#leader of a mercenary band

[kingdom-dance]

Realizing that Minthara is a Baenre and therefore from the same House as Ady’s Buncle (Chaotic Bisexual uncle-but-not also known more famously as Jarlaxle) and she killed her by taking the bridge out from under her like its fucking Looney Tunes

#Jarlaxle fucking hates his family tho so he’s probably good with it #I love the fact that in my game Jarlaxle went from BBG (kinda) to another father figure for Ady to glom into #in spite of the fact he’s this scheming and super charismatic antihero/morally grey figure #leader of a mercenary band #and in game he was Ady’s dad’s closest companion/best friend and her dad was just a walking sunbeam of an elf #and it was heavily insinuated her dad and Jarlaxle hooked up at some point but thought they were better as friends before he met her mom? #ugh I love the lore my DM came up with and we came up with together I mISS IT #god Astarion and Jarlaxle would be CHAOS #I know in the game the BG3 VAs are playing they encountered Drizzt and Astarion fanboyed over him #I can’t imagine how he’d feel about Jarlaxle omLLLLL #anyways this went off the rails in the tags my adhd be adhding tofsy #so yeah I did kill minthara I didn’t like how she locked up Halsin it was means :(

[luckhissoul]

blood and ashes, that had hurt. it had been unexpected. usually he’s quick enough even in the dark. but he hadn’t expected anyone out here right then. not at this time. he had thought he could slip easily through the area and return to the small camp he and his men had set up. he can feel his bloody coming out, warm there against his clothes. he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. is the bloody idiot trying to help him? who stabbed in the bloody dark without waiting for the other person to answer? granted mat hadn’t intended to answer the bloody fool. he had thought that he could just slip on through. so much for good luck.

he lets the guy help. why not? he owed him the bloody effort. and besides he was supposed to be heading towards their camp. if his sight in the dark could be trusted that was. then those were the right colors. and it’s not like he hasn’t been stabbed before. he thinks it’s been deeper, too. he’s got the scars to bloody well prove it to. 

he can hear his own muttering. trying to tell the guy that he’s expected. that his name is mat bloody cauthon and he’s got something that they’ll wait to know. but it’s all just mumbling. even when he’s gotten onto the guy’s horse. but what does come out clear as bloody day is “i can sit....i’m not some bloody damsel....” but he trails off again, keeping himself as up right as he can with one hand pressed to the wound. he feels cold. light, he had had worse than this. but he wasn’t too fond of anyone poking any flaming holes in him. 

“just take me to your bloody camp.”

@honorhearted​ cont’d from HERE

#( it works #i have got a verse for this #but it's vague #he's just a leader of a mercenary band #that's for the patriots but in secret #and he just sort of slides in between the two #so he can be sneaky #butnow he got stabbed lol #but that's fitting #because he's a chaotic idiot #honorhearted

[argisthebulwark]

Fake Marriage Trope

summary: Short drabbles about a fake marriage with various skyrim favs. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Erandur, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Teldryn, Rune warnings: none

Erandur worries that being unmarried as a Priest of Mara is odd, what if it made others doubt his devotion? The two of you had become close after travelling together - choosing one another was easy, natural. Sharing a home gives you somewhere to rest after handling Skyrim's many problems and Erandur gains a spouse to gush about to Mara's followers. It's a win-win. After spending time posing as your husband he'll realize that it isn't as much of a lie as he originally thought - he truly does care for you, loves when you spent time relaxing at home or dozing off on his shoulder. He would likely stumble over his words trying to explain how he caught feelings for his own spouse.

After aiding in the rebuilding of the Brotherhood, you have garnered quite the friendship with Arnbjorn. Surprisingly, your joint efforts have caught the eye of potential new clients. Meeting with a group of powerful nobles in a bid for a massive contract one mentions offhandedly that they take comfort in your dedication, citing the leader's marriage to a fellow assassin. Clearly you care for your Guild, it makes you appear quite trustworthy! Forging a deal with Arnbjorn you both agree to continue the farce, allowing them to believe you're married. It brings in money, gets you better jobs, some stability - and all it takes is pretending to be in love. He would take notice when you began wearing the cheap wedding band even on rest days, or referring to him as your husband in casual conversation.

Stealing from rich people is fun. Stealing from rich people with Brynjolf is very fun. Dressing up together, attending some fancy party with fake names and a hasty backstory. You can't help it if your heart flutters when he dutifully places an arm around you or your sudden urge to kiss him when he spins you around the dance floor. It's difficult to remind yourselves that it's just a game, a cover to gather as many septims as you can carry back to Riften. Hearing Brynjolf introduced as your husband only makes matters worse, your cheeks heating until you're sure the cover is blown. With pockets stuffed and fancy wine clouding your mind it's easy to pretend that Brynjolf truly is your husband, that the way he gazes into your eyes is more than an act.

Teldryn has been hired dozens of times - as a mercenary, a sellsword, a guide. When a returning client hires him at triple the agreed upon rate he assumes you're taking him somewhere dangerous. You are - your familial home. As the only unmarried sibling in the bunch you often find yourself the target of all extended family members and their intrusive questions. After explaining it to him you get nothing but a dry laugh and a promise to do his best. He takes to the role of doting partner quite well - answering questions about how you met and entertaining family with stories of your travels together. Near the end of your trip you find that neither of you want the ruse to come to an end.

Rune wants a family. People to visit on holidays and tell his coworkers stories about. You want a partner to bring home to your family so they'll ask about something other than your shady line of work. What a good deal! When you find yourself seeking him for comfort after a rough day you pay it no mind. You're friends, after all. The marriage is only for show. The same rule applies when Rune holds you a bit closer than necessary or introduces you to new recruits as his partner - you have to sell the act, right? Can't have anyone exposing your lies. Tamping down on the worry that something more is brewing isn't easy but you try. It's difficult to remind yourself that it's all a show when he places a hand on your thigh or finishes a story your sibling's told him before. Falling for him is too easy.

#skyrim #writing #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #erandur #arnbjorn #brynjolf #teldryn sero #rune

[lillified]

can i ask what the general lore for your au is? love me some good lore

I think I’ve done a pitch outline before that’s covered some of this, but I can give you the basic background for reference! (Tumblr page search seems a bit broken the further back you get anyway)

Cybertron is an alien planet with a long history of strife. Following the reign of the Quintessons, a hostile and colonial alien species, and their eventual ousting, the remnants of a military-industrial state and its tyrannical caste system left only a matter of time before massive conflict erupted.

Cybertron: The original home planet of the Cybertronians, and the current territory of the Autobots. Cybertron is a very ancient planet formed around the remnants of an enormous organic “ancestor,” whose blood and other material is extracted for use as food. This organic material is vital to the survival of all Cybertronians, and the most important component, Energon, is extremely highly coveted. It can be found sparingly in other parts of the universe (notably other early established Cybertronian space colonies), but without access to the original ancestor, or its sparsely documented relatives and protégé, it is unrenewable, which would inevitably mark the end of the Cybertronian race. Extensive industrialization on a global scale made Energon sparse, and an exhaustive global war only exacerbated this scarcity.

The Decepticons: Made up primarily of the former lower castes of Cybertron, the Decepticons are a mish-mash group of revolutionary mercenaries, banded together to end the tyrannical rule of Cybertron. Although they were originally known as the Ascenticons, they gained the derogatory name after their defacto “leader,” Megatron, permanently maimed her rival for the primacy, Optimus, during a political demonstration that turned violent. Optimus was famously left without a lower jaw, and the brutal scuffle was used to galvanize moderates against the perceived extremity of the group.

Now, having been largely driven off of Cybertron after a battle which devastated both sides., the fractured branches of the Decepticons struggle to find places they can recoup and regather amid the cosmos. Their primary squad, team Alpha, is currently drifting in space, eagerly anticipating the day it can find the resources to reestablish communication with what remains of the Decepticon army.

The Autobots: A faction formed out of the former military of Cybertron and its allies. Figureheaded by the stoic and personable Optimus Prime, the Autobots barely hold onto control of Cybertron, and seek to persist against the Decepticons’ demands for radical reconstruction. Now made up of many of Cybertronian’s youth, plenty of Autobot soldiers aren’t fully aware of what they’re fighting for, and barely retain memories of life before the war. If the current course of the war continues, they hope to drive the Decepticons out of anywhere they’ve hidden until they surrender and concede.

The Present: With impassible stakes for everyone involved, if they want any hope of surviving and reclaiming Cybertron, the Decepticons must do the impossible: overcome their many differences and work as a team. Our story starts in the far reaches of space, where Decepticon Team Alpha is searching for resources and a temporary residence where they can begin to reestablish communication with their allies.

The members of Team Alpha include:

Megatron: the melancholic leader, whose reputation does not match her lethargic withdrawal.

Starscream: the second in command with a penchant for mutiny. Her disloyalty is kept a secret, for both Megatron’s sake and Starscream’s.

Soundwave: the enigmatic and cynically self-important communications officer and third in command. Their speciality is espionage and information control, though they haven’t seen much of it recently.

Lockdown: former bounty hunter turned medic. this mean-looking ‘Con might not be certified, but in a pinch, he’ll patch you up—by any means necessary.

Knockout: the only thing worse than a mad doctor is his lackadaisical and negligent assistant. Knockout doesn’t really believe the Decepticons will win, but his hate for the Autobots is stronger than his realism.

Breakdown: a bruiser-in-training rescued from a docked Decepticon warship. He and Blitzwing were the only trainees who survived being stasis fried. Albeit a strong and capable fighter, this ‘Con doesn’t really have the “Deception grit” yet.

Blitzwing: Breakdown’s fellow soldier. Though she was also trained to be a mercenary, Blitzwing lacks a lot of the natural talent for fighting Breakdown has. Her unrecognized skill lies in weaponsmithing, though Starscream hopes to make a competent combatant out of her yet.

Ravage: don’t be fooled—this weapon class Minicon only looks like a Cybercat. The eldest of Decepticon team alpha, this odd bot gave up his Cybertronian appearance to live out the laid back life of a lazy mechanimal. His powerful spark makes him Megatron’s weapon of choice.

#transformers #ask #text post #text #long post #lore

[swtorpadawan]

Chaos is a Ladder

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place on Hutta during Act III of the Class stories. I name-drop a lot of minor NPCs from the game, so I hope you’re into that sort of thing. Content warnings for references to off-camera extreme violence.

“Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them.” - Petyr Baelish, aka 'Littlefinger', HBO’s Game of Thrones, season 3, episode 6, "The Climb"

Loyalty on Hutta is a complicated thing. The woman who called herself Linh noted to herself in a detached moment of clarity, drawing her consciousness away from the nearby stench of death and the distant sounds of fighting.

Nominally, of course, everything on Hutta was controlled by the Hutts. Any attempts to wrest control of their adopted home world away from the Cartel over the centuries – either by the native Evocii or by the various rival crime lords and organizations that thrived on the nearby ‘Smuggler’s Moon’ of Nar Shaddaa – had been ruthlessly crushed.   

But in practice, the Hutt Cartel ruled Hutta solely through fear.

