#tren brothers

[superiorstr8men]

[elrincondelosvinilos]

1994 Classic Euro House 90s The Outhere Brothers – La La La Hey Hey (A T...

[soon-to-be-muscle-god]

The best thing about this 19 year old alpha male? That he went to attend a bodybuilding contest with full hairy pits. It wasn’t intentional- the sheer volume of test and tren coursing through his teenage veins means that even after he shaves, a thick carpet of stinking manly hair starts to push through. Every girlfriend he’s ever had has loved to put her face in that stinking pit, and the bigger his guns became the bigger the appeal. The smile on his face is one we only see on superior males who have decided to devote the rest of their lives to becoming testosterone on legs, building their bodies into godlike forms that weak, beta males envy with a burning passion. You just know that every other male in this god’s life- his father, his brothers, one day his sons- gaze at this body and dream of throwing themselves on the floor to kiss his giant alpha feet.

[randomwriteronline]

uhrgh. ugrhhhhhhh Velika thoughts. i hate taht guy

i. do not think that Velika would be bent on world domination i think he would be bent on Cleaning Up. Making Everything Nice And Tidy. his fun experiment was a success and its done and now it time to get aaaall the lego pieces and put em right back in a box. except the box is, of course, an incinerator. he has the blueprints and notes and everything anyways he can just recreate the whole thing if he wants so its not like anybodys losing anything anyways (except a whole universe worth of lives that he fuckin gave sapience to but oh well). hes not going after Artakha and Karzhani and Tren Krom and Miserix and the mad Great Being and Tuyet bc he doesnt want competition, hes going after them bc their purpose is done and theyre either ripe for the trash compactor or just hazardous in general. and yknow yeah maybe his hundred millenia of partial isolation and mind fuckery and shit surgery and horrible island living have jumbled his brain so much that he thinks everything is an experiment and nobody is truly sapient except himself and so he is the rightful ruler of all these brainless beasts with no thoughts of their own, but hes not conquering anything. hes cleaning his desk.

and maybe Mata Nui and Teridax were "brothers" because they were his "children". his "heirs". one a supernatural divine researcher on a mindnumbingly lonely quest and the other one of a group of scientists capable of godly things. Velika's dismissal of the Matoran Universe translating in Mata Nui's apathetic approach to his own body, but their love for researching and discovering allowed him to develop an honest appreciation for "lesser" forms of life whereas his father saw it as a reason to care even less. Velika's superiority above everything translating in Teridax's egomania and desire for conquest, but where his cruelty is purposeful and calculated and very aware of itself because he loves it his father's is careless and serene and almost distracted, a byproduct of his skewed worldview that he doesnt bother to try to fix because why even should he.

[judes-hoe]

Family Time ~ TAA66

Parrings ~ Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader

Summary ~ Trent knows your parents and siblings, but what happens when he goes to your grandparents(dad’s side) house for Christmas, and meets the rest of your crazy family.

Warnings ~ none

A/N ~ just to clarify that this will be kinda about my dads side of the family and I will be using my family’s names, Sid you don’t want to read it don’t, also I do live in the united states so it’ll kinda be like you and Trent going to visit for the weekend. Also she wanted me to tag her and I said I would @formulalfc <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Trent were currently on your way to your grandmas house.

You had asked Trent if he could come with you for a weekend to fly to the United States, so you could do Christmas with your family. It’s be his first time meeting, your dad’s side of the family. You’ll admit that it was a little hectic sometimes, I mean your dad has 3 brothers so, you have a lot of cousins. But Trent had asked klopp to take the weekend to go and that he’d be back Sunday in the afternoon. So klopp agreed and here you are, in a car with your sister and her husband, driving to your grandparents.

Your sister and her husband were talking so I look over at Trent. “You nervous” you asked Trent taking his hand to hold. “Yeah a little, you always talk about how hectic it can get” he says with a smile. “It’s fine they’ll love you” you spoke with a smile. “My grandma loves everyone” you said.

Trent knows your family, like mom and dad and your sibling. He’s never met any of your grandparents, so when you said like your uncles and their kids will be there and if everyone is there, they’ll probably be like 15 people in your grandparents house.

~~~

After about an hour, you finally arrived to your grandparents house. “When we get in I’ll introduce you to everyone, then we can just sit on the couch and chill” you told him, he just nodded back. You walked into the house after your sister Savannah, and her husband Boyd.

When you and Trent take your shoes off you see your mom and dad first. “Hey mom, hey dad” you spoke hugging them both, then they went and hugged Trent. I walk over to my grandma who was looking for something. “Hi nene, this is my boyfriend Trent” you said hugging her. “Hey my lovely granddaughter, nice to meet you Trent” she said hugging him as well to which he hugged back with a smile. “Nice to meet you” he said softly.

You walk over to the dining room table we’re most of your uncles and aunts were. “Hi everyone” you spoke going around and hugging them. “This is my boyfriend Trent” you said to which they all said hi and said their names.

“Okay I’ll take you to meet all my cousins come here” you said and Trent follows you like a dog. “So this is, Anissa and her boyfriend Ethan, this is Anissa brother Jalen and his Wife Kalyne, this is Anissa and Jalen’s brother Logan, This is Ellah and her brother Gio, then this is Christian and his sisters jewl, Avery, and raven” you spoke going around introducing Trent to all of your cousins. “Nice to meet all of your” he said.

After you had introduced Trent to everyone, you took a seat on the couch and he sat next to you. “So what do you think, I know it’s a lot of people” you look at him laughing softly. “It’s a lot of people but they seem cool” he said kissing you cheek.

You and Trent sat there on the couch, you held his hand between the both of you. Your cousins coming to talk once in awhile. “Dinner ready if you wanna eat” my grandma shouts out. “Do you wanna go eat” you asked Trent. “If you want I’ll get food and you can eat some stuff off my plate, I know klopp probably doesn’t want you eating kinda unhealthy food” you spoke before he could answer. “That’s fine, but I love when you pay attention too what I can and can’t eat my love” he said kissing you before getting up.

You got a plate of food, before sitting next to Trent at a table with all your cousins. “You’re not gonna eat Trent” my dad had called out seeing Trent didn’t have a plate. “No, I got a game the day after we get back to England so coach doesn’t want me to really eat anything that might not be good for me” he told my dad. “But I’m gonna eat some food off of her plate” he added. “Alright bud I was just checking” my dad said sitting at the table next to us.

While we all ate, Trent ate some stuff off your plate. You and Trent went to go and sit on the couch as your grandma said it was time to open gifts. Trent had pulled you in his lap so there was room for other people. All the other kids got fifty dollars while younger kids got 4-5 gifts.

Your sister, her husband, you, and Trent all said our goodbyes and got in the car to head back to my sisters house.

After and hour car ride, you and Trent went to the guest bedroom, changing into pajamas before getting into bed. “So how’d you like meeting the rest of my family” you asked him while rubbing up and down his arm. “It was nice, they seem nice and chill, but god I love your family drama” he said giving you a kiss after. “Alright let’s go to sleep my love we have a very early flight” he said kissing my forehead before pulling you close to his chest. “I love you” you said kissing right over his heart. “I love you too princess” he mumbled in your hair.

