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utterlyazriel · 3 months

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whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: eek not a request but an idea that wouldn't leave me alone! thus... we embark on a mulan-esque story that i hope u will enjoy <3 big thank you's to @strangerstilinski who listened and helped immensely as i whittled a hunky idea down to a plot

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: Someone in the Illryians Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lords. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter. fem!reader

— CHAPTER ONE :: STRANGERS

Frost was everywhere.

Despite all the eerie memories that tainted them, the Illyrian Mountains were hauntingly beautiful, even Azriel could admit that.

Pine trees stretched up tall, their timber trunks hidden beneath the snow-leaden branches. It was a sea of swirling frost. Snowflakes eddied down from the frozen sky, a soft blanket of white draped across the landscape.

He was sure that some, maybe the likes of Feyre and her artist's eye, could see that beauty easier than he could.

Beautiful, Azriel thought bitterly, but fucking freezing.

Normally, dealing with the likes of the war camps that riddled these mountains was left to Cassian. He had that raucous, fiery way about him that was far better suited to it. Enough pride to challenge the warriors and more than enough eager attitude to back his taunts if need be.

But Cassian was currently very much occupied— and highly unsuited to crack the whip against some rowdy Illyrians in his current state.

Azriel couldn't help the smile at the thought of when he'd last seen his brother.

Freshly mated Cassian looked as though he had tiny hearts circling around his head at all times. He resembled a puppy following his nose, always that wicked grin on his face as he trailed after Nesta. His adoration was impossible to miss.

Cassian had more than earned the time off. He deserved to celebrate properly, to have a couple weeks with no badgering worries, with no bickering Illyrian warriors to deal with (beyond his usual two).

So, as a mating gift to his brother —and partially to escape a house filled with intolerably mated couples— Azriel had taken over his duty temporarily. To oversee the war camps he detested so much.

Today, he was to investigate the rumoured stirrings amongst the camps and assess the level of threat it posed. More often than not, these sorts of stirrings were simply whispers of rebellion but nothing more.

There was an easy fix; a visit from one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, or even from Rhys himself. It always made the Illyrians a little nervous and those whispers of a coup would sweep away with the wind in a matter of time.

This time, however, the network of spies that operated under Azriel had not come back spinning such rumours.

Instead, there was talk of Lords with ruffled feathers. Lords with bruised egos due to a single bastard warrior, rising in the ranks and not playing by the rules.

The familiarity of the situation was almost too ironic, Azriel thought. He had half a mind to tell Rhys what he had learned and leave them to it. Cauldron knew these brutal camps needed a bastard to challenge their ways from time to time.

But still, there was always the potential for such a warrior to pose a threat in the future. Azriel could not leave a possible danger to brew. No stone left unturned.

The snow beneath his boots was beginning to melt.

He had been standing in the cold and peering up at the war camp ahead, barely seen through the heavy snow falling, for too long now. Snow was gathering on his wings, tendrils of ice shooting through their sensitive membrane. Find the bastard.

Shaking off the snow, he began to walk.

—

Gods forsaken males and their egos.

The bone in your forearm ached, having taken the brunt of your initial fall in the mud. It's covered in it too, the muck of the ground that always seemed to linger. Always a layer of dirt beneath your fingernails. Truly, one of the many incredible appeals of the Illyrian mountains was never actually being clean.

You'd probably hate it more— if it didn't do such a good job of masking unwanted scents.

But right now with a jagged cut that tears up your left arm, all the way to the elbow, you're cursing the mud. It's likely festering with uncountable grim diseases. You'll have to flush the wound to properly clean it before it begins to heal.

That means water. That means energy that you don't particularly feel like summoning to fetch it. You cast your glance to the window.

Outside, the Mother's Kiss howls loudly.

The southerly chilled wind current that Illyrians don such a precious name is quite fitting for their backward ways — to expect a kiss from your mother to have such a sting on the face.

Tonight, the current seems particularly fierce. The windows of your shelter rattle in warning. A storm had blown through camp rather unexpectedly and you'd caught the worst of it, tangled up in a snarling fest against Brudam.

Brudam, who is responsible for the current state of your arm. Your lip curls at the mere thought of the arrogant male. Your wings bunch up tightly and you huff quietly to nobody.

He'd caught wind of the broth you had made that had filled the stomach of three ravenous bastards in the camp. It had been just enough to keep them on their feet. Tonight, you know that one hot meal might very well be the difference that helps them survive the night.

But Illyrians are a tough breed— and they don't take kindly to people giving handouts, as Brudam had put it.

You preferred the term leveling the playing field.

As if Brudam and his Lord father had ever experienced to ache of starvation. Ever had to sleep in the snow with nothing but their own wings for warmth against a blizzard.

Another deep pain twinges in your arm and you hiss, drawn out of your thoughts. If you have to pick your wins, you can at least admit you're glad he had only found out about the broth— and had seemed none the wiser to the healing tonics you were slipping the freshly-clipped girls.

It ached to see them and their quivering wings. The way the muscles in their backs buckled when they tried to spread their wings, a cut too deep into the wrong nerve. It ached to see it, yes, but beneath that pain was an ocean of bitter and furious fire.

But your righteous anger would not help these girls.

You were not the most proficient healer and the tonics you were attempting... it was hard to say if they would make any difference in saving any females' wings.

You were gathering knowledge as best you could though, scraping together herbs that scarcely grew in the frozen climate. It was a poor imitation of something that might work.

Whether it would be enough... that was up to the Mother. But you had to try.

You assess the wound on your arm once more, wondering about the reserve of water you had in your small hut— whether you could both clean your wound and have enough to hydrate.

Another glance out at the wintry snowscape outside. You grimaced. If you didn't, you would have to bear the blistering chill of the Mother's Kiss to get more.

