was really impressed with the view, understandably.

It made him want to become a pegasus knight, but they're sexist lol. Women only.

That's why he wants to help with the pegasi so much, it's the closest he can get.

Marianne is like "I can feel your feelings in the paintings" and Ignatz freaks out until she keeps going and saying she can tell how much he loves pegasi. I wonder what he was so worried about . . .hmm . . . Liking Marianne just proves taste though.

Marianne thinks that maybe the pegasus will accept Ignatz. But I don't think it went well lol. She grabbed his clothing with her teeth, not on her back. OMG, poor Ignatz.

It ends with Ignatz begging for Marianne's help lamo.

MAIN (& FINAL) BATTLE

Alright, guys, this is it. 2/3 done once this battle is over. Sadly, I'll probably have to kill Rhea though. But who knows, she got to be the hero of SB in the end, maybe GW too, or is that asking too much?

Rhea's like I should've killed these bitches years ago (rather than protecting them after turning her genocided family into weapons, poor woman has seen some shit).

Rhea thinks she'll have the goddesses' protection. Too bad Sothis is dead :(

It seems like Rhea is expecting to die. She's telling Seteth and Flayn to run. And saying her time is at an end.

It's funny that Rhea also thinks she's fighting for the future and humanity because she thinks she knows what's best. She and Edelgard (and Claude in this route) are really the same. Then there's Dimitri, the only sane one who doesn't have a bloated ego that thinks he knows best for every living soul in Fodlan, in some case, without ever even talking to some people from a particular country (looking at you, Edelgard, ding dong thinks she can rule Faerghus better than Dimitri without ever even having bothered to TALK to someone from Faerghus).

OK, so why did Edelgard only get 40 points, but Claude gets 70?

OMG, one of Claude's tactics is to burn the enemies alive (elite archers turn enemies into ash, not sure how else to see that).

I don't want to kill Cyril two times in one night :( Thankfully, he retreated.

Great, now Alois is here, claiming he'll fight to the death, which seems major OOC even with Rhea under attack. This game really forgot that he had a family, didn't it? I think he, Claude, and Caspar got the biggest downgrades in writing.

Oh, shit, he died for real. And he mentioned his family this time.

I had to fight Seteth too, but he retreated, thankfully.

DON'T MAKE ME KILL MERCEDES!!!!

Oh, fuck, Cyril died :((( God.

Jeritza came to save his sister :(((( So he turned against the Empire in GW. That's kinda touching, much better than in Houses. Seems Mercedes is now flipping, better than having to kill her like poor Cyril and Alois.

Now I have to fight Flayn :( Thankfully, she withdrew.

Now I have to fight Seteth and Flayn again, but on the upside, Rhea did badass magic and took away my captured strongholds.

I'm not clear if Flayn died or retreated, but Seteth is pissed off at me.

Oh, thank God, they're both running away.

Time to kill Rhea :(

Cut scene time. Wow, Claude, that's rich. He's telling Rhea to go walk away. But, to like where? The guy's been hell bent on killing her and blaming her for everything from racism to arranged marriage this entire game?

Why the random flower getting crushed? Usually that's a sign of crushed renewal, not a brand new world like Claude's been blowing smoke about this whole route.

Lololol Idiot just realized Rhea's the Immaculate One.

Lamo, even in the final battle Marianne's not convinced Claude not coo coo for coco puffs.

More cut scene. Shez and Claude killing Rhea. Shez turned into Arval. Wonder what happens if you recruit Byleth.

This was such a watered-down version of SB's final battle. They both had Rhea as a final boss, but SB got Thales too and it was A LOT harder because of that. Either that or Lorenz is really that silly stupid good.

Another abrupt, non-ending.

Claude wanted the war to end, and shock of all shock, killing Rhea didn't work!!! The idiot. All those people died, for nothing. I also predict greedy assholes will still enforce hierarchies and be racist, even without Rhea.

This ending may have been even worse than SB's? Because at least Edelgard still has a goal she's working towards, it just cut off mid-way. Claude accomplished his and nothing changed - he only made the world worse.

Are either GW or SB better endings if you get Byleth? I'm betting that's what happens. Because that can't be the real ending, lol.

MVP time. Wonder when it'll turn into the Lorenz show. As soon as Ch 5, pretty much no one but Lorenz got MVP. He's just absurd, but in a boring way. He's invulnerable to damage, but doesn't play very fun. If I ever did GW again, I'd main Lysithea. She's a unit type I like way more, hella strong and fast, but low defense. Lorenz made GW super boring to play since I didn't have to think at all. He's that good of a unit.

It's funny seeing nothing but Lorenz's face on an endless scroll (except paralogues or like, women units only battles)

I can't believe I'm getting a letter from Lorenz. If I knew I'd get a letter, I would've picked a character I actually liked, like Marianne. Hubert's letter was better. Lorenz's was really generic.

Still pissed there's no paired endings.

And these endings are so bad, wtf. I'm glad I did this twice so I know AG is also just going to randomly end.

xxx

[vanmarkham]

WIP Whenever

tagged by @aztarion tyty

this is um....... the prelude to horny cyril/camellia vivisecting

They walk along the cobblestone streets towards a building near the walls of the city, out of the way of the hubbub of his army. In the distance, he hears the cracking of whips against flesh, the moans of a succubus, the scuffle that is all too common among his demon horde. He makes no effort to stop them, these displays are much preferred to the ones they would get up to with idle hands. Ruling an abyssal force requires knowing when to enforce a strong hand and when to simply let their passions run rampant, fuel them for the slaughter. For her part, Camellia appears fully unbothered by the beasts he has allowed to infiltrate Drezen, she walks among them with her chin as high as ever. It is he who resists the urge to pull her closer to him as they pass them by. “Have you ever seen Drezen’s alchemical laboratory? It’s a construction I had put up months ago. Alchemists are always useful to have around, but the interest – I can admit – was partially personal.” “I have never cared much for rabble looking for new ways to blow themselves up.” Cyril laughs. “You wound me, my Lady. Although, that side of the alchemical arts was never intriguing to me either. Do not worry, I am not leading you to a demonstration of pyromania.”

i tag @shivunin @honeysofte @amatres

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Hi I'm waiting for class to start at the time of writing this and I decided to spout bullshit!

So welcome to whether or not I think the Reverie Characters can skateboard!!

(I need to make a Reverie Masterlist once I get a computer charger again.)

Starting strong with my favorite-

Jacob - I wanna say yes, I really do. It would be faster than walking which seems like he enjoys doing. But considering what he is, I'm gonna say no. He would probably say that they're inefficient or something. Which, okay fair I guess. But I would like to point out that he would look very hot skating to his listener to slam the deck over their head so they stop whatever it is they're doing.

Dion - another dude that makes me unsure. But he would definitely try it out if Bunny has one. Just imagine him repeatedly trying to do kickflips or other tricks while Bunny shouts at him to stop scratching up their hardwood flooring. They already worry about him leaving fire damage.

Bodyguard - No he doesn't. He's trying to get in Bunny's good graces too (to see if that will help Dion go back) so he would help hide that skateboard from Dion. It's an ongoing struggle.

Casey - he does give off a bit of that vibe, but I'm still going to say no. He likes to stop and smell the flowers (pun very much intended) so he doesn't use a skateboard. He could if he wanted though, I fully hold onto that.

Cyril - Yes. And let me explain why. It gets him away from people faster and is convenient to carry so he can escape any annoying social interaction near immediately. No other reason. Just that.

Neo - typically no, but he saw that Gage could do it (and his listener totally can but I'll make the listeners in a part 2) so he decided to learn. He wants to be able to cruise with his listener and also wants to be better at it than Gage. And depending on the route that Gage took, Neo's level of success is iffy.

Gage - YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES! it goes one of two ways though. He's a total master at it and can do dozens of cool stunts. Or he's absolutely horrid, can't keep his balance and always leaves with scrapes and a cheeky grin. That doesn't mean he'll stop though. Man is destined to be a skater boy.

Desmond - another one that I want to say yes because he would look very hot just cruising down the road. But no he doesn't. Another guy that sees them as impractical. Plus Gage and Neo's rivalry over them kinda made him want to avoid trying at all costs.

Roman - Also yes. He has those menace vibes that he sometimes hides under the surface. I could totally see him just cruising down the hallways, whistling as he pretends not to hear Cyril yelling after him to come back. He has more than once tried to get his listener to climb behind him so they can go together. But it always throws the balance off and then both of them are visiting the infirmary again. But maybe it will work next time... Right?

Ellis - yes. They knows how good they look just vibing along. There's a mini skateboard toy thing on their desk that they likes to fidget with and make it do little tricks. Whether the tricks are possible or not makes no difference to them. They just enjoys it. So yes, they does use a skateboard.

Law - no. Like Desmond, Gage and Neo kinda warded him away from trying and it never crossed his mind to try earlier in his life. Besides, he enjoys the modes of transportation he uses right now anyways.

(and because he said we could tag him... @reverieaudios )

[tjatheconlanger]

Ik heb in 2022 1.568 keer iets geplaatst

Dat zijn 1.568 berichten meer dan 2021!

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Ik heb 227 van mijn berichten getagd in 2022

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#made myself in piccrew with the dutch flag behind me because i am dutch

Mijn populairste berichten in 2022:

#5

Hey, hello, I’ve decided to finally create a post to explain who I am.

I am TJA, a part-time writer and conlanger, I write fanfics on Ao3, mainly Mha or Fnaf

I currently have 24 conlangs, a conlang, or constructed language, is a language made by a single person, or a group of people, for one of a few reasons, though mine is mostly fun.

My conlangs in the standard order are:

Seissiric: a germanic language using the cyrillic script, with å and ø. (Ss)

Iaponic: sort of Japanese, though with less kanji. (Ia)

Saori: a germanic-ish language, using its very own script, based on Artifexian’s ‘OA’. (Sa)

Sierien: a germanic language. (Sr)

Sachrai: a mostly germanic language, though with a complicated version of the latin script with way too many diacritics. (Sc)

Mnavokh: a slavic language based on Russian, it has no spaces. (Mn)

Ytr/Jtr: a slavic language, though more similar to Slovenian and the likes. (Yt)

Zhuzhian: a germanic? language with its own script, this one is typeable, thankfully. (Lj)

Helaja’ika: an elvish language, used to have its own script, but it was untypeable, so I dropped it. (HL)

Pegas’ika: basically Helaja’ika, but with the Greek alphabet, and some minor differences. (Pi)

Thaos: based on Fr*nch, don’t know whether I’ve made it easier or not. (Ta)

Thaelich: based on Dutch, which is my native language, though it uses some old-english characters, such as þ ð and æ. (Th)

Rukou’ant: a slavic language with very few characters. (Rk)

Rakhchi: a slavic language based on Russian, thankfully has spaces tho. (Rh)

Lazerna: a germanic language with a script which is a mix between the latin and cyrillic scripts (why did I pick the latin r and slavic г). (Lz)

Ğajaţi: a romance language based loosely on Romanian and Fr*nch. (Gj)

Witase: this is a language which is quite unique imo, but its sentences can be somewhat long. (Wt)

Neùre Tho: a germanic language with a few more diacritics, though it has some small influences from Dutch and Fr*nch. (Nt)

Arhwnith: a weird language with a ton of diacritics and other weird characters, mostly based on slavic. (Ah)

Kije: a language for which I limited my vowels to e i and u, but gave each of them four different lengths. (Kq)

Krawzhish: a polish based language. (Kr)

Dó-chiāu-lièng: a language based loosely on Vietnamese, with it being just the inspiration for it. (Dc)

Syric: a germanic language, simultaneously easier and more complicated than Sierien and Seissiric. (Sy)

Arkhaic: a language with quite some diacritics, though a tad simpler than others, :3. (Ak)

Here’s a sentence in each of my languages, just to show the chaos beauty of them

‘Hello Tumblr and my fellow mutuals, this is just an example’

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6 notities - Geplaatst 12 mei 2022

#4

♾

:3

Like a prophecy fulfilled, I'm a prodigy revealed I'm at the top of any field when I'm choppin' as I wield Now, I'm notchin' up the kills, every block is gonna build A cacophony I've filled up with audible brilliance

8 notities - Geplaatst 19 augustus 2022

#3

A new masterpost to show all of my conlangs, with the way they are written, as it even has Saori in its actual script.

You are also allowed to send an ask with a sentence or two and one of the conlangs, and I'll try to translate it :3

Seissiric - a germanic language with hints of dutch, using the cyrrilic alphabet along with the characters å and ø (Ss)

Seissiri - ein germanishe tål mit ein flugl an niderlåndisch, mit das kirilishen alfabet mit å und ø (Ss)

Сеиссири - еин германише тåл мит еин флугл ан нидерлåндищ, мит дас кирилишен алфабет мит å унд ø (Сс)

Iaponi - a knock-off version of japanese, made by someone with limited knowledge of japanese (Ia)

iaponi-go - Nihon-go no nokku ofu, pashinde ikundo hatanki rādota (ia)

いあぽに語　-　日本語のノックオフ、ぱしんでいくんどはたんぎらあどた　（いあ）

Saori - a germanic-ish language using its very own script based on hangul, sort of (Sa)

Sa’o’ri - un ri ger’mann’nikh avr’vra wyn es’kript yv hañ’gul, sort of (sa)

Sierien - a knock off version of german, that’s all i can really say (Sr)

Sierien - ein knock-off versie van deutsch, das ist alles was ich kann sagen (Sr)

Sachrai - a language isolate, i guess, it uses the latin alphabet with quite a few diacritic marks. screw that, many diacritic marks (Sc)

Sakhrai - u shpraaksistema isolaatia, khai guessa, es arazh as alfabeta latinshi an wea diakriti. shcho es, viela diakirti (Skh)

Saćrà - u šprāksistema isolātí, ćà gúßa, es araž as alfabeta latinši an wé díkriti. ščo es, vìla díkriti (Sć)

Mnavoch - a slavic language, but without any spaces, good luck (Mn)

Mnavokh - slavikskiya, dvizhasaskishchy, udachi (Mn)

Мнавох - славикския, движасаскищы, удачи (Мн)

Ytr - a slavic language, which has gotten quite some influences from slovenian recently (Yt)

Ytr - yazik slavikshi, zhatsi shre zazhzats influenchia v slovenski (Yt)

Jtr - jazik slavikśi, źaci śre zaźzac influenćia v slovenski (Jt)

Zhuzhian - another language isolate, with its very own alphabet, though it has some influences from german and dutch (Lj)

Zhuzhas - an ander linggwa isulat, wo alvabeta zhe shia, zoh talzhe av ae invluenshiae da linggwa at Germaniee et linggwa at Nederland (Lzh)

Ćućác - án ánfėy ÿiñxŵá ícüÿát, wó áÿŵábétá ćé çiá, čöŷ táÿćė áŵ aè ínŵÿuénçiaè fá ÿiñxŵá at Xèyňániée èt ÿiñxŵá at Néfėyÿánf (Ÿć)

Negija’ika - an elvish language, uses the latin alphabet in a syllabary like fashion, the third form of the language (Hl)

Négijá’ika - ika’é élévî, zé’û aùfâbéte látin zû sîlíbárija, sén kún ika’é (Hl)

Helaja’ika ihla - the original version of Helaja’ika, using its very own script, and not bound by being a syllabary (Hi)

Helaja'ika ihla - seda walije u helaja'ika, aahi esdlibetaa, ni buuntaa i silabali (Hi)

ƥelqjqʋıɲq ıƥlq - çeɲg wqlıje u ƥelqjqʋıɲq, gƥı eçɲlȷbeðg, nı bųnðg ı çılqbqlı (ƥı)

Pegas’ika - the second version of Helaja’ika, adopted when i decided to simplify the language by using a single script (this was when i used an ipad) also this uses the greek alphabet (Pg)

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9 notities - Geplaatst 6 juni 2022

#2

Liam was sitting all alone, care to join him?

>Yes

>No

Yes

44 notities - Geplaatst 26 augustus 2022

Mijn #1-bericht van 2022

Ama as well

69 notities - Geplaatst 23 mei 2022

Bekijk je jaaroverzicht van 2022 →

[fandom-puff]

Puppy

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x reader

Requested by: anon ‘getting a puppy with alfie 🥺🥺 cyril needs a friend’

He absolutely needs a friend anon 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings: none

Gif creds to owner

“Alf?” You asked, wandering into the office, Cyril padding behind you, his claws tapping against the wooden floor.

“Yes, my beautiful wife?” Alfie said, not looking up from his paperwork, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose as he read. “What’s wrong?”

“Well... Cyril and I were thinking...”

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Alfie said, looking over his shoulder. He pushed away from the desk, leaving a gap big enough so that you could sit on his broad thigh. Cyril rested his head on Alfie’s other leg, looking up at him with the best puppy-dog eyes a bullmastiff could muster. “What was you an’ Cyril thinking, sweetheart?” He said.

“Well... when you’re away at work, it does get rather quiet around here,”

Alfie set down his pen and turned to look you in the eye. “Yeah? I mean… we’re already trying for a baby, darlin’” he reminded you and you giggled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, the scruff of his beard tickling you. “You wanna try again, is that it, yeah?”

“Alf!” You squealed, squirming on his lap. “Maybe later tonight. But… well… we were thinking,”

“You were thinking- Cyril’s a dozy old thing, love,” he cut you off, scratching his beloved hound behind the ear.

“Fine. I was thinking… maybe it would be nice if… we got Cyril a friend…” You held your breath as your husband stroked his beard in thought.

“A friend for our Cyril, eh?” He murmured. “Another dog, you mean?”

You nodded, nibbling your lip. “Maybe not another bullmastiff. Something smaller, maybe,”

Alfie nodded slowly, looking between his adoring wife and the eagerly slobbering dog on his lap. “A terrier, maybe. Or a spaniel…” he said. “Yeah. Yeah alright. But not a bitch. I don’t think Cyril’s got it in ‘im anymore, love,”

***

A few weeks had passed since your canine conversation with Alfie, and little more had been said on the subject. You had been returning home after taking Cyril out for a bit of exercise. As you neared your house, he began yanking on his lead, almost dragging you along the pavement. “Cyril!” You called, jogging to keep up with the determined dog; usually he walked by your side, even as you approached home. As you unlocked the door, Cyril bounded into the house, tugging his lead out of your hand in his eagerness to get to Alfie. You shook your head fondly, turning to shut and lock the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up.

“Been the butcher’s, Alf?” You called out as you walked into the kitchen. “Cyril nearly tore my arm off,”

“No, love… come here,” you smiled softly, wandering into his open arms. “Cyril must’ve smelt his new friend,” he murmured into your ear. You pulled away excitedly. “He nearly ruined the surprise,” he teased and you beamed up at him. “C’mon. He’s in the living room,”

You let Alfie take you by the hand to the living room, where a cardboard box sat. Approaching it slowly, you peaked over the rim, falling to your knees. Inside was a little dog with ears much too big for his body, droopy eyes and a beautiful chocolate coat. Alfie eased himself onto his knees as you stared at the dog, all curled up in a blanket. “Do you like him, darlin’” he murmured, kissing your temple. You turned to press a kiss against his lips.

“Oh, Alf, he’s beautiful,” you said, happy tears wetting your cheeks. “He’s so small,”

“One of the lads’ bitches got caught. He’s the runt, mind, he was gonna drown him. I told him ‘no, you listen here, mate, you make sure that little one gets the milk from ‘is mum, yeah, so’s I can ‘av ‘im for my missus,’” you laughed softly, throwing your arms around his neck, kissing all over his face. “And he doesn’t grow too big, either. Basset hound, he is. He’ll still run rings around our Cyril, even with those little legs,”

You smiled softly as the box rustled, your new pup waking. Alfie scooped him up, almost engulfing him in his huge hands, and handed him to you. You held the tiny dog to your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his wrinkly forehead.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured as Cyril padded over, sniffing curiously. The hound gave a little squeak and you cooed. “Shh… it’s just Cyril. He’s a big old softy, I promise you. Be nice, Cyril. Say hello,” Cyril sniffed over the puppy in your lap, before giving him a single lick across the top of his head. “Aww, kisses. Good boy, Cyril,” you smiled. Soon you set the puppy onto the ground. On shaky legs, he wandered over to Cyril, who must’ve seemed like a veritable giant to the tiny basset hound, and curled up next to the dog. You smiled, leaning your head on Alfie’s shoulder as Cyril curled protectively around his new friend.

“If this is what you’re like with a pup, love,” Alfie murmured softly. “Imagine what you’ll be like with a baby. You’ll be giving calling Cyril its brother,”

You smiled up at your husband. “Well… I suppose we’ll find that out soon enough,”

Tags: @liliputbahn @lilymurphy03 @imareallygrumpyme @acciosiriusblack @shelundeadxxxx @peakyswritings @lazyotakujen @rogertaylorismycar

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries. 

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out. 

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on. 

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within. 

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner. 

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly. 

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on. 

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.

[butwhatifidothis]

Shortened Lifespan: Edelgard vs Lysithea

Now, technically, I’ve already made a post like this before, but I wanted it to be it’s own thing (brought about by a mutual tagging a post of mine and me wanting to go more into depth with it lol).

It’s been very widely accepted by the fandom that Edelgard and Lysithea both go through the expectation of living a shortened life due to the blood experiments done to them, with this partly being used as part of the defense/reasoning for Edelgard going to war instead of doing something more peaceful. She thinks she’s on a timer, like Lysithea, so she hard-starts change to work around her short-lived clock. Makes sense, on the surface. 

But like I’ve mentioned on here before, I personally just can’t buy it. Nothing besides the immediate connection of “Edelgard and Lysithea both went through experimentation” suggests that Edelgard has the same shortened lifespan that Lysithea is suffering through. 

More under the cut

One thing that immediately stands out, to me, are the differences between their stat spreads and growths (focusing on stats on this post). 

Here are Edelgard’s (note: Statues not applied - add five to the stats if you want the true max values):

They are extremely good, especially for a default armor unit.  Str and especially Mag are very high, average Dex and Spd (though notably good for an armor unit), good Def, amazing Charm. Her Luck and Res are the only things that are even kinda bad - it’d more accurate to say they’re below average, tho again, 47 Res on an armor unit is fairly high. In fact, of the units that lean towards armor, Edelgard has the highest Res, and even beats out some units that aren’t armor-leaning such as Claude and Felix. Even her seemingly low HP (for an armor) is mitigated by the fact that it’s still some of the highest for a female unit overall (the fifth highest, beat out by Petra, Rhea, Manuela, and Hilda)

What are Lysithea’s, in contrast? (blacked out everyone above her for easier reading):

...Uh. Yeah. In contrast to Edelgard’s far more even spread, Lysithea’s are skewed to fuck. The best Mag in the game and the second highest Dex (losing only to Claude’s 89), and some nice Spd, sure, but everything else takes an extremely large hit. 48 HP is the lowest in the game, pitiful Str and Def, and mediocre Luck, Res, and Charm. This girl is held together by toothpicks, Elmer’s glue, and God’s mercy.

