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kaizokuniichan · 10 months ago

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Attention Part 5 - Even Exchange

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/AFAB Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: You and Law finally come together in the most complete way.

Also known as: The chapter where Dev’s music nerdery is overwhelming (seriously there are an obscene amount of music references

CW: Mutual mastubation, oral sex, vaginal sex

Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Slight spoiler for Law’s new awakened technique. I’m not sure of the exact logistics of how it works so I took some liberties for the sake of plot.

MDNI; 18+ READERS PLEASE

Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

As you blinked yourself awake and took in your welcoming surroundings your stomach twisted into knots. For a moment you believed you’d been tricked by your overactive imagination—god knows how many times you’d dreamed of him bringing you here. Unsurprisingly it was cozy and dimly lit, slightly fragrant with the spicy scent of incense. The walls of course were metal but that didn’t make it feel unnaturally cold. A grand, Cedar wood desk stood proudly across from the bed with well-worn books and various articles strewn about in a disorganized heap.

“What’s with the mess?”

Striding over to join you, he quickly stacked the books and shuffled his papers.

“You damn Strawhats have been a constant pain in my ass even more these days.”

Giggling, you slid off the bed to admire the shiny coins displayed on the shelf above.

“You collect these?”

With a start he looked up, ears burning as you leaned closer to inspect them.

“Uh yeah. Just a little hobby of mine to pass the time.”

Your chest tightened as it inflated with affection.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute. I like knowing you have something that helps your uptight, nonexistent ass unwind.”

He peered intently into your eyes and you suddenly felt shy, as you always were around him. His stare was always so intense.

“Feel free to take a tour around the place. It’s not much but I’m happy to share it with you. If you’d like to stay.”

You cocked a mischievous brow.

“Are you planning on ravishing me tonight Law?”

He smiled without any skin-crawling lecherousness.

“I would love to, but we certainly don’t have to. You don’t even have to stay here tonight if you don’t want. I just wanted to show you my room and spend some time together since we’ve...had to keep a lower profile these days.”

“Not that it really matters considering Jean Bart keeps making suggestive comments about how his captain won’t stop drooling over me.”

His cheeks tinged a soft pink, yet he was bold enough not to deny it.

“Well…he might not be wrong.”

He gave you a crooked smile as he looked you up and down, letting his eyes drag over your bare legs exposed by your sleep shorts. As your body heated you felt a distant second heartbeat in your pelvic floor. You’d never not be amazed by how openly he desired you. How someone like him could desire you. You were someone whom he lusted after, and while it was exhilarating, it was also quite intimidating.

It’d been hard being so near him when you couldn’t touch him the way you wished. Onboard the Sunny you’d been nothing short of a stubborn barnacle at his side—shamelessly sidling up and wrapping yourself around him in an immovable grip. You’d been cautious during the early days of your tentative connection, but the more time you spent together—and after your very passionate excursion in the aquarium—you found him more than willing to allow you to handle him however you pleased, even responding in his own way. A secret squeeze of your thigh under the table and a brush of fingers when you were out in the open were his subtle showings of reciprocity. And of course the many secret kisses. Those were the best.

“Is there uh, a bathroom nearby? I’m a little warm. Wanna splash some water on my face.”

“Am I making you nervous?” He teased, eyes still twinkling with mirth.

“Um. Yes?”

He was so smug you wanted to kick him—he really could be such a bastard when he wanted. Sometimes he liked to be cheeky, and you loved those rare moments where he was laid-back and playful. How it made the cadence of a snare drum kick against your ribs.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom just to the left of the bed.”

“Oh how fancy.”

He stepped closer and in a mild panic you leaned to the side and rolled across the bed to where the bathroom stood. His soft laugh became muffled as you closed the door behind you.

The bathroom itself was nothing extravagant, but you hadn’t expected it to be. Perfectly practical, it was minimally furnished with nothing but the bare essentials. Two towels hung on a wooden rack, two toothbrushes sitting in a cup on the small counter. A grey bath mat lay at the foot of the shower stall, and from what you could see inside the shower, containers of liquid soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

As you walked up to the sink you noticed a small bottle of what appeared to be an oil cologne. Opening it and taking a sniff you were stricken with the same heady aroma he always carried on his skin and clothes. The scent, blended with a hint of antiseptic, always lingered after your brief hugs, and you’d spent many a night breathing it in whilst your hands played between your legs. Just a small whiff brought an immediate wetness to your panties.

Setting the bottle back down, you faced your reflection in the small mirror and pondered just how fuckable you looked. Your deliberation was tireless but necessary, and you wondered what it’d be like to fuck him. How he’d look. What he sounded like. What he tasted like. Were you going to fuck him tonight? You very much wanted to, but you were so anxious as to whether or not you’d even be good enough for him. You’d never had any complaints from previous partners, but Law seemed like someone who was difficult to please. What if it made things awkward? He was already such an awkward man, you’d hate if things became even more awkward.

“I hear you thinking in there, so I’ll just send you back to your room if you want.”

You bounded for the door and flung it open in a panic.

“Don’t you dare.”

He sat on the bed facing away from you.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I wanna stay here with you tonight.”

He turned to face you skeptically, refusing to move an inch from his seat.

“Law just get comfy. And take off those damn heeled boots.”

With another small smile he rose from the bed and crossed over to a closet you hadn’t noticed. Kicking off his shoes and pulling his sweater over his head, he revealed inch by inch the dark ink on his back contrasting with his tan skin—slightly obscured by the white tank top he’d been wearing underneath. You growled in frustration as he sat back down.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning his body to look at you.

“Nothing, it’s just. You spend all day with your shirts almost fully unbuttoned so I get a full view of your tits, but now that we’re alone you won’t even let me get a proper look.”

He turned back around and you were utterly mesmerized by the way his shoulders and biceps were accentuated by the flimsy fabric.

“I don’t do free shows, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

“You give enough free shows every day with those slutty clothes of yours.”

His breathy laugh filled you with tendrils of honey.

“Maybe if you’re good you’ll get something special.��

You hoped the sound of your gulp was only audible to you.

He observed with amusement as you stumbled over to the other side of the room, reaching your destination back at the desk. When you rested your bottom on the edge your fingers played with the grooves in the wood.

“I think we’ve done enough talking today Law.

His bouncing leg halted when you leaned back on your hands.

“I think so too.”

“Then…come here.”

If you could find a word to describe the way his body moved you’d settle on saunter. His lithe form beheld true majesty as he glided over to you—a little terrifying and absolutely thrilling.

He now towered over you, heavily sunken eyes filled with an almost primal, commanding lust. The tips of his fingers touched your cheek as he stepped closer, and the front of his legs pressed into yours.

You scooted back when he softly ordered you to sit. Immediately you spread your legs to allow him to accommodate the space between, and you looked into his eyes as he cradled your face. Blown wide irises roved endlessly as he studied you, mapping out every delicate feature. You placed a hand on his chest while the other reached up to play with the small hoop earrings in his lobe, tracing your thumb along the smooth surface.

You felt his body shudder as you tickled his sideburns, running your pads down his jawline where they met with his goatee. An indecipherable sound rumbled in his chest when he stepped deeper into your space, and he tightened the hand around the back of your neck as he leaned down.

There was no fanfare when your lips melded into a careful kiss. Your hand on his chest tightened it’s hold and wrinkled the fabric of his shirt while the other wrapped around his neck. It was uncertain whose tongue slipped into whose mouth first but they soon became entwined.

His hands slid down your sides in slow reverence as a whine curled in your throat. When he pulled you closer to bring your center flush with his hips, you marveled at how perfect he felt. Far better than what you could ever have imagined. Despite his lanky appearance his body was sturdy and solid. Carefully crafted as a means for survival.

Your hands continued to caress each other as he dug his fingers into your hips. Unsurprisingly (or maybe surprising to you) he was hard, and you felt a quaking in your thighs that would’ve made you crumble to the floor if you’d been standing. He continued to grip you with more assurance — much more demanding than any other time he’d touched you. Slipping his hands beneath your shirt to fondle your breasts, his thumbs rolled lightly over your nipples as he spread his fingers over your ribs. Throaty whimpers pierced your lust-filled haze as your hips undulated against his, desperately seeking relief.

His lips slipped from yours to make a drunken voyage down your jaw, teeth catching on your skin and licking flames of heated passion behind. He clutched you impossibly close and you wrapped your legs around him.

“You’re crushing all of my papers,” he murmured, voice low and dipped in chocolate.

“Good. Fuck those papers.”

Your hand began a journey to the top of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling down the zipper. His hand came to grasp yours as if to stop you, and when you looked up you were met with a question lining his golden irises. You reassured him with a nip at his bottom lip, sliding his pants down just enough to comfortably slip your hand inside. His body was hot and trembled with restraint, and he let out a hiss when you swirled a thumb over the already wet, flushed head.

The air in the room suddenly felt cold when he stepped back.

“I...I want you to watch me.”

Your mind became waterlogged as he took a seat across from you on the bed.

“If you really want to hold my attention take that shirt off.”

He smirked, shifting back and pulling his jeans down to the middle of his thighs.

“You first.”

You hadn’t expected this level of sultry confidence from him. Normally he was especially careful when the two of you were alone—never wanting to make you feel as if he was taking advantage. He’d always allowed you to lead.

Yet the basis of your relationship had always been an even exchange, and you were more than willing to comply.

His breath hitched when you slipped your shirt over your head to reveal your bare chest and pert nipples, and his eyes kept yours leashed as he began to stroke himself. You’d never felt more assured of his attraction to you than when your eyes were tethered to his.

He allowed you a moment to admire his dick as he removed his shirt, and you were almost too eager to have it in your hands. Or mouth. Or pussy. Anywhere he wanted to put it really.

He leaned back, allowing dribbles of pre-cum to leak onto his abs, and you wrestled with your mind to accept the reality that this unbelievably gorgeous man was pleasuring himself to the live image of you. With his shirt tossed aside, he allowed you to feast on the hilly planes of inked tan skin and sinewy muscles, all converging into a delectable point between his pelvic bones.

“Law...do you even realize how sexy you are?”

His mouth quirked with pride, still languidly stroking himself.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, the soft tenor of his voice making you throb.

“I refuse to believe I’m the first person to tell you this.”

He sucked in air through clenched teeth and moved his hand faster.

“Well, you’re the first person it ever mattered to hear it from,” he sighed, the flushed head poking between the middle of his fist.

“You want it?” he asked.

“God yes,” you breathed as your pussy clenched.

He leaned over to grasp the rolling chair at his desk and dragged it over in front of him.

“Sit here.”

Almost immediately you complied. Pulling off your shorts and opening your legs you felt the cool air seep into the dampness of your panties.

“Are you gonna put on a show for me Law?”

His hips stirred and he picked up the pace, lips parting as he took in short breaths.

“If that’s something that you want.”

Your center continued to pulsate and you went to snap your legs closed when he grunted a sound of disapproval and shook his head.

“No. Let me see you.”

You’d heard him be commanding before—he was the Captain of a notorious pirate crew after all. But this new authoritative tone he directed at you suggested he wasn’t to be defied, and it excited you. So you opened your legs for him.

“What would you like for me to do Law?”

He breathed shallowly as he pumped himself—liquid pearls dribbling over his knuckles.

“I want…you. All of you. But first I’d like to see how excited you can get for me.”

You let your hand drift between your legs as a sumptuous chill trickled down to your toes.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

He huffed, spreading his legs wider as he bucked his hips.

“He’s already done that for you, hasn’t he?”

Heat fanned across the back of your neck as you were brought back to your kitchen dalliance with Zoro several days prior.

“I wanna do things differently.”

You huffed in frustration. “Well…at least let me put your dick in my mouth.”

His hand stilled as a surprised chuckle escaped him.

“We can do that in a little while. Spread your legs and pull your panties to the side for me.”

You wanted to protest and move things along far more quickly but you understood his need to move at his own pace. And the slow-burning foreplay was definitely not unwelcome.

It was almost embarrassing how slick-saturated your panties had become as you tugged them to the side. Cautiously you looked down and swirled your finger around your bud, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Look at me.”

It’s not that you’d never had an audience before, but Law’s presence made you incredibly self-conscious and unsure.

But as you looked back to him you remembered what made you fall for him in the first place. He’d been so insistent on fixing a part of yourself you’d believed to be broken—like the worn binding of an aged book—and he’d repaired you good as new. Your heart bloomed with achingly sweet love.

Your eyes fluttered while slipping a finger inside yourself, and he groaned as his fist moved faster.

“Fuck. Never seen anything so pretty.”

You melted.

“Oh Law.”

His brows furrowed as he tugged himself, adam’s apple bobbing with every gulping breath. You clenched when you added another finger.

“You want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?”

You whined louder than you’d intended.

“Yes. Law please.”

“Slip another finger inside.”

Your body was wracked with shudders that had nothing to do with the cold air. A stone sunk into your belly as you eyed his dick still being fisted in front of you. He was much thicker than what you were capable of providing for yourself, even while pumping the three fingers inside you without being told to do so. Finding it difficult to keep contact with his probing eyes you dropped your head back with a shameless moan.

“Law I want you so badly.”

You heard him grunt as he halted his movements.

“I wanna give it to you love.” Suddenly his eyes flew open.

“Um..I mean...”

You lifted your head back up and smiled.

“Did you just call me love?”

“I didn’t mean…that’s not what I meant to say.”

His scrambling was impossibly cute and completely fruitless. Sliding off your seat you knelt down and settled between his legs. When you looked up his lips were parted and glistening as his chest heaved imperceptibly faster.

“You know, you called me baby that one time too.” He rolled his eyes to hide his embarrassment but you saw it anyway. “I never took you as the type to give pet names.”

Covering his scorching hand with yours, you gripped his fist and guided him, squeezing it in with reassurance.

“It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh didn’t you?” You gave him a pout. “Am I not your baby? Am I not your love?”

He cupped your cheek with his other hand, tilting your face up to look at you properly. What a sight you must’ve been, nestled between his legs as he pulled himself closer to release. You hoped it was everything he’d dreamed of. He leaned down to give you a kiss, gripping your jaw tightly.

“I’ll call you whatever you like. I’ll give you whatever you like.”

You shook your head and you leaned back.

“I’m gonna give you something first. Straighten up and watch me.”

You could see him wanting to argue but your sharp look held him back. He sat up and watched as you leaned closer to run your tongue along the trail of dark hair leading to where both your hands held him. The pheromones of his desire left you intoxicated as you transformed into a feral seductress for him—burying your head between his legs. After swatting his hand away you wasted no time. Despite the saltiness that stained your tongue it was mixed with a decadent sweetness. Slowly you picked him apart as you licked along the underside.

The heavy hand gripping the back of your head was welcomed, though he still made no move to force you down. For now he was weakened by the endless weeks filled with pining and yearning, and he allowed you to take control. The wait had proven to be worthwhile as you slid further down until your nose met his pelvis. He felt heavenly in your mouth. As he tickled your esophagus you were brought back to a supposed trick given to you by a friend that was said to prevent gagging. Tucking your thumb into your fist you sucked him slowly, bobbing your head up and down gently. His other hand came back to rest on your cheek in a moment of tenderness that counteracted the sublime sin in your mouth.

Evidently the supposed trick was proven to be false for when he poked the back of your throat you gagged. His hands attempted to pull you off but you remained in place—resigned to keeping him completely encased in your warmth. Taking one of his hands off your face you tangled your fingers together and breathed through your nose, resuming your hedonistic suckling.

The faster you sucked the more his breaths became ragged. He was a fairly respectable man when he wasn’t a merciless pirate, though his careful respectfulness only encouraged your mouth to service him more provocatively. He deserved it. You let your saliva run freely as trails of drool dribbled past your lips, lapping your tongue sloppily around the shaft. With an erotic hum you slurped him down your throat. He panted as more of your mouth juices coated your fingers, and he gripped your head tighter as curses tumbled from his lips.

“Fuck. You love having me in your mouth, don’t you?”

You removed yourself from his length and sat back on your knees, eyes wet from your fervent efforts.

“I love it. I love it so fucking much.”

He shifted to lean his arm on the mattress, cocking his head to the side.

“You want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You were unable to answer, too preoccupied with rocking back and forth for some relief.

“Well?”

You took him in your hand and stroked idly as you carefully considered your words.

“I wanna shove you so far down my throat that I can hardly breathe.”

The hand still on your head tugged you closer until you were a mere centimeter away. Your tongue poked out to swipe kitten licks along the head.

“Go ahead and show me how much you want me”

Molten molasses dripped into your panties as you gobbled him up, consuming him completely. You pulled more grunts from his lips, licking, bobbing, and slurping noisily. You made it nasty, showing how much you hungered—how much you craved him. No longer holding himself back he groaned and began thrusting into your mouth. Holding you in place he bucked his hips, shoving himself further down your throat. All hesitancy of his vanished as he used you, tugging his pants down his knees and squeezing his thighs around your head. His ragged breaths grew heavier as you brought him closer and closer to the edge, and you prepared yourself to swallow his milk when he forcefully pulled you off.

“Law please, let me...”

“Get up and lay on the bed.”

You wanted to continue protesting but you were still in an agreeable mood and did as you were told, sitting down on the plush mattress and scooting back against the pillows. He stood to remove his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, making the mattress dip as he mirrored your previous position between his legs.

“I’m gonna give you something he hasn’t, and I want you to picture him watching as I make you cum.”

An icy fist clutched your heart as flashes of green skittered across your mind’s eye. You could almost feel the other stolen piece of your heart toss you a look of amusement as Law slid off your panties. A warm and dexterous tongue flicked between your lower lips and you let out a whimper and covered your mouth.

“Lemme hear you,” he murmured into your skin, nosing your bud.

“I don’t want my voice to bounce off the walls. What if someone hears?”