Weariness weighs on your bones. You hadn't been prepared for the fight, hence your almost embarrassing injury, and it drained you more than you expected.

You stand with a sigh and drag your feet toward the tiny cauldron filled with melted snow collected earlier in the day. It hangs over the fireplace, the embers within long since snuffed out. Your motion stirs them up.

For a moment, you stare into the fireplace. The water in the cauldron shimmers. The shelter creaks around you, bending in the wind.

It's covered in soot, marred by the flames that usually lick it from beneath it. The lip of it, however, is still clean enough to see your own reflection. You peer into it.

And in that reflection, you find a tall figure with massive wings looming above their shoulders standing behind you.

Your heart spasms in shock and you have to swallow your gasp of surprise. Your eyes dart up, frantically hunting for a weapon. You grab the closest object you can, your hand closing around a kitchen fork. And before they get the chance, you twist and lunge, arm raised.

The floorboards groan as your boots slam into them, darting forward to attack. But the male dodges you easily, your strike passing through empty air.

You don't stop, turning and striking for him once again. The male sways back again easily to avoid your swing and you scowl.

Quickly feigning one way, you watch as his hands, weaponless, move to defend his gut — and you change direction, fast. Neck exposed, you snarl as you sink the fork deep into his shoulder.

The male hisses in pain.

You falter for a moment at the noise but it's a mistake. His hands move so fast you barely see them, gripping your wrist that holds the fork and twisting it down to the ground, immobilising you from using it.

You snarl again and tug against him fruitlessly. A swell of panic begins to rise within you as you tug again, again, again. His hold doesn't falter.

"Stop," The male commands you quietly.

This time when you tug, he opens his fingers and you fly back onto your ass, wings flaring out a moment too late to catch yourself.

You expect him to trudge forward, to beat an attack down on you now that you're less defended, but he doesn't move from his spot.

In fact, you realise as you stare at him, cheat heaving, he hasn't attacked you at all.

His weapons, which there are many of them, stay strapped to his side, glittering against the snow's reflected light. You spot the siphon on his hand, a churning sapphire colour — and clock the matching one on his other hand.

This was not just any Illyrian warrior in your home.

Faintly, your panic subsides as you realise that if this male meant to hurt you —to kill you— he very well could have done so by now.

You let your eyes trail up, taking in the face so hidden in shadow, and recognize that the darkness swirling around him is not ordinary shadow.

The revelation has you sitting up a bit straighter, the bindings around your chest pulling tight. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

What do you say to one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history —one who served on Rhysand's inner circle, friend of the High Lord of the Night Court— when you've just stabbed him with a fork?

As if your thought had reminded him, the male —Azriel, you know his name to be— shifts and reaches for the utensil still sticking out of his shoulder. He yanks it out without a noise of complaint.

Then he says, "Considering your choice of weapon, it's no surprise Brudam cut up your arm."

You scowl at him but at a closer look, you can see that his expression isn't condescending. No, with his raised brows, he almost looks... impressed.

"I wasn't expecting visitors." You bite back defensively.

Azriel's eyes dance with amusement. He throws the fork onto your table with a clatter. "That's how you greet visitors?"

"Uninvited ones, yes."

His amusement fades, the planes of his face shadowed and yet still handsome. Like most Illyrians, there's this incomprehensible sense of elegance to him, an alluring pull tied to his very demeanor.

But looking at him now, even in the dimness of your shelter, you could see Azriel went beyond to type of beauty that usual Illyrians had. An unparalleled grace, an unmatched Adonis.

He is the most beautiful male you had ever seen—and you had just stabbed him with a fork.

"Sorry," You mutter eventually when he doesn't say anything.

You shift onto your knees to stand, your hand coming to cup beneath your elbow— the ache of the injury had begun to bleed back in now that you weren't focused on fighting off an intruder.

"You're forgiven." He says. You can see lightly, through the dimming light, the faint blood on his neck you've caused.

"You fight well," He comments, with the air of a compliment. Something like amusement is in his eyes when he says, "Even with your unusual choice of weapon."

You glare at him as you climb to your feet and all but collapse into a chair. You don't even have another to offer to him. Buried beneath your leathers, your chest aches in pain — a reminder that it's been bound for far too long. You ignore it and tilt your chin towards him.

"Why are you here?"

You're actually sure that even if you offered Azriel a chair he wouldn't take it, given how stiffly he stands before you. He takes a moment to answer, his gaze flitting around the small room you both stand in. Calculating, categorizing.

"There were rumours of a warrior turning up trouble here."

He fixes his hazel-eyed gaze on you. You steel yourself beneath it. "A couple days in your camp and it became clear who the outlier was."

A couple days? For some reason, you can't believe that he's been surveying this place without detection from anyone. Another glance at his shadows, the dark masses that hang around his shoulders, and you can believe it a little more.

Besides, it's hardly as though the Lords would deign to tell a bastard like you anything important.

You clench your jaw but don't say anything.

"Brudam mentioned you feeding some warriors." Azriel continues, his tone unreadable. Though something, you couldn't tell what, glittered in his eyes. "Not very in the spirit of Illyrians."

You scowl at him again. Even if he had once faced these conditions before, you wondered if his time away, spent Cauldron knows where, had softened his memory.

"It's not against any law."

"No, it isn't," Azriel says. His eyes narrow. "But making healing tonics without a Healer's jurisdiction and selling them to young females is."

Your heart stops for just a moment. How could he know that? The last batch you had dropped off had been over a month ago.

Without thinking you snarl back, "I'm not selling them, you prick."

Something blooms on Azriel's face, surprise and a hint of smugness.

Your mouth snaps shut as you realise what you've done. You curse yourself. Slumping back in your chair, your wings sag with you and you let them droop onto the floor, uncaring. He could very well be here to kill you, given the knowledge of what you had just admitted.

For a long moment, there's just silence.