~~~~~~~~

[whiteheartlight]

"the Toa Mata can't call Artakha father - " darling, the Makuta called their favorite slugs their sons. everybody else is all brother this, sister that. family words are clearly in use for personal creations. what, you don't think Lewa should have rolled into Artakha asking for help like "HI FATHER IT'S ME, YOUR FAVORITE SON" and Artakha was already calling Tren Krom going "hey please distract my youngest child??"

[ianayanda]

These things make me so sad. My brothers live in Minnesota. But crime is out of control everywhere.

[jurakan]

I am well acquainted with BIONICLE Cthulhu, but please enlighten your other followers on his grotesqueness grandeur

Alright, both you and @edgar-allan-possum asked for this so here we go! Ladies, Gentlemen, Tohunga, and other random people (I stole this joke from a BZPer), Today You Learned about Tren Krom, BIONICLE's very own Cthulhu!

[]

...No picture? Okay, yeah, it makes sense that we don't have a picture.

So starting in 2007, BIONICLE starting having web serials, which gave out stories in a serialized format to fans who wanted more of the characters they loved, and introduce new ones. See, because LEGO had to keep putting out new sets, the main storyline for each year had to focus on the characters depicted in the sets, and often people would get left behind. Lead writer Greg Farshtey did these serials to help fix this problem.

In the serial "Federation of Fear" (which I want to emphasize was definitely a BIONICLE take on the Suicide Squad; I only realized this a couple of years ago), the team goes to an island to pick up some weapons from a cache and run into...Tren Krom, an insanely powerful, hideous, and insane thing bound to the island. He disintegrates one of the team members, and reads the others' minds.

Basically, what we're told is that when the Great Beings (basically, the gods of the BIONICLE world) started working on "the universe"*, they created Tren Krom to stabilize and run the system while it was being built. When they finished, they declared they didn't need him anymore, and put Mata Nuin in charge of the universe to keep it running. Tren Krom was bound to an island and stuck there.

This, as you can imagine, did not make him very happy.

When he reads the mind of the crooks in Federation of Fear, he realizes that the evil plan of the main villain is in effect, and decides that's far worse than any evil plan he'd come up with as revenge on the world that scorned him. So he lets them go.

Except for then later Tren Krom very clearly does care about getting out of there. In another web serial, after the main villain took over the universe (spoiler alert), the heroes send one of their own to Tren Krom to see if he'll help. He switches bodies with said hero, and actually helps out in the fight against evil! Until he gets beaten by the main villain, and the good brother of the BIONICLE Devil makes him switch bodies back.

There is one more serial that's important, I guess? There's one where one of the villains goes to check on him, and the knowledge he gets from Tren Krom inspires him to go talk to his boss and tell him how to take over the universe. Which, uh, is Plot relevant, but you would think Tren Krom would know better than to just hand out that info.

And then another web serial, written after the main line was canceled, kills him off for a cheap murder mystery.

LAME.

Alright, so what to make of this character? GregF admitted that Tren Krom was created as a shoutout to H.P. Lovecraft's work, so the Cthulhu comparisons were intentional (this also might have been how I was introduced to Cthulhu as a character). There are no official illustrations, as he was never a set, and unlike most BIONICLE characters, he had a horrifying appearance with no bionic elements (his face was a giant gooey skull or something that drove people insane). That hasn't stopped many fan artists from giving it a shot.

Also, one of the BZPower comedies, "Day in the Life of GregF", had a hilarious version of Tren Krom that spoke in ALL CAPS.

Tren Krom was wild, man. In some ways, it was a fantastic addition to the mythos, because it developed the world in a completely new way that fans hadn't seen before. I feel like he was ultimately wasted, though, because there was so much to do with this character, and it really didn't get very far. But that's the case with a lot of the serial characters, I think.

Yeah, so, we've got a BIONICLE Cthulhu.

*It's worth noting that in BIONICLE, "the universe" tends to refer to the Matoran known world, and there was plenty outside of that.

[goattypegirl]

During the peaceful period following the reformation of Spherus Magna (and the conclusion of the... tumultuous events shortly after) much previously obscured information about the Matoran universe came to light. The actions of the Makuta and Order of Mata Nui, the nature of the Red Star, the machinations of the Great Beings. But for certain scholars, one unanswered question continued to nag them in the back of their minds.

Why was Karzahni given the Olisi?

For much of the Matoran Universe's history, Artakha and Karzahni were mythical figures. The Smith and the Physician. Synthesis and Dissolution. A reward for good work and a punishment for poor. Brothers who competed for a legendary prize before the dawn of the world.

(For the record, said contest never actually happened. There was a minor debate between the Great Beings during the planning phase, and they were designed by two teams working in parallel, but by the time the twins were constructed their purpose was already decided. It's not the only instance of the Great Beings' actions being exaggerated into an epic myth by the GSR inhabitants.)

According to the former inhabitants of Karzahni's realm, the Olisi was used to torment the titan's subjects accoring to his capricious whims. Flaming chains to break the body, a rictus-grin mask to break the mind. But why? Karzahni wasn't cruel in the beginning, so why would the Great Beings grant him that mask? Was it meant to be anesthetic, granting Matoran sweet dreams as the titan operated on them? Perhaps it was a replacement mask, his original mask discarded alongside his Duty?

Recently, the answer was found in a laboratory near the site of the old iron tribe. The Osili was a diagnostic tool. Matoran commonly develop amnesia after severe stress or trauma, and it's not as though a turaga or other Matoran could accompany them to give patient history. By using the Osili to sort through alternate lives, Karzahni could learn who a Matoran was, where they were from, what injury befell them, and what they would do after being repaired and sent home. It's a pretty elegant solution.

...Except, that's not the whole story. It can't be. Using the Osili like that is like using a sword to chop vegetables. Surely there's a better tool for the job, a better job for the tool.

Though Matoran stopped being sent to Karzahni's realm relatively early in history, stories about the Osili spread across the world. Mask makers, of course, attempted to reverse engineer it. A true copy was never made, but there are two confirmed cases of new masks made from these experiments. The mask of Foresight allows the user to glimpse a few seconds into the future and see the actions of those nearby, and the mask of Augury allows the user to know the percentage chance of a specified event or action occuring. Though it's unconfirmed, it is theorized the Calix and Sanok were also inspired by the Osili. These masks all have hefty drawbacks or limitations, but they are all incredibly powerful and versatile in the right hands. And they are all methods to divine the future.

And they are all pale imitations of the Osili.

There's another mystery about Karzahni. See, construction on the GSR and the constructs within began while the Dreaming Plague was at its height. It's become clear that the Great Beings didn't fully understand what caused it, nonetheless, they gave psionic shielding to many of the original constructs. Tren Krom was excluded, obviously, but shielding was given to the Mata Nui intelligence, the first generation of Makuta, members of the Hand Artakha, as well as the titan himself. The Order of Mata Nui later instilled this same shielding into their own members.

But why wasn't Karzahni shielded?

It's debated how Karzahni's lack of shielding factors into the Osili's hypothetical capabilities, if at all. Scholars can talk about the troubling implications, but Karzahni is long dead, the Osili presumed destroyed. It feels like they're making shadows to be frightened by. To look on the bright side, progress has been made on restoring the former inhabitants of Karzahni's realm. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. Reportedly many of them are finding it easier to sleep at night, no longer tormented by nightmares. Or dreams of any kind, for that matter.

[beardedmrbean]

The Venezuelan TikToker who went viral last month after defending illegal immigrant criminals and urging migrants to squat in U.S. homes is now on the run from immigration authorities, according to a new report.

Leonel Moreno has claimed that his family, which includes his wife and young daughter, has received $350 a week in government handouts since entering the U.S. illegally.

On top of that, he had claimed to be making $1,000 a day as a TikTok influencer. However, his account, which at one point had more than 500,000 followers, appeared inactive Wednesday morning.

His verified Instagram account, however, has about 17,000 followers and posted two videos Wednesday morning showing him waving a stack of $100 bills as he posed with his baby girl.

Moreno allegedly cut off his ankle monitor after receiving border parole and is now listed as an "absconder" from immigration authorities, the New York Post reported Wednesday, citing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) documents.

ICE did not immediately respond to a request for comment. Moreno reportedly received border parole in April 2022 as part of the government's Alternatives to Detention program, which is supposed to track catch-and-release migrants when there is not enough room to detain them.

Moreno previously told his audience he planned to make a business out of "invading" abandoned houses and taking them over with squatters' rights laws, then selling them for a profit.

Although he has allegedly listed his immigration sponsor as a church charity in Miami, he has reportedly been living in Columbus, Ohio.

ILLEGAL BROTHER OF LAKEN RILEY MURDER SUSPECT LINKED TO VENEZUELAN CRIME GANG: DOJ

Moreno shocked the public last month when he bragged about living on the American taxpayers' dime and called on his TikTok followers to "unite" behind the suspect in a shooting in New York City's Times Square.

Illegal immigration from Venezuela has become increasingly visible as one of the country's most notorious gangs, Tren de Aragua, is also working to establish a foothold on U.S. soil.

The gang has been linked to an attack on police officers in New York City, an international cellphone robbery ring and, indirectly, the murder of Georgia nursing student Laken Riley.

The gang has a notable presence in New York City, Florida, Texas, Illinois and Georgia, authorities have warned. 

[mayhem-moth]

Vent kiinnddaaa? Mabye? Okay yeah def a vent anyways dw about it :p melodramtic bs

A big part of the reason i do not like my family is they use me and my brothers to try to hurt my mom . Thankfully most stopped talking to us. Like if they ask about my day i have to word very carefully for example if it went like

"What's going on today?"

Oh nothing much just watching my brothers

"Oh and wheres your mom"

Shes working

"SHES NEGLECTING YOU?? OH NO JAIL!! JAIL FOR A THOUSAND YEARS!!"

And yet they conviently ignore the fact that dad literally has not talked to us for more than a year and has not actually done much to take care of us for the majority of our lives. I think it's because they need someone to pin everything against cause. Otherwise, they have to admit all the horrible things they did to help make dad the way he is. I found out horrible things about him. Criminal things that make me sick. And i will never trust them with that information. Ever. It's interesting how the more i learn the more i connect the dots and the more everything makes sense. I gave that part to my character Tren. Because she's going to uncover terrible secrets and have to reconcile with the fact that everything she knew in childhood was a lie. Just like I am learning terrible secrets and have to reconcile with the fact that the family i thought i knew was a lie. As a little kid, I loved this family. Now i hate knowing im related to these people. And every interaction with them feels strained to me cause i never know what they are going to pull next. And i hate knowing that I share half of my Dna with him. I heard mom say once drunk that she loves us but sometimes she can't look at us without seeing his face. Except she used a word that.... i don't want to get into. The actual phrase is uh... it means more. Mabye stuff I don't want to broadcast.

Im sure this is a common expierence. But i dunno still pisses me off -\/('-')\/-

[superiorstr8men]

[things-you-may-need-to-hear]

I’m on the verge of losing my mind. They are killing us in Gaza in ways too cruel to comprehend. My little daughter is trapped in the north, surrounded by danger, with no food or sense of safety. My brother’s life hangs in the balance, desperately needing treatment abroad. My father is sick, and my younger siblings depend on me.

What did we ever do to deserve this unbearable suffering and betrayal from the world? Please, I beg you—help us escape this nightmare. We just want to live in peace, like every child in the world deserves.

Images for reference:

Liked this poll? Consider donating to Ahmed's vetted campaign (#113)!

[randomwriteronline]

Vakama's hands were warm, awfully so. He moved them carefully across the Ice warrior's new face, with a gentle feathery touch, flexing his fingers ever so slightly so that the other would shift it in the direction the Turaga wanted without having to press too hard and risk ripping the skin apart as he intently picked up every detail with his scrutinizing gaze.

Had he still been a Toa, Kopaka would have responded to his careful movements with harsh ones, to show he did not need to be treated as though he was made of fine glass.

But now (for some time now) he was a something, and he had just watched as the bandages where Pohatu had pierced himself by simply hugging Onua too tight were changed, the not at all shallow cuts already struggling to scar, and how their Earth brother had been horrified at what a simple contact between such different bodies could cause; so, wary of the frailty of the form he had been forced into and for the sake of the Turaga's peace of mind, he tolerated the cautious approach with which he was treated.

It did not mean he had to like it. Especially not that look.

What was the former mask maker trying to find? A piece of his self? He knew he did not look like himself, he knew he was unrecognizable. He knew he was a disgusting, soft, malleable mound of abhorrent flesh, filled with nauseating sacks and tubes and hairline conducts and shapeless things pulsing erratically every second, covered in veins and fat and muscle, with no way to defend himself, no way to be helpful, no way to do anything. He had made the mistake of looking at himself, back when his Akaku still fit on his face (before his new one had grown in, agonizingly, and he had had to rip the mask off of himself before it killed him because the organic matter could not close around the joints and nubs with which his body used to hold it still) and he still had nightmares about it. Not even Tren Krom's remains had looked so horrible, so parasitic and alien - they hadn't been lodged inside him.

He knew whatever he was could no longer be called Kopaka, the Toa Mata Nuva of Ice. He knew it from the second he'd changed. Was the Turaga hoping the cold warrior was still there, somewhere beneath the malleable matter? Was he looking to be disappointed? Was he going to desert him, appaled, when his search inevitably turned vain?

Vakama's palm cupped his cheek gently.

It was warm, and kind, and his glowing eyes held nothing but care.

Kopaka leaned into it despite himself, bitter expression softening, turning saddened, in need of comfort. The metal thumb brushed against him as though to clear away a few tears. He wasn't crying, of course; he wouldn't have dared being caught dead doing so, especially before a Turaga.

But the motion brought him solace nonetheless.

-

Onewa came in second, much more loudly than his Fire brother: he clamored to know where his Toa was, shoving aside anybody in his way with the good manners of a Manas crab on a warpath.

Pohatu would have all but leaped directly at him and likely trampled him in his excitement if the Agori had not forcibly bound him to the beds he and Kopaka had been stationed in since they'd been brought to New Atero. He still tried their patience, crawling hurriedly across the cots and laying on them so that his torso could extend as far towards the door as possible: as soon as the Turaga emerged he gave a joyful strangled sound, arms outstretched to be caught in a gruff, delicate embrace attempting to keep some distance between the two beings so that the former Toa could not fall into the temptation of squeezing new wounds open on himself again.

The carver's hands were smooth despite it all, like pebbles of a river, and carried the comfortable heat of sunny days. He looked over the creature, once the warrior he had welcomed into his Koro, with the apprehension of a father whose child has scraped their knees and elbows; then, as a bout of frustrated helplessness burst from within him and demanded release, he jerked his head away from the being still holding him sweetly to shoot a glare at his silent peer.

"Well then! Look at this!" he barked, harsh, rough, vitriolic. "Such a good job of protecting him you did, didn't you!"

His interlocutor tightened his fists and looked away, biting his lip.

"Is the shame keeping your from talking, now?"

"Onewa," Vakama began sternly.

His brother glared at him, screaming to shut his mouth and stay out of this without a single word - but before he could continue lashing out accusations and vitriol, his tongue was stopped by a weakened punch to the top of his shoulder, not hard enough for the skin to break upon it yet still so intense that it made him wobble.

He searched for the face that had delivered it, but it was gone already: Pohatu had pressed it against his peer's hair, hiding it from view, and was wrapping his arms tight around him, as tight as he wanted, without fear of a pain that a softer body could not deliver.

He swayed his brother a tad and kept adjusting his grip. Maybe, if he kept pressing, the guilt would ooze out of him like liquid from a blister, like pus from an infection. Maybe, if he kept pressing, he would manage to squeeze out of him the stupid belief that this had been his fault, and that he was responsible for their misery.

Did his brother think he didn't know? Did he think that just because they had changed so drastically he could not tell what he was thinking, what he was feeling? No, not at all, not at all - if anything it had made it so, so painfully easy.