And it was an effective and even a pragmatic fear, one that allowed a relatively small number of Hutts to each rule over their own private fiefdom, with the backing of countless guards, servants and slaves, aided by any number of semi-independent mercenaries and bounty hunters, and supported by a culture that ensured that however much Hutts might quarrel, fight and rage against each other, they always seemed to band together the moment the status quo of their world was challenged; even if one Hutt did fall, another would simply take their place or absorb their territory, with predictable consequences.  

But it was still a control built on the foundation of fear nonetheless. Meaning that any loyalty anyone showed to the Hutts was an illusion, and that illusion was virtually everywhere.

Based on her own training and experiences, Linh had always suspected that the moment peoples’ fear of the Hutts was eclipsed by their fear of something else, those illusions would be dispelled, and those people would turn.

And that suspicion was now being confirmed as people were now turning on Suudaa Nem'ro, more popularly known as Nem’ro the Hutt, leader of the Nem’ro Clan and lord of the industrial town of Jiguuna.

It had all started less than an hour ago.

The unnamed Houk had shown up suddenly at the entrance of Nem’ro’s Palace, calling out the Hutt and bellowing a series of extraordinarily graphic and imaginative threats against Nem’ro’s person.

This had initially been little cause for concern to Linh and most of the other occupants of the palace at the time, who initially took this development for a rather convoluted suicide attempt. This Houk was clearly insane and was looking for a way to die.

Then Nem’ro’s guards had converged to intercept the intruder… and they had been the ones who started dying.

The amused indifference of the populace had turned to concern and then to fear.

Then the fear had turned to panic.

As the Houk made his way through the palace, killing anyone in his path in a merciless onslaught, everything had descended into chaos. Every second the Houk had spent viciously cleaving his way through defenders with his vibro-blade was a second where resistance seemed to melt away.

The panic had turned to rioting, as everyone’s immediate goals had shifted.

It wasn’t just the Houk’s doing, of course. Had all the guards, servants, hangers-on and guests in Nem’ro’s palace bravely united to stand against the assailant, they surely would have taken him down eventually.

Surely. Linh thought to herself in reassurance, even though she was not completely certain at all.

Many of the occupants of Nem’ro’s palace were perfectly willing enough to feign bravery when the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor and there was a chance for personal gain. But they were quick to turn and flee the moment that equation was in doubt.

No. This crisis was the result of people on Hutta fearing something else more than they feared a Hutt. The instant that happened, all bets were off. Tomorrow, or a year from now, a new equilibrium would inevitably reemerge, with some other Hutt in charge.

No one cared about that now.

The majority of these people simply wanted to survive today.

Far worse than these sheep were the many individuals in the palace and throughout Jiguuna who had instinctively started taking advantage of the chaos. Many saw the opportunity to finish old scores with a rival at a moment when they figured they could get away with it. One or two were petty enough to simply took the chance to mug some of the wealthier patrons of the lord of Jiguuna. A few even risked looting the treasures of the Hutt’s palace.

Fools. Linh thought to herself. She didn’t know how many of these opportunists had made it out of the palace, but she had to assume it wasn’t many. No amount of credits (or personal satisfaction) were worth your life.

Not when everything is falling into anarchy. Linh thought to herself.

She heard fighting – or rioting – in the distance. She counted herself lucky.

For her own part, by the time the intruder had stormed through the palace cantina, where Linh usually spent her days, she had wisely made herself scarce, slipping out into the streets of Jiguuna in the confusion as she gripped her hold-out blaster.

Linh was an observer. By training and inclination. Now she finally had a moment to reflect on what she had observed during her final moments in the palace. Most of it seemed irrelevant. Who was running. Who was fighting. Why was dying.

One thing she was certain of was that Nem’ro’s luck had finally run out.

At what seemed to have been the penultimate moment, only one of Nem’ro’s remaining lieutenants, Carnus, seemed willing to take up the challenge posed by his fellow Houk. The two had come to blows in the cantina, even while Nem’ro could be heard bellowing down the passageway in a panic for more of his guards to come to his side to defend his bulk, and offering outrageous rewards to whomever could end the threat to his life.

When even Carnus had fallen beneath the newcomer’s rampage, the writing on the wall had become clear: Nem’ro the Hutt was doomed. No one else would be willing to die for the Hutt. It was simply a matter of survival now, and who could run the fastest.

If the Lord of Jiguuna wasn’t already dead, he would be soon.

Still outside, cocooned in her moment of clarity, Linh realized that it was a fall that had been a long time coming. Things had seemed to be slowly deteriorating in Jiguuna for nearly two years.

It started with Karrels Javis. She decided.

He had been Nem’ro’s most capable and reliable lieutenant before he’d been killed. He was certainly capable of violence, but Javis had understood that violence was a tool and not philosophical approach to everyday life. He’d been pragmatic and reasonable, usually taking pains to avoid putting decisions to his boss when the Hutt’s temper was acting up.  

Officially, Javis had met his end by an assassination team sent by Nem’ro’s rival, Voontara Fa'athra.

(Linh knew better than to believe that story.)

Nem’ro’s reprisals against Fa'athra’s supporters had been unprecedented even by Hutt levels. Armed with a data file retrieved from Voontara Fa'athra’s palace by the so-called ‘Red Blade’, there had been a bloodbath in Jiguuna with dozens of Fa'athra’s supposed sympathizers in the town purged on Nem’ro’s orders.

Still. Linh thought to herself. Despite his cold-bloodedness, the Blade she’d briefly met, that supposed pirate – with his cool, emerald eyes and chiseled jawline – had been capable. Very capable. He was just the sort of person I could have used to get off Hutta, now.

Unfortunately, he was far from here, on some job or another that she couldn’t even imagine. 

It had taken weeks for the city to calm down.

Even after the dust had settled from the purges, and even after the victory celebrations Nem’ro had held when Fa’athra had fled Hutta in apparent defeat, there was a sullen air to the place. As if whatever little vitality Jiguuna could have claimed before had been sapped, and things were continuing purely on momentum.

Illustrating her point in fact, just a few weeks ago, Nem’ro had come down with a rare flesh-eating disease, placing the Hutt’s life – and his sizable bulk – in jeopardy. This development had led to considerable tension among the Hutt’s various lieutenants and supporters, as everyone jockeyed for position should Nem’ro ‘tragically’ pass away. There had been a number of killings, discreetly passed off as ‘isolated incidents’ by Nem’ro’s security, and Linh was fully convinced that there’d have been an outbreak of open infighting throughout the organization if it had lasted any longer.

Fortunately for what still counted for the status quo in Jiguuna – and for Nem’ro, personally – a Republic doctor had arrived one day at the palace before that came to pass, having heard of the Hutt’s plight. Linh had noted he’d been on ‘watch list’ for her true employer, as the man had previously worked for the Balmorran Resistance and had more recently been working with some upstart Jedi Knight running around the galaxy. This doctor apparently had enough pull to get an appointment with the Hutt, and within a few days, Nem’ro was on the road to recovery.

Even with Nem’ro cured, however, things had never quite gotten back to normal in Jiguuna. There was too much bad blood by then. Too much pressure on Nem’ro’s organization to produce refined fuel to cover his trade agreements with the Sith Empire. Too much lost inertia. Too many people with too many ‘what if’ thoughts.  

It had been a powder keg. And the attacking Houk had lit the wick.

Now she was outside the palace, and the only person on Hutta who knew that her real name wasn’t Linh and that she wasn’t just a small-time private fence with a pretty face working out of Nem’ro’s cantina was lying dead at her feet.

Lycus Mattle had (officially) been a freelance hired gun in Jiguuna, occasionally taking jobs with Nem’ro’s gang. An older mercenary, he was respected enough that the local ruffians usually gave him a wide berth. He usually made a place for himself just outside the palace at the bazaar, should anyone seek to hire him.

He had also been, like Linh, an operative of Imperial Intelligence, and a subject of the Sith Empire.

And now he was dead, with multiple blaster wounds having caught him in the chest.  

Linh also spotted a trio of slain Rodians lying nearby. She recalled them having visited the palace earlier that day, planning some scheme or another. Apparently when they had fled the carnage, they had decided that their best bet was to kill the lone, human gunman, take his weapons, and then to decide what to do next to get away from the carnage.

Lycus Mattle may have been old for being a supposed merc. (Truth, he was older still for being a field operative of Imperial Intelligence.) But he had taken all three of his attackers with him.

Linh found herself taking some small satisfaction from that fact. Over these last two years, the older agent had become a partner to her; part mentor, part confidante and part protector should anyone on Hutta ever give her too much trouble. She was glad he’d given better than he got.

But that didn’t change the reality that her only real ally – and her best chance of getting off Hutta alive – was now gone. Linh knew how to use her holdout blaster, and she’d received basic self-defense training. But she had no illusions as to how long she’d last in a deteriorating hellhole like Jiguuna, much less if she ran into that Houk.

She processed all of that as her fingertips gently lowered Lycus’ eyelids. 

“You were a good partner, Lycus.” She whispered to herself, unexpectedly finding herself wiping a tear from her eye. “The best.”

‘Lycus’ hadn’t been his real name, of course, any more than ‘Linh’ had been hers. But in the two years she’d been on Hutta, it had been the only name she’d ever known him by. She didn’t know his real name and it was unlikely she ever would. ‘Lycus’ would have to do.

Now he was rotting in a trench on Hutta, and she didn’t even have the time to bury him properly.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t need Lycus to be alive to help her out of this predicament.

Linh looked around the plaza again to make sure the coast was clear.

She needn’t have worried about being observed. The whole area seemed completely abandoned. People had either fled for cover or had decided now was as good a time as any to engage in violence elsewhere in the town. Nem’ro may have been a ruthless crime lord, but as had been the case in the palace, his authority had also been the only thing holding some people back.

And that was gone now. She continued to hear the sounds of unrest in the distance. People were dying. But she didn’t have time to think about that.

Residing in the palace as she normally did, Linh could have been searched by Nem’ro’s security at any time. (Indeed, more than one visitor to the palace had found themselves wearing a slave collar for carrying around unauthorized contraband.) So it made sense for Lycus to keep their ‘sensitive equipment’.

Taking a deep breath, Linh carefully detached Lycus’ weapons harness and utility belt from his body and reached into his vest. A moment later, now holding his pass-key, Linh inserted it into her deceased partner’s holo-transmitter.

By itself, the equipment was mundane. Only a thorough inspection by a skilled engineer would have uncovered any anomalies in its manufacture.

Linh took off her necklace from inside her blouse and carefully snapped the pendant in two. She then held the now-exposed circuits against the power cell compartment of the holo-transmitter until they seamlessly slid into place, completing the circuit. After a few moments diode on the advice turned red.

Excellent. Linh smiled. The direct line was secure and would be all but untraceable.

“This is Infiltrator Ninety-nine.” Linh’s voice had changed, but she kept her voice low as she spoke into the transmitter. “Requesting immediate extraction. Confirmation Code Delta-Beta-Nine-Four. Please respond.”

With that, she exhaled. It was the first time in years that she’d used her own voice. An Imperial voice. It felt liberating, really.

A moment later, the holo display started to flicker.

She had expected a junior Watcher to pick up her communications signal at headquarters in Kaas City. Or perhaps – if the Watchers were hard-pressed with the war effort at the moment – a Minder or at least a Fixer. Following protocol, they would direct an Intelligence Asset Recovery Team to her aid, and get her off this cesspit of a world.