You stare at the floor and wonder which version of the High Lord is true; the Court of Nightmares whose power ripples through these camps and keeps them in line. Or the rumours of a softer side, a dreamer.

You wonder, more importantly, which of those this male before you is friends with.

Something in the floor creaks when Azriel finally moves. He crosses the room swiftly to the fireplace and gathers two logs from the stack of firewood beside it, tossing them onto the pile of ash.

You watch, perturbed, as he hunches over the fireplace for a quiet minute— and when he pulls back, a small flame is burning on the wood. It dances on the log, entrancing and amber-coloured.

Heat begins to fill the room. You pick your wings up and stretch them towards it, grateful for how they begin to warm. You hadn't quite realised the extent of your chill until right now.

It's such a kindness that hasn't been shown to you in many years. Surprise and silent gratitude bloom in your chest.

Azriel turns back to face you. You school your surprise away.

"What's your name?" He asks, his voice gruff.

It's been a while since anyone asked that either. Bastard. Mongrel. Imposter. There are a thousand other words that have become your name whilst growing up here.

You can't tell him your name. In the same way you can't tell anyone here your real name without revealing too much about yourself.

So you shorten it and tell him that instead.

Azriel nods. Doesn't repeat it, doesn't blink at your hesitance. Instead, he just says, "Like I said, you fight well. You could be better though."

You frown at the backhanded compliment, something in you sneering at the jab at your fighting skills. Worse, you know he's right.

If you had weapons suited to your size, exercises that focused on your agility more than your brute strength... There's a good reason you have to work twice as hard as every other warrior in camp.

Azriel looks at your arm, no longer bleeding and beginning to stitch itself up. Shit, you really need to clean that first.

"Clean that and get a good night's rest." He orders, not meanly. Then he crosses the space of your shelter in a few paces of his long legs, heading for the door.

"You—" The question dares to come out of you. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Azriel pauses, one hand, one scarred hand you can now see with the fire going, on the door. So, the rumours of that were true.

"No," He says lowly. He sees you staring, and as if on command, the shadows swirling around his shoulders dart down to cover his hands. They and the doorknob in his hand disappear from sight completely.

You evade your eyes back up to his hauntingly beautiful face. His expression is stony, unreadable. He stares at you for a long moment, the dancing fire reflected in his hazel eyes.

"I'm going to train you."

[next part]

#ahhhh!!! i'm very excited for this one!!#pray i can do it justice !!#azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fic

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kaciebello · 3 months

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🫰🏻Masterlist 🫰🏻

Hello! Welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy some of my writing! I will update when I have something written so I can promise no consistency. My main motto is to have fun so here I am to do so! Tada ~ Have fun! ♡(◕ᗜ◕✿)

Hogwarts AU

Social media ✂

Social media au ☀

Series ✂

Delivery Express ✿ Badger express ★

George Weasley ✂

ღ Love accusations Summary: 3 instances where you deny dating George, and the one where you don’t. Much to Fred's dismay.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Luke Castelan ✂

ღ Band-aids of death Summary: Percy meets the band-aid dealer who has his friend so smitten ღ Bring a scythe to a sword fight Summary: The reader is gradually suspicious, not believing Clarisse is the lightning thief ღ Strawberries with too many seeds Summary: Percy might feel like he is messing up the whole demigod thing, but he sure feels like he has friends here. ღ Offspring garden Summary: Luke and the reader are the unofficial parents of the camp, whether they like it or not.

ღ Us before you and me Summary: Luke and the readers’ relationship before they became a couple. Luke is an absolute loser when it comes to crushes.

Clarisse La Rue ✂

ღ And they were girls together Summary: News gets to the reader about someone's crush., Clarisse wants to hear none of it.

Chris Rodriguez ✂

ღ One egg as the other Summary: Chris visits one of his favourite campers, purely just to annoy them.

Nico Di Angelo ✂

ღ Sibling rivals, sibling allies Summary: Nico was aware his sibling loved him, to the point that lectures were inevitable.

#kaciebello masterlist #masterlist

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syoddeye · 20 days

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~1.2k words. Price x gn!Reader. CW: controlling behavior, stalking/location tracking, brief sexual content

After your abrupt ‘engagement’, you argue. Refusing to unpack your things at John’s place—your place, now—you explain it’s normal for couples to discuss things like living together and marriage before they happen. John disagrees.

It’s supposed to be a surprise, sweetheart. And isn’t my place better? Bigger?

He watches you pace around his flat, a little smug when you finally set out your toiletries. Isn’t this much simpler, he whispers, rubbing your shoulders as you tearfully list your couch for sale. No more back and forth. Significantly lower bills and rent, as he insists on paying for more than half. His furniture is newer, too, though the place could use some color. He’s happy to take you shopping and let you pick new decor.

It’s not the couch you’re upset about. It’s the loss of your own space. Again, you attempt to explain. John shushes and comforts you in his favorite way, on your back, buried deep in a slow grind. He holds you at the knife point of pleasure, at the very edge, and asks if you really hate his place so much or miss your lumpy, old furniture. Guilts it out of you, withholding, until you concede you don’t hate it and please please please—

The first week runs long. He bends you over in the kitchen, joins you in the shower, and pushes you against the door when you get home from work. Where you once complained of not having enough of his attention, you find yourself barraged. You stop by a new bookstore at lunch on a Friday, and he calls, voice tight, the jingling of his keys louder than any bullet. Where are you? Who are you with? A bookstore? Lovely, send a selfie. You nearly die of embarrassment when an employee catches you awkwardly holding up your phone in the romance section and scuttle out.

It happens whenever you go somewhere without him. A coworker’s birthday happy hour. A short visit to meet a friend’s new puppy. A long walk at the park. Even when he is occupied, John finds time to badger you. After he hounds you at a work dinner, demanding a photo with your boss, you decide enough is enough. The mystery app needs to go.