Pohatu had learned to read him, of course he had; he had learned every inflection and minute tic, every silent little word the other refused to voice, because he had stuck to him like a Makuta fish biting its terrible teeth into a larger prey and refusing to let go even as the mightier Rahi convulses to get rid of the little stubborn pest with minimal success. And now - now that they had no armor, no still masks, now that their faces moved with such frightening fluidity, so strange and different and unfamiliar but screaming their thoughts so loud it hurt his ears (that was what his audio receptors had become, and they felt so much, so much, to the point where evereything he saw made a sound even if it didn't) it had taken him nothing to learn that language by just looking, and now he could read everything in his mind with the ease of a Suletu, of a Toa of Psyonics, and it was strange and terrible and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and all he could do was hold tight.

Onewa called for him. Pohatu refused to turn to look at him.

They'd been through so much. It had hurt, horribly, terribly, to grow these bodies against their will. He had insisted on coming along; he hadn't managed to dissuade him; it was nobody's fault but his own if they were both like this.

He should have protected him.

The Turaga's hand laid warm and gentle on his back.

Pohatu shuddered it away, tucking himself tighter around his brother. Kopaka's spine was cold against his chest, but he did not mind.

He'd failed him once.

He'd make up for it now.

-

Nuju did not visit.

Nokama did not mention it as she tried in vain to translate what sounds Pohatu was least uncomfortable making (he could feel the air in his throat hit a block, he could feel it opening and closing with each vowel, and it felt so wrong that he would hold his neck to try and still the movement), surrendering at last. Her kind touch felt fresh, and humid, like dew on a leaf.

Whenua did not mention it, maybe too caught up in trying to pretend he wasn't taking notes on them, studying them, like they were a pair of very rare Rahi he wouldn't have dreamed of ever managing to get his hands on. His fingers, like Onua's, were rough and scratchy as he prodded their limbs, studied their joints, tested the texture of their hair between his digits.

Matau did not mention it, and that was it. He was unnaturally quiet, observing his Turaga siblings try to find something, anything to give them some sort of answer to what had happened to the former Toa, trying to understand them in the ways they were most familiar with. He grazed them curiously, and they barely noticed - he was light even when applying pressure, as if he were a spirit.

"Keetongu could sparelend us a helphand," he offered at last.

"If this were the work of a venom, certainly," replied Whenua: "But I see no bites or punctures like the ones left by Visorak."

Pohatu shook his head to convey an agreement with the Turaga's statement: no, it had not been a poison. That would have been merciful, and maybe they would have even had a better chance of going back to normal.

"It might still be a good idea to seek his guidance." Nokama noted. Her hand lingered on the once-Toa of Stone; the watery feeling did not disturb him as much as it could have.

She turned to the two of them, her eyes gentle, her mask immoble. Something about the stillness of its features bothered them for a single second, made them nervous - they'd gotten too used to looking at each other, at the Agori's expressive visages. The realization worsened their unease.

"Hopefully he will be allowed here," the Turaga told them so sweetly. "If you'd like that, of course."

He faced Kopaka. His brother merely shrugged.

If Nuju's absence was bothering him (and the other was not going to divulge that information to anybody), he did not care to point it out.

Pohatu resolved to nodding for the both of them.

-

He'd never seen Tahu look scared.

He had, by all means, even though his Fire brother refused to admit it and did everything in his power to dissimulate how he was feeling. Truly, in that regard, he was the same as his Ice brother - and like him, he would have hated that fact if it were ever voiced to him.

He'd never seen this specific type of scared on him, though.

A cautious type of scared.

It would have almost been funny: since when was Tahu cautious?, they could have joked, and if he tried to argue they would have reminded him of his awful plan against the Rahi Nui, or the first course of action that came to him before the Bohrok nests, and he would have gotten so mad that his armor would have turned scalding hot enough to glow, and he would have tried to swat at them with his boiling hand in revenge, because he was still hot-tempered Tahu despite it all.

It wasn't as funny when he flinched at the sound of a voice calling for him with a shining gaze and a strained noise struggling to leave a throat.

Onua didn't flinch, but the bed-bound patient could read in his eyes the same apprehension.

"Hello, brother," the Toa of Earth greeted him sweetly. He held up his hand in a fist for the fraction of a second before closing his other palm around it. He couldn't ask him for a Toa salute, not in the way they'd grown accustomed to anymore: they would have clanged knuckles as hard as they could have been able to, and the fragile organic mixture that was the hand of meat would have turned to a limp mass of shredded flesh and broken bone. "Hope we're not intruding. You don't seem to be doing too bad, eh?"

The other smiled, much more confidently than he had at first. He'd been practicing. Getting the hang of this 'lips' thing.

The Toa of Fire remained silent, staring at him. A kind nudge from Onua reminded him that, unlike their brother, he could not feel somewhere around a good dozen organs shifting with each word in a manner so wrong and nauseating that he couldn't stand to articulate a single syllable.

"Hello," he only said, lamely.

A ghastly sound responded. An attempt at a 'hi'.

The two Toa approached the cot.

"Where is...?" Onua braved to ask.

The answer came in the turning of a head to a corner of the room, one that opened into a smaller nook of sorts. His peer could walk just fine, unlike him, as both his legs were healthy enough; being nothing but perfectly coherent with himself, he had begun using that advantage to hide away from any visitors that tried to get a hold of him. Including if it was their siblings, of course.

Especially if it was their siblings.

The Toa of Earth followed his former brother's gaze for a moment and gave up on it immediately. Better not to bother a sleeping Kane Ra.

Beside him, Tahu looked at the hair.

It started where his brain should have been and went down, down, all the way to his shoulders, all the way past them. In smaller bouts it grew from his arms, his legs, his chest, his pelvis, like grass or moss of sorts. At times it curled tighter, into springs, at times in a more relaxed way, into waves or strands of kelp. In some cases it grew straight, like softened pine needles or something like that.

