#vinzer deling

[ethernalium]

Ultimecia after she killed the president of galbadia while possessing the body of a hot gothic milf while thousands of people are watching:

[corditeheart]

if anyone needs fresh clips or a bathroom break, now’s the time.

answering very old memes hour!

It's a joke, but there's a grain of truth in it-- hiding out in one of the few structures still standing out here, away from one absolutely furious ruby dragon flying overhead, she's actually considering using the restroom. Except, she doubts it's been cleaned since Vinzer Deling got elected.

So, instead, she reloads, checks her backup, reloads that, too.

"Do you have any bright ideas for getting out of here?" Preferably something that she can actually put in an incident report, considering the multiple other SeeDs with them.

It's not like Ares can simply go out there and use his almighty god-like powers. Not without raising a lot of questions neither of them would want to answer.

[reveromantique]

It takes a long, interminable silence, staring at her, trying to decide if she's telling the truth (and she's always telling the truth; she doesn't have it in her to lie. Doesn't have the guts, or the skill.)

She's shaking under his touch, when he touches her face-- somewhere far down deep, he feels like a massive asshole for making her be afraid of him.

"--Calm down, will you?" It comes out gruffly, like he doesn't know how to react (how to feel anything like normal again, maxing out on two hours of sleep a night for weeks now, but he's been irrevocably damaged since the second he put his blade to Vinzer Deling's throat.)

He believes her enthusiastic willingness to be loyal, at least. Why the hell she trusts him at all is beyond comprehension.

A rough thumb comes under her eye, pulling away tears. It's almost Seifer, almost close to gentle. Caring. Like normal emotions are bottled up right, threatening to explode through the glass.

He is a man of almosts.

"Don't fucking do that, alright? I'm not leaving."

Not yet. Not now. Not until he has a chance to drag every last bit of information out of her.

He is almost a person.

He's also almost a monster. And some days, he doesn't know which he'd prefer to be.

@midgarwhispers | x

There's only a couple people on the street, and yet she doesn't let it stop her from weeping and sobbing and shouting. It's enough that someone might call the cops on him for doing nothing at all-- Seifer stalks back over, grabbing her arm and pulling her back inside.

"I never said I didn't like you--" and when the door is slammed shut, he pins her against it, finger leveled in her face. "I don't like you lying to me."

A sorceress cult.

God-fucking-dammit.

His palm slams into the door near her head, and when he pulls back, there's a scorch mark in the shape of it, branded into the wood.

"So, what? You were gonna wait until I said I loved you or something before you slit my throat in Hyne's name?"

[timblr-maniacs]

General Fury Caraway:

It is perhaps a foolish thing to say we live in historic times. All times are, in a way, historic, and it’s difficult to say how events will look in the context of future generations. But the defeat of Sorceress Edea, and Seifer Almasy, and the victory of SeeD in Esthar are certain to be a major chapter in many future histories. It is with this in mind that it can be a good thing to write up the history of some people who’ve had a major influence on that history. Either through action or inaction.

General Fury Caraway is one figure that one cannot avoid speaking of when one speaks of the history of Galbadia and the western continent. And one cannot speak of him without speaking of the Sorceress War and Vinzer Deling. When Eshtar, led by Sorceress Adel attacked, we were still divided in many smaller nations. Galbadia at the time was just one of many, trying to fight the numerically, technologically and magically superior Eshtar soldiers.

General Caraway was part of a wealthy Galbadian family, and even before the war had proved himself a leader of men. His name was often considered something of an ironic joke, as the man’s leadership style was calm and calculated, focusing on well timed, simultaneous attacks to confuse and defeat enemies. His soldiers gave him the fond nick-name Tick-Tock Caraway, both for his icy calm, as well as his punctuality. He valued counsel of his subordinates, but discouraged much personal initiative, preferring his troops to function like clockwork. He managed to deal Esthar forces a few blows.

Then the election of Vinzer Deling occured. The youngest president Galbadia had ever elected. He was ruthless and cunning, and a gifted orator with far reaching ambitions and violent tempers. Upon his election, it is said that he called General Caraway to him, put him in charge of military operations and asked him what he needed for victory. General Caraway provided a list, and Vinzer Deling said he’d arrange it.

What followed was a ruthless war economy, with many young men drafted, punishing war taxes and rationing. 

But the effect was considerate. The Galbadian army grew in size, in technological aptitude and in ambitions. The Esthar army was ambushed, forced to retreat and ruthlessly pursued, inflicting heavy losses. It may be difficult to imagine in these days, but those were times when G-soldiers were a welcome sight, and Vinzer Deling and Fury Caraway were considered heroes.

A brief aside regarding certain publications that try to imply that Vinzer Deling somehow was not in charge of Galbadia during this time: This is nonsense and politically motivated lies. This publication, and this writer, as a Timber has no love for Deling. The fact that he enabled victories of the forces of Sorceress Adel do not excuse the atrocities he committed. However, easily falsified lies do undermine the trustworthiness of those publications who spread them.

This ended when, during a lull in the war, many of the areas that Caraway liberated found that Galbadia had no intent on withdrawing its control. They found themselves under the same taxes and drafts that Galbadia itself was, and all local governments suspended. Timber itself, having managed to use the forests to fight off the Esthar armies sent to claim it, found itself under attack by Galbadia instead. It was General Caraway who broke the Timber Resistance, and during the infamous ‘Timber Murders’ where Vinzer Deling, in a rage, personally executed two Resistance members, General Caraway was present. What he thought of this is unknown. 

