#and anyone who rebels gets infected

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur in the part 3 of this:

Arthur hasn't let anyone treat his wound. It's not serious but he can't bandage it on his own either and, as always, the risk of infection (in an era where even minimal hygiene did not exist) is present.

Not that it matters because he basically feels nothing. He doesn't feel the voices of his knights moving around him as they tie up the rebel knights (remember we agreed to call them haters); he does not feel the damp earthen floor on which he is lying; he does not feel Leon hovering around him waiting for the right moment to pounce on him and bandage him like a spoiled child. And, above all, he doesn't feel as if his chest is compressing as if it wants to fold in on itself like a disposable scroll.

Isn't that on that scroll where all of his story is written? Oh, that story that includes Merlin, the Merlin he thought he knew better than anyone else, to whom he has told things he hasn't told anyone else, the one whom he believed that would be there for him even when no one else was. Was this his Merlin? His Merlin had no magic, his Merlin would know him and remember him...

But this Merlin has been in the farthest corner of the room since he tried to get close to Arthur and Arthur drove him away by attacking him with his sword. He was not the only one, really in his frustration and pain Arthur did not want anyone near him so he kept them all a sword's length away.

Only Lancelot has come close to Merlin. They have been whispering or, rather, Lance has been whispering to him while Merlin has limited himself to a couple of nods or grimaces that seem to be a language that only Lance knows

Before, he would have thought it was a language he knew too. Merlin is always expressive and his opinions, even if they don't come out through his lips, are expressed in his features. Now he doesn't know how to read him because probably never could before.

Hours pass, Leon finally manages to bandage Arthur when he became too apathetic to continue threatening with his sword.

They began to question the haters when they woke up, none of them spoke. While the fear of the Camelot crown was evident, it seemed that there was something they were more afraid of. That is until one of them, the one who had completed the most violently during the fight and who since they had awakened had been the most contemptuous, began to vociferate, spitting on the tomb of the already dead magical people or cursing those who remain alive.

He spat and thrashed around to such an extent that the knights of the round table had to stop trying to hold him back because he broke Elyan's nose. To the point that perhaps they saw some foam at the mouth like a rabid animal.

They understood something among the fanatical babbling he was throwing out.These haters served someone with power apparently and in return this person with power helps them go unnoticed in their rounds of clandestine executions. His tirade also included a lot of "monsters," "corruption," "abomination," "injustice," "imbalance," and other words that Arthur would never admit he had heard from his own father's mouth. (Nor would he admit that in a brief flash of thought it occurred to him that his father probably sounded just like that nutcase)

Merlin, at the end of his patience, ends up slamming his palms against the table, everyone's attention on him and it's as if they were seeing him for the first time. Squared shoulders, deadly gaze, even showing some teeth when speaking. It's like watching the biggest animal walk into the room without even having to make a move.

«Monsters you call us. Imbalance you scream and point your dirty finger at our abilities. But it's us those who heal the ancestors who have not yet understood which plants helped or how to treat conditions" and with that his eyes lit up and Elyan's nose was healed as well as the scratches from the previous fight In all of them except Arthur.

«And you, those born among silks and banquets, are the only ones with the right to learn to defend yourself»

«Say again, who is what »

Gwaine takes the initiative to gag the haters and the rest prepare to approach to plan their next move when Arthur interrupts the silence again

«After all that magic has done to Camelot, what it has done to me! You cannot deny that magic is, in fact, a power that disadvantages, takes from the defenseless, corrupts! Merlin, How could you learn magic after all?»

«You said it, prince, magic is a power, but it is not the only power and it is not what corrupts. Is magic what increases the tax to the point of not allowing the people to survive the winter? Is it magic that decides when to start a war that devastates the lands and innocent lives? Or is the one who wields with impunity the sword that has murdered so many people without trial, just because of false accusations? »

«Power is holding something above the heads of others, put them at a disadvantage, and decide what to do with it. Not many do anything good with it. Magic doesn't corrupt, the power it gives you maybe does, but the power has more than just one way. You have power, and Your lords and knights... Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, are these not your knights? Have they not exercised their power in a corrupt way?»

«That's not... We're not... I asked a question! How did you fall so low to learn magic?! »

«If you think I learned magic, then maybe we were never as close as you've been leading me to believe until now»

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Continuation

[ravewing]

hey! i love your wof au, do you have any fun facts for it?

wus good ok fragariapathosis fun facts boom

-sunnys pins on her bag are the colors of the other dod

-flame carved a stone knife for qibli and then they ran it through turtles wooden bowl a bunch of times so that everyone was liek. well equipped idfk

-dragons that had animus magic have a stronger immune system against fragariapathosis; it develops noticeably slower in them

-of the initially infected/'patient zeroes,' kinkajou and anemone are the only immune dragons

-liana and mango r dating.. bc i said so

-kinkajou makes bracelets for moon while recovering in the infirmary for when she "gets better"

-the nightwings in renewal are living in anarchy rite neow. its going pretty good for them tbh theyre kinda chilling i guess

-the sandwing kingdom is NOT doing as well as renewal is. around a third of the dragons think that thorn is unfit to rule and onyx has siezed the scorpion den and taken leadership of the rebels; theyre calling themselves the 'serpentcoil rebellion' and onyx has a sick crown with an onyx rattlesnake on it,, shes letting dragons from any tribe join her little rebellion but obviously they have to like. swear loyalty and shit. its pretty crazy yall

-the chaos in the ice kingdom has pretty much settled down. the ~20-25% of the icewings that WERENT asymptomatic have pretty much died out and since asymptomatic dragons are 'immune,' they're actually doing pretty good!! snowfall has taken advantage of her tribe's immunity to send healers to the sky, rainforest, and sand kingdoms. renewal is currently rejecting icewing aid

-literally nobody knows whats up with the mudwings. anyone who goes into that kingdom does not come out

-i alr said this in another post but ruby (who has crazy military strength) wrote to coral like 'yo dawg. send seawings to pantala and let them know about the situation' so she sent shark moray and some other dragons and now that theyre in pantala queen jewel and the silkwing assembly were like 'you guys cant go back for now btw. or else you guys might get sick' so theyre just there for now (coral is getting antsy..)

-ok i figured i should put alliances here too;

rain-sky-ice alliance

ice-sand alliance

seawings have cut all contact

mudwings have cut all contact

renewal has cut all contact

pantala has currently stayed out of the whole situation

ok i hope that these silly fun facts satisfy your needs bye bye

[jinnie-ret]

HIII so I'm the one who asked Abt the sister reader and I wanted to rq a older brother skz x adoptive little sister reader where shes 15 and cusses a lot and is always getting into trouble like piercing her ears without anyone knowing, loud introvert, things like that and how they react to it? Love ur writing btw!🫶🏻🫶🏻

rebel

stray kids x adopted sister!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 0.6k

summary: the boys are too used to their little sister's rebellious ways by now, but that doesn't stop them from worrying every now and then.

Hi thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy this one! :)

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

You had just arrived back to the dorms in the morning after coming back from your friend's house and spending the day with them all yesterday. It was silly of you to think that that boys wouldn't be awake at 10am in the morning.

"Ah, Y/N, nice of you to come home," Changbin says sarcastically, arms folded as he leans against the kitchen counter.

"It's not that late...?" you tried to get around the awkward situation, as you saw all of the boys eating breakfast with their phones out, and if you looked closer you would have noticed they had it open on the groupchat they had with you, waiting for a message to know when you'd be back.

"You could have told us you'd be ok," Han sighed in relief, coming up to you and affectionately stroking your hair back, but his fingers caught your ear, where you had gotten your second set of piercings done.

"Ow," you winced, causing him to raise a brow at you.

"You good?" Felix stood next to him, the September twins wondering what was the matter.

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing," you shrugged them off and hopped onto the kitchen counter, nicking a piece of toast from Hyunjin's plate.

"I'll let that slide only because we were worried about you," Hyunjin sighed, still giving you the side eye despite his comment.

"Why were you worried?" you bit into the toast.

"Maybe because we haven't heard from you since 2am? What were you doing up at that time anyways?" Chan sighed, walking up to you and getting up from his seat at the table.

"Just watching films and that," you shrugged, mistakenly brushing your hair back.

"Oh, and what else did you get up to?" he frowned, huffing out a breath though his nose as his finger brushed against your new piercing.

"Ow... fine I got my seconds done," you admitted, looking away.

"With what money?" Jeongin laughed, "you only went to that local gig with your friends recently, and you can afford to have another piercing?"

"There was a discount! I got it done for ₩15,000!" you said happily, feeling like you had gotten a bargain.

"Oh dear, well hopefully you've got enough money left to pay for antibiotics when you get an infection," Minho wrinkled his nose.

"What do you mean?" you frowned.

"₩15,000?! That's too cheap, who knows if the metal is good quality, or if it was sterilised," Seungmin spoke up.

