#so he's gathering a mass army

[mykaelaaa]

quit it

✰se-mi x fem!reader / ~3k

✰deciding to pair up with se-mi unaware what you're getting into

✰warnings: blood, suggestive, +18

"do you trust that guy?"

leaning on the comically big bunk bed far enough from the loud crowd, you stared at the plastic pig hanging in the air. filled with money, presumably real money.

maybe if you get everybody to climb on each other and take that thing down you could get out of this shithole you regret agreeing to.

some guy went on rambling about how he's been here before and you're too caught up in your thoughts to hear what he has to say.

what's his number? 456?

maybe you should spare him a chance. judging by the way he helped out. but maybe he's also full of shit, just like the rest of people here. you saw the field full of bodies and blood. if anything, he's a good entertainer judging by the green and greedy crowd he gathered around for the second time.

too lost to hear, but not to feel someone giving you a punch in the shoulder. quite a strong one. here we go, you thought. bribes, violence, torment, bed and food exchange just like in those world ending movies. 

not having any partners in crime or knowing what any of these people are like you have to be wary. it's all about the money as the end goal for over 300 people here, which is a scary thought. 

with annoyance and half-baked comeback, you turned your attention to whatever smartass that spawned next to you.

let's just say they sure did not disappoint. looks wise, of course.

but it's not time or place for that right now. right? besides, you saw a couple of sparks early on between players but surely surfaced level ones. the type formed in the span of one day of being here is not that romantic. more like a good distraction. but you can't blame them, maybe the next game is their last one so why not go out with a good makeout or something?

"what?"

"i asked you something." the girl spoke confidently, holding a strong gaze over you for some reason. she had her arms crossed, mimicking your pose on the opposite frame while you were gripped by uncertainty, she seemed more carefree and unbothered. it was almost reassuring, somehow. 

you felt exposed and this time not by the debts unpaid and calls from the bank but whoever was in front of you.

with hard to miss piercings, silver rings that slipped passed the guards somehow and a discreet grin escaping her collected persona left the reply hanging in the air and led you to stare for longer than you should have.

you don't even know her but a recent memory surfaced. that thanos guy being rejected by her and making a fuss about it in front of everybody. you never even heard of him before. one hit wonder probably.

"oh, yeah. sorry, i was just thinking i guess," you muttered, rubbing your temple with a sigh.

"about?"

"nothing important," you replied flatly, regretting how it came off as.

"right, right. no biggie, thinking about if you'll be alive in the next 2 hours. a daily routine," she said in a sarcastic tone, causing you to roll your eyes. 

the presence next to you made you somehow feel smaller than the weight of bunk beds and entire room already did.

"do you need something?" you dragged the question out, looking down at the wrinkled fabric of the number trapped between her folded arms, "380?"

"se-mi," she tucked her head to the side and half smiled, still done in nonchalant manner. "and yeah, actually. wanna pair up?" 

you stared at her. if whatever this is goes right, and you're not being manipulated by a pretty figure facing you, although you don't mind at all, you must track down where this cocky confidence comes from. if it's normal and "i used to be in the army" story and not "i was a hitman" you will keep her close.

"aren't you with those guys?" you nodded your head towards the obvious purple hair guy and his crew amongst the mass. 

"that self proclaimed rapper? nah, i don't really swing that way," she played with her lip piercing before shifting her attention towards you once again.

"oh, you don't really swing that way? or did i get that wrong?"    she chuckled at your teasing tone and raised brows, "well, what can i say. it's kinda obvious. at least i hope so."

you squinted, amused and engaged. everything about her look screams the already mentioned but why not toy around more when there's nothing to lose. "obvious, huh? sure, whatever helps you sleep at night se-mi."

se-mi shrugged, took a quick glance as if someone's around. "i think i'm pretty clear about it. but since you're not convinced…" she leaned in slightly, dropping her voice just enough for only you to hear. 

"stick around and i'll prove it."

your stomach did the weird thing, the one you wouldn't let her—or anyone know about.

fixing your weight against the metal bed frame, you scoffed. "right. because this place is swarming with opportunities to show off."

grinning, she pushed off the frame and cut the distance between you to down to a cruel and agonizing one. strands of her hair naturally fell over her eyes but it did not do a good a job hiding the intimidating gaze. crowd blended into silence and you could not pick whether to blame yourself for being so weak in the matter of seconds or her for playing dumb games.

you're were not that easy to impress just a week ago.

so she spoke, lip ring somehow reflecting off the dim lighting this chamber has.

"i'm pretty good at getting what i want."

you bit back a nervous laugh, trying not to let her and this proximity overcome you. "and what is it that you want?"

your desperate attempt to sound civilized and composed was shitty, and se-mi read easily through it.

"say yes and you'll see."

her eyes flicked to yours, lingering just long enough to make you feel like you lost the high ground. then swiftly she stepped back, taking all the tension with her. finally you could let out a breath you held unaware.

but before you could respond, a voice tear through the room.

"players, prepare for the next game. you have 30 minutes."

the announcement sent a wave through the busy crowd. voices hushed, movements quickened and panic was apparent. your chest tightened, probably the worst thing about this is not knowing what's next. if you ever get out, announcement lady is on the top of the list.

se-mi looked at the speaker in the corner. you wanted to ask her what's on her mind but devil works faster.

"time's running out, sweetheart. hope you're skilled with decision making."

"and if i say no?" you knew damn well that's not an option.

se-mi slipped her hands into her pockets, cocked her head to the side with that damn grin. slow on her feet she walked backwards, leaving you more and more with each step and it stinged.

"loss for both of us. and my bed is that way, by the way."

you watched her disappear in the crowd that rushed on the steps and just as quickly you were surrounded too. maybe, just maybe this is more challenging than the money winning itself.

✰

the game already morphed into a hazy fever dream of adrenaline and blood. it was oddly silent, compared to just a few hours ago when the main floor was brimming with "life". or better, those alive. now everyone that came back scattered around the room.

you weren't sure who's blood was blending with your shoes or who's splatter stained your jacket.

and neither was se-mi. however, she didn't seem shaken up, as per usual.

she followed you close behind, making a beeline towards the bathroom. the air inside felt much colder than the outside and the contact with the freezing sink proved it. in the mirror you caught a sight of se-mi leaning against the tiles, bloodied but stoic.

top to bottom, covered in blood with a cut on her face that she smudged further. she ran her hand through the hair in attempt to fix it, stretching her neck in the process.

quiet whimpers escaped past her lips. she unzipped her jacket, looked at the mess made. floor. room. and back at you again. 

you admit you did look at her like a man starved. just blame it on the adrenaline. it's easier that way.

she clicked her tongue in fake disapproval, "no manners."

what a jerk.

"you're all bloody." you stated, hands working faster than your mind, already reaching for the paper.

"really?" she pretended to be puzzled. it made you sigh. "let's go in the stall."

"you don't—i can do it too, you know," now she felt slightly bad for making you more worried than you already are.  

she sat down on the toilet with a loud thump, no protests or fight. her muscles aching but you were no better. you closed the door behind you, this place making you more paranoid than ever. borrowing a second of your shared free time to look at the piece of work across you.

with each second passing you realized this silence, comfort and unspoken longing became a luxury here. se-mi took a note of it too.

deep inside she blames the gods for meeting a pretty girl in a state like this, desperate for money, careless about debts, bloody and tired in this awful bathroom. you're no better though. and it made her feel a bit better.    "what? do i look that bad?"

you snorted, shook your head no. slightly kneeled, you took the wet paper you gathered in one hand while holding the back of hear head with another. leaning in, you observed the cut on her face. a knife? no, unless someone smuggled it. you didn't see her in fight either.

a lack of self control let loose and your finger delicately ran across her cheek. blame it on just wanting to see how bad it hurts but she was no fool.

entire time she maintained eye contact. this is the closest she ever was. it's a funny thing to notice, she's not that hopeless. not in a outside world. actually, she doesn't wanna remember. 

your hand was cold but it felt right. the stall seemed to shrink with you in front of her. 

se-mi swore she could smell your perfume that still withstand these conditions. must be an expensive one. that's fine, 45.6 billion will cover it.

"you're shaking," her voice dropped and she teased. turning her head to the side, bemused.

"oh," you backed away lightly. "apologies. wasn't aware you graduated in body language." se-mi enjoyed this too much.

you took a deep breath and continued clearing her face. terrible at avoiding her gaze. "are you a hitman or something?" you started, truly curious.

"guessed it on the first try."    "sooo you're not? good."

"i'd definitely make everybody pay me big if i was and wouldn't end up here. why?" 

of course the smartass answer. 

"just wondering how the hell nothing about this seems to bother you. people dying, not knowing who's next, guards just headshoting everybody…" you carefully moved her face to the side, causing her to shudder shyly. 

"it was at first but there's a prize at the end. i think it's worth it. at least to get to the half of it. that was before i—whatever."

"yeah?" she watched you change positions and kneel down, all done with an innocent look boring through her. she doesn't know if it's on purpose or you're tired.

someone entered the bathroom and se-mi cursed them internally for distracting you but it also gave her spare time to stare. 

swallowing harshly, se-mi did not let her mind flatter now.

doors closed. losing the advantage she convinced herself she has, with a heavy sigh and a fuck it, she looked away and closed her eyes. "we're paired up now. so…yeah. i guess i kinda have things to lose."

feeling your movements halt, se-mi opened her eyes. maybe that was too far. 

"yeah, i-uh. same here." 

you felt her eyes boring holes as you sloppily cleaned up the papers and threw them away, feeling your body burning. 

everything about this was shitty. games, people, loneliness, food, voting. everything except this. yeah, she might look a little beat up with tired bags under her eyes but it was hopeful.

your shadow fell over her. the height difference meant nothing right now. neither of you moved. things unspoken seemed so, so obvious to both of you it was suffocating. she just hopes you don't treat this as a distraction.

"i—" se-mi did not let you finish. instead she got up with a newfound boldness, licked her lips and pondered. making you wonder what else is playing in her mind.

"thank you." it was sincere, raw. she took barely half a step closer in this cramped stall with dozen of obstacles around. you could feel the heat rising and hell if you weren't red yourself. 

"you know, you also got blood on your face." 

"do i?" not really, you checked yourself in the mirror. no?

"mhm," she confirmed and you almost missed it. again, se-mi closed the distance further. raised her hand to wipe the "blood" suspiciously close to your lips.

no, you definitely didn't have it.

"there." she barely smiled and your breath hitched. she picked up on it.

you felt drunk looking down at her lips. and you know what? you might die tomorrow for all you know.

"oh fuck you." 

it sounded and felt desperate, muffled by the four walls; the way you pulled her by the jacket and kissed her. metallic taste absorbing you whole and the chapped lips mixed with her metallic piercing. you're done for. 

se-mi smirked proudly against your lips, like her plan finally worked. too busy for good to answer her antics but enough to crush one of her plans which was her hungry grip around your waist. so she caged you with her arms around between the door and her body as you kept pulling her back in. no need because she already made up her mind she's not leaving anytime soon.

you traced your hands under her unzipped jacket that made her gasp. still feeling like she keeps her cool persona intact even now.

you took it as a chance to put your tongue to use. you weren't so experienced per se but it's natural talent. her on the other hand…

both of breaths blended into one and it felt hot, almost wrong. making you weak in your legs, forcing you to find a support behind her head. intertwining your fingers together, drawing her even further if possible clearly left no more gap present.

your bodies connected fully, se-mi was so lost yet too aware of everything you did. your touch was setting her on fire everywhere at once, teeth bumping in rush, small noises you made and she doesn't recall last time she took a full breath.

out of nowhere you felt a knee pressing between your legs, making you to throw your head back harshly and let out a moan that se-mi had to cut short. unfortunately.

there was too much going for the door to handle and keep it low-key.

"come here, you're too loud." se-mi whispered, catching up her breath as she sat back down again. 

"and that's my fault?" you regret saying that because you weren't sure if she even understood you.

gasping and impatient was the sight of se-mi, lazily sprawled and hair messy. a genuine thought of staying here until guards have to break down the doors sounded pleasing.

each leg on her side, her hands instantly wrapped around you and lips chased for more. she's just as hopeless as you in the end. your body flinched upon feeling her hands sneak under your shirt. making a tour, stopping at your waistband. it was attentive, studying your reactions carefully, less in rush now. she was in control.

se-mi left your lips for a while, kissing path down your jaw to focus on your neck. she's glad you can't read minds.

your hand found hers buried under your shirt, hinting at whatever she has in mind to make it true. "we might be in a bathroom stall but i'm still a gentleman." you felt her hot whisper hit your ear.

"w-what?"

"can i?" she looked at you with a darkened gaze, twisting a knot in your stomach. at this point you had no energy but to groan and nod yes, letting your head fall on her shoulder if it wasn't for her grabbing your jaw and making you lock eyes. 

what you said about her demeanor, you take it back.

"no, no. speak." briskly she nestled in the crook of your neck and licked a stripe there. 

"i…you're a tease." the answer was transparent.

chatter from the outside made you freeze vaguely, se-mi kept her pace on. "you gotta be quiet now."

her fingers slipped past the tight band, further and further. cold metal of her rings added to the feeling. you whined but se-mi shut you up with a kiss. she leaned her forehead against yours, a smug look on her face since she's leading the game.

her fingers made contact with your core, maybe if you just let out a scream right now you'd scare those women away.

"it's okay, you can do it." it did not help.

"please se-mi, i can't—" 

the second doors closed, she wasted no time slipping her fingers into you. you held onto her collar like a lifeline, head thrown back and air knocked out.

se-mi was mesmerized. wished it was a club rather than a place you have to get knocked out and drugged to be taken to. she will get you two outta here any means.

hitting all the right spots, distracting you with kisses and wandering hand you're about to collapse. "i'm-i'm close—"

"i know, i know," so she sped up, watching you fall apart, hitched breath in her ear so addicting, soft pleas she can't answer and oblige right now, hands gripping her hair. she'd take her time if she had one, hoping these cameras have decency so she can save you only for herself.

the least she can do in this short time is fix your shirt and jacket and pray you're coherent. "no worries, i don't leave a lady just like that but we gotta get out."

"hmm? sure, just give me a moment."

she chuckled, "not in that way. i'll tell you when we get back."

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (10)

- Summary: - It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Pairing: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 9

- Next part: 11

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The Crown’s forces gathered on the ridge overlooking the barren landscape of the Dornish border. Rows of soldiers stood at the ready, shields raised, spears glinting under the harsh sun, their faces set with grim resolve. The wind carried the distant sound of drums and war horns, a steady beat from the Dornish army assembling in the valley below. The smell of dust and sweat clung to the men, the anticipation of battle hanging heavy over the field.

Captain Mallor, the commander of your ground forces, surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. “They’re massing for a charge,” he muttered to his lieutenant, his voice low but tense. “We’re outnumbered, but if we hold the ridge, we might stand a chance.”

