#power play tw

[heirbane]

Citizens of Garlemald reached adulthood when they first showed signs of puberty, or upon their acceptance into the military, whichever came sooner. They believed that if one was able to serve their country, they deserved the rights and responsibilities of adults.

If a child could choose to wield a weapon, they were old enough to dictate their own fates.

Gaius was barely thirteen when he enrolled into the military. His voice had yet to crack and he had nary a hair on his face to speak for his newfound "adulthood". He, like many and more to come, looked up to those who were well and truly adults, being whisked under their wings to be mentored into being a man and a soldier.

In a society where men and women spent more time in barracks and not in a cot in their family's home, it was common - and nearly required - for children in the military to be fostered and cared for by an older soldier. They would be raised and cared for, taught how to be a man and a machine, and then they would retire. The military relied on its recruits upholding the status quo in this manner.

Gaius was taught how to shave. He was taught how to tie a tie, and how to behave around girls his own age. And he was taught one very important thing by his mentor, a man who was born decades before the empire had even begun:

One did not sleep with their charge.

It was not a factor of age or experience, but of status. A Legatus shouldn't sleep with the boy he trained as a son. A Tribanus shouldn't keep a bed with the same woman they had taught how to kill. Garlemald and it's military held status among men in high regard. Men were to teach the boys of today, so that they could teach the boys of tomorrow, a fine and delicate act of commanding and listening.

But there was a line in the snow. Not all listened, nor heeded the advice, but it was one Gaius held true all the same. The boys he taught respect to were not ones he would share a bedroll with. His recruits were not his bedfellows, and he treated them much the same as he would his own children in due time.

Gaius, no matter how pressed, never slept with Livia. The girl was a daughter and not one he shared sheets with. Children oft had crushes and obsessions with adults they held in high regard, and Livia was no different... except that she struggled to outgrow her fixation. His love for her, as a brother to a baby sister, as a mentor to a mentee, was not enough for her.

He shared no bed with those in his Legion. He shared no bed with those he raised from childhood. And he shared no bed with those too young to choose their own fates... an age that is summers beyond what his fatherland decrees.

Men and women of different station and legions were more than welcome. They had not been his to care for or command: he had not seen them rise from prepubescent boys and girls into soldiers. Their status mattered not, nor their race.

Gaius rarely spent time in his own home in Garlemald, and he was not one to have the bed to himself and his thoughts. A good meal and a better fuck served to rid him of his night terrors and contemplations, if only for one evening... and if the Legati or Tribanus of the soldiers he bedded took offense to his acts, few had it in them to speak it into existence.

(He was a child killer, after all, the bane of those who dared seek the throne. If he could slaughter babes and women alike, who would dare speak against him?)

[fidanmev]

he bribes her with gum or something later and she becomes an ally guys dw

[roxirinart]

"Yes! Show me the power of the Red Crown! I have missed it so..."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Games Played

As children, we learn to play the Quite Game.

It's rather simple. You scrunch down real small, ball yourself real tight, and find the bestest most hard to reach hiding spot you can! Then? Oh THEN, children, we all get really, REALLY quite. Until mummy or daddy find you. And no matter what, no matter WHO, you Do Not Move, until THEY come and find you.

Not for treats. Not for hugs. Not for threats or scary noises.

No. Matter. What.

To the others, it was a game. But to me? Born just a bit... different? I looked my parents in the eyes, saw the fear that lived there. That hunted them and haunted their dreams. I watched the way they acted. Guarding me. Never letting me wander. Keeping me between them as they slept. Holding me, shielding me. Both whispering their lessons, their love, each moment they could.

And I knew it was no game.

I was an obedient child. Perhaps that is why I lived, where others did not.

Or perhaps? It was my vague, half remembered, knowledge of this world. To be more exact, the chronological series of Otome games, set in this world. Endless streams of political and social clusterfucks, that cast the map into conflict after conflict, all for the selfish romances of a few. Pseudo-historical straight to pseudo-modern magical realism.

Clans of mages. Elves, werewolves, the whole shebang. All trapped in an endless cycle of conflict. Sometimes silent, sometimes open. Always, soaked in blood.

But hey... at least the Protagonist is happy! Right?

We should be furious. We should HATE them.

Our Clan? Did shadow magic. Unfortunately. Because unsurprisingly, Otome troupes ran true, and we? Have a complete Edgy Little Fuckboi as our Clan Heir. Worse still, I RECOGNIZE that Edgy Little Fuckboi! The fucking chuunibyou is a romance target!

I'm sorry, I was under the impression the Clan Heir's job was to KEEP US ALL ALIVE! Not get your DICK WET! But, my bad! My fucking MISTAKE! How COULD I have BEEN so foolish! You go on, then! Just piss RIGHT off, and leave the rest of us to suffer, while you chase SOMEONE ELSE'S GIRLFRIEND!

