#tribes of the wastelands

[titanomancy]

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the ash wastes.

[dykedvonte]

My only defense of conceptual follower Benny is that he was a warrior nomad and a raider, that still has it in him if we take the All Roads comic into consideration, and how he is not like a real dainty soft hand city slicker, cause it’s mostly an act.

So in scenarios where he is forced to travel with the Courier I 100% think he’d be like “What do ya mean you can’t scale a mountain, pussycat? Watch how the pros do it.” And then you see him scuttle up a cliff face scarily fast only to have to save him when he bumps into a Cazador nest.

[maggotwithanf]

also hey hi hello if any fellow wastelanders are on tumblr please say hi or add me let's be friends omfg.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Yisu: Cinnabar

Designer's Reflection: Cinnabar

Obtained: Vol. 2 Ch. 8 workshop

Rarity: SR

Attribute: Blue/Cool

Awakened Suit: Mighty Wilderness

Story - transcripts from Designer's Reflection

Chapter 1 - Traveler in the Winds

Chapter 2 - Prophecy of Divine Descent

Chapter 3 - Hawk Hunter

Story - summarized

All Yisu can remember before waking up in Miraland is living with her friends on an islet, and a special friend telling her to protect the continent with her life. And also an important Ocean.

The only trace of that Ocean is the smell of the black sand in Wasteland. The sand itself is a cursed entity, attacking and destroying various towns and tribes. And Yisu has been tracking it down for a long time, hoping to discover the connection between the sand and the Ocean - and hopefully, a connection to her past.

Recently, her journey takes her to the Gold Stone Tribe. The black sand has been relentless and nearly decimates their army. Yisu intervenes in time to protect the village. With her divine bow and arrows, she breaks the black sand as it transforms into vicious hawks.

Thus, the legend of the Hawk Hunter is born. Yisu never stays in the same location for long, forever tracking the black sand, battling it wherever she goes. She still doesn't remember who she is or where she's from, but nothing will stop her from finding the truth.

Connections

-Priestess Tess, of the Gold Stone Tribe, can communicate with the souls of the dead through her dreams, and in her memories for Spirit Whisper, Priestess Sharna was one of those souls.

-When we first meet Yisu in the main story, she signs up to take part in the Hawk Hunter event. When one of the staff members ask if she's taken part before, she says no. This is because she was too busy fighting the black sand and never came to do the hunting games.

-The "Ocean" that Yisu mentions is the Ocean of Memories. Before coming to Miraland, Yisu was one of the Five Envoys of the God of Styling and Beauty. She rules over the attribute of Cool.

-The attribute of Cool has also been called Handsomeness, and while Infinity Nikki isn't directly connected with Shining Nikki's timeline, Coolness is also attributed to Willpower. Plus, in Yisu's UR Reflection "Gilded Shackles" and her Time Corridor event "Realm of Beauty," she is regarded as the goddess of strength and courage. Yisu embodies all these aspects.

Fun Facts

-Yisu is the only POC main character. There are other POC characters mentioned, but they don't get character art.

-This isn't a Connection, but it's something I noticed: the beginning line for the Reflection is "It's a story from a long time ago," which is exactly what Krista/Christine says when you choose her Reflection for styling battles.

[theplotmage]

