#fionn imagines

[honestlyspookytyphoon]

Trope for next read

I might go for another male main character, and I am also not sure if I should go for angst, fluff or anything else - so please let me know what you like! Thank you all in advance 💕

[strangethings-everywhere]

F. W. // Everything & Nothing // Part One

Masterlist Requested: nope Word Count: 990 Warnings: cursing Author’s Note: Hi again! I’m back with a new fanfic. Hope you guys enjoy it!

You’re a production assistant on Voyagers, a new sci-fi thriller. On the first day of rehearsals, you encounter Fionn Whitehead... and immediately hate him.

At first, his presence wasn’t acknowledged. The black-haired actor was a rumor, spoken about in whispers and passing comments. You knew precisely three things about him by the end of your first day:

He was British.

He was very quiet.

His name was Fionn but pronounced like Finn (weird). 

The fact of his softness was of interest, considering the character he was playing. As a new production assistant, you didn’t know much about the film. Voyagers was a space epic, a thriller in which a crew of young adults descends into madness and chaos. Fionn played Zac, the antagonist. 

When he first walked into the rehearsal room, you had to stop yourself from making noises of surprise. You had expected the villain to be less… sweet looking. Fionn was wearing a gray hoodie and a pair of tattered jeans with ratty black Converse. He had a shy grin on his face as he made his way to his seat, giving handshakes and high-fives along the way.

You didn’t have much experience with movie stars. The only jobs you’d had before Voyagers had been small and full of cast and crew members who had no idea what they were doing. This cast was full of professionals like Colin Farrell and Tye Sheridan, whose names you’d known for practically forever. 

Surprisingly, the pros were not the problem.

As a PA, your job was fetching things like water and snacks for the cast while they did their script read-through. You were to stay quiet and out of the way, like ghosts. 

By the first break, you were seething.

Fionn had knocked into you as you passed behind him with a pitcher of water and had not stopped to help you clean it up, not even to apologize. He just kept on reading as if nothing had happened. In fact, no one in the cast had turned to help you.

Armed with fresh clothes and a bitter attitude, you made your way back to the conference room. Most of the cast had wandered off, but Fionn was still seated at the table, looking through his script.

You bit your lip and began to organize the coffee cart in the far corner of the room. It was better to focus on your work, the reason you were there, rather than on the lone actor. As you finished stacking the plastic cups, a hand on your back made you jump. 

“Can you pass me one of those?” 

Fionn stood behind you, his palm resting lightly on your shoulder. You pulled away from him as quickly as you could, keeping your back to him. 

“Miss?”

“Sorry, I’m a bit busy.” You muttered. 

“Okay…” He stood next to you at the cart, close enough for your arms to brush. “Well you’re actually in my way.” 

“And you’re in my space, so could you actually fuck off a few feet?” You snapped, slamming the cups in your hand down on the cart. Fionn took a few steps back with a huff. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered. “Coffee isn’t worth this.” 

The two of you were silent for the rest of break. In that silence, you took a moment to observe Fionn.

He sat with a strange sort of confidence, an easy smile and a friendly face. He got on very well with his other castmates and you could tell he was good at making friends. It was infuriating, he had been so rude to you and you alone. 

As the rehearsal came to an end, you once again found yourself alone with Fionn. He seemed to move slower than the rest of the cast, taking his time with packing up his belongings and saying goodbye. You moved around the table to clean up, and stopped when you came to him. 

“You’re kind of in my way.” You snapped, reaching past him for his placecard. 

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” 

A bitch, is he serious? 

You clenched your jaw and snatched the placecard, letting it whack his neck as you turned away. You stormed out of the room. If the first day was going to be this bad, you dreaded how the rest of shooting was going to go.

You hated Fionn Whitehead. 

***

The rest of the day was blissfully uneventful. Most of your time was spent running errands and to be honest, you didn’t mind. You barely had time to interact with the cast and that was perfectly fine with you. Most of them were fine, but Fionn… you could do without seeing him. 

It was actually incredible to watch them all work. Most of them weren’t like their characters at all and it was strange to watch them switch back and forth. It looked tiring. 

You sat on the sidelines, watching Tye and Fionn argue back and forth. As much as you hated him, Fionn was a great actor. He was charismatic and full of energy, an addictive energy that you couldn’t quite describe. Playing the villain suited him. 

The director, Neil, yelled cut and the two boys made their way over to the monitors. Neil beckoned you over. “Y/N, can you grab these boys some water?” 

“She doesn’t have to, I can grab some.” Tye spoke up before you could answer. He turned to Fionn. “You coming along?”

“Neil asked her to do it mate, why would I go?” He answered, glancing over at you. 

God, I could kill him. 

You did the next best thing: you tripped and spilled both cups of water on Fionn. “Oh my god, I am soooooo sorry!” You feigned panic, doing a little acting of your own. He let out a slew of curses as Tye ran to grab some paper towels. “Clumsy little me.” 

“Whatever.” He snapped. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but grin. That’s what he gets for being an asshole.

[chez-cinnamon]

Do the puppets go with Fionn to places? If so, I just imagine this lol

*They are at a grocery store*

Random woman: Hello!

Fionn: Mm.

Random woman: What is that?

Fionn: What is wha- HOLY SHIT!!!!!

Julie: *in the cart* :)

You're very correct Anon, shopping trips w the puppets are definitely something! Fionn almost emptied the entire local thrift store to find these guys disguises that were decent enough to walk around in - problem is the man has no sense of fashion lmaooo

[badjoy-17]

The Playfellow Crew

Chapter 1, Part 1

1969, December.

"Where is it?" Ritzy was busy looking for the apple she grabbed to work. She woke up late that day and had no time to prepare her meal. "Anyone? Does anyone seen my apple?" She yells at the studio filled with busy studio crews dragging and moving props around the set. She was frustrated, it was the umpteenth time this happens to her for last three months.

She went to Fionn Finnigan in the Art department, slamming the door open and walk near him."Piyon! Can you help me..." (She had hard time seeing the difference of F and P pronunciation) Rambling about how she was late at work and didn't made herself a lunch box and was opt to grab an apple that is now missing.

"Is that about an apple again?" Fionn was a man in 20's yet still younger than Ritzy and yes he has seen this scene before.

