#frigidlord

[virescorde]

@frigidlord​  replied:  haha no don't :3c

"You and your opinions can go join my father in hell.”

[tellnxlies]

@frigidlord​​  asked: "Ah, Detective Tsukauchi. I was hoping I'd run into you."

For all the time that Naomasa had spent in the region, he could say that he’d seen frightfully little of it. His visits to Unova were always so short-lived, carving out the time to come see his sister between her studies, only to rush right back off again. Her to her courses and obligations with friends, him to his missions and obligations with work.

As it were, strolling down the streets of Castelia with a latte in hand and a buzzing phone in the other, he had a tad more time to look around. Updated orders falling in line, reminders of who to talk to or what information to seek. A proposal that if he were going to be over here on leisure, then he may as well lend a helping hand to his fellow agents.

Truthfully, he didn’t mind the excuse to stick around for a few days longer. Though rounding the street corner, bumping into an unfamiliar man with an all-too familiar name on his tongue . . . the detective plastered on a smile, best as could be managed.

Best not to be rude (and especially not to an elder) no matter what the case may be. There were just as many innocuous explanations as concerning ones—an acquaintance of Makoto’s, perhaps, or a contact that the office forgot to let him know about.

It’d hardly be the first time that either had left him in the dark on an important issue.

“I don’t actually think we’ve met before.” Almost apologetic in tone, though grey eyes locked onto Ghetsis’ own and refused to leave them for even a moment. Watching, waiting, to see if there was anything to cause alarm. “Is there something in particular I can do for you, sir?”

[rarestones-aa]

how i imagine steven and ghetsis interacting in the fantasy au

ghetsis: rolls up on hoenn

steven:  hey nice to meet you who’s that behind you

ghetsis: that’s my undead army

steven: ah.

[gnzma]

@frigidlord​:

"You know, I'd be happy to leave you with some shattered bones, but I have a feeling that won't deter you from being an insufferable nuisance. And unfortunately, your death would attract more attention than you're worth. Unlike your grunts who could simply disappear without anyone batting an eye. Aside from you, I suppose."

... ...hm. Okay.

“Lemme be serious for one second.

I don’t give a damn if ya mess with me. Insult me, break my bones, whatever. I can take it.

But take it on my Team, and I’ll make sure to rip your other eye out.”

[invictarre-archive]

pokemon makes a 20 year old man w/ long hair and a royalty theme and immediately decides to put him through the Suffering™ character arc

[vindictes]

Glares at you... >:/

          glares back. >:(

[spikemuthtoothfairy]

I love how @frigidlord is such a nice person OOC then plays an absolute deplorable senior citizen who only gets WORSE as time goes on

[veritasvitae]

"Do we  have  to worsen the guy’s suffering any more? He’s already miserable enough as it is.”

It would appear that once again, Anthea was not quick enough at slapping a hand over her twin’s mouth.

[inharmium]

@frigidlord​ replied:

I'll extend you the same invitation. >:/

     We both know that’s not happening.

[shepherd-tothestars]

“Mr. Colress the green-haired weirdo is threatening to doxx me.”

[tellnxlies]

You know, the only two times in recent memory that tumblr has broken on me when trying to write a reply and not actually fucking posted it, it’s been with the  ONE  thread I have with Ghetsis.

I think that’s really saying something, there.

[rarestones-aa]

when is someone going to sit ghetsis down and talk about proper interactions with other people?

[gnzma]

@frigidlord​:

truth + Do you ever think of how you resemble your father in his anger? [ truth or dare ;; ACCEPTING ]      

...ah. Okay.

“...Yeah yeah, I Was Born broken, I’m Just Like My Father, Guzma What Is Wrong With You yadda yadda. 

Look, I already lived 20+ years knowin’ I ain’t any better, come up with something better next time.”

[ouvertyr]

Calligraphy - @frigidlord​

Autumn had sprung upon Johto but a few weeks prior, replacing the relentless heat of summer for that of much colder and darker nights. Though it was nothing compared to the long winters found within Sinnoh – fall being perhaps nonexistent in the northern region, lost beneath winter’s snow long before the last verdures upon the trees had taken their leave – it was still a change grand enough for Damian to notice. The scar tissue of his left arm had caused him great pains one morning after he’d left the sliding door to his sleeping quarters ajar to allow his hound access to the yard; something he’d done many times before, but had ceased since.  However, Sinnohan blood ran through his veins nonetheless and much more would’ve been needed than a little bit of frost to deter him of his time spent outdoors. Geared with sweaters (the arm of his left side tied in a knot to assure the leftover fabric would not be a bother) Damian had continued his routines. Notably, during the morning, he’d seat himself outside upon the decking which spanned the broader perimeter of The Domen Minshuku. Houndoom, dutifully guarding at his side.