He considered your words before sitting up.

“Room.”

An invisible, spherical barrier of chantilly lace enclosed your bodies in a noiseless cocoon.

“Silent.”

“What the hell was that?”

He laid back down and kissed your folds.

“Now no one will be able to hear you except for me.”

A thrill of electricity sparked as he hooked your legs over his shoulders—your heart thundering in your chest as his breaths puffed against your sex. A slick river of ambrosia trickled down towards your ass and he licked it clean, groaning as he buried his face into your pussy.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

You wished he hadn’t brought up your eventual departure as your eyes prickled with unshed tears.

“Law, please don’t.”

He licked a long stripe between your folds, wiggling his tongue inside to lap at your juices. Your head fell back as he devoured you, strumming the strings of your longing and playing a ballad of burgeoning ecstasy. The frolicking staccato of your moans married with the symphonic melody of your panting—crescendoing louder when he thrust three fingers inside. Notes of D, E, and A pulled a debaucherous allegro from your walls. He tuned your body to the very key of his choosing.

You clambered closer and closer to your peak and you knew you’d be too exhausted to continue if you prematurely toppled over the edge. With laborious difficulty you pulled him off your heat, shuddering as your body somersaulted back down.

“Law I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Danger flashed in his eyes and you flattened yourself into the bed.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for. I’ve been holding myself back all this time.”

You knew he wasn’t just referring to tonight. Shuddering from the threat you opened your legs wider and parted your pussy lips with your fingers as an invitation to him. He covered your body with his and lay wet kisses on your face.

“Law. Please.”

His hand cupped your jaw and turned your head to the side, licking sloppy swipes of his tongue along your neck and down your throat. His hips ground against yours as he coated his dick with your juices.

Taking hold and positioning himself at your entrance, he poked your puffy flesh with his head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he surged forward, halfway sheathing himself inside. He filled you more and more as he bucked his hips forward, further enveloping himself inside your wetness. As he settled at his hilt you brought your knees up, opening yourself completely for him to take.

“Law I want you to use me”

He throbbed and slid his arms beneath your back to grasp your shoulders and hold you close.

“I’m not going to use you. I’m going to pour everything into you that I’ve wanted to give to you all this time.”

You gasped when he thrusted roughly, the slow and steady rhythm of his balls slapping against your ass making you quiver. His mouth hovered over yours as his fingers dug into your flesh, and the harmony of your moans smoothed over the carnality of your want. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided against each other, and the squelching sounds of your slick ricocheted against the walls of your sonically concealed bubble. Senseless babbling urged him on as he fucked into you faster, knocking himself into your hips and pressing your knees up to your chest.

“Fuck, I wanna keep you. Wanna keep you right here with me. Can’t let you go.”

Goose-pimples freckled your flesh as you gushed around him. He’d hit your fleshy and sensitive center sooner than you’d hoped, and you arched off the bed with a wail.

“Law…Law…Law…” you chanted, curling into him when he released his bruising grip on your legs. As he continued grinding his hips the springs of the bed squeaked in exhaustion, and you were endlessly thankful for his versatile technique.

“Can I have you? Are you mine?”

“I’m yours Law. I’ll always be yours.”

You felt a moment of guilt knowing there was still another piece of your heart being held by another man, but you were soon distracted when the stilted pap, pap, pap of his hips grew rougher, and his hand lunged forward to grip the headboard. Your world was filled to the brim with watery sobs and heady groans, rising into an amalgamation of calcified bliss.

You came before him when his calloused fingers slipped over your bud in messy circles—quaking and shivering as your toes curled. Your body continued to shake as his skin slapped into yours, filthy promises of ruination filling your ears.

He soon pulled out and fucked into his fist in a frenzy, spilling himself on your stomach and thighs. Your heaving breaths intermingled with his as he dragged his dick filthily along the trail of his spend.

You were fucked. Physically and mentally so. The words you’d locked away in a carbon coated safe threatened to seep through the cracks as you tangled your fingers into his messy, onyx locks. He cradled your face in his hands, his new favorite thing to do, as he traced your lips with his thumb and littered kisses along your lips and cheeks. A painful sob threatened to escape, and you were frustrated as tears spilled from your eyes.

“Law I…”

“I know. Me too.”

Your happiness was bittersweet as you drew shapes along his back before he finally settled down beside you and covered you both with the covers. Turning to face him you slipped a leg between his and wrapped an arm over his waist, enjoying his heat seeping into your body.

With a flick of his wrist he muttered a “shambles” and your privacy dome disappeared, golden lights dimming as you both succumbed to a delicious, dreamy slumber.

#myfic #Trafalgar Law x reader #Law x reader #Trafalgar Law #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #Roronoa Zoro #I don’t know what else to tag this as lmfao #attention series

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raisingmybanner · 1 month ago

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Accretion (a royai big bang longfic)

Fandom | Rating | Length: Fullmetal Alchemist | T | 155k COMPLETE

Summary:

accretion [ə-ˈkrē-shən] noun: An accidental deposit of “foreign” material that was not part of the painting process, f. ex. dried liquid residue, flyspecks, etc. (from Stella Art Conservation, LLC) Riza Hawkeye has worked as Security Director for private art authenticator Roy Mustang for eight years with little trouble. However, recently Mustang has taken on riskier and higher-stakes jobs, putting himself and his team in danger of exposure and harm. The objective of a new undercover job – authenticating an elusive ink drawing while undercover on a three-week island retreat – hits too close to home for Riza. Secrets carefully kept threaten to be brought to light, exacerbated by the closeness required while posing as a young engaged couple. Hold on, they have to pose as an… engaged couple? For three weeks?!

Vibes: Modern day Amestris AU, big ol' romcom, casual intimacy, what if instead of military alchemy it's dubiously legal art nerdery, everything BUT a heist, idiots to lovers, fake dating, FEELINGS, emotional support Hayate

The story includes gorgeous illustrations done by some extremely talented artists who have been working tirelessly for months. Go give them some love! You'll find pieces from @justanotherinterneruser, @chewytran, @areyousanta, and Crystal Capsids @rizaposting throughout Accretion, bringing it to life. You'll also find the work of @aldrendaux when you don't trip over sentences starting with the exact same word nearly as much as you would have otherwise ;-) If you need a kind beta with an eye for detail, you won't do better than Aldren.

Accretion is COMPLETE and posted in full on AO3!

Check out the rest of the Big Bang collection on AO3 HERE or download the amazing ebook PDF HERE.

...What are you still doing here? GO READ THESE FICS! RUN!!

#royai big bang #royai big bang 2024 #accretion #fma royai #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma fanfiction #fmab #fma brotherhood

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vidavalor · 6 months ago

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Odegra and The Language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu

Let's decode Disco Tony's hilarious work presentation. On the known history of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu under the cut.

Right, so, a few of you have requested word nerdery on the Odegra scene so here we go... For a refresher, here's the dialogue with the wordplay-significant bits that we'll look at bolded:

Crowley: So, thanks to three computer hacks, selected bribery, and me moving some markers across a field one night, the M25 London Orbital Motorway, which was supposed to look like this, will, when it opens in 1986, actually look like this [shows a terrible picture of, more or less, the same thing lol] and represent the dread sigil 'Odegra' in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu. 'Odegra' means 'Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds.' Can I hear a wahoo?

[Some of the demons have enough energy to half-boo; most just continue to sit there looking miserable. Of all of them, only Beez looks like they might be getting how bullshit this all is and, either way, they still have no idea what Crowley is actually saying and really couldn't care less.]

Crowley: Once it's built, the millions of motorists who grumble their way around it are going to be like water on a prayer wheel grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London. [Hastur raises his hand with a question.] Yes, Duke Hastur?

Hastur: What's a computer?

---

A lot of the humor of the scene comes from the fact that, unlike the demons, we know that a word as short as 'Odegra' cannot possibly mean something as long as 'Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds'... and 'Odegra' isn't a word familiar to many of us in the first place, adding to the feeling that Crowley is b.s.-ing the demons. The scene ending with Hastur asking for a definition of 'computer'-- basically, the first word Crowley said in what we see of the presentation lol-- exists as the punchline to the presentation and the scene as a whole, showing us that Crowley is correct in believing that there is no one in the room who can really tell that he's playing them.

Still, we know that language is a big thing on Good Omens (and that's an understatement) and Crowley is saying something... so, can we use the rules of Ineffable Husbands Speak that we've been looking at to figure out what, exactly, Crowley might be saying? Seems we can and, as you'll see, when we do, it becomes apparent very quickly that this presentation to Hell about the highway that Crowley describes as a demonically evil masterpiece exhibiting reverence to Satan and all things satanic is actually about Aziraphale and their world together and Crowley is getting a kick out of watching that fly over the heads of his audience. Crowley definitely performed this presentation for Aziraphale at some point, though (maybe rehearsed it a la Aziraphale's magic show?). Aziraphale enjoyed it a great deal more than the demons of Hell did, since it was written to amuse him.

Odegra: Odegra, a word that doesn't exactly exist in this form... but that Crowley didn't entirely make up either. Professional midwife that he is, Crowley used rules of human language to birth it into existence from a pre-existing word. If odegra did exist (and, honestly, Crowley using it and it being in Good Omens means it now does exist in both his and our worlds), it would be derived from the only word like it that does exist-- the Polish odegrac. What's hilarious is that odegrac means... to get one over on someone (not kidding lol)... as well as: to put on a performance and to play act a role.

So, the word Crowley is claiming means something in an ancient human language that doesn't exist is actually a word he made up that is of a word that does exist... and that word means to fool someone, to put on a performance, and to act a part. That is both how Crowley performs "demonicness"-- with the Odegra scene itself a perfect example-- and also how Crowley and Aziraphale behave performatively together in public to fool Heaven and Hell and hide their relationship.

Additionally, performance and act are words that can be, on another level, sexually euphemistic, and Crowley and Aziraphale both use act in that way in the Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene of The Blitz, Part 2. It somehow gets even better, though, because hiding their relationship is not the only reason why they have a secret language. Another way Odegra can also be defined gets into that and that's when we take into account how their wordplay is big on the words contained within words-- something used not just in their language but in the show itself, beginning with, as we've looked at in other metas, its opening shot of the word 'war' within the word 'warning'.

Odegra contains ode and gra. An ode is a lyrical poem and a poem is wordplay. Odes are specifically written in tribute to someone or something. That is what they're doing when they use their secret birdsong and why they use it when alone in addition to in public; its born both out of the need to be able to speak to one another in a coded way when they might be overheard and out of flirtation and combines the two. One of the most famous odes in existence is Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," which is also a word that we have seen that they use as shorthand for their language and for how they feel about each other.

As for the gra part of Odegra? It's a Polish word for game (as in, to play a game... like, say, a wordplay game.) But, also...

...gra is an Irish word for love.

Odegra, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, actually means secret love language.

Some demons torture and murder-- Crowley hijacks plans for Freeways of Love out of transportation-related innuendo amusement, remakes them into a soppy apple-heart-looking thing for his boyfriend, and passes them off as an evil work assignment, ok? 😂

The M25 in image forms "the dread (a subtle suggestion for the demons in there *snicker*) sigil Odegra in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu" aka Nightingale Speak/Odegra/Whatever They Actually Call It, if they call it anything at all... what we've been calling Ineffable Husbands Speak. For why Crowley is jokingly referring to their secret language in this way, let's start with Mu...

If, in the GO universe, dinosaurs basically don't exist and The Earth is only a little over 6,000 years old, it's doubtful that there's anything to the Lost Continent of Atlantis, sometimes referred to as Mu or Lemuria. Crowley would know, since he's been on Earth since The Beginning and, since he's trolling the demons with this presentation, he's likely pretending that Mu existed, knowing that the demons won't know the difference.

When referring to The Lost Continent idea, Mu comes from Lemuria, which is what the theorized continent was named because it derived as a way of trying to explain fossils of lemurs that were found in spots people didn't think fit with what they knew of history at the time. All of this was discredited scientifically prior to when Crowley is making the presentation but Lemuria is popular with occultists. It sounded satanic to reference it in the presentation, which is probably how Crowley arrived at using it-- but it seems he really did for the demonicness on the surface but for its other meaning on a hidden language level. Mu/Lemuria/Atlantis is not the only definition of Mu and it's really the other one that Crowley is referencing. The Ancient Mu to whom Crowley is really referring is him and Aziraphale-- extremely old beings with a fondness for the other Mu-- the Greek letter that became what we now call today the letter M.

Mu evolved from the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph meaning water and, then, the Phoenician word for water. Anything related to water/the sea/fish, etc.., as we've looked at before, is a sexual metaphor and related to orgasm in Ineffable Husbands Speak, rooted in Aziraphale using oysters euphemistically to ask Crowley to bed for the first time in ancient Rome. The ancient Greeks eventually turned Mu into the letter M, which Crowley and Aziraphale use often and with a lot of intentionality as a word that has existed in basically all languages since the beginning of time: mmm, the sound of human pleasure and satiation, as we looked at in the Crowley & Plosives meta. The Ancient Mu = Crowley and Aziraphale, who are really old, longtime sailors together on The Sea of Mmm.🐟

[An aside but M is also the name of James Bond's boss. Crowley is a big Bond fan and, we speculate, was likely an allied spy during WW2 so maybe there's something in here as well to add to the idea that Crowley influenced Bond a bit.]

Mu has had different pronunciations but the most common one is homophonic for moo, which is the sound of the milk-producing cow. I don't think further detail is really needed on that one...

Mu can also be pronounced at times like the French moue, which comes from an early meaning of lips and evolved into meaning someone pouting. Crowley busts out a moue a lot-- sometimes genuinely, sometimes in jest.

Finally, mu is the Greek root of the word for something Crowley and Aziraphale both enjoy (and both like to speak about euphemistically at times): music.

The Dark Priesthood bit is pure blasphemy. Crowley and Aziraphale are, technically, members of opposing religious orders. Aziraphale is an angel of God, which is more or less akin to a human priest, while Crowley is, technically, a dark priest/diabolical minister. Religious trauma and conflicts for days aside, they're both more pagans of the good times, as Irish God Hozier would call it, with a yen for equating the sexual with the spiritual in their wordplay.

In S2, we have a parallel to the Odegra scene and others like it with entries shown to us in a publication of Hell--'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth'-- in which Crowley and Aziraphale wrote each other spicy love letters in their language and published them under the noses of Heaven & Hell without anyone ever catching on. In those entries, they both refer to each other using different religious terms (guru, different ancient gods, a particularly 'hot priest' turn through the etymology of bishop...). There's also, of course, that priests in many religions take a vow of celibacy, which then makes it more amusing to refer to themselves as a priesthood in wordplay referring to themselves as lovers.

Etymologically, the word priest comes from the Greek presbyteros, which means elder/old/venerable so, like their use of ancient, it's also something of a play on how they are quite literally older than dirt and also that they've been a thing for awhile now.

In addition to signifying a group, a hood is also both clothing that shields one from the rain and what we call the canopy covering of a car.

Crowley is making it sound in his presentation to the demons that Odegra means something evil and demonic in an ancient language of satanic priests when, really, it's a word he made up for his and Aziraphale's spicy and romantic little language and they're not devil-worshippers but devout members of The Church of The Vavoom.

The Dark Priesthood... Dark is a fun word by their rules because it's a word they could probably say a lot in public since it sounds all demonic but we have seen that their language is built, in part, around words within other words and also uses a lot of French so Dark = Dark and D'Ark. It actually refers to The Ark or is Of The Ark, which we can take as a reference to the events of The Flood. Since The Flood is referenced in S2 in the Job minisode and keeps coming up in other places (and since we've seen precious little of it so far), it's potentially another hint that all that rain-sheltering canopy vavooming Crowley was going on about in S2 was he and Aziraphale during The Flood and that we might see that in S3.

It sounds like if one of them says dark, they're actually referencing-- at least, in part-- The Vavoom kiss. Like Crowley was, on one level of what he said, in 1941:

In the book, the Odegra stuff is the same but for the word dark-- it's The Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu instead. The word black is also in their wordplay in the show, though, and shows up in the same scene in 1941 as Crowley saying "shades of... dark grey." The word black contains the word lac, the substance secreted by an insect that is used as shellac. Lac is also the French word for lake. One of you asked me to word out The Blitz, Part 2's Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene so we can talk more about how Crowley uses black in that scene in that meta down the line. We're actually not yet done with Odegra, though, because...

Odegra also can be pronounced like "Eau de grah." Eau is French for water-- so, it would be "water of grah"/"grah water" when mixing French in. Grah is a fascinatingly Good Omens-y word... In German, it's a variant word for gray. In Slovenian? It means pea. (Frozen peas!) In Croatian? Beans and bean soup. Peas and beans are both seeds, which occur a lot in their speak and are going to be their own meta at some point, since quite a few of you want me to write about the 'Seeds of Destruction' scene in S1. In Hindi and Nepali, it means planet-- akin to world...

The especially damn one, though, is that, in Albanian, grah means *both* to rattle and to roar. Serpents rattle. Lions roar. Crowley is both. Rather hilariously, he even roared as a lion once while shapeshifted into a snake which.... isn't quite to what this wordplay would be referring lol... but it adds additional humor to that scene.

So you say, Crowley... Anyway, lastly, in Sanskrit, grah also means: to seize, to take, and to hold. Mmm...

Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds:

Hail: Besides hailing someone in the worshipful way Crowley suggests here, there's hail-- hard rain. Within hail: hai, a kind of keelboat and also the word for shark in several languages (Finnish and Estonian, among them) and ail, homophone: ale aka alcohol. You also used to (pre-Uber/Lyft, etc.)-- and can often still-- hail transportation, like a cab... an extra funny pun since it's used during Crowley's M25 presentation.

Great: The original meanings (some of which obviously still exist now) were big, massive, thick, and coarse. Rooted in ghreu, which meant to rub and to grind.

Great: Contains gre and eat. Gre, in Welsh, means all of these: a stud of horses, a flock and a herd. So, there's the horses, ducks, birds and other animals that show up in their speak and the show itself. In the Old French, gre meant pleasure and goodwill and, in Middle English, it meant kindness, understanding and satisfaction. It's also connected to the word gray in Old Scottish Gaelic. The eat bit is self-evident-- a nod to all the food used euphemistically in their speak (and the real food they do enjoy together as well.)

Crowley also uses great in summary of he and Aziraphale in S2 when he dryly tells Maggie how much he and Aziraphale talk-- but uses their language, which she obviously doesn't understand, to do so because, honestly, Maggie telling Crowley that he doesn't know how communicate in a relationship is about the same thing as it would be if Muriel sat him down and said he needed to listen to them when it comes to their superior knowledge of sexual innuendo. It's ridiculous. ("I say something brilliant and he says something unintentionally funny back. It's great." Rill = a stream; tent = canopy, etc..)

The Great Beast... Beast: Contains be, homophone: bee, and east. Bees, as we learned in S2, are angels. Aziraphale is Crowley's angel and The Angel of the Eastern Gate, whose desk is in the Eastern part of the compass bookshop, which is also the direction of the arrow being pointed by the bookshop's Cupid sculpture in S1. The Great Beast = Aziraphale.

"The beast with two backs" has also been euphemistic for sex since the 1500s and was immortalized by Shakespeare in Othello... and, by that, we mean was probably immortalized by Crowley in Othello lol... A beast has also long been a flirty thing to call someone who uses lewd and lascivious language.

GIF by aftermath-meme

Devourer of Worlds:

Devourer: We know what this is lol but just to fine print it here... Devour comes from the Latin devolare, meaning both to swallow down and to accept eagerly. Earliest forms contain the same meanings we have today for the word: to entirely consume; to eat ravenously.

By the early 1600s, devour evolved to also mean to take in hungrily with the eyes. I suppose here is where it might be funny to also point out that both ravenous and swallow are words that are also related to birds.

World: Often relates to the state of existence of human beings. Sometimes used in religious settings by humans to differentiate between the secular world and Earth versus Heaven and the world of the afterlife-- the "worldly affairs" of Earth. Can sometimes refer to the celestial-- "other worlds." The universe is another name for the world-- a system of created things, one started by Crowley and Aziraphale themselves. Also: homophonic for whirled: a swirling of something-- usually, of a mind or of water, like a whirlpool.

A world, though, can just be a person's own life and the people in it, and a romantic way of referring to your partner. You could, for instance, toast the world of the planet you just helped save and also be toasting one another-- your own, mutual, private world-- at the same time, as many of us suspect was the case here:

Crowley also says that the motorists, as they "grumble" along the highway will be "like water on a prayer wheel, grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London." There is a bit of wordplay in here as well.

Grumble: Means to complain in a low voice but also originally had the additional meaning of the word within it that evolved into a separate word-- to rumble, as in to make a low, rumbling sound or murmur. While these hypothetical motorists are rumbling their way around The Freeway of Love, they're doing so like water on a prayer wheel.

Crowley knows that not a soul in the room knows what a Tibetan prayer wheel is or what it is meant to do. It just sounds like stuff the demons would think is an appropriately evil way to feel. The other part of the joke is that the term prayer wheel is actually misleading and a mistranslation of the Tibetan. Mantras, not prayers, are put on paper inside the wheel (which is cylindrical, not really even round-wheel-shaped, though it does go around) while a mantra or two is usually printed on the outside of the wheel. It's more about visualization than prayer-- which goes with how this flashback scene is tied to Crowley literally visualizing and willing himself and the burning Bentley through the M25 ring of fire.

It's the height of irony because the idea is that anytime someone turns a prayer wheel and focuses on the positive energy they are generating from doing so and thinking on or saying the mantras it contains, they're actually sending out positive energy to everyone around them. Crowley is giving a presentation in which he's claiming that these motorists on the M25 would be spreading negative energy because they'd be stuck in an exercise as pointless as spinning a prayer wheel when, in actuality, he's thinking about how the grumps in Hell could use some prayer wheels being spun in their direction.

On an euphemistic level, though, Crowley, is in his happy place being metaphorical water on a metaphorical prayer wheel. More sexuality-as-spirituality blasphemy at play with that and also a nod to how a lot of how he and Aziraphale are living is closer in line with Buddhist teachings than with other religions. S2 highlights that a bit, showing both Crowley and Aziraphale employing mudras (both inside and outside of performing miracles) and the lotus flower mandala rug they have on the floor to cover up The Heavenly Zoom of Discorporation, etc...

These motorists will be grinding out (does not need further explanation lol, other than to point out that you also grind seeds/pulses and coffee)...

...an endless fog (fog in a sense of headspace with relation to sex; etymology ties to damp, in a possible nod to the 597 AD scene; endless potentially hinting loosely at edging, which is in another 32 scenes more directly so not really a reach; also: endless, in the sense of viewing how they are and feel as eternal...)

...of low-grade evil (original definition of evil pertained to "sin" and still does-- "low-grade evil" would be akin to mild "sin"; grade repeats gra and also contains ade: as in, a drink made of fruit, like lemonade. Homophones: aid and aide-- so, care and support)...

....that will encircle the whole (both whole, as in: all of, and hole, as in: yeah, I'm pretty sure ya got this one...)...

...of London. London is wordplay, you ask? Oh, yes, seems to be. It's also in 'Demon's Guide...' as well, likely because...

London: contains lon and don. A don, among other things, is the formal Spanish title for a gentleman. Lon is an Irish word for blackbird and a Norwegian one for a gently-flowing creek. (Yes, they are that specific in the definition on the water movement.) The word London as a whole comes from the Proto-Celtic Londinjon, meaning: place that floods and, for a little ocean-themed destructive sexual metaphor fun, the Proto-Indo-European lendh, meaning: to sink.

So that endless fog of low-grade evil will be encircling the whole of London forevermore, thanks to Crowley's demonic design of the M25 orbital motorway. After all of that, it's clear to see why Crowley dryly thought that a wahoo (a positive yay! response but, also, a kind of fish... so, an orgasm) was in order. Some jolly good wordplay, that. Instead, at the end of Crowley's presentation, Hastur asks a question:

"What's a computer?"

In fairness to Hastur, while computers had existed for awhile by the 1970s, they weren't in everyone's houses yet and he didn't get up to Earth that often. (Good on him, actually, for even asking a question in the first place, when most of them didn't.) While the joke exists to highlight the fact that none of the demons got a single lick of what Crowley just said because Hastur's back with a question on what was only about the fourth word of many that Crowley said, there's also that it highlights that Hastur and the other demons lack the language ability to work out, through language comprehension and/or context, what a computer might be. They can't compute what a computer could be, basically.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth since the start and have been a part of the evolution of language. They understand how it's a living thing. They know the relationships between root words, which many of us also do just instinctively from living, speaking and reading and they do on a level of being walking, talking etymological dictionaries. The angels and demons technically speak all the languages of the world but, because they don't live in that world, they don't really understand language... and they are definitely miles away from Crowley and Aziraphale's capability of playing with it to the point of having created their own language out of the languages of the world.

Hastur's question is the meta joke of the scene and so we're going to finish up here by looking at it, too, even though it's not part of Crowley's wordplay. Ironically for Hastur, the word computer comes from the Latin putare which means, quite literally, to think, as well as to prune, in a way that means to filter and discern information. The 'com' part of it related to the Latin cum, meaning with and together.

What's funny about the question from a Crowley and Aziraphale's language speak perspective is that the reason why Aziraphale must have lost it laughing when Crowley told him what question Hastur asked is because their approach to the word would be to compute it by taking it apart and remaking it into also having a different layer of meaning within their language.

The first bit of com and its connection to cum and to come is something they already use all over the place, for obvious reasons. As for the rest of it... puter, depending on accent, can pronounced as puta, which is derogatory Spanish slang for a woman who has many sexual encounters and/or is a sex worker.

To compute to Crowley and Aziraphale would mean to think and discern, sure, but in Ineffable Husbands Speak, could be used to mean spending some quality time with a fellow seamstress.

So Hastur, who didn't understand much of anything in Crowley's presentation, asked for the everyday English definition of the one word in it that Crowley wasn't using in his sea of wordplay... but which, when used in Ineffable Husbands Speak, would ironically be defined as a short version of exactly what Crowley was on about for the entire presentation.

And this is probably why if you asked Aziraphale in Crowley's presence if he was ever going to get a new computer, he'd likely tell you he prefers to stick with his classic, first gen apple. It's the only one that's ever truly been great.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens theory #ineffable husbands speak #etymology #hastur good omens #crowley x aziraphale #mrs sandwich

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wordsandrobots · 1 month ago

Text

IBO reference notes on . . . the economic blocs

In episode 4, we are shown this map, depicting the current national organisation of the Earth in Iron-Blooded Orphans' setting.

This raises a number of questions, primarily 'what were they smoking when they decided to combine Canada and Russia'?, secondarily 'what does Gundam have against Australia?', and further, 'what's the deal here?' In the spirit of obsessive nerdery -- and inspired by @qqchurch posting about a particular map prop -- I thought I'd have a crack at pulling together some answers.

Some spoilers and a rhetorical swerve ahead.

The bigger picture

Geographically -- astrographically? -- the solar system of Iron-Blooded Orphans is split into different 'spheres', principally the Earth Sphere and the Outer Sphere. This is a holdover from the original 1979 Gundam series, which used 'Earth Sphere' to refer to the region of space containing Earth, the Moon, and the various orbital colonies located within this gravitational system.

I should note, mostly for myself, that while writing fan-fic for IBO I fell into the habit of writing Outer Spheres, pluralising a term I believe is only ever singular within the canon. This stems from the grouping of both Mars and Jupiter (and presumably the Asteroid Belt) into the Outer Sphere. I would argue that post-canon, the pluralisation makes sense since we then have the Mars Sphere as a discrete political entity, but even without this, grouping two distinct planet/moon groups into one sphere seems to cut against the Universal Century definition given above.

Nevertheless, as a in-universe division it makes sense. Earth is the centre of power in this setting, the other planets existing as its colonial holdings. An 'Inner Sphere' or 'Venus Sphere' (depending on which logic we follow to style it) is also visited in spin-off game Urdr Hunt, having been left to decay now its utility in terraforming Mars is over.

In terms of political organisation beyond the Earth Sphere, we spend most of our time with Mars, which is sub-divided into colonies following present-day naming conventions for Martian topography. The principle action takes place on the Chryse Planitia, with the city of Chryse being this region's capital. The city of Noachis, presumably capital of the neighbouring Noachis Terra, is also mentioned.

In practice, Mars is administered as a whole by Gjallarhorn, on behalf of the Earth political blocs that own the various individual colonies, with the officer in charge of the occupation ruling from the Ares space station. The Venus colonies, including the tethered Radonitisa Colony, are likewise overseen from an Aphrodite station, and we might therefore infer a Zeus station exists too. This is in fact one of the few guesses we can reasonably make about Jupiter, since we never actually visit it during the course of the series. Jupiter's moons are likely inhabited, since four subsidiaries of the Teiwaz conglomerate are named after them (IOS, Ganymede Farm, Euro Electronics, Callisto), and it is also probable there are a number of O'Neil cylinder space colonies in the vicinity (flashbacks with Naze and Amida show them sharing a hotel room aboard such a structure). But we never get any hint of how Jupiter is governed, except that the most powerful organisation there seems to be the aforementioned Teiwaz, a corporate mafia/yakuza (they are at once both Italian and Japanese; it's glorious). No other official body ever comes up.

The division of Mars dates to a few years after the Calamity War, when Gjallarhorn was directed to recreate the Martian government from scratch, following on from overseeing the reorganisation of the Earth into four 'economic blocs', abolishing old national borders. And it is here I shall be focusing this post, to take a look at what we are told about each bloc. For the sake of a structure, I am going to take them in reverse order to how much we know, which means we start with the Oceanian Federation.

The Oceanian Federation

Well, first off, their flag goes the hardest of the four. Just look at this.

That aside, of all the blocs, it is a little peculiar that we know the least about the Federation given theirs is the only non-Arbrau, non-Gjallarhorn territory we spend any time in while on Earth. It is they who offer refuge to Arbrau's ousted Prime Minister Makanai after all, setting him up on a tropical island retreat while he awaits the chance to regain power.

This is an impressively sprawling place, befitting a man of Makanai's station. It displays distinctly Japanese style architecture and decoration, which makes sense given this is the bloc in which Japan is situated (it combines Asia with Oceania). Given Makanai's name and preferred form of dress, it is plausible he is himself from the Federation originally, although there is sufficient cultural overlap on display elsewhere that this is far from a necessary conclusion. Regardless, for their own reasons, they give him sanctuary, up to the point Carta Issue pressures them into rescinding their protection and allowing her to pursue Tekkadan.

In a similar vein, the Federation offers Tekkadan's space-based forces safe harbour at their colonies, as quid pro quo for interfering with the African Union's operations. A different set of (specifically industrial) colonies is later shown in Season 2, undergoing an attempted workers' uprising. Having watched the African Union suffer from the Dort uprising in Season 1, the Federation's leaders are not prepared to risk the same happening to them and they give Gjallarhorn a free hand to violently suppress those involved.

Beyond this, we learn nothing whatsoever of the Federation's people or government. The world map aboard the Montag Company ship that carries Tekkadan from Makanai's island to Arbrau centres Japan, an indication that while Gjallarhorn uses Euro-centric maps, this doesn't represent cultural (or navigational) homogeneity. But this is I think more interesting on a meta level, in regards the positioning of the two maps within friendly and antagonistic factions, respectively. As a world-building detail, it's merely logical for a Pacific-based freighter to carry such a chart.

Going beyond the text and doing a quick spreadsheet calculation based on Wikipedia's summary of 2023 data, the Oceanian Federation would account for a full 50% of the Earth's population, with the African Union encompassing approximately 35%, the SAU 13% and Arbrau a paltry 2%. That, however, does not account for the Calamity War and the consequent extermination of a quarter of the human race. In light of this, we might spin the division as a subtly horrific bit of environmental storytelling. We know mobile armours will prioritise targetting the largest concentration of human beings they can detect. What would this have meant for places like India or China when things ran out of control?

Obviously we don't know the state of population distributions pre-War and the quarter figure is given for the solar system as a whole. Still, if we are to assume the four-way sub-division made some sort of sense in the immediate aftermath of the Calamity War, a proportionally heavy casualty rate for the most populous nations on the planet could provide a possible justification for such an uneven-looking arrangement.

(In case you're wondering, subtracting the entire quarter from the Oceanian Federation shifts the percentages as follows: OF: 34%, AU: 47%, SAU: 17%, A: 2%. I present this as an illustration of alternative distributions rather than a feasible scenario; I don't actually believe there's a way to make the division follow purely from current world population.)

Oh, yes, and per tradition, Australia has a big honking hole in it, a call-back to the original Gundam anime's opening colony-drop, that presumably marks an event from the Calamity War. Like the damage done to the Moon, this is never expanded upon, but it does lend some credence to assuming Oceania bore the brunt of the conflict.

The Strategic Alliance Union (SAU)

Hello, yes, this is American one.

The SAU's principle role in the plot is to be incited into war against Arbrau as part of Galan Mossa's plan to embarrass McGillis. This scheme takes advantage of a pre-existing border dispute, the exact details of which are not provided: they're far over the heads of our point of view characters. The conflict occurs on 'Balfour Plain', which I take to mean in the vicinity of Balfour, British Columbia. Beyond that, things are left vague.

It does highlight that friction between the blocs is present along lines going beyond mere economic competition. Indeed, it underlines the blocs as competing entities. They operate as nation-states, advancing their own agendas. This extends, following the events of Season 1, to amassing overt military strength.

We can't attribute the mobile suit storehouse show in the opening montage for Season 2 to any particular bloc. But it does house several Hexa frames in addition to Rodis, which ties in with the later appearance of Gildas at the head of the SAU's army. These are Calamity War-vintage 'suits brought out of mothballs after Tekkadan shook things up by deploying at Edmonton, and they make for a notable contrast with Arbrau's own mecha contingent, which consists of brand new Hloekk Grazes bought from Gjallarhorn.

Gjallarhorn also deploys to provide battlefield support to the SAU, indicating the extent to which this peace-keeping force can intervene in inter-bloc conflicts. Perhaps McGillis' forces act on behalf of the putative defender, given the war was instigated when an SAU jet crashes following exposure to an Arbrau Hloekk Graze's unshielded Ahab reactor. Having not considered the situation critical enough to require mobile suits, the SAU views this as unprovoked escalation and appeals for support.

Which brings us to the rest of the SAU's military forces, consisting of planes use for reconnaissance and mobile workers. This tells us jet fights still have a place Post-Disaster, and that the mobile worker industry is eccentrically prolific.

Like Arbrau, the SAU's military is described as inexperienced. I am not sure where to fit an evident air force into that picture: it could be the lack of experience does not denote newness, as it does for Arbrau's defence force, but simply the absence of any active role prior to the declaration of war. Although the bloc's name -- Strategic Alliance Union -- sounds atypically militaristic compared to the others (rather like naming a country after NATO), it is not ascribed greater martial prowess. The conflict boils down to two rag-tag armies chipping ineffectually away at another, falling for Mossa's attempt to bog the region down in a petty, protracted war and thus ruin McGillis' reputation as a peacekeeper.

That about covers the extent of the information we learn about the SAU in the main series. For more, we must turn to Urdr Hunt and...

Well. OK. I am obliging myself to include this, aren't I? The Zahn Clan are introduced in the game as a crime family from the SAU. The two sons of the Clan's founder, Rubian, are dispatched to take part in the titular hunt to test whether they have the chops to succeed him as head of the organisation. I won't go into the plot here; you can look up my summaries or simply go watch it for yourselves. (Note: official translations of the names have since been provided on the website for the upcoming animated adaptation, but some of these seem of slightly dubious quality compared to earlier fan-sourced versions [I don't think 'Lubian' can be right].)

The thing is, the Zahn family -- Rubian, Rome and Aiko -- are African American gangsters. Stereotypically so. Their mobile suits are styled after cars, they're decked out in rings and gold chains, Aiko has a baseball cap, Rome, extravagant piercings, etc. They're a caricature of United States criminality and the problem is, IBO's art-style tends grotesque when it comes to the underworld, meaning the result is, in motion, when the detail level drops, extremely uncomfortable. It certainly doesn't help that the brothers are depicted as buffoons, playing straight the 'comedy relief idiot' trope Iok subverts in the anime proper (that is, Iok is an idiot and it is not remotely funny).

Their dad is *not* a fool, nor is fellow gangster Jabiro, but I really, really wish this didn't hit quite so many racism buttons at once. Nonetheless, they are a depiction of an aspect of the SAU and must be included in a post covering what we know about the blocs.

Rubian has been wildly successful at running his underworld empire. Though old and infirm, he remains extremely sharp, ruling the Zahn Clan from an honest-to-goodness castle in his home territory. I have no idea which way this cuts with regard to racist caricatures. It seems to be suggesting a level of in-universe tastelessness but quite frankly, I don't think I can fault a mobster who gets wealthy enough to go, 'I'll live like a literal king'.

In terms of the Zahns' relationship to their home bloc, I noted in another post that they are remarkably well-equipped, fielding top-of-the line 'suits alongside more venerable models (including a lot of Gildas) and surplus Gjallarhorn spacecraft. While we know 'top-down' corruption is rife in the Earth Sphere in the sense of Gjallarhorn members empowering themselves by overstepping the bounds of neutrality, the Zahns demonstrate that 'bottom-up' corruption is alive and well too. Indeed, they are described as being explicitly 'backed' by the SAU , with a presence in all of the SAU's territory on Earth and having both Gjallarhorn and government officials in their pocket.

As is to be expected, the blocs are as sordid as contemporary nations, with the criminal classes very much in on the act.

The African Union

That's the Republic of Gambia's flag rearranged into something less cool.

I hesitate to classify the African Union conspiring with Gjallarhorn against the workers unions as an act of corruption, on the principle that 'corruption' implies the system is not functioning as intended. Far from being broken by moving to curtail the activism of people who are (theoretically) its citizens, the Union works to perpetuate its interests, something judged to have been harmed when it eventually concedes to some of the workers' demands. These are economic blocs, after all. Extracting profit and generating wealth is the tacit reason for their existence.

Let's back up. I've re-litigated Season 1's Dort Colony arc in multiple essays at this point, largely because it is a capsule of the series' themes. The struggles of the people who operate industrial facilities for the benefit of "rich factory owners from Earth" -- who live in splendour compared to the slums where the masses are relegated -- culminates with a bloody massacre, Gjallarhorn having manufactured an excuse for violence by allowing tensions to escalate to the point of armed insurrection. These events provide a snapshot of how the writers conceive of colonial and anti-labour oppression, a demonstration of the injustices that permeate every level of the society they have imagined, and an ambiguous moment of success for the protagonists. Kudelia Aina Bernstein gets to be the brave, fearless 'maiden of revolution', photogenically turning the media apparatus against government overreach. But it is underpinned by dubious backroom deals and a sense of how easily things could have gone the other way. This won't be the last time Tekkadan faces the Arianrhod Fleet and their visible insignificance before hundreds of ships and mobile suits is sinisterly prefigurative in retrospect.

For my purposes today, there are two important components to this arc. Well, three really, but we can take Gjallarhorn's utility as the blocs' enforcer as read. So -- the first is how the African Union relates to those living aboard the space colonies, and the second is the way in which those colonies are run for its benefit.

The Dort Company is described as running the colonies as a 'public enterprise' for the Union. As I mentioned in an aside while writing about how IBO engages with capitalism, this creates a surface-level contradiction where we have factories privately owned, presumably for profit, but the colonies themselves framed as a public service. Yet I don't think anybody familiar with how privatisation consumes such services will have a hard time reconciling this. The degree to which the Union is or is not doing state capitalism is ultimately irrelevant: the conflict is between the workers and the company that employs them, as a proxy for the bloc that consigned them to a miserable existence as expendable labour.

The Dort Company is an extremely prominent presence, their branding displayed at scale and their workers all sporting green jackets. 'Dort', by the way, is the historical English name for Dordrecht, the oldest city in Holland and a shipbuilding centre for the Netherlands Trading Society, which maintained shipping lines to the 'Dutch East Indies' (Indonesia). Dordrecht also gave its name to a town in South Africa, in a further link to European imperialism. I can't be sure to what extent IBO's writers were deliberately evoking that history, but it seems unlikely to be an idle connection. The Dort Company is a tool of an Earth-centric empire, maintaining the industrial mechanisms that sustain the African Union, space colonies having taken the place of 'third-world' manufacturing centres. This is where consumer goods are produced, for those who live well, by those who scrape by in poverty.

The visuals sell this with straightforward bluntness. We are shown the slums that house the workers and we are shown the shopping centres frequented by the factory-owning class. Yamagi comments, on seeing the home of labour union leader Navona Mingo on Dort 2, that he expected the colonies to be a lot nicer. He was perhaps picturing the kind of environment Mikazuki, Biscuit, Kudelia, Atra and Fumintan explore aboard Dort 3, a 'first-world' cityscape. The point being made is that these contrasts go together, often in the very cities that look so good on the surface. There is always a disposable underclass, always exploitation required to fuel superficial prosperity.

What I find interesting is that in none of this do we ever see the 'true' African Union, the society the Dort Colonies exist to serve. We never meet any representatives of the Union itself: Gjallarhorn deals with Dort Company executives and faceless communiques. Even in spin-off manga Moon Steel, where the bribery of Gjallarhorn officers by African Union officials is a key plot point, the action remains focused on the space colonies, on the people living in what is essentially captive territory.

This is likewise true for the previous two blocs I've covered and it's a canny choice, centring the struggles of the colonial subjects. The African Union has a 'ruling council'. But our sole insight into them is that they decide to reverse course and put a stop to Gjallarhorn's anti-labour operation at the last minute, afraid of the media exposure Nobliss Gordon arranged for Kudelia. The Dort Company then comes to the table with the (remaining) workers, granting labour rights equal to those existing on Earth.

Obviously this tells us such rights are not the general rule in the colonies, that employees on Earth enjoy privileges denied to those in space, and that the Union leadership is sufficiently sensitive to bad press, they don't want to be seen to sanction the killing of hundreds of colonists. At the same time, what is not said is also significant. We don't know, precisely, what 'rights equal to workers on Earth' materially entails. McGillis' backstory establishes the existence of a terrestrial underclass. There is every reason to believe Yamagi's misapprehensions hold true for the planet as they do for the space colonies: there is no land of wholesale luxury, just the same hierarchical, exploitative structures repeated in different locations.

I admit to finding the idea of Europe being subsumed into an African Union a deliciously ironic one. As a background detail, it's shallowly pleasing. Implied turnabout. But that doesn't matter, does it? Any redress of historical crimes is overshadowed by the fact nothing has been fixed. The same old imperial structures are reiterated, the same old injustices perpetuated. Who is being exploited is of lesser concern than that exploitation is occurring. That's why the details of the blocs' governmental structure and home conditions are largely irrelevant. They are powerful national entities engaged in the operation of capitalism at the expense of their subjects. Whether those operations occur in Indonesia, high orbit or on Mars, the flaw lies in the basic structure of the relationship.

Someone is being worked to death so that someone else, distant or otherwise isolated from this material reality, can profit.

Arbrau

OK, now you're just throwing shapes at a background.

It is inevitable that the bloc we are told the most about should be the one that owns the territory in which the story begins. Chryse is an Arbrau colony; ergo, it is with the Arbrau government that Kudelia must negotiate in order to improve the lot of her fellow Martians. Season 1 is about reaching the heart of this bloc's power, the parliament in Edmonton, Alberta, an aim that morphs into restoring Togonosuke Makanai to the office of prime minister and stymieing the machinations of his Gjallarhorn-backed rival, Henri Fleurs. At last, we can take a look at how Iron-Blooded Orphans conceptualises the political functions of its quartered Earth.

Gundam Wiki states that Arbrau "appears to be a parliamentary democracy" and, while I occasionally have cause to take issue with the editors at that site, this is entirely correct. There is a parliament, as mentioned, a prime minister, a debating chamber, and elections. It is an overtly civilian institution, in contrast to Gjallarhorn's militaristic aristocracy. It is overtly civilised, in the sense of being a bunch of people in business suits ruling a nation.

I should clarify immediately, not least because this threw me on first viewing, that it is not the form of parliamentary democracy found in modern-day Canada. The way the election of the prime minister works is modelling (unsurprisingly) on the Japanese system, where the legislative body holds responsibility for nominating someone to that position (rather than it being de-facto filled by the leader of the dominant party). Hence Makanai and Fleurs courting the support of various ministers and the election being entirely contained within the bounds of the sitting government.

In the epilogue to the series, Lasker Alessi talks about having a constituency, hoping Takaki will take over from him there in the future. We can take from this that Arbrau is a representative parliamentary democracy (not a given; parliaments can operate without representing the citizenry), and therefore that it is more or less the assumed default in the context where the show was written. This is what politics is 'supposed' to look like.

These markers of familiarity are worth bearing in mind when considering the ways Arbrau is depicted as being overtly sympathetic. Makanai has long championed greater economic freedom for the Chryse region; indeed, Arbrau was the first of the blocs to grant limited autonomy to its Martian colonies, some hundred odd years prior to the present. The parliament members respond favourably to Kudelia's landmark speech before them. Later, Alessi takes Takaki on as his protegee, and Edmonton is where the Human Debris Abolishment Treaty is signed.

Furthermore, Chyrse is the only colonial holding Arbrau is shown to possess. While Governor Norman Bernstein is a craven, cowardly man who sells out his own daughter, he is also depicted as being in Gjallarhorn's pocket, part of the (textual, actual) corruption miring the governance of Mars. It is Gjallarhorn who work to uphold the present colonial arrangements, opposing those more open to change. They are behind Fleurs and her temporary ousting of Makanai. Lord Iznario Fareed might be acting for his own personal gain, but he also represents the factions who wish for things to continue as they are, in opposition to McGillis's revolutionary movement and Rustal Elion's (eventual) reforms.

If Arbrau has its own equivalent of the Dort Company, this is kept off-screen. Is it reasonable to assume it does? We know from Urdr Hunt that Dort is one colony management company among many -- the Omden Colony Company is arguably even worse -- so it's far from implausible that Arbrau would have a similar arrangement with its own set of industrial colonies. There is also mention of an 'Outer Sphere Development Corporation' on Mars, which sounds very much like what you would name something that went around exploiting poorer nations for the betterment of shareholders in richer ones. And besides, Chryse has definitely not done well out of Arbrau's nominal stewardship. Abandoning the colony to Gjallarhorn's rule speaks to how little regard has been shown to the people living there, not to mention that while Makanai says his belief in advancing their cause is long-held, it has amounted to very little concrete difference over the course of his presumably lengthy career. Kudelia's trip to Earth is a clearly necessary spur to action.

Action results, though. The restrictions on Chryse are eased, a step toward Mars becoming an independent state. Arbrau is the vanguard of a change in attitude towards the red planet. Perhaps then we should ask why this bloc among the four would be the one to begin this process (beyond the mere narrative convenience of 'that's where the majority of the cast come from').

As I alluded to at the top of this post, I struggle to see the sense in joining Canada, Alaska, Russia and Svalbard together when you're also combining India and China, the entirety of Europe with the entirety of Africa, and the majority of the Americas into one. It really doesn't follow from modern population distributions, nor can I imagine it being an easy stretch of geography to manage. That it should be ruled from Edmonton is additionally baffling; it's not like Russia doesn't have existing civic infrastructure, placed at an awkward distance from this capital.

We can of course attempt to fill in the blanks. We might say a large number of refugees were displaced north during the Calamity War, fleeing densely populated areas for the relative safety of Russian and Canadian wildernesses. There is something compelling about this idea, that Gjallarhorn had to redraw the map simply based on where people ended up once the dust settled.

But let's take Arbrau as given: an expanse of tundra, connected by trains the prime minister doesn't seem to have known were there. Even admitting there are a great many large cities continued within its borders and assuming an increased population, it looks paltry in comparison to the other blocs, seeming to lack large amounts of colonial territory and needing to create a defence force from the ground up when tensions escalate. Where the SAU and the African Union display pre-existing mobile suit stockpiles (placed in the hands of the SAU military and the Dort Company, respectively), Arbrau must buy new 'suits from Gjallarhorn and rely on mercenary groups like Tekkadan to train its recruits.

Overall, everything we learn of Arbrau makes it appear weaker than its counterparts and maybe that in itself is why it should be at the forefront of letting go of Mars. Empires are only worthwhile so long as the costs are outweighed by the gains. A weaker bloc is less likely to make that equation work. Ergo, once Chryse is more trouble than it's worth -- say, because the governor's daughter just parked a paramilitary group run by teenagers on the front lawn -- letting it go becomes an inevitability.

As much as Makanai is broadly on the side of our protagonists, he remains an ambiguous character. He is openly self-serving, threatening Tekkadan into assisting him and frequently espousing a hard-hearted, cynical world-view. If he wasn't just flattering Kudelia, then he genuinely gave little thought to the infrastructure that operated at the ground-level of his nation. He later goes on to treat a greater sense of the moral weight of his actions (following a brush with death) as a personal failing. Given all this, it is unfeasible he would act without considering the economic realities of possessing colonies, good and bad. Thus, his decision to support Kudelia must also benefit Arbrau, freeing them of an economic burden and -- perhaps -- sowing discord among Arbrau's rivals.

This is, once again, speculation, filling space in the narrative where details are not required. To return to my earlier point, the nature of the blocs is far less important than their presence as oppressive forces. They and their representatives signify wealth and power imposing itself upon a wider world. Indeed, signifiers of wealth take the place of any technicalities of the colonial system. The Governor's residence in Chryse is of a piece with Dort 3 and even with Rubian Zahn's castle. This is what the ruling class looks like, in Iron-Blooded Orphans, and the visual obviates the need for explanation.

The Arbrau parliament is the same kind of shorthand. The image of a reasonable political system that, though it may suffer from bad actors, can still be gamed to create good results. It's only natural for it to resemble the form of government socially agreed upon to be correct, by dint of it being the one outside.

Yet, as with everything else IBO does, there is a pleasing degree of problematisation on display. Makanai is the only significant human face provided for the blocs and he is, beneath his oft-times jovial affect, a cold, aloof pragmatist who acts to secure his own position first and foremost, personal beliefs subject to the flow of power around him. His status as a helpful, progressive figure is tinged by his being at home within the broader context. Reasonable and proper though parliamentary democracy is in principle, the reality is still assumed to be unpleasant.

Indeed, can a 'democracy' that owns/owned colonies be anything else?

Cartographical gestures

Let's get this out of the way: the economic blocs as depicted are exactly as fleshed-out as the block-colour map shown in episode 4. That is to say, they are shorthand for global superpowers engaged in a vast, sprawling competition. There is little culture, political nuance, or comprehensible structure instilled into them. These are simply not things Iron-Blooded Orphans cares about exploring and there's no connective tissue to be 'decoded' from what we're shown.

As ever, we can speculate wildly (and have a lot of fun doing so), and unpick what the sketched background tell us about the creators' assumptions and approach. We can question how they envision government bodies, military build-up, American criminality, even what 'rich' looks like. But it is important to be able to step back and really grasp what we are looking at.

The episode 4 map is there to inform the audience that the world is divided between massive superpowers, that the division was enacted by Gjallarhorn, and that the results define where and why our heroes are going on their journey. The actual details of the division are irrelevant. Further, the differences between the blocs are far less significant than their similarities. At the start of the show, they all possess colonies, they can all be assumed to be party to oppressive acts, we have no reason to think their systems of government differ much (they were all set up by the same group of people, at the same time), and their reactions to developments in the setting are of a piece. They even release their hold on Mars in unison! Arbrau gets cast in a more positive light than the others, but that has more to do with Makanai's role as a (relatively) reasonable authority figure. It's not hard to imagine the introduction of equally reasonable characters representing the other blocs, with no change to the underlying message that the blocs at large are callous, indifferent, and imperialistic.

Suffice to say, I think this is the right decision for the story Iron-Blooded Orphans is telling. It is also an entirely unremarkable move, hand-waving a larger world as justification for a particular plot. But I find myself considering the a conceptual floor represented by that map. A geopolitical why underlying Makanai's behaviour is not extant because the story is about the difficulty of reaching those in power with pleas for improvement. Within this framework, he just is a supporter of Martian autonomy and that's that. Digging beneath this is writing fan-fic, not extracting 'lore' or canonical detail.

Ultimately, I take from that a lesson in a piece of fiction's priorities. We have here a marker of a certain geopolitical relationship, within a tale about oppression primarily told from the perspective of the oppressed, that is not strictly concerned with the mechanics of said relationship but rather what it entails.

The map is wallpaper.

Interesting, simplistic, potentially insensitive wallpaper that can be used as the basis for some good stories.

Yet wallpaper all the same.

[Index of other writing]

#gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #reference #notes #arbrau #SAU #oceanian federation #african union #dort company #Togonosuke Makanai #fictional politics #flags

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