"Yes?" Still sobbing. "I'm already tired and I'm hungry and ...."

"Why don't just buy your meal here, Ritzy?"

"I'm still your senior so address me Mrs. Ritzy?"

"Why the hell will I do that? You're the only one addressing people like that!" He glared at her annoyed and taking a deep breath to listen.

Her eyes grew bigger and looking up to this tall figure. "No, I'm not! And they like it even so I'm the only one..." she pulls him down as she notice herself getting a bit louder. "Also I'm saving my money for my family, remember? I can't be just spending money here and there!" She slumped to the side of his desk and lowers her head.

Fionn stood up to his drawing desk with a straight face and drags Ritzy away from the Art department. He takes a deep breath and spoke "Ms.... Er... No. Mrs. Santos, here have this cash and buy something in that vending machine." He hands her a few dollar and points out to the vending in the corner.

She looks at him with hesitation and mutters, "But its your money!"

"No buts, You can have that!" He still pointing to the vending machine and waiting for her to move.

She looked at him, embarrassed with the cash she received. She nods and thanks him, she felt humbled and went to vending machine. She took two energy bar, glances at him and suddenly runs to him. "Here, take this, Piyon."

Fionn wants to correct Ritzy but he didn't, she might be older but for him he should the bigger man in this situation.

"I know I've been making a big fuzz about this apple thing, but this job is too frustrating... Imagine, for the past 3 months since I started this video technician-ing thing, things are getting weirder and weirder in set. Apples starts disappearing, few staff getting injured, and sometimes the whole footage of the show just kept on doing those weird glitches. Like, that's my job to look after the final footage, it was all running smooth until all of a sudden that freaking thing happened."

Fionn turned his head to Ritzy, alarmed hearing about that incident. "You know what? I have the same experience like you..."

She turns her head to Fionn after hearing those word. "Really?"

"Yeah, You know me, right? I'm a part of the animation and art direction of the this show, right?"

"Uh huh.." she got herself invested and leans in his side.

"Yet everytime i check our panels and plate, there's this weird scribbles on the each animation panels... Wait." He then stood up and drags Ritzy to the archive, took an envelope and pulls out a several animation board panels. "...here look at this. I don't get it ... I swear, look! Those are not there before... Those are evaluated and inspected before getting approved and I... I received it spotless but...."

Ritzy examined each panels and laid them to the light table. "You're saying you don't understand these scribbles? was it from anyone in your department?"

"Yeah, they seems to be drawn by a kid, based on the handwriting strokes, it has difficulty to grasp with pen, here" he points into a pressed squiggly line in the panel "The line got no control on... The strokes are shaking and heavy, it ruins the whole panel."

"Yeah, you're right... But why they are sabotaging our works?" In her peripheral vision, there was someone's watching them from the door. More like a shadow. "D'you see that, Piyon?" Ritzy glued her eyes to him like telling him not to move and act like nothing happened.

"The what?" He looked at her puzzled.

"There was someone watching us from afar... I don't know why but it might be a ghost or something." Her trembling hand reached into her pocket, wrapped her pearl rosary in her hand and hold on it tightly. "Piyon, stay observant, okay?" This gesture confuses Fionn yet he nods obediently. "Oh, about this ..." She shook the wrapper of energy bar, "I owe you." Then she left looking around for something in the Art department

[avvail-whumps]

‘the facility’ — pre-breakout 3/3

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: medical whump, prison whump, captivity, imprisonment, prisoners of war, dehumanization, unethical medical practices, non-con drugging, torture, drug-induced torture, prison whump, reluctant whumper, manhandling, asphyxiation/strangling, mass prison breakout

Noah didn’t see Cash for a few days after that. 

He was limited to the laboratory, simply working on the drug, and he wasn’t sure what would have been worse. Having to test the drug on Cash himself, and watch the horrible effects of it, or stew in his guilt with each new lab experiment that passed by. 

Personnel had even ran by with a few files regarding their less than ethical methods, but he found that it made everything much worse. No matter how much tried to convince himself that somehow, he didn’t have a part in this, it didn’t ease the ache in his resolve. He tried to tell himself that if he had any choice, he wouldn’t be doing this. He wouldn’t be experimenting on people, he wouldn’t be subjecting Cash to awful drugs. 

He really did try, but it was hard. 

Fionn made things that little bit easier, he supposed. In the morning of their forbidden conversation, he had been more than surprised to find himself waking up, tucked back in bed. The water was on the small bedside table, and he had immediately reached for it to finish it off. They had both been cautious about speaking a word to each other for a while, but when they could, Noah found himself asking questions. 

Then more. Then another, until Noah had made a habit of accidentally fainting in his room and requiring assistance. He knew that what he was doing was imbecilic - he was risking his sister’s safe recovery, but Noah was so lonely, and he missed his friends and family. 

“Do you have any siblings?” Noah asked, sitting on the edge of the tub with a tilted head. He had a cold, damp cloth in his hands, something that he might have placed on his forehead if he had really been feeling unwell, but of course, he wasn’t. Nobody needed to know that, though. Fionn had his rifle slung over his shoulder, and he was perched on the edge of the toilet seat, lid down. Noah still didn’t have the liberty of seeing his face, but then again, that was a little too far. 

“No,” he answered, the modulation in his helmet crackling slightly. “I used to. An older brother, but he passed away.” 

Noah bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

He’d learned a lot about Fionn in their frequent, but lowkey conversations. A part of him had been adament the Apoid wouldn’t keep indulging him like this, but he had. Noah suspected that a lot of people here would jump at the chance to have a normal conversation for once. Apparently, stoic Apoids were no exception. 

One of his favourtie things about Fionn was the fact that he liked poetry. 

It was a stark juxtaposition to the aura Apoids were meant to give off. Killing machines, steel guards, emotionless statues that had a job and followed it to the letter. When Fionn talked about poetry, it was easier to see the human underneath all of that uniform and behind all of those dangerous weapons. 

William Butler Yeats was his favourite. Fionn could sit there and recite his poetry perfectly, and Noah would listen with a subconscious smile on his face, because he could tell that he was really passionate about it. 

“Would you ever write your own poetry?” Noah had asked, picking at the threads on the damp flannel. His heart ached to see him take off the helmet. He could only imagine what kind of expressions he made when he talked about this.