The lieutenant nodded, though his face was pale with the realization of what lay ahead. “Where is the prince?” he asked quietly. “We’ll need him… and his dragon.”

The captain’s eyes flicked to the sky, scanning the clear horizon. “He’ll come,” he said, though even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Below them, the Dornish army moved like a tide, their brightly colored banners snapping in the wind, the glint of their spears and swords creating a sea of metal and bloodlust. They were ready, and they were coming. Soon.

But then, just as the tension seemed about to break, there was a distant, thunderous roar that echoed across the valley, causing every head to snap upward.

From the clouds above, Silverwing appeared, her massive wings beating the air with a power that made the ground tremble. You sat atop her, your body braced against the saddle as she descended swiftly, the sun catching the glint of her silvery scales. Below, the soldiers on both sides stared in awe and fear as the great dragon loomed above them, casting a shadow over the battlefield.

“There he is!” someone shouted from the lines of your men, their spirits lifting at the sight of you and Silverwing.

“Ready the archers!” Captain Mallor barked, his voice carrying over the clamor as Silverwing swooped down, her powerful wings stirring up clouds of dust.

You could feel the tension of the moment in your bones, your heart pounding with both anticipation and dread. This was it. The Dornish army was larger than expected, and you knew they had prepared for you. Reports of scorpion ballistas had been filtering in for weeks, but now, as you flew over the mass of their forces, you could see the large siege weapons being wheeled into position.

Silverwing let out another deafening roar, one that shook the ground and sent a shudder through the enemy ranks. But the Dornish were not cowed so easily. They were battle-hardened and knew that dragons, while powerful, were not invincible.

You leaned forward, giving Silverwing the command to dive.

With a terrifying grace, Silverwing folded her wings and plunged downward, a stream of dragonfire spilling from her open jaws. The fire hit the front ranks of the Dornish army like a hammer, the flames scorching the earth, leaving nothing but charred bodies and burning wreckage in their wake. Screams filled the air as the heat of the flames spread, and men scrambled to avoid the dragon’s wrath.

But as you circled for another pass, you caught sight of the scorpions—massive ballistas mounted on wooden platforms, their operators frantically turning the cranks to aim the deadly harpoons at you.

“They’re aiming for us!” you shouted to yourself, tightening your grip on the reins as you urged Silverwing to veer left. Her wings flared, and you felt the rush of wind as she twisted away, avoiding the first volley of harpoons that whizzed through the air, missing by mere feet.

“Hold steady!” you commanded, but your heart raced as you saw more scorpions being loaded, their deadly spears now pointed directly at you.

Silverwing banked hard, her wings cutting through the air as she avoided another harpoon. But in the chaos of the battlefield, you didn’t see the third scorpion until it was too late.

A sharp whistle split the air, and you had only a second to react. You yanked on the reins, pulling Silverwing into a sudden roll, but the harpoon grazed your side, tearing through your armor and ripping a searing line of pain across your ribs. You gritted your teeth, gasping as the wound burned, blood soaking through your tunic.

Silverwing let out a shriek of alarm, her body jerking to the side as she felt your pain through your bond. “I’m fine!” you shouted, though the throbbing agony in your side made it difficult to speak. “Just keep flying!”

You gripped the reins tighter, ignoring the hot, sticky sensation of blood running down your skin. Another scorpion fired, and this time, Silverwing was ready. She spun in the air, dodging the harpoon with ease before unleashing another blast of fire, scorching the siege weapon and the men operating it. The ballista exploded into a burst of wood and flame, sending debris flying in all directions.

But the battle was far from over. The Dornish soldiers, seeing their weapons destroyed, began to surge forward, their commanders barking orders as they launched a full-scale charge toward your forces.

“Now!” Captain Mallor shouted from below, raising his sword. The archers let loose their arrows in a deadly volley, and the front lines of the Dornish army fell in droves. But still, they pressed on, determined to reach the ridge and break your lines.

You urged Silverwing lower, her great wings beating the air as she descended once more. The battle below was chaos—soldiers clashing, shields splintering, the sounds of swords clanging and men screaming filling the air. You could see your forces struggling to hold the line, the weight of the Dornish numbers pushing them back.

“We need to break their charge,” you muttered, scanning the battlefield for the best point of attack.

Silverwing growled in response, her body coiled with fury, ready to strike. You guided her toward the thickest part of the enemy lines, where the Dornish were pressing hardest. With a flick of the reins, you gave her the signal, and she opened her jaws wide, releasing another torrent of dragonfire.

The flames tore through the enemy ranks, leaving devastation in their wake. Men screamed as they were consumed by fire, their armor melting to their skin. Horses bucked and fled in terror, and the ground itself seemed to burn as Silverwing’s fire swept across the battlefield.

But even as you rained fire upon the enemy, you knew this would not be enough. The Dornish were relentless, their resolve unshaken by the dragon’s fury. They pushed forward, their commanders shouting for them to press the advantage.

Your side burned with pain, but you ignored it, focusing only on the battle, on the roar of Silverwing’s breath, and on the enemy that had to be stopped.

As the battle raged on, the Dornish forces began to falter, their morale breaking under the relentless assault of dragon and steel. But you knew there would be no easy victory here. The fight had only just begun, and the price of protecting the realm would be paid in blood.

But for now, the Crown’s forces held. And Silverwing, her scales glistening with blood and soot, let out one final, victorious roar that echoed across the battlefield, sending a shudder of fear through the remnants of the Dornish army.

The mood in the Tower of the Hand was suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words as Otto Hightower sat in his study, his fingers drumming impatiently against the edge of his desk. His brow was deeply furrowed, his mind clearly preoccupied as he stared at the open window, his thoughts far beyond the confines of the Red Keep. The months had dragged on since you had flown off to the Dornish border, and with each passing day, Otto’s frustrations grew. Plans were stalling, opportunities slipping through their grasp, all while the realm waited for the prince’s return—if he ever returned.

A soft rustling of fabric caught his attention, and he turned to see Alicent standing quietly by the door, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She had come at his summons, but the look on her face revealed she knew this conversation would not be a pleasant one. She could sense her father’s agitation in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes.

“Alicent,” Otto said without preamble, gesturing for her to enter. “Come in. We need to speak.”

She stepped into the room, her movements graceful but hesitant. The weight of the past months had settled heavily on her shoulders, her inner turmoil visible in the slight slump of her posture. She stood before her father, her hands still clasped tightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come.

“Yes, Father?” Alicent asked softly, her voice betraying the nerves she felt. She had been waiting for this conversation, knowing it was only a matter of time before Otto’s frustrations turned toward her.

Otto’s frown deepened as he stood from his chair, pacing slowly around the room, his hands behind his back. He didn’t look at her directly as he spoke, his voice low but filled with irritation. “It’s been months, Alicent. Months since the prince left for the Dornish border, and in that time, we’ve made no progress. None.”

Alicent’s heart sank at his words. She had known this was coming, but hearing the disappointment in her father’s voice still stung deeply. She shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting his gaze as he continued.

“We had a plan,” Otto went on, his tone growing sharper. “A plan that hinged on your ability to gain the prince’s favor. And yet, here we are. Months later, and you have nothing to show for it.”

Alicent flinched at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to remain composed, though her voice wavered slightly as she responded. “I know, Father. But… the prince—he’s been away for so long. There was little I could do once he left.”

Otto stopped pacing, turning to face her with a sharp look in his eyes. “And whose fault is that? You had your chance, Alicent. You had the opportunity to win his trust, his affection, but you let it slip away. Now, we’re stuck waiting for him to return, if he even does.”

Alicent’s throat tightened, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to well in her eyes. She blinked them back, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. She knew her father was right, at least in part. She had tried to win your favor, but her efforts had always felt hollow, overshadowed by your bond with Rhaenyra. And now, with you gone, she felt as though she had failed entirely.

“I’ll be better prepared when he returns,” she said quietly, her voice filled with quiet determination despite the sadness that weighed on her heart. “I’ll be patient, and I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Otto raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a scornful smile. “Patient? Prepared?” He shook his head. “Alicent, by the time he returns, it may already be too late. The realm moves on, and so do alliances. If you don’t act now, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears as she struggled to find the right words. She had always been obedient to her father’s wishes, always tried to meet his expectations. But with you, it had been different. The feelings she harbored for you were not just strategy or duty—they were something deeper, something that made it difficult to see you as just another piece in the game her father played. She had grown fond of you, despite her attempts to push those feelings aside.

“But I can do this,” Alicent insisted, her voice firmer this time. “I won’t fail again.”

Otto sighed heavily, walking toward the window and looking out over the Red Keep. His shoulders were tense, his frustration evident in the way his hands gripped the windowsill. “You need to set aside your foolish feelings for the prince,” he said, his tone cold. “This isn’t about love, Alicent. It never was. It’s about securing our position, securing the future of our house.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, and she recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in shock. Her father’s bluntness wasn’t new, but hearing him dismiss her emotions so callously hurt more than she had expected. She had tried to hide her feelings, even from herself, but now they were laid bare, exposed and dismissed in the same breath.

“I…” Alicent started to speak, but her voice faltered, her hands trembling at her sides. She couldn’t deny that part of her had hoped for something more than mere duty in her interactions with you, and now, her father had torn that hope away.

Otto turned back to face her, his expression hard. “You had your chance, and you wasted it,” he said coldly. “Now we have to rethink our approach.”

Alicent lowered her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she fought back the sting of tears. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of her father, not now. But the weight of his words crushed her, leaving her feeling as though she had failed not just him, but herself as well.

“What… what do you want me to do, Father?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Otto’s eyes gleamed with a new idea, his lips curling into a calculating smile as he stepped closer to her. “The king,” he began slowly, his voice taking on a more measured tone. “Your efforts may not have worked with the prince, but King Viserys… he’s been suffering since he sent his son away. He’s lonely, grieving the absence of his heir.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her confusion evident as she looked at her father. “Father, what are you saying?”

Otto’s gaze sharpened, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “You will go to him, Alicent. You will offer him comfort.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Father, I… I don’t understand. You want me to—”

“You’ll offer him comfort,” Otto repeated, his voice firm. “The king is vulnerable right now. He needs someone by his side, someone he can rely on. And that someone should be you.”

Alicent shook her head, stepping back from her father, her heart racing. “But I… Father, I can’t…”

Otto’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. “You will do what’s necessary, Alicent. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. If you can win the king’s trust, his affection, we can secure our position in the realm. You’ll ensure our future.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her mind reeling from the implications of what her father was asking of her. “But… but I care for the prince,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I thought… I thought I could—”

Otto cut her off with a sharp look. “The prince is gone, Alicent. And when he returns, it may be too late to secure anything with him. You must focus on the here and now. The king is the key to our future.”

Alicent stared at her father, her heart breaking as the weight of his expectations crashed down on her. She had always done as he asked, always played the part he had molded her into. But this… this was different. This felt like a betrayal, not just to herself, but to you as well.

“I’ll do what you ask,” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But…” She hesitated, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Otto’s expression softened for a moment, but only briefly. “We all must make sacrifices, Alicent,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Now go. The king needs comfort. Give it to him.”

Alicent nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned to leave the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

The air in King Viserys’s private chambers was charged with strife, the kind that clung to the walls and weighed down every breath. Rhaenyra stood, her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her chest rising and falling with the force of her anger. Across the room, Viserys sat in his high-backed chair, his face red from the shouting match that had already unfolded between them. His eyes were sharp with frustration, though beneath it all was the unmistakable sorrow of a father who felt cornered by his own decisions.

“I will not marry him!” Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, fierce and defiant, her usually calm demeanor shattered. She paced the floor, unable to stand still, her mind racing as the weight of her father’s words sank in. “Lord Jason Lannister? He is arrogant, conceited, and—"

“You will marry him,” Viserys interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are a princess, and this is your duty. Lord Jason is the perfect match to solidify the alliance between the Crown and House Lannister. This is not up for debate.”

Rhaenyra spun on her heel, her face a mixture of fury and disbelief. “I don’t care about alliances, Father!” she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. “I will not be bargained off like a prize to someone like Jason Lannister. You know nothing of him—he’s vain, pompous, and entirely insufferable! I refuse to marry him, and I will not be forced into this.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened, and he slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the chamber. “You will marry him, Rhaenyra!” he bellowed, rising from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “You think you can run from your duty forever? This is not a choice! You are the heir to the Iron Throne, and you will marry as I see fit. That is the end of it.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, her heart pounding with rage. She stared at her father, her lip trembling as the weight of his words pressed down on her. He had always been the one person she thought would understand her, the one person she could count on. But now, here he was, forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want with a man she despised.

“This is about more than just duty,” she said, her voice lower now, but no less intense. “It’s about control. You married Alicent, and now you think you can dictate the rest of my life. But I won’t let you. I won’t.”

Viserys’s face softened, if only for a moment, at the mention of his new wife. The two years since his marriage to Alicent had not been easy on his relationship with Rhaenyra, and he knew this decision would only drive a deeper wedge between them. But he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“This is the way things are done, Rhaenyra,” he said, his voice calmer but still resolute. “You must understand that everything I do is for the good of the realm. You will be queen one day, and this marriage is essential to securing the stability of your future rule.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her jaw clenched in defiance. “I will never marry Jason Lannister,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the force of her determination. “Never.”

Before Viserys could respond, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the chamber, her footsteps heavy with anger. The guards at the door flinched as she passed, their eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the princess so visibly enraged.

“Princess!” Ser Criston Cole called out from down the corridor, his voice filled with concern as he hurried to catch up with her. He had been waiting just outside the king’s chambers, listening to the raised voices within. Now, seeing Rhaenyra’s furious expression, he knew something terrible had happened.

She didn’t stop, didn’t slow her pace as she marched toward her chambers, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to control the storm of emotions inside her. Ser Criston followed her closely, his armor clinking with every hurried step.

“Princess, please,” he said gently, though there was an edge of urgency in his voice. “What happened? What has the king said?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If she spoke, she feared the anger boiling inside her would explode in a way she couldn’t control. Instead, she pushed open the door to her chambers with more force than necessary, the wood creaking under her hands.

Once inside, she finally stopped, her back to Ser Criston as she stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving. She was shaking, her body tense with the intensity of her emotions. Ser Criston, ever respectful, lingered just inside the door, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Leave me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice thick with barely suppressed emotion. “I need to be alone.”

Ser Criston hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning her form for any sign of what might have transpired. But he knew better than to press her. He bowed his head slightly. “As you wish, Princess,” he said softly, before stepping back into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rhaenyra let out a shuddering breath, her entire body trembling with fury and despair. She paced the room for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion, of defiance. How could her father do this to her? How could he expect her to marry a man like Jason Lannister, a man she had no love for, no respect for?