Fuckwit!

Ha ha.... oh god. We're all gonna die. Aren't we?

We should trust Alphard. No one else understands us.

Everyone? Absolutely fucking EVERYONE? Waves it off. 'Just a phase' and 'he's young, he'll get it out of his system'. As though the problems doesn't run deeper. As though the Clan Head isn't an old man, barely holding us together. As though he isn't planning to hand it all over to a chuunibyou who refuses to sit still and LEARN ANYTHING. Who picks fights he expects US to win for him. Expects US to die for him.

So he can look 'cool'.

Alphard is basicly running this place. But does the Clan Head care? No. Because Alphard is a 'half-breed'. Because ALPHARD has the audacity to be, what? Fire Mage?! Oh dear god! Not ANOTHER GROUP OF HUMANS!? Gasp! Shock! Someone call the fantasy church! Fuckers.

Ooooh but their TEMPER! Everyone knows how UNSTABLE they are!

We should show them 'Unstable'. Make them regret what they've done.

'Bout to see up close and in person MY 'temper' and 'unstable' fuckin BOOT, old man!

No, I don't care if that made sense! Shut up! Fuck you! I get to be upset, okay!? This is nepotism and it's dangerous! And... and NO ONE LISTENS TO ME! It's like they're merrily marching towards a cliff and calling ME paranoid for pointing it out! Telling me to calm down. To stop exaggerating. It's a CLIFF!

The only one who listens? Is Alphard.

Alphard is our friend. Alphard listens to us. We should Trust Alphard.

Storming towards his office, shadows writhing in my wake, I seriously wonder. Would I have gone completely apeshit by now with out him? Left the clan? I don't know how he can bear it. The weight of their stubbornness. Their wilful blindness, which IS going to get people hurt. Killed. Probably already fuckin has.

How many more clansmen do we have to LOSE?

They'd tucked him away in some side wing, like some dirty little family secret. I'd always hated it. Big whoop! He gets two powers instead of one! Jealous ass little shits. It was fear and politics. I KNEW it was! He refused to say so, but I KNEW. And no amount of pained smiles and changing the subject would make me drop it!

It wasn't RIGHT.

God, the more time went on? The angrier I felt about it. The more it burned me. Ate me up inside. It's like my temper just...? Gah! Fuck this and fuck THEM! We don't need them! We should leave! Just the two of us. Go and never com-!

.....wait a second... that's not... right....

My head pounds with the worst sort of migraine. Shadows hissing like angry cats, as they crawled viciously around my head. Chasing whisps of something they can't seem to catch. I stopped between hallways. In one of our Clan's many, MANY shady areas. Leaning more into the darkness... helped. Made my head hurt less.

God, I've got to talk to talk to Alphard about this. It's starting to really worry me. The anger, the snarling flare ups, the dark moods. Not to mention the obsessive thoughts. It wasn't like me. Might be a curse? Maybe. Could be fire magic or related, so he would know. And if not? Well, nothing beats Fire for burning curses away.

....actually, Light, might. But we are A PROUDLY BIASED household here, thank you. So like? Not gonna SAY Shadow magic is BEST magic... BUT it absolutely, totally IS. And Alphard? OBVIOUSLY the greatest Fire Mage alive! No I will not be taking questions, thank you and goodnight.

We should see Alphard, we miss him.

Yeah... yeah I do really miss him, dont I? Where is he?

My head throbs viciously. Ow. It's been getting worse. My control too. My shadows fighting me at every turn. Which? Scares me more. Because YEAH, others? Have been big on the 'beat them into submission' tract of Shadow Mastery. But ME? No, no. I know for a FACT. You can not rule through fear. Not for long.

Bribery and alliances work wonders. Friendships and love. My shadows get FED. They get CUDDLES. I take my shadows for enrichment walkies and give them interesting puzzle boxes to play with. They fuckin LOVE me. Would meat thresher through CITIES if I asked.

So to suddenly Stop Listening?

It means they think I'm... I'm not myself. They are making the executive decision to act on my behalf, to protect me, even if they have to do so FROM me. And... and I don't know what's causing it. Don't know what's wrong or how to fix it. I'm getting scared.

Because something is very wrong.

Everything is fine.

Another wave of vicious hissing, of throbbing pain in my head. This time though... THIS time? I think I felt that. The discordant thoughts. The contradiction. That isn't me. There's something in me head that DEFINITELY isn't me! No there isn't. No WONDER my Shadows are so pissed! Fuck!

I stick to the darker hallways. It helps with concentration, the pain. Whatever is in my head? Is like sticky, burning, spiderwebs. Like trying to grab at thin lines of super heated metal, covered in tar. How... how LONG has it all BEEN there?

You should leave it. You don't know what you're doing. You could get hurt.

Oh fuuuuck YOU. Get out of my HEAD! Where is Alphard?

I stumble down the final hallway to his so called 'office'. It was a guest room once. As a kid, I helped him convert it. Back when the old fuck refused to step down, despite his son and heir, the next clan head, being DEAD. And? AND!? That Heir's fuckin chuunibyou kid being a tiny, insufferable, brat.

We get it! You're hurting! EVERYBODY'S hurting! Your fuckwit parents got HALF THE WARRIORS KILLED! We STILL haven't recovered from that. And Edgy pants goes on and ON about the 'glory of his ancestors' as though? He's not talking about his PARENTS. One generation fucking BACK!

That family ORPHANED me. But do you see ME starting shit? No!

Yet? God forbid the Old Bastard do what's RIGHT for the Clan! No, no! Between a literal infant, a FUCKING ZYGOTE, and a fully grown adult? Better pick the baby! Who CARES that Alphard was the better choice!? Chuunibyou brat is BLOOD! And we CAN'T have the 'half-breed' nephew in charge!

Better connections? More accomplishments? Fully trained and, once again, AN ADULT? All irrelevant. He's too fucking well liked! Too TRUSTED! Too much a THREAT to your precious little legacy and hold on power. So hey, fuck the rest of the Clan! Right? Why would WE need competent leadership!? You can just shove all the work you can no longer DO, on to Alphard.

Force him to rule in all but name. All but honor and title. Spit in his face then tell him to thank you.

Bastard!

He isn't there, in his over crowded office. Piles of paperwork. Empty tea cups, long cold. Mismatched pillows I'd stolen from around the compound, to make it feel less depressing. His classy art pieces mixing with my cheap, shitty ones. The souvenirs I'd brought back, again and again, because I do not forget my friends.

My head hurts so bad. How long has it been building?

Another wave of pain, as my Shadows hissing and growl in outrage, writhing like electric snakes around me. Safe and stronger, here in the unlit office of a friend. They want 'it' out. Hunt and hunt, but can not catch hold. How strong must the caster be? Older then me, probably. Far more experienced. I've been pretty diligent.

They'll stand no chance, though, against Alphard.

He's the best curse breaker I know. Honestly? He's the best at a lot of things. It's been great to learn from him. And he's? Gonna lose his SHIT. He already worries when I go out without him. But to find out somebody slipped a curse on me? Ooooh, shit. I'd almost laugh, if my head didn't feel like it was in a VICE.

Man's gonna feed them their KNEES.

As a PASTE.

.......I wonder, now that I think about it? Looking around the crowded office space? If Alphard has any pain meds? He SHOULD. There's no way in hell, he deals with chronic stupid all day without headaches. He should? Definitely have something for this. Probably. Might not actually FIX it, since it's magic based, but it can't HURT.

Decided, I get up. Slowly. Spread my shadows out. They love doing simple, achievable, tasks. Like 'find the box!' Or 'open this puzzle!', usually for treat rewards. (Cup time, usually. Or bits of my food. But honestly? They LOVE cup time. They like to hide under it and push it around the floor. Each group of them have favorite cups.)

Nothing but paper, cups, snacks, a couple piles of pillows, and a coat I had forgotten. Huh. Maybe his desk? Would make the most sense I suppose. It'd be on hand. Head and neck, one big regret, I stiffly shambled over. Organized chaos. More nonsense and damages caused by chuunibyou and his sycophants, in the name of luuuuuv~. God damn it.

At least no one died... this time.

I tear my eyes away from the top page. The one next to it? Shouting reports. Elves: pissed, werewolves: pissed, everybody: pissed. Guess who's fault? Oh fantastic! So THAT'S why he's not in his office. Probably trying to keep us all from dying. Another report after that. Protagonist-chan.... wow that's unflattering. Word it a little harsher, why don't you?

My eyes absent-mindedly keep scanning, as I look for a med box. Some sort of pill bottle. Something that might hold headache medication. Nothing on top of the desk. Drawer? Should be top right one, right? Since he's right handed? Easiest to reach. Let's see... pens, pens, spellwork paper, brushes, mints, bottle! AaaHAH! I hold it up to what little light there is and squint.

Wow. That's pretty strong. And not just for headaches.

.....should I have a talk with Alphard? Probably. Maybe? Definitely keep an eye on this. Don't wanna be jumping to conclusions, here. Still! Helpful. Down the hatch!

I pop back one of his pills, stealing one of his fancy tea in a can. He may complain, but we both know he won't stop me. Nor does he even mean it when he does. I'm like this sorta needy, demanding, housecat. I wander in, eat his food, tell him to pay attention to me, then wander off. Should have known better then to feed me, that first time~! He got stuck with me ever since.

Briefly a burning wire escape my grip. We should-Stop THAT! I beat it back down. Violently. It's taking a lot more concentration, more pain, then I'd like to admit, to fight it. Damn near wack a mole in my brain. There's no-CEASE! Desist! You are NOT welcome! Get! GET!