Through careful fishing and research, you learn your coworker's girlfriend's best friend knows a tech guy. You set up a dummy email, exchange a few messages, and agree to meet at the coffee shop across the street from the office. It's not the most brilliant location, but it's believable enough when you mention to John that you're treating a coworker to lattes that afternoon. He squeezes your thigh when he drops you off and wishes you a good day.

The man—no names, for everyone's safety—is overcharging you, but it's worth it if it works. You don't want to think about what will happen if it doesn't. He meets you at a table with a small toolkit. He's fidgety and quiet, but polite and more interested in the puzzle of the app than the circumstances. The fewer questions, the better. He asks you to order drinks while he gets to work. You order, pay, chat with the barista about their handmade earrings, and when you turn to check his progress...He's gone. Phone and all.

You panic.

John.

John will know. He will call and text. Your mind leapfrogs to the worst scenario—what if he follows the thief, thinking it's you? How could you be so stupid. You abandon the coffee, barely hold off the waterworks, and sprint back to your office. Shoving into your manager's office, you beg to use their landline. It's an emergency.

For the first time in weeks, John doesn't pick up the phone. You try twice before your boss's worried side eye forces you back to your desk, tail tucked between your legs; so much for an emergency. You think of borrowing a coworker's phone to at least call the police and report the theft, but you know it'll make things worse with John. Your only option is to wait until five o'clock.

Like always, John waits out front. You force a smile and slip into the passenger seat with a knot in place of your heart. Your chest has never felt tighter.

He's on the phone and shoots you an apologetic smile, then points at the digital display. Laswell. Work. You suppose it gives you more time to find the words to explain what happened.

John misses the first turn on the usual route home. Then another. Your eyes dart to him, but he's absorbed in the drive and his phone call. They're talking about Urzikstan, his words clipped and terse as they typically are on calls when you're present. You grip the edges of your seat, your stomach turning over when he gets on the road leading out of town and into the hills. You rake your memory, thinking of where he could possibly be taking you.

Eventually, forty-five minutes into the drive, the town far behind you, he ends the call. He drops his phone into the console and pats your knee. The jolt from his palm prompts you to blurt out the lie you concocted, not wanting to give him a chance to become upset over your errant location.

You tell him: It all happened so fast, John. At the cafe with your coworker and set your phone down on the corner of the table. As a man left the shop, he grabbed it on the way out and ran off. You tried calling, upset he didn't answer, and you didn't know what to do.

John hums, his expression unreadable in the dimming light of day. He answers your frantic confession by pulling off the road onto an overlook and telling you you've arrived with a small smile.

It's a little chilly, but he tucks you into his side and marvels at the view of the valley. He still hasn't addressed the 'theft'. It worries you, thinking of his festering anger. He glides his hand down your back, squeezes your waist, and then quietly tells you to quit your job.

I don’t think that place is good for you.

You look up and find John staring, smiling, but you’ve seen those eyes before.

Those people are a bad influence. You’ve never been careless like that. I make more than enough for the both of us, anyway.

Before you think of a response, he drops to one knee, and pulls a ring from his jacket. In front of the sunset, he professes his love for you in a real proposal.

Make me the happiest man in the world, and I will do everything in my power to keep you happy.

You're unsure if you imagine the emphasis on 'keep', but you are suddenly quite aware of how far away you are from civilization, without a phone, with a man trained to kill. Tears slip down your cheeks, and when you accept, the words shudder out of you on the exhale. He kisses the rest of the air out of your lungs. Despite the open sky above you, it's suffocating.

See? You like surprises, sweetheart.

Deep breaths. Smile and nod.

Will you get the champagne out of the boot?

The weight of the engagement ring on your finger feels like an anchor. You stare at it, glinting in the fading sunlight, and wordlessly open the rear door to find a picnic basket. Champagne, chocolates, flowers—and nestled in the center, your phone.

#john price #price x gn reader #price x you #price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #x reader #x gn reader #cw possessiveness #cw stalking #cw location tracking #what i worked on instead of my big wips last night

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lessthansix · 3 months

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‘I have your plates,’ he said, holding out a green-baize parcel. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Stephen. What a good fellow you are. Here’s elegance, damn my eyes. How they shine! Oh, oh,’ his face fell. ‘Stephen, I do not like to seem ungrateful, but I did say hawser-laid, you know. The border was to be hawser-laid.’ ‘Well, and did I not say, “Let there be a hawser about the periphery” and did he not say, the shopman, God’s curse upon him, the thief, “Here, sir, is as pretty a hawser as Lord Viscount Nelson himself could desire”?’ ‘And so it is. A capital hawser. But surely my dear Stephen, you must be aware, after all this time at sea, that a hawser is cable-laid, not hawser-laid?’ ‘I am not. And I absolutely decline to hear more of the matter. A hawser not hawser-laid – what stuff. I badger the silversmith early and late, and we are to be told that hawsers are not hawser-laid. No, no. The wine is drawn, it must be drunk. The frog has neither feathers nor wool, and yet she sings. You will have to sail up to the Downs, eating the bread of affliction off your cable-laid baubles, and wetting it with the tears of misery; and I may tell you, sir, that you will eat it without me. Essential business calls me away. I shall put up at the Grapes, when I am in London: I hope to be there well before Michaelmas. Pray send me a line. Good day to you, now: God bless.’

Post Captain, Patrick O’Brian

#patrick o'brian #post captain #aubreyad

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bertilak-writes · 1 year

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Demo Link (Day One)

Play as a powerful witch and talented healer, living in the shadow of your late father’s legacy, and your ‘unique relationship’ with Death himself.

When Death goes missing you have no choice but to track them down, aided by a badgering customer and a responsible Ankou.