Instead, she saw only a rotating Imperial Insignia appear in the holo display, as an automated voice spoke.  

“Attention all personnel: By the order of the Dark Council, Imperial Intelligence has been dissolved. Any and all ongoing operations are hereby terminated. You are ordered to immediately report to Dromund Kaas for reassignment to the Imperial Military. Long live the Emperor.”  

The holo-display went dead.

Linh’s jaw dropped in shock.

No. she silently whispered to herself. Impossible. It couldn’t be true.

She attempted to toggle the call button again for a few futile moments.

Nothing.

Her free hand the nearby tent pole for support. If she hadn’t been crouched down, she’d probably have fallen over.

The implications of this announcement were staggering.

The Sith Empire was over a thousand years old. And Imperial Intelligence had been a part of it since the beginning, cleaning up the messes of the Sith and the Imperial military.

Oh, there had been purges of the service throughout that history. Usually due to some perceived operational failure or another. Occasionally a Minister of Intelligence would be “retired” and the powers that be would insist on “changes in personnel” to make way for the new regime.

But for the Empire to dissolve the service now at the peak of its war with the Galactic Republic…

Madness. She thought to herself. Without Imperial Intelligence, there would be chaos. Not just for the Empire, but with respect to her immediate situation.

Linh needed assistance just safely getting off Hutta, much less getting back to Dromund Kaas.

She’d been Informer-99 for the last three years. She had hoped to be promoted to ‘Minder’ someday, perhaps eventually serve as a station chief on some planet with a more enjoyable climate. (After spending so long on Hutta, Alderaan sounded positively divine.) 

All her career goals were gone now. Dead as Lycus.

Dead as Imperial Intelligence. She thought to herself.

She felt her breathing start to become more rapid as she continued to process.

And what sort of future could she expect if she even made it back to the Imperial capital?

A career in the Imperial Military would be a dead end for her, and a waste of her talents. At best, she’d be stranded in some subordinate clerical position in the Ministry of Logistics, running statistical reports and fetching caff for her superiors.

At worse, she’d be pressed into an auxiliary combat battalion where all her intelligence would be wasted, and she’d be killed off in some useless battle or another.

No. She stopped herself. At worse, I’ll be indentured directly to one of the Sith.

She shivered at the thought, remembering all the stories she’d heard at the academy.

Nothing could be worse than that.

Linh felt her grip on the comm device tighten further.

The Empire had abandoned her. It was no longer home.

She felt a sense of panic start to grow. And then the anger of the injustice of it all.

No. She stopped herself again. That was what her instructors at the academy had trained her not to do.

Unlike Sith, operatives did not have the luxury of giving into their anger. Angry agents made mistakes, as did agents in a state of despair.

If she was to survive, she had to think clearly. She had to remain calm.

She had to remember her training.

After a moment, she felt her breathing relax and her brain started to work again.

First things first. Linh decided to herself, following her training.

Dealing with the immediate situation had to be her priority.

She dropped the holo-communicator on the ground and rose to her feet. Pulling out her holdout blaster, she pointed it at the discarded device.

Then she fired twice.

In a flash, the only physical evidence connecting her to Imperial Intelligence on Hutta had been destroyed in a smoking wreck.

Linh exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been keeping.

It feels cathartic. She allowed herself a grim smirk.

Next order of business.

I can’t stay on Hutta. Linh concluded. She’d seen enough conflict among the Hutts to know that sooner or later, and probably sooner, the Cartel would move in to fill the gap left by Nem’ro’s sudden ‘absence’. Once that happened, anyone still around who had even been in the palace at the time of the attack would either be shot on sight or they’d find themselves indentured and sent to the gas mines.

The Hutts did not take betrayal well. By their logic, every resident of Jiguuna should have sacrificed themselves to save Nem’ro. To show clemency to Nem’ro’s surviving supporters would only encourage dissent and disloyalty in other Hutt courts and territories.  

She had to get away from the Houk, the Hutt Cartel and the Empire. If she were lucky, she and Lycus would be presumed dead in the paperwork. If not, she’d be a wanted renegade.

But first, she had to get off Hutta.

She had identified the problem. Now she needed to find a solution.

What are my assets? She continued following the steps of her training.

She regarded her holdout blaster.

Honestly, it had been no more than a deterrent in the Palace. Virtually anyone on Hutta would have outgunned her in a shootout, and if she did run into that Houk, it would count for nothing.

She had a few credits on her, but if people were already fleeing to the spaceport in a panic, she doubted those would be enough to get her anywhere.

Nothing drove up inflation like a life-or-death situation.

Thinking to herself, she dug through her hidden pockets and pulled out a thin piece of plastic.  Carefully unpeeling a label, she regarding the revealed card.

Her backup identity. Not her identity as ‘Linh’, small-time criminal on Hutta. Nor her ‘real name’ she’d been born with in the Empire. But a new one entirely.

Jheeg – the local Arcona fixer who Intelligence had once worked with – had been killed after several security failures involving that business with the agent impersonating the Red Blade. (Linh had privately suspected that Lycus himself had done the job on Jheeg, though she could never prove it and she knew better than to ask.) Jheeg had once provided her and Lycus with backup cover identities if they ever needed to suddenly flee the planet. (Lycus had insisted on the precaution; he never really talked about what he’d done for Imperial Intelligence before this assignment, but it was now clear to her that he had been jaded by his career and was aware of the possibility of a situation such as this arising.)

The identity was still valid; or at least it’d be valid enough in a pinch. It wouldn’t have fooled a review by Imperial Intelligence, she was sure. But if Intelligence no longer existed, it just might fool the Empire.

Regardless, she could build a new life for herself.

But all that would have to start with getting off Hutta.

Her training kicked in again:

Who are my allies?

Rex Geer might have been persuaded to help her. He’d bought her a drink or two at the cantina, and she’d considered taking things further to cement a potentially valuable contact. But Nem’ro’s top street lieutenant – who had led the defense against Fa’athra’s incursion during their conflict – had been one of those killed during the unrest from Nem’ro’s illness a few weeks past.

Stabbed in the back in a back-alley. Linh recalled to herself, with regret. Like as not, his own men had killed him just for the prospect of a promotion.

Oren Ward would have been another potential ally. The bounty hunter had fostered a ‘school-boy crush’ on her, Linh knew. But he and Burnok had departed Hutta months ago for greener pastures after Oren had recovered from his carbonite imprisonment at Fa’athra’s palace.

She tried to think of another protector-type who might still be alive and willing to help her. She came up empty.

It doesn’t look good. Linh admitted to herself, as she tried to reconsider the situation.

In truth, obtaining the services of a ‘hero gunman’ to defend her was a secondary concern, even if having such a champion would have been reassuring. By now, she was convinced that the Houk could have torn through anyone she could think of if he spotted her, possibly even a Sith or a Jedi.

What she really needed was someone with the credits and the connections to get her through the spaceport and off-planet. If it was already locked down by the Cartel’s people, she’d need someone with Nem’ro’s security codes to get off-planet.

She smiled grimly to herself as a stroke of inspiration came to her mind.   

Fortunately, Linh had realized that she knew of just the right person who could provide both.

Surprisingly, getting back into the palace had been a simple affair. Evidently, nearly everyone still capable of walking had already fled by now.

Linh knew she was taking a huge risk just coming back here, but she saw no other options. If her quarry was still alive, they’d be inside. As she made her way through the cantina, she tried not to pay any mind to the corpses she was stepping over. She’d known many of these people for the past two years, and while she personally found most of them unpleasant, she also knew that looking at their dead faces now could easily plunge her into a pit of despair.  

None of that would help her.

She made her way down the corridor, holdout blaster drawn and at the ready.

Remember your training. Linh reminded herself for what felt like the tenth time. She was no true field operative. She’d known from the start at the Academy that she never be a Cipher agent. But she knew how to navigate a dangerous building. Certainly, one that she’d lived at for two years.

She carefully snuck past the receiving chamber to the throne room. She could hear sounds from within that didn’t sound remotely human or sentient, for that matter. Not ‘fighting’ sounds exactly, but…

No. she continued on. I won’t think about that.

As she finally approached her destination, hoping against hope that her target was still inside, she nearly tripped over some wreckage on the floor. Looking down, she recognized it as the remains of P8-47, the astromech droid that frequently acted as one of Nem’ro’s messengers.

The droid had been sweet to her on occasion, and she’d once considered recruiting him as a source. She’d discarded the idea, however; he’d been frightfully loyal to Nem’ro.

Pity. Linh steeled herself from the discovery as she continued down the hall into the next chamber, peeking around the corner.

Two Twi’leks were standing within, with the larger male gripping the younger female’s wrist violently.

“The credits, girl!” Toth'lazhen hissed, slapping the beleaguered woman across the cheek as she cried out.

One of Nem’ro’s senior lieutenants, Toth'lazhen had risen to pre-eminence after the death of Karrels Javis. His reputation for brutality had endeared himself to the Hutt.

Linh had been carefully studying Toth'lazhen for some time now as part of her duties to Imperial Intelligence. The Twi’lek lieutenant normally spoke in the perfect Huttese of his boss.

The fact that he was now speaking his native Twi'leki was telling. If nothing else, based on that fact alone, she’d know that Nem’ro was finished.

Linh had always assessed him as something of a fool and a brute. Today, she was seeing evidence to support that opinion.

Unfortunately, his present victim was the one she’d been seeking.

Juda was a young but highly intelligent green-skinned Twi’lek, unusually amiable for a resident of Nem’ro’s palace. For the past two years or so, she’d served as Nem’ro’s paymaster, taking over when his old accountant, an old human cyborg named Yalt, had made the mistake of going over to Fa’athra’s side.

(She did not want to think about the price Yalt had paid for that mistake. Juda had proven more reliable.)

Today, Linh had decided that Juda was her best chance of getting off Hutta.

Apparently, Toth'lazhen had decided the same thing.  

“Please.” Juda cried out, struggling against his grasp. “Let me go! I’m just trying to get out of here.”

Toth'lazhen slapped the girl again as she cried out. Linh noted a bruise forming beneath Juda’s eye.

“You can run once I have Nem’ro’s money.” He snarled.

Part of Linh’s mind, trained for ruthless pragmatism, related to Toth'lazhen’s position. He was self-interested individually willing to do whatever it took to get off Hutta alive.

The same applies to me. Linh admitted.

On the other hand, he had turned his back to the doorway. And something about the way he was abusing Juda did not sit well with the suddenly unemployed Imperial operative.

His mistake.

Linh scowled, as the major domo raised his hand to strike the weeping girl again. Any thought of negotiating with Toth'lazhen had fled her mind.  

The holdout blaster – set for silent mode – was relatively low-power. But she was less than five meters from the attacking Twi’lek, with more than enough time to put three rounds through his back.

If Toth'lazhen tried to scream out in pain, that scream was cutoff with the second round. The third was only for certainty’s sake.  

Juda blinked in surprise as her attacker fell dead to the floor, looking up at her erstwhile rescuer.

The two women’s eyes met. Much to Linh’s surprise, as she gazed into the Twi’lek’s violet irises, she felt herself gulp.

Was it the adrenaline? The fact that Toth'lazhen was the first person she’d ever killed with her own hand? The look of gratitude in Juda’s pretty, violet eyes?  