The pain meds are definitely helping. A LOT.

In fact...? Huh. Looking around? Without the pain to distract me? Those... aren't my shitty art works. Not the meme-y ones I bought, that I thought he'd like, nor the pieces I made in various art classes. They're just...? Random cheap art.

What the fuck?

Was Alphard ROBBED? Also? Where are HIS pieces? That one with the lady and the clearing? The couple dancing near the lake? That little statue? It's all random snobby fake art. Like someone wanted to give the IMPRESSION that nothing had changed, but had cleared out everything personal...

Alarmed. I looked down at the can I grabbed. It was the kind he offered to guests. Kept for me. Because... because he couldn't STAND it. Too sweet. Tearing the mini fridge back open? Nothing but cheap tea cans and teas he hated remained.

I slammed it closed. Urgently reached for the tea cubbies. Fancy LOOKING teas. The kind Alphard always makes fun of. Quality is in the tea, not the pretty pictures on the box, he says. His tea is GONE. Worse? MY drinks are gone! Why are MY drink-? The coat!

My hand snaps out. The coat flung into it by my shadows. The instant it touchs my palm, I know it is wrong. Too rough and too new. Some modified mimicry that my shadows could tell apart from the original. It's not their fault. They don't have senses like mine. I stare at it, feeling a building sense of panic, before look back up at the room around me.

Is... is ANYTHING where it should be?

Gaze snapping from place to place, shaking as the panic starts to swallow me whole, I realize... No. Not a single thing. It's all staged. Made to LOOK like nothing's wrong. When... when everything IS. Oh god. Where is Alphard? What the FUCK have they DONE to him?!

I drop the coat. The drink. Adrenaline slamming into me like a truck. Slamming the door open, I flood the hallway beyond with writhing, furious night. I AM Shadow and it IS Me. We run. Hunting, hurting, FURIOUS. If they have hurt our friend? If they DARE have-!

A howling whistle splits the night, closer, Closer, BANG. The compound rocks with the force of the explosion. The wards hiss to life like great titans of black sand. Ink dark, they nerely block out all light. Casting eerie spell light over the buildings below, as lights flip on. More whistling. Booms.

We are under attack.

For an instant, I am torn in two. Half of me? Demands I find my friend. They other half? Knows that I must protect the Clan. We stand together or we DIE together. Loyalty wins out. My parents, Alphard, the people I care about, they would never forgive me, if I abandoned my post now.

I turn from my hunt. Race towards the ward stones out front. I'll have to help the others reinforce them. Lend the Clan my strength. As long as they can't get in? We should be-

The wards SHUT OFF.

Even as I run, fast as I can, I watch with horrified eyes... as they slide back away. No. No no NO! They should do that! That CAN'T DO THAT! That's IMPOSSIBLE! Those are SEIGE Wards! Built over generations! Hundreds of mages poured power into them! Went over them with pin prick combs! They don't 'malfunction'!

Oh god. Please, God, NO!

Did someone SHUT THEM DOWN?!

Ahead, the sounds of violence and chaos draw near. Above, I can finally see what's raining down on us. It's war magic. FIRE war magic. Thrown from air ships, who's spotlights bathe the compound in a terrible, all consuming light. All the better, to prevent our Shadows from reaching even a single one of them.

Someone told. They didn't know about that limitation to our powers before. Our front gate! Open! Traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! WHO!?

Across the chaos, the bloodshed and death, familiar color catches my eye. Explosions and spotlights light him from above. The airships blades, kicking up leaves and dust. That familiar, familiar color. From his Father.... the fire mage.

Alphard stands so calmly, one hand still resting on the command stone for the wards. As chaos reigns around him. The pleased little smile on his face, the one he wears, when all his plans come together, ever so nicely. No. Please. No.

His eyes are so cold. So flat.

He feels nothing as they die. Doesn't even glance, at the kinsmen desperately calling his name. Dying at his feet. He... he doesn't look away. Just raises one hand, one finger, and...

"Shhhhhh~ Be. Good." He says, utterly silent in his betrayal.

My world shatters.

I run.

Slamming my palm against the evacuation alarm, sirens begin to blare. It's over. It's all... all fucking over. How could he? H-How COULD-? Grief wants to choke me, blind me, but I don't have the TIME. I have to get out. Survive. I.. I can cry later. Mourn for the friend I THOUGHT I had, later. I trusted him. FUCK, I TRUSTED him!

I skid around the corner, heading towards the closest exit. Gotta grab my bug out b-!

Shadows in the darkened hallway surge, up and over, like a heavy hand slamming down. I barely drag myself out of the way. Lose my footing as I do. Go crashing to the floor. Scrambling, I turn as my shadows hiss, only to be met with deeper rumbling thunder. Shit. No!

I try to get up. Fling my self up into a run. Only to meet a shadow formed backhand. Smashed, thrown. Finding myself slammed back, onto the floor, wheezing. The air knocked out of me. Lightly, dark shapes takes form. Alphard stepping through blank and barren wall, using the Shadows under his control as a medium.

Not a hair out of place.

Just the two of us.

Alone.

"Why the rush, mischief?" He teased lightly, as though my world was not collapsing, all around us. As though my best friend had not betrayed me, betrayed US, to our doom. Up and down the hall, sirens blared. "You look upset."

I snarled. Grief and betrayal twisting into something ugly in my chest. Hand whipping out, I aimed for his fucking throat.

"Ah~, you're mad. Is this because I didn't consult with you first? Mischief, there was so much to do! You know you hate all those boring political meetings. Alliance work and archival research. Sweetie, there were stake outs! You hate those."

Effortlessly, he leaned out of the way of my attacks, looking amused and unbothered as he continued to speak. I RAGED. Screamed. Taking chunks of the wall behind me, to use as projectiles. Anything. Anything, anything, ANYTHING! Just HURT, damn you! TRAITOR! How COULD YOU!?

In the distance... the haunting, damning, final cries of my kin, as the died.

I Trusted You!

"I know~" he laughed, as though nothing had changed. As though this were a fucking GAME! "It was so easy, too."

His voice became two toned in a way that could only be magic. One that was heard, one that was felt. One that... that I had...! Realization did not crash. It seeped, like the cold and fatal poison it was. His betrayal was not NEW... was it? Not SUDDEN.

I... I had been betrayed long, long ago.

No you weren't. Alphard loves you~

How long had he been in my head? He was my magical instructor. I had hated the Clan's main teachers. Right? DID I? Could I even know? H..How much? For HOW LONG?! I was a CHILD! Had no defenses against the manipulations of my mind! Would you really stoop so LOW?! Was ANYTHING real!? ANY part of out friendship-!?

I choked, on the sob I refused to let him have. He... he didn't have the RIGHT.

"Oh, Mischief." He said, sounding mournful as he strolled easily through the ruins I had created around us. "Don't cry. Shhh, shhhh. It's okay, dear. You're upset. This is upsetting, I understand that. But we will preserver, overcome, and together? We will get through this."

We? There was no 'WE'. N-Not anymore. Not after THIS.

"Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mischief." He breathes out, like the confession of the truely insane, his voice soft. Yet, somehow? Bonechilling in how loud it seemed.

"I get you."

"That's the first thing I demanded, after all! No more idiots. No more dead weight. No insults, fools, or brats I can't break! Ha ha! Just me and my Mischief! Free at last! And all it cost me? Was my chains. Best of all? All the idiot Fire brat wanted for it all? Was his 'competition' out of the way! Ha ha ha! Gods bless, usefull fools!"

He stood before me now. Head thrown back, hand over his eyes in disbelief, as he laughed and laughed. Unhinged with his euphoria. With the machinations, that had lead to his victory. And... and I could not recognize him. This... this monster wearing the face of my best friend. I felt numb. Cold and far away. I... I just... I wanted to go away... please, God. Far, far away.

Stop it. Please, Alphard... Stop it...

P-please...

My shadows curled around me. Battered, torn, but ever loyal. They would not leave me. Not even now. Not even to save themselves. Weakly hissing. Thrashing, trying, in their own small ways, to appear bigger and stronger threats then they were. In... in the vain hope that... that the thing that was hurting us? Might believe them.

Might leave me alone.

I had never felt so unsafe, surrounded by the shadows sworn to my once friend. How many times? How many times? Had I fed and played with these very Magics? Snuck them charcoal? Interesting toys to burn? Creatures of fire and shadow. Massive and rumbling, the very Shadows that once played with my own... now tore them apart.

It burned. Hurt. Who...? WHO was this man? This monster? That wore my best friends face? I couldn't... I can't... please! God, please! Don't make me do this anymore...

My mind, somewhere between delirious and screaming, for some god forsaken reason? Reminded me of the Quite Game. I... I wondered, terrified and full of grief, if the children would know to run. Not to wait, for parents that... that would not be coming. Not this time. Not ever again. All because of this man.

The smoke on the breeze terrified me. Everything terrified me. How? How could I possibly hold so much fear? How could there possibly be MORE? Just as I think I can not feel it anymore deeply. Once again, Alphard teaches me I am wrong. This... this is not how he, is... is supposed to be... how WE are...!

"Oh sweetheart, mischief, darling..." He again attempted to sooth, hand slipping away from his face as he rolled his head down to peer at me. Kneeling with almost boneless fluidity. "None of that. No more tears. Alphy's here, okay? I know change is scary. And you're upset and confused. But Alphy loves you just like always, and nothings gonna happen to you, alright?"

"Remember how you wanted to travel before? See those festivals? Go abroad? We get to do that now! Alphy can take CARE of you, now. Properly. Get you all the things you deserve. It'll be great, Mischief. No more stress or tears. Cuddles for days. You'll love it, I promise."

From beneath his feet, spreading like a terrible rot, black fire spread. It didn't touch me. Couldn't, as it seemed to reach, with greedy hands, down the halls. Consuming the only home I'd ever known in this life. Consuming everyone it touched, if the distant sounds of panic, were any indication. He was killing them all. Friend, foe, what difference was there?

Everything burned.

Numb, I could only sit there, before the stranger I thought I'd known.

"Our love story's been a long time coming, sweetness. My perfect, beautiful, Mischief~♡. Once we're free? We'll never look back. Have the happily ever after we deserve. Let the rest of the burn."

"I'm so glad I found you, Mischief. So glad I made you mine. It's going to be beautiful, darling. I promise. You'll thank me."

"Now come here, to Alphy. We're gonna play a game~♡"

[rubbish78]

Dougie Poynter is an English musician and the bassist of the pop rock band McFly

[pushing500]

Drama in the colony! What in the world could be causing problems for the Jones "twins"?

I'm not sure how Mechi would feel about being called Kwahu's duplicate, but that's beside the point. It looks like there really are consequences for everything that happens on the rim!

Mechi only just met his new "twin", and now we have to choose one to die so one can live?

Haha, sike. Randy can try all he wants, but the joke's on him. We won't be saying goodbye to either of the Jones boys for as long as we can manage. Melissa, the creepjoiner from a while back, will finally get the chance to put her mystical healing powers to good use...

Hopefully, there are no consequences from that. I'm sure there won't be. The void giving us two events with consequences? That would be ridiculous.

First | Next | Previous

Also, for what it's worth, Mechi and Kwahu aren't sharing a bed. I just forgot to put a bedside table in between while I was drawing. Accidentally made it look like my misanthropic mechanitor was way too comfortable sleeping side-by-side with his equally misanthropic clone lmao.

Aren't Mechi's "cube" sculptures adorable? I feel like a proud parent watching a child make horrendous macaroni and fingerprint art.

[xx-romantic-pup-xx]

Im not usually into this specific font of pain stuff but lately ive been really needing someone to hit me really hard and maybe punch me in the face. Havent been craving in a particularly horny way but i think it would work well in that sense and be a much healthier way to channel it than getting myself randomly beat up lol.

[official-darkforest]

things are happening in my pages documents i tell you what

[heirbane]

grandpa's first sunday. you know what that means.

Gaius, having grown up in the military and being under the wing of many superiors, is no stranger to the status quo between man and boy - senior and junior. He went untouched until he was sixteen summers, curls creeping between his thighs and sprinkling his chest and underarms. His platoon was full of those going through puberty and the pains of becoming an adult by body, even if Garlemald had deemed them adults years ago, by virtue of their enlistment.

His first bedfellow was a man a handful of years his senior, still lanky and ill-proportioned, a Roegadyn in birthright but not wholly in statue yet. The man had been gifted a new title, no longer on par with Gaius but his superior in all ways that mattered, and he used his new name to bend the teen at the waist and find his own pleasure.

(Several weeks later, Gaius had tried his own hand - to use his status and title as male birds did their showy plumage. It was all the same, this show of dominance, of power: the most decorated bird was the one to find a partner, and the higher the title, the wider the pool he had to choose from. He went to bed with a girl a summer or two older than him but with a title beneath his, and was so uncertain of how to give instead of receive that he was unable to keep himself afloat, drowning in teenage uncertainty and embarrassment. She got herself off, got dressed, and left - and, to his benefit, he never saw her again, but he knew in his gut that she laughed at him amongst friends.)

By the age of twenty and two, on the cusp of another promotion, Gaius had spent time in plenty of bedrolls, in plenty of company: with another, with multiple others, with further Roe and conscripted Miqo'te, with other Garleans. As he grew into his confidence and became comfortable with what he wanted -and what he needed to find a release among others - the encounters that required him to be receptive became fewer.

By the time Gaius is a quarter of a century old, half his life already paid to the military, he has ceased being dug into bedrolls or led to his knees. Part of it is status: he had already been gifted his tol title, leaving only a handful of soldiers above his rank who could have him submit in such a way. Most of it was personal preference and his silver tongue.

Gaius had not been taught that sex could be for love, for intimacy, or for much else besides stress relief and procreation. (Unsurprisingly, such a mindset is being fed to recruits thirty years his junior - the last few classes of Garlemald's military academy before it's fall still struggle to relate the act to anything beyond that.) Knowing that, it isn't a surprise that he treats it just so: bedding peers and juniors to remove his mind from his duties and to prepare for the battlefield.

Thankfully, by the time he is twenty and five, the softness that came with inexperience was no more. He knew what he desired, and his recurring partners knew much the same: his bedfellows were to take command, to behave, and do as told, lest he discipline their insubordination. He is not a lover but a dictator; he does not appear kind, although their limits and expectations are fully understood and tapping out taken seriously.

For his partner to end up like he did at the beginning - face in the bedroll, his fist in their hair, a pace so ruthless it punched gasps from their lungs - was not uncommon. Gaius was not known to take his time.

His haphazard foreplay and brutal pace thereafter slowed with age, as did the amount of partners that graced his bedroll - or his mattress, once the man could afford an apartment and amenities. As he matured, so did his tastes.

Gaius, at twenty and five, was known to devour his meal as if a man starved - a youth still feeling out his appetite and how much he needed to feel sated. Gaius, at fifty and five, had learned how to play with his food.

(While he still quite enjoyed the view of his partner's arched back and the sounds they made when he bent them over, he enjoyed their anticipation even more, the languid chase that came before he devoured them. He was in no rush. Death had come for him more times than he could count, and sex was a luxury he scarcely afforded himself as a man: he would relish in it, even if it meant listening to his partner beg.)

[yelena-bellova]

You had the audacity to pretend to be a feminist and care about Pamela Anderson, yet you can't recognize a powerful male abuser like Depp playing by the oldest rules in the book and utilizing DARVO. We are so fucked.

You’re right. The true feminists are you guys.

- Telling Rihanna to go choke and d*e because she put JD in the Fenty show.

- Telling Britney Spears her conservatorship should be reinstated for posting a JD quote on IG and that she deserves to have all her rights taken away.

- Cheering online when a female JD supporter succumbed to a long illness.

- Harassing numerous women online and telling them (anonymously) that they deserve to be SA’d and to k*ll themselves.

- Sending threats to Camille Vasquez, a young woman of color succeeding in a predominantly male profession.

Wow. The girl power is overwhelming.

[harukakitous]

Kousei Amano as Grodie Leucochloridium

"I love the dead so much, but they just seem to hate me instead. Such a sad story, right?"

[happybird16]

Unreasonably hot Daddy

God just the way it feels like the edge of his blade is so close to your neck. It's as if you're on your knees and he's just looking at you out of the corner of his eye, casually holding the blade daringly close to your skin. Why is this so sexy?!?

[kiki-strike]

i think the fire nation would have fireball. mostly because it’s funny to imagine zhao and zuko sitting down to Important Psychological Warfare Talk on zhao’s fancy ass admiral ship quarters and he pours them fucking fireball.

[rubbish78]

McFly doing their 'Star Girl' kicks at Halifax Piece Hall 10/08/24 (x)

[starry-907]

minor flashing tw

alright all y'all with ghost victims out there need to imagine with me the concept of spooky ghost child vic

the idea can have merit (i'm just not the most skilled at drawing things spooky yet sjdlflsjskdk)

individual frames under the cut because csp wouldn't give me a nice looking gif export of this

[cookie-nom-nom]

[“But I’m not even human.” 

Miles shrugged. “Human is as human does.” He forced himself to reach out and touch her damp cheek. “Animals don’t weep, Nine.”

She jerked, as if from electric shock. “Animals don’t lie. Humans do. All the time.”

“Not all the time.”

“Prove it.” She tilted her head as she sat cross-legged, her pale gold eyes were suddenly burning. Speculative. 

“Uh, sure. How?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Wot.”

“Take off your clothes and lay with me as humans do, men and women.” Her hand reached out to touch his throat. The pressing claws made little wells in his flesh.

“Urp?” choked Miles. His eyes felt wide as saucers. A little more pressure and those wells would spring out red fountains. I’m about to die. 

She stared into his face with a strange, frightening, bottomless hunger. Then, abruptly, she released him. He sprang up and cracked his head on the low ceiling and dropped back down, the stars in his eyes unrelated to love at first sight. Her lips wrinkled back on a fanged groan of despair. “Ugly,” she wailed, her clawed nails raked across her cheeks, leaving furrows. “Too ugly. Animal. You don’t think I’m human.” She seemed to swell with some destructive resolve. 

“No no no!” Gibbered Miles, lurching to his knees and grabbing her hands and pulling them down. “It’s not that, it’s just— how old are you, anyway?” 

“Sixteen.”]

——

Miles instantly recoiled, cracking his head on the ceiling again because those who didn’t learn history were doomed to repeat it, as Commodore Tung was fond of reminding him. Immediately her eyes narrowed, a snarl creeping over her sharp teeth. “You don’t think I’m human enough,” she accused, voice still husky from disuse. “I knew it.” Her claws slipped back up to the scratches on her damp face, and he jolted forward, batting them down again in a reckless manner. 

“No, it’s not that,” Miles insisted, eyeing the way her claws were curling into fists about the same size as his entire face. “You’re a child! I can’t do that.”

“My life expectancy was barely a few years. The rest of the projects have been long dead.”