The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, bound to a man who cared only for power and prestige, made her stomach churn. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Without another thought, she rushed to her writing desk, her fingers trembling as she grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. She had to reach out to you. You were the only one who would understand, the only one who might be able to help her.

Her quill scratched furiously across the parchment as she poured her heart into the letter. She told you everything—her father’s plan, the marriage she was being forced into, her anger, her fear. She wrote of how much she missed you, how much she needed you by her side now more than ever.

As she finished, she wiped away a stray tear that had fallen onto the parchment, smudging the ink slightly. She folded the letter carefully, sealing it with wax before hurrying to the window.

She could see the rookery from her chambers, the tower where the ravens were kept. She had used this method before, sending secret messages to you during your time away, but this one felt more urgent, more desperate. She knew that by the time the letter reached you, it might be too late. But she had to try. You were her only hope.

Rhaenyra called for her handmaiden, who arrived quickly at her command. “Take this to the rookery,” Rhaenyra said, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “It must go to my brother at once.”

The handmaiden nodded, taking the letter from her hands and hurrying out of the room. Rhaenyra watched her go, her heart racing with both fear and hope. She turned back to the window, staring out at the sky, her thoughts with you, wondering when you would return—if you would return before it was too late.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a tranquil oasis amidst the bustling halls and chambers, but today, there was no peace to be found in them for Rhaenyra. She sat on a stone bench, staring out at the delicate flowers and perfectly pruned hedges, her mind far from the beauty surrounding her. The announcement of her marriage to Jason Lannister had been like a thunderclap in her life, shaking her to the core, and her heart was still simmering with anger and frustration. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen, yet here she was, being forced into a match she despised.

The sound of footsteps approaching stirred her from her thoughts, and she didn’t need to look to know who it was. Daemon. His presence was as unmistakable as the swagger in his step, the kind of casual arrogance that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He appeared beside her, leaning against a tree with a faint smirk on his lips.

“You look like you’ve been banished to the ends of the earth,” Daemon teased, his voice laced with amusement. “What’s wrong, niece? Did someone steal your favorite lemon cake?”

Rhaenyra shot him a glare, her temper flaring. “It must be so easy for you to jest,” she snapped, her voice biting, “when I’m the one being bargained off like some trinket to marry Jason Lannister and be whisked away to Casterly Rock.”

Daemon’s smirk only widened at her outburst, clearly enjoying her ire. “A Lannister, eh? I’ve heard worse fates,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “Though I can see why the idea of being stuffed away in a gilded cage at Casterly Rock might not sit well with you.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t understand. It’s not just the marriage—it’s everything. It’s—” She clenched her fists in her lap, her voice trembling with frustration. “He promised me.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his amusement fading slightly as he leaned in, curious. “Who promised you what?”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her voice low and filled with anger. “My brother. He promised me that he wouldn’t let this happen. He swore he would protect me from being forced into a marriage I didn’t want. And yet here I am, on the verge of being shipped off to marry a man I can’t stand.”

Daemon was silent for a moment, studying her carefully. His amusement returned, though it was tempered now with something more thoughtful. “Ah, so it’s not just the Lannister match that has you fuming,” he mused, his tone sly. “It’s that your dear brother isn’t here to sweep in and save you.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head toward him, eyes blazing. “He lied to me!” she nearly shouted, her voice filled with betrayal. “He promised. And now he’s been away for years, fighting at the borders while I’m left here, alone, to deal with this madness.”

Daemon didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes glinted with something akin to understanding. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by family, to be pushed aside for the sake of duty. But he wasn’t about to offer her comfort—not in the way others might. Instead, he leaned back, his tone casual.

“Well, perhaps your brother had other matters on his mind. War does tend to make men forget promises,” he said, though the amusement had returned to his voice. “Or maybe… he didn’t forget at all, but simply couldn’t stop this from happening.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, trying to compose herself, though her hands were still shaking with rage. The thought that you might have been powerless to stop this was one she hadn’t wanted to entertain. She had put her faith in you, had believed in your promises, and now it felt as though that trust had been shattered.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, and after a moment of silence, she spoke again, her tone cooler, more controlled. “I heard about Lady Rhea,” she said, shifting the conversation. “A hunting accident, wasn’t it? Her horse fell, and… well, it seems you’re now free to marry again.”

Daemon’s smirk returned, though there was a darkness behind his eyes. “Yes, my dear wife,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It seems she brought her death upon herself. She always had an uncanny ability to make unfortunate decisions.”

Rhaenyra snorted, crossing her arms. “I’m sure her death has made your bride-to-be, Laena Velaryon, quite ecstatic.”

Daemon chuckled, the amusement dancing in his eyes once more. “Laena is a smart girl,” he replied, lifting his gaze toward the sky. “She knows what’s good for her. Besides, I doubt she’ll mourn Lady Rhea’s passing too much.”

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Daemon’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward the entrance to the gardens. “Speaking of wives, your new stepmother seems rather keen on finding you,” he said with a smirk, nodding in the direction of the approaching figure. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Rhaenyra turned to see Alicent Hightower making her way across the gardens, her steps tentative but determined. Rhaenyra’s frown deepened as she watched Daemon give her a mock salute before he walked off, leaving her to face Alicent alone.

Alicent approached slowly, her green gown trailing softly behind her, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were holding back from reaching out to Rhaenyra. “Rhaenyra,” she said gently, her voice soft but tinged with hesitation. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to… talk.”

Rhaenyra didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in her voice. “Have you now? Come to offer more congratulations on my impending marriage, or perhaps to check if I’m still in one piece?”

Alicent winced at the sharpness of her tone but pressed on, her gaze filled with an earnestness that Rhaenyra found both irritating and exhausting. “I wanted to know how you were feeling,” she said quietly, her words careful. “I know this marriage was unexpected, and I… I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “How I’m feeling? You really want to know how I’m feeling, Alicent?” She turned to face her fully, her eyes narrowing. “I feel like I’ve been betrayed. Like everyone around me is conspiring to push me into a life I don’t want. And you? You stand there, pretending to care, when you’re part of the very system that’s caging me in.”

Alicent’s face flushed with hurt, but she stood her ground, her voice soft but steady. “Rhaenyra, I do care. I didn’t want this to happen either. I know you don’t want to marry Jason Lannister, and if I could—”

“If you could?” Rhaenyra interrupted, her voice rising with anger. “But you can’t, can you? You’re as much a pawn in this as I am. Except you’ve made peace with it. You’ve accepted your place, married my father, and now you think you can offer me comfort?”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn’t back down. “I just wanted to help,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Rhaenyra shook her head, her heart hardening as she turned away from her former friend. “There’s nothing you can do to help me, Alicent,” she said coldly. “So don’t bother.”

With that, she left the gardens, leaving Alicent standing there, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

The sun hung low on the horizon, lazy rays sprayed across the barren landscape of the Dornish border. The air was filled with dust and the stench of blood, remnants of the brutal fighting that had raged for many moons. Your men, tired but unbroken, stood along the ridgeline, watching as the enemy forces began to pull back. The Dornish army, once so bold and numerous, now appeared ragged, their numbers thinned by the relentless engagements, their morale shattered.

You stood at the crest of the hill, overlooking the retreating forces, Silverwing perched nearby, her gleaming silver scales catching the last light of day. Her low, rumbling breaths were the only sound breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the battlefield. Your hand rested on the hilt of Blackfyre, your eyes narrowed as you watched the disarray below, the remnants of the Dornish army attempting to regroup, though their retreat was obvious.

Ser Kevven Moriggen, a grizzled and experienced knight who had fought by your side throughout this campaign, rode up beside you. His armor was dented and smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes still gleamed with the fierce determination of a man not yet willing to let the battle end.

“They’re pulling back, Your Grace,” Kevven said, his voice hoarse from days of shouting orders. He glanced at you, waiting for your command. “Should we press them? They’re vulnerable, and a final push might scatter them for good.”

You frowned, your gaze locked on the retreating enemy. The temptation to drive them back to their lands, to ensure they wouldn’t return for decades, was strong. But there was something hollow about the thought of chasing them now, after years of bloodshed. They were broken, their supplies exhausted, and to pursue them deeper into their own land would be a waste of men and resources.

“No,” you said firmly, turning to Kevven. “We don’t need to spill more blood on their land. If they cross back into ours, then we’ll engage. But for now, let them retreat. The battle is over.”

Kevven looked surprised, his hand tightening around the reins of his horse. “Your Grace, if we push now—”

“I said no, Ser Kevven,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for debate. “There’s no honor in cutting down a retreating army. We’ve held our ground, and they’re falling back. That’s victory enough.”

The knight hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded, though the disappointment was clear on his face. “As you command, Your Grace.”

You watched as he turned his horse around, riding down the line to relay the order to the other commanders. The soldiers, weary and worn, seemed relieved when the command to hold was given. They had fought long and hard, and the sight of the enemy retreating was a victory in itself.

The silence of the battlefield settled in once more, the distant figures of the retreating Dornish shrinking against the horizon. Your mind was heavy, not with the satisfaction of victory, but with the weight of the toll this war had taken—on your men, on the realm, and on yourself. You had been away from the capital for too long, and the thought of what awaited you back home stirred uneasily in your chest.

Just then, a soldier approached, his face dirtied with the grime of battle, his breath coming in short gasps as he saluted you. “Your Grace, a raven arrived. A message… from the Red Keep. It bears the Targaryen seal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Targaryen seal. That meant only one thing. Rhaenyra.

Without hesitation, you took the small scroll from the soldier, your fingers trembling slightly as you broke the seal. The wax crumbled beneath your touch, and you quickly unfurled the parchment, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. Rhaenyra’s handwriting, urgent and pleading.

Brother, the letter began. You promised me you would protect me. You promised me you wouldn’t let them force me into a marriage I did not want. But Father has broken that promise. He’s ordered me to marry Jason Lannister, and I cannot, I will not do it. They are trying to take away my freedom, trying to take away everything we spoke of. You told me you would stand by me, and now I need you more than ever. Come home. Please, I beg of you, come home and help me.

Your grip on the letter tightened as you read the words again, the desperation in her plea cutting through you like a blade. You could see her in your mind’s eye—Rhaenyra, fierce and determined, but also vulnerable, trapped by the weight of duty and expectation. She had always relied on you to protect her from the worst of court politics, and now, you were hundreds of miles away, unable to stop what was happening.

You folded the letter slowly, your chest tightening with frustration and anger. You had promised her that you wouldn’t let this happen. You had promised to protect her, to ensure she wasn’t forced into a marriage that she didn’t want. And yet, while you had been here, fighting a war at the edge of the realm, they had moved against her, using her as a tool in the political games of King’s Landing.

Silverwing shifted behind you, sensing the change in your emotions, her low rumble filling the air as if to offer comfort. You closed your eyes, your thoughts racing. You knew you couldn’t remain here. You had to return. Rhaenyra needed you, and you would not fail her again..

As the sun started to set, you made your decision. 

It was time to go home.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 5 EPISODE 12 || NEVER MY LOVE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“I have lived through a fucking world war,” I said, my voice low and venomous. “I have lost a child. I have lost two husbands. I have starved with an army, been beaten and wounded, been patronized, betrayed, imprisoned, and attacked.

And I have fucking survived!”

My voice was rising, but I was helpless to stop it. “And now should I be shattered because some wretched, pathetic excuses for men stuck their nasty little appendages between my legs and wiggled them?!” I stood up, seized the edge of the washstand and heaved it over, sending everything flying with a crash—basin, ewer, and lighted candlestick, which promptly went out. “Well, I won’t,” I said quite calmly. “Nasty little appendages?” he said, looking rather stunned. “Not yours,” I said. “I didn’t mean yours. I’m rather fond of yours.” Then I sat down and burst into tears. His arms came round me, slowly and gently. I didn’t startle or jerk away, and he pressed my head against him, smoothing my damp, tangled hair, his fingers catching in the mass of it.

“Christ, ye are a brave wee thing,” he murmured.

“Not,” I said, eyes closed. “I’m not.”

I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips, closing my eyes as I did so. I brushed my battered mouth across his knuckles, blind. They were swollen, as bruised as mine; I touched my tongue to his flesh, tasted soap and dust and the silver taste of scrapes and gashes—marks left by bones and broken teeth. Pressed my fingers to the veins beneath the skin of wrist and arm, softly resilient, and the solid lines of the bones beneath. I felt the tributaries of his veins, wished to enter into his bloodstream, travel there, dissolved and bodiless, to take refuge in the thick-walled chambers of his heart. But I couldn’t. I ran my hand up his sleeve, exploring, clinging, relearning his body. I touched the hair in his oxter and stroked it, surprised at the soft, silky feel of it. “Do you know,” I said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever touched you there before?” “I dinna believe ye have,” he said, with a hint of nervous laughter in his voice. “I would ha’ remembered. Oh!” A stipple of gooseflesh burst out over the soft skin there, and I pressed my forehead to his chest. “The worst of it is,” I said, into his shirt, “that I knew them. Each one of them. And I’ll remember them. And feel guilty that they’re dead, because of me.”

“No,” he said softly, but very firmly. “They are dead because of me, Sassenach. And because of their own wickedness. If there is guilt, let it rest upon them. Or on me.” “Not on you alone,” I said, my eyes still closed. It was dark in there, and soothing. I could hear my voice, distant but clear, and wondered dimly where the words were coming from.

“You’re blood of my blood, bone of my bone. You said so. What you do rests on me, as well.” “Then may your vow redeem me,” he whispered.

He lifted me to my feet and gathered me to him, like a tailor gathering up a length of fragile, heavy silk—slowly, long-fingered, fold upon fold. He carried me then across the room, and laid me gently on the bed, in the light from the flickering fire.

~A Breath of Snow and Ashes

[tmwcs]

WARNINGS: This is written in Heethan’s y/n perspective, mentions of ritualistic killings, alternative universes, religious references (some accurate and some fictional), all heeleads, all y/n’s, references to SE7EN, MERMAIDS TALE, MGR/MRE/HHP, THE OTHERSIDE and DOUBLE TROUBLE (I would high suggest reading all these series before reading this), unprotected smut, angels and demons, angels are bad guys, devils are good guys, kidnapping, time and space travel, alternate characters, some cursing, grotesque language, sexual tension, some fluff, and some intermingling moments, (enough to give you some ideas 😏) images and smaus attached, cliche rescue mission, and I think that’s it.

A/N: this was just an idea that came to mind as I was listening to music. A fun read.

Turmoil stirs the middle of the sky, a collection of debris, dust, and smoke circulate within it. The strong current of gravitational force absorbs bits and pieces of man-made features, further expanding its reign of terror.

It was a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of evil spirits, angels, and demons combined, formulating an abomination that was neither Heaven, nor Hell. Two worlds of entities unite, all embracing the common ground that humans were a non-sensible creation by God. In their eyes, humans were nothing but livestock for the immortals.