Explore a modern magical world, filled with witches, sorcerers, and curses.

Customise your character.

Befriend and ally with a cast of characters, or romance one of three.

Earn magical favour, gain immense power, and free Death (Or don’t).

Inspired by tales like Godfather Death, Aunt Misery, and The Thief and His Master.

Death

The personification of the primordial force of Death. Calm, collected, and increasingly distant despite your previous familial relationship.

The Heir - Linden

Carefree and irresponsible, avoiding the judgment of their mother is almost a full time job. They’re now following you around with an uncharacteristic amount of curiosity, and an odd detachment from the Curse that looms over their head.

The Ankou - Jules

The first person to die in the new year, and therefore tasked with helping Death usher souls to the other side. They’ve taken well to the responsibility of their role, their level headed personality and optimistic nature lending itself well to the nature of the job.

The High Sorceress

Powerful, regal, and scheming. The current leader of the Circle of Sorcerers, a group dedicated to understanding magic.

The Witch King

A thorn in the High Sorceress's side, and an (alleged) threat to the Circle's Authority.

The Oracle

As the primary organiser of the Goblin Market, Crina has made a name for herself with both her impeccable organisation skills and her talent at prophecy.

The Thief - ???

???

#interactive fiction #choicescript #interactive game #info post #deaths apprentice

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inquissien · 10 months

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Artfight attack #6 - Gnarly Rae Jepsen the were-badger dwarf for @spontaneousmusicalnumber

and #7 - Keizer Fibraa the thief tiefling (with a very fine moustache) for @statictelevisionpunk

#artfight #artfight 2023 #art #painting #dwarf #tiefling #dnd

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quofide · 7 months

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Remembering "Angel Hare"

youtube

This is Angel Hare. An indie series made by the Mangan Sisters/The East Patch. Sometime around 2022.

It's one of my favorite Analog Horror Series. But sadly not a well known one. It's also relatively new as it's first episode is only a year old.

The next few excerpts I have taken from TV Tropes becouse I couldn't do them justice. I'm not a thief. Just incompetent.

"The story follows a young man named Jonah, who one day walks into a thrift store and discovers an official VHS copy of an old childhood show he used to love: Angel Hare, a 6 episode Christian based cartoon about the adventures of Francis the Badger and his friend Angel Gabby, the titular angelic hare.

Overcome by nostalgia and an old sense of comfort, he buys the tape, despite already having all the episodes of the original airing of the show recorded back home, anddecides to watch it, but he immediately notices that something is … off.

The show as presented on the tape is completely different from the one he remembers. Fortunately, he does have his own recording of the show to compare it to, so he starts uploading comparison videos of the two versions of the show onto Youtube.

From there he finds himself going down the rabbit hole of childhood memories as he slowly starts to realize exactly how strange his old recording actually is, and that Angel Gabby is definitely way more than she seems.

He may have forgotten Angel Hare, but Angel Hare sure hasn't forgotten him."

I watched the entire show at the beginning of the year. I loved it. But it looked like it was over...

UNTIL IT WASN'T!

They posted new Episodes! And made a new plot hook! I was even mentioned! Me! Some nobody from nowhere!

So in return I thought I'd try to support them in the only way I could before I get a Patreon. By spreading awareness baby!

So.. Uh... Go watch it? Subscribe to the East Patch, like and comment so the algorithm notices it.

It's a very unique type of story. Maybe even a bit of a subversion.

Also if you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at promoting.

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zirawrites · 8 days

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Fallout 4 companions reaction to sole who used to be criminal back in the old days before the bombs fell? They used to be a pro thief as they would rob banks and jewelery stores.

Cait: "I knew there was a reason we got on so well, Sole!" Cait threw an arm around her companion's shoulders. "So, what was your biggest score? And care to try it again? I reckon caps are easier to nick than jewels."

Codsworth: The Mr. Handy's body rattled in horror. "My word, sir/ma'am! Surely you jest. Our home was purchased with honest money. Why, you had reputable employment. Why would we have needed to steal?" He shook himself in disagreement. "This is a prank, isn't it? Well, it's not very funny. You've been spending too much time with Deacon."

Curie: "The psychology around kleptomania is actually quite fascinating." Curie badgered Sole with questions about their motivations behind their theft; seemingly uninterested in the heists themselves. Sole was so overwhelmed that they eventually lied that it was a joke.

Danse: "And you thought that was appropriate to confess to a Paladin?" Danse crossed his arms in admonishment. "I suggest you recant that statement before it gets noted in your records."

Deacon: Deacon reckoned that being a liar didn't give him the best moral standing to judge his partner for their criminal past. "That'll come in handy when dealing with the Institute." Then he patted his pockets. "Just don't get any ideas about borrowing my things. Tinker Tom does that enough already. This merry band we've got is running me dry."

Hancock: "Get in line with every other drifter who's blown through my town." The ghoul handed Sole a can of jet and gestured to his apartment. "Though I wouldn't mind hearing about some of those scores. Dishonest work makes for some of the best stories."

MacCready: "Woah, nice! What's the most expensive thing you've ever swiped?" MacCready pulled out a lighter from his duster. "Sometimes I help myself to a trinket or two from a target. This here is the best lighter I've ever used. Stole it off a serial killer, so I don't feel too bad about it." Then he shivered. "You don't think it has, like, bad energy, do you? Maybe I should toss it..."

Preston: "I don't think you'd want to admit that in earshot of any other Minutemen," he warned. "Don't think they'd take kindly to knowing our general's loyalties are... questionable." Then Preston checked his coat. "Wait, you haven't stolen anything from me, have you?"

Piper: "If you weren't my friend, I'd interview you for a feature on your greatest pre-war heists." Piper shrugged, her disappointment obvious. "But I'd hate to besmirch the goody-two-shoes image you've cultivated in the Commonwealth. Even if it loses me some sales."