It looked unnatural.

Like some sick joke.

This was not his brother. This was something else. Something that responded to his brother's name, that tried to sound like his brother's voice, that existed in an approximation of his brother's shape.

He felt his hands tremble.

Another step, and before he knew it something soft and frail and too tender was wrapped around him so hard he could feel his joints seep into it with the ease of a burning blade into a pane of ice. His fingers wrapped around it as well, stumbling as it found bumps and sunken lines upon an otherwise flat surface, getting caught and tangled in the somewhat matted mass of minuscule keratin wires, pulling a few in the hurry of trying not to do just that. The squeezing continued, and he could feel the skin giving in against metal the more pressure was applied; he hastily patted the bumpy spine and reached up to the shoulders, managing to convince the grappling hug to loosen just in time before the flesh was torn.

His heartlight pulsed erratically as he slowly forced his breathing down once more. He held back with all the careful worry in the world.

Muffled words reached him, a few gentle knocks against what sounded like a force field. He looked up: Onua looked back from behind the softly shimmering spherical shield summoned by his glowing Hau.

Oh.

Sorry, he did not say.

Don't apologize, his brother did not reply as he was allowed to step in before the barrier returned to divide the three of them from the rest of the world again.

He sat next to him on the cot, leaning a little closer to place a hand of his own on the bundle of meat and skin essentially sitting on the Toa of Fire's lap. It was warm like a desert rock; it seemed to perfectly soak in the heat Tahu gave off.

An arm reached out, wrapped around Onua's neck, pulled him closer. The soft face laid against their joined shoulders.

Pohatu shook a little.

His brothers closed around him.

He could feel Akamai through their hold: he could feel it, steady, warm, strong, coursing through the veins overtaking his body.

He listened to its breathing, their breathing, the familiar comfort of their dangerous forms.

He felt his skin's fear of being pierced.

Pohatu tried to hold tighter, to let the metal sink all the way into him, to feel no pain against them like he would have had so little time ago.

Tahu and Onua pried him off gently just enough so that he wouldn't hurt himself.

The Hau's shield shimmered brighter.

Their hands were rough and warm on his back.

It was nice to know he was loved.

Despite it all.

-

From the moment the green Miru made its appearance, he dreaded the words that were bound to reach him eventually.

Because of course, he would have said something.

How could he not? They hadn't seen each other in so long, with all the concerned thoughts that came with that, and now that they were all back together he was treated to an unsightly creature that he should have somehow recognized. A single glance and he would have realized the gravity of the situation. It would have sunk in quickly, unstopped and unstoppable, like a blade into muscle; he would have shouted something like Mata Nui!, and stumbled back as he bristled visibly, appalled, and would have asked him what in the world had happened to mess him like that.

Instead, Lewa surprised him.

He just looked.

In perfect silence, he just looked.

The object of his attention retreated into himself, into his gross form sitting angrily on the barren floor now unbound by bandages as his cuts had healed all but completely, scowling at the Toa of Air while the glowing green eyes simply took him in.

Had his brother ever been so quiet? Was he really that ghastly?

No; he would have jumped back if he'd been so disgusted, would have floated right up to the ceiling and rushed away. Lewa wasn't a fan of retreats, but he knew how to make one quite well.

Instead, the familiar mass of thin tendons and metal armor lowered itself slowly, carefully, until it was more or less at the same level as the thing he was staring so intently at. Behaving like he would before a frightened Rahi which hisses and growls terribly as it is cornered, for it fears its wounded leg will turn it into a larger beast's meal, he took care to slide closer in the least threatening way possible, all gentle movements and steady gaze.

He considered it a success, since the other did not react.

Lewa held his hand out expectantly with his palm pointing upwards.

After a moment or two, very carefully, a frailer one laid on it.

The Toa's touch was strangely soft, strangely rough. It was barely there, thin and ethereal, yet felt almost like a fern's caress as one passes through them, too. His fingers traced the scars running thin regular rings around the fingers, lightening the skin where the new patches had finally healed above the cuts.

He reached along the back, along the bones hidden beneath muscle; he stopped at the wrist. He looked.

A sudden gentle 'thunk' by his side made the other jump.

"Sorry," Gali whispered in a lulling tone.

He had been so absorbed by the tactile feeling that he hadn't even noticed her arrival. She sat on her knees next to him, not reaching out, not trying to touch him, not trying to impose comfort on him until his shoulders lowered again.

She, too, only looked.

The former wounds might have seemed to trace nonsensical patterns to most - shapes without meaning, mirrored carvings hetched without rhyme or reason.

Gali winced.

Their armor, the very thing designed to shield them - all that was left of it, aside from the scraps in the wreck, were the signs of its damage on the beings it needed to protect. Painful trenches dug into flesh, born of good intentions.

Her fingertips, caked in brine and jagged with wet salt, laid on the arm so lightly she wasn't even sure she was touching it.

She wasn't shrugged off.

Their sister ventured towards the back, meeting the scapula, tracing its shape as carefully as she could; her Air brother inched along the remains of a cut across a forearm.

Can I still call you brother?, they all thought without saying a single thing. Now that I am so profoundly different from you, will you still let me use such a word? Will you still let me recognize you as my sibling, my friend, my kin? Are you still mine? Am I still yours? Do I still feel to you like you used to know me as, or have I become a total stranger? Can you still call me brother?

"Am I hurting you?" Lewa asked quietly.

The former Toa shook his head.

Gali exhaled a sigh of relief; her palm rubbed long swathes across his peeking ribs.

Kopaka shut his eyes and breathed.

Deep. In. Out.

Deep. In. Out.

He could feel Wairuha's presence wash over him - its ever-shifting, ever-soothing, ever-cooling form passing through his limbs as it rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell within him, following his siblings' careful exploration, their kindness given motion, submitting a pace for his shivering inhales to walk after, step after step after step.