The senior head of this ritualistic army had an idea—a new image for the aged world, where unearthly entities would herd and breed the human race…In preparation for the grand feast. With this process in place, the world would be controlled by themselves, gaining power to extend their influence through alternate space and time. All the parallel universes that were constantly being created, would become restricted, ceasing the expansion of human life.

“My followers…the time has come where we need to take back what is owed to us. WE have lurked in darkness far too long, feeding on the scraps of these scavengers…these HUMANS!” His head contained three faces, one centered and nestled in between the two disfigured profiles. Their mouths remained wide open, agasp with horror while the center focal features did all the talking, carrying all the range of emotions. “WE have been betrayed by both, God and the Devil…the two fathers who should have been nurturing us, ignored our caution instead. They turned their backs on us; made us starve as we craved for sustenance and glory…but no more! Today, we strike and take the blood of the most beloved, the one who carries the light of God, and the blood of Lucifer! This I pray…my demons of carnage, and angels of darkness…do not stop at just the one…take them all! Search through every vortex of this abysmal continent. Go above the universal horizon, far and wide through space and time, and gather your efforts— leave no part of the cosmic galaxy unturned. Raid the entire universes, all worlds, and bring me her adaptations. Bring forth every variation of her current soul, so that we may tear, grind, and feast on that delicate flesh…let us hit them where it hurts most…let us seek to make God cry, and break the heart of the Devil.”

The spawn of angels and demons scatter in mass multitudes, covering the entire sky while they surpass greater heights, surrounding their numbers across every comet and planet.

Finding you in this world was simple. Entirely too easy…

Like any other given day, you sat in class next to h/n, drafting the primary notes as your professor read the lecture aloud. The yelling of a fellow classmate startled the entire classroom, catching everyone off guard.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Everyone turned to view the scenery outside the window. The light blue sky grows dark, as the horizon blackened with a darkened hue. The foliage draping the tree branches suddenly shriveled and died off. The air around the building turned black; everyone became frantic and ignored the professor's false sense of composure. He tried his best but it was easy to see that he too was frightened and didn’t know how to handle the stirring frenzy that took place inside the room.

“What the Hell is going on?! Why did the sky get so dark all of a sudden?” H/n spoke out with tears glossing over her eyes as the girl sitting next to her called home. She hectically informs her mother of the unknowns that were happening outside the campus, all the while you barely spoke, or reacted as you overheard the girl's decree. The shock of it all stunned you; it wasn’t until your phone began buzzing that you came back to your senses.

The moment his own classmates sporadically spiraled out of control, Heeseung wasted no time in getting out. He had to get to you.

You were the first priority on his list. Ignoring his own safety, he bursts through the door— the only one brave enough to kick it wide open before sprinting towards the parking lot. Everyone whispered and spoke harshly as they watched the young man making his way over to you. God help anyone if something happens to you.

In an instant, everything turned upside down. You’re not sure what or how it happened, but it felt as if a group of hands were pulling you from side to side, pushing and tugging at the same time. Looking around, it seemed as if time was at a standstill. The entire class paused in mid motion, gravity lost its effect as students jumping out the window were stationed in mid air, unmoved. What was going on? Were you the only one that could move? The only one that wasn’t affected by this loss of motion? If so….did that mean that Heeseung…

……..

It occurred in a blink of an eye.

What the hell just happened? For a moment, Heeseung felt as if his heart had stopped beating. It happened during mid drive, when suddenly the roaring engine slurred, and the small bit of ash and debris in the air slowed until they froze in place. It wasn’t long before his own movements came to a pause, and before he knew it, he could no longer breathe. It was odd, despite not being able to take in air, the pressure from his chest was fine, almost as if he was holding his own breath.

It held on for two seconds before the distant sound of the engine grew louder and the tires resumed rotation, causing a sudden screeching noise to puncture his ears. What the fuck…!

The only thing that lingered on his mind was you. Shit…y/n! Hold on baby…

By the time he reached the building, merely two minutes after receiving your last text, you had already been taken.

Everyone stood wondering just the same as to what had occurred. They looked around and noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except when h/n pointed out your sudden absence. “Huh?…Anyone seen where y/n went? She was just right…here….”

Her voice subtly pauses as Heeseung silently walks through the double doors, with you nowhere in sight…his heart dropped to his stomach and a total sense of despair hit him. He wanted to die…he wanted to shake the earth to its core and kill off every bit of life that coated the surface. A state of hopelessness and emptiness fills him.

‘Y/n…’

…….

One by one, the entities visited alternate universes and found four more women, conjoining them as prisoners and leaving you all chained in a row. Brought forth, you all were all scanned with a morbid look of satisfaction as an alienated, metallic figure screeched through hundreds of jagged teeth, directing its elongated fingers to a specific direction. It was communicating with its more fleshy counterparts.

They marched you and the remaining maidens into a large bunker, nearly shoving you all down the uneasy steps. Once inside, a single light source allows you to take in the view of the abrupt companionship you were forced to confront.

‘Is…is this for real?’

The strangest phenomenon you ever witnessed. It was as if you were staring into a mirror, or a twin…several twin versions in fact.

These girls…they were…you. Some of them displayed subtle alterations of your appearance such as hair and eye color, even a small difference in age. But make no mistake, you pinched the skin on your arm as you confirmed that indeed, you were seeing yourself in various substitutions.

“I…don’t believe this…are you all���.who are you?” One of the girls reflected aloud. Just as lost as you were, each one took a moment to observe the variations of…you.

A terrifying screech sounds off outside the bunker, similar to that of the metallic humanoid creature from earlier.

“What are those things?” The one who spoke, she looked and sounded exactly like you. It was such a surreal experience to see this happening in real time.

She looked more mature. With her sense of style and elegance, she encompassed the very essence of classy feminine virtue, a version that you always saw in yourself in the near future, when you were married and already graduated from college. Her hair and eye color were lighter than yours, but the structure of her face and body, the finer details of her expression and features were an exact match to your own.

“Does anyone know why we are here? What do those things want from us?” another variation of yourself spoke delicately.

Unlike the latter, who had hair that was fair and eyes that sparkled in chromes of light blue, this one had dark forest green hair, and feline eyes, which were both fierce and strikingly beautiful. She had the appeal of one with great wisdom and maturity, a variation of yourself that you never could imagine would exist. She continued to speak, pondering on the forceful monsters that wreaked havoc above and outside the bunker. “The one we saw earlier, whose body looked like metal, was that a...”

A calm voice speaks gracefully, politely inserting into the conversation. Her voice was slightly deeper, and tranquil, but not as twinkling as the one who carried the forest green locks. With those lips, stained blood red and coated with a subtle shine, she answers…“They’re angels.”

Everyone else turned to face in her direction. You all stared and admired the royal grace she portrays in her stance, it gave off an aura that reflected her higher age. It didn’t appear in her face, but it was through her persona and posture. Just like the one with the emerald strands, she displayed elegance in all aspects; her features, tone, and strut. Of all the variations that stood before you, she was the one you became most curious about.

“Angels? As in…from heaven?” Another variation, except this one seemed much more calm—perhaps too much.

Her lids were heavy and she spoke with a monotone voice. Her hair was stained a deep and vibrant color. It looked somewhat fresh, and contained a specific shade of purple, but not just any code of the color. It was not lavender, violet, or even muave, but more like a royal purple…it was as if the color was mixed specifically to match a certain shade. Maybe a particular flower? Perhaps it was made to match a blouse, or a type of fabric, like silk.

Noticing her demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel sorry as you took pity on this image of yourself; one that carried a dark sadness around, yet somehow flared a sense of contentment. It was contradicting, yet there eas something else that you couldn’t pin down about her. Almost as if she was carrying a nightmarish secret, but did it out of protection. Only question was, who is she protecting? Was it herself? Or could it be…?

You catch yourself drifting in thought when one of the girls asks your age. She inquired by stating that you looked the youngest, which was confirmed correct after you answered. Between you and your alternate state of beings, your ages ranged from eighteen to twenty eight, the latter title of the eldest belonging to the one with the dark burgundy lips.

She gazes up to the cathedral ceiling and crosses her arms, speaking out each word so confidently. Her hair was dark, nearly black with a deep, red hue…like red wine, and nails to match. She radiated a contrasting theme of goth and sensual femininity, like light and darkness combined. Everyone thought the same as they pondered on the mysteriously alluring sense of their alternate identity.

“Angels? How do you know? Have you seen them before?” The eldest one nods in response. Her eyes were heavy, as if she experienced a loss in energy recently. Still, she remained ever so composed and fashionable in Vogue like nature. You couldn’t help but think it, as somewhat narcissistic the thought may have seemed, but you found yourself idolizing what very much was the future outlook of yourself.

“This is so strange…it’s so weird to see…you…or me…I mean….what are we, exactly?” You sputtered as you make eye contact with the seldom one with the royal purple thatch of hair. She smiled softly and was the first one to respond.

“I am almost sure what our names will be, but I’ll be the first to say it…my name is y/n…”

Everyone snapped their heads up and chuckled in delight. Finally, a sense of relaxed humor amongst this terrifying ordeal. “We all have the same name?” The fairer version of you spoke, admitting for all of you to find comfort within each other.

The former y/n continued. “I guess we do.” You smile sweetly as you inquire about her background, to which she gently responds. “I worked as a consultant after graduating college and… “ she pauses, catching her breath. It was evident that the girl had been through a traumatizing experience, or maybe was still going through it all. Yet she displayed some fortitude as she completed her sentence. “I live with my husband…somehow I was brought here and I don’t have any memory of it. It happened so fast.”

“Me too….” The fairer one spoke. Her shiny hair gracefully rested beneath her collarbones as she spoke through her matte rosy stained lips. A beautiful combination. You couldn’t get over this experience, It was miraculous to see yourself with those featured traits. You wondered if variations of those closest to you exist, like Heeseung, Jake, and H/n. The thought of the three suppressed your slight bit of happiness as you wondered if you’d be able to escape with the others.

“I live with my husband too…well…husbands, if we’re being completely open.”

You all perked a brow upon her words. Did those rosy lips just tell you correctly…“Husbands?”

She nods seldomly while interlocking her fingers above the waist, avoiding eye contact and instead, focusing on a spot on the floorboards. “Yes….my husbands are brothers…and through them I have two boys of my own.” She pauses as her eyes welt up. “I…was putting my boys to sleep when something pulled me away from them…it was strange…it almost seemed like time was standing still.”

“Me too!” You spoke out. “I saw the same thing when I was pulled away.”

The fairer one smiled at you. “You are still so young…a younger version of myself.” Her change of topic was so sudden but she could see it in your face, hear it in your voice, and see it in your movements; seeing you in fluid motion made her visit down memory lane. “Yes.” You answered as you returned the smile. “I'm almost finished with my first year at college…I live with my fiance in his dorm.”

You all chuckled.

“His dorm?” The fairer one teases. “Yes well…believe it or not I don’t really have a choice.” You jest, yet the statement held more truth than anything you ever admitted.

It didn’t take time to consider their reaction. Upon hinting at Heeseung’s dark and toxic nature, it soon became evident you weren’t the only one. Unknowingly, you would open up another path that you all shared in common.

“He keeps you there?” You nod as the one with the dark forest green hair spoke. “Ah…” she sighs. “Just like mine…at least he used to. Now…well, I gave up. There wasn’t any point in fighting it.”

She chuckles once more as she rubs her temples, finding the entire scenario ironic. “I too live with my husband…it started just as forcefully as your situation but it’s been over two years now…” she pauses. The rest of the girl’s all related, all but you.

“Well…it is forceful but…he has good intentions, doesn’t he?” You inquired as the one with the dark green hair looks back up. A faint smile dons her lips as her delicate nails caressed her chin. With beauty and truth to her tone, she responded, almost in caution of warning. “Just like your fiance, he has the best…and the worst intentions.”

“What about you? Are you also married to a psycho? Or two?” The one married to dual husbands jokes, stabbing at her own life as she includes the last variant into the conversation. The eldest; she was the most elusive one out of all of you.

Turning her face over, she delivers a soft gaze and looks at each one of you with such nurture in her expression. Through those dark burgundy lips, she spoke gently. “I do.” She lightly chuckles. “I live with my husband, and much like all of you…I didn’t really have a choice.”

Closing her eyes, she reopens with a fresh countenance. Licking her loose she chuckles and tilts her head, taking small steps over to you. She cups your face and displays a saddened look, yet it was paired with a sweet smile. Her gaze hinted that she knew something…or maybe she could see something within your future that made her pity you.

With her intuitional sense, and foresighting ability, she reveals your deepest secret.

“You have another side of you…one that is equal to his darker half.”

Was she referring to Eden and Ethan? But…how does she know?

You slightly gasp as you remained stunned by her words. She looks over to the one with the dark green hair. “You and your husband carry the blood of the ancient gods within you.”

In response, the sea maiden looked somewhat confused. “How could you possibly know that?”

The former admits partial truth to her own secret. “I know all…I can see all….I can see your most inner kept secrets just by looking into your eyes. It was a gift from my husband after we were…” she pauses after catching herself diving down to details to at may be too indiscreet. The image of Heeseung’s devilish form atop of her, probing and thrusting away was not something she wanted the girls to visualize…she rather not think about it herself, despite the progression of her relationship to the aforementioned male. “Married.”

She turns to the fairer one, and continues to prove her capabilities. “Your husbands sired their own twin sons within you, and through those babies, you found true love.” The latter looks down, almost shamefully. Yet the eldest tilts her chin up and whispers, “nothing wrong with that.” She winks and smiles, and watched as those rosy colored lips smirked delightfully. This was, after all, a safe space for sisters who share more than just identical traits. You were all connected, through fate and soul.

She looked to the one with the royal purple hair. “Your husband's deeds have haunted you. With nowhere to turn, you chose to return his love but you are ridden with sadness knowing that you are his cure.”

The purple haired y/n didn’t say a word, she only nodded in admittance while drifting her sight off to the wall.

“As for me…” she pauses as she faces the ceiling once more. “I made a deal with the Devil many years ago. Through it, I lost my mortality, and gained immortality…I am known as the mortal daughter of God, but rebirthed as the bride of Helel...my husband, and father to my son.”

“Helel?” Through her purple strands, the girl spoke out of confusion. Never has she heard such a distinctive name in her life.

Just as the conversation reached pause, the door to the bunker opens. A combination of the hostile angels and demons standby. A disfigured tone emits from their tongue as they point and begin separating you away from one another.

You felt scared upon seeing the fleshy demon grip your wrist, pulling you away as the others were being dragged into sporadic direction. The girls all tried their best to fight off the large swarm, and recollect. Through a shared sense, there was a need to get back to you, the younger version of themselves. The need to protect each other and stay together remained strong, however, the monsters proved too strong as their numbers increased. They found it easier to carry you away into singular, isolated chambers. The echoes of their screams, sounding so much like your own voice, become distant and unheard.