So right off the bat, there’s a huge difference between the two of them in this regard, but I decided to go even further; just how off are Lysithea’s stats, actually? Some things make sense, like low Str and Def, so how different is she compared to others in her class type (magic users).

The magic users of the following factions have the Str stat underlined. First, BE:

BL:

GD:

CoS:

From what we can see, 30 Str isn’t actually out of the norm for a female magic user. The outliers are Rhea and Manuela with their Str in the low 50′s being not just the highest of the women, but of all the main magic users period, though part of that could be contributed to their age (vs Hanneman who is both older - in terms of physical age at least - and who does not focus on physical strength like someone like Gilbert) (Rhea being an older Nabatean could also attribute to this - notice Seteth’s stat spread which also has notably high Mag for a Wyvern Rider unit and Flayn’s, who is younger and who also had only recently woken from a centuries long sleep that she fell into after nearly dying, more odd spread). Following them for the women is Annette, who as we know lugs around a giant axe (Crusher’s weight is 11, making it heavier than most swords and bows and a good few lances - fun fact, it’s heavier than Areadbhar!) which likely lends to her having above average Str for her gender and unit type combination

Now, here’s the fun part: let’s look at the same unit’s Res stats

BE:

BL:

GD:

CoS:

Here’s where an interesting pattern shows up that’s fairly consistent: if a magic unit has bad Str, they have good/great Res to compensate, and vice versa. Annette’s above average Str (remember, for what she is) coincides with her bad Res, same as Manuela’s, and all the magic units with their ass Str have at least a respectable Res to go along with it. The only ones who break this rule are Rhea, due to her Str and Mag being fairly even with a lean towards magic (and also not being playable lol)... and Lysithea. Who has both a shit Str and shit Res stat. Even amongst her magical peers, Lysithea still stands out as particularly fragile and physically weak.

HOWEVER

Do note, for all of the above in terms of going over stats, that they aren’t necessarily the best indicator of anything in particular when it comes to a character; there is no version of me in the multiverse that will ever believe Manuela is stronger than Rhea or that Lorenz has the same amount of stamina as Dimitri, for example. But it is something to note when looking at Edelgard and Lysithea, due to them going through the same experiments and yet one is very clearly doing better in terms of damn near everything and the other very clearly lagging behind in damn near everything

Moving on, we have their Banes and Boons. Edelgard’s Boons are Axes, Swords, Heavy Armor, and Authority, with Banes in Faith and Bows. Of note, Edelgard will say in a Study Request that she believes it is her specifically having two Crests that allows her to be able to shrug on armor like it’s nothing, and her defaulting to an armor class with an axe as her default weapon makes her the literal heaviest she could theoretically be. On top of that, her Banes point to nothing about her physical health hindering her ability to do physically laborious feats.

Lysithea, on the other hand, has Boons in Faith, Reason, and Authority, with Banes in Swords, Lances, Axes, Heavy Armor, as well as Clearing Rubble as a Group Task activity. She has a budding talent in Swords - the lightest of the weapons she’s bad at and some of the lightest weapons in the game - that gives her access to a Combat Art that lets her use something other than Str to give Mt to her sword-based attack. Lysithea, in terms of Banes and Boons when compared to Edelgard (or anyone, really), is very clearly unable to do physically demanding things very well - it’s something she’s actively bad at doing and is a consistent fact about her that crops up in not just her stats and Banes and Boons, but also her supports. Edelgard’s situation is the same.

Edelgard has her supports with Ferdinand, as well as Ferdinand’s supports with Byleth, that showcase her being exceptionally good at combat in terms of physical fighting (as in, no magic, and having a talent in doing feats that would require a good amount of stamina). She beats Ferdinand in combat with one strike, and she is able to take on a Demonic Beast by herself while still fresh in the academy. There are no mentions of her being winded or tired from fighting, and she is more than once praised for her battle prowess.

Lysithea, meanwhile, has at least three supports (Byleth, Lorenz, Cyril) that indicate less than stellar stamina, health, and strength (she straight up faints in Byleth’s supports). While characters looking out for her health can maybe be somewhat attributed to her being one of the youngest students in the cast, the difference between and, say, Cyril, who’s even younger than her, is that she genuinely shows signs of ill health when she pushes herself too far, vs Cyril who is fine even with how much he works. When talking about her prowess in battle it is only ever in regards to her magical capabilities, not anything else, and she is seen constantly working on those capabilities.

And then lastly, there are their endings.

Edelgard has no endings that mention needing to be rid of her Crests - save one, which will be looked at in a bit. In particular, she has an ending with Hubert that indicates she lives on to her “later years,” which is usually attributed to a fairly old age. It is not, in this case, referring to Edelgard’s specific later years (for example, a person who lives to 30 can say their mid-twenties was the later years of their life), because it specifically says that she and Hubert live to their later years, which more likely points towards a longer life.

