#Science News in Hindi

[news-trust-india]

17th Agricultural Science Conference में मुख्यमंत्री धामी ने बतौर मुख्यातिथि प्रतिभाग किया

देहरादून: 17th Agricultural Science Conference  मुख्यमंत्री श्री पुष्कर सिंह धामी ने शुक्रवार को गोविंद बल्लभ पंत कृषि एवं प्रौद्योगिकी विश्वविद्यालय में आयोजित ‘17वें कृषि विज्ञान सम्मेलन’ में बतौर मुख्यातिथि प्रतिभाग किया। मुख्यमंत्री ने कहा कि यह गर्व का विषय है कि कृषि क्षेत्र के आधुनिकीकरण एवं कृषकों का उत्थान सुनिश्चित करने के उद्देश्य से इस प्रतिष्ठित सम्मेलन को देवभूमि उत्तराखंड की पुण्य…

[newsprovidernetwork]

अब तक समय यात्रा भौतिकी के क्षेत्र में एक सैद्धांतिक अवधारणा बनी हुई है, और इसकी व्यवहार्यता को प्रदर्शित करने वाला कोई व्यावहारिक या प्रयोगात्मक सबूत नहीं है। समय यात्रा की धारणा मुख्य रूप से आइंस्टीन के सापेक्षता के सिद्धांत के ढांचे के भीतर खोजी गई है।

[jeevanjali]

Broken Heart Line Means: हथेली की यह टूटी हुई रेखा नहीं मानी जाती है शुभ,मिल सकता है प्यार में धोखाBroken Heart Line Means: व्यक्ति की हथेली में कई प्रकार की रेखाएं या लकीरें होती हैं। ये रेखाएं व्यक्ति के जीवन से जुड़े सभी मुद्दों जैसे धन, आयु, सम्मान, नौकरी आदि का प्रतिनिधित्व करती हैं।

[mowgliproductions]

Two ‘non-human alien corpses’ unveiled in Mexico’s Congress

[ratgrinders]

Never Stop Blowing Up Favorite Movies

Wendell Morris

Weird Science - 1985 science fantasy/teen comedy. "Nerdy social outcast students Gary Wallace and Wyatt Donnelly are humiliated by senior jocks Ian and Max for swooning over their cheerleader girlfriends. Humiliated and disappointed at their direction in life and wanting more, Gary is inspired by the 1931 classic Frankenstein to create a virtual woman using Wyatt's computer, infusing her with everything they can conceive to make the perfect dream woman."

The Fast and the Furious - "A media franchise centered on a series of action films that are largely concerned with street racing, heists, spies, and family."

Real Genius - 1985 science fiction/comedy. "Chris Knight, a genius in his senior year, is paired with a new student on campus, Mitch Taylor, to work on a chemical laser, only to learn it will be used for dangerous purposes."

Liv Skyler

Empire Records - 1995 coming-of-age comedy/drama. "The film follows a group of record store employees over the course of one exceptional day. The employees try to stop the store from being sold to a large chain, and learn about each other along the way."

Scarface - 1983 crime drama, and a remake of the 1932 film of the same name. "It tells the story of Cuban refugee Tony Montana, who arrives penniless in Miami during the Mariel boatlift and becomes a powerful drug lord." Additionally, "Less than two months before the film's release, Scarface was given an X rating by the MPAA for "excessive and cumulative violence and for language".

Clueless - 1995 coming-of-age teen comedy. "Considered to be one of the best teen films of all time...The plot centers on a beautiful, popular, and rich high school student who befriends a new student and decides to give her a makeover while playing matchmaker for her teachers and examining her own existence".

Usha Rao

The Horse in Motion - Published in 1878, a sequential series of 6 cabinet cards depicting the movement of a horse. Regarded as "the world's first bit of cinema", and the first film ever created.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - 1931 horror film. "An adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the 1886 Robert Louis Stevenson tale of a man who takes a potion which turns him from a mild-mannered man of science into a homicidal maniac."

102 Not Out - 2018 Indian Hindi-language comedy drama. "Dattatraya Vakharia is a lively 102-year-old who lives his life to the maximum and takes everything in a jovial way for his heart is that of a 26-year-old youngster regardless of his age. His 75-year-old son, Babulal Vakharia, is his exact opposite for he believes that he is now too old and fragile to enjoy life and lives a routine life."

Russell Feeld

American Gigolo - 1980 neo-noir crime drama. "A high-priced male escort who becomes romantically involved with a prominent politician's wife, while simultaneously becoming the prime suspect in a murder case."

La Femme Nikita - 1990 French-language action thriller. "[Nikita] is a criminal who is convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering policemen during an armed pharmacy robbery. Her government handlers fake her death and recruit her as a professional assassin. After intense training, she starts a career as a killer, where she struggles to balance her work with her personal life."

Waking Life - 2001 animated film. "The film explores a wide range of philosophical issues, including the nature of reality, dreams and lucid dreams, consciousness, the meaning of life, free will, and existentialism. It is centered on a young man who wanders through a succession of dreamlike realities wherein he encounters a series of people who engage in insightful philosophical discussions."

Andy 'Dang' Litefoot

Suburbia - 1983 coming-of-age drama thriller. Follows "a group of suburban youths who run away from home and adopt a punk lifestyle by squatting in abandoned suburban tract homes."

Goldfinger - 1964 spy film and the third installment in the James Bond series. "The film's plot has Bond investigating gold smuggling by gold magnate Auric Goldfinger and eventually uncovering Goldfinger's plans to contaminate the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox."

Fire in the Sky - 1993 biographical science fiction mystery. "It is based on Travis Walton's book The Walton Experience, which describes an extraterrestrial abduction"

Paula Donvalson

Muriel's Wedding - 1994 Australian comedy-drama. "The film focuses on the socially awkward Muriel whose ambition is to have a glamorous wedding and improve her personal life by moving from her dead-end hometown, the fictional Porpoise Spit, to Sydney."

The Long Kiss Goodnight - 1996 action thriller. "The story follows an amnesiac schoolteacher who sets out to recover her identity with the help of a private detective when they discover a dark conspiracy."

Under the Tuscan Sun - 2003 romantic comedy-drama. "Based on Frances Mayes' 1996 memoir of the same name, the film is about a recently divorced writer who buys a villa in Tuscany on a whim, hoping it will lead to a change in her life."

[studyblr-perhaps]

Updated Intro Post!

It's been over a year and a half (I think) since my previous intro post, and now that I am in my 4th (and final) year of undergrad, I wanted to make a new intro post because there are a lot of changes?

Name: Misa Pronouns: she/they Age: 21 Major: Physics

🖤After undergrad, I plan to go into experimental physics, probably towards condensed matter and hopefully somewhere along superconductivity? Idk whichever is feasible. But experimental.

🖤For now I'm letting my life take it's course, hopefully I can get into colleges abroad, so fingers crossed.

🖤I like science, humanities and definitely literature. I like culture and studying about my own and different cultures, languages and customs. I also really like sweets!

🖤Unlike the usual known Indian tastes, I come from a region with more chilies than spices, so I despise dishes with excessive spices (y'all our broth is mostly clear, wtf even is a curry-). I also dislike studying for and giving tests.

🖤My hobbies include drawing, dancing, writing, reading, journalling, crocheting, learning languages, flexing

🖤Few unrelated facts about me: I am left handed, I can fluently speak three languages- English, Hindi and Nepali and understand spoken Bengali, my aunts' houses and my own are filled with framed art pieces by me (this is a flex, yes)

I am always down to chat! So if you want to ask about physics, stem, advice on the education system, RANT about the education system (esp Indian), or just gossip, my dms are always open!

[shuaboo]

ATE I LOVED THE JIWOONG FIC (๑♡∀♡๑) pero like I was thinking like what the jebes be like as filo students? (Feel ko si gunwook siya yung model student na nasa recruitment posters AHHAHAHAHA) I haven't found many filo zb1 writers on tumblr kasi (/ω＼) you can totally ignore this if you want, no hard feelings (•ω•). Continue writing happily and stay healthy ٩(๛ ˘ ³˘)۶♥

hi baks hehe sorry ngayon lang, nung nakita ko kasi ‘to i loved the idea kaso walang napasok sa isip ko!! ohmygoshhh! pero i’m here na may masasagot na ang vadeng 😍💋. thank you for the love sa jw fic, stay healthy as well!!

a/n: sorry if messy siya, late ko na kasi ginawa~

i feel like jiwoong is the type of student na escort. like pag intrams siya lagi napipili maging escort ng muse, kasi sobrang pogi niya. 100% CAMPUS CRUSH material siya!! he’s sporty, so he plays basketball probably? so pag naglalaro siya do expect na may mga babaeng makikinood sa prac 🤪. mga nakakalokang nanonood daw kasi mahilig sa basketball pero si jiwoong lang naman talaga ang pinunta. che! anyway, although sporty siy hindi siya pabaya sa pag aaral. he’s in no means an honor student, but he’s decent.

si zhang hao naman isa ‘to sa mga matatalino talaga sa classroom. favorite siya ng mga teacher kasi mabait siya and magaling sa subjects, pero sa friends niya palamura siya at grabe chismoso. updated na updated lagi siya sa chika, pero he’s not the type to snitch naman. since he also plays the violin, feel ko nasasama lagi siya sa talent show. pero in fairness, kahit chismoso with high honors siya HAHAHA 😭. wag ka hihingi ng sagot sa kanya, baka mali pa ibigay.

sa tingin ko si hanbin matalino and honor student din. he’s the type of classmate you can rely on talaga. malinis notes, very organized, classroom officer, ganern! pag humingi ka ng sagot, di ka bibigyan pero tuturuan ka 🥺. ganon siya kabait. kaso tropa niya si hao, so minsan nalabas ang demonyo ni hanbin pag magkasama sila. marami din nagkakacrush sa kanya, especially mga lower level students, bait kasi eh. btw galit yan sa mga di naglilinis kahit araw nila maging cleaner.

eto si matthew boys at the back ‘to eh. sobrang ingay jusko!! class clown siya pero hindi yung parang shonga. nakakatawa talaga siya. minsan nabblangko pag tinatawag sa recitation in subjs like science or math, pero pakagaling pagdating sa english. magaling siya sumayaw, so napuput din siya sa mga talent emerut. at dahil nga magaling siya sumayaw, siya lagi nagiging choreo pagdating sa mga activity na required ang danceee. decent student lang din, may mga teacher lang na ayaw sa kanya kasi malakas bonganga niya.

huhuuuu omg si taerae feel ko campus crush din siya! imagine, magaling mag guitar, singer, cute smile, deep voice, nice laugh, and deep dimples. dream boy talaga!! super super crush ko ‘to if magiging kaklase ko siya. HAHAHAH 😭 minsan may dala dalang gitara sa school para mag jamming yung classroom, super core memory. expect mo na pag naglabas siya ng gitara may mga babae na aasarin kasi kunwari “kakantahan sila ni taerae.” HAHAHAH cutiee. i feel like nasa band siya with other students/classmates, for let’s say like a school performance ganon. basta, cutie gitarista na dream boy ng mga girls!

rich kid ‘to si ricky! lagi malaki baon. for one week siguro ang baon niya total nasa PHP 2,500. lagi may nagpapalibre sa kanya ehem gyuvin pero di na lang niya pinapansin HAHAHAHA. eto pa, crush din ‘to ng bayan eh. isa pang 100% CAMPUS CRUSH MATERIALLL jusko! tahimik lang si ricky, he prefers to keep to himself and/or stay close to his circle. he is not keen on making new friends kasi he’s introverted. a lot of people confess to him, pero wala pa siyang narereciprocate. inaasaw siya ng mga kaibigan niya kasi kahit tahimik lang siya, madaming nagkakacrush sa kanya. he’s a basketball player din! he really loves the sport and he plays it often. on the team along with jiwoong, so if hindi si jiwoong ang pinupunta ng mga babae, most likely si ricky. 😂

eto pa isang boys at the back eh, si gyuvin! he is maingay pag katabi friends niya, pero when he’s alone tahimik lang. tropa niya si ricky at gunwook, and the three of them practically adopted their junior: han yujin. lagi siya nagpapalibre at nagpapahotspot kay ricky. he’s like a loser pero hindi in a derogatory way. he’s a loser as in he nerds abt his interests, fav topic niya si eumppappa, and he also prefers to just interact with people who are within his circle. he’s not as popular as his friends, but he’s okay with it. magaling din sumayaw si gyuvin. natulong sa pag gawa ng choreo and nagcocompete din sa mga talent show! other dancers praise him for his control sa katawan niya kapag nasayaw, kasi matangkad siya and it’s applaudable how he is able to balance his height with his moves.

my babyyy my love gunwook! tropa ni ricky and gyuvin. right off the bat he is definitely a class officer, and a part of the general student council in the school. super talino ni gunwook, lagi siya kasali sa mga debates, quiz bees, and other academic contests. basta acads, siya ang pambato! although busy siya with those, grabe ang ingay niya pagkasama ang tropa, lalo na pag nandoon si gyuvin. nagpprovide ng notes yan for gyuvin and ricky, kasi malamang tropa eh. siya din nagtututor sa kanila pag nahihirapan sa subjects, para hindi sial behind. other than that, dancer and basketball player din si gunwook. last na, promise! 3/3 sa basketaball players ng group. pag nakakashoot siya, ang daming nasigaw sa kilig, tapos siya pa mahihiya. so cute:(. kasabwat siya ni gyuvin gulohin si yujin, minsan nga siya pa nagpapaalam sa nanay ni yujin pag gusto isama sa gala. matik oo yan, duh! perks of the student council memberzz! madalaa natambay silasa fishball-an sa tapat ng school, libre daw ni ricky eh.

si yujin yung kawawang junior na laging nasa sama sa kalokohan nila gyuvin. kahit magkaiba siya ng grade kela gunwook, almost aligned ang scheds nika kaya sila lagi kasama ni yujin. inaasar siya kasi baka daw madami nagkakacrush sa kanya. tapos may mga kaklase siya na tinatanong kung paano niya naging tropa yung higher level, pero ang sinasagot niya na sila yung lumapit sa kaniya kaya ngaun friends na sila. (yun naman talaga nangyare pakakulit kasi ni gyuvin pogi!) of course isa pa siya sa mga dancer. he’s one of very few sa buong klase nila, kaya nagiging pambato din siya sa mga talent show. choreographer din ng mga performance task ng group niya pag kailangan ng steps. tambay sa canteen at binibigyan ng discount nung nagtitinda kasi crush siya nung anak ng tindera HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

INTRO POST <3

Here's a long-overdue intro post.

NOTE - Do not dm me if we're not mutuals.

LINKS SIDE BLOGS: @i-think-im-breaking-down-again - more personal blog @cappuccino-circa-capillaries - mental health stuff /pos @a-bitch-can-write-poetry - poetry and web weaving reblogs, will post my original work if I ever get the courage @honestly-im-honest- silly stuff @edwinpayneshomosexualtendencies - dbda side blog

MEDIA: Pinterest Spotify Storygraph stats.fm

DA BASICS- ABOUT ME: Name - Lisa Avenir (you can call me Lise or Liz) Nationality - Indian Languages - English, Hindi, a1 French, aspiring German, a dialect of Hindi spoken in my home state which is completely incomprehensible to anyone who does not speak it to the point its an entirely new language (which it is but I'm not going to reveal it because I don't want my home state to be known) Age - minor Gender - Genderqueer Pronouns - they/them/she Sexuality - ace-spec lesbian Religion - Atheist DNI: Homophobic, Transphobic, sexist, racist, ableist, any kind of phobic in general No assholes allowed either I love receiving asks just no freaky stuff FACTS- 🪶Only Child who keeps losing friends 🪶I love any form of Noodles Soup 🪶I have a huge crush on Maya Hawke 🪶I love biology and anatomy 🪶I need psychological help /srs 🪶I cry a lot, it's an art 🪶I might have a migraine issue which might be getting better :D 🪶I have brown ass basic eyes 🪶Reading mythology is my bae 🪶My vocabulary might be good but I can't spell for shit. 🪶I love making little collages on PowerPoint 🪶I'm touch starved but touch aversed. Yes, we exist. 🪶I'm a nerd fighter 🪶I love dissecting song lyrics 🪶My aesthetic is dark academia, dark feminine(excluding the femcel bs), witchcore and sickly victorian child dying of the plague core 🪶I am a hyper-organized person who might have germophobia 🪶I'm pretty sure I have trichotillomania 🪶I have these sneeze attacks on a daily basis where I sneeze like 15 times over the course of 3 minutes

HOBBIES- 🪶Reading 🪶Writing poetry or songs 🪶Listening to Music 🪶Talking about stars 🪶The Universe 🪶Literature 🪶Science (fuck physics)

INTERESTS- MUSIC: I love listening to albums(like a LOT of them) 🪶Genre - Indie, Indie pop, Rock, Alt-Indie, Basic white girl pop, Pop-rock, Pop-punk, Folk, Old Bollywood, Male manipulator, Female Manipulator, Lesbian Manipulator, ghazal, anything that slaps 🪶Artists - Ricky Montgomery, Lana Del Rey, Chappel Roan, Flower Face, Taylor Swift, Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, Girl in Red, Clario, Conan Gray, Hank Green, Hayley Williams, Joji, Indila, Sabrina Carpenter, Adele. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Jagjit Singh, Muhammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle etc etc 🪶Bands - Wallows, Florence and the Machine, Sir Chloe, Hole, The Smiths, Paramore, Beach House, The Jayhawks, The Neighborhood, Fun Guns, Cage The Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Radiohead, My Chemical Romance, Hayley Kiyoko. 🪶Albums(favorites) - evermore and folklore by Taylor Swift, Montgomery Ricky by Ricky Montgomery, Depression Cherry by Beach House, Ceremonials and Lungs By Florence and The Machine, Superache by Conan Gray, Emails I can't send frwd: by Sabrina Carpenter, Hozier by Hozier, Riot! and Paramore by Paramore, AM by Arctic Monkeys, Party Flavors and I am the Dog by Sir Chloe, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers, Rainy Day Music by The Jayhawks, Petals for Armour by Hayley Willams, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan, Social Cues by Cage The Elephant, Live through this by Hole, Born to Die(The Paradise Edition) and Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey, Nothing Happens by Wallows, Baby Teeth and Fever Dreams and The Shark in your Water by Flower Face, Lilt by Hikes, Get up and Move by Fun Guns, The Black Parade by MCR. 🪶Artists that I lowkey neglect but should high-key eat - Nirvana, Tame Impala, Men we trust, Cavetown, Pink Floyd, blink-182, Green Day, boygenius, Mitski, The Smashing Pumpkins, Suki Waterhouse. BOOKS- 🪶Genre - Dark, War pieces, Dystopias, Young Adult, Depressing, Dark Academia, Classics, Psychological Thriller. 🪶Ride or Die- The Book Thief, The Perks Of Being a Wallflower, The Picture of Dorian Grey, MAUS, Paper Towns, Looking for Alaska, All the Bright Places, The Midnight Library, The Handmaid's Tale, The Diary of a Young Girl, The Boy In The Stripped Pajamas, Circe, Before the coffee gets cold, Sharp Objects, The Martian, The DaVinci Code, The Emperor of All Maladies, Turtles all the way down, And Then There Were None, The Catcher in The Rye, No Longer Human, Grandpa's Great Escape, Wild Bird, The Giver. 🪶Honorable Mentions from my TBR - A Little Life, Bunny, If We Were Villains, The Secret History, 1984, To Kill A Mockingbird, Six Of Crows, Lord of the Flies, Piranesi, Cleopatra and Frankenstein, Crime and Punishment, How it Feels to Float, Orbiting Jupiter, Normal People, Fahrenheit 451, The Myth of Sisyphus, Lessons in Chemistry, Slaughterhouse-five, Dark Matter. 🪶Poets - Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth. Sappho,

MOVIES- Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Lady Bird, Whiplash, Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, Forrest Gump, Duck Duck Goose, Rapunzel SERIES- BBC Sherlock, Orange Is The New Black, Brooklyn99, Dead Boy Detectives, Heartstopper, Derry Girls, Modern Family, House md?

RANDOM IMAGES-

USERBOXES-

MOOTS APPRICIATION!!!! @lv3buzzz, @noctilucaa(my wife), @wilsons-three-legged-siamese, @yourfavvgal, @1mlostnow, @arrr-im-a-dead-poet, @perksofbeingpoet, @mighthavebeenmurder, @take-me-to-the-rooftop15, @poetsinnyc, @joonof1989, @deadcrowcalling, @pingunaa, @xxcherryberriezxx @burgundykicks (text me if you would like your name to be removed <3333 ) -🪶

[rainbowxocs]

(REFERENCE COMING SOON)

TW: Child Abuse, Grooming, Stuff of that nature.

Name: Jonah Louis Francois.

Alt Names: Moon, Mouse.

Special Titles: Forsaken God, Death, The Grim Reaper, Puppet, God Killer, Narrator.