You backed yourself against the cold stone wall and slid down until the tile flooring meets your rear. All seemed hopeless at this point. The terrifying sounds of demonic growls and piercing angelic screeches merge from outside the door, all frenzying as they carry out their next deed, whatever that could be. It was too frightening to think about. What is going to happen? How is Heeseung going to save you this time? Your Heeseung…the one who is always there to bring you back home…how is he going to possibly find you? You don’t even know where you are.

‘Heeseung…I’m scared.’

You wonder if the others felt just as scared and hopeless.

The fear of being lonesome started to eat you alive, it was far worse than when Heeseung carried out one of his punishments, and locked you away for breaking his rules. You hated it more than ever, being secured away in darkness and suffering from desolation. Looking back at it, his method seemed tamed compared to how you were currently being treated.

You also knew, despite succumbing to the harsh effects of being tied to a bed frame, or locked inside a closet, at least the comfort of knowing he was going to be around…that he was always going to come back to get you, whether it was hours or a day later, was something you had lost appreciation for in the past, but yearned for it more than ever. He was always there to make sure you were safe, despite carrying out an act that clearly violated your human rights…it was his way of loving you…his manner of understanding it.

‘I wouldn’t have to do this shit if you’d listen and just do what I tell you. It’s all for a good reason…”

His words from past recollections continue to play in your head.

‘To keep you safe…and to keep you as MINE. Get it through that dumb, pretty little head of yours already. No matter how many times you fight me on this, you’re going to lose.’

You used to scoff at his justification, growing irritated at his own resolve. You always figured he was overreacting.

All those times when you were caught speaking to someone from class outside at the parking lot, didn’t matter if they were boy or girl, he’d always became so possessively evil, and jealous. His handsome smirk goes from dashing to sinister as he lets out the wolf from its cage: Ethan.

But no matter how emotionally tormenting…or mentally abusive he could be…one thing would always remain true, and that was his unyielding love for you…just you.

The door knob twists violently as the door panel rambles, snapping you out of mid thought. You stood up and cornered yourself, completely frightened by what was on the other side. Finally breaking open, it swings wide inward. You swore your eyes were going to fall through the sockets. It couldn’t be… “H-Heeseung?”

Tears balled up and your heart pauses in mid-pulse. He steps closer in towards the light and there you saw, it was Heeseung…but he seemed different. His attire was similar, but his hair…it carried a particularly familiar shade of purple, just like—

“Hmph…” he smirks, daring a bold look as he scans you up and down. “So this is what you looked like when you were eighteen.”

The way his words growled upon stating your tender age sent a shiver up your spine, a familiar sense that you were accustomed to. “Damn, so this is what you were like at eighteen… you were just born perfect, weren’t you?” A snarling wink flashes you.

He reaches and grabs your wrist. “Gotta hurry princess.”

Leading the way and keeping you close behind, he rubs his fingers and gently massages your skin in his hold. His cologne was so different from the Heeseung you knew. It was a musky scent of blue agave and sandalwood.

Luring you around every corner, running past a hall filled with portraits, you finally configured where the entities had been keeping you, it was an old church.

“W-what about the others…the other—“

He calmly interjects as you stuttered, trying to find a way to describe the collection of your alternate self, including the one who you suspected belonged to him.

“We should be seeing them soon.” He spoke as he remained attentive to the surroundings. You were so taken aback by his resemblance that you were ignorant of the weapon he held…a machete?

“H-how did you find us?” You questioned. He tightens his grasp as he leads you down a spiraling staircase, completely made of stone. “Met the others—something about getting all of the you’s and I’s out, and back to our respective universes. There was also something about a demon who wanted to piss off God, and the Devil, blah, blah, blah.”

He spoke carelessly and left out all of the vague details as he remained focused in getting you to safety. Just as you both reached the main cathedral, you witness from across the wide room, all the other variants of yourself were being guided by Heeseung, a few of them. The one right across had ash-blonde hair and….a dark haired one trailing behind…

The y/n with the dark forest green hair stood out as they centered her, providing three-sixty coverage of security. Once they saw you and the Purpled haired Heeseung leading you, they led the other you to rejoin and come to center, surrounding you both in a combative formation.

Also rejoining the group was the one who had the dark purple locks that matched the Heeseung who rescued you; behind her was the alternate version of yourself that carried the red-wine lips. The girls were guided by a version of Heeseung, whose eyes glowed blue and his hair was dark as the ocean.

In the opposite direction, from the corner of your eye you catch on to the fair alternate you, and in front, was him…there he was…Heeseung…your Heeseung, and Ethan.

You could see both entities behind those dangerous eyes. Seeing you safe, along with all the other girls restored life to his gaze as he smiled and felt the weight lifted off his shoulders. ‘There you are…there’s my pretty baby.’

Without stopping, they continued to urge you all to run as they herd each of you to stay centered in their squad position, forming an arrow shape around you and the girls.

Aside from the machete, the other Heeseung’s all bore their own weapons, and from the looks of it, they were most likely found on display in the upper dungeons, which you concluded is where you and the others were being kept prior to being saved.

Your Heeseung gripped on two long swords, while the twins had an ax and a long, steel club, similar to a bat. The other Heeseung with the azure hair skillfully handled a rifle, and had a pistol holstered to his thigh.

The moment of uniting didn’t last pleasantly as the stone tile beneath your feet shook, and the light fixtures rattled above. Something was coming, and it carried enough anger to swell up his size.

Each booming placement of its foot stomping the ground quaked the earth. Just seconds after stabilizing your ground, the grand entrance starts to crack. The arch lining and pillars split apart as an overly muscular frame, with humanoid expressions, enters. He ducked his head in by tucking the chin while the ceiling began to crumble above. When he revealed himself fully, you and the other girls gasped at the horrid sight of the monster before you.

His face was split into three, with six pairs of horns that adorned each head, eluding terrible and frightening expressions. His body was similar to that of a man, with exaggerated muscles that looked to produce enough strength that of an entire army. A long offensive tongue spills out of his evil grin as jagged and serrated teeth flash from the joker wide grin. His eyes resembled that of a goat or sheep, but larger. With both hands containing claws that reached measurement by the foot, you winced at the thought of being grabbed by them. The palms contained numerous spurred teeth that formed hooks, similar to the mouth of a parasite, such as a leech. In fact, his entire body was covered with them, slowly fading as they reached the three facial expressions. There were lacerations that appeared on his chest, opening and closing sporadically. They blinked repeatedly with horrendous teeth and eyes peeking out from beneath the tissue and skin. What on earth was this creature?

Standing in his full glory, he speaks with a diabolical tone. “Leave the women behind, and I shall spare your lives, and bless you with power and immortality. You will become the generals of my league.”

The boys all stood in line, keeping you and the others behind, guarding with their own lives at stake, willing and ready to take on anything. Rather than seeing any bit of you harmed, they all remained solid as they would rather die or be tortured than to see a single scratch on anyone of your bodies. The creature takes their gesture with jests, chuckling before he adds on to his demand.

“You are not the one that I care to gut and split open, yet if you insist, it will be my utmost pleasure to rip all of you apart in front of your precious darlings, and then feast on your corpse afterwards.”

You held on to the girl with the purple locks. Her matured instincts kick in, knocking away the original demeanor she carried before. The troubled and quiet woman feels the need to cradle you, a younger version of herself, and presses you against her chest while she covers your eyes. Peeking out from the corner of her embrace, you saw the purple haired Heeseung peer a faint side eye, noting the comfort she was providing, and the fear that stayed by it. His eyes met with hers, eluding a look of reassurance, as if he were telling her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen. Not him, or his alternate figures.

Heethan also takes in the image of your sheltering. His stern and yet relieved facial expression showed the two sides of his being, Heeseung, and Ethan. He emits a quick nod the moment you make eye contact. ‘Not today…not ever. Nothing is touching a single inch of you, pretty baby.’

The remaining alternate versions of yourself come and join in, grouping you in the center as you all remain behind the boys. The eldest stood right in between, establishing an embrace to shield you and the others as her back was facing the row of Heeseung’s. All five of them stood, readily armed as the creature's patience ran thin. Taking a step forward, the ground cracks, stones protrude inward and wouldn’t hold much longer, nearly collapsing.

The boys step back, urging all of you to back away with caution. You all suddenly halt your movements to safety at the sight of numerous demons and angels suddenly entering from all directions in the cathedral, trapping the entire group to the center beneath the large chandelier.

“It’s useless.” The creature spoke out as his tongue splits into two. “God asked for this…the Devil wanted this.”

The eldest produces a harsh side eye at the creature's mentioning of the latter. Her dark red-wined lips quiver open faintly as she hisses toward the mentioning of his name. The audacity of this creature.

“If only they had heeded our words, and met our demands. We would not be as blood starved. You mortals…you children of the Earth, deserve torture that exceeds the worst kind of death in existence. I should have been granted eternal life in his holy kingdom. It is I, who should have been throned as one of the seven Princes of Hell. Yet both God and Lucifer denied me of what is owed to me. They should have recognized me! The demon Molech! Now…God shall bear witness to the human existence coming to its end, beginning with his only daughter, and the sisters that share her form and soul. Let the heart of the Devil fall into despair upon realizing that his only love would be violated with her innards split, and torn from bone.”

Molech crouches into position, nearly ready to pounce through the boys, and straight to you and the girls. You all could see it in his eyes, the glaring reflection of you and the girls as his primary target. “May all of you scream as I devour you alive, and shit out your guts onto the stones of this very church. I will splatter your organs for all to witness what is coming.”

He lunges forward. It was the last known image that replayed in your head spontaneously as you cringed onto the girls.

The movement happened so fast, and the entire group of you screamed as the boys grit their teeth, yet silence…fills the air. Not a single sound of bone cracking skin tearing, and blood curdling screams sounded off after Molech made his offensive move.

You’re not sure what happened. You were bracing for impact and for the unthinkable to occur, yet moments passed and you realized that everyone stood, remaining whole and without injury. Still warmed by the embrace of the girls, you slowly open your eyes.

From what you could deduce, the figure had pummeled down from above, piercing through the ceiling of the church strategically so as to not fully crumble its structure. With a hand buried deep into Molech’s back, it pierces through the monstrous flesh as the thousands of small teeth that covered his hideous body attempts to cut through the sleeve of his black coat. You admired his beautiful form as large black-feathered wings extend magnificently from his back. He resembled paintings that depicted Heaven’s arch-angels.

Appearing as a Victorian prince, he slowly rises from his crouching stance. Dressed in dark, vintage-goth attire, he stands gloriously, releasing his stabbing hold of the demon beneath the soles of his boots. The thatch of black hair matched that of his feathers, so dark that it contained a blood red hue under the dim glare. As his face comes to light, your breath escapes so suddenly—you swore your heart skipped a beat…it was Heeseung. Another alternate variation of your beloved.

“Helel…” the elder y/n breathes out through her dark stained lips while gazing at her husband. A look of relief accompanies her whispering softness as he shifts a quick look over, feeling much relieved himself after seeing her unharmed.

With a wild smirk, he speaks. His voice was deep and dark, yet soft as he adoringly addressed her. “My queen.”

His eyes matches his tone as they soften; the murderous glare hushes down to a look of tranquility. “Love of my eternal life…I’ve come to bring you back home with me…where you belong.”

The beauty of love and passion between the two is cut short as Molech suddenly strikes, yet misses as Heeseung, or Helel, springs off to the side, levitating from a distance. He was so fast. His speed was inhuman as you and the others watched the demon making many failed attempts to catch him. “You WILL take her back, as you will join her at death by my hand! YOU—are nothing but a failed angel, and a false prince!”

Mech spoke out his poisonous words, yet seeing the calmed expression on the Prince's face irked him as Helel remained unbothered, so long as his darling was safe.

The very last bit of his words barely spit out as Helel dives in, like a flash of light. With his much smaller frame, he is enumerated strength that surpasses Molechs as he grips the demon by another piercing hold, this time, it was through the center of his chest. The creature’s internal organs flare up, lighting as if they were being filled with lava. His skin became transparent as you all viewed the spewing of fluids secreting from the burns. He screams in pain as the sores on his body leak liquified tissue, melting the outer layer of skin. “I think your visit here is over-welcomed, Molech.”

Helel’s voice turns dark, with a clenched jaw, he continues to burn the demon from the inside out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you very shortly, and I’ll deal with you then. Be ready…” he narrows his eyes and brings the center face of the demon closer, his lips nearly touching the demon's chin. Smirking, Helel slides the tip of his nose upwards, forcing the demon to look him directly in the eye, all the while he whispers…

“I am going to split you open with my claws—piss on your organs, feed you to those miserable shits at the River Styx, watch as they shit you out, and scatter your remains across the depths of MY Hell. You’ll be nothing but fertilizer for my wife’s pretty little poppy garden, and she will smile every waking moment upon watching them grow from your own demise.”

With the last of Molech’s breath, he extends his middle claw, flicking off his own former master as he shamelessly words out “fuck you.”

Helel only grins in amusement, further aggravating the demon. Whispering, Heeeseung—or Helel, responds back one final time before finishing off the demon. “Nah…nobody fucks with the Devil—except her.” He glances over to his one and only, his own y/n. “She fucks me all the time, sometimes with tears staining her face and her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She loves fucking with the Devil…” shifting another look over, he directs his tone in bold, over to his wife. “Ain’t that right baby?”

His wife settles a submissive display of affection and obedience as she quietly nods. “Yeah…you fucking love me. And I fucking love the Hell outta you.” His eyes widen entirely too ecstatically as his pupils shrink. Of all the moments you witnessed Heeseung’s most terrifying expressions, nothing surpassed the one his devilish alternate. It was the most terrifying thing you’ve seen, even more so than the dying demon at his hand.

He releases an antagonizing chuckle as you felt a slight shake within your chest, all due to the way he spoke of his love. He was so twisted, possessive, and dementing, but the love and admiration he showered her was above all sorts of love. It was unreal.

“And you know what else Molech? She will be the one to rule over the demons that will fuck your soul for all eternity. THAT…is what it means to obey your fucking queen.” At that, you all bear witness as Helel finishes Molech off.

But things were far from over, the remaining demons and angels who retaliated against their respective masters remained loyal to their desires, despite Molech being gone, and said former master currently present. Despite witnessing Helel kill off their only leadership, they were stubborn enough to follow through, until death stopped them.

“What’s next?” One of the Heeseung twins spoke, gripping his weapon.

“Take the girls and run. Keep going until you reach the end of the bridge.” Helel calmly instructs, eyeballing the swarm that was closing in. “And you?” One of the other Heeseung’s spoke, inquiring Helel’s role during the escape.