Fionn faltered, shifting back slightly as the helmet tilted, mirroring a hesitant glance to the side. It was a sight he didn’t think he would ever get used to - seeing an Apoid show so much emotion through simple body language like this. 

It was cute. 

“I do,” Fionn answered, and Noah leaned forward slightly in a flurry of excitement he couldn’t contain. 

“Can you read some to me?” 

The Apoid seemed to think on it for a moment, before he slowly shook his head. “I don’t have enough time to write anything new.”

The answer was curt, and after Noah winced slightly, the helmet pointed back in his direction. The modulation softened just an inch. “And what I have is at home.” 

A familiar face stared back at him through the reflective screen of the helemt. “Where is home for you?” 

“Dungarvan,” the Apoid answered quietly. “My Pa’s a fisherman.” He paused just for a minute. “What about you?” 

“London,” Noah responded, and he noticed that Fionn shook his head slightly. 

“Busy place,” he hummed. “Not my scene.” 

“You like the quiet?” 

Fionn nodded slowly. “Once my contract is finished, and I know my family has enough money, I want to move. I want a cabin in the middle of the countryside, somewhere in Ireland.” 

The words came out quiter than Noah was expecting. “On your own?” 

When Fionn didn’t answer, Noah tucked some of his hair behind his ear gently. His gaze shifted to the cloth in his hand, and he set it in the tub instead. The Apoid passed him a hand towel to wipe the lingering dampness away, and he took it. For a moment, he felt his glove brush up against his finger, and when he glanced down, the skin there was burning red. 

“Do you not have a girlfriend back home?” Noah hesitantly asked, his eyes flickering up after a tense moment. The Apoid was already looking at him, and he suddenly felt sheepish for asking a question that was just meant to be curious. 

“I did,” he tightly responded, like he was treading on ice. “We had some disagreements over this. About me signing my life away to the Facility for ten years. We split up.” 

Noah slowly nodded his head, fiddling with the red spot on his hand. It was strange; after his last encounter with Cash, he felt like being here would be unbearable. He didn’t know what he felt towards Fion - friendship? Connection? Desperation? 

“You should come to Ireland,” Fionn perked up gently, and Noah couldn’t help but glance up at him with a hint of surpirse. The Apoid leaned his elbows on his legs, shifting an inch closer, and he couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist. “See my hometown. Do you fish?” 

“Me? Fish?” Noah splutters. “I’ve never fished in my life. I would be really bad.” 

“I’d teach you.” 

At that, Noah couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but the moment his mind raced a bit, it slowly faltered. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes glancing to the bathroom door. They really shouldn’t still be doing this. 

“You have almost three years on me,” Noah whispered glumly, the ticking clock on their contracts weighing heavy on his chest. “Promise you won’t forget me when you get out?” 

Fionn slowly rose to his feet. He shrugged the rifle across his chest, and just for a moment, he looked like he was contemplating something. But then, a gloved hand gently patted his head. 

“Promise,” Fionn whispered, his voice softening. “See you later, Noah.” 

The Apoid was already out of his room by the time Noah found the strength in his voice to respond. He gripped his hand tightly. 

“See you.” 

. . .

Noah wasn’t looking forward to seeing Cash again.

He also wasn’t looking forward to seeing how effective the drug was at breaking down the prisoner’s defences and making him so vulnerable. He could conceal his anxiousness this time, even when Cash was brought in, same as always. Apoids surrounded him, ensuring his successful tranfer from one restraint to another.

This time, they made use of metal cuffs in the wall, clamping around Cash’s wrists and effectively pinning him to the wall.

Noah was a little concerned that his midsection and his legs hadn’t been retrained, but he assumed they’d neglected it for a reason. There was a nagging possibility that Cash could kick him, and those cuffs looked a little rattly, and what if the same thing that happened to the scientist before him repeated?

He swallowed the lump in his throat, setting down his clipboard and sucking in a sharp breath. He could do this. Cash wasn’t a person; he was a prisoner. A number. Someone who was withholding information the government wanted for themselves - the exact details, Noah would never know, but it wasn’t his job to know.

There was no interrogator today. He was glad for that.

With Fionn shadowing him, he internally noted the small brush of his arm against his own, a quiet action that held a thousand words. It hardened his resolve, just for a moment, and gave him the strength to step closer to the gagged man. Intense eyes pierced his own, but he looked elsewhere.

“I’m removing the gag,” Noah firmly spoke, inching slightly closer to Cash. He noticed the muscles in his arms tensed just a fraction, but he didn’t seem eager to attack Noah at the moment. It was still tense as he untied the gag, taking a small step back so he was far enough away.

“I’m going to ask a series of questions, so please answer honestly for your own wellbeing.”

He squeezed his hand behind his back, watching as Cash licked his lips. There was only coldness behind those eyes.

“Sure, doc.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you feeling any dizziness or lightheadness?”

“No,” the prisoner responded coldly, before he tilted his head slightly. “How long have you been here, doc?”

Noah ignored the question, keeping his wits about him. “Have you been experiencing any pain?”

“You don’t seem comfortable with this,” Cash continued regardless, and Noah’s eyes flickered slightly. “This new for you?”

“Answer the question.”

Cash chuckled breathlessly. There were still evident bruises on his face, but they’d had time to simmer down a lighter green colour instead. He tried not to let his eyes linger on them too much, otherwise his guilt would begin to stew. “No, doc.”

Noah stepped aside to administer the drug. It felt like he wasn’t quite holding the needle as he efficiently prepared for it, his mind lost and swimming with a cotton sheet over his thoughts.

In a blink, he was inserting the needle into Cash’s neck carefully, pushing the plunger in with precision and care. He remembered when he was practicing the precedure on synthetic skin during his time at medical school. Noah was baffled that this was what his life had devolved into. He refused to meet Cash’s eyes this time, who hadn’t even winced at the pinprick.

It didn’t take long for the effects of the drug to kick in like that last time.

Sweat built up on Cash’s forehead in little beads, and his expression had visibly hardened as he attempted to ignore the throbbing pains that had started spreading throughout his body. This time, Noah was forced to watch every second, comparing the effects of the last compound to the new one on Cash’s body. The prisoner was tense, his wrists straining against the cuffs as he groaned painfully through clenched teeth, Noah’s guilt only prodding harder at his heart.