Nick: "That's not exactly something you should brag about, kid." Nick looked the the perfect example of a displeased parent. "Some criminals make for the best detectives. They know how the bad guys' minds work. But don't get any bright ideas about pulling one over on me."

X6-88: "Surely not a common thief, though." X6 frowned. "Are we talking fancy jewelry stores? Big banks? Whatever you stole, I'm sure you got more out of it than a simple raider."

Edit: Just as Sole thawed from cryofreeze, I have returned.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 react #fallout 4 reactions #maccready #hancock #danse #preston garvey #piper wright #fallout #codsworth #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions react #nick valentine #x688 #fallout 4 cait #fallout 4 deacon #fallout 4 curie

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leaf-thief · 2 years

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ok did yall know badgers invented toilets?

Actually idk if this is the evolutionarily oldest case of concentrated excretion away from living spaces, but I think it’s absolutely amazing how these guys figured out how to be sanitary while at the same time creating prominent features to mark territorial boundaries between social groups (badgers are one of the few if only Mustelids that are not solitary).

Meles meles latrine found near Dichin village, Veliko Tarnovo Municiplaity, Bulgaria

#til #today i learned #badgers #badger #latrine #territorial #bulgaria #bg blog #bg post #cool fact #zoology #ecology #meles meles #leaf-thief oc

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 2 months

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Books for Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week

🦇 It's Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week (February 18th-24th)! In an effort to #ReadQueerAllYear, here are a few books featuring aromantic characters you can add to your TBR!

💚 Little Thieves by Margaret Owen 🤍 The Bone Season - Samanta Shannon 🤍 Hullmetal Girls - Emily Skrutskie 🖤 Tarnished Are the Stars - Rosiee Thor 💚 Kaikeyi - Vaishnavi Patel 🤍 The Reckless Kind - Carly Heath 🤍 First Test - Tamora Pierce 🖤 No More Heroes - Loren Rhoads 💚 This Golden Flame - Emily Victoria 🤍 Baker Thief - Claudie Arseneault 🤍 Immoral Code - Lillian Clark 🖤 Loveless - Alice Oseman 💚 The Last 8 - Laura Pohl 🤍 The Midnight Bargain - C.L. Polk 🤍 The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy - Mackenzi Lee 🖤 Common Bonds - Claudie Arseneault, C.T. Callahan, B.R. Sanders, and RoAnna Sylver 💚 The Black Veins - Ashia Monet 🤍 Liar’s Guide to the Night Sky by Brianna Shrum 🤍 The Crow Rider - Kalyn Josephson 🖤 Summer Bird Blue - Akemi Dawn Bowman 💚 Hazel's Theory of Evolution - Lisa Jenn Bigelow 🤍 Summer of Salt - Katrina Leno 🤍 The Poppy War - R.F. Kuang 🖤 Not Even Bones - Rebecca Schaeffer 💚 Elatsoe - Darcie Little Badger 🤍 Rick - Alex Gino 🤍 Switchback by Danika Stone 🖤 Sal & Gabi Fix the Universe - Carlos Alberto Hernandez 💚 Gender Queer - Maia Kobabe 🤍 Their Troublesome Crush - Xan West 🤍 Every Bird a Prince - Jenn Reese 🖤 The Butterfly Assassin - Finn Longman 💚 Red Skies Falling - Alex London 🤍 When Villains Rise - Rebecca Schaeffer 🤍 The Bruising of Qilwa - Naseem Jamnia 🖤 Funeral Girl - Emma K. Ohland 💚 The Kindred - Alechia Dow 🤍 The Summer of Bitter and Sweet - Jen Ferguson 🤍 Dear Wendy - Ann Zhao 🖤 Tell Me How It Ends by Quinton Li 💚 This Dark Descent - Kalyn Josephson 🤍 Awakenings by Claudie Arseneault 🤍 Compound Fracture by Andrew Joseph White 🖤 Other People’s Butterflies by Cora Ruskin

Per @aroaessidhe: Little Thieves, The Kindred, The Summer of Bitter and Sweet, Gender Queer, (and I think The Bone Season?) have ace or demisexual MCs, not aromantic. also, a lot of the rest are side characters, not main characters.

Thank you, genuinely, so much, for this correction. I'm very sorry for the mistake. I create these guides between work assignments (I work from home, around the clock, trying to make ends meet in this mess of an economy) and didn't do my due diligence in double-checking every book. I think this started as an aro/ace list I was compiling and I tried to separate it into two guides. I apologize for the discrepancy vehemently and will strive to do better in the future. Thank you for catching my error.

#books #aromantic books #aro books #aromantic #queer romance #queer books #queer community #queer #queer fiction #booklr #book blog #book list #books to read #book reader #book reading #queer book recs #book recs #batty about books #battyaboutbooks

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the-judicial-assistants-notebook · 1 year

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You know, I think what really bugs me about the "Dadworth" dynamic applied to Kay and Edgeworth's relationship is that it usually makes Kay out to be this hyperactive, slight problem child (in the 'stealing and pranking' sense rather than the 'moody and abrasive' sense), occasionally with deep-rooted daddy issues like Edgeworth has, when that's... the opposite of her character.

(This post got away from me, so TL;DR: Kay is a quick-witted and independent young woman who has worked very hard to be both emotionally and practically intelligent enough to be seen as a legitimate successor to her father's legacy. Making her out to be the traits mentioned above, so she functions as Edgeworth's daughter rather than his investigative partner and equal, undermines her character and semi-conflates her with Maya [the deep-rooted issues bit]. Also I don't like it wksgskaj)

Kay is very, very sharp.