Old Titles: Roi De France, Dauphin de France, General, God of Knowledge, God of Mourning, God of the Moon, God of Healing, False God, Mad King.

Username: @jonahfrancois

Nicknames: Your Majesty, Your Highness, My Prince, Chiot, Baby Girl, La Lune, Moonie, Old Man, Hero, Mr Nice Guy, Dog Boy, My Muse, Watson, Hound of Baskerville.

Chronological Age: 4.5 Billion.

Vessel Age: 605.

Age: 45.

Pronouns: Any Pronouns.

Sexuality: Demisexual, Gay.

Gender: Transfeminine, Nonbinary, Genderqueer.

Base Species: Starling.

Current Species: Litch, Reaper, “Werewolf.”

Disorders: Insomnia, CPTSD, Morality OCD, Autism, Schizophrenia, NPD, ASPD, Bulimia.

Physical Disabilities: Blind in Left Eye,Dyslexia, Chronic Pain, Cursed, Immunocompromised.

Curse Info: He got cursed after trying to deceive the gods. The curse has two parts to it, Jonah is able to feel everyone‘s pain and emotions within a 50 mile radius of him, Jonah is able to take a persons pain/injury and transfer it to himself. Jonah also has a sort of Hanahaki-esque part to his curse, where Roses and Thorny Branches will sometimes consume him or cause him to throw up the flowers. Usually this part of the curse activates if Jonah hurts someone. His hands and arms can also blacken if he uses excessive power.

Recovering Addictions: Nicotine (Cigarettes), Alcohol, Cocaine.

Religion: None.

Job: Professional Antihero, Hospital Administrator, Cafe Owner, Painter.

Degrees: Mathematics, Physics, Paramedic Science, NPLQ, Health Administration.

Lives in: NYC, New York, 2306.

Languages: Voynich,French, English, ASL, LSF, Spanish, Chinese, Hindi, Japanese, Arabic, German, Danish, Italian, Russian, Dutch.

Height: 6’5”

Ethnicity: French.

Accent: French.

Monster Form: Black Shadowy Werewolf-Like Creature with glowing white eyes. Slightly staticy.

Animal Form: Giant Powder Blue Isopod, or Black Wolf.

Other Form: Blue Goop.

Spirit Form: Blue Firey Figure with Glowing White Eyes.

Spirit Level: Acceptance.

Powers: Healing, Thorn Vines, Siren, Illusion Magic, Reality Bending, Shapeshifting, Snow Magic, Fire Magic, Plant Magic, Hypnosis, Water Magic, Causing Eclipses, Strings, Necromancy, Ocean Magic, Mind Walking, Dream Walking, Static.

Weapons: Sword, Knife, Scissors.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral.

Text Color: Blue.

Main Animal: Dogs, Otters, Mice.

Main Hobbies: Piano, Painting, Sewing, Crochet, Knitting, Antiquing, Reading, Video Games.

Favorite Drinks: Peppermint Tea, Hot Chocolate,

Favorite Snacks: Almonds, Cheese, Tortilla Chips, Triskets, Pomegranates.

Favorite Meals: Peanut Butter and Pickle Sandwiches, Mac and Cheese, Tacos, Ratatouille, Garbure, Mushroom and Olive Pizza, Maki Rolls, Sashimi, Toast.

Favorite Dessert: Blueberry Muffins, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Swirl Icecream, Cheesecake.

Favorite Flower: Daffodils, Lilies, Daisies.

Scent: Fancy Vanilla Cologne.

Handedness: Right Handed.

Blood Color: Gold/Silver, Sometimes Red.

Awareness: Very Aware. (Effect: Negative.)

Birthday: December 1st 1701. (Sagittarius.)

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: Jane Austen is one of his favorite authors, He is fork lift certified.

Special Interests: History, Heroism, Physics, Project Sekai and Vocaloid, Idols, Animals.

Stims: Very subtle stims. Fidgeting with pens, playing with his hair, etc. he also uses a moon stress ball.

Stimboard: COMING SOON.

Moodboard: COMING SOON.

Fashion Board: COMING SOON.

Comfort Objects: Teddy (Old Teddy Bear.)

Family:

Alden Francois, Madeline Francois. (Parents.)

Charles, Pierre, Raphael, Angelo. (Brothers.)

Evelyn Williams (Adoptive Grandmother)

Lila Francois (Adoptive Daughter) (Deceased)

Evan Sirius (Adoptive Son) (Deceased)

Kaela Sirius (Adoptive Daughter)

Aculia, Louis. (Adoptive Children)

Friends: Samantha, Claire, Malik, Alex.

Puppetmaster: Aditya.

Romance: James DuPont, Aditya Ravi. (Spouses.), Kriston Bell (Boyfriend.)

Enemies: James DuPont (Mortal Enemy)

Pets: Jasper (Service Dog) (Golden Retriver), Pepper (Grey,Tan, and White Cat with Cerebellar Hypoplasia), Aquarium with Various Fish.

Reincarnations: Achilles, Other Unknown Reincarnations.

Brief Personality: Not many people know the real Jonah. He has carefully crafted his personality over the past few hundred years in order to be the epitome of perfection. Kind, Generous, Empathetic. He wants nothing more than to help people, to be good. However underneath the mask, Jonah is incredibly lonely. He often feels like there is a glass wall between him and other people. The “real” Jonah, doesn’t react correctly, doesn’t have the proper emotions or thoughts. So he buries that within himself. Though, some have noticed his mask is slipping.

Brief Backstory:

Jonah was born as a french prince, the youngest out of four other brothers. He was much younger than the rest of his brothers, them being young men when he was born. This concerned Jonah's mother deeply as her other sons had playmates and other children to grow up with and Jonah would be all alone. She looked down at her son in his crib until she had an epiphany.

She took several ladies in waiting down to the local town's orphanage with her and she picked out a boy around her son's age. One of the women named him James. Queen Madeline decided that this will be her sons new playmate and took him back to the castle with her.

Jonah and James became inseparable. They shared the same bed, they would play together, eat together, basically do everything together. The queen's gambit actually worked spectacularly. They were best friends. Though she did regret it sometimes when Jonah would have the mother of all tantrums when James wasn't included in every single activity they were doing. But, it made Jonah happy and that's all that mattered to her.

One day, when Jonah was around 5 or 6, Jonah's father kissed his mother while saying goodbye. Jonah asked her about it as he was curious. She explained that is what married people do. Jonah, again confused asked what marriage was. His mother said that marriage is an inseparable bond, someone you are with forever. She also explained weddings and other boring stuff like that.

Jonah nodded, and went off to "go play". and by go play, he means go be a little rascal. Jonah snuck into his parents bedroom and climbed up on a chair. He began to rummage through his mothers jewelry box. The little thief found a beautiful ring and stuffed it in his pockets before making a quick getaway.

Jonah ran his little legs over to James, finding him in the library where he normally was and he knelt down and proposed to James. James, of course said yes and the two of them ran through the castle and to Jonah's mother. Jonah explained that he needed a wedding URGENTLY. it was VERY important.

Thankfully, his mother found this amusing despite the time period and decided to indulge them. She set up a crowd of their collective stuffed animals, and officiated a little "wedding" for the two of them. She even took one of her old necklace chains and fashioned the ring into a necklace, since James hands were far too small to wear the ring normally.

She figured, that they had no idea what the hell this meant so might as well let them have fun.

The rest of their childhood went without much incident, the two of them just learning and playing with one another. Until the two boys turned into tweens about 11 or 12. They were starting to get a little rebellious as tweens often do. One day during a boring royal event, the two of them snuck out of the castle and onto the grounds.

They ran up to a nearby pond that was on the property and they both decided to go swimming. They jump into the water. Jonah is a natural born swimmer, however.. James.. was not.. while Jonah and him were having fun, Jonah got distracted by some guards coming and trying to find him and James. He swam deeper into the water to hide, and when he came back up. He realized.. James was ?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ

He dived under the water, and.. found.. ?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ.. James had ?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ.. Jonah pulls his friend up onto the shore and attempted to?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ, but it was already t̴̮͙͉͕͒̂̈́̒̿͂͐̈̿̚͠͝o̴͉͈͙͂̏̀̓ͅơ̷̟̳̬̣̪͓̤̱̣̩̮̓̌̐̈́͋̍̃̕͜͝ ̷̟̤̐̐̓̈͊̈́͝l̵̢̡̢̧̡̧̜̝̬̻̱͇̭͈̙̉̅̉a̷̢̦̗̼͕̼̩̭̝̽̔ͅt̸͙͔͝ȩ̸̢̝̝̗̠̘͚̳̫͉̫̱́̀̈́͋̾̒̃̐̒̾̀̑̕. Jonah, began to sob into James. Up in the sky, the moon covered the sun causing an eclipse. The water from the pond moved forwards, surrounding James and Jonah in a shallow pool. The water glowing a bright blue around them and, like a miracle.

James ?̸͎̬̑̇͂̎̓̆̀̒͜?̷͍͎͍͓̤͓͖̫͈͆ͅ?̴̧̟́͂͝?̴̧̛̣̞͚̤̟̝̮̫̟͙̟̀͑̀͒̔̅̂̀̄͗̊̌̕͜?̶͈̈̿͛̓̐͌̀��̜̝?̴̳̖͎̓̈́̕. Jonah hugged him tightly as he began to cry harder. The moon moved past the sun, returning everything to normal. James was very confused as he didn't even remember what had happened. But he hugged Jonah back either way. He picks James up and brings him back to the castle.

The two grow up more, now being around 16. Jonah has been learning how to paint and do the arts, as well as learning how to swordfight. Him and James will practice for hours on in just sparring with one another. The two of them quite enjoy "fighting" and they're both quite equally good at it.

There is a war going on between his father's kingdom and some others. It's quite vicious and things have been tense around the castle. Jonah's older brothers are helping their father the best they can however none of them are exactly good at strategy or battle tactic. Which is causing a lot of arguments between them and their father.

Jonah and James one day decide to visit the war room, where they find the king screaming at Jonah's brothers. Their bad call had caused an entire army to die, once again and he was getting sick and tired of them all being idiots. They all storm out of the room for a moment to cool off, leaving Jonah and James alone in the room.

James looks at the giant chess board in the middle of the room, looking at the battle strategy. Jonah couldn't really make heads or tails of it, he was always more of an artist than a military man. James however moved some pieces around in order to make a better formation before stepping back.

Jonah's father came back into the room, and looked at the board. He looked at Jonah and thought that his son had done it instead of James. Something.. clicks in the kings mind before he dismisses the two boys.

A few weeks later, The king summons Jonah into the war room again. He tells him that it is a shame that he is the youngest when he has so much potential to be a great leader. Jonah.. didn't exactly agree but nodded anyway to be polite. His father brushed some hair out of Jonah's face. "You want to make me proud, right?" The king said.

"Of course." Jonah replied.. nervously.

"Why don't you become my second in command so to speak? Your brothers are not exactly... the best at this sort of thing. I need someone like you to help me."

And of course, Jonah wouldn't say no to something like that. Being able to help his father, to actually get attention from him would be amazing. Him and his father never really had much of a connection due to Jonah being a bit soft. If he could prove to him that he also had value, Jonah thought that would be swell.

Jonah's father and him spent a lot more time together, growing closer and closer. Jonah despite not being the one who originally messed with the board, was actually pretty good at strategy. Most of his plans worked and the ones that didn't, his father would ?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ give him a pat on the back. You can't win them all after all.

His brothers kept getting in the way though of his progress. The lot of them didn't really take Jonah seriously. His dad did though, and that's all that mattered. Him and his dad would stay up late at night and ?̴̡̖̦̼̜̺̰̈́̀̿̀́́͂̋͝͝?̴̛͔͕͙͉͓̙̞͖̱̉͌̊͐̚͜?̴̧̰̭͉̺͙͉̰̯̦̊̇̄̑̄̏̑̄̏͆͑͝?̷̛͈̦͖̲̫̬̔͌̽̇͑̎͐͗͜͠͠͠?̷̼̼͓̖̬̐̓̇?̴̨̧̣̼̘̝͈̰͉̞̅̐̇͌͠?̶͖̬̖̟̱̰͖̹̺̍̿̈́̆͋̃̍?̴̡̛͙̫̬̹͍̳̮̮͍̲̱̔͂͊͆̅̄̾̿̕͜͜͠?̴̛̱̥̖̰̫̖̝̥̝̈́̑̈́͂́̍̔̌̆̔͐͘̚?̴̧̘͍̙͈̯̝̻̝͙̟̹͚̺̂̐̀͗̇̄͝?̵̧̪͔̼̜̤̹͐?̷̯͍̰̪̣̘͈̘̥̐̉̿̾̽̓̂̐̊̐̂̊͑̅̅ͅ gossip about his brothers. The king over the coming months explained to himạ̴̢̛̜͂̌̆̀̋̑̉̋͝͠ ̴͓̯̑̈͗̉̃͒̒̚ṕ̷̮̣̣͈̫̤̅̀̈̔͑͌͛͘ľ̶̡̛̥͖̮̪͚̟͉̠̤͎̊̃́̀̉́̋̆̾̚ă̶̡̜̤̗̖͓͔̦̥̼̣͈̜̞͚̚n̴̨̛̍̔͐̾͑̂. Obviously, he couldn't just make Jonah the heir. Birth order succeeds intelligence and actual talent to rule a country. So the king told Jonah to ?̴̡͕͍̭̭̝̣͖̼̭̞͙̺̳̖̇͝?̷̧̙̟̭̥̰̥̱̭̾̊̅͑̓̾̏̈͋̑́̕̚̚͜?̷̯͇͖͇̳͔͓͖̜̼͖̖̼̻̬͌̂̇́͐́͑̎͘?̶̛͔̰̦̓̎̂̆̄̎̄̈̀͘̕͠͠?̸̧̪̩͖̱̣̱̠̠͔̬̀͐͗̈̋̔̊̎͘͝͠͠?̸̯͔͔̙̞̦̹̱̫̩͙̘̜̙̙̽́̏͊̊͘. It would be easy, all he had to do was get rid of the problem and then Jonah wouldn't have to worry about his brothers getting in the way of ?̴̡͕͍̭̭̝̣͖̼̭̞͙̺̳̖̇͝?̷̧̙̟̭̥̰̥̱̭̾̊̅͑̓̾̏̈͋̑́̕̚̚͜?̷̯͇͖͇̳͔͓͖̜̼͖̖̼̻̬͌̂̇́͐́͑̎͘?̶̛͔̰̦̓̎̂̆̄̎̄̈̀͘̕͠͠?̸̧̪̩͖̱̣̱̠̠͔̬̀͐͗̈̋̔̊̎͘͝͠͠?̸̯͔͔̙̞̦̹̱̫̩͙̘̜̙̙̽́̏͊̊͘.

O̵͍̼̣̯͍̲̅̔̐̒̅͑̊̿̌͗̆́̚n̵̞͙̼̬̩͇͕̠͎̼͕͍̺͕͂e̵͈̓̒͛ ̵͔͔̲̳̙̞̪͓̊ḅ̴̛̘̙̠͝ỵ̸͙̬̺́̅̐̔̀͒̑̈̀̎̕̕̕̚ ̷̨̗̜̱̬͓̟͉̯̯̥̜̣̙̈̋̉̿͋͜ö̴̡̫̖̤̀̾͝n̸̡̨̺̮͔̲̝̗͍̹̹̓̍̅̐̏̕ḙ̶̻̲̻̀̎̈́̋̑͛̾̔͘̕ ̸̙̟́͆̍͗͌̃͌͆t̴̰̤̪̫̗̐͒̀́̉̑̉̔̓͋͛̽̚͝ͅh̶̘̜͑̄̈́̾͒̿̈͑̆́̆̊͘͝ę̷̛̜͎̝͂̇̂̄͠ ̶̛̘̃̑̌̃̏p̸̧̢̛̩̪̤͛̊̅̀r̸̨̡͎̟͖͚̖̱̭̪̋͌̓̈́̈̓͝í̷̛̺̜̜̥̬̰͔͎̇̉̔̐̊̂̄͗͘͝n̵̨̨̦̬̹͔̮̽̐͛̄͐̄̊̾͌̆̒͝c̵̡̤̖̭͙̜͈̟͖͖̍̆ͅȩ̶̱͖͓̭̩͒͐s̴̡̨̢̘̫̙͔̗͚̀͊͆͝ ̷̘̣̜͙͋̓̎̏́̇ả̴̡̧̡̤͇̬͉͉̰̭̮̱͙̹̐̈́l̸͕̘̀̄͐̔̀̒̇̚͜͠l̶̯͙͎̳͔̜̘̦̤̳̪̐̔̀ ̸̻̉͑͂̂͆̇͝f̶̨̪̩͙͙̦̆̋̆̃̾́͜ē̵̡̢̛͓͔̬̰̭̘̣͎̻͙̓̒̽̊̈͆͆̈́̃̈́͒͘ͅl̶̢̩̳̗̘̜̮͖̙̥̥̃̈̃̽̎̀͛͋͠͝ḽ̴̫͍̭̀̓̈́̽̀̇͌͌͊͝.̴̢͕͈̱̝̪͚̲͎̪͕̭͓̈́͊̐͒̾͊̒̑̀̅̅̌̿̊͜͝

Jonah was the new heir to the throne, and along side his father he began to train to one day take over his fathers stead. ỉ̸͔͕̹͗̌̇̋͝ ̴̡̛̰̯̯̣̼͕́͗̀̍̔̎̉̀̚h̷̡̢̦̼̝̬̳̼̬̘̬̰̝̃͛́̑̔̽͝ͅá̵̡̡̱̮͙͎͍̠̭̭̎͛ͅț̵̗̱̘̬́̑͂̅́̂̄̉͆͒͘ ḙ̴̲̻͛̆̐́͊͘͘t̴͌̓͛͗͑̔̓̈́͒̚͝��̡̢̧̤͖̜̯̄͑͝h̶͔͚̪̤͎̅̃̔́͗̾̚͠ī̶͍͕̱̹̬̺̬̰͖̺͛̀̿̆̽͝ş̷̲̭̪̹̬̀́̏͠.̷̪͕̠̩̱͎̺̳͕̻͙̻̍̓͌̅͝ͅ Jonah finally felt happy, H̷̬̫̟̪̻̍͂̍̑̔̿̍͒̾̚ế̵̻̭̮̜̬̄̈́ ̴̧̗͙̳͚̰̹̤̻̭̣͆͋̒̍͜h̷̥͖͉̤̯̗̹͉̯͍̣͕̰̹̰̒̌̅͊͛̎a̶͙̻͙̟͎͒̓̒d̸̙͓͔̜̔̌͐̀̀̓ ̵̖̠̘͈͚͍̞͎̥̺͉̎̍̄́́̈́͗̇͛̀̕͝͝a̷͙͔̲̭͐͑̀̎͘͝ ̷̨̫͍̪͓̼̬͖̪̞̤̤̪̘͖̒̿̇̏̊̊̊̒̒͗p̵̛̤̗͙͓̿̐̂͌̓̒̊̍͆͒̇̏̚͝ͅư̶̛̪͙͌̿͂̌̿̈́̅̀ŗ̶̈́͆̏͑͒̉̑̆̚p̴̬̣̓͒̆̀̏̔͠ȏ̷̡̰̣͋͊̏ś̴̨̢̛̛͓̪̦̝̗̂̑̈̒̓́͑̉ḙ̶̢̢̛̘̰̙̻̊̈́͐̂̈́̓.̸̞̓̏̑̾ H̵̡͔̥̰͍̠̻͌̀̈́͌͂͂̆͂͛̂͊̕ͅȅ̴̡̼̙̘͎̙͇̍̀̔͋̚ ̵͖̼͇̾̅̿̾̔͛͠w̸̛͇͑̋̄̔̄̓͋̅́̈́́́à̵̳̑̉̀́͂̍̑͋̿̊̊̈́́͝s̵̰̪͇̹̖̠̳̝͂̽͗̕͠ ̶̪̼̠͙̬̺̚m̶̤̪̪̟͚̭͙̮̼̾̐͂͛̑̏͂a̵͓̰̺͕̻͓̤̣̖̤͇͈͗́̀̽͌̀͒̎̆̊͒́̂͘ķ̸̫͇̰͕̲͍͚̠͚̯̥̗̥̊͗͂͋̚͜ḯ̸͚̰̥̠̫̘͙̹͍̼̜̞̦̜̒͐͋̽̌̐̎̒̉̽͆̚͝͝n̷̨͇̯̭̠̝͕̝̻̽ğ̸̭̞͊̽̀͊͝͝͝ ̸̡̖̓̌͜ͅḩ̵͙̬͖̳̞̝̘̞̫̤͊̿̾̿̒i̷͔͗͆m̴̛̹̹̯̆͊͐͛̿̊̚ ̵̢̳̬̤̪̝͍̜̹̣̮̥̠̱͂͒͋̓̈́͒͝ͅp̴̢̨̡̛̝͙̝͔͍̺̲͙̣͐͊̌̂̾́̈́̒̈́̿͌̅͝͝ͅr̴̡̡̰̬̗̰̖̪̩̗̾̑̎̋ͅo̴̬̗̱̠̰̺̲͖̞̭̲̗̩̟͑̈̌̎̉̏̀̈́̊̈́̽̿͗̈́ǔ̴͖͔̮̣̗͎͓͍͉̠̤͙̣̥̉͑̓̐́͗̉̍̓̈́̍̓͂ͅd̵̛͉̘͐̂͊͂͌́̑̎̐̒̅.̶̖͉̂̇̿̌̈́͆͜

When Jonah was around 17, all the court could talk about was marriage. There were several ladies of the court who were fawning over him. However Jonah never seemed interested in any woman. Most people believed he was just reserved. Every party his mother and father would throw for him to find a wife, he would just sneak off to the rose garden with James.