It felt just as wrong as the last time. Noah tentatively approached him and checked his pulse, practically hearing the rapid pounding of Cash’s heart in his chest. He dabbed the soaked area around his neck, cautious of his buckling knees. It looked like he could hardly stand now, so Noah assumed he wouldn’t have the strength to use his legs even if he tried.

The skin on his wrists had been rubbed raw, and Noah could just catch a glimpse of a flash of blood beneath them.

Through Cash’s strained, gutteral curses, Noah sensed the moment it began to wear off, which was quicker than he had expected. He pressed his lips into a thin line, adding that to his notes with a swift scribble. When he went to draw his blood with a fresh needle, he tried to ignore Cash’s contagious trembling, and the way his wrists were straining firmly against the cuffs.

They would hold, right? Cash was strong, but surely he wasn’t that strong. There were Apoids with guns ready to fire if they did break.

He carefully inserted the needle, drawing a small vial of blood. It made his stomach swoop straight to his boots when Cash shuddered, and he turned away to the long desk to shift through his supplies. He blocked out the sound of Cash’s pained panting, before he went to administer another dose.

Two doses, Personnel had told him. That was a big risk.

His prisoner reacted much worse to the second dose, thrashing against the cuffs and desperately clenching his jaw. He looked as though he was forcing himself not to scream, squeezing his eyes shut as Noah could only imagine what kind of pain this was bringing him.

The second dose lasted a few minutes longer, but that was all.

After he emptied the syringe of blood into a small vial, he set it aside and prepared to sample another. He had to wipe a sheen of his own anxious sweat before he wandered over, reminding himself to breathe.

This time, Cash winced when the needle slid into his skin. Noah concentrated in drawing the blood safely while he was in his state, and he was rather lucky, because Cash gave a violent jerk at the cuffs only when it was finished.

He barely even had time to register the snapping of metal before a voice split through the air urgently.

“Doctor, get out of the way!”

Something constricted around his throat, and Noah felt the hard slam of the wall against his back. The needle fell from his fingers and crashed onto the ground, but he had barely even registered it from the force that had bounced through his skull.

Apoids lunged forward, their guns raised almost immediately towards the prisoner, his fingers digging into Noah’s throat. He couldn’t even catch his breath, his hands scrambling at his wrist in an attempt to get the air to his lungs.

Noah faintly realised it had been Fionn who shouted, and he was at the center of the swarm, rifle raised defensively. Cash had moved so swiftly, even with the drug, that no one could fire at him without hitting Noah.

He wheezed, wide eyes staring into Cash’s narrowed ones.

“You’re a little slow to move, doc,” he hissed, the exhausted strain still evident in his voice. His fingers tightened, pushing Noah’s head back further against the wall.

Fionn’s voice boomed through the room, and he barely noticed more Apoids spilling into the room. There was the faint sound of an alarm.

“Cooperate now, Prisoner Seven,” he demanded, causing Cash’s head to languidly tilt towards them all. He didn’t look bothered, and that was scary. Noah could only think about the fact that he was going to die. That Cash was going to kill him like he killed the other scientist before him.

He was suddenly jerked forward, and Cash’s arm winded around his neck instead, tugging him back against his chest. The arm was crushing his windpipe, with a force intended to suffocate him. Noah’s eyes buldged, and his nails raked desperately into his skin. A wheezing choke escaped him.

Cash’s lips lowered to his ear just as Fionn shouted another firm order to cooperate. All of those guns pointed in his direction made his heart pound, and he could hear it consuming his mind.

“When I get out of here,” Cash growled, his voice so quiet and deadly that no one else could hear,” I’m going to find you, doc. I’m going to make you wish I’d killed you right here, right now.”

Tears spilled down Noah’s cheeks, his lungs burning like wildfire. He could feel his knees buckling and the cotton building in his skull. Cash wasn’t budging, even when Noah’s vision began to blur around the edges. He desperately gasped for air, but he couldn’t find it.

All the Apoids were blending into one little blob. Was he really going to die? After everything?

Fionn’s voice tore through the room again, this time more fiery than ever before.

“The scientist is expendable,” came his voice, and Noah’s foggy brain latched onto that. What? “We will open fire if you do not cooperate!”

The scientist is what?

Cash chuckled darkly. “Hear that, doc? That’s what they said when I had the other one like this. She had the same look on her face as you do right now. Give it another ten seconds and he’ll repeat it.”

Noah’s trembling fingers dug into the skin of his arm.

“Cooperate, now. We will open fire!” Fionn shouted, and all of their fingers shifted to the trigger. They were really going to shoot. “The scientist is expendable!”

Noah wheezed, his burning eyes rolling to the back of his head. Only then did Cash release him, shoving him towards the guards with a harsh push. He immediately felt himself hit the ground, frantically sucking in any scrap of air he could find.

He heard a defeaning amount of commotion, but he was more focused on the gentle hands on his back and someone murmuring into his ear.

“Breathe,” Fionn instructed, setting his arm over his shoulder so he could help him onto his feet. Noah spluttered, each violent cough feeling as though it was tearing him apart. Once Fionn had guided him away from the commotion, he eased him back down onto the floor, where Noah desperately sucked in any mouthful of air he could.

His nerves were on fire. But he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing.

“Are you alright?” Fionn asked, as if Noah didn’t feel like his world had been turned on his head.

“The scientist...is expendable?” He croaked, his tear filled eyes flickering up to the black visor with a hint of anger. Fionn went still.

“I have to follow protocol,” he answered curtly, and Noah’s trembling fingers cup his neck, like one little touch and the skin would break. He feels like he can still feel Cash’s hand wrapped around it, and he has to pause to take another wheezing breath.

“You were going to shoot me,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “You were all going to shoot me.”

Fionn’s head tilted slightly, and Noah was reminded of all the time they spent in his bathroom, talking about poetry and family and breaking the rules just so they could feel normal again. Fionn’s robotic voice was the only thing echoing in his mind right now, but Cash’s lingered.

That’s what they said when I had the other one like this.

“I have to follow protocol,” Fionn spoke, and Noah sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You break protocol to talk to me.”

