#he’s not that religious but that’s the closest they have to healer

[libartz]

[idwt-money]

I See Through You.

MDNI 18+

3.2k words

Satan!Noah sebastian x Lost soul!Y/n

Christian/Religious themes, Satanic themes, Corruption kink, Mentions of death, Wax play, Oral sex (male and fem rec), Unprotected sex, Squirting, Dirty talk, Mentions of breeding kink

“The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite.”

—

Noah's pov.

Fuck. It should be ME. I'm the fucking king.

—

Third person's pov.

He had been banished from the holy scene. His mind had been corrupted. He was God's favorite. The closest thing to becoming a god he would have ever gotten. Until…

His mind would run amuck at night. After the sun had set on the sacred land, laying in bed with his brethren just rooms away.

Day after day he had gotten sick of bowing down for the divinity. Growing like a disease. Growing and rooting itself deep within his bones, the veins that allowed his suborn blood to flow. Spreading deepest in the soul his God had granted him eternal life with.

Submitting himself to his almighty had become a tiring, weakening agenda. His hunger for power burned deep within his mind.

His position as the anointed cherub no longer satisfied his starvation for authority.

His attempt at dethroning God led him to be thrown, tossed, banished from the pearly gates every mortal soul had prayed to enter.

—

One of his now ex-brethren, bestowed a script to him. Curled together like an ancient pirate's map. On the scroll before him was one final message to the unholy individual from the Lord.

“Oh, my poor Samael. Where had I gone wrong? Pride, greed, envy. For how could you let them engulf your intelligence? To cause such rebellion? You, a lost soul, can no longer hold a position in my holy land.”

As he finished the script, he felt his soul burn and shrivel into complete nothingness. Nothing but a black void leaving him falling out of the sacred heaven he yearned to be the king of.

Falling through each layer of the Earth, he could feel his skin burning and aching as he did so. He landed in an unbeknownst hole, passing out on impact with rubble and dust falling upon him. On that cursed day, the eternal fire was born.

—

If you are cast out, what's your next move going to be? Will you return cold? Or will you turn up the heat?

Last thing I sold them, had been my dignity. But, the truth is the devil sold his soul to me.

To me.

To ME.

—

Noah's pov.

I had awoken in a displaced land. A funnel shaped cavern. Aggression and insanity ran cold through my veins. An inferno I was placed in.

If I wouldn't have an opportunity to rule the heavenly kingdom, I shall make my own. For lost souls, for sinners and those of who act upon blasphemy. For those who will not succumb to God. I will be the king of the mountain of purgatory.

For I will create a kingdom, not as its jailer, but as its healer. I will heal every soul that is not worthy of being in heaven. I will create an army, one so powerful that it can take down God and his disciples.

—

Third person's pov.

Noah, as he had renamed himself, had spent years stacked upon years building and crafting his domain. A safe place to heal broken souls that were undeserving of heaven.

He had now accumulated centuries worth of individuals who lost their spot in the promised land. They were all dependent on him as their ruler, their king.

He had rediscovered himself. He no longer was a spirit of God, rather the opposite.

He no longer had soft, white, pure feathered wings. Instead his back was adorned with a set of deep black wings. They were covered with coarse fur, rough to the touch. His once dark honey colored eyes were now pitch black. He had grown fangs that looked perfect to sink into a soft, flawless neck.

He had all he could ever imagine…except a love to sit beside his throne, to rule his domain with him.

His heart desired and thirsted for a true love. Although he had millions of souls in his kingdom, he hadn't met a single one that could give him what he needed.

They were all too much like him. He wanted someone he had coax upon him. Someone he could play a game with.

He hadn't taken a leave of absence since the day he decided to create his own space. Maybe it was time to change that. A trip to the mortal world.

—

Y/n's pov.

I sat upon a bench in the midst of a forest, taking in a deep breath of the midnight cool air. I had no place to go.

Parts of my soul, broken and seemingly unfixable. I was cursed to spend my days roaming the Earth as nothing but lonesome in my own purgatory. I would spend my day and night praying, atoning for my sins. Seemingly little, insignificant sins to anyone else were the reason I was stuck in this temporary state.

My Lord had promised if I could atone for my sins, I would be allowed into the promised land. I wanted nothing more, but my Earthborn body had long turned to dust, my hope slowly diminishing.

—

If God came down from his kingdom, he came down from his throne and we asked him if he'd take us back, he would surely tell us no.

We live and die in vain like treasure on a sinking ship. All in the name of a God we'd just abandoned and forget.

—

Third person's pov.

He had his eyes set on her. A lost soul, set in purgatory. Oh, how easy it would be to convince her to bestow her gift upon him.

She seemed perfect. Her skin having a soft glow to it. He knew if an Earth bound body could see her, they too would fall in love with the sight. Her glow gave off as a blue-ish tone, telling him all he needed to know.

As he moved through the trees, he watched as her panic became prominent.

“No one knows I'm here…unless?”

A small glimmer of hope shone through her sadness at the idea that her Lord had finally decided she was able to step foot into the holy divinity.

Her blood ran cold as a jagged finger ran across her skin.

She was so soft, the panic in her eyes set his body on flames. Her pure mind was one he could imagine 100 different ways to ruin.

—

Noah's pov.

“What are you doing out here by yourself, angel?” My voice came out rough and coarse, while hers was much flowy, softer than mine could ever be.

I took a stand of her hair, taking in her delicious scent.

“Wh-wha-! Who are you!?” Her chest was rising and falling like a scared little bunny, her eyes darting back and forth across my features.

“I know you've heard of me. The Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Lord of Flies, The Antichrist. Baby, I'm you're one and only-” I was cut off, her screech throwing her into a fit of madness.

“THE DEVIL!?” Her cry must have been heard for miles, to any other lost soul or angel that was Earthbound at the moment.

I pulled her to my chest, covering her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. I'm here to make a deal.”

A deal with the Devil.

“I see through you, angel. I know exactly what you are. A lost soul, hoping to atone for your sins. Am I close?” I spoke my words slowly and calmly, not needing a miscommunication.

Her head weakly nodded against my heaving chest.

“I'm going to take my hand away, and you're going to let me talk. Do you understand?”

Another nod was given.

Removing my hand oh so cautiously, I let her sit back down, holding my finger up to my mouth, indicating she needed to be quiet.

“He won't let you in there, baby.”

“You don't know that.” Her words flew out of her mouth, cold and harsh.

“Oh, but I do.” My index finger softly gliding down her cheek. She must have been previously crying.

“I was his favorite, you know? I had more power than any other angel. I was second below God himself.” My hands now placed behind my back as I paced back and forth. I didn't miss the way she watched me like a hawk.

“I wanted more. I needed more. He was far too greedy. He casted me out, sending me falling through Earth's layers, down into the deepest parts of the plane. His sacred, holy land was too much to bear. So, I created my own. My own kingdom.” I watched the starry night sky, all the stars twinkling as I explained my story.

Looking down at her, her face was painted with many emotions. Confusion, anger. I smirked to myself, knowing I had her questioning the almighty spirit.

“B-but God is…is good. He's purity and kindness.”

I scoffed.

“Come with me, my sweet angel. Rule with me. You will have power and you can be your own divinity. I can give you everything he could and more.” I whispered the last part into her ear, letting myself smile against her skin.

“Why…why are you beautiful? I thought-”

“Thought I was red? With horns and an outdated tail?” My eyebrows furrowed together as I spoke.

—

I see through you, I know what you are. I see the devil more than I see God.

—

Y/n's pov.

He was beautiful. Gorgeously put together, with a black suit, dress shoes and tattoos staining his skin. He was so enticing.

My head was dizzy and I could feel my core slowly weakening. This was absolute insanity.

I had no idea why I felt the need to say yes to his offer. His words were smooth like fresh honey floating through my ears.

Although tempting, I had to be strong. He could be lying. I had read the bible 5 times before passing to know this is what he does.

He's seducing, he tempts your faith, your religion. He gets in your head. He tempts you with bad decisions. He had powers beyond man. He was the reason Eve sunk her teeth into the forbidden fruit. He was the snake that left hissing in your ears after you had committed a sin.

“Come with me, I can make all your dreams come true, little one. I can make you belong.”

Belong? Your soul ached and yearned to belong somewhere.

“You can give in to your sins, free of guilt. Free of shame. No worries of fear of punishment.” He made a tempting debate.

Is this what you wanted for yourself?

“He'll leave you alone, you won't see him like you'll see me. Is that what you would like? He'll send messengers to talk through. You won't catch even a glimpse of him.”

I couldn't stand the thought. My mouth spoke before my brain could speak.

“Okay. I'll come with you.”

—

Third person's pov.

A sinister smile spread across his lips.

“This will hurt a little.” He muttered as he tilted her head to the side. He sunk his teeth into her neck, covering her mouth as to muffle her cries. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt their minds morphing into one.

Giving her a mark. A mark to tell everyone how easily he had corrupted her mind. How she was now his.

Noah pulled away, licking away the blood that resided on his lips.

As for Y/n, she felt her body burn hot. Aching pain spread through her body, her soft blue glow now turning orange.

She watched as he cleaned up the mess, licking the blood away on her neck.

“Oh, my sweet angel. You've made the right decision.”

—

As the pair now made their way into the kingdom, innumerable souls congratulated their king on his new found love.

They soon after found themselves in the Devil's bedroom. She hadn't taken Satan for one to sleep much.

“It isn't for sleeping, I promise that, baby.” He chuckled at his own comment.

As soon as she took a spot on the bed, covered in soft, red sheets, he was attacking her lips.

—

Y/n's pov.

You weren't complaining. He had promised you an eternal life, free of guilt. What would be the point in worrying about it now.