“Heh.” With a smirk and the narrowing of his dark eyes, he extends his wings out as he flares off a hand, claws extending and growing in an offensive length before your very own eyes. “It’s time for me to tuck the kids in, and say goodnight.” Leaving no room for response, his super speed causes a mirage of his movements as he levitates up, and like a sparrow, dives down as he takes out numerous demons and angels at once. In doing so, he creates an open path for everyone to escape.

“Let’s go!” Your Heeseung yells out as he grabs on to the dark forest haired y/n, and quickly leads the way. With all the other Heeseung’s following suit, they latch on to each and every single one of you. The purple haired y/n holds onto your hand as she is being led by the blue haired Heeseung.

“Watch out!” The fair one screams, watching as a group of demons head directly towards your direction.

In an instant, they abruptly pause as they reach within one arm's distance. A soothing tune echoes in the air; a semi high pitch voice that reminded you of bells, it sings and creates a euphoric atmosphere. The demons struggle as they try to resist, staggering a myriad of movements before succumbing to the soft sound of mystical and angelic voice.

“Wha-what is that?” The fairer y/n speaks out, when suddenly the blue haired Heeseung tells the boys, “cover your ears and eyes, now!”

You watched as the males covered followed his instruction, patiently waiting for the signal to free their hearing and sight. The one that gave warning stood and provided cover. He didn’t seem so concerned with himself, or so it would appear as he placed no effort in obstructing his vision or hearing. The demons couldn’t resist the soft tone of the woman’s voice, and started to conduct the demands as she spelled out their death sentence.

“Look into my eyes…and hear my voice. Tell me that you love me…” the demons roar in agony as the look of pained lust takes over. “Take out your heart. Rip it from your chests, and present it as a token of your love for me…do it…for meeee.”

Her voice drifts. It was so alluring and other-worldly.

You turned around and bore witness as to who was responsible for the spell-binding act. It was the variant of yourself, the one with the forest green hair. You gasped in magnificence as you saw the transformation of her features darken, becoming seductively bold and eye-catching. Her eyes grew dark, yet glowed. The winged tip lining of her beautiful peepers became more fierce, and her lips grew darker in shade, resembling the color of a Plum. The changed produced a smoldering expression that reeked of every man’s lust and desire. She spoke out terrible things, and yet, each demon did as she bids, meeting a demise by their own hand.

Her counterpart smirks, gazing over to his darling as her expression slowly goes back to its original state. “Siren.” He winked over as he breathed out the name of her lineage.

With a faint smile of her own, she returns the look by flaring a cool attitude out of jest. “Adam.”

Everyone continues on the path as you all make way onto the high bridge, beginning the cross. Up ahead, a swarm of angels swing down, resting near the end of the bridge and form a metallic barricade. They mutate their limbs into active mechanical saws with rotating blades, and unbeknownst to the lot of you, this was a familiar sight for one particular y/n.

“Get behind me.” She tells everyone, and you watch as the Devil’s wife shows you her immortality, and extends her own beautiful wings. “Y-y/n! You have wings!” You and the girls exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the remarkable sight of the pearlescent white feathers, a stark contrast from her husbands. Barely hidden in the undercarriage of one wing, a small spot resting closest to her body, were black feathers. A part of him.

Extending her angelic feathers, she takes flight just like her husband, and gains unbelievable height before swooping down, taking out the entire offensive line of the angels. Split cleanly in half, they lay restlessly as their limbs twitch and mouths screeched out their dying pains.

The group continues to run, with every alternate variation of you and Heeseung joining hands and intermingling.

A sudden jolt yanks you back, causing you to yelp out in pain. It pulls you back, tearing you from the others.

“Shit!” Heethan breathes out in ultimate fear as a lonesome demon begins to crawl over you. Its tongue glides over your skin, preparing to digest your face when in a blink of an eye, the demon is suspended in the air, and thrown off the bridge. Helel swoops to your side, extending a hand; you take it, joining palms. Feeling your grip, he lifts away and carries you off in flight to rejoin the others.

“Let’s go.” The eldest y/n urges once they witness you safe, much to Heeseung's delight. He swore he felt his heart explode for a second, but redemption came at its finest upon seeing you safe, once again. Guess he has the Devil to thank for that.

Your body reaches unbelievable height as Helel holds you by the waist, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You made the mistake of looking down and felt the hopeless sensation of dangling high above, seeing the group as microscopic figures as they make their way to the end of the bridge. Your grip tightens and by doing so, you pull yourself closer to the former archangel.

“Hmph…” he smirks against your cheek, inhaling your sweet scent as you slowly turn to face him. Staring at him with a wide and an innocent gaze, he reaches up and moves a piece of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Pretty little thing, you have nothing to fear…”

He leans in closer, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pulls you even closer. His nose meets with yours, and his lips brush against your skin. He looks so much like Heeseung—your Heeseung. Like him, there was a mixture of kindness and malice, producing love and contentment. Whispering against your lips he finishes…

“Whether it be you, or the others like her, I’ll never let any part of my y/n to fall.”

His wings cave in, cradling you to his chest. He places a soft and gentle kiss on your lips, progressing into one that reaches certain depths from inside your mouth. His tongue feeds through and unlike his cold skin, it was warm. You openly invited him to explore further as you couldn’t resist this version of your beloved. He was so powerful, and out of this world, you just had to gain a taste, and prayed that your own Heeseung would never find out what was happening in the sky above.

His hand reaches the back of your neck, pulling you in as he deepens the kiss. He pulls slightly back, much to your dismay, and takes in the sight of your expression. It was full of lust and desire; you stared back with heavy lids and a soft pant escaping. He smirks before licking your bottom lip, and places a smaller peck on your nose. “Good girl.” He whispers, before tightening his embrace, and taking flight— merging you with the others.

Reaching ground, he gently places you down and watches as you run over to your fiance, who embraced you with every ounce of his own life. “Fuck, I was scared I lost you for a second. Are you okay baby?” His voice was hoarse as he ran out of breath from merely speaking. The choke of his emotions got the better of him as he sensationally savored the feeling of your bodies uniting.

He looks at you with relieved eyes. You tearfully nod and embraced him. The others did the same as they rejoined with their respective partners.

Slowly walking over to Helel, the eldest y/n comes within reach. She raises a hand and delicately moves pieces of his hair away from brow and eye. He smirks down at her, and takes her long strands in palm, rubbing them between his claws. Taking in every bit of her presence, he nearly loses himself at the face that took his breath away. Fuck, she was so breathtaking to him.

“Thank you…for saving me and the others.” She whispers out, widening her stare as she rests her hands on his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I don’t know what I would ever do if I didn’t have you.” He admits, and for the first time ever, she witnesses a side of the devil she never thought she’d see. His look was that of slight guilt, relief, and sadness. He looked down at the ground for a moment, realizing that had he been late, he would have lost the only thing that mattered to him. Meeting her gaze, he leans in with a calmed look in his eye.

In this very moment, y/n felt herself falling for her husband like never before. After bearing Helan, living in Hell, and sustaining his harsh treatments, she finally understood him as a man and husband. Oh, how the tables have turned in his favor.

“My son needs his mother…and I need my queen.” He whispers, before granting a small and tender kiss. Taking her hand, he raises it to chin level, tilting his face as his eyes remain glued to her face. Lavishing her hand, he rolls tongue and cheek across the smoothness of her skin, delicately placing a trail of kisses down to her wrist. Tears begin to form in her eyes. It’s true what they say in Heaven and Hell, the Devil truly loved his wife. His y/n.

A rumbling sound emerges from afar and you all witness as many more demons and angels emerge from inside the cathedral. They run over, crossing the bridge as they head in the groups direction. With the exception of Helel and his y/n, who had the gift of flight, everyone was at a disadvantage of being forced to run on foot, but with speed that was nothing compared to the inhuman entities making their way over.

“We gotta hide or something. They’ll catch us.” The purple haired y/n exclaims while her own Heeseung holds onto her, cooing her as he kisses her forehead.

“No need.” Helel calmly projects. Everyone looked in his direction with a relieved sigh, does he have a plan? “What will you do?” His own bride inquires flirtatiously as she gets a sense of a trick up her husband's sleeve. He smirks as he tells her. “What we do best.” He snaps his finger and instantly, six other figures appear from the sky, shattering the atmosphere as their sudden appearance creates a series of Sonic Booms. One right after another, they dive bombed the bridge, wiping out the army of demons and angels in seconds. With dark feathered wings, and inhuman strength, their lack in numbers could not fool anyone. The angels were no match even when conducting aerial movements. Each dark prince maneuvered the sky and shattered any who tried to escape. It was as if you were watching jets chasing after one another.

They swoon closer, joining the group at the end of the bridge. “The kids are misbehaving I see.” One of them spoke, a young man who had dark hair with wispy silver highlights. His foot reaches the ground as he collapses his wings, leaving them to remain perched in an arch at rest. He was adorned with gold and jewels that had to be worth more than what the world could offer. Joining him was one of the others, who had blonde hair slicked back, and bright blue eyes. A lip ring decorated his bottom lip, and he shared the same aura as the other.

“These little brats…what’s their problem this time? Are they pissed off at us or what?” Seemingly fed up with the offensive entities, he sighs out as the one adorned with jewels responds.

“Eh…Same shit, different day. Don’t know about the angels, but our guys are in need of a spanking…probably need to be grounded.”

The blonde haired angel-figure shoots a glance over to the forest haired y/n. “Huh…first time I’ve ever seen a Siren.”

The Heeseung who held on to her waist tucks her into his chest; he glares over to the blonde male. “Fuck off.” Was all he calmly stated before widening his eyes psychotically.

The blonde male smirks, appearing to do no harm. “Relax. I’m not going to take away your little mermaid.” He switched his gaze back to her. “You and I come from the same waters, Daughter of the Seven Seas. It would appear that your generation is much more tamed than that of your early mothers.” He smirks as he looks back at the one holding her. “An Adam…great distant son of an ancient God. Despite the identical face you display to that of my elder brother, you and I are more alike than anything else.”

Heedam softens his gaze to that of an annoyed glare. “I don’t really care, blondie.”

Jake smirks out a small laugh. “No, I guess you don’t. But it’s all good…” flickering his snake like tongue, he gently coos. “Just tell your sisters, should you ever see them, to be wary of the snake. I tend to look for them from time to time.”

The dark green haired y/n projects a perturbed brow. “You mean…the other sirens? What would you do if you ever found them?”

He winks. “I’d eat them—metaphorically speaking, of course.” He gives off a last smirk before turning his back to the couple. “Snakes need to eat too, you know?”

The two males take flight to rejoin their brothers in air, while Helel remains with you all. After some moments went by, you and the girls inquired on how the boys managed to find you.

“This guy.” One of the twins smirked as he thumb pointed over to Helel. “Got us together after he found out what was happening, and helped us get here before taking off to get his brothers.”

“How did you find out?” The eldest raised a brow as she peeked up to view her husband's face. He smirks as his chin touches her nose. “After the raid and your kidnapping, that little fuck-Molech left no leads. So I had to reach out to an old friend…”

“Who?” One of the y/n’s spoke curiously. The eldest y/n already knew…

“Him?” She spoke in a whisper. He slightly nods in return. You all pieced together whom they were referring to as the subtle hint gave off the showering expression of respect and peace on the Devil’s face.

God.

Not much was divided afterwards. In fact, after Helel explained how he forcefully opened the space and time continuums in each galactic dimension to retrieve the alternate versions of his own soul, and unite them with the plan to bring you all back, things went silent right after.

Reopening those entrances once more, Helel guided each pairing back to their own worlds, and everything was back to normal, other than the major publicity that stirred from the event. Mentions of angels and demons raising the sky, and an apocalyptic end, was all the media could speak of.

………

A few weeks have passed. Schools were shut down for a while due to the incident, and everyone was left to continue their education via online, which Heeseung absolutely loved. Having you in his dorm twenty-four-seven was something that he could get used to…maybe already has.

You lay in bed partially dressed. It was nice to not have to worry about figuring what to wear. Since assignments were assigned and completed on your own schedule, you opted to be lazy as Heeseung went down the store to grab your favorite snacks. All for being such a good girl, and staying by his side.

With only a crop top and a pair of panties on, you embraced the warmth of summer air hitting your skin. Besides, your man loved seeing you nearly nude more than anything else.

The door opens, and you see him walk in. In his traditional and fashionable manner, his hat covers his eyes and the upper bridge of his nose, which complimented the street style he wore. A long shirt with the sleeves partially rolled and straight jeans. So casual yet so appealing, or perhaps it was just him and how he could pull it off so well.

“That was quick.” You quirked as you sit up over the edge of the bedding and sipped on your water bottle.

“I don’t like being away from you for too long.” He spoke out with a deep tone. His bedroom voice.

He didn’t waste any time. He held onto your waist and pulls you up. Catching you by surprise, he dipped down to loop his hands around your thighs, before fully extending you up in the air. Your thighs straddle him as you stabilize yourself, he was so strong. Lifting you like a feather, he buries his face into your neck as your head rests on top of his hat. “Heeseung…”

“Mmhmm…” he mumbles with his mouth filled with your tender skin. He didn’t say much more after, instead, he hooks your panties and pushes them to the side. Up and over your derrière, his forearm rested against the surface of your rear cheeks while he lined himself to your center. It’s to be expected, you both didn’t have sex this morning due to the zoom conference for one of your classes. So of course, now that all of that was done, he could finally have his moment with you.

He slides right in, and it was a familiar feeling that seemed all too new. He stuffs you. Fills you. Pumps into you. It was an incredible feeling that reminded you just how much you loved to get fucked by this man.

His lips remained latched on to your neck. “Fuck.” He whispers. “Mmmph! Heeseung!” You gasped as he picks up the pace and bounces you atop his throbbing cock, holding your under-thighs as leverage whenever he lifted and stabilized your momentum.

He kept going on and on. Your mind was blown away as always; you didn’t even feel present in his room. Everything just took you away as you felt your gut being filled by that hard muscle. Separating your walls and pushing in, he thrusts in a motion that was passionately rough and sensually brutal. It was almost like dancing—it had rhythm and harmony as you both shared juices of love and lust.

You screamed out as you come undone. Splattering your fluids everywhere, he keeps his thrusts going as he goes in harder, faster, and deeper. Right as you reach your second orgasm, he joins in and you both cum in unison.

He gently places you back down on the bed, lovingly. Kissing your entire body, he coolly shushes you after noting your gasping pants for air, and the beads of sweat that coated your skin. “Shhh-sh-sh-sh. Breathe baby, that’s it…thaaaaaats it.”

Once you finally got your breathing stabilized, he kisses your forehead and whispers “good girl.”

Something smacks your senses as you immediately took note of the off-putting manner in the way he whispered his tone. Of course he’s said it many times before but this…this was all too familiar in an unfamiliar way. It was…it was…

He stands upright, you hear the unfolding flaps of the black feathered wings extending past the street attire he donned.

“Oh my God…”

He smirks. “Close…but not quite sweetheart.” With a devilish grin, he leans down and places a sudden peck on your lips, causing you to enhance your already shocked expression. “The Devil is here.”

He kisses you once more before turning away. A slit in the gravitational force of the air appears, and walking in was Heeseung dressed in formal black, Victorian wear. The one who donned his wings, Helel, spoke first.

“Had fun?”

Heeseung—your Heeseung, spoke back in jest. A certain level of verbal jousting that took place between the two as they remained swapped in their attire. “Hope you enjoy my work.” Your Heeseung spoke, flashing his Ethan persona as he smirks towards his devil counterpart.

“I’ll leave you my review. If I’m not satisfied, I will be returning.” He dashed a wink over to you, as your Heeseung responds back. “No returns.”

Helel crosses his arms, and grins. “I won’t be asking for a return, more like a freebie.”

Heeseung smirks back as he too, crosses his arms. Both men square off, chest to chest at a one arms distance. “Against my policy. It’s buy one, and get one free. And gimme back my hat.” He snags the cap off from Helel’s head, the latter merely remained undeterred and blinked as he leans his head slightly back, watching as his own counterpart places the hat on his own head.

“Hmph…what atrocity.” Noting his Victorian cloth tainted by the modern piece that your Heeseung displayed, Helel lightly snarled in disgust. “If anyone is going to square off with the Devil…I guess it would be my own damn self, even if you are worlds apart. Too bad I always win.”

He remarks amusingly before exiting, but not without waving back to you as he peeked over the edge of his wing. “See you later, y/n. Try not to spill.” He denotes as he points at the seeping fluid spilling out in between your legs. Heeseung’s brow irked at the symbolic jab.

“Helel…” he calls out right as the devil began to step into the opening.

Raising a brow, Helel looks over to his alternate face. “Say hi to the wife and kids for me.”

Helel’s eyes widen just slightly, expressing a hint of confusion. “Kids?”

Heeseung smirks. “Yeah…kids. A lot of them. Figured your boy could use some siblings.”

Both men stand wide-eyed, smiling sinisterly. They looked as if they were going to kill each other. “Huh…it would be you to show up the devil. I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He steps forward, and with that, the devil takes his leave.

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[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 27 - The Weakest Link

You are not having a Good Time.

On AO3.

You feel like microwaved roadkill the next morning. Still puffy around the eyes with a sinus headache to boot. Your wrist is sore underneath bandages—you might have pushed yourself a little too far feeding Astarion—and the room sways when you slide to the edge of the bed.

Astarion ain’t there, as usual. You got the privacy to hang your head over your knees and breathe.

This fucking place. This godawful fucking place.

And you.

Thought you’d seen how bad people could be, didn’t you? Thought you could sneak in and try to bring modern Earth diplomacy. Be civil. Be human.

This ain’t Earth. These people ain’t used to manslaughter charges or constitutions or, or the surveillance state. This is Mad Max shit. This is the Purge.

Is this what your Cherokee ancestors felt when the White people came in and burnt whole villages and shot the ones who tried to run? Swapped out skirmishes—which did turn deadly, no mistake—for the mass, catastrophic carnage of eighteenth century battle lines?

They became “civilized”, your ancestors. Built White houses. Changes their own laws. Bought and kept slaves. Like they thought they could out-White Man the White Man and find peace and safety that way. Well, the ones who fashioned themselves as rich men, anyway.

And look what that got them. (A death march.) (Plague.) (Theft of their land and their White Man towns and their children stolen and the historical tribe literally declared extinct by the U.S. Government.)

But you’re alone, here. Don’t got nobody to back you up. Cause the edgelords…they called it, didn’t they. They know this place. Know its rules and customs.

You do not.

You’ll need to respond. Adapt.

You just don’t know how.

Black, black clouds gather in your head.

You rub your face. Stand. Stand very still a moment as ringing light-headedness washes through your skull. And then stagger over to the wash basin in the corner so you can wash your face proper. And your pits. And underboob. And the entire nether regions.

The world continues to ring and swim as you make your way out to the hall. Pause at the top of the stairs and squint thoughtfully. Then something moves, and it’s Shadowheart (must’a been waiting for you). She takes one look and her lips press thin. She guides you back a couple steps and lights up her jesus hands.

“Thank you,” you say as her murder goddess’s magic soaks into you.

She says nothing a moment. But you can tell she got thoughts churning around in there. Finally, as her cool hands clasp your bandaged wrist, she says, “You let him take too much.”

Well…

“Umhmm,” you say, all noncommittal.

She looks you square in the face. Her gray-green eyes steady. Old. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, maybe. But you suddenly doubt that assessment. Elves in them movies are like, immortal. Are they here? Does she count?

What if she’s like Aragorn and she’s actually like, eighty?

“I’m fine,” you say.

She still watches you. Not quite judging, but close to it. “It’s one thing to take responsibility, and another thing to punish yourself. Only one of those is productive. You’re…kind. I assume that’s not a dangerous trait in your world.”

But.

But Faerun ain’t Earth.

“Please try to understand,” she says. “We’re dealing with a nascent god building an army using illithid tadpoles. This is dangerous. Much more dangerous than anything I’m comfortable assuming you’ve dealt with.”

You’re being weak. Putting them all in danger.

The countries who fought the nazis did horrifying things to win. Your great uncle Bobby Ray fought in that war. Uncle Randy said he never, not once talked about it, even when asked. But that he did, on more than one occasion, pull a knife on somebody who was harassing one of his family.

You nod. She stands there a moment longer. Her face does something twisting, and then, “Go get something to eat. As much as you can. It’ll help.”

You try to smile. Thank her again, and then walk down them stairs without slipping and crashing down and snapping your own, damn neck.

***

The others greet you around a table with a pot of more barley grits. Karlach snatches you into a hug to tight it pops your spine. Says, “I told you we shouldn’t’ve split up.”

And though Wyll don’t say that, the sympathetic look he gives you might as well shout it.

You actually wonder whether he would have let them goblins go. Because suddenly, it don’t seem as likely.

These people are foreign. Alien. All of them.

You take a seat and begin to robotically shovel bland grits into your mouth and try not to dwell on how fucking alone you are. Ain’t felt this exposed, this outside since the butthole ship. Not since that first night, camped out on Sasha’s couch, watching car headlights sweep through the blinds.

You’re the alien, here. The misfit. Unprepared and unequipped. The weakest link.

Astarion catches your eye from the other side of the bar. Gives a little head-tuck bow, which you return. He don’t come over, though. Keeps his distance from all the others. He’s quiet. Calmer. Over fucking getting murdered.

You got him killed. Even worse, the man was terrified. Hurting. And you know this because y’all felt that happening to him through his worm as he fucking died. That is not the thing someone can just get over.

No matter how much blood you give him.

He spent the first half of the night, after cleaning up and feeding, stretched out on the bed a foot from you. But…where else was he gonna go? The others was back by then, but you were too tired and dizzy to think of moving to the floor in the moment.

You decide then and there that you’re bunking with the girls from now on. For real. Give the man some fucking space. Stop being such a goddamn fucking burden.

Jaheira slips in at some point. You’re finishing up your second, bland bowl when the breakfast chatter turns once again into a mission meeting.

You (mostly?) remember what that mcfucking bitch Swell said before she done went and signed her own death warrant.

“But what is the relic?” Jaheira says when Gale gets to that part (you’re more’n happy to let him take the lead on this part).

“She didn’t say,” Gale says. “Yet it must be vital to this general’s plans.”

“And I cannot but help wonder if it may be the key to undoing whatever binds him to this living plane.”

“It would improve our standing should we help retrieve this relic,” Shadowheart says.

Nobody looks at you. They don’t have to. You try not to fidget. Glance, you hope surreptitiously, at Astarion. Clean, whole, with some color in him. He looks bored: cleaning his nails with the tip of his stabbing knife.

“What about the prisoners?” Karlach says. “The tieflings from the grove that got kidnapped? And those gnomes?”

Astarion looks up at this, his expression a study in feline stink face. “What gnomes?”

There, at a shorter table against the far wall sits a solitary gnome man. It takes a few, long seconds before it registers. You’re pretty sure that’s the guy y’all pulled off a windmill. The one them goblins tortured.

Oh, someone else to be mad at you for letting them go.

You ain’t never gonna talk to that man, are you?

“He said his friend lead a group of others, all of whom were taken to the tower,” Wyll says. “That leaves the cult a good number of hostages, if they’re lucky.”

And more brainwormed cannon fodder if they ain’t.

The eye patch kid. Them other kids looking to y’all, to Wyll for help.

“If we break them out there’s no chance we’ll get back into that tower without a full assault,” Shadowheart says. “We can’t risk it.”

Since y’all are on shaky ground. With people who can, and will enjoy murdering you about it.

The kids ain’t around to overhear this. The red tiefling is still passed out and drooling on the counter.

You want to help them. You do. They deserve it.

But. You’re held together with guilt and jesus hands just now. Y’all got almost no information to go off.

(The strangled gurgle Astarion let out as everything in him crushed into—)

“Whatever you decide, I fear we are running out of time,” Jaheira says.

You can almost see the decision lines forming like a topography map over the party. The decent thing, the good thing. And…the shining line.

The one where Astarion stays far, far away from that tower and the dead-walking bitch inside it.

“Shadowheart’s right,” you say. “If we help this Bathy feller, they might give us more access. Get us down to where them prisoners is. But if we come back now with nothing to show for it…”

Gale nods slowly as Shadowheart gives you a cool, affirmative gaze.

Lae’zel just outright says, “Finally, some sense from you.”

So that’s fun.

But though both Wyll and Karlach look to each other, “troubled” written all over their faces, they don’t object.

Leaving…

“Hmm?” Astarion says, glancing up from his nails. “Oh, of course. The sooner we can get close enough to stab this general and have it actually stick, the sooner we can get out of here. All this damp is positively ruining my hair.”

So. Your mission. With none of them tieflings to witness you slinking out to leave their friends and family to a cult dungeon. With the drooling drunk oblivious, and the lone gnome staring pensively into his cup.

It’s for the best, you tell yourself. It’s the tactical thing to do. It’s not guilt that sends you all but fleeing through the front doors before anybody can ask about their missing sisters. It’s not shame that has you staring hard at the ground as Gale activates the Waypoint portal.

You’re just busy. Getting this done.

It’s only practical to get the fuck outta there before anyone else can notice.

[poopfartlesbian]

Alright so I mentioned before that I plan on writing a starscream x reader plot so I figured I would share what the plot is!

Stars in Ruin

The reader will be written afab and she/her pronouns are used (but if I get a Stars in Ruin Starscream x GN or Amab reader interaction request I can do that too!)

The reader will have no particular appearance, the only canon feature is that the reader has freckles

I may eventually start posting this on ao3 too but idk yet

Overall Plot

The story for Stars in Ruin takes place in the transformers prime universe after the war

Starscream has crash landed, he was banished from Cybertron after the war, but he also kinda just left because he would rather perish than join with the autobots, even with the war over.

He came back to earth for three reasons;

1, it's familiar

2, he remembers the old harbinger warship that crashed long ago

3, he knows there's still plenty of large energon deposits to survive on

The reader originally finds him when she was on a hike not far from her little cabin in the woods, he was injured. She is, of course, was terrified of the large mech, but musters up the courage to help him since he seemed fairly injured from crashing. Her helping him was one of the only reasons he didn't kill her right then.

Starscream's plan is simple; Repair the harbinger, travel through space to gather some old allies for an army, return to cybertron and with this warship, reclaim cybertron once and for all and declare himself as Cybertron's one true leader.

Over time the reader befriends starscream and eventually starts helping him repair the Harbinger. Slowly, the feelings of friendship blossom into something more... Starscream's ultimate goal WAS to return to and conquer Cybertron, but now, with this newfound feeling whenever she's around, he's conflicted, what will he do?

sorry if this is kinda corny idk how to properly write out a story plot without making it sound like rambling nonsense

Relevant warnings

Slowburn, Friends to lovers, Afab reader, eventual smut, Starscream can mass displace

I'll add more needed

This is also an opportunity where if you want to be tagged whenever a chapter drops then lmk!

[cannoli-reader]

The White Tower's Strength Hierarchy is not a Problem

I know, it seems like a hot take that has to be a shitpost. The idea of a person being in charge based solely on a physical attribute beyond their control makes monarchy look like a good idea. But I don't think it's actually what the system is, or the intent behind the strength hierarchy.

Basically, most of us completely miss the point of the Aes Sedai and the White Tower. We keep seeing them as an institution of a particular type, like a military or a government or a religion. But it's not. It's a union. Its purpose is to facilitate channelers, like a union's job is to advocate for, and protect, workers. And the part of a worker's life and attention dedicated to his union, or even his job, is only a part of what makes him who he is. Yeah, it influences a lot, like his status in life, where he lives, who his friends are, and so on, but at the end of the day, you work to live, and no matter how staunch your membership in the Local #whatever, you're going to be more worried about getting your work done and going home to your family, your interests and your hobbies.

The Aes Sedai are not soldiers in an army, or bureaucrats in a government, or clergy in a religion. They are not even soldiers, security forces, scholars, philosophers, doctors, diplomates and activists, depending on their Ajah. They are heroes. Protagonists, each of an adventure story. Each one is a powerful person who has an agenda they want to see done for their own advantage or the benefit of others, or just because they want to. The Tower and their Ajahs are just things they sign up for to get that done. Yes, the Tower engages in geopolitical shenanigans, but that has as much to do with what each sister does, day-to-day, as a country's foreign policy does to everyone who is not abroad, near the border or on the internet at the moment.

Basically, every given sister's job at any given time is what she thinks it is. Some of them need or want to be told what to do, so they pick "serve the Tower" and hang around to be given assignments. Others lock the door to their study and yell their cultural equivalent of "fuck off" when someone tries to assign them duties, or just head out into the world to do what they want. And that's cool with the Tower, however annoying a particular Tower authority figure or faction thereof might find it at the time. Because that is what the Tower is for, to make it possible for them to do that stuff. That is the essence of empowerment, and that is the Tower's purpose. They train you to channel, give you an excellent education, train you how to push around deal with people, pound into your head the importance of making a good impression and set you up with unlimited funds, and sit back to see what you do with it.

The problem is, people are going to people, and eventually, each sister will realize that the biggest obstacles to doing what she wants are her fellow sisters. The point of the White Tower is to govern those inevitable clashes, and sort things out, not to achieve some platonic ideal solution, but to minimize the drama and not let the world take advantage of the conflict or distraction. If Aes Sedai are too busy butting heads with one another, some damn fool male might start improving international cooperation and establishing schools that gather a critical mass of scholars and technicians to jump-start a technological revolution might screw everything up.

But that means, there needs to be a rule for who wins, and who gets her way. From the Tower's perspective, it does not matter who wins, so long as there is no fighting over it. The Tower is basically a parent, and every single woman with a Great Serpent ring (or, honestly, the ability to touch saidar), including the Amyrlin, are the kids. As a great comedian whom we should probably be grateful never had access to actual forkroot would say, "Parents don't care about justice, they just want peace and quiet."

From that perspective, the strength hierarchy is an excellent rule. There is no way to game the system, you can't legislate to change it. And like Tic-tac-toe (and Global Thermonuclear War) the only way to win is not to play. Don't like the idea of a woman giving you orders just because she was born with higher innate strength than you? Don't get involved with her! That's all there is to it.

And we see there are many, many ways to get around the strength hierarchy. All you really need is to not require every single person on the planet to give way to you. The Hall and Amyrlin had an plan for Moiraine's career and the authority to make it happen. That's why Moiraine begins the series on the Sun Throne. Oh, wait. No. How did that happen?

Because she is an Aes Sedai with all the power and resources her White Tower training gave her, and the self-awareness to say "Nope," and skip out to do what she wanted/thought was more important. She ran into Cadsuane, too, who also had ideas about what she should do. Didn't take, either.

The main place in the story where it seems like the strength hierarchy messes things up is with the rebel embassy to Rand in Caemlyn, where Kiruna and Bera march in and take over the embassy and head off to comeuppance at Dumai's Wells. You know whose fault that was? Not the woman who first proposed strength as a criterion for situational authority, but Merana. Because she let their strength, or Verin's experience before that, matter. And that was mostly because Merana didn't really believe in what she was doing. She knows her authority does not really come from the White Tower, only a pack of cranks in a village. She is there to serve the agenda of the Salidar rebel movement, and deep down inside, she knows they are there as supplicants to Rand, trying to get him on Team Salidar. She is not there trying to save the world through negotiations, she is just working for a petty factional grudge. So on one level, she knows she has no right to assert her Hall-granted authority, and on another level, she isn't certain that Verin or Kiruna & Bera don't have a better idea of what the best interests of Salidar actually are.

Another major loophole we see in the strength system is cooperation between sisters. Delana, when she is thinking solely as a conventional sister, before she is refocused on her Black duties, notes how Siuan once protected her in their friendship and now she has to be the one protecting her. It's not Delana mistaking their respective strengths for competence to protect one another, it's Delana acknowledging the strength system, and meaning that where Siuan once prevented women between her & Delana in strength from bossing around her Gray friend, now Delana is going to be protecting Siuan from being bossed around by women weaker than Delana. We see this in action with Cadsuane and Daigian & Kumira. Cadsuane respects their mental abilities and judgment, and from their perspective, what more do they need? Rather than claw their up through a meritocracy and securing their position based on some esoteric algorithm weighing the value of their specialties, or pushing their ideas through a review and assessment procedure, all they have to do is convince Cadsuane. And then Cadsuane will see to the implementation of their ideas, or prevent other sisters from interfering with them on the basis of strength.

For a more equitable version of such an arrangement, we have the relationship between Nynaeve & Elayne. There are no two Aes Sedai with a PoV in the series with as much respect and trust for one another as these two have. And we see a few interesting examples of how they work with the strength dynamic in WH.

The first is when the issue of the damane captives who want to have the leash removed is broached to them. Elayne has an opinion on the matter, but she lets Nynaeve make the call because she is the strongest women around. But Elayne is willing to stare down Birgitte, a hero of the Horn, over the civil rights of a man they are certain is a murderer. Is she really going to let Nynaeve keep damane enslaved? Nope. She is letting Nynaeve make the call, letting the system stand, because of her absolute trust that Nynaeve will make the right call. She has been working closely with Nynaeve for over a year now, and most importantly, she saw how Nynaeve handled a related situation in the disposition of the two sul'dam they had captured. If ANYone was going to know that Nynaeve was going to get it right, it would be Elayne. And no, Lan is not telling her what to do, he is speaking to the world at large, he is offering his own opinions based on being in a very similar position, and that's why his own congratulations of Nynaeve for her decision affects her so much. And I think the Kinswomen were feeling her out with the question, because they are worried about ending up in a similar position as the damane, vis a vis the Aes Sedai. Their own agreement with, and pleasure over, Nynaeve's choice speaks to their feelings on discovering that the White Tower (embodied in that moment by Nynaeve) has the right values, and they can trust it to take them in again, without abuse. So what is the point regarding the strength hierarchy, if everyone involved was in agreement on this issue? By referencing the hierarchy, they are not just a bunch of women who happen to have the same opinion, they have made policy, by following institutional procedure, and that gives their agreed-upon course of action weight and it strengthens the connection between sisters, Kin and ex-damane.

The next example is when, after Elayne's near-assassination incident, Nynaeve starts lecturing her and Elayne tells her that she does not want to disobey her, so don't try to use her authority. She's not dismissing Nynaeve's authority, she is respecting it, but also saying that she thinks this is more important. And Nynaeve realizes this, and does not flex on her. Because with reasonable people, self-evident situations like this weigh more that artificially imposed definitions.

And finally, in their last shared moments on-page in Jordan's lifetime, Elayne realizes that Nynaeve is up to shenanigans, noting that it has to be something really out of whack if she's hiding her plans, instead of flexing her strength position. Which incidentally speaks to Elayne's trust that Nynaeve would not abuse her authority, and also the point that she does trust Nynaeve, regardless of how crazy her current scheme is. Or at least, she has a guy to bond and bone and so she'll let Nynaeve do what she thinks she needs to do. Later on, when Rand indicates he sees through her own façade, and knows she has something she is trying to hide from Nynaeve, if not the bond-and-bone specifics, Elayne has a moment of chagrin, because if this guy whose experience of her is basically three days of dating saw through her subterfuge, her partner in crime comrade in arms of far longer standing should have, too. And the answer to why Nynaeve did not interfere is the same as why Elayne picked bond-and-bone over solving Nynaeve's thing: they trust each other.

If you have trust, you don't need to worry about who is ranked higher, and the system cannot stop you from ignoring it and building that trust with other people. And by being so clearly unfair and onerous the system is all but demanding that you reach out to your sisters, and build trust between yourselves, so that you don't have to be constrained by the idiocy of who was born with greater strength in the Power.

And if you can't build trust, stay out of one another's way. Either way, it keeps the White Tower from falling apart and Aes Sedai from internecine conflict.

In the end, it was not the strength system that failed the White Tower, but the formal hierarchy, with its elected leadership and ostensible selection of authority positions by merit, of which the Blue leadership boasts in New Spring.

And for all that the Wise Ones are hailed as a better system using superior criteria (though my own issue with that one is 'who decides who fits those criteria best?' and we see through Perrin's eyes on the conflict between Amys & Sorilea in LoC, it's not always so simple), as an institution, the Wise Ones lied to their people for 3,000 years, made them vulnerable to Couladin's pandering demagoguery, and failed to contain Sevanna's lateral thinking. When it comes to practical results, the Wise Ones are not noticeably more successful than the Tower.

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 A man screams for his mother and other family members after the Zionist occupation army bombed their home in Gaza, destroying several levels of the building and burying his family under the rubble. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

279 DAYS OF GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP: UNRWA BUILDINGS HIT BY ISRAELI OCCUPATION FORCES IN 453 ATTACKS, U.S. TO SHIP 500LB BOMBS TO ZIONIST ARMY EVEN AS NEW MASSACRES TAKE DOZENS OF LIVES EVERY DAY, NASSER MEDICAL COMPLEX CLOSES AMID ISRAELI BOMBARDMENT, ANOTHER DAY OF MASS MURDER AS CIVILIANS TARGETED

On 279th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 2 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 50 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 54 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The United States, under the direction of the Biden administration and American Democrats, will resume shipments of 500-pound bombs to the Zionist entity, even as new massacres continue to take dozens of civilian lives on a daily basis.

Previously, the Biden administration suspended a delivery of two types of American armaments, including 500lb (227kg) and 2'000lb (907kg) bombs as student protests exploded across college campuses in the United States.

The shipment was suspended in the context of the protests and a rapidly rising civilian death count amid the occupation's ongoing genocidal operations in the Gaza Strip.

In a piece published in the Jeff Bezos-owned American newspaper, the Washington Post, the news outlet says the decision to reverse the pause of these deadly bombs came as the Zionist Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, along with occupation Defense Minister, Yoav Gallant, and the Israeli lobby, including AIPAC, demanded the resumption of deliveries of American munitions regardless of their lethality.

According to the Post:

Despite the pressure campaign and initial hold, the U.S. officials said the 500-pound bombs were never a serious concern for the Biden administration.

Speaking with the Post, an anonymous US official said that "because of how these shipments are put together, other munitions may sometimes be co-mingled. That’s what happened here with the 500-lb bombs, since our main concern had been and remains the potential use of 2,000-lb bombs in Rafah and elsewhere in Gaza."

The Post admits that, while the tempo of the Zionist entity's attacks on the Gaza Strip has slowed in recent days, occupation strikes that result in mass casualty events continue to occur on a weekly basis, sometimes accelerating to a near daily basis, including a recent assault on a UN-run school housing displaced Palestinian families in Abasan Al-Kabira, east of the city of Khan Yunis, killing 29 and wounding another 53 others.

The Washington Post goes on to say that the suspended arms shipment was a "shot across the bow" by the Biden administration in a warning to the Netanyahu regime as he planned at the time to invade the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, where more than 1 million Palestinians had gathered in tent cities to find shelter from occupation's bombing and shelling, with President Biden going so far as to describe such an operation as a "red line".

Despite this, the Israeli occupation army invaded Rafah anyway, systematically destroying civilian housing in nearly the entire city, then taking control over, and burning to the ground, the border crossings south of Rafah City, all while committing several massacres. Including an attack on a grouping of Palestinian tents that resulted in a conflagration responsible for killing nearly 50 civilians and wounding dozens of others.

The Zionist army recently allowed Western journalists to visit Rafah to witness the destruction themselves, during which reporters described the city as "decimated" and largely empty.

The Post also interviewed Janet Abou-Elias, a research fellow at the Center for International Policy, a Washington-based think-tank, who described the destructive power of 500lb bombs as something that should not be taken lightly.

“In Gaza’s densely populated areas, the difference in the destructive impact between a 500-pound and a 2,000-pound bomb is negligible, both causing immense destruction and civilian casualties,” Abou-Elias is quoted as saying to the Post.

In more news on Thursday, July 11th, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian refugees, also known as UNRWA, stated in a post to the social media platform X that the Israeli occupation forces have attacked their premises in Gaza on 453 occasions since the start of the war.

"453 attacks impacting UNRWA premises and the people inside them have been reported since the war began," the post stated, adding that, "two thirds of our schools in Gaza have been hit, with 524 people sheltering in our facilities killed."

UNRWA concluded the post by declaring that "UN structures, schools and shelters are not a target," adding a call for a "CeasefireNow."

In other news, the international humanitarian healthcare organization, Doctors Without Borders (MSF), issued a warning on Wednesday that the healthcare center at Nasser medical complex, in the city of Khan Yunis, south of Gaza, has ceased functioning due to a severe shortage of medical supplies and fuel.

In a statement, MSF lamented that "after the closure of the Gaza European Hospital in the Gaza Strip due to Israeli evacuation orders (early July ), we warned that Nasser Hospital is at risk of being overcrowded with mass casualties and wounded."

The humanitarian organization went on to explain that "MSF teams are witnessing a severe shortage of medical supplies, which threatens to stop basic health care [services] available to patients," going on to warn that the Nasser complex was "the last advanced hospital still operating in southern Gaza."

"Nasser Hospital receives an increase in the number of patients every day, which places a burden on all departments beyond their capacity, and our teams have no choice but to resort to the medical stock allocated for emergency cases," the MSF statement reads.

The statement concludes by stating that "while Nasser Hospital is dealing with the influx of new patients, it is also suffering from a fuel shortage, and if the power goes out due to a fuel shortage, care provided in many of the nearby field hospitals will [also] stop."

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) slowed but continued its attacks on civilian homes and residential buildings in various axis of the Gaza Strip, slaughtering dozens of Palestinians and leaving others severely wounded in the bombing and shelling of the occupation army, with a particular focus of attacks targeting the city of Gaza.

According to Gaza's Civil Defense, more than 30 decomposing bodies of murdered Palestinians are lying in the streets of the Al-Rimal neighborhood, as well as the Al-Sina'a and Al-Katiba areas, of Gaza City, where Zionist armored vehicles have launched a violent incursion over the last several days.

Local medical sources are reporting that on Thursday, more than 34 Palestinians were killed as a result of the Israeli occupation's raids on Gaza City and Rafah, resulting in dozens of bodies laying scattered in the streets, particularly in the Al-Rimal neighborhood, as well as in the Industrial Al-Sina'a area, and the Al-Katiba areas of Gaza City.

Another occupation raid on the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, resulted in the deaths of four Palestinian civilians, including a child.

The occupation's atrocities continued when Zionist warplanes bombed a residential house in the Zafran area of the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

At the same time, an occupation drone fired a missile at a civilian residence in the Nuseirat Camp, also in central Gaza, while IOF artillery detatchments shelled the Al-Mughraqa area of the camp.

In the meantime, occupation fighter jets conducted airstrikes on neighborhoods east of Khan Yunis, while additionally, Zionist soldiers detonated with explosives several residential buildings in the center of Rafah City, amid occupation artillery shelling that hammered the Al-Shaboura neighborhood in central Rafah.

Israeli quadcopter drones also fired on civilian homes in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City.

The suffering of the Palestinian population of Gaza continued when the water desalinization stations that provide potable water to northern Gaza and Gaza City have ceased to function due to the continued closure of Gaza's border crossings, resulting in a severe shortage of fuel to operate electricity generators.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 38'345 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and well over 15'000 children, while another 88'295 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

July 11th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[neilanuruodo]

Ohoho! An opportunity to listen about my favorite guys! And from a great guy too!

1) what is your absolute favorite ship? (+ additionally from me - what draws you to them, why are they so entertaining to you?)

2) rate Blurg x Dror from 1-10 and explain why + is there anything you find compelling about them?

3) What song(s) remind you of Andrek x Dror?

Extra question from me personally - favourite/most fun HC for all three ships

If you're feeling like it, would love if you'd go in depth for these questions ❤️ and talk to your heart's content, I'd love to know how you feel about them

yesss let's get this thing started!

1) this is honestly a hard one just because there are so many I like! On the face of it (and going by the pairings in my Ao3 work) I'm tempted to say Elidibus and the Warrior of Light from Final Fantasy XIV, but I hesitate simply because I really liked a previous iteration of the character. XIV is an mmo so they regularly release more story and I don't like how they developