#bound by duty to Their own rules and structure

[pzychojinx]

what is lord asriel belacqua if not representation for unhinged capricorns

[crowdusk]

it’s so interesting to me that vegapunk called joyboy the first pirate if we think about what that actually means.

it would make sense that in this case piracy is defined by what seems to be the “true meaning” in one piece — being free, and being on the sea. luffy becomes a pirate to be free, he defines the king of the pirates as the freest person in the world, joyboy is of course linked to complete freedom and liberation.

so joyboy took to the sea, which seems to have been something no one before him did (at least not as a lifestyle, maybe for trade and stuff), and did it in order to be free. we also know he was affiliated with (and potentially came from) the ancient kingdom, but probably decided to stop living there to become a pirate. so, to him, living on land/in the ancient kingdom was also restrictive.

we know the ancient kingdom had highly advanced technology (with a sustainable fire/solar source), and was essentially already living in the future (something maybe similar to egghead, but even more advanced because of the lack of resource constraints). but clearly, it had rules and maybe roles that someone like joyboy and luffy would have still found stifling.

the other thing that’s itching my brain is the relationship to the sea. we know that the sun/sea dynamic is important and symbolic in one piece in many different ways. the sun represents freedom, but so does the sea in some ways (at least living on it in the way pirates do). pirates (in the true/joyboy sense) live at the confluence of that freedom of sun and sea — you have to have both. not be trapped under the sea like fishmen, where certain resources are scarce, and not be bound to land where there are rules, structures, responsibilities and duties. even when those structures aren’t oppressive (like they currently are under the tenryuubito) they’re not what some people would consider freedom either.

so!! we know the sea is important. we know it’s likely only this planet has a sea/oceans (for example the moon doesn’t). the sea represents mother nature to some extent. we also know the sea is deadly to/hates devil fruit users, because they are unnatural (as material representations of people’s dreams). the sea, mother nature, is to some extent the material reality of the world — dreams can the impossible possible, can make almost anything real, are so so powerful, but they still have their limits in nature and the tangible world. there has to be balance.

this is also where we see the difference between luffy and blackbeard — blackbeard says there is no end to people’s dreams, luffy talks clearly about the end of his dream and what that looks like. freedom doesn’t mean constant accumulation and infinity and hunger to luffy, it is actually something material, collective and shared with everyone in the world. freedom is something everyone chooses for themselves in their own way, but freedom requires material conditions to be met (food, safety, companionship etc). and it is for everyone, not just the strong or the few lucky ones.

this is where i have been thinking about imu and the gorosei, and the theories around them. i know the main theory is that imu is linked to the sea somehow, and probably a/the sea devil. i don’t fully disagree, but i don’t think a) imu is the sea itself, more likely has managed to harness its power somehow. because to me the sea in one piece has to be a neutral, natural balancing force. and b) i think that if imu is closely linked to the sea, they can’t have made the devil fruits (ive seen that theory too). that wouldn’t make sense, since those two things are naturally enemies/opposed. and if vegapunk’s theory is right, devil fruits are unnaturally evolved from people’s dreams, which again contradicts the laws of nature/the sea. also, just in naming, the enemies of the gorosei are always called “devils” (of ohara, potentially the will of D), so it wouldn’t make sense for imu to have made the devil fruits (unless they did make them/their initial aspects but they were stolen or turned against them somehow). it still makes more sense to me that devil fruits came out of the ancient kingdom.

i do think imu is linked to the sea in that they want to use it for their purposes, i.e. flooding the world, and it’s strongly hinted they’ve done so before during the void century. they have some level of connection to it and maybe power over it (via the island-destroying weapon which is probably uranus). their preferred way of “cleansing the world” is through using the sea. but it’s also interesting that they want to be as far from it as possible, with marie geoise being high up and well-protected from the sea. to me imu is a “sea devil” (even in the imagery it’s clearly similar to an umiboshi) in the sense that it can use the sea to its purposes of control and destruction of freedom and dreams. i’m dubious that imu has a particular magical/power connection to the sea, but i could be very wrong on that.

to me pirates’ and joyboy’s connection to the sea, including their affiliations with the people of the sea (fishpeople, merpeople, etc) is actually much better stronger and deeper, even if it isn’t always a harmonious one. pirates and devil fruit users fear the sea to some extent because they respect it, and still they choose to be in relationship to it, just as they choose to be in relationship to risk, danger and death. they know it’s something that can check them, something that can take everything away. and that’s a much healthier, balanced relationship to something that is a pure, immense force of nature. nature humbles us, nature isn’t always nice, nature takes as much as it gives. that’s important, i think.

i would really love to see that last part play out somehow, in showing that people like joyboy, luffy etc can work with the sea and adapt to it. we’ve had hints of that with noah, and wano. the answer isn’t to isolate/save yourself and kill everyone else by keeping them down, it’s to work together to adapt. and i would love to see imu and the gorosei’s use of the sea for control and oppression fail in their world-flooding/cleansing plan because they haven’t accounted for people’s ability to do that.

the sea isn’t something you can escape or fight or fully control, it’s something you can only try and shape your own relationship to. you can’t fuck with the rules and cycles of the elemental force that is the sea, as we see with devil fruits. it is unimpressed with pure imagination/desire/dreaming. it says “ok, sure, cool dream. now what are you willing to risk and suffer because you are a part of this dirt-bound, salt-soaked world.” the sea requires body, flesh, blood, bone. the sea is the sacrifice made for the dream, the price you will pay if you reach the hubris of thinking you are beyond human and humanity. if the sun is the flame of hope and desire living in the heart, the sea is the muscle and sinew that has to carry the dream, and pay for it too.

(incidentally, this is also why i feel very sure the gorosei and imu actually are shit scared of the sea. we know the gorosei af least would be vulnerable to it too so i hope it gets them somehow lol).

there’s something perverse and twisted in imu’s use of the mother flame (something derived from the sun) for destruction, and i think their use of the sea parallels that to some extent. the sea, just as much as the sun, should not be controlled/used for those purposes. the sea represents a form of freedom too — what is, and changes, and supports the world like a shifting foundation. the sun is the freedom of what could be, what’s unreachable and intangible but consistently shining.

anyways it might be that the flooding just doesn’t come to fruition because luffy kills imu and the gorosei, which would make part of my theory moot (i wouldn’t be mad about it). but i also wouldn’t be surprised if we at least get some more sea level rise before that, to the point where it seriously starts to harm and endanger people.

just my insane rambling braindump after chapter 1114!! idk if it makes any sense but if you’ve actually read this far i am sending you flowers ✨

[yiga-hellhole]

twili headcanons 🫵

you sly dog. i'll have you know i am actually working on a lore doc RIGHT NOW . but let me whip some up anyhow!!

twili are the mixed and shuffled descendants of basically all of hyrule's peoples. though most of the population has gotten kind of a "standardized" appearance, noble families with pickier marriages will resemble their ancestral equivalents more

zant's family is primarily zora descendant, while midna's is gerudo/sheikah

the glowing markings on their body can be from birth to signify clan lineages, attained through life stages (appear on the skin when entering puberty, coming of age, pregnancy, etc), or with a careful hand can be tattooed. the royal house's tattoo is on twili midna's upper right thigh. on zant, this same mark (though missing the squiggle that signifies a ruling monarch) is on his back

that being said, i've talked about this before, but the black markings on twili bodies are like membranes that cover their sanitary areas. that's how they can walk around nude and you see nut'n at all.

on that same note, clothing is purely a way to signify status or personal taste. clergy, royalty, and palatial staff all wear some sort of head covering in humility though. high clergy is the most thoroughly covered, being the only ones clad head to toe

many twili are obligate carnivores. a lot of light world foods make them sick, too

having been cast aside by the light world, there's a cultural shunning of hyrule's deities, as well. instead, they've developed somewhat of their own pantheon, of which the sols are the conduits.

as i said, there's no day/night cycle, nor a seasonal one, so people tend to go to sleep and rise at their own schedules. there's always *somebody* bound to be awake to attend to some duty or other. that is to say, nobody's really in quite a rush most of the time.

all twili have an inherent knack for magic, but mostly in the sense of little charms and telekinesis. noble houses, the clergy, and scholarship are most actively involved with magic, leading to the creation of complex spells and structuring of magitech contraptions that rival, if not scarily succeed, sheikah traditions.

the throne isn't inherited per se, as the reigning monarch's children are electable candidates for the throne. from each noble house, the most talented caster is chosen as a candidate, and upon the perishing of the monarch, the most suitable candidate is elected.

the twili palace is just one of the locations in the realm - normally it's on a cliff, but zant lifted the whole shit into the sky to avoid beef with every other noble house in the realm. it kind of resembles the dark world/lorule in that it is similar to hyrule, but a lot more barren. oceans are uninhabitable, a lot of it is desert, and with the lack of a sun, dense vegetation only clusters around where Sols are being maintained. with the lack of inhabitable water the zora descendant twili are pissed off to all hell 24/7

hair length is correlated to marriage candidacy for adults. twili of marrying age will either have a full head of hair that they refuse to cut, or at least a strand or two of considerable length. bangles are the most common engagement gift, which are meant to be tied at the end of a braid at the proposal. after a couple years, if the husband(s) (usually, but wives can too) of the pair so choose, it become socially acceptable to cut the hair and wear the bangle elsewhere on the body, like on jewelry

other than that, twili are excessively laid-back, no-strings-attached, and a touch frivolous. having many flings before marriage is commonplace, as it takes a good bit for emotional attachment to kick in. (this isn't the case for zant, specifically, whatsoever)

[theovergrowth]

The Commune of The Wilds: History

(( I promise I’m working on drafts but I have thoughts that I need to get down in words. yes this is very long ))

Contents:

Beginnings.

Tenets.

Chain of Command.

Titus.

The Fall of The Father and The Rise of The Eldest Brother.

The Overgrowth

The Dying Sons

The Resurrection of The Father

Beginnings:

Though it’s unknown when exactly the archfae Macrides, King of the High Desert, first decided to settle down in the mortal realm, it’s estimated to have been anywhere from 500-700 years ago. In the beginning, he was only wanting a safe place for him and his paramour, Ylah the Diety of Beginnings and Enda, to be together away from the realms of fae and gods and raise their strange daughter, Lillith. The area had a high amount of ether within the land itself, the natural magic allowing them to live easily in the mortal realm whereas other places would prove more difficult.

This could not be forever. Lillith was killed when in a vulnerable form, Ylah was forcibly taken back to the realm of gods by the extra-dimensional hands that bound them to their duties. Macrides was left alone, isolated in the valley in which they had made their home together.

About 200 years ago was when he met The Twins, an elven duo of brothers who had been wandering the land after being rejected by their society. Macrides offered them shelter for the night, admiring one’s intellect and wisdom, one’s charismatic and hardy nature, and their shared respect and reverence of nature. In return, The Twins gave him an offering of food; a sack of apples from their home, which by morning were turned into a number of foods and preserves. A night became a week became a month became a year.

In this time, Macrides and The Twins grew close. In the first week, he had been surprised to learn the two had no names, their names being taken upon their banishment from their home. After half a year, Macrides asked if they wanted to pick new names, to which they replied that they wouldn’t know what to call themselves. They asked if Macrides had any ideas. He named them for the apples they shared together that first night; the intelligent one became Macintosh, the charismatic one became Ambrose.

The two were completely devoted to Macrides by this point, willing to lift heaven and earth for him. He was the father they wished they could have had. He had done so much for them and, in return, they would do everything for him. This was when they began to reach out to others who shared their ideals in order to create a utopia of nature and harmony, something Macrides thought was a great idea.

As their numbers grew, a set of rules along with a power structure was put into place in order to maintain order.

Tenets.

Tenet I. Never willfully bring dishonor to The Wilds nor thy Kin.

Tenet II. Never betray The Wilds nor thy Kin.

Tenet III. Never put thyself above The Wilds nor thy Kin.

Tenet IV. Never bring harm to The Wilds nor thy Kin.

Tenet V. Always strive for harmony with The Wilds and thy Kin.

To break any tenet was believed to stain the spirit, something that would only be cleaned through penance, taking the form of whatever Macrides saw fit. Typically, meditation and counsel with other community members in nature.

Chain of Command.

The Father. Macrides was dubbed this by The Twins. He had last say over everything in the commune, from land management to consequences for rule-breakers. He was never entirely comfortable with the title, but very just, empathetic, fair, and experienced with his duties.

The Elder Brothers. Macintosh and Ambrose held this title with pride. They held a sort of supervisory position, making sure everyone else had what they needed and was doing their jobs properly. Any issues or new developments they saw or heard about would immediately be reported to Macrides.

The Brothers. The rest of The Sons. Each had their own job, from farming to construction and maintenance, they worked hard to maintain resources within the commune. Some came to the commune as adults, many others were born and raised there.

There’s only one person in the commune who wasn’t really considered any of these when he started living there.

Titus.

Macintosh and Ambrose told Macrides to take a break for a day. Macrides had been off, more stressed and solemn than usual. He did the most relaxing thing he could think of; he planned to hike down the mountain to a clearing near the river and meditate. However, as he neared the clearing, he heard the unmistakable sound of a baby’s crying.

Instead of attempting to bring the outsider somewhere where another could find them, Macrides communed with the grass where the baby had lain. It told him that the child had been abandoned by it’s mother intentionally, likely hoping for them to never be found. This made Macrides furious, and so he opted to bring the outsider into the community and raise the child as his own.

The Elder Brothers didn’t care much for the idea, but Macrides would hear no arguments. The child was his now; nothing could change that. He had made a promise in that clearing that he would take care of the child no matter what, and fae do not take promises lightly. There was nothing to be done beside supporting Macrides in whatever way they could, even if they despised the idea.

Titus grew up knowing that he was an outsider. The Elder Brothers made sure of that. While it was not uncommon for someone not born within the commune to join, The Elder Brothers felt a distinct disdain for Titus specifically. Titus was a human child, randomly found by Macrides and yet Macrides saw him as his true son, something Macintosh and Ambrose were deeply envious of.

Meanwhile, Macrides was largely unaware of how Macintosh and Ambrose truly felt. Of course he saw the ways they looked at his son, of course he noticed the cold demeanor in which they treated him, but that was all they let him see. He had come to the conclusion that they were just uncomfortable, that they just didn’t know how to act around a human. After all, none of The Sons were human. For the most part they were elven, with a few other species of people mixed in here and there. But Titus was the first human. 

In Macrides eyes however, that only endeared him to Titus more. Titus was the only human, Macrides was the only fae. And while The Sons revered Macrides for this fact, he always felt strange by how differently he was treated for his nature.

Things were the best they ever had been for Macrides, for a while at least.

The Fall of The Father and The Rise of The Eldest Brother.

After twelve and a half years of happy living, disaster struck. The small mining town of Pironbury about 60 miles from the commune was experiencing deeply troubling hardships. The high amount of ether in the land caused strange occurrences to happen often. Instead of blaming this fact, a few townsfolk believed their troubles were being caused by the mysterious archfae and his followers. Against warnings from local government and fellow community members, five men went out to the commune to settle things their own way.

Macrides and Titus were in the clearing at the bottom of the mountain. They had been meditating but Titus, having always been an energetic kid, had gotten restless quickly and ran off, taunting that his father could not catch him. Macrides gave chase, having fun at first but quickly growing concerned as Titus strayed further and further from the area he had deemed safe.

The five men saw Titus first, raising their guns instinctively. Immediately, Titus froze, a deer in headlights, before Macrides emerged from the treeline. Seeing the outsiders pointing weapons at his son, he acted; he was not ready to lose another child. He commanded the land around them, branches grabbing Titus and throwing him into a hollow behind a tree trunk, the wood growing and keeping him trapped there, but protected.

The men saw this as a dangerous fae holding a human child hostage, and immediately began to open fire upon him. Macrides became more fae-like, his skin growing a protective layer of bark and his stature growing more rigid and unnatural. The fight was eventually ended when one man, who had run out of ammo, used a bottle of vodka the men brought for courage and quickly made a molotov cocktail. He threw it, hitting the now weakened Macrides at his feet. The wood covering his body was dry, going up in flames in a matter of seconds.

The men, thinking that they had rescued Titus, broke him out of the hollow. Upon seeing the smoldering corpse of his father, something broke within the boy. His fathers powers flooded into him all at once, threatening to tear him apart. He doesn’t quite remember what happened the rest of that evening, only remembering the sudden rain pouring down and the ground opening to swallow the bodies of the five assailants.

With his newfound power over the land around him, Titus, soaked through with something he convinced himself was only mud, made his way back to the commune, carrying his father’s body with the help of a few animals. The bark that had covered his father was now covering half of his body, something he found himself unable to convince to go away. His hair was now adorned with flowers that grew from him, and his eyes had taken a golden glow.

The Sons were, of course, heartbroken and furious to learn of what happened, Ambrose and Macintosh most of all. Their closest friend was gone, taken by the world that had rejected them for as long as they could remember. They buried Macrides at the highest point of the commune and, while The Sons held their vigil at The Father’s grave, Titus went back to his and Macrides’ cabin and spent the night alone for the first time in his life.

Titus did not rest that night. The morning came slowly, his senses were brought back to him by a knock at the door. He opened it and there stood The Elder Brothers, who requested to do an examination on him saying that they were worried for his health.

After the thorough examination from Macintosh, they informed the boy that Father’s powers had chosen him, something Titus was already deeply aware of. They told him that he needed to use these powers in a way that would help the commune and avenge Macrides’ death. Titus told them to leave and allow him to think about it, not quite ready to go as far as The Elder Brother’s wished.

Things changed. The Sons began referring to him as The Eldest Brother and he, being the one with Macrides’ powers, became the figurehead of their community. He was finally accepted by his family, but found he could not enjoy it. Not like this.

Titus remained largely dormant for 6 months before the words of The Elder Brothers and his grief consumed him. It was time for revenge against the world that hurt his family. 

The Overgrowth.

Back in Pironbury, strange stories started spreading about people traveling into the woods, only to become completely lost, and begin seeing intense visions and returning to town hours later, looking and acting as if they had been gone for weeks. Things began to escalate quickly; people who entered the woods stopped coming back. Later, bodies would be found, strangled, maimed, beyond recognition. Reports were made of being attacked by the forest, that tree branches, weeds, and ivy started to whip out and attack people at the edge of town, and if it got a hold on them, they would begin to pull the victim into the brambles and suffocate them. Out of the 4000 people in Pironbury, 200 people had been victims of this wrath, and 50 had gone either gone missing or died.

The town decided to finally do something about it. A large group made the dangerous trek to the center of activity, the commune. 

At this point, Titus was practically a husk of himself. He was constantly in a state of surging power, numb to nearly any sensation outside of the words of The Wilds. He only stopped his carnage after a messy battle in which half of The Sons died, and he was pushed to the point of near death. Sensing this, the writhing mass of flora surrounding him let go, only wanting what was best for him. The Sons had abandoned him, the few remaining running away in the fog of battle. He did the only thing he could think to do as the Outsiders began to approach: he ran away too, before quickly passing out from exhaustion under a bush where he was found and taken by the authorities.

The Dying Sons.

The Sons of The Wilds were gone, scattered against the breeze. The commune they had called home for 200 years was no longer secure, now being torn apart by investigators. The only one of them still carrying the essence of The Father was in the hands of Outsiders now, meaning nobody was there to protect them.

Ambrose and Macintosh, along with a few of the remaining Sons they had managed to reconvene with, knew they had limited options. They could surrender themselves to a world that disgraced them and killed their closest friend, but they both knew they would rather die than do that. That left one option in Macintosh’s mind: attempt to rebuild somewhere else, get Titus back, and come up with a better plan to destroy the outsiders.

Over the next 7 years, they regrew their numbers under the command of The Elder Brothers. Titus had left the community of outsiders that held him, and so The Sons tracked him down. However, Titus had changed. He no longer sought to avenge his father, not wishing for any more bloodshed. When they pressed him, he ran.

The Elder Brothers were convinced that Titus had been corrupted by the outsiders, that they had stained his spirit and ended his devotion to his family. They swore to bring him back, remind him of his duties, and honor The Father at any cost.

The Resurrection of The Father.

The last thing Macrides felt as he died was the emptiness of his powers draining from his physical form. The next thing he remembered was waking back in the realm of fae. Doing his best to keep the panic at bay, he familiarized himself with the present situation. He had died, his people were without their leader, his 12 year old son was without his father, and Macrides was in the lion’s den. Plenty of fae wanted him dead here. He had only one option: Fight his way back home. 

One bloody, violent year passed in the fae realm. Macrides had slain countless fae and overcame an even greater amount of obstacles before finding what he had searched for. A whirlpool, shimmering and color-shifting. A portal back to the mortal plane. He jumped without a thought.

Waking in a wooden coffin deep in the ground, the first sensation was one of immense pain. It took 3 hours for his physical form to regenerate, healing from the burns that killed him long ago. He painstakingly clawed his way out of his own grave, only to find his home in ruins, devoid of any people.

He had no way of knowing that, while it had only been one year in the fae realm, it had been over a decade in the mortal realm.

He now searches for his people and his son (who he still assumes to be a child), entirely unaware of the bloodshed made in his name.

[letsdeconstructtogether]

Take a glimpse into the spiritual world...

(Excerpt the novel The Hat. Link below if you'd like to read more!)

Druids, magi, wizards, court magicians… Magic has been a core part of existence since the beginning. Magic isn’t flashy incantations or light shows. It’s the search for deeper knowledge, to understand the structure of reality’s fabric. Eve was the first human to embark on this journey, to the detriment of human kind. Many others have joined her, to take a peek under the veil to see the other side. The unknown, the illogical. All that is beyond what we can see, hear, touch, and taste. Traditions have been formed based on the acquisition and transition of this knowledge. Passed own through generations, written down and hidden in leather bound books, kept safe in eclectic libraries. This field is not out in the open, it is hidden in the underbelly of society. One finds out through birth, meeting the right person, or through guidance.

Hiro was an outsider to this hidden society. All Hiro knew were inklings here and there. He would perform simple magic for the kids in the community. He liked to wow them, to dazzle their eyes with his tricks. He was introduced to the Council through Eiken, his mentor, who showed him a world bigger than animating clay dolls. Eiken was at that time also the Head Archmage, the representative head of the Council. So, Hiro, as his protégé, was automatically under a spotlight. A child once in a shallow pond, he was thrown into the roaring Pacific Ocean.

Hiro felt deeply daunted by this new world. He began to walk the same hallways as great mages deep in the esoteric. Mages whose families have dabbled in alchemies, astrologies, and demonologies for eons. Families who have served Edward’s dynasty for centuries. Those who have sought to manipulate the Creator’s strings. Those who were misled by fallen spirits.

You see, in this world, without proper guidance, a mage can easily get lost. Spiritual matters are much more complex than the material world, with much heavier consequences. The spiritual world is the plumbing of the material world. You don’t see it, but the world above heavily depends on it. And when something goes wrong, you’ll know. In the spiritual world, there are hierarchies, evil and benign beings, and power in the most simplest understandings. A mage without guidance can plunge into this world and be easily led astray. The spirits, you see, are much older than the mage, and much wiser. They know what tricks to pull, what lies to tell, and how to convince the mage down the wrong path. A mage must be mentored, or the waves will undertake them. Many mages have been thrown about, tricked into allegiances with demons, or tricked into spell work to their detriment. Hiro himself was overtaken by the schemes of spirits who have sought to confuse him, to mislead him, and to kill him. Thankfully, Eiken saw. He woke him up to what was happening, cleaned him up, then placed him back on his feet.

As an outsider, Hiro continued to learn day by day. He first entered as a mage with no ranking, focused on herbalism and the esoteric (A mage can choose how deep he wants to go). Eventually, Hiro rose to the rank of the Archmage, a rank few ascend to. For this rank, a mage must not only show remarkable competency in their field, but also political favor with the monarchy. It is the duty of the monarch to elect his Archmages, those given rule over the Council and its affairs. Due to Eiken’s position, it was only natural that Hiro ascended to the title of Archmage.

This caused quite a stir. Hiro not only lacked a familial background in the mage society, he also, to be frank, had a darker complexion than most mages. It also didn’t help that he wasn’t fond of making friends. The Council reluctantly accepted him, but were cautionary. As a newcomer, he was already stirring things up. He advocated for a better schooling system for his people, so he may see more who looked like him within the halls of the Council. They didn’t want change, so they started to see him as a threat to the fabric of their society. Hiro’s spotlight got brighter as his career went on, so he started to get death threats. He began to see a need in conjuring protection spells.

Thanks for reading! If you're interested, there's more. Link below!

[veronicaphoenix]

the unmaking of a warrior | part one

Summary: Samurais are bound by an oath to sacrifice their lives for their masters, if required. Among the Daimyos, the Shoguns stand as the most powerful, with Noah's master being a prominent military leader. Noah's predicament arises when he becomes embroiled in a forbidden love affair with the Shogun's daughter. Unable to resist the allure, he finds himself entangled in a passion that is sure to bring forth inevitable consequences.

Pairing: samurai!noah x fem. reader | AO3 | Words: 5.1k | Tags & warnings: forbidden love, explicit sexual content, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex, slight bondage, fluff/angst/comfort.

Author's note: I got a little carried away with this, but I can't tell you how much I loved writing this though! I did a bit of research for the context and setting of this piece, but not enough, so I apologize in case of lack of accuracy. / Also, English is not my mother-tongue, so apologies for any mistakes.

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR

Each night, I would sit by the window. The distant echo of an animal’s cry seemed like a melancholic serenade, echoing the yearning in my own heart. 

I had been waiting for five nights. I waited and waited for that clink on the window, only growing impatient every night that I had to spend alone in my room. 

I was spending the week at my Grandma’s little house in the village, away from the structured and over-organized household where I lived with my parents, in the outskirts of the city. My father was a military leader and, therefore, he was expected to comply with his name, he had duties and rules to follow, and they did not only extend to him but also to his wife and, of course, to his only daughter; me. 

Following all those codes, having to please everyone, to think that my future had been written for me, was suffocating. Specially because I was in love with a Samurai, and I was not allowed to marry someone who was below my social status, much less from the person that had sworn an oath of loyalty to my father. 

My father was a Shogun, the most powerful Daimyo, and Samurais served Daimyos. They pleaded unwavering loyalty and honor to their master, prioritizing the duty to faithfully serve them even at the cost of their lives, if required. They were trained since a very young age to develop a boundless endurance, exercise complete self-control, speak only the truth, and display no outward emotion. 

But even despite the fact that Samurais were born with the title, these qualities were not innate, and I’d had the chance to meet my Samurai long before he grew to become one of the most skilled swordmasters I’d ever known. 

Our paths had crossed in the quiet corners of my father’s estate gardens long before he took the sacred vow of a samurai. Back then, he was just a young boy with dreams as vast as the open sky. We had shared secret glances and stolen moments, unaware of the heavy fates that were already written upon us and that would promise to pull us apart. 

Being away from the estate allowed me —and him— to breathe easier. 

The contrast between the rigid rules of my father’s world and the untamed beauty of the village intensified the allure of our clandestine meetings, where we had been meeting for the past few months. The Bushido dictated his actions, and my heart ached knowing that his loyalty belonged only to my father. Yet, the pull between us was undeniable, and every time I had him in my arms, I felt that he was slowly caving in… 

And I wasn’t sure where that would take us. It was dangerous and we both knew it, but we couldn’t resist it. 

Grandma knew I was seeing someone, as she very likely knew that it was a Samurai, for once she had found one of the belts from Noah’s kimono tangled in my bedsheets when she was collecting them to do the laundry. I hadn’t been able to find any excuse when I entered my room and found her holding it. I just stared at her with eyes wide open and cheeks flushed. She didn’t say anything, but a little smile tugged at her lips. Then she shook her head, folded the belt, and kept it in the small vanity table on the corner. 

It was past midnight when I heard the clink. 

The moonlight painted a silver glow over the landscape, casting shadows that danced like silent spirits. The air was thick with the scent of nature, and the only sounds were the chirping crickets and the distant howls of unseen creatures. The Samurai’s silhouette appeared against the moonlit night, and once I opened the window for him, the world outside only mattered for a couple of seconds. Then, it would cease to exist. 

When he came through, I wrapped my arms around his torso and buried my face on his chest. I had missed his smell, his skin, the hard muscles of his chest and arms. These, usually rigid with the discipline of a Samurai, wrapped around me, softening when they caged me against him. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the steady heartbeat that echoed through the silence of the night. In the soft glow of moonlight, I looked up to meet his eyes, those brown stars that usually held the intensity of a warrior. Tonight, however, there was vulnerability, a softness that spoke of the weight he carried. A man usually reserved, he seldom allowed himself to be unguarded and open, reserving such exposure for the intimate moments that followed our lovemaking. 

He was a respected Samurai, not just for his skills with a sword but for the honor that radiated from his every move. Come down to this, he would steal moments away from the watchful eyes of duty, traveling to the village, to meet me. 

“I was hoping you would come tonight,” I said after closing the window and coming to stand by him again, my voice a soft murmur.

His lips curved into a mirrored smile. 

The scent of jasmine tea lingered in the air. He followed the aroma until his gaze settled on the wooden tray by the futon, adorned with delicate porcelain cups and the remnants of cold tea. 

“You and your fine habits of having tea at night,” he murmured, shaking his head with a teasing glint in his eyes. Despite the playful tone, he walked to the tray and bent down on one knee to take a sip from the nearly empty cup. The tea might have lost its warmth, but he didn’t seem to care. 

I watched with affectionate amusement.

“It calms me down while I wait for you,” I explained, the rise and fall of my shoulders betraying the nervous energy that plagued me during his absence. 

I hadn’t seen him in five days and the constant waiting had been eating me alive. It wasn’t just my desire for him, but the worry at something happening to him while he was away. He was a Samurai, after all, sworn to protect and serve my father, therefore his duty took him away for extended periods. The same battles that claimed my father's presence on most days also meant that Noah was entangled in the perilous dance of warfare.

His eyes, once filled with the easy warmth of our reunion, shifted, sensing the distress that lingered beneath the surface. The hope that had flickered with each passing night, the hope that told me that he would emerge from the shadows and clink on my window, began to fray. The unspoken understanding hung between us, heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the realization that the threads of our love were woven into a tapestry fraught with danger and sacrifice.

He walked to me, and the fingers of his right hand let go of his katana, tied to his waist, and found my chin. He touched my skin in a gentle manner that came from his training as a noble man, and soon enough, right after I took a small deep breath, his lips were on mine. 

They were cold, but soft and tender as they molded into mine. His hands, however, were calloused from all the training, the sword-holding, and the hand-to-hand combat. He was rough at parts, but his mouth on mine proved that there was still something soft and untouched inside of him. 

“I missed you…” I whispered; his warm breath mingled with mine. 

His eyes looked down at me for two seconds, bright and beautiful. 

Immediately, his large hand went down to my waist, and it slid down my side, touching me through the silk fabric of my dark night robe. He followed the curve of my body. His hands explored them with a familiarity that spoke of the shared moments we were keeping secret. The weight of our forbidden love pressed down on us, the knowledge that society, my father, my mother, would never accept our union. 

I was barefoot, which meant that I was a tiny creature standing in front of him who was at his full height, plus the extra inches from the boots he was wearing. I was only clad in my nightgown and a silk black robe. It wasn’t chilly in the room, but with his hands over my body a chill coursed through me. 

He looked at me just for two seconds with one eyebrow raised and a cheeky curve in his lips when his hand moved to my waist and his fingers grasped the ends of the knot that kept my robe in place, and with just one pull, he untied it, and my robe fell open to the sides. He didn’t waste any time, and soon his hand reached my shoulder to slid down the piece of clothing that smoothly slid down my arm. His fingers grazed my skin there. 

“Softer than silk…” He whispered, and he bent down to place a couple of feathered kisses there. My breath caught up in my throat. The fire was already ignited in my lower belly, and I wanted to touch him. 

When the robe fell to my feet, he pulled at the thin straps of my white gown and pushed them down my arms while not missing the chance to touch me and caress me, building up the fire. His eyes seemed to light up when my breasts got uncovered. He kept pulling down the night gown, and when his fingers came across my underwear, he strapped his fingers to that piece of clothing, too, and continued pulling down until all of me was left bare, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. 

“As precious as a saltwater pearl.” 

His words were like a sweet melody. He bent down on one knee. For me. I sucked a breath as one of his hands found his way on my backside and ushered me towards him, his fingers pressing into the softness of my ass. At the same time, his katana, still attached to his hip, touched the wooden floor, and made a small noise. There was a silent plea in his eyes as well as command, and I couldn’t do anything but oblige. 

With the white sound from the outside trying to make way through the window, he placed a kiss on my belly button, not helping to soothe my breathing. Another one down below, and he kept going until he touched my clit and I gasped. His other arm lifted until his hand cupped one of my breasts, squeezing. I used him as support when my body bended forward at the touch of his nose playing with my clit, softly running the tip up and down, warming me up, but I was already soaked at the image of him on his knees for me, so ready to satisfy me despite the hard days he must’ve had to endure prior to meeting me. 

I didn’t deserve him. 

A moment later, his lips attached to my throbbing clit and I had to contain a scream of pleasure, closing my eyes. He licked me up and down, consuming me. I felt my legs quiver, and I struggled to contain my moans. The hand that had been on my buttcheek moved down until it reached the back of my knee, and he gently lifted my leg up to position it over his shoulder, so that he’d have better access to my pussy. I had to stand on my tiptoes with my other leg. The way his mouth molded to my core should have been impossible, but there he was. I was about to grab onto his still clothed shoulders when he asked me something, and I had to open back my eyes and take a few seconds to recall the words he uttered. 

“How many do you want?”

He stopped and waited for my answer. 

“Two?” I muttered. 

He pulled away, the cold hitting my pussy as he eyed me with an eyebrow raised. 

“Two, please,” I corrected myself, sounding more confident this time. 

And without a second to ready myself, I felt his two long digits making their way inside of me, palping at the throbbing warm walls. 

“Oh, Gods…”

He ate me out as if his life depended on it, and he didn’t stop licking, nibbling, sucking, and moving his fingers in that way he only knew, touching that spot that would make me go crazy any time while his lips and tongue played with my hardened clit, filling with fire the void in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed at his hair for support and pulled him harder towards me.  

I was panting and whimpering; the sensations flooding through me suffocating me as he worked me from both inside and outside. My pussy clenched around his slender fingers, and I swear I heard him moaning, the vibrations only adding up to my pleasure. 

The pressure was only relieved when he felt me reaching the edge and he encouraged me to let go. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my orgasm washed me over. He continued working me up for a few seconds before pulling away and removing his fingers from my pussy, placing his hand on my ass to keep me steady as he stood up slowly, leaving a trail of kisses from my sensitive clit to my chest and lips. I could taste myself in him, the contours of his lips still stained by my fluids, and the act felt so embarrassing yet intimate that, for a second, I thought he would have to catch me in his arms. 

“You good?”

I nodded, still struggling to regain my breathing and balance. He nodded in return, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist, and with his clean hand he held me by the arm. 

“Open up,” he indicated, and I knew exactly what he wanted me to do.

I opened my mouth, and his fingers, still covered with my own slick, found their way inside my mouth. I licked them clean all while keeping eye contact with him, and I heard a groan trying to escape from him. 

“Goood girl,” he sang as he pulled out the fingers.  

As his praise faded into the night and I regained control over my legs, I moved one step closer to him, hungry and desperate for more, and ran a hand down the front of the black kimono he was wearing, feeling the muscles of his chest through the fabric, until I reached his obi belt and worked my hands to untie it and let it fall on the floor, next to my forgotten clothes. 

I undressed him, him taking a moment to detach the katana from his waist and placing it on the floor on top of the futon. I didn’t even take a second to admire his toned body as I got down on my knees. His cock was already hard and erect, waiting for my touch. I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling its weight and texture, and Noah’s hand came to my hair, caressing me as he pushed me to him. I licked my lips and brushed the tip of his cock with my bottom lip. My tongue darted out, and I licked until I heard him moan. I took him in, closing my eyes at the same time to focus on providing his pleasure. Not even a minute later, his hands were grabbing onto my hair, and all gentleness left his body while he was in my mouth. His grip was tight, and I felt a sting of pain on my skull that caused me to moan as I bobbed my head front to back and back to front, sucking him. He dropped his head back, a long sensual moan escaping from his lips. 

“Just like that… You do it so good…”

His cock felt heavy on my tongue, and the thought of having that weight inside of me in a while made me quiver. 

“But I don’t want to come like this, not tonight,” he spoke.

I stilled, and he moved back slowly until his cock left my mouth with a “pop”. 

He muttered a curse under his breath as he eyed his dick, wet from my saliva and reddened up. A frown was visible on his forehead, as if he couldn’t believe what I just did to him. 

He grabbed me to pull me up and gathered me in his arms, forcing me to wrap my arms and legs around him as he moved us around the futon until he bent down again to lay me on the thin mattress, my hair spreading around me like a halo as I kept my eyes fixed on him. 

He truly was a sight to behold.

“I plan on making up for each night that I wasn’t able to make it,” he promised as his lips roamed my skin, making me shiver. “That means we’re one down…” He continued, biting here and there gently, almost smiling against my skin. 

“Four to go,” I finished. 

And he chuckled as he came up to me and nibbled at my neck, making me squirm beneath him. 

He kissed me hard but slow, and I slid my hand from his nape to the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his soft hair and trying to get him closer to me. He was holding himself up on one forearm by the side of my head. His other hand roamed down my body until it landed on the inside of my left thigh, where he traced slow tempting circles with his fingertips. I lifted my hips, but he pushed me back down with his palm flat open on my thigh. 

He was sucking the life out of me with that kiss. He was pouring himself in for every day he had spent away, thirsty, and hungry for me. 

I grabbed onto him, my hands going to his back, my body aching for him desperately, and I  touched him everywhere, up and down his back, my hands exploring the contours of his strong frame, feeling the tension in his muscles that hinted at the struggles he faced, then pressing at his ass, my thighs pressing at his sides, tempting him to close the distance between us and sink into me for once and for all. 

He tsked with his tongue, and when I looked up at him with confusion all over my face, I got the answer I needed. He was in control tonight. I was his to please, to use, to reward. 

“Do I have to use the belt to keep your hands still?”

A chill ran down my spine, my eye pupils going wide at the memory of the last time we’d been together. 

“No. I’ll be good,” I answered, resolute. 

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, kissing me on the mouth for two, three, four seconds. “I’d like to blindfold you, though. For a while. Can I?”

“Yes, Noah.”

“Good.” 

He indicated that I lift my head for a moment as he covered my eyes with a small black rope that he picked from the pile that were his clothes. As soon as it touched my skin, my vision was gone, and I could only feel. Noah secured the knot at the back of my head and let me lay my head back on the pillow. 

“Is that okay? Does the knot bother you?” He inquired, a hint of concern in his tone. 

“No, it’s fine,” I answered, my voice betraying me a little. 

“Perfect,” I heard him say, his voice receding as he moved away to stand up. 

There was silence for a while, but I could sense him eyeing me up and down, exploring the contours of my vulnerability, soaking in the image of me, bare for him, blindfolded, and nervous at the prospect of having him use me to his and my own pleasure. 

His footsteps brought an excruciating awareness. He circled me, and even with my vision covered, I could feel the weight of his eyes on me. He was eyeing me like I was prey. When he knelt in front of me and pushed my legs apart, I shivered, and my heartbeat increased. 

For a second, I thought he would grab me by the back of my knees, pull me towards him and elevate my ass until my thighs were resting on his, so that he could dive inside of me from that position and be comfortable enough to watch his cock go in and out of my pussy.

But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed my hips and stroked my skin with his thumbs for a few seconds before he leaned forward again, his mouth tracing a fire path from my bellybutton to my neck until his lips were grazing my ear. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you…” His voice was rough, and I could tell he was restraining himself. He was actually very good at it, given that it was part of his training. It just made me go crazy. I had no patience whatsoever when it came to him. 

“How I missed this body…” His hand, flat, slid down my clavicle, running down the path between my breasts, and laid flat on my lower belly. “This skin…” 

His thumb stroke my clit, and I let out a soft moan. 

“These pretty sounds you make when I have my hands —and cock— on you.”

“Noah,” I whimpered.

“I know, baby.”

His fingers ran through my slit, gathering the little slick he could, and I know he used it to lubricate his cock. I could hear the soft noises coming from his pumping. He was so calculative, so… intricate in every aspect of his being. His training instilled in him a precision that extended beyond the battlefield and into the bedroom, shaping him into a person of careful consideration and strategic thinking.  

My chest rose with the air I held when I felt the tip of his cock stroking my folds. He rubbed his cock through them a few times, soaking himself not only in the slick but also in the warmth of my pussy. 

“Feeling good?” He inquired.  

“Yeah…” I muttered, darkness all around me.

“Impatient?”

He could clearly see me clenching fistfuls of the bedsheet. I bit my lip before finally admitting that, indeed, I was. 

And then, in one thrust, he was inside of me. I gasped so loud at the stretch and intrustion that his body immediately bent over me and one of his hands went to my mouth. 

“We gotta be quiet, remember?” 

I was lost in the feeling of him inside of me. I couldn’t grasp a single word he said. 

“As much as I want to hear you, we have to keep it low. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes. Yes, I can, but please, please move.”

His soft chuckle rumbled through my ears. He moved his hand away at the same time as his body started moving, and I could feel every inch of him abandoning me only to sink back into my warmth two seconds after. 

His rhythm was deadly. 

Only after he picked up the pace and I had dug my nails into his back he removed the rope from my eyes, and I met with the dark ones full of lust of him. His body covered me entirely. 

We fucked shamelessly, our actions speaking what emotions we had felt during each other’s absence. At some point he lifted one of my legs to go deeper, and the fire inside me burnt me to the bone. I kept on grabbing and pulling at his hair, and despite his groans, he loved it. That’s why when I forced him to turn over and I straddled him, sitting on his cock, he didn’t complain. His big hands went to my waist, and his eyes darkened with lust and desire. His mouth was agape as he moaned with my dance, and there was a little frown between his eyebrows that I tried to remove with my fingers, but when I leaned down to him, he increased his pace, and I lost control of everything. He fucked me senseless, and I bit down on his shoulder, hard. There would be a bad-looking mark there tomorrow that he would have to hide. 

He sensed my orgasm, and right after I came with a silent cry muffled by his shoulder, he pulled out and came hard on his stomach, wailing as spasms ran through his body.  

After a while, he mumbled a curse, and I struggled to sit up and look at the mess we’d made. I stood up and went to the vanity desk to grab a couple of wipes that I used to clean him up. He thanked me and I joined him back after a quick stop in the bathroom. There was a smile plastered on my face as I slid down the covers and found the warmth of his body. He welcomed me into his arms, my body feeling pleasantly used. His breathing was still a bit ragged, and I felt bad for not allowing the poor man a break —he’d been training all day, all week—, but at the same time I couldn’t keep myself from being greedy. I wanted him. All of him. All the time. 

We stayed in silence for a while. My eyes were fixed on him, on his beautiful brown orbs while his roamed my face and admired the subtle freckles on my cheeks and his fingers played with strands of my hair. 

The temperature in the room had risen, and we were definitely hot, but I didn’t want to move. We waited until our bodies cooled down, his legs finding shelter between mine. 

“When will I see you again?” He whispered, tracing the back of his fingers down the side of my face, from my forehead to my jaw, his eyes tracing every inch of skin, admiring every freckle, the shiny layer still covering me from the extenuating exercise of our lovemaking. I was not sure if he was asking me or asking the Gods, for neither of us had an answer to his question. 

“I’m heading back home tomorrow,” I told him with apprehensive eyes. “My father wants me home. There are some things—duties—, I must attend.”

“I understand.” 

“It’s getting harder every day,” I confessed. 

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” I countered. “My parents have been talking and discussing things. They have plans. They are insistent on my marriage.”

He wasn’t expecting to hear that. 

We knew it would come one day, but we hadn’t expected it so soon. I was waved by fear when my mother had broached the subject last week on the table over dinner. I had gotten so angry that I had left my dinner unfinished and gone to my room. 

“What are we going to do?” The desperation was obvious in my voice. 

Noah’s fingers on my hair went still. He appeared lost, his expression suddenly too serious, the softness gone. My concern deepened. 

“Noah?”

“We’ll do something,” he suddenly reassured me, running his hand down my face. “We’ll find a way.”

“How?” I insisted. “For that I would have to leave my home,” I stated matter-of-factly. “You would have to break the code and then, you would become…” I trailed off as his intense gaze caged me. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I think that’s a choice that I should make, not you.”

I went silent and my eyes fell. I couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“Hey,” he lifted my face to him with his fingers on my chin. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Yes, but that wasn’t how I wanted it to be for the rest of our lives—clandestine meetings while we pretended that our lives didn’t exist outside of these walls. 

“Will you be here in the morning?” 

He saw the hope flickering in my eyes, and it probably broke his heart the fact that he couldn’t provide me with an affirmative answer. Instead, his huge hand cupped my cheek, and he bent down to kiss me one more time, taking my breath away.

We had sex again in the middle of the night. Noah woke me up pressed against my back, his erection poking at my left ass cheek. I attempted to turn around when I felt his lips grazing my hair, my neck, my temple, and he told me to stay like that, and so I did, allowing him to maneuver my legs to his own advantage. 

I felt the tip of his cock touching the sensitive skin on the inner side of my thighs, and I got goosebumps. I was still lost between a dream and reality, and I clutched the bedsheets at my side when Noah positioned himself in my entrance and pushed to make his way in. I moaned, but I kept the sound trapped in my mouth. Noah whispered in my ear, pleading to allow him to hear me, but I kept my moans as low as possible throughout the whole ride. When my orgasm rushed through me, I cried and I had to bite my lip, so hard that I nearly caused myself to bleed. Noah wasn’t far, and he was quick to take his cock out and press the tip to my thigh so that his cum wouldn’t stain the bedsheets. 

He made me come for the fourth time with his fingers. I was sure he didn’t get any sleep, and barely did I, but it didn’t matter. We did it once again as we laid facing each other, him on top. At the time, I was fully awake, and we took it slow. When we were done, I fell asleep with his words of praise on my hair and his hands on my body, keeping me close tight to him. 

As the sun creeped through the curtains, I opened my eyes and found myself in an empty mattress. No remnants of the male presence anywhere in sight, except for the scent on my skin, the love marks here and there on my body, and the soreness between my legs. 

His katana was gone, too, but the window was left ajar, a gentle morning breeze drifting in, and a pile of Sakura flowers had been thoughtfully placed on the pillow. 

His reminders of the love he felt for me never failed to bring joy to my heart.   

Yet, with every passing night, the realization that our love was a fleeting ember in the vast darkness grew stronger. I clung to those stolen moments, the clink on the window, and the whispered promises, knowing that our love was a fragile bloom in the harsh landscape of duty and tradition.

[ebizfiling01]

All about LLC Operating Agreement in USA

Operating Agreement for an LLC- Everything you need to know about an LLC Operating Agreement in USA 

If you want to set up a limited liability company registration in USA from India, you’ll need to draught an LLC operating agreement. Do not worry if you don’t have an exact idea about LLC operating agreements; we will walk you through the information, such as what an operating agreement for an LLC is, LLC business operating agreements, and their advantages.

Introduction

Forming an LLC, or Limited Liability Company, is a suitable option if you want more personal protection but less formality in your business structure. Regardless of the structure of your company, some paperwork, such as an operating agreement, is required. Before going through the advantages of an LLC Operating Agreement, let’s have a quick look at what is LLC.

What is an LLC?

Limited Liability Company is a acronym for LLC. A Limited Liability Company (LLC) is a type of private limited company that is unique to the United States. It is a business structure that combines a partnership’s or sole proprietorship’s pass-through taxation with a corporation’s restricted liability.

In simple words, an LLC is a business form that combines the personal liability protection of a corporation with the flexibility of a partnership’s organizational and tax frameworks. It is referred to as a “hybrid” entity since it has characteristics of both a corporation and a partnership.

What is an Operating Agreement for an LLC?

A Limited Liability Company (LLC) Operating Agreement is a document that tailors the provisions of a Limited Liability Company to the demands of its members. It also lays out the financial and functional decision-making process in a logical order. It’s similar to a corporation’s articles of incorporation, which govern how it operates.

Although most states do not necessitate the creation of an operating agreement, it is nonetheless regarded as a critical document that should be included when forming a Limited Liability Company. Once each member (owner) signs the document, it becomes a legally binding set of regulations for them to follow.

The agreement is written in such a way that owners can run their businesses according to their own set of rules and requirements. If you do not have an operating agreement, your firm will be operated according to the state’s default rules.

Where do you need an LLC Operating Agreement?

Operating Agreements are required by Law for an LLC in Delaware, California, Maine, Missouri, Nebraska, and New York for LLC (Limited Liability Company). 

Even though your state does not require an operating agreement, it is still advised to have one:

If you have company partners (Multi-Member LLC), an operating agreement will assist you avoid misunderstandings by defining partner duties and obligations.

If you are the lone owner of an LLC (Single Member LLC), you need create an operating agreement to give your company credibility. This ensures that the Limited Liability status of your LLC is upheld by the courts.

Advantages of LLC (Limited Liability Company) Operating Agreement

Your LLC is bound by the default rules of your state if you don’t have an operating agreement in place. The default regulations in most state LLC statutes can be rewritten in the LLC’s operating agreement.

An operating agreement might spell out what will happen if you pass away or are unable to run the company. Your family may struggle to keep the business going or wind it down if this clause is not included.

As the company grows, you may wish to engage a manager to handle the day-to-day operations so you can focus on business development. An operating agreement can specify the manager’s responsibilities, including authority and salary, as well as what happens if the management leaves or works for a competitor.

Businesses that are successful expand. And expansion necessitates financial resources. The treatment of future investors might be specified in an operating agreement. The LLC will be better positioned in investment negotiations if these terms are structured in the operating agreement.

Information that is included in LLC Business Operating Agreement

Organization

The Operational Agreement’s initial section deals with the company’s formation. It details when the firm was founded, who the members are, and the ownership structure. If there are numerous members, they may all have the same amount of “units” of ownership or varying quantities of “units.”

Voting and Management

This section discusses the company’s management and voting procedures.

The members may run the company themselves or choose one or more managers, and the operating agreement outlines what authority the members or more have over the firm’s affairs.

A voting procedure maybe used by the firm to make choices. Members’ votes can be distributed in a variety of ways, including one vote per member, one vote per unit of ownership interest (if the corporation is divided into units), and so on. The operating agreement may define the number of votes required for specific firm actions.

Capital Contribution

This section details which members contributed funds to the LLC’s formation. It also covers how members will raise additional funds. An LLC, for example, could decide to sell ownership “units” in exchange for money.

Distribution

This section explains how the revenues and losses of the firm are distributed among the members. This could be cash, real estate, or other corporate assets.

Membership Changes

The procedure for adding and removing members is described in this section. It also specifies whether and when members can sell their shares in the company. For example, if a member dies, goes bankrupt, or two members divorce, the firm will want to clarify what occurs.

Dissolution

This clause of the operating agreement explains when the firm may or must be disbanded. This is referred to as “winding up” the company’s affairs.

Other Information

Operating agreements can cover a wide range of topics additionally these 6 core components. This is dependent on the circumstances of a specific business. Members may want to insert requirements for frequent meetings, verify signing limits, or clarify how internal conflicts will be handled, for example. Keep in mind that once you have started a firm, you can alter your operating agreement at any moment using the process of your choice.

Conclusion

An operating agreement also allows the firm owner to define succession rules as well as governance procedures like meetings and voting. Without an operating agreement, the state’s default LLC regulations govern the ownership of the company. Although some jurisdictions require LLC members to draught an Operating Agreement, this internal document does not need to be filed with the government. States, on the other hand, mandate that you file your company’s Articles of Organization as well as Annual Reports.

[cruciallifechangingskills]

Understanding the Realities and Strategies of Establishing Accountability in the Workplace

In your company, everyone has an independent responsibility that needs to be fulfilled, keeping in mind the ultimate goal. Collaboration is crucial while completing any project, and each person needs to utilize their unique skills to accomplish their part of the work. However, things go wrong, and projects may fail to reap the success we hoped for. Getting to the crux of the problem is useful, which might take a long time if you do not have accountability in the workplace. This feature is vital in effective teams who perform to their ultimate levels. It also builds an environment of trust and support. As an employee understanding the implications of accountability can help you to fully grasp the importance of responsibility and grow as a professional. There has to be effective communication between employees to build an environment that is positive and conducive to work. This is the functionality of the junior management and the senior leadership team.

Realities of Accountability

Lack of responsibility in the workplace gives the wrong image of the company and reduces the brand image in the market. Regarding collaboration, the team's expectations could be more precise, and instructions given by the leaders need to be adequately communicated. The leader does not seem to care about the outcome or realize the impact it may have on the company's overall success. The processes and systems need to be better and addressed.

Not about control – Many confuse accountability with having control over their colleagues. However, this is not about control but about personal responsibilities and having the courage to own up to their mistakes. It is a motivation that comes with the job and personal interest in the outcome.

Everything matters - The reality is that everything and every functionality matters. One poor performer can bring down the whole team and reduce the success rate. Leaders should understand where the teams are going wrong and where the leaders are also faltering regarding accountability.

EI – Having accountability in the workplace means you need to be emotionally intelligent as an employee and even a leader. You need to understand your team's motivations and expectations and initiate a strategy to improve the work structure. 

Strategies of Accountability

Clear communication – The first crucial criterion to establish accountability is clear communication. Employees should be comfortable enough to voice their opinions and receive feedback from the leaders. Any expectation should be conveyed clearly so that people know the rules and duties and their impact on overall performance.

SMART goals – While setting workplace objectives, it is essential to establish smart goals which are specific, measurable, relevant, achievable, and time-bound. All the factors that are crucial to establishing accountability are conveyed through these goals.

Respect – It is essential to lead by example and establish respect by fostering trust and support in your company. Have a space where everyone can discuss their experiences and exchange ideas without being judged.

[mimondee]

ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ sᴀᴛᴜʀɴ ✺ precision in work, daily responsibilities, structured approach “please like and/or reblog if you found this useful! thank you ♡”

ＴＡＵＲＵＳ ✦ strong values, materialistic, stable, fear of poverty, determined, patient ✦ need for what’s permanent and a structure and order that can last ✦ dislike of laziness, but also of devotion and enjoyment of life at times ✦ when reaching a breaking point, may fear losing their security, ruin and loss ✦ fear of depending economically and lacking resources can motivate them ✦ if they’re feeling insecure, they tend to fear losing everything they own ✦ life lessons encountered are meant to teach them how to detach from what’s material ✦ quite persistent in overcoming obstacles and a practical approach to pushing past their limits ✦ being too possessive can limit them, creating obstacles when they’re pursuing material things ✦ may lack spontaneity strengths: ⇢ modest, aware of reality, healthy way of enjoying things ⇢ usually a clear sense of self-worth ⇢ need to cultivate stability and respect ⇢ persistent and hard working ⇢ devoted to their duties ⇢ through slow and steady effort they accomplish their goals weaknesses: ⇢ tendency towards obsession with faithfulness can be a thing ⇢ may aim to secure enjoyment at any cost ⇢ attempting to develop determination, prudence and patience ⇢ may rely on what they own in order to feel stable and may reject change ⇢ accumulation synonymous with accomplishment

ＶＩＲＧＯ ✦ self-critical, practical skills, service, perfectionist, hard working ✦ need to refine and perfect their “discipline” together with whatever order and structure they come in contact with ✦ dislike of domesticity, precision and flexibility at times ✦ when reaching a breaking point, they may fear being awkward and/or inappropriate, as well as useless ✦ fearing the unknown can motivate them ✦ if they’re feeling insecure, they may be troubled by feelings that they’re always held to an impossibly high standard ✦ life lessons encountered are meant to teach them humility, how to deal with criticism and how to find a balance between self-criticism and self-esteem ✦ they overcome the obstacles by paying attention to details and conforming to the standards ✦ criticism can block their way strengths: ⇢ aware of their social responsibilities ⇢ need to cultivate originality and self-confidence ⇢ a fusion of mind and body ⇢ ability to bring order to a mass of detail, is achieved through analysis and must be based in truth and reality ⇢ stable health usually weaknesses: ⇢ extreme modesty, overly methodical, strict ⇢ may exaggerate with organization and perfectionism ⇢ tendency towards criticizing everything ⇢ infatuation with what’s meant to be useful or practical ⇢ attempting to develop discrimination, common sense, technical ability and analytical skills ⇢ a chaotic environment brings a sense of instability

ＣＡＰＲＩＣＯＲＮ ✦ responsible, strict, late starter, fear of failure, conservative, disciplined, respected ✦ need for practical structure and discipline that is strengthening their ability to achieve their goals ✦ sometimes they may dislike their ambition, awareness and how willing they are to take responsibility ✦ when reaching a breaking point, may fear being controlled and limited by other people and by being bound to do something ✦ fear of not getting a reward can serve as motivation ✦ if they’re feeling insecure about themselves and their ability, they tend to only feel safe in a world of rules and stability ✦ life lessons encountered are meant to enable them to use their talents and ambition to work, as well as overcoming obstacles ✦ at times, whatever progress they’re making may be slowed or blocked for no apparent reason ✦ overly cautious approach can prevent them from tackling challenges strengths: ⇢ determined, mature, healthy self-discipline, responsible ⇢ realistic view of the world ⇢ need to cultivate their dedication and will to serve ⇢ firm sense of stability and affinity for logical and well-regulated structure ⇢ ability to accomplish a lot of things ⇢ a step-by-step approach when pursuing goals weaknesses: ⇢ tendency to be way too strict with themselves, but also others ⇢ attempting to develop self-control, integrity and “economy of effort” ⇢ overemphasis on order and stability ⇢ may be attached to rules and old ways of doing thing ⇢ expecting too much from other people at times

[delu-jean]

Hey! For your event can I have giyuu or rengoku for 45? That’s one of my favorite songs 💕. (female reader)

𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰

Giyuu x (fem!/reader) -> Fluff -> 1.2k 

Lyrical Prompt: -> “I want to love me, the way that you love me. Oh, from all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too, I love it when I see me from your point of view,” POV (Ariana Grande)

(Regarding Lyrics): If bolded and slanted (eg: you), they’re lyrics being said. If not (eg: you), then they’re just lyrics/text! 

Notes: 

-> I wanted to do Rengoku originally, but Giyuu was running though my minddd~

-> Thank you for requesting for the event! If you would like to request, please press the hyper link for the “100 Followers Event,” and read the rules! Thanks, and enjoy!! ^^ 

You stared at Giyuu as he glanced out the window. Such a calm, and reserved young man. One of which you adored. He was just so perfect in every aspect. From his stance, the way he spoke, the way his eyes lit, to the way his hands were placed. He truly was a piece of art, one of the more rarer pieces that was showcased to you (luckily). And not only was his presence a gift, but his affection also. 

Giyuu has always handled you with care. Treating you the utmost best he could, even with his duties, and own life in the way. For him, how could he not? You were an extraordinary person. One of which he never dreamed of meeting until you appeared...right in front of him. Speaking of your meeting, it was one he would never forget. 

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours 

At that moment, everything seemed to have stood still. It truly felt like a spell was cast as the word “hello” had escaped from your lips. He was awe stricken. From the way your hand had waved, to the way your hair had swayed. All of you had captivated him, and for once, did time stop. Making that small amount of time feel like an eternity. One of which he hoped would extend, and hopefully, become something more. 

Fortunately for him, that’s exactly what happened. As the more time passed, the more he had fallen for you. Not only did the beauty in your appearance hook him, but so did the compassion in your heart. 

The kindness, selflessness, and passion it held for others, was something astonishing. Something he hadn’t seen in a while, especially in the field of demon slaying. Even when you took the lives of demons, just like Tanjirou, you also felt sympathetic for those beings. Yet instead of wallowing about their tragedy, you instead showed them the better of it. Some listened, and others couldn’t because the pain was too much to bear. Regardless, you did your best to show your intention through your actions. 

Executing each and everyone of them, with grace at the slash of your blade. Not only did you do your best to understand them, but you also did your best to understand others. Though it was a challenge for some people, it felt natural for you to explore more about Giyuu. Not only that, but he felt at ease when you opened closed doors which he had shut. Finding the knob to each individually, ready to repair the damage done. 

 Made of glass the way you see through me

He felt so transparent when the both of you talked. As if he was an opened book especially reserved for you. Though you thought your talent was nothing special, he found it to be an impressive accomplishment. He hadn’t opened up to anyone after the late passing of Sabitou, and his sister. Even so, there he was...with you. Telling you the littlest details which he hadn’t known he knew, and yet, it seemed that you knew more about him then he knew himself. 

So much that you could have elaborated his thoughts, memories, stories, and over all, read him to the bare of his soul. Understanding his feelings, along with his own mindset. Seeing as to why he acted a certain way, and the hurt that also tagged with the path of his choices. Though you hadn’t known him much, it seemed like you already knew him in and out. Which made him think: 

‘You know me better than I do’ and that he couldn’t seem to keep nothing from you.

In truth, Giyuu was scared. Scared that after revealing who he was, that something was bound to happen. Not to him, but to you. It seemed to be a cycle which he was stuck in. After letting someone in, they would make their way out...but in the utmost cruel, and gruesome of ways. Even so, when he attempted to let you go, you’d always come back. Re-entering his life as you wanted to know him more, and so did he want to know you. 

It made your interactions special, heartwarming, and even heart wrenching at times. All of those small, big, and silly moments which the both of you shared, brought him one step closer to you, and the gracious person you were. 

Over the years you had spent with Giyuu, you took note of who he was as a person. Not only that, but who he saw you were as an individual. You saw his efforts that came to play. Ones which were ever so considerate. Though he was timid and quiet at first, the more time you spent with him, not only did he open his mind, but his heart as well. 

I wanna love me (ooh) 

The way that you love me (ooh) 

Opening his arms to envelope you in the warmest of hugs, showing you how much he appreciated your talks, and showering you in the utmost affection. He truly did love you, and held you to the highest of his priority. Although there were times where you had doubted yourself, had disliked parts of you, or just weren’t having the best time with who you were, his actions would remind you of the self-worth you had. Not only that, but the love he also had. Love that was handmade, and tailored just for you. 

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

He adored you no matter what. From the days where your confidence had reached the roof, to the moments where it hadn’t so much, he made sure to show his appreciation. Cheering you up, or cheering you on, though not in the most loudest way, it was done the way he sought best. Knowing that it would lighten you up no matter what. He loved seeing a smile painted on your face. A structure with the softest, and pinkest lips, along with a majestic grin. One of which he had oozed over, and would smile with himself. 

Regarding arguments with you, no matter who came first after a fight, you both would make it up to each other. For him, personally, he would hold you in the moment. Letting you know that he was both sorry, and there for you. No matter what would had happened, and no matter what was yet to come. For all he knew, losing you was an option left in your hands, and knowing that, he did all he could to cling onto you. Knowing that you would do the same since that’s just who you were. 

A beautiful lady who would stand beside him, no matter thick or thin. You were there for him, ready to love him just as much as he adored you. Just one of the few things he admired about you. 

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

It was true, nobody had ever loved you the way Giyuu had. Though your love wasn’t the most vocal, it was definitely the most precious. His perspective of you was one he held very dear to himself. He made it clear, and would continuously do so. 

All of that was seen from his actions alone. If his actions were that expressive, just imagine what his thoughts had held. Yes you were able to read him, but only Giyuu truly knew the way he thought...along with his affection for you. Knowing that sometimes made you think: 

‘I'd love to see me from your point of view.’

[casterlygldcs]

withsilvereyes​:

she waited silently a moment, the sound of the servant boy filling the hollow goblet before her now the only noise within the room as she collected her thoughts. the queen sat before him, hands placed within her lap, blue orbs glancing off for a moment, before returning to meet his. she heard herself quite clearly, being utterly foolish when there were far more pressing matters to be concerned with.

“i did.” katherine spoke softly, nodding to the boy in thanks, but not moving to grab the cup before her. she tread lightly when it came to the subject of the lion prince and his rage. it was a rage they all felt, only they contained it, controlled it, letting it seep out in the smallest of doses. she feared one day he would let it explode, consuming all of them, though she would not say so aloud. she inhaled deeply.

they were made to look as if they were falling apart at the seams, that they could not even manage their own. and in doing her part katherine needed to help find some way to, indeed, manage it, through the ladies of their realm. it was not enough for them to say it, she needed to see them play their part in it.

and she took pause with guinevere, allowing the other space as she needed, trusting that she would do her duty. and she has, until this moment. the thought of what could happen if the princess did not take the oath made katherine’s stomach drop, but at this moment, she had to put that to the back of her mind. in truth, she couldn’t fathom it, but she knew no one was entitled to the king’s mercy. not even his sister.

remember, we are bound to obey and serve. she recalled the words she spoke to her ladies, both for their realm, and for their future husbands. katherine knew whatever the king’s will, would become her own, unconditionally. this incident only furthered her need to stitch up the threads that had come unraveled.

it was the very least she could do this moment, fulfilling her promise to rule by his side, doing her duty as his queen, while the promise of giving him heirs fell short, for now.

“would you like me to speak with your sister, my king?”

♔

any intense form of attention that were placed upon her, almost unwavering and enough to cause ripples of nerves and anxiety to course any, slipped as soon as it has happened, noting the way in which his tone of voice had been unwaveringly stern. it were as though ruling, and the act of doing it constantly for twenty four hours a day, took up all forms of patience that tyland lannister had once to give; leaving little behind for those who were in his lives beyond the confines of a council chamber, or beyond diplomacy. "that is all i need to hear."

it were of no fault of their own, that he would not be foolish enough to make himself think; and yet only, he did nothing to ease their sense of trepidation when it came to handling the lion king. there was a firm line between the likes of family and the likes of a king, and whilst there once was a time where that line blurred, it was made of gold rather than a simple line in the sand. his mind thought on his altercation with his brother, and he exhaled slightly whilst looking upon the piles of food upon the table before them; venison, even peacock. they had no rival. it were not true, for katherine.

"what reason do you believe you have, to speak with the princess?" he asked her. the direction should not need to come from him; the queen did not need a reason nor permission to speak with a member of the royal family. she was a member of the royal family; and the most powerful woman within it in regards to the societal structure. she had all she needed, in rights and in resource, to make her mark within the kingdom. "my answer is not of importance."

she heard herself: and that was all he needed to hear. there was something unsettling about the way striking emerald hues were able to fix upon the person before him, and he swore he could almost feel any sense of warmth ease from them slowly, and then all at once. something predatory in a gaze that likened him more to a lion rather than a man. the silence that lingered between them was one of ease to tyland lannister, who did not feel uncomfortable with silence; nor did he feel uncomfortable in giving one the space they needed to realise they had made a misstep. his silence was not one of vexation or anger; but genuine quiet, the only sound being the crackling of a hearth and the sound of a knife against the plate.

there was a time where such noises would unsettle him: it no longer did such a thing. "do you think it important to speak with her highness?" he asked; the question laced with a tone that was almost leading. whilst her belly remained empty, katherine would need to direct the court in other ways a woman could. and there could be no other woman who was perceived as more powerful than her.

the queen of the westerlands was the most powerful woman in the entirety of the realm; and whilst he did not expect her to be putting herself forward and speaking with diplomats independently, he expected her to be an involved, active member of the court. the women of the court would need to look to her, rather than any sort of example; and in this moment, as much as she perhaps did not wish to admit it for the sake of continuing to play the role of the peace keeper, her role was being challenged and undermined. there could not be two outlooks on how women of house lannister were expected to behave; and he only wondered whether his wife would have it in her.

[concerningwolves]

When Dealing With Wolves \ Project Info

What if Little Red Riding-Hood's mother had reached out to the wolves in the woods? What hidden truths would she have found out there in those cool, green depths, where the earth itself sings and the trees know your name?

WDWW is my debut novel, coming in late 2021. It's a very loose retelling of Little Red Riding-Hood in a high fantasy world and features an autistic lead character, polyamorous families, a magic system inspired by yarn & fibre crafts, and strong fairytale/mythological vibes. Oh, and talking wolves. If you're curious, the first two chapters are available to read free [here].

OVERVIEW

GENRE: Epic/High fantasy

SUBGENRES: Mythopoeia; thriller

TARGET AUDIENCE: Adult

STATUS: Final revisions; self-publication prep

SERIES?: Yes – Book one. [Book two is The Kindness of Ravens; info on that WIP is here]

KEY THEMES & TROPES: Redemption & personal growth \ trauma & recovery \ magic & witchcraft \ found family \ the importance of compassion and empathy \ emotion-based magic \ fairytales \ mythological worldbuilding \ mystery & intrigue \ character-driven plot

SYNOPSIS

Ys is a wild and restless place, ruled by the ancient magics that lurk there. At its southernmost tip is the town of Erdansten, surrounded by fear and crumbling walls; to the north is Deothwicc, the forest of the Wolvenkind, dark and ancient. Between them lies a land marked by the ghosts of a history nobody can remember, rich with secrets that could tear apart everything the Kinds think they know.

[full synopsis, character overview and other info below the cut]

Rostfar is supposed to protect the people of Erdansten from the wolves and magic, a duty she takes seriously – despite being the very thing that her people fear. For years she has kept a tenuous balance between her duty and her own magic, clinging on to her secret with everything she has. She knows that the line she walks is a perilous one, but she can’t escape this lie she has built now. Not if doing so would tear apart her world and put her family in danger.

When her lover’s estranged brother arrives in Erdansten, however, the delicate balance she has maintained all her life is thrown into turmoil. Things from beyond the walls start to close in, attacking her people, and increasingly it seems that her only hope lies far to the north. In Deothwicc. But Rostfar’s absence from Erdansten sends the careful structure of power crumbling down, and those she has left behind must fight to maintain order as the worlds of wolves and humans collide.

CHARACTERS

► MAIN CHARACTERS

Rostfar → human || 36 || Arketh's mother, lover to Isha and Mati || autistic with a special interest in folklore, mythology and history || white; red hair, freckles, blue eyes; short and stocky build; small scar on her upper lip || As the Dannaskeld of Erdansten, it is Rostfar's job to oversee the security and defence of the town. It is difficult to protect people from magic, however, when you are the very thing they fear.

Arketh → Human || 4 || darker, copper-toned skin, auburn hair, brown eyes; small for her age; likes colourful clothes || autistic || daughter of Mati, Isha and Rostfar || Bright, curious, optimistic and wise beyond her four years, Arketh is well-loved in Erdansten. While her mother fears the magic that hounds them both, Arketh loves it – even as night-terrors and sleepwalking episodes threaten to expose her to the world.

Grae → wolf || grey-brown coat and brown eyes || has PTSD and depression || yearling || One of the youngest of the Deothwicc pack, Grae has grown up under the shadow of his litter-brother's death. While all the wolves around him seem content to live and move on, he has struggled in silence with an anger that now threatens to consume both himself and everyone he loves.

Aethren → human(?) || 18 || nonbinary || trainee hunter under Rostfar || white; black hair, grey eyes; gangly build || For all their skill at hunting and tracking, Aethren has never felt good enough. Never felt right. They're always too prickly, too surly, too quick to take offence. Nothing makes sense right now, but they're certain this new power uncoiling in the back of their head is only going to make matters much, much worse

Yrsa → wolf || reddish coat, amber-brown eyes; small and slight compared to most of her kind || Although Yrsa agrees that wolvenkind must stick close together to survive, she cannot help but feel curious about the odd, two-legged beings beyond the marshes and mountains. Her packmates call her naive, but Yrsa is sure there is something they could learn from the humans – and she is only too eager to prove her theories right.

► SECONDARY CHARACTERS

WDWW has a large supporting cast, but some of the foremost secondary characters are —

Isha → human || 33 || One of Arketh's fathers, in a triad with Rostfar and Mati || Copper-brown skin, darker than Arketh's, and close-shorn hair, brown eyes; very short and lean; calloused hands || blacksmith || trying to grow beyond the ghosts of his past

Mati → human || 37 || Arketh's other father, in a triad with Rostfar and Isha || Long brown hair and beard, green eyes; extremely tall and bulky build || always slightly scared of his own strength, so he never does anything fast || solid as rock with a warm, compassionate heart

Marken → human || 40 || Rostfar's best friend, Aethren's father || foremost healer in the Isles of Ys; nobody is quite sure where he learned such revolutionary medicine || grave and closed-off, he is often accused of aloofness, although anyone treated by him can see the deep compassion behind his eyes.

Natta → human || 36 || Rostfar's twin sister and Dannhren (head of the council) of Erdansten || cool-headed, driven and ambitious, with a bad habit of forgetting to share her emotions with the people she cares about

Kristan → human || 15 || Natta's son || Apprentice healer || Born with one arm || Both gullible and headstrong, Kristan's fear of the dark and the mysteries beyond the walls of Erdansten may prove to be his undoing. And the undoing of the town.

Myr → wolf || father of the Deothwicc pack || world-weary but determined to find a better future for his pack

Estene → wolf || mother of the Deothwicc pack || scarred deeply by the deaths of her last litter, Estene now believes that the only hope for her pack is to trust a human. Unfortunately, she is yet to meet a human who could be worthy of such trust.

Thrigg → no longer human || 200-ish? (She can't remember) || Thrigg longs to rejoin the world outside of the magic-bound city of Hrafnholm, but her longing is kept in check by her fear of what she will find.

► ANTAGONISTS

Faela → human || 42 || Isha's estranged half-brother || arrives in Erdansten in the dead of night, with old wounds on his body and deeper wounds in his psyche. Guilt surrounds him like a shroud.

Ethy → human || mid-late 60s || retired hunter who now tends to the half-tame ravens in Erdansten. She wields her love for the town like a weapon.

Unwolf and Other → no longer wolves || ?? || strangers from another land, wreathed always in a malicious, living fog that covers their tracks.

OTHER INFORMATION

► MISC. INFO

As of writing this post (17.03.2021), I have one (1) chapter of copy-edits left to revise.

I hope to have a solid release date for the novel by the end of April.

It will be self-published, with both ebook and print versions available.

► TAG LISTS & TRACKING

Taglist members will be tagged in important milestones/updates, and in longer excerpts from the book. If you'd like to be added, please reply to this post or tell me that you'd like to be added on the reblog (or send an ask if the askbox is open). You can ask me to take you off at any time :)

To keep track of the project progress or learn more about it, check out the #When Dealing With Wolves tag

► SUPPORT ME

I have a Patreon for my writing, with £1 and £5 tiers. You can also support me on Ko-Fi, where I cross-post monthly Patreon stuff, either through one-off tips or monthly support.

[malachi-walker]

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

[robininthelabyrinth]

I recently found out that Meng Yao's name means 'radiant piece of jade' and I can't stop thinking about Lan Yao, the Third Jade of Lan. I don't know how this would happen (he goes to a clan that forbids gossip instead of the Nie? After he rescues Xichen, Xichen asks him to stay and be his righthand man and he agrees?) but I'm obsessed with it. Preferably Xiyao content, but gen is fine too!

Untamed

“The penalty for the deliberate murder of a superior during battle is death,” Nie Mingjue said dully. “As you know, Meng Yao.”

“I understand,” Meng Yao said, and closed his eyes. “No matter how it ended, Chifeng-zun, serving you was the greatest honor of my life.”

Nie Mingjue should do his duty and execute him.

And yet, he cannot. The number of his friends can be counted upon a single hand, and to know that he himself took the step of ending the life of one of them would break his heart…and anyway, he has an excuse, does he not? Meng Yao clearly committed a crime, ending the life of a Nie sect commander during battle, thinking he could blame it on Xue Yang, as he had done, or perhaps on the Wens, but at the same time he had also saved Nie Mingjue’s life; it would not be too much to use that as an excuse, to turn away from the stringent requirements of righteousness and pardon Meng Yao for what he had done...he would still have to leave, of course.

A commutation of punishment, then, from death to exile.

The taste of it was like ashes on his tongue.

Nie Mingjue had always been a decisive man, righteous even to the point of cruelty – even to himself. But today he would be losing his right-hand man, one way or the other, and tomorrow he would have to send his little brother into the tiger’s den…

He was tired of loss.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said, choosing to speak aloud his thoughts rather than hide them as he normally would. “Nor do I wish to exile you. Meng Yao, I hold you in the greatest esteem – if he had wronged you, why could you not have come to me? Why did you have to break sect law, which I am bound by honor to follow?”

Meng Yao opened his eyes. They were wet – if it had been before, he would have thought it regret, but now he wondered if it was only regret that he had been caught. “Sect Leader Nie…”

“Do you not understand the meaning of rules?” he asked. “Why we have them – the purpose? Is it all nothing in your eyes when set next to advantage that could be gained?”

It was behavior he would have expected – should have expected – from a son of Jin Guangshan.

Perhaps he’d truly been fooling himself all this time.

“Don’t you have an answer for me?” he asked, voice hoarse. His spiritual energy was unstable, his body injured, his heart hurting; he did not want to lose Meng Yao as well, but what choice did he have? What choice had Meng Yao left him? “Meng Yao, you always know what to do, you’ve always advised me well. If you had to decide on your own fate, what would you do? To kill you would be to stain my hands with the blood of a friend, to exile you would be to abandon you into the wilderness, but to absolve you would make me the most wretched of men, who enforces the law only for his own whims and preferences – who lets the guilty go as long as they are his own. I cannot be Wen Ruohan for you, Meng Yao. It would destroy me.”

“…I don’t know, Sect Leader Nie,” Meng Yao murmured. “I cannot judge.”

Perhaps that was real regret on his face, now. Regret not only that he’d been found, but that he’d violated Nie Mingjue’s bottom line, his principles, his law…

His rules.

Nie Mingjue frowned, thinking of the letters Nie Huaisang had sent him while he had been at the Cloud Recesses. Thinking of the first one, the one that detailed their welcome ceremony…full of gleeful observations regarding how Meng Yao had looked at Lan Xichen, and how Lan Xichen had looked back…

“Neither can I,” he said, even though he should. He was sect leader; it was his burden to be the final arbiter of such things. It was his own weakness that kept him from making the decision he needed to make – but a type weakness, he hoped, that could be succored by time. Time and clarity. “Meng Yao, when you were at the Cloud Recesses, you met Zewu-jun, correct?”

Meng Yao’s eyes widened, clearly surprised, and he nodded.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Therefore I sentence you to neither execution nor exile; the decision on your fate will be deferred until a later date. For now, you remain my deputy, with all concomitant rights and duties.”

Meng Yao swallowed.

“Until the final outcome has be reached you cannot remain here,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Without a foundation, there can be no structure; without trust, nothing can be built. I send you out – not in exile, but on my orders. I order you to go with all haste to the Cloud Recesses and contact Zewu-jun regarding the intelligence we have received regarding the Wen sect’s threats; once you have arrived, stay by his side and assist him as you have assisted me. If tragedy can be prevented, do so; if it cannot, salvage what you can.”

“Sect Leader Nie…!”

“Go,” he said. “Go to them, be a jade among the jades; and when you are done, return to my side, and – and we will see what must be done then.”

Perhaps Lan Xichen’s kindness, kindness and even love, would be able to help heal Meng Yao where his trust and respect had not. Maybe Meng Yao would learn from the Lan sect’s rules what he hadn’t from the Nie sect’s principles – or maybe he wouldn’t, and Nie Mingjue was just postponing the inevitable.

He would write a letter to Lan Xichen explaining the circumstances, he decided. He would entrust Meng Yao to him, and him to Meng Yao, and hope that all his hope was not in vain.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

I really really love the when you become a fallen piece, could I possibly have that with Diavolo? Pretty please? Thank you for reading this.

Yes, definitely! I will write this here, so I hope it’s not weird!  I was debating whether or not I should post it on the other thread with the brothers, but maybe here it’s okay too <3

P.S. after I wrote it: I MAY HAVE GONE A BIT OVERBOARD WITH IT, OOPSY DAISY-

---

Long ago, before the Celestial War happened, you, as another Seraph, would look up at Lucifer and how he was loved by everyone, how his brothers adored him...And you?

You were like a caged dove, without any bit of freedom...

You were raised and taught - not like all the other angels - but you were meant to be the key to the Devildom and Celestial Realm allegiance.

You were meant to be the future King of Devildom’s future wife.

So while Lucifer received praises from Gods, from the Cherubim, from the other Archangels...

You, on the other hand, only received criticism from the lower-angels constantly on your back, punishing you if you didn’t behave as you were meant to.

And your dark feelings kept harbouring inside your heart for a long time.

These feelings were only amplified tenfold when Lucifer had the audacity to rebel, along with his brothers, and was welcomed with open arms in the Devildom, by the same man that was supposed to become your Husband...

How vile.

And you wondered...

If you were to rebel and run away as well...

Would he welcome you with so much enthusiasm?

...Of course not, why would he?

He may be your soon-to-be Husband, but all the angels were strict: “You must be his wife, but never grow feelings for such a disgustingly impure, immoral, unethical and vile monster such as him. He is evil incarnated, that’s why he’s the future Demon King!”

So you kept enduring and enduring, until you were finally brought before him, not yet to wed, but to spend the day together and get used to each other.

Needless to say, Diavolo, despite thinking that Lucifer was gorgeous...He found you to be more than ethereal, for lack of better words in any language.

He was happy, he wanted you by his side, despite all the inhibitions and shyness that were brought along with you, but he understood the situation, he was already aware of it, thanks to Lucifer, who was already aware of the problem, naturally.

So for the whole day, he tried to help you ease around him, to look at him with your beautiful E/C orbs that sparkled like the stars in Heaven, to see you, without your wings covering you, as all Seraphim had the habit of doing, he wanted to hear your crystalline voice, loud and clear, not just whispering in his ear whenever you had the courage to say something.

He wanted to hear your laugh, that would be like a lullaby to his ears, he wanted to see your genuine smile, that made his heart explode with a myriad of emotions.

And more importantly, he wanted to touch you, to feel you skin, delicate and soft like a cloud, to taste your lips that were sweeter than any Celeastial Realm dessert.

He wanted you, and he wanted to make you his partner in crime, to tease Lucifer and his brothers, to make witty schemes and pranks together, to sneak around, to make fun, to dance, to laugh, to walk around, to have dates, to do so many things together.

Diavolo was so eager for your wedding together, and so were you, frankly.

You found safety and solace around him, something that you never thought would happen any time in your life, and now you realised why Lucifer was welcomed so nicely to his Kingdom - Because Diavolo wasn’t evil and merciless as the angels wanted her to believe, he was a benevolent ruler who only sought the good of his people and wanted all 3 Realms to be equal and be peaceful.

This didn’t sit well with the angels when you returned back to the Celestial Realm, as they could see you vibing with happiness, they could see your cheeks pink like the roses from the Garden of Eden, and more...Your heart...It was trembling with emotions.

You were in love with the Demon Prince.

You destroyed the allegiance without even realising, and the angels were furious with you for ruining all the centuries of trying to educate you properly, to make you become an obedient little wife.

You screwed up for falling in love with the man you were supposed to marry.

And now, you had to receive the Divine Retribution that few angels had the misfortune to deal with.

You were thrown out of Heaven.

You were let to fall down, from the Celestial Realm, to the Devildom, while all the other angels were throwing insults at you, for being a shame to God and your title as a Seraph, and that you deserve every bit of pain you will have to endure in the future.

Barbatos had already forseen this happening, so Diavolo was waiting for you to fall, so he would be there to catch you before you hit the ground, not wanting you to feel more pain that you must already endure.

Of course, as Lucifer had already gone through all this before, he was informed about the agony, the transformations and the changes in one’s body, but even so, he wasn’t prepared for how emotionally gut-wrenching the sight of the woman he loved so much, sobbing in pain, just because...

Just because she held the same emotions as he did for her.

It wasn’t fair.

Why should she have to suffer for loving someone, while he was safe and sound, not even feeling an ounce of physical pain, nor trauma?

He was holding you tightly to his chest, not even feeling anything while you were clawing at his back and arms from the pain, not able to think or speak coherently, as he could only watch your feathers and a pair of wings slowly burn, even the bone structure of it, while stumps of bone and keratin were protruding from underneath your scalp, getting bigger and bigger, and twisting around in intricate shapes, resembling that of some animal.

“This is not fair! This is not fair! Why...! I was raised to be your wife, but now that I want to, I’m being punished! Is it so immoral to have feelings? To love your Husband? Why is nothing I do ever good for anyone? Why can’t I ever be like the ones I admire so much? Am I really fated to waste away and rot like a caged bird forever?” you’d cry out, as Diavolo put your hands on his own horns, to tug on them, to make himself feel the same hatred, rage, agony, despair as you did, because you were bound by an unbreakable bond, wrapped with the string of fate, from heart to heart.

Diavolo felt powerless for the first time in his life, as there was nothing that could stop, or even lessen such pain - no medicine, beverage, food nor plant or drug - and he could only hold you and curse every living being for not being able to keep you safe from all this madness.

Since he was born a demon, he never had to endure any pain, but seeing you go through it all, it made him want to find some curse and curse himself, so all the pain you’d feel, he’d feel as well, just to punish himself for making you go through all this - Because he blames himself, even if he would never tell it to you, in fear of making you feel even worse.

He wasn’t sure how many days passed until your physical agony subsided and your wings were charcoal black, like a raven’s, and your horns were fully out, but he knew that the worst wasn’t over yet.

Every day, he had to hold you and reassure you that he’ll never leave you, and that he loves you and he would never give you up, just because you are not a Seraph anymore - Your beauty was as ethereal as always, no matter what.

He had Barbatos make sure you bring you food to help you get used to the Devildom cuisine, without purging, because your body wasn’t used to bats and poisoned apples, but to cloud cakes and paradise fruit.

He would hold you tight every night, allowing himself barely a wink of sleep, as he felt it his duty to guard over you while you slept, so you wouldn’t be plagued by night terrors, even going as far as casting spells to help you sleep better, not even sure if they worked or not.

He would get you all sorts of clothes and jewellery, showing you off to everyone as soon as you were ready to step out of your shared room, because you were the most beautiful being alive, and nothing was going to erase that fact - And neither should you ever forget it.

Because Diavolo loved you with all his heart, and was waiting patiently for the day when you’d be able to get fully accustomed to your new life as a demon - But not any demon, but THE Demon Queen - so he could start preparing the Wedding, with you by his side, letting Asmo to style your hair, do your make up and style your wedding dress, making sure it matches with some colour with Diavolo’s suit too, while you two and the brothers, mainly Satan and Belphie, would choose how to decorate the wedding venue, the Ballroom, and Levi would help with the music, while Mammon would provide entertainment and Beel would be in charge of the menu.

And Lucifer would be the one to walk you down the isle, as he was the one you looked up to for so long and gave you the courage to aspire for freedom.

You were finally where you belonged, and you were happy, with the one person you loved with all your heart, and went through so many hardships for, and you had nothing more to fear any longer, because nobody would be as stupid as to go against the rules of THE Demon King just to harm you.

Especially not while he always had his arms and wings wrapped protectively around you.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

PRISONS, SOCIETY, AND SOCIAL THEORY

“Prisons have long been used as a laboratory to develop and test social theory (Beaumont and Tocqueville 1833; Sykes 1958; Goffman 1968; Foucault 1979; Garland 1990). Foucault (1979), for example, argued that the essence of prison—the use of power to discipline and punish nonconformist behavior—becomes the essence of all social life. Prison riots are but rebellions against this power. Gresham Sykes (1958), writing in the heyday of functionalism, suggested that prisons were functioning societies that, although they were “societies of captives,” needed the same perquisites for functioning as any other societies. Prison riots were evidence of a dysfunctional or pathological relationship between the inmates and the prison authorities. In particular, Sykes argued that wardens who “crack down” on inmate privileges (rights to property, recreation time, social interaction) that sustain a viable inmate society will likely reap rebellion in response. Erving Goffman (1968) argued that prisons were a special kind of “total institution,” similar to military bases or insane asylums in the degree of control they exercised over inmates’ lives.

Yet another viewpoint, now overlooked but worth reviving, was expressed by Thomas Mathiesen (1965), who argued that prisons are similar to traditional patriarchal or monarchical regimes. He pointed out that wardens exercise a mixture of personal and bureaucratic rule and decree many of the practices of their institution, that they control armed force to maintain order, and that a well-articulated hierarchy—from prisoners to guards to higher officers on up to the warden—determines status and power.

We believe we can take Mathiesen’s viewpoint even further: The hierarchical structure of prisons is quite similar to that which prevailed in early modern monarchical or imperial regimes. Prisoners occupy positions much like serfs or bound peasants. They have their own “space” but are subject to much oversight and control from the central authorities, whom they must obey or face punishment consisting of loss of property or space (e.g., relocation to punishment units). They have a routine of eating and working that, if they follow it and respect the authorities, they can generally maintain. However, they have few or no options for what Albert Hirschman (1970) has called “voice” or “exit” and thus little control over either the conduct of the authorities or the basic conditions of their life.

The correctional officers and prison’s executive staff are much like the bureaucratic elites in an absolutist state. They come and go freely, they have considerable authority over the prisoners, but they also are strictly subordinate to the central authorities and must perform their duties in the bureaucratic framework established by the prison administration. Finally, the wardens face pressures similar to those faced by the heads of early modern states, particularly what Skocpol (1979) has called the Janus-like situation of the state, facing both internal and external demands at the same time. State rulers need to meet internal demands to maintain the loyalty of their bureaucratic elites and order among the population; yet state leaders’ performance of these tasks is complicated by external demands, for other states can create military and economic pressures that strain state resources and make it difficult to meet internal demands. In similar fashion, wardens need to maintain the loyalty of their officers and order among the prisoners; yet they too face external pressures from the broader society. Although these are not military pressures, they can be no less imposing. State and national legislatures, courts, and executives can mandate new rules for prison administration, increase prisoner populations, and demand changes in prison conditions, all while restricting or even reducing prison budgets. Political pressures and conflicts outside the prison can lead to the dismissal of wardens, support for prisoner demands, or insistence that the prison pursue certain outcomes, such as the integration of facilities or the rehabilitation of inmates. These external pressures can make it difficult or impossible for wardens to meet the internal demands of prison administration. Given the great similarity between the sociopolitical structures of prisons and of early modern monarchical/imperial states, it seems quite reasonable to explore whether the state-centered theory of revolutions—developed to account for instability in this kind of state—can also be applied to prison riots. If so, it may both demonstrate an unusually “deep” generalization of these theories to phenomena on an entirely different social scale and shed light on the origins of the important social problem of prison disorders.

- Jack A. Goldstone and Bert Useem, “Prison Riots as Microrevolutions: An Extension of State‐Centered Theories of Revolution.” American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 104, No. 4 (January 1999), pp. 987-988.