They were polar opposites, the general and the president. While Caraway was taciturn, disciplined and icy cold, Deling was an easy speaker, rash and passionate. Their relation was cordial however, and sources say that in private, they were on a first name basis. For better or worse, both men had fully supported each other, and both of them were successful because of that. 

It was because of this that Vinzer Deling was actually the best man at the wedding between General Caraway and Julia Heartlily. For a wartorn nation, plagued by kidnappings and fearful of the next Esthar push, it was a faiery tale. One of the most beloved stars marrying a well respected military hero. Even the way they met, with Julia often sending him letters inquiring about a missing soldier, and Fury comforting her, managed to melt even the hearts of those who despised Galbadia.

The war ended in a way that seemed confusing at the time. Spies had reported some kind of construction project in Esthar, and one day, all radio traffic was jammed worldwide, leading to massive chaos. General Caraway prepared for an attack, but the attack never came. Esthar completely shut itself off from the world, and no spies could intrude upon them and an uneasy peace happened.

General Caraway worked on preparations for a possible attack, but in those years seemed content to delegate more. Rumours spread that he might seek to retire, and spend more time with his family, who he had neglected during the war. Then of course, tragedy struck. Julia Heartlily died in a car accident at age 28, survived by General Caraway and their five year old daughter Rinoa. A famous photo shows president Deling tearfully and with, history suggests, earnest grief comforting General Caraway whose face was more stone faced then it’s ever been. Those close to him suggest that he never quite managed to overcome the loss.

Whatever the case may be, General Caraway immediately reversed his course on winding down his operations, throwing himself in his work. He oversaw the construction of the missile base, meant to be a deterrent or retribution in case of Esthar attack. Another project he undertook was arranging for Galbadia Garden to train the Galbadian Army, with Galbadia granting the Garden relative independence. General Caraway and Headmaster Martine by all accounts had a good relations, aided partly by a shared love for Triple Triad.

There were two things that would lead to the General’s downfall later. One of them was the strained relation with his daughter. Staff from the house describe that Fury was both emotionally distant and overbearingly protective. Staff had orders to keep her on the estate whenever she was not at school, and any friends were only allowed after rigorous vetting and never without supervision. Their relation suffered, and as she grew up, Rinoa took the name of her mother in a rejection of him, as well as the increasingly oppressive and tyrannical regime he supported. As she got older and more resourceful, she managed to escape supervision increasingly often, allowing her a summer fling with then SeeD cadet Seifer Almasy.

The short relation inspired her to run away from home to Timber where she joined a Resistance group called the Forest Owls, and attempted to obtain SeeD assistance. This was an embarrassment for General Caraway and put pressure on his relation with President Vinzer Deling. Some suspect that General Caraway might even have pulled strings to put more humanitarian minded troops in charge of Timber, in order to shield his daughter from retribution.

The second one was of course Sorceress Edea. Coming out of nowhere, she gained the ear of Vinzer Deling, and offered greater power. It is known the two men clashed over this. General Caraway had developed a strong dislike, even hatred for Sorceresses during the war and according to witness reports, had advised Deling to execute her.

This of course, did not occur. And so Caraway took matters into his own hands. With the assistance of Headmaster Martine he arranged an assassination attempt on Sorceress Edea during the ceremony where she was to be appointed ambassador. As we all know, the Sorceress instead killed Vinzer Deling, and through magic and terror assumed control of Galbadia. The ill fated assassination attempt ended up involving troops from all three Gardens, but more damning, Rinoa Heartlily, General Caraway’s own daughter. All those involved were captured.

Of course, not all troops were present in Galbadia. And while Vinzer Deling, because of his moodiness and arbitrariness was less than popular among the troops, many soldiers balked at the prospect of serving a Sorceress.General Caraway could at this point likely have caused a civil war if he’d denounced her and assumed command of the army.

Yet with his daughter at her mercy, Caraway did the one thing Sorceress Adel had tried and failed to do during the war. He surrendered. He publicly announced his resignation to ‘spend more time with his family'  and asked his troops to 'continue to serve Galbadia as the Sorceress defends it from its enemies.'While Caraway is still well liked among Galbadian soldiers, there are many that have never forgiven this.

The deal was that Rinoa Heartlily was to be brought to Caraway manor, under house arrest along with General Caraway. Irvine Kinneas the sniper during the assassination, was also released, with Galbadia Garden giving up any pretense of independence  Both of them refused, and instead broke out their comrades, leading to events outside the scope of this article.

For the rest of the events, General Caraway, the man who had been pivotal in the Sorceeress War, would remain sidelines. Seifer Almasy took direct command of the armed forces, and retained this even after the disappearance of Sorceress Edea. His leadership style was impulsive and rash, leading to severe morale drops, and by all accounts, the only true allies he had were two other SeeD Cadets who joined him, Fujin and Rajin. Reports suggest that General Caraway bears a grudge towards Seifer Almasy even now for those things, as well as to his treatment of her daughter.

Now, with both Sorceress Edea Kramer and Seifer Almasy out of the picture, some think that Fury Caraway should step forward and take command of Galbadia himself. Despite having bent the knee to the Sorceress, many understand the duress he was under, and his service in the Sorceress war is not forgotten. But neither is his role in Timber’s subjugation. Further complicating matters is his daughter Rinoa. Not only is she romantically attached to Squall Lionheart, the commander of the SeeD mercenary forces, but she is a Sorceress. The general’s troubled relation with her and his distrust towards Sorceresses make some people suspect that reconciliation is impossible. Further complicating matters is that a close relation with her would fuel speculation that he might fall under her control much like Deling has.

