#trying to get only the ones with a high enough rank to be leads in various departments

[platypusisnotonfire]

I am doing perhaps the most hilariously overboard and unnecessary world-building thing (probably not the most….creating 5 accurate conlangs based on languages from 800ad merging and gaining specific vocabulary from 2000 years of life in very different planets is probably up there since that took a year and I only referenced one of them in the actual book… but that was a different book/universe)

I am currently making MANY spreadsheets of duty rosters to logistically make Exodus Terminal run with 53 people and still have scouting missions happening. Every department has its own sheet and all 53 characters have their own sheet to describe exactly where everyone is at any given point in time. There’s also a « crew by alphabetical order » sheet and a « crew by rank » sheet to help inform the choices of where people best slot in.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Now, Fallout!AU for Raider!Konig and fem!Reader...

Konig as a raider. Your typical one - wall of meat, muscles, mean motherfucker who doesn't really care who to kill and who to fuck after. It might be from one of the less drug-addicted gangs, most of the shit never works on him anyway. Might be radiation, might be mild mutation - no one cares. He isn't a leader of the gang, never good at working with people and commanding them - but he is good at shooting people and taking their stuff. He is good at spotting and sniping, despite people around laughing at his huge form scrambling behind a stolen sniper riffle. This is how he spots you, actually. A vault dweller - this much is obvious. You can lead him to your stash, a can deep in the ground. Filled with people, vault-dwelling rats - the ones that are too fucking good for this place. Konig thinks he hates them - but honestly, half of the wasteland does. You do look good in that tight suit of yours. Bright blue on the dry yellow of the ground below. he wondered who designed the suits - if people knew that every dumb underground rat would be spotted from at least 3 kilometres away in that bright blue thing. Works for him, though. He flips off the guy who didn't want to spot for his position. His rank in the gang is high enough to just get a guy by his neck and force him on guard duty - all while he is getting ready to catch the little rat. It was a while since he saw someone so pretty - honestly, only Vault dwellers can be considered pretty at this point. Clean skin, moderately clean hair. He knows that if he gets to smell you, you'd have this awesome stench of cleanliness. Would be lovely to push his nose into your hair as he fucks you on his bunk. Might even clean his room a bit so the underworld princess won't be too disgusted at the perspective of being chained to his bunk. A prized property. Pretty helpless thing.

Konig drags you to the compound with ease. You're too startled at the sight of a giant hooded man approaching you with a very mean gun on his hip - not even in his hands, since he is confident he can snap your neck with just two fingers. You whine like a brain calf being split in two at some posh casino far in New Vegas - he brushes his hand over your ass, gripping it. Patting it. You do have a weapon - he disposes of it now, just getting it to his pocket. You freeze when he takes your pip-boy off, snapping it off your wrist with ease. You mouth a little plead with your lips. Konig laughs. You have a Vault location in here - it's funny how such a silly thing is going to be the doom of your people. The gang leader would probably be sad they didn't get to torture you for information, but Konig is making sure the whole gang will be satisfied hearing your moans and cries the whole night. Everyone knows that Konig is a beast - and that if they try to get the leftovers of a pretty Vault girl, they will be used as a target practice next. You do smell good. Konig takes note of breaking into some abandoned building and trying to fetch water and cleaning supplies so you could continue to smell nice. Wants to doll up his pretty Vault snatch - even finds some old, pre-war dresses. Plays house as long as gang allows it. Some of the younger members give you a pitied look, hearing your little sobs every time Konig forces you to move. Some of the older members know that the moans you're letting out aren't the ones of pain. Konig isn't the one to share and to talk, so he never even brags about his girl. Just has her attached to his hip, clinging to his armor since he is the only one who you know here. At least you know him, somehow. At least you know he likes his pretty Vault rat too much to let you get hurt. By anyone but him, that is.

[lassify]

Damian Desmond: An Attachment Perspective

**Spoilers for SxF Chapter 106 Below**

I loved this chapter for so many reasons, but the one I really want to highlight today is that Damian may be insecurely attached, but he still has hope. And that he is so brave, in his own way.

Exhibit A: When Damian knocks on Demetrius' door and asks for help, I am 100% positive that Damian wasn't truly expecting a response from Demetrius. He's used to being ignored, especially by his own family.

But he tried anyway.

This is important, because most children of Damian's age who fall under the category of avoidant attachment wouldn't approach a situation like this where there is a possibility that they would be rejected. It speaks volumes to me that Damian has a sense that he would be turned away, but still he tries.

"I was hoping..."

Exhibit B: There is also this moment where we see that Damian wanted to say something, and then he silences himself before he can say anything.

(Don't cry, Lass, omg dont cry 😭😭😭 )

Damian is initially afraid, so he silences himself, but then there is this moment, where he pulls himself together, and tries again.

Endo is so brilliant at drawing out moments of important decisions for characters. You can see Damian making the decision to say something, and gather his courage, but he only falls short once he actually succeeds at getting Donovan's attention.

Under the heavy gaze of the head of the Desmond dynasty, I'm not surprised that 6-year old Damian felt his resolve crumble.

But!

He reverts to another option: find support. Which leads me to...

Exhibit C: This one makes me sob, actually. In response to his wavering confidence, Damian looks to his mother for support. The woman who should be his primary caregiver, and therefore his primary attachment figure.

And she turns away.

(Tears, tears down my face, my boy doesn't deserve this 😭 )

This is the third moment in this chapter alone that Damian does something that no other Desmond would dare: he seeks connection.

Damian tried to connect with his brother, his father, and his mother, all in the same chapter. He is the sole character that links them all.

All through Chapter 106, these are the moments that stood out to me the most, because it truly shows to me that Damian still has hope. Demetrius and Melinda are very clearly ingrained in their roles, and their behaviour is crystallised into what we see as the reader. It's obvious that this isn't the first time that Demetrius has rebuffed Damian's requests; and this isn't the first time that Melinda has ignored Damian's emotional needs.

I hear you wondering: Does Damian still have hope because he's still just a child?

Maybe. It's certainly possible. But I also want to highlight that Damian is insecurely attached; specifically showing an insecure-avoidant attachment style.

Children with this style of attachment typically experience high levels of emotional neglect, where their primary caregiver consistently does not meet their emotional needs. This leads the child to value independence, autonomy, and self-reliance, and to generally see others as untrustworthy.

We see this in Damian. He believes he is better, usually weaponising the Desmond name to place himself above others, but there is also an element where he believes he is better, because he ranks highly in the social hierarchy, and he achieves brilliant grades on his own merit, demonstrating his own self-reliance.

(Side note: Issues stemming from an avoidant attachment style can still coexist with self-esteem issues, but I'm trying not to complicate this post lol).

My point: Damian has experienced enough rejection in his childhood that he shouldn't even be trying with his own family anymore. But he does. He keeps trying. Damian still hopes that he can connect with his family, and I think that this is because this is a part of his actual personality.

On the inside, Damian is complex; he struggles with the weight of his identity, he is trying to find his place in the world, he yearns for attention and validation (specifically from his father), he finds comfort in believing that he is better than other people (even his friends), he struggles to handle big emotions, he prefers to work things through independently, and struggles to be vulnerable and ask for help, and he lies to himself about his big feelings so that he can avoid feeling them.

And my favourite thing about him: he still keeps trying. He gathers his courage. He gets back up. Time and time again he feels afraid, and time and time again he feels the fear and he tries anyway.

Damian is so brave, in his own way.

[saphronethaleph]

“I never wanted you dead,” Sheev said, smiling in a grandfatherly sort of way, which he was terrible at. “I wanted you here… Empress Palpatine.”

He gestured. “You will take the throne. It is your birthright to rule here. It is in your blood. Our blood.”

“I haven’t come to lead the Sith,” Rey replied, then there was a loud doom doom doom sound of someone knocking on a door.

“Who is that?” Palpatine asked.

Then Luke Skywalker entered the room, limned with blue light.

So did his father, Anakin Skywalker, and Leia Organa Solo. And Yoda, hovering along on a spectral hoverchair, and Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Count Dooku.

“...um,” Rey began. “Master…s?”

“Rey,” Luke replied, with a nod. “You were right, by the way.”

“What is this?” Palpatine asked, his voice hushed and touched with fear. “What are you doing?”

“You never heard the story of Master Qui-Gon the Insightful?” Anakin asked.

“I’m insightful?” Qui-Gon said, sounding pleased.

“You are certainly something,” Dooku said, as Yoda chuckled.

Palpatine looked like he might be about to have an aneurysm.

“It’s not a story the Sith would have told you,” Anakin went on, with a terrible glee in his tone. “You see, the Light Side is a path to many abilities some would consider to be… supernatural.”

“Got that out of your system?” Obi-Wan asked.

“For now,” Anakin shrugged.

“What-” Palpatine sputtered. “What are you – this isn’t possible! You are dead! It is the Sith who can defy death!”

“The evidence suggests otherwise,” Leia smiled, then cleared her throat. “Sheev Palpatine. We are formally accusing you of-”

“Um,” Rey said, a bit hesitantly. “Sorry to interrupt… I recognize most of you as Jedi, but what is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Probation,” Yoda stated. “Very nicely, he has asked.”

“We are formally,” Leia stressed, “accusing you of, among other assorted crimes, thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred and twenty-seven counts of murder by use of a blunt instrument – to whit, a Clone Army – counting only those who were members of the Jedi Order in good standing at the time of their respective deaths, though we acknowledge that the number murdered on your orders is beyond easy counting. You are accused of treason in times of war and peace alike, of enforced disappearances, of enslavement, of wilful torture, of assorted Crimes Against Sapience, and of Consorting With Ye Powers Of Darknesse, which to my surprise was still on the books of the Old Republic.”

“There are, as the Princess says, many other crimes,” Dooku added. “But we believe those should be enough to be getting on with. For a start.”

Palpatine stared, then laughed.

“You – you are trying me?” he asked. “In what court? By what authority? I am authority! I reject your powerless, toothless threats! I am above punishment!”

“I think we’ll consider that a plea of ‘guilty’, then,” Obi-Wan said. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“That sounds reasonable enough to me,” Qui-Gon agreed. “All right. Grandmaster, if you would do the honours?”

Yoda raised his gimmer stick, and a bolt of lightning hit Palpatine on the head.

The Sith half-stood half-fell out of his chair, trying to hide behind it, then scowled at his own reaction and shot lightning at one of the Force Ghosts.

It passed right through Leia without doing anything at all.

Rey raised her hand.

“Am I still needed here?” she asked.

“You know, I think we can handle this ourselves?” Count Dooku said, courteously, then turned to Palpatine. “Know this, Sidious. You destroyed the Jedi Order, and now the Order will destroy you. If you return, you will be destroyed again. And again. Forty thousand angry ghosts cry out for vengeance.”

Qui-Gon coughed.

“Terminology, Master,” he said.

“Forty thousand annoyed ghosts seek justice,” Count Dooku corrected, as more Force Ghosts began to enter the chamber – walking through the walls in ranks, their ghostly lightsabers held high. “Is that better?”

“It’ll do,” Obi-Wan decided. “We appreciate you making the effort.”

Palpatine did not appreciate him making the effort.

[eldritch-spouse]

Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons Pt. 1 - for WinBre Week!

ᯓ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the Wind Breaker characters? ᯓ characters; sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, sugishita kyotaro, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma (more characs in the next part hopefully) ᯓ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be platonic/romantic

[🐟]: for day 8 - side missions prompt! (because dti is a side mission) @windbreakerweek

Sakura Haruka

"How the fuck do I win..."

It will take forever to convince him to play because apparently 'there is no way he's playing dress-up that's made for children' but will fold as soon as you tell him he's just saying that because he hates you.

He keeps forgetting where certain items are and keeps going in circles around the place. That's why he thinks 5 minutes isn't enough.

"Where the fuck are the heels with the pretty pink bows? Man." / "You're going in circles, y'know?" / "Not my fault this shit's a maze."

Pretty standard outfits. Like they're not terrible, but they're not impressive enough to get 4 or 5 stars.

He's more of a simplicity-is-beauty type of guy so that also reflects in the kind of outfits that he makes. But the kids in the server are not having it.

"What does 'ate and served' mean?"

SO SALTY WHEN HE LOSES. But he'll brush it off and pretend that he's cool about it because he is not about to let anyone know he cares about some stupid dress-up game.

Suo Hayato

"Oh, look. I got first place again~"

He was easier to convince. But only if you knew how good he'd be, you wouldn't have asked him to play with you. Why? 'Cuz your morale is plummeting by the second.

He doesn't even need to try. Suo just lets his natural sense of style bleed into the way he plays the game AND HE WINS. He's pretty and so are his outfits.

Suo knows that it's mostly kids playing the game. So when he figures out there are younger people on the server, he'll rate them pretty high to put a smile on their face. (HE'S SO SWEET).

"Suo... it didn't even follow the theme." / "But it's quite nice, don't you think?"

You notice that you rank faster when you duo with him. You've been exploiting this little feature.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" / "Huh? Oh, yeah. Haha totally..."

Nirei Akihiko

"OH, this one's good... No, but this one's really good too..."

Nirei is everyone's hypeman: yours, the fashion mavens', the ten year olds who can't follow the theme—literally everyone.

He actually gets better so quickly by observing the outfits of those who win a lot. Like dude is analyzing a whole ass Roblox game. Not that it's intentional—more like it's in his nature.

He falls deep into the DTI rabbit hole. You know because he eagerly waits for updates and hunts for codes on the internet.

"Heyyyy, guess who learned a new code hm?"

His face lights up when you ask him to play... as if he doesn't ask you to play every chance he gets already...

DTI actually becomes his door leading to his descent into the world of Roblox. Seriously, he starts playing more Roblox because you started him with DTI. He also starts asking the other Furin guys to play too.

"Guys, let's do an obby next." / "A what?" / "An obby." / "Again, A WHAT?"

Sugishita Kyotaro

"... I swear I can do better than this..."

This man... this man was even harder to convince compared to Sakura. In fact, you almost gave up. Soooo... you convinced Ume instead (which was easier) and in turn, that forced Sugishita to try it out.

Didn't even ask how it works. He's just reading the text that pops up and goes with the flow.

I'm sorry but... he has the blandest style out of everyone in the main Furin group. Like, he doesn't even try to win AT ALL. But, y'know, A for effort!

"Oh... I have to vote for them?" / "Well, yeah... actually no, just give me 5 stars, okay?"

He plays DTI for a grand total of 3 times, all of which were because Ume asked him to play with the rest of the guys.

He's not much of a gamer to begin with... really, he'd much rather watch you play DTI and see your dramatic reactions to whatever's happening.

Umemiya Hajime

"HAHAHA What's with these silly poses?"

It's like a switch flips in him when he boots up the game and the DTI background song starts playing. He looks waaaaay too happy playing it.

He only started playing because all the hype surrounding it. Ume just wants to be part of the conversation and that's why he tried it out.

Talks way too much in the chat. Usually people just use it to provide more context for their outfits, but Ume actually makes conversation with players there. It's pretty funny to see.

"Look. So many people added me." / "Huh... well ain't that a surprise..."

He almost threw the Ipad out of excitement when he saw that the theme was gardening. He said he had to win or he'd literally die.

A pose 28 spammer, obviously.

"Aw, my game started lagging." / "It's 'cuz you keep spamming poses too fast." / "Dang it."

Hiragi Toma

"I'm not that good at it... okay, maybe just a bit."

He's an old man so bear with him when he tells you that he doesn't even know what a 'Roblox' is. He thought it was a vape flavor by the way.

"So... I have to dress-up and make people vote highly for me?" / "Yeah, it's called Dress to Impress for a reason." / "Oh, yeah. Fair."

He barely tries, but somehow he's kinda good at it? He's not insanely amazing at putting together outfits... but for a guy who's not trying that hard—he's doing pretty well for himself.

But he'll be too embarrassed to admit it. Hiragi would click his tongue and tell you to knock it off once you start complimenting his DTI skills.

He's a bit lost with the Gen Z/Gen Alpha terms, but he's trying to learn—slowly but surely like a little baby lamb learning how to walk.

Will rate you 5 stars no matter what. Everyone else is getting 1 star. Hiragi doesn't care.

"I didn't know you could hit poses here?" / "Yeah, look at this one." / "What the fuck kinda pose is that? Who's doing that on the runway? Bffr." / "Did you just—" / "Told you I'm learning things."

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[bumblesimagines]