50 Worldbuilding Setting ideas for your fantasy book

Cities and Settlements

1. Capital City - The central hub of political power and culture in the realm.

2. Harbor Town - A bustling port city crucial for trade and naval activities.

3. Elf Village - A serene settlement hidden within a forest, home to elven inhabitants.

4. Dwarven Mines - An underground city where dwarves mine precious metals and gems.

5. Nomad Camp - A temporary settlement for wandering tribes and traders.

6. Market Square - The commercial heart of any major city, filled with vendors and artisans.

7. Sky City - A floating metropolis held aloft by magic or advanced technology.

Natural and Enchanted Locations

8. Mystic Forest - A dense, magical woodland filled with ancient trees and mythical creatures.

9. Enchanted Lake - A serene body of water with mystical properties.

10. Secret Cave - A hidden cavern that might contain treasure or danger.

11. Dark Swamp - A treacherous wetland often home to dark magic and creatures.

12. Forbidden Desert - A vast, arid expanse known for its harsh conditions and ancient secrets.

13. Floating Island - A landmass suspended in the sky, often home to unique flora and fauna.

14. Hidden Valley - A secluded, fertile valley protected from the outside world.

15. Charmed Meadows - Peaceful fields imbued with protective enchantments.

Magical and Supernatural Places

16. Wizard’s Tower - The abode of powerful sorcerers, filled with arcane knowledge.

17. Sacred Temple - A place of worship and spiritual significance, often protected by divine magic.

18. Haunted Castle - An ancient fortress inhabited by ghosts or malevolent spirits.

19. Necromancer’s Crypt - The lair of a dark sorcerer who practices necromancy.

20. Oracle’s Sanctuary - A holy site where oracles deliver prophecies and visions.

21. Magical Academy - An institution where young sorcerers learn the art of magic.

22. Alchemist’s Workshop - A place where alchemists experiment and create potions and elixirs.

23. Time Portal - A gateway to different eras, allowing travel through time.

Dangerous and Uncharted Areas

24. Ancient Ruins - The remnants of a once-great civilization, often hiding secrets or dangers.

25. Dragon’s Lair - The home of a fearsome dragon, filled with treasure and peril.

26. Cursed Forest - A dark, haunted woodland where malevolent forces dwell.

27. Battlefield - The site of a significant past conflict, often haunted by the spirits of the fallen.

28. Volcanic Wasteland - A desolate, fiery landscape wrought with volcanic activity.

29. Giant’s Keep - A massive fortress built and inhabited by giants.

30. Pirate Cove - A hidden inlet where pirates gather to plan their exploits.

31. Shadow Realm - A dark, parallel dimension filled with malevolent entities.

32. Frosty Tundra - A vast, icy wasteland where few dare to venture.

Cultural and Social Hubs

33. Royal Palace - The lavish residence of the ruling monarch and their court.

34. Thieves’ Guild - A secretive organization of thieves and rogues.

35. Warrior’s Training Grounds - A facility where soldiers and heroes train for battle.

36. Arena of Champions - A grand coliseum where warriors compete in combat.

37. Goblin Market - A chaotic and colorful marketplace run by goblins, offering exotic goods.

38. Hermit’s Hut - The secluded home of a wise hermit, often sought for advice.

39. Secret Hideout - A concealed refuge used by rebels or outlaws.

Mystical and Legendary Sites

40. Ethereal Gardens - Magical gardens with rare plants and enchanting beauty.

41. Celestial Observatory - A tower dedicated to studying the stars and celestial events.

42. Sanctuary of Lost Knowledge - A hidden library containing ancient and forbidden texts.

43. Sunken Ruins - The underwater remnants of a lost civilization.

44. Gryphon Nesting Grounds - A mountainous area where gryphons make their nests.

45. Spiral Staircase - An enigmatic, seemingly endless staircase leading to unknown depths.

46. Giant’s Keep - A colossal fortress built and inhabited by giants.

47. Protean Plains - A region where the landscape constantly changes, reshaped by powerful magic or ancient curses.

Adventurous and Explorative Spots

48. Treasure Hunter’s Camp - A gathering spot for explorers seeking lost relics.

49. Relic Seeker’s Cave - A cave rumored to contain powerful artifacts.

50. Explorer’s Outpost - A base for adventurers preparing for expeditions into unknown territories.

***

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[jollmaster]

(re)design trivia: Cain

° looks like father in appearance

° actually, it's more accurate to say "both parents", since Adam and Eve are technically closer than siblings

° lanky and gruff

° with spikes in hair

° a habit of holding a stalk in mouth

° permanently chafed feet from farming

° how to be cheerful when you were conceived in Eden and then born in the middle of wild wastelands

° was an ancestor of the tribes of East

° killed Abel by slitting his throat with a sickle and pouring the blood on the ground like an altar

° shot by his own great-grandson while hunting: Lamech was almost blind and mistook Cain for a mountain ram

main gang: Vaggie, Charlie, Angel Dust, Niffty, sir Pentious, Cherri Bomb, Husk, Alastor

Heaven: Adam, Eve, Lute, Emily, Sera

Adam and Eve's children: Abel, Seth, Awan, Azura

Hell: Lilith, Lucifer, Seviathan, Helsa, Razzle and Dazzle, Keekee

Vees: Vox, Valentino, Velvette

overlords: Zestial, Rosie, Carmilla Carmine, Odette and Clara, Flaming Skull Guy

friends and relatives: Mimzy, Arackniss, Molly, Alastor's mom, Alastor's father

[425599167]

Fallout: New Vegas is all about rebuilding society in the Mojave, and the three given factions all attempt to do so by recreating the past. The NCR models itself on the now-destroyed United States, with all the problems involved. Caesar created the Legion in the image of Rome because he believed it could best thrive in the wasteland. Mr. House is arguably the most forward-thinking with his focus on technology and eventual interplanetary travel, but he still rebuilt New Vegas from his nostalgic recollections of the city. Building on the past isn't wrong, the problem is these three factions don't appear to be learning from anything that happened.

NCR characters never directly acknowledge that they're following the example of a society that destroyed itself. Caesar criticizes them for this, believing the republic functioned best while under the quasi-monarchy of Aradesh and Tandi. But Caesar ignores how 1) Rome also fell and 2) he's confronting the same problem as a brain tumor is on the verge of killing him. Even if you treat his tumor, he's still mortal. Caesar was given an education, and his knowledge of strategy and history let him build the Legion, which he then made anti-intellectual and revisionist. The society he created cannot replace him, and will fragment when he dies. House is more contemptuous of the pre-war world, but he still brought it back, and specifically assigned the Omertas with the role of ruthless mobsters who will kill anyone in their way. Apparently he thought that was a good idea.

This extends into the DLCs, too. Elijah plans to use the Sierra Madre to wipe the slate clean and restore the Brotherhood of Steel to their position of unrivaled power, with himself back as Elder. Every day, Joshua Graham feels the pain of being burned. The Think Tank scientists are all stuck in loops, stuck in the past, stuck with their flaws centuries after believing they overcame their humanity. For all my grievances with Lonesome Road, it fits the pattern, as Ulysses saw a new society forming, saw it burn, and couldn't move on. If you let Ulysses live, he has similar criticisms of the NCR, Legion, and House. They're all idealized recreations, like the Vera Keyes hologram. Let go, begin again.