“Thank you.” The young Twi’lek whispered, falling back into her desk chair in relief. She held herself gingerly, slowly rocking back and forth.

Linh silently nodded, swallowing and lowering her blaster. Her throat felt dry. Whatever guilt she felt for killing the Twi’lek was being suppressed by the adrenaline still pumping through her veins.  

“Toth'lazhen would have killed me.” Juda said quietly continued, swallowing. “Or worse, he would have sold me off to slavers. Before he even got off planet. The moment he had as much of Nem’ro’s money as he could get his hands on. When he didn’t need me anymore. That’s why I didn’t give into him.”

She looked away, sniffing.

“I’d have been a loose end.”

Loose end. Linh thought to herself. She herself was now a loose end to the Empire, her years of training and service amounting to nothing. She was on her way down; she had to find a way up. Who better to…

Out of the corner of her consciousness, she spotted Juda eyeballing the still-drawn blaster.

Jarred back to the present, Linh put away her weapon, calmly.

“I’m not Toth'lazhen.” She offered reassuringly, glancing down at the dead lieutenant. “If you can help me get off planet, maybe I can help you, too.”

Juda nodded, glancing over at a satchel on her desk.

“I can do that. I was right about to run for it myself when Toth found me.”

Linh tried processing the young woman’s reaction. With the immediate threat removed, her practical intelligence seemed to shine though. She found it refreshing. Inspiring, even.

“You don’t have anyone else here on Hutta?” Linh asked.

That question seemed to strike a nerve. The Twi’lek flinched, closing her eyes in pain as her body rocked back and forth again.

“My mother… passed away a couple of months ago.” Juda’s lip trembled. “Nem’ro didn’t even give me the day off to go to her funeral.”

Linh recalled that she hadn’t seen a family member in years. She had no way of knowing if her parents or brothers were even still alive by now. Nevertheless, she felt a wellspring of sympathy bubbling within her for the young Twi’lek.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured awkwardly. She quickly decided to change the subject. “So. You had a plan to get out? Or just sneak past the Houk?”

Juda took a breath as she gathered herself, gazing down at Toth'lazhen’s corpse absent-mindedly.

“There’s an underground tunnel.” She explained. “It runs along the old gas pipes beneath the town. The entrance is hidden behind the bar in the corner.”

Juda pointed. Linh recalled there was hardly a room in the palace that didn’t have its own bar.

“It comes out west of the palace, near the spaceport. Nem’ro never thought he’d need a way out of his own palace, but Karrels knew he might.”

The Twi’lek smirked.

“He had me budget the construction as ‘palace defenses’. Poor guy just never had the chance to make it out when his time came.”

Linh smiled appreciatively.

“So. That tunnel gets us to the port. Any ideas about what happens next?”

Juda returned the smile, clearly emboldened by the praise. The attractive Twi’lek had drawn plenty of looks since she’d started working at the palace. It was a good bet that up until today, few had been foolish enough to make a move on Nem’ro’s paymaster, especially not after what happened to his previous accountant.

Neither of us work here anymore. Linh thought to herself.

“I know Mekks, the communications officer at the spaceport.” Juda assured her. “He knows how the Cartel operates, and how to make it look like someone shot their way out of there without getting anyone killed… in return for a sizable bribe, of course.”

“Of course.” Linh found herself smiling sincerely for the first time in what felt like days. Fear and bribery were the only things that turned the gears on Hutta. “Then we just need to find a ride off-world.”

Juda’s smile widened, as she reached in and pulled a datapad out of her satchel. Linh could see a stack of pads along with credit sticks and a few strips of flimsi. Clearly, the Twi’lek had been preparing for this trip well.   

“Nem’ro took possession of a small freighter last week.” Juda informed her. “Some smuggler who ditched his cargo from the Imperials.”

She bit her lip as she looked down at the records.

“I still have the access codes. And the license. By the time anyone checks, it’ll be legally ours.”

Linh let out an impressed whistle. This was more than she could have hoped for.  

“Sounds like a plan.” The former Imperial operative felt everything start to fall into place. She smiled again to Juda but found the Twi’lek’s smile had suddenly grown cautious.

“And after that?” Juda asked, uncertainly.

Linh paused, remembering her earlier considerations concerning her own future. Assess potential resources. Her instructors had taught her.

To Nem’ro, Juda had been a competent, unambitious underling who always did what she was told.

To Toth'lazhen, Juda had been nothing but a source of quick credits, to be used and disposed of.

But to Linh, she could be much more.

“You know.” She began. “Between my connections, your financial skills, and Nem’ro’s credits… I think we have enough to start our own ‘consulting’ business. Look around the galaxy. Lots of people are going to need ‘special assistance’ setting up new operations for themselves with all this fallout. Conflict brings chaos. We’ve both seen that here today. But it also brings opportunity to people who know how to seize it.”  

Even as she spoke, Linh felt herself gaining confidence in this plan of action. She’d need time to work out the details of course, but at least now she had a direction. Later, they could take on some hired muscle for security. Linh knew what to look for in a dependable mercenary so that she and Juda could avoid emergencies like this one in the future.

Linh finally extended an open hand towards the Twi’lek.

“Partners?” she asked.

Juda chewed her lip for a minute, regarding Linh and the offered hand.

The Twi’lek suddenly grasped Linh by the shoulders fiercely and leaned in. Juda’s lips met those of the former Informer of Imperial Intelligence, kissing her passionately. Linh felt her entire body go rigid with shock at the gesture.

It had been more than a year since she’d taken actual comfort in the touch of another, and Juda was certainly attractive. A warm feeling started to grow in the pit of her stomach.

She felt her lips and then her hands start to respond on impulse, surrendering herself to the sensation.

Juda suddenly pulled away as the stricken Imperial tried to regain her breath.

“For luck.” She offered by way of explanation, giving Linh a dazzling smile. She finally took Linh’s hand, giving it a friendly shake.

“Partners.” She declared.

Linh could only catch herself against the desk as she regained her footing and blink.

Definitely more than just a source of quick credits. She confirmed to herself.

Juda, meanwhile, had ducked behind the bar with her satchel over her shoulder. Pushing a crate and a rug out of the way, the woman opened the hidden trap door down to the tunnel, then looked back over at Linh.

“Come on.” The Twi’lek smiled. “That Houk might come poking around any minute.”

Linh swallowed and moved to comply.

As she followed Juda through the trap door and down into the escape tunnel, she felt confident she was taking the first step towards her future.

Time to climb the ladder.

THE END?

Author’s Notes: There are any number of corrupt and even ‘evil’ powers within the SWTOR story. As much as we might loathe them, it’s fascinating for me to think that if any of them suddenly weren’t there, the vacuum would make room for something even worse.

Those of you who have played the Bounty Hunter class story too many times will know from the Companion cut-scene dialogue that Skadge killed Nem’ro the Hutt off-screen, a revenge killing for an earlier betrayal that landed Skadge on Belsavis in the first place. The idea of Skadge successfully rampaging his way through Nem’ro’s palace, where we spend so much time as an Imperial Agent / Bounty Hunter at the start of the story, was fascinating to me. (How many of the NPC’s we interacted with earlier actually survived???) Skadge is probably my least favorite character in SWTOR, but the idea of him being the star boogey-man of a grisly horror film, slaughtering dozens of people, that concept intrigues me.

Each class has an NPC on their starting planet that provides a mission directing the player-character to the trainer on-planet. Linh is the NPC on Hutta that directs Imperial Agents to the on-planet trainer, Lycus Mattle. With the many changes in the game over the years, those missions are largely redundant, worth only a smidgen of XP. But some of those cutscene interactions were memorable to me, including Linh’s. I decided I had to do something with her at some point.

This story was the result.

Juda is another fun character from the Bounty Hunter story. She’s Nem’ro’s paymaster on Hutta, and later unwittingly engages in some minor skullduggery during the Great Hunt. Fortunately, my own bounty hunter, Xadya, chose not to hold her indiscretions against her. (Mako would not have approved if Xadya had taken Juda out!)

As always, I love the idea that our characters leave a deep mark on the places they visit, for good and for ill. Gahraath Vaiken, my Cipher Nine in the Halcyon Legacy, was rather vicious when he started out as an Imperial Agent on Hutta, a bit too eager to demonstrate his own ruthlessness. He’d eventually mellow a good deal, but at the time, Linh was both physically attracted to him while simultaneously left with the impression of a cold-blooded killer who would easily dispose of her if it suited his mission.

(Which he absolutely was. But like I said, he’s softened a good bit by the end of the class story.)

Virtually every name I dropped within this story is an actual NPC from the missions on Hutta. (And some of you may also have picked up on an appearance by a certain unnamed mustached field medic companion from another of the class stories. 🤓)

The ‘Informers’ title is, in fact, a specific canon designation within the old Imperial Intelligence organization, much like Ciphers, Watchers, Minders and Fixers. They aren’t mentioned in the game itself; they do come up in The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance novel where Ula Vii is presented as an example. Something we don’t talk about enough is the impact the dissolution of Imperial Intelligence would have on the Empire and the greater galaxy, especially at the peak of the war. You’re literally talking about hundreds or thousands of agents and operatives either completely cutoff from the Empire without recourse or suddenly pressed into the service of the Sith or to an Imperial Military that treats them like cannon-fodder. (Remember how Cipher Nine was treated on Corellia?) The fallout from that sudden absence would be profound for the Empire, as well. Imperial Intelligence literally existed for centuries, and nature abhors a vacuum.

No wonder Marr had to establish Sith Intelligence a few years later. Their entire system would have been in a perpetual state of collapse without it.

I tweaked the layout of the palace a little bit for narrative reasons. It’s significantly larger here, which makes sense given how many people seem to live there.  

The Informer-Ninety-Nine moniker is an Easter Egg reference to “Get Smart”. (A show waaaay before my time. I’m old, but not that old.) It just tickled me, so I tossed that in.

 The ‘For luck’ kiss is an obvious homage to the scene from Episode IV: A New Hope. (Don’t worry – Juda and Linh aren’t related. 😉 ) Further, Juda’s line about a smuggler’s freighter was a Han Solo & Jabba reference.  

Tagging @oolathurman , as they once mentioned she loved the character of Juda.

Also tagging!

@a-master-procrastinator @anchanted-one @distressed-gizka @eorzeashan @justiceforc3po @kemendin @magicallulu7 @nikkeisimmer @sadiebwrites @the-cloudwatcher @the-raven-of-highever @tishinada @zabrakghoul @swtorhub

#swtor fanfiction #swtorpadawan writes #swtor #swtor fanfic #chaos is a ladder #my writing #writeblr #long post #linh #juda #nemo'ro #suudaa nem'ro #skadge #carnus #the red blade #oc: gahraath vaiken #fa'athra #voontara fa'athra #lycus mattle #imperial intelligence #toth'lazhen #doc #archiban froderick kimble #karrels javis #jheeg #game of thrones #rex geer #oren ward #yalt #nal hutta

[green-eyedfirework]

"Prince Richard," said the cold, cruel general, mouth twisted into a smirk and one blue eye icy cold, "Well, I suppose you aren't a prince anymore."