In Jonah's mind, he already had a wife. He didn't need anyone else besides him. James however was a bit more practical. He did genuinely try and attempt to get Jonah at least a woman he could be friends with so the others wouldn't grow suspicious of the two of them. Despite Jonah's many protests.

His mother informs him that a specific kingdom has offered a meeting with their daughter. Jonah begrudgingly agreed after James pushed him to at least try to meet with her. A few weeks later, a quite beautiful woman arrived, a Duchess from a neighboring country named Dahlia. They exchanged pleasantries however her ladies in waiting wouldn't quite let Jonah anywhere near her to speak with her.

James followed Jonah around to sort of, match the vibe the Duchess was putting out. The group of them would walk around the castle together in awkward silence. It was so. terrible. Jonah eventually lead the group of them to the rose gardens, where he s̴̞͇̤̰̗̗͖̭̥̍̀̒̊͋͑̚͠t̷̮̻̭̤̩͔̆̓̋ǎ̷̡̛͎͊̈́̓̈́͐̚͘ŕ̷̡̨̪̤̜̗͚́̍̓̋͂̓́̽̔̇͑̕͠e̴͍̰̖̥̺͉̯͗d̸̨̧̛̬̯̪̭̳̳̹̝̦̗̘̺̤̑́̽̓̚͠͠ ̶̮̺͚̜͕̲͓̜̱̬̔̐̓̾͜͠͝ͅa̵̡͈͖̮̼͓̅̌̏̐̈́̕̚t̴̨̢̝̬͇͔̙̆͋̾͐͊̃̓̿̋̂̉̍͂́̕ ̶̢̢̯̹̣͈̦̜̥͍̹̞͔͒̉̀͒̀͐̉̚͜t̶̢̙̹͕̬̖̭̩͙͓̑̆͂̾͊̍̄͆̕̚͠ͅh̷̨̰̭̩̭͚͈͓̱̗̪̺͉̣̭̽́̉̔͝ę̵̛̛͉̻̍͗̒̋́͑̎̀̽͑͆͘͝ ̶̨͎̜̲̥̹̦̯͔͎͖̗̱̇r̴̨̛̥͚̩̙̖̜͕̟̤̮̳̒́̾̌̈́̂̽̄̔̌̀͆̌͘ǫ̴͚͕̫͚̱̘͙͍͙̟͗ŝ̴̹̒͐͐́̒͆͗̇̏͝e̸̡̘̫̭̳͓̖̺̜̬̝̜̖̔̎͆́́͑͛̿͝ş̷̡̡̬̥̮̙͉̜̙͔̗̈́̀.̷̨̳̭̼̣̈́̾̀̈̒͂͆͗̉̐̑͐̉̈́̈

He went and grabbed one with his hand h̴̨̥̰͚̦̪͎̤̘̠̪̟͇̠̿̍̓͊̽́̍̚ͅę̸̢̠͉̝͛̒̊̌͋̎̋̑͆̊̓̚̕͘͘ͅ ̴̛̛̟̯̥̙͎̤͖͈̻̊̉̈͂̏̄̀͘͜͜b̷͈͚̬̈́̇̾̅̏̆͒͋̓̈̂͜l̵̟̈́́͊̾̾͒̊̋̓͐ȏ̶̧̳͍͇̜̩͖͔͕͍̥̣ͅo̵̯͑͋͗̎́̏̄̿̊͜͝d̵̩̩́͊̓̍̿̊͐͊͗̎̑͗̿͂̕ ̸̛̛̦͊̄̆͋̊̀̄́̉̈́͛͘̚g̷̨̾̀͋̊ų̷̗̥̜̾͌̉͌̇s̶̢̛̤̼͎̈̒̾͑̀͊̆̉̚h̷̛̖̯̓̄́̐̓i̴͚̝̼̦̯̝̙̣̥̠͎̘̬̋̍̋͒̀̉̾̑͜n̸͍̦̜̄͐̃̀͑́̎̌́̚g̴̡͓̺̜̖͚͙̥̟͎͎̫̭̈͐̏̆͌̈́̂͒ͅ ̸̳̳̪̗͉̆͗̍̔͑̆̈́̃̆̕ͅf̵̰̹̬̉̑͛̍ŕ̵̼͈͙͈̪͎͕̳̪̼̱̻̮̦͐̑̾͗̿̅̚͝ͅo̸̘̬̗͉̾̅̿̓͐͐̐́̎̊͂͑̂̍m̵̯̜̤̱͎͈͉̣͓͓̙̺̘͋͝ͅ ̸̡̨̛͈̞̹̘͎̰̹͉̳̯͉́́̅̏̍̍̈́̋́͠ͅh̴̖̝͋͒ï̵̢̨̢̲̼͎̼͕͕̣͍͎̼̯̀ş̷̛̫̩̼̪͎̟̥̦̬̞̜͚̑̉̃̄̎̈̉̉͛͂͆́̔͜͝ ̶̡̛̛͇͈͕̗͖͙̱͉͚͕̖̘̼̭̿͌͆͐̈̿̆͋͐̈́̀̕͠ḩ̴̯̞͔̺̦͎͙͗̌̎́̆͑͆̀̍̈͝a̸̙̣͈̠̲̙͔̭̥͎̘̖̮̜̿̒͛́ͅn̶̦̂͆̔̇̋̆̏́d̸̢̛̻̙̭̟̞̠͗͋̂̓͋͒͜ ̶̪̼̓͆̄̂̃̈å̵̗͓̘̠̱̀̎̏s̴̰̪͓̣̖̪̭̱̺͉̀͋̌̀̚͜ ̸̧̲̟͓̈̌̔̍̉͊͛̓t̸̯̪͉͎̞͉͗͛͛͘ḩ̷̘̩̭̤̦̻̮̝͚́̓̊̈́̿͜e̸̛͈̬̜͕͖͊͐̃̅̚͝ ̶̢̧̩̮̘̹̖̣͚́̏̐ͅt̵̿̈́��̨̩̩͉̯̳̬̮͓͈̻̯͒̈́̽͊̒̈́ͅh̸̛̥͎̟̘̜͗̇͗̎̈́̈́̿̈͌͒͆͊̕͠o̶̹͍̹̯͔͊̎͒̉̀̐́ŗ̸̨̧͍͕̬͉̠̬̳̩̖͖̞̜̈́̅̄̀n̵̡̢̼̠̪̦̫͈̬̘͉͂͛̔͌̈́̂̌ͅͅs̴̥̘̭̘̦̾̊̆ ̶̛̩̎͛d̴̤͈̬̩̬͍̞͚͇̏̆̑̓̽̇̂́́͑̿̏̆͝u̶͚͓͕̩͔̗͙̪̳̮̤̮̠̾͜͜g̴͓̰͈͈̓ ̴̧̻̬͓̥̏́̾̈́͜ḯ̶̗̹͚̞̙̜̘͓͈̬̗̀͗̅̋͂̓͒̀͗͂̐̚͘̚͜ͅn̷̺̫̞̝̖͈̓̇̍̾̓̂͋̀̌̌̂̂̄͝t̶̫̳̠͉̼͈̎̽͑̈́̌͑͐̎͂̈̉̒̔̚o̸̞̥̞̰̭̺̘̦̰͍̹̹͛͑͂̿͜ ̴̘̠̳͇̩͓̿̈́̈́̇͑̄͑̀͌̕̕͠ḫ̷̨̢̧̞̻̦̼̺̩̝͕̠͆͜ī̴̧͕̣͖̹̥̟̫̩̬̖͉̰͑̐̀̽̔̈́̈́̆̕ḿ̴̢̦̩̣͙̬͎̫͔̝́̅̏̐̈͛͑͂̌͋̇̕̕͜.̸͎̑̍̍́̅̅̈́̾̽͘͘

He stared down at the bandages on his hand.

"Are you listening, Jonah?" The king said.

"Oh." He shook his head, looking up at his father. "Sorry. I got distracted, what did you say?"

"People are starting to talk, Jonah." His father took a sip of his drink as he paced slightly around the room.

"We could give you the most beautiful, intelligent woman in the entire world and you would still run off with the servant boy." His father said, coldly.

"I... mean.. I've known him for my entire life.. He's my best friend.. I just sort of default to his company above someone I don't really know.." He sighed. "She was barely even speaking to me."

"You always find an excuse, Jonah. It's always something with you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't me-" ?̸̨̛̰͓͍̦̭̄̈͘͠?̵̡̲̱̭̺̰̣͋͐̎͒͊́̚͝?̷̼̻̇͂͛̿͌̕͝͝?̴̯̟̜̦͉̰̣̊͊͒́͌̓͐̒̅?̷̧͖̆?̸̨̳̎͋̈́͐̊̎̈́̂͘?̴̝̻̱̞̮̆̈̇͒̿̒̄͆̕͠?̷͎̗͕̫̜̯̭̱͉̖́̒͛̅̉̓͝?̴̡̡̳̘͉̟̝̮̦̫̺͐̊̊̌̍́̀̒̀͗͑̏͊͘͜?̴̨͓̪͉̲͖͓̬̬̣̳͎͕̼͑͗̽̚̚?̸̢̮͍̰͙͖͛̿̈́̈̽̑̽͐̔͠͝ͅ?̶͇̣̱̮̦̈́̽̅͂̊̓̑͂͗̍?̷͙̥̻̦͚́̇̕̕?̵̧͖̺͓͍͎̠̦̣͈̝̞̾͑̾̔̅͆͋̎̀̅́͗̚͝?̶̧̢̼̫̥̮̥̫̤̈͒̊͆͊̌̉͆͗̅̔́̅͠?̷̢̧̠̱̗̺̘̝̥̿́͂͜?̶̛͈͙͗̀̈́͐͘͠͝?̴̡̛̘̖̈́̾̔̀̑̓̉̋͘͝?̷̨̙̜̥̣̖̩̻̤̦̟̩̳̦̉̍̍͌̾̐́̕͜͠͝?̵̲̲̤̦̖̣̔͂̓͌̇̄̾͒̍̋͝?̶̤͙̦̗͔͈̘͍͇̎̿̆̔̊̔͌ͅ?̴͔͕͕̮͙͂͂̚͘?̵͎͍͈̗̿̓̔̋̈͛͐͊͗͜͠͠ͅ?̸̢̺͍̙͖̤̭̜͙́͑̾͛̉̽͗̿̈́̂̌̈̇͜͝͝?̴̬̯̱̳̣͚͕̇͗̕?̴̜͓̫̺̰̰̞͈̣̐̀̒̾̈̍̉̒?̷̧̯͙̄̈̃͑̒͐̽͝?̴̨̛̫̥̰͔̩̻͇̲̫̯͛̈͊̏̑̏̅̅͆̍́͜͝?̵̞͖̖̗̟̠̯͙̻̙̳̼͓̒/̶̫͇̱̀͛͐͐̾̇́͊̈̚͠ͅ

Within the next few weeks, Dahlia was betrothed to Jonah. The plan being Dahlia will move into the castle and live with his family. Jonah wasn't the most thrilled with this arrangement, but he knew it was necessary. He just tried to enjoy his last few months of freedom.

One night, Jonah woke up. He rubbed his eyes and realized James was gone from their bed. Which was odd. Jonah tried to go back to sleep, but he just couldn't without James around so he decided to take a little walk around the castle until James came back.

He walked through the hallways and heard ?̸̛̥̳͍̟̠̮̗̠͈̀̌̂̄̾͂̈͒͌?̶̢̰̜̰̪͍͙̪̥̮͎̼̒̓͗́̑̽͑͌́̃͌̓͘͠?̶̨̤͖̲̳̺͉̘̦̥͍̆̍̅?̸̦̼̦̩̜̤̗̱͚͈͔̮̋́́̃͌̀̊̇͌̈̀͒͗͜ͅ?̸̨̩͚̭̪̖͔͓̭̫̺̖̪̮͈̏̐́̑̆̎̎͆̅͆́̕̕?̶̨͇̲̩̱̔́̅͂̆̽. James came out of his parents room,?̸̛̥̳͍̟̠̮̗̠͈̀̌̂̄̾͂̈͒͌?̶̢̰̜̰̪͍͙̪̥̮͎̼̒̓͗́̑̽͑͌́̃͌̓͘͠?̶̨̤͖̲̳̺͉̘̦̥͍̆̍̅?̸̦̼̦̩̜̤̗̱͚͈͔̮̋́́̃͌̀̊̇͌̈̀͒͗͜ͅ?̸̨̩͚̭̪̖͔͓̭̫̺̖̪̮͈̏̐́̑̆̎̎͆̅͆́̕̕?̶̨͇̲̩̱̔́̅͂̆̽ brushed past Jonah. His mother stormed out with his father standing in the doorway, trying to tell her to come back. Before he looks at Jonah and ?̸̛̥̳͍̟̠̮̗̠͈̀̌̂̄̾͂̈͒͌?̶̢̰̜̰̪͍͙̪̥̮͎̼̒̓͗́̑̽͑͌́̃͌̓͘͠?̶̨̤͖̲̳̺͉̘̦̥͍̆̍̅?̸̦̼̦̩̜̤̗̱͚͈͔̮̋́́̃͌̀̊̇͌̈̀͒͗͜ͅ?̸̨̩͚̭̪̖͔͓̭̫̺̖̪̮͈̏̐́̑̆̎̎͆̅͆́̕̕?̶̨͇̲̩̱̔́̅͂̆̽.