“That’s different,” he snaps, and neither are paying attention to anybody else in the room. “This was an emergency. A prisoner was loose.”

“You were going to shoot me.” Noah hadn’t realised that more tears were leaking down his face. His desperate, wide eyes stared up at him as his voice broke. “Weren’t you?”

The Apoid shifted. The silence was all the answer that Noah needed, but Fionn still murmured out one that struck straight through his heart.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It was my job. I would have had to.”

Noah’s bottom lip wobbled. He knew that Apoids had different protocol because of their vastly different job, but in the idea of an emergency like that - the scientist was expendable?

“What happened to taking me to see Ireland?” He choked out, and Fionn’s voice hardened inexplicably.

“Quiet. Don’t say that here,” he hissed. “You can’t be mad at me. My hands are tied.”

He knew that Fionn was right.

But right now, after that? After he’d been so helpless in his grasp, feeling the heat of all of those rifles on him, realising that they would tear through him without a care once Cash refused to cooperate; it made his heart burn. Because Fionn could have at least lied.

Personnel rushed into the room, and they first checked that all of Noah’s notes and samples were safe. Then, they flocked to the two of them once the room was cleared of any dangers, both Apoid and Prisoner Seven.

Noah shoved Fionn away. He wasn’t even strong enough to make him budge like this, but the Apoid moved away regardless.

“Stay away from me,” Noah demanded, his trembling voice thick as he stuttered with another wheezing cough. “Don’t ever come near me again.”

One woman gently helped him up, and another kept a supporting hand on his back.

“Come on, let’s go to the infirmary,” one suggested gently, urging him along. Noah could barely put one foot in front of the other, his knees wobbling slightly with each movement. He noticed Personnel were glancing between him and Fionn awkwardly. “It’s alright now. Prisoner Seven has been secured.”

Alarmingly, it wasn’t just Cash that he realised could get him killed in this place.

He was vaguely aware of Fionn following them to the infirmary. It didn’t make him happy in the slightest, but he recognised that he had a job as his personal Apoid, as much as Noah couldn’t maintain that same sentiment for what had happened.

He was taken care of in the infirmary, mainly his wounds, before they let him go. Noah didn’t know what to do with himself, and after spending so long in the infirmary, he suddenly realised that Fionn was no where to be seen.

Noah swallowed uneasily.

Fionn couldn’t just leave the scientist he was assigned to, right? Yet, as he wandered alone down the corridors to his room, he noticed an Apoid near the door. A part of him knew that it was Fionn, but he was more concerned with the fact that a Higher Up seemed to be speaking with him.

With both of their masks on, Noah couldn’t get a sense of what was going on. He was too far away to hear them, and when the Higher Up curtly walked away, Fionn tilted his head towards him. Noah awkwardly shifted when he began to approach him.

He opened his mouth to say his name as he passed. “Fionn?” But the Apoid walked straight past him. Noah’s head whipped around to watch him go, and he suddenly felt his stomach drop to his boots.

What was going on? Why had he been talking to a Higher Up?

Numbly closing the door behind him, Noah stripped off his white jacket, and caught a glimpse of his guilty expression in the mirror. He looked ghostly pale, with a ring of fresh bruises around his neck, but he could only think about one thing.

Had he got Fionn terminated?

He desperately shook his head, his exhausted eyes glimpsing at the tube of cream on his bedside table. It felt quiet without Fionn in here, and even worse when he tried to sleep off the chaotic events of the day.

Regardless, he didn’t sleep a wink. All he could see was down the barrels of rifles and the sickening spray of bullets ripping through his flesh.

Noah’s eyes stung painfully when the lights came up, and he almost considered pulling the blanket over the top of his head and wallowing by himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about the aching pain in his neck, the leftover bruises a plum purple, or the fact that Fionn had left after talking to a Higher Up.

It made it all the more worse when he didn’t see him outside his door.

The guilt tore into him, because what if he had really gotten Fionn fired? After everything he had told him about his family, about why he was here, and he forced him back to the surface with nothing? Noah released a shuddering breath, heading to the labatory.

On the way, he was greeted by Personnel.

“Oh, Noah.”

They stopped him, and he stilled when he noticed a quiet Apoid hovering behind them. He stared at the black visor uneasily, but a part of him was confident that wasn’t Fionn. Their words only confirmed it.

“Due to certain circumstances, you’ll be receiving a new Apoid from today onwards,” Personnel informed him politely, motioning towards the guard with a slight nod. Noah couldn’t hide the unease on his face, as well as the confusion. When he went to open his mouth to speak, to question what on earth was going on, the room was suddenly plunged into redness.

A blaring alarm screeched out over the speakers, and Noah felt his head whip around to find other scientists had similarly frozen in their spots, a look of horror on their faces.

His heart lurched into his throat.

On the speakers, a warning rang out.

A warning that made Noah’s blood run iciliy cold.

“Code: Black.”

tag list – @suspicious-whumping-egg @sunshiline-writes @rabidrabidme @whumpatize-me-captain @thegirlwholived1213 @reverie1234 @unforgiven235 @morning-star-whump @seaweed-is-cool @d-cs @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-me @gala1981 @pirefyrelight @whumpterful-beeeeee @miss-unicorn0907 @avidrambling @anoontjecanush @2in1whump @ha-ha-one @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @whatwhump

[acourtofthought]

If SJM were to make Lucien HL of day, how can she depose Helion from his position? Same with Tamlin should Elain be HL of spring?

Tamlin is a bit easier to do away with, I think. "It wasn't a guarantee that a High Lord's firstborn would be his heir. The magic sometimes took a while to decide, and often jumped around the birth order completely. Sometimes it found a cousin instead. Sometimes it abandoned the bloodline entirely. Or chose the heir in that moment of birth, in the echoes of a newborn's first cry."

In SF, we're told the Spring Court had been MADE for someone like Elain. It's possible, that if fate and destiny are really coming into play here, that Elain was always meant to become the High Lady of Spring, that it was prophesized that she would be the one to restore the dying lands. In order for a prophesy to come to fruition, the character needs to be born though and as she's centuries younger than Tamlin, he could have been chosen as the place holder. As early as ACOTAR (something that worked in SJMs favor since I don't think she realized what Elain's arc might be back then), we're told Tamlin never wanted or expected to become HL so he was ill equipped to take on the task, delegating things to Lucien. And he's now shown that he's not got the staying power to remain High Lord when things become difficult. I'm not saying Tamlin is a bad person but he is a poor High Lord. He's neglected his people for far too long, neglected the land. Maybe that's because they were never meant to be his people in the first place? I imagine if the magic can give, the magic can take and I don't think Tamlin would even mind losing his role as High Lord. Or, I imagine a ruler can abdicate at some point. While most times the power shifts due to death, SF introduced the possibility of a leader stepping down due to age (Fionn and Theia disagreed over who would rule in his place as he thought his daughter was too young). So I don't think that death is entirely necessary as loopholes have been provided. Helion is a bit trickier because he does seem like a decent High Lord and I don't get the feeling he wants to step down. Without death I'm thinking the only wiggle room there is that maybe there was some confusion with the system because Lucien was in the wrong court when Helion came into power? Amarantha killed the HL of Day and most of their family while UTM but Lucien was still in Spring at that time. Maybe an Heir needs to have actually spent time within the court in question to form a connection to the land since many High Lords magic is connected to it? Or maybe SJM will come up with something entirely new. My ideas are only based on what would be logical to me with the information we have to work with however in a magical world and as the author the limit is as far as her imagination stretches.

[bookofmirth]

Lele, I’ve seen a lot of ppl saying that the fourth Dread Trove object can only be found by Elain cause bc she had been made by the cauldron (she being cauldrons favorite and all) and that’s why she is going to hold a plot with Azriel in “their book” + it’s being proved that truth teller can end curses so it’s obviously they are going to share a book cause sjm has being slowly putting them up together

and I’m LOST HERE where did it came from

Are people honestly still saying this? Like now? After hofas is out? Because I can't imagine that anyone who read hofas (and hosab, and heck, acosf) thinks this is true.

Elain is not the only person who can use the trove items. Nesta, even after having given up some of her power, was perfectly able to use the trove in hofas. She used the mask. She also used her regular powers and may as well have not given any of them up. That is beside the point, the point being that Nesta is still there and very much part of the story and can use the trove.

No one needs to find the trove. Nesta and Az recognized it as being on Bryce. In fact, they had Nesta go see Bryce to try to identify what was on her back. They had Nesta identify whether it was a Made object. Once again, the IC ignored that Elain is capable of doing this.

Bryce and Hunt both used the Mask at the end of hofas. Neither of them are Made in the way that Elain and Nesta and Feyre are. Being Made by the Cauldron is not a requirement to use the trove, apparently.

If another way people could use it is by being Starborn, Elain is not Starborn. Nor is Nesta, or Feyre. In order to be Starborn, you have to have been part of Fionn and Theia's lineage. The Archerons were human. Their powers are from another source.

Elain already has things going on, and they have nothing to do with the trove! They have to do with her un-explored powers, her un-explored mating bond, her visions of Koschei and potential connection with him/Vassa, her unresolved trauma and feelings about literally everything that has happened to her in the series, and whatever other random plot stuff sjm decides to throw in there. Elain doesn't need other people's hand-me-down plots.

I like Elain's character. I am so, so tired of people trying to shove her in where she clearly has no connection. It's not Elain and Azriel's book, for fuck's sake. They're just trying to take what everyone KNOWS are Azriel's issues and make them into Elain's.

[thebladeblaster]

I made more SMT protag teams. I have teams for the Hero and Aleph too but I want to think about them more first.

Naoki

Swampert-I was imagining them in the Japanese regions in specific order so that’s why his starter is from Hoenn. Considering he has two friends that were called up with him I imagine Yuko giving them the starters. I think a very punchy starter fits Demi-Fiend but I imagined Blazekin suiting Chiaki better.

Ribombee-Pixie stand-in, small, early game, and fairy

Gallade-He often has Cu in his teams and I thought Gallade would work well as a Cu stand-in.

Eelekross-No weakness like how he often has no weakness

Tyranitar-Thrives in the desert, seeks battle, and big strong guy

Nihilego-It’s a parasite in reference to the magatama implanted into him. I imagine he’s bonded to it giving him powers and technically making him his own sixth Pokémon.

Nahobino

Ceruledge-It just looks like him😅

Tinkaton-Amanozako stand-in, small, fairy-like, and secretly dangerous

Sir Fetched-Fionn stand-in, from the UK, and has a sword

Gardevior-The goddess stand-in and is a counterpart to a Pokémon on Demi-Fiend’s team. V often makes allusions to Nocturne.

Hydriegon-Fights and acquires Hydra also a counterpart as another pseudo legendary and a rival

Tapu Koko-Thunder god with a bad temper like Susanno in myth

[pomefioredove]

Y'know I'm actually quite curious about something... does God exist in twst wonderland?????? Because this got me thinking when that one scene in Snow White when snow white was praying to God. I actually used to think that the main seven villains is the one they worship lololol idk I'm just really confuse. Or do they actually have other religions too???

Please don't mistake this for anything offensive 😔😔😔

hello hi. religious studies major here. I'm going to try to break this down to the best of my abilities.

I would argue that it is likely that religion exists in Twisted Wonderland.

there are already exact/similar parallels to things we have in our world, i.e., the city of Paris = Fleur City. the existence of the French language. linguistics is one of my big interests and there would have to be some really insane circumstances for fucking French to develop in a world where the Romans and Gauls didn't exist (...supposedly).

so it's not actually that weird to assume that religions like Christianity and Islam developed in Twisted Wonderland.

the relationship towards the seven does not quite resemble worship of the sacred, although expletives like "for seven's sake" seem to imply that they do. if anything, the narrative/attitude around the seven makes them resemble mythological heroes (such as our Fionn mac Cumhail, Moses, and, ironically enough, Heracles). a sacred person is different from a deity.

the stories surrounding the seven, accurate or not (it's implied that some liberties were taken, or the truth was simply lost to time) are myths. in an academic context, a "myth" simply means a cultural story.

as for the sacred, I have a few different theories.

religion blatantly exists in Disney movies. as you've pointed out, Snow White prays (and given that Snow White takes place before the protestant reformation, this makes her Catholic), there's like, the entirety of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and so on and so forth.