Dick kept his mouth shut, and hoped that the others kept their mouths shut too.  Jason, who was the first one he'd worry about, was gone, disappeared into the night with Tim on the hunt for ghosts.  Cass was halfway across the land, too far to be hurt, which left Damian and Stephanie.  He could trust Steph to keep Damian in line.  He had to.

"If only looks could kill," Slade laughed, and his men laughed with him.  The hall was full of them, of his warriors, menacing the remainder of Dick's paltry court.  The representative from Nanda Parbat was watching intently.  Dick wasn't imagining the smile on his face.  "What's the matter, Prince Richard?  Not enjoying yourself?"

Dick felt sick.  Sick and numb.  He had been castellan of Gotham for a few paltry months before losing it.  Bruce would be so ashamed.

"It appears that the prince has lost his tongue," Slade laughed, beckoning Dick closer.  Dick knew it wasn't worth it to disobey.

Slade waited until Dick was within arm's reach of the throne before grabbing him and forcing him closer.  Dick struggled for an instant before he remembered where he was, and let Slade drag him forward.

The kiss was savage and domineering, Slade's mouth hot and devouring as he pulled Dick fully into his lap, forcing him to straddle the general as he submitted to the kiss.  His cheeks burned when he felt the hands on his ass.

"No, tongue's there all right," Slade called out when he finally pulled back.  "And I now I definitely know why there are so many odes to the prince's ass."  He paired it with a pinch.  "A big castle and a pretty prince in my lap, what more could I want?"

Slade's men were jeering, and Dick didn't dare turn around to look at Damian and Steph.  If Slade wanted—better him than them.  Please not them.

~#~

Dick shifted on his knees, hands balled into fists by his side, not looking up as the general conducted the final preparations for seizing the castle.  Dick didn't want to see Slade.  He didn't want to acknowledge any unspoken order the man would give with Dick here, kneeling between his legs, inches away from his own throne.

Please let Damian not be watching this.  Please, please, let Steph be covering his eyes, Damian shouldn't see this, he was just a child—

"I have to say," Slade mused, loud enough for the whole hall to hear, "I could get used to a sight like this."

A hand tightened in Dick's hair and he let himself be pulled up, pliant.  He wouldn't cry.  He wouldn't cry.

The man's expression was more inscrutable this time.  "All done taking your kingdom," he said, voice heavy with implication.  "Now just to take its king."

Dick locked his jaw.  He would not cry.  He would not cry.

"Someone go fetch a crown," Slade got up, dragging Dick up with him.  "I've always wanted to fuck a prince."  The jeers in the hall grew louder.  "The rest of you can take whatever spoils you like.  We won't be staying long."

They never did.  They conquered, they looted, and they went on their merry way, a vicious band of mercenaries with no code, no honor, no loyalty.

"Please," Dick finally unstuck his mouth to say, "my siblings.  Please don't—"

"The little prince and his handmaid will be fine," the general snorted, still dragging Dick along.  "You really aren't very bright, are you."

Something hot and thick crawled into Dick's throat at the insult given so bluntly.  If Dick had been smarter, he could've protected Gotham, if Dick had been a better leader, if Dick had just crowned himself king—

He could feel himself start to go numb.  Distant.  He barely registered Slade reaching his bedchamber, or shoving him inside, or the man locking the door behind him.

Overkill, Dick thought dazedly, at the numerous locks on the door.

Dick stumbles back.  Away from Slade.  From the man who will—who was planning to—who—

There was a crown in Slade's hand.  Dick didn't know who gave it to him.  Slade steps forward and Dick steps back, until he hits the edge of the bed, until there's nowhere to run.

Slade drops the crown on his head with a sardonic smile.  It's the actual crown.  Gotham's crown, to be worn only by its ruler.  It's of Gotham, the weight heavy on Dick's head, it's the literal symbol of his country.  And Dick is going to get fucked wearing it.

It feels....really heavy.  Dick is actually developing a headache.  He raises a hand to take it off but Slade catches it and forces it down.  "No," the general says sharply.

Dick should obey.  Dick has to obey.  But it's getting acutely painful and he fights against Slade's grip, trying to free his hands or toss the crown off or something to prevent this searing pain.

"It hurts," Dick gasps, vision blurry.  The room is spinning.

"Maybe if you'd just bloody crowned yourself at the start, it wouldn't have to be this way," says an unsympathetic voice, before the whole room goes dark.

#my snippets #sladick #royalty au #conquered #fear of noncon #what are slade's motives here? #uncertain

[homoeroticbetrayal]

Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2

Round 2 Directory

Context:

Griffith/Guts

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

Griffith was the leader of the band of the hawk, a mercenary group. His goal was to some day have his own castle, and to do so he needed loyal followers. His most loyal followers eventually ended up being guts. Guts entered the band of the hawk after losing a duel with Griffith (that's where the "you're mine" image comes from).

Griffith's ultimate goal was to get his castle, but he quickly formed a bond with guts that would go on to form whole archetypes for homoerotic subtext. Guts would eventually be so inspired by Griffith's dream that he would leave the band after years to try to find a goal to espire to himself. This being spurred by Griffith saying that he doesn't view those working for him as friends, as a true friend would be an equal to him, someone who's also striving for a lofty goal. In order to leave guts had to beat Griffith in a duel, which had never happened before, but his want for Griffith to see him as a true friend let guts beat him and leave the band of the hawk, sending Griffith into a spiral of shock and anger and depression.

When guts returned to the band of the hawk after finding his dream, he discovered that Griffith's dream, which seemed all but accomplished when he left, had fallen apart. Not only was he never getting his castle, but he had been locked deep in a dungeon and brutally tortured for a long time. Apon hearing this news, guts rushed to Griffith's rescue, who had been reduced to a shell of his former self due to brutalization and malnutrition he had insured for so long. But guts and the rest of the band of the hawk didn't care. They decided to set out yet again on achieving Griffith's dream. And they slowly started nursing him back to health until one day Griffith gave up on his dream. Seeing how feeble he has become and how much he needed to rely on others now utterly defeated him and he attempted to take his own life, but right before that he was approached by the god hand.

God's who rule over countless demons and monsters who are looking for their final member to complete them. Griffith's determination beckoned them, and they gave him an ultimatum: Become reborn as a god by sacrificing all your men, or don't. Obviously the ever ambitious Griffith betrays the band of the hawk and becomes Femto, the final member of the god hand, and kick starts the apocalypse by letting all his comrades get eaten alive by demons, including guts, obviously. Especially guts.

Thanks to a talking skeleton, though, guts just barely escaped with his live after witnessing true horror and experiencing great pain and suffering. And that's just the prologue of Berserk, the rest of the series is just guts angerly screaming Griffith's name. Many betrayals in this tournament can claim tragedy, but were they a betrayal of such great magnitude? Did the betrayal end in the death of everyone the protagonist ever cared for and the antagonist ascending to godhood?

Anthy/Utena

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

THE blueprint for homoerotic betrayals of the canonically gay (as opposed to interpretive, certainly there are older iconic examples for that) variety. listed as #2 in the infamous top ten anime betrayals video, iirc.

it is about akio pushing anthy to utena. it is about utena’s protective stance, misunderstanding. most of all, it is about anthy kissing utena’s shoulder before stabbing her.

the story has been leading us to this the whole time — utena assuming once again the protective princely position; akio, always playing divide and conquer, unable to manipulate utena to betray anthy, now reliant on anthy betraying utena; the game being rigged from the start, true victory impossible (for the duelists, who will always lose the game proper to akio, the rule maker, in one way or another; for akio himself, just as obviously); utena’s love for anthy within the princely stance; anthy’s love for utena and anthy’s fear (of the world beyond; of utena loving her truly; of utena not loving her truly but just projecting onto her still as any prince does, and turning out to be the same (as akio) in the end) and akio (framing himself) as the only one who will love her no matter what because friends turn away from you and only connections by blood are forever, the two of them are the only ones who’s real in this projected world, so on and so forth, and anthy’s bitterness towards utena (“do you know, utena-sama, how i always despised you” from that one “in the next episode” bit) and her princeliness and her being not that impossibly unlike akio (all princes are the same). everything has lead us to this moment. and yet we are shocked.

personally, i’ve never moved on from how she kisses her shoulder.

See a whole dissertation on Utenanthy here

#griffguts #utenanthy #griffith #guts berserk #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #berserk #rgu #polls

[4seasonsofart]

Thinking about a poly Thorfinn/Canute/Reader and they both happen to be yanderes. They meet you while Thorfinn and you were guarding the young prince. Thorfinn has known you for several years and has grown close to you over that time, so naturally he is possessive and overprotective of you. You are in a band of ruthless mercenaries, not to mention Askeladd; why wouldn't he act the least bit protective over you?

Then you add Canute to the mix, and suddenly Thorfinn is threatening to knife anyone who comes close enough to either of you two. For what it's worth, his feelings stem from his fear of losing the only healthy person who has been consistent in his life. His father was killed, Askeladd is toxic, and the rest of the band just has bloodlust. Okay, maybe Bjorn is a small exception because he does act like a mother towards Thorfinn sometimes but still ultimately sides with Askeladd. Still, you are the only one who is allowed to patch up his wounds and sleep next to him at night.

So then we have Canute, who is barely able to talk with you because Thorfinn is staring daggers (both figuratively and literally) at him. So as their travels progress and Canite gets bolder, he slowly grows closer to you, and Thorfinn hates that. He would kill the pretty little blonde if it weren't for Askeladd promising him a duel if he kept the prince safe.

One night, it all comes to a climax when you are sleeping next to Thorfinn. They both end up in an argument over their behavior, and Thorfinn accidentally outs himself.

"Why do you have to be such a stupid, pretty little blonde?"

"You think I'm pretty Thorfinn?"

"That's not what I meant, Princess."

Thorfinn gets all pouty and embarrassed.

Canute feels like he has the upper hand just this once, so he proposes sharing you between the two young men. Thorfinn is almost entirely opposed to this idea, but for some odd reason, he nods and agrees with Canute. Only if Thorfinn is allowed to stay near you at all times.

Thorfinn and Canute are two completely different yanderes whose tendencies stem from the same thing: fear. Thorfinn has a fear of losing you and wants your love and attention (even if he won't admit it). Canute has a fear of not being loved, as he isn't loved by his father, and he wants to be loved by the person who has shown him some love. Thorfinn is aggressive and very outward about how protective he is of you, while Canute opts for a more quiet and cunning approach. Oh, they were bothering you? Either Thorfinn is straight up murdering them, or Canute will order someone to take care of them for him. Thorfinn needs your attention and praise constantly (in his distant and grumpy way), while Canute is content just being looked at by you. Thorfinn is possessive, while Canute is obsessive. Canute will practically worship the land you walk on, while Thorfinn will see you as his only equal.

They are opposites, yet they mesh well together.

They don't realize that they also have feelings for each other until after the King and Askeladd's deaths. Thorfinn was so very torn as he saw you standing near Canute with a shocked and pained expression on your face. He felt his heart and trust break into so many pieces as he saw Canute open and vulnerable for a killing strike. Yet he only slashed the edge of Canute's cheek as he realized that he couldn't kill the pretty little blonde. He couldn't hurt or be mad at you either. He just felt confused.

Canute knows that he has to act like a leader, so he orders everyone out except for you and Thorfinn.