Benny may be a weird mix of dangerous and absurd, but he contrasts the other factions well. He jumped at the chance to join House, fought his tribe's previous leader to make it happen, then planned to take down House, too. House dismisses Benny as not understanding complex technologies due to his tribal upbringing, but he built a computer lab attached to his suite and studies technology as best he can. Benny doesn't want to relive the past, he wants to move forward, he wants something better. You can kill him and take his role, or, when facing certain death at Caesar's hands, he'll explain his vision and ask you to see it through.

After replaying everything, though the other endings have understandable support, I think the Independent route fits the story's themes best, the only one where something definitively new is being built. The Courier isn't remaking anything. Part of this is simply open-ended roleplaying, allowing the player to imagine the character's completed goal. If you choose one of the other three, the Courier can work to correct their faction's flaws and counter the destructive nostalgia affecting them. The Independent ending isn't necessarily the "best" for the Mojave, the Courier's morality and a hundred other decisions determine that, but it is the most compelling conclusion to the story.

[rakhalofthestars]

Ikanaide

Synopsis: Ikanaide (いかないで) = Do not go. Words that you had used to plead with Boothill so he'd stay. Words that he used to plead with the heavens to not take all that he holds dear away from him.

Tags: Boothill x gn reader, Boothill's backstory, heavy angst and tragedy, Pre-cyborg Boothill, Established relationship, Boothill-centric

Warnings: Mentions of torture (Nothing graphic), cussing, major character death

wc: 2,5k

Varmints. All of them. They called his tribe savages. They had the audacity to call them uncivilised. As if they were any better. Would a civilised person have done what they had done to him?

The- What was it they called themselves again? Right. The IPC. The IPC thought they could get away with kicking his people out of their homes, disrespecting the soil his people had lived off of for centuries, and blaspheming against their beliefs. The IPC thought capturing a well-respected gunslinger like him, throwing him into a hoosegow and belting him, would break their spirits? That it would drive their twisted message home and stop his brothers and sisters in arms to back down?

Nay. If anything, it only further solidified their resolve to fight back. The IPC’s actions only made it abundantly clear that the cowboys must do everything in their power to drive away these devils from their home. 

These thoughts echoed in Boothill’s mind while he slowly dragged himself back home to the little wooden cottage just a ways from the farm he had grown up on. His body ached. Each step that he took felt as if he was getting stabbed by the prickly cacti that could be found on the sandy wastelands of Aeragan-Epharshel. However, it also served as a reminder that he was above snakes. Boothill had managed to run from the crowbar hotel but it had come at the cost of some of his fellow guerilla fighters to get arrested instead. He swore at the reminder. He’ll free them all. Their actions will not have been in vain, he’ll make sure of it. 

After what feels like hours, Boothill finally managed to reach the door to the cottage. He could hear faint humming from inside. The familiar tune brought a smile to his face despite the stinging pain that had the man on the verge of passing out. It was a tune that he had learned from Nick, a melody that Graey would hum in a wordless lullaby when he was still knee-high to a grasshopper to lull the rowdy boy back then to sleep. It was a tune that he had played on his guitar to serenade you on countless nights underneath the stars. One filled with warmth and love.

Raising one shaking (shaking? Why was he shaking? He’ll be fine. He has to be fine. For them. For everyone.) hand, Boothill knocks on the door. The humming stops. A shame, for now with the silent darkness of the moonless night shrouding him, Boothill was unsure whether he even was in the realm of consciousness anymore. Nay. He hears footsteps, hurried ones.

Without wasting another second, you rush forward and pull him into your arms, holding him in a warm and soft embrace. It was an embrace that he had come to associate with home. An embrace filled with so much love and gentleness that it made even a man as roughened up as him to go all soft and mushy. You just had that effect on him.

The door opens and Boothill stumbles back from it, lest he falls face first when it swings open. He sways on the spot and can only manage a half-smile half-grimace when you open the door and gasp.

“Boothill! Honey, what happened to yo-”

Your words are cut off due to the sight of Boothill swaying dangerously now on his feet. His vision was turning dark at the corners. Fuck, it hurt. Everything hurts.  

Boothill’s head slumps against your neck, breathing in the scent of the stew that you had been cooking and the mild, herbal scent of the soap you used. Even in his half-conscious state, the man could feel the worry and fear radiating off of you. Despite his condition, it brings a smile to his chapped and bruised lips. No matter how things changed, you continued to stay the same. His loving little worrywart. 

While Boothill was in his own little world, barely staying conscious, your heart was racing. The fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing felt oddly damp on his back. It didn’t make sense. Surely he hadn’t sweat so much on the way back? Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Wrong in the all the ways everything had been for the past couple weeks, ever since those strange men clad in black had stepped foot onto the planet you called home. 

You slowly remove one trembling hand from Boothill’s chiseled and broad back and bite back a scream. Your hand was damp with a faint, reddish liquid. Blood.

–

“Hon…what happened to you? Hon..? Boothill?”

You receive no answer and it’s then you realize that the cowboy’s body felt heavier and loose against you. He had passed out.

When Boothill finally comes to again, he hisses and groans in pain almost immediately. He blinked a couple of times, allowing his steely gray eyes to adjust to the lighting inside the wooden cottage. He was sitting up in your shared bed…well kinda. It’d be more accurate to say that he was slumped face first against the headboard. At least you had had the sense to wrap a softer headband around his forehead so it wouldn’t hurt as much. 