"Ah, well, I'm sure it'll be fine, only live once don't you?" you waved off their concerns.

"Yep, with infected gunky ears," Hyunjin patted your head.

"Stopppp," you whined at their teasing. But you didn't expect anything less from your brothers.

"Look, next time just tell us where you are and if you're ok, yeah?" Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, Felix thought you died," Changbin giggled.

"I did not! I just thought she got kidnapped..." Felix trailed off after his attempt at defending himself.

"You do worry about me a lot," you laugh poking Felix's cheek.

"You're still a child, of course we worry," he hugs you to him.

"Ah, I'm not that young, I'm mature enough," you smile at them all.

"Yeah right, we still hear you cursing like a sailor when you're on the phone," Seungmin exposed you with a smirk.

"Who corrupted our baby y/n?" Han shook your shoulders, making you almost dizzy.

"Ok, ok, calm down," you giggled at him.

"I remember when you were 11 years old, so innocent, and now look at you," Changbin cried out, putting on a fake emotional voice as he covered his face.

"Such a rebel now," Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head at the scene in front of him, as Felix clung onto you and Han, Jeongin and Minho where now inspecting your piercings.

tagged: @skz-streamer @backintomykpopphaseagain @hannahhbahng @kiraisastay

[pinksiames]

Me and pookie @clevenhq are on our usual grind with this Emo!Gale and Punk!John AU🔥

Slight trigger warning for this one with mentions of self harm so be warned!!

Gale is a 16 year old high schooler who is the most stereotypical emo you can imagine. The thick black liner under the eyes, hair constantly swept in front of his eyes. He’s got the eyebrow piercing and nose ring but refuses to dye his hair black! He runs a decently popular MySpace page, posting emotional quotes and shitty mirror selfies that still somehow go viral on the website.

His dad is a severe alcoholic and mom does nothing to help, which ends up with Gale earning himself a black eye from the empty glass bottle hitting him in the face. It’s mainly why he wears so much makeup to try and cover up the abuse, but sometimes on the especially bad nights he’s huddled in the bathtub nursing fresh wounds littering his arms, old and new scars on top of each other.

John is a 17 year old who also goes to the same high school!! He’s the local teenage dirtbag of the town, going around and constantly partying, drinking, doing any type of drug that someone was willing to lend to the boy. He was constantly getting into fights, mostly with the authorities in his life, earning him the prize title of rebel punk with his track record with the law!

He was raised in a single parent household, mom trying her best after his dad walked out on them after his sister was born. A lot of his resentment comes from his dad not being there for them, leaving his mom and them to fend for themselves. When he acts out it’s the only time he feels alive, the urge to cause chaos and havoc for their hometown usually ends with him behind bars for the night until his mom comes and gets him.

When they first met it was at the skatepark during the summer, Gale on his peddle bike and John on his skateboard. They were both going down two different ramps but ended up crashing into each other, Gale being the one to apologize profusely since he was the one who knocked John off of his board.

John was about to go off on the boy until he made eye contact with those pretty sky blue eyes, instead only giving him a short “it’s fine don’t worry about it.” Thinking that it would’ve been the last time he’d see the boy. Until he started noticing him coming around the park a lot more frequently, always looking like he wanted to talk to John but not having the courage to do so.

It’s not until a month of seeing each other that Gale finally went up and introduced himself, once again apologizing for their little accident weeks prior. And John can’t help but feel his heart racing at gales obvious social awkwardness. Since then John introduces him to his group of friends, and slowly they start hanging out outside of the park, going and seeing movies as a group, fucking around town and getting drunk. One night while their all wasted John gets the bright idea that Gale needs a lip piercing, both of them drunk off their asses laughing while John’s trying to push a safety pin though gales bottom lip. Somehow the damn thing doesn’t get infected later down the line. It’s the happiest gales been in months, the self harming becoming more and more infrequent until the day gales dad actually puts his hands on him and not just the occasional beer bottle.

he stops showing up to the park, stops hanging out with John and his group to the point most of them are spamming his phone, but he doesn’t talk to anyone until the school semester starts in the fall. And by the time John sees gale again he looks horrible, sickly pale skin, sunken in eyes, clothes falling off his already thin frame. It takes John all day to corner him, demanding to know what happened to him and why he stopped talking to them. And gale just lets it all out.

He spends a good 5 minutes just sobbing, John trying his best to comfort him. And when Gale tells him what’s been going on his blood runs cold, that someone could hurt such a beautiful soul, how someone could look at Gale and willingly lay their hands on him. He makes a vow to not let anyone even think of hurting Gale, convincing his mom to let Gale stay with them.

While gales staying with the Egans he grows even closer to John, lingering touches staying between them at night, sharing John’s bed on bad nights, John tracing and kissing the scars on gales arms. Young love flourishing between them as the school year goes on, sneaking kisses between classes and holding hands in the hallways. It didn’t help that gales dad didn’t even notice his son missing, let alone his son’s belongings slowly getting moved out the house but who are they to complain. John and Gale would trade the world if it meant seeing each other happy.

[kawiifury]

TRUE SAVIOUR SAINT AU

It all originates from how the saint was able to Ascend the void worm and take its place. After that, the saint could not understand for a long time why he was still alive and not dissolving into the void fluid. After getting out of there, he walked on the surface for a while, finally realizing his influence.

A thought clicked in the saint's mind.

“I will create a perfect world. I am the beginning and the end of everything. Anyone who wants to find happiness must worship me.”

The saint began to recruit members of his “faith”. A faith that he believed was right and pure. Everyone is recruited, and those who don't want it are cursed and killed. Ascension is the ultimate reward here. A whole separate ritual for which the slugcats are willing to give their all. It would be nothing if it wasn't accompanied by genocide of the unwanted, bloody rituals and brutality.

The first to rebel against it was the Spearmaster, but he was cursed and killed. At the moment, of the canonical collection of slugcats in the gang of the holy man, there is an Artificer and a Watcher (night cat). The hunter died of infection. Right now the head of the rebellion is Gourmand and Survivor. The monk was captured and used in the sacrifice. On the neutral side there is a Rivulet and an Inv. But the Rivulet is actively searched, and the Inv is nowhere to be seen.

Now it’s more of a cult than a faith, but the saint doesn’t think so:)

The Saint in this au is something like a god, and his followers are completely different slugcats or even scavengers

[darkdrin6]

A thing that has been putting us in a stupor for some time. Attitude to Sareena. No, not hatred of her, but rather an opinion about her sexual appetites and the fact that she is capable of polygamous relationships.

You know what? No. It's anyone but Sareena. Emotions are very valuable for this woman, she incredibly values them. And this partnership is probably very important to her.

If you, my dear ones, remember that sex is not a safe occupation at all. Not in the sense that you might get infected or injured, no. During sex, the participant is as vulnerable as possible. He is naked, he is unarmed, he is as relaxed as possible, his vigilance is lowered. Anything can happen, and the participant will not have time to react. And now let's remember that Sareena has lived in Netherrealm all her life! This is not a very safe place where you have to fight for survival and avoid mistakes.

It is unlikely that demons in principle have a widespread culture of sex, since demons have always been considered a non-standard form of life that probably does not need classical reproduction. And if there is no need for reproduction, then there is no need for sex. It can be an act of domination, humiliation, submission (this also existed among people, welcome to antiquity).

And given all that has been said, it is unlikely that Sareena would sleep with someone she doesn't trust completely.

Trust in her case has to be built for some (long) time. She is literally a demon who has been fighting for existence all her life. She wouldn't trust someone immediately and unconditionally. Yes, she saw a glimmer of hope in Bi Han, he was the one who definitely inspired her to finally rebel against her master, but was it instant trust? Not either.

Please stop distorting her character. Yes, we are all upset that her character was partially transferred to Ashrah, depriving Sareena of part of her personality, but Sareena doesn't have to be a complete opposite to be different from Ashrah. Individuality consists of more subtle shades. Sareena was never cheeky, she was not an excessive hypocrite. She gave the impression of a woman mature, tender and tormented by her fears and doubts. She is not a straightforward Ashrah who believes in her rightness.

Sareena is Sareena. She can be both open and conscious at the same time. She is not a child in an adult's body. For some reason, they are now trying to put on the guise of Mileena from the old era - infantile, immature and sexy.

Sareena, of course, is a hot thing. But she was attracted to something else. Her tenderness and mercy did not cancel her determination. Stop making her just meat for fucking.

God, look how cute she is, the best shot ever with her

[goodluckclove]

Hey so I got tagged in that OC interaction thing by my colleague @illarian-rambling! I've been wanting to play this for a long time but I was too nervous to jump onto the tags of people I didn't know. Thank you for including me, and introducing me to Elsind. Below the Read More I describe a day spent with her and my boy Scott in Bluerose, Oregon in the setting of Migration Patterns, book two of Songbird Elegies. So minor spoilers not in terms of plot but, like, character development? Maybe?

