#towards other world powers with proper armies

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

this is sort of similar to the post abt how it's interesting that wardens are called "wardens," but one other title detail i think is really interesting is that kamado's title is commander. and also that the captains are captains, which when placed against commander makes it obvious that the galaxy team is using military ranks. i mean i think it's partially to tie them further in with the modern day team galactic, but still. kamado's very clear objective is peace. so why use a ranking system that's generally very non-associated with it?

[totally-a-different-person]

Could you do future tomxtordxedd?

Sure why not, also I'm only just realizing this now that I've finished it but I should stop writing smuts that take place in red leader's office, I don't know why it's like my brain's go to every time he's mentioned (nsft past this point proceed at your own risk)

Edd scoffed, leaning back "you're kidding." It was an accusation, not a guess. "Why in the world would I ever want to stay with you?" "Because it's that or prison, Edd."

He sounded frustrated, and desperate "I just- I don't understand why we even have to have this debate" the norsk opened his hands, but Edd just rolled his eyes "You're too dangerous to let go, you know that, but please don't make me lock you up. You could rule with me, by my side, imagine the power you'd have, don't you want that?"

"No, Tord... I don't" He looked away, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He didn't even want to make eye contact with Tom. Edd thought he had been killed when he was captured, but he was just like his secretary or something?? Is that what Tord wanted him to do too?

He just didn't understand why Tom wouldn't try to find a way to contact him, or escape, just anything. Tord sighed, putting his hands together again and sitting back in his seat. "Please don't be like this, what can I do to convince you? You can have all the cola you want, you don't have to participate in any of the army stuff if you don't want to"

Edd glared at the ground, no longer really crossing his arms but hugging himself now. Tord was obviously beginning to get frustrated looking at Tom as if asking if he knew what to do. So finally, the tallest of the three did speak up "Ringo can come, and she'll be kept completely safe" "of course! I would never let anything happen to her-"

"I don't want her anywhere near you! She's not coming, and neither am I." Tord threw his arms up "you would rather go to prison than have to work with me!? Even if it meant you could live like a king, you don't care??" Edd felt tears starting to well up in his eyes, quickly squeezing them shut and shaking his head.

Tom seemed to wilt slightly at this, frowning softly and taking a few steps toward Edd and gently putting a hand on his shoulder "hey-" "I just- I don't understand how you can expect me to after everything" his voice cracked slightly. Even after all this time it still felt the exact same to be comforted by Tom as it always had, and for a moment Edd totally forgot he was upset with him too.

"I know it's a lot, and I'm really sorry it has to be like this, Tord's been trying to keep you from getting hurt since he started all of this though, and you keep almost dying because you won't stop fighting back. I told him I wouldn't let him lock you up- but if it's between that or you getting killed I don't have much of a choice" he spoke softly, his voice was a little more horse than it used to be but it was always a bit raspy.

Edd huffed and leaned away from him "You never should have joined him in the first place, I wouldn't be in so much danger all the time if I wasn't alone" he retorted, sort of snapping, but he still just looked sad, and Tom couldn't bring himself to be angry.

"Edd I'm so sorry" he hugged him, which was sort of a surprise, Edd had known the other since sixth grade and could count the number of proper willing hugs from him on one hand. That could have been part of why he was so quick to melt into it, hugging back and burying his face in Tom's shoulder as he sniffled. That or the fact that it was one the first actual conversations they'd had since he left.

Tord watched in silence for another few seconds while Tom squeezed the little brit, letting him cry. "You understand that we just don't want anything bad to happen to you, will you please come with us?" He went out of his way to include Tom that time, since Edd seemed to want him back so bad.

The demon moved away from the hug only by a step so he could speak "I... I don't know..." He seemed very hesitant, but that was still much better than before, and now Tord had an idea.

He got up and came around the desk and Tom took another step back from him so he was just looking at Tord.

"Come here, how about this, ok?" He sort of guided him to stand next to his desk. Edd seemed confused, and even slightly hesitant to let Tord touch him when the man gently grabbed his arm.

At least he used his human one, Edd couldn't help but be relieved. He still wasn't used to the robot one. While he was in thought about that though, Tord simply leaned down to kiss him like it was totally normal and something they had done a million times before. It wasn't though, so obviously Edd was startled and quickly leaned back, but effectively pinned himself between Tord and the desk when the leader just took a step closer as well.

The artist's face was bright red, staring up at him confused and considerably shaken up "what are you doing??" He asked, voice cracking slightly. "Ah, perhaps I should have been more clear"

He said that, but in truth his actions were all very intentional. "If you stayed with us, you could act as our husband, and you wouldn't have to worry about anything else. That would be your job, and I'd do everything in my power, which is just about everything" there was a sort of sick twist to his grin as he said that part "to make you happy here and get you whatever you want"

He leaned in again, not kissing him but getting very close. Edd seemed very very taken back by this. He looked from Tord to Tom, who didn't seem phased. His whole face was bright red and he looked away from them. This was weird... Wrong. He shouldn't be actually considering this, not after everything.

He was just tired, that had to be it. He was so exhausted, the idea of giving in was starting to appeal to him. "You wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore, we'd take care of everything. Wouldn't it be nice to relax?" It was as if Tord had read his mind, gently taking Edd's chin and making him look into his eyes. The shorter blushed deeper, playing with his hands a bit.

"I-I mean... Of course, but I'm not sure..." He mumbled, averting his eyes. Tord smirked a bit "that's fine Edd, how about I show you what it'll be like, and then you can decide?" He placed the robot hand on Edd's hip and glanced back at Tom who nodded.

The brunette seemed a little surprised, cheeks burning deep scarlet "ah... I guess" he spoke softly and Tord grinned "fantastic" he kissed Edd again, moving his hand to cup the boys cheek which was slightly more affectionate than holding his chin.

Edd still seemed sort of hesitant, at first he did at least, though soon slowly melted into it. His lips were so soft, they tasted like cola and cherry chapstick, it was adorable and honestly Tord already wanted to bite and bruise them, but he had to be very careful with how he went about this. So he would wait.

The kiss slowly became heated, Tord pushing his tongue into the boy's mouth and tilting his head slightly as Edd grabbed the desk behind him with one hand, the other holding onto Red Leader's jacket. He was admittedly a little taken back, having thought it would be a simple kiss. He wasn't surprised though, it was Tord after all, he shouldn't have expected anything less. He was more surprised by how good he was, really, the sweet kiss almost left him light headed.

After just another moment Edd would have to pull away, taking a few shaking breaths as he looked away, face bright red. It was embarrassing how much he enjoyed that, the metal hand holding him only slightly tighter as Tord looked to Tom, nodding to the other side of the desk then turned his attention back to Edd, mumbling "come here" as he scooped him up, much to his surprise.

"Hey!-" "Relax." He set him on the desk "Just thought this would be easier if you were a little closer in height, you haven't exactly grown much since I last saw you" the norsk teased with a dark chuckle, pushing some of the papers off of his desk.

Edd blushed a bit and glared at him "well you haven't either, you just started wearing platform boots" he spat back and it actually seemed to strike a bit of a nerve, Tom trying to stifle his own laughter as he gently helped Edd slip his overcoat off.

Tord sighed, his expression of mild annoyance fading as ran his hands up under Edd's sweater, the boy flinching at the cold metal against his soft warm flesh, causing him to shiver a bit, getting goosebumps. Tom leaned in to gently kiss his neck, letting his teeth graze the skin as Edd gasped softly. He hadn't expected it but seemed absolutely fine with it, leaning back slightly to press against him a little better.

Tord watched with a little smirk, the brunette helping a bit as Tord took his sweater off as well as his shirt, just letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. As Edd was focused on the fact that Tord was letting the robot hand fall lower, down to between his legs. But Tom took advantage of his guard being down and bit into his neck with his abnormally sharp teeth, earning a gorgeous noise that was somewhere between a squeal and a moan.

He was quick to cover his mouth, whole face bright red. Tord laughed and gently moved his hand away, Edd whining a bit. "no no" the taller spoke softly, smirking as he switched the vibrating function in his hand on, which honestly seemed to startle both the other two. He grinned proudly.

"Pretty cool yeah?" Chuckling as he rubbed and palmed Edd's number through his pants, watching him fall apart so quickly, desperately grabbing onto Tom's arms while the man continued kissing and nibbling his neck, licking the fresh bite marks as the sub gave a high pitched moan.

"Wha-what is-" he choked, looking at Tord in confusion and the man just hummed, using his other hand to unzip the boy's pants so he didn't have to stop rubbing him "yeah, made this thing myself and thought it might come in handy" he said it like it was the most simple thing in the world, slipping it into his pants to stroke his member directly, as well as turning the vibrating higher.

Edd gave a loud, broken moan and hid his face in Tord's shoulder. Tom rubbed his sides in a comforting manner as he completely slipped his bottoms off, letting them fall as well leaving the brunette naked. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself though, spreading his legs some and trying to rock his hips into Tord's hand as he panted and moaned.

"That's a good boy~" the younger coed as he continued to pleasure his friend, looking down at him lovingly before his eye flicked up to Tom as the man opened up his drawer, getting one of the small bottles of lube the leader kept.

Tord hummed softly and looked back to Edd "hey, I need you to tilt your hips up a bit for me kjæreste" he whispered, watching as the artist took his face from his shoulder, clearly trying to not make as much noise as he had been but Tord wasn't exactly giving him a break. He did as he was told, making it much easier for Tom to access his hole, said man opening the bottle of lubricant as they spoke. "Like that...?"

Tord nodded and kissed his head "yes that's perfect, such a good boy for me" he purred giving his member a little squeeze and turning the intensity of the vibrating up again for a good few seconds as he rubbed the tip with his thumb as a reward for being so obedient.

Edd moaned out loudly as he did, leaning back into Tom and nuzzling into his neck with a whine. He was starting to get close to his first orgasm.

Tom chuckled softly, his eye lights mostly focused on the sweet little brunette's face as it contorted in bliss while he gently pushed two of his now lubed up fingers inside of him, pressing against his walls as he slowly pumped them in and out. The cola lover gave a light gasp before biting his lip to muffle a sweet moan.

Edd was making nonstop noises, slowly increasing in volume and pitch as he continued receiving so much attention, his hips occasionally bucking or twitching, Tom adding another finger. Tord realized he was getting close, and honestly part of him was very very tempted to stop, make him beg for the right to cum, but he had to be patient. Play the long game.

This was about giving Edd exactly what he wanted and making him want to stay. So once he was more comfortable, he could indulge the part of Edd that loved being controlled and dominated, but so much had changed and even if he knew that was still what Edd wanted deep down, he didn't want to try too soon and scare him off.

So he settled for something safer and just as effective in terms of melting the sub's brain. He leaned in to kiss his cheek before nibbling his on his ear a bit, electing a soft shaking breath from Edd, then whispered "go on vakker, I know your close, be a good boy and cum for me~" the leader spoke very sweetly.

He wondered briefly in the back of his mind how many orgasms Edd could take, as well as how many it would take for him to break and want to stay. Hopefully he could find the answers to both very soon.

His words had the exact effect on Edd that he hoped they would, the boy giving a broken whine, shutting his eyes tight and melting into Tom. Tom let him, rubbing his hip sweetly while his other hand pressed into the brit's prostate with three fingers causing him to jolt and cry out as he came on Tord's hand, panting and mewling softly before being kissed again by red.

This time there was no hesitation in kissing back, holding onto his shit tighter he did, feeling the metal hand switch off and let him go. Edd panted softly as the kiss broke, again leaning back against Tom. "You ready dove?" Tom asked softly, eye lights gazing down at him as he nodded pretty quickly.

He kissed the brunette's cheek as he took his fingers back, having him spread his legs as Tord took his belt off. He dropped it and slipped his own jacket off before unzipping his black jeans and taking his already hard dick into his hand, pressing it gently against Edd's hole, watching the sub flush bright red. "Let me know if you need me to stop or slow down, ok?" He whispered softly, Edd nodding in response.

It was sort of embarrassing how quickly he'd fallen victim to their advances, he hadn't meant to at all. It had just... Been a long time since someone else had touched him, he was... Sensitive. It felt so nice, he was ashamed thinking about it, but he couldn't deny that he really really wanted this.