ḯ̷͖̞̑̕͜ḿ̴̦̻̣̋͠ ̵̡͖͚̕s̸̹͚̒͊o̶̘͋ ̶͖̍̈̚s̸͍̱̾̐ō̵̫̲r̸̖̆̐͜r̶͕͆͌̃ÿ̴͙̺̟́͊ ̷̬̦̈m̷̖͙̝͛͠ő̶̫m̶̛̫̟͙̃m̷̯̗̩̐̇̾y̶̞͙̼̌͛̚ ̶̢̢͕̑͛̈́i̴̛̪͘ ̵̤̌ḋ̶̪͈͎ĩ̵̼̖̚d̷͖͆͒̾n̸̨̦͊̃t̵͇̖͐́̒ ̵͎͔͒̚ḿ̴̧͉è̵̠̔ȁ̴̫̗̮n̸̼̠̈͑ ̷̡̀́͜t̵̘̦́o̵̱͌͐o̶̤͇͕͝ ̴̺͒͋̓p̶̬̦̚l̶͓̖͝e̵̘͓̺̓̓̓ả̸̫̪s̷̱̚e̵͚̰̫̐̈́ ̴̙̺͊f̸͉̈͂o̶͈̓̔̚͜r̶͔̱̈͝ḡ̸̲̣͒̄ị̴͕̾͐̂v̴̻́̇ḙ̷͋ ̷͔͛͐̍m̴͔̺̓e̴͈̍ ̵̠̞̈́i̶͇͒̾͑m̸̻̠͖̏͒͠ ̷̥͌ś̵͇̥͓̌͘ỏ̸̠̂͝ ̴͇̃̊s̷̳̑̇o̸̧͓̜̾́ȓ̵̜͘r̶̰̭̦̿͑̉y̵̲̻̠̍̅͂ ̴̳̻͎͂i̴̳̒̕ ̵̱͑d̴̯̂̂ì̶̯d̴̞̺͛̒n̷̮̼̣͋̄t̴̛̞̏ ̴̨̜̟̍̆m̸̨̬̿e̴̟̥͐̈͆a̸̖̿͊̀n̵͖͚̣̓ ̵̘̒͠t̷̛͎͈ō̸͖̳ ̴̻̣̂̀͝i̷̳͐ ̷̼͊͜d̵̲̫͖͗͌ì̵̖͚̜͋d̸̺͌̃̇ǹ̸͍̭̊̿ț̴̭̀̋͜ ̶̪͍͙̒͂m̷̱̟̾ë̷̟̲́a̷͖̕n̸̗̻͑͝ ̸̱̆ţ̸͖̈́o̸͖͠ ̶͖͌͗̒i̶̞͘m̷̠͚̬͑́̇ ̷̢͕̈̂͝s̶̳͐̂͝ó̷̜̯̈́̍ṟ̷̼̈́ṙ̶̫̟̂y̸̬̭͗̓̅ ̴̛̲̼̱t̶̡̩͍̚̚ḫ̵̅͛ë̵̱̱́r̴̠͌̌e̷̻̺̩͆s̶̛̮̏̕ ̵̝͛̇̌ͅs̵̭̲͂͂͐o̴̯̥͆ ̷̧̘̱̓m̷̬̌u̷͇͊̿͠c̵̢̩̈̈h̸̪̓̂͘ ̵͓͈͎̒b̴̄̕ͅl̴̪̣͐ō̸͉ô̴̯̮̹̚͝d̷̩̭̘́͠ ̸̛̤̊͗i̶͓̹̊̅ ̷̦̯̌̄d̸̛̗ĩ̶̧͉̾͘d̴̥̮̓̆n̴̦̤̮̋̀t̸̨̟͇̿̃̓ ̸̨͚̰̾m̵̧̹͆͂͠e̸̞̟͕̐a̸̖̘̔ṇ̵̞͓͊̋̀ ̸̖͆t̵̟̻́̒ö̵̠̒ ̸͓̎̅k̶̲̓i̸̱͛l̸͔̮̓l̷͔̊͊͝ ̵̙͐͘͝y̴̬͗ờ̸̫̬͈̚u̴̖̞̪̇ ̴̟͈̑̒̔b̷͈̊̏͋o̷̰̞̲͐t̷̨̰͓̀h̵̩̍̈́͠ ̶̞͖̇̓͜į̶̏̄̆m̶̟̲͆͛̕ ̷̫̖̰̿s̶̜̒̕͝ͅò̷̧̲̻͝r̷̦̤̋r̴̝͌̀̓ỷ̴̬ ̶͇̹͘ị̴̞̚ͅ ̴̥̯͚̇͝d̴͉͊̄į̴̤̿̄́d̴̢̧͜͝n̶̛͖̥t̷͓̅̒ ̷̰͓̙̏m̴͔̽͆ę̸̀̈̚a̸̬̤̓͋͠n̶̮̥̞̏ ̵̺̅͋t̴̞̊o̸͓̾ ̴͕̣̳̊͂i̶̧̜̘̔̇͝ṃ̴̡̉ ̴̛͚s̴̢̤̯̋̀o̴͇͐̏ṙ̵̪̘̓r̷̭͗͘ȳ̴̙͐́ ̵̪̈̀į̷̥͕̎̄̄m̵̗̻̞̔̕͠ ̸̩͉͒͘s̴̩̗̤̅ó̸̻̦̺͠r̷̗̭͋r̴̤͛̈́y̴̭̗͙̐͒͝ ̶̝̭̆̆͝p̷̢͝ḻ̴̩̜͋e̶̯̭̋͜a̵͈͉͕͐̎͋s̴̤͆̕e̵̥̗͐̂̈́͜ ̴̻̝͐̄̈c̶̬͐͂̍ó̴̧̮̜͠m̴̤̠̳̍͘e̸̢̊̀̕ ̶͔͠b̴̠͕̮̄ȧ̵̮̜̞̃̈́c̵̞͐̿k̸̞̙̉ ̵̟̱͌̓͝i̴̢̢̠̓̕͠l̶̬̖̗̔͑̈́l̵̨͉̓̄ ̵̼͗͌͘b̴̙̲̯̓ẹ̷̱̽͜ ̸͕̌̆̀g̴̢̻̝̅̈́ȏ̶̗̤̈o̴͎̽͂̂ḑ̴̥͎̿̑ ̸̰̚͠ť̴̠̺͎h̴͈̊ị̴̓̃s̶̘̏ ̷̩̟͛ͅẗ̷̢̈́i̸̝̩̋̓m̴̟͌̓̀e̴̟͕̺̎ ̶̧̄͐͛͜p̴͚̔͌͒ĺ̸̡̅ͅë̸͙̭́͠͠ậ̸̻͉͘s̷̡̙̞̄͐e̵͙̫̣͊͒̕ ̴̡̺̔̕c̷̳̄̑͜͝ỏ̸͕̠͎͘͝m̷̝͒̾͋e̵͔̓ͅ ̶͈̳͓͛̃b̷̜̤͆a̸͔̙͑͘c̶̗͕̈͝k̶̹̪̋̋ ̶̢̃̃i̵͚͚̩͐ ̷̳̉w̷̺̅į̴̭͌́l̴̞̈l̵̖̯͉̂ ̷̧̠̬͒͝d̶̺͔͊ỏ̶͔͘͘ ̷̮͝a̸̠̖̖͒n̷̤͑ẙ̴̨̹̍̈́t̴̥̤͛̈́͝h̵͉̺̣͐̐̈į̵͠͠ͅn̵̟̻̈́̐͑͜ǵ̶̻͕̰̇͋ ̵̗̹̊́͑t̶̪͎̅́ȍ̸̳͒̓ ̵̹̭́g̷͚̣̒̆͝ḛ̸̆͝t̴̰͓̑͐͐ ̴̘͖̙̀̔͠y̷̧̭͚̔õ̵̳̞̥̔̆ǘ̷̬̱̀͋ ̵͎̲̼͠b̵͓̈́͠ḁ̴͎̍ͅc̶͉̒̚k̸͇̹̳̈́ ̵̙̽p̶̯̲̉͜͝͠l̴̛̤̥͚͂ë̴͙̗͇́a̸̫̋̓̚s̴̰̹͆̅̉ē̸̼̫͠ͅ ̷̧͍̠̾i̷͍̞͋m̸̺̝̑̓͝ͅ ̷̹͖͛͗s̴̡̋o̸̩̒ŕ̷̦͚̍r̴̡͍͛͂̍͜y̸̙̅̀͗ ̶̧͍̱̓͠i̷̢̻̪̐͐m̷͓̼̖͛͝ ̶̢͉̂̉̕s̴̛̲͠͝ó̵̳̂ŗ̷͎̎́r̶͙͛̆y̸̰͓̎̀ ̷̥͈̦̈́̒̋i̷̼̓m̵͈̝̃͒̍ ̷̞̺͊̇ṣ̶̔̈́͐ŏ̵͚̩̼r̸̼̓͆͊r̴̠̗̱̽́ý̶̜̎͠ ̸̟̠͝ị̸̧͌ḿ̸̼͇ ̷̦̑s̶͔͂͌̿ơ̸̛̬͖̈́r̵̘̲͆̀̚ŗ̶̜̣͗͠ÿ̸̗̼̱́.̵̙͈̆̉͘ ẗ̴̺̞̂h̷̭̆͌e̶̡̜͎̒̀ŗ̴̘̜̀̔̈è̶̟̞̫̚ș̵̖͙͆̆͆ ̴̣̅̋s̸̢͓͙̓ọ̷̿͝ ̷̨̜͖̄m̴͔̹̈́u̶̦͓̿́c̷̛̱̫̽h̵͇͚̣̆̇ ̵̲̉͒b̸̠̱̻̉l̵̻̮̙͗͑͝ö̸͓́o̵̻̅d̶̠̱̿ ̸͎͇̈́̑͘t̸̮͈̘͘ȟ̵̪͌̃ȇ̸̦̱̯ṙ̸̨̞e̵̮̲̪̚s̴̼̈́ ̴̠̒̆̇s̶̨̯̈́̉͛o̶̱̘̼̅̈́̌ ̶̞͈̈́̂̌m̵̧̙̟͐̑ű̸̩͖c̵̿͌͜h̶̲͛͊ ̴͉̮̖͗̀́b̶͙͔̅̎l̴̥̠̲̍̌͠ö̶͔́̃͂ó̴̡͎͓͋̓d̶̥̻̂̊ ̴̼̀t̴̜̻͐̏̒h̴̞͔̏͂͝é̵̯̝r̴̰̼̒ę̶̤̾ͅs̵͙̮̰͂̓͝ ̴̺̦͊̉̀s̶̭̯̉͑ö̸͎͚̯ ̸͕̗̂̈́͋͜m̶͓̿u̷̞͔͛c̶̳͛̀͘ͅh̶̨͙̜͠ ̴̜̂̀b̶̧̮̾̀̎ḽ̸̨̜̋̀͌o̶͕̞̓ò̴̜̟͓̾̓d̵̥͗͂ ̵̠̆̐ì̵̼ ̴̭̅͆͝c̷̥̬̊͗̋ä̴̲͓́̈́n̴̝͖̏t̵̳͉̙̕ ̸̗̆͜͠͠b̵̥͂r̵̜̄͝e̵͚̭̊ä̴͎͖̳́t̶̠͉̑̀̕h̶̙̗̗̑̀e̵̲̞̙̽̈́͝ ̸̝̠̩̄p̵͓̹̉l̸̺̅̅e̶͓͐̀̀ã̸̞̬̽͜s̵͇͝è̵̺̮͑̄ ̷̤͗m̷̺̪̑̆̅ä̶̝̍k̴͙̇̓̉e̶̢̙̲̽ ̶̢̰̤̒̂͌ï̴̖̣t̵̬̗̝̉ ̶͉̰̃͘͜s̶͉̣̮̿t̵̞̫̽̑ǒ̴̡̼p̵̱̰͗̌ ̴̠̒̈́͜m̴͇̋a̷͔̥͈͛͝k̴̥̣̗͌͝͝ĕ̷͜͝ ̸͇̫́͐i̸̠̙̎̒̂ͅṯ̸͆̚ ̴̳̞́̓̚s̵̡͉̎̔̈́ţ̸̘̙̾̇o̵̺̮̯͠p̵̨̽͠ ̶̿̚͜ī̸̛̖ ̸͙̲͇̿̒̕d̴̝̔̕o̴̫̯̾͒͠ͅn̵̖͔̒͗͝t̸͝ͅ ̷̫̇͋͂ẃ̶͔̖̮a̸̤̫͛n̸̩̦̥͠t̵͓̙͉͝͝ ̴̳̰͝t̸̳̙̏̽̕o̵͙̐̾̓ ̵̣̖͛r̴̺̜̹̎è̸̖̮̓m̶̧̙̞̈́̾e̴̱̽m̵̺͉̏̅b̵̭͒e̶͓̙̔̓͑r̸̨̤͓̚ ̵͎͉̋̀̆t̵̼̺̓́ḥ̴̑̚i̸͇̎̍ș̵̙̪̽ ̵͔̞̀̒̂p̶̦̺͝l̴͉̹̘̑͘͠ȅ̵̥͓͂͝ą̶͗s̴͓̩̹̽̇̇ě̶̲͍̈̍ ̴̥̞͆̓͌m̷̼͛͑ą̸͋͝ͅk̵̺͎̔́ȩ̴̛͈͌̊ ̵̧̠̆į̵̡̛ẗ̵̫̰ ̷̤̕s̵̪̈̇̚ṯ̸͊o̷͖͊͗̎p̸̟̀́ ̷̣̮̮͗m̶̘̂ā̶̞͎͉k̷̜̻̉͛e̴̛̺͕͊̓ ̶̾ͅḯ̴̠t̴͓͍̣͐̌ ̴̜̹̻̑͆̾ŝ̶̲̩̌ṯ̶̹̿̂̀ö̴͖̉͊ṕ̷̠̮ ̷̛̼͌̉m̸̼̭̭̆͘ä̶͙̀͝k̷̭̪̲̄̇ė̵̗ ̷͇̅ị̴̲̈͒͐t̶̝̓̚ ̴̣̹̍͜s̶̞̜͗̽t̵̝̺͌͜ó̶̰̯͎p̴̝̟̗͛͝.̸̬̙͈̀̈́͗

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"̷̱̟̎y̶̗͍̋o̷͍̫͛̂u̴̗͊̕ ̸͈̹̫̍̈́d̴̖̰̈́̇i̴̖̿͂̂d̷̦̀̎ ̷̧̡̦̏̋s̷̫͓̺͌̈͒u̵͍͖̅c̶̥̅h̶̗̟̞̐̉̋ ̷̢̛͕̈̏͜a̷̼̠̝̒̒͘ ̵̗̩̋͊̉ǵ̶͙͍́͝o̵̹̓o̷͇̣̲̓d̷͙̒̊̎ ̷̫́͂j̸̱̉̀̓o̶̫̹͌̉͝b̶̤̹͙̈́̐̽"̵͔̓

"Jonah?" James said softly.

"Huh-?" Jonah shook his head, James was carefully dressing him.

"It's going to be alright.." He dusted off Jonah's shoulder before looking up at him. "You're going to walk out there, and you're going to act.. somber.. but stern.."

"And nobody will know w̷͍̙̏͝h̶̳̕a̷͕̺̒̔̅ẗ̷̢̹̩́ ̴̪͖̐͌̂h̵̹̍̃̕ȁ̴̯͉̮ṗ̷̠̞͆̆p̴̳̅̕͠e̸͍̬̓̍n̴͙͉̱͌͐͒ȩ̴̗̄d̵̹̗͍̒" James said, before placing Jonah's crown upon his head.

The coronation went without a hitch, the wedding was shortly after. Jonah ?̸̖͖̣̈̕͝?̵̢̢̢̤͖̰͛?̴̘͔̤̼͎̩̑͐̓̓?̷̙͈̪͌͆̅͌̏̍?̶̢͍̜̣̟̓͜?̷̮̝̝̬͑̈̍̈́̊?̶͇̙̐̐͂̏͘͠?̶̣̳͓̖̔̿̀̒̔͠?̶̢͓͚͒͐̈̌?̷͓̲̦̼̃̒̐̆ was fine. He, was able to do a lot more now. He made James his knight, so that the two of them can still spend time together. James, happily accepted this role. It was different now. But, the two of them made it work together.

Dahlia begins... to notice something between the two... But Jonah didn't seem to notice nor care. He just really needed James around. He grounded him in a way no one else could.

A year or so passes, and a plague has taken over the country, and unfortunately Jonah fell deathly ill. For several weeks, Jonah was mostly alone.. as nobody wanted to catch the illness.. It was torture for him, b̸̢̨̢̛̻̬̝̗̤͎̲̭̱̤̦̺̀̑̏͐̓͗͋͘̚͜͝e̷̡̢̧̥̹̹̪͖̝͎̦̼̟͖͕͛̏̍̈͆̓̈́̉́̈́̆̽͘̕͝͝į̷̧̗͇̘̗̼̻͈̖̪̰̩͎̋̆̑̓͒̈́̒̈́̄͜͝͝n̷̡̛̯̲̪͙̥͓͉͇̬͈͔̈͑̌̎͋̄̊͐̔͊̌̂̃͑͜͝g̴̢̧̛͎̤̻̭͍͕̦͔̞͇̺̝͔͉̽̌̚͠ ̶̢̳̬͈̎̾͊̈͆͐͋͒̏̚̚͝͝a̷̡͚̼͎̰̣͕̤͔̓͒́l̴̡̥̬͉͈̹̖̝̤̻͇͚̗̳̹͙̃͐̓͘ǒ̵̢̧͔̺̜͇̻̀̈͛̾͜͝ͅṅ̵̦͎̤̪̗̺͚̃ȩ̸͙̻̥̣̩͙̞̰̑̽̿̄̍͐̾̏̊͛͂͘͝ ̴̧̧̨͚͖̤̬̹̹̰̠̜̼͙̭̎͆͜ͅw̷̳̠͎̯̃͊̔͛̅̈̂͒̀̿̃̑̉̓͒͘i̸̍̈́̉̽͛ͅț̷̩͌̑͝h̵̟̙̙͚̖̟̹̫̥̯̤̩́̔̂͆͊͂̽̿̂̋͂̈͂͌̚͝ ̵̧͖͉̯̠̩̝̼͉͂͒͜͜ẖ̸͍͍̪͇͍̬̱̽̓͗̽̃̓͊̕͜i̷̡̩̳͙̯̰͇͖͇̤̰̳͛̄̈́̓̑̐͝͝ͅş̸̱͇̝͙͙̤̲͇͙̝̳̬̫̅͗̉ ̵̢͉̗̠̔̇̆̋͗͆͋̆͜͝ͅt̶̝̬͓̱͕̦͔̖̻̤͔̙͙͚̅̒͊̏̈́̔̓͊͝h̵͚̳͔̬͓̬͐̿͌̃͌̌͐͛̂ͅǒ̶̡͖̟͎͕̬̝̘̞̻̖̲̈́̂̈̓̓̚͝͠͝ų̶̡̯̪̦͖͖̲͉̟͈̰͉̓͌̏̂̐́̄̏̽̂g̵͎͍̻̩̅̍̈́͂ḧ̸̢̨̝̙͈̺̯̳̯̩́̈́́̂͋͌̃͑̈̚̚͜t̵̮͕̠̰͖̘̻̖̪̻̎̂̄͒̾͐͛̑́̐͠͝s̴̟̥̟̮̺͔͍̽̽̒̅́̔̑̌̓̾̕͜.̶̭͑͗̽̍̀͋̐̇̇̀̄͋

Jonah is broken out of his mind by the sound of his door opening late at night. A man in a mask came in with some sort of liquid in a bowl, Jonah quickly realized it was James. The two of them, had a long conversation about their life, about everything that happened.

James had Jonah drink the concoction he had made, though Jonah doubted it will help much. He was talking to James as if he was going to die.. why would he survive this after all.. James caressed his cheek with a gloved hand. The two of them.. told eachother how much they love one another.. Jonah told James that he would always be his, no matter what. Ṭ̴̙̺͓̹̭́ȟ̵̢̢̩̳̞̩̙̋̀̈̐̐̅͊̌è̸̙̫̗̱͉͚͔̹͍̎̿͜͝ͅ ̸̧̺̺̖̲̹̪͖̬͗̓̂̈́̈́̒̏̀͝͝d̴͍͙̙͙̟̮̝͙̤͍̖̳͔̰͂̉̇́́̎̉̋͘ǫ̸̡̣͓̲̭̯̩̍͛̋̓̀̓̄͌̒̓̿̒̐̕̚͠͝o̶̖̜̼̭̳͍̗̦̱͔͔̠̗̻̫̱͗̾̆͊̒͋̚͜ȑ̵̛̗̱͎͔̙̬̩̣̾́̂̌̇̀̍̌͂̕ͅͅ ̴̣͓̭͈͊̊̓̅̀͑̏͛́̂̓̊w̷̧̢̡̗̦̮̪̝̮̳̰͙͈͍̭̖͓̐̌͂͒̉͆̒̑̒̈́͐͋a̷̧̨̨̻͙̣͙̜̘̝͖̲͓̘̙͛̂͜͝s̸̢̧͈̣͚̤͕̗̠̥̩̥͚͈͍̟̊ͅ ̸̥͓̭̼͈̮͈͈̣̿̊́͑̎̇͛̀̒̒̈͑́̈̚̚ͅs̴͙̗̞͌́̌̑̑̐̈̽͘͠l̸̡̹͙̜̩̻͓͍͍͔̞̟̜̣̖̑̊̊ḯ̵̧̠̲͚͚̣̳͎̳̼̭͈̔̓g̷̝͓̿̓̄͝h̵̛͈͈̠̥͕̍̊̋̀̊͗̆́̀̉͠͝t̵̡̧͕͔͚͔̲͓̮̹̔̋̎̽͝ḽ̶͖͓͛̈͑͂͆̈́̔̽̓̆̑̓͘̚͝͠ÿ̴̛̝̼̟̻̱̗͖́̈́̆́̃̈̂̔͌͗͂̈͝͝ ̶̡̢͇̬̤͍̪̙͇̫̯̻̯͈́̃̽̐̐̔̌͜o̵̩̺̖͇̥̗̥͇̖̲͑p̵͓̳͎̳̩̞̠͍̓̌̾́͑́̑͌̚e̶̯͎̺͆̌͊́̏̈́̒̉̐̀̐̈́̀̈̈̕̚n̵̨̨͔͎͇̥̥̠̱͔̼̥͚̈́̉͜.̶̨̱̱̗̦̜̙̯̩͎̱̪̰̑̆͊̈̓̄̒͝

Jonah, amazingly actually was able to recover from the illness. It genuinely was a miracle. He wondered if James care had maybe actually helped a bit. The two of them continue to live their lives normally. One day the two of them are walking through the castle, chatting about some plans for a banquet they have to throw because of some neighboring kingdoms coming to visit.

Until they are stopped in the middle of the hallway by Dahlia and a few sets of guards. They ?̶̢̘̻̪͎͍͍̈́͌͆̆̅́̎͠ͅ?̷̢̺͔̘̗̰̰̟̮͇̼̼͇̍̒͊̉̈́̐͂͋̆̕͝?̶̨̡̡̺̟̩̥̺̮̬̻̥͎̙̰̩̀̋͑͌͐̽̽̐̌͘?̷̨̢̛̟̯͈͚̭̳͍̯̭̝̣͋͊̋͛̋̇́̓̒̀̑̎́̕͘̕?̴̧̻̙͈̺͔͖͕̟̒̈́̈́ͅ?̸̧̛͔̰̪̺̣̹̰̠̘͙̥̻͛͌͂̓̈̌̒͠ͅͅ?̷̧̞̯̹͛̔́́̒̀͒̔͒̑͐̚͠͝ͅ?̸̧̤̻̮̬̠͖̹̲̗̻͍̼͔̩̖̿̿̆̂̆̓̅́̽͑͝?̵̡̛͈̞̌̏̊̽̑̋͛̏̔̏̃̕?̸̼̩̭̑͌̐͛̄̍͂̉̚͠͝͝?̶̨̼̹̭̬̱͓͉̟̬̭͙̰̙͕̺͛̃̀̅̔̿̈́̋̋͒͛̒͆͌̚̕?̷̡̧̼͎̭͔̹͈̳̹̱̫̯̪͚͛̀͆̈́ͅ?̷̠͕͓͖̼̘̥̰͇̜̻̩̰͇͛̀̊͗́͌́̃͐͝ͅ?̸̣̳͕̼͙͉͙̪̝͕̱͛̎̂̏͛͂̈́̔͆͂̒̂͝?̶͉͉̮͔̤̣̳̜̠͕͈̣̤̣͇̎͂͛̈́̓̂̐͝?̸̨̛̙͇͕̩͇̠̹̙͚̺̳͖̦͗͆̀͌̌̋̒?̴̢̨͚͓͙̤̭̪̥̍̐̈́̈́̐̈́̈́̑̆͌́͝͝?̶̢̨̛̺̭̣̼̬̋̄̃̆͒́́̂̑̔͒̍͒͝͠͝?̸̘̰͔̞͙͉̦̪͜͝?̶̨̡̣̥̺̤̱͊́͝ͅ?̴̰̩̦̆̄̉͊͊̒̆̅̀̍́͜͝͠?̷̭̥̜̭̠̫̪̦̘̦̯͉̫̳͎̯͕̄̉̐͗̓̈́͌̀͗͊͑͑͛̇͗͝. James is. ?̶̢̘̻̪͎͍͍̈́͌͆̆̅́̎͠ͅ?̷̢̺͔̘̗̰̰̟̮͇̼̼͇̍̒͊̉̈́̐͂͋̆̕͝?̶̨̡̡̺̟̩̥̺̮̬̻̥͎̙̰̩̀̋͑͌͐̽̽̐̌͘?̷̨̢̛̟̯͈͚̭̳͍̯̭̝̣͋͊̋͛̋̇́̓̒̀̑̎́̕͘̕?̴̧̻̙͈̺͔͖͕̟̒̈́̈́ͅ?̸̧̛͔̰̪̺̣̹̰̠̘͙̥̻͛͌͂̓̈̌̒͠ͅͅ?̷̧̞̯̹͛̔́́̒̀͒̔͒̑͐̚͠͝ͅ?̸̧̤̻̮̬̠͖̹̲̗̻͍̼͔̩̖̿̿̆̂̆̓̅́̽͑͝?̵̡̛͈̞̌̏̊̽̑̋͛̏̔̏̃̕?̸̼̩̭̑͌̐͛̄̍͂̉̚͠͝͝?̶̨̼̹̭̬̱͓͉̟̬̭͙̰̙͕̺͛̃̀̅̔̿̈́̋̋͒͛̒͆͌̚̕?̷̡̧̼͎̭͔̹͈̳̹̱̫̯̪͚͛̀͆̈́ͅ?̷̠͕͓͖̼̘̥̰͇̜̻̩̰͇͛̀̊͗́͌́̃͐͝ͅ?̸̣̳͕̼͙͉͙̪̝͕̱͛̎̂̏͛͂̈́̔͆͂̒̂͝?̶͉͉̮͔̤̣̳̜̠͕͈̣̤̣͇̎͂͛̈́̓̂̐͝?̸̨̛̙͇͕̩͇̠̹̙͚̺̳͖̦͗͆̀͌̌̋̒?̴̢̨͚͓͙̤̭̪̥̍̐̈́̈́̐̈́̈́̑̆͌́͝͝?̶̢̨̛̺̭̣̼̬̋̄̃̆͒́́̂̑̔͒̍͒͝͠͝?̸̘̰͔̞͙͉̦̪͜͝?̶̨̡̣̥̺̤̱͊́͝ͅ?̴̰̩̦̆̄̉͊͊̒̆̅̀̍́͜͝͠?̷̭̥̜̭̠̫̪̦̘̦̯͉̫̳͎̯͕̄̉̐͗̓̈́͌̀͗͊͑͑͛̇͗͝?̴̼͖̫̎̿̃̊͛̉̏̉̓͂́̌̒̕͘͝ͅ Dahlia comes over to Jonah and hugs him. He looks down at the ground not sure what to say. T̸̛̥̊͐̊̕͝͠h̶̢̡̰̗͚͖̦̔ȩ̵͙̋̾̔͂̓͌̚͜ ̸̡̛̘̥̩̤̥̥̮m̴̡̼̹̔̈͗̚͜ō̶̲̟̯̣̞̑͆̌̓͜͝͠n̵͙͊́͊͋͘s̷͚̟͎̃t̸͖͎̦̰̫̯̺̿̀͑ȩ̴̬͍͓̾͛r̸̺͑̀̆̇́̕͝ ̵̠͇̳̞̌̐͜͝i̶̺͍̻̖̎̌͠s̷̢̲̟̼͊́͋͂ ̶̞̳̫̮̞̃̃̑̐͘͝͝ͅğ̴̡͕̝̀͐̈́̃͛ó̸̤͆̎́̚͠ń̷̲͓ȅ̴̫̀͗.̶̘͎̓́͛͑͜͝͠

Jonah and Dahlia sat upon their thrones as they watched the execution. This was, a quite common occurrence for any royal family. The guards pulled him onto the chopping block, locking the boy in place. Jonah thought about how his mother never let him go to these kind of things. How gruesome they were.

The executioner asked for the prisoners last words. But he said nothing. H̶̢͎̖̳̦̿̓̐͒̍̈́̆e̷̩̔͝ ̸̛̝͎̈͋̈́͝l̴̖̙̯̪̬̭͛̽͐̆ͅo̷̝̫̠̼͇̞̾ͅò̸̦̤̭͔̖̻͚̰k̷̬͎̱͓̯͔̜̱͒̇͗͌͑͋̑e̵̦͎͍̦̳̪̫͍̐͑̀͝d̵͇̊͌̒̄ ̴͇͚͓͇̌̋̄͑̀͛̾͝i̶̢͚͛̓̊̑͘ņ̶̯͇̞̯̥̋́̐t̴̡̧͚̊̓ͅͅo̶̜̬̼̙̺͗̒̅̒͛̒͘͠ ̸͉͍̣̺̗̰̲̿̏͑̂m̵̨̞̓͌̀̆̈́ẙ̵̲̰̊̓͌͗ ̷̨̟͎̱̯̆̈́͑̂ę̷̻̿͑̈́̔̈̒̐͘y̴̛̥͇͓͚̪̟̹͌̒̅̋͐̎e̵͉̩̜͚͓̠͌͆̉̈́s̷̯͍̽̈́͂̅͘̚̕͘ ̸̪͓̀̉ấ̴͙͆ǹ̸̢̦̲̲̣̺̃d̸̮̱͖̼̯̪̜̂͆͋̿́̐̒͠ ̶̗͔̉͘h̸͕͒̎e̴̡̞͕̣͎̦̽̀̉͠ ̶̢̛̩̘̜̊̓͘̚ͅḽ̸͍̪̥͗̽͆̈́̆͒͠o̴̙̲̮͉̺̓̌́̈̑o̸͎̪̤̍̊k̶̛͖̠̰̝͈̩͒̎e̷̛̛̞̯̬̹͎̠͌̿͆̓́͠ḏ̶̱̖̜̔̂́͂͐ ̸̩̳̳̗͈͚̮̙͗̉̓̍̈s̷͇̥̠̥͔̪͓͎̄́ỏ̴̲̜̾ ̵̼̰͆̋̍̏́̄͠b̷̫͇͓̹͙̺̭͛̒͂ȩ̵̯̬̃͝t̵͖̘͙̻͈̭̪͝r̵̛̮͛̽̃̐a̶̖̜̲̮̝̞͂͒̽͑͊̚̚y̴̼̩͒̃͌͆͋͝é̴͉̩̜͎̗́̉̇͋̇̾d̸̟̭̱͛̐͒͝.̶̧͚͕̫̔͊̿̃̌͠

H̶̢̛̖̝͕̦̫͉̠͌̊͘i̵̛̲̠̦̦͈̿͆̓͆͆s̷̫̮̊̓̈́͝ ̶̡͉͇̯̳̦͗h̸̪͙̝̳̣́̍̑͘e̶̫͙̩̼̽̊́͛̒̈́͝ͅa̴̛͇̣d̷̛̯̣̪̺͙͚̎͌͐̓́̕ ̸̯̖̹̯̊̊h̶͈̞̳̦̻̦͋̍̊ḭ̷̡̲͎̤̹̳̰̀̽̓̎̏̕͠t̵̩̀ ̵̡̧̥̙͆̚ẗ̷̢̢̤̩͕́h̴̢̧̝̳̖̪̦̄̔̉̈́e̸̡̟̯̜̞̬̖̪͌͋̉̋̊̕͠͝ ̷̧̺̥͉̄̆̈́͝g̸̺͓͔͕̝̀̿̅̇̈́́͝r̸̹̖͓̬͎̪̲̾͐ͅǒ̷͔̜͖̗̼̻ͅȕ̸̮̮͈̬̘̺̬͜n̴̨͖̰̆́d̸̦͋̀̇́͝.̸̫̳̱͍̣̦̰͎̓̈̐̚

Ḭ̴̯̙̪̘͍̑͊ ̸̞̱͖͇́̄͑̚̕͝ͅḓ̴̢͚͚͖́́̔̿̑͑͘͝o̸̞̠̤͒̿̊̾̚ǹ̵̢̫͈̥̭́̀̔̂́̒̂͜’̷̳̻͔̮̤͗̉͝ͅt̶͇̥͖̘̲̆̿̅̑̔̓̆͝ͅ ̸̨̗̣͔́̂͊̾͒̍k̵͚͓̼̜͒͑̌̋ͅn̶̡̡̯̥̠͖͆̍́̽̋ȯ̶͇̱̮̘̹͍̌̂͜w̵̤̩͑͂̄̈͌̎̚͜ ̴͚͕̼͇͔̂́̀̋̈́͘͝h̸͖̥̟̳̙͖̬̳̍͠ọ̶͈̥̹̬͔͍̿͋̅̐̄̓͜͝w̵̛̼̼̝͓͒̾͗͑̌̂̌ ̵̛̮̻̌͐̎͝l̶̢̧͍̪̟̓̔ō̵͎͓̤̰͉̫̰͛̎̏n̷̝̮͎̲̄͝g̴̯̘͒̈ ̶͕̞̓ì̷̞̪̳̩͒̈̔͝ẗ̶͙̲́̂͊̈̊’̵̛̗̏͒̉͂́̇̆s̸̛̥̞͙̞̓̋̌̚͝͝ ̶̢̫̼͗̿̓̈͛̆͝b̸̨̛̼̤̳͍̤͖̹̔̅̍̑̾e̸̳͈̫͇̬͘e̵̡̛̗͖̫͔̙͐͋̍̐͜͜ņ̴͚͇̘̲̪̟͛͜.̵̫̞̟̇̉̈́ ̶͉̮̝̥̓̏̑͗͋̄͠D̵̥̺͓̃͊̾à̴͎y̶̨̙̼̦̝̯͚͂ṣ̷̢͍̱́͆͋̇̐̆̏͠?̸͖͙͔̓̋̓̿͠ ̸͉͍͙̇̒̉́M̵̨͉̪̫̺̀ǒ̶̧̭͙̫̯̞̖̆͊͛͜ņ̸̲̹̦̰̀̐͋t̴͍̘̯̻̆̿͂́h̴̪̺̟̪̗̆̆͛͘ś̴̙͈̺̮̹̒͑͒̽͛̚?̵͖̊ ̸̗̯͒͌͠Ý̵͕̃̈́̀̿̈́̔͘e̶̡̡̺̮̦̩̟̓͛́͝a̷̦͇͓̥̺͉̒̿͗̏̍͠r̷̨̖̻̙̰̳̀͑̍s̶̡̹̬̥͇̫̘̖̾̈́̄̕͠?̸͎̝̤́̆̏͑̈́̔̚͝ ̸̘̮̯̤̯̯̀͆͊͂͐̑͐̒I̵̜̐̓̈̀̆͂̈́͠ ̸̟͔̫͍͇̉͌̃̇̈́͜ç̴͍͓̙͈̯͗̐̉̀̀̋̚a̷̤͍̜͊͆̿͂͌n̴̰̫̦̩̦͋̈͌̑̇̓̏̃’̶̩̞̹̮͕̮̣̈́̕͠͠t̴̥̿̈́͗̀̒̚ ̷̰̇̐͑̓͒̃̈̄s̵̢̜̈́̋̌̈́̋͊l̸̡̗̣̼̣̰͖̫͑̿͑̈́̊̍́e̸̼̙͖̭̾͆͜é̷̘̚͜ͅp̷̡̩͕̹͚̟͔̔̾́̌͆.̴̗͍̖̄̂

Jonah began to wander through the castle aimlessly, tracing the walls with his hand. He had grown up here, he knew it intimately. Į̴̼͍̣̼͇̀̔̔̅̇͝ ̶̨̲̌̃ḳ̷̅̓̊̀̽̽̈́̃͜͜ḛ̷̡̣̿̒ͅę̶̼̆p̴̢̤̯̙͌̒̿̓̉͘͝ͅ ̵̨͗̌̋̏͘h̷̘̮̝̗̱̯̑̀e̵̥̯̭̔͊ḁ̷͔̰̻̝̀͆̏̈́r̶͙̱̖̙̟̓̽͑̕ͅḯ̶̠͉̼͝ň̵̯̭ģ̴͈̼͚͙̻̰̐̓̌͘ͅ ̶̼̺̬̞̲̖͎̖͗̒̅i̶͇͕͕̓̽̕t̷͙͓̳͗̈́̃.̸̡̣̼̠͗̈́̑̽͋͘ ̶͑͜͝O̶̫̟̽͂̊̈́͌͠͝v̷̲͈̻̯̩̊̃̽͂̀̐̀ḙ̵̦͕̝̤̗̇r̵̢̡̗̫̖̙͓̻͋̑̓̈́̉̋ ̴̨̙͓̣͗͆̂̋̏͘͠͠ä̷̛͉͖͇͇̞̂n̵̼̺̜̫̝͛̈́̍̒͐d̵̨͕͚̳̪̣̾͜ ̶̛̳́̎͆̅̂̐o̵̻͓̻͌̇͂v̶̧̡͎̣͍̐́͠ë̴͓̞̲̬͈́̂̿̔̕ŕ̴͇͇̠̬̤̟̜̙͆̄̃̓̈ ̷̢̡͔̥̖̞̂̽̔̓̏̌̊͌a̷̡̗̗̰̩̦͋̏̎̊͐͑̚͘n̴̢͔͕̹̯͋͐d̶̨͈̽̑̈́͌̍̎͠ ̸̢̦̻̪͚̋̂́̒o̷̢͍͚̭̠̱̼̓͐̌̀v̴̧͙̐̄̋̎̀̇̄͝e̵̡̡͇̠̗̣̖̓͆̀̕ͅr̶̹̣͕͗̉ ̶͎̫̽a̸̢̜̜̘͖̖͙͠g̷̠̞̺̞̟͉̪̽̒́̎̓̆͘͘a̴̡̛̫̥̩̳̫̪̺̋͊̆͐̽͑i̸̛̦͈͚̿̉̆͊̓͘͠ṇ̸̻̫̦͈͕̓̐͗̈̍̌͊͠.̶̧̳̳̳͖̖̇̾̒͜

I̶̘̟͛̓̈̿́͋͠ ̴̱̐̈̌͒͌̕ḩ̶̛͚̘̱̝͈́̒͝a̵̛̲͓͛̏̄̃̓ț̴̨̖̅͗͆e̸͎̔̅ ̷̻̝̃̈̋̃͊͌̕͘m̴̪̟̫̱̟̙̝̀̀̏̀̅͊ͅỳ̴̼͈̯̦̭́̋̇ș̷̬̳͍̘͇̏͠e̷̛̳͎̙̓̑̌̏l̵̤͖͓̼̂̄̀͂̅̕f̵̧͓̺̪̜̤͈̖̏͊.̷̯̪̳̼̖́̄̀̇̋͐ ̴̤̘̫͍̗̩̺̈̽̈́͐I̷̧͍͙͎̯̣̎̀̄̓ͅ ̵̒̂̿̒̇̉͘͜͝h̶̢̺̗̝̠̬̥͒̾a̵̛̰̣͔̗̫̐̀̂͒̓̕t̸̢̢̲̰͈̟̲̳́̎̿̒̿̂͝e̶̻̪̠̭̬͌̽̈́̀̾͛̉ͅ ̵͇̥͉̩̝̑́e̸̠̻̯̣̕v̸̛̞͒̀̈́̔̕͝e̶̲͎̬̻̗̞̰̱͑r̷̰̍́͑̀͒̌y̷̘̱̩̰̝̞̬̓̎̕͝t̶̘̳̤̩͕̫̥̠͌̉̾̄̋͋̚͝h̵̺̩̳̥͇̣̹̑̈́̅͊̊̑͜į̴̰̳̀́̒̓̀ͅn̷̡͔͉͉̆͐̅͊͘g̶̜̪͙͚̀̋̀́͝ ̷̛̬̥͎̈́̆̏͝ḁ̸̮̹̮̿͂̽͐̋̌̈́̚b̵̲̠̖͎͖͌̍̐̋͋͝ͅö̵̤̪̬̖͎̖́̃̆͂̈̀̆ū̷̡̙̩̹̘͙͇́͝ṱ̶̌́͌̅̓͝ ̴͓͙̻̰͙͆́m̶̨̂̔̊͒͘͘̚e̶̡̡̫̗̣̟͊̌̏͂̕͝.̶̢͙͎̝̘͇̝̿̂̌́̕͝͠ Ḯ̸̫̲̪̳̲ ̴̠̲͈̅r̶̡̮͇͕̝̫̣̓́̒̀́͠͠͝è̴̯͓̭̙͝a̴̧̡̘̤̒́̈́̓͘͜c̵̡͈̤͍̰͈̍͆̓͜͜͝ḩ̵͔̙̞͉͗̏̽̿͊͌͊̃ͅ ̶̬͈͔͎͒̚͝f̸͖̿̔ó̸̺̻r̶̭̍͒̽̚ Ḯ̸̫̲̪̳̲ ̴̠̲͈̅r̶̡̮͇͕̝̫̣̓́̒̀́͠͠͝è̴̯͓̭̙͝a̴̧̡̘̤̒́̈́̓͘͜c̵̡͈̤͍̰͈̍͆̓͜͜͝ḩ̵͔̙̞͉͗̏̽̿͊͌͊̃ͅ ̶̬͈͔͎͒̚͝f̸͖̿̔ó̸̺̻r̶̭̍͒̽̚ ̷͔͚͈͇̬̥̏͑̂̅͋̕͘͜͜͝t̵͕͈̘̂̈́̎͌͝ḫ̵̯̖͑̽̀́̄e̷̥̜͇̔̓̐̅͆̐͛ ̵͕̪̟͎͙̻̍c̴͉̠͆̃̈́͗ắ̵̢̞̪͖̠͒͜n̷͍̭̭͚̠͎̲̓̏̒͆͊̆̆̚͜d̷̛͍̺̲̤̈̒̓̈́̃̋̚ẹ̶̰̰̰̹͑͛̀̕͝l̴̙͙̀̉̕͝͝ḁ̵̙̎̉̓͌͑͑͐̉b̵̬͖̆̕r̶̲̰̤͇̦̦̕͜ͅả̸̡̳̳͉̹̦̬̖̐͘,̵̝̂ ̴̳͈̉̑̈̈́̊͝ͅͅI̷͚͓̖̭̣̩̽̃ ̷̭͙͉̔̉r̸̩̹̳̗̩͍̙̿̉̊͑͑͑̐́è̷̱̔̄a̶̗͈̪͒̏͝ĉ̸̜͔̠̙͙̒̒̎͆̿͌̚͜ẖ̷̡̩͉̦̓̈́ ̶̰́̑̾̊̎̓̔͋f̸̡̧̯̹͙̣̟͕́̏̇́͛̈̚ő̶͈̘̼̠̠̂̔̿̚̕͝ŗ̷̱͚̘̋̉́̽͘̚͠͝ ̵̤̼͊t̷̡̺̣̦̙͓̄͊̄̈́͜h̷̗̠̳̠̞͓̮̍̈̿e̵̼͌͐̅̌̊ ̸̨̛̬̩͖̽̍͛̑͘c̸̻̬̼̟̳̣͇̭͆͂͗͂̚͝ȧ̵̟͚͉̙͊̈́̈́̑͌͑̕n̵̖̟̹̻̽̚d̶̛͓̥̋͗̽͑͘ẹ̴̲͖̌͂̊l̴̛̮̲̳̥̼̞͗̿̉̄́́̒͜a̴͔̮͔̻̣̹̋̀̏͋͠b̷͖̩͔̩͚͔̂̔̉͗r̵̢̦̻͗̄a̵̡̨̞̤̰͙̦̾̃.̴̳͂͆́͌̓̐̚͘ ̷͔͚͈͇̬̥̏͑̂̅͋̕͘͜͜͝t̵͕͈̘̂̈́̎͌͝ḫ̵̯̖͑̽̀́̄e̷̥̜͇̔̓̐̅͆̐͛ ̵͕̪̟͎͙̻̍c̴͉̠͆̃̈́͗ắ̵̢̞̪͖̠͒͜n̷͍̭̭͚̠͎̲̓̏̒͆͊̆̆̚͜d̷̛͍̺̲̤̈̒̓̈́̃̋̚ẹ̶̰̰̰̹͑͛̀̕͝l̴̙͙̀̉̕͝͝ḁ̵̙̎̉̓͌͑͑͐̉b̵̬͖̆̕r̶̲̰̤͇̦̦̕͜ͅả̸̡̳̳͉̹̦̬̖̐͘,̵̝̂ ̴̳͈̉̑̈̈́̊͝ͅͅI̷͚͓̖̭̣̩̽̃ ̷̭͙͉̔̉r̸̩̹̳̗̩͍̙̿̉̊͑͑͑̐́è̷̱̔̄a̶̗͈̪͒̏͝ĉ̸̜͔̠̙͙̒̒̎͆̿͌̚͜ẖ̷̡̩͉̦̓̈́ ̶̰́̑̾̊̎̓̔͋f̸̡̧̯̹͙̣̟͕́̏̇́͛̈̚ő̶͈̘̼̠̠̂̔̿̚̕͝ŗ̷̱͚̘̋̉́̽͘̚͠͝ ̵̤̼͊t̷̡̺̣̦̙͓̄͊̄̈́͜h̷̗̠̳̠̞͓̮̍̈̿e̵̼͌͐̅̌̊ ̸̨̛̬̩͖̽̍͛̑͘c̸̻̬̼̟̳̣͇̭͆͂͗͂̚͝ȧ̵̟͚͉̙͊̈́̈́̑͌͑̕n̵̖̟̹̻̽̚d̶̛͓̥̋͗̽͑͘ẹ̴̲͖̌͂̊l̴̛̮̲̳̥̼̞͗̿̉̄́́̒͜a̴͔̮͔̻̣̹̋̀̏͋͠b̷͖̩͔̩͚͔̂̔̉͗r̵̢̦̻͗̄a̵̡̨̞̤̰͙̦̾̃.̴̳͂͆́͌̓̐̚͘

When Jonah awoke, he was in a courtroom. He tasted A̷̭̗̅s̸̢̱͍͓͍̤̙̈̏̏͌̂̈͠h̶͎͇͋̈̓̓̇́̾̕ͅ in his mouth. He seemed to have made an audience with the gods. A tall figure dressed in a black cloak stood before him, along with several other godlike beings. Jonah remembered feeling nervous, having all these eyes upon him.

The god in the cloak asks Jonah if he wants to admit the sins he’s committed. To face the crimes and horrors that have happened in his life because of his own two hands.