Christianity isn't the only religion, though. Voodoo in The Princess and the Frog, Islam in Aladdin, Greek mythology in The Little Mermaid and Hercules, and various other references are also religious in nature. all of these properties exist in Twisted Wonderland, too.

it's not crazy to assume that religions similar to our own exist and are practiced in Twisted Wonderland. as I've stated in my Rollo thinkpiece, it's really really hard to separate Rollo's character from Catholicism, since Claude Frollo's character only make sense as Catholic. and then there's Hades, who is a god.

just like there's differences in culture and nationality in Twisted, there's differences in religion. there isn't one almighty God everyone believes in, because religion is diverse in nature. it's far more likely that multiple different belief systems exist, ones that inherently mirror our own. like, I couldn't even begin to try to guess fae beliefs, not only because I've barely gotten into book 7 but also because Twisted Wonderland's fae/fairy is not one I'm familiar with. I would consider myself fairly well versed on the politics, stories, and culture of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the daoine sí, etc, but the post-Christianity medieval French version of a fairy is not my area of expertise (though there's so much that goes into this discussion and I'd argue that the French fae depicted in Twisted is influenced by the older Tuatha Dé Danann I can't even sum up here it literally drives me insane. God almighty never get me talking about this I never shut up).

so. does this mean Twisted Jesus died on the twisted cross? maybe! or whatever the equivalent may be. for a world where French exists, where the city of Paris exists, in parallel to our own, it's actually not that weird to imagine religion existing, too.

I am of the very strong opinion that religion is inherent to humanity, and has existed for longer than we know now (Google the Rising Star Cave and h.naledi and the theories about their burial practices. gets me emotional every time) and I highly doubt the idea that all of Twisted is just completely secular.

I guess it's all left up to speculation, since nothing is outright stated.

[strangethings-everywhere]

bout to write a royalty au for fionn whitehead and i’m using an OC because i’m so tired of writing “you did _” all the time it’s AWFUL

[faeriecinna]

Manuscript Search Tag

I got a couple of these from the lovely @annakayy and @ulysses-blues ! My words are : Cold, Night, Colour, Question and Soar

I'm editing atm so a lot of these extracts are probably going to be from the earlier chapters of my WIPs :)

Cold:

Project.Seraph The lies rolled off his tongue smoothly while he pleaded. His words hung in the air, a delicate fable of veiled desperation. Each syllable carried the weight of a decision, pregnant with possibility. He held a hand out to Nevaeh, a sense of satisfaction settling over him when he realised she was no longer backing away. “My friends are waiting just a little further into the trees. I can call them out now to help us, but you must make your decision quickly, angel, it is only a matter of time before The Hunt returns for you.” Tense silence hung in the air as Teo and the other travellers waited with bated breath for Nevaeh to respond. She gave an almost imperceptible nod that rippled through the quiet - a seismic shift in the forest's placidity. The choice echoed like a distant thunderclap. A cold breeze fluttered through the trees, as if the forest itself had breathed a sigh of relief.

Night:

Project.Ink Fionn offered a nod, though doubt remained in his expression. With a lingering gaze at Rowan, he retreated into the crowd. The elven nobility continued to observe, casting furtive glances at the mysterious human. As the night progressed, the dance floor beckoned, and Killeen found herself standing before Rowan. "Dance with me," She demanded, her voice holding a mix of authority and an emotion that struggled to surface. Rowan, caught off guard, nodded hesitantly. The surrounding Fae observed the unlikely pair, murmurs rising like the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Colour:

Project.Ink Although in the back of her mind Rowan knew exactly what she was approaching, she refused to let herself believe what she was seeing until the glow of the early dawn sun began to cast shards of colour onto the rotting pine needles underfoot. Stained glass windows – or remnants of them – still clung to the fragmented wood window frames and crumbling stone archways. Her heart stopped and her head span. In her dreams, the church had been resplendent and ornamented, gilded and imposing in its looming grandeur.  It wasn’t hard to imagine the pews filled with worshippers, caught in the throes of fervent exaltation. In person, it was a deteriorating memory of the hallowed halls that had commanded devotion long before Rowan even came to be. The carcass had been picked clean and only the bare bones were left, jutting at sharp, splintered angles and still bathed in the sanguineous glow from above.

Question became Inquired:

Project.Ink The air felt heavy with an unspoken tension, and the flickering candlelight cast unsettling shadows that swayed with an unnatural rhythm. Her parents, a middle-aged couple with eyes that held an baleful gleam, sat at a weathered wooden table. "Rowan, dear, how was your day?" her mother inquired, her voice too melodic, the cadence too perfect. There was an eerie precision to her words, carefully crafted. Rowan offered a hesitant smile, the subtle disquiet settling in the corners of her mind. "It was... usual, I suppose." Her father, a man with an unchanging smile that he wore like a mask, chimed in. "Good, good. Routine is essential, especially in these times." The words hung in the air, their weight pressing on Rowan's shoulders. It was a phrase she'd heard often, a mantra that echoed throughout the village whenever discussions veered too close to scrutiny.

Soar became Flight:

Project.Seraph A snort jolted her from her respite with a sharp gasp and she whirled, coming face to face with a solo soldier and his accompanying horse. A desperate whine left her and she willed her aching legs into motion once again, covering just enough land so that she could spread her wings and take off into the sky. Flight was much slower, but with her body weakening with exhaustion, she couldn’t risk her mortal legs giving out on her while being chased by the one man who wasn’t entirely convinced by her watery charade. Before she could even make it a fair distance, the air close to her ear was displaced with a hiss and the angel’s eyes widened as arrows began to fly. She bobbed and weaved, her flight path erratic in an attempt to become less of an attainable target.

And with that, I'm gonna NO PRESSURE tag @spideronthesun @indecentpause @savvyminnow @frostedlemonwriter and @melpomene-grey

Your words are going to be :: sick, small, remember and cloud

[shadybirdwombat]

So I've noticed the fandom is very obsessed with Azriel.

He's hot and funny. I understand.

Though the ship wars with him.

Not anyone is good enough for Azriel. All the ships argue whose superior.

If they say Elain than Gwyn isn't worthy. If they say Gwyn Elain is useless.

Eris is in between. I've read some fics where Elain becomes a villain because Azriel leaves her for Eris or Gwyn.