Tord was honestly a little bigger than Edd would've guessed, having to bite his lip a little as it was pushed inside of him, wincing quietly and trying his best to relax. It felt so good to be filled through, even with the slight stretch, he was panting and whining as it pushed deeper.

Tord didn't waste a second, he did initially push inside pretty slow but didn't even slip the whole thing in before pulling back and starting to thrust in and out of Edd, who was now moaning loudly. He would give sweet, very content sounding moans every time it was shoved back inside of him.

Tord wasn't going too fast, but was still thrusting hard, setting a nice rhythm and giving a breathy chuckle as he watched the brunette. "Awe, you like that?~" he punctuated his words with an especially hard thrust causing Edd's voice to break as he quickly nodded, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

"I told you you would," Tord grinned, going faster now as he pounded the shorter "and just look at you, such a good boy, taking it so well~" Edd gasped feeling the leader's human hand take and gently started stroking his weeping cock. He gave a broken moan, cute little dick twitching at the attention, he could feel a second climax building.

"Do you want more baby?~" the norsk purred, glancing at Tom as he did. Edd followed his look and quickly nodded, giving the soldier a pleading look. He seems hesitant though, not sure it was a good idea "I... Don't know, are you sure he can take that much?" His eye lights flicked from Tord down to Edd as he spoke.

Said man huffed softly "I can take it, please Tom?" He begged softly, and Tord was ecstatic.

This was perfect, it literally possibly couldn't be going better. He kept his overwhelming joy to himself, but was very proud of himself and his plan. Tom's face went pink as Edd spoke, the man giving him puppy dog eyes as he leaned into him a bit more. "I guess it'll be alright" he spoke sort of softly, the lights now looking to the side.

"Fantastic" Tord smiled and started thrust again without any kind of warning, making Edd nearly jump out of his skin, surprised moan getting caught in his throat.

Edd could feel his climax rapidly approaching a second time, moaning and whimpering loudly as he was fucked. He could hear Tom fiddling with his jeans behind him as he got his dick out. "I-I'm-" was all he managed to mumble before he came, whining and squeezing his eyes shut tight. Tord didn't give him a break to catch his breath, if anything it felt like he was purposely pushing it deeper.

That wasn't going to be allowed at all once Edd agreed to stay, cumming without permission, but there was time for that later. You have to earn something before you can be in charge of it after all.

Now lubed up Tom grabbed Edd by the hips and positioned himself to start slowly pushing in. Tord did stop to let him, the shortest of the three panting heavily. Tom was even bigger than Tord was, both of them at once left him dizzy as it slowly pressed inside.

It honestly hurt a lot, Edd sort of wiggled as he tried to adjust. Tom very sweetly and gently kissed their sub's neck as he pushed deeper, he whispered "stay still for me Eddie..." The way the brunette squeezed around him was so fantastic.

Finally they were both completely inside of him and it felt so fantastic, it was by far the most he had ever taken at once and it definitely kind of hurt, but he felt so unbelievably stuffed and Tom was pressed right into his prostate. He couldn't even think, just whimpering and panting, giving quiet moans.

Once he was adjusted enough Tord started moving and Tom followed. It was a really weird sensation at first because it was almost impossible to get used to, Tord went right back to plowing him, even harder than before even. Tom on the other hand started fairly slowly, giving long thrusts to give Edd lots of time to adjust to his length.

The artist let his head fall back as he cried out, moaning loudly and arching his back slightly. Tord pushed his legs a bit further, holding the underside of his thighs as he pounded the shorter man who was sobbing at this point just giving little strings of incoherent nonsense and please for more. Tord had been close before but had to stop to let Tom in safely, it only took moments for his climax to build back up, panting as he thrusted, watching Edd melt for them.

It was perfect, he leaned a bit with a wide smirk on his face "you could... feel this good whenever you want," it was a little hard for him to keep a steady voice as he spoke "We'd take such good care of you, just say you wanna stay~" he instructed sweetly, Edd giving a desperate little whine.

"That's a good boy, go ahead and say it. You wanna stay here and be our cute little husband to fuck and use?~" Edd nodded quickly, mumbling "m-mhm!~ I do!~" he moaned sweetly, it was all he could muster.

"Good boy~" Tord grinned, pushing as deep as he could before cumming inside of him, Edd screaming as he was filled, Tom getting hard and faster all the while, he was getting closer to another orgasm himself by the second.

Tom felt a little weird about Tord getting Edd to agree to stay like this, he very obviously wasn't thinking clearly, but he didn't say anything. They could talk about it later.

Edd came again, starting to feel the overstimulation as they continued, starting to feel the dull pain in his hips. They pumped a few more rounds into him, just going until he said he couldn't take any more.

So, Tord had Tom help clean him up, being very gentle with him before calling somebody to come clean up the office. In the meantime they took Edd to their room. Tord has his own bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen that was connected to his office. Tom had his own room that was much nicer than the other soldiers' rooms but it was only a bedroom, and he spent most of his time in Tord's anyway.

They all got comfortable and cuddled up in the large comfortable bed in Tord's room, Edd passing out almost immediately in the warm comfortable embrace of his wonderful lovers, the other two soon to follow.

[weaveandwood]

The Bard and The Blade Chapter 3: A Reckoning

Wyll/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

The gang meets Karlach and Wyll finds out that his pactholder has not been as forthcoming as he thought.

Suddenly, flames and an oily black substance surrounded Wyll, engulfing him. Lightning storms raced across his body, followed by a lick of flames, repeating over and over. He was screaming as if he was being dragged across all the Hells. She looked around - everyone was frozen in fear. Somebody had to do something, and who better than her? It was a lesson she learned throughout her childhood. She couldn’t depend on someone else to save the day - she had to do it herself. She lunged forward, only to be held back by Gale, who had moved closer while Mizora was monologuing

Wyll was adrift in a sea of doubt and half truths. Rosalind had immediately seen the situation for what it was and shouted at him to stand down, that Karlach was not a devil but a tiefling who had been enlisted into Zariel’s army against her will. Once he saw the tiefling’s memories through the tadpole connection, he knew . He knew Karlach wasn’t a devil. He knew he had been deceived. He knew he had been lied to by the person who held his strings, who controlled his contract, who allowed him to access his powers through their pact. And he knew the refusal to slay his charge would come at a steep price.

He was in a somber mood that night at camp. No matter how many jokes Gale tried to crack or how much teasing Astarion did, nothing could seem to raise his spirits. He was left waiting, wondering when his judgment would come. He knew it would, and likely soon - his patron didn’t like to wait. 

“Hey,” Rosalind said as she sat next to him on the ground in what he was starting to refer to as their spot in his head, as silly as it was. 

“I’m afraid you’ll find me in poor spirits tonight,” he said, sitting his still-full bowl down on the ground beside him and looking toward the heavens. If only he had been able to make a pact with a god and not a cambion on that fateful day so many years ago. Had he swung his blade at other beings that were undeserving while he was blinded by duty and without the one benefit of the tadpole connecting them all? The thought wouldn’t leave his mind, guilt gnawing at the corners of his conscience. 

“That’s okay, I just thought you’d like some company, even if it’s just to sit in silence together. Bad moods are likely to turn into worse moods when a person is left alone. Learned that one myself last night,” she smiled, leaning into him to bump his shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Forgive me, then. A reckoning is coming, Rosalind. I suspect the veil will be lifted and I will be forced to pay my penance tonight,” he said wearily, thoughts of his punishment and how it would be exacted having run through his head since they began their walk toward camp that evening. 

“What kind of reckoning?” she asked. He could hear the nerves in her voice. 

He sighed, still staring at the stars, small pinpricks on a navy blanket. “You’re not in any danger, I promise you that. Though I can’t say the same for me.”

The ground started to rumble. Black, inky tendrils swirled, reaching toward the sky from a spot near the campfire. He heard Rosalind gasp, and saw the rest of the party snap their heads to the disturbance within the space they thought was safe, protected from the outside world. How he hated to be the one to break that illusion. 

“Hellfire. She’s coming,” he said with quiet resignation. He stood up and walked toward the disturbance, Rosalind and Karlach following closely behind. He still owed Karlach a proper apology for all of the torment he put her through - perhaps whatever was about to happen would be a first step in righting the wrongs he had directed her way. 

Fire erupted inside the inky disturbance, an oily black figure appearing in the center before revealing herself to be a cambion - Mizora, his patron. Gods, how he hated her. 

“Wyll, you’ve been naughty,” she cooed. “And you know what happens when you’ve been naughty.”

******

Rosalind looked the cambion up and down. Weirdly low cut dress, heavy gold jewelry, creepy seductive nature - it was all she could do to not roll her eyes, really. She took a deep breath, knowing she needed to take this seriously, even if the villain in question was a tacky try-hard. 

Mizora went on and on and on about something or other - Rosalind might have tuned out when she got into the specifics of the pact - contract law was never something that even registered as remotely interesting to her, but then something Wyll said brought her back to the conversation at hand, and she saw red. 

A technicality? 

Wyll was getting punished over a technicality. Fucking contracts, fucking cambions, fucking Mizora . Karlach didn’t have a beating heart in her chest, so that made her fair game. Rosalind made a mental note to figure out a way to make Mizora pay for whatever she was planning on doing to Wyll. 

Suddenly, flames and an oily black substance surrounded Wyll, engulfing him. Lightning storms raced across his body, followed by a lick of flames, repeating over and over. He was screaming as if he was being dragged across all the Hells. She looked around - everyone was frozen in fear. Somebody had to do something, and who better than her? It was a lesson she learned throughout her childhood. She couldn’t depend on someone else to save the day - she had to do it herself. She lunged forward, only to be held back by Gale, who had moved closer while Mizora was monologuing. 

“Rosalind, no!” he whispered. “Wyll will survive this. You would not.”

“You mean to tell me I should do nothing ? That we should just stand here and let her torture him?” she hissed as a bright glow erupted from the ground, swirling tightly around a now groaning Wyll. She pulled against Gale’s hold, but it only caused him to grip her arm tighter. Gods dammit, she thought, only able to watch as Wyll now stood up. He seemed uninjured, but he had…changed. Rosalind's eyes grew wide as she took in his new form - large horns sprouting from his forehead, ridges on his skin. A black eye with a red pupil instead of his large, beautiful brown one that she had grown so fond of looking into these past couple days. Her mind started flying, thumbing through all of the stories she had taken in through her life. Surely she knew something, anything of this type of magic. There had to be a way to reverse this, to get him back to his old self, to - 

“Get used to the new look, pet, there’ll be no going back. Even some magic I can’t undo,” Mizora said. Well, that answered that. Rosalind scowled at Mizora, though she doubted she was even noticed. All Mizora saw was Wyll. “Don’t forget, the pact still stands! Ta-ta!” she called out as that oily black substance coated her and she disappeared. Oh, she would be sure to make Mizora pay for this, somehow. 

She looked at Wyll, who glanced her way before shaking his head and taking off, out of the camp. 

“Wyll doesn’t even know me and he chose my life over his. No one has ever stood up for me like that,” Karlach said softly from beside her.

“He’s a good man,” Rosalind replied, watching the direction Wyll took off. “You must be relieved.”

“Absolutely, I could learn a thing or two from him,” she nodded, then her gaze followed Rosalind’s. “You should go. See how he is.”

 ******

Wyll was furious. He had never expected Mizora to be completely honest with him, but this? This seemed below even her. He hated her, but he had also misjudged her - even after all this time he still retained a bit of naivete about her. That was gone now, his guilt and shock now replaced with a burning anger. And the way Rosalind had looked at him would not escape his memory - eyes wide with shock as she took in his new form. She must think he was a monster. He hit the tree he was leaning against with his fist. Over before anything began , he thought, his good eye misting over as he blinked rapidly. 

“Wyll? Are you here?” he heard her call out. Part of him wanted to remain silent and stay hidden, but a bigger part of him wanted to see her. He stepped around the tree and his anger disappeared, gone without a trace. The moonlight was bright enough they didn’t need any spells or torches to light their way, and oh, did she look ever so beautiful bathed in it. Her hair had taken on a silvery hue and her skin was illuminated as if she were a star that had fallen from the heavens just to find him. He smiled to himself as he was taken right back to being a sixteen year-old boy again with a song in his heart and a crush he thought would last forever.