Jonah snapped into a performance, he begged and pleaded, he said he was sorry. H̴̯̒̏̇ͅë̴̞̦̻̺̙̣́̉͂̉͜ ̸̧̧̞̝̘̚w̶̢̡͔͓͕̏̑̃͌̎̎ͅä̷̯̯̜́̍̏̎̉ͅš̵̲̮̱͕͎͋͑̾̋̄̊̾ņ̵̡̫͕̤̽̌̾͐͜͠’̴̖͙̽͌t̴͇̠̤̖͙͙̱͐̍͑ ̶̙̩̟̿̀s̸̛͈̠̅̍̿͆͆̕͝ó̶̢̢̥̥̌͆̌̋͒ͅṟ̸̖̜͕̤̝̎̇̒́̉͂͐̓r̶̨̧͇̮͈̩͛̓̎̃̆̚͠y̷̬͙̎.̵̛̥͙̫̭̝̥̺͆͆͋̍̽̓͜He balanced his arms and head on the podium, looking downwards. I̸̞̣̻̜̯̅̈́̈́ͅͅ ̶̛͈͓͖͇̭̗̇r̷̢̘̖͙̜͕̗͂̈́̒̌ȇ̵̹̣̺̪͍̹̓̏̾̈́m̵̛͙̟͍̯̟̫͖̂̊͑͝e̵͓͕̗͐̎͑m̴̦̲͕̱͠ḃ̴̼͎̯͕̦͋̕͝e̶̺̼̝̝̩̝̒̀̊̀̎͌́r̷̳͖͇͠ ̷̖͌͌̆̚͘s̸̗̪͘m̸̥̜̟̣̼̹̟̆i̶̬̫̾̈̄̆ļ̷̼͓̳̹̳̇͗̋̊́ǐ̸̼̹̤̪͔̣͙̲̊́̈́n̶̰̒̈̀̈̽̂͘ǵ̴̲͓̆̊̅̊͠,̶͈̪͙̖͙̃ ̷̰̯̯̻͈́̌͠ț̸̮̆͆̉̐̒h̶̢̖̣̣̣̺́̀̈́͜ͅï̴̯ṋ̴͎̓k̵̯͐̑͛ĩ̷͍̜̻͚̍n̶̜͖̞͔̫͙̉̐͂̅͛̿̑͊g̴̡͙̔̈̆̑̍͒͝ ̶̦͕́̄ì̴͉̣̲̩͕̟̮͂͐̕͜ṫ̴̝̱̳̼̬̜̖͋̏͘ ̶̢̨̨̛̛̬ḣ̶̹̩̠͙͎͇̈́̌̽̅̀̚ͅͅạ̸̗̝̝̑́̏̂̈́d̷̙̠͈̻͉͖̾ ̶̡͙̜̪̰̩͐w̶̨̬̼̫̰̗͒͑̇͆͋̉̓ǒ̵̧̰̩͚̩͎͚̪̔̋͌͝r̸̙̘̮͚̃̔̽̒͌͒͠͝k̶̫̯̟͑̈́e̵̢̬͊̑̏̅͝ḑ̵̜̲͚̳̦̟̰̾̚.̵̢̥͖̘̺̩̄̚

B̶̧̗̗̼̤̰̏̄͗u̸͎̱̖̽́̂̾̆̕t̶̰̠̠̉͋̈́ ̸̗͉͖̠̼̳̘̔͋ḧ̸̠̺̜̰̭́ȇ̶͕̖̟͉ ̸̪̺̈̀̾͗͆̌͑͘s̴̢̼̈́̋̈́͜͠ȁ̸̟̰͉͈͙̰̺̖̏́́w̷̲̖͓̋̈́̈̊͂͘ ̴̡̧̮͎̹̗̥̐ṯ̶͎̩͌ḫ̸̘̟͎͓̰̻͛̿͛̉̆̈́r̵̺̪̣̘̖̖̈͒̾̈͜o̷̜̼̙̽̎̒̂̿̿͑͝u̷̳̤͚̻̮̻͙̥͋͋̈̅͆ǧ̵̢̖͚͚̅̌͠h̴̛̳́̈́́́͆͒̔ ̶͍̻̦̻̠̌̐ͅm̵̧̟̮̣̣̙̉͊͛ẹ̸̪̬̙̤͉̞̭͂.̶̨͈̰͈͉͑̚ Y̴̗̩͍̻̯̰̻̓̉ỏ̸̘͖̹̫̇̏̓̎̊͊̆ȗ̵̧̗̀͋̕̕̕ͅ ̸̫͖̻̻̣̫̹͋̎̋͒̐̉̚̕c̶̨̫̳̈́̽̐̓́̃̂͐â̶͇͖̘̣͚̅͂͝n̵̨͍͍͕̋̈́̌͑̕͜n̸͕̩͖̩̺̟͝o̴͉̪̝̯͎͈̥͗͋̀̇̂̈̚͠t̴̝͍̗̎͋̈́͗͑͂͆ ̶̨͖̯̠͛̓͒̊̚e̷̱̽͌̾̔̀͒̕ͅş̶̈́̀̈́̋̈̀̊̈c̷̪͉̎́a̶̛͖̳͓͆͒̏͝͝p̸̡̫͛̈́̀̅̓̍͌ë̶̬́̌͊̅̚͜͠ ̴̻͇̲̆̏͒̋p̷̞͍̺̂͒̄̕̕ṳ̴͛͐̔̓́̕n̵̨̛͇͈͕̥̲̦͂̓̚ḯ̵̲̈́͒ş̴̯̕h̸͖̮̄͗̌͒m̶̢̖̪̮͓͛̇̈́̊̏é̷͕̖̪̖̲̎̇̓̚n̶̢̦͍͑͌̌t̸͇̖̟̩̃̑̈̉͝ ̴̩͎̃͝t̵̤̾̈́h̴̛̥̤̟̤̄͐̓̈́͊̂͘r̸̯̂̓̎͆̒ǫ̴̡̧̧̢̰̠̎̆ǘ̴̪̳̗̭̫͛̈́̃͘͠ͅg̴̘̩̮͇̑͆̇̉̈́͝͠h̶̛̤̜̏̆̂ ̶̢̩̺͉͎͕̣̈́̇͊̊̀ͅd̵̗͒̆̓̀̑̔ĕ̸̛̞̩̰̠̪̎͒͗ͅä̵͖̺͎͉̠̹́̌͆͊̊̒̓̈ͅt̵͙͚̮̦̄͑̇͝h̴̺͎͐͗̿͛̕.̵̟̟͎̥̣̪͐̀ ̷͈̅̇F̸̺̲̻̟̜̀̓̕o̵̧̭͖̤̮̒͐ͅr̴̖̦̉̚ ̷͖̻̐̆͋̓̈̅h̷̳͊̂̓̄͌͝e̵̬̗̺̯̝̭͘ͅ ̸̳͖̻̏́͋̉ị̴̱̪̯̦͉͔̗̉̉͑̈́͋̚͝s̸̨̨̲͓̭͈̗̾̿͊̆͛̽̌͝ ̷̦̟͊̀́̃t̵͇̻̙̤̣̪̬̠̀̊́̂͑h̸͇̊͌̄̋̆̾͘e̷̛͖̲͙͇͈̻̜̗̊͒̿̆͝͝ ̷̣̀̎̅͝j̴̦͈̚ų̶̼͚̫̪͖͊̀̕d̴̗͔͖̜̲̬́͆̂͌́̃̆̊g̶̙̖̮͈̣̣̿̋̅e̸̥͋̃̂,̸͇̬͎̟̱̠͉̮̒̎̎͋́̓̚ ̵̡̗̙̼̼̯̋̈́͜ͅj̸̤̬͎̬͗̉̀̚͝ṵ̸̧̧̳̼̮̤̜̆̌̊́̈́̎r̴̝̟̔̀͛̎̈̈̕y̴̧̹͙̠̫͓͂̓,̴̧͒̂́̽̚͝͝ ̶̧͚̖̼̗͊̔͒̃̏͂͋a̵̢̨̛͎̝͍͛̌̾̔͐̐n̷̛͆͜͠͝d̴͎͍͈̮̤̑ ̷̢̗̭̗̱̟̪̿̿̽̒̾͜ȇ̶̛͚̫̀͋̍͂̅x̷͍͍̩̱̤͋̀͌͠e̸̥͇̙̳̊̑̉̇̈́̕c̵͇̝̖͓̖͛̌̀̂͊u̴̘͙̻̩̺͝t̶̟̰͕͗̓͐͑̆̅̕i̸̢͎̜̣̞̟̘͓̍̎͌̋͐̋͝o̵̰̅͌͂̈́́͠͝n̷̜̲͖͉̬̓̒e̸̛̮͇̲͍͎̫̫̋̋̇̾r̴̪̾̊.̸̢̨̦̹̱͕̣̏͑͂̈́

Jonah panicked. J̸̫͑́ơ̵̺͑̿̃n̴̨̧̛͗̂̓̈́̈́̒ȃ̶͖̺̖͕̐̆h̴͍͗͗̃͗̚ ̶̠̻̰̄̃̀̋̔p̵̮̻̯͘̕ä̴̛͔̥͕̥̭̩̥́̇̄̾̚͝n̷̞̓̔͝i̸̬̯̮̭͉̦͆̀̈́̏̒̄͝c̸̜̾̓̍̐̒̄̀ķ̸̥͇̰̙̲̾ȇ̷͕̺̟̤̿̀͛̃͘̚d̵̢̛̠̣̙͖̐̑͒͜.̵̼̉̈ J̸̫͑́ơ̵̺͑̿̃n̴̨̧̛͗̂̓̈́̈́̒ȃ̶͖̺̖͕̐̆h̴͍͗͗̃͗̚ ̶̠̻̰̄̃̀̋̔p̵̮̻̯͘̕ä̴̛͔̥͕̥̭̩̥́̇̄̾̚͝n̷̞̓̔͝i̸̬̯̮̭͉̦͆̀̈́̏̒̄͝c̸̜̾̓̍̐̒̄̀ķ̸̥͇̰̙̲̾ȇ̷͕̺̟̤̿̀͛̃͘̚d̵̢̛̠̣̙͖̐̑͒͜.̵̼̉̈ J̸̫͑́ơ̵̺͑̿̃n̴̨̧̛͗̂̓̈́̈́̒ȃ̶͖̺̖͕̐̆h̴͍͗͗̃͗̚ ̶̠̻̰̄̃̀̋̔p̵̮̻̯͘̕ä̴̛͔̥͕̥̭̩̥́̇̄̾̚͝n̷̞̓̔͝i̸̬̯̮̭͉̦͆̀̈́̏̒̄͝c̸̜̾̓̍̐̒̄̀ķ̸̥͇̰̙̲̾ȇ̷͕̺̟̤̿̀͛̃͘̚d̵̢̛̠̣̙͖̐̑͒͜.̵̼̉̈ J̸̫͑́ơ̵̺͑̿̃n̴̨̧̛͗̂̓̈́̈́̒ȃ̶͖̺̖͕̐̆h̴͍͗͗̃͗̚ ̶̠̻̰̄̃̀̋̔p̵̮̻̯͘̕ä̴̛͔̥͕̥̭̩̥́̇̄̾̚͝n̷̞̓̔͝i̸̬̯̮̭͉̦͆̀̈́̏̒̄͝c̸̜̾̓̍̐̒̄̀ķ̸̥͇̰̙̲̾ȇ̷͕̺̟̤̿̀͛̃͘̚d̵̢̛̠̣̙͖̐̑͒͜.̵̼̉̈ J̸̫͑́ơ̵̺͑̿̃n̴̨̧̛͗̂̓̈́̈́̒ȃ̶͖̺̖͕̐̆h̴͍͗͗̃͗̚ ̶̠̻̰̄̃̀̋̔p̵̮̻̯͘̕ä̴̛͔̥͕̥̭̩̥́̇̄̾̚͝n̷̞̓̔͝i̸̬̯̮̭͉̦͆̀̈́̏̒̄͝c̸̜̾̓̍̐̒̄̀ķ̸̥͇̰̙̲̾ȇ̷͕̺̟̤̿̀͛̃͘̚d̵̢̛̠̣̙͖̐̑͒͜.̵̼̉̈

J̵̙̞̎̈́̽ỏ̶̜͍̝̊n̶̺̱͙͙̞̅͜ȧ̵̻̫̞͉̳̿̑̍ͅh̵͚̏̋̍ ̶̟̼͉͓̜̗̦̂̀̓̊́̅̇l̶̦̪̰͇̫̒̏̈́ǫ̵̼͔̟̦͂͐̕ȍ̵̧̧͈̹̙͙̾k̶̢̡̘͓̥͈̳͑̈́͌̋ę̶̣͚̟͛͊̓̈́͂̒d̷̬̑͂̃ ̷̹̬̬̼͒́̃̀̔͒̇d̷̢̫̩͓̝̉͗͑̐̍͊͜ơ̷̡͓̐̃̍̀w̸̰̓͊̊͗͛͝n̵̤͚͖͝͠ ̷̡̠̩̋͐̉͑͐̂̓͝ä̶̠̜̰̙̯̗̤͔́̊͆ţ̸͈͉̭̃̾̋̓̂̅̿͝ ̴̲̰̯̏t̵͔̹̆̍̚͠ḩ̸̲͓̘̞̩̤̍̈́̂͆e̴͑̽̑̄̎̉̾ͅ ̵̢̛̫̈́̀̃̃s̶͍͇͔͖͓̣̞̓̿̐̏̉̆͠í̴̖̗̬̱̬͚̬͂̇̓l̵̨͕̮͕̥̟̲̻̂̿͊͒̏̾͘v̵̧̧̫̩͒e̵͇̪͈͙̙̟̫͒̈r̵̪̞̎͆̾͌ ̴̥̞͕̹̳̻̎̈͒̈̐̑̐͠b̸̭̰̥̞̭̩̺̙̈́l̷̙͉̱̪͕͇̟̃ȍ̶̧͚̣͉̣͉̣̑̚ó̴̫͉̻̜͎̤̥̽̔d̷̡̧̿̾̎͒͝͠͝ ̵̙̣̙̼͆̈ö̸̢̲̹̪̦̙̓̍͗͗́͌́ͅn̴̦͕̄̀̄̔̐̏̚ ̶̥̪͈͗̈́͂̉̓̕h̸̡̙̫͕̒͛̋̂̀̽̚ḭ̷̟̘̰͑̎͒̓̾͝͝s̴̨̛͔̗͈͕̥͍̆ ̵̧̹͕̘̉̈͂̃̀͠ḩ̷̣̺͉̰̔̈́́̇̕ͅå̶̧̢̙͚̃͊̈̾n̷̖̥̗̙̠͚̑̇ḑ̵̨̛͇̈́̍̀͆̍͜s̵̪̫̫̗̿̽̒̊̈̚͜ͅ ̵̛̝͍͚̎̓͒̇̀͝a̴͔̰͔̦̓̚͝ͅn̴̜̞͎͚͖̤̅̄ḑ̷͇̖̜̰̥̗̮͒ ̷̏́́̃͑̈ͅh̷̨̡̫͈̥͍͕̽̄̀ě̷͔͈̕͠ ̷̺̪̲̟̺̬͈̓̓͌̕ͅc̵̜̦̱̲̙̞̐̑͊͘l̷̙̪̭̟̫̗̫̈ͅụ̷̧̧̭̣̱̋͝ͅt̷̯͔̩̫̅̓c̶̜͕͒̚̕h̵̢̛̘̗̯̱̻̬̎̍̀̄̓̑̉e̶̱̹͑͝d̴̛̟̉ ̸̢̳̭̺̞̘̱̀͐t̵͓̣̿̂̈́̔͊̑͘͝h̵̡̧̖̲͇́͘͜e̷̤̟̎̌ ̶̧͔̥̃̋̕e̵̢̢̼̘̼̽̄͑͊̋̑̈́̑m̵͙̼̤̈́̽͒̀̄ͅb̴̥̲̭̺̜͑̓͆͘l̴̬̭͚̗̘̄̉ë̷͔͍̘́͐̽͗͂̀͝m̸̜̲͚͙̫̱̰̈̒̈̏͛̈́ͅ ̴̛̛̺̯͚̭̖̱̰͗̀̄͠ͅa̵̲͂͌͐̇͆̈́n̷̦̈́͛̋̇͘d̵͈̘̦͇̥̱̺͒͑̃͆̽͂̿̚ͅ ̶͔̪̪͇͔̞̂ͅp̴͔̤͚̣̞͖̺̊͆͆̀̐̚ḽ̸̘͕̑͌͗̀á̴̩̑̓͆ç̵̨͋̒̂̌͆͘̕ͅé̵͎̎̐̍̈́͗͝d̴̟̎ ̶̨̛̜͕̙͚̈i̸̧̝͚̯̩͉̜͋̾͊̈́̀͐̆͝t̷͔̭̟̮̰̞͉͋ ̶̧͙̩̫̫͝ͅḭ̴͑͂̋̎̋͝͝͝n̷̳͖͊̽̃̂̌͌̔̾ ̶̲͖͉̻͗̾̏̔h̵̢̤̬̝̫͍̻̐ỉ̵̬̅̽̚s̵͚̘̦̥̹̒̎̀̈́̕͘ ̷̢̤̹̮͍̯̩̌̅̿̎c̷̛̤͚͗̌̓̓ͅͅh̷͕̲̫͍̮͉̘̥͑̃ę̶̥͙͔̻̍ͅs̷͖̱͒̋t̶̟̭͓̊̅͋̓͝.̵̪͈͐̇̀͘ ̴̧̡͇̰̇̃̈́̈́T̸͈̊͊̓͊͑̓̓͘h̵͕̙͚̹͈̥͌̔͘ȩ̵̤̇͋ ̴̰͒̿͑̓͐̄̾g̸̲͍͙̥͐o̸̟̾ḑ̷̪̱̬̲͓͕̏̂̌̇͑́͘̚s̵̭̲̼̈̾̋ ̷̡̢̣͚̩́̉̔͒̈́͜t̸̡͝r̴̘̳̱̖̰̞̬̺̾̐͂̀i̴̢̛̙̤̬̻̲͛̔́̇͑̽ͅe̷̡̬̣̝̺̝̅͂̂͜d̶͔͈̲̪̬̫̭̬͆̉ ̶̛̟̝̫͐͑ͅț̶̖͕̪̹̘̬̒͗͛̿̚̕͝͠o̶̳͈̞̭͉̗͛͆̏͘̚͝͝ ̷̨̟̳͇͆̓̓̿͘͠͠r̶̩̗̻̥͔͑̆̒̓ẻ̴̲͍̳̣̠͎̙̃̅̓͋͒̈́͆ͅs̶̡̪̠̱͕̺̟̿̏̓t̷̲̳̹̮́̉ṟ̴̛̣̳̰͇̈́͆̅̅̿ä̷̞̙̙͎̺̓͗̔́͘ȉ̷̩̤͓̹̮̮̼͊̃̕ͅn̸̨͗̔̈́̎̇͘ ̴̱̱̋̏͆́h̵̹̖̿̈́̅̔̆̄͠ì̶̖̣̫̖̚m̵̰͂̅-̶̬͔̉̆̀̋͜