The man stirs and he hears you yelp from behind, cursing as his sudden movement has frightened you. 

“A warning next time, Boothill. Thank you,” you sigh. Boothill felt the raw skin of his back sting again and he hisses.

“ ‘Pologies, didn’t realize a man had to announce to the entire dadgum world that he’s awake,” is his dry reply. “The hell are ya doin’ anyways?” He tries to turn but regrets it immediately when a sharp stab of pain spreads across his body. 

Boothill can feel the heavy silence. He can hear the barrage of questions that were just waiting to spill from your lips. He can guess the assumptions in your mind. He knew you too well. 

“Don’t move, ya coot,” you chide him in a gentle voice. “What d’ya think I’m doin’? I’m clearly cleanin’ up yer wounds.”

Ah right. The wounds. Perhaps it’d be better to call them scars instead. There was no way those marks would ever fade, either physically or mentally.

“Look…”

“I’m lookin’ and I ain’t likin’ what I’m havin’ ta see.”

He rolls his eyes but welcomes the light humor, knowing it would fade once he explained himself.

“I got caught by them sons of bitches and- up up up. Lemme finish, will you? As I was sayin’, they arrested me and hauled me over to the good ol’ crowbar hotel.”

You frown to yourself while putting away the now dirty and damp rag, stained a brownish-red from the bloody scars.

“Well, it don’t explain the…the scars. What happened, darlin’?”

Boothill closes his eyes at the question, trying to block out the phantom sensations. Hands bound by rope. The crack of leather on skin. Raw flesh. Hoarse screams that echoed off the cold and grimy walls. 

“Don't work yerself into a frenzy over me, sweetpea,” Boothill murmurs against your lips. The response incurs a heavy sigh followed by a shorter, chaste kiss before you pull away.

“They belted me. Soaked a belt in saltwater and cleaned my plow. The assholes were questionin’ me, tried to get me to ‘fess up to where all the other resistance fighters were. What our plans were and to make us stop. The others…they sacrificed themselves so I could run.”

“Oh… Oh, my darlin’...” You shuffle closer to your beloved, gently turning his head and plant a kiss on his lips. Tender and languid with the lingering traces of his favorite malt juice and your favorite caramel sweets that he liked to buy for you. Just the way you both liked- no, loved it. 

“How can I not when this…” you gesture to the scars on his back, the dark skin raw and reddened from the torture inflicted. “When this is what they've done to you, what they're doing to our siblings and…what they might do to us.”

“We won't let ‘em. They raise their weapons against us to break our spirits but they don't know that our spirits are stronger than our skin.”

You were doubtful. You didn't say it out loud but the words were on the tip of your tongue. Boothill couldn't blame you for your doubts. The conflict was unlike anything that he had ever seen. 

A heavy silence permeated through the cottage, broken only by the sound of you getting off the bed and walking to a potted aloe vera plant. The man slowly shifts on the mattress so he could watch you.

You grab a small hunting knife that was beside the plant. It was one that Boothill had made for you. He had painstakingly carved the oak into a handle for the sharp blade and had branded your initials at the edge along with a little heart. Using the knife with practiced ease, you slice off an aloe leaf and come back to sit behind him.

“I've been thinking…” You begin, pulling back the dark green skin layer of the leaf while speaking. You dip your fingers into the clear gel and begin to carefully apply it to the scars on Boothill’s back, rubbing it in with gentle, circular motions.

“Is there really no other way?”

Boothill, who had already been relaxing under the soothing sensation of the aloe vera and your fingers, slumps. He had expected the question. He couldn’t blame you for it either. Hell, he wished there was an easier way to resolve this fight without any bloodshed. He had already lost a few members of his family and countless friends and siblings in arms. 

He didn't want to lose you too or the little 12 month old girl that had quietly stumbled into the room, her tiny feet pattering against the floorboards. Both you and the man soften at the sight of her stumbling in the same way Boothill had stumbled upon her a few months ago during the harsh winter. For a few moments, you both forget all about the gloom and doom of your situation, of your beloved home. 

“Well, hey there, sugarcube…” Boothill murmurs with a gentle smile on his lips. He stretches his arms out, catching the little girl as she slowly walks into them with little giggles sounding from her tiny little body all the while. Uncaring for his sore and aching muscles, he pulls her up onto the bed to join the two of you, holding her in his lap.

“I wish there was another way, really I do. But ya’ve seen that peace ain’t an option. Them sons of guns came here armed to the teeth. All they know is violence and we gotta fight back in a way they’ll understand,” Boothill finally answers, watching as his daughter played with the long white locks of his hair. 

“Y’should’ve seen her today… learned to walk just a few days ago and now all she does is put them tiny feet o’ hers to use,” you murmur fondly, continuing to treat Boothill’s scars to the best of your abilities. “She..was lookin’ for you the entire day. Kept on tryin’ ta ask where you was. I had no answer.”

As if right on cue, the small child in his arms babbles and peers up at him. He could just make out the little word she was trying to pronounce, “dada”. His heart felt heavy in his chest and he sighs. He hadn’t forgotten about your question from earlier. 

“Ya’ll see, darlin’. I’ll be in apple pie order in no time. Just need ta rest a bit and then, I’ll give ‘em hell, guns blazin’ and all. After all, there’s only two kinds of people in this world. Those with a gun and those who dig their own grave. We’ve got the shooting irons and soon, those varmints are gonna be the only ones rottin’ in a bone orchard.”