The thing about Kay is that she's not actually in the series as much as it feels like she is, which makes it easy for her character to be altered to suit the needs of the story (which I think happens in The Forgotten Turnabout, but I won't talk about that here). She turns up in two cases as herself in AAI (as in, teenager Kay whom we're most familiar with) and shares her role with Gumshoe, Ema and Franziska when she does, lessening her appearances even further. Nevertheless, there are still concrete elements to her personality that we're made aware of right from the beginning, and the first major one which I feel gets overlooked in favour of her hyperactive characterisation is this:

In terms of mainline assistants, I'd consider her the sharpest of all (maybe after Trucy? But I don't remember enough of AJ to comment on that). Yes, she's shown to be reckless and impulsive, but, when it comes to actual investigating and reasoning, she is solid. With Nick and Maya, you sometimes get the impression that they're both fumbling along until Phoenix catches on (most of the time with Maya's usually a little accidental help, and he still has to explain things to her near every time [not Maya's fault. Following Phoenix's reasoning is like being on a rollercoaster in a minecart]), but Kay is very rarely like that with Edgeworth. Within minutes of meeting him, she can predict what he's going to say (or 'steal his lines', as the game puts it), and there are several moments after he uses Logic and is about to explain what he's connected where Kay interrupts with the correct conclusion herself:

Edgeworth: A second Blue Badger that shouldn't exist... Clearly, the true identity of the person underneath is...

Kay: Oh, I know! It's one of the kidnappers, right!?

There's even a point where she tells him off for overexplaining things to her:

Kay: Yeesh, I told you I got it! Do you feel the need to explain everything!?

And, near the end of their first case together, he acknowledges that's she's generally quite quick:

Kay: OK, what should I re-create first?

Edgeworth: ...You haven't figured it out yet?

Kay: Heh, maybe I have, and maybe I haven't.

Even if you don't take these points into consideration, the fact that she comes up with a new way to use Little Thief, and knows how to use it at all actually, shows you that she's a really intelligent girl! Continuing on a bit from the point I made earlier about her being brash, Kay may be reckless, but she isn't irresponsible. Whenever she rushes into situations, she doesn't expect other people to come save her; she's quite assured that she can and will get herself out of them on her own, and, if she needs help, she asks for it in advance. She treats Edgeworth less like her guardian and more like her investigative partner:

Kay: I didn't get permission to enter Allebahst... so we're going to go gather whatever info we can over on the Babahlese side, OK!?

Edgeworth: Alright, I'm counting on you two.

Kay: Right, and I'm counting on you and Ms. von Karma to sniff out clues in Allebahst!

...

Edgeworth: A number of pieces connect in a very complicated way in this case... It's almost enough to make one completely mentally exhausted.

Kay: Let's not over-complicate matters, OK, Mr. Edgeworth? We've been so focused, like a laser, on only what seems strange and out of place... it's no wonder nothing's clicked and we haven't unlocked anything yet. But, if we think things through calmly, the answer should come to us!

There's an independence to her proactiveness that kind of forces Edgeworth to meet her on equal grounds, and this too is an element that gets lost when the Dadworth dynamic comes in because it involves making Edgeworth responsible -- or feel responsible -- for her actions and general wellbeing when Kay has never expected nor wanted that. She does things on her own terms, and she walks the path she's chosen by herself:

Edgeworth: Preposterous! On what grounds do you suspect her of such a thing!?

Shih-na: The fact that she calls the Yatagarasu. That in itself is a more elegant proof.

Kay: Ms. Shih-na.

Shih-na: Yes?

Kay: I... have no intention of taking back any of what I've said.

Shih-na: ...?

Kay: I am the Great Thief Yatagarasu. And I refuse to allow some imposter to claim that name as their own! The path of justice that my father pointed me towards... I will walk it the best I can!

Her relationship with Edgeworth works as an inverse to that of Nick and Maya's in the way that, where Nick and Maya have deep respect for one another beneath layers upon layers of playful insults and messing about, Kay outwardly respects Edgeworth first (and expects that respect to be returned) and razes him second -- that, too, never to an extent she wouldn't with anyone else or that crosses a certain boundary. Her messing with Edgeworth is shown to be more an attempt to get him to lighten up or not take himself too seriously than an act of (platonic) intimacy as it is with Nick and Maya (which makes sense because Nick and Maya have spent years together, while she's known Edgeworth for all of two weeks) or genuine obliviousness/silliness (although it definitely sometimes is). This is pretty obvious simply from the fact that she always calls him 'Mr Edgeworth', though she's perfectly comfortable calling Gumshoe and Badd, people whom she is more familiar and comfortable with, 'Gummy' and 'Uncle Badd' respectively. Also Kay, in general, is quite polite? Edgeworth calls something she said rude at one point and she gets insulted, and, when you ask for her opinion, she doesn't go 'What?' or 'What is it?', she specifically says, 'Yes?' (this changes in AAI2, which I promise I'm not discussing here) Upon meeting Oldbag, she has this exchange with her, where Kay chooses a more formal mode of address than what is actually offered:

Oldbag: My name is Wendy Oldbag. But you can call me "Wendy", or "Granny", or whatever suits your fancy.

Kay: Nice to meet you, Ms. Oldbag! I'm Kay Faraday.

She's also had moments where she calls Edgeworth out for being 'tactless', and she's shown to feel very strongly about rudeness throughout the whole game. I'm not saying she isn't mischievous or playful, she very much is, but the point is that she's really quite respectful, and this extends to her relationship with him. Her characterisation in Turnabout Ablaze, where she's considerably more excitable/high-strung than in Kidnapped, seems largely due to them chasing down Calisto Yew. Edgeworth even comments on this:

Edgeworth: Kay, you need to look before you leap. You tend to lose your cool when it comes to anything related to that woman.

Generally, though, you can tell that she was obviously raised with an adherence to certain formalities. She's not looking for another parental figure (because she doesn't need one, which I'll go into after this), but, if she was, she'd make that clear.