Lysithea in contrast has multiple endings that either has her and/or her lover actively looking for means to get rid of Lysithea’s Crests, or explicitly say that she dies young. There’s... not much more to add to that lmao

But! There is one ending with Edelgard that mentions her getting rid of her Crests, and it even says they restore her lost time! That’s proof positive, isn’t it?

Well, funnily enough, this is her ending with Lysithea that mentions this, and it... appears to be straight up incorrectly translated. As has been pointed out by others, the JPN ending doesn’t specifically mention restoring their lifespans, it simply says Edelgard and Lysithea “discovered a way to exchange the crest’s power for the restoration of a lost lifespan.” While, if we look at the surface level “Edelgard and Lysithea both had Crests implanted into them” similarity, it makes sense to attribute this restoration to the both of them, looking at everything else leans towards this statement mostly being for Lysithea. Which, given that this is the only ending - or really, the only place period - Edelgard has that even mentions her wanting to be rid of her Crest, let alone actively working towards it, it makes sense that this isn’t for her. 

Now, all of the above isn’t directly pointing towards anything - it’s a lot of speculation, since nothing about Edelgard herself having a short life is ever explicitly said in the game. But when looking at all of the differences between Lysithea and Edelgard, when looking at how badly Lysithea stacks against everyone else vs how amazing Edelgard stacks, at how often dying young is mentioned with Lysithea vs Edelgard, at how much Lysithea focuses on her lifespan vs Edelgard, I personally just can’t believe that they’re similarly afflicted with a shortened life. 

There’s almost nothing in the game to suggest that other than the one thing they have in common, which is the experiments themselves - if they do, then Edelgard simply doesn’t care as much about it as Lysithea, and/or it isn’t nearly to the extent of Lysithea, to the point where she feels no need to mention it anywhere. And this is the same character that brings up her ten dead siblings in the first support with the player character, so something as big as “oh yeah and I’m going to die relatively soon and young” feels like something she would similarly mention as something one should know about her, which she doesn’t. This seems, to me, to be just a popular fan theory that isn’t really all that supported in the game itself.

[theinformantofficial]

Trump made his own social media platform and its pretty bad

Hello.

So as of recently (the past few weeks) trump decided to release his own FREE SPEECH FILLED social network called “Gettr”

(It looks like this)

It was made to “fight cancel culture” and “to be a haven for free speech everywhere” but from what I am seeing it seems to just be a place for Qanon wackjobs to marinate in their own mental filth (along with bigots and other butthurt old people)

The site itself looks like a budget twitter 

(This was the burner profile I created, it VERY MUCH looks like a budget twitter and its plagiarizing most of its web design.) I decided to temporarily join the site in order to see what content is posted there and I was not disappointed. 

Most of the content posted here is as unhinged as you might expect since domestic terrorists are not known for their ability to make rational thought. I decided to browse some of the trending topics on the site and compile a compilation of the shitty things I read here. 

It gets worse the more you read, but to be quite frank I do not want to post slurs on my blog. 

Other creators have said they have gotten banned for posting things relating to LGBTQ rights, womens rights, Black lives matter, and a slew of other topics. Thats not very free speech is it?

So what can YOU do about this?

I think many of you have heard the calls to action coming from Tiktok to spam the site. Its only a matter of time before the code is compromised so why not have fun while things last?

FOR OUR RUSSIAN FRIENDS (or friends that speak any language using the Cyrillic alphabet since these people can barley tell the difference) 

Make an account using a burner email and just start SPAMMING the site with texts in Russian and using Russian cultural references. If you are from a place that does not use Russian but another language in the Cyrillic alphabet do the same but with your own home country. Be sure to randomly include communism somewhere in the post, even if it does not relate to the rest of the post.

FOR OUR ARABIC SPEAKING FRIENDS

Do the same thing as our Russian friends. What you type does not have to make any sense, it just has to be there and in a language redneck assholes cannot understand. Please also be sure to include communism. 

FOR EVERYBODY ELSE

Post as much spam, disturbing fetish art, hentai, communist propaganda, pride flags, and other things of that nature as you want and can. Quantity is important. Accounts are also easy to create with burner emails. Flood every single tag with these things. Furry porn? Post it. Sonic inflation art? Post it. Weird BTS fancams? Post em too. 

Freedom of speech is: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances

All of what I described above falls underneath that definition. 

Giveem hell. 

Fuck them and their racist, bigoted, homophobic, self absorbed asses. 