While General Caraway was sidelined during the events of the last months, he has now entered the field again. And Tick-Tock Caraway might have a few cards left to play. But nobody really knows what card he has on hand, and what card he hopes to win. Rest assured Maniacs, that you will read about it here.

[shockwavepulsar]

@decayinghonour​ ( PUSH ) + ( SILENCE ) ( from decayinghonour who does doubles and you can't stop us, kane! )

send in one of these for my muse’s (RECEIVER) reaction to your muse (SENDER)

Internally, she’s screaming, cursing every member of Garden staff for sending her out here for another one of these missions. It makes her feel so uncomfortable when they point out her beauty, her sex appeal, her charm. At least they know she’s capable of outsmarting her targets, so she’s not entirely reduced to an object, but it doesn’t wash the taste of disgust from her mouth. It doesn’t change the fact that she feels awful in these heels, in this tight dress, knowing she has no access to her weapon. She’s junctioned, at least, if it comes to that, but hopefully she can manage without having any unexpected twists. These missions usually went smoothly enough with targets lower on the chain of command, but to have to go after Saran Deling of all people meant she’d have to pray to whatever deity exists that it goes smoothly.

“Why was I chosen? Why me, specifically?” she had asked then, demanded, really. She watched Squall sit back in his chair, unable to make eye contact with her. “Any woman here could have been chosen. Xu is an expert in this field, but you appointed me to this mission. Why?” He shifted uncomfortably, an audible creaking from the leather of his chair the only thing breaking the awkward silence after her outburst. He cleared his throat, quickly took in her form without lingering too much, and handed her the file. “Deling has a preference for blonde women,” he offered. “It was unanimously decided that you would be the best candidate for this mission. I’m...sorry, for the record. You depart tomorrow at 0600 hours. Good luck.”

She had plans for what she would do to Squall when she got back, had mulled over the various ways she would make him regret accepting this mission in the first place, but especially for making her do this. For explaining to her everything this mob boss liked in a woman, appearance wise, mannerisms, even down to the dialect. For expecting her to go through with such a demeaning aspect of espionage. Quistis would much rather be in the thick of battle than to cozy up to a criminal and possibly have to— Externally, she’s focused, despite the thumping bass permeating throughout the club and the sickening aroma of sweat and alcohol. She’s searching for him while moving her body in rhythm with the music, attempting to blend in with the crowd. It’s not long before she feels a tap against her shoulder and although every muscle wants to react in proper combat form and send this person careening into the dozens of swaying bodies, she keeps collected and faces the newcomer. She offers Quistis a drink, leans in, and describes that a man on the far side of the room wanted to purchase it for her. Following the woman’s gesture, she could see a small group of men sitting in a lounge area, dressed rather nicely. In the middle sat Saran, relative of the infamous Vinzer Deling, and his henchmen. A few other women were there, though they looked completely miserable. Quistis couldn’t blame them. She accepted the drink, and the bartender returned to her post. Dipping a finger into the liquid, Quistis swirled the ice around and took a peek at her fingernail. The polish color stayed the same. No drugs on the first drink—she expected as such. These men were scoundrels, for sure, but they also knew what they were doing. At least she didn’t have to work too hard to get his attention. But she also wasn’t going to give it to him that easily. She didn’t want to seem too desperate to talk to him. She kept eye contact with him as she swayed, sticking her finger in her mouth to taste the beverage. She reasoned that if she took her time getting to him, he would want her more and it’d be easier to make him talk, so she remained on the floor, sipping her drink and occasionally looking over at the man in question to keep him interested. When she was finished with the drink, she made her way to the bar and set down the empty glass. Then, she made her way towards the lounge area. In transit, however, Quistis was pulled to the side suddenly. She recoiled out of the person’s grasp and began to protest, when she saw it was Vidar. Knowing the stall had likely alerted the attention of Deling’s henchmen, he snarled and grabbed at her once more and commanded her to come with him. Sure enough, she could see two of them standing up as if they were to come after Vidar for daring to touch the woman Saran had his eyes set on.  On one hand, she was livid that her mission was interrupted, but on the other, she was desperately happy to not have to go through with it. Instinctively, she ran with Vidar, following his lead as he guided her through a corridor, down a flight of steps, and into a storage room. Once inside, she felt the impact of her back hitting the wall and found herself sandwiched between it and Vidar. A sliver of light from the door frame allowed her to see his face, close as he was, and he clearly wasn’t happy. But more than just anger...maybe...fear? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat as she felt his finger press against her painted lips. Attempting to wriggle out of his grasp was useless; she was fully pinned by his weight. He was determined not to let her go. Anger gave way to confusion as she searched his eyes for an answer regarding his motivation. He began to lean in closer and Quistis felt her breath hitch until he stopped just at her ear. The feeling of his breath against her skin made her sigh. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, removing his silencing finger from her lips.  She turned her head slightly to whisper back, “I’m doing my job.” It was a reminder that just because she looked like any other woman, and maybe it was easier for Vidar to see her as a woman instead of a SeeD, she was indeed a trained mercenary. She didn’t need his help, didn’t need his protection. “As much as I prefer to have you against me like this rather than him, I have intel to retrieve. So, unless you have information on Saran and his men, we’ll have to take a rain check on this.” Her body language told another story because as adamant as she was about completing her mission, she sure didn’t make much effort to go through with it. Honestly, she was thankful for his intervention. Maybe she could find a way out of it now. She could call Squall and tell him the mission was compromised, to send someone else out. Her rank would likely take a hit, but her dignity would be intact, at least. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. “Or do you have a better plan?”