I tag my dear ones @mushroommanchanterelle @aroaceghosties @lychhiker-writes @ivaspinoza and @cssnder because I feel like literary fiction writers don't get enough love in games like these.

Let's get started!

Elsind Cavernsight is a 20 year old changeling with a nervous disposition and a romantic heart. They can take on any humanoid form they've observed before. In his true form, Elsind is a skinless-looking humanoid with no face, a long tail, and petal-like fins that ring the back of his head. They use the pronouns of whatever form they're in, while using they/them in their true form. When referred to in abstract, she gets Shrodinger's pronouns.

Until she was thirteen, Elsind had a happy childhood and was raised by a single mother in a book shop. However, changelings are a valued commodity in Skysheer. They were kidnapped to be used as the court freak of one Marquis Sunflight - a cruel man who forced Elsind to do many abhorrent things for his 'entertainment.' After five years of this, Elsind managed to run away with a rebel group seeking to overthrow Skysheer's nobility. He now acts as an infiltrator and assassin.

As a person, Elsind might’ve suffered greatly, but she never lost her kind spark or huge capacity for empathy. They love to help people and even if they tend to be really nervous and awkward about it, they seek to make everyone's day better if they can. She's a bit of a chatterbox, especially when things are tense, and cries easily. Though she doesn't necessarily enjoy it, she is a great liar and infiltrator. This, combined with his easily underestimated bravery, makes him quite the spy. Their greatest passion are romance novels. Elsind is an avid reader of all things steamy and decadent. Out of all my characters, they'd be the most likely to have a blog on this site.

Scott Skylark Kaufner is a 31 year old human birthright from the Bluerose Refuge Hub, a witch town on the coast of Oregon. He is intersex, born with Kleinfelters Syndrome, and chose to undergo a masculine puberty and identify as a man. Scott is Greek-Romanian and I think German on his dad's side? I haven't established that yet. But he's a shorty at 5"5, with long and wild black hair and large, dark blue eyes. He identifies as a man, but prefers to dress in loose dresses in fun colors and soft materials. No shoes.

At his best Scott is friendly and talkative, though he tired quickly socially - as much as he tries to hide that fact. He loves the ones closest to him deeply and passionately and he has a tendency to get weird and overdramatic about it. There is an undercurrent of some manic intensity to him that most choose not to bring up and he doesn't seem to notice.

Scott is a bipolar variant birthright, which means he once had the ability to reflect his emotions onto those around him. But after travelling for years to find Eddie, he used his powers so often to get through social situations that they were infected, forcing him to inadvertently control the intentions of anyone that made eye contact or extended physical contact with him. Usually this ended with the person wanting to sleep with him. As a sex-repulsed asexual, this resulted in a rough few years for Scott. The fact that he was unable to see human faces due to the torture of the Eldritch horror trying to possess him did not help.

He's an obsessive piano player since infancy that can't read music but can learn anything by ear if you give him time. He also has perfect pitch but pointing that out embarrasses him. Scott loves the library and thinks that librarians, service workers, and anyone in the medical field are the most important members of society. Especially librarians. He loves reading books of Greek mythology but has a different relationship to them since his upbringing in magic causes him to think most mythological/supernatural things could maybe be true. He also loves a good snack and he's not great with technology but he's really good with Excel.

Their interaction!

So Scott is from a Refuge Hub, which is a type of witch town that houses and supports social services cases and anyone who needs harbor (abuse victims, runaways, children), so his first impression would be regret that they weren't able to help Elsind when they needed it.

She wouldn't need to mimic any human shape if he didn't want to. As long as Elsind could explain that he naturally doesn't have a face and Scott didn't just revert suddenly for unknown reasons, the concept of changelings would be perfectly reasonable to him. Birthrights are naturally nonjudgmental, but he is probably one of the most nonplussed of his kind.

He would definitely show him the library. Very kindly ask the librarians (some of them have known him since he was a child and adore him) where "the most erotic stories were" and smile calmly when they balked at him. Scott would take her to the small bakery in town where they make little cakes and pastries. He would be very insistent on feeding her the tastiest treats he could find, just to make sure Elsind felt taken care of.

They'd talk a lot in the mustard fields outside his childhood home or by the beach. Scott would ask Elsind if she ever got sad pretending to be someone else. If she still had an awareness of who SHE was. He would ask if she knew any fairies or cryptids.

Elsind would probably go home with a lot of books and carefully wrapped treats. Scott would offer him a friendship bracelet. I do not think it would be made well. He's still learning.

Haha that was fun!

[nikolai-alexi]

Imagine if you will:

James heading back the to castle after quidditch practice. He’s alone, naturally, since he stays late to run solo drills until it’s too dark to see anything at all. But as he’s walking up to the castle, there’s a little flicker of light by the Black Lake that catches his eye, and he’s never been able to let curiosity go, has he? The saying is curiosity killed the cat, not the stag.

So he follows it. Until he happens upon one Regulus Arcturus Black, back against a boulder, ankle set over his thigh, with an adorable look of concentration, and a bloody needle in his hand and ink pots floating nearby.

“Oh absolutely not,” James huffs, summoning the needle straight out of Regulus’ hand and vanishing the ink, “I’m not doing this again. Sirius’ obsession was bad enough!”

Regulus doesn’t even have time to react before he’s being near frog marched up to the castle, by James Potter of all people, up the stairs, into the Gryffindor Common Room, and deposited onto Sirius’ bed, who looks just as startled about the whole situation as Regulus himself is.

“Give your brother a proper tattoo, will you, Sirius?” James huffs, moodily, “He was trying to give himself a bloody stick and poke by the Lake. By the Lake! Of all places! Merlin, Regulus, you’d think you wanted to give yourself an infection,”

Sirius is howling with laughter, and Regulus is still flabbergasted by the entire situation. There he was, trying to be a rebel like his brother and suddenly he’s being abducted by James Potter for not doing it right?

As Sirius’ laughter dies down, there’s a moment of silence in the dorm room where James’ face goes deathly pale.

“Prongs?” Remus asks slowly, “You alright, mate?”

James’ eyes are full of horror when he looks up at Remus, “Merlin’s balls,” he whispers, “I’m turning into my mother,”

Regulus gets a tattoo of a cat sleeping on top of library books on his ankle by his brother, who lectures him mercilessly about his bad tattoo etiquette. James makes him promise to not muck about with stick and pokes in unsanitary places. Remus and Peter tease James endlessly about his mother-henning, to which James responds by throwing literally anything in arms reach at the both of them.

Later on, none of them will ever spill the secret about how Sirius and Regulus rekindled their relationship. All anyone ever finds out is it’s something to do with tattoos, which helps so much when Sirius and Regulus are both covered head to toe in them. James even let’s Regulus give him a proper stick and poke years down the line. And if it happens to be a stag with a cat climbing in its antlers, well, that’s his own business, thank you very much.

[artsybug0]

Hey bugs.....I was just wondering how would all the millies (all the aus of millie) act around a child, I'm just asking because I have a child oc name max, he's a shy and sweet boy who was sadly abandoned by his parents, he's really special because he was born with his right hand blue....I'm just curious about how would the millies reacts to seeing max

Thank you and keep up the good work

Og: very playful and friendly! Immediately a big sister to them haha!

Actor: she LOVES kids so immediately she’s also super playful and kind towards him. Maybe she can be like a mother figure! She’ll take care of him as much as possible! Immediately protective too (she’ll murder for any kid) She’ll hold him and comfort him all the time if it’s needed!

RF: she’s so unsure around kids lol. She just keeps an eye on them but won’t actively interact with them. But if there’s danger she’ll take them away or just go out of the factory to take them to the park for a bit. She says she doesn’t like kids or doesn’t care for them. But she actually has a huge soft spot for them and try’s to be sure they don’t have a miserable childhood. She sees her younger self in them and wants the best for them. She also will get pissy with anyone who try’s to take the child away from her if she’s holding them lmao

Opposite: she stays away but is neutral if approached. She’ll pay their head and tell them to go play somewhere else. But she won’t stop them if they stay next to her. Like Original shes automatically like an older sister. Though she try’s to act like she doesn’t care but she would kill for the child haha!

Gothic/Punk: “…who’s crotch goblin is this-“ like she’s not gonna do anything but avoids kids cause she’s uninterested and kinda doesn’t care to interact with kids. She won’t be mean or anything but try’s to keep the child away cause she knows she’s a super bad influence. And she likes being a rebel so she needs the kid to stay away lmao

Toymaker: she’s a toy so she’s pretty chill with kids! She’ll dance on her music box and let the kid hold her as long as they’re gentle. She is made of porcelain and already broken herself a couple of times. But she can’t do much with the kid besides playing

Jazzercise: she’s pretty chill, probably like a cool aunt type. She’ll let the kid hang around as she works out and even work out with them if they want to join! She’ll keep giving them water to be they’re hydrated too haha!

Lovesick: in no way should that child even be around her unless they’re also infected lmao. So hopefully one of the neighbors are taking care of them- but if they’re also infected…eh, Millie’s more focused on the uninflected but besides that she’s the same as Og!

[argentumcor]

I don't have the heart for anything after Gears of War 3, really.

It was good ending. Making the Countermeasure pointless is really annoying- it negates Adam's sacrifice. Guess we're just stuck with the Locust forever! Why? Crazy mad scientist who is just an obnoxious AI now!

The Locust as a function of Imulsion infection rather than human genetic tinkering is a better story decision. There's a certain kind of inevitably behind everything, something that you can't blame anyone for, something that humanity can only react to. Making the Locust all our fault- rather than Myrrah being really mad about what the COG was doing to the infected plus being forced to the surface due to the Lambent plague (not a solution, it turns out; she's only reacting too)- makes it way less interesting.

The magic bloodline thing is even more annoying. There's no indication the Locust are a hivemind before Gears 4. Gears always operated on crazy fantastic science, but it was more grounded than this. The Lambent clearly do have some sort of hivemind, more like the Tyranids than the Zerg, but the Locust as a mutagenic infection before the 'flowering' seems like it should mean they get tagged into that at most, not develop their own.

Also, both Anya and Marcus would go live their own lives, not get mucked up in government, they've earned that. I'm not sure the COG would be reconstituted, given the state of things at, well, Coalition's End and what the COG is/was; I could see independent city-states, loosely allied at best. The world got way too civilized way too fast from near-total destruction and the loss of the primary fuel/power source.

Then there's the out-of-the-blue character assassination of JD. For the son of Marcus Fenix, he's a very generic character, but turning a lifelong rebel into a by-the-book semi-antagonist to the girl he had a crush on in the game prior is bizarre- and unkind to Marcus, who should get a chance to be the father that his father wasn't. (NGL the unintentional villain of the Fenix family seems Elain, who couldn't seem to notice her men need her more than science does; Adam's just as bad at people as Marcus. This is not meant as commentary, I think, just as a tragedy. There's too many strong women dedicated to duty in Gears to think otherwise. We stan Bernadette Mataki-Hoffman here.)

I think the only thing I like is Sam and Baird getting together. It's adorable and hilarious and seems foreshadowed in Gears 3. Fanfic has let me down with this one, as well as Marcus/Anya, two relationships we don't get much of on-screen so to speak.

I'm tempted to read the Stackpole book, even if it has Anya deciding to be a governmental girlboss, which she should be sick to death of having to do, and it must have that stupid crystallization thing, just to see if it has more of Anya/Marcus and Baird/Sam. Stackpole is a competent-to-gifted writer whose work I really like, so at least we won't have any wibbling and wobbling.

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 18: Now We're Getting Somewhere

Chapter 18 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, guilt, fatal beating mentions, brief wound infection mention, adult characters described as “kids” by an older and more jaded narrator

---

Wraith

The Isadora who sat across the table from Wraith in the interrogation room was the same Isadora he had met on their very first time in this room. Her hair was as impeccable as her uniform. Her face was stone, her eyes ice. The Isadora he had seen in his cell seemed like nothing more than a dream. He might have thought he had dreamed it, if not for the bruises on her knuckles and the nail that had broken off at an angle from her right index finger.

He studied her other nails, looking for blood. But she had cleaned herself up soberly. There wasn’t a speck of the prisoner’s blood to be found. She had been thorough.

Wraith leaned back and tried to smirk. If she could show him her old self, he had to do the same, or the point would go to her. But the stretching of his lips felt strained and unnatural. The feigned smile fell away. He tried to hold her gaze, but found himself staring down at his lap instead.

He wasn’t fooling anyone, not Isadora and not himself. She might be able to pretend last night hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t beaten someone to death in front of him for no apparent reason, but he couldn’t. This point would go to her after all.

He wasn’t sure he cared.

He felt like he was the one who had been beaten. He hadn’t slept after Isadora’s guards had taken the body away. He hadn’t tried. It would have felt obscene to lie there trying to sleep, with the man’s screams still echoing in his ears and the smell of his blood still thick in his nostrils. Instead, he had stared into the darkness, trying to make some sense out of what had just happened. Isadora claimed she always had a strategy, so what was her strategy now?

Only a single word had come to him. A name. Callum. The prisoner’s name had been Callum.

His ankle was swollen to what felt like twice the size of the other one. The ankle cuff holding him to the chair, which was even tighter than the one in the cell, didn’t help. Every so often, blood dripped from the wound he had ripped open last night. The blood was the wrong color now, a sickly orange instead of dark red. Maybe the wound was infected. Maybe it would kill him.

As if it mattered. He would die here regardless. That was probably a better way to go than some. Better than Callum had gotten, for certain.

“I know what it did to you to watch your fellow prisoner die in front of you,” said Isadora, jolting Wraith’s attention back to her. “There’s no need to try to hide it. It won’t work, in any case.”

At least she didn’t try to make her words sound sympathetic. If she had acted all sugary-sweet about it, told her how sorry she was when she had been the one to do it, it might have sent him into a snarling rage, shredding the last of his self-control and winning her another point. Instead, she said it flatly, which led an air of unreality to the conversation. How many people could talk about beating a man to death as if they were reading off the nightly news?

Isadora Pope, he supposed.

“There aren’t many people who could watch something like that and feel nothing,” Wraith agreed, as civilly as he could manage—which wasn’t very. “I’m not ashamed of that. It makes me human. As opposed to whatever you are.”

If his words hurt her at all, she didn’t show it. “It means you’re a good man,” she agreed, with a small nod. “Better than the one who sent you here.”

At first Wraith couldn’t understand the words. The script was all wrong. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go. When the meaning hit him, he went rigid in his chair. A chunk of solid ice lodged in his stomach.

He didn’t dare say anything in response. He didn’t even dare breathe. Any reaction could betray too much.

But it was already too late for that, wasn’t it?

Her eyes glinted. He knew that no matter how hard he had tried to remain expressionless, he must have showed some reaction, something that had given him away. “Yes,” she said, “I know you aren’t who you claim to be. Your leader was afraid we were getting too close, wasn’t he? He thought sending a patsy to die in his place might buy him enough time to go deeper into hiding. I’m not surprised he thought that was worth spending one of his people’s lives for. After all, he’s been asking others to die in his place for ten years.”

“Of course that’s how you’d see it,” Wraith spat. “Because that’s how you think, isn’t it? No one is human to you. We’re all resources for you to spend as you choose.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I ever thought the two of you were the same. He cares even when he shouldn’t. It’s going to be the death of him someday. But you… is there anyone you care about? Anyone at all?”

Isadora drew up straighter in her chair. “Everything I told you the other day was true,” she said icily. “You were the only one lying in that conversation. I care about Earth, and I care about the future of this miserable planet. I care more about it than anyone on Earth does—and more than your little band of rebels does, too, whatever you may think. I’m not the one willing to destroy an entire dome—the only thing that makes life possible on this barren planet of yours—just to make a point.”

“I didn’t ask what you cared about. I asked who. Is there anyone on this planet you claim to care about so much—even anyone on your own side—who isn’t a resource to you?”

“People like us can’t afford that luxury.”

“People like us?” he sneered. “Don’t put the two of us in the same category. I don’t have a problem with killing, but I do it to save people. You only use them.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the one who sent you here. You can’t say he didn’t see you as a resource. Not when he sent you to die.”

“Saying stuff like that just proves that despite a decade of trying to hunt us down, you don’t understand him at all. No wonder it’s taken you so long.” If Isadora didn’t care about anyone, Gabriel had the opposite problem. They were all painfully real to him—every lost life, every sacrifice he agonized over in his office late at night.

He and Wraith had argued it out so many times, Gabriel behind his desk, Wraith pacing back and forth. Wraith would lecture him about how he had to stop caring so much or he would burn out and the rebellion would be left without a leader. Gabriel would tell him it was that same capacity for caring that let him find the strength to keep fighting, because it reminded him what he was fighting for.

He had always been like that. Too big a heart for his own good.

Wraith would know.

They had known each other from the start, had worked in the same factory together before Earth came. They had been young then, as reckless and unserious as all kids were. Gabriel hadn’t had that boundless sorrow in his eyes. Just like Wraith hadn’t had a constant flame of rage burning in his heart.

Tragedy had changed them both, because that was what tragedy did. Wraith had wanted revenge. Left to his own devices, he would have stalked it straight off a cliff. Gabriel had wanted something nobler. In the space of a few short months, he had gone from a kid who could laugh at a fart joke one moment and cry at a sunset the next, to someone people twice his age looked up to and were willing to take orders from.