If Elain didn't kill Graysen. She wouldn't do that to Azriel or whoever he picks.

Eris wouldn't risk a war plus Beron fighting over Azriel..

Gwyn isn't going to fight over a man. She's a priestess and a Valkyrie. Didn't even start reading smut till Nesta.

Sometimes I think Azriel should end up with a new character.

Maybe an Illyrian female.

He doesn't really care about the Illyrians and hates them for their cruelty..

The fandom spends so much time on the Illyrian men. Not focusing on the Illyrian women.

Who suffer the most. And have always suffered. Thinking all the moms of the bat boys. None had happy lives. Murdered or forced to be sexual slaves to the males.

It would be poetic ,if Azriel becomes the leader of the Illyrians.

He had truth teller. Which was fionn dagger. The most admired Illyrian.

Azriel stopping wing clipping. His mate being an Illyrian female.

Imagine she was there all along. Though he avoided his people.

Nothing against Gwyn or Elain or Eris

Though Azriel story would come full circle. If he lead the Illyrians to a peaceful place.

[chez-cinnamon]

Lol imagine the puppets and Fionn all went to like a thrift market or yard sale and they see a Welcome Home puppet from the show on sale!

I can see something like that happening, and it would not go well existential crisis-wise,,

it would motivate them to look into it more-

[p4xman]

Bandersnatch's 2023 tag Wrapped!!

- the ball jointed doll community's hairless cat doll

- someones resident evil fanfiction

- colin ritman x reader imagines going as strong as ever

- random photos of will poulter and fionn whitehead unrelated to bandersnatch

- stray alice and wonderland tags

- maybe like 32 bandersnatch related image posts

great year everyone lets all keep it up for year 6!!!!

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #20: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our maps: The Isle, Floor 2, Floor 3

[You can use the links above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle and the so far uncovered portions below the surface. On the Dungeon map, you are currently in Floor 2, in Room 15.]

Now, back to the adventure!

[Due to the closeness (when backing out my own vote) and the smartness of both of this entry's highest ranking options, I'm ruling that we'll do both!] The adrenaline leaves your system for the first time in what feels like hours. Navigating these dark chambers, hiding from skeletal patrols, and now having slain a pack of pale cave eels--it has all taken a toll on you. You are tired. You lean against the stone wall at the top of the ramp leading down into the floor below, set your pack at your side and rest, letting the eel bodies continue to bleed out.

You have heard their blood is poisonous and that's why they are so often cooked before eating, even in the wild, but you don't have any way to make a fire here and it's too far and potentially too dangerous to head back to Fionn's chamber tonight. You'll chance it on the eels.

After resting for a while, you cut one of the eels into a number of larger steaks, removing the skin and eat it one slice of your fishgutting knife at a time. [Poison Save: 4 - Under Saving Throw of 8 - Success!] It tastes earthy and strange, but already you can feel it beginning to nourish your body and mind.

You rest for the night. In the chambers around you, all is quiet. Nothing disturbs the surface of the flooded chamber and nothing seems to trigger the oil and spark trap to the north. All too is quiet from below, down the ramp. [Healing Roll - 1d6: 3! 3 Grit recovered (up to a total of 5)!]

In the morning (or what you imagine to be the morning in this sunless space beneath the isle), you pick up your pack, stretch your aching body, and begin down the well worn stairs to the floor below.

The flooding continues, to varying degrees, down in this lower level. You walk down into water, keeping your eye out for more eels, until, at a point, it is nearly reaching your chest. With your pack above your head, you continue forward through the dark, quiet water until the hall opens into a large natural stone cavern, the soft glow of your amulet failing to reach the outer edges or ceiling of the chamber. The water lowers as you rise up onto the cavern's floor.

"A natural stone cavern, barely worked with tools. Ankle-deep seawater, and fresh salt smell. A huge brass door blocks the western exit. The metal is not smooth—the surface is a tapestry of screaming faces crushed beneath a rampant bull. Their blood forms a wave, and the foam atop the wave is all wolf heads. The heads pursue running deer, boar and cattle—crowned and faceless... A wheel, 5' across, juts from the door's face."

The metal door itself has a strange, shimmery quality to it. Being near it feels unnaturally cold. Other than the wheel, you can't see any mechanism, even hinges.

[Sorry for the delay in this entry! I had a SUPER busy week last week, missed the original day and then put it off long enough that it just made sense to skip that week and get it going today. As always, feel free to drop any other suggested courses of action in the comments/reblogs! Thanks for much for reading along with Medon's adventures! - Christian]

PBB #21 is live now!

[nikethestatue]

The Bryceriel theory (which is very long and detailed) relied on the next book being House of Flame and Shadow. It’s literally in the name.

Imagine if Elain’s book had the words “shadow” in it - you’d immediately think elriel was confirmed.

And House of Flame and Shadow in CC is full of beings from Hel (reapers, vampires, the deamonaki). One of the first thing Bryce notices about Azriel is that his wings are the same as the demons from Hel (and there’s so many theories about Azriel being a Prince of Hel, or descended from one).

What’s more, is that Bryce is Theia’s heir, and bears her exact light. Theia left her original world (and her original lover, presumed to be either Fionn or Pelias), for Aidas - a Prince of Hel. Rigelus says that Bryce is repeating Theia’s history… leaving Hunt and Midgard for Prythian - and meeting Azriel.

I don’t get involved with shipping, but the bryceriels a have a fair point- even more so after today’s announcement. If I had to bet on Azriel’s endgame, yeah, I’d probably say Bryce.

To me, a much simpler and more logical explanation is that Azriel is connected to Dusk Court. He shares many similar characteristics as Ruhn, who is obviously connected to it too, Az might be connected to the Princes of Hel, if the Illyrians were 'created' by them.

That's it.

He might be an Heir to Dusk. Might be having some type of blood connection. Something along those lines.

Not that he is mates with Bryce. Bryce left CC and ended up in Prythian, much like Aelin left Erilea and ended up (briefly) in Prythian. She is a actual Heir of Fire. No one is claiming that she is Azriel's mate!

Fire/Flame and Shadow might also be referring to Ruhn and Lidia.

I am sorry, it's gonna be a no from me on the Bryceriel as Mates theory.