He could feel them mapping out the body he'd grown, so careful in fear he'd break, so curious and uneasy yet sparing him a disgust they couldn't bring themselves to feel about him.

He could feel their affection seep into him, as if to try healing an invincible ache.

He could feel himself wanting to cry.

I love you, he wanted to say.

I love you, truly, he wanted to say.

I love you, truly, really, he wanted to say.

I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're still here. I'm glad you didn't abandon me. I'm glad. I'm really glad. I'm so very, very, very glad.

Lewa was humming.

Gali brushed his hair.

I'm really glad, he wanted to say.

I'm so very, very, very glad, he wanted to say.

I love you so very, truly, really much, he wanted to say.

Deep. In. Out.

Deep. In. Out.

Kopaka fell asleep on his sister's shoulder, unplagued by nightmares of seeing horrid bloodied snakes make a nest in his gut.

Gali held his other hand.

Lewa kept humming.

-

He'd planned to whistle him awake with a midday birdsong. No ward of his wouldn't have recognized how out of place that was, in the middle of the night; the strangeness of such an mistimed call would have certainly caused some wariness in him, but it would have been the quickest way to stir him back to consciousness. He'd hoped the sleepiness would have made things easier.

Kopaka, sitting on his cot since another horrid dream had forced his eyes open again about an hour ago, squinted towards the little lights near the doorway. Pohatu slept curled around his hand, still injured leg outstretched.

Nuju chirped a greeting again.

No response.

The Turaga tried his luck, and stepped forward.

No response.

Only a dark silent stare, immoble, freezing cold, sizing him up as he approached, closer and closer, until he too was sitting on the somewhat stiff mattress.

Kopaka made no sound nor movement.

Silence hung between them.

Nuju waited before meeting his gaze, so exhausted, a little ashamed. He wondered if the former Toa could have understood.

If he could have forgiven his weakness.

They were too similar for the Turaga's liking, sometimes. So quick at jumping to conclusions, so hasty in scurrying into isolation as soon as something threatened to overwhelm them, so insistent in hiding away into themselves instead of seeking comfort, convinced they knew how to handle their own pain best. It was quite incredible how despite their influence Matoro had turned out so sweet, so kind - although more than once he'd regretted dooming him to abide to their shared painful silence.

His hands balled into fists, his heartlight stuttered. He struggled to calm his shaking form.

They hadn't even had the time to mourn him.

Everything had been so hectic.

So dangerous and chaotic.

It had been like being a Toa all over again, but worse.

Somehow so, so, so much worse.

They hadn't had a moment to breathe, to let themselves feel in a time when what they needed was to keep their sense sharp and alert, to think of anything other than surviving and resisting and planning and escaping and, and, and...

And so they'd never mourned him.

And so he'd only had time to do that now.

And then...

And then, now...

He breathed in, deeply. He turned.

Such dark eyes, his Toa had. Nuju's glowing ones reflected in them, creating specks of light on the humid surface like sunshine on water.

Kopaka did not speak in stars, bright riddles to be decoded, hints and suggestions leading to undisputable if at times nebulous answers; he spoke in snowflakes, small details, carefully constructed structures of meaning compressed into minuscule pieces.

The Turaga watched his neck contract and shift as he swallowed. He was certain the action felt as foreign and disturbing to the poor creature as it looked.

Pohatu shifted in distress when the soft hand slipped away from his grip; his alarmed whines waned as fingers combed through his hair, slowly, sweetly, until he was calm once more. The former Toa pulled himself into a kneel, facing his guide, tension bubbling and twitching beneath his skin: he leaned forward, forward, forward, until his face laid against the metal chest, and wrapped his arms around the smaller frame so tenderly cold.

The iron fingertips grazed his back and cheek, cupped the alien body within them. It shuddered under the kind grasp.

Then came heaving breaths, heavy, hissing through dull teeth, struggling against themselves; and finally, with a horrible whimper, came the water, rivulets from melting icicles, cold, so cold, seizing the flesh with horrible shivers as strangled sobs tore his throat apart, as useless nails tried to sink deeper into the Turaga's armor, searching for something familiar, known, loved to grab onto.

Kopaka cried, as hard as he could.

Robotic hands held him a little closer and brushed away his tears.

One ward lost forever; one changed so drastically he was convinced his true self was just as gone.

Destiny hated what he loved, it seemed.

Nuju tightened his embrace around his Toa, brushing through the long hair he allowed his mask to sink into, swaying him gently as he listened to his anguish.

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

A Bionicle Advent Calendar: December 5th (Day 5)

The Prompt: One of your characters must be a librarian

“What is this place?” Nidhiki looked up with some awe at the large room they had entered, completely filled with shelves, all of which were covered in dusty documents: tablets, codices, scrolls, bound slabs of wood, memory crystals, and more.

“My library,” said Lariska.

“Your library,” echoed Nidhiki doubtfully. “This is more than half as large as the Hall of Documents in the Archives of Metru Nui, and probably at least as large as Dume’s private library in the Coliseum.”

“Well, it’s the Dark Hunters’ library,” said Lariska, “but I am the librarian.”

The green-armoured Toa made an appreciative, if doubtful, gesture in the secret hand-language of the Dark Hunters that he had been learning. Lariska laughed sharply.

“Not all the Dark Hunters can read,” she said, answering the question, “and it is a privilege, not a burden to take on this extra role. Knowledge is how I face my most powerful enemies—and the knowledge here is unparalleled.”

Lariska summoned lights to their globes and the dark room glowed with flickered yellow light.

“This is where I first decoded who you are,” she said. Nidhiki looked at her, baffled.

“”I never take a mission without research,” said Lariska.

“Well, you can tell me who the spy is,” said Nidhiki. “It’s that Ussal thief, Orkahm, isn’t it?”

“No spies,” said Lariska, and when Nidhiki snorted, she corrected herself. “Yes, the Dark Hunters have spies—but my research isn’t limited to that. You and your team are in many a chronicle. The Matoran love writing about their Toa-heroes, after all.”

Nidhiki flinched at her teasing use of Chutespeak, a Metru Nuian dialect he still cringed to hear, as it seemed in his ears to reduce the Le-Matoran to uneducated thrill-seekers who couldn’t settle on a given a word. Lariska chuckled to see his discomfort.

“And what would they call a Toa on the Tren Krom Peninsula?” she asked.

“How do you know about that?” asked Nidhiki darkly. Lariska didn’t answer, but led him to a shelf full of scrolls. A small label on the shelf in Lariska’s neat hand read “dispatches from Metru Nui.”

“Sometimes, the research does come from spies,” she admitted.

~*~*~*~

Nidhiki did not spend much time in the library thereafter. Whether he would have wanted to or not, the Shadowed One did not value either idleness or book study in his new Toa, but emphasized the need for physical training and time in the field. It was only after that fateful encounter with Roodaka, when he was left alone for a time, broken and demoralized, that Nidhiki returned to the dusty chamber.

Lariska spent little enough time there herself—it was, after all, quite dusty—and the time that she did have was spent cataloguing new items or reading them. But she was there when he arrived, late at night, scuttling about in the darkness, hoping no one could see him.

“Go away!” he snapped. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“This is my library,” she noted calmly.

“It’s the Dark Hunters’ library,” muttered Nidhiki.

“In that case, what can I help you find?” she asked in a patently false sweet voice.

“I need to find a new name,” he told her. “I can’t be Nidhiki anymore. He’s killed me. I need to find some stupid code name, like Visorak or Crablegs.”

“He is cruel,” said Lariska, flexing her mechanical arm unconsciously. “Let him heap shame on you if you wish; you needn’t heap any yourself.”

“I am hideous,” said Nidhiki.

“Listen, Crablegs,” said Lariska, “you didn’t feel any need to change your name when the Matoran and your brother Toa knew you’d betrayed them. If being an actual traitor isn’t enough to make you abandon your name, why would being a not-actual Visorak make a difference? Whose opinion is there that you even care about? Not the Shadowed One’s, when he’s the one who did this. Airwatcher? Charger? Krekka?”

Nidhiki snorted.

“Maybe just you,” he said.

“Well, I like Nidhiki better than Crablegs.”

~*~*~*~

Nidhiki returned to the library one last time before he and Krekka were sent on their last mission to Metru Nui. Lariska was not there, but Nidhiki knew this. He left a folded envelope on Lariska’s desk. It had taken him more days than he cared to count to complete it with his still not dexterous claws. There it sat for nearly a decade, as Lariska went from one mission to another, rarely on Odina, until the day she was summoned to the Shadowed One and left in command while he went to Metru Nui to see what had become of their agents.

Even then, it was not a simple matter to command the complex operation of the Dark Hunters, and in the wake of the Cataclysm, every agent on every island in the universe was reporting back urgently to Odina, and she was kept busy for weeks, a mound of reports that needed to be archived in the library growing ever taller, and it wasn’t until the Shadowed One returned that she removed them. It was then, too, that she learned what had become of Nidhiki and Krekka.

Lariska had no desire to be anywhere other than alone that night, so she returned to the library with her stack of reports, finding the chamber dustier than ever. At first, she did not even notice the folded envelope, but when she did, when she had opened it and read it and clasped it gently, she paid no more heed to the reports that still needed to be filed, but took the envelope to a small chamber below the floor of the Dark Hunter’s library, where she had a small bed and two shelves of her own books and documents. Not for the Dark Hunters’ library, but for her own, were the contents of that forgotten envelope.  And there she left it, till the remaking of Spherus Magna and the evacuation of Mata Nui’s inhabitants: The Last Will and Testament of Toa Nidhiki.

[whiteheartlight]

thinking about post-war trauma for the Toa Mata... how Lewa has issues with his autonomy after Tren Krom and dissociates because he remembers what it was like to be torn out of his body and he doesn't feel like himself physically anymore. he doesn't like to be alone anymore, will sneak into his siblings' rooms to sleep next to them at night but won't admit anything is wrong, won't talk about it. probably hasn't even told them fully what happened. and how Tahu keeps waking up with the sudden and intense feeling that something terrible is going to happen and he has to go check on each one of his teammates to make sure they're safe and close to him. Kopaka's exhausted constantly, desperately homesick, lost, feeling a disconnect from everyone else around him, so he just keeps putting himself in dangerous situations because the adrenaline and the fighting gives him a purpose again. started losing his faith in the world after Matoro died and it only got worse when Mata Nui left.

Pohatu feels guilt and grief over every friend he has lost. he wants peace so badly he'll ignore trouble on the horizon and refuse to be involved in anything political because it's easier to just pretend everything is fine now. deludes himself and then gets terrible feelings of anger and loss of control when something goes wrong, which is completely new for him. sometimes he does think about how he could kill his enemies or how he should have in the past because at least that would make this all stop. Gali actually thinks she might be doing okay if her brothers weren't all acting so weird. sure, she gets nightmares, and she gets nervous if she doesn't see them all at least once a day, and she grieves those she's lost, but she could get through it with a little time and help. so she's trying too hard to help everybody and that puts her on the back burner and then she gets stressed and hopeless again. and Onua acts the same as he always does, but that's kind of awful in the end, because he sees that his siblings need help sometimes and he doesn't do anything about it. wonders if it's wrong that he can't seem to bring himself to care, sometimes. he doesn't feel capable of dealing with anything anymore. feels like they failed. feels like they don't deserve a new world. tired.

when things start getting settled they'll find themselves again, but it will take time. will be harder on some of them than others. sometimes the best they can do is all sit together in the quiet for long minutes, so they don't forget they're not alone.