You let his lips venture your body, his fangs gliding across your skin every once in a while.

He had started leaving purple marks across your neck, close to the freshly marked wound he had given you previously. A way to say you were his.

“Oh, fuck. Baby, I'm going to corrupt your precious little mind. Fill it full with sinful thoughts about me.”

He took your hand, moving it down his shirt, down to where his cock was painfully straining against his pants.

It caused you to ache beneath your own. Your mind went dizzy with the thought of him. He was gorgeous and was about to give you everything you could ever want.

You had taken some initiative and unzipped his pants while he took his tie off, throwing it somewhere unbeknownst to you. He undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt and you, quite frankly, gawked over his body.

He was toned. He had tattoos littering his skin everywhere. His dark eyes watched as you took a long once over of his body.

“Fuck, you're beautiful. Truly.” Your words were quiet, seemingly scared that God would somehow hear or see the activities the two of you were getting up to.

“As are you. You'll be perfect at my side. For the rest of forever.” His hand caressed your face. He did truly find you breathtaking.

Your big doe eyes were something he could find himself staring into forever.

You were now something the holy trinity could never take away from him.

You pulled his pants down, causing his cock to be set free. Something roared in you.

You licked your lips before devouring him.

You swallowed his cock, slowly taking more each time your head bobbed up and down. Soon, he was reaching the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him.

His hands were placed at either side of your hand, using it as leverage to fuck into your throat. You took it so well that he could lose himself in your touch. The way your arms were wrapped around his thighs, helping him go deeper into your throat made him weak and want to crumble.

You felt your cunt wetten for him. The sight of his hair falling out of place and his chest heaving through your teary eyes made you need him. You wanted him to enter your temple and destroy it.

His thrusts became sloppy, faltering here and there. You pulled away from his cock, muttering filthy sins as you stroked him.

“Let me taste you. Give it to me, baby.”

You were forced down onto him once more as he let his seed spray down your throat. Letting it coat your insides felt like bliss.

It was mere seconds before he led you to lay on your back. His hands were clawing and scraping against you, in such need and hurry to remove you of your clothes.

The second your panties hit the floor Noah was nose deep in your pussy, taking in your taste and smell.

Your eyes rolled back as your mouth was left gaped. A hand flew into his hair, pulling and tugging at it, causing his once perfect hair to now be disheveled.

“Oh- oh fuck-” You gasped as he licked and slurped along your clit. No man had ever pleased you as Noah was right now.

He wasn't a man. He was a fucking demon.

His middle and ring finger slid across your wetness before plunging into you.

Something in Noah felt like this is what he had been waiting for. This is what he was made for. He was made for you.

His fingers quickly found the right way to please you. The calloused pads of his fingers rubbing the right spot.

You bit your bottom lip and he somehow knew you were close to toppling over the edge.

“Do it. Let yourself go. Let yourself be mine.” His voice came out as a growl against your cunt as his fingers quickened.

“No- I can't I'm gonna-” You couldn't finish your sentence before your orgasm took over your mind.

Your orgasm left a mess everywhere. You hadn't known until you heard the wet sloshes against Noah's palm.

“Oh my- I've never done that before. How-how did you…?”

“Done what? Squirt? Fuck, angel. I'm Satan himself. Did you doubt me?” He had an shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Shut the hell up and fuck me.” Something took over you, all you could think about was his cock ramming into you. Destroying every thought you'd ever had of God and those “precious” pearly white gates.

“Look at you, mere moments ago you were trembling with fear. Now you're begging for my fucking cock.” He chuckled and crawled up your body, kissing and licking at your skin.

It didn't take long for him to position your legs over his shoulders, feeling his cock stretch you out as he entered you.

“Your body is a temple. And I'm here to fucking destroy it. I'm here to get in your pretty little head. Corrupt those holy thoughts with distasteful, nasty, sinful thoughts.” His words were venom digging into your brain, making your mind their home.

His thrusts were becoming faster, now that your pussy had gotten used to his size.

He had grabbed a candle that was permanently lit by his bed and watched the wax drip onto your skin. You hissed as each droplet made its spot on your skin.

Slowly but surely, Noah had made an upside down cross upon your stomach. You couldn't care for the dull burn the wax drips had left as they dried.

You could feel Noah's cock pushing its way into your fucking stomach. He was so inhumanly big, you almost forgot where you were and who you were getting fucked by.

Once the wax had set, you pulled Noah into you, clawing your nails deep into his skin. He growled over the feeling of your nails making dents so deep into his immoral skin.

Before you knew it, Noah's shoulders were bleeding and you were both merging into one.

“Noah, please, please harder!” Your words were barely decipherable as your second orgasm was approaching.

“Now. Give it to me now.” His words were enough to send you into a spiral.

As you had your own orgasm, Noah shot hot strings of seed deep into your womb.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna put a baby here one day.” Noah said as he rubbed your stomach.

He took the blood from his bruised shoulder onto his thumb, placing it onto your tongue.

"Forever, we are one."

He finally had a respective queen to be by his side for the rest of eternity.

—

Woke up in the light convinced my life had made it to its end. Burning up beneath the sun, while my father drained of blood.

If he's there, I've got a message for the man that's up above.

Fuck. You.

Taglist: @vinyardmauro @missduffsblog @lma1986 @embracethereaper42 @skulliecadaver-blog @mrscevans @viofcrows @gipsonnikki @philomenie @bloody-delusion-expert @bloodymug @millyhelp @fuckyouimstillstanding @cookiesupplier @concreteangel92 @bruisedleftknee @sprokat @itsafullmoon @darling-millicent-aubrey @eclipseeetop

[loudclan-clangen]

Yay! More lore!

They in fact cannot! Leadership is a lifelong commitment in Loudclan. Maybe they could sacrifice all but one of their lives and then just live as a normal warrior, or step down while keeping their lives, but the next leader wouldn't be able to receive their lives until the former leader was fully dead. Same goes for the Lead Healer. When they receive their lives they give up their "normal" life and become inextricably linked to Starclan/The Black Water and that's not something that can be undone.

Yes! Exactly like that! They have to die to see starclan the 1st time, this costs them their "mortal" life, so when they come back they are using their first "divine" life. When they sacrifice a life to speak to starclan they must die again in order to give the current life back, as opposed to giving up the chance of using a future life. This does mean that everytime they come back they come back slightly...different. Nothing major, they're still the same person, just like a different iteration of them. Maybe their favorite prey is different, or their dominant paw changes, minor things that no one but their closest friends and family would notice, but the leader rarely seems to notice the change.

This is going to be very vague, and I apologize for that, but if I was ever to explore one of the other clans in a blog it would be Freezingclan, so I don't want to say anything too definitively and lock myself into something I haven't fully thought out. But the answer is that no one from the other clans really knows? Freezingclan is weird, they've existed longer than all of the other clans, in fact longer than anyone can really remember, and they only decided to take the clan naming system for the ease of everyone else. They meet at gatherings and are generally quite friendly and shockingly generous, but they don't discuss their religious practices with the other clans too much, because it usually only results in confusion and fear. What I can tell you is that Freezingclan's ancestors don't go to the Black Water Pool with the rest of Starclan, as they've never been seen there and Freezingclan predates the discovery of the oil. Based on the logic of why Starclan lives in the oil (it's a pocket of eternal night) it would make sense for Freezingclan's ancestors to live in the depths of the ocean, but since their leaders don't receive lives there's really no way to prove it. It's equally possible that their ancestors just stop existing when they die and that makes the rest of the clans VERY uncomfortable so they've just stopped asking for the most part. Freezingclan certainly believes that they can communicate with them, leaving offerings of prey and herbs on the shore in exchange for plentiful hunts or healthy kits, and their Healers often slip into trances where they speak in strange languages, but no one can agree whether they are just faking it or not.

Okay, so, a lot of this ask touches on stuff that I want to cover later in backstory drops for the founders, but, I'll try to answer everything I can without spoiling anything for that! Wildfirecry is the only one who came from another Clan, he was a healer in Forestclan, which eventually collapsed, leaving him on his own. He met Fiercestripe along the way, she joined up with him, and they made their way to the valley territories. Meanwhile Owlstar and Siltsplash were born and raised in the valley. Generations of rogues, descended from kittypets who were abandoned when the mine closed, lived and died across the valley, of which Owlstar and Siltsplash were two. Owlstar was sort of a folk-hero amongst the rogues, so when he and Wildfirecry got together and decided to form a clan, many others followed. Owlstar asked the studious and strict young Siltsplash to help him keep the clan in line, and they excitedly accepted, becoming his mate and deputy. The mountain was chosen because they were seeing signs of an especially harsh winter, and it's one of the few places where the wind keeps the snow from piling several feet high. Shadedclan and Ghostclan formed for similar reasons, only they disagreed about where they should go to escape the deep snows. They absolutely did leave behind people that they miss/feel deeply guilty for leaving, but those are details for a later post!

[calamaroo]

HEAR ME OUT‼️

Viking/Pagan AU :

‼️Disclaimer : all references to the religious aspects of this au are meant in an appreciative and embracing way, I have no hate for any forms of paganism. I think it's sick as hell, respectfully.‼️

HHHHRRRGGGGG

I've had the idea of the Octonauts being Norse seafaring warriors and mystics for a WHILE, and it's part of the reason I haven't drawn much : it's all I wanna draw but feel guilty for making too many au's. STILL, I love this au, it is my baby, and expect more of it. Vikings are my Greek mythology/roman empire, if ya know what I mean ;))

SOME BASIC LORE :

Shellington is like a shaman-type mystic (wasn't really modern style science back then, so the closest thing was magic) and he does things like cleanses, rituals, and other such magical things. He's not a healer like Peso, but can give magical healing. He doesn't often, and more focuses on perfecting his communication with the gods/spirits and using their gifts to protect the other Octonauts during battle.