[rinoaheartillyy]

rinoaheartillyy’s endless love for Final Fantasy VIII  ↳ (17/?)

[irishais]

Quistis HCs please!!

Send a character’s name to receive four different headcanons

Headcanon A:  Quistis is obsessive about her hair. There's ten different products in her bathroom at any given point, and she's lost more hair ties than most people have owned.

Headcanon B: After the war, when she's got more clout than she knows what to do with, Quistis makes a point of beating the Card Queen, abolishing the Random rule in Balamb and pointing out how unfair and unbalanced the rule is in every interview she gives, until for about a year, it's wildly unpopular and outright banned in certain portions of Galbadia.

Headcanon C: She carries a torch for Squall for years after the game events, and passes up several very good transfers to different Gardens or civilian fields in order to stay close. It never works out in her favor.

Headcanon D: After the war, it comes out that Quistis' failed adoptive parents were actually the Delings, and with Vinzer's death, his widow tries to use her grief and "reconnecting with her daughter" as political clout to fill the power vacuum.

Xu finds the address in Q's files, pays the lady a visit in the middle of the night with a lot of knives and some very sincere threats, and Quistis never hears from Mrs. Deling ever again.

[iffylogic]

The NeoGalbadian Wars

There were three wars in the years prior to Kontext’s timeline, the second and third of which our protagonist participated in. If you want to see an alarmingly large History Channel-style lore dump that only a crazy person would write, read on.

Fifty-three years ago, a catastrophic end to Esthar took the world by surprise. The exact nature of its destruction remains a mystery to most. However, in the following year, each nation banned all Estharian sciences and most traces of its culture, even demanding compliance to citizens from Esthar who had been out-of-country during the event. This had led many to believe that the event was man-made in nature.

As each nation investigated the scarred land to find a cause, Galbadian forces discovered an intact fleet of Estharian airships, which they discretely confiscated and refit as Galbadian gunships and troop transports. Emboldened by this new advantage—and the shift in the balance of world power—Galbadia’s leadership launched a campaign to invade Centra and Dollet.

This was the beginning of the First NeoGalbadian War. (Originally called the War of Opportunity.)

While Esthar’s absence did lessen the opposition considerably, the entirety of the world’s powers (save for Timber, which formally declared themselves an ally of Galbadia) combined their efforts stop Galbadia’s push. Centra, Dollet, Balamb and Trabia’s first coordinated attack was executed on the coastline of the Wilburn Hills of Galbadia’s Northwestern coast, far from the frontlines of the invasion. After the operation’s success, the nations officially formed the Wilburn Alliance.

SeeD, although technically neutral, elected not to join in with Galbadia’s efforts and instead moved Galbadian Garden to safe haven in the Wilburn Alliance’s foothold to the west. However, Galbadia deployed a squadron of Esthar ships to intercept the Garden, where it was destroyed.

With this, SeeD formally joined the Wilburn Alliance, and they combined their powers to take Deling City, Galbadia’s capital. Once their capital city fell, Galbadia spent the following bloody eleven years making retreat after retreat, until the final battle in Lollapalooza Canyon, after which Galbadia finally surrendered.

The war left Galbadia a sliver of its formal self, establishing new borders between Lollapalooza Canyon and Timber. Dollet reclaimed its land, while Centra and Trabia split the remainder of Galbadia’s former country.

Another eight years passed, seemingly without incident. Galbadia had built a city from their refuge, and declared it their new capital, Vinzer. However, while the fleet of Esthar ships was thought destroyed over the course of the war, Galbadia had safely hidden away eight ships deep in massive underground bases beneath Lollapalooza Canyon, obscured by camouflage technology they had also obtained from Esthar. They spent this time using the bases to slowly rebuild their army.

In a blitzkrieg designed to shock and intimidate Trabia and Centra, Galbadia launched all of its ships and full forces in a simultaneous attack. The attack focused on the Centra military base established in the Dingo Desert,  completely overwhelming and obliterating them. With this victory, the government of Vinzer rechristened the nation New Galbadia, and announced plans to reclaim their land.

This was the beginning of the Second NeoGalbadian War.

New Galbadia’s campaign was effective for a time: learning from past mistakes, New Galbadia took care not to challenge Dollet, focusing only on the lost land to the west. Eventually, however, the shock of their attacks gave way to the fact that New Galbadia’s military was still only partly as powerful as before, and Trabia and Centra began pushing them back once again. This time, the heads of each government made one thing absolutely clear: when the war was over, there would be no Galbadia left at all. Surrender was no longer satisfactory.

Losing ground and down to five Esthar ships after nine years, Galbadia’s luck took a turn when a young, unusually gifted sorceress was recruited into the G-Army. It took nearly a year of consistently lost battles before Centra and Trabia realized that this was not merely a publicity stunt.

While the “sorceress-boosted” effectiveness of ground tactics gave New Galbadia a strategic edge, it still took another seven years before New Galbadia finally retook Deling City.