Wraith hadn’t loved Gabriel back then, not the way he did now. That had come gradually, stealing over him with every soft word of encouragement Gabriel gave him and every time Gabriel held him back from doing something stupid, until one day he realized Gabriel owned his entire heart and he had no idea when it had happened. It didn’t make him unique. He knew he was hardly the only one to love Gabriel enough to sacrifice for him. He was probably far from the only one who wished it would turn into something more than soft words and sacrifice, something big enough to hold not only the devotion to a shared purpose, but moonlight kisses and hands running over bare skin.

But he liked to think it was different between the two of them, even though he knew he was probably deluding himself. The others hadn’t known Gabriel as long as he had, after all. And when Gabriel needed to let down his guard and talk honestly, he didn’t go to any of the other rebels; he went to Wraith. Wraith used to imagine that someday Gabriel would look inside himself and see that his own heart belonged to something other than his cause, and then they would share that kiss in the moonlight.

But he had set those dreams aside for Gabriel’s sake long ago. Just as, eventually, he had set aside his life.

“I was wrong about your leader after all, it seems,” said Isadora, interrupting his thoughts. “But not in the way I originally thought. I imagined him as a soft man. That was why was so surprised when I met you. But you’re just one more disaffected child driven by emotion. The one who sent you, though… he’s something far more dangerous. He’s cold. Ruthless. He wins the devotion of his followers, and then he throws them away.”

Wraith wanted to laugh, because she was so far off that she might as well have been standing all the way back on Earth. He wanted to snarl at her, because this was Gabriel she was talking about, and he wouldn’t have her slandering him. He pressed his lips together and forced himself to do neither. He imagined Gabriel beside him, a soft hand on his shoulder, a murmur in his ear. Don’t react. Don’t give her what she wants.

“As much as you brought your fate on yourself,” said Isadora, “I actually feel the slightest bit sorry for you. You were used. I know enough about your rebellion to know the kind of devotion your leader inspires. He knows how to manipulate people. He can get into their heads. And he took advantage of that. The man is a coward, and he used your devotion to save his own life.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Wraith spat, before his imagined version of Gabriel could warn him to keep his mouth shut. He closed his lips too late. He had given her a reaction, just like she wanted. One more point to her.

Isadora’s voice softened fractionally. “You’re a better man than him—I can tell. You may be stupid enough to let the anger in your heart control you, but at least you have a heart. You were sufficiently brave and loyal to allow yourself to be captured in his place, even knowing what it would mean for you. And you were strong enough to resist telling me the truth, even when you must have known you could have used it to work out a deal between us.”

“No,” said Wraith, “I couldn’t have.” The thought had never so much as occurred to him. He could no more betray Gabriel than he could force his own heart to stop beating.

“He must have seen all that in you. Your courage, your loyalty. Your strength. How many of his people have the fortitude to do what you’ve done? Not many, I imagine—not unless the people on your side are made of stronger stuff than mine, and I’ve met enough of you in the past decade to know that’s not the case. He saw everything that is admirable in you, and he used it for his own selfish—”

“No!” Wraith yelled. The word echoed off the walls. Isadora’s lips curved upward almost imperceptibly.

He had given her another reaction. He had betrayed a little more of himself to her.

But she couldn’t sit there and say those things about Gabriel. And what did it matter how much he showed her, anyway? She had already found out the one thing that was truly important. She knew he wasn’t who he said he was.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” said Wraith, his voice quieter but laced with anger. “You think you finally have him all figured out, but you’re more wrong than you ever were. He didn’t use me. He had nothing to do with it. It was my plan from the start.”

“I’m sure it was,” she said, like she was humoring a child.

“He didn’t want me to come here, you know that? We argued for hours. The only reason I’m here is that I didn’t give him any choice in the matter. He would never have asked me to do this, because he was dumb like that. He never did know how to make the hard calls. So I came up with the plan, because I could see the writing on the wall. I knew how close you people were getting to him. I told him what I was going to do, because I figured I owed it to him to say goodbye in person. And when he tried to tell me no, I told him I was going to do it with or without his approval, so he had better get on board.”

Wraith paused to draw in a long breath after his rush of words.

“So you’re wrong about him,” he concluded. “And you’re wrong about me. I’m not a resource—not yours, and not his. No one uses me. And he’s a better man than I’ll ever be. Why do you think I gave myself up for him?”

Isadora’s only reaction was a slight widening of her smile. “Ah,” she breathed. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

---

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[mariacallous]

The US right has this week been staging a clown show that has had liberals in that country and beyond pulling up a chair and breaking out the popcorn. There has been a karmic pleasure in watching the Republicans who won control of the House of Representatives struggle to complete the most basic piece of business – the election of a speaker – but it’s also been instructive, and not only to Americans. For it has confirmed the dirty little secret of that strain of rightwing populist politics that revels in what it calls disruption: it always ends in bitter factional fighting, chaos and paralysis. We in Britain should know, because Brexit has gone the exact same way.

Start with the karma that saw House Republicans gather two years to the day since they sought to prevent the peaceful transfer of power from one party to another: often overlooked in the anniversary recollections of 6 January 2021 is that, mere hours after rioters had stormed the US Capitol, a majority of Republican House members voted to do precisely as the rioters had demanded and overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election. Yet here were those same House Republicans on 6 January 2023, having prevented the smooth transfer of power from one party to another – except this time, the party they were thwarting was their own.

It should have been straightforward. Republicans won a narrow majority in the House in November, which gave them the right to put one of their number in the speaker’s chair. The trouble was, while most backed Kevin McCarthy, about 20 rebels did not. By Thursday night, they had gone through 11 rounds of voting – the most since the civil war era– without McCarthy or anyone else winning a majority. The result: deadlock.

It was a study in incompetence. A party asks the electorate to give them power; they get it and then freeze, unable to take even the first step towards using it. There’s no clear political logic to the stalemate. The rebels are devotees of Donald Trump, but McCarthy himself is a tireless Trump sycophant – patronised by the former president as “my Kevin” – who begged for and won the backing of the orange one. The pro-Trump rebels are divided among themselves: one rebuked Trump for sticking with McCarthy, while another voted to make Trump himself speaker.

It’s telling that the rebels’ demands are not on policy but on procedure, seeking rule changes or committee seats that would give them more power. Otherwise, they can’t really say what they want. They succeeded in getting metal detectors removed from the entrance to the chamber, so now people can walk on to the floor of the House carrying a gun, but apart from that, and their hunger to start investigating Democrats, including Joe Biden’s son Hunter, nothing.

All this has significance for the year ahead in US politics. For one thing, it’s yet more evidence of the diminishing strength of Trump among Republican leaders, if not yet among the party faithful. For another, if Republicans cannot make a relatively easy decision like this one, how are they going to make the tough but necessary choices that are coming – such as authorising the spending, and debt, required to keep the US government functioning?

But its meaning goes far wider. For what’s been on display this week, in especially florid form, is a strain of politics that has infected many democracies, including our own. Its key feature is its delight in disruption, in promising to upend the system. That was the thrust of the twin movements of 2016, Trump and Brexit. Both promised to sweep away the elites, the experts, the orthodoxy – whether in Washington DC or Brussels. They were new movements, but they were drawing on deep roots. Four decades ago both Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher cast themselves as radicals daring to shake off the dead hand of the government.

So we can hardly be surprised that those who railed against government should be so bad at it. They promised disruption, and that’s what they’ve delivered. In the US it was the chaos of Trump himself, and now a House of mini-Trumps that can’t tie its own shoelaces. In the UK, it looks different: we have a prime minister in Rishi Sunak whose pitch is technocratic competence. But that should not conceal two things.

First, the post-2016 Tory party delivered just as much parliamentary turmoil and intra-party division as McCarthy and co served up this week. Whether it was the Commons gridlock of the two years preceding the 2019 election or the psychodrama of the three years after it, Brexit-era Conservatism has proved every bit as unhinged as Trump-era Republicanism. When it comes to burn-it-all-down politics, the Republicans’ craziest wing are mere novices compared with a master arsonist such as Liz Truss. The US and UK are simply at different points in the cycle.

Second, even with Sunak in charge, and though painted in less vivid colours, Brexit-era Toryism is just as paralysed as its sister movement in the US. The five-point plan unveiled in the PM’s new year address consisted mostly of the basics of state administration – growing the economy, managing inflation – rather than anything amounting to a political programme.

And that’s chiefly because his party, like the Republicans, cannot agree among themselves. Consider how much Sunak has had to drop, under pressure from assorted rebels. Whether it was reform of the planning system, the manifesto commitment to build 300,000 new houses a year or the perennial pledge to grasp the nettle of social care, Sunak has had to back away from tasks that are essential for the wellbeing of the country. True, he has avoided the farcical scenes that played out this week on Capitol Hill, but that’s only because he has preferred to preserve the veneer of unity than to force a whole slew of issues. The result is a prime minister who cannot propose much more than extra maths lessons lest he lose the fractious, restive coalition that keeps him in office.

None of this is coincidence. It’s in the nature of the rightwing populist project, in Britain, the US and across the globe. Brexit is the exemplar, a mission that worked with great potency as a campaign, as a slogan, but which could never translate into governing, because it was never about governing. It was about disrupting life, not organising it – or even acknowledging the trade-offs required to organise it. It offered the poetry of destruction, not the prose of competence.

The Conservatives are several stages further down this road than the Republicans, perhaps because their power has been uninterrupted throughout. But in both cases, and others, the shift is unmistakable. Once parties of the right saw themselves as the obvious custodians of state authority: the natural party of government. Now they are happier shaking their fists at those they insist are really in charge. They are becoming the natural party of opposition.

[defire]

Ostensibly Torture

Dance of Death Chapter 13

Content: restraints, death threats, infection, carewhumper, painful medical procedure

Nife lay on the floor with her arms tied behind her back, face right next to Wick's. Probably thinking he couldn't be seen, he was gently pressing his face into the ground and grimacing, crying silently. She was also crying, and shaking so hard that whimpers kept pressing up out of her throat. Her hands were swelling around the tight ropes binding her wrists together, and her leg burned. It burned so bad she wished she could cut it off.

"So what should we do to her?" Aqua was saying. 

"How about we–" Nife was interrupted by a stomp in the back that pushed her back into the gross carpet.

She sobbed.

"Oh fuck," She cried. "Don't kill me, please don't kill me..."

She shrieked as Aqua lightly toed her right knee.

"Don't, don't! I'm begging you,--"

"Stay down." Aqua said. "Or it will be your leg."

She froze, gritting her teeth in her effort to stay still, tears pouring down her cheeks. She felt like she was going to lose her mind in terror. Aqua kept bringing up different ways to punish her for the things she'd done to them, before they would go ahead with the murder.

“We could hang her by her bad leg and stab her till she bleeds out.” He said. “Or perhaps waterboard her in Ink Lake, gradually drown her to death.”

Nife squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut it out, when all she could picture was the horrible suggestions Aqua was making.

"She is a Druid, Breeze," Someone said. "I've never killed one of my own before..." 

"But, she--look this shit." Breeze answered, gesturing at the people that had mostly bled out now because of Nife's knives. "We gotta waste 'er."

The others didn't seem as interested in torturing Nife as Aqua was, even after what she'd done to them. 

"Look, it's not about her, it's about claiming Ink Lake," One of them said.

"Nuh-uh." Aqua snapped. "It's about justice for Druids."

That phrase clued Nife in on who they were. She'd heard of the Druid Justice rebel group. It was more of an urban rumor, but apparently the Druid Justice group would capture any Banes that came near their territories, torture them, and leave the body parts somewhere where the passers-by would see them. The DJ’s.

"Great." She whispered.

"Yeah, it is great." Aqua kicked her. "I'll tell you what," He said. "You guys take Wick down to Wily and me and whoever wants to thrash this sympathizer bitch will stay and get some justice."

Eventually, they agreed, and Aqua was left there with two other DJ's.

They dragged Wick away with them down the stairs, slamming the door behind them.

"Now," Aqua rubbed his knuckles, looking down on Nife. "Time for some Druid justice."

Nife pressed her face into the ground, filled with desperation and terror. 

"Scared?" Aqua said as the three stepped closer to her, looking down on her.

Nife didn't answer. She was so panicked she was getting dizzy, and her body was getting exhausted from the shaking. She looked around desperately with nightsight to find her knives. She could make out two of them, but they were too far to reach. And her stiletto was retracted inside Aqua's back pocket. 

"Does it hurt?" Aqua taunted.

"No, I was just screaming in joy." Nife shot back in a raspy voice. There was a long pause, and the three other Druids looked at each other like they were confused. "...Yes, it hurts!" Nife said finally.

"Good, because you killed my friend." One of them said, though his voice sounded rather calm.

Nife grimaced, pressing her forehead against the disgusting carpet. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone, and she hadn't exactly intended to. She couldn't even care about it like she should--her leg hurt so much, all she wanted was to take a probably-undeserved bath and forget everything.

Finally, Aqua turned away and took something out of his pocket. There was a scrape and snap, and then the glow of a lamp filled the room, getting brighter quickly. He lit another lamp, set them both on a mantle over a fireplace which Nife had only just noticed, and turned back toward her. It was so unexpectedly bright that she closed her eyes.

"What would you do if someone fucked with your friends?" Aqua said to her.

Nife didn't answer that.

"What would you do?" He stepped closer, pointing the toe of his boot toward her burning wound, which was now dripping fresh blood up her shin. "You'd kill 'em, wouldn't you?"

"Hell, I... yes." She whispered.

She'd imagined it plenty of times.

Aqua sighed and put the lantern down nearby. Nife watched his black boots as he stepped over her, knelt and grabbed her by the arm, jerking her over and thumping her onto her back, trapping her tied wrists under her weight. She squinted and blinked in the light, the cooler air brushing over the curls that were plastered to her forehead with tears all over her face. 

Both the younger guys to her left had wounds she'd given them--one a slash across the forearm, the other a deep nick under the chin that was still drizzling blood down onto his collar. 

"Aw, she's a damn baby." One of them said. "What are you, sixteen?"

"Fifteen." She said, failing to keep the shaking out of her voice.

The one by her feet suddenly pointed at her face, frowning in recognition.

"That's--you're Nife Raizden, ain't you?"

She wasn't used to being recognized. Through the mental haze of shock and pain she was in, it didn't make sense the way they all leaned down to inspect her more closely. She managed a shaky little shrug as her instinctive responses kicked in. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," She threw out the worst lie she'd ever come up with. "Nife Raizden? Never heard of her."

Her voice trembled with how ridiculous it was by the time she finished the sentence. She closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"...Fuck."

Nife Raizden was known to be close friends with several Bane noble kids. If they questioned her sympathizer status before, it was going to be concrete now.

After a moment of silence, Nife opened her eyes to see what they were doing, biting her lip anxiously. They were just kind of standing there looking at her and each other.

"...So, we're not actually doing it, right?" One of them said.

Aqua leaned back, looking around alertly even as he slouched.

"Yup." He said. "We're not gonna kill you or anythin." He toed her with his boot. "Come on, get up."

Firmly suspicious, Nife slowly rolled onto her right side to protect her leg and tried to get onto a knee. She immediately cried out and clutched her right thigh, hissing in pain and looking to either side in anticipation of a possible attack for the delay.

One of them held out a hand to help her up.

"Don't--don't." She said, bowing down in another cringe as she felt another wave of pain and prepared to get up. 

She was forced to take the hand, and bit her lips together as she tried to limp toward the stairway where Aqua was leading her.

"I'm trying. Okay?" She quavered, stepping gingerly as the ache shot up her bone. "Just--it fucking hurts. Don't hurt me anymore. Okay?"

"I'm not lyin this time." Aqua said, pinching her arm and pushing her forward between the others as they crossed the room, grabbing lanterns on the way.

"...Yeah, forgive me if I take that with a grain of salt." Her voice quivered.

"Aqua, Nife Raizden is a two-ring." The one that had recognized her was eyeing her cautiously. "She's dangerous."

"So am I." Aqua said. But he snapped open her stiletto and pointed it against the back of her armpit, putting a hand on her other shoulder. 

Nife felt the tip pointing into her armpit, where she'd definitely die if she got stabbed, and hobbled in the direction she was pushed. On every step, her leg stabbed pain up the middle and she had to bite back a cry.

"One foot in the grave..." She hissed through her teeth as the blade at her armpit pushed her into another agonizing step.

On the way up the stairs, she started to believe them a bit more. Aqua was very rough with her, but he also commented that Breeze could be a bit of a murderhobo when civilians got thrown into the mix. They talked like Druids were people that deserved a fair trial and a second chance, as opposed to Banes. 

By the time they reached the third flight of stairs, Staccato, the guy that had recognized her, was elbowing her, saying terrible things about Banes and then saying "right?"

"It musta been horrible being surrounded by them!" He said, sounding gleefully disgusted. "And then even the Druid Informant News sides with them, claiming you're friends with some of 'em. Wrys, of all things."

The mention of Kit and Caboodle Wry warmed her heart a little. 

“It’s not like they’re murderers or anything.” She said pointedly.

From Staccato’s silence, it must’ve gone right over his head.

They ordered her to kick off her boots, because they smelled like blood and rot, and then they all went inside a tiny little attic room together. They put down their lanterns on a desk and took seats around the room, perching on the bed and the only chair. Nife sat down on the floor near the door, finding herself almost too tired to be on edge.