Kwazii is a Berserker Warrior (which in real life, there is no evidence of them taking drugs to go berserk, but for this au, cuz it's funny, he does. He's a shroom lover) -- he's still Barnacles's second in command (I'm still researching Viking social structures, so that may shift around)

Kwazii and Shellington are together in this au (cuz i can not be stopped), and Shellington is always sure to give Kwazii the most magical blessings and protection. He doesn't want his boyfriend to get hurt/die, so romantic

KWAZII WITH CURLY DREADS HELLO????? HELL YES!!! HES SO FUCKING PRETTY, SAVE SOME GENDER FOR ME!!!!!! I WANT HIS HAIR IRL!!!!!!

Lemme know if yall fw Viking/Pagan AU, and even if you don't, imma keep at it cuz its fire 🔥

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 3

Summary: Without the red smoke to help you through rehab, you begin to experience thoughts and feelings that you never had before. It gets worse before it gets better, but don't worry. It DOES slowly get better.

Check out the other parts here. Also, check out Part 2 to my Incorrect Quotes if you haven't already. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of murder, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Drug Withdrawal, Drug Addiction, Mentions of Self harm, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been imprisoned at the heretics’ main space station for. Based on the lines scribbled in your journal, and what those healers and heretics told you, the closest timeline you could estimate was a month and a half…

Could be more…

In your defense, being in and out of consciousness because of not only healing from your wounds but dealing with your hellish headspace gave you no chance of keeping track. You weren’t sure if you TRULY wanted to know how long it’s been though…

Some of your wounds, at least, have healed. If you weren’t wearing those power mufflers, all your wounds would have disappeared a long time ago. But, no.

Those heretics just HAD to insist you heal the hard way. It is bad enough that those healers and their knights were watching your every move on the cameras. There was no nook or cranny in your accommodation that wasn’t under constant surveillance. They didn’t even try to be discreet about them. What’s worse is that now you had your whole body, head, and face exposed, especially to the people hellbent on killing you. They didn’t even deserve to have a face to associate with the Archangel. It was for your own good, they said. All that did was leave you with voices in your head screaming at you to get out, run, and hide from those prying eyes.

So what if there were a few instances where you tried to scratch yourself until you were satisfied with the red on you? You just needed a way to stop yourself from feeling these weird feelings. It’s leaving you weak. What would the Prototype say if he saw you showing such weakness when you were raised better than this? The scratching never went as far as it did the first time, though and it would never be like that ever again. Not on the heretics’ watch. They would always intervene before the first sign of red.

You spent a lot of time thinking about the perfect escape plan. You would get those power mufflers off, destroy those cameras the first chance you get, create a void, (maybe kill a few heretics along the way to send a message), and make an easy escape back to the prototype. It’s just… you could never muster any energy to go through with your ideas. You hated that you grew so lazy and weak when no prison was able to keep you contained in the past.

What happened to you?

Where was your energy to fight back, to make those heretics pay for what they’ve done to you…?

But…

Why save you?

Probably to interrogate you, torture you for ALL the intel concerning your God, and once they get everything, kill you. They can sure as hell try, but you’d rather die than betray your God and family like this!

You groan, cradling your pounding head with one hand. You slide down against the wall. Even though you've been clean for some time now, but you're still trying to get used to this red smoke free headspace of yours. Now you're just left sitting with thoughts and feelings you never had to sit with before, and you hated how much it consumes you. You wished you had the red smoke to help you through this, to make you forget these feelings, to go back to normal. But the Prototype never came back for you… no rescue parties were made for you as far as you know.

A few healers and knights argued that if he really wanted you back, he would’ve come get you by now, but he didn’t, and none of your “friends or family” did either, so you might as well get used to being here. You reminded them every single time that you don’t have “friends” nor are you selfish enough to need any. The Prototype was all anybody needed. You had that argument about 26 times before you stopped. There was no point in continuing this fight if they just refused to see any sense.

You hated to admit it, but...

Maybe they're right.

Not once, in the entire time since you’ve been separated from the Prototype was he there when you needed him the most. Your chest and the back of your eyes burn. Your vision goes blurry. You clench your blanket draped around your shoulders and take a few deep breaths until the burning sensation is smothered, and your vision clears up. You are NOT going to let weakness consume you.

Not now.

Not ever.

Not as long as you’re at the mercy of the heretics.

----------

Here you are, three months deep into your rehab program, sitting on the floor, and studying another one of Bubba’s “philosophy books” as he called them. He gave you some so that "you weren’t left pacing back and forth in a cell or being stuck with your thoughts all day." Granted you do try to do a few exercises to build your strength back. You discovered it was the best way to distract your mind from the mere thought of desiring red smoke. At least the books give you more to do in your cell.

To you, it was all heretic propaganda to stray the weak-minded away from the divine truth. It was still intriguing to study about, all the same. Besides, if you're going to be staying with the heretics, then now is a good time to start learning about their world and culture. As much as you hate to admit it, you're beginning to understand why many heretics find these kinds of teachings appealing. Not only does it go against everything the Prototype preaches, but there were so many teachings to choose from. How do the heretics even know which teachings are true? How do they know which teachings they should follow for the rest of their lives?

It was all so strange.

Back home, there is only one absolute truth: everything that happens in the galaxy is thanks to the Prototype. He’s the eternal source of happiness, of wisdom, of strength, of a second chance at life. He is in control of all. He gives his people his gifts, and in turn, they serve him. They devote their lives to him. To not believe in this truth would mean certain death.

In the heretic world, it seems it is up to the individual to shape the world in their image. Apparently, to discover the truth, you have to be willing to question everything. But how do these heretics expect to survive if they're expected to find their own happiness? How can they be trusted to take control of their lives when they don't fully know whether they made the right decision or not? How are they able to peacefully co-exist despite their differing beliefs?

Perhaps it's something you can clarify with the Space Riders when they come in for yet another visit. They've visited you quite frequently, but it was all so strange. They never asked you anything about the Prototype or the cult. In fact, the topic of conversation was always about… you. They would ask what you have been doing in “rehab” as they call it, how you are managing your red smoke cravings, what you have learned, how are the books (in Bubba’s case), and possible arrangements that are to be made once you are back in their custody. When they exhausted those topics, then they would make conversation with you...

Er...

...More like they would TRY to make conversation with you and you would give short answers. Sometimes, you wouldn't say anything at all. They never forced you to speak, nor did they ever punish you for being insubordinate. Instead, they just moved on to a different topic. This was something you never understood, but maybe they just want you to let your guard down long enough before punishing you.

The echoing of footsteps gets louder and closer to your cell, pulling you away from your thoughts. The seven Space Riders greet you, make themselves comfortable in front of your cell, and begin with the usual questions about you. You bite the bullet and decide you might as well entertain them.

[nocturnal-phantoms-fandoms]

Okay well now I can't stop thinking about Sirius and Remus raising Harry, knowing slightly homophobic James probably wouldn't have been super okay with it. Discuss.

ok ok ok I have thoughts .

Sirius and Remus come out to James after Hogwarts (could be accidentally, could be on purpose after the wedding). Afterwards the things between them are weird and awkward, James is clearly uncomfortable even if he tries to hide it for Sirius’s sake, R & S are both heartbroken, its a mess.

But.

He comes around. He must come around because he names Sirius the godfather of his first and only son.

That means that either James or Lily are religious enough to want to christen Harry (or they could also be peer pressured by some remaining religious relatives? but thats rather unlikely bc in less than a year the only one left is petunia. and they dont care about her opinion. so.). And if they are religious and its important to them then choosing Sirius means quite a lot actually (not that there is anyone else James would rather choose. So i imagine that was actually in part his motivation to come around - so that Sirius could be his son’s godfather). It means they trust him to be closest (after a relative) person to their newborn child.

Sirius knows it and since he desperately wanted to reconcile with James he accepts the olive branch. Of course it doesnt erase the hurt but he believes thats the first step for them to be alright again.

Now as we established becoming a godparent doesnt equal being a child’s guardian. So if we have R & S raising Harry it means James and Lily chose Sirius to be a godparent and a legal guardian (but only Sirius*) (or they… kidnapped… Harry? I guess? (I dont really see how they could get custody of Harry otherwise so im gonna ignore that one for now))

So. I think Sirius is doing relatively alright with the “what would james think” thought. He was trusted with Harry, emotionally and legally, after all.

Of course he has his doubts along the way. He isnt sure he will fulfill his role as a godparent like he should (maybe he is not as religious as J&L were, maybe he is not even christian, maybe his family was religious and he is still dealing with the consequences of how that went for him). He isnt sure if he is doing a good job as a legal guardian/surrogate parent (he is a traumatized 22 year old). But even if he wonders if maybe he wasn’t the best choice, he has reassurance in the thought that he was chosen by James.

(even if james chose him still hoping he would find himself a nice girl before that)

Remus doesnt have that kind of reassurance. He is not the godfather, he is not the legal guardian* and he has a milion other reasons to believe himself less than and lacking. The internalized homophobia is strong with this one. He is terrified of being found out™ (by the neighbors, coworkers, Harry’s preschool teachers, the counter clerk). Maybe he insist they dont do groceries together (and it hurts them both). He doesnt have to insist on going separately to Harry’s doctor/healer/teacher appointments bc only sirius can go to them either way (and it hurts even more). He has even more doubts than Sirius about being Harry’s guardian bc he isnt even supposed to be there.

James was - apparently - fine with Sirius potentially taking care of Harry, but not with Remus. And if he wasnt okay with them being together, then surely he wouldn't approve both of them raising his child. (😈)

.

*I think it would be very difficult for J&L to name two men living together as legal guardians in the 80s. Even if they wanted to.

[the-bed-gremlins-reading-list]

The Auberon snippet was 🥰 chef kiss 💙 it got me curious, he thinks that noone knew of the engagement apart from their "family" and the Imperial one, so here my questions: 1 Who proposed this marriage?

2 What power/advantages would have granted to both parties?

3 When the murder happened, months before Auberon killing the uncle?

4 Did he suspect it was the uncle?

5 Did our bethroed already have a lover at the time?

6 Is the lover family powerful?

7 The princess was still the future ruler right?

8 how the four possible MC's teachers/masters took the news?

Oooh, lots of questions! Love that! (Gonna drop a read-more for folk's dashes though.)

The Empress whose main backing is within the major religious organization. (I have a name for them written down somewhere but can't remember which out of the list I finalized for them. They're associated with the sun god and his court though.)

Lux was actually being put at a disadvantage. The betrothal with the younger Medulloi means they can't use their marriage to increase their influence and status. However they would be coming up on being of age to start receiving military commands and so a betrothal and marriage avoids the superstitions around unwed commanders being bad luck. It could - potentially - have opened the way for Auberon to make a formal argument regarding their uncle's actions and the murders/executions that were involved. But it was a case where Viria Laetoria doesn't actually have the political pull to refuse an order from her Emperor even if she hates her charge being involved with their nonsense.

Auberon did take a few months to link his uncle to the murder. He's given the information by one of his allies among the resistance but acts on it as soon as he has it. (Auberon prior to killing his uncle is primarily involved in espionage for them, when he inherits Ausones he shifts his role because he has access to ships and men.)

He knew that his uncle was still dangerous but it had been years since there'd been any real threat from that quarter. Viria and her people had made sure of that. Auberon had him on his list of suspects but had no real proof and he knew that once he acted against someone with power his play-act of being the obedient Laetoria heir would be over so he had to be sure of his target.

Lux does not have a lover at the time of the betrothal. They meet their lover while on the Ithellen front.

Nope. They're from a respectable family but not a powerful or well-known one.

Yup! Octavia is assassinated on her way to the Ithellen front from Ausones after she finishes dealing with Auberon and sends her brothers back to the capital.

BADLY, as one would expect. Whether or not the kids call any of them by familial titles they are family so it as basically like they lost their kid or nibling.

Ashkeru is the closest to the "canon" younger Medulloi because the poisoning attempt from their childhood left them weakened in a way it doesn't the game MC. As the family healer they end up in her care a lot. She's shattered by the loss - to the point she returns to Khemia and her family after Auberon's taken the ducal seat. She's still family but she doesn't have it in her to watch him burn himself up.

Halli is off making Caerwyn's life a living nightmare. He doesn't process the grief until weeks later when he has to give up the assassin's trail completely because the other little one decided to brand himself with a hell of a nasty reputation by using corpses for decoration. He throws himself into taking care of the family he has left, especially since Zaphon has never met the meaning of "self care". It doesn't work the best but he keeps trying.

Zaphon's reaction is probably the most outwardly stoic of the four. Mostly because his self-appointed role in the family is "the sane one". He's the one making sure Auberon and the others don't break until Halli comes back. (He just sort of collapses into his arms when they finally get some privacy.) He doesn't have the most outward response but he's a lot more protective of Auberon after that - he makes sure that there IS a plan in place, even if it's a bit rushed. (It's after this that Zaphon admits - at least privately - that he thinks of Auberon as his son, and that scares the hell out of him because he knows what hatred and vengeance can do to a person.)

Viria grieves. It's quiet and lost - but she's lost a lot in her life and had to bury that grief beneath duty to survive, and it isn't something she's good at. So she ends up adrift, not quite finding her footing but forced to try because she's a general and Octavia's loss means that she is in command of the Ithellen war. She focuses on what she can but it probably doesn't surprise anyone that knows her when she falls in battle not long after the MC's and Octavia's deaths. (An unwillingness to cut down an Ithellen fighter that was the same age as the MC and another enemy who took advantage of that hesitation in the heat of combat.) House Laetoria officially dies with her, she had never named an heir intending to offer the house to the Medulloi siblings once Auberon finally gave up the idea of retaking Ausones, or offering the name and the associated lands to the MC if Auberon managed to become duke.

[tamedgod]

HARU'NIYA & HER MERRY BAND in the search for an answer to the dynasty of death terrorizing the land, haru has made many an enemy — but also many an ally. among these relations, a small handful have taken to traveling alongside her, regularly seen in her company as she treks across relogae. some of these friendships were hard earned, however.

RUHN'DIR the most reluctant of haru's companions in terms of agreeing to travel, yet the first among them to join her. ruhn'dir is an anomaly of his kind, the beastkin genes in him extremely varied unlike haru's more uniform ones. part stag, however his physiology is spread unevenly across his body; one of his eyes is that of a deer, with streaks of fur cutting jaggedly through his face and most of his body. his legs are long and gangly, but still technically human. his form is distorted and many on both sides (humans and beastkin) consider him a monstrous deformity, the only uniform part of him the halo of antlers on his head. it is because of this that ruhn'dir is very much a loner, keeping to himself in the woods south of lodrorn. he is spoken of like a myth, something told to children at night to keep them in bed. they say he is a shepherd of the woods' deer, and if one of his flock are hunted that he will hunt the killer in return. he was given the title of crimson stag of the western wood, the prey turned predator. he and haru met because of this, haru hunting and killing a doe under his protection. she'd barely begun to eat, tearing at the creature's sinews with her teeth, when multiple arrows pierced her body — another death on her ledger. ruhn'dir then approached, speaking a prayer over the fallen deerling, before shock took him when haru began to move. in disbelief that his quarry had come back to life, the beastkin was frozen; he was only at his most dangerous when he could catch his targets by surprise, and now he was locked in up close. as haru came back to a stand, ripping the arrows from her body, ruhn'dir asked what she was to live another life, a sort of reverence offered in the query. the two would camp together that night, haru (frustratedly, given what happened) explained how she was on a hunt for the pieces of the long lost star of Çyreni. after some back and forth (not all of it friendly), haru proposed the two of them travel together — but ruhn'dir had no interest. hesitant to re-enter normal society due to his disfiguration, it took a lot of coaxing before he would agree. despite the rough begining, ruhn'dir has the closest relationship to haru out of her companions, and is often considered her right hand man. haru refers to him as "rune", and is the only one he allows to call him that.

ELIAS CADOC a welcome positive force on haru's journey, elias cadoc met the cat and her deerling companion on the ship trek to the island of tios. considered the ship's healer, elias was a former guard of the aukestonite royal chapter. when asked what brought him so far from the northern country, the man explained that his late wife, katya, had always desired to travel the country, and he was trying to honor her wish. he'd learned everything about healing, from making salves to basic clerical magic, from the books his wife had left behind. after her passing, he had given up his knight's position in aukeston's royal chapter, his heart unable to really fight after the loss. despite this, he seemed a kind and hopeful individual, which haru greatly appreciated after the hardship she and ruhn'dir had face to get to where they were now. being from aukeston (considered one of relogae's most religious regions), haru took her chances on asking him what he might know about Çyreni, and of the mythos surrounding Her star. pleasantly surprised by the inquiry, elias explained that stories of Çyreni were dying out, even in aukeston. Her religious chapters, churches, pantheons had long faded, starting with the rise of the long empire. most of Her religious tomes and texts had disappeared or been destroyed, and so public knowledge about Her was few and far between, mostly spread these days by word of mouth from long term loyalists. despite ruhn'dir's mistrust and hesitation around sharing the subject with others, haru decided it safe to let elias in on what her venture truly entailed, and how it would be incredibly helpful to have someone knowledgeable in not only fighting and healing, but also in the religious aspects surrounding the relic they were seeking. needing a little time to finish the work he had agreed to aboard the ship, he asks if he could be given until the end of their seafaring journey together to really decide. accompanying the pair during their ventures on tios, it wasn't long until the three were headed back to the mainland, where elias would formally agree to travel with them. good thing, too, as haru's next companion would really need the healing hands and deep wisdom that the former knight had to offer.

RAKSHA VELLI recruiting raksha was a strange situation, the lodrornite man being xiaolong's closest friend and former romantic partner. he wasn't someone haru had invited nor wanted along her journey, but when xiaolong began accompanying her, it seemed she didn't have a choice in the matter. her party was filling up now; a beastkin archer, a knightly healer, the crown prince himself, and his... terribly disagreeable head of the pavisian royal squadron. not only was he quite racist and classist towards haru and ruhn'dir for being beastkin, but he was also still quite possessive of his former partner (despite there being no true relationship between xiao and haru at this time). it would be during the long trek through the drænyan desert on their way to hahfêm that raksha would be forced to become more trusting of both haru and ruhn'dir. not knowing how to be hungry, and unused to the heat of the southern country, it was a hard journey for raksha through the sandy terrain. feeling ousted by haru and ruhn'dir, and xiao practically avoiding him whenever he could, the only member of their squadron he had to lean on was elias. with immeasurable patience, elias was able to begin talking raksha down from all his anger and frustration. he would share portions of his rations with the lodrornite, and would help keep up his morale during the scorching walk across the waste. raksha would begin confiding in elias about the history between himself and xiao, detailing how he couldn't stop feeling as if he was on the outside of everything. against haru's better wishes, elias took a leap of faith and shared the true reasoning behind this journey the group was undertaking. elias gathered the group up for the follow up, clearing the air about xiao's true interest in haru and how it rested with how she could not die. xiao, as unwilling as it was, would also pull raksha aside later to apologize for his behavior. despite no longer being romantically intertwined, raksha was still his oldest and closest friend, and he had no interest in losing that relationship. the prince would warn, however, that raksha would have to work past his prejudices, just as xiao himself had, if he were going to remain in their party. this was a hard pill to swallow, but in the same vein of wanting to keep his oldest friend around, raksha worked hard to swallow his pride. apologizing to haru and ruhn'dir, he would come around to be a good companion in time. he and haru would eventually bond further over stories about xiao, and raksha would become akin to elias's shadow down the line, the two almost always together.

ASTRID VAUGN & SASKIA these two, like raksha, were more akin to tagalongs rather than agreed upon companions, met in the beating heart of aegesir's capital. astrid vaugn was a beauty hailing from the south beyond meische's red wasteland, from the grand city of veralis. known for its famed school of magic, she was one of very few to hold the esteemed title of veralisian mage — though this was a topic for debate. known as the fox of veralis, astrid was infamous in magus circles for having stolen the magic from one of the main dragon veins that supplied the grand city. this allowed her to act as a kind of conduit, astrid able to connect to ancient magics and creatures presumed long gone from relogae. it was because of this, however, that she was welcomed with open arms into aegesir's court — though she would be watched quite closely. also under the watchful eye of the aegis mages was her partner in crime — her little bird — an unassuming young girl named saskia. an urchin, saskia was taken quickly under astrid's wing, the two traveling nomadically before they'd ended up as guests in the city of goir. not only was she astrid's young lover, but she was also her little spy. this was how the pair came to meet haru and her little guild, the group stopping in goir to meet with the archmage of the country, branton ruliv. saskia would quickly find out that haru was in possession of a great magical relic — Çyreni's star. after alerting her beloved of this development, the pair would quickly scheme to take it off their hands, the pair used to conning their way through whatever situation they ended up in. upon sneaking into their chambers to snatch it, however, they'd be met with the bad end of ruhn'dir's arrows, saskia shot down — wounded, though not fatally. this would result in a fierce altercation between astrid and ruhn'dir, awakening the rest of the band. elias worked fast to deescalate the situation, offering to heal saskia's wounds in exchange for an explanation. unable to con their way out of being caught, astrid would come clean about wishing to wield the star's power. haru had to talk xiao down from killing her then and there, and upon learning who he was, astrid became awestruck. to be in the presence of the blood of the Dosha was more than she could have ever hoped for, and she immediately begged for forgiveness. the troupe stayed up the rest of the night, astrid recounting her adventures with saskia and how she had been working to gain favor with the aegis mages. in exchange for their lives, she offered to help haru gain the support of the magus court. this trade offer was accepted (even if xiao was still keen on killing them), and for the rest of their time in aegesir, astrid and saskia would tail behind the group in interest. this would lead to them permanently tagging along, the two mages strong final additions to haru's merry band.

[loverboy-cc]

Hi!! For the OC thing, if you feel like it, here's my beloved tempest cleric Amzie!

"You're a cleric of Ilmater, so you're this nice, peaceful healer, right? ....Right???"

Hint: she's not. She was raised by a monk from the order of the Broken Ones, which is a real thing in-universe you can look up, but they're basically if that "I'm a healer, but... *picks up gun*" image was a religious order. (If I was being lore-accurate, her domain should be Twilight, but that's not an option without mods, so she's Tempest bc that's the closest thematically lol)

She very much has a "do no harm but take no shit" attitude towards most things, which effectively translates to her squirting her companions with a spray bottle whenever they suggest something unhinged. (Which is frequent.) (What they don't know is that if anyone else tried the kinds of shit half of them were pulling, they'd be getting thunderwaved, not an irritated reprimand lmao)

Anyway I love her even if she desperately needs a goddamn nap. V curious if you have any of your own characters you think would get along with her 👀

Probably Andreas tbh. He’s the most level headed of my tavs, despite being a wild magic sorcerer. (He already spends enough time fighting to get his own magic under control, if he did more Chaotic stuff he’d probably be dead several times over by now.)

Though she might find him annoying if she can’t effectively defect his questions about clerical magic onto shadowheart. He spent his entire life prior to being wormed heavily sheltered in an absolute tiny village that functioned almost purely as a devils pantry. (The village was forsaken by most good aligned gods ages ago, and its founder made a deal with a devil to keep it from being obliterated. So he’s never known any religious folks, especially not ones devoted enough to have divine magic.) So he tends to be pushy, though his intentions are good.

[potsexuals]

Thought I'd do a post on my Tav! She's based on my first DnD character, who I didn't get to flesh out because she died on our third session 🙃 so I've been using BG3 to expand on her. She's a pretty basic character (I made her when I was like 16) so take a shot when you read something you've seen before.

Her name is Aninn (Ah-Neen), a Half-Elf Life Cleric with an Acolyte background.

Background:

Aninn was born to an unknown Elf mother, and a Human father, Relid. Aninn's mother left her in the care of her father, never to be seen again. Relid, Aninn's father, felt unfit to parent Aninn. Relid was a farmer in Red Larch, a small settlement outside Waterdeep, which was largely populated by Humans. He feared the social ramifications of raising a child by himself, especially a Half-Elf child. Ultimately, Relid gave Aninn to the nearest Temple, the House of the Moon in Waterdeep. Relid believed this to be the merciful option, she would be spared from being outcasted in Red Larch, and have more opportunity as a Priestess.

So Aninn was raised by Priestesses to become a Priestess herself. Specifically, to be a healer, which involved a life of isolation and study. She only socialized with the other members of the House of the Moon, and the occasional patient during her training. Her isolation only served to spark her curiosity, which in turn made her question the role of the Church of Selûne. Of course, Aninn viewed Selûne herself as a good and merciful force, but she questioned the need for a hierarchy of religious figures.

Because of this, Aninn often butted heads with the High Priestess of the House of the Moon. Aninn thought her role as a Selûnite healer would be more beneficial if she was able to work directly with the common people. The High Priestess didn't take well to this retaliation, further isolating Aninn.

In one particular confrontation, Aninn said that if Selûne wants her most devoted followers isolated from the world, perhaps that was a force she could not believe in.

The High Priestess' response was "You do not have to believe, but you will learn". This will set the tone for Aninn's relationship to her faith.

Later into her training, it was decided that Aninn would be trained to be a socialite, a private Healer for Baldurs Gates most elite. Isolation quickly turned to Etiquitte lessons and Social training. This is where Aninn would pick up a rich and lavish taste in lifestyle.

At age 20, Aninn would complete her Priestess training. Most Priestesses graduate closer to their late 20s/early 30s, when they are brought to the temple at a young girl or teenager. Aninn's age as a Priestess is a burden, a reminder that this path was not her choice, rather a path chosen for her. When she left for Baldurs Gate, she had never been more than a mile outside the House of the Moon.

Character:

Aninn is closest aligned to Lawful Neutral. Generally, she will do what is right, but feels no attachment to the acts that she does. This results in Lawful solutions coming before Moral solutions, Aninn conflates the two to mean the same thing. She's always willing to help, but her attitude often comes off as cold.

Aninn is prone to swindling people, or rather using her status as a Priestess to get anything she might need. Bear in mind that Aninn uses 'need' very loosely. If she is attending a party and the room is too hot, she may feel justified in convincing someone to give up their fan to her. She is best compared to a corrupted Priest, in that she does genuinely believe in Selûne and the good that she spreads, but there is a dissonance in her beliefs and her actions.

Aninn is like a walking contradiction. She is half elf, half human, yet feels no connection to either culture. She is a trained Priestess but looks down on organized religion. She may turn her nose up at other Acolytes, while turning around and using her Priestess status to get where she needs to be.

Aninn believes that her status as a Priestess and her skeptical nature grants her some grand knowledge of the world, this is a coping mechanism. Her isolation from the world has made her unempathetic, most people do not understand her life experience, and in turn she doesn't understand theirs. In her moments of clarity, when she saves a child with no reward or heals a destitute man, it is likely a result of channeling Selûne.

What's happening in Baldurs Gate?

By the time Aninn is abducted by the Mind Flayers, she had been a private Healer in Baldurs Gate for 7 years. Her job was to be trustworthy and write back to the High Priestess with any information she picked up. She knew that she was a pawn in a larger political game, one she did not understand. Aninn felt trapped in her situation, unwilling to stand up to her superiors to establish her own independence.

That changed when she was abducted by the Mind Flayers. Aninn was suddenly thrusted into a survival situation, a far cry from her diplomatic lifestyle in Baldurs Gate.

[cftragedy]

( felix mallard, cis male, he/him, 24) ** ♔ announcing tyr magnussen,  the prince of denmark ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble felix mallard. it is a miracle that he survived the last five years and for that reason, they are against the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of hushed conversation, never quite meeting a gaze, the glint of a blade, & broken glass at your feet.  (ariel, he/him or ze/hir, 25, cst)

basics.

full name: tyr erik valdemar magnussen nicknames: n/a (tends to have his name unspoken in religious settings, simply referred to as “the young prince”) age: 24 years old gender: cis male pronouns: he/him orientation: gay religion: lutheran (some remnants of pagan influence) language(s): danish, swedish, polish, russian, english  status: single, formerly betrothed

bio.

cw for parental & sibling death, implied infidelity, murder, grief

you’re the last in the line. a surprise, by all means. the next sibling in age to you is seven years your senior, and what started as mostly ignored rumor swells into common whispering when you grace the world with your presence. imagine it for a moment. your golden haired family crowded round to see dark brown wisps adorning your head. what color was that guard’s hair again? but then again, you had an aunt with dark hair. a couple of cousins, too. who’s to say? still, the whispers manage to only occasionally reach you, and you grow up laughing at them. you do not grow up broad shouldered like your brothers, more lithe, like your mother and sister, but you stand as tall. still, you often find yourself underfoot. your parents are a king and queen who have already had four children brought up learned and capable in their own strengths.your brother hagen is a hunter, edvin to make an ideal warrior, aksel a poet, and clara a healer, a caretaker. you know your siblings do not shut you out intentionally, and truly in some aspects it fell upon them to fill the roles one might have expected of your parents. you were mostly left to your own devices, though, and through this you found your own...specialties. 

publicly, you’re referred to as a tactician. you joke that being so much younger than so many siblings meant such a skill was more necessity than anything else. you need to anticipate everyone’s moves, before they might even think of them. as you grow, this skill is honed, encouraged. there is, however, a second interest you take in your early teen years, one you’re not as forthcoming about. it’s hardly appropriate dinner conversation. Clara is a healer, and you were at her side from the moment you could toddle unaided, and thus you learned as she worked, and found...a very opposing interest. as strange as it was to think certain plants and ingredients might be combined to heal, it was stranger still to think you could do the opposite. it felt like playing god. you were transfixed. it’s not an interest you speak of, but you don’t hide your studies from your siblings. you don’t hide much from them. it is strange, apparently, the closeness the five of you grow up with. hagen was 12 when you were born, but he always seemed amused by you. other than clara, he was who you always felt closest to. 

your father dies when you’re 6 years old. everything tilts from then on, rule going to hagen at 18, barely a man himself. there’s a betrothal, a cancelling, your mother dies three weeks after you turn 11, a second betrothal, a marriage, a queen. your family welcomes dagmar as though she’s always been there. in a way, it feels like she has. your family unit has fluctuated and changed, but up to now you’ve taken it all in stride, too young to fully recognize your father’s loss, too disconnected to feel much about your mother’s. no, grief will not settle in you for some time. for now, it is joy. there is to be a baby. you’re overjoyed for your brother and the queen. tragedy mars your line when hagen is killed in a hunting accident. it’s so...it’s fitting, but the loss is felt instantly. your next brother is made king, and the line moves up by one. you’re now third to inherit. a month later, your niece comes into the world, and you want to be happy, but you are afraid. 

you had been against coming to this summit from the start. your land had been ravaged by plague, your family marked by tragedy, you wanted to remain. but your brother’s word is law now, so your opinion, not matter how often it ends up correct, is overlooked. it’s a sick confirmation of your fears when your sister, your only sister, the heart of your family, is killed in the night. you are angry. angry at the swiss for allowing this to happen. angry at your brother for insisting you come here. that is anger you can settle. what does not settle is the anger of retribution. they found the hired blade, yes, but after that? the true culprit remains nameless and faceless in the wind. where are you supposed to put the rage?

[gayhawkelatehomicide]

Meet Harea Lavellan, my sweet girl who is maybe a little bit possessed by the fade ghost of Andraste.

I don't have a working title for any of it, but I've got a ton of little drabbles about her. Here's one that happens at the beginning of the Deep Roads DLC, which is the closest to finished of anything I have about her.

Lieutenant Renn has spent his entire life underground. Who he was before the Legion doesn't matter anymore, but since his funeral, he's been fighting darkspawn in the Deep Roads. The fifth blight was a mess, and some of the Legion even went up to the surface to fight it on the Hero of Ferelden's say-so (although she wasn't the Hero at that point, just some surfacer who managed to make the Assembly sit up and take notice). Renn, however, stayed below. His unit had been involved in a strike against a broodmother nest just a few days before the first battalions headed for the surface, and they'd been in no shape to fight. 

In the intervening ten years or so, he's seen his fair share of stupid casteless, shaft-rats, surface dwarves, humans, elves, and even a couple of Qunari running around in the Deep Roads. Most of them trying to make money, all of them in over their heads. He's walked over enough of their fool corpses to know that when you start finding evidence of a topsider caravan, you should be on the lookout for the 'spawn that killed them. 

Not every surfacer he meets is utterly incompetent, though. Occasionally, you'll get a group armed well enough to run through an old thaig, grab whatever they can carry, and haul ass back out without being overwhelmed. A few Carta clans have managed to hack out and defend some strongholds here and there. There has even been a decent number of Grey Wardens who checked in with the Legion on their way past, headed up or down on some inscrutable business of their own. Still, more often than not, those who go into the Deep Roads don't come back. Smart people don't go into the Deep Roads at all.

All this to say, Renn doesn't see topsiders often, and he can count the ones wise enough to bring a mage with them on one hand. A warden healer who mostly hid near the back of his unit, a lyrium-addled elf who threw some sparks at Renn then disappeared into the shadows, and a leashed Qunari Saarebas trotting behind its handler in the northernmost part of the Roads he's ever visited. Beyond that, and the (thankfully rare) darkspawn emissary, Renn's life doesn't have much magic in it. He likes it that way. It's simpler. 

The earthquakes in the lyrium mines make everything… complicated. Shaper Valta gets drafted to meet a group of surfacers who are supposed to come help, and Renn's ready to roll his eyes and prepare some funeral pyres until he hears who it is. Even in the Deep Roads, everyone has heard about the Inquisition going on up top. Their Inquisitor is supposed to be some kind of religious leader, but she's also apparently indestructible. The stories that trickle down to the Legion have passed through enough hands that nobody should take them as pure truth, but if even a fraction of what people say is accurate, the Inquisitor is a force to be reckoned with. 

Renn hears that she doesn't sit back like most surface commanders; that she and her crew fight like shock troops, out ahead of the main force of her army. The stories say she goes into places where her men might struggle and takes out enemies that ordinary soldiers shouldn't be asked to handle. She and her unit have killed everything from hurlocks to high dragons. High dragons plural. As in, more than one. There's a story about a trio of dragons set up in some place with a fancy Orlesian name Renn can't be arsed to remember, and the Inquisitor taking her little group down the line and killing all three one after the other. He's too old and far too experienced to get giddy over someone else's battles—especially not in front of his men—but he can't help thinking, What a fight that must've been!

When he hears that the Inquisitor is the topside help they're getting, Renn reconsiders his position. He can feel Valta watching him with that little smug expression she gets when she wants to say "I told you so," so he responds to the messenger with a grunt of acknowledgement and little else. The runner scurries off back to whoever sent her, trailing her pair of Legion escorts. Once they're relatively alone, Renn offers Valta his most forbidding frown. 

"Don't start," he says futilely.

"The Shaperate promised that they would send someone-" she begins anyway. Her face is straight, but that smile lingers in her voice and her big pretty eyes. 

Renn interrupts with a growl. "I know, I know. When are they getting here?" Another minor tremor rattles through the outpost they've claimed near the open rift in the Stone, sending dust and small pebbles into the air but thankfully not knocking loose any large boulders. "We need to get to the bottom of this soon."

"Within a week." Much of the glee goes out of Valta's tone, which is a shame. As much as it drives Renn nuts, it's good to see her smile. She hasn't been herself since the rhythm in the quakes started up. "Their forward scouts and the engineers from Orzammar should arrive in a few days to construct a mechanism for them to reach us safely. Or rather, as safely as is currently possible."

"Hm. Well. We'll hold out against the 'spawn pretty easily, as long as that seal doesn't get damaged." He picks up his axe. "Speaking of which, I should go check on the patrol we sent that way. They haven't reported back."

Valta's eyes widen. "Should you take another unit with you?"

Renn shakes his head. "No need. They're only a couple of minutes late. I'll probably run into them in the hall. Just a precaution."

"As you say, Lieutenant," she acquiesces. But Renn knows that look. Valta doesn't use his title unless she's up to something. She's going to send more men after him. 

Well, it's pointless arguing. She won't be convinced, and if he starts now, they'll still be standing here bickering when the patrol comes in. He shoulders his axe and offers her a mocking half-salute, turns on his heel and heads off down the hall. He only goes about twenty yards before he starts to notice things that put him on alert. It's the smell first, then the distant sound of steel on stone. Renn breaks into a jog. Then a run. By the time he's close enough to hear the distinctive shrieks, he's moving at a dead sprint. 

He skids around a corner to find his missing patrol, down to about a third of its original strength, making a fighting retreat up the corridor, chased by darkspawn. At the other end, where once there had been an old dwarven seal—an incredible feat of engineering which had held against the 'spawn since the time of the first blight—there is now a cracked ruin, broken in half by one of the recent earthquakes. Renn spits a few of the nastiest curses he knows and wades in to rescue as many of his men as possible. He prays to the ancestors that Valta's insubordinate little head tilt means there's an entire patrol on his heels, but he won't bet on it.

It's going to be a long week.

***

Five days later, the Legion have finally fought their way back to the room with the seal. It's been a painful slog, expensive in lives and resources, but the dwarves of old picked their choke-points well. It's going to be worth it to clog the tunnel here, instead of a few chambers farther along. They bring up lyrium explosives; If the seal can't hold the 'spawn back anymore, its rubble will have to do. Renn is starting to feel a little more positive about the situation, which is, of course, a mistake. 

Just as they're about to lay the charges, the biggest wave of darkspawn yet hits their position. An ogre bursts through the crack in the seal, slams through their defensive line, and runs off down the tunnel. Renn can't spare the men to send someone after it. His legionaries are falling left and right as a third hurlock alpha raises its blade to rally its fellows. He takes the beast's head off its shoulders. It's not enough. They're overwhelmed. 

Renn shouts for someone to prime the charges, but before he can confirm anyone heard him, a genlock alpha's shield bash sends him sprawling. He fetches up against a wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Valta's voice echoes from the entrance to the chamber, and through the ringing in his ears Renn can only think that it's a damn shame Orzammar will be losing a shaper as talented as her because of his failure. 

Then, something extraordinary happens. Renn feels the temperature in the chamber drop by what must be ten degrees. All the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up, like there's an emissary in the room about to cast chain lightning. He wonders for a moment if the feeling is some strange side effect of death.

A glyph etches itself into the ground a few feet from where Renn has landed. Green and gold light creeps rapidly—like roots growing through stone, only much faster—in intricate patterns out from a center point until a five-foot diameter ice rune shimmers an inch above the floor. Before he can really wrap his aching head around that, a blur of something just beyond vision zips past him, and a sword no dwarf could wield unsheathes itself from the air. It is easily five feet long, a full hand's breadth wide, and seems to be made primarily of that same green-and-gold energy. Its edges, though, shine with a searing white radiance that's so bright it hurts to look at. With one long, powerful sweep, the blade cleaves through the shield and into the body of the genlock alpha that had been bearing down on Renn. 

A pair of hurlocks, rushing up to take advantage of the lieutenant's weakness, step on the rune and are immediately engulfed in a blast of frozen energy that encases both of them in jagged, frost-edged ice. From the other direction, a hurlock archer is lining up a shot. As it draws its wicked-looking short bow, it too is frozen solid. All this happens in the space between two heartbeats. In the next, a woman materializes out of thin air—but no, she must've been the invisible thing that rushed past. 

The first glimpse Renn gets of the Inquisitor is brief. She shimmers into existence, left hand raised in a grasping fist as her ice closes its grip on the archer, right hand still wrapped around the hilt of the sword made from light. The gold-trimmed white leather of her mage armor fans out around her as she pivots sharply from her charge into a solid stance from which she can lock the archer down. The rune behind her (and the enemies it's captured) seems almost beneath her notice. Her back is to Renn, so he cannot see her face, but there is only one person this can be. 

Renn hauls himself back upright. There will be time to deal with his own injuries later; he has to help get these 'spawn handled so his men can prime the charges. The Inquisitor banishes the light sword and uses both hands to raise a wall of ice across the hole where the darkspawn are pouring through, buying them vital time. She wraps herself and the legionaries closest to her in armor made of light which, as Renn watches, effortlessly turns aside a half-dozen heavy blows. Then, right before Renn's eyes, she vanishes into smoke again. 

He applies his axe to the nearest frozen darkspawn just before an enormous Qunari warrior wades in after the Inquisitor, ramming a genlock's shield most of the way through its body with a single blow of his gigantic hammer. A crossbow bolt comes shrieking over Renn's head to hit the frozen archer and explodes, sending icy chunks of hurlock in every direction. A man in Grey Warden blues runs to the rescue of a few struggling legionaries near the opposite wall, bashing his shield into another genlock before it can bite down on the leg of the recruit it's got pinned. The rest of the combat is a blur of shouted orders, darkspawn blood, and lyrium explosives. 

When the dust settles, Renn slumps against the barricade they hadn't been able to defend. He lets his eyes close, just for a moment, and takes a deep breath. A small, cool hand touches his brow. 

Renn tries to brush it away with a growl. "I'm fine, Valta. Don't fuss."

"You have a head wound," an unfamiliar voice informs him. Renn's eyes pop open. Leaning over him, there is an elven girl with violet eyes and blonde hair. Her face is marked by strange, intricate tattoos that Renn can't quite follow the pattern of. She looks concerned but professional, and she displays none of the histrionics one might expect after battle from a child her age—though it's hard to eyeball ages in non-dwarves. She could be an adult. Clearly, she's a healer, which seems more immediately relevant. Perhaps she came in with the Inquisitor's party? A leader that important is bound to have a personal surgeon. 

"It's just a scratch," Renn insists, mostly out of habit. He tries to get up, but a wave of dizziness lets him know that he'll be staying right where he is. The surgeon's hand on his shoulder guides him back to a sitting position.

Her tone is disapproving when she replies, "Then it will be the work of a moment to heal it. Sit still and let me help." 

She closes her eyes. The sensation that follows is like someone wrapping his head in a cold compress. The pain eases quickly under the soothing chill, and clarity returns to Renn's thoughts. Her face swims into focus. (He realizes that he's been seeing double since the genlock alpha hit him, and spares a moment to marvel at the miracle of what must be magical healing.) The improvement doesn't stop there, though. As he sits, he can feel his minor wounds—bruises, cuts, aches, and pains from the past five days of fighting to reclaim this position—righting themselves all at once. Renn has been living on hard tack and healing potions, and with a minute of this stranger's attention, he feels like he's just come off a month's R&R in Orzammar. 

"Thank you," he says gratefully when she's done.

"You're very welcome," she smiles a sweet little smile. She reminds him of a cousin he had, before the Legion. His mother's sister's daughter. A good kid; she'd been nearly fifteen when he left. He wonders how she's doing now. He quickly banishes the thought, pulling himself up to his feet and turning away from the girl. He needs to check on his men. 

"How many did we lose?" He calls to his second in command, a former Carta bruiser named Hemmi. 

"Not as many as we could've," comes the reply. "Four dead, no wounded."

Renn frowns. "What do you mean 'no wounded'? Did the darkspawn carry anyone off?"

"No sir! The-"

"Sorry to interrupt," the elven girl cuts in. "I hope I didn't do anything wrong, but I did what I could for your wounded already."

"Already?" Renn rounds on her. "How? Did I lose time to that head wound?" 

She offers a sheepish smile. She has one small hand wrapped around the other forearm, and she's taken a few steps back to stand by the Qunari, who is cleaning darkspawn blood off his oversized ram's-head hammer. Renn has a moment to register that the staff on her back is a strange shape: almost like the hilt of a sword, but without any blade to balance it. "No, but I'm a fair combat healer. I got most of them during the fight, while I was trying to keep this fool alive." She elbows the Qunari.

"Hey, not all of us can make crap from thin air, alright?" He protests in a tone somewhere between grumpy and joking. 

Valta steps in before Renn can demand clearer answers. "Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Renn of the Legion of the Dead, veteran of the Fifth Blight." 

The girl nods politely. "It's an honor to meet you. I understand the Legion was instrumental to the Hero of Ferelden's success." 

"I was just a recruit," Renn deflects. "Didn't do anything useful." To Hemmi, he says, "And what do you mean only four dead? I know I saw more than that fall." 

Hemmi opens his mouth to reply, but Valta beats him to it. "Renn, let me introduce the Inquisitor. She revived a number of your men, and helped the rest beat back the darkspawn." 

"I'm only sorry I couldn't save everyone," the girl smiles sadly. 

It takes Renn another few moments of confused frowning before he understands what he's just been told. This little elven girl, whose entire body is about the width of Renn's upper arm, is the force of nature who turned the tide of battle within moments of her arrival. And while she was doing that, she had enough energy and attention to spare on healing his wounded legionaries. Valta will never let him hear the end of this.

[theovergrowth]

Rundown of members of The Sons of The Wilds that are Important Enough To Have Names (Some of them are already dead but don’t worry about which ones):

Elder Brother Ambrose: The main villain of Titus’ childhood, Macintosh’s twin brother, and an absolute charmer as well as a skilled combatant. He was surprised to find out The Wilds was actually real, but ran with it pretty easily. His goals are much more power oriented, not really caring what happens to those around him as long as he ends up on top. He doesn���t actually really care about bringing Titus back, but knows that making the rest of The Sons want that gives him control.

Elder Brother Macintosh: Macintosh to me is less of a villain in Titus’ childhood as much as he is an antagonist. He’s not a good person, not at all, but while Ambrose’s wrath is almost always intended or at least known to himself, Macintosh is much more oblivious and unintentional with the harm he causes. A man who’s stuck himself in his own mind for centuries, unable to interact with the world in a positive way, and unable to let go of the past. He’s devout to The Wilds, but if he were able to be honest with himself he was just devout to Macrides. He’s the resident healer, as well as being the primary source of any religious lore regarding The Wilds.

Shepherd Rome: Where do I even begin with Rome. She was a Shepherd of The Wilds, which was the closest thing the commune really had to law enforcement. Shepherds would go on shifts, patrolling the untamed areas within the circle of warded trees that kept Outsiders away to make sure everything was still right; the outside stayed out, the inside stayed in. As a child on the commune she had been frustrated with the walls surrounding her; as an adult, she was more or less resigned, too tired to keep up that rebelliousness that once defined her. She was the closest thing Titus had to a friend on the commune, as well as her often mothering him out of some animalistic instinct. When Titus became The Overgrowth, that rebellious spirit woke back up to try and convince her Brothers that what they were doing was wrong, even if they were hurt. It did not work, but we’ll talk about that later ok

Huntsmaster Golden: Golden, an older half-giant, is if that religious grandpa who constantly reminds you that you’re going to hell was strong enough to tear a man’s skull in two. He is a blindly faithful servant, the leader of the Huntsman, a person-sized tribute to The Wilds’ glory and wrath, and that definitely gives him a bit of an ego. Not a boisterous one, but one that that makes him feel comfortable enough pointing out that what you’re doing right now would not be appreciated by The Wilds and if you don’t stop he will make you. Titus and him had a rocky relationship, but also Titus was the only one on the commune who could sit through Golden’s stories until he was done telling them. Golden was also the one to teach Titus how to debone a fish in less than 5 seconds! (I think his accent is more West Virginian but that’s not important)

Undertaker Gala: Titus really doesn’t know much about Brother Gala, only meeting her once. None of the Brothers know Brother Gala very much, as she lives past The Fields (the bad ones) and works as the sole Undertaker. She tends to the few dead (I’m gonna make a whole post talking about the way The Sons handle death because Oh Boy) and always knows when a Brother has died.

Tender Fuji: A satyr, an animal whisperer, and a good friend of Rome’s. Fuji’s primary job was to tend to the fields and livestock, and they were always content with that. They had been born into the commune, and they were fine with the idea of working, living, and someday dying there. They were usually the person Rome would turn to when trying to gently tap down the rebellious spirit, being endlessly patient, pragmatic, and generally level-headed if not a bit anxious to please. Fuji wasn’t a big fan of Titus, mainly just out of a general discomfort around children. Titus was adamant to Rome that he could change their mind.

Shepherd Braeburn: I’m not even gonna be vague with him, he’s a bootlicker and a narc. He’s one of those guys who thinks he can throw the competition under the bus to get ahead, and is constantly running to the Shepherdmaster or the Elder Brothers to report any misdeeds by those around him. Ambrose likes him.

[roquenxnar]

Character Sheet: Urnarseldo

|| Basic

Full Name: Urnarseldo Sercenaran

Nickname: Seldo

Age: 100 (as of 2941 of the Third Age)

Date of Birth: May 24, 2841 TA

Species: Elf 

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Hometown: Rivendell 

Current Residence: A small cottage an hour’s walk from Rivendell, with his younger sister and grandfather. 

Occupation: Unemployed, training to be a healer.

|| Abilities

Weapons training: adept at dual wielding daggers, but prefers to use the magic his grandparents taught him to use

Physical strength: Average

Speed: Above average

Planning: master tactician, though his pride leads to some blind spots

Powers: the use of both fire and ice magic, passed on from his grandparents

|| Family and Relationships

Parents: Assanolwe (mother, deceased); Nymari (father, deceased) 

Pets: none, at the moment

Current Partner: None 

Have they ever been married?: No

Are they in any kind of romantic relationship?:  Has had a few, but they’ve been fleeting

 || Physical Characteristics

Height: 6’8”

Weight: 190 lbs

Body build: Lithe, thin

Eye Color: deep green

Glasses or contact lenses?: no

Hair Color: Strawberry blond

Type of hair: smooth

Hairstyle: Cut short

Complexion and skin tone: Bronze, with freckles 

Voice: somewhere between tenor and baritone

Style: Casual; often wears his leather armor

Do they have any disabilities?: None.

 Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes 

Schooling: Homeschooled 

Native language: Sindarin

Secondary Languages: Quenya, Sindarin (mainly) 

Personality type: ENFJ

Any Mental Illnesses: Anxiety

 Spiritual Characteristics

Do they consider themselves religious? No

What religion?: Elven Pantheon (the Valar)

What God(s)/Goddess(s) do they believe in?: Orome Aldaron; Irmo; Tulkas

About

Born to healers from Rivendell, Urnarseldo’s early life was idyllic, if sheltered. He often spent time in the library, or the healing ward, learning from his parents and grandparents on how to be a healer; when he did leave, he visited his elder cousin in Mirkwood, following him on his patrols through the forest. He lived this way for years, and was overjoyed when his parents had a second child, Amaneniel, fifty years later, in 2891. The four of them— Assanolwe, Nymaril, Urnarseldo, and Amaneniel, lived in peace for three more short, wonderful years. This idyllic life, however, was not to last. 

In 2894, while on a trip to visit their family in Mirkwood, Urarnseldo’s parents, Assanolwe and Nymaril, were caught in an orc ambush; they were simple healers, and were unequipped to put up a proper fight. They were killed, leaving Urnarseldo and his little sister orphaned, and in the care of their grandfather, Solurion. The elder elf became withdrawn, and moved what remained of his family to a small cottage an hour’s walk from Rivendell. It was distant enough, Solurion insisted, that it wouldn't draw attention to them, and allow them to live in peace, while being close enough to seek help and supplies when needed. Urnarseldo, however, chafed under the newfound isolation, and began to rebel. Once old enough, he began wandering from home, traveling to the closest mannish towns and villages to perform his magic like a common entertainer, seeking adulation and (extremely temporary) companionship— and gold to line his own pockets. While on the road, he learned to wield twin daggers in addition to his magic, becoming an adept bladesman. He continued this way, as a wanderer, for years— at least, until something seemed to shift in the world. 

Of course, he didn’t know all that happened in the fateful year of  2941; though he did hear tell of a company of dwarves running about, with a wizard and a burglar. He even met them while in Rivendell, poking and prodding them for stories from the road, and even begging the most soft-hearted of the bunch to join them. He, however, remained in Rivendell, with his family and friends. It was only after the dust settled on the battlefield outside Erebor, and news reached the Last Homely House, did he realize what, exactly, he would lose if he did follow in the adventurers’ footsteps; though he still longed to have a story worth telling, Urnarseldo reconciled with his grandfather, and returned to Rivendell more often to visit, staying for months at a time, and continuing his lessons in healing— though he always kept his daggers close, just in case.

[plileadership]

What Makes a Leader Ready for the Congregation

By exercising influence, providing moral support, and demonstrating empathy, church leadership serves other members, volunteers, and the community for Christ. Church leadership is about participating in the life of the church and making a difference, not just holding a position of authority. No matter the changes or how difficult the going gets, it is the appropriate church leaders who enable the church's community to continue fulfilling its mission. Making these adjustments successful is greatly influenced by the leadership position in the church.  

The PLI Leadership Essentials Learning Community offers both men and women a secure environment in which to learn and apply the fundamentals of Godly leadership. These women and men are aware that in order to bring about the alignment of people and procedures around the realization of God's plan for His Church, loving yet courageous leadership is required.

Following Traits Can Make a Leader Ready for the Congregation  

God's Servant

A church leader must first serve God before serving their parishioners. Jesus Christ, who offered his life in the name of the Lord to save others, is the finest illustration of this kind of leader. While this is an extreme example of servant leadership that cannot be replicated, Jesus's other deeds and teachings continue to demonstrate the behavior and treatment that servant leaders must exhibit toward their people. Jesus is renowned for his kindness toward his devotees. Jesus' example helped his disciples achieve greater heights than they had previously imagined possible. A church leader who is truly a servant may accomplish the same.

Good Listener

The needs of their congregation will be heard by a genuine servant leader. Between hearing and listening, there is a distinction. Servant leaders will take the time to hear their parishioners out and find out what they need. They ought to be listening with the intention of serving and healing others as they guide them through the different difficulties of life. A church leader stands out from other people because of their unselfish listening.

Understanding

Servant leaders will identify with their followers' suffering and anxiety. Church leaders can thus operate in a way that brings them the closest to God. Offering your employees an immediate remedy is not the definition of empathy. Being at peace with their issues and hardships is the goal. Only then will you be able to win their confidence and support. It inspires people to believe in you as well as the church as a whole and its mission.

Healer

A servant leader's primary responsibility is healing. Servant leaders in the church may utilize their own abilities to connect and assist their congregation in recovering from loss and fear whenever possible, even if no one can heal people in the same way as Jesus. It can be done by sharing the deep wisdom learned from the Holy Bible or by using personal stories and a feeling of comprehension. Leadership in the church is about considering the entire. As a church leader, it is your duty to see to it that the congregation and the church remain strong and whole.

Self-Awareness

Church leaders shouldn't let their personal mistakes and anxieties rule them and have an impact on how they interact with others. Church leaders who are self-aware can better control their emotions when presented with challenges that could otherwise overwhelm them. In this way, Jesus demonstrated his servant leadership once more. Even though developing his awareness was the most difficult task he had to undertake, Jesus took the time to do it.

Effective

No one could speak with the power that Jesus did, but he utilized his words and deeds to influence the crowds, not demanding that they believe in him as the Son of God or follow him. Use persuasion rather than force to influence your people if you want to be a servant leader. It matters what tone a religious leader uses while addressing the congregation. They ought to have a sense of relaxation and calm when they listen to him. The strategy should be one of assistance and advice rather than of power or command.

Experience

Being a servant leader requires you to be able to foresee outcomes. When members of the church place their trust in you, they want to be sure that you have the expertise and knowledge necessary to guide them in the proper direction. You will learn from your past errors as a church leader and create better strategies to help your congregation. One of the primary reasons congregations frequently select elders for positions of church leadership is because of this. They have credibility while speaking, have experience, and can win over members' confidence.

Committed  

As a church leader, it is your duty to assist every member of your congregation in making it to paradise. Those who stumble must trust that you will catch them when required. No matter how long it takes, as a servant leader, you must be dedicated to assisting your entire congregation in fulfilling their destiny. As people come up to you, make sure you're open to them. They should get the impression that you are dedicated to helping them. Again, your commitment merely means you'll listen and direct them in the proper direction. It does not suggest that you can instantaneously cure every problem.

Based on God's call, your context, and your talents, come to a knowledge of and commitment to God's mission. You should also determine where first changes are required to align lives and ministries to God's goal. PLI is committed to equipping leaders for greater impact in their communities for the gospel's cause and for successful leadership in their ministries. Contact them to learn more about their mission and procedure.

[endyillustration]

Dax and Bashir were really difficult picks. For Dax I was drawing from how into klingon culture she is (I must admit I rewatched searching for par'mach last night) and her brash, impulsive personality. Truthfully, if I went by job on ds9 they'd all be wizards (closest to scientist I could get) so I went by personality. And Dax varies personality from episode to episodes so I went with my favourite characterisation of her. My other consideration was bard, but she's never really shown artistic inclinations as far as I can remember (aside from an interest in klingon opera)

Julian was very difficult. I considered cleric but he doesn't have that religious connection that is crucial for a cleric. Wizards are scholars who suit his focus on work + they have healing magic the same way clerics do. Of course he's the party healer. My other consideration for him was rogue but it suited Kira too well and with the inclusion of Garak there'll be way too many rogues in the party.

Deep Space 9 DnD au

This is super messy and I'm still not 100% on these designs (also my first time drawing Julian without a ref please be nice) but I'll make something sleeker soon.