T̴̢̨̕h̵͙̫͊̆́ë̴̡̱̗͔͂y̶̮͚͓̔̾̍̒ ̶̛̜̦̈́ͅt̸̖̜͇͚͗͋́͂h̵̹͖̖̝͗̈́͑̕r̶̤̖̯̥͆ë̵͍̼́̃͝͝w̷̘̄͐̈́͘ ̸̛̭͙͈͖m̶̢̈́̃e̷͖͔͓͠ ̷̞̫͖̓i̶̝̺̓́n̶̠̪̹̒͜t̴̛̳͑͝o̶͕̩̔͠ ̴̼̻̀̑̈́͘t̵̫̻̥̱͋́̆̍h̶̺̤̆̐ę̴̛͓ ̸͇͋̍́ȑ̴̲í̷̧͖̼͎̍͝v̵̢̥͚͖̒́̈e̴̡̛̠̩r̸̢̢̘̃̐̑͜.̶̨̧̲̖̇ ̸̳̳̗̣̍̂͝Ī̴̗͠ț̵͎̾̍͊ ̴̧̦̲͘͠ẁ̶̛̩̚á̸̧͎̗̗̂s̶̤̈́̑̓ ̶̥̱̖͂͊͜s̴͕̻͈̓o̵͈̱͚̓͛ ̴̡́̽̕c̸͖̋ơ̵͉͚͑͑͝ḷ̷̔̅͋͛d̷͕̐̈́.̶̯͗̇ ̶͖͍̲̊A̷̦̥̔l̸͎̲̾͌̅l̷̮̯̼̂͛́ ̶̳́̑̓̊Ḭ̵̧͇̳̽̀͝ ̴̘̈͆͆c̸̤̱̺̭̊͌̃͝ǫ̴̧͔̍͗̊̂u̴̜̘̦̙͂l̷̤̬̽̅̂d̷̛̜̗͉͔͐ ̵̟̥͚̩͛̕͝͠h̶̡̩̼̲̓͒̒ȅ̴̢̡͕͈͆͋̇à̷̮̖̼̏̽̕r̵̺͌̉̈́̕ ̸̨̅͜w̸̮͙͐ë̸͇̼͕͍́̐̃̉ŕ̷͍̲͒̕é̵̺̈́̾͠ ̷͇̤͋̓s̴̤͆c̶͎̣͔̿ṛ̸͍̘͝e̸̙͗̈́̐̈́ắ̴͙̌̚m̵̪̾ŝ̸̫̖̃͂ ̶͇̟͉̟̐͛͒͐a̴̺̻̙͆̂ǹ̵̮̺̩d̸̮͛ ̸̺̬͈̚t̴̳̻̺͂͂̕͝ḫ̶̂͝͝e̷̬̤̓͋̓y̶̛̺͕͇͗͒̌ ̷̨̥͐͂̂̾ẇ̸̺̾̽̐e̵̘̘̲̰͋r̷̛͙̻̙̈͘e̴͓̜̓ ̶̢͙̊ā̶̚͜ḻ̷̝̼͙̒͐͋l̷͔̹̫̀̈ ̸̼̟̼̓́͑g̵̯̦̞͛r̸̦̪̩̀̈́a̵̱͇̾̀s̴̥͊̈͒̏p̶̤̻̓̀́̚i̷͙̖͓̖̓̊ṋ̶̡̞͓̀̾̇g̸̮̠̰̼̀̆͘ ̴̲̦͊͑̌́ḿ̸̢͚̖͗̽e̷͉̻͚͙͋̌͛.̷̱̪̝͇͌̍̅ ̷͖̼̥͑Ị̸͕͎̏͜ ̴̢̫͔̘́́̀̅c̵̨͉̺̉ǫ̸̓͂ŭ̵͚͌̕l̴̛̘̮d̶̰̼͋̿́̌ǹ̷͉̩̀̑̚’̴̨̭̻̬́̅̒̐t̸̗̱̆̈̑ ̸̗̥̠͖̓̊̚d̵̲͓͐͌̒̌i̶̜͌͌e̷̛̞̪͊͝.̵̯͍́̔̏̄ ̷̡̟͎̑̉͠Ẁ̶̩̾ḩ̷̲̘̮̅y̵̖͖͔̬̐ ̴̠͍̏č̸͙̱̪o̸̬̖̎̉ȕ̴̥̇̆͋l̴̩͍̈͊̅͗ḍ̸͔̗̞̾̓̏ň̷̨̦̻͎̅͝’̷̯̐͑t̴͕͍̆̾͌ ̷̼́Ȉ̶͚͉̺͒͐̄ ̷̡̟̣͑̀̋͛d̴͚͂̽̀͝i̵̩͒̚ḛ̵̱̫̰̃͌.̵̨̲̯͖̀̋̑ ̸̙̻͍̄̇W̶͎̊̓͂ḥ̷̽͗̾͝y̸͕͍͓͋͊ͅ ̵̞̓c̵̟͇̎̈o̸͖̹̾̓̈́̇ủ̸̯̣̻̭l̵̲̲̰͕̉͊͑d̵͕͖̗͐́̾͝n̷͊̋͜’̷̺̖̮̋̅͛ṫ̷̪̥̼̒̓̎ͅ ̸̛̯̹̎͘I̶̧̺̓ ̴̨̅̋̐͝ḍ̷̮̄̽̕͘i̷̡͕͔͈̓e̵̱̚.̸͈̆̇͊͝ ̸̯͖̑̃̾̂Ẇ̸͕̤͜ḥ̶̛̪̞̆͂́͜ỳ̶̗̩͝ ̶̨̤̌̅̿c̵̭͍͖͕̀̔o̷̱̗͝ú̴͓̫͚̊ͅl̵̞͚̈́d̶͕̫̿n̶͈̮̭̩͆’̶̟̟̦̒t̷͔̙̼͆ ̶̤̲̓́I̵̥͔͋ ̸͓̙̥̊̌d̶͓͋͐͋̚ĩ̶̧ͅe̶͇̎̇̊.̴̖̹̖̑ ̸̤̹̝̲̄̅P̵̞̣͇̾̓̍͘l̵͓͎̣̻̽̂̍e̴͎̒͋̏̒a̸̛͖͓͐s̶̫͐͂ę̵̛̩ ̴̣͕̌͒͆l̴̝̎ȩ̶̉̃t̶̬̩̻́͜ ̴̨͔̕͜m̶̢̫̻͖͑͝e̸̬̳̲̝͐̌̾̽ ̵͙́̿̌̄ḍ̴̨̱͗͆i̵͎̓̓̍͌ẽ̴̳̫̗͚̑.̵͉̙̭̓̓ ̷̫̅P̷̲̞͔̥͛l̷̜̙̥̑̇͜e̴̤͚̰̖̽͗̎͝a̵͉͊s̷̡̊̿e̶͓̔ ̸̢̹̭̓̄Í̷̧̠͙ͅ’̷͌̇͂͗͜͜m̶̻͇̯̋ ̷͚̈́s̸̹̤̟̰͑́̃͗ǫ̴͙͊͛r̸̗̿́̈͜r̸̢̞̭͋ý̶̢͈̖̐͗͝ ̶̛̰͙͔Ỉ̸̢̳͇̑ ̴̢̥̥̬̏d̶̙͉̻̯͑̈̌͗į̷̙̳̻́d̸̜̠̝̍n̷̲̂’̵̜̞̃ţ̴̔ ̵̹͍̐̓̐m̶̝̩̹̞̓̄͗̚e̵̢̱͈͕͛̾à̵̫̌͐n̸̛̛̦̅͗ẗ̵͕́̀͜ ̶̭̯̺͉́t̴͎̋ó̴̘̯̭̬ ̸͔̱̑̍̕ǰ̵͚̐̀ủ̸̯̝̯̖̀̂s̴̨̿̒͛̈t̴̲͝ ̸̠̠͎̘̓l̸͕͕̊̏̄́e̶̺̫̔t̸͖̭͆̈̐͝ ̴̯̰̀m̶͔̟̬̽̈̈́ẻ̴��̺̳̳̓͂ͅ ̷̠̺̬̊̽̓̽d̸͔̪͎͆̚i̷̾͑̍͝ͅe̸̩̊̔ ̴̡̬̝̄͌p̷̗̎͆̆͗l̵̺̝͌͝e̶͍̞͂̍͠ä̷̺͖̟́̿̾s̶̠͔͌͌ȅ̶̘̤̻̒ ̴̰̂̄ḻ̸̛̜̀e̶͈̱̬͋̈͑t̸̛̺̝͕̹̓ ̸̺͍̗̾m̶̢͚͑̎̚͜͜e̸͈̽̊͠ ̶̲̻̉͛͝d̷̛̖̉͛͐í̵͖̪̄ȅ̷͕̽.̵̯̏͊̈́͜͠

H̸̨͔͑̏̕ŭ̴̡̝̹͙͋ň̵͒̅͜ḑ̵̛͉̞̲̠̼́͂͆̄r̴̰̟̱̯͖̄ȅ̷̡̩͖̹͙̌̔̏͜͝d̷̝̦̙̽̑š̴͓ ̶̘̻̘͎̩͍̿͊̿ő̸̦̞̽͑̌͌f̸̪̜͔͓̽ ̸̛̖͋͛̅̚y̷̰̳̖̙̕e̸̢̘̟͚̗̖͝a̸̡̠̟͌͗̄͠r̶̥͇̥̖̗͂ͅs̴͈̮̰̺̅̊͑.̶̥̋̂̄͝ ̸̦͉͍̏̄̊Ṡ̶̟̭̯̫̞̈́̓̚ỏ̸͍̲̫ ̴̪̥̞͌̓m̷̢̮̕ȕ̵̡̬̻̘̽̏c̷̻̯͕͈͔̀̌̔ẖ̴̭̘̖̽̈́ ̶̗̣͚͎̠͚̄͠t̸̡͊̀̃̎̾i̴̬̔́́͑̍̿m̴̢̤̟̺̈̿̈́̀̓͝e̴͍̦̻̩̒͗̎̾.̴̭̫̱̽̿̽ ̵͚̭̳͊̓̀̆̚͝P̴̰̮̫̮͚̿͒̽͛͠l̸̥̓͘͝e̴̘͓̋̐̑͂͝a̶͇̟̬̝͗͛̽̊́́s̴̘͖̭̈͌è̸̦͈̯͚̺̋̆̕ ̷̧̥͓͍̫̣̀̂̈̀̌Ȋ̵̧̑͝͝ ̸̟̽̽j̸̨̥̖̱͖͊͝ư̸̪̪͗̅̊̂s̸̛̟̯̒̄̊͝t̸͇̾̈́̈́̄̓̉-̵̧̰̀͗̍̂͑ͅ ̷̧̮͕̖̀̅i̴͍͙̲͆f̵̻͍̣̦̫͛̀͂̉ ̴̠̳̠̗̿̑I̴̗̒͘ ̶̢̳̗̈̌̽̇ͅc̸̖̤͊̔̈́̕o̸̬̝̮̥̺̞͂͋u̵̺͇͚̕l̷͍̺͓͒̃͐͒͝ͅd̸̻̬̝͎́̏̓ ̸̩̘̠̗̓̾̓̾g̴̮̞̦̘͝r̷̻͇̥̪̆̀̎̈́̎á̴̳̯̰͉̪̳̈̓̆ş̷̡̭͖̱̃̈́p̸̛̞̒͒̊̀̈́ ̵̣̳̑̔ỉ̴̘̰͚͖͔̲́͘̚͝͝t̸̪̼̱͌̇̃.̵̲͐̔̐ ̵͕̦͑̍̐P̷̳̂l̴̢̨̳͈͍͗̐́̚ę̴̣̠̫́͌̀̑a̴̧͎̦͉̠̮͝͝s̶̼̀̿̕e̸̞̼̘̝̟͆͂̇-̶͙̚ ̴̫̒I̵̥͐̆̊̿̉ ̴͕̤̆̽́̉͠j̶̡͕͈̯̰̯̃͘u̸̡͙̝͎̺͑̿̽̒̕s̸̖͌̽̈͐t̸̢̛͈͍̱̭̹̊̋͒͝-̸̡̬̮̬̮͛͑̀́̐͘ ̷̡̡̳̦̳͙̈́̆I̶̗͔̬̻̕ ̵̺͎̟͙͖̣̓̆̀̓̓̍ç̵͈͕̞̗̍a̸̟̟̖̋͐͋͊n̴̜̿͂̕ ̷̭͑̾͑́̽́j̷̬̋͛̍ũ̸͓̠̓̏̿͜ș̸̐͊͋͂͘t̶̠͎͔̳̾͛̂̓͆̏ ̴͓͙̜͍͉̈́b̸̛̭̜͕̱̗͑a̸̛͎͍͕̭̰r̸͈͉̖̊̌͠ę̴̦̗̪͛̍̓̑̎l̷̥͑y̴̹̠̜̘̓͒̆̈̏͝-̵̡̤͎̏̈́̌̑ ̸̲̱̱̼̥̼̆̽̐̈̿͝r̶̛͇̟̗̬̈́͌̿̊͋e̶̺̟͓̥̳͐̋ą̶̛͇̝̖̬͑̅̎̈́͘ċ̶̩̖͘̚͝ḫ̷̨̡̤̫͌̎̿̈́̒̏ ̴̙̺̥͙̱̀̓̈́̚i̵͖̙̥͂̅̂͜t̶̡̾̎͝͝ ̷̪͈̖̼̇̓͆i̸͓̹̺̪͛̀͑f̸̢̤̼͓͂̿̈́͊̊ ̵̧̦̫̚̕İ̶͙̝͓͙͑̄̅̂̚ ̶̣̬̤̎̅c̶̙͖̥̖̝͆̈́̈͝ȧ̷̧̧̹͈͈̬̅n̴͙̪̖̑͂̈́͒̈́͘ ̶̧̦͔͑͜j̸̨̪̯̱͈̣̉̇̈́͘u̶̡̟̺̟̻̘̿̋̔͋͐s̷͉̣̣͐̈̃t̴̡̨̿̅̇͌̓͝-̶̧̠͕͇̓̓̆͆̊

Jonah reached up and got a solid grip on the edge of Ţ̸̢͙̬̘̦͔͉̻͎͉̱̙̉͐̈͂̇͋̽̂͛̕͜͝͝ḧ̶̨̡̡̻̰͖̙̠͈̲̭̞̠́̉͋̔̒̀̀̌̈́́̀̓͘̚͘ȩ̶̢̧̢̡͖̭͕̻̦͖͙͓̯̦͊̏̾̽̒̈́̑̉͛̓̒̔͆͋͐͆͑ ̶̧̟̑̿͂̈́͆̅R̶̨̨̢̧̟͉͙͔̥͇͑̊͐͐̓̍̽̽̋̔͋̚i̸̛̩͙̣͊́͜͠v̷̢̛̜͋͛͗̄̈́͌͑̀̍͋̆̓͠͝e̷̲̋̂̓͝͝ŕ̷͓͎̼̙͙̞̤̗̱̥͉͓͍̖̦̇͋̌͌͐̇̀̄̕͜͝. He shakily pulled himself up and out of the water. Į̵̩̯͓̮̣͉̗̫̹̿͋̈́̾̇̋́̌͆͛̊̚t̵̬͓̮̮̬̣͋̊͘͜ ̶̙̣̟̬̩̝̺̱̞̏͆̀̇̈́͆̄͒̈́̔̊̊̂̑͝ͅẃ̶̡̛̗̺̓ą̸̺̜̗̦̯͖̖͕̼͕̲̪͒̅̀̐̐̓͒͊͑̉̚̚ͅs̶̻̹̎̈́̆̋͑́̒́̕ ̴̤͚͇̘̺̩͈̫̻̙͓̪̮̥̫̋̏͒̔͑̿̓̐́̿̈̚͠͝͝s̴̨͎͍͚̠̝̥̅͛͋͜o̶͍̳͎͈͆̾̈́̃̉̈́͛͘͝͠ ̴̧̤̗̯̗̺̞̼͙̘͈̩̘̤̮͊͊͌̇̇̉̌̋̈̊̍̐͗̏͘͜͠͝č̸͙̣̜̟̣̜͍̩̳͆̈̀́̌̍́̌͂͊̕͝o̵̮̟̰̳̝̹͈̗̖̙͉̣̮̣̳̻̙͊͆̈́̀͆̎͛͑͒̌͝͠l̴̩̻̖̮̎̆ḋ̴̛̇͋̅͐͒͛͋͐̋̈́́̕͜͝.̶͉̆̓͋̉̚͝͠

He shuffled himself over- he hadn’t.. walked in so long.. he hadn’t.. thought.. in so long.. He reached over to a pomegranate tree and devoured most of them.

Ḁ̴̺̉̐̈́́̐̚̚̚͝ ̷̡̨̝̥̥̻̏̓̓͌̈́̾̋͝g̷̡̘͈̪͆̍̈́̐͆͒͌̚͜͝ͅǫ̵̬͖̲͎͈̝͕͇͔̰̳̯͇̲̜̞̀̔̓́̚ḍ̷̺͕̥͙̙̙̣͎̺̪̈́͑̒̚ ̵̙̥͇̳͚͓̙̜̩̜͎͛́̓̓̒̄͛̌̑̿̊̈́ͅa̷͇̖̓̏̍p̵̢͈̬̞̘̣̫͉͆̒̈́͒̄̄̒͑͜͠͝͠ͅp̵̢̳̺͓͇͇͉̙͙̭̼̬͎̉̏͒̓́́͑͘̚̚͠͝r̵̨̦̹̘̊͐̋͊̾͌̑̓̍́́̌̾ó̸̡͔̭̮͙̼̣̺̖̬̜̩͔͔̜̈̾̔͂͗̑̄͐̈́͌͘͜͝ą̶̨̟̤̗̝͎̣̫̃͂c̸̰̜̦̺̖̭͚͊͑̉̊̈̂͝͠ͅh̴̡̡̖̫̘͓̟̯͓̖͉̹̪̓͂͐̇̑̕ͅę̵̛̯͇͎̬̩̥͎̮͕͇̣̞̈́̒͒̔̔̑̂̀̈́̾͘̚͜͝d̵͎̟̹̳͖̯̘̲͈̺̙͎̯̙̗̝͙̐͂̇͑̀̊ ̴̧͕͕̗͕̞͖̰̥̞̙̳̾̾͒̏̅̈̀̒̕̕͝͝h̵̡̗͉̠̳͙̻̥͚̤̙̠̥͚̗̩̒̀͂́́͗̀͂̀̽̅̉́͒͝͠͠ǐ̴̩͍͔̥̲̟̓̎́̅̌̕m̵̰͍̣̲̩̭̣̰͈̱͕͉̤̦̪͙̲̓͌͐͂̀̈́͛͂͊.̵̨̛̥̩̩͓̜̪͚͎̩̿̿̂̊̽̀̋̎͠

[will be continued. can you blame me for not finishing it all look at how long this already is lol]

[doctorvikjain]

general information.

full name dr. vikram aarav jain

nicknames vik / viki ( by odette only ) / jain / dr. jain

age 38

date of birth june 1st, 1986

place of birth great neck, new york

zodiac gemini sun / aquarius moon / scorpio rising

gender cis male

nationality first-generation american

religion atheist

occupation clinical pharmacologist

orientation aromantic bisexual

physical attributes.

face claim dev patel

voice claim dev patel

height 6'2

weight 187 lbs

build lean muscle

exercise habits low impact exercise / yoga

allergies pollen ( tree + grass + weed ) / insect stings ( bee + wasp + fire ant )

afflictions mixed connective tissue disease

hair color dark brown

hairstyle somewhat long / styled away from face

eye color dark brown

glasses/contacts occasionally

dominant hand right

tattoos none

scars burn scars spanning upper left torso / stab wound on left pectoral

piercings none

jewelry/accessories a thin gold chain necklace

background information.

hometown great neck, new york

current residence new york, new york

spoken languages english / hindi / gujarati

driver’s license yes

familial information.

relationship status single

mother priya jain, deceased sept. 1999

father aarav jain, deceased sept. 1999

siblings odoti jain, deceased sept. 1999

other none

children none

pets odette winters / human, test subject

personality.

positive traits observant + intelligent + organized + meticulous + adept

negative manipulative + deceitful + cruel + duplicitous + selfish + detached

likes elaichi chai + painfully hot showers + antique medical textbooks + silence

dislikes cold weather + mindless conversation + nosy minds and hands + rain

moral alignment lawful evil

mbti intj

meticulous and organized, vikram has a compulsion to keep his surroundings as tidy as his mind ; nothing out of place, nothing askew. a fortuitous trait for as studious a mind as his, he has demonstrated a profound and lifelong passion not just for academics and research, but the pursuit of knowledge simply for knowledge’s sake. he is a naturally curious creature with an innate desire to understand the world around him and the exact mechanics by which it operates, a trait perhaps due in part to the distinct disconnect he’s felt from everything — and everyone — around him for as long as he can remember. this sense of alienation led him to pursue a doctorate in medicine as well as a phd in pharmaceutical science — to not only understand how people truly work when broken down to their most essential parts, but to learn how he can manipulate those basic functions through the application of very specific chemical compounds. if you can’t beat them, learn how to control them.

for as estranged as vikram feels himself to the world at large, you would never guess it to speak to him ; the mask he wears for the world is carefully crafted, a polite and professional visage modeled after years upon years of observing the social interactions of others, learning by careful scrutiny of example what qualifies as acceptable behavior  — how long to maintain eye contact, when it’s appropriate to smile during a conversation, how to sound like he cares. and he does it well ; to be fortunate enough to know only the vikram he chooses to present himself to be is to know a soft-spoken and mild-mannered man, sympathetic and polite to the degree that his manner of speech at times almost feels anachronistic. vik is intelligent and articulate, punctual and reliable ; he makes an effort to appear as such, to walk a line between unassuming and invaluable that would leave his closest friends and colleagues shocked should they ever discover what he does behind locked doors. 

in truth, dr. jain is a cruel man. he has very little regard for human life in comparison to the scientific gain that can be offered in its sacrifice. he does not wish to make people better on an individual basis — he is not a physician — but he wishes to make people, as a whole, better, and oftentimes found himself biting his tongue professionally to keep from overstepping any ethical boundaries when it came to the testing of new pharmaceuticals. but the skew of his moral compass extends beyond big pharma ; he has no qualms with torture and has, on multiple accounts, overseen and personally administered chemical compounds against the will of the recipients with the intention to reconfigure or otherwise permanently damage their cognitive and executive function.

biography.

TRIGGERS - neglect / animal abuse / death / physical + chemical torture / medical procedures

even were he to truly think on it, vikram jain would be hard-pressed to procure but a single memory of a time that he did not feel estranged from the world around him ; as a child, he provided his parents more strife than he ever did pride, though not for a lack of effort on his part. vikram was a peculiar child, abnormal in both the eyes of his parents and his peers ; he was quiet and observant, with wide, owlish eyes that seemed to silently soak in everything around him. for the first several years of his life, vikram was non-verbal — in fact, he did not speak aloud until the age of four, by which time he could do so in complete sentences to clearly articulate his thoughts. and even after he did find his voice, socialization did not come easy. children could be cruel, after all, and not least of all toward what they do not understand. and poor vikram, for all that he sought after it, never truly felt like they understood him. his parents, aarav and priya jain, would protest that they did everything they could to give their son a normal childhood and that it was a fault of his own that he resisted. the unfortunate truth of the matter was that they were ill-prepared to handle the idiosyncrasies of a child such as vikram, and rather than try to address his needs and figure out where the disconnect began, they resorted to ignoring it, stifling it ; overstimulated outbursts were punished, subtle self-soothing tics scolded away. 

vikram, of course, could never quite understand what it was he’d done wrong and rather than lay himself out for continued lashing, he withdrew upon himself. it wasn’t difficult; he’d never really understood the value of such connection or emotional intimacy. what should’ve been a warm embrace from his mother only ever made his skin prickle and crawl and any attempted heart-to-hearts with his father — an emotionally stunted man in his own right, in different ways — only ever left both parties feeling more frustrated than before. the only exception to this unwritten rule of distance came in the form of a younger sister, odoti. at first, he showed apathy toward her at best — and near disdain for her constant crying and screeching at worst — but by the time she’d grown from a drooling, babbling infant into something at least resembling a small, cognizant human, vikram found himself strangely endeared to her. perhaps it was because of her own apparent fascination with him, or the resulting truth that she was, in fact, the first person who didn’t look at him like he was strange. like he was some sort of anomaly. no, odoti only ever looked toward him with admiration and curiosity and something vikram still thinks, to this day, is the closest he’s ever really felt to understanding genuine, unconditional love. or something he would think, at least, if he ever allowed himself the opportunity. he does not. 

as a young boy, vikram was possessed with a curiosity of his own. a morbid fascination, more like, and one he kept hidden from the likes of everyone around him — odoti included. he had an affinity for experimenting with chemicals — caustic cleaning supplies stolen from beneath the sink or shoved into his backpack from the janitor’s cart at school, various jugs and cartons of automotive fluids, anything he could get his hands on. he’d mix the solvents and solutions with food and leave them out for wildlife and feral animals, hidden away in inconspicuous places. and then vikram would do what he did best. observe. he’d take careful note of which chemicals sedated them and in which dosages, which caused behavioral changes or made them ill and which ceased vital functions altogether. when they did die, inquisitive young vikram would often inspect their corpses, oftentimes hiding them away and returning weeks or months later to collect the bones. he had quite the collection once he’d cleaned and bleached them all, and he insisted — to his parents’ horror — that it was all locally sourced roadkill to alleviate suspicion about their origins. it wasn’t that he thought what he was doing was shameful ; on the contrary, vikram saw nothing wrong with his behavior — but he expected everyone else to disagree, to misunderstand and misjudge him. he’d grown tired of being  scolded. it was easier, he found, to just be private.  

for years, vikram managed to maintain his morbid pastime. he grew bolder, mixing volatile compounds in glass measuring cups in his bedroom behind locked doors ; he fancied himself a scientist, a chemist. he was just shy of twelve years old when his experiments finally proved beyond  the realm of his control. as he would discover, it takes only moments for an open container of acetone to evaporate enough to cause a flash ignition if there is an open enough flame, even one so small as a candle, near enough by.  the curtains behind his desk were the first to catch and, for a moment, it was all vikram could do to stare on as the flames began to swallow up the fabric, lapping at the walls and warming his skin. he should’ve anticipated it — he wasn’t stupid, he’d read the warning labels on everything he touched meticulously and at least thrice over. but vikram could hear their voices as he watched the fire grow brighter and stronger — his parents, his teachers, his peers. scolding him, mocking him for being so foolish, so careless! they were screaming at him, their voices drowning out the roar of the flames and instead setting every single one of his nerves alight. 

by the time vikram snapped out of his haze, nearly half of his bedroom was engulfed in flames. and in truth, the only reason he’d been pulled from his internal cacophony was because he could feel the sting of the fire against his arms and flesh, the burn of smoldering cotton and sizzling flesh.  he didn’t tell them before he fled the house in a panic, made no effort to rouse his parents or his sister as he scrambled into the bushes  of the backyard and tried to calm down even as the blaze grew brighter. by the time he could see the glow through the kitchen windows, he could already hear  his father shouting. vikram was too far away to make out the words, but he sounded desperate, frantic. his mothers wails wove in between the curses, choked and gasping. this, vikram found, did not upset him, for they could not know that they need direct their anger at him. in fact, if only he could hide long enough, they’d never know the chance to scold him again. but odoti… he’ll never forget the sound of her screaming his name, how the sound of her fear was visceral enough to carry her plea through blistering walls. when emergency services finally arrived to put out the flames, the firefighters on the scene found him trembling in the brush with his  hands clamped over his ears and his eyes pressed shut in a pair of filthy, burnt pajamas. there were no other survivors.

with all of his remaining family residing out of the country and no viable guardians to speak of, vikram was a ward of the state by the time he reached his thirteenth birthday. he ended up in a boarding school for young men where he quickly flourished in academics but floundered socially  with the same haste. it was not the words of his peers that bothered him — vikram was used to mockery and he took no offense to childish insults and name-calling, even at the expense of his newfound scars and rumored history — but the physical harassment. that he should be intentionally injured in a facility meant for learning just or simply existing, a truth which he could not help, was nothing short of baffling to vikram. but he had a keen eye for observation  and an analytical mind and it did not take long for vikram to begin studying the behaviors of his peers, picking out details in micro-expressions and subtle changes in speech patterns and intonations as they engaged with each other. things he could’ve noticed ages ago, if only he’d bothered. things he wasn’t doing. he scrawled notes in his journal, practiced making faces back at himself in the bathroom mirror when there was no one around to see. 

slowly, carefully, he began to craft a newer version of himself based on his findings — a mask, the illusion of a more socially palatable vikram. polite and charming, always listening and never over-sharing; he learned when to smile and how to laugh loud enough to blend in but not so loud as to get noticed.  he learned when it was better to bite his tongue and withhold his opinions — in his case, the answer was often — and how to ignore the desire to crawl out of his skin at the slightest degree of platonic contact. more importantly, he learned how to wear this mask always. it helps in a way, he thinks even still, the level of control it allows him over how others respond to him, how they treat him. it allowed him the privilege of survival by means of camouflage in a cage full of predators ( perhaps maybe one day he could become the predator… ) until his eighteenth birthday, when the call of higher education pulled him beyond the walls of the boarding school where he’d spent most of his formative years. 

as it happened, vikram flourished in a different environment. nobody paid any mind to him at university and outside of lectures and labs; he spoke up enough during discussions that people knew who he was well enough, but nobody ever sought him out or made an effort to befriend him, not truly. this, he decided, was the ideal — the sweet spot socialization. it offered him a chance to observe without actively engaging. nobody could ever say who it was that invited him to parties, but at the same time, no one ever batted an eye at his presence, nursing a beer in the corner with a soft, disarming smile. the thing about college students, vikram discovered, was that they seldom had to be coerced into taking drugs. as he learned about prescriptions and pharmaceuticals in his lectures, he learned about street substances — stimulants, hallucinogens, an assortment of psychotropics — in crowded apartments and abandoned warehouses. between these parties and the lectures and his coursework and dissertations, vikram seldom had time for sleep. he adapted, swiftly learning to live without.

by the time he was twenty-five, dr. vikram jain possessed not one but two degrees — a doctor of medicine and pharmaceutical science. though he was not necessarily lacking in bedside manner, he ended up pursuing a career in clinical pharmacology that left him in a lab rather than a hospital, designing and conducting human trials for new drugs in development. and what might appear on the surface a dream job to vikram was rather a test in patience and self-control, a constant practice in biting his tongue to maintain an appearance of morality. it was a tease, is what it was, and vikram found he could only take so much before he grew bored of the limits and boundaries forced upon him by the pharmaceutical research company that hired him, of the countless medical boards churning out guidelines for ethical practices. unexpectedly adverse side effects for blood pressure pills or anti-inflammatories weren’t enough — vikram wanted more.

but the luxury of big pharma was that, at the very top of the ladder on which vikram remained perched on a relatively lower rung, were a bunch of wealthy bastards with morals just as disaligned as his own. one would need to, vikram supposed, to profit so unabashedly from such a corrupt industry. how he came to do freelance work for such individuals is neither here nor there ; a stroke of luck, a matter of simply being in the right place at the right time and being observant enough to catch just enough of a conversation to deem it worth inserting himself into. and if vikram had any woes about ennui, they vanished in the blink of an eye under the new employ of these men. he was allowed the creative freedom to explore experiments he’d only ever dreamed about under the simple condition that he’d administer very specific courses of very particular, mind-altering drugs at their beck and call. the financial compensation was alluring enough in its own right to make the offer worthwhile, but it was the true respect and appreciation for his particular skill set finally being recognized that made vikram realize he’d found his calling.

he can vividly recall the day they brought it to him — odette winters. vikram knew there was something special about her the moment he’d gotten his hands on her ; she was a fascinating specimen, reacting to his procedures in unexpected ways. her body did not take to the drugs like the others, nor did her mind ; no, it was a challenge to concoct the correct regimen to do the job, and vikram … well, he’d always enjoyed entertaining tasks that stimulated his brain. ( surely his fondness for her had nothing to do with the way her name sounded so terribly similar to the only one he’d ever missed, the way he could see a familiar spark in her eyes that caused his chest to ache. ) when it was whisked away from his lab the first time in a state of drooling half-sedation, he did not expect to miss it. he knew better than  to get attached to ferals and strays, that they never lasted very long in his hands. but she was a curious one, and his mind often wandered back to the file he’d compiled on her. a silly pastime of thought, nothing more.

until he heard a voice call out to him, shouting to him in a desperate plea one evening when he was prowling the streets of the city’s underbelly in search of something new to entertain him and suddenly vikram was taken back to 1999 — to a crisp september night and the acrid smell of smoke and the prickle of thorns in the bushes and the sound of his sister’s terrified screams. odoti. no, no, odette. it was kismet, vikram remembers thinking in that moment ; he was not a spiritual man by any means, nor did he ascribe much to the notion of fate, but there was no other explanation for why chance might have brought it to him twice unless it was meant to be there. meant to be with him. he protected it that night in the alley, and when he did, it felt like he’d been given a second chance. he brought her home, cleaned her up and tucked her in on his sofa with a heavy quilt and an even heavier dose of sedatives, their bitterness masked by the warm spice of a hot cup of chai. he wanted to keep it, in the way as a child he’d wanted to keep many of the animals he experimented on until they grew ill and perished. but this was different in a way that was unfamiliar for vikram. discomforting, even. for all that he desired to poke and prod at it — and he would — he also felt a strange compulsion to protect it. 

for years, he kept odette close ; it would come and go as it pleased in the same way a stray cat might, but he made sure she knew his door was always open — and that it was never wise to stray too far. he continued to test on it, insisting that every new session was another attempt at helping them, at making them better. he was a doctor, after all, someone to be trusted ; and more than that, he cared for it. and to a degree, vikram wanted it to rely on him if only for the guarantee it gave him that it would never leave. ❝ oh, but you cannot tell anyone what’s happened, can you? no, of course not, poor thing. they’d be so angry, wouldn’t they? so ashamed, your father. no, that simply won’t do. they don’t understand that it isn’t any fault of yours, that you’re perfect, odoti, they won’t — but i do. i’m the only one. i’m all you’ve got. ❞ whether it believed him or not, it remained close, decorating his office with its bizarre works of art and showing him affection the likes of which he’d never actually known but which felt innately impossible to refuse. for years, they existed like this. 

that is, until one unfortunate night when he’d had unexpected company in his lab in the form of a very particular set of employers. and while vikram had foreseen an unfortunate unfolding of events — he knew its mind well enough by now to expect it to react poorly to the sight of them the moment he heard the rumbling of familiar voices outside his door — he couldn’t have anticipated exactly how volatile it would become, nor how quickly. it attacked one of the men with all the blindly feral rage of a frightened animal ; a pet he’d not meant to keep, and here it was biting at the hand that feeds him! he could forgive it, of course, if only he could remove it from the man before it caused any serious damage. but, like an oiled snake, lithe and venomous and ready to strike, it slipped right through his arms. and then it turned on him. if he’d anticipated a knife in the chest from the creature he held dearest, he’d not known it would be so literal. 

the pain was searing, white-hot, as vivid crimson began to soak through the pristine white of a lab coat. but more than that, it felt almost karmic. hard-earned and well-deserved. he saw his sister in it for a second, in its eyes, and even with the hilt of a knife jutting from his pectoralis major, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with it. not even when it yanked the blade free before he could protest. not truly. ❝ out! get out! ❞ he’d insisted anyway, his words wet and crackling but sharp as he stumbled toward his desk, one hand wet and sticky as he clutched it to his chest in a desperate attempt to apply pressure to the wound. not in an attempt to scold her, but to protect her. she needed to leave ; the man on the floor had not come alone and he expected that they’d be back for her sooner than later. that someone would be back for her. but his dot was a stubborn creature, and one of the last things vikram can recall is the sight of her tearful face and the sound of her apologies as she fluttered over him, desperate to help. ❝ do not cry, ❞ he managed to mumble, dizzy and hoarse, ❝ remember… remember what i said. ‘s not your fault, odoti. ❞

and that was the last time he would see it. when vikram woke in a hospital bed less than a day later,it was to a swift and unfortunate series of discoveries ; not only had she managed to puncture his lung, but in the process of calling for aid, she’d gotten herself detained. institutionalized. of course he had no intention of pressing charges, but they’d deemed his odette a danger to itself and others and they’d kept it, stolen it away from him as if it had not been thriving under his care before the incident. life went on for a few months following. vikram had never been the healthiest himself, in spite of his profession ; recovery was slow and unpleasant and the break from work it forced upon him was torture for idle hands and an overworked mind. and even when he could return to his day job in clinical pharmacology, it was several weeks still before he could return to his true passion. he’d only just begun to dip his toes back in when the outbreak hit new york.

a man with a skill set such as vikram’s was invaluable in a world as lawless and anarchic as his had become ; he’d been selected and sought out by one of his private clients, offered security and protection in exchange for his medical expertise at access to a camp of survivors stationed at the hotel elysee in midtown. seeing an opportunity and no reason to refuse, vikram remained at the hotel elysee for several months ; the men he chose to align with were a vicious lot, cruel and thieving, but their efforts meant that vikram lived in luxury. his suite was not a modest one, and he’d been gifted an additional adjoined set of rooms to transform into a makeshift infirmary of sorts. what he did behind the locked door of that second room was a business entirely his own. he thrived in this camp through the winter, all the way up until the moment of its collapse — a power struggle that ended in foolish decisions and bloodshed and rendered the hotel overrun by biters. it was by the skin of his teeth that vikram managed to escape, but he was fortunate in that he’d already had his belongings packed. he’d seen it coming. perhaps not to this degree, but he’d anticipated some sort of catastrophe all the same. 

it was not chance but a fortunate tip that led him to the wexley, received from one jeremiah rose — a contact he’d not anticipated coming across in the wilds of this new city, though he should’ve guessed the other man was resilient enough to survive. he does not know what to expect upon his arrival, but vikram has grown accustomed to a certain standard of living in the new world order, and he has every intention of gaining that back. 

headcanons.

vikram would occasionally engage in non-consensual ( but explicitly platonic and non-sexual ) behavior with his test subjects while they were sedated ; this self-soothing behavior for the touch-starved man included draping their arms around him in an embrace or climbing up beside them on the exam chair he’s strapped them to and resting his head on their shoulder for a while.

vikram has moderate scarring on the left half of his body from burns received during the fire he started in his home as a child, mostly spanning his shoulder, chest and upper arm. these are mostly hidden by his wardrobe choices, although if one were to look closely enough at his collar they might catch a glimpse of the glossy, disfigured skin creeping up his neck. 

he suffers from a connective tissue disorder that causes chronic pain he keeps under control with a careful cocktail of drugs for himself, and he made sure to utilize the raiders from his previous camp to ensure he had an ample supply, even after he left the hotel elysee. on his worst days, vikram employs the use of a cane, but years of practiced control over his expression mean that his pain is carefully concealed.

this condition is what complicated his recovery from pneumothorax after being stabbed in the chest; he still experiences sporadic, stabbing chest pains that have been known to steal his breath away for moments at a time and his lungs tend to rattle a bit at times if he breathes too deeply, lending to a dry cough he often smothers into a handkerchief.

supply list.

one nondescript black duffel bag containing the following:

a variety of various pharmaceuticals ( narcotics / opiates / stimulants / muscle relaxers / cns depressants / antibiotics / anti-inflammatories / mood stabilizers )

an extensive first aid kit ( including but not limited to gloves, gauze, various bandages and dressings, medical tape, tweezers, scissors, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment, isopropyl alcohol, several needles and surgical thread )

a rubber apron and a pair of reusable elbow-length gloves 

two changes of clothes / three pairs of socks / a sweater / a lab coat 

a personal supply of nutritional supplements and vitamins

a beretta 30x tomcat with 32 rounds of ammunition

custom made support cane with engraved handle and concealed 18’ stiletto blade

[jeevanjali]

Sapne Mein Barish Dekhna: जानिए सपने में बारिश देखना कब होता है शुभ और कब होता है अशुभSapne Mein Barish Dekhna: सपनों की रहस्यमयी दुनिया को समझना इतना आसान नहीं है। सोते समय हम कब और कौन सा सपना देखते हैं इस पर हमारा नियंत्रण नहीं है, लेकिन सपनों के जरिए मिलने वाले संकेतों को समझा जा सकता है।

[girliestwomaninstem]

introductory post (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*

Hellooo <3 I've been on Tumblr for a few years now, however, lately I have become a bit of a slacker in terms of my student and professional life and a lot of y'all have inspired me to get a studyblr + accountability blog to help keep myself in check, focused and driven

🌻 about me ♡

name: tofu

age: 23

pronouns: she/her

zodiac: ⊙ aries, ☽ scorpio, ↑ scorpio

languages I speak: english, hindi, japanese (beginner)

🌻 my favourite subjects ♡

- academic: chemistry, cybersecurity, creative writing, biology, personal finance, physics, discrete math, intro to programming (the easiest part about a cs degree yet daunting)

- non-academic: cosmetic science, psychology, literature, ancient/modern history, physics, astronomy, linguistics

I'm trying to once again pick up hobbies that I used to have as a child, such as reading, singing, gardening, cooking/baking, scrapbooking

In my free time, I love watching asian soap operas, Studio Ghibli, and sitcoms that I'd like to call my comfort shows and video essays related to all my non-academic subject interests

I'm an undergrad student currently enrolled in a computer science/fintech double major and I'm preparing either to enter the workforce or pursue a masters in either quantitative finance or bioinformatics engineering or data science (wow, the existential crisis that came with typing up that sentence). I could also talk more about my interests in the above-mentioned subject areas, or new ones as they come up. My goal is to create a routine for myself that I can actually stick to, and spend each day having learnt at least something, no matter how small. I feel like the only way to achieve that is by comparing myself to my peers (I know that is v toxic but hey it helps). Additionally I really want to learn how to drive this year, learn to crochet and keep up with new technologies, do some art journalling to take my mind off stress.

I'm so excited to meet new people on here and keep myself busy and productive! ❤️

[khwxbeeda]

sirius | they/them (non-binary) | 20 | intp | aquarius | slytherin | indian (marathi) | "im bi actually" | main: @siriusblack-the-third

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a little about me~

Welcome to my side blog! I'm Sirius— a BA Philosophy student, bookworm and book dragon, science nerd, tharki and all round idiot. My native tongue is Marathi, and I can speak Hindi, Urdu, Gujarati, English and French. I'm a Fashion Girlie™ (gn) and obsessed with aesthetics and all forms of art.

I'm currently learning classical dance and teaching myself to read nasta'liq (people who can speak Urdu but can't read it raise your hand lol). I'm a feminist and proudly an LGBTQIA+ person.

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Fandoms I'm part of~

BTS | Red White and Royal Blue | A Good Girl's Guide | Harry Potter (f*ck jkr) | Bollywood music | Hozier | Halsey | Percy Jackson | Billie Eilish | AC/DC | Agatha Christie | Sherlock Holmes (books) | BBC Sherlock | The Shiva Trilogy by Amish

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DNI if you are~

Queerphobe, transphobe, bot, supporter of Joanne K Rowling, racist, anti-feminist, or any other type of narrow-minded nonsense. DO NOT DM ME UNLESS YOU ARE A MUTUAL BECAUSE I WILL NOT REPLY.

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Tags~

if you want to read my fics/prose/poems: #amrut-writes for the old ones and #sirius-writes for the new