Shortly after its former capital was reclaimed, New Galbadia opened up peace talks with the Alliance and eventually brought an end to the war at the same Wilburn Hills where the Alliance was formed so many years ago. The terms of the war were relatively simple: New Galbadia would leave the remaining Alliance territory be, and make no attempt to reclaim the Rehm Archipelago. In exchange, the Alliance between Centra and Trabia would be dissolved and the aforementioned territories would be left under Centra’s control.

The following five years, once again, were deceivingly hopeful. New Galbadia had declared that this would be an era of peace, and focused its efforts on developing new technologies, crowned by the Floravival Project in its own capital of Vinzer. Even the sorceress who helped to win the war left for Dollet (and briefly Balamb) to take up academic studies.

Despite this, a different situation was brewing in Centra. The combined drain from the last two wars had left the civilization in a poor state, made worse by mysteriously dwindling natural resources. To cope with this problem, Centra began immigrating its population to its territory in the Rehm Archipelago off of New Galbadia.

New Galbadia protested against these mass immigrations, and repeatedly cautioned that Centra could not sustain its people on those islands. They further warned that if/when Centra’s influx of people eventually needed outside help, New Galbadia would refuse them. Centra argued that the war had left much of the continent unoccupied and there was still easily room for both peoples, and offered to withdraw its remaining military presence in exchange for more land. Again, New Galbadia said no.

Deciding that a new conflict would soon be unavoidable, and that Trabia would likely be unwilling to help, Centra renewed ties with SeeD forces, building them a powerful new Garden base. At the same time, Centra adopted the unorthodox tactic of taming and training monsters from the “Island Closest to Hell” at the end of the Rehm Archipelago.

Centra made their move, beginning the Third NeoGalbadian War.

Turning monsters loose and using hit-and-run tactics, Centra made a bold push towards the center of Galbadia, throwing New Galbadia’s military into disarray and winning a firm foothold in the heart of enemy territory.

Having no wish for a prolonged conflict, New Galbadia again reached out to the sorceress from the second war. However, the sorceress’s attitude had soured over time, and took some convincing. Eventually she agreed to return and assist on two conditions: one, she would no longer carry a rank or answer to any officer, leading instead of following; two, she would be provided a sorceress whom she could train as a replacement if a fourth war were to occur.

The third war was the shortest by far, but also possibly the most vicious. The sorceress’s tactics were far more aggressive (and often confusing or counterintuitive) than New Galbadia’s had been. While some had attributed her unconventional methods to a lack of experience at leading, the results quickly laid those criticisms to rest. Within two years, Centra had completely withdrawn from the entire continent and surrounding islands.

After establishing a purely military foothold in the northern islands and coastlines of Centra, New Galbadia voluntarily declared a ceasefire, and a peace treaty was quickly agreed to. (The sorceress had disappeared shortly after. Given her increasingly dark nature, New Galbadia thought it best to leave well enough alone.)

The third NeoGalbadian War was over.

New Galbadia maintains an active presence on Northern Centra to this day, though they have made no further aggressive moves on Centra. Centra continues to attack the occupied lands in small skirmishes, but counterattacks have been extremely measured on New Galbadia’s part. Most believe that this is New Galbadia making good on the previous treaty so as to avoid provoking Dollet and Trabia.

Whatever the motivation, the nation has had ten years of tense, relative peace since then.

Recently, Centra launched an attack on New Galbadia on the coasts south of Vinzer utilizing an extraordinarily massive and powerful “super monster.” However, the G-Army managed to subdue and confiscate it. In keeping with their previous stance, New Galbadia used the monster as a bargaining chip (see: threat) and has since forced Centra to abandon all remaining hostilities for now.

[kontextcomic]

Page 2-01! Huh, the city doesn’t look nearly as cool in daylight. Kinda filthy, really.

(Pointless headlore: Vinzer is hundreds of miles southeast of Deling, about halfway between Galbadia Garden and Winhill.)

Final Fantasy VIII’s moon is freakishly close. Luckily it doesn’t cause tidal problems. It occasionally drops a few million monsters onto the planet, but that’s not important right now.

[angeledwings]

Behold! The Forest Owls baseeeee---wheeeeeen it didn’t have graffiti on it. And when it was new...and when Rinoa didn’t try to steer it once. BUT KNOW THAT IT HAD SOME CRAZY HISTORY OK.

Buffs and scratches from past battles with Vinzer Deling’s cronies trying to derail it via go. Bullet holes riddling the steel. Broken equipment due to Watt’s ignorance. And Zone using the door to repeatedly slam a Galbadian soldier’s head in! :D

Ah yes those were the days.

                                                                   RIP Forest Owls base.

...Btw it got blown up.

[ethernalium]

[cactusjacked]

FFVIII fic, “Liberation”

Pre-game. Slightly AU. Lots of odd snippets of headcanon about the Forest Owls/Rinoa’s life in Galbadia/the animal liberationist movement in Dollet. 

Summary: Rinoa wants to be useful. She also wants a dog. 

She had never before experienced the sensation of wanting to be useful. 

 In her old world there had useful people everywhere. There had been valets and maids for doing her hair and maids for making her bed. There had been chauffeurs who never smiled, gardeners with dirt under their fingernails, cooks who made perfect toast. 

She tried to recall to her mind all the moments she had thanked the help, all the moments she made sure to refer to them by their first names or ask them how their day was going. She must have, she thought, must have. 

