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mo0nfairy · 5 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ BLOMSTERTID, PART THREE !

summary :: Centuries-old mage, Y/N L/N, possesses magical abilities unheard of. A few citizens monopolize the remnants of magic they find, of which they now title “Hextech”. Hearsay of this power bleeds through all of Runeterra, until Piltover and Zaun find themselves in an anarchic war to obtain said power. Before Y/N can even blink, however, the humans neglect their plans when they realize they’d rather have Y/N instead.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 8.3k

content warnings :: NO SPOILERS! yandere!jinx, obsessive!jinx, yandere!viktor, g/n reader, kidnapping, blood/violence, death, nonconsensual affection, & displays of schizophrenia.

jinx's yandere traits are . . .

jealous, smothering, & territorial

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ When the moon rises and the vibrant world eases, Jinx always finds herself dreaming of the same thing.

She imagines herself sauntering through the world with bare feet; to exist with no inner turmoil wreaking havoc on her happiness. It is an embarrassing, pathetic fantasy, as her life has tested her strength and vitality time after time again. Yet alas, her heart will always ensnare itself around the jagged edges of this reverie.

To bring an end to the parasitic chaos in her mind — that is the haunting desire which paints her dreams.

Even as a child, Powder would innocently fantasize of a life devoid of smoke and tears. Maybe even a prosperous life in Topside, where she’ll forge a living off her groundbreaking inventions and spend the earned revenue on lavish dresses and the tallest houses. Or, maybe she’ll stay in the Under-City, but forge it into a land of sheer luxury, where Topsiders will beg for a life in the city they abandoned.

That is not exactly what the universe had in store for young Powder, however. There is no room left to daydream with her and her family's current circumstances.

Wind turbines have now been halted after their power supply had been cut off by Piltover. To escape the perfusion of gas and polluted air, citizens of the Under-City have been desperately trying to cross the bridge to Topside. Powder and her family are some of those citizens.

In their attempts to cross, however, tall figures in blue and gold suits use violent force against them. Caught in the crossfire is her parents, who sacrifice themselves to protect the lives of their children.

Powder races after them, but trips over some rubble and twists her ankle in the process. Her hand is then grasped by Violet, who sprints away from the scene with her. One glance over her shoulder and Powder finds them stomach-down on the bridge surface. Empty, dead eyes staring past her.

In their rushed journey back to the Under-City, a sandstorm intensifies around the grief-stricken girls. Violet now carries a wounded Powder in her arms as she struggles to find shelter. The route home is impossible to discern, now overwhelmed with suffocating dust and thick brume.

With this weight in her grasp, Violet feels herself becoming more and more lethargic. She winces with every step taken, before she inevitably collapses to the sand-ridden ground from exhaustion. Powder lands harshly in the process, a pained cry leaping from her throat when the rough ground greets her sprained ankle.

“Vi? Violet!” Her weak voice is a whisper against the thrashing force of the surrounding storm.

She crawls to her sister and presses her shoulders with her tiny palms, begging for her sister to awaken from her unconscious state.

“Violet, please-!”

A figure stands in the distance.

She squints, trying to discern the identity. Her efforts fall short, however, when all she can distinguish is a dust-ridden haze. The figure then begins stepping forward, approaching them. Powder, to her shock, is not afraid at all. Instead, she is the exact opposite, covered in a canopy of peace like a warm blanket.

Halting just several paces away from them, Powder finds the figure to be adorned in a dark cloak; all features of their physicality hidden away in polished fabrics. She swears she can almost see jewels, of some sort, peeking out from beneath their coat.

The figure then lends their hand out towards the two sisters. Powder’s confusion is promptly replaced with sheer amazement with a bright cloud of blue and purple perfuses from their palm. A flurry of incomprehensible letters surround the cloud, of which she assumes she cannot read due to her young age. With that being said, she’s never truly seen a language that looks like that.

A few swift flicks of the stranger's hand and Powder’s vision is engulfed in a white light. She shields her vision to no avail, but the bright intensity is only temporary. When the light swiftly fades, she finds herself astonished, once again.

The rampant storms have been entirely replaced with lush, vibrant fields. She now sits upon fluffy grass nestled against arrays of colorful flowers and vibrant greenery. From above, sprinkles of blue and purple orbs drift through the wind. The moon is clearer than it ever has been in the Under-City, basking her in its gentle glow. Her lungs are now clear of thick pollution and gleefully welcome the perfusion of healthy air.

Too busy engrossed with her surroundings, Powder nearly fails to notice the mysterious stranger as they begin to walk in the opposite direction, flowers with blue and purple petals blooming with every step they tread.

The young girl attempts to garner their attention, once again, but these efforts are halted with a few groggy coughs from her sister. She scrutinizes her surroundings with confusion, but with a perceptible relief upon finding Powder. Violet then gestures to her ankle with intentions of inspecting the injury further. When the two of them look, however, they find that the wound has seemingly vanished. As though Powder had never twisted her ankle in the first place.

She then stands to her feet with her freshly-healed ankle and begins frolicking through the fresh land.

“Magic! Magic!” She exclaims, excitement burning inside of her.

Violet does not share this excitement, however, and sets out on finding shelter, once more. Powder joins her with a newfound pep in her step, as though nothing bad had ever happened before. As though nothing bad could ever happen…

Then, it did happen.

Each chapter of her life ended in blood and destruction. With every final sentence jotted down, she found herself uttering the same sentiment. The stranger will protect me, just the same as they did all those years ago.

A heist in Topside gone wrong? The stranger will protect me.

Underestimating the powers of a certain blue crystal, resulting in the death and abandonment of the people most important to her? The stranger will protect me.

Collapsing into the arms of a new parental figure who leads her to question every moral she’s ever known? The stranger will protect me.

The same man telling her she is not ready for larger missions alongside his strongest soldiers? The stranger will protect me. Just the same as they did all those years ago…

Right?

Then, why aren’t you here? Where did you go? What more do I have to do to bring you back to me?

These thoughts plague the mind of Jinx in the midst of a quiet night.

Through the foggy air swifting through the bridge to Piltover, she sits on one of the grand pillars. Summer of 2021 has arrived and she still has not seen you in the years leading up to this moment. Stalking the bored guards inhaling dry conversations and cigar smoke, Jinx fiddles with Pow-Pow and fights against the truth: the severity of your loss is impacting her more than she is willing to admit.

Another argument results in Silco telling her for the zillionth time of how she is not ready to stand by his side and fight for Zaun. Too overwhelmed by her “past demons”, he always remarks. The one thing restraining her from becoming the killing-machine he raised her to be is you, but she will never inform him of your existence. No one can know of this sacred memory of hers.

This leaves Jinx where she currently remains, plans of invading Piltover and capturing a taste of the rich side clouding her mind. Yanking a few of their valuables will earn the recognition of Silco, no doubt. And maybe, just maybe, if she garners enough of these riches, you’ll be attracted to the sight. Maybe you’ll come back…

With that, she descends from the pillar and scurries past the oblivious guards, excited to set her plan into successful motion. Jinx rushes into the sleeping city and strives for the largest building their prosperous land has to offer, right in the very center and towering over the others.

The interior is most definitely more opulent than the outside. Far more extravagant than any insect-ridden estate the Under-City has to offer. However, none of them have anything interesting to offer her. Every door is slammed open by her aggressive hand, azure-blue eyes scrutinizing the contents for anything appealing.

“Boring. Boring. Ugh, super boring!” She exclaims, no regard for any lurking guards.

Reaching the highest floor, however, she finds stark differences in this expanse than the others. Finally, something that piques her interest! A grand window looks over the entire city, shielded in a haze of soft moonlight. The gold spheres painting the marble floors and bright walls could almost resemble eyes, watching every step she takes. The space is vacant, except for the wide desk built into the wall with notes and tools scattered on the surfaces.

Jinx, the eccentric engineer she is, immediately strives toward the dispersed gadgetry. She finds the usual array of hammers and screwdrivers (which she swiftly stuffs into her satchel). She also discovers inventions she does not recognize, even during the times she has snuck past the investors and scientists in the heat of Progress Day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A thick accent pervades.

A smirk, one that has claimed Jinx’s lips as home, grows on her face. When she turns over her shoulder, she finds a man standing in the threshold of the office. A mess of brown hair, a lanky body, and thin hands grasping a wooden crane (of which he does not use at this moment, for some odd reason) — an easy kill, that’s for sure!

Jinx utilizes this perceived weakness and is on the man in mere seconds. The cane he holds is swiftly stolen from his grasp and ensnared around his ankles. A quick yank and he is on the ground with a violent grunt. She pulls several loops of rope from her satchel and ensnares them around his limbs in record speed. The polished works of a skilled villain, if you will.

“Don’t you-!”

A sharp kick to his gut and he is silenced, only interrupted by his sputtering coughs against the force of her boot.

“Nice try, bones-y! That’s not how this game is gonna go.”

With an exasperated huff, she throws his feeble body onto a nearby office chair. Patting her hands of imaginary dust, she sits down on the adjacent office desk. Dangling a pocket knife before his brown eyes as though it were shimmering jewelry, Jinx then explains herself.

“Ground rules! You answer my questions truthfully, and I’ll let ‘ya keep all your toothpicks.”

The tip of her knife breathes over his restrained limbs as she speaks. She fails to restrain her laughter at the pathetic way his chest rises and falls with rapid trepidation.

“Are we on the same page, bones-y? Or should I read your diary?”

Without a glance away, her long nail presses into the leather corner of his journal and drags it her way. She begins scouring through the written contents, expecting some juicy, Topsider gossip. Her excited disposition is replaced with a dramatic roll of her eyes when all she finds is boring, scientific jibber-jabber. Just scribbled equations adhering to this “Hextech” nonsense, or whatever the Topsiders call it.

Jinx flips through the remaining pages with aggressive impatience, leaving irreparable tears in the paper in her careless effort.

And then, for the first time in years, the world halts on its axis.

She blinks, gaping at this discovery. Sketched onto the lined paper is no other than you. Drawn in exquisite perfection, just as she remembered you. Same cloak, same jewels, same everything! Something within her flutters; as if those wrangling insects gnawing on the grooves of her brain have finally bloomed into tickling butterflies.

“Get your filthy hands off my-!”

“Shut it, creep!”

Her shaky hands flip page after page as she scours through the remaining contents, desperate for another hit of this drug. She then shoves the pages into the man's face.

“Who is this!? How did you find them?”

The ropes holding him hostage churn and hum as he fights against the restraint.

“I will never let you near them.” He growls through clenched teeth.

Jinx eases her grasp on the journal, which lands lazily in the man's lap. She punctures the knife into the chair, mere centimeters away from his shoulder.

“And I will rip you into itty, bitty pieces if you don’t tell me who they are!” She threatens, forehead nearly touching his as she leans in closer.

“They’re mine! You degenerate!”

Splotches of his spit land on her cheeks in his outburst. Their foreheads buck as he lunges forward, desperate to escape his restraints and strangle this stranger for even uttering mention of his beloved.

His attempts to shield the pages of his journal are only now brought to Jinx’s attention. She does not let this effort pass by unnoticed.

“Hmm…” She muses teasingly.

Bringing the journal back into her possession, the man fights against the ragged ropes with more violent intent, tiny mumbles of “no!” filling the new silence. Scouring through the notes more intently, Jinx finds information regarding a “sanctuary”, of some sort. Then, in bold ink…

“Y/N…?”

“NO! Don’t you dare!”

The journal is swiftly shoved into her satchel with the other stolen borrowed goods. A haunting laugh pervades through the grand expanse. As an infuriating farewell, Jinx hops off the desk and skips out of the office, leaving behind a screaming, thrashing, enraged man to fend for himself.

Jinx now saunters through a forest on the outskirts of the Under-City, exactly where the scribbled notes of that scientist stated she should. Here, she is sure she’ll find you. Maybe a pretty penny or two to impress Silco back home, as well.

The sun is blinding, just as it was all those years ago. Without the busy city-life in the way, the weather of Runeterra is granted the opportunity to persevere here. It is blissfully and heartbreakingly nostalgic, and Jinx is swift to swipe away the evidence of tears brimming in her eyes.

“Anyway, Y/N…!”

She tuts three times as she searches for the right information in the journal held in her grasp.

““The only way to subdue Hextech is through the consumption of human blood. It will strengthen the power of the Hexcore, but will temporarily weaken it as said powers charge.” Blah, blah, blah! Okie-dokie, little vampire, let’s find something actually useful for you, yeah?”

Further scrutinization reveals standing on specific coordinates is the only correct way to summon a portal, the scientist claims. And just as she finishes reading, her satchel then begins to strangely vibrate. It soon accelerates into a violent thrashing, as though a rabid animal were trying to claw its way out of the encasing.

The force sends Jinx to her feet, the skin of her knees splitting upon the unwelcome intrusion of rocks and rubble beneath her. As she studies the wound, one of the inventions she snagged from Piltover falls from her bag. From the invention is a crystal, swarming hues of blue and purple permeating around the sphere. It rolls away as though it were a marble a child had tossed. The inhuman force continues onward before it begins to skip into the air. One last skip and it hits an invisible wall just several paces ahead of Jinx.

A sudden tornado then springs from the crystal, forming a whirlwind of dirt and wind around her. It hastens and spreads, engulfing Jinx in its entire wrath. Visions of her parents and the thick sand that perfused through the Under-City overwhelm her thoughts. She cowers into herself, palms clenched tightly around her ears and nails digging into her scalp.