Love to Hate, Hate to Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Rivalries are supposed to be fun and motivating, maybe even a little brutal. Just the way Jordan likes it. Except, they fucked up and things are so much more complicated.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

~~~

Jordan can hardly hear their thoughts over the booming music, let alone whatever conversation Andre and Luke were having across from them. They strain to hear better but they only manage to catch a few words before giving up and slumping back on the couch cushions with a huff. Their eyes drag around the room where classmates and strangers danced or mingled around them, some grinding and others shouting into their friend's ears. They suddenly find the room too stuffy, too crowded for their liking, and they stand up, snatching a beer can off the table and shoving their way through the party until they find the sliding door leading to the backyard. 

Jordan stumbles outside and tilts their head back, taking a deep breath in, pleased to be inhaling something other than smoke, even if they yearn for another hit to silence their thoughts. The substances they took were enough to get them high, enough to make their mind hazy and movements sluggish, but the combined buzz of the powders and shrooms are worth it. 

"Well, if it isn't my little Li?" A voice coos and their head turns in the direction of it, finding (Y/N) (L/N) watching them with a lopsided grin. A scowl forms on their face immediately and they shift into the masc form, a somewhat genuine sounding 'awe' leaving his lips. Jordan tries ignoring the way it makes their heart twist. Not many embrace their fem form unless it's a guy trying to get lucky. 

"(L/N)," Jordan intends to sound annoyed but they end up sighing the last name and feel a flush creep up their cheeks. (Y/N) giggles, and it sounds adorable, before striding over to them and placing his hands over Jordan's cheek. (Y/N) sways slightly and Jordan catches sight of their blown-out pupils, the black so wide it almost completely covers the color of their eyes. The beer can slips from their fingers and falls to the ground with a clatter but neither pay it any mind. 

"You're warm." (Y/N) murmurs and Jordan feels their skin cool, a heavy sigh of relief escaping their lips. God, the house had grown so hot and stuffy with all the people crawling inside it, that Jordan had failed to realize how hot they'd gotten. They hum lowly, eyes fluttering shut and fingers curling around (Y/N)'s wrist. How nice would it be to have a walking AC for a-

Their eyes fly open at the interrupted thought, meeting (Y/N)'s half-lidded ones. If it were anyone else, Jordan might've considered the thought, entertained it even with some flirting, but (Y/N) fucking (L/N). No. No. Unless... No. They were supposed to hate him, and they swore they did! But (Y/N) had a knack for making things oh-so complicated. 

It all started their first year at God U during one of Professor Brink's lectures. Jordan had been listening intently, scribbling notes, and answering questions that earned them praise from the professor. Everything had been peachy. Jordan soaked up each praise and approving nod from Professor Brink while smirking at the annoyed glances their classmates shot them until Jordan answered a question, and was rebuffed by a classmate. 

"Actually," Jordan's head had whirled around to look at the source of the voice, their eyes locking onto Luke Riordan and then moving onto the figure sitting beside them. (Y/N) grinned lazily, one arm propped on the back of his chair and legs extended out in front of him as if he owned the damn building. (Y/N) (L/N), cousin to Luke Riordan and the beloved nephew of Ted and Janet Riordan. Where Luke controlled fire, (Y/N) controlled ice. Polar opposites but as tight as brothers. "I think Li is wrong."

It was war from then on.

Luke Riordan dominated the social scene and rankings, easily ascending to the number one spot. At the same time, (Y/N) and Jordan battled over being number two: completing homework and doing extra credit, doing extracurricular activities after school, engaging in class, and putting on quite the show during training where they practically tried killing each other. And things got dirty, of course they did. Jordan once locked (Y/N) in the sauna after luring Luke and Andre out and in retaliation, (Y/N) laced their weed and made them miss half a day's worth of classes. When (Y/N) deleted an essay off their laptop, Jordan snuck into his dorm and soaked his fancy clothes with alcohol the afternoon of the gala. Things continued like that, with tension only growing and the bickering intensifying. 

Jordan would never admit it out loud but they enjoyed being challenged, even if it infuriated them when it happened in public. (Y/N) consumed just about every waking thought of theirs, their mind constantly wondering what to do next and what to expect from him. They hated him, obviously, but slowly... things changed. Jordan never pinpointed when, but they had some idea as to the moments that changed their relationship with (Y/N).

Like the time Jordan had caught (Y/N)'s father lecturing him, putting him down despite his spot in the top ten and demanding more from a guy who worked twice as hard than the average student. The scene had felt nauseatingly familiar. From the way (Y/N) stared at the ground silently with a frown and occasional flinches to the fact his mother made no moves to defend her son and only watched. Jordan had lost count of how many times they'd found themselves in that exact spot, especially after coming out to their parents. They knew the feeling of constantly being questioned and pressured, being brushed aside in favor of others' feelings. The disappointment from a parent stung like no other, and when they'd ensured his parents had left, Jordan went to the Jitter Bean on campus and got some donuts. (Y/N) had accepted them, with some mild suspicion, but it'd been worth it when (Y/N) smiled after eating the sweet. (And no, Jordan didn't want to think about the fact they'd stared hard when (Y/N) licked his fingers clean or the low noise that emitted from his throat when he bit into the warm, glazed donut.)

And when that moment flickers back to them, they try squirming out of (Y/N)'s hold to put some distance between them. The last thing they need was a distraction, especially with exams coming up fast. But, they find (Y/N)'s hands tighten and pull their face closer. Jordan doesn't fight it, and only melts again when (Y/N) kisses them. His lips are cool, and it makes Jordan flinch at first, but then they find it's exactly what they need. They latch onto (Y/N), hands leaving his wrists to wrap around him instead, and (Y/N)'s arms drop from their face to coil around their waist. His hand slips under Jordan's shirt and they hiss softly, feeling (Y/N)'s lips curve up into a mischievous grin. 

"Asshole," They whisper.

"You love it." (Y/N) chuckles, his grip tightening around them before he propels himself into the air with a gust of cold wind and takes Jordan along. They land on the balcony of one of the bedrooms, and Jordan can't help the giddy laugh that escapes them as their high keeps a tight grip on their mind. (Y/N) staggers again and leans back against the railing, only having a few seconds to steady himself before Jordan's hands find the collar of his shirt and they jerk him forward, crashing their lips back together. (Y/N) grunts and nips Jordan's lip for it but the shapeshifter hardly pays it any mind and walks backward into the dark room, pulling his rival along until they both collapse on the bed. 

"(Y/N)," Jordan exhales, shifting back into their fem form out of habit, their hands still gripping his collar to keep him close. (Y/N) hums into the side of their throat, too occupied with suckling a mark onto their neck to properly speak, and while Jordan would typically raise hell about being marked, they oddly don't mind now. "Do me a favor."

"What?" His voice is muffled and a shiver shoots up their spine when his teeth drag across their skin. Heat pools in Jordan's stomach and their hands drop to reach down, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and lifting it. (Y/N) digs his knees into the mattress and leans back, fingers hooking around the back of the shirt and tugging it over his head. Jordan lights up like a Christmas tree and (Y/N)'s snicker is cut off with another rough kiss.

"Fuck me," Jordan demands.

A wolfish grin spreads across (Y/N)'s face. "Will do." 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Things change, obviously.

(Y/N) continues to consume Jordan's every waking moment, but only it somehow intensifies after their hookup. Jordan finds themselves lingering by the door after class, waiting for (Y/N)'s slow ass to finish packing his things or wrap up his conversation with Luke, and they spring out at him with half-hearted taunts or jabs that they end up stuttering through when (Y/N) holds eye contact with them and gives them that godforsaken chesire grin. They ensure to check (Y/N)'s assignments first and provide genuine, helpful feedback when they previously would've deducted points for the smallest of things. 

It's not as if they've never slept with anyone before. They had their own little roster of classmates they hooked up with depending on their mood or who was available but as time passed and (Y/N) began answering their texts more frequently, their former flings went ignored in favor of going to (Y/N)'s dorm. Maybe it wouldn't have such an effect on them if (Y/N) were like the others, the flings who preferred one form over the other, but (Y/N) doesn't mind, doesn't care. And while it was the absolute bare minimum, it makes Jordan feel all the more woozy. 

Especially in the summer when their parents call almost weekly, asking when they're going to visit them. The university lets students linger during the class-free summer months, for a surprising amount of supes have estranged relationships with their families. The heat becomes unbearable some days, and it makes Jordan feel all the more thankful when they wake up, roll over, and press against (Y/N). They only have to sigh for (Y/N) to make his skin grow colder, and Jordan nuzzles right into him with a pleased smile. Sure, the dorms have perfectly fine ACs, but it's all the better to be cuddled up to the human version of one. 

"I'm gonna start charging you." He says, yawning and rolling over onto his side. His arms pull Jordan into his chest, eyes fluttering shut again and cheek nuzzling into the pillow. Jordan smiles despite themselves, their eyes taking in every detail of (Y/N)'s face. Most mornings, they have classes to attend or other things to do, only having a brief time to see each other. But summer put a brief end to classes and the hustle and bustle of student life, giving them all the time in the world with (Y/N). 

"Yeah?" Jordan chuckles. "What'll it be? Five bucks?"

"Mmm." (Y/N) makes a noise akin to 'shut up' and Jordan grins, lips parting to speak again but the Supe seems to anticipate it and mushes their mouths together. It's lazy and slow and clumsy but it works at getting Jordan to stay quiet. They immediately relax, and it's embarrassing. They hate how their skin flushes or how giddy they feel. He's like a drug they can't quit and it's infuriating. But the moment doesn't last long, interrupted by a phone vibrating loudly against the nightstand. 

"God, is it my parents?" Jordan gives an exasperated sigh, missing the coolness of his skin when (Y/N) rolls away from them to check. 

"Nah," (Y/N) replies, sitting up in the bed with his phone in hand. He yawns again, eyes still squinty with sleep, and he types away on the screen. "I told Andre we could train in the gym today. Hand-to-hand combat and shit." 

"Oh." Jordan sits up as well. Well, there went the cozy morning they'd hoped for. 

Jordan spends the rest of the day working on summer assignments, most of it things Brink personally assigned to them to keep their mind working. While they typically enjoy working on personal assignments, their thoughts drift and weave until they find themselves changing and heading to the gymnasium. There are other classmates around, some using the basketball hoops or running laps, but Jordan searches for the combat room until they find it, until they find him. The fluttery feeling that invades their stomach turns into something bitter. 

(Y/N) successfully pins Andre down on the floor, something that isn't much of an achievement considering Andre spends half his time partying or placing bets with Luke, but it's the way Andre's hands land on (Y/N)'s hips that makes a bitter, resentful feeling bubble up in their chest. Andre grins up at him, lazy and almost flirtatious, before (Y/N)'s chain necklace levitates and drags him off Andre. The Supe grunts when his back meets the floor and Andre's laugh echoes in the room. A surge of hot anger rushes through Jordan, not from the cheating but from the look on Andre's face.

"That was dirty, Anderson." (Y/N) says and Andre shrugs as he hops up onto his feet and walks toward his water bottle. In an instant, it becomes frozen solid and Andre groans softly while (Y/N) chuckles. Jordan steps into the room with a clenched jaw and an ocean of feelings swirling around in their head. Andre greets them with a smile. 

"Hey, Jordan." He seems pleased with their sudden appearance, almost as if he'd been expecting them. "Mind stepping in for me? I've gotta call my dad real quick." Andre doesn't even wait for a response, slipping his gloves off his hands and tossing them at Jordan before leaving the room. 

"What's up with you now, Li? Who pissed you off already?" (Y/N) laughs.

"You did." Jordan snaps, tossing their things aside and shoving their hands into the gloves.

"'Course I did." (Y/N) exhales heavily and tilts his head, the amusement still etched on his face. "What'd I do?" 

"You made me love you, asshole."

[cosmicpack]

A klance ending.

Where after everything is said and done; Allura lives, Lance takes time off to be with his family (not a farmer, just a break). Lance and Allura break up shortly after the war. They both realize they were two hurt people trying to find comfort in each other, but Allura was using Lance as a rebound and Lance realizes they both deserve better. It’s mutual and only a little awkward.

Keith is helping the Blade of Mamora make the transition into a relief group.

He taken on a leadership position (along side Kolvian and Krolia)

Acxa joined as well and together they convince Ezor and Zethrid to join.

Note: I wish more people added them in post canon fics. I think it’s so funny that they are now Keith’s squad. And I think there is a lot of fun that can be had with those relationships. Whether wholesome as Keith unknowingly expands his found family, or angst as the girls compare their new lives to their lives with Lotor, but that’s another post.

Anyway Voltron has their one year post war meeting. And Keith is telling everyone about the Blade work and how they are working with the rest of the Galra to figure things out.

Lance teases him about them asking Keith to lead and Keith turning it down. When Keith confirms, they all laugh.

Everyone stops laughing when Axca, Ezor and Zethrid show up running towards Keith.

Keith is out of his chair in an instant. He worried something horrible has happened. Is Krolia hurt? What about Kolvian? Did something happen with the blade? There are planets with extreme prejudice against the Galra and they’ve had attacks against their relief teams before.

He’s not ready for what leaves their lips.

Apparently after Keith refused to lead, no one has been able to gather enough support to become the leader of the New Galra government. Keith was an easy pick because of his connections to the Blade, Voltron, and the Atlas. He has fallible connections and experience. No one else can gain the over all support he did.

And you know he’s also pretty. Like unfairly so (for a halfbreed) and somehow the remaining candidates come to the conclusion that whoever can gain Keith as their mate will be the one to lead the Bew Galra Empire.

After all if Keith doesn’t want to lead he doesn’t have to, he can just sit in the arm of whoever is leading. Give the people reassurance that they are in good hands.

So know at least 15 different Galra, from members of Zarcon’s old regime, to High ranking Blade members, anyone who wants to lead the Galra. Are making their way here to try and court Keith and or force him into Marriage/Mating.

Shiro is instantly in over protective Big Brother mode. They need to get Keith out of there.

Kolivan and Krolia had sent Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid for that reason and to back Keith up if he had to fight.

The rest of Voltron is moving to try and help Keith.

But Lance

Lance is a mix between indignant for his friend who has somehow become a trophy for people to win. Enrage that there is talk about people trying to force Keith to mate them. And also a burning need to keep Keith safe.

But there are also old feelings. He’s mature enough now to know he’s had a crush on Keith for a long time now. And now Keith is apparently the most desired bachelor in the universe!!!

Anyhow I think you can have a lot of fun with this

You can have Keith dealing with a lot of stupid/rude proposals

Gossipy Girl squad. They’d do anything for Keith but they are also going to Mike each of these horrible proposals

Jealous and protective Lance

Big brother Shiro

Maybe even bring in the Lions being protective

You can also go the route of lance just declaring that he and Keith are engaged/courting.

He’s trying to get everyone to stop bothering Keith.

But it puts these two, who have been pinning for each other for years in a fake dating situation.

Also Lance suddenly is enemy number one for anyone wanting to ascend to the Galra thrown.

I just think it’s a fun idea

Part 2

[smoothriverrocksrock]

(parody)

AITA For unionizing against my shitty boss?

So I (27 C) and my friend O (27 C) have been working at the same job for cycles. It’s in horrible conditions, the mortality rate is crazy, and we don’t even get insurances. But hey, it’s an important job and someone has to do it, right? We’ve been working at this job together for the same amount of time, and we’ve become good friends outside of it. We also had this supervisor, E (29 C), who was super strict, but she was also really good at her job which is a blessing among supervisors so none of us complained. Well one day we had a work accident and E got blamed for it. Totally unfair, and it wasn’t even close to being her fault (she was the reason there weren’t any casualties!). Then O and I found out that if someone - ANYONE - with a high enough ranking in the corporate ladder gets pissed at you they can demote you into oblivion. We found this other guy, B (24 C), and apparently he’s been stuck in the same position for longer than he can remember after that happened to him.

Talking with B, O and I learned that we might have a lead towards finding this really important key the previous boss had lost. So we left. Not quitting, not yet, but we left to find the key. We also found E along the way, so it was myself, O, E, and B. Some time passed and then we met this guy, A (??? C), who turned out to be an old boss at our work who got replaced. He told us all about how workers at the company used to have things like rights and insurance and whatever, and how that all changed after the previous secretary murdered all the other old chairmen (minus A). I, and the others, were understandably pissed!! We also found out that the only reason our shitty job exists is because our new boss somehow fumbled a renewable resource and made it extinct. Honestly for a while I kinda thought our group and I were on the same page after this. I mean, the only obvious solution right now was to unionize, right? Kick out the current boss, reestablish rights, be the change we want to see in the world. A helped us gather some evidence against our boss, and we were going to go show it to everybody when he kinda got kidnapped. It was a whole thing, but what matters is that we learned that a LOT of people got laid-off because of the current boss. It was bad, they all became homeless after losing their jobs and were living in a comunal shelter together. I also gained the homeless group’s respect by beating the shit out of their leader, but again, that’s a whole other thing.

Some more stuff happens (It was a weird two days) and eventually I get the chance to really tell my boss how I feel. So I do. Yeah that didn’t go very well. Luckily O and E crashed a train into the building before I could get murdered, but I was still determined to unionize. I hunted down our boss until I had him cornered, but at the last second O stopped me from unionizing! What?! He said some stuff about morality and some “murder is wrong” bullshit and I couldn’t believe it! The same person who worked with me for cycles, who suffered all the same things I did, who was with me every step of this journey, didn’t want to unionize with me? The fuck? Is he stupid???

BFF for life or not, I wasn’t about to let O stop me. Some kinda personal stuff happened after that, but I did it! I unionized against our boss! The homeless gang was around so I recruited them into my union, but for some reason E and B were really freaking out about what I did. I tried convincing them to join me, but then O started getting in on it, and get this: he had been promoted! And was trying to use his new power against me!! Unacceptable

So I tried to unionize against O, but he just fired me. Now I have to live with the homeless gang, but they’re alright I guess. Our union’s been going good, we have a logo now, but the situation still doesn’t sit right with me

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Baldur's Gate #3

The Law and Legal System

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City #1 | Demographics | Law & Legal System | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

There is a surprising amount of information on laws, and also on the legal system and law enforcement of Baldur's Gate. ...And it's fucking terrible! This is so long because there's so. Much. Terrible.

OK, let's see... corruption, corruption, corruption... • 9/10 crimes never go to trial: the police are your judge, jury and executioners. You do have rights; let's hope they care. • The four classifications of crimes. (Nobles get away with so much. Also, frankly, the clergy.) • The Flaming Fist - the police, the military and the secret police in one nifty corrupt package. • Courts of Law and Magistrates • Alternate courses of justice: The Crews. Also, have you considered praying for your tormentor's horrible death? No, seriously. • The Code Legal: the actual laws, the crimes and their punishments • How the temples might self-police and how a recap on how the law gets... flexible with evil-aligned faiths.

Arrests and Processing Crimes

Baldur's Gate, like most of the Western Heartlands (and frankly, a lot of Faerûn beyond that), follows the precedent set by the Warerdhavian Code Legal in setting its laws. Local variations may occur, but they're near enough the same.

The Code lays down the crimes, which are matched to whatever punishment the law of the land has deemed appropriate.

For the most part, where the Gate is concerned, this usually leads to "cut and dry" cases. The crime and accused will be assessed by a member of the Flaming Fist (or the Watch, if it's in the upper city) who will make their own judgement as to guilt and follow out the punishment as laid down in the Code.

Crimes only go to court in one of two conditions, firstly that the officer assessing the crime doesn't feel that the situation is clear enough for them to make a judgement - and secondly, when high ranking members of society (Patriars, clergy, etc) for whatever reason want to step in and have it taken to court.

The majority of crimes will never see court. "Flaming Fist patrols react to threats with indiscriminate violence," and even those that don't often turn a blind eye.

Once upon a time, like a century ago, Baldur's Gate was known for being a well policed place with a low crime rate and very little corruption. That's... very much not the case any longer. An influx of refugees from the Spellplage and rapid population growth in the back half of the 14th century saw the end of that as the Upper City started closing in on itself and the Outer City was formed, creating a large population outside of jurisdiction. The murder rates are so bad out there that there are whole alleys where people dump bodies called 'snuff streets.'

The extremes seen in the 15th century are a reaction to the increase in the intrigues of the Upper City and the crime rate of the more recent Outer City both spreading into the Lower City. Now the average citizen contends with both of those and police brutality every day. Even prior to the foundation of the Outer City, policing was heavy due to the strength and spread of the Thieves Guid.

There is something of a 75% chance that arrests will not follow protocol: those members of the Fist not inclined to police brutality and starting "bidding wars" (whoever can offer the highest bribe is let go: everyone else gets arrested) are often too overwhelmed with a myriad of other crimes they're trying to handle. The Watch is less inclined to violence and corruption (at least, in comparison), but they're also the Upper City's personal guard and prone to discriminate heavily against the poor (or those who look it) in their arrests.

Due to the upper classes being notoriously self-interested and corrupt, and judges often being in the pocket of the Thieves Guild, there is also little trust in any justice coming from there. Ulder Ravengard certainly doesn't have any. Ulder has been commander since 1482 DR, and held high rank and influence before that. He is "the incarnation of militarism", and his stance when directing the Fist has been of the "the ends justify the means" variety. There is a chance that in 1482, due to Bhaal - at the time too weak to directly influence people - subconsciously urging him to give into his dictatorship leanings and "murderous intentions", that Ulder also led the Fist into an even darker place involving military law and a lot of mutilation and murder, but I'm uncertain how much of that is part of mainstream canon.

Often, if the accused is a noble or a high ranking member of the clergy and the crime is not "serious", they will be let go - perhaps with a slap on the wrist. These groups also tend to police their own behind closed doors to avoid public backlash and scandals.

"Nobles enjoy many protections under the law and in some cases can escape punishment for assault, provocation, or the outright murder of a commoner."

Generally though, they'll avoid such obvious and crude crimes. A lot of noble crimes and schemes involve hiring adventurers - outsiders with no connection to the city or protection under the law - to do their dirty work. More serious crimes will either never see the light of day, or if it can't be hidden, scapegoating and appeasement will follow.

Crimes are only crimes within the confines of the land in question. A crime in Baldur's Gate is not a crime outside its walls, and if a crime without those walls is committed then the legal system of the Gate has no jurisdiction with which to arrest of punish the offender. As such clergy and nobles who must be punished may well receive temporary exile, where they will be appointed to a different temple/sent to live with relatives somewhere else in the realms.

Crimes are also not necessarily crimes if the victim in question is not a citizen (generally classified as never having had their name on official city documentation or owned property within the city).

Technically visitors and foreign agents to the city should have licenses marking them as such and stating that their presence in the city is legal. Without these permits their lives are forfeit to the whims of the "important people". Technically new arrivals should be told by officials stationed at the city gates to report to the High Hall to be interviewed (in case the individual means harm to the city) and then handed their license, but your average visitor is never even told of this law.

"Outer City residents are classified as "visiting economic interests," which affords them some rights. However, with a word from a duke of a peer, that classification could change to "visiting diplomat," which offers numerous perks, or "invader," which is essentially a death sentence." - Murder in Baldur's Gate

Baldur's Gate will nevertheless strive not to be an obviously oppressive hellhole however, as trade cities wish to show a welcoming and tolerant face to the world: merchants will not come if they feel they will be risking their safety. In fact visiting merchants, particularly wealthy ones, are liable to receive somewhat better treatment than the average permanent citizen of the Gate.

Covert corruption is favoured:

"Any rigging of results must be done behind the scenes rather than in public. For instance, you could avoid someone’s being brought to trial, or arrange a prisoner escape."

Offenses are split into four categories:

1) Crimes Against the Lords The name may be subject to change, depending on region and governance; it's likely slightly different in Baldur's Gate. This is essentially crimes against the state officials and nobility.

2) Crimes Against the City Arson, littering, public brawling, carrying weapons in public, etc.

3) Crimes Against the Gods Blasphemy against the gods and their servants (who are their own, outside the box tier of nobles, in a way)

4) Crimes Against Citizens "Low level" offenses that don't threaten to upset anybody important or disrupt the city functioning.

Different realms and city states will also have their own unique laws, for example it's illegal in Baldur's Gate to disobey an order from an officer of the Fist if they're in uniform under threat of martial discipline (loss of an ear, a hand, their tongue, or even their life). While theoretically, this law exists for emergencies, it is very much abused for personal gain.