He was rambling again. Gabbing on and on without pausing. He was trying to comfort you but you got the vague feeling that he was also trying to comfort himself. 

Boothill could feel his heart shattering into pieces. Fuck…he really was a bastard to do this to you. To the little girl in his arms. What hurt worse was that you and him both knew his answer because your words, laced with love, desperation and fear, your gentle touch on his back that were soothing the raw skin more than any herbal remedy ever could, the child in his arms that looked at him as if he had hung up the stars in the night sky, these were all reminders of what he was fighting for, what was at stake should he give up now.

“...Do not go.”

“...What?”

“Don’t go… please. I…I dunno what I’ll do if one a’ these days, I’ll wake up an’ see that you ain’t here.”

“Sweetpea-”

“Death is the fairest form of grace. I wanna experience that grace with you. Stay, please. ”

Boothill was fighting for you, his daughter, his family, his siblings in arms, his tribe, the soil that he grew up on, his home.

In the melancholic silence that now filled the space, Boothill could hear Nick’s gruff voice resounding in his ears, the words further strengthening his resolve. 

"The water here is smooth as fine wine,

the cold snow is cutting like a knife,

this place is...

the perfect world."

– 

It burned. Everything was burning. The ground, the trees, the animals, the people. The conflagration consumed everything. 

Boothill felt as if he was burning too. The smoke burned within him. Was it the smoke or his rage? What was it that was suffocating his lungs, clawing its way inside him and threatening to consume him? 

He didn't know. He didn't know a damned thing. He didn't know whether his family was alive. Whether that little bundle that he had found in the snow was still alive. Aeons above, he hoped she was alive. She had just learned to walk. He didn't know whether you were alive. There was so much he still had left to do. He was supposed to take you into town and buy you the little trinket that you had been eyeing for a while. He was supposed to teach his little girl to play the guitar that he had made for her. He was supposed to have a little shooting match with his friends, pay Nick and Graey a visit, and fight off the beasts of the wilderness that now took the form of men clad in black. 

Boothill ran, trying to run from the screams of those around him, from his fears and from the smoke that was chasing after him the same way he'd be chasing after a certain IPC member in the years to come. 

He sounded his barbaric yell over the roofs of the world, echoing the same words that you had spoken- no, pleaded to him just days earlier. 

Do not go.

[1244950]

Bay! Optimus in the comics has a wildly different backstory then compared to other versions of Optimus (and had a better characterization then in the films). In the IDW! Bayverse continuity there was no Orion Pax. Optimus was literally always called Optimus just without the title of prime. He was hidden away from the Fallen because he was the last of the dynasty of the primes so he grew up knowing nothing about who he was.

Cybertron during this time was already a desolate wasteland with little to no life with cybertronians being separated into tribes. Sentinel Prime finds Optimus and recruits him into his "autobots" alongside Elita One, Megatron, and Shockwave (Ironhide joined way later). Their goal was to find the allspark and restore life to Cybertron. They succeeded and the planet was reborn.

It was here Sentinel revealed Optimus's true heritage and that he was destined to succeed him as leader of the Autobots. Optimus being the noble leader he is turned down this position and decided to uncover Cybertron's artifacts. Megatron however had overheard this conversation and of course history repeats itself. (You can read the wiki to learn more its super interesting!!)

[callmecrazy4u2]

Aventurine x Reader x Sunday

My Jewel, My Dove Series

My Jewel Side - Childhood friends! Aventurine x Reader

Caught in the Facets

Preserved in memory shining bright like jewel Aventurine could not forget as he twirled his crystal glass that encapsulated the familiar yet so different view of his childhood friend singing on stage.

The clattering of casino tokens gave way to thrown dice. Aventurine mused over his past when porcelain dice on a ritzy casino board gave way to wooden dice thrown on wooden board in dusty desert as a child. Where he was pronounced the winner of child's game on a dusty windblown world.

A desert that stormed but never rained. The avign and katicans homeland where harsh winds blew and the tribes were outcasts to wastelands. The avign were constantly feuding with the Katicans for the few resources imperative for survival in harsh conditions like thiers.

Savagery and stereotypes abounded. It was whispered that the avign's sweet cravings could lure people in with dashing good looks and hypnotic eyes with shady caravan dealings. That the katican tribe was a warlike and brutal race that razed tribes to the ground for resources. The sand smudged the truth on both sides and was worsened by the constant fight for survival in barren land, while the elites stood safe on the sidelines protected by bountiful, richer, and greener lands.

In every village, if one was a blessed child there must be a cursed child.

However, to two small innocent children those were adult problems. Both prepubescents were bright eyed and golden haired and were currently concerned with a game of dice on the dusty ground.

"Aha I won again" crowed Kakavasha

"You must've cheated" the girl pouted stamping her foot and puffing out her cheek in consternation.

"Nah It was my blessing" cheekily put Kakavasha's eyes shining.

"Or your curse" rudly put in a group of bullies that had

Excuses curses don't exist silly don't listen to the bullies

The outcast y/n was the one dubbed as a cursed child as she had no blood family . Her mother died in childbirth and she was taken in by Kakavasha's family welcoming her as one of their own.