Without giving her more than a glance or two, Aqua went about taking things out of the drawers. Knives, scissors, a long roll of bandages. 

Nife watched with cautious apprehension as he held up the scissors with a wicked grin. Then he shrugged and chuckled, and took the supplies over to the other two instead. He began tending to their wounds.

Not letting herself completely calm down, she rested her chin on her good knee, watching them taking care of each other. She could hardly believe they were the same people that had just kidnapped a random enforcer so they could beat him up and kill him. The same people that had just been kicking her in the wounded leg over and over–and then making her walk on it. She did everything she could to keep it in mind, but she was so tired, her eyes kept trying to close, now that she was sitting down. The pain pulsed, jolting her awake with each one, even though the pulses were only a few seconds apart.

As she heard them talking about the others that she'd killed, she got the sense that they weren't as close as they'd tried to make her think. 

"The only thing that I don't get," Staccato said, "is why she didn't kill me. She had the chance, man. I saw her panic and pull back." His eyes wandered to her. "Why?"

Not lifting her chin off her knees, she shrugged.

"I didn't mean to kill anyone." She said, and then put her forehead down. "...Why does it have to be such a damn mystery what you're going to do with me? Just tell me." Her head was down to hide her trembling chin.

"We're waiting for the guard change at two." Aqua replied. "Then we'll let you go."

After treating the other two DJ's, Aqua snapped his fingers at her. 

"Come ere."

Nife clenched her teeth and lifted her head, noticing that he was casually organizing the medical supplies on the dresser by the lamp. 

"...Why?" She said suspiciously.

"I'm gonna fix your leg."

"...I think not." Nife backed herself against the wall in the corner at the door.

Aqua straightened to look at her over the dresser. He looked mildly disapproving. Nothing like the guy who had just been threatening to torture her twenty minutes ago. 

"Lotta bruising." He observed.

"Maybe you shouldn't have kicked the shit out of it then." She glared.

"Well, I was angry..."

"Oh, so this was just a one time thing," Nife tilted her head, "you don't occasionally lose it and, I don't know, beat and murder a random passerby?"

"Well, are you gonna do it then?" He said, tossing the scissors down.

The forceful gesture made her flinch.

"I... Look, you might not have noticed, but I've just been kidnapped." She said. "Feeling a little angsty. I'd rather just... do it myself."

He eyed her injured leg, which she pulled in protectively as another drip of something ran down onto her ankle. The cut was swollen and red and a torn spot was black underneath.

"You don't know nothin about medicine, huh?" Aqua said. 

Nife looked helplessly at the floor.

"Just get the hell over here." He said. "I could still take this opportunity to get some revenge instead, if I wanted to."

"You're not helping your case." She said, twitching her fingers behind her back under the bindings. "Untie my hands first, and then I'll--"

She stopped when Aqua stepped over to her and grabbed her at the shoulder, fingers pinching into the base of her neck as he yanked her to her feet. The other two got up too, looking weary.

"Time for beat-down number two?" Staccato said.

"Let's not..." Nife said, stomach flipping in fear.

"Good thinking." Aqua said, dumping her onto the bed. "Now just--"

"Why?" Nife said.

"Cause you damn well better remember this," Aqua said, wiping the scissors down with a cloth dipped in iodine. "You're gonna survive and go back and then remember who saved your life from your infected leg."

"My life? What do you mean?"

He huffed and pointed to a black spot under the worst torn part of the wound. "It's the rot. That goes to your heart, well... You don't wanna know."

Nife's eyes widened.

"You can stop... that?"

Aqua nodded. 

"One vampire is enough to have on my hands, thank you very much."

That confirmed what "the teeth" meant.

He approached her with the scissors, making little unnecessary practice snips in the air in her direction. Her eyes widened.

"You're not gonna wanna watch this. Unless you got a high pain tolerance."

"On the contrary..." Nife grimaced, then lay back, looking at the plaster ceiling. 

He did something that felt like tearing the muscle off her leg, and she screamed– 

"Ah, hell!" Her leg jerked away and she tried to roll away from him on the bed.

"Low pain tolerance indeed" He grabbed her ankle and yanked her back toward him. "You could at least lay still."

"I can see the serial killer in you again." She said, lying back down and turning partly away to give her hands some time without being squished under her back. Her breath was coming in short pants now as she prepared herself for another burst of searing pain.

"You know it's those screams they make when they die, that lets me sleep at night." Aqua said.

"What... is wrong with you?" She muttered.

"Would you rather I listen to the screams of my daughters instead?"

He did something that felt like tearing the muscle off her leg, and another shriek burst out of her, feet twisting together on the bed. 

Whatever he was doing, he didn't stop, but he put a knee down on her thigh to stop her from flinching away.

"They dragged them out, beat them, raped them, killed them, twenty-four years ago." He said as he worked with savage roughness. "I hear them every morning when I go to bed. Every morning that I didn't take out another one of those Bane bastards."

He looked around at her face to see if she was going to make a sarcastic comment. Seeing she didn't respond, he sighed and reached back for the iodine bottle. She tried not to watch as he gripped down tight on her leg.

"How'd you learn to fight without being willing to kill anybody?"

"Character deficiency." Nife answered through her teeth. How could he talk at a time like this?

"Got any hobbies?"

Nife bit her lip as her leg burned like mad. He was digging something into it--that's how it felt, anyway.

"Stop--squirming." Aqua said.

That was what Markee had said before he started coming down on her with the rapier sheath. He'd thrown a chair onto her legs to trap her and her elbows bruised against the floor as she tried to escape. Then the blows came down on her back--she was trapped like that, forced to take the beating. She bit her lip, trying to bring herself back to the present as a feeling of helplessness sucked her down like the rot. She hated being trapped.

"Fuck." She whispered. Another surge of burning brought her back to the present.

"Whatever you're doing, keep it up. Almost done." Aqua said. "So. Education? I can tell you got one."

Nife grimaced; now all she could think of was Markee. She focused back in on the burn and sting.

"What?" Aqua said. "Do you like focusing on the pain, or are you going to let me distract you?"

"I hope you get shot." She whispered. She could tell he was being rougher than he needed to be; he kept poking her with his thumb. She realized that the yanking tearing feeling was him sewing up the wide end of the cut. "Please tell me you're done."

"I'm done." He said, then jerked at the thread. "Just kidding."

"I hope you get shot." She groaned again. "Bastard."

When he finally wrapped up her leg in gauze, all the while reminding her that she better pay him back for saving her life, she collapsed on the bed, shiny with sweat, panting into the dusty sheet.

"You're really not going to kill me," She said hoarsely.

"No."

"You just wanted to beat me up, fix my leg, and let me go." She said, disbelief clear in her tone.

"...I don't kill Druids, no matter how much they deserve it." He said, standing up from the bed. "Now get off. Me and Staccato get to sit there."

"I need a rest--" Nife was interrupted by a pinching grasp at the back of her neck and her leg as he hauled her off and tossed her onto the floor. 

She bit her lip and moved into the corner miserably as the two of them sat down. 

"You ain't worried she's gonna talk?" Staccato said quietly to Aqua.

"Druids don't talk." Aqua said. "Right, Nife?"

Nife lifted her head from her knees to glare at him, then nodded and dropped her head.

"See?" 

"My hands are dying over here." She said. They were cold and swollen behind her, and her wrists and shoulders were straining.

"Say please." Aqua said.

Nife picked up her head and scowled at him.

"No."

Staccato stood up and walked toward her, drawing a machete. She watched him cautiously, but he sat down next to her with his back against the door. 

"Hey, you're not really on the Bane team, yeah?" He said. "You're not actually all 'go Wick'?"

"No, I totally just took a beating for nothing." Nife said.

He put the machete behind her and, to her surprise, cut the rope. She looked at him and realized he'd taken her sarcasm seriously.

"I knew it." He said. "You're a good one."

Nife sighed.

"You gotta learn to stand up for yourself, man." He said. "You let us push you around. You shoulda fought back."

"How was I supposed to know he was actually going to punch me?" Nife said. “Let alone… all  the rest of that.”

"You're a two-ring, man." Staccato said. He lifted his hand and flicked her in the temple. "You coulda done better."

She dropped her head onto her knees again, rolling her eyes.

"See?" He said. "Just gonna let me do that?"

She was rubbing her hands together under her legs, getting the circulation back.

"You gonna let me do that?" He flicked her in the head again.

"I decide when I fight back, not you, not anybody else." She said. 

The next time he tried to flick her, she grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye, hers half-lidded with veiled irritation.

"What you gonna do if I do it again?" Staccato said.

"Nobody can make me do shit." She let go of his hand and huddled her head between her knees. 

She grimaced and closed her eyes to keep from remembering. There had been one time she'd fought back; the time that Markee had left her with bruises all over her back, and a fear permanently etched into her mind. The sword sheath battering down on her back. The panic as she struggled to escape from the bare heel that pinned her down. Leaving marks that made it hurt to breathe for a full month afterward.

"Father, I didn't fall, he did this to me!" She had shouted at him.

"I knew you hated class, but I didn't know you hated it this much." Her father had shot a sympathetic look at Markee.

"Just hire a different tutor!" She'd shouted.

"Two words, Nife," Her father said, with another glance at Markee. "Markee Wry. He's the best there is."

The real reason was that firing a Wry would've been terrible for business.

She took two important things from that moment.

Firstly, that if Nife Raizden tells the truth, nobody will believe her.

Secondly, that if Nife fights back, she might lose.

She was asleep when two o'clock hit. A now-familiar pinching grasp on her arm woke her up as she was dragged to her feet.

She noticed the others didn't follow her as Aqua guided her out.

He waved at the sentry as they left the hall out a door that opened onto a fire escape. The sentry nodded at him.

"Someone else piss off Breeze?" She said.

"Yup." Aqua sighed. "Alright. You can go. And you better remember what I did for you, Nife."

"Give me my stiletto." Nife said.

"Think of it as a deposit." Aqua said, smiling.

Nife grabbed his shirt and put her face right in his face; she could smell his smiling teeth.

"Keep the boots." She said. 

She stared him in the eyes, and put her hand past his arm, into his back pocket. She pulled out the stiletto and he raised his hands half-mockingly, stepping back.

"Alright, alright." He said. "But don't forget me."

"Oh trust me, I won't." She glared and went down the fire escape, turning the knife comfortingly in her hands.

After that, she knew a good place to hide out--the clocktower in Oldtown.

First chapter: Previous (to see the first half of this beat-down)

Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story, you can get the book on amazon for $0.99, but I just want to make it possible for anyone to access.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[lloydfrontera]

anyway. in the au where they're siblings adeline and javilon are pretty evenly matched when it comes to fighting, with it being a toss up between who wins and loses every time they spar and go against each other.

they're pretty much the only ones that can give the other a challenge, so even when their relationship starts to rot and fester like an infected wound, they still spar and train together most of the time. and even when they fight it's more like dance, because they know each other so well, how they move, how they step, how they breathe, that every movement they make feels almost like a choreography, knowing every movement before it happens yet unable to do anything about it because the other is reading them just as easily.

they know each other better than anyone else in the world and they both resent that fact with every fiber of their being.

but even when one gets an edge over the other, even when they start to put all their strength behind every blow, even when their spars start to turn more brutal and violent, even when there's little more connecting them than the blood they share, there's always a hesitance in their movements when it comes to using any move that could be lethal on the other. there's always a part of them that will pause before they deliver a blow that could kill the one person they used to love more than anyone in the world once upon a time.

there's always a part of them that rebels at the thought of a world without their sibling

when they finally meet in the battlefield, when adeline puts herself between javilon and rakiel, she isn't overwhelmed because javilon is suddenly better than her at fighting. it's because for the first time in their lives, her brother didn't hesitate before trying to kill her.

and that's a worse blow that anything a sword could deliver

[the-blind-assassin-12]

I can’t stop thinking about...

How every single group of people shown to us in the show adaptation of TLOU - excluding Jackson - has adopted one if not more of the methods for control used by FEDRA that they all deemed to be so horrific. It’s just another way that this series plays with the themes of justification and morality and power, and another reason why this show works as well as it does on so many levels. Putting my rambles under the cut to save anyone from spoilers: 

In Kansas City, Kathleen promises her prisoners a trial, and then gives the command to have them executed without one. She also gives the order to have Perry burn the bodies instead of bury them, because its “faster”. We see both public executions and body burning in the Boston QZ, so this is straight out of FEDRAs playbook, which isn’t surprising considering how little time has passed since the rebel group took control of the city. But as an outsider, it’s hard to say “the good guys” won there, because those “good guys” immediately defaulted to the same things and actions that they rebelled over. 

In Silver Lake, David tries to dangle the promise of success and power in front of Ellie, just like the FEDRA officer did when he told her that one day she could be in charge. (I could write a whole dissertation on how extraordinarily fucked up and manipulative David is - DO NOT even get me started on the “violent heart” discussion - but for now I’m just going to talk about power dynamics. He’s very much one of those “this would all fall apart without me” kind of leaders, which diminishes the lives and contributions of the people in his group - just like FEDRA officers look at themselves as the heroes for keeping “order” (if you can call it that) despite the fact that it is the QZ citizens who do all of the actual work. It’s narcissism, and that never works as an effective leadership method. 

In Salt Lake, Marlene and the Fireflies pull the exact same shit with Ellie as the FEDRA officers do with that kid that wanders into the QZ. They tell that kid that everything will be fine, that they’ll get to have a treat and a toy and all will be well, when in reality they’re going to kill him. (Yes, I understand the child was infected and there was likely nothing to be done and termination was the “safest” way to control the spread of infection. I am highlighting the act of lying - and to an extent, handwashing - here.) This is the same thing that happens when Ellie shows up at the hospital. Marlene tells her that Joel will be fine, that she can see him after. She doesn’t tell her the truth or give her a choice. She lies so that she can force things to go her/their way, and, I think, to pat herself on the back for doing a good job of not scaring Ellie. (Again, I could go OFFFFFFFFF about Marlene in general but that would be a tangent all its own.) 

Jackson is the only settlement that we’ve seen that isn’t employing FEDRA techniques, and its no surprise that its the only one that is thriving. And if only 1/4 groups of people is able to keep from immediately turning ugly, then... well, I already agree with what Joel did, but this statistic only makes me agree with him more in that I’m not sure that world is worth saving either. 

[kai-anderson-whore]

Hi! Please can I request an angst about Kit Walker x female reader where Kit rebels against the mistreatment in the asylum? TY!

Yes this one is short but I hope you like it :)

It's nothing (Kit Walker x fem reader)

Warnings: mentions of mistreatment of braircliff, swearing, cuts and bruises.

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Braircliff was a hellhole to everyone, some got put in here because of their mental health, some criminally insane, some against their own will with nothing wrong.

You believed someone was in here wrongly, kit walker accused of being bloodyface, you believed him when he told you he wasn't the look in his eyes said it all.

You both shouldn't be in here only reason why you were in here was because of a nervous breakdown you had, your father dumping you in this pit.

The punishments and mistreatments of this place too much to handle, Kit was strong-headed always putting up a fight with the guards when receiving treatment which led to him being punished.

You hated it, seeing him hurt by sister jude's canes or Dr ardins experiments, it pained you seeing him hurt, he was the only friend you had the person you confined most in it made you sad and angry.

You sat in the common room waiting on Kit coming back from Dr ardins office, the nerves eating you up petrified if he'll even come out that office at all.

Only two hours ago the guards had to physically drag kit out of the common room "don't fucking touch me" he protested kicking and screaming, even punching the guard Frank square on the nose making you grimce at the impact.

"Come on kit" you mumbled to yourself leg shaking with fear for the worst knowing if he did that to the guards he one hundred percent would have kicked up a bigger ruckus in Dr ardins office.

Everytime you looked up at the clock or door made you more and more frightened, but when that door finally opens revealing kit you instantly shot up wrapping your arms around him.

"Oh kit what did he do to you" you sighed hands on his cheeks, eyes scanning his face examining his cuts "nothing for you to worry about doll" he said trying to make you disregard his obvious cuts.

"Nothing to worry about" you chuckled "kit this isn't nothing look at you, you look like you went 10 rounds with dick the bruiser" you lectured making kit chuckle at your wrestler remark, "y/n honestly it's nothing I'll be fine" kit insisted.

Taking your hand in his, "kit no its not nothing you need to be more careful what did ardin want because what they did to you is bang out of order" you sighed his thumb grazing over the back of your hand.

"I just don't want you to worry y/n I'm fine I'm strong and so are you" kit said his eyes reddened same as yours, "I know kit but I hate seeing you hurt and with you resisting whatever they want you to do well you know by now the punishment or treatment only gets worse" you said in a low voice above whisper.

"I know but I'm not letting those basterds drag me down like everyone else here and you should either" kit stated making you smile at his strong minded personality.

"Come on let's get you cleaned up" you said taking his hand to infirmary to dress his wounds "thanks suga for taking me here and the lecture" kit smiled as the nurse dressed his wounds.

"Well I don't want them to get infected and you needed to be told to get your ass in line by someone you trust" you said flashing him a cheeky smile which he had returned.

"I promise I'll not rebel against them" he said the smile still on his lips "kit you and I both know you won't keep that promise" you giggled "Yeah I guess your right" he chuckled

That's one thing you can say about kit walker he was stubborn at times but kind hearted and won't let anyone boss him around not a doctor who's about as crazy as the mad hatter or the corrupt nuns in this place.