Kay's a very straightforward person at heart; she doesn't hide any part of herself, even the part that should be hidden (i.e. the Yatagarasu). There are points where she suggests that Edgeworth reminds her of her father, but, in AAI, she specifically mentions that it's both Edgeworth and Gumshoe who remind her of her father and Detective Badd. It's not about her seeing Edgeworth as a father figure; it's about their and her own dedication to the truth. Even in AAI2, where her comments could be read as leaning more towards the former angle, she doesn't get cut up about him not picking up on that or really paying it much emphasis at all, because it doesn't matter. The fact that he reminds her of Byrne is just that: a fact.

Returning to the point about Kay not needing/wanting another parental figure, I think it's pretty self-explanatory, but to put it succinctly: Kay has the guidance she needs without him.

To put it less succinctly, Edgeworth's possibly the worst candidate to go for for emotional support and guidance in the first place, and by the time she meets him again, she's basically processed her father's passing and has a better handle on herself emotionally than Edgeworth does (not a brag; most characters have higher EQ than Edgeworth); what she wants isn't necessarily closure for Byrne's death in the emotional sense but in the I-want-answers-to-this-mystery-that-will-restore-my-family's-honour sense. You could make the argument that Kay becoming the second Yatagarasu and shaping her entire future around continuing her father's work prove that she isn't over his death, but I don't think that's true and more of a result of conflating her with Maya a bit.

With Maya, becoming the Master isn't something she chooses; it's given to her by Misty and Mia. With Kay, it's the opposite. Kay's decision to become the Yatagarasu and pursue the truth is wholly her own, and her approach to that goal reflects that. While Maya uses her cheery, upbeat attitude to conceal a lot of self-doubt and vulnerability (and Franziska does the same with her hostility), Kay does not. Her cheerfulness is precisely who she is; it's not a mask so much as it is a distraction. It keeps people from looking at her too closely and realising exactly how capable she is, and, while I don't think it's fully intentional (again, she believes in living her life in a straightforward and upfront manner), she does imply that it's sort of her (or the Yatagarasu's) MO:

Kay: Well! By the time everyone notices, it's already gone! That's the Yatagarasu way!

Interestingly enough, this unintentional tactic of using humour and cheeriness as a distraction from her abilities makes her a mirror to Calisto Yew, who also uses her seemingly always light-hearted nature as a disguise for what she's actually capable of (Calisto's joviality is her true self, too, or at least as 'true' as she can get). The difference between them is that Calisto delights in ironically mocking the world around her, whereas Kay finds joy in life itself, and she's stronger for it.

The only part where we see Kay attempt to mask her feelings is when she's a child, and even then she admits that she feels better after crying, which, I believe, led to her becoming more open with her emotions later in life (see how her older self has a teary sprite which makes pretty frequent appearances where her younger self does not). In any case, to me, this shows that she has people in her life already who are helping, and have helped, her confront and process her trauma. She's not looking to Edgeworth to help her make sense of her father's death and she definitely isn't looking for a replacement (again, literally dedicated to continuing her father's [and Badd's] legacy). Whenever Edgeworth even gets close to becoming parental with her, she dismisses it, unless she acknowledges that she is in the wrong:

Edgeworth: ...Kay, it's not good for you to stay up late, you know.

Kay: Yes, gramps!

...

Edgeworth: ...I appreciate your sense of justice, however... I would appreciate it if you wouldn't go running into the heart of any more raging fires.

Kay: Nngh... Yes, Mr. Edgeworth... I'll try...

Despite her buoyancy and bright attitude, Kay is quite firm that she be treated as an adult (she doesn't see her cheeriness as a mark of youth; it's joie de vivre, it's who she is, and that's that), and, throughout the game, she gets annoyed when people don't respect that (her arguments with Lang are largely over how he calls Little Thief a toy and her crow-girl). She holds her own and relies on herself while being unafraid of asking for help.

Anyway, this post has gone on for long enough and I think I've addressed the points I wanted to. I should mention that I realise that a lot of how many people portray/interpret their relationship is validated by AAI2 but that's honestly a discussion for a separate post HAHA I feel like, when it comes to AAI, the father/daughter interpretation can maybe be argued with regards to the way Edgeworth treats her? Honestly, though, I think he'd treat any young lady who suddenly becomes part of his team/responsibility in pretty much the same way. And, like, he drops the ball almost every time he's supposed to give "fatherly" advice because he's just not that great with it/children!! It's actually hilarious HSKSDHSK

Either way, yeah! I just think Kay is actually given a lot less credit than she's due when the Dadworth card gets played and I just! Want better for her!!

#kay faraday #miles edgeworth #ace attorney investigations #EMBARRASSINGLY long post. i want to add that this isnt an attack on anyone who likes the dadworth dynamic!!! it's semi-supported by canon #and like. it's literally fandom wskdhdk do what makes you happy. i just feel like kay gets minimised a bit when it happens (including when #it's done in game) and i just want people to realise that she's not actually like that!! she's actually so smart and rly mature???#oh i want to add that i generally like both aai games i just prefer the first one. i know some people go for a sibling dynamic between them #rather than a father daughter one (which makes sense bc... they have 10 years between them hskddhk) but im an advocate for friendship being #just as important and valid as it would be if it did mimic a family relationship even if it didnt so that doesnt do much for me either #i just think she wants to be seen as an equal to him as any of his other partners would be #oh i didnt mention this in the post but i also feel like people mix her with ema a bit in the future versions of her?#like she becomes snarky and a little sarcastic (or suave/flirty in a roundabout manner if it's a ship post) when her whole thing is being #direct. she tells shih na to her face that 'those sunglasses dont do anything for her so she'll steal them next time' she's great #the snarky sarcasm thing is again ema. not maya or her but ema. and franziska #ok i need to shut up now im done thank u <3

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