"My luck will drive the bad luck away don't listen to what they say" Kakavasha promised grasping her hand in solidarity as he pulled her alongside him into their family tent.

"Don't worry about that silly superstition. we are still standing after all " teased his older sister while their mother more wary of superstitions shsuhed her.

"By the grace of tricerotops may it not be true ....but a blessed child can surely counter a cursed one." Mama fugue spoke as she was superstitious. However his mother was still softhearted and couldn't leave a child alone so practically adopted y/n her as her own

They were the closest of companions since Kakavasha defended her from bullies,

" Ew don't hang around her she cursed your better than that because your blessed Kakavasha" coaxed the kids crowding around him

"Yea she has eyes that can see into your soul " spat another.

"I heard thats why the katicans keeps attacking us the cause of her cursed eyes." whispered even some of the adults from whom some of the children heard the rumors from.

"How spooky I heard she sees a future full of flames" gossiped the superstitous elders in hushed tones.

"Don't listen to them and even if it true my good luck will balance out your bad luck" promised Kakavasha convinced of his mother's daily assertions of his luck.

They were side by side doing chores and playing games. Whether it be brushing a camel, drawing water from a well or exploring the desert.

One of their favorite pastimes was hiding behind flapping laundry ,that was hung up to dry and playing hide and seek among the sheets.

It was peaceful life quirt with some night rumbling stomachs but overall a happy childhood were they knew no other life than dry derst sand. With activities that ranged from Counting the milling birds in the air, rolling their dice for made-up games, sitting by camp fires for stories, and watching the merchants haggle over goods.

Then the Katicans attacked.

War had broken out for the scarce resources for basic survival food water clothing goods that the avign traded.

Kakavasha's sister even headed out the warfront saying "We have to fight or lose everything "

The tent was engulfed in flames. Fights broke out mayhem waged and screams rang out.

"You are a blessed child so you must survive. RUN!" with a push Mama whispered grasping his head tenderly with a kiss before running in the opposite direction to face their enemy.

Small Hands grasped each other tightly together but were lost when confronted by an enemy warrior. To avoid the blows they were forced to split their hands apart and separated by falling debris and a world on fire. The two children in terror both ran lost in the chaos

only to be later to find shelter by allies, caught by enemies

bound by slavery, chains,

sent to the IPC, to jail

meeting, topaz, diamond, jade the ten stonehearts

meeting gopher wood, robin, sunday, the family

only to rise, to fall.

Aventurine defending himself in court against the ipc,

y/n participating in penaconys prison riot

losing old names to be reborn as new

Kakavasha rising to become Aventurine one of the stonehearts

Y/'n becoming Dove a star on the Penacony's stage part of the family

The blessed and cursed child were separated but who really was cursed or blessed? Both? None?

In the turmoil of the avign massacre both having slipped by and somehow survived to live different lives

Only to meet again in Penacony.

A singer on a stage and a gambler in his den.

Hypnotic eyes caught each other and could not look away.

Reunited at last for the start of a play another game.

Who will win this time?

[isabel3710]

I've dived headfirst back into my old Trolls hyper fixation with the release of the third movie. So I decided to write a little something for the idea of Branch being adopted by the Country Trolls.

I was inspired by some fan art by crunchy_coookies_ on insta and @rocksibblingsau's AU and a post they've made on this idea.

I would love to turn this into a full fledged fic one day but I'm already working on another trolls fanfic plus I got some (very loose) plans for another for when I'm done. But if I every have the time to write more I'll be sure to let you all know!

-----------

A little gray trolling sat on the edge of a dusty road, a worn looking bag sitting beside him. Branch held his ankle with both hands, it throbbed with pain and he was struggling not to cry. 

A few weeks ago Branch had decided to leave his tribe once and for all, he was tired of being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Full of people who either hated him or tried to turn him into something he wasn’t. So he packed a bag full of his prized possessions and any supplies he might need and snuck out in the middle of the night. 

At first things were great! And then he left the forest and made it to this desert of a wasteland, Branch did okay at first. He was careful to ration his food and slept with a knife in his hand.

Then today Branch had gotten his foot caught in some kind of hole and now his ankle really hurt. He had tried to stand up and power through but couldn’t without pain getting to an overwhelming degree.

He sniffed and whipped at his eyes, Branch didn’t know what he was going to do. He was stuck here with a hurt leg and he had run out of food last night. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some strange clip-clop sound. Branch reached into his bag and pulled out his little knife. He was alone out here and who knew how many things out in this strange land liked to eat trolls. 

Dust had suddenly risen up into the air and got into Branch’s eyes, he tried to blink it away as the strange sound got closer and closer. When his vision had cleared he saw the figure that matched the clopping sound.

And….

It was a troll?

The troll looked like one he had never seen before, she had orange skin and red hair which did remind him of the trolls back home. But that was where the similarities ended, for she had four legs with hooves and a fluffy looking teal tail. Her clothes weren't neon or pastel colored or covered in glitter, but fairly plain looking; with a few dirt stains and patches.

The woman seemed to notice him too for she started to walk over to him, the clopping sound following her. “Hey sugar” she said, her voice sounded strange. Nothing like Branch had ever heard before. “Why’re you out here all alone?”

Branch sniffled and tried to scoot away on his bottom, dragging his injured leg along the ground. The hand holding his knife shook a bit. 