Canute confesses that he has developed romantic feelings for both you and Thorfinn during your travels together. He thought you both looked so attractive while protecting him from people trying to kill him. He states that he is unable to live a life if Thorfinn hates him, and he offers Thorfinn the sword that killed Askeladd to slit his throat if he would like. Thorfinn takes the sword and shakes as tears escape his eyes. He can't. He can't kill the stupid blonde. He loves him. He loves you. He loves how you constantly care for him and stay near him even when he pushes you away. He loves Canute because he just loves him. He doesn't know when he started, and he is scared that he won't be able to stop.

He allows the sword to clatter onto the ground as he pulls both of you into a tight and warm hug.

Cue Canutes religious guilt and his breakdown of what his beliefs are all while romantically loving two people, one of whom is a man.

You stare at them with a perplexed expression as they both clumsily confess their love for you as well (leaving out that they will and have already murdered for you).

The only question that remains is: What will happen next? Will all three of you live with Canute? Will Thorfinn start a journey of self-discovery and end up traveling to Vinland? Will you ever figure out that their love isn't so innocent and that you won't ever escape from them?

#vinland saga season 1 spoilers #vinland saga #thorfinn #thorfinn karlsefni #vinland saga headcanon #vinland saga imagine #canute #thorfinn x reader #thorfinn x you #canute x reader #canute x you #yandere #poly yandere #yandere thorfinn #yandere canute #canfinn #thorunte

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

i wish i knew how to make a fire emblem bc... game ideasce. waugh.

brief summary: emotionally detached lesbian leader of a mercenary group saves a sweet peppy manakete woman (who does look like shes 20 and not 11) and ends up getting hauled into her adopted unadopted father's capitalistic quest to conquer all the (lycian alliance like) other nations on his continent. manakete woman is like hey um this is fucked up why are you lostening to this guy and the leader is like well i have mysterious reasons. they do a few war crimes before they realize Why : evil cult of guys who wanna revive a fell dragon are working in the distant Hugeass Empire to do just that and need manaketes to do this... but they scared them all off by existing so theyre trying to bribe people to do it. the warring alliance are too busy at war to do that, the nation of knockoff laguz are too busy giving a shit about other shapeshifters, and the other less defined nations dont have the manpower to capture a fuckimg dragon. the merc leader realizes this and as she has become a little gay but mostly besties w her manakete friend, she begins working against her father unfather to stop this shit from happening. she unconquers the other nations in the alliance but given she and her band defeated and killed the leaders of the nations they have no leader and given her band is now the strongest... people just start following the merc leader anyway. it helps that most of the leaders of the allied nations were assholes making the commonfolk do battle for their personal gain, and the merc leader does her own battling. merc leader lesbian is crowned the first queen of this new united kingdom (against her will) and is bullied into marrying Someone bc thats how royalty works and she chooses someone from her merc band Of Course.

20 year timeskip.

the new nation has become a safe haven for manaketes and all sorts of outcasts as Her Gay Highness has worked tirelessly to make sure the people who made her queen dont regret it because she has thinly veiled anxiety issues about her worth as a person. thanks guy (the lord who made her conquer in the first place) who adopted this war orphan from the streets and then unadopted her when his wife finally bore him a child. oh speaking of children given its been 20 years, characters who youve paired can have kids. but you gotta pair em before the timeskip, and only two characters always have a kid and thats the merc leader and the manakete girl best friend (gay). hey remember that huge fuckoff empire to the east? Yeah theyve launched a fullscale war against the laguz nation to just force them to hand over any manaketes after the evil cult installed a 14 year old puppet emperor. the laguz nation goes Ah Fuck Ah Shit Ah Fuck and asks their good buddies the combined kingdom to help them which they Do. but by the time they get there, the losses are extreme and the king of the laguz nation is dying. the ex merc leader helps his successor into her role and the two women go "oh yeah we're going to fucking destroy the evil empire" and then they do. The war is hard and sucks but eventually they fight their way to the evil cult. a few things happen : 1 the manakete who the ex merc leader has been besties with for 20 years is the DAUGHTER of the fell dragon the cult is trying to resurrect. the merc leader freaks out, and because of her trauma about people she loved abandoning her, kicks the manakete woman out of the band and Also Take Your Damn Kid. and your spouse unless the spouse is the merc leader in which case a truly heartwrenching cutscene plays. 2 : the cult members immediately find snd capture the manakete woman and are preparing to kill her kid and use the blood of the fell dragon to revive it. the merc leader hears about this and decides the final battle has to start Now to save them because holy shit that was a mistake obviously theyre not working together. 3 : yknow who WAS working w the cult? all the nobles who hate the merc leaders unnoble blood. so the cult know theyre there. whoops. they fight the cult but just barely lose, and fhe manakete woman's kid is Slain. the fell dragon rises, not bc of the blood, but bc the fell dragons only daughter got So Pissed. turns out the fell dragon isnt actually that cruel, not in life anyway, but given how he was revived by anger snd not by true love he comes back Wrong and the cult descend on him and tear him apart and eat his flesh & use his bones as weapons. oh they dont worship him they want to use him to kill all shapeshifters and anyone who works against them forever. they can, however, use this pissed off manakete by casting a spell on her and having her fight her former friends. Huge fuckoff battle. It ends w the lesbian merc leader slaying the leader of the cult and, agonizingly, the friend she saved forever ago. the manakete returns to normal once the mortal blow is dealt, and thanks the mercenary leader for saving her once again, and begs her to remain a peaceful and kind leader for the rest of her life. she dies. the merc leader is Only Anguish. the world is saved at what cost?

epilogue : the merc leader rules until she dies, ensuring that the still-combined nations of the west, the newly managed empire of the east, and the reconstructed laguz kingdom to the south are all on good terms and recovering well from the war. manaketes establish their own nation after being given land from each nation where they meet to own for themselves. the leader of it is revealed to be the manakete bestie's other child she had borne RIGHT before the war began who she had only implied existed in her supports w her eldest child and a few others. merc leader leaves behind a vast and tumultuous legacy, but her child rises to keep her ideals alive and make sure nobody can accuse her of having no worth. she chose peace and love and thats what is important at the end of the day.

various paired endings. if the merc leader and manakete bestie got married (the canon route but w/e), the merc leader never remarried and vowed to see her wife in anime chess heaven. its very gay. end credits.

oh i forgot to mention. there is an avatar character who can marry anyone who likes that gender as every character now has a canon sexuality. the avatar character is the m/cs childhood friend who does nothing in the story but is Kind Of Cool. goodnight

👀 love the concept

#there is actually a half finished plot of a hypothetical fe game in my drafts. i should finish it soon #long post #fe #fire emblem #i should make a tag for these #emblems beyond our reach

[dostoyevsky-official]

Russian Civil War 2 Coming soon?

imo it's likelier than not that this rebellion will be put down after some time, but i didn't think rostov would fall within a few hours without a fight. you need manpower, leaders, and institutions on your side to win a coup or a civil war. everybody hates prigozhin except for a small segment of a vocal pro-war minority, who are not in power. of these, girkin, the most infamous of these and the person who, besides putin, is responsible for starting all of this in 2014, just called this a stab in the back. i don't see who would join prigozhin's ragtag band of neonazis, mercenaries, and convicts

#kornilov was a beloved and popular general and lost #the august putschists had all the institutions of the soviet state on their side and lost

[justcallmefox89]

First Sight

One of the Grove's mysterious saviors seems to have an interest in a particularly prickly tiefling.

You are most fortunate, Rolan.  Few catch my interest, but your letters demonstrate potential.  I’m willing to give you a chance. However, a warning – you must be willing to do whatever is necessary. Power is not cheap.  And I’ll not suffer weakness in my own student.

-Loroakkan

Rolan smooths out a wrinkle in the parchment, absentmindedly noting how much the ink has faded.  He reads the words again, reminding himself of his goal, and painstakingly refolds the letter before stowing it in the inner pocket of his robes.  This letter has travelled with him from Elturel to the hells and back again, and gods be damned if he’ll lose it now that his dream is within reach. 

If only we could make out of this godsdamned grove.

He slouches against the cavern wall, huddling further into the secluded little enclave he’s tried to create for Cal and Lia, far away from Zevlor’s watchful eyes, the judgmental gazes of the druids, and the constant, mind-numbing chattering of the other tieflings.  Lia complained at first, wanting to be closer to the others, but had relented when Cal sided with Rolan.

Speaking of…

His younger brother ducks to fit under the tattered fabric masquerading as the roof of current sleeping space, a bowl of stew in each hand.  He thrusts one into Rolan’s hands and settles down on the ground next to him.  “Okta says hello.”

Rolan grunts and mindlessly stirs his spoon through the watery gruel, only half listening to Cal.

“You could at least pretend to try,” his brother sighs, setting aside his own bowl.

Rolan rolls his eyes, already irritated by the familiar argument.  “I’ve always taken care of you and Lia, haven’t I?”

“Of course, but-”

“Then why would we need anyone else?  These people don’t care about us, we’re not kin.  We just happen to be stuck in the same unfortunate circumstance.  Besides, once we get to Baldur’s Gate, we’ll have no reason to speak to these people ever again.”

Cal frowns and turns away.  “We might not need anyone else, but that doesn’t mean me and Lia want to be alone for the rest of our lives.”

“Why would you be alone?” Rolan asks, bewildered.  “We’ll always have each other.”

“We don’t want to shut out the rest of the world, Rolan,” Cal protests, raising his voice.

Rolan scowls.  “When has the rest of the world ever cared about us?  Where was the rest of the world when -”

The long, sonorous sound of a horn interrupts Rolan’s tirade.

Cal cocks his head to the side, listening intently before realization dawns.  “The war horn!  Another attack!”

Rolan’s head whips around, searching the tiefling encampment for his wayward sister.  “Where’s Lia?”

Cal’s eyes widen.  “She was at the gate with Cerys!”

Many nerve wracking minutes later the brothers catch sight of their sister scampering down the ladder that leads to the top of the defensive walls that line the grove, a wide smile on her face.  The gate to the grove rises with a groan and Aradin and his group of mercenaries trudge through, followed by a group of four unknown fighters.  Zevlor immediately flies at Aradin, loudly scolding him for leading a rogue band of goblins back to their haven.  The apparent leader of the mysterious group approaches the arguing pair, interjecting with a low, husky voice in an attempt to calm the two.  Rolan takes advantage of the situation, studying the newcomer. 

Clad in pitch black leather armor, a cape and cowl covering his head and face, the new arrival stands head and shoulders taller than both Zevlor and Aradin, his body lithe and strong beneath his armor.

The warrior’s head snaps up, as if feeling Rolan’s eyes on him.  He gazes in the wizard’s direction, his head cocked to the side as if he's studying the tiefling.  Unable to see the man’s eyes or facial expression, Rolan begins to fidget uncomfortably before steeling himself to defiantly stare back at the stranger.  For some reason Rolan gets the distinct impression that his actions amuse the man, who eventually returns to his attention to Zevlor and Aradin.

“Did you see that?  They were amazing!” Lia cries out, dashing up to her brothers.

As it so often does Rolan’s fear for his sister manifests as anger and he grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.  “What were you thinking?  I’ve told you to stay away from the walls, to stay back where it’s safe -”

“I can’t just hide away from the world the way you do, Rolan!” Lia snaps.  “I want to be around people… help them!  And these people need our help!”