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.” Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[inonibird]

Sahuldeem/Kaleesh Q&A #4

Here we go again! If your questions are featured here, I’ve included your username in the tags! And do note I’ve also included the spoiler tag. >_> (questions bold; answers italic)

Out of curiosity, what first got you interested in the Grievous backstory? Boy, I wish I had a COOL STORY, but it’s pretty much: General Grievous was randomly brought up in something I was watching and so I started searching around and came across clips of his 2003 incarnation—on two separate occasions over the course of multiple years. It took until the second time this happened for me to latch onto it, possibly because was around the same time as the combined hype for The Rise of Skywalker (which did not live up to it) and first season of The Mandalorian (which did). I very quickly went from “hey, this guy does have a cool design” to “what’s his story?” and the rest is history.

Please tell us so much about Kaleesh biology. How good is their hearing? Are their bones more or less flexible than humans? How much can the average Kaleesh bench-press? How much can Qymaen bench-press? What’s the closest living relative to the Kaleesh in the Kalee animal kingdom? What’s the purpose for the tusks, beyond aesthetics?

I’m in love with your worldbuilding and have about as many questions as Huk Qymaen has killed. Oh jeez, thanks! There are questions here that I HAVEN’T actually put much thought into, oh no! The best I can do without doing some improvisational worldbuilding is: their hearing is at least as good as a human’s; the average Kaleesh warrior can bench-press…uh, more than Sheelal-era Qymaen (sorry buddy); and yeah, tusks are pretty much all about display/aesthetics (they are secondary sex characteristics and...well, more along the lines of “eyy check these out” than “LET ME FIGHT YOU WITH MY FACE”).

Sometime I recommend transliterating Kaleesh words into Cyrillic and running them through Google Translate’s Russian text reader. It’s so satisfying. Долхлава. Какмусмэ. Урукишнугал. Колкправис. Рондеру лидж Куммар. Амаги дин Ку-лиана. Малга Шапра.

(No, I didn’t just spend all night doing this, why do you ask?) First of all, this was really fun to do. It’s still wild to hear these words and names said out loud! Usually sounds spot-on, too. Second and less relevant, I was FAR too proud of myself for being able to remember enough Cyrillic to be able to read all of the Kaleesh words up there. But of course context helps. :’D

You know what would be cool? A picture of the entire Gang together before ... you know. This is something I have indeed considered drawing! Someday… Maybe a candid group photo with some sort of salvaged Huk cam that Amagi and Jindra have just figured out how to make work? xD

So Ronderu’s what, three years older than Qymaen? Two? Three years, weighted closer to four than to two. (note to self: Kaleesh calendar)

I absolutely adore and admire the amount of detail and work that you've put into this fanfic, I really wish this was current canon! This has also gotten me interested in wanting to know more about the Kaleesh–Bitthævrian War and Grievous's grandmother who was in it, while also inspiring me to want to make my own headcanons about it. Thank you so much! It sure is MY personal canon, and I’m so glad there are some folks out there enjoying it and drawing inspiration from it, too. I can’t see myself having the energy anytime soon to flesh out more about the Kaleesh-Bitthævrian War and his great-elder-mother, but it certainly would be very cool to read a short story about it~ ;D (btw, according to the “The Story of General Grievous: Lord of War” article, it was his great-grandmother, not his grandmother, who fought in the Kaleesh-Bitthævrian War. I think Wookieepedia may have been updated incorrectly at some point!)

That is an interesting revelation in the new chapter! I was wondering, is Zigmash & the concept of 'Planet Name' Spice something you created, or are you building off of something from the EU? Ah, so Aza just refers to zigmash as “Kaleesh spice” for lack of a better descriptor; it’s clearly a drug and it’s from Kalee, but it makes it offworld so rarely there’s no general term for it. Zigmash itself is my invention; Kalee’s resources were not considered valuable to the Yam’rii, but that’s not to say they have to be entirely nonexistent! (in this case, there is DEFINITELY stronger, more desirable spice out there in the galaxy; as Aza herself notes, it’s more the scarcity and unusual source that makes it marketable).

Sooooo the kaleesh babies

They are adorable, mother instinct activated!

But then i realized something, read it somewhere else on the Internet that said Grievous had like 30 children after Ronderu's death, any specific thoughts on that I'm just curious👀

(Qymaen doesn't look that fertile but who knows) I mean. Well. Yeah. Give him time. (and…10 wives…) >_> ...Also Kaleesh reproduction ≠ human reproduction, wheee~ ........................You’ll learn more about all of this in Part Three.

What do Zaebar’s and Amagi’s kakmusmal look like? I do plan on drawing them sometime! (that reminds me, I still need to draw clan sigils! augh! so many plans, so little time!) Most kakmusmal look pretty similar, since they’re all carved to fit the general shape of Kaleesh faces, but they use different animal skulls (common to the region) for the base. Zaebar’s is likely from a pakozri, and Amagi’s is made from an amsi.