“Hey, hey” the woman said, her voice gentle. “I’m not going ta’ hurt you.” She knelt in front of him “what happened ta’ your leg?”

Something about this woman felt calming, Branch hadn’t met anyone who made him feel this way since his Grandma died. “I tripped,�� he said, tears running down his cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”

“I’m sure it does” the woman said “mind if I take a look?”

Branch hesitated before nodding, the woman carefully took his ankle in her hands. He winced a bit in pain but stayed still. The woman tutted softly “looks like you sprained it honey.” 

“Oh…”

She pulled out a piece of dark green cloth and tied it around his ankle. “We'll have to put some ice on it.”

“I don’t have any ice,” Branch said.

“Not to worry,” she smiled at him, “town’s not too far from here.” 

There was a town out here… “how?” He asked, “it hurts to walk.”

“Climb on my back” she said “and I’ll carry ya.” 

“Won’t that hurt you?”

She chuckled “you’re sweet, sugar, but not to worry. I’ll be fine.” The women helped Branch sit on her back before slowly standing “hold on darlin’.” 

Branch held his bag in one hand and to the women’s shirt with the other. And she began to walk, the clopping sound following them. It was then Branch realized he had no idea what this lady’s name was.

“Ms” he said “I’m sorry but… What’s your name?”

She chuckled “no need to apologize hon. I’m Ms Delta Dawn. What’s your name?”

“Branch.” He said “my name is Branch."

[losttrailsmaps]

Orc Tribe Map Pack

The Ironfist Tribe, known for their fierce warriors and shamanic traditions, dwell deep within the wasteland, where they harness the power of ancient blood rituals to protect their sacred lands. They are feared and respected for their unmatched prowess in battle and their brutal yet honorable code of conduct.

Greetings everyone, welcome to another map pack! It features 15 total maps, including fighting pits, tents, skull ravines, and much more.

Patrons get access to gridded/ungridded and watermark-free maps. The grid size of each map is 30x40.

Check out the map pack here.

[astrology-by-sita]

ON CANCER RISINGS ♋️

This is a part of series on the rising signs, not necessarily in Zodiacal order.

So this is something I have pondered about. Cancer placements - since they're ruled by the moon - represent the 3 faces of the Moon Goddess : Maiden, Mother and D*eath-crone. Cancers might suffer mood swings and anger issues etc because they remain stuck in one of these phases, mostly the Mother.

Also it's independent of gender - Maiden, Mother etc are just energies, or attitudes. And it has nothing to do with age either. Again it's just an energy. Some are old and still stuck in the Mother phase while other younger cancers have already embodied the Crone.

Maiden : Cancers have Leo in the 2nd house of values. The maiden is free spirited and curious. She gives value to creativity and self expression. She wants to discover the world and explore everything. She doesn't want to remain stuck in her family's house or confined between four walls.

The Maiden wants to go out and have fun and fall in love. The maiden does not want to be tied down by familial obligations, so she isn't about nurturing or maternal energy. The spirit of youth is the Maiden, the eternal spring where playfulness and fun take over.

The Mother : Cancers have Scorpio 5h. When does the Maiden transform (Scorpio)? You guessed it - when she becomes a Mother (5h of children). It doesn't have to do with biological motherhood or procreation. 5h is also falling in love - anything that's close to your heart and you love passionately. It can be children, partner, property, house, money, etc...

Once cancers stop being the Maiden (exploring and having fun) and start to seriously care about stuff and people, they attach and refuse to detach. As the Mother clings to her children, cancers cling to anything they love and refuse to let go. They are likely to treat a loved one like their own child. They can be quiet possessive over everything they hold dear (again, Scorpio 5h).

Cancers have Sagittarius in the 6th house. The 6th house is rules and regulations which civilization sets. The routines, grind, discipline, submission, obedience, schedules, strictness, all "nitty gritty" of human daily life can contain humans but not Mother Nature. Sagittarius is an expansive sign and it can't be contained in a restraining house such as the 6th.

Mother Nature is indeed expansive, powerful and wild, natural disasters cause sudden damage to cities that humans constructed. No rule or law or restriction can contain Mother Nature because she's so powerful and does her own thing at will. No one can understand her or regulate her or control her. Even bushes start to grow over a destroyed wasteland. Nature takes over again and overcomes everything, after humans ruin stuff.

Oh, but yes, only one thing can overcome Mother Nature : Time... Saturn. Cancers have Capricorn in 7h. With time, green becomes gray, plants, trees etc d*ie out - so that new ones grow and flourish later and the cycle repeats. Interactions with other people (7h) can force Cancers to detach.

"Come on, grow the hell up" is something Cancers are likely to often hear from partners, friends, family members, and basically everyone. "Grow up" here means stop being attached to impermanent stuff which time might take away someday. Children grow up and leave the home. Partners might leave too. Money, possessions and property might go away etc...

When cancers learn to detach eventually, they become the Crone. The difference between the Mother and the Crone is that the former loves with attachement, the latter loves with detachment. The former only loves her children but the latter loves all children and everyone as her own children even if there's no bIood relation.

The Crone cares about everyone, about humanity as a whole, independently of whether they're from her family, or her tribe, or her country etc. Same as Mother Nature, She nurtures everyone, she helps them grow, and doesn't care about nationality or race.