“Stop! Stop! Make it stop!”

Like a record scratch, the force of the tornado abruptly halts. Sheer silence prevails, as though there were no deafening calamities to begin with.

Hesitantly, Jinx lifts her head. The gentle fog blanketing the forest floor leads to two newly-grown trees, whose trunks rise and intertwine with one another. The descending leaves frame the oval-shape between the trees, which is filled with a glistening gray haze and reflects her tiny form scrunched-up in the dirt. From the haze is a soft squelching, a gentle pitter-patter, as something behind fights against the surface. It twists and turns like stretched glue, before a crack finally forms.

Jinx watches in mesmerized trepidation as a boot steps from the entrance. Then, a full figure. And like the crescendo of a vibrant, aggressive song, the revelation settles and her entire world comes crashing to her feet.

The cloak, the jewels, the flesh — this is no other than you, the one who has haunted her every thought for years. Colorful clouds perfusing from your form and everything.

As you step closer, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, a friend she knows all too well, swiftly becomes a stranger. It is abruptly replaced by satiating tranquility; the kind of peace only an infant would be enveloped in. As though she’s been nestled in a crib, her only worries being the gentle sway of the mobile above her small head and how many fluffy sheep have hopped over the fence.

Her heart, for once, has been lulled to a soft rhythm. All of the tight muscles in her body have been reduced to slick jelly as you kneel down beside her, your face still a mystery behind the dark cloak you adorn.

A force within her thrashes and fights within her, desperate for the violence her hands are familiar with to persevere beyond such petty matters like this. But alas, the force of this wizard overpowers all. It’s almost as though every power the universe possesses has been utilized to force her to give into this new feeling, to fall into the depths of your magic spell. As if the trauma and hurt of her past has simply slipped away like sand between her fingertips.

When the jagged flesh of your palm meets her cheek, her body has a natural reaction to reject your advances. Despite the desire to cling to that cloak and never let go, her legs act on their own and she scrambles to her feet.

Jinx rushes to the Last Drop in and does not look back once.

“It wasn’t them! I know! J-Just some wannabe street trash!”

The blade of the large extractor fan (of which she has claimed as her bedroom) juts uncomfortably into her thin back as she drapes herself across the surface. The neon doodles of her past scattered around the expanse all mock her, messily etched eyes glaring daggers into her.

“They would have saved me by now…”

Jinx abruptly stands to her feet, treading over to her makeshift desk. Returning to the gadgetry left languidly on the surface, she grasps a few of the tools and begins patching the screws and nails of her newest project.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

She points the screwdriver in her hand behind her. Following her gaze there, there is a dilapidated teddy bear hanging from a shredded shoelace, a torn page from the journal with your face sketched on it taped to its cotton head. It sways in silence.

“Knew you’d agree with me!”

When she turns back to the task at hand, her elbow nudges a microscope and knocks the tool over. With a “whoopsie-daisy!” bridging on her tongue, the instrument reaches an encasing she snagged from Piltover, causing the metal strap to loosen and open. From the enclosure is another blue sphere, which rolls out and falls from the desk. It meets the ground and explodes with life, painting the room in effervescent splotches of sheer blue.

Jinx’s vision becomes overwhelmed in a sudden darkness, scrambled with ink etchings. Words of her past slither through the gloom and paint themselves into reality. She finds Milo, decaying lips twitching into a sneer at the sight of her. She finds Claggor, peering at her with disgust through his cracked goggles.

“Mistake! Mistake! It was a mistake!” Jinx rasps, digging her long nails into her hair at a desperate attempt of protection.

Her scrawny knees meet the unforgiving tile and she curls into her own body like a dying cockroach. She finds Vi in this effort, her violent words screeching through the rain. The toy monkey holding the gemstone claps and with every bludgeon to the crystal, a new memory resurfaces – rough hands on her face, the blood painting her chin, the term “JINX!” practically stamped behind her eyelids.

A wrench is clasped from the desk and Jinx chucks it at the vision of her sister standing several feet away from. Then, with utmost clarity, she reveals the truth.

“I wish I’d let you die in that storm! I wish I’d gone with Y/N and left you to rot like you fucking deserve!”

The fan blades shiver beneath the force of her animalistic volume. The rage is soon overwhelmed with devastation when the fantasy of what her life could have been flashes through her mind. Claiming you as hers and leaving her joke of a sister to fend for herself — what more could Jinx ever want?

Through the chaos, she finds an inspiring conclusion. She is not afraid anymore. You are what she deserves and nothing less. And she’ll bend worlds to clasp this desire in her calloused palms.

Nostalgia was something you claimed was painful many years ago. Now, you’ve befriended the feeling and welcome it with open arms. That is certainly the case today, as you’re reminded of yourself long ago with a wicker basket overwhelmed with Moonflowers and Dusk-Petals held in your strong arms.

Strolling through the garden of your palace, indulging in idle chatter with a few village residents in your path, you think of the child you were lifetimes ago. No matter what dangers may encounter your path again, you'll protect that baby. While others have failed that child, you will devote yourself to your promises to them. After all, no child deserves the pain you once endured.

A gaggle of children then skitter from the corner of the garden’s fountain, abruptly colliding with your legs in their effort. A few wobble from the impact, while the others fail to keep themselves standing. Their stuttering snivels lead you to abandon your intentions of gifting flowers to anyone you can find; your inner turmoils had faded as quickly as those little legs rounded that corner. You can’t help it, those teary eyes are like blades puncturing your heart.

From here, you take notice of the scrap metal they’ve somehow found and strapped to their chests. Without missing a beat, you play along with their antics.

“Oh, no! Our beloved knights have fallen!”

Bending down to their level, you guide them to their feet and dust off their clothes.

“Back on your feet, soldier! The state of our empire is in your hands.”

The audience of smiles you receive fills your heart with fluff and their playful giggles work wonders in softening your disposition further. One of the children then brandishes a twig they attempted to carve into something reminiscent of a sword. Once again, you play along.

“My, what lethal weapons you wield! The enemy will stand no chance against our strongest knights!”

All children then flaunt their best fighting poses, where their stern scowls are soon overcome by amused grins and giggles.

One points a tiny finger towards you. “You’re our emperor!”

“Oh, am I?”

Their laughter increases in volume as the others repeat the sentiment.

“Goodness, how could I have forgotten?”

You reach into your basket beside you, plucking a few flowers from the wicker-encasing.

“As your loyal emperor, I must ensure my best defenders receive my protection out on the field.”

A few swift twists and turns of your fingers and you’ve woven several flowers into a makeshift crown. The children all brighten with excitement, crowding around you to scrutinize your efforts further. You bow down and gently place the crown atop the head of one of the children, who proceeds to leap with irrepressible excitement with their new adorning.

Before the others can deliver an onslaught of demands for a crown alike, a screech of your name permeates through the air like glass shattering.

When you turn to identify the sound, a force strikes against your back abruptly and sends you to the pavement. A thin pair of arms are clasped around your waist like a lifeline, bony hands clinging tightly to the jewels and harp strings aligning your arms. You try to escape their grasp with normal effort, but the figure still refuses to relent. A simple flick of your hand and his grasp on you is eased, purple and blue perfusing from your palm.

You soon find that familiar pair of honey-colored eyes and head of messy brown hair. Said eyes are blown wide in a nervous flurry, with strands of dark hair latched to his sweat-painted forehead.

Viktor. What a surprise.

You had given him a mere task. Just one. Travel back to Piltover, gather his belongings, then return here to discuss what being “your messenger” will entail. The man didn’t hesitate in the slightest before he was rushing to fulfill your command. When the sun had risen and fallen with no trace of his return, you rightfully suspected something in his intended efforts had gone awry.

Viktor attempts to explain what exactly went wrong through hyperventilated breaths and relieved expressions of your safety. How concerned he was for your well-being and the like. However, all that is discernible from his relentless rambling is his snarl of a “blue-haired street-rat”.

His incoherent babbling is getting you nowhere, so you are quick to halt his word-vomit and help him to his feet. Your touch shuts him up immediately, to a degree where upon your further inquisitions, Viktor had forgotten what he was speaking of in the first place. He attempts to clasp your face in his palms, practically threatening the prospect of trying to kiss you again.

“‘Blue hair’? Viktor, what is the meaning of this?”

You should’ve known how much of a weapon your voice is, as the man positively melts beneath the embrace of your cadence.

Once again, unsurprisingly, he tries to kiss you again, but his efforts are halted short when a sharp explosion pierces through the air.

Viktor nearly trips to his feet again when he instinctively shields you from the sudden force. You ignore this effort in favor of the late-night sky, which is now overwhelmed with swarming fireworks. Through the vibrant calamity, you find a message.

“JINX + Y/N” is written in colorful particles, pink hearts and sparkles surrounding the bright words.

Several other villagers crowd around you in fear, but before you can scrutinize the threat further, the harsh bludgeon of smoke bombs permeates from all corners around you. Clouds of purple, pink, and blue surround your palace and rid you of the ability to see your surroundings. It certainly does not help when Viktor tackles you to the ground, yet again, in an attempt at preserving your precious life.

None of this hinders your effort, however, and you continue to fight against the threat to your sanctuary. The challenge is almost impossible when you cannot see anything through the pandemonium of vibrant fog and dancing glitter (and of course, the lanky man atop of you).

You call out to the residents of your sanctuary, but are only met with heart-hammering fear when you receive no response. No shouts, no running children, not even the flowers you forged into crowns can be seen through the chaos.

As you attempt to wrangle yourself out of the grasp of this parasite latched to you, something sprints toward you from the haze. All you see is a flash of a gun, which is used to pistol-whip Viktor and send him into complete unconsciousness.

“Purple goes better with blue, I’d say!” A rich, raspy tone calls out.

Puffs of vibrant hues then beam from your palms — a warning against this monster stood before you.

“Please. I do not wish to hurt you…”

She, who you now assume as “Jinx,” laughs hysterically in response. She then shoves Viktor’s dead weight off of you, replacing his stance of towering over your form.

“I know that, silly goose!”

Her blue eyes, wide and crazed, peer into yours. Blue hair pools into ropes beside your shoulders.

“I know everything about you! The whole Y/N-cyclopedia!”

Beneath her blue-and-purple painted fingernails is a leather-worn journal, where you find notes written from scientists working on Hextech.

You do not wish to do this, but alas, you have been given no choice. This threat knows of your powers, how they function, and has now proven to be a danger to your people. With that, you latch your palms around her wrists that are pinning your body to the ground. Harnessing your powers, your colorful palms brighten in their hues and the uncomfortable sound of flesh sizzling fills the air.

Her teeth bare like a rabid wolf when she groans in pain. This effort of yours only results in her pinning you harder onto the ground.

“Naughty birdie!” Jinx growls through heaving breaths. “Maybe this will calm some of those heebie-jeebies, yeah?”

Before you can enact your next course of defense, the monster above you swiftly gathers some of the blood seeping from Viktor’s open skull. The terror in your chest of having your weakness utilized against you is temporary, as her two blood-adorned digits are promptly shoved into your mouth.

Your vision sways like calm waves as your body weakens. With a final echo of “sweet dreams, chickadee”, you fall into the arms of peaceful unconsciousness.

You awake softly, without the terrified aggression your body had forced out of you shortly before. As though you had simply laid down in your morning room for an afternoon nap. Reality is now strikingly different from the tranquility of your sanctuary, however.

Attempting to discern your new surroundings, you find yourself within the interior of a large extractor fan, built long ago to clean the gasses perfusing through the Under-City. It has evidently been abandoned and decorated to the likes of a wild, eccentric somebody, with not a single surface untouched by neon graffiti. The scattering of spray paint cans, jagged-edged chalk, and other art supplies explains such.

These details are accentuated by the flamboyant lights adorned throughout the expanse, specifically the pink candles waxed into the ground surface. Romantic, in a personal attempt, you think.

Scrutinizing further, you find stuffed animals and chopped mannequin heads strung from descending ropes, some with ripped pages taped to the faces. You also find robes that are strangely familiar, which are dangling from old, fractured wires. Almost like a deranged closet, of some sort.

When you shift your gaze down, you look to your body and find yourself in an old clawfoot bathtub that has been dragged onto one of the fan blades. You’ve been laid upon several blankets with your limbs restrained to an impossible, uncomfortable degree with ragged rope.

The bathtub itself is beneath a canopy of several ragged, yet colorful drapes staples over you. Almost like a child’s fort, you note. Your cloak has vanished, as well as the adornments of trinkets and jewels you’ve strapped to your form, which leaves you in almost complete nudity.

Thundering music surrounds the expanse and abuses your eardrums. Some mushy-gushy old-timey tunes, from what you can tell. They burst out from a rusty gramophone just several feet away from you.

And with these tunes is the undeniable sound of someone humming along.

Before this realization can settle, a distorted figure hops into the bathtub with ease and situates herself on your lap. The long locks of blue braids are unmistakable. So is that cheshire grin plastered on her painted lips.

Sharp nails, like the claws of a purple-striped cat, dig into your cheeks and pinch them as though you were a chubby baby. Any effort to yank away from her aggressive affection is met with an authoritative tut, doing nothing to mend your feelings of being an adorable child facing the whorls of ‘stranger-danger’ for the first time.

“Aww, shucks, tweety! Can’t help it when you’ve dolled yourself up for me!”

From seemingly nowhere, Jinx draws a cracked hand mirror and presents you with the horrors of your reflection. Your mouth has been shielded by a thick wad of duct tape. Doodled on the surface is the humiliating sight of a red kissy-face. The artist did not halt there, either, and scribbled a bold “KISS ME, JINX!” across your forehead.

“Didn’t think you’d be so forward on our first date, but hey! Who said I was complaining?”

Her lips are on yours without a second to process, the duct tape serving as your only form of protection against her violent adoration. Your eyes are wide and crazed as they stare into her closed ones, all while she mindlessly loses herself within the affection. God, how long has she been wanting to do this?

You try to fight against her force, but any attempt to harness your powers is futile. Even with the taste of iron still heavy on your tongue, you still found it within you to try with your best effort. Must be that “naivety” your parents spoke of, you suppose.

You don’t have a mere moment to theorize how she (or anyone, for that matter) had learned about how your supernatural body is weak to human blood, however. Not when Jinx finally satiates her hunger and pulls away with an obnoxious “mwah!”, a nauseating string of saliva connecting the two of you together. A few more peppered kisses and you’re finally free from the lips of this lunatic.

“Hoo! Ten-outta-ten, toots!” She exhales, as though your mere kiss was reminiscent of inhaling a line of the most lethal drug.

Her gaunt elbows dig into your chest as she rests her chin on her palms, gaze burning into yours.

“Didn’t expect anything less from you, of all people…” Her voice, which has been stagnantly animated and fiery, has now shifted to something wistful and soft. “All that I’ve been through… After all you’ve done for me…”

Her finger drags down your features, ignoring every fearful shiver of yours in favor of scrutinizing the beauty beneath her.

Every bruising hardship, every bludgeon of trauma, every drop of thick blood — all of the world’s most torturous fates has been forced upon Jinx from the very second she was born. All of which you could have halted with the mere snap of your fingers, but for whatever reason, chose not to.

She should be angry; she should burst into a blood-hungry rage. One look to that face, though, and all that ache just melts into candied goop. Just sheer perfection, you are. Smoothing out all those tight nerves and stitching up her loose, awkward threads. You bring forward serenity she didn't know existed, as though nothing bad had ever happened to her…

You’ve done so much for her without even blinking. Only makes sense she’d give you something in return, right?

“Gotcha somethin’, birdie.” Jinx’s voice is still breathless as she reaches for something beneath the bathtub, eye contact still strictly maintained.

You stare in trepidation as she then presents to you a dilapidated box, painted in blue and black stripes with a grand purple bow glued on top. It lands with a quiet plop on your chest as the blue-haired maniac above you watches in expectation. She gestures for you to open the gift, and the glance of confusion smeared on your expression reminds her of a doe-eyed puppy-dog. Too cute!

You nearly jump out of your skin when she abruptly bursts out in manic laughter. Her jagged nail points to the ropes around your limbs, as though her deranged actions were pure comedy gold.

“Sorry about that, baby-bird.” She wipes a stray tear from her eye. “Had to clip your wings for a minute. No biggie, though! Jinx will give ‘ya a hand.”

The box is opened swiftly, like an excited kid on Christmas morning who can’t bother to waste anymore time waiting for their exhausted parents. Upon looking at the contents, she lets out an obnoxious, animated gasp. Hand covered over her mouth and all. The box is then abandoned in favor of the gift inside.

Much to your horror, held in Jinx’s lanky fingers is a black, leather collar. Imprinted in copper calligraphy is “Property of”, with a vibrant and messy “JINX!” doodled beneath in neon paint. How fitting.

The collar is then promptly ensnared around your throat, the master lock swung upon the metal latch frigid against your neck. Before you can even attempt to conceal your perceptible disdain, the key is shoved into the lock and latched shut; claiming you as permanent property. Her personal marked territory, if you will.

The key gleams beneath the colorful lights as she dangles it in the air. With a swift flick, the key is tossed from her grasp and down the expanse of the extractor fan. Never to be seen again.

“Oopsie!” She teases with a forced, dramatic gasp.

You’re then ensnared into a tight embrace, despite your efforts to resist the act of affection. All the playful nuzzles into your new dog-collar and sloppy kisses to your flesh — you’d surely vomit if it were within your supernatural capabilities.

And if any word could be used to describe the affection of Jinx, you would abuse the term ‘suffocating’.

This fact reminds you of its violent existence as a week passes.

The hours of the day move at a snail’s pace as you remain pliant in the bathtub. The torn duct tape still remains latched to your mouth, only torn off to feed you more heaps of blood. You don’t have the strength to question where exactly the blood is derived from. Not that you have the ability to ask anything, for that matter.

Nonetheless, the only stagnant thought in your mind is the state of your sanctuary and your people. Your abduction was so abrupt, it is impossible for you to properly discern exactly what occurred. Just a blurry mess of colorful smoke and blue hair — that is all you can properly recall.

While these inner turmoils reign havoc in your head, you’re stuck in a constant sway between the fine line of consciousness with Jinx subduing you with blood. In the rare bursts of clarity, you normally find her tinkering with new inventions at her desk, a plan of “revenge” against all the “topside trash”, as she commonly restates.

In the process, she has also claimed you as a new invention, as well. Guinea pig, to be more accurate. Always poking and prodding and testing your unnatural abilities. You’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s held pots of soil to your feet to marvel at the Dusk-Petals that bloom in response. Much to your dismay, “Petal-Toes” is a nickname that has been added to the mountain of others she has stored for you.

The cherry on top to this mess-of-a-milkshake is, undoubtedly, Jinx and her infamous jealousy streak.

You’ve learned it can burst from something as minor as an inanimate object. Nestling that teddy bear in your restrained embrace, she’ll force you through a deranged photoshoot (with an expensive camera she snagged from Topside, indubitably). Within the clap of a second, she’ll become overwhelmed with jealousy over the stuffed furry-friend in your arms before snagging it away from you, chucking it off the edge of the fan blade.

Promptly, and without surprise, she then replaces poor teddy’s spot in your arms with her scrawny self. Even without another soul near, this possessive disposition always perseveres through the sickening sweetness.

This treatment stretches into the night, as well. With another dosage of blood (dinner for two, she jokes), Jinx curls up against your chest like a clingy cat, quiet snores drifting past her parted lips. How she finds such comfort in this cramped, unbearable bathtub remains a mystery to you. You swear, clawfoots will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your eternal life.

Today, however, is different.

Jinx drags on with another rambling fit, something that has now become a daily habit. Currently, she boasts about “protecting precious cargo”. Why is a madman like her concerned with the transportation of goods? Something in relation to the influx of shimmer, perhaps?

She then grasps Pow-Pow, shoving it into its holster, before rushing over and planting a hard kiss to your tape-covered mouth. Quick, as Jinx always is, she is gone before you can even blink.

The consideration behind her intent is left to float around in your head as the rare silence settles. They permeate to such a degree, in fact, you almost do not note how she had forgotten your morning dose of blood. “Breakfast for Birdie,” as she infamously titled it, which she has seemingly abandoned in favor of this task. Or, possibly, she has made the mistake of trusting you.

Nonetheless, for the first time in several agonizing days, a flicker of hope glimmers on the horizon. And you do not let this hope snuff itself out.

Easily enough, you clench your fists and puffs of blue and purple spurt out like an old engine. You did not realize how badly you missed the hum of magic concentration until you felt the vibration rumble in your palms. A few jabs at the rusted skill and your abilities have finally returned.

With ease you have longed dearly for, a mere tap of your finger and the ragged ropes latched around you finally loosen their grasp. They lay in lazy loops beneath you, granting your limbs the opportunity to finally sigh with relief. You do not let a second pass before you rip that damn tape from your mouth, either.

When you try to stand, however, you find your body to still be weakened by the strain this week has forced upon you. In this attempt, you also overestimate the efforts of your newly-charged powers. With a swing of your arm, a lightning bolt of light springs from your palm and strikes the golden clawfoot. The effort knocks the entire bathtub on its side, sending you tumbling onto the decaying fan blade.

The collision is loud, enough for you to anticipate Jinx’s return in record speed, despite her departure from minutes ago. The silence that follows is frozen, but with no blue-haired sicko there to slap-you-silly for your attempts, you waste no time in chasing after your escape.

With no remaining strength in your feeble body, the only action you can resort to is slithering across the premises like a drunken snake. Soon enough, with your stomach covered in cat-scratches (and smeared lipstick stains from a certain somebody), you find yourself at Jinx’s desk. You use the surface to lift yourself and finally reach a place of reliable stability. The heavy doses of blood still swaying in your stomach make this task almost impossible, but you find your way to your feet, nonetheless.

Even though you are almost nude, you rid the need to conceal yourself and your identity in favor of the door across one of the fan blades. The effort is pathetic, but with several limping paces, you open the door and are met with the pitter-patter of rain caressing your naked skin. It is a feeling you have not touched in centuries; always blanketed in your beloved cloaks.

Nostalgia is now painful as you rush down the stairs of the fire escape. Soon, the night life of the Under-City soon welcomes you and your lethargic self. A major juxtaposition to the tranquil stillness of your sanctuary. When the neon lights and grand buildings begin to double in your vision, you realize time is not on your side tonight.

Staggering into an alleyway, it is not long before your body finally gives out on you. When you collapse on top of a pile of rain-soaked cardboard scraps, piles of crushed beer cans and shattered shimmer bottles there to cushion your descent, your final fighting act is praying Jinx does not find you. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Honey, I’m home!”

The door to the interior of the extractor fan bursts open; a dramatic entrance aligning with the nature of no other than Jinx.

“I have an idea for another photoshoot with my smoking-hot supermodel! Clothing optional, of course!”

In her grasp is a gift of a ragged bird plushie. Once cradled by a baby in a stroller, but was swiftly yanked by a stranger's sticky paws. You can’t blame her, though! The beady, doe-eyes reminded her of the special someone she has waiting patiently for her back home.

Except, you aren’t there.

Blankets and ropes left in a languid mess, bathtub left on its side — the evidence is laid out perfectly like a cheesy detective film.

“Y/N…?”

The call is quiet and gentle; a warning, almost.

“Y/N…”

Now, a demand.

“O-Okay, okay! Hide-n-seek! We can play a little, but when I find you-” She huffs out angrily. “I call the shots in round two. Y’hear me?”

The decor surrounding the expanse is left in a sloppy mess in the matter of minutes, gadgetry and plushies thrown about in a desperate, childish fit. Every failed attempt at finding your face hidden away in some secret nook, candy-sweet smile there to congratulate her on her win, breaks away at her sanity piece by piece.

There’s sounds of squealing scratches, like skittering bugs, that fill her ears. Colors gleam in her periphery like a film strip burning under heat, mending with the blurred, distorted pictures her mind forces her to watch. Neon outlines of the ghosts from her past spring to life, lashing out in blinding animation and barking out incomprehensible, echoing insults.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! I need to think!”

A bullet pierces through the gramophone, distorting the upbeat tunes to stuttering nonsense. This effort does not cease the abuse of Mylo, Claggor, Vi, and even that stupid scientist!

Tears seep down her face as she desperately searches for you through the calamity. Even a puny figment will be enough to ease this chaos. When your abandonment proves itself in acute clarity, she is left with the distorted sounds of her cracked wails, her rough nails scratching her skin, and the fated return of all her demons.

The door is shoved open, once again, and Jinx, for just a mere moment, allows herself to hope. Your face will fill her vision and she’ll watch in glee as her demons are yanked back to hell. Exactly where they belong. Then, you’ll stumble over and sink into her arms, drowning her in affection and apologies. Exactly where you belong.

And, of course, she’ll forgive you for this little hiccup. Just a lost birdie who finally flew their way home — that’s what has happened. Just a little mishap, which you’ll both poke fun at after another good clawfoot-nap.

When she finds blue suits trimmed with gold, long barrels pointed her way, that hope is snatched from her grasp as quick as she claimed it. The faces behind the thick gas-masks and goggles shout out demands at her. Their voices are warped, however, bending beneath the force of her prevailing hallucinations.

Another step closer, another voice louder and she latches onto her gun and swings it their way. She is swift, but so are they. The rear of a shotgun is rammed into her temple. In a flash, she is out like a light.

Jinx now stands at one of the highest points in Zaun.

Sneaky as she is, the carriage ride back to Piltover needed a few well-placed bullets and she slipped out of their hands in easy effort.

Scratching itches still whisper to her, threaded together with the words of her past.

“You’re a jinx!”

“Please. I do not wish to hurt you…”

“They’re mine! You degenerate!”

Through the roaring mayhem, one fact prevails: the fault is in the arms of no other than those filthy topsiders. From the murder of her parents to the betrayal of her sister, every wrong she has ever endured has been caused at their hand. And the robbery of the only thing she has ever loved has now completely pushed her over that edge.

Jinx currently stands at the roof of the warehouse where the people she thought she loved left her behind. In her grasp is her latest, most grandest project. Metal wings adorned in blue and purple splotches, with a sharp beak clutched around the Hextech-powered rocket – the weight of the rocket launcher is heavy. “Bird-Brain” is the name she gave it, inspired by the birdie that was stolen from her.

Cursed images begin to flood her mind, a hallucination stronger than ever before. Jinx sees her beloved Y/N and that scientist, locked away together in a laboratory. She is haunted by sights of needles and tubes, forcing you to live as a lifeless lab rat. She is prey to the ideas of that annoying, thick accent telling you of what a monster she is, with you latching onto every syllable. She is nauseated by painted pictures of romantic endeavors, where you and the scientist lay together with matching golden rings.

And it pains Jinx in ways no other torture could.

With a thundering roar, her finger plunges the trigger and the rocket soars through the sky. Wings flap as it finds Piltover, beak poking right at the council’s headquarters. Just as she should have done long ago.

Like the dejection of a curtain call, Jinx’s dreams were once true: to bring an end to the parasitic chaos in her mind. After an entire lifetime, she was finally free. There, beneath the light of you, everything thawed.

Now, her dreams have shifted. Jinx will kill these demons, whether material or make-believe.

No matter what it takes.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ YOU ARE MY MEDICINE

WHEN YOU'RE CLOSE TO ME . . . ❞

gif creds.

tag list: @honey-beeuwu @mrprettycom @makangelo @thelonelyme @solavily @eldritch-bunny @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @orbitingmarswithp @frickidyfrog @phantomdomi @mermaidm0tel6 @numbu5 @applepinsss @anon34570 @biohazardousbunny @vogelaqwry @lorely788 @mellowangeltree @myathegoat @alix-37 @lavandercinnamon @vrnicky @mellowfishauthoreggs

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eternal-evergreens · 6 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend. Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text.

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world.

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts?

View fragment? Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments. Fragments found: 2 Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1: Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity! If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below: Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high! Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them. Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again.

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Other relationships: Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest. You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests. Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check.

You’ve unlocked a new quest! Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure.

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze.

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent.

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.”

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?”

“How did you-”

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away.

Thank God.

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

———————

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch.

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said.

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard.

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes.

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it.

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.”

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes.

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory.

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward.

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in.

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Detention.”

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat.

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud.

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you?

Sighing, you head back inside.

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him.

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes.

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen.

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says.

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers.

…

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.”

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous.

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything.

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead.

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away.

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin.

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it.

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving.

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze.

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims.

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says.

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming.

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea.

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit.

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project.

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

———————

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flokali · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I am brainrotting and cannot get it out of my mind, so I thought to share. A very simple thought.

Accolyte Zhongli. Very willing to please et cetera. But biting him? Like come on, biting a Dragon? Is it ownership? Is it playful bite? You know, the sudden urge to bite someone (or is it just me?). So biting a very willing Zhongli.

Sobbing. This will haunt me for a while.

Slight NSF_W

Thinking so many thoughts... happy belated valentines day every1 ><

Warnings: NB! Reader, yandere!Zhongli, SAGAU, implied Dom!Reader/Sub!Zhongli, unhealthy relationship dynamics, biting, soft-violence (?), possessive behavior, jealousy, ask to tag!

Dragons in Liyue are known to be loyal, fierce, and elegant; the stories always describe them as powerful beasts who are to be respected, with sincere hearts and wisdom beyond a mere mortal’s understanding.

In a way, such behaviors did translate to your acolyte, Zhongli. He was one of your oldest followers, not just in age but time serving you, over six millenia he has existed and can proudly state he’s worshiped you for most of it. You would think that the years would have mellowed him out, polished up the edges of his devotion, soothe the tempest in his heart into a much milder dribble, and yet – you knew very few of your acolytes who could rival the passion he seemed to hold towards you.

The relationship between you and all of your followers was strange, at least to you — going from a normal person to being worshiped as a God was not an easy process, much less in a world as different from your own as Teyvat was to Earth — however none were perhaps as strange as the relationship between you and Zhongli.

He is always at your side, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. At first, his insistence on being your attendant had been met with heavy resistance from the others but his stubbornness greatly overpowered their annoyance; no matter what rotation you were in, Zhongli was always by your side.

You knew of his vessel, Morax, the large dragon that he’d used to fake his death, and you knew that “Zhongli” wasn’t his true form – you just hadn’t guessed some traits would have seeped into the other form or maybe it was simply part of his personality.

He was possessive and overprotective over you, it was like an internal struggle between submission and the need to monopolize you was constantly going on in his head, yet he refused to outwardly admit it.

“I am simply concerned for you, Your Grace.” He’d say whenever you’d bring up his overbearing nature, considering that he and the rest viewed you as an all-powerful being, you’d think he’d have more trust in your ability to protect yourself. And yet, whenever he’s allowed, he’ll always attempt to deter you from leaving his side. At some point you realized it was probably for his sake rather than your own, but by then you had grown endeared to the man and decided to allow it anyway.

Even as your most loyal follower who you spent most of your days with, Zhongli had his quirks and habits about him that simply baffled you – no matter how many days you’d spent with the former Archon, there were just things he’d do and say that’d leave you questioning all you knew about him prior.

All you really knew about him before was reduced to what had been revealed in game, from the Traveler’s perspective and the NPC’s who’d speak about him. Meeting him and interacting with him quickly let you know that his personality, at least when directed towards you, was quite different from what you had assumed from your previous observations.

An example of such discrepancies was his obsessive need to please you.

The traditional Liyue clothes you once complimented him on? Most of his wardrobe has changed to include such attires more frequently. The hair accessory you bought him once when you traveled to Fontaine? You don’t think you’ve seen him without it since. That one time you complimented him when he wore warmer tones? It seems his closet has been rid of any other color.

It was unsettling if not a bit cute, who wouldn’t be a little bit flattered to know their opinion held such weight to a man such as Morax; but it was only a matter of time before it all escalated

Somewhere, at some point, your relationship with Zhongli changed – morphing into something more complex than you would have expected. You would soon wonder if he was classified more so as a lover or some sort of concubinus than a mere helper, his role as an attendant seeming more like a guise so he could spend his time with you each day.

Fleeting touches now lasted longer, the feeling of his hot gaze on you burned stronger with every passing moment, it was a natural escalation; kisses now were no longer restrained to the hand, they now landed on your lips, your cheeks, your neck, wandering hands found their home in your waist and the small of your back.

When he told you he loved you, you knew not if he spoke as a devotee or a lover.

It was during a heated make out session that you found out his weakness to being marked and claimed, much to your surprise. He’d been quite insistent on not leaving a single mark on your person, not a hickey or bite, you guessed it must have been a preference but never asked about it either. You decided that, for the time being, you would avoid the topic until it naturally came up - and up did it come.

You had been on top of him, sitting on his lap and caressing his hair as your lips danced with one another’s, his golden eyes were shut tight in pleasure as he let you use his lips and body as you wished. His hands rested on your waist, tightly gripping at your robes and skin as he desperately clung onto your body. Soft whines left his lips periodically, his breathing was quick and you could feel his heart beating where your chests met.

You playfully decided to trail kisses across his face, at first he whined when he felt the loss of your lips on his but he soon fell quiet – other than a few moans and whimpers – as you left open mouthed kisses into his skin and down his neck.

It’s there that, in the heat of the moment, you decide to bite his neck, leaving a small hickey on his flushed skin. His reaction is immediate; his head falls backwards, his whole body heats up and you feel something stiffen below you, his face burns a bright red as a loud moan escapes his lips. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin to a point you are certain it’ll leave a mark, and his heartbeat quickens; pleasure basically radiates off of his body the minute your teeth nib at his neck.

You stop, teeth sunken into his skin and hand tangled in his hair, his reaction so lewd and surprising you become flustered and stop dead in your tracks.

Zhongli, however, only pulls you tighter into his body, using a hand to press your face deeper into his neck, as if urging you to use more force in your bite – timidly you give in and nibble into his flesh, further deepening the imprint of your teeth in his skin. His whole body feels hot to the touch, his mind feels hazy, your soft bites into his skin send shockwaves through him.

You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? Or else you wouldn’t have been so careless when picking the spot, but it doesn’t matter, in this moment of intense pleasure, the former Archon decides to give into delusion and believe you knew the meaning behind biting a draconic being such as himself — and in the neck of all places as well.

Old traditions dictate that a bite mark, especially in the jugular or neck, was a sign of ownership. It was often that mates would mark each other in the neck with enough force to leave scars, sinking sharp teeth into one another with ironic tenderness. It showed trust and care for the other, both to be marked and leave a mark, as it required vulnerability and care from both parties. It was a deeply intimate act, one that would be reserved to life-long partners and mates, it was a gesture of possessiveness and devotion tinted with love.

If he were to be honest, Zhongli would have thought himself to be the one to mark you instead of the other way around, it’d been something he’d often fantasized at night before your arrival, and yet, as he felt your — significantly duller teeth — bite into him he could feel his admiration and love for you grow as he became yours; even if you may not have known.

He’d always imagined himself on top of you, your naked form beneath him, as he sunk his canines into your flesh until he tasted your holy blood. He’d imagined himself cradling your pleasure stricken body while you moaned his name, a sinful sound coming from a divine being. Instead, it is himself that lays within your grasp, panting in ecstasy as he holds himself back from coming completely undone and showing a depraved side of himself even he did not know of.

If he was honest, he almost wishes you’d draw blood, sink your teeth so deep into his skin it breaks layers of flesh and leaves a deep scar that could never heal – a sign of your favoritism and ownership, one that he could proudly say was unique to him. If only you weren’t so careful with him, so scared of hurting him; he means no offense, but your current form is significantly weaker than his and he’s survived wars most have not heard of; even if you wanted to sink your nails into his skin and carve your name into his body, he thinks his strength and shear devotion to you alone would prove the pain to be nonexistent.

A gasp of your name leaves his parted lips, it’s erotic - the way his pink lips let a symphony of pleasured sounds - a wave of hormones rushing through his body, sending his brain into overdrive.

You look up at him, not having expected such a lewd reaction, but the sight of his half-lidded eyes as they burn into your own sends a hot-buzz down your spine. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bloodied as he bites them, his bare chest is heaving up and down; the expression on his face is orgasmic. His loose hair sticks to his forehead as sweat runs down his temples, clearly your gesture had taken quite an effect on him.

You slowly remove your lips from their spot, about to question his reaction - wondering if you’d perhaps crossed a line, but he stops you with a crooked smile and warm hands against the back of your head.

“It is okay, Your Grace,” he whispers, tongue darting to wet his drying lips, he guides your head back into his neck, “bite me all you want, my neck is yours for the taking.”

You giggle a bit at his eagerness, feeling his hard-on press against your ass. You playfully adjust yourself in his lap, softly nipping at his neck before biting down in a new spot.

“Ha-ah,” he moans once more, you feel him startle beneath you, “don’t be afraid to draw out blood, either… in fact, please, feel free to do so.”

He can only hope you take on the challenge, eager to flaunt your lovely bites to Neuvillette and any poor soul that even so much as thinks of questioning his position in your life.

#๋࣭. ancient scrolls #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #male yandere #yandere zhongli #yandere sagau #yandere sagau zhongli #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin zhongli x reader

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not-terezi-pyrope · 7 months ago

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A longstanding opinion of mine that I am feeling increasingly strong about of late (for probably obvious reasons) is that when two heavily armed violence monopolizing nation states start chucking bombs at each others civilians and brainwashed recruits, you really don't gotta pick one to cheer and wave flags for like it's sports.

They're probably both pretty bad! In at least some of their facets, even if others are good and/or justified, because these are comex institutions and not like, a guy, or a conceptual/ideological framework.

But everyone has to pick a camp and flatten "their guys" to an image of righteous heroism and glory. Instinctive identificational emotion fuelled tribalism really is the greatest flaw of our species.

#deeply skeptical that there's any ethical way to wield an institution of violence #not a fully ethical one at least #not-terezi-speaks #war #war cw

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rozemarynthyme · 1 month ago

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Helloo! I'm on the lookout for a few longterm rp partners. If you're the kind that loves gushing over ocs and making pinterest boards and playlists and yapping about them– I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

I crave fun ships and getting all invested in our ocs and story. The kind that has us going 'just one more reply' at 3am in the night and just lots and lots of yapping!

I do love building friendships with my writing partners so ooc chatter is very much welcome and appreciated. Oh, and so are spams related to our rp, feel free to drop in your ideas, muses, thoughts anytimee

Here are some random plot ideas I have in mind right now (these are all mumu btw):

★ A modern supernatural genre plot where muse a places a job as a horror house employee during some desperate time in life but soon learns that this establishment is literally one. The dummies are haunted and love pranking the customers. The coworkers might just be supernatural beings themselves.

What if this horror house is one of the many safe houses for the supernatural beings in the state? Maybe a purge or hunt for supernatural has been going on off late, where many such beings are trafficked, bought and sold, treated like circus animals and pets?

★ A slice-of-life plot idea with an elitist x eat the rich trope (for the main couple). A story centered around an uni setting where its just 20-something year olds being hot messes.

Soo down for friend groups who are basically found family, discussing real life struggles, mental health issues, possible abusive/strained home life, misunderstandings, ANGST, PINING, slowburns– I love them all!

★ A high fantasy set in the medieval times. A priestess (my oc Celeste) who is on the run with a massive bounty on her head. A living weapon, they call her. Maybe there is a prophecy involved, maybe a particular superpower wants to monopolize her powers for themself to commit atrocities or to fulfill an over-reaching goal of theirs.

Enemies to lovers, antagonistic characters pit against each other, possible Stockholm syndrome, one corrupting the other but the priestess gradually grows to become just as unhinged and dangerous (pliss gimmie an antagonistic power couple!!)

★ Mafia-esque plots! Give me your flawed, unhinged, dangerous, crime boys to write against mine! Love, love dark themes, dead 🕊, SLOWBURNS, violence and all that good stuff! I like keeping things realistic and gritty here. Stories set in the underbelly of the city. Power struggles and bad blood between rivalry gangs. Revenge. Betrayal. Moral dilemmas.

Would really like to explore a dom x dom kinda pairing (ngl I have a soft spot for big scary men gradually growing softer for each other amidst all the chaos)

★ Anything zombie apocalypse, fantasy, mythos inspired plots, pirates and outlaws, stories set in medieval times with knights, royalties, dangerous politics I absolutely LOVE

Feel free to bring your plot ideas and muses, as well :3

If any of these interests you or you'd like to discuss ideas drop a dm or like this post and I'll reach out!

(ps. much appreciated if you could give my pinned post a read before interacting ^^)

#1x1 rp #discord rp #discord 1x1 #mumu rp #oc rp #original rp #fantasy rp #indie rp #literate rp #21+ rp #mxf #mxm #fxf

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handweavers · 9 months ago

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what do you think of halifax?

i think the city is beautiful but it has a past and present predicated on suffering, to put it simply, and i don't think it's navigating that well. the ambient experience of walking around and existing here is far more pleasant than toronto, in the sense that people are a lot more friendly and kind, the weather is cooler, and being near the ocean is soothing. i appreciate how diverse the city is, that was a pleasant surprise. i hate how much navigating the downtown core requires walking steep uphill. i like the architecture and how old a lot of the buildings are, but simultaneously this 'oldness' is a result of halifax being one of primary landing points for the colonization of the country. the land that halifax sits upon - kjipuktuk - has been a sacred site for the mi'kmaw people for thousands of years, and now it is covered in shipping container cranes and gentrified gastropubs and atlantic superstores. i've been to a few historic sites and museums in the area and it's fascinating seeing how the canadian state limply tries to acknowledge these crimes while reifying itself, like referring to colonial settlement as 'immigration' among other things, and continuing this history of violence through the intense gentrification halifax is experiencing at the present.

many older people i've spoken with have said it has changed drastically in the last 20 or so years, and the overwhelming amount of construction at the moment has made a lot of the city inaccessible. it's also facing a lot of the issues i've seen elsewhere across canada, ie. increased monopolization and the closing down of local businesses because they can't afford to stay open. walking near the waterfront or in the historic district, a lot of the ground is being torn up to build high rises and tourist traps. it's unearthing a lot of iron and clay deposits, among other things, and i think a lot about how the mi'kmaw used to bury their dead here before white people came. there's something deeply sinister about this, and i'm trying to find ways to navigate that as a visitor.

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eunxhan · 1 year ago

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❝ You are my object of admiration, my precious and perfect possession. You're mine and only mine. From now on, you will always belong to me, and I'll always praise you and worship you ❞

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ 😻 Requested ⨾ Hiii just 😻 Anon passing by again, I wanted to request one final time (for now) a simple yan! bloody marry, Btw luv your writing, Thanks!

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Hello! I'm so grateful for your request and I'm happy you came by again, Your kind words hit my heart. I love her character and how they design her.

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — I do not condone this kind of behavior in real life situations. Unhealthy relationship, violence, delusion, observation. English is not my main!

Reader & Genre ⨾ GN!reader, ( You, They/them, Darling, Beloved ), Can be seen as platonic and/or romantic

Words used ⨾ 8,100 ( 18 headcanons )

Character ⨾ BLOODY QUEEN / BLOODY MARY

Links ⨾ My Navigation and Mandates

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I view her as a possessive and controlling type of yandere. She would have deep and intense feelings for her object of affection, and a strong desire for exclusive companionship and ownership. Her possessive behaviors would likely involve a willingness to monopolize the affection of the one she loves and a need to control and possess them. She would likely see herself as entitled to the sole attention and devotion of the person she is obsessed with, and would probably use manipulative and aggressive methods to ensure she is the only one who has access to her beloved.

She's very observant when it comes to her object of affection. She would pay close attention to all their behaviour, movements, and actions in order to maintain a high level of control. She would likely be highly aware of any potential threats to her dominance and control over the one she loves, and would be quick to take action and make sure that the one she loves remains dedicated to her and only her.

Mary constantly noticing and observing the minute details of their behaviors and actions. This attention and observation include a heightened awareness of their emotions, thoughts and feelings, allowing her to quickly pick up on subtle shifts and changes in their moods and states of mind. No dear, of course she will not use your emotions against you. She just love watching you.

She's easily jealous and prone to intense episodes of possessiveness when the reader is with other survivors. She would likely become extremely controlling over her beloved, demanding absolute exclusivity and ownership over the reader. Any presence or interactions of darling with other survivors would likely cause intense feelings of jealousy and insecurity in blood queen, causing her to respond with anger, aggression and a desire to remove or eliminate any competitors for the Darling's attention and affection.

She'll become extremely possessive and clingy, demanding excessive attention and time from the reader. She would likely become extremely possessive and possessive over her darling, demanding them only interact with her and no one else. She would likely resort to stalking, spying to ensure their attention and affection remained solely with her. She'll show extreme levels of jealousy and aggression towards any perceived romantic competitors for the reader's affection.

She'll manifest in her intense and unhealthy fixation on her beloved, to the point of losing sight of the difference between fantasy and reality. She would likely start to lose the ability to differentiate between their actions and behaviors in reality and those in her fantasies. She would likely act as if she is actually in a relationship with Darling, and would start to act as if they have actual real feelings for her, blurring the lines between the relationship she wants the two of them to have and the actual state of the relationship.

she's likely be plagued by recurring, intrusive thoughts or urges about her darling, such as the need to possess and control over you, or the need to keep you in her life. These urges would likely manifest in her obsession with you and her obsession with owning the you.

Mary would suffer intense feelings of anxiety and discomfort when those urges or thoughts are not being satisfied or followed, and struggle to function regularly unless she is able to fulfill those urges.

She would likely feel frustrated and angry that you're avoiding her, feeling as if you're purposely not interacting with her and trying to snub her. Bloody queen would likely react with more obsessive behaviors, becoming even more possessive and controlling of you in an attempt to force the reader to interact with her and give her attention. She would likely become even more intense and aggressive, becoming more volatile and unpredictable to force you to stop avoiding her.

Bloody queen would react with extreme anger and aggression if her beloved always hit her with the reality that you don't care or love her. She would likely feel hurt by the rejection, and would likely respond with a strong display of anger and hostility, potentially leading to violence and an attempt to hurt you.

Mary would not handle the rejection well, and would likely respond with more obsessive and controlling behaviors that could lead to a greater level of aggression and hostility.

If she felt rejected and ignored by you during trials, she would likely become very angry and aggressive. would likely feel deeply hurt, angry and insulted by the rejection, and might not be able to control her violent impulses or outbursts. She would likely want to cause physical damage to the reader as well as psychological damage, and an attack would likely be a way to do both.

She would likely attack the reader as a way of venting her frustration and expressing her anger at the reader for not giving her attention and affection. She will launch violent attacks towards you, trying to harm and even kill the player as a way to express her angry and aggressive feelings. She would likely want to make you feel the same way she feels, and would likely want to inflict a similar level of pain and damage that you have caused her.

She would act soft and gentle towards you in certain situations. She'll become soft and gentle when you're showing a level of kindness and compassion towards her that you do not normally have during trials.

There are some cases where you may see a softer side of Bloody queen in certain special events. Mary could show mercy or kindness towards the reader in these situations. Her sudden gentleness toward her darling would be jarring and unexpected after her usual hostile and aggressive behavior, but it would also be refreshing to you.

Though she is known for her violent and aggressive behavior, Bloody queen has also been known to express some gentleness and affection towards the one she loves, and dolling you up could be a way she expresses a softer and kinder side of her. Dolling up her beloved would likely involve applying makeup, hairstyling and dressing them in a way that emphasizes your beauty and appeal to Mary.

Bloody queen likely have a desire to see the one she loves look and feel their best, and this would manifest in her dolling up her lover. She would likely pick out nice clothing, accessories, or hair and makeup that she thinks suits you, and would likely feel proud of the appearance and beauty she has bestowed upon the person she loves.

Bloody queen sees you as a source of satisfaction and validation for her obsessive behaviors and her attachment to you. She would likely want to please you and make you happy, and would likely consider your praise and worship as the highest form of attention and affection.

However, her worship of you would likely be in a somewhat dominant and controlling manner, rather than truly praising and worshiping you as a superior being. Bloody queen might express her praise and worship towards you, but with the intention of reminding and enforcing that you're within her control, and also to further express her authority and dominance in the relationship.

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Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

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sheydeamazing · 2 months ago

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Colonialism- is the advancement of control over and exploitation of land and people by separation, through another and often foreign group. Colonizers monopolize political power and hold conquered societies and their people to be inferior to their conquerors in legal, administrative, social, cultural, or biological terms. While frequently advanced as an imperialist regime, colonialism can also take the form of settler colonialism, whereby colonial settlers invade and occupy territory to permanently replace an existing society with that of the colonizers, possibly towards a genocide of native populations.

Colonialism developed as a concept describing European colonial empires of the modern era, which spread globally from the 15th century to the mid-20th century, spanning 35% of Earth's land by 1800 and peaking at 84% by the beginning of World War I. European colonialism employed mercantilism and chartered companies, and established coloniality, which keeps the colonized socio-economically othered and subaltern through modern biopolitics of sexuality, gender, race, disability and class, among others, resulting in intersectional violence and discrimination. Colonialism has been justified with beliefs of having a civilizing mission to cultivate land and life, based on beliefs of entitlement and superiority, historically often rooted in the belief of a Christian mission.

Democracy- literally, rule by the people. The term is derived from the Greek dēmokratia, which was coined from dēmos (“people”) and kratos (“rule”) in the middle of the 5th century BCE to denote the political systems then existing in some Greek city-states, notably Athens.

Propaganda- is the more or less systematic effort to manipulate other people’s beliefs, attitudes, or actions by means of symbols (words, gestures, banners, monuments, music, clothing, insignia, hairstyles, designs on coins and postage stamps, and so forth). Deliberateness and a relatively heavy emphasis on manipulation distinguish propaganda from casual conversation or the free and easy exchange of ideas. Propagandists have a specified goal or set of goals. To achieve these, they deliberately select facts, arguments, and displays of symbols and present them in ways they think will have the most effect. To maximize effect, they may omit or distort pertinent facts or simply lie, and they may try to divert the attention of the reactors (the people they are trying to sway) from everything but their own propaganda. Propaganda, dissemination of information—facts, arguments, rumours, half-truths, or lies—to influence public opinion. It is often conveyed through mass media.

#philippine history

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thatswhywelovegermany · 1 year ago

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Staat ist diejenige menschliche Gesellschaft, welche innerhalb eines bestimmten Gebietes das Monopol legitimer physischer Gewaltsamkeit für sich (mit Erfolg) beansprucht.

A state is that human society which (successfully) claims the monopoly of legitimate physical violence within a certain territory.

Max Weber (1864 – 1920), German sociologist, lawyer, and national and social economist

#quote #max weber

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dailyanarchistposts · 11 months ago

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Empire’s radical monopoly over life

Ivan Illich was a prominent radical intellectual in the 1970s, but aside from his radical critique of schooling, is not well-known today. For Illich, modern schooling was only one of the many ways that dependence was being entrenched—a dependence not only on capitalist production and consumption, but on a whole violent, industrialized, disciplined, and controlled way of life. His concept of radical monopoly points to something more systematic than the control over a particular market by a particular firm. Instead, radical monopoly gets at the way that Empire monopolizes life itself: how people relate to each other, how they get around, how they get their sustenance, and the whole texture of everyday life. A world built for cars forces out other ways of moving, and modern building codes and bylaws make it impossible and illegal for people to build their own dwellings, or even to live together at all if they cannot pass as a nuclear family. Modern medicine does not just create a new way of understanding the body: its scientific understanding is premised on a radical monopoly over health, and the subjugation (or commodification) of other healing traditions. To be healthy under Empire is to be a properly functioning, able-bodied, neurotypical individual capable of work, and to be sick often means becoming medicalized: isolated, confined, and dependent on strangers and experts. Law, policing, and prisons monopolize the field of justice by enforcing cycles of punishment and incarceration, forcing out the capacity of people to protect each other and resolve conflicts themselves. The rise of industrial agriculture has been accompanied by a loss of the convivial relations surrounding subsistence: the connection to the growing and processing of food, the intimacy with ecosystems and seasons it entails, and the collective rituals, celebrations, and practices that have accompanied these traditions. Empire’s infrastructure induces dependence on forms of production, specialized knowledge, expertise, and tools that detach people from their capacities to learn, grow, build, produce, and take care of each other.

Since Illich wrote, these monopolies have folded into ever more diffuse and generalized forms of control, sunk deeper into the fabric of life. Deleuze called this new form of power taking shape over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries “control societies.”[102] Rather than telling people exactly what to do, this mode of power regularizes life, calling forth certain ways of living and feeling, and making other forms of life die. Surveillance no longer ends when one exits a particular institution: through social media, smartphones, browsing histories, and credit cards, surveillance is ubiquitous, continuous, and increasingly participatory. We are enjoined to share, consume, and express ourselves, and every choice feeds back into algorithms that predict our habits and preferences with ever increasing precision. The performance of self-expression is constantly encouraged, and as the Institute for Precarious Consciousness writes, “Our success in this performance in turn affects everything from our ability to access human warmth to our ability to access means of subsistence, not just in the form of the wage but also in the form of credit.”[103] Under this apparatus, there is little room for silence, nuance, listening, exploration, or the rich subtleties of tone and body language. Anything too intense or subversive is either incorporated or surgically removed by security, police, or emergency personnel. Class, anti-Blackness, Islamophobia, ableism and other structured forms of violence are coded into the algorithms that make everyone a potential terrorist, thief, or error. Even those who are supposed to enjoy the most—those who can afford the newest screens and the most expensive forms of consumption—are inducted into a state of nearly constant distraction, numbness, and anxiety.

Perpetual individualization obscures the crushing collective effects of Empire. When this form of control is working, interactions are hypervisible, superficial, predictable, and self-managed. To be constantly mistrusted and controlled is also to be detached from one’s own capacity to experiment, make mistakes, and learn without instruction or coercion. To internalize the responsibilities of neoliberal individualism is to sink into the mesh of control and subjection. The responsible economic subject owns her own property, pays her own debts, invests in her future, and meets her needs and desires through consumption. She is individually responsible for her health, her economic situation, her life prospects, and even her emotional states. These forms of subjection make it difficult to imagine—let alone participate in—collective alternatives. From the dependence on armed strangers to resolve conflicts, to the hum of an extraction-fuelled world, to the glow of screens that beckon attention, to the stranglehold of policy and bureaucracy, to the intergenerational violence and abuse that permeate lovers and families, Empire is constantly entrenching dependence on a world that makes joy, trust, and responsibility difficult.

It is not a question of revealing this to people, as if they are dupes. Struggling amid these forms of control means grappling with their affective hold on us and our daily lives. Anxiety, addiction, and depression are not merely secrets to reveal or illusions to dispel. Preaching about Empire’s horrors can stoke cynicism or ironic detachment rather than undoing subjection. One can still feel bound and depleted, despite one’s awareness. Empire’s subjects are “free” to be mistrustful and resentful of the system under which they live. One can hate Empire as much as one wants, as long as one continues to work, pay rent, and consume. There is no simple correspondence between intentions and actions, as if the problem is simply figuring out what to do and doing it. Undoing subjection is not about conscious opposition, or finding a way to be happy amidst misery. Challenging Empire’s radical monopoly over life means interrupting its affective and infrastructural hold, undoing some of our existing attachments and desires, and creating new ones.

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wgstpinkllama · 2 months ago

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Week #3

From rebellion to peaceful protest, why are today’s protests largely ineffective?

Protests and rebellions have long been a demonstration of the power of the people, with notable examples dating back to the 13th-century baron revolts that led to the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215. This pivotal event occurred through negotiations between two armed parties: the reigning monarch and the rebelling barons. Over the following centuries, similar acts of resistance have manifested in various forms, such as the Peasants' Revolt of 1381, the French Revolution in the late 18th century, and domestically in the United States through early uprisings like the Whiskey Rebellion (Lubbock, 2015; “The Whiskey Rebellion,” n.d.). The Suffragette movement and Battle of Blaire Mountain of the late 19th and early 20th centuries also exemplify these efforts for change. This starkly differs from the type of protest that became more common during and after the 1960s. In a PBS Newshour interview, Princeton University assistant professor Omar Wasow highlights that “there was a massive wave in the early part of the 1960s of nonviolent protests that drove headlines about civil rights. In a later period in the 1960s, as we start to see more violent protest, we see more coverage of riots and public opinion shifts.” (Sreenivasan, 2020). This, I believe, is the catalyst that has defanged a once powerful tool, allowing the state to monopolize violence against protestors who must remain nonviolent to appease popular opinion.

Why is it our personal obligation to correct the algorithm?

Algorithms are increasingly silently determining more about the world around us and how we experience it. Furthermore, despite the marketing claims, these algorithms are not blank slates; they are shaped by prior information used to train these models, which are affected by increased surveillance of marginalized people and systemic biases (Martin, 2018). Eubanks (2018) experiences this reality when factors like recently changing policies due to their change in employment and the high cost of the claim.

What is the impact of the profit motive on the American healthcare system?

Eubanks (2018, pp. 13–16) discusses in her book Automating Inequality that insurance companies are not required to inform applicants when their coverage is denied. Instead, the responsibility falls on individuals at their most vulnerable to prove that their claims are not fraudulent. They calculate this to be a cost of around $30 billion a year in fraud, which leads me to the next question.

$30 Billion a year, why are some costs more important than others?

While $30 billion is not an insignificant sum, it is essential to recognize that the perception of costs can vary depending on the type of service provided. Historically, those in power have not closely examined the Department of Defense (previously known as the Department of War) budgets. The Pentagon has consistently failed audits and cannot account for a staggering budget overrun of $824 billion, never passing an audit since the agency has been legally obligated to do so (Dress, 2024). Eubanks (2018, pp. 18-20) discusses Maine Republican Governor Paul LePage's efforts to tighten surveillance on Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF) EBT transactions, which revealed that only 0.03 percent of transactions, totaling about $330, were deemed suspicious.

Dress, B. (2024, November 18). Pentagon fails 7th audit in a row but says progress made. The Hill. https://thehill.com/policy/defense/4992913-pentagon-fails-7th-audit-in-a-row-but-says-progress-made/

Eubanks, V. (2019). Automating inequality: How high-tech tools profile, police, and punish the poor. Picador, St. Martin’s Press.

Lubbock, J. (2015, December 16). A history of British rebellions. Medium. https://johnlubbock.medium.com/a-history-of-british-rebellions-2b5f289c525b

Martin, K. (2019). Ethical Implications and Accountability of Algorithms. Journal of Business Ethics, 160(4), 835-850. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10551-018-3921-3

Public Broadcasting Service. (n.d.). The whiskey rebellion. PBS. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/duel-whiskey-rebellion/

Sreenivasan, H. (2020, May 31). What the 1960s can teach us about modern-day protests. PBS News. https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/what-the-1960s-can-teach-us-about-modern-day-protests

#tcl25

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secularprolifeconspectus · 1 year ago

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Why I call Abortion Violence a Genocide

The reason I stand by my use of "genocide" is because abortion violence follows "The Ten Stages of Genocide" as defined by Dr. Stanton of Genocide Watch in 1986.

To prove this, I will illustrate stage-by-stage how abortion violence meets the criteria of the framework below. Note that I am working from the reasonable premise that all human organisms are people by default, and burden of proof rests on those who claim a class of "human non-persons" exists.

1: Classification

"All cultures have categories to distinguish people into “us and them”. Bipolar societies that lack mixed categories, are the most likely to have genocide."

"Us" is the class of born people, "them" is the class of preborn people.

2: Symbolization

"We give names or other symbols to the classifications. We give the pariah class a name, or distinguish it by colors or dress; and apply the symbols to members of the group."

Born people gave the class of preborn people the name "fetuses".

3: Discrimination

"The powerless group may not be accorded full rights or citizenship. The dominant group is driven by an exclusionary ideology that deprives less powerful groups of their rights. The ideology advocates monopolization of power by the dominant group. It legitimizes the victimization of weaker groups."

The powerless group is The Preborn. They are denied the right to protection from aggressive violence, and they are not recognized as citizens by law. The dominant group, The Born, uses political power and custom to maintain this status quo. Their ideology excludes people with certain age-appropriate limitations of ability from human rights. It advocates for born people to have exclusive power to grant or deny the humanity of powerless preborn people.

4: Dehumanization

"One group denies the humanity of the other group. Members of it are equated with animals, vermin, insects or diseases. Dehumanization overcomes the normal human revulsion against murder. Hate propaganda is used to vilify the victim group. The majority group is taught to regard the other group as less than human. They are indoctrinated to believe that “We are better off without them.” The powerless group can become so depersonalized that they are actually given numbers rather than names. They are equated with impurity and immorality."

Born people deny the humanity of preborn people. The Preborn are equated with primitive animals, property, parasites, or tumors. The Abortion Industrial Complex (AIC) and its activist wing, the Pro-Choice Movement (PCM) uses propaganda to blame The Preborn for patriarchal oppression. The Born are taught to regard The Preborn as not yet fully human. They are indoctrinated to believe that "we are better off without unplanned babies". Preborn people usually are not given names. They are equated with sexual stigma and shame.

5: Organization

"Genocide is always organized, usually by the state, often using militias to provide deniability of state responsibility. Sometimes organization is informal or decentralized. Arms are purchased by states and militias to facilitate acts of genocide. States organize secret police to spy on, arrest, torture, and murder people suspected of opposition to political leaders. Special training is given to murderous militias and special army killing units."

The State sanctions elective feticide and organizes it under NIH population control programs (eugenics campaign by the 20th century elite), using the Planned Parenthood Federation of America (PPFA) to provide deniability of responsibility (see: Alan Guttmacher.) Facilities are built and supplied to facilitate mass feticide. The State uses the DOJ & FBI to spy on, arrest, and incarcerate pro-life activists. The Ryan Residency gives special training to abortionists.

6: Polarization

"Extremists drive the groups apart. Hate groups broadcast polarizing propaganda. Motivations for targeting a group are indoctrinated through mass media. Extremists intimidate moderates, silencing the center. The dominant group passes laws or decrees that grant them total power over the targeted group. The laws erode fundamental rights. Targeted groups are incapable of self-defense, ensuring the dominant group control."

Pro-Abortion Extremists drive the PCM apart from the PLM (Pro-Life Movement). PPFA broadcasts polarizing posts and ads. Motivations for seeking an abortion are indoctrinated through social media. Pro-Aborts intimidate moderates, silencing the center. A Supreme Court decision grants born people total power over preborn people. The repeal of abortion regulations erode the right to life. The Preborn are incapable of self-defense, ensuring The Born have total control.

7: Preparation

"Plans are made for genocidal killings. Perpetrator group leaders plan the “Final Solution” to the targeted group “question.” They often use euphemisms to cloak their intentions. They indoctrinate the populace with fear of the victim group. Leaders often claim that “if we don’t kill them, they will kill us,” disguising genocide as self-defense. Inflammatory rhetoric and hate propaganda are used with the objective of creating fear of the other group."

PPFA plans to increase their abortion sales quota and expand their business into the global south. The AIC leaders plan the "Solution" to the unplanned fetus "epidemic". They call it "healthcare" to cloak their intentions. They indoctrinate the populace with fear of The Preborn. AIC leaders claim "without abortion, women will die," disguising feticide as self-defense. "Gestational slavery, forced birth" and "unwanted children, rapist's baby" are used in order to create fear.

8: Persecution

"Victims are separated out because of their class identity. Sometimes they are even deported or confined and starved. They are deliberately deprived of resources in order to destroy them. Programs are implemented to prevent procreation through forced abortions. Children are forcibly taken from their parents. The victim group’s basic human rights become systematically abused through killings, torture and forced displacement. They are acts of genocide because they intentionally destroy part of a group."

The Preborn class is treated as separate from the rest of humankind because they exist where and how humans do at that age. They are expelled from their literal place of origin, or held captive within it and slaughtered. They are deliberately deprived of oxygen or nutrition. Preborn babies are forcibly extracted from their parents with vacuums, forceps, and curettes. The basic human rights of preborn humans are systematically abused as they are lethally injected without due process and dismembered alive without anesthesia. The unplanned, imperfect, and unprivileged are intentionally destroyed.

9: Extermination

"The mass killing called “genocide” begins. It is “extermination” to the killers because they do not believe their victims to be fully human. Acts of genocide demonstrate how dehumanized the victims have become. Already dead bodies are dismembered. Destruction of property is employed to annihilate the group’s existence from history. They do not differentiate civilians from non-combatants. They result in widespread war crimes: mass rapes of women and girls, all men of fighting age are murdered."

Mass feticide began with industrialization. It is "termination" to the abortionists because they do not believe The Preborn to be fully human. Brutal later procedures demonstrate how dehumanized The Preborn have become. Already dismembered babies are burned for electricity. Disinformation is spread to eliminate the existence of The Preborn from serious consideration. They do not differentiate viable fetuses from unviable. They result in widespread social and economic coercion: the mass predation by the AIC upon vulnerable women and girls, the silencing of all men who would fight for the lives of babies.

10: Denial

"The perpetrators of genocide try to cover up the evidence and intimidate the witnesses. They deny that they committed any crimes, and often blame what happened on the victims. They block investigations of the crimes, and continue to govern until driven from power by force, when they flee into exile. There they remain with impunity."

The AIC covers up the inhumanity of abortion, malpractice at facilities, and extralegal fetal tissue trade. They intimidate PLM activists and deny the existence of abortion survivors. They lie about evidence and falsify data; they gaslight women who regret their abortions as "sensitive to stigma." They block legal investigations by colluding with corrupt officials. Dangerous abortionists continue to operate with impunity until driven out of business by force, when they flee to a vulnerable community and practice under the radar.

Further commentary:

Over the past few weeks, especially with current events between Israel (committing a genocide) and Palestine (Gaza is a death camp West Bank is apartheid), I've gotten more pushback than usual on using the word "genocide" to describe the mass killing of abortion.

And the critics aren't wrong: abortion doesn't fit the definition in the strict sense. If you are limiting genocide to the original meaning, then it refers exclusively to systematic extermination of the population of an ethnicity, nationality, or religion. In fact, in this sense, "holocaust" probably better describes abortion, as it refers to a sacrificial killing en masse; however, calling abortion "THE Holocaust" is anti-Semitic, so avoid the term altogether. Democide is another option, but it is limited to a mass killing executed by a government power.

And simply calling abortion a "mass killing" or "massacre" frankly doesn't communicate the extent, gravity, and urgency of the human rights violation. Some genocide scholars have generalized the term to describe any widespread killing of a targeted class of people.

When I say "abortion is genocide", I don't mean abortion fits the DEFINITION of genocide. I mean abortion violence fits the PATTERN of a genocide. I'm open to arguments against this, but it's where I stand for now, and I hope I have illustrated my argument well.

ps. The genocide of Gaza is NOT up for debate. FREE PALESTINE!

#hide #pro life #anti abortion #disquisitions

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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If we play our cards right, we might not get shot today. Those are better odds than we had ten seconds ago.

You, sir, are a braver man than I. You were hanging onto that thing with one foot in a footrest. You could not pay me to balloon-float from the highest point in the city like that.

Hahaha I don't think you have the authority to make that happen. Everyone, including you, has talked about how this guy's organization are basically the supreme rulers of Kanai Ward.

Son of a fuck I knew I should have thrown you out that window!

Shit, maybe you do have the authority. Halara, kill. Uh, please.

That's not quite the story he told us earlier. He said he has demon blood and that seeing his face causes people to lose their sanity.

Of course, Yuma cut him off before he could tell the full tale, so this might be some of the stuff we skipped. Or he's lying.

Honestly, I think it's a lifestyle choice. He invents stories to avoid having to explain that he wears it because he likes it. Hey, you do you, man. I'm not gonna judge.

Just like that? Man, you have told me outright that the Peacekeepers are basically the rulers of Amaterasu and this company town. I doubt it's going to be that--

Oh, We definitely should have thrown you out that window if you have clout like this. Holy shit.

The CEO can be top dog of a privately-owned company, but a company of Amaterasu's size is likely publicly traded. That would mean the company has a Board of Directors that the CEO must answer to, who are themselves accountable to the shareholders.

That might not be what Makoto's talking about, though. The fraught relationship between him and Yomi is extremely imbalanced. Though Makoto legally holds authority over Yomi, at the end of the day, all of the guns in this city answer to Yomi.

The line between megacorporation and mafia is extremely blurry. If Makoto tries to fire Yomi, Yomi can respond, "Yeah? Well, all of these men with guns say you're fired."

This is a company town. The first right of a government is the monopolization of violence. The Peacekeepers are that monopolization. If Yomi and a thousand men with guns decide that Yomi is God-King of Kanai Ward now, who's going to stop them? The military is always the greatest internal threat to a government.

Makoto is walking a thin line, trying to resist Yomi's consolidation of power without outright provoking Yomi into a full-scale coup.

Of course, like I said back in his tower, being against bad things doesn't make you a good guy. To be a good guy, you have to be for good things. We only know what Makoto's against. As CEO of Amaterasu, he's a key component of the mechanism that made this monster in the first place.

Makoto gives me the heebie-jeebies, in a "The enemy of my enemy can kiss my ass too" sort of way. But I suppose he did bail us out back there, so we owe him one.

...and then what? This is an isolated city-state, my dude. When you declare his exile and he and a thousand guns respond, "No, you go," what are you going to do to make him? What higher authority wields power over Yomi and the Peacekeepers that can force him out against his will?

This is the same problem that Shachi had with his plan to "gather evidence" of Peacekeeper corruption. When he starts shooting, when the streets run pink with the blood of his enemies, how do you intend to pry that power from his fingers?

No matter how sound your logic or how solid your evidence, you can't win a debate against a bullet.

...Did... Did Makoto just gift us a new sub? Ooh, maybe it'll have that new car smell. And bunk beds. I call rooming with Fubuki!

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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ausetkmt · 2 years ago

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In late October 2021, a top U.S. envoy met with Sudanese military commanders and Sudan’s top civilian leader to shore up the country’s precarious transition toward democracy. The generals assured Jeffrey Feltman, then the U.S. special envoy for the Horn of Africa region, that they were committed to the transition and would not seize power. Feltman departed the Sudanese capital of Khartoum for Washington early on the morning of Oct. 25. En route, he received news from Sudan: Hours after he left, those military leaders had arrested the country’s top civilian leaders and carried out a coup.

For the next 18 months, Washington adopted a series of controversial policy measures to both maintain ties with the new military junta and try to push the East African nation back toward a democratic transition. Months of work led to a new political deal that offered, on paper at least, new hope, and some Biden administration officials felt they were tantalizingly close.

But the deal blew up in the eleventh hour as violence erupted across Khartoum last month between forces controlled by the rival generals, Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, who leads the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), and Mohamed Hamdan “Hemeti” Dagalo, the head of the powerful Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group.

The collapse of Sudan’s democratic transition has led to anger and backlash in Washington among diplomats and aid officials, some of whom feel that the Biden administration’s policies empowered the two generals at the center of the crisis, exacerbated tensions between them as they pushed for a political deal, and shunted aside pro-democracy activists in the process.

“Maybe we couldn’t have prevented a conflict,” said one U.S. official who spoke on condition of anonymity. “But it’s like we didn’t even try and beyond that just emboldened Hemeti and Burhan by making repeated empty threats and never following through.”

“And all the while,” the official added, “we let the real pro-democracy players just be cast to the side.”

The conflict between Burhan’s and Hemeti’s forces turned Khartoum overnight into a battle zone that put millions of citizens, as well as U.S. and foreign government personnel, in the crossfire of firefights, airstrikes, and mortar attacks. The fighting has pushed Sudan toward the brink of collapse and undermined, perhaps permanently, a Western-funded project to bring democracy to a country beset by autocracy and conflict for half a century.

People run and walk through the streets in front of an armored personnel carrier as fighting in the Sudanese capital of Khartoum continues between Sudan’s army and paramilitary forces on April 27. AFP via Getty Images

As successive rounds of cease-fires fail, Western officials and analysts increasingly fear that the fighting could lead to a full-scale civil war, bringing a new vacuum of instability and chaos to a region already suffering humanitarian crises and along the strategic Red Sea, through which 10 percent of global trade flows.

“The way things are going, Sudan begins to resemble a massive Somalia of the early 1990s on the Red Sea, a total state breakdown, if the fighting doesn’t stop,” said Alexander Rondos, a former European Union envoy for the Horn of Africa.

Interviews with about two dozen current and former Western officials and Sudanese activists close to the negotiations describe a deeply flawed U.S. policy process on brokering talks in Sudan in the run-up to the conflict, monopolized by a select few officials who shut the rest of the interagency team out of key deliberations and stamped out a growing chorus of dissent over the direction of U.S. Sudan policy.

“From the outset, there was a consistent and willful dismissal of views that questioned whether the U.N. talks would be a recipe for success or for failure,” said one former official familiar with the matter. “Those warnings were ignored, and instead the U.S. built a dream palace of a political process that has now crashed down on the people of Sudan.”

Current and former U.S. officials, many of whom spoke on condition of anonymity, said internal warnings of roiling tensions in Khartoum and a possible conflict were dismissed or ignored in Washington, setting the stage for U.S. government personnel to be trapped amid the fighting in various parts of Khartoum with no advance preparations to move them to safety. In Khartoum, these officials and Sudanese analysts said, the policy was further hampered by an embassy that was for years understaffed and out of its depth, without even an ambassador for much of the crucial period.

A woman inside her house protects her face from tear gas in the Abbasiya neighborhood of Omdurman, Sudan, on Nov. 13, 2021. Organizations called for civil disobedience and a general strike during demonstrations against the military coup. Abdulmonam Eassa/Getty Images

“We seemed to have lost all institutional memory on Sudan,” said Cameron Hudson, a senior associate at the Center for Strategic and International Studies and former State Department official. “These generals have been lying to us for decades. Anybody who has worked on Sudan has seen this stuff play out time and time and time again.”

The U.S. State Department has sharply disputed these characterizations. “U.S. engagement after the October 2021 military takeover was centered on supporting Sudanese civilian actors in a Sudanese-led process to re-establish a civilian-led transitional government,” a State Department spokesperson said in response.

“The United States did not press for any specific deal but tried to build consensus and put pressure on the key actors to reach agreement on a civilian government to restore a democratic transition,” the spokesperson said and added that those efforts included “near constant diplomacy, often working closely with civilians, to defuse tensions between the SAF and RSF that arose multiple times and again emerged in the days before April 15, 2023,” when the fighting began.

Still, for an administration that has made promoting global democracy a centerpiece of its foreign policy, many government officials who spoke to Foreign Policy contended that Sudan could stand as one of the starkest foreign-policy failures, even in the wake of the successful evacuation of all U.S. government personnel and campaign to help U.S. citizens escape the country.

These officials also fear that the crisis could reverberate well beyond Sudan’s borders if the warring sides don’t agree to a viable cease-fire soon, with the risk of rival foreign powers exacerbating the conflict and transforming it into a proxy war.

Interviews with multiple Sudanese activists and civil society leaders, meanwhile, paint the picture of a pro-democracy movement that has completely lost faith in the United States as a beacon for democracy and supporter of Sudan’s own democratic aspirations. Many spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of their safety as fighting continued in Khartoum.

“Either the U.S. and West properly step up or they just need to fuck off because halfhearted steps and empty threats of sanctions, again and again and again, are doing more harm than good,” said one Sudanese person deeply familiar with the internal negotiations. “Our trust in the U.S. is entirely gone.”

Sudanese protesters cheer on arriving to the town of Atbara from Khartoum on Dec. 19, 2019, to celebrate the first anniversary of the uprising that toppled Sudanese dictator Omar al-Bashir. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

After a popular pro-democracy uprising ousted longtime dictator Omar al-Bashir in 2019 and set the stage for Sudan to rejoin the international community after decades as an international pariah, the United States invested countless diplomatic resources and hundreds of millions of dollars in Sudan’s democratic transition.

Sudan seemed poised to be a success story. A popular uprising, led in many ways by Sudanese women, had ousted one of the world’s most notorious dictators. U.S. President Joe Biden in a major U.N. speech in September 2021 denounced the global rise of autocracy and touted Sudan as one of the most compelling contrasts to that trend worldwide after the 2019 revolution. In Sudan, he said, there was proof that “the democratic world is everywhere.”

Just a month later, Burhan and Hemeti orchestrated their coup. Afterward, the Biden administration froze some $700 million in U.S. funds to aid in the democratic transition and, over a year later, issued visa restrictions on “any current or former Sudanese officials or other individuals believed to be responsible for, or complicit in, undermining the democratic transition in Sudan.” The World Bank and International Monetary Fund also froze $6 billion in financial assistance.

But some U.S. diplomats felt that didn’t go far enough and none of those reprisals would directly affect Burhan or Hemeti. A fierce internal debate unfolded. Some officials argued that Washington needed to roll out punishing sanctions against Burhan and Hemeti to bring them to heel and show support for pro-democracy activists. Other officials, including Assistant Secretary of State Molly Phee—Biden’s top envoy for Africa—argued that sanctions wouldn’t be effective and might undermine U.S. influence with Burhan and Hemeti as they sought to bring them back to the negotiating table.

“There was the right thing to do, to show the Sudanese people we were all-in on democracy, to punish Hemeti and Burhan for this blatant coup, and then there was the wrong and slightly more expedient thing to do, [to] just keep working with them after some stern finger-wagging,” said one U.S. official involved in the process. “We chose door number two.”

Jeffrey Feltman, the U.S. special envoy for the Horn of Africa, leaves after meeting with Sudanese Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok in Khartoum on Sept. 29, 2021. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

Feltman, the former U.S. envoy, said he advocated for sanctioning Burhan and Hemeti during his time in government but in hindsight wasn’t sure if it could have prevented the conflict. “Do I think sanctions ultimately would have prevented them from eventually taking 46 million people of Sudan hostage because of their personal lusts for power? No.”

There were other complicating issues as well. Senior Biden administration officials working on Africa policy were consumed by the war in neighboring Ethiopia, where an estimated 200,000 to 600,000 people died during a bloody conflict in the country’s northern Tigray region. And the U.S. Embassy in Khartoum was understaffed and unable to come to grips with the situation; a full-time U.S. ambassador wouldn’t arrive until three years after Bashir’s ouster. During this time, officials say, Phee took direct charge over U.S. policy on Sudan.

Phee worked closely with a U.S. Agency for International Development official detailed to the State Department, Danny Fullerton, in Khartoum to negotiate directly with Burhan and Hemeti and bring them to the table for a new political deal.

“The embassy was just very beleaguered, with a real shortage of skilled or enough political officers, and both the chargés d’affaires and later the ambassador when he got there were very frustrated with a lack of support from Washington,” said one American familiar with internal embassy dynamics. “It was a group that was out of its depth, overly busy, and, frankly, not as well connected as it should’ve been with the right people in Sudan’s pro-democracy communities.”

This official said severe embassy staffing shortages, detailed in a State Department watchdog report on the embassy published in March, and leadership issues contributed to difficulties in hashing out negotiations with Burhan and Hemeti. But other current and former officials dispute that, insisting that the State Department can still make deals with high-level involvement from officials in Washington, even with an understaffed embassy.

Five current and former U.S. officials and two Sudanese activists familiar with the negotiations said that before the U.S. ambassador came to Khartoum in late 2022, U.S. officials involved in the negotiations with Hemeti and Burhan didn’t do enough to incorporate Sudan’s pro-democracy resistance committees into deliberations on a new political deal with the two generals, nor did they heed warnings about the inherent risks and flaws in a new deal.

A Sudanese woman chants slogans and waves a national flag during a demonstration demanding a civilian body to lead the transition to democracy outside the army headquarters in Khartoum on April 12, 2019. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

These officials said there was mounting dissent in Washington over the trajectory of U.S. policy but that Phee dismissed other policy options, including threatening Hemeti or Burhan with sanctions or other forms of pressure or incorporating Sudan’s pro-democracy groups into the political negotiations. The State Department watchdog report also noted that the deputy chief of mission in Khartoum “at times remained focused on her predetermined course of action and did not consider alternatives offered by staff”—though the report did not address whether this had any affect on U.S. policy.

The State Department spokesperson, however, sharply disputed these characterizations: “While we cannot comment on internal policy deliberations, State Department leaders carefully considered policy proposals and different opinions on our policy on Sudan and did not dismiss or stamp out any dissent.”

All the while, Burhan and Hemeti sought to expand their own power and influence across Sudan, currying favor with foreign powers and setting the stage for a growing rivalry that would later ignite a deadly conflict. Burhan found backers in neighboring Egypt. Hemeti courted the United Arab Emirates and Russia and began deepening ties between the RSF and the Wagner Group, a shadowy Russian mercenary outfit widely reported to be responsible for war crimes in other parts of Africa and in Ukraine. Hemeti, implicated in widespread atrocities in Sudan’s Darfur conflict that broke out in 2003, launched a coordinated public relations campaign to try to transform himself into a statesman on the world stage in what was seen as a political charm offensive and challenge to Burhan’s rule.

Hemeti visited Moscow on Feb. 23, 2022, on the eve of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, to discuss the possible opening of a Russian port on Sudan’s coast along the strategic trade routes in the Red Sea. Some U.S. officials who had been pushing for sanctioning Hemeti believed his brazen visit to Moscow would finally convince top decision-makers to finally pull the trigger on a major new tranche of sanctions. The sanctions never came.

Around that time, at least one memo was written and circulated within the State Department’s Bureau of African Affairs warning of the risks of current U.S. policy on Sudan and listing potential scenarios that could emerge from the rivalry between Burhan and Hemeti, including those tensions erupting into a full-scale conflict. The memo, described in broad terms by several congressional aides and former officials familiar with it, was meant to go to U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s desk, but the draft was heavily edited, watered down, and never passed out of the bureau, those people said. “Still, the State Department leaders can’t say they weren’t warned,” one former official said.

Human rights advocates have also criticized the Biden administration’s approach to Sudan in the months leading up to the eruption of violence in April. “By repeatedly failing to hold abusive leaders accountable or making clear, through concrete measures, that abusive behavior would not be condoned, Sudan’s Western partners sent these generals the signal that they can continue holding the country at a gunpoint with almost no consequences,” said Mohamed Osman, an expert on the region at Human Rights Watch.

During this time, Sudanese activists became increasingly disenchanted with the U.S. approach to Sudan. “There was no meaningful commitment that we’d ever seen from either [Burhan or Hemeti], and that was all put aside and sacrificed effectively at the altar of a political process and a political agreement that was never going to hold and that had very little popular support,” said Kholood Khair, a Sudanese political analyst who followed the negotiations closely.

John Godfrey, the U.S. ambassador to Sudan, delivers a speech in Port Sudan amid the delivery of tons of corn as part of U.S. humanitarian support for the country on Nov. 20, 2022. AFP via Getty Images

In September 2022, John Godfrey, a career U.S. diplomat with experience in the Middle East and North Africa and a background in counterterrorism, landed in Khartoum as the first U.S. ambassador to Sudan in a quarter century. Godfrey, officials said, immediately began trying to make inroads with so-called resistance committees and other civil society organizations that had been the driving force in Sudan’s push for democracy.

“He was beset with the cards that were dealt to him,” the American familiar with the embassy’s internal dynamics said. “He was burning the candle at both ends trying to make this deal happen, even if people back in Washington, outside of Phee and the [Bureau of African Affairs], weren’t giving Sudan much attention or thought.”

Even as Russia’s war in Ukraine and the ongoing conflict in Ethiopia distracted most in Washington, Phee and Godfrey—alongside counterparts including senior diplomats from the United Kingdom, United Nations, African Union, and a regional bloc called the Intergovernmental Authority on Development—pushed to restart Sudan’s transition to civilian rule. An apparent breakthrough came last December, when Sudan’s military leaders and some factions of the country’s pro-democracy forces agreed to a new civilian-led transitional government in a matter of months.

But the Western negotiators acceded to demands by Hemeti and Burhan to cut civil society and pro-democracy activists out of the negotiations, giving the military junta an early win over the weaker civilian groups, officials said. The December agreement also left unresolved one major issue that would soon become an explosive one: plans to incorporate the RSF into the SAF to create one unified military force for the country.

People gather to protest the framework agreement signed by Sudan’s military and civilian leaders, which aims to resolve the country’s governance crisis, in Khartoum on April 6. Mahmoud Hjaj/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images

That question fueled more tensions between Burhan and Hemeti in the coming months. Analysts in Khartoum began sounding alarm bells about the roiling tensions that would set the stage for an eruption of violence. The push for the agreement may have exacerbated it.

“There was this absolute desperation to push the final deal over the line to the point of succumbing false hope,” said another person involved in the negotiations.

In Washington, however, plans were underway to celebrate the new transitional government the second the agreement was signed. The embassy continued arranging meetings with Hemeti and Burhan and conducting routine embassy business; an American rock band played a festival in March as part of a State Department public diplomacy tour.

The business-as-usual approach belied the tensions in Khartoum. A signing ceremony for the deal was delayed and then delayed again. Burhan and Hemeti were amassing forces around Khartoum. Some low-level U.S. diplomats and Sudanese civilian negotiators began more explicitly warning their friends and colleagues back in Washington through informal back channels that a conflict seemed imminent.

“People were calling around, saying, ‘You’ve got to pass up these messages to everyone you know in D.C. that there could really be a war, it doesn’t feel like the international community is taking us seriously’” said the American familiar with internal embassy dynamics.

Activists demonstrate in front of the White House in Washington on April 29, calling on the United States to intervene to stop the fighting in Sudan. Daniel Slim/AFP via Getty Images

Top officials in Washington either downplayed or misinterpreted these warning signs, according to six officials and congressional aides familiar with the matter. It wasn’t the first time that Burhan and Hemeti had amassed forces around Khartoum, nor the first time that U.S. interlocutors had to step in to help calm the tensions.

Godfrey and his counterpart from London, Giles Lever, who played key roles in shepherding the December deal to the finish line, left the country on separate vacations by early April, a sign that Washington felt the deal was all but done. Back in Washington, after Burhan and Hemeti signed the agreement, the State Department sent word to Congress that it wanted to ready $330 million in funds to aid Sudan’s democratic transition, according to three congressional aides and officials familiar with the matter. Those officials said the department was drafting a carrot-and-stick plan for Sudan, with the millions of dollars of funding the carrot and new sanctions authorizations a hefty stick.

The State Department had a long-standing Level 4 travel advisory for Sudan, recommending that U.S. citizens “do not travel” there, and sent out one additional security alert, on April 13, advising citizens to avoid Karima in northern Sudan, and barring U.S. government personnel from leaving Khartoum, in light of the “increased presence of security forces.” The United States didn’t issue a broad travel warning urging citizens to leave via commercial air travel, consolidate U.S. government personnel inside Khartoum in the event of a crisis, or order a departure of nonessential personnel as tensions between Burhan and Hemeti reached a boiling point.

“We’re all really questioning why we didn’t do more to prepare for the worst-case scenario,” a third U.S. official said.

Drone footage shows clouds of black smoke over Bahri, also known as Khartoum North, outside Sudan’s capital, in a May 1 video obtained by Reuters.Third-party video via Reuters

On April 15, the tensions between Hemeti and Burhan finally boiled over. The RSF launched what appeared to be a coordinated series of attacks on SAF bases and hammered Khartoum International Airport with gunfire and missiles—effectively cutting off the only viable means of escape in a densely populated city that is hundreds of miles from the coast or nearest border.

At once, the city of some 5 million people became a battle zone. The U.S. Embassy began working frantically to consolidate all its personnel and their families in several key locations. Godfrey, the U.S. ambassador, had rushed back to Khartoum, cutting his vacation short, just before the fighting erupted. RSF fighters carried out wholesale looting and assaults, and SAF troops began bombing sites around Khartoum. RSF fighters assaulted the EU’s ambassador in Khartoum, Aidan O’Hara, and in various other instances reportedly fired on, briefly kidnapped, or sexually assaulted U.N. and international organization workers, according to internal U.N. security reports obtained by Foreign Policy.

The White House, State Department, and Defense Department leaped into crisis mode, working around the clock to draft up embassy evacuation plans. On April 22, a contingent of U.S. troops took off from a U.S. base in Djibouti on three Chinook helicopters and, after refueling in Ethiopia, landed in Khartoum to safely evacuate all U.S. government staff and their families. All the while, top U.S. diplomats worked to arrange temporary cease-fires between Burhan and Hemeti to aid civilians and assist those trying to escape.

“None of the foreign diplomatic missions in Khartoum changed their security posture or staffing levels before the outbreak in fighting, and the U.S. embassy was very focused and effective in consolidating its personnel immediately after the war started,” the State Department spokesperson said.

An estimated 16,000 U.S. citizens remained trapped in the city, including many dual U.S.-Sudanese citizens and a smaller number of NGO and aid workers who worked on U.S.-funded humanitarian and development programs. U.S. lawmakers became infuriated that the Biden administration wasn’t doing more to aid in the evacuation of U.S. citizens after the initial outbreak of the conflict, comparing the fiasco to the ignominious withdrawal from Afghanistan.

The Saudi-flagged ferry passenger ship Amanah carrying evacuated civilians fleeing violence in Sudan arrives at King Faisal Naval Base in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on April 26. Amer Hilabi/AFP via Getty Images

One resident who stayed in Khartoum was Bushra Ibnauf, a dual U.S.-Sudanese citizen and doctor who had moved back to Khartoum from Iowa. “He had a passion for doing good. I remember him saying, ‘I can be replaced in Iowa, but I can’t be replaced in Sudan,’” said Yasir Elamin, the president of the Sudanese American Physicians Association and a close friend and colleague of Ibnauf. Ibnauf and other doctors ventured out amid gunfights and explosions to provide aid to wounded civilians as the conflict dragged on.

Other Sudanese citizens began trying to make their way out of Khartoum, either by fleeing north to the Egyptian border or on a precarious overland journey to the coast at Port Sudan. “It was hell on earth,” recalled one Sudanese activist who escaped Khartoum. “We only left through the city and all the firefights because we were running out of water. Our choice was either definitely die of thirst or maybe get hit by bullets. It was no choice at all.”

U.S. officials have made brokering a sustainable cease-fire their top priority, but so far no cease-fire has held. Both Burhan and Hemeti have sent negotiators to peace talks in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, coordinated with Washington and Riyadh, but many officials and analysts doubt the talks will lead anywhere after multiple ceasefire attempts failed. On May 4, Biden announced a new executive order granting new legal authorities to impose sanctions on those involved in the violence in Sudan. Some Sudanese analysts doubt sanctions will work.

“The point of sanctions is that it is used as a threat during normal times to prevent bad actors from doing bad things,” said Amgad Fareid Eltayeb, a former assistant chief of staff to Sudanese Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok before he was ousted from power. “I think right now it’s too little, too late—it’s already a war situation.”

The situation in Khartoum remains dire. “I don’t think so-called safe areas right now are going to be safe for much longer because the aim of the game from both sides seems to be total control of the country,” said Khair, the Sudanese political analyst.

A Sudanese person paints graffiti on a wall during a demonstration in Khartoum on April 14, 2019. Omer Erdem/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

U.S. lawmakers are pressing for new envoys to enter the fray. Rep. Michael McCaul, the Republican chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, and his Democratic counterpart, Rep. Gregory Meeks, issued a joint appeal to Biden and the U.N. to appoint new U.S. and U.N. special envoys to Sudan, saying that “[d]irect, sustained, high-level leadership from the United States and United Nations is necessary to stop the fighting from dragging the country into a full-blown civil war and state collapse.”

Many Western officials fear that Sudan could plunge into civil war if the fighting isn’t stopped soon, but it’s also unclear what a viable cease-fire would mean for any hopes of reviving the moribund democratic transition in Sudan. “This is not yet a full-scale civil war, à la Syria, à la Libya,” said Feltman, the former U.S. envoy. “It’s still a fight between two rival forces. Now is the time to arrest it, to stop it before it spirals.”

All the while, the fighting in Khartoum continues. Some U.S. citizens have found additional ways to evacuate, either with the direct assistance of the U.S. government or of other countries.

Others weren’t so lucky. Ibnauf, the Sudanese American doctor who stayed in Khartoum to provide succor to civilians amid the fighting, was stabbed to death by suspected looters in front of his family on April 25.

#Sudan #east africa #khartoum #us fighting #colonialism 2023 #emergency evacuations #Sudan Crisis: U.S. Missteps Fumbled Hopes for Democracy #failed us policy #Africa

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