She had never wanted to be useful for him or for any other Caraway, or for the teachers at her school or even for the people who had somehow ended up as something like her friends but not really. It had been easy then to think of herself as everything her aunt or her ex-stepmother or in his darker moments her father had said she was: selfish, ungrateful, hateful, even. 

No, wait, there had been sitting by her mother by the piano, she had wanted to be useful then. But her mother was only humouring her by letting her turn the pages. She still couldn’t read music, but maybe she could learn, now, here. She didn’t suppose it’d be easy to get a piano through the door of the train carriage, though. 

And money, she chastised herself, pianos cost money, and you – we – have none here. 

She had already burned their shirts and saucepans. Hours of needlework lessons at school learning how to embroider flowers (lessons where she had was forever surly, argumentative) left her unequipped for shirt buttons and sock darning. Watts quietly and gently took over the job of polishing shoes, a task Rinoa had failed to appreciate the intricate labour of – just like she had with boiling lentils or making beds – until now. 

Revolutionaries did not need the skills acquired from years of immersive training in the delicate art of Galbadian girlhood. They did not want or need to know the right way to accept or decline a dinner invitation. They did not have to memorise the words to Vinzer Deling’s favourite folk songs just in case he showed up to a social gathering and demanded the young ladies crowd around the piano to amuse him. Nor did they have to know about Admiral Thibault’s womanising problem that no-one talked about but also very much did (though she knew it thrilled them all here to know the tawdry, hypocritical lives their beloved leaders led). 

No-one is here to make you a housewife, Zone told her, just pull your weight.

Some days she felt brave enough to participate in their study groups. She spent evenings familiarising herself with the illicit canon of essays, pamphlets, books, revolutionary songs. She learnt terms like eco-imperialism, resource imperialism (everything everything imperialism), ecocide, permaculture, food forestry, the military industrial complex, the carceral state. 

She was still afraid to go outside before dark. In the evenings they went gleaning for food disposed of by the restaurants she and her father had once patronised. She learnt to love the texture of stale bread and the soft, fermented flesh of over-ripe apples. She was no good at stealing, but learnt she was good at smiling and distracting the Galbadian business-owners the Owls deemed grew too fat from selling wine and cheese to tourists from Deling City. 

A girl from another faction donated her old boots to Rinoa - in her rush from the house the only shoes she had bought were her party ones, white satin with a heel not made for running. She would slide on her new-old boots and stamp hard on the soft ground of the railyard, laughing giddily at the idea of her father and her aunt and her ex-stepmother and her ballet teacher and her friends watching her climbing deftly over old shipping containers and scraping her knees. 

The first time she is useful – or she at least thinks of herself, finally, as useful -- is because she stubbornly insists upon it. She is bored. She is still waited upon. She is still Rinoa Caraway. 

A group of animal liberationists from Dollet had been in contact with information about a new initiative in a military camp about ten miles east of the city. There was recent confirmation of a new experiment. The group had been involved before in the liberation of Geezards, who were being - unsuccessfully - trained to detonate remote explosives. This new weapon, however, was more cuddly.

 “Dogs.” Zone told her. “Attack dogs, specifically.” 

Her ex-stepmother had been allergic. Her father disinterested and non-committal about the idea of pets. She felt ten years old again when Zone told her, coveting the simple, uncomplicated companionship she felt would – must – exist between her and a dog. She had even collected editions of Pet Pals and shoved them under her father’s nose at the dinner table. 

“Look.” She had said, pointing to a page. “They’ve trained rescue dogs in the Trabian mountains to administer Phoenix Downs to people with hypothermia.”

 Had he thought, then, she wondered, had the idea begun to germinate in his mind? She felt unwell, the same kind of unwell she had first felt when Zone had told her about the Town Square Massacre during the end of the Second Sorceress War (had her father known that they would shoot into the crowd? Had he? Had he?) or the methods of torture used at D-District. 

“I’m going to come.” She announced. A panicked Zone recited the familiar list of reasons over why she absolutely should not come. 

“If they find you--” He started. 

“They won’t.” She said. “Please, Zone.” 

He looked at her as if they were children again, with her barraging in on his and Watts’ play the way she always did, demanding they find a place for her. They always had. 

“They want someone to record inside the facility.” He said. “You just hang back, okay? Stay outta shot. Follow our lead.” He paused for a second, bit his lip. “I meant what I said before, you know. There’s no condition to you being here. You don’t have to help us in our mission.” 

“What if I want to?” She asked. 

“You’re fifteen years old.” He said, only eighteen himself. “Just a few months ago you had no idea any of this existed.” 

She wanted to tell him that that was a lie. She wanted to think that her acts of rebellion – both large and small, both petty and serious -- against her father, her family, her school, even Vinzer had been for something beyond herself. Back then Zone and Watts were just childhood memories, servants’ boys who she had followed and pestered and then lost the same time it had felt like she had lost everything: her mother, the Timber house, her father. 

“And how old were you when you decided this is what you were meant to do? How old were you when you realised how wrong this all was?” She knew the answer. She knew it was the day Vinzer Deling had killed his father. There was no other answer he could give. Rinoa clutched the top of her arm and looked outside the train window, uncomfortable. “You know what I saw, what I went through, as his daughter. It was nothing compared to what people go through here, I know, but…” 

She heard him sigh. She watched Joly and Jehan outside smoking and playing dice under the washing line. Behind them stood the solid boundary of Argoat Forest. It would be autumn soon and she would have been here for three months, waiting for something or someone or somewhere to show her what to do with the rest of her life. Maybe all she needed was a dog. 

~ 

Rinoa accepts a cigarette from one of the Dollet Animal Liberationists even though she had promised herself she would quit because Rinoa Heartilly didn’t smoke. Rinoa Caraway’s last cigarette had been by patio doors of the Timber house as party music poured out into the night air. She had been wearing those satin shoes and the blue dress her aunt always insisted she wore around company. This Rinoa, though, wore sensible shoes designed for scaling chain-link fences and clothes that made her into shadow. 

They sketch out the outline of the base into the earth with a stick. Rinoa does her best to memorise the exit points and guard towers. There is an air of nervous anticipation she can feel between them all as they huddle together in the twilight. An owl hoots in the distance, and Rinoa chooses to take it as a good omen. 

“Rinoa, it’s okay if you want to wait in the van with Watts.” Zone whispers. She frowns and shakes her head and he grips her shoulder. 

She imagines the fence as one of the trees she and Zone used to climb in the grounds of the Timber house. She looks across and sees he is still beside her. They used to have races to climb to the top of the big oak. He wins now just as he did then, but here he is once more with a hand out for her. 

They keep low to the ground, dodging spotlights and sleepy, inattentive soldiers. The forest crowds around the camp, the sound of the wind through the leaves softens the noise of their footsteps on the gravel. Her back begins to hurt. Her comrades open control panels, begin fiddling with wires and keypads, muttering curses under their breath. 

She used to come with him on tours of these places, sometimes. Officials would hurry her father around and talk in squeaky, anxious voices. She used to try and pretend she was somewhere else. Her father didn’t trust her home alone - she had managed her way out of too many bolted windows and locked doors.

The largest members of the Forest Owls and the D.A.L – Bahorel and a Dollet man she knows only by his muddy yellow hair – swarm the lone soldier out for his cigarette break. He is slipped discreetly into a small closet and his keycard stolen, hands bound and mouth gagged. 

When they make their way through the back door of the kennel she is hit overwhelmingly by the scent of dog. She stands, dazed for a moment at the ugly bright fluorescent light, before remembering to switch on the camera. Everyone slips on their masks. They are old pantomime props from long ago showing faces of forest animals: bears, fawns, weasels, and, of course, owls. There is a faint smell of urine as the puppies begin to wake, whining and pacing in their cages. 

Zone and the D.A.L. leader stand shoulder to shoulder. Rinoa raises the camera. She knows Zone’s speech already, he had her sit and listen and critique him on his posture, his over-reliance on metaphor, the use of his hands.  

“We can see here the plain, naked brutality of the Galbadian Empire.” He began. “Not only do they corrupt and brutalise the minds and bodies of the soldiers under their command, but they extend their treatment to these innocent victims.” Someone hands him a puppy, who sits placidly in his arms. “Who gave these animals the choice to participate in their cruel regimes of violence against Timber, or against all who would seek to oppose their imperialistic dogma? This is only the first step in Timber’s liberation. Soon we liberate all of those who make their home on our soil!” 

His delivery is stifled in places, over-practiced. He is not really built for this, she knows. In another place and time Zone would have been a ticket inspector or a clerk in a timber yard, work where his awkwardness and anxious temperament would have proved no serious hindrance to him. But this is not that time. This is not that place. 

After the D.A.L leader’s speech – one that stresses the importance of direct action, of interspecies compassion -- she clicks off the camera. Zone thrusts the puppy into her arms. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. The small body wriggles against her chest. 

“It pissed on me! During my speech!” He replies, ripping off his mask. His face is flustered and he has been sweating. “Hyne this is a disgusting mission.” 

Rinoa bobs the puppy up and down in her arms. All around them littermates are being slipped into carriers covered with dark blankets. One of the D.A.L. goes to take the bundle from Rinoa’s arms, but she will not let them take it. No, not this one, she says. I’ll carry it.

[angelsrebellion]

“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Sentence Starters Meme | status: open

  “I SAID BE HONEST, NOT BE A JERK,” she pelted him with another pillow, followed by a stuffed animal, a dog toy, a wadded up pair of socks, another dog toy… she stops with the metal statuette of Angelo in her hand that Zell made her for her birthday a year or so back.

  “I know he’s a class A asshole, but he’s still my DAD,” she glared at him, rigid from head to toe with defiance. Realizing what she had been about to chuck at his head she quickly put the statuette down on her shelf, carefully scooting it back into a position of honor beside her one medal of commendation given after the sorceress war – everyone else had received dozens– before facing him with an accusatory point of her finger.

  “Say what you want about the war, and the horrible things Galbadia did under Vinzer Deling, and about how far my father fell and what a coward he was for not openly opposing the sorceress reign, but he doesn’t deserve to die…” her voice cracked a little, hand dropping to her side as her features became crestfallen, realizing for the first time in a long time that even at the height of her own detestation of her father and his politics, even when she opposed him the most strongly, she had always secretly hoped he would come around – return to the grace that his late wife had given him.

  “Please go. Please,” she begged him quietly, part of her ashamed for defending her father so vehemently when it felt a bit hypocritical – they had bonded over the ideals of a revolution, hand’t they? Her father certainly didn’t represent that.

  “Just go.”

[thesuccessorchallenge]

The Successor Challenge Submission: Cactus Jack

Written by cwenraed

Synopsis: Vinzer Deling, lifelong president of Galbadia. An old man with an ugly heart yearns for tenderness, but may already be beyond help.