As said, generally the handling of crimes won't progress past the jurisdiction of the Flaming Fist - who hold many roles: mercenary company, city military, city police, "secret police" (spymaster is a position within the organisation and plainclothes officers are everywhere)... and generally, studying the pattern, it seems that one of the Grand Dukes on the Council of Four is going to be their commander.

Generally, candidates seeking to join the Fist are screened for "strong loyalty and stronger morals." Not sure that's working.

There are usually a few rules regarding investigations amongst Faerûnian law enforcement which should be followed (and watched closely public scrutiny to ensure it is):

• Confiscated items may not be kept. When searching a location, nothing except evidence is to be confiscated. • Items must be returned to their owners, if identified. • Citizens must be kept informed of the whys and hows of an investigation: when you disrupt daily life, somebody must be on hand to answer their questions and explain - leaving out no detail - what is happening and why. "Authorities have very few justifiable grounds for not telling citizens anything they ask about (though “the king’s will” [government business, for which Baldurians would use a different term] is a justifiable ground)." • Magic and magical items involved in the crime must be examined, and typically dispelled, and citizens must be told "the whole truth about what magic was found, where it came from, and what it was intended for" • Disputes over property must be handled in public.

By the 15th century, the organisation has been noted to have become insanely corrupt. Should the Flaming Fist lapse into illegal behaviours like vigilantism, kangaroo courts and police brutality (including cutting out people's tongues and hanging them in their own doorways), the government will generally do nothing to intervene, as long as it doesn't start to affect the patriars (who make up said government). If the commander - or acting commander - happens to be corrupt then the whole organisation generally goes downhill.

If Orin and the Dark Urge have been doing their jobs right, then the ranks of the Fist will have been infiltrated by Bhaalists to serve the interests of the church within the city and its laws.

---

Legal Courts

Should a case proceed to the courts it will be taken before one of the dukes, presided over in the courts at the High Hall. There was an attempted (and failed) coup by Grand Duke Valarken a few decades back to seize control of the city saw the patriars succeed in a naked power grab and the establishment of the Parliament of Peers, a governing body composed of mostly patriars and a smattering of Guildmasters and the other wealthy, who can buy and network/kiss enough patriar asses to elbow their way into power.

The dukes have since been able to delegate cases to one of the peers, who will serve as magistrate in their place. This worked out pretty well at first, and then went downhill:

"Proxy judges are not paid a salary, yet a temporary assignment to the High Hall's bench is a plum duty for any patriar, because hefty gifts and bribes flow to the judges from the [Thieves] Guid, from those grateful to be exonerated, and from those hoping to be exonerated."

For patriars who were called upon to handle a case the High Hall has several small libraries containing legal books, civic documentation (tax, property, censuses, etc etc), past court records and other relevant information to aid them with their duty. The libraries are also a disorganised mess, and volunteers from the local Oghmanyte clergy (followers of the god of knowledge, which technically includes legal lore) have their hands full trying to organise it and seem to be the only people who know how to find anything in there.

I have no information on how the court worked prior to the formation of the Peers in the 15th century, but if the Council of Four delegated back then then they most likely still picked from amongst the same people - the wealthy, mostly patriar, citizens of the Upper City who would be in their social and business circles enough for them to know each other.

If the accused desires legal defence, they have a few options.

In order for a legal representative to be considered valid, the court must be informed of your choice ahead of the court date. Sometimes it's only permitted to people who would struggle to represent themselves due to disability or language barriers (Common is not useful for daily conversation, let alone complex legal proceedings).

Baldur's Gate, unusually, has a few rare official barristers one may hire to represent one in court. These are generally far out of the pay range of the average citizen.

"The Realms does not have lawyers, robed and wigged or otherwise. There are some “advocates,” paid orators who will speak in court (always in the presence of an accused, not appearing in their stead) and who might know something of the law and can give advice to an accused. Some advocates are real performers who mimic the voices of people, act out scenes, tell jokes, and engage in furious debate in court—which, being great entertainment, is seldom cut short even by angry judges or rulers, because the commoners like it." - Elminster's Forgotten Realms

Tyrran clergy are also willing to defend the innocent and ensure that trials are fair and free of corruption, and the two groups are likely to overlap:

"In civilised areas (settlements), Tyrrans (inevitably called "tyrants" behind their back by nonbelievers) become legal experts and serve as the lawyers of Faerûn by dispensing advice and "speaking for" accused persons in trials." - Faiths and Avatars

(They still tend to charge for the service, although some will likely go pro bono as Tyrrans are also meant to be devoted to righting wrongs and ensuring the law serves the good of the people) Tyrrans are not a major faith in Baldur's Gate and don't wield a lot of influence, however - and to make matters worse, Tyr has been dead for a generation, and while the god returned in the Second Sundering, his clergy are still in recovery.

Magistrates may have the right to call upon divination spells - cast by mages or clergy - to root out the truth, although the wealthy and the nobility often have privileges and rights regarding this that are unavailable to the common class.

- Alternative Justice

As the citizens do not trust their legal system an inch, the common people band together in informal groups called "crews" for mutual protection. How they function depends on the crew (guarding each other's property, self-policing a shared street or neighbourhood, pooling funds, simply backing you up if you get mugged, etc)

The Gate has an unofficial system called burl, if you're fleeing persecution, be it from criminals or the Fist, and knock on a door three times the people inside owe you shelter and safety, no questions asked.

Another alternate route of justice exists - turning to the gods.

Tyrrans seek out criminals who escaped their sentence and slipped through the cracks - if you can't be brought to justice, they will bring it to you. They also work to change or protect laws for the betterment of people. Prior to the Spellplague Tyr's portfolio concerned the letter of the law, however during his death that passed to Torm (god of loyalty, and thus now loyalty to whatever my liege says is the law) and Tyr's focus is on benevolent readings of the spirit of the law. As said, they have been out of commission for around a generation, so Tyrran activity in the city will only have resumed with legal and divine backing for about a decade or two.

Ilmatari are permitted a tenday's worth of respite, where Ilmater temporarily releases from their vows - technically this is time meant for self-care and mental health, but Ilmatari have been known to use this freedom from their oath of non-violence to shank abusers and tyrants. They also engage in non-violent forms of protest and disruption against corruption and cruelty while under their oaths, and it's generally not a good idea to harm them because Ilmatari are very popular amongst the common people of Faerûn for their charity work.

There is a Helmite faction within the Gate - the Order of the Gauntlet - that covertly sponsors vigilantes. Their calling card is Helm's symbol, branded onto the flesh of either dead criminals or live ones left anonymously on the doorstep of the Flaming Fist.

And then there's Hoar; God of Vengeance; the Doombringer:

"Hoar charges his clergy to uphold true and fitting justice and to maintain the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. Fitting recompense will always accrue for one's actions. Violence will meet violence and evil pay back evil, but good will also come to those who do good."

In Western Faerûn Hoar's clergy are not many and they do not build temples, but they wander the realms seeking victims of injustice. They listen to their stories, investigate to establish the veracity of their accounts, and if they're satisfied the person is being honest they will track down the perpetrator and deliver ironic punishments upon them. While they're considered criminals in the eyes of the law, to the common people of Faerûn hail them as champions of the underdog. On the darker side, Hoar and Bhaal are allies, and their followers share similar habits and a tendency to be retributive justice for hire. (Though Hoar is in it for vengeance, and Bhaal for the killings and bloodlust.)

Sharrans also present themselves as avengers in a world full of corrupt governments who don't care about you, and go out of their way to try and steal "jobs" from the Hoarites.

The temple of Bhaal will be sending priests up to the marketplaces and other gathering places - likely mostly in the Outer City, where it's impossible to break the city's laws - to listen to people's grievances and offer their services as killers. Bhaalists are also employable as freelance bounty hunters, and are obligated by their faith to train anybody who asks to fight and use weapons and are technically available as self-defence trainers (with an aim of "your opponent should not get back up"). They also usually select criminals for their sacrificial targets, and in private setting will turn these into public displays for the pleasure of the mob.

---

The Code Legal

There is no such thing as copyright law or libel and slander laws- unless they're offensive to clergy, rulers, nobility or whathaveyou. Authors on Toril are having great fun with the copyright thing, and often get ripped off by their publishers stealing their work. Also child labour is involved with the printing, but that's not the topic on hand.

When the punishment for a crime is arrest then the highborn, wealthy and influential will be placed under house arrest instead of spending their time in a jail cell.

-

Crimes Against the Lords A category that includes government officials, rulers, nobility, the extremely wealthy and influential, and generally high priests/temple leaders (are you going to blaspheme argue with somebody who speaks directly to a god? On Faerûn the answer is "no".)

Assaulting a Lord: death

Impersonating a Lord: death

Assaulting or impersonating an official or noble: flogging, imprisonment for up to a tenday, and a fine up to a max of 500gp depending on severity

Blackmailing an official: flogging and exile up to 10 years

Bribery or attempted bribery of an official: exile up to 20 years and a fine up to double the bribe amount.

Murder of a Lord, official or noble: death

Using magic to influence a Lord without consent: imprisonment up to a year, and fine or damages up to 1,000gp

While killing a commoner may be split into murder and justified self-defence, no such clause exists for killing a noble, which is always met with the death penalty.

"In many lands, common-born people are bound by law to defer to their betters, the lords and ladies of the nobility. Even if the law does not require deference, it’s usually a good idea." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

For the Gate, the nobility are the patriars.

Merchants and powerful Guildmasters (the trade guild, not the Thieves Guid) may have the money and connections to worm their way into this special treatment.

"The wealthiest merchants are virtually indistinguishable from mighty lords, Even if born from peasant stock, a merchant whose enterprises span-a kingdom might style himself "lord" and get away with it." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

While you might get away with styling yourself a lord, as Gortash does, the patriars nevertheless insist on maintaining boundaries between themselves and the new money. I believe they've also occasionally introduced fun additional little laws like who is not allowed to wear what (colours, fabrics) so as not to be confused with the wealthy merchants and lowborn of the city with their inferior breeding. True nobility is a matter of birthright, after all.

Still money opens a lot of doors, especially in a major trade hub like Baldur's Gate.

-

Crimes against the City

Arson: death or hard labour up to 1 year, with fines -and/or- damages covering the cost of repairs plus 2,000gp

Brandishing weapons without due cause: imprisonment up to a tenday -and/or- fine up to 10gp

Espionage: death -or- permanent exile

Fencing stolen goods: fine equal to the value of the stolen goods and edict

Forgery of an official document: flogging and exile for 10 summers (years)

Hampering justice: fine up to 200gp and hard labour up to a tenday

Littering: fine up to 2gp and an edict

Poisoning a city well: death

Theft: flogging, followed by imprisonment up to a tenday -or- hard labour up to a year -or- a fine equivalent to the value of the stolen good/s. Maiming, either through flogging or loss of limb. Baldur's Gate decided to edit this one for the extreme.

Treason: death

Vandalism: imprisonment up to a tenday plus fine - and/or - damages covering the cost of repairs plus up to 100gp

Using magic to influence an official without consent: fine -or -damages up to 1,000gp and edict

-

Crimes against Citizens

Assaulting a citizen: imprisonment up to a tenday, flogging and damages up to 1,000gp depending on severity

Blackmailing or intimidating a citizen: fine or damages up to 500gp and an edict (presumably in the form of a restraining order)

Burglary: imprisonment up to 3 months and damages equal to the value of the stolen goods plus 500gp

Damaging property or livestock: damages covering the cost of repairs or replacement plus up to 500gp

Disturbing the peace: fine up to 25gp and edict

Murdering a citizen without justification: death - or - hard labour up to 10 years, and damages up to 1,000gp paid to the victim's kin

Murdering a citizen with justification: exile up to 5 years -or- hard labour up to 3 years -or- damages up to 1,000gp paid to the victim's kin

Robbery: hard labour up to 1 month and damages equal to the value of the stolen goods plus 500gp

Slavery: flogging and hard labour up to 10 years

Using magic to influence a citizen without consent: fine -or- damages up to 1,000gp and an edict

-

Crimes Against the Gods

Assaulting a priest or lay worshipper: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages up to 500gp

Disorderly conduct within a temple: fine up to 5gp and edict

Public blasphemy against a god or church: edict

Theft of temple goods or offerings: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages up to double the cost of the stolen items

Tomb-robbing: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages covering the cost of repairs plus 500gp

"In a polytheistic setting such as this one, it’s important to stand back from any real-life religious views of “absolute good"". - Elminster's Forgotten Realms

"Baldur's Gate has widely adopted a "do no harm" policy when it comes to faiths and organizations operating in the city. Any group is welcome to operate openly so long as the city's important citizens aren't harmed [and as long as they don't disrupt trade]." - Descent into Avernus

"Important citizens" is an interesting distinction. Usually the rule is "so long as citizens - in general - aren't harmed".

A familiar refrain on this blog, which I have already talked about at length, but from a Torilian perspective: just because the god is evil and howling for the blood of the innocent doesn't make their priests criminals for providing it unless they get caught in the act or breach their "understanding" with the government. Evil or Good (or neither), the gods are holy, and to offend any is blasphemy. There are no gods whose worship is illegal in Baldur's Gate, so long as their clergy aren't stupid about it. (Sharrans usually prefer to go underground anyway, because they'd rather preach sedition and do crime than play nice, which will get them outlawed.)

Crimes against the clergy make people nervous, as it is attacking a god, in a way. Still, most crimes against priests fall under either crimes against citizens or crimes against the lords. Generally, high ranking priests are closer to the latter, and lower ranking to the former, though it does depend on the strength and influence of the temple and larger church in the city/region:

"The powerful temples of Faerûn's deities parallel the king's authority. The lowest-ranking acolytes and mendicants are rarely reckoned beneath the station of a well-off merchant, and any cleric or priest in charge of a temple holds power comparable to that of a baronet or lord. The high priests of a faith favoured in a particular land are equal to the highest nobility." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

That said, the clergy are wise not to push their luck too far, as people will risk the wrath of a god if they feel the need to defend themselves, and the law will turn on the temple for disturbing the peace and disrupting trade.

The Gate has four active temples: Tymora, goddess of luck; Umberlee, goddess of the sea; Gond, god of artificers; and - of course - Bhaal, god of murder. The leading priests of each of these - the High; the Wavelord/Wavemistress; the Artificer or High Artificer; and the High Primate/Primistress and the Primate/Primistress - will generally be afforded the kind of treatment and leniency by the law that nobility may expect so as not to offend any gods (though this will not extend so much to the lower ranks of the faith), and of these, Gond's church wields the most power.

As the most recent addition to the four, still in recovery due to their deity being out of commission for a century, the Bhaalists wield the least political power and the existence of their temple is a rumour, however "[the faiths of the Dead Three] still command respect and fear throughout Baldur's Gate." and Bhaal's worship is 'darkly popular.' Also there's a rumour that some important political figure or other is a Bhaalspawn, and it might be the High Primate, but these have always been proven to be smear campaigns.

Beneath these are the other well established faiths, who have shrines (though no temple heads): Ilmater, Lathander, Oghma and Helm.

And then a smattering of every other god on Toril, presumably represented by anything from a handful of priests to one. Also the Banites, who have been doing a fantastic job of climbing the ranks. Couldn't be anything to do with the systemic corruption and tolerance of evil, nah.

Still, clergy will not necessarily bother to take offenders to task and often take offenses against their deity into their own hands. Churches and secular powers tend to have some friction between them, as the government feels that its rules should hold sway while priests consider themselves (and the government) to be beholden to the wills of a higher power that takes precedence over those mere mortals in the High Hall.

Punishments vary according to faith and offense, and may range from placing a quest (gaes) upon the offender, enslaving them to the church, to simply murdering them and discretely disposing of the body. That last one may involve ritual sacrifice unto the deity of the temple, if appropriate. When the offender escapes the temple, the priests may call for the aid of their rural siblings in faith to hunt them down - wandering paladins, the Deathstalkers, etc. Many clergy have some amount of priests that don't stay still.

Churches have their own law enforcement systems. Temple guards are commonly seen, and in larger temples will answer to a paladin. Temples are often home to animals - selected from the deity's holy animals - who serve as security and defence. Certain deities will also have undead bound to the temple's service.

When one of their own ranks is caught breaking a law (say, murder) the priests usually prefer to deal with it themselves. The most common result of getting caught rocking the boat is either for the church to excommunicate the priest, or else for that priest to suddenly, silently be removed from their post and reassigned by the church somewhere else outside of the jurisdiction of the realm with the promise to secular authorities that they will be disciplined, which is accepted. The latter happens "more often than the general public would be pleased to know".

Evil-aligned religions are also held to another set of rules, whose terms are negotiated between the rulers and the church, but generally go thusly:

1) The church owes fealty and service to the government when demanded (assassins, spymasters, mercenaries, whatever) 2) Activities like human sacrifice are to be kept to agreed upon limits: no more than necessary, and the targets must not be "innocents, citizens, or government representatives." - random vagrants and criminals are fine. 3) Clergy must not attempt to overthrow the ruling class, 4) Nor cause too much distress in the general public (people are resigned to the existence of evil and accept and worship the evil deities, but they should not be pushed to the point where daily life is disrupted.) 5) Shrines and temples must be kept out of public view. 6) Keep your identity as a priest and your identity as a citizen separate: the public must not be able to identify you - the Gate has slightly looser restrictions on this, it seems 7) No forced conversions.

[monster-slxt]

A human's sole purpose in this world is to be a breeding bitch for monsters. At least that's what all humans in your kingdom are told.

From the age of 18, all humans are taken to a special establishment, where they are taught about the various different species of monsters and the best way to please them during mating.

Upon completing your training, you and several other humans are taken to the breeder center. This is where you and many other humans will be shown off to the high ranked members of society. All in hopes of being picked by one of the many wealthy nobles to be their personal breeding bitch.

It's an honor to get shown off at the auctions and not just put in the pound, only those who did exceptionally well at obedience school get to be shown off like this.

We're all cleaned up and pampered before the viewing period, bathed with sweet oils and pampered, clothed only in an expensive leather collar with our lot number so potential buyers know which human to bid on. They position us on little stages, collars leashed to the floor more in formality than anything, they know we won't try anything.

The first hour or so is viewing only. Hosts lead wealthy monsters of all shapes and sizes around the extravagant room, pointing out our best qualities to potential owners. It's hard not to squirm under so many eyes, but I've been trained well. A drider dressed in fine silks and gold asks something to her groups host, who promptly reaches out and pinches my exposed clit hard enough to make me moan. The drider seems impressed, her eyes lingering on me as the group walks away.

It's so hard not to whine and beg for attention as the guests talk about me like I'm not even there. Especially as I get wetter and wetter listening to how my potential new masters would treat me, which only gets more people talking about me. The cute little human, so desperate to be owned and bred by a monster. I quickly loose track of how many times I'm visited over the viewing period, there's just so many potential owners here- of all different kinds too. A couple orcs, a pack of werewolves looking for a new toy, some minotaurs and centaurs, even a few dragons.

Finally, though, it's time for the bidding to start and the guests are taken away for a meal while the humans are taken backstage. We'll be auctioned off one by one, a last chance to gain interest and get more money for the training center. My lot number puts me around the middle of the pack, so it'll be a while before I'm on stage. Even with all my training it's soo hard to wait, I'm so horny from the viewing period but I know I'm not allowed to touch without permission.

In the end there was a bit of a bidding war over me, though the stage lights meant I couldn't make out who-or what- exactly bought me in the end. I'm so nervous, so excited as I'm taken off stage to meet my new owners. My heart is pounding, evidence of my arousal dripping down my legs. The handler leads me towards one of the minotaurs who seemed especially interested in me, exchanging pleasantries with my new owner and handing off my leash without a word to me.

[ghost-mantis]

Headcanon that Skrall as a species are essentially doomed on Spherus Magna.

Even though they are warriors of the highest caliber, 100,000 years of war, starvation, and the loss of every female of their species leads to a slow, inevitable decline.

Ruthlessly culling any member of their species that wasn't a high-class warrior meant that there was no investment in education or skilled labor. The only way their society functioned was to rely on pillaging and slave labor to obtain food, medicine, and essentially everything that didn't involve stabbing.

Given their very rigid social system, it didn't seem like female Skrall had much say or power in their society. On Bara Manga, the second they did get mental powers they were considered a threat and banished to the wilds. Canonically, the male and female Skrall also separated into two societies on Bota Manga.

After that point, the population replacement rate was 0 and the male Skrall were in an endless war with the Agori for resources. While they never really lost fights, that didn't mean that they weren't losing people to disease, injury, and old age.

And then Mata Nui came along and curb-stomped the only leader-cast member of their species they had left. The remaining male Skrall dispersed into smaller groups led by named Skrall or high-tier casts.

And then Teridax came along.

A huge portion of their remaining population was atomized when Teridax blasted their home in the Black Spike Mountains. The remaining groups decided to join the free-for-all fight between the Agori, Toa, Rahkshi, and Skakdi.

And even as amazing warriors in a normal fight, there's no way the Skrall did anything but get their shit kicked in against armies of beings with ranged supernatural powers. A sword is great, but not much use when all your opponents can do things like suck the oxygen from your lungs, or summon a mountant to crush you without breaking a sweat.

Plus, every Agori and Glatorian hates their guts and wouldn't hesitate to gut any Skrull injured or trapped by the absolute free-for-all that was Bara Magna.

Anyone who survived the bloodbath and subsequent reformation of Spherus Magna, including adding Bota Magna Skrull to their ranks, is still looking at a very grim future.

The Skrall are now outclassed by almost every sentient species (and most wildlife) on the planet in terms of power and resources. Their home and leader cast are gone, and they have no slaves left (all killed or emancipated by Toa) to produce goods or labor. Their species is still split into two societies by gender and getting together long enough to have kids probably isn't in the cards.

A few Skrall are hired on by the Dark Hunters, but given their lack of powers, they would be best as cannon fodder, or as combat trainers to beings with greater powers.

Every other remaining male Skrall group is going to have their shit kicked in by every other group the second they try to cause trouble. And the Baterra are probably still picking off warriors whenever and wherever they find them.

Their population has plummeted over the last 100,000 years and the remaining members of the species are essentially the last generation.

The best hope their species has is that the female Skrall, being less militant and having no mental powers left, join with Agori or Glatorian society. They might be closely related enough that they can have children with the Glatorian or Agori.

If so, any future Skrall are at most 50-50 genetically split with another species. Subsequent generations will have thinner and thinner Skrall genetics, and they'll be extinct as an individual species.

Given that they were absolute bastards as a species and society in-canon, that might be for the best. Banishing every member of your society that can have children, and then going to endless war with every one of your neighbors forever is essentially biological suicide.

[levia-chan]

MAKING PACT

A/N: Well, for some reason Tumblr doesn't have many works with demon!MC, so I decided to try to write my own, I hope you like it :3

- No.

- MC, please think again. I assure you, this pact will benefit both of us! - that annoying sorcerer won't leave you alone.

He's been trying to get you to make a pact with him for quite some time. You don't want that. Which, in fact, led to your current situation. You're desperately trying to get away from the sorcerer somewhere far away, and he's still following you.

- I said no. Look for some other demon to make a pact with them.

It seems suspicious to you that such a powerful sorcerer is persistently trying to make a pact with you. You don't have such a high rank and you barely match the level of the fallen brothers, so why would he do that?

Solomon already has 72 demons under his control, so what would change if you joined this list? If he wants a pact with you just because you're closely related to the seven brothers, then he won't get it.

- MC, listen, I don't just want to make a pact with you. I see great potential in you! If we combine our knowledge and abilities, we can achieve a lot! Besides, we will certainly be able to learn something new from each other! - he was hoping to convince you with that sweet talk and friendly smile.

Oh, Diavolo, this man is really testing your patience.

That's it, you've had enough.

You stop abruptly and turn to face him. "Listen, I'm flattered by your desire to make a pact with me, but I doubt we'll be able to learn anything from each other. Besides, you overestimate me. I'm not that strong, and I don't want to be overshadowed by a human."

Now that he finally had your attention, he took your hand in his and gently ran his thumb over your knuckles.

- You're being too hard on yourself. You have your strengths, and I have my weaknesses. If you're still not sure, then how about showing off our skills to each other?

You wanted to object, but first you decided to weigh the pros and cons. In the end, you decided that a show of force wouldn't hurt and would perfectly show who you'd be connected to if you did decide to make a pact.

- Okay, I'm interested. But after this show, my decision will be final. Either we make a pact or not, it's up to me. Is that clear? - you took your hands out of his hands.

Solomon nods his head. He understands your conditions perfectly and will be ready to fulfill them, even if everything turns out not in his favor.

- Great! Now it remains to decide exactly where we would like to do this.

Both of you turned your heads at the same time towards the old dark forest not far from you. There is almost no one there, except for some rarely passing animals, plus it is far from the busy city.

Just perfect.

- Huh, I think great minds think the same way, - you laugh and start moving towards the forest first.

Solomon didn't mind that you were leading him. It didn't take you long to get to the middle of the forest, where you are surrounded only by earth, rocks and some sticks. You are accompanied by a light cool wind that makes the hairs on your skin stand on end, because you were not wearing enough warm clothes.

He noticed that you were shaking a little, so he immediately took his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

- Are you cold? - he was smiling as he put his coat on your shoulders. "I wouldn't want you to freeze. You still need to demonstrate your abilities, MC."

You fell into a stupor for a while. You didn't expect such gentlemanly behavior, especially from him.

- What about you? You people are more fragile. A little breeze won't kill me. Take care of yourself, wizard - you tried to give him back his coat.

The last thing you need is for him to poke you in the face what a sissy you are for the rest of the day.

The sorcerer, also stubborn, forced you to keep his coat with you. "I want you to know that I'm not like other people. Besides, the turtleneck suits me fine," he fiddled with the fabric around his neck.

Well, if he insists, then who are you to refuse?

Now that you have reached the perfect location, you have a large empty space at your disposal.

You turned your head towards him and tilted it slightly. "So, are you starting or am I?" you're flexing your fingers in preparation for the demonstration.

Solomon laughed and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. "Come on, please, demons go ahead."

- Wow, look at the gentleman, - you smirked.

At first, you stretched your hand out and felt the breeze passing through your fingers. You put your middle finger and thumb together and started concentrating. Magic began to crackle in the air. When a ball of magical energy formed in your hand, you turned all your attention to one object.

You looked at a large boulder and sharply reduced the sphere, after which you sent this small ball to the boulder. In just a second, a rather powerful explosion occurred. Strong air currents formed, as well as debris of different sizes, which began to fly in different directions. Some even flew in your direction.

- MC! - Solomon grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away, but you didn't even move.

You looked at the wreckage and clenched your hand into a fist. The stones stopped abruptly in the air and began to fall to the ground under the influence of gravity, forming small craters.

Since the danger has passed, the sorcerer has released your hand. He breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at you worriedly. "You could have been hurt, you know? It's good that you have a great reaction."

- I know my abilities and I wouldn't do this if I wasn't sure of my own safety. But it's nice that you're worried about me when you should be thinking about yourself.

He chuckled as it was his turn to show his strength. He will prove that he is worthy to make a pact with you.

- Let's see if you'll keep thinking I'm weak. Oh, and by the way, you're not getting seasick in the air, are you? - he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- No. Why-

You didn't have time to finish and understand what was going on, because you suddenly flew into the sky. The only thing that could soften your fall is the edges of the trees.

Solomon was next to you in a second, but he was much better at floating in the air than you were. Watching you awkwardly hanging in the air, he covered his mouth, trying to hide a chuckle. - Well? Are you having fun?

You stared at him, kicking your legs in the air. "What do you think? You just shot me like a projectile from a catapult! And without any warning!"

- You'll get used to it soon, but for now let me help you, - he flew up to you and took your hands. He began to guide you, and now your flight has stopped being so erratic.

It took your breath away to realize that you were so high above the ground. "You don't send everyone you meet flying, do you? Because it's a great way to make enemies."

- Don't worry, I'm not that reckless, - he smiled and gently lowered you both down. "I only do this with those who are really interesting to me and with whom I want to become closer."

You fell silent, feeling his gaze on you. "Solomon, - you haven't called him that for quite a while, - if you want to make a pact with me just because I know my brothers well, then you don't have to continue. I don't like being used."

He seemed to be taken aback by this response. "Is that why you've been rejecting the pact all this time?"

-... Well.. Why else would you sign a contract with me?..

Solomon gently took your hand. "MC.. Pacts are not something you will make with someone for no reason. What I want from you means more to me than strength or power."

Your feet finally touched the ground, and you were speechless after such a subtle confession. You can't even look at him.

- It looks like I'm making things too complicated, - he noticed your stunned state. "According to our agreement, I will accept any decision you make. Pact or not," he lowered his head and looked away, preparing to face rejection.

Before he left, you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

- The pact. I want to make a pact with you.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Brass Balls. - OC Backstory.

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 1.7K~ cw: yelling, threats, roasting (not even that aggressive really)

At the meager age of 23, Kathleen Mary Moore had succeeded in doing something that no one before or after her could get ever away with: becoming an unofficial charge nurse at the military hospital in Tidworth Camp. 

And all thanks to one skill of hers: Conflict Resolution.

Well… more like… Resolution through Conflict.

Didn’t matter if the person that needed their arse reamed out was a patient, a family member or a commanding officer. She had enough sass to last her a lifetime and metaphorical balls big enough to look a superior in the eye and call them a gobshite.

In her case, being a charge nurse means little else than being a glorified enforcer. She’d be called in by anyone, in any department of the hospital, whenever there was a Difficult™️ situation to be solved. And solve them she did.

Maybe it was the Leo in her, maybe it was the Older Daughter blood in her veins. Who knows.

Nonetheless, it earned her an unfortunate nickname: Brass. 

Not just because, according to the other medical staff and even some low rank enlisted, she had “brass balls”... but also because she had the brass (the high-ranked officers) by the balls.

And that’s, unfortunately, the way she met John Price.

On March 28th, 2013, the Tidworth Hospital received an influx of 20 SAS soldiers that, although housed in the nearby Stirling Lines Garrison, didn’t have a proper hospital at the base, and so, were placed in Tidworth for emergency treatment.

By April 7th, 2013, only one soldier of the group of 20 stayed behind, a Sergeant Craig Wallcroft, the rest having returned to Credenhill. Wallcroft wasn’t under Kathleen’s care, being in a completely different department, but, eventually, she was forced to pick up his case.

Called to her nurse’s admin office by her Lieutenant-Colonel, Lieutenant Moore watched a small pile of paper being placed in front of her, 14 or so pages long.

“Sergeant Wallcroft’s superior, a ‘Captain Price’ has been very insistent in the release of his Sergeant…” Lieutenant-Colonel Margot Ward, a no-nonsense greying-brown-haired woman explained as she stood face-to-face with Kathleen.

“Insistent, you say?” Kathleen asked, dipping her head slightly at an angle, an eyebrow raising in a display of displeasure. “What’s he done?”

“Very.” Margot explained with a sigh. “He took to filing request after request for the release and clearance for combat… Then to filing transfer requests to the medical ward in Credenhill… To downright harrassing us with phone calls on the matter.” She revealed.

Kathleen’s eyebrows raised and her head pulled back at the chin in a look of utter surprise. To have someone abuse the online request system or maybe the email inbox of the department was one thing… But to downright shout down the phone line over this? 

Oh, Kathleen was not happy, her hands already trembling with the anticipation of putting this man in his place.

“And, now, he’s sent one of his Lieutenants to… pressure us into releasing his teammate. The man’s shouted at Lieutenant Byers in the nurse’s station already.” Margot added.

That did it. Hearing that someone raised their voice at one of her closest friends? She didn’t even want to imagine the state her friend Felicity was left in… the poor girl, always prone to tears.

“Leave it to me.” Kathleen said as she walked out of the room, marching away quickly.

-

The trip to Credenhill was quick. It took no convincing at all for the helicopter pilot, who was meant to transpo Wallcroft back to Credenhill, to turn the chopper around to deliver her, and this Lieutenant he sent for him, Lieutenant Cameron, back to Credenhill.

Cameron then lead her across the garrison in the lightly pouring rain, to the training gym where ‘Captain Price’ was bound to be.

Her brown eyes flittered over the room very quickly, surveying it, to try and locate Captain Price. Most of the men there were on the young end, handsome-ish, muscular and strong, wearing tight clothing while they grappled and tossed each other around.

Before Cameron could lead her further into the room, she took two fingers to her mouth and let out a sharp, deafening whistle, that stopped all the sparring (and observing) soldiers, in their tracks.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU GOBSHITES IS CAPTAIN PRICE?!” She barked at the top of her lungs, the silence in the room so loud that her voice bounced off the walls.

One of the men straightened up from where he was sparring with another of the soldiers and he stood tall and imposing, even from across the room. “That’d be me.” John said. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone that’s sick and tired of your bullshit, Captain.” She told him directly. “Now, come over here, please.” She demanded as she beckoned him close with two fingers.

John approached with a certain swagger, confident steps and swaying hips, strong muscles wrapped by an army green t-shirt covered in sweat, beefy, burly and hairy forearms on display.

“Nurse Corps.” He acknowledged her uniform’s patches as he came to a stop before her, standing a bit below her, a few steps worth of a height difference, as she stood on a catwalk, and him on the gym floor. “You finally transferred my Sergeant?”

He was handsome. Bloody hell, he was handsome, stern blue eyes staring at her from below, stubble on his jaw that she knew would soon grow to be a thick shrub…

“No.” She replied as she set her hands on her hips. “Your Sergeant is still bed-bounded back in Tidworth, where he’ll stay for the foreseeable future because as you’ve been told many times by now, he’s not. fit. for. service.”

John looked at her blankly. “Is that what you came all this way for, little nurse?” He asked her with a cocked brow, his tone almost condescending. “This could’ve been a phone call.” He added and turned away. “Get back to work!” He shouted at his team.

Oh, how she hated being underestimated… And talked down to.

She lunged forward and grabbed John by the collar of his t-shirt like one would to a naughty child and tugged him back with an aggressive pull. “Get back here, you wanker.” She demanded.

John turned to look at her, eye-to-eye, faces mere inches apart, as she finally let go of him. “You’re gonna listen and listen good because I’m not bloody playing around and I have NO PROBLEM embarrassing you in front of your troops.” She gestured to the other soldiers in the room who had not heeded Price’s command to go back to work.

“You have no qualifications to decide what your soldiers need or do not need when it comes to their health. Hell, I wouldn’t trust you to tell your arse from your elbow considering the state of the First Aid that half of your soldiers came to Tidworth with.” She told him point blank, her hands now coming to rest on the railing of the catwalk that separated them.

Her voice grew louder with each word she spoke, venom slipping from her tongue as she continued her tirade. Her face had morphed into a wide-eyed, almost frantic look, her brows set low over her eyelids, and her jaw clenched tight.

“And even if you had qualifications, that gives you no right to talk down to me or my bloody staff. I’ve seen plenty of men like you in the last couple years and you all have one thing in common: hubris. You think that suddenly, what, cause you made Captain you can suddenly treat everyone as if they’re below you?” She confronted him as she leaned forward, getting right in his face.

“Just because your ego suddenly soared sky high thanks to your spiffy new title and shiny medals, it doesn’t mean that you can suddenly proceed as you fucking please. Your inability to fathom that your power over others is only in the scope of your immediate subordinates in the chain of command is not the Nurse and Medical Corps’ concern. We have better things to do than deal with little men with fragile little egos.” She shouted at him, pointing a finger right in his face, her teeth catching her lips as she spat pure vitriol at him.

“So you better hear me well and good-” She added and suddenly grabbed him by the front of the collar, tugging him close to her. “because I am not saying this again. If I hear so much as a PEEP about you, that you put in another request for Wallcroft’s clearance, or, God help you, that you called the nurse’s station and talked down on one of my sisters, again-” She warned him.