“Well, it’s still wrong in human years, which is the point. There’s plenty of other tests for humanity, anyways.” Sex was by no means the epitome of human existence. “What about Socrates? Human choice motivated by the desire for happiness? Or, oh, what was that test for AI centuries ago? The Tuning Test? That would work too.” He didn’t remember what it actually entailed. “There’s many tests. You yourself said only humans lie. By your own logic, lie, ergo, human. Human is as human does.” That’s what he’d meant it to be applied to, anyway. 

Her eyes narrowed. “None of those prove your belief to me. I still like my test.” Well, naturally. [Sixteen. God. He remembered sixteen. Sex obsessed and dying every minute.] 

[“Aren’t you a little young for this?” he tried hopefully.] She started a protest, but he continued. “It’s illegal. There. I applied human laws to you.” Probably a first for Jackson’s Hole. “I also just offered you a job, and regulations ban interrank romantic interactions.” No matter how much he might want to with one particular Eli Quinn...

The power dynamic was entirely wrong, between his age and rank and the fact he was beginning to suspect he was about to rescue this girl. Or, hell, look at it the other way, at the underlying threat that he must prove he believed her human or die. It was a messed up power imbalance from nearly every angle. 

A crumpled look crossed her wolfish features. Miles tried to console her. One for it being the Vorish, gentlemanly thing to do, and two because while he thought it unlikely she’d kill him at this point, he still didn’t want to increase his chances. “I’m probably the first nice face you’ve seen in a while. Don’t settle for me simply since I got here first. There are plenty of suitable partners once you get out of this basement. Which, reminder, we’re in a hostile environment surrounded by enemies. We still need to escape.” 

Moroseness slumped her features. “It’s impossible. I stopped trying years ago. And…” a shudder ran down her strong back, ears flattening. “...they don’t like it when you try,” she said lowly. “They wouldn’t do this to me if I was human.”

“Eh, actually they would. I mean, I’m human, and I’m down here, aren’t I? I’ve been deemed subhuman before. It hurts when they think it’d be a mercy to ‘put you out of your misery’.” He was going to strangle that scientist.

She gave him an odd look, scrutinizing him more thoroughly. “You don’t look like Jacksonian work. And you said you’re human. Why isn’t that enough for them?” 

Miles spread his hands wide, a wry expression crossing his features. “Ah, but I’m a mutant. A weakling. A curse from God upon my father’s house for every sin they can think to lay at his feet. They will find anything and everything they can to hold against you, Nine, no matter what it is that makes you different. Eight feet tall or four foot nine, unmatched strength or bones of glass; they will despise you either way. Well damn their notion of being born wrong because I intend to be ten times the man they ever could be.”

“Then it’s hopeless.” 

“If you want it to be handed to you, yes. You can’t rely on someone else to give you your humanity, because that implies they can revoke it at any time. It’s a value you have to find within yourself.” It sounded like some pithy Betan advice he would’ve picked up from his mother. “With your test, you wanted your body to feel human. But what about your soul, Nine?” He paused. “No, we need a name for you. I can’t be calling you a number like some type of lab rat.” Something strong and pretty, like her. He fell into that well of old earth philosophy he had initially fallen back on. Socrates, the Greeks, the like. When he finally found the name, it seemed perfect for the girl called a monster and trapped deep in the heart of a labyrinth of labs. Wasn’t Miles intended to be some blood sacrifice to her as well? And hadn’t the minotaur been a child when he was imprisoned for life? Punished for the crime of being born, just like them. “Taura,” he breathed. “I think I shall call you Taura.”

She went still, enraptured. “A name.” Tears welled in her golden eyes. “No one has ever given me a name.” 

“I’m not giving it to you. I’m letting you take it, to seize it, to make it your own. As much as I’d like to, I can’t give you your humanity either. That’s all up to you. Break free of every cruel moniker hurled at you. Monster, mutant– who cares what any of them think!? Prove them all wrong and never look back. That’s what I did. So here: I may reject your test, but I offer my own. I believe you’re ‘human enough’ because I believe you’re worthy of freedom, of a future, of a name. I certainly can’t give any of that to you, but I sure can help you try.” Something sparked in her gilded gaze, the tantalizing offer she’d likely never been given before. It was a hope doused quickly, but it had been there at all. Miles had a chance of relighting it, of fanning the flames. 

“You really think so?” Uncertain, her fangs twisted into a guarded frown. 

Miles batted aside a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t just because she was his only shot of escape, and it certainly wasn’t for a particular scientist whose neck he wanted to wring. This was because Taura didn’t deserve to be trapped in a basement eating rats for the rest of her tenuous life. He might have needed her, but she needed him, too, if only for a little while. 

“I don’t make offers I don’t intend to provide. So, care to escape with me?” He held out an arm, almost ridiculously formal, and she took it, choosing to trust him if only hesitantly, if only for that little spark of hope still in here somewhere.