Genre(s): Tragedy/Romance

Featured Character(s): Edea Kramer, Vinzer Deling, Fury Caraway

Current Word Count: 963

Rating: T

Status: In-Progress

Links:

Chapter 1

[redbravado]

This is so cute but i feel a correction is in place it should be president Deling cuz his full name is Vinzer Deling

Hello today tumblr! here’s Rinoa making a cute protest!

Step down President Vinzer!!

03/09/2018

=============================

This is my first time painting it in Paint Sai. and with a mixture of Photoshop.

[timblr-maniacs]

Deadly Junk: A Brief Review of the 'Junk Stores'

The ‘Junk’ Shop. A common presence in most cities, and these days, its name is sort of a cheeky joke. While technically one might find the goods there to perform other tasks, it’s known mainly by weapon enthusiasts, rebels, criminals and people who have to regularly deal with monsters as the place to assemble weapons for those who are not part of a professional military. Together with you, dear reader, I hope to explore the origin of this modern phenomenon, how it is tied into our history, and what might be in store in the future.

To begin the story, we should start with the dissolution of the Holy Dollet Empire, followng the Lunar Cry that destroyed the Centra civilization. This was a time of great chaos. The presence of monsters had greatly increased, and the Empire faced unrest as its claims of executing Hyne’s will sounded hollow with the sea of monsters and what seemed like the end of the world at the time.  Many nations, among which Galbadia and Timber proclaimed their independence, and Dollet, barely able to keep its own citizens safe and unwilling to battle, conceded after only token resistance.

Until this time, weapons being sold was a rarity. The world then was a far more peaceful one. Now, with no knights coming, and new governments not truly having established a military force yet, it was the time for innovation. The Gunblade has its origin in this era, and became a romantic image of the ‘Lone Knight’ defending the people from the depredations of monsters. In this era of course, they were sold quite openly, and weapon craftsmen would sell fully crafted weapons. Magazines like Weapons Monthly sprung up, with the results of various weaponsmith’s experiments with monster parts shared with the world.

The Sorceress Wars and Galbadia’s Conquests are what changed this. To explore the history and atrocity-fraught tales of the conquest is beyond this article, but Galbadia had centralized its fighting power, modernizing it rapidly in order to face the technologically superior Eshtar and their para-magic. In order to do so, Vinzer Deling had demanded all weapon development to happen in service to the Galbadian Republic and the war. Weapon shops were closed, with any of its former proprietors eagerly joining Galbadia’s war machine, if only to hold back Eshtar. 

After the war ended they found that Vinzer Deling was not of a mind to simply let them go back to their jobs. Some of them continued to work for the regime, others vanished in D-district prison or were executed. It was in the regime’s interests that travel between cities without easily restricted trains and cars was extremely hazardous, especially without weapons. In their power, they managed to put pressure on other countries, such as Balamb and even the Dollet Dukedom, to comply with these regulations. It was illegal to sell weapons, or weapon parts, or ammunition.

It was in this era that the Junk Shop was born. More specifically, in good old Timber itself. Filled with various resistance cells, there was a high demand, but a lot of Galbadian soldiers looking for weapon stores. It is perhaps the most audacious move that it was the person who bought out the weapon store when its old owner was arrested renamed it a ‘junk’ store, and proclaimed that he simply sold 'odds and ends’.  While of course, what he WAS selling was work space to turn various parts into weaponry. Both for the Resistance as well as other elements that had need of weapons.

Why was this never found out? If you ask the man on the street in Timber, the reason is that Galbadian soldiers were too used to their mass produced weapons and didn’t even consider such a possibility, but this reporter thinks that answer shows more patriotism than honesty. The answer must be sought in a combination of a shift in focus, bribery and, in the latter years, the military leadership of occupying forces in Timber consisting of relatively restrained and even timid figures, a far cry from the days of terror shortly after its conquest. (Consider the lack of retributive action after two attempts on Vinzer Deling’s life within a short time) And naturally, which officer would like to tell their superiors that they spent several manhours investigating a literal junk store. These stores were purposefully built as being hard to navigate, unpleasant to be in and filled with goods that were simpl red herrings.

Regardless, from Timber, the concept spread. Ironically, first to Galbadia itself, where the local criminal underground, as well as anti-government forces kept a trade going, and into Dollet and Galbadia, where they operated with relative impunity as the local governments were not very enthusiast about the ban on weapon stores, the result of Galbadian pressure. 

Of course, we are in new days. Vinzer Deling is dead, the Sorceress has vanished and Seifer Almasy has resigned all functions. The future leaves questions. Big questions like 'what happens with Galbadia, what happens with Timber’? But also smaller ones, like 'what to do with these 'junk stores’ Some people support them, as a part of our history, and a way for each person who has a weapon to have one personalized, having gathered his own parts. Others wish to return to weapon stores, with professional, reliable weaponry available for all. The world after all is still a dangerous place, and the Lunar cry in Esthar teaches us that we cannot rely on any nation, no matter how technological advanced, to endure. Other voices are raised that it is unacceptable that it is easier for a young person to acquire a gun or blade than an alcoholic drink. That the problem of monsters is best fought by professionals, and the problem of tyrants is best fought by free press and peaceful resistance.

So what is in store for the Junk Store? Will it be junked in the future? Or will our grandchildren still be dreaming of one day gathering the monster parts they need to walk into a store and walk out with their very own weapon? What do you think Maniacs?