“Don’t.”  Rolan holds up his hand, attempting to stop her tirade before she truly gathers steam.  “We don’t owe these people anything and we need to be on the road to Baldur’s Gate as soon as we can.”

Lia groans in frustration.  “Hells, we can’t just leave.  They’re kin.”

“I’ll not gamble our lives, our futures, on people who are as good as dead,” Rolan responds coldly.  “We must leave for Baldur’s Gate – at once.”

“Can we all just take a moment?  Please?” Cal pleads.

“What’s the point of blades and spells if we don’t bloody use them?  We should stay,” Lia argues.  “These people aren’t fighters.  We can help.”

Cal sighs.  “Or yell louder.  That’s fine too.”

One of the newcomers sidles up to them, a giantess of a tiefling who radiates heat like a furnace.  “If we don’t protect our kin, no one else will,” she insists.  “You should stay.”

“Thank you!” Lia exclaims.  “It’s the right thing to do and you know it.”

“She’s right, Rolan.  We’re better than this,” Cal adds.

“Zurgan,” Rolan growls.  “Fine.  I’ll stay too.  Lest you both end up with your throats slit by a goblin blade.”

“What a noble sacrifice,” an unknown voice teases.  Slightly accented and strangely melodious, it sends an unbidden shiver down Rolan’s spine.  He catches a flash of black out of the corner of his eye as the mysterious warrior leaves Zevlor and joins their small group, peeling away his blood spattered cowl and hood.  Lia gasps involuntarily as the fabric falls away, revealing long, bright white hair, twilight colored skin, and long ears that taper to a delicate point.

Under-elf!

The stranger’s eyes flash towards Rolan, sparking likes rubies in the sunlight, and the tiefling feels a rush of panic at being so close to one of Lolth’s loyal subjects.  The spider goddess is not known for her mercy, and those who worship her are known to be equally callous.

“Don’t be nervous, little one,” the drow purrs, leaning closer to Lia.  “I won’t bite.”  He slides a suggestive look in Rolan’s direction.  “I wouldn’t say no to a nibble from him though.”

“Stay away from her,” Rolan hisses, stepping between the drow and his sister, resolutely ignoring the pleasurable shudder that runs through him at being so close to the stranger.

Blood colored eyes widen at his boldness and the drow smirks, tracing the emblem on Rolan’s robes with the tip of one finger.  “So the kitten has claws,” he murmurs.

“Knock it off,” the unknown tiefling orders, nudging him with her elbow.

“As you command,” the strange drow says cheerfully, instantly stepping away from Rolan.

The wizard frowns, confused by the sudden fluttering low in his belly and the sense of loss left by the man’s absence.

“I’m Karlach,” the tiefling continues, slinging her arm around the drow’s shoulders.  “And this is Drakul.”

“Drakul’ayne of House Barri’mtor.”  He takes Rolan’s hand in his, performing a courtly bow and pressing a kiss to the tiefling’s knuckles.  “May I say what an absolute pleasure it is to make your acquaintance?”

Rolan feels heat flood his cheeks and stands rooted to the spot, his hand still firmly in Drakul’s.  “I… I… that is…”

Lia and Cal snicker behind him, clearly enjoying his momentary vexation.  Embarrassment turns to shame, and true to form Rolan lashes out.

“Unhand me,” he snaps, jerking his hand out of Drakul’s grasp and wiping it against his robes, a fleeting sense of disappointment washing over him as he brushes away the sensation of Drakul’s lips on his skin.

One white eyebrow arches in question and Drakul’s lips quirk to the side, as if he’s entertained by Rolan’s outburst.  Zevlor’s voice catches everyone’s attention as he calls for Drakul and Karlach to rejoin him.  Karlach jogs towards the former Hellrider but Drakul lingers momentarily, his gaze raking over Rolan like a caress.

“Be seeing you, Kitten,” he murmurs, gracing Rolan with one final smirk before striding back to Zevlor.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 rolan #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #tav #bg3 fanart #bg3 fandom critical #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 karlach #tav oc #baldurs gate tav #my tav #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate karlach #bg3 tiefling #tiefling #bg3 drow #drow tav #drow #rolan x tav #rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate iii

[gaykarstaagforever]

This 1984 Teen Titans comic was the exciting conclusion to a multi-part story where they were battling something called H.I.V.E. This was a cult of people in purple druid robes who led an international network of mercenaries and assassins, who lived in an underwater dome and were all named numbers. I realize that sounds cool, but it absolutely isn't.

They were started / led by some guy, but then he married a 22-year-old blonde woman who murdered him and declared herself the leader. And the rest of them - this band of amoral assassins - just let this happen, even as she declared "none of you matters but me," and killed them every time they "failed" her.

This is in the past tense, because as soon as Nightwing and Wonder Girl go down there to punch these idiots, the blonde woman electrocuted all of her remaining people, then committed suicide. She also built a giant red missile and shot it at Atlantis, but Aqualad grabbed onto it and turned it off.

The H.I.V.E. master plan was to 1) poison all the world's oceans, 2) ???, 3) PROFIT, so it seemed like maybe that plan was going to thwart itself, really. They only seemed to have robot guns and tentacles exclusively inside their base, and also an army of loyal commandos in purple gimp outfits. But none of these could operate or breathe underwater. And all of their assassins had already failed to kill the Teen Titans. Which, no offense, but probably should haven been their first indication that they really weren't ready for primetime.

I don't know for sure who was on the Titan team at this exact point, but I DO know that Cyborg and Beast Boy (aka Changeling at this point, because ugh) don't even go on this mission. They stay back at wherever-it-is-they-live so Beast Boy can have an emotional break-down over his ex-girlfriend (Terra, some girl with floating-rock powers and a bad costume) turning evil, while Cyborg yells at him. Then a woman with pink hair wanders in.

She tells Beast Boy he's hot, and this makes Gar feel better enough to agree to not turn into a green tiger and murder people. Which was his actual plan before she showed up.

Starfire goes on the mission. This happens to her:

...Aren't they all supposed to be like 16 or 17? What are we doing here, gentlemen?

There is also a guy on the team named Jericho, who has muttonchops, dresses like every "cool" bard in every DnD campaign ever, can't talk, and can do whatever arbitrary psychic thing the plot suddenly demands of him. I had to look him up because so does everyone else.

He is apparently the son of Deathstroke, who became mute when someone after Deathstroke slashed his voicebox. His psychic powers are a result of it doesn't matter. No they don't explain why he looks like THIS in 1984:

Aqualad is also here. With his girlfriend Tula, who is Aquagirl. Who is an Atlantean cave-woman, or something...? She doesn't do much besides yell his name, and her presence in no way stops him from talking about how hot but insane Starfire is. To Nightwing. Who seems fine with this.

Dick and Wonder Girl are both here to punch and yell exposition, and they are immediately out of punches! Dick spends a quarter of the comic in a tube trying to turn off robots, which he fails to do? Or then kind of does? I've read it twice now and I'm not sure even Marv Wolfman knew what he had going on here.

Raven turns into a black void to save the Titans from drowning at the beginning of the comic. After they get out to safety, she says she's used too much power to help anymore and Poochie's on out of there.

I mean, they DO have Wonder Girl, kicking people and talking about her upcoming marriage. Who needs the incredibly powerful witch? It's fine. And easier to draw!

The art is George Perez, so it looks great, even if all these teenagers look like sexy 30-year-old adults, and half of them spend most of the comic not doing anything. The costumes are technically awful but in that 80s way that is just wonderful now. But as a conclusion to some kind of story arc, this is as mid as mid gets. There is exactly one cool splash-page battle, and it means exactly nothing.

This comic might be worth $3.50 now. It was 75 cents when it came out.

...This implies we in 2024 value this slightly more than anyone did in 1984.

I don't think that's true.

#dc comics #teen titans #nightwing #dick grayson #beast boy #raven #cyborg #mcu

[spyglassrealms]

Spy's OCs: Zak Kaiyo

art by my good friend, the wonderful @wildegeist!

Realm: Arcverse Species: Tokaya Homeworld: Terotewaukia (Teroteaumia system) Age: 26 annua (29 Earth years) Gender (human analogue): cismasculine (he/him, xe/xen*) Height: 1.8 m Weight: 72.5 kg Occupation: Captain and pilot of the starship Free Spirit; freelance cargo-hauler; occasional mercenary; jack-of-all-trades [Suggested Listening: Burn Out Brighter by Anberlin]

Zakane "Zak" Kaiyo is the co-owner, captain, and pilot of the heavily-modified light hauler Aum Hara (otherwise known as the "Free Spirit") and the leader of a small band of freelance spacers that make their home aboard the ship. He's just one more spark in the great spiral; one more restless soul trying to make a living doing what he can in a galaxy that's always moving and yet always standing still. From the Tyrian Shallows to the Drift and everywhere in between, Zak and his small but loyal crew of misfits can be found anywhere something interesting is happening.

Zak's talented -albeit reckless- piloting skills earned himself and his copilot Arkto a spot in the Galactic Spacecraft Pilots Association Hall of Fame, having broken the record for the smallest crewed ship by mass to exceed 10 million times the speed of light with a hyperdrive. His performative stuntwork is also renowned, and he frequently attends the annual Galactic Pilot Convention.

Most of the "swashbuckling freelance ace pilot" tropes apply to this space hobo, whose personal creed is "do good recklessly." His confidence, determination, and cheerful sarcasm make for an extremely charismatic, if reckless, leader. He's very mischievous and likes to get into trouble, but can be relied on to get out of it as quickly as he gets into it… most of the time. Zak acts fearless but, go figure, this man has Attachment Issues. He hates the idea of getting tied down to one place or thing, yet at the same time he is fiercely protective of his crew. (Shhh. Nobody tell him.)

Zak's homeworld is a backwater: connected to the galaxy and participant in its affairs, but hardly anyone there actually got out beyond the system. He was constantly told that he ought to be happy on Terotewaukia, fixing up interplanetary haulers and maybe going to the outer moons of the system once in a while. He and his two best friends always wanted more. The three of them had plans to quietly fix up one of the written-off hauler derelicts on company time and get the hell out, making their way around the wild starry yonder to see what could be seen.

And then one of them decided they wanted to stay and settle down.

That was the last straw for Zak. As soon as the opportunity arose, he and Arkto (his other bff) took off in their souped-up light hauler and never looked back. But once they were out there... Zak came to realize that the galaxy isn't a really adventurous place.

See, Arcverse is a universe that everyone thinks has been more or less figured out. Galactic civilization has been around for something like a million years or so, and the Arcadian Order have been sort of running the Galactic Assembly for about that long (mostly because they got off their planet first and they do a pretty decent job of wrangling the rowdier civilizations with diplomacy). The entire galaxy is, broadly speaking, at peace. The clash of titans already happened; the fate-of-the-galaxy-level stakes were sorted out thousands of generations ago. All the major starfaring powers, while independent in principle, are constrained by the bureaucracy of the Galactic Assembly. There's mild internal turmoil —and there's always an underbelly— but it's still quite tame. There's a whole galaxy out there with lots to see but nothing to really strive for in it.

Zak Kaiyo is someone who desperately, fundamentally, needs to strive. He wants to live fast and die young in a galaxy where everyone lives at a reasonable pace and dies basically never. He exists to challenge the stagnancy of a world that's as close to utopia as it can reasonably be. Zak wants so badly to save the galaxy, but he lives in a galaxy that doesn't need saving. And that's tearing him to pieces.

#my first actual public oc bio! how bout that! #i spent so fuckin long writing all this up and then almost deleted the whole draft by accident lmao #thanks again to wilde for the art!! #my friend wildegeist is so fucking cool go check out their blog #spyglass’ realms #arcverse #spy's ocs #zak kaiyo #character bio #please pardon the genre tags #original character #oc #alien oc #science fiction #science fiction writing #scifi #scifi writing

[mk-nightrider]

Black Dragon Hierarchy

Even a band of arms dealing mercenaries need structure. A framework that keeps them moving, keeps the operation moving. Keeps the cash flowing. Ever subject to change, some pieces would not exist without the other. Some pieces are missing entirely in certain circumstances. Without one or the other, it could cripple the organization, or kill it off entirely.

The Head of The Dragon

| Kano. Though most would discredit him, the Black Dragon leader would be the brain behind the operation. What furthers the clan into Outworld, markets moving beyond realms. He acts in favor of himself, of the other pieces that make up the Dragon itself.

While he can be replaced, he remains the shot-caller. The man of the house.

The Foreclaw of The Dragon

| Skarlet. With skills deemed something of a ‘secret weapon’ in Earthrealm. She is the action, the claws that rip and tear. That hesitate upon certain orders her ‘superior’ gives her. Though she remains Kano’s equal as co-leader. No decisions are made without her permission, knowledge, or consent.

The Dragon’s call of action, her hand as steady, as precise, leaving most in her sight without their lives. She may still be severed, leaving teeth to gnash.

The Heart of the Dragon

| Tomek. Lifeblood, keeping the levelheadedness required, keeping emotions in check. His strength keeps blood pumping, keeps the bond between each other appendage. His morals strike softer than the others, another force in guiding the talons decision. Seen by the brain as a sign of weakness.

If left exposed, he may be removed. In some instances, being what the Black Dragon lacks, in other timelines.

The Dragon’s Tail

| Billie. Left to sit back and observe. Its damage in thrashes of kombat hardly precise, hardly able to do much more in acting. Not until her inevitable moving upward the tower when her father is ready. Still just as sharp and wild.

If ever cut off, while unable to kill off the Dragon, her severing is a driving force of rage. Enough to bring hellfire and bloodshed, to leave emotions of its higher ranked positions vulnerable and panicked.

-

#mk nightrider #mk oc tomek #mk oc billie #mk skarlet #mk Kano #mk black dragon #cyber writes mortal kombat #mk fan lore #this will become relevant in other pieces 👀

[irregularcircle]

Name Takahashi Sayuri (formerly Ledaal)

Exaltation Dragonblood

Elemental Aspect Air

Weapon(s) Whirlwind’s Aria the blue jade jian, and three blue jade throwing knives named Hearsay, Rumor, and Suggestion

Goal(s) Avoid being captured by the Wyld Hunt, figure out the truth about the Anathema, maybe establish her own house somewhere out in the Scavenger Lands

Fear(s) Getting caught and tried for desertion, getting her face and/or soul eaten by the Anathema, dying in some really stupid way and becoming a cautionary tale/joke

Defining Feature(s) Small, airy tattoos of cherry blossoms, clouds, and butterflies trailing down her entire right arm from shoulder to wrist

Quick Biography

Born to the dynastic house Ledaal, Sayuri was an admirable student and very aesthetically poised, on top of being something of a beauty. This made her a desirable prospect for marriage, but when her parents struck an engagement for her to someone she couldn’t stand, Sayuri surprised everyone by volunteering for military service to avoid the wedding. She took the first out she could find: the Wyld Hunt. 

Unfortunately, not only did Sayuri loathe military life, being a part of the Wyld Hunt presented her with an even worse problem. Not long after she joined the ranks, the Hunt was called out to put down a recently-Exalted Solar. The Solar in question was a teenage girl who had been trying to shut down a human trafficking ring. Instead, she had been shut down by dozens of heavily armed Dragonbloods. When Sayuri asked if they were also going to deal with the human traffickers, she was told it was none of the Wyld Hunt’s concern. (In fact, there were decent odds that some of the money from the flesh trade was making it into dynastic coffers.) Rather than be suspected as an Anathema-sympathizer or get a reputation for questioning orders, Sayuri ditched this new obligation, too, deserting the Wyld Hunt the first chance she got, and striking out into the Threshold on her own. She soon took up with a roving band of unattached Dragonbloods who called themselves mercenaries in order to make some income, but it soon became apparent that they were just thugs. Their leader, Najir, blackmailed Sayuri into staying, threatening to turn her in to the Realm for desertion if she gave him trouble. 

Trapped in yet another situation she didn’t want, Sayuri played along until one day Najir’s band tried to rob the small frontier town of Pelt. Unfortunately, this time the half-dozen dragons were utterly outmatched by the three Celestial Exalts defending the town. Rachna alone took out Najir with one slash, and gave the remaining dragons an ultimatum: either leave Pelt and never return, or surrender and serve them instead. Several members of the group fled the town. Sayuri stayed. 

If asked why she decided to throw in her lot with three ‘Anathema’, Sayuri might’ve answered that she still felt guilty about the teenage girl who had been cut down when she was just trying to make the world a better place. Perhaps she thought that no one had a stronger desire to avoid the Realm than Anathema. Maybe she just felt like she had nowhere else to go. 

Likes Fresh air, strong sake, throwing knives, good silk, sarcasm, cold drinks, freedom, sleeping in

Dislikes Being told what to do, rigid social expectations, hot weather, cheap clothes, Immaculate monks/nuns, terrible handwriting

Relationship to

Anjali 

Her primary… ‘master’, ‘leader’, and ‘employer’ are all the wrong term for the sort of relationship Anjali has with Sayuri, but regardless, Anjali is the person Sayuri takes most of her cues from, and who she gives the most respect to. This isn’t to say that she sasses off to any of the Celestials (she’s not that brave), but she’s nicer to Anjali. It helps that they’re both scholars, and can talk on similar wavelengths and topics. Sayuri often helps Anjali with old texts, or correspondence, and Anjali finds it useful having another sorcerer around to share the Essence load of spellwork. 

Rachna

Sayuri recognizes that Rachna is Anjali’s partner and therefore the most important person in her life, but she is slightly uncomfortable around him. She can’t help but feel as though he doesn’t trust her, even though Sayuri has done nothing to give him a reason to be suspicious of her. 

Shem

The recently-Exalted Lunar single dad who lives in Pelt, and who took a personal beef with raiders in his town, Shem chilled out considerably toward Sayuri once the mercenaries were routed and Sayuri mentioned that she hadn’t wanted anything to do with them anyway. He offered to let Sayuri stay in Pelt if she wanted to start over, but Sayuri declined, not wanting to spend the rest of her life in a tiny frontier town with almost no amenities.

#exalted #exalted art #exalted character #sayuri the air aspect #sayuri #exalted bio

[count-lucio]

a series of ramblings on what Lucio's life looked like after losing his arm

all headcanon, of course. i wanted to touch on what Lucio's life looked like between losing his arm and commissioning his current prosthetic, as it's never directly touched on what he did with himself during that period. enjoy!

- i'd like to preface this by saying that it infuriates me how this is never touched on in the game because god! i cannot even articulate what a devastating blow that was to him

- i mean, quite literally, obviously, because he was injured to the point of needing amputation, but in a much deeper sense- Lucio turned to mercenary work after being chased away from his clan and homelands by his mother with nothing but the clothes on his back and a sword still stained with his father's blood the only skill he could really implore to, you know, survive, was what he had been trained to do his entire life, fight - and kill.

- so facing a substantial amount of healing time in which he would be heavily incapacitated, and knowing that even after that he would be incapable of returning to the only life he knew, he was nothing short of devastated. this was the second time in an incredibly short period where he was losing everything all over again and would have to claw his way back to a semi-comfortable life

- however, this time Lucio wasn't quite as alone. for the past few months Lucio had been employed under the previous count of Vesuvia- count Spada. Spada had taken a liking to Lucio, impressed by his skills in battle and charismatic personality- even moreso impressed at Lucio's dedication to his work, especially after seeing him lose an arm because he was too headstrong (or perhaps too arrogant) to desert the battlefield even when most of the men fighting alongside him had already been defeated.

- Lucio's first few weeks after his amputation were spent at camp, healing under the care of Nazali and Julian. however, no mercenary band stays stationary for more than a few weeks at a time, and Lucio was forced to admit he wasn't fit to fight - or travel anymore. as he was packing his things, Spada came to speak with Lucio, and asked Lucio to accompany him back to Vesuvia, offering him a place to stay at the palace for the foreseeable future. Lucio, equally fond of Spada, accepted immediately.

- Lucio healed quickly once in Vesuvia, becoming more and more invested in Spada's work and the comings and goings of the city as he did. Spada took quick notice of this and wasted no time in taking Lucio under his wing- he was an older man, with no heir or close family in Vesuvia, and admired Lucio's capability to be both ruthless and charismatic- traits he himself shared that made him an effective and respected leader.

- however, despite his fascination with Vesuvia, Lucio was still heavily impacted by the loss of his arm and was clearly not the same confident, boisterous man Spada had once hired. his newfound disability had taken a noticeable hit on his confidence and autonomy, and both out of concern for his friend and out of a desire to shape Lucio into someone fit to rule Vesuvia after his death, he took it upon himself to commission a prosthetic for Lucio.

- this arm was incredibly different than Lucio's current golden prosthetic- it was fashioned in a way that closer resembled his appearance during his mercenary days, made of a darker, more bronze-tinted gold and leather, with a much more practical design. additionally, Spada knew no magicians as powerful as Asra's parents, so Lucio didn't have nearly as much control over this prosthetic as his current- although it was still crafted with a few small enchantments that allowed for basic movements and crude fine motor skills.

- with this new prosthetic Lucio regained much of his confidence; and although he still struggled with many delicate tasks, he was no longer quite as defenseless. he was, of course, endlessly grateful to Spada- the two of them growing incredibly close, very nearly like father and son. it took little time for Spada to propose that Lucio inherit rule of Vesuvia after his death and Lucio, ever in search of power, gladly accepted. Spada took it upon himself to spend the next few years training Lucio, teaching him everything he knew in the hope that Lucio would one day become as powerful of a ruler as Spada was.

- eventually, Spada did pass, as his age and declining health caught up to him. in his death, he left full control of Vesuvia to Lucio, naming him his sole heir and entrusting him to rule the city. shortly after becoming count, Lucio commissioned himself a new arm- his current ornate golden one. Lucio felt both as if he needed a more powerful prosthetic to be an effective leader, and that he deserved such now that he was the count. however, his old prosthetic has remained safely in his room ever since, a small reminder of his friendship with the previous count. (Lucio could still wear it if he chose to, and perhaps even would if he needed to disguise himself! it certainly stands out much less than his golden one does)

#the arcana #the arcana game #count lucio #the arcana lucio #the arcana headcanons #count spada