Sundays were his quiet days at the inn. Though a part of the family establishment’s staff, Sundays were his one assigned day of rest where he could do as he pleased; a day of which most often involved his obligations to the state in so far as documenting his ‘rehabilitation’ went. By noon he had to attend therapy where he did little else than recount his youth – normal, yet atypical all the same – as well as meetings with a representative of Sinnoh’s legal governing body to document his return into normal society. All rather simple tasks given the scale of his accused crimes… He wouldn’t complain, not truly, had it not been for one minor detail.  Due to his disability, he could not submit his own report. Throughout his schooling, Damian had learned the language of runes. Simplistic letters whose only mark left within the world could be found etched upon old wood and stone. He’d studied Sinnohan, his mother tongue, alongside the dialects of Kanto and Johto and could converse, as well as write, in all of them. As he’d grown, he’d taken it upon himself to learn the languages of Unova, Hoenn and Kalos – to differing states of fluency, of course, yet at the age of 31… He could write no better than a 4 year old in any of them.

The lead tip of his pencil broke, leaving behind dark spot of smudges, streaks and defeat.

Frustrated, the staggered scribbles he’d managed to pen upon the lined paper stared back at him in the most mocking of manners. Damian wouldn’t ever have seen himself as high class, far from it, but he hadn’t been foolish enough to think he hadn’t held status many would’ve killed for in his early years. The son and heir to a lucrative corporation nesting within, as well as outside, Sinnoh’s vast boarders – he had to ask for nothing in so far as material goods were concerned. But with status, an ego easily forms.  The fine lined paper got ripped from its bindings, crumpled, and then tossed to the boards below. TO dance in the gentle autumn gusts until he felt enough was enough. He began anew.

N̸e̶c̶h̷a̶y̵e̴v̸ ̷D̷a̸m̸i̵a̴n̸ ̵N̷o̷v̷e̴l̶o̴v̷i̸c̶h̷ N̸e̶c̶h̷a̶y̵e̴v̸ ̷ Nech̷a̶y̵e̴v N̸ e̶ c̶ h̷ a̶ y e v D̷a̵m̴i̵a̴n̶ ̵N̷o̶v̵e̵l̵o̵v̴i̸c̴h̵ D̷amia̴n̶ ̵N̷o̶v̵e̵l̵o̵v̴ich̵

Frustration crawled up his spine, alongside the subtle sound of footsteps traveling down the inns vast decking. Guests were beginning to rise, it seemed, and Houndoom’s large head left his masters folded lap.  What he saw, his owner did not – but it mattered not. Damian’s brows knit.

D̶a̸m̶i̶a̷n̵. D a m̶ i̶ a̷ n̵

Houndoom rose to be seated – as tall as Damian, now, and alert to the unprompted visitor. A simmer, deep within his breast and haze expelled from his muzzled maw.  For his last attempt, Damian wrote:

A̷k̴a̵g̸i̷ ̵C̶y̵r̸u̸s̶ ̶T̸o̶u̵m̸a̵i̴c̶h̶.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[vindictes]

Does that Ghetsis guy really think he can stand up to you, Boss? What a joke! As if some overly dramatic megalomaniac could ever be an issue for you, right?

          he's used to getting sucked up to for purely selfish reasons  –  but this agent must be one of the newly promoted ones.  from the moment the man had finished speaking  –  seemingly very proud of himself  –  every other person in the room had halted in their places, giving the poor agent a mixed stare of terror and disbelief.

          most everyone knew that death sentences had been given from less. despite of the said 'megalomaniac' being giovanni's worst rival, he is also the most imposing threat. as much as such praise would never be allowed to be uttered aloud, that rotten bastard of a man had a devilishly sharp mind, and a dangerously powerful organization around him. the only person in the world whose power giovanni considered to be on par with his own. that alone made him a threat. and not one to be belittled  –  by others than him, of course.

          a single glance is given towards one of the bodyguards, who grab the said agent by the back of the neck, digging one of the man's eyeballs out with a fluid, routine movement. giovanni gives a sigh, ignoring the commotion as he turns around, waving the bodyguards to follow along.

          oh, he's in an exceptionally bad mood today.

tags @frigidlord for worstie reasons

[crownlost]

HISSING.