“I’ll print out the stack of over 30 requests you’ve already put in, come back here,” She pointed at the floor to mean Credenhill. “...roll ‘em up nice and tight and shove ‘em SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE that when I pull ‘em out your mouth, your teeth will work as a paper shredder. AM. I. CLEAR?!” Kathleen pointed her finger right in his face, almost poking him between the eyes with it.

John was dumbfounded. He had never been spoken to like this. Not since he became an adult. Even his mother wasn’t this intense as she reamed him out when he was younger, and there had been plenty of times where he had deserved it!

So, Price simply stared at her and blinked slowly, his breathing having hitched and his heart beating like a war drum in his chest. He swore he could hear his blood flowing inside his ears. His arms hung limply on either side of his body as he kept staring into the fiery woman’s brown eyes.

“AM. I. CLEAR?!” She repeated herself, eyes still wide, pupils blown, as she glared right into John’s blue eyes, his own pupils blown.

“Yes, ma’am.” John ended up saying and nodded imperceptibly.

Kathleen let go of his collar and leaned back. “That’s what I fucking thought.” She goaded in a vicious tone through her teeth.

Then, she turned around, facing Lieutenant Cameron and nodding at him before she marched off, forcing the lieutenant to rush after her to escort her back to the chopper, and leaving behind a stunned group of SAS soldiers… and her future husband.

[tciddaemina]

FUCK ME ALRIGHT SO

i was walking home and this idea hit my like a sack full of bricks and i am now dying. bc okay, fuck, just listen

moshang transformers!au

Shang Qinghua is a depressed millennial on the verge of poverty barely scraping by with two minimum wage jobs, who has a rocky relationship with his parents (separated with new families, neither of whom want him around), with no friends to speak of, who takes pottery making classes in an attempt to have some sort of human connection. He writes in his free time, with the face hopeless aspiration that he could maybe make something of it (it isn't working), struggling every day with the thought of whether or not the world would be better off if he just ended things

Mobei Jun is a high-ranking decepticon general who's crashed on earth and is injured and in hiding, which Shang Qinghua stumbles across in the middle of the night and who (basically) holds Shang Qinghua hostage - threatening to kill him and coercing him into giving him a hiding place

which ends up with broke!freaked out!Shang Qinghua hiring a private garage last second at great cost, to hide this killer robot and him getting threatened/kidnapped/coerced into hiding him and playing lacky, going out and buying extremely suspicious quantities of industrial grade motor oil and shit like that, as he gets even more freaked out about how much money this is chewing through and how he's going to pay rent.

and its basically just suicidal!desperate!millennial v. giant!homocidal!robot

Mobei-Jun: mentions something about being part of an empire of evil robots, with enemies looking for him

Shang Qinghua: wait what do you mean you're the bad guy??? (thinks: oh, actually, maybe all the threatening and murderousness should have tipped him off, whoops)

and ends up with situations with Shang Qinghua accidentally claiming to be king of earth and having to stick to the lie bc-

Mobei-Jun: something something we're going to conqeur this planet-

Shang Qinghua: what? you can't! it's my planet

Mobei-Jun, suspicious: it's yours? the planet belongs to you

Shang Qinghua, sweating, thinking quickly: I- Uh. Yeah. Yeah it's my planet. It belongs to me. You can't conquer it. I- That's the price of me helping you. If you want me to keep doing things for you, then the price is that you have to agree not to mess with my planet.

and Mobei-Jun, who knows enough about humans to know things like monarchies exist, and who comes from a plant once governed by one single planetary body is like- okay, makes sense, and doesn't think on it more.

and basically it's half crack of Shang Qinghua hiding a giant robot fugitive, and complaining that he's getting broke, and Mobei-Jun breaking open an ATM for him, and Shang Qinghua freaking out even more, as Shang Qinghua has to make up increasingly more intricate lies about why nobody else acts like he's king (it's part of our culture, we have, uh- uh, indomitable free will. nobody can tell anyone else what to do, so it would be rude if they acted like i was special) and Mobei-Jun nods along, and then transmits them back to the rest of the decepticons as part of his intel about the planet, which leads to them also thinking Shang Qinghua is king of the planet and-

and it all spirals to Shang Qinghua getting fucked by Mobei-Jun who's decided that actually maybe he's going to keep Shang Qinghua around, and when the whole Decepticon-Autobot (Demon v cultivator) war reaches point as Autobots arrive to try defend the earth, only for there to be a great deal of confusion as Mobei-Jun tells them there isn't an invasion, and actually the Decepticons have parleyed with the local ruler and are here on treaty, so there's no fighting at all

(how was Shang Qinghua supposed to know that an offhanded comment about inaccessible minerals deep below the earth's crust when Mobei-Junw as talking about destroying cities to mine for some rare thing was like, an agreement-)

anyway, it ends with the Autobots very confused, but not able to fight bc technically no one is in danger, and the Decepticons being very smug, and Shang Qinghua stuck in the middle of it just sweating because this all hinges on a truly insane lie that literally any human would be able to tell was total bullshit, and somehow it works

(and also maybe as an aside in a companion fic, Luo Binghe is super head honcho decepticon commander, who absolutely doesn't get Mobei-Jun's weird fetish attraction to this one flesh-bag, except then he sees one too bc enter stage right Shen Yuan, and Luo Binghe goes head over heels, and then there's desperately awkward interactions as Luo Binghe tries to ask Mobei-Jun for details on how one actually goes about fucking a human, which. its just too funny.)

anyway yeah, that's the idea i had while standing there in the street, waiting for the lights

[thetraumaking]

The Accursed Crown

Other chapters

Chapter 18

Her fist clenched in rhythm.

Staring ahead at the ongoing battle, Azula couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from you.

The mountains surrounding the battle field was that of a giant pot. Mountains high with no trees in sight, a simple plane land with nothing but grass and weed. Within the overgrown hollow, stood you, leading the soldiers as you all fought, while she, the princess, stood at base, in a village of tents and supplies surrounded by the tacticians and elderly.

Weaving around the rocks and boulders that are sent your away, she tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for your victory.

The plane lad that was riddled with pink and blues of flowers and plant now splattered with blood or scorched by flames. And true to her judgement, those rookie men she saw flailing at the deck laid their drowning in their blood. They didn't make good soldiers anyway.

Well, at least they'll make good fertilizer.

Her lips twitched.

There were hardly anyone worth watching, none were as graceful as you or as masterful.

Her eyes then moved to the old men that sat around the table with liquor in hand. Compared to them, you were of higher rank, so why was it that you were there on the field, getting your hands dirty -and to their knowledge, risking your life- while they, the subordinate ate cut fruit and drinking to their hearts content.

"Princess, why don't you sit down and enjoy the show? There's no need to worry, everything is all under the Major's control." A balding man with twice the recommended amount of forehead spoke. Letting out a bellowing laughter as her face redden from his intake.

Pigs. That's what sat before her. Filling her ears with nonsense as they ate and drank.

"That's Princess Azula to you, Captain Lou. I'll be sure to notify my father of your disrespect and attempted fraternization." She paid no mind to the panicked apology. There is only one person who could speak so…

She lets out a sigh. "You are dismissed. Captain."

The chattering died down after that. They even did away with their mess, how wonderful. There was finally some comforting silence in the room(rather than a room it was more of section of the land that was blocked off by cloth and sheets.)

Her observation continued. Watching you as you broke through the Earth Kingdom's defenses. Burning and slicing, forcing your way through, breaking their formation as you go.

It looked easy enough, she'd seen enough already to depict who was an earth bender with how they moved.

And, the battle is nearing its end. At least half of the enemy forces has been taken down within the first hour. It is more than ideal time for her to join in on the fun.

Besides, the ground cracks before anything happens.

She just has to be observant.

Rolling her shoulders, she prepared to descend the mountain. Her armor hugging her form as she stretched. Without a moment to spare, she ran before propelling herself with her fire. Her aim locked in on you as she flew. With her knees tucked in, her arms fully extended back shooting continuous blasts of blue flames as she soared.

Once high enough, she changed her angle. In a perfect forty five degree, she shot down.

Landing just a bit of distance in front of you on a group of earth kingdom soldiers. The armor on their backs melted as she landed, the men being sent forward from the blast.

The bewildered look on your face was worth the dirt that covered her. Sending a smile your way, she ran forward. This is the perfect opportunity for her to show everyone how great she was. The word of her power shall spread like wild fire, her grandfather and father will surely make her the heir, she will be the next Fire Lord. Those who try to take you will see just who stood behind you.

And her mother, well, she could rot for all she cares. But you? You'll have a piece of mind knowing what a great job you did in raising and training her. Then all you would need to worry about is how to better spend your time off. What to do when all the need to outshine others is not a necessity. You'll be free like the birds you admire. Live with pride like the phoenix you wear.

And best of all, she can be the one to take care of you.

Her smile broadened at the thought. Once she gets rid of all the shackles that weigh you down, you'll be back to normal. You'll smile and laugh again, hug and kiss her, cook for her and more.

Condensing her fire to a singular point, she shot at the earth benders. Flakes of blood dusted her cheeks as she smiled on. Aiming at the center of the body. Keeping her chin low as to better focus on the opponent. Dodging from side to side rather than jumps and ducking for better evasion. Never locking joints for sudden and sporadic movements. And making sure her heart and breathing are steady. Just like how you taught her all those years ago.

Before she knew it, she had made a small clearing. Sweat dribbled down her head as she took slow steady breaths. Her stance still in that of an offensive one as she took in her surrounding.

Bodies scattered across the burning plane. Ash and sooth rained down, black and red powder like substance tainted her skin. The heat now only nipped at her as she looked around. Her stance easing up only when she noticed that both nations' soldiers stood clear of her.

She was quite a bit away from the main group. The only ones near her were either corpses of maimed men. Groans filled her ears as a cough ripped through her throat.

Must be due to the filth she was breathing in. For a moment she wondered just how many she had accidentally inhaled. Licking her now very dry and ashy lips, she tried to spot you.

She will admit.

That was a stupid mistake.

She. amongst most of the Fire Nation denizens are fire benders. Any wound they inflict cauterises the wound and or either burns it. There is no liquid involved, they are the ones coming out victorious.

Meaning, she should not be seeing blood at this moment.

Her rear hit the ground. Rather than seeing the blood it was more so feel. Warm sticky liquid splattered across her face. Palms scraping against the rubble as she looked ahead.

Due to adrenaline, one wouldn't feel pain after getting stabbed. Maybe some pressure and maybe some heat in the area, but pain? Not so much.

But she hasn't felt either or. With her warm yet dirtied hands, she wiped at her eyes.

Smearing the rich red across her face, spreading it as she felt the smallest drop roll down the side of her cheek down to her chin.

She heard fire roar ahead, just a few steps from her yet she still couldn't see.

The blood got into her eyes. The world looked as though she was looking through a red stained window. Her eyelids felt sticky, she wanted to keep rubbing at her eyes but she couldn't bring herself to.

Both her words and breath got caught in her throat. She tried to gasp for air but couldn't.

A long spike poked through where she stood just moments before. Blood ran down it like river as you took ragged breaths. Your hand still outstretched, still holding onto the face of the earth bender that had tried attacking her. The man's head crumbled as his headless body fell with a loud thud. Gray blackish ash blew in the wind as they escaped through the space between your fingers.

She sat there frozen as you broke the spike with a grunt, the fight still ongoing behind you. The wound on your cheek was now covered in the ash of the war as you spoke, "Don't get distracted, A-" You let out a cough, "... Princess."

She watched you as you plunged two fingers deep into the bleeding hole that now decorated your left shoulder.

She had spend the better part of her day in this war, both as a spectator and as a participant. The smell of burning flesh or the raw rich aroma of blood did not phase her. But yours were different. It made her sick.

With another grunt, you pulled your fingers out. The scent of burnt flesh was stronger now.

Even when you left her behind the formation in favor of advancing into the enemy line, the smell lingered. Only when the horns of victory were blown did she found herself still seated on the ground. Her hair out of sorts, armor covered in dust and flakes of blood and flesh, her face covered in now dry blood.

She fisted at the ground below her.

Those barbaric savage earth benders. How dare they humiliate her like this? How dare they spill your blood? On her. She bit her lip, your blood mixed with yours as she seethed.

They had no place in the world she wished to establish. She'll get rid of them one way or another.

She now understands how Zhoa must have felt when he was beaten by that water bender.

Maybe another cleansing is in order.