“Over here,” he called out, raising his hand. He could see the smile appear on her face when she turned to look at him. It wasn’t the smile of someone who thought the other person was a monster.

“How are you doing with all the…changes?” she asked when she got to his tree, motioning up to his horns with her eyes. 

He laughed a bitter laugh. “Well first of all, gods damn Mizora straight back to the Hells. I did the right thing, and she made me pay for it. I was to be hunting down evils - demons, devils, traitors, hypocrites. Not…not victims. Not innocent tieflings. Not people like Karlach.”

She nodded as she leaned her back against the tree beside him. “I mean, she is a devil - not exactly the most trustworthy. You’re probably lucky she didn’t take your soul or something. Why is she so interested in you? Why would she do this?”

He sighed. He wanted to tell her everything, but just the thought of doing so made a heavy weight fall on his chest, and it felt like his airway was cut off. His mind raced, quickly thinking of how to tell her about the pact without going into too many details. He took a deep breath. 

“Mizora is who grants me my power. Even though she is…well, you saw what she is, everything I have done has been for the good of the Coast. I do not regret pacting myself to her. It is one of my proudest moments, and has been worth the sacrifice - even this.” He paused before continuing, “please know that all I can give you is my solemn word about this, and I hope that’s enough.” Gods, he wanted to reach out and touch her - her hand, her arm, her face, anything for a brief bit of contact. A small comforting moment that he was not sure he deserved, but wanted anyway. 

He watched as she looked up at the moon, her brow furrowed in thought before she finally nodded. “I get it,” she said. “You wouldn’t have been able to do all the good you’ve been doing for all these years without it, even with its cost to yourself.” She looked at him. “Do you ever think, though…what your life might have been like had you not pacted with Mizora?” 

“Of course I have. Though every time I do, I realize my life would have been completely unremarkable, following in my father’s footsteps along a path he laid out for me, making no grand achievements of my own. No bards would sing songs about a normal man in Baldur’s Gate, though I’m not sure if many sing about the Blade of Frontiers,” he joked, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Besides, I would take one hundred punishments from Mizora if it meant I would be where I am right now, at this moment,” he said with a serious tone as he found himself drawn in to the way her eyes reflected the moonlight back at him, the way they creased when she smiled. They were ever-changing - now they shone silver and blue, but he knew when the sun broke the horizon they would shine blue and gold like the morning sky. 

He heard her breath catch while a soft smile lit up her face and her eyes darted back and forth between his own before traveling up to his horns, over the new ridges on his face, down to his lips, where they settled briefly before looking back into his eyes. He started to reach his hand out and over towards her, just for the slightest hope their pinkies would brush together. It would be so easy to play it off as an accident, an involuntary twitch that ended with their fingers interlaced. He pictured them walking hand in hand back to the camp, him pressing a gentle kiss to her hand as they parted to go back to their respective tents. He sighed and scolded himself internally. He could not give in to these desires on a night tainted by Mizora. Even though his heart practically leapt out of his chest every time he saw her. Even though he found himself never wanting to be apart from her. Even though it had only been a few days since they met officially, he felt like he had known her since he was sixteen. 

“We should probably head back,” she whispered after a moment’s silence, breaking eye contact and taking a step away from the tree they were both leaning on. This time she was the one putting distance between them. “Don’t want the others to get worried.” 

She started to walk down the path back to camp. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something white and luminous on the ground - a patch of moonflowers, their small petals surrounded by green leaves that were a brilliant blue in this moonlight, a flower reflecting the heavens themselves. These don’t typically grow this far south. What great fortune I have on such an abysmal night , he thought as he plucked one quickly and hurried to catch up to Rosalind, walking beside her in amiable silence as they made their way back. The glow from the campfire grew brighter and brighter, mimicking the smile on his own face as he anticipated giving her his small token of appreciation. Rosalind turned to look at him, catching his expression before he could mask it. 

“What is going on?” she asked, her eyes squinted at him in teasing suspicion. “You look like you’re about to play a trick on me.”

Wyll laughed, placing his empty hand over his heart in mock offense while the other remained firmly tucked behind his back. “Rosalind, you wound me!” He smiled as he held out the single moonflower. “No jest here, just my honest and sincere thanks to you. How glad I am that you see me as more than my patron's pet. You have shown me true friendship tonight. I will always remember this.”

She took the moonflower and smiled. He thought he noticed a hint of pink on her cheeks, though he couldn’t be positive if it wasn’t just the campfire’s glow. 

“Thank you, Wyll. It’s beautiful. I…I better go find some water for this,” she stammered as she started to back away, her smile growing larger and larger before she turned and walked toward her tent, only to be intercepted.

“ Elminster’s beard! Is that a moonflower? All the way down here - where did you find it? Did you know…” 

Wyll shook his head, throwing an apologetic look at Rosalind as she made eye contact with him from across the camp as he heard Gale starting to explain the history of the flower and its magical properties. He turned and went to his tent while Gale attempted to make the flower glow for Rosalind - “if it is a strain related to those in Silverymoon,” he heard the wizard say. 

As he drifted off to sleep that night, thoughts of Mizora were the furthest thing from his mind, replaced by a comforting melody that had been playing through his head for the past seven years.

[illarian-rambling]

Wip Introduction: Master and Apprentice (placeholder title)

So I figured I'd do a proper intro since I've been talking about it so much recently. Master and Apprentice is a project I started sometime last year, but I was in the middle of finishing Honor's Outcasts book 3 at the same time, so it kinda got left in the dust. I'm not sure how far I'll go with it now, however, I'm willing to give the ole college try!

The What: MandA centers around two sets of masters and apprentices, predictably. Heshorian is a master alchemist with the goal of being able to transmute dirty water into clean water. At the beginning of the story, he takes in a young man named Bayl after he steals Heshorian's coat. The other titular master is Daila, a necromancer. Necromancy has been banned for a few years in her area, yet she practices anyways, helping townsfolk with bandit raids and working towards her own goal of true resurrection. She also has an apprentice; a siren refugee named Pherrin, who arrived on the surface about a month ago. Daila is hunting someone with Pherrin's help, an alchemist she shares a bloody past with and who took something of hers long ago. How convenient that Heshorian is running from someone---a necromancer he once dearly loved. When the two master mages meet and powers collide, a terrible mistake occurs. It's left up to Pherrin and Bayl to navigate this new world of magic if they want to save their mentors.

The Where: MandA takes place in the province of Skolan, mostly around the mage city of Yewbury. Timeline wise, it happens between HO books 1 and 2, and 24 years earlier than MG. So the technology is roughly around Earth's golden age of piracy.

The Who: The story mainly switches between 4 POVs; Bayl, Heshorian, Pherrin, and Daila. Let's take a look at them!

Bayln Maersh: Born to an immigrant mother and an absent father in the city of Landanium, Bayl was orphaned when his mother died in a factory accident. He lived on the streets, stealing to survive, and generally being a punk. He joined five separate gangs, not telling them about the others, in order to move through the city freely. He's a bit of a shithead, fights dirty, trusts no one, and has a mouth on him that'd make a sailor blush. Despite this, he's deeply curious about magic and has a soft spot for animals.

Height-5'7"

Weight-155lbs

Hair-blond, wavy, and very pretty

Skin-whiteboy tan

Eyes-dark brown

Gender-cis man

Age-18 or 19

Sexuality: bi

Heshorian Ciarathyiys Greenbow: Bayl’s master's path to alchemy was an unremarkable one. He was born to a merchant nobility family on the Nabafyrian border, and is one-quarter Nabafyrian elf himself. He attended the Yewbury College of the Arcane when he decided to leave the family business to his sister. There, he would meet his first and truest love, Daila. The pair would travel together for a while until their falling out. Now, Heshorian spends his time working on transmutitive alchemy. He's a talkative man, very sociable, and well mannered, or even posh. Perhaps also a little naive, despite his well-traveled nature. He believes in helping people above all else.

Height-6'0"

Weight-210lbs

Hair-long and dark green, with a smartly trimmed beard

Skin-dusky brown

Eyes-leafy, elven green

Gender-cis man

Age-38

Sexuality-hetero

Pherrin Thasslenon: Being a normal siren girl, Pherrin grew up in Seluthena at the bottom of the ocean, ruled over by the absolute theocracy of the Way of Lamsara Hedandros. She was happy growing up, tending to her garden and playing in elthuryah (chess basically) tournaments, as well as working in her mother’s general store. All of this changed when the Silver Sovereign was assassinated while on campaign in the Araunian desert. Pherrin's father, an armorsmith for the siren army, was killed in a fire set in the warcamp after the assassination. Later, when riots swept Seluthena, her mother was killed while defending her shop. Pherrin fled to the surface, terrified and desperate for vengeance against the one who killed the Sovereign and caused her parents' deaths by extension---the infamous Burnsong Traitor, Sepo Kaiacynthus. Despite her grim purpose, Pherrin is slowly falling in love with the surface world, even though she tends towards nervousness. She believes that surface dwellers aren't sentient and only mimic the emotions of Illaros's true people, sirens.

Height-6'8"

Weight-190lbs

Hair-black, long, and straight

Skin-very pale

Eyes-onyx black

Gender-trans woman

Age-20

Sexuality-hetero

Daila Ray: Born in Bouerco, Sulu'Oku, Daila lived in poverty for most of her young life and worked from the age of 10. It was after a rune-rigged skeleton saved her mining crew from a collapsed tunnel that she decided she wanted to pursue necromancy. Daila saved up and eventually attended the Yewbury College of the Arcane at the age of twenty-two, quite old for a first year student. Even though necromancy has never been terribly 'en vogue,' she pursued her studies with vigor and graduated in an astonishing three years. While she was in school though, she met Heshorian. They fell in love and decided to travel the world, doing research and exploring. She loved him until disaster struck. Then all that love burned away into the purest hate. All she wants from his now is what he stole from her. Even though this drive consumes her, Daila is a down to earth, selfless woman, who took a chance on taking in a young siren refugee. She uses her necromancy to help people and to prove that it's not an evil art. She believes a mage's purpose is to protect the innocent and to condemn the wicked.

Height-5'4"

Weight-180lbs

Hair-short cornrows

Skin-dark brown

Eyes-brown and spectacled

Gender-cis woman

Age-40

Sexuality-bi

.

Anyways, hope this seems interesting! Idk how far I'll stick with it or how consistently, but here's for hoping!

Have a bitchin day <3

[kaelio]

Full article:

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has cost it dearly on many fronts, but especially when it comes to casualties. Since the first days of the war, the invaders have been bleeding manpower. Plugging those holes became one of the tasks of the Wagner Group, the mercenary company with close ties to the Russian state. Its founder, Russian President Vladimir Putin’s close ally Yevgeny Prigozhin, began to actively and sometimes forcibly recruit from the country’s prisons, offering convicts the chance of freedom in return for service. The Russian army has gone on to follow that model itself.  

With those recruitments have come a whole series of subcultural notions that are shaping the lives of soldiers and the conduct of the war—but which are often ignored or overlooked by Western analysts. The power of Russia’s criminal culture, known as the “thieves’ world,” is not new. Prigozhin himself, like a surprising number of players in Putin’s world, is a former convict—because the men who profited most in the chaos of the 1990s were very often outright criminals. But the invasion of Ukraine has made these notions even more prominent, and understanding them all the more important.

On April 9, Prigozhin’s press service posted a response on Telegram to a question about the state of prison recruitment that had been sent to the Glas Naroda (Voice of the People) news site—one of the many parts of his media empire. In response, Prigozhin had some harsh criticism toward how prisoners are treated by the state authorities: “There are rumors of roosters, downcast and resentful prisoners fighting together with ordinary prisoners, which violates their [the prisoners’] internal laws, so-called unspoken rules, in a flagrant way. Everyone knows that Russia has been living by these rules, by a certain way of life for centuries, and therefore it seems to me that such situations are absolutely unacceptable.”