The second transformation for cancers occurs in the actual 8th house of transformation, where they have the rational, detached Aquarius. Saturn rules the 7th as well as the 8th house, so if cancers themselves do not decide by themselves to detach and become the Crone, disappointment from interactions with other people is likely to make them detach. It's better to detach as a result of inner wisdom than disappointment from others, right?

So if you have a cancer placement, think about this. Try to find out whether you're the Maiden, Mother or Crone. Try to become the Crone. Keep in mind that it's not a linear process, you can go back and forth between those phases. But the goal is embodying the Crone.

[maggotwithanf]

ok it's FINALLY DONE LOL

You are CORDIALLY INVITED to attend Shantytown this year at Wasteland Weekend!! KitKat and Bison have prepared some fucking AWESOME stuff for the grand shanty march, and friends are always welcome to share our grog!

All are welcome + it starts at Bonertown (#1: The Bruid/Operation Dessert Storm in the Theme Zone) right after the Jugger match, where my tribe will be playing against the Army of LA!! COME HANG OUT WE LOVE YOU

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Traveler in the Winds

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: It's a story that happened a long time ago... before people even heard of the Hawk Hunter.

Narrator: It was a scorching hot day with not a single piece of cloud to be seen, and Yisu was speeding through the desert on her horse.

Narrator: The horse hissed in pain from fatigue and thirst... it'd been a long while since they last came across an oasis or a source of water.

Yisu: Hold on. We're almost there.

Narrator: Yisu lowered herself to pat her horse on the neck and spoke to it quietly. Then, looking up again, she made out a few houses in the distance.

Narrator: That's where the Gold Stone Tribe is, according to the map.

Narrator: Yisu arrived at the tribe and alighted from her horse. Embedded with night turquoises, the stone tablet by the tribe's entrance sat covered with black sand, and the streets looked soulless.

Narrator: With her horse in tow, Yisu walked into the market and saw a few locals sitting out on the porches of shops. They all seemed depressed and gloomy.

Resident A: Just when can we ever stop having to fix things up in the wake of the black sand...

Resident B: The black sand seems indestructible... It's taken away cows and sheep, destroyed houses and buildings, and is strangling our water source...

Yisu: Excuse me. Do you have water to spare?

Narrator: The locals stopped talking and looked over at Yisu. One of them poured water into a bowl from the clay jar behind him and passed it to Yisu.

Resident A: We would have been able to treat you to our quality wine many years ago, dear visitor from afar. But all we have left to share with you... is just water.

Yisu: Thanks. It's plenty enough.

Narrator: When Yisu placed the bowl of water in front of her horse, it lowered its head and took a few hurried gulps.

Choose "Aren't you going to have some yourself?"

You: Aren't you going to have some yourself?

Yisu: I'm fine.

Narrator: They exchanged curious looks... they didn't think the visitor would feed the water to her horse when water was so hard to come by. Then, one of the locals asks...

Resident B: Dear visitor, where are you headed? It's best you don't go any further because of the black sand ahead... the black sand that devours everything in sight!

Narrator: The faint shadows looming by the horizon seemed to be concocting their next invasion.

Narrator: The black sand had been wreaking havoc everywhere in the tribe for quite some time already in the form of merciless black hawks. They destroyed everything they set their eyes upon.

Narrator: When livestock and travelers fell to the ground, the sand and the flowers in the soil were tainted with their blood.

Narrator: Humans are pathetically powerless against the black sand, and the corpses and bones everywhere and the vultures feeding on them are proof of it.

Yisu: The black sand is exactly what I came here for.

Choose "But what for?"

You: But what for?

Yisu: This is my only clue. The Ocean has a similar scent.

You: What's this Ocean you're referring to?

Yisu: That's where I came from.

Yisu: That's where I used to live with my friends and someone who was important to me whom I wanted to protect.

Yisu: But I don't remember my way back, and neither do I remember the face of that someone I wanted to protect. The only thing I remember she ever said to me was...

Yisu: "See the world and keep it safe."

Narrator: Yisu's memory is in broken pieces, but the warm, unrelenting power she once felt had never left her.

Narrator: Yisu begins her search for more clues in the desert.

Narrator: She was ambushed on a moonless night not so long ago.

Narrator: She was ambushed by an unknown power hidden in black sand. It was a strong, untraceable power of chaos. Yisu found it familiar, however, and it might have to do with the Ocean.

Narrator: Clinging to her only clue, Yisu came to the Gold Stone Tribe following the sandstorm.

Resident A: But I wouldn't look so sad if I were you! I saw all the hunters from our tribe by our tribe's entrance yesterday, preparing themselves to attack the black sand in Quicksand Shrine.

Narrator: While the locals were still chattering amongst themselves, Yisu came back from her trance.

Local C: But alas, we've never won against it.

Resident A: I wouldn't speak so fast! Chief Hogel borrowed firearms from the Azure Tribe and assembled a group of good hunters from the Lost Sand Tribe. I'm sure the black sand has got nothing on us this time!

Resident B: And remember the divine message? Priestess Sharna said she had never seen a prediction that good herself!

Narrator: Yisu's horse let out a hiss suddenly. When the locals looked up to see what happened, they see their visitor speeding off straight for the Quicksand Shrine.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[rkdvanguard]

Commission from @thpok

Adray of Yakemia is a samurai of a desert wasteland with an environmentally as well as emotionally adaptive mutation acquired through the pursuit of vengeance against the tribe that had slain his own.”