From the outside, Prigozhin’s statement seems incomprehensible. But in the world of Russia’s prison culture, where brutally imposed caste systems govern life and death, his statement makes perfect sense. The thieves’ culture is a set of rules, modes of action, and a strict social hierarchy that regulates everyday life among those in the criminal underground. It is especially focused on organizing the life of inmates in the many prisons and camps, known as “zones,” of Russia and other former Soviet countries. While traces of it existed even under the tsars, the system was largely forged in the vast gulags of the Soviet Union, the network of camps that formed almost a separate country inside Soviet borders.

The thieves’ culture gets its name from the ruling class, the “lawful thieves” who enforce the thieves’ law—an unwritten set of rules called ponyatiya, literally translated as “concepts” or “notions.” These rules include positive recommendations on how a “proper criminal” should act, harsh prohibitions on various actions with corresponding punishments, as well as a basis for how the social hierarchy in prisons should be organized. All this is described in jargon that, even for ordinary Russians, is hard to understand. For instance, the prisons themselves are measured on a scale from blackness to redness—those prisons where everyday life is mostly organized by the criminal authorities are called “black,” and the prisons where the unspoken rules and thieves’ culture are being actively suppressed and everyday life is in the control of the prison administration are considered “red.” Very few prisons are entirely one way or the other, of course, so arguments about whether a particular institution is red or black are commonplace—and baffling to outsiders.

The unspoken rules enforce a harsh hierarchy, one that serves the interests of the men on top—and sometimes of authorities who see it as a way to help keep prisoners under control. There are four basic groups of prisoners, known as “suits,” as if they were a deck of cards. This is essentially a caste system; it is extremely hard to move up, extremely easy to move down, and fear of degradation governs every social interaction. Of course, each suit, like any caste system, has many detailed subdivisions, branches, and complex substructures, but at the basic level, they are the following: blatniye (thieves), muzhiki (men), kozliy (billy goats), and petukhi (roosters).

Blatniye are the criminal authorities. They are career criminals—thieves and those who have chosen to embrace the rules and live by them full time. They are few in number but hold a lot of power and influence. Among them, the lawful thieves or thieves-in-law are a special subcategory, the equivalent of a mafia don or a yakuza elder. Their word is literally law in the criminal underworld—and they are bound only to the ponyatiya themselves, which they also have the power to change in specially organized gatherings.

Men and billy goats make up the “middle class” of this hierarchy. Men are those who just want to serve their terms with no fuss, but who are also informed about these prison laws, who pay respects to the notions, listen to the blatniye, and most importantly, do not cooperate in any way or form with the prison administration, even when it comes to, say, kitchen or library duties.

Billy goats are inmates who participate in formal prison structures, and are willing to work with the prison authorities but also pay some respect to the criminal ones. The people who run the black market inside a prison, who can get you cigarettes, drugs, gaming consoles, or whatever else, are also in the billy goat caste—but they’re obviously left alone and respected as long as they pay their tax into the common pool for the blatniye to use as they please. There is a subsection of those people, called “activists,” who are lower in the hierarchy and try to hide their position. Those are the billy goats who actively try to cooperate with the administration for extra benefits, which often are more than just being released on parole. In black prisons they’re hated like snitches are in U.S. prisons, whereas in extremely red ones, they often take positions that a blatniye would take otherwise.

The lowest caste, and the one that every prisoner fears degradation to, are the roosters, also known as the “offended,” the “pederasts,” or the “downcast.” That is a position to which it is extremely easy to fall down to, but one that you can never climb up from. They’re forced to do all the worst jobs—such as cleaning the cell’s latrine, washing everyone’s underwear—because no, your average Russian prison does not have any washing machines—and often serving as sexual slaves. They also get the worst sleeping spots in the cell, usually next to the latrine.

A rooster is untouchable outside of sex. One is not allowed to share anything with a rooster except as a payment for services—not only is it taboo to touch them, but also anything that they have touched, as that instantly moves one to their caste. Their kitchenware is explicitly marked as such, for one, and whenever transferring cells, they’re supposed to publicly announce their suit status and move in with “their own” accordingly. There is also an extensive list of other infractions that can instantly move one into this caste, far too long for me to list here. Many of those are linked to a toxic sense of masculinity. Gay and transgender prisoners are automatically placed among the roosters, but so are those who foolishly admit to having given oral sex to a woman—an act that, as among the ancient Romans or the modern Italian mafia, is seen as fundamentally impure.

The only interactions allowed between higher-caste prisoners and roosters are purchasing sexual services from them, raping them (my personal sources say that this was completely acceptable up until approximately 2010, but that currently, although it won’t make you a rooster, it is considered to be a minor infraction with a material fine attached to it), and beating them up—but only with kicks or using improvised weapons, as even the touch of a punch is still considered taboo. It might seem bizarre that a man who rapes another man is not seen as impure, but his victim is—but it harks back to a sense of sexual dominance found in prison cultures and reactionary machismo worldwide. A rooster’s status is truly miserable. It’s driven many people to suicide and made people so miserable that they used to rebel and intentionally touch blatniye inmates as a last attempt of revenge—sure, they would be instantly killed by other inmates, but the prisoner who previously belonged to the higher caste would instantly be a rooster inside the prison system and out, and would never be able to move upwards in the hierarchy.

These notions, especially the revulsion against LGBTQ people, are powerful in Russian mainstream culture as well. Take the ex-liberal, now extremely pro-war and pro-Putin Russian journalist Anton Krasovsky, who was thrown out of the Donbas under threats of violence because he’s also openly gay. He’s the kind of gay man who agrees with the Kremlin’s stance of “traditional values” and believes that “gay cure” procedures should be mandatory, but nonetheless, he reported that he’s received messages that he’s not welcome there although he completely supports the Russian side in the war. Those messages included people stating he couldn’t even dig trenches, because the shovels he used would have to be burnt afterward.

In his post on Telegram, then, Prigozhin was making it clear that there was no redemption from prison caste even when fighting for the nation—and that the caste mixing was an active threat to morale. It might seem bizarre to stick to such prejudices given Russia’s dire need for manpower, but the laws of the underworld can’t be cast aside that easily.

This isn’t Prigozhin’s only extolment of the virtues of the thieves’ law. In a leaked video from the Feb. 21 this year, where he’s giving a recruitment speech to inmates, he explains the “working conditions” in the Wagner Group. He notes, “We need criminal talent. I did 10 years myself before becoming a hero of Russia,” letting the potential recruits know that Wagner Group is being run according to the thieves’ law. “We don’t take any kind of the offended, the downcast, and so on—we respect all the unwritten rules.” Prigozhin says that those who are in prison for drugs are “taken care of.” Violence, on the other hand, puts you on the top of the hierarchy. The desirable charges are murder, grievous bodily harm, robbery, and armed robbery. He especially notes that “If you beat up  the administration or the cops, that’s even better.”

In another cruel example, Wagner Group recruits who are suffering from HIV, hepatitis, and other hard-to-cure illnesses, who have been enticed with the promise of a cure should they survive, are made to wear specific wristbands that mark them as “impure” in an attempt to not “taint” others. And, as reported by Ukrainska Pravda, “according to the [Ukrainian] intelligence, the fighters are becoming angry about this situation. Russian medics are known to routinely refuse to treat injured [soldiers] with hepatitis or HIV.”

None of this makes for good soldiers, and it’s already having serious consequences in Russian society. Organized violence is both physically and mentally demanding. A sense of camaraderie among the soldiers and respect, or at least obedience, for officers is vital. The Wagner Group operates on a different culture—one where such mutual respect and military tradition does not exist, and obeying formal superiors is literally taboo for the highest castes of prisoners. Nor can the dead be respected—after all, they might be roosters. Because of these prison laws and hierarchy, soldiers in the Wagner Group are not encouraged to bond; instead, they’re treated as expendable and sent as a human wave into the  “meat grinder.”

Extreme violence—like the shocking sledgehammer execution of a Wagner recruit who tried to defect to Ukraine—is used to keep soldiers in check. As Prigozhin commented about that event: “A dog’s death for a dog.” And while this does keep the prisoner recruits under some control and can achieve limited results, it also has made the Wagner Group tactically inflexible and predictable. Once Ukrainian defenders of Bakhmut understood that these blunt, straightforward assaults were the only thing that Wagner forces would ever do, the Ukrainians adapted and improved, eventually negating the costly gains that Prigozhin’s private army had made.

The normalization of prison culture may be contributing to the brutalization of the Russian army and its war crimes in Ukraine—but it’s also affecting the home front. Many of the prisoner recruits return home with a full pardon after serving out the six months they’re contracted for, often having served a tiny fraction of their sentence. Wagner specifically looked for violent criminals—who usually have long sentences. Already, the crimes of these returning Wagner soldiers are piling up, and analysts and Russian opposition politicians, such as Mikhail Khodorkosky, are warning against the return of the violence of the 1990s, when crime soared. Lawful thieves, prison laws, and ponyatiya in general are surging again, as the country is once again criminalizing itself to the point of gang wars, but this time, with military-grade armaments. Yet the Western press has largely missed most of this. The reports of Prigozhin’s comments, such as this UPI wire, entirely skipped it over. The lede simply states: “Yevgeny Prigozhin, the founder of Russia’s Wagner Group, said Sunday that the mercenary group “acted honestly” by hiring prisoners to fight in Ukraine as he branded the convicts “heroes.”

In an April 10 report from the Institute for the Study of War, the ponyatiya are entirely ignored. Instead, it mentions only “Prigozhin insinuated that the Russian MoD [Ministry of Defense] would treat convicts worse than Wagner treated them to further advertise recruitment into Wagner and discredit the MoD’s recruitment efforts. The insinuation seems odd given that Wagner reportedly used convicts in human wave attacks that cost thousands of them their lives.” That misses the point entirely. Prigozhin isn’t talking about regular treatment, but about the deeply embedded caste notions—and under those, being degraded to a rooster is far worse than death.

While Prigozhin frequently uses the language of thieves , Putin avoids explicitly stating the rules, but nevertheless hints that he sticks to them himself. Putin was a KGB agent, of the organization that jailed many “thieves” back in Soviet days, and never a convict himself. However, he has long-standing ties to Russian organized crime—most notably through the Cooperative Ozero, which was founded as a dacha cooperative in November 1996 by Putin and his friends and has since grown to a powerful group, bonding together oligarchs and more conventional criminal activities.

Putin’s emphasis on supposedly traditional Russian values also implicitly includes the laws of the prison—especially when it comes to macho behavior and sexual purity. The Russian state’s homophobia can’t be understood without recognizing the sadism of a caste system that sees raping men as normal but loving them as degrading. Maxim Katz, a prominent Russian opposition journalist and politician currently living in Israel, told me that the ponyatiya are important to understand Putin and the Russian political elite in general. But he said  that “it is not the criminal authorities’ notions of the Russian prison that reign in the Russian security services, but their ersatz version.

Chekists, especially retired Chekists [a term for former KGB officers such as Putin, referring to the old Soviet secret police service], like to copy the style of behavior of high-ranking criminals. But for these criminals themselves, the Chekists are second-rate people, frankly not even people. The moment an employee of the ‘office’—current or former—is taken to a detention facility, he is immediately relegated to a lower caste and never gets beyond the latrine.

“Putin’s criminal behavior is more the case of a boy from an educated family trying to imitate the behavior of school bullies—but never quite becoming one of them. The Russian criminal world distinguishes between the blatniye and the ‘trash’ very clearly; the trash can try all they want to mimic this world, but they will always be subhuman to it, and their rhetoric is cheap cosplay, not true adherence to ‘the notions,’ since the notion is to kill them on the spot.” Putin may only be playing at the rules, but the criminal world takes them very seriously. So too should Western analysts striving to understand the actions of Russian troops, especially Wagner’s, in Ukraine, and the kind of culture that will become even more prominent back in Moscow and St. Petersburg when they return from the war.    

Kristaps Andrejsons is a journalist in Latvia and the creator of The Eastern Border podcast on the USSR and modern Eastern European politics.

[lightly-toasted-ice]

The Toa Hydrax and Makuta Orduun

In his bid to find Traven, Náströnd realized that his current approach - kidnapping and mutating as many Toa as he could - was inefficient at best, and a hindrance at worst. It was this realization that spurred his decision to create an army with which he could subjugate the Universe.

Artakha saw this transgression unfolding from his fortress and did two things. First, he drafted plans for a massive seal to bar his realm, indeed, an entire arm of the Universe from the rest. Second, he set to work creating a new team of Toa, one more powerful than perhaps any other, for all were infused with Light.

(things get long after the break, go grab a drink and make sure your scrolling finger's doing alright)

First came Nihra, a Toa of Earth and Light to be a steadfast beacon for her future siblings.

Gault was the second, and is the only member of his team to have seen the world beyond the Artakhan Arm.

Seeing a need for a weaponmaster among the Toa Hydrax, Artakha created Seras, who forged the weapons of all her siblings.

Aldous was fourth, and is the most solitary of his siblings, but certainly neither a stranger nor an unwelcome sight to the inhabitants of the Artakhan Arm.

Next was Zevokk, whose bravery is immortalized in the scarred ends of his arms, now covered by adaptive claw cannons perfect for crushing Rahkshi or aiding the Matoran.

Last but not least is Amaria, whose zeal and sheer incorruptibility make her the Toa Hydrax's ace in the hole.

But the Toa Hydrax would be nowhere near as effective as they are without a proper teacher, and who better to instruct Toa in how to defend their home from the armies of a Makuta than another Makuta?

Orduun was among the Makuta that bowed to Teridax's will when he deposed Miserix, but he was never truly loyal to the dark tyrant. He plotted and schemed as many of his siblings did, but not to wrest control of the Brotherhood of Makuta from Teridax; Orduun sought freedom, a life away from the Brotherhood, and was willing to do whatever it took to get out. His salvation came from the most unlikely place, however, as Teridax called for any Makuta willing to seek the lost island of Artakha.

Orduun spoke first and loudest, challenging any who dared to duel him for the honor, but none protested his claim. He was granted leave of his realm, the Iron Islands, that he may search for Artakha, and he set out in the form of a flying Rahi to begin his search.

His search lasted for centuries, from the ruins of Metru Nui to the furthest reaches of the Southern Chains, and everywhere in between. He returned north to search the right arm of the Universe, and witnessed the early stages of the building of Artakha's great seal. He soared high over the construction and laid his eyes on the island of Artakha - the first being in the millennia since the theft of the Avohkii to see it from afar.

He rested on a nearby island, awaiting nightfall so he could seek a clandestine audience with Artakha himself. In the hours that passed, he kept an eye on that mythical island, in awe of its distant beauty. When the sun had fully set, he flew toward the fortress at the center of the island, but a voice entered his mind, a hard, cold spike in the nonmatter in his head. Orduun faltered, landing on a rooftop in the city surrounding Artakha's fortress.

Artakha spoke to him, demanding to know why a Makuta had dared enter his realm. Orduun told him the truth, swearing on his life, which he would pledge to the defense of the builder's realm until his final day. Artakha searched Orduun's mind, finding it wholly open to him, and accepted the Makuta's offer when he saw that he was telling the truth.

Artakha offered to restore Orduun's Light, and help him purge his Shadow, both of which the Makuta eagerly accepted. Months later, when he stood in his true form once more, he raised his hands, shining a beam of multicolored light into the sky, swearing aloud to uphold the ideals he had once and always held so dear. The Great Spirit's will was his to Duty to enact, and he'd be damned if he would fail again.

Artakha commended his zeal, and set forth the Makuta's first task as the new Makuta of Artakha: training the Toa Hydrax to defend the Artakhan Arm against all threats, especially Makuta. Orduun accepted this task readily, and was ushered into Artakha's fortress to meet his new protégés.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Meet the OCs - Brothers Apart AU

A summary of original characters that are featured in and originated from AU I've cowritten with @brothersapart's @nightmares06. The original Brothers Apart is a Supernatural g/t AU, and my contributions add in characters from the BBC's Sherlock.

Supernatural belongs to the CW, Sherlock to the BBC, adapted from Arthur Conan Doyle's stories, The Borrowers to Mary Norton, and these OCs to me!

Stan Baker - The Unexpected Good Boi

art by the wonderful @quackghost

Stan is playful, selfless, and protective. He cares deeply for others, especially his loved ones and those who cannot easily defend themselves. His combat experience and low-key paranoia give him excellent reflexes, and he's honestly a bit of a g/t nerd who doesn't have the context for that (def one of the most self-insert aspects of him). At the end of the day, he's just a big softie, in the 'looks like a cinnamon roll and is one but will kill you if necessary' way.

Though he wasn't the first OC of mine introduced in the Brothers Consulted story, "A Burglary at Baker Street", Stan stole my heart the second he hit the page. He was meant to be a plot device, never to be seen again, and he decided he deserves to be an actual character. Who was I to argue? I mean, lookit him! Complete and total charmer.

Unlike Zepheera, who is always my emotional support borrower, I can play around with Stan's Situations™️ a lot more freely. Oftentimes he's a human, like in Brothers Consulted. In AU like Brothers Chosen, he's a born and bred borrower. I've even got a size-shifter AU for him!

Mark and Anita Bend - Power Twins

art by quackghost

Mark and Anita are twins, and victims of terrible circumstance in Brothers Consulted. Mark is the heart of the pair, trusting and friendly and happy to make friends. His problem is he's not the most tactful, which is where his sister comes in; the self-established more thoughtful and responsible one. Anita is the brains, thinking everything through before acting.

The one thing they share perfectly is a strong devotion to and protectiveness for one another. They would do absolutely anything to keep the other out of danger. A fact that is easily exploited, unfortunately. They're all they've got in a world set against them.

Nathan Sullivan - Stan's Partner

Pride photo by the lovely @abookishweasel

Nate is the yang to Stan's yin. He keeps his excitable partner grounded, and rolls with all the incredible things that happen in their lives. Whether he's a teacher as a human or a curious drifter as a borrower, Nathan always has a deep love of learning and will do what he can to be in an environment where he can keep discovering new things. He's also a passionate home cook, and keeps Stan and their German shepherd Juno very happy at home.

Where there is Stan, there must also be a Nate. Like Stan, I love to play around with Nate's size and background from story to story. So far he's appeared as a human, though I've written one short with him as a borrower, in which he and a young Stan met as kiddos.

Stan's Brothers

Stan Baker is the youngest of five brothers, who basically raised him. They have yet to show up in proper BAU, but they've shown up more often in the size-shifter AU as they help their baby bro in distress.

The oldest, Simon, stepped up to lead the household when their parents were no longer in the picture. He worked hard to make sure his brothers could live the best lives possible, and couldn't be more proud of them all. He's incredibly chill and approaches everything with a calm and clear head. If Simon freaks out, you know it's all gone pear-shaped.

Dylan, the second oldest, holds the most fight in him apart from Stan. His scholastic track leaned towards the athletic, and he has the bigger temper of the bunch, especially when it comes to his loved ones being messed with. He taught his younger brothers how to hold their own in a fight when they were kids, and very nearly joined the British army as an adult before changing his mind.

Seamus Baker is the know-it-all middle child. He mellows out of them with age, but certainly had pedantic tendencies as a kid. Studies were a major aspect of his youth, as well as making sure his brothers were all keeping in some kind of order. He seems humorless compared to his boisterous brothers, but his funny bone is just harder to tickle.

And Levi is the one just older than Stan, a sweetheart who only wants everyone to get along. He's on the chill side of the spectrum, like Simon, but he's got too much energy to keep it up all the time. He's also the most creative of the brothers, and is most likely to end up with a career in the arts.

Adult Simon (left) and kid Levi (right) by the lovely @rainyday-deer

Young Simon with shrunk Stan by quackghost

[thekitsunesiren]

In your SU x DC crossover, how powerful would you say the Gempire is compared to the rest?

Honestly, I think I need to break it down a bit.

In comparison to the DC world and SU, the gems would be somewhere in the middle.

In the Steven Universe world, as far as we know the gems are the top of the food chain in the universe and various others. There aren't really signs that there is something powerful.

In the Dc world, it would be depending against who their opponent is. They scour planets in search of proper kindergartens to grow their gems. They don't need money nor do they need food. And technically speaking they have so many planets under their rule already so there would be a chance they could be seen as overlords in various galaxies. Or at least something that is well known and feared by planets with intergalactic access. With how old they are, in the DC universe, it could be one of the many intergalactic threats that our heroes try to prepare against.

Their bodies allow them to adapt to any population since they don't need to breathe, sleep, or eat. Many lifeforms across the galaxy who based their security on their natural ecosystem and not weapons would fall to the Diamond Authority if they stepped on their home.

Then there's their powers. Each gem having their own set of abilities and weapons, especially fusion with the same gems, they are pretty powerful depending on who and what they are fighting. They're also pretty much indestructible unless their physical forms are destroyed or their gem is shattered.

Even then, there's no true number of how many number of how many gems there are that have been created by the diamonds, so if they went to war, then their army would be endless in that way. And that's if enemy weapons are able to harm them. Gems are made of light and mass. Depending on the weapon, it could somehow be making them stronger.

There are also various generations of gems and what they could do. So depending on the timeline, you could be fighting a stronger or weaker version. And we really aren't fully aware of what they could in terms of weapons. We know that they have dozen types of ships that depend on what team they send out (emeralds, rubies, war ship etc.). Along with the Injectors, Gem Rejuvenators, Light Prisms, Limb Enhancers, and the robonoids; there's so much we don't know. They've probably used the technology of planets they've invaded to advance their own at a faster rate. And we haven't seen every personal weapon a gem themselves could have, so it could most likely depend on what gem you're fighting.

If a planet were able to defeat the gems that were to invade, the diamonds wouldn't be too mad most likely. Especially if the cluster was already planted. Once that's planted, then who knows how much time the planet has left before it's destroyed anyway. Which also points out to the fact that unless destroyed, gems are ageless. If they played it right, all they would have to do is wait for an enemy to die before colonizing their planet.

They also have a lot of planets and colony observation sites. So trying to find homeworld would be a difficult task if you don't know where to look, or unable to decipher gem language.

If someone managed to find homeworld and speak to one of the gems, then there wouldn't be much negotiation. Most likely the diamonds would enslave them and make them work on the kindergarten on their home planet.

In terms of the DC universe, this could make gems stronger in some regard. If where a gem is created is partial to their peak form and abilities, then surely the planets of DC could make them stronger. I mean, how strong would a gem be if it was grown on Krypton? Mogo? Bestrassus?

Then there's enemies. Before Steven, the Diamonds weren't fond of organics and only kept humans around for Pink Sakes. Most likely they're still not, but they make exceptions. So no matter how strong they would be, there would be a strong hatred towards them since they don't "amount to anything". So all organic life is already enemy number one. Honestly a member of the Justice League or any galactic hero, warrior or villain would irritate the Diamonds and instantly make them targets to be rid of. The stronger they are, the more

Then there's fighting fighting the diamonds. With their powers, the most effective would be yellow and blue, because neither White has abilities that could effect organic life. Yellow's might not have as strong as an effect as it have on gems, but their still might be a chance it could work. Same with Blue Diamond, since her abilities to send someone into despair or mental distress could be enough to have them seized and captured. There hasn't been any proof that White Diamonds abilities could work on organic life. But even then, they're all ten-twenty sizes the average height, super strength, speed, and durability. And they also have their ships that they control and use to fight as well.

Also, I learned this while researching for this presentation, Dc has a gemworld. A magical realm full of humanoid beings who draw power from earthly gems. A quick snippet is that while I wouldn't believe that they would have the full physiology as gems from homeworld, maybe they could fall to the effects of the diamonds like a regular gem would. And seeing as a diamond faction, there's a chance that the diamonds could make them stronger.

If you ask me how strong they would be against members of the justice league, I also say it would be a hit or miss depending on who they fight. And others as well. But I'll think of this with galactic heroes first.

You can't just pull out their gems. You really have to cause enough damage for their physical forms to be destroyed. And whether or not they catch the gem as it falls could end the entire reign of a diamond. And knowing the Justice League and other galactic heroes, if they defeat the diamonds, there's a small chance they would simply seal them away before they reform instead of destroying the gem. If it's an enemy like Darkseid, then they might shatter the diamonds and try to take over the colonies to strengthen their army.

Against Green Lantern and possible other members of the lantern corps? Possibly. Green Lantern himself wouldn't be able to fight them, but maybe a few or small army could defeat a few gems and possibly get away.

Thanagarians (Hawkman, Hawkgirl, etc.)? Maybe? They're warriors and are able to put up a good fight. Their flight comes in handy as well. I believe they would be the kind to shatter gems as well, something that would anger the Diamonds and have their planet as a whole targeted and maybe even destroyed. It would be an endless battle.

Superman is a possible maybe. But it also depends. I made a prompt about kryptonite being gems that never fully formed, but I also question as to whether or not gems from the homeworld hold any possible differences. Could gems themselves weaken Superman or would a Kryptonite gem be needed. If not, then I'm sure that he would be able to destroy plenty of gems. His struggle would come when fighting the Diamonds.

Martians are another maybe that come to mind. While they have plenty of abilities', they could go through gems very quick and have the possibility of not being seen. Especially with their shapeshifting abilities. But if the Diamond Authority found out their weakness to fire, then they would send fire based gems to destroy them. Maybe even create some specifically to fight martians.

I could go on, but I believe that these three would put up as the best examples I could think of.

Now, let's talk about Steven as a whole. Half gem-half human. The son of one of the tyrants and favored by the remaining three. Yes, he is known for technically ruling earth, the only planet that Pink Diamond ever colonized. But, he is still a ruler. And with him being on earth along with the rest of Earth's mightiest heroes, those who know about the diamond authority would definitely be fearful that he resides there as well has a kindergarten of his own.

We know about his powerset, and how well he could fight against gems, especially when he's angry. But, how would he fare against a DC member? He has a lot of abilities, but he would never go for the killing blow. Not on purpose. Yes, at most I believe that at most, Steven could overwhelm a few Dc members, maybe defeat a few. But if given the Dc treatment and more training, he could become a much stronger threat.

And this is also talking about whether or not he has full control of all of his powers, because his corrupted form could do plenty of damage.

Do I think I answered this question fully? No.

Do I think that I info dumped and did a lot of research I should be putting into papers into a current obsession? Most definitely.

Do I think I put a stable place holder of the Steven Universe universe-heh- in the Dc Universe? Most likely. But I could always go back and edit some more.

Hopefully this should answer a few questions. I'm going to bed XD!

[resurgentclass-stardestroyer]

[Mon Mothma] pauses to consider her next words. "It is vital that we demilitarize our government so that a galactic war cannot happen like this again." The wind whips up and lifts [Hostis'] wispy hair from his liver-spotted head. "We are not yet at that day. We must show military strength. If we project weakness, the Empire will capitalize on it. Giving the war over to the fickle vagaries of politics will slow our response time, weaken our resolve, and make us appear vulnerable — in part because we will be vulnerable." [...] Mon Mothma sighs and says, "I will today put up a vote that resolves to cut our military presence by ninety percent once we are able to officially confirm an end to this war. [...] I am quite serious. Look around you. The dead on our side are not proper soldiers, no matter how much we pretend they are. They're farmers and miners, pilots and smugglers, all drawn into this conflict against the greater evil of the Empire. Once our conflict is over, what do we say to them? Keep fighting for us? Against what? To what end? For what ideal?" "For democracy, of course—" "Democracy is not in need of defense. People are. And it's why we'll keep that ten percent. A peacekeeping force. The rest of our efforts will go toward training the militaries of other worlds. We will be a true Galactic alliance, not a false one with an authoritarian sun at its center." Hostis scowls. Gravely he says: "Then we shall see only endless war, Chancellor. Smaller armies just means smaller civil wars all across the galaxy. It means oppression will grow like weeds and we won't have the eyes or the control to stop it. In this time of upheaval, the galaxy will need law and order and you will grand it only chaos. It is that vulnerability that caused the rise of the Empire in the first place. The people of the galaxy reaching out, looking for a central authority, desperate for protection..." [...] "We are not fighting the empire just to become the Empire. This is not a power grab, and that's what I want to show the galaxy. I want them to know that we trust them, as the Republic has always trusted them. If we're going to ask anybody to fight for us, they need to know what they're fighting for. And they will fight for a unified, democratic galaxy. Not one that merely pretends to be as it's squeezed tight in an unyielding fist. We must yield. And to your comment about earlier history... we will put safeguards in place. We will move forward, smarter this time. More aware."

— Star Wars: Aftermath (Interlude: Naalol)

[ruvastuon]

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

A Bad Time to Remember the Past

I wasn't planning on putting this guys perspective up yet, but it seemed to fit for the prompt, so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Discriptions of medical procedures, violence, blood, burning skin, laceration, and dismemberment.

@wyked-ao3 (a bit more on the villain of my story. He now has a proper name! Albrecht)

Glossary:

(In case you are curious about any of the terms in the medical procedure)

Topical Benzocaine: a gel spread on skin to numb before injections.

Articaine: a type of numbing agent injected locally in tissue to numb an area.

Epinephrine: used in local anesthesia to increase the duration of numbness by constricting blood vessels in the area and preventing the local anesthesia from being absorbed by the blood stream as quickly.

Buccal: the gum tissue covering the outer side of teeth.

Palatal: tissue over the top of the mouth on the inner side of the teeth.

Maxila: upper jaw

Nerve block: an injection that targets higher on a nerve branch to numb more tissue at once.

Infiltrations: injections that target a specific area and numbs the nerves directly adjacent to the injection by targeting the approximate location.

Now, back to the story.

Topical benzocaine followed a minute after by 2 carpules of Articaine HCI 4% 1:100,000 epi. Infiltrations for the buccal and a nerve block for the palatal side of the right maxila. Within minutes he’d watched as the surgeon took out a scalpel and carefully cut gum tissue down to the bone and gently peeled it back as the patient lay, mouth open, not even flinching. Then the drill had come, and with a whir of mechanical power, the bone was carefully bored down to expose the gaping sinus.

Of all the things that Albrecht had been forced to observe in his mandatory job placement hours, this was the one that really stood out to him. It was fascinating what a little chemical compound could do to dull the senses. He’d even been able to hold a mundane conversation with the man about his line of work while the surgeon scurried off to attend some other matters.

Another wave of explosions rocked by him. Albrecht’s head screamed in pain as that long forgotten memory snapped back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. With both armies cowering in the darkness, he should have been on the cusp of his victory, the whole world bathed in beautiful darkness by his machines. Yet here he stood, recalling the memories of a child, a fool who didn’t understand the meaning of his own destiny.

Looking about him in confusion Albrecht’s teeth gnashed at the husks of his elite soldiers, boiled in their own skin at the shine of an artificial sun. Ever calculating, he could already see that what remained of his force wouldn’t last long after such a devastating attack. Ten blasted years of preparation… all for something like this? The fangs under his mask ached as he fought for control of his raging mind. His careful planning should have seen him to the end, in the way that it always had.

The power coursing through his veins spiked as the pieces of his strength once gifted to his thralls all began to converge back into him in a wave of sickening pressure. The feeling blinded him, and for the first time in his long life, Major Albrecht lost his ever firm grip on reason. Head snapping towards the source of his misfortune, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Using his powers, the Major smoothly dropped into the shadows and quickly traveled in their protection until he came upon the small vehicle, still driving away at a speed far beyond its natural means. There were four, no five of them, as far as he could tell, but it made no difference. They would all be dead soon enough.

With an enraged roar, Albrecht materialized in the shadow of the car and dug his teeth into the little warlock at greatest fault for this downfall. The man yelped in pain and raised one hand to secure the hat on his head before using another to push Albrecht away so he could stop the bleeding. He had no intention of letting him live.

A glimmer of something shiny peaked out from underneath, but he had little time to dwell on it as a stake was driven almost into his heart. Whirling around on the would-be attacker, the Major sunk his claws deep into their forearm, tearing through it with a growl of surprise at the strangely wooden texture. He grinned in satisfaction as a sharp hiss of pain rang out from whatever the thing was. It still felt pain, so even if it wasn’t human, he could still break it.

Half drunk on this strange ecstasy, he almost missed the smell of steel. His mind suddenly flared with a sense of danger, and he pulled away as a shot rang out, hitting the side of his helmet and exposing part of his face to the blasted false sun.

Like a bucket of boiling water, the pain brought him back into focus, and Albrecht immediately retreated into the shadows, taking the limb he’d managed to sever with him. With his armor damaged even this much, he wasn’t fool enough to risk an end to his plans even with his spiked blood lust.

Note: The procedure mentioned at the beginning of the chapter is for a sinus lift to increase the bone level enough to place a dental implant.

[ladyzirkonia]

Meet my OC Doc. 🚬💊🦾

Doc (Jurij Vega) , is a doctor (cybernetic specialist) working for the Grand Army of the Republic. She has blonde hair, freckles and wears googles, often seen adjusting them when she's nervous.

Character traits:

Intelligence: Possesses exceptional intellect and expertise in her field.

Determination: Displays unwavering determination to achieve her goals and push boundaries.

Technical Savvy: Proficient in technology, using her skills to invent, engineer, and innovate.

Complex Morality: Deals with moral conflicts and gray areas, grappling with the ethical implications of her actions.

Visionary: Possesses a visionary mindset, challenging the status quo and striving to reshape the world.

Ethical Exploration: Explores the boundaries of what is ethically acceptable and pushes the limits of her field.

A Clash of Idealism and Reality

Hailing from a humble background in the Outer Rim, Doc's decision to become a doctor was motivated by the loss of her big brother. Specializing in cybernetic implants and intricate surgical procedures for Clone troopers, she has performed surgeries on notable figures like Commander Wolffe, including the installation of his cybernetic eye. She also ensures the proper functioning of the implanted parts.

Having earned her doctorate in genetic mutations, particularly in enhanced senses and desirable mutations, Doc began her journey in the GAR with idealistic aspirations. However, she soon discovered the limitations of her role, realizing that she was just a cog in the machine and unable to save or even intervene in most lives.

Doc harbors a strong aversion to the regulations imposed by the GAR, especially the protocols that restrict her from intervening beyond a certain extent of damage inflicted on the clones. While she often hesitates to speak out, there have been a few exceptional cases where she defied GAR protocol to save lives.

The Fine Line: Doc's Unhealthy Obsession and Coping Mechanisms

Struggling with obsessive tendencies regarding her work, Doc's dedication can sometimes take on unhealthy dimensions. She turns to smoking and other coping mechanisms during high-stress situations, leveraging her access to various substances and medications.

A constant battle wages within Doc, questioning the ethical boundaries of her profession and the medical possibilities that exist. Often, her ego triumphs, pushing her to explore uncharted territories in the pursuit of pushing the limits and challenging established norms.

Obsession and guilt: Doc and Commander Ghoul

Doc, driven by a helper syndrome, becomes obsessed with healing Jenot and making him whole again. This obsession borders on unhealthy and toxic, as she invests all her energy into his well-being. Meanwhile, Jenot, burdened by survivor guilt, directs his frustration and anger towards Doc, blaming her for saving his life. Their dynamic is marked by a constant power struggle, with Doc shouldering the weight of his emotions.

Here and here more about Commander Ghoul (OC by @cloned-eyes) Here the thing everything started

Fanfiction Shattered Minds - Part 1 - Part 2

tagging @staycalmandhugaclone for the wonderful OC 400 Follower event you can join here.

Thanks for that, it finally made me put together some info from my head here. And hopefully gets me motivated to post the (almost three) existing parts. Doc is my baby, I love her, so be nice.

[fantasyinvader]

Looking more at it, Edelgard doing everything simply for power makes everything click more. I mean, the game talks about how people have done shitty things for power and how bad it was. Lying, stealing, killing, all things Nemesis and Edelgard have in common. And the game depicts this as not a path of ascension but rather regression. So it's tying into that while also serving as a basis for all of Edelgard's hypocrisies.

Why does Edelgard concentrate power on herself rather than give it to the masses after all her “fuck the rich” bullshit? Because she was lying to gain more power for herself.

Why was Edelgard okay with sacrificing people and experiments that turn them into monsters despite saying she wants to create a world where that won't happen? Again, lying for power. This includes turning herself into a monster to become more powerful despite her words about how beasts shouldn't rule humanity.

Why does she lie to her own army about Arianrhod despite raising issue over a false history? Power, hat trick.

Creating her own Church? Power, and because the teachings of the CoS tell her that she has to be responsible with her power and use it to protect her people. That's literally what the nobility was founded on, yet she rejects that despite saying she wants to put the world back to how it used to be. She views the idea of a leader sacrificing themselves for their people to be evidence of how twisted the world is, while she has no problem sacrificing others for her ideals.

Even her dismantling the nobility and installing a meritocracy is rooted in this, as she gets to pick who does what rather than filling those positions being outside of her power. Case-in-point Caspar's Japanese endings, where he's the head of the Imperial army but is said that the army is “often out of control.”

People have done shitty things for power, and Edelgard is the shittiest of them all.

But then I think about how Edelgard is portrayed in Azure Gleam, where she undergoes mental regression and is the puppet of Thales. As controversial as this is, I don't think it's out of nowhere. Houses proper said that Edelgard was merely a pawn of TWSITD in Verdant Wind, the route where the game goes into detail about who TWSITD really are. Edelgard had been manipulated by Thales (directly at least) since the experiments, using her father as a tool to do so. It was their narrative that turned a vulnerable Edelgard against the Church and towards the conquest of Fodlan.

Verdant Wind said this, Azure Gleam showed it. And considering how the flow of time is a thing in this game, even referenced in the Japanese name, I just can't help but feel that Edelgard suffers from arrested development. She is still the traumatized kid who was experimented on, saw her siblings die and was gaslit by her father. She will continue down the path her abusers set for her until the very end, and if she wins she turns the tables on them.

But she wants power. Power unrestrained by responsibilities and expectations due to her birth. She wants to be free to do whatever she wants with that power, make others believe what she tells them to, have who she wants perform whatever duties while she takes over not just Fodlan but the lands beyond she can take. Even Brigid's independence is done with her dictating the terms. As ruler she views her country as an extension of herself and is willing to use force to get what she wants says it's for the good of the country. Of Fodlan.

Rule through military force, hadou, which she is also supposed to represent.

[astarab1aze]

The Fhal'Tir

Elves are best known for their dealings in the forests and rolling hills that give way to rocky slopes and snowy peaks, for they were born in the deep roots of the world, reaching toward the clouds as assuredly as any tree. Their presence in Kírât is no accident, nor is it intended, but they have managed to carve into the great castle-city a place of their own, where they will not be so easily discarded and instead beloved and honored as the kings and queens that should have done so all along.

The elves of the Diremark - the A'virda Fhal'Tir - hide away in a seemingly endless sea of swaying, whispering, creaking trees, protected by pitch blackness when night would fall and webs of emerald vines that stretched out like long arms, trapping would-be trespassers and the Tir'elfhen alike – but the widows forced into the Diremark do not stray too far, for they are easily caught in webs not their own, and those who still watch the Adamantine Gates are frightfully quick with notched arrows and curved daggers. These elves, however, often warm and soft of skin, know nothing of the suffering riddling the Dustveil and, just as well, they care not to. They are reclusive, elusive, dancing in their hideaways, ignorant to the threats at the edges of their borders, and often do they banish those who question tradition or seek to aid outsiders lost within their vast forests; They are hostile to any not their own and they fall victim to gossip and falsehood, turning on even the noblest of their numbers. Alas, it was not always this way, but the Warm Heart of the Mark was doomed to wither along with its king, who’d long forgotten the role he’d to play as a once-ally of the people of Kírât.

The Fhal'Tiran elves were born of the deep roots of the A'virda Fhal'Tir, grown and nurtured as saplings who'd yet to become towering trees of their own. Among the whispering willows, swaying imdraia, in the shadow of the Adamant Heart, they were pieced together by leaf and twig, bloom and fruit, rising from the grass, bark, and stem as elegantly poised extensions of the Mark's will. Blessed with its love, as its children, they received in kind immortality and spindly elegance, the ability to wield earthly magic and temperance, keen eyes and foresight. Thousands of years gave way to the formation of a proper kingdom upon meeting with the Eimadran Elves, led by the Queen of All, Vaadyni, built on the careful tending of the forest, natural inclination toward defensiveness and distrust of outsiders, and an alliance meant to unify all Elves. But Vaadyni had gone mad following the deaths of her husband and sons at the hands of the Myhalas - the nameless things hidden deep beneath the earth - and a desperate war was fought between Vaadyni and her most loyal against all others. Her power overwhelmed even the greatest of armies, but she had become weakened by the corruption of the Myhalas and, soon, she was defeated by the Last of her people, Telythin Surna. But her madness tainted the world, combining with the evil of the Myhalas, and thus has led to the incrementally increasing insanity of the Fhal'Tir. They were crippled by her, victims of their former queen, and in the many thousands of years since her demise, a dynasty came and went, seeing the rise and tragically slow fall of the House Sevaaris.

Though the Tir'elfhen, were born of root and leaf, they were accepted by the Eimadran Elves as Second Children to Imidr, the Bright-Burning Star. They were formally recognized as their own people, as royalty, and the first of all Arboreal kings had been chosen as consort and court wizard to the Queen of All, and such social standing had been maintained until long after her defeat though without the trappings of 'consort' or other 'courtly' titles. Skilled with their magic, they turned inward and focused much of their efforts into protecting what remained of all forestry in their domain, but their skill could not match the evil corrupting the land. Little by little, they began to fall, brought to heel by the screaming and crying - by the pain - of the trees and earth, forced to listen as it all slowly corrupted and died before them. In the Warm Heart, they feel the Mark as it, too, dies slowly, withering in the deepest reaches of their home. Many fall to madness and many more return to the earth, sacrificing their lives to preserve that of their home or to escape their enduring torment. And there are too few who have been spared this fate, uniquely resilient or, perhaps, disconnected from the spirit of the Mark.

Similarly to the Eimadra, Arboreal Elves are blessed with eternal life, though they stop aging in their 30s (roughly 5-10 years slower than the Eimadra). It is a cultural staple for them to have long hair, either left in intricate braids or loose, and to wear furs, leather, or hempen clothes. Their armor, dress, and architecture are evocative of the forest; Even their weapons resemble tree branches and swaying leaves. Sexually, they play a bit 'loose' until they've found what they call their 'Fírralaía', their 'brightest love' (or 'greatest love'), at which point they devote themselves entirely and for as long as they both shall live. Should an Arboreal Elf survive their spouse, they will succumb to despair, wither and die.

Trivia

❧ Fhal'Tir

Meaning: Free Folk, ‘fhal’ meaning free & ‘tir’ meaning folk. Pronounced: f-ah-ll tee-er - ‘ah’ as in ‘at’, ‘teer’ as in ‘tear’. ❧ The Fhal portion of the name is also commonly pronounced by outsiders similarly to the word ‘fall’, which is incorrect and deemed offensive as the word ‘Fal’, pronounced like ‘fall’, means ‘weak’.

Pejoratives: Fal’Tir, meaning ‘weak folk’; False Tongues, in reference to Vaadyni's broken oaths; Spindles, mud-skins, vermin, feyspawn, flesh eaters, Those Who Lie With Beasts, etc. Normal: Forest Walkers, the Long Folk, Fey Folk, Free Folk, Elves, etc.

❧ Fhal’Tir generally refer to themselves as Children of the Wood, Fhal’Khana or Free Mages, A’Virda Bela’Sahn or Daughters of A’Vir, Tir’elfhen or Elves, and more depending on who you talk to within the race. ❧ Tir’elfhen literally means ‘folk’ and ‘people’, ‘folk people’, and is generally used when addressing large crowds. It’s the Fhal’Tiran equivalent to ‘Ladies and gentlemen’ or ‘Everyone’; It may also be used when referencing the people in general conversation between a Fhal’Tiran and Jha’Tir (literal meaning: ‘non-folk’, but means ‘not of the people’).

The Fhal’Tir are favored by their gods of creation, A’Vir and Mhara’Vir (particularly the latter), and are thus blessed with extended life, though they are naturally long-lived besides. Before they were blessed, they lived an average of 300-450 years. Following the blessing, an event known as A’Virda Sheni’Sahlla (The Life-Blessing of A’Vir), their lifespans were extended to approximately 1,000 on average, though it’s not entirely unheard of that some might live to be much, much older or are even immortal - common enough to be about as normal as anything else. It is believed that the Fhal’Tiran A’vvala (or ‘queen’) and Mha’A’vvala (or ‘king’) are the longest lived of them all.

As a society, the Fhal'Tir were as matriarchal as they were imperial, thus women were prized and prioritized - and such persists into the current era, despite a general shift in power structures following the fall of Queen Vaadyni. Women are the dominant sex, both in population and in nature, though that isn’t to say their men are not also vitally important to the way their society functions. ❧ Men typically enlist in their military as it is well-paying and offers benefits, but they may also become anything they wish provided societal needs are met (that’s the caveat; in times of peace, they can do whatever, but in times of struggle or war, they are often victim to compulsory military service laws, conscription rites, etc). ❧ As women are dominant, they occupy most positions of power and have a tendency of prioritizing the education, prosperity, and futures of members of their sex. Women are venerated, celebrated, and have very well earned their praises, as they believe emulating A’Vir’s benevolence and attention to societal needs (as well as military in part) is akin to the ultimate expression of their love and gratitude for A’Vir’s Blessing, and all life - and they put this belief into practice, with some flaws. That being said, they, too, are funneled into the Fhal’Tiran military to serve as healers, battlemages, archers, tactitions, and various other roles - Men fulfill the same purpose; Everyone lives together, trains together, fights together, which encourages trust and teamwork, as well as the formation of lasting bonds. ❧ There are more women than there are men, at a 65/35 rate, and the total population numbers at about a billion.

Marriages are relatively uncommon, though that isn’t to say they do not have, promote, or treasure long-lasting loves; Traditional marriage events are just so long, but are held in high regard as grand romantic gestures for their thorough, respectful, and honorable displays of commitment to that love. They are also quite expensive; An apple would cost one Fhal’Tiran Crown, a night at an inn 50-100 Crowns, a small home 5,000-10,000 Crowns; Traditional Fhal’Tiran wedding costs begin at 3,000 Crowns for venue alone, but including food and the 3-day tradition, these costs can increase to upwards of 10,000 Crowns. The Temple of A’Vir commonly collects donations to help fund these traditional weddings for common folk and there are some venues who will discount their prices if an individual is lucky.

The Fhal’Tir originate in the Diremark, or Mirrhan Gha’Len, an expansive, lush forest serving as their A’Vir-blessed homelands - referred to as A'virda Fhal'Tir on common maps. These forests are ever changing, magical in nature, and incredibly vast, dotted with the hidden ruins of fallen villages and ancient empires of their people. Trees grow to impossible heights, towering over those who wander beneath their canopies, and they live as assuredly as any elf, stretching their roots deep into the earth and swaying, moving, carrying themselves in such ways that the forest then becomes impossible to map - no matter how steadfast the permanence of Fhal’Tiran settlements may be.

Some Language Primers

Pronouns ❧ Ada: I/We ❧ Ade: My ❧ Eda: You ❧ Ede: Your

Particles ❧ Da: Of, suffix ❧ Den: The ❧ Haa/Hah: Is/Am/Are, suffix ❧ Jha: Not/Non, prefix ❧ Nha: In (inside)

Names (some) ❧ A’Vir: The Mother goddess ❧ Mhara’Vir: The Father god ❧ Mirrhan Gha’len: Diremark

Family ❧ Avva: Mother ❧ Bela’Sahn: Conjunction of Belasa and Sahn, meaning daughter ❧ Mela’Sahn: Conjunction of Melasa and Sahn, meaning son ❧ Mhavva: Father ❧ Sahn/Sahan: Child, children

Other Words ❧ Athelan: Sorrow ❧ Belasa: Girl, young girl ❧ Elfhen: (elf) People ❧ Fal: Weak ❧ Fhal: Free ❧ Khana: Mage ❧ Melasa: Boy, young boy ❧ Sahlla / Sahalla: Life ❧ Shenis: Bless or blessing ❧ Valan: Time ❧ Tir: Folk

Their sentence structures are generally like this; ❧ Common: “We are the Daughters of A’Vir.�� ❧ Fhal’Tiran: “A’Virda Bela’Sahn ada’hahden.”**❧ English understanding: “Ada’hahden A’Virda Bela’Sahn.”

**Names always come at the beginning of every sentence. Otherwise, consider the structures to be grammatically similar to English, with some exceptions. Basically, unless names or titles are involved, the sentences will flow almost exactly like English (example pending).

[psychic-refugee]

Xavier Thorpe was the last of a spent bloodline. He had no sister as his mother died shortly after he was born, leaving the Thorpes without a witch to carry on their song.

Although men were seen as lesser, the Imperatrix still deemed his blood worthy of matching amongst the High Atlantic Elite, pushing him towards Bianca Barclay and Divina Fisher, both the most sought-after matrilines and expected to take on three or more husbands each.

He didn’t want to seem like a civilian, but he had no desire to be one of many husbands, even if the witches could turn mountains into dust with their songs.

He was seen as odd and soft, by army standards. His song was unique, able to animate his art. It wasn’t seen as particularly useful, but then again men didn’t have to be useful beyond fathering more witches.

Although his father Vincent and the Imperatrix insisted it was his duty to handfast to whichever matriline they deemed worthy and would have him, he would marry no other than Wednesday Addams.

The Imperatrix was a stern and intimidating woman, but even she got nervous around the most famous necro matriline the world had ever seen.

Necros always stood out amongst witchkind, but Addamses were a cut above the rest as their powers always ran true. No matter who married into the Addams matriline, the children were always mistresses of death currents which allowed them to speak to the dead; wielders of decay, which allowed them to create bombs that cause a perfectly healthy body to rot in seconds; or daughters of Mother Mycelium, a mysterious specialty that could create new work and seedsounds.

Wednesday was special in that she could do all three, as well as weatherwork that could flatten towns and seedsounds that could blast out windows.

Although people feared Addamses, it didn’t stop many fathers from trying to foist their sons into the matriline.

Addamses were further set apart in that they traditionally never took counsel from the Imperatrix, never arranged marriages for either their sons or daughters, and loved sons as much as they loved daughters.

In any other matriline, Morticia Addams would have been seen as a failure as she only produced one daughter, although she was a particularly powerful daughter, and had two sons. She also insisted that her eldest son Pugsly make a love match, rather than sell him to the highest bidder from the High Atlantic.

Sons could not pass on their songs, but they did create ties between matrilines. Everyone wanted to be linked to Wednesday Addams, who was favored and exalted by none other than General Sarah Alder.

Xavier didn’t care about matrilines or having powerful children. He was more interested in Wednesday’s respect and kindness towards her brothers and father. She was unafraid to stand up to Bianca, the Imperatrix, and anyone else who would deride her family, try to tell her what to do, or sneer at those who told her how to be a “proper witch.”

Call him a romantic or an idealistic fool, but he would rather have a partner that would love any child they had, and not someone who would toss him aside after five years if he couldn’t sire a girl or would love their sons less than their daughters.

Luckily for him, Wednesday Addams was rather fond of moss green eyes and was charmed by his songs that could animate his drawings of giant spiders.

[imobessesedfrfr]

~You're a Goddamn Liar!~

Spoilers for Zou and Wholecake :)

Backstory because why not:

Sanji and Reader both grew on baratie. Yet when Sanji leaves, reader doesn't. She decides that she wants to pursue her dream of becoming a world class dancer. Becoming known throughout the world. Reader memories are wiped Idk that's about it.

Reader is a df user, literally called the Devil-Devil fruit. It gives the user the power torture their opponent with their worst fears as well as gives them abnormal human strength and devil looking features. Also gives them a higher tolerance to pain and poisons.

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Scenario I

Click!

Click!

Click!

The sound of heels hit the pavement; three girls walking towards the center of the stage. Ready to entertain for their lives

the stadium filled with different foods and people. Big mom sitting square in the middle of the audience. The Vinsmoker family sitting right beside her. Ready for the show that was being presented to them. Sanji looking down at this stadium looking at the familar face that he hasn't seen in a little over two years.

In a different stand, there struggled two of the Straw hats. A trapped Luffy and Nami, struggling to get out. "Damnit! These chains are too tight!" said Nami as she moved around. Luffy sat there exhausted, the sea prism stone sucking out his energy. Two soldiers of the big mom army stood behind them.

"I thought it would be a proper wedding gift, inviting the most famous group of dancers in the new world to come celebrate this union," said Big Mom. "I heard one of them even has a Devil Fruit" she stated. Nami peaked at the stage right in front of them, seeing the familiar woman.

Nami kicked Luffy, trying to get his attention away from eating right now. "Luffy! Look! It's Y/N!" she motioned towards the stage. Still exhausted he looked up, "It's Show-Off! I was wondering how she was doing" he smiled, shouting towards her.

"SHOW-OFF!!" The women looked around confused. "UGH! Is someone here trying to insult us or something!!" said one of the women beside her. "How rude!!"

Sanji looked at the women before him, recognizing her almost immediately. 'Y/N, what is she doing here?!' the look of horror and confusion overcame his face. 'She has to get out of here, now!' yet he couldn't move. It would put her in even more danger!

Y/N looked around trying to find the source of that voice. 'Luffy?', it was strange hearing that voice after so long. It had been two years since she last saw the Straw Hats. "Show-off!! Come help us!!" Big Mom glared at Straw hats as their captain Luffy, yelled at one of the dancers. Nami recoiled as she felt Big Mom's glare at them, yet she felt like she had no choice.

Y/N was their last hope!

"Please, come help us!!" screamed Nami

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Scenario II

The Duo watched as Sanji beat Luffy into a bloody pulp. "Sanji..." the woman looked at him horrified. This isn't the Sanji she knew! He's an idiot and is sporantic. Yet, this is too far!

"You suck at this, Sanji!" she screamed at him as he served people. "You're supposed to make sure their drinks are refilled! Idiot!" she walked up to the table he just served and refilled their drinks, making small talk with them as well. Smiles all around, making sure that at the Baratie "Well, good thing I am not a waiter! I'm a chef!" The young girl sighed. "That's stupid! How are you gonna know people like your food if you don't ask them!" she yelled at him. Sanji tackled her to the ground and pulled her hair. "That's dumb! Are you saying my food is bad!?" he screamed at her. The two tussled and fought each other like a pair of rabid dogs, pulling each other's hair and punching each other in the face.

As the entire restaurant watched the chaos caused by these two children. "Sanji!!" yelled a familiar voice, the blond-haired boy tensed up by the voice. "You idiot!" a swift kick was given to Sanji. The poor boy crashing through a wall and knocking him out. "Hey! That's too far, don't you think Chef Zeff?!" the man gave a stern look towards her. "You too! You are rotten little girl!! You can't start fights here!! You'll drive away all the customers!!" the girl ran away from him, "Sanji! Are you okay!?"

"...Stop..it" she managed to mutter out "Sanji, stop it" he kept hitting his captain. Kick after kick, blow after blow. "Luffy! Fight back!" yelled Nami trying to have get through to luffy. "Sanji! I said" she began, her voice getting louder and louder as the fight kept going to between the two. "STOP IT!!"

Pulling the captain away from Sanji throwing him back towards Nami. "Hey!! This isn't about-"

"Shut up, Luffy!" she glared at Sanji, a cold look was given down towards him. Something that even when they would fight all the time when they were kids, he didn't give her. Without a second thought, she gave him a swift punch. Horns grew out of her head and wings from her back. Sanji let the blows hit him, of course he's not fighting back.

He still has morals after all

"You're a goddamn Liar!" she still hitting him through her tears. "After Two years!? This is how you turned out! An idiot and a liar! How would Zeff feel about this!?" he couldn't say anything he wanted to. All he did was let her hit him, let her get out all of her frustrations.

"I hate you, Sanji!!"

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Scenario III

The wind blew through the sails of the Baratiae, it was semi destroyed due to the fight with Don Krieg. Looking down as this Pirate, Monkey D Luffy, readied his ship for departure.

"What a pain" she said as the crew began to clean up the mess caused by him. "Hey" looking over her shoulder, she saw Sanji. Bloodied and bruised right behind her. "You alright?" he asked, she glared at him. "Shut up, Sanji!" she threw her leg over the railing walking towards him. Grabbing him by the shirt, "Why did you just jump in like that?! Don't you know you could've died!?" she shook him as he just accepted it. "Who said I would die? You have such little faith in me?" that pissed her off even more. "You're so dumb!" she pushed pass him and walking towards the inside of the restaurant.

In a swift movement, he hugged her. Embracing her in his arms, the warmth of his body so close to hers it made her heart jump. "I have to tell you something" the woman sighed, a sour expression overcoming her face. "gonna tell me that you are in love with me?" Sanji didn't respond to her, instead her flipped her around so that they were facing each other. "Not yet, but..." before he could finish the sentence. Luffy called out to him "Sanji! Hurry up! We gotta go" Sanji glared at his captain "Hold on idiot!"

She knew what he was going to say to her. As much as it hurts, she knows one way or another. He was going to leave and set out to sea. Doing the one and only thing that seemed rational, she straightened out the shirt she grabbed. Not being able to look at him in the eyes, she swiftly threw him towards his newfound captain.

"Hey! What the hell!?" before he lost sight of her face. A true smile jumped up on her face. "Get out of here, Sanji!" she turned away, leaning against the railing. "Go find all blue!" Zeff appeared next to her, a smile also appearing on his face. "Goodbye Sanji" he smiled as he watched the ship leave.

Turning his face towards the girl who he watched grow up into woman right next to him. The shine of tears streaming down her face, "You'll see him again" she wiped the tears away from her face. "So? It still hurts that I won't see him anymore" she sniffled a little bit. Trying to hide the sorrow she now felt.

"Damnnit, Zeff. This sucks!" she cried as the man she knew as her best and only friend. Sailed away from her.

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[monmuses]

>Within the series and the movie + Steven Universe Future, Blue Diamond takes on the role of residing in the social status of gems. She serves as ones who can feel with her, sympathize with her, and find comfort in one another's feelings to bring solitude. Rather than "creating" clouds of her tears to bring joy to others, she works with speaking to gems individually to understand them better. Beforehand, her role was similar before Pink's "shattering", but not entirely.

>Before Pink was shattered and Earth was blasted, Blue only was there to serve as the emotional system for gems and in the major social standing of the ranks. She was of the highest order within the more authoritative gems and controlled the royalty ranks and poverty ranks. Every gem had a purpose, but not all of them were working.

>Shortly after Pink's "shattering", for 6,000 years, Blue's role as the emotional system for the gems was resorted to painful waves of grief. There was no proper time for Blue to fully grieve (nor did White allow her to cry out and Yellow only served as a temporary supportive person to lean on.

>With Blue's powers, while they use hints of water, they can also control the weather and other various forms of showing her temper (doesn't always apply to Homeworld). On Earth, she can control the weather to bring down pouring rains and heavy clouds at her will. She has more control over bowing people to her will to feel what she felt to a psychological level. On a more positive note, she can speak to those telepathically through emotion and can turn one's mood to another side easily.

>Yellow, on the otherhand, takes on the war-riddled side of Homeworld and is not in anyway soft to her gems. Within her court, she forces them to stay under her rule with a terrifying fist, but does not control them. She has a more authoritative way when it comes to commanding gems solely with her voice. She doesn't have control over weather, but she can transform various elements in nature (extreme forms of terraforming). Her power, unlike White, can shatter gems at will into a multitude of pieces, but can reform said gems carefully.

>Before and after Pink's shattering, nothing much changed with her view on worlds except for her armies and commanding of conquering other worlds. They became more strict, more heavy, and more stern. Her emotions are not as easily seen and are kept within her gem compared to Blue, and she is the only one she will ever be soft towards. However, towards the other gems in her Court, she became a little more aggressive and enforced her ruling much more harshly as a way to grieve for the loss of Pink.

>With Yellow's powers, while she can perform terraforming and physical control of gems, she is able to repair and reform other forms of life. It is not always gems, but her electric powers can provide power and life in seemingly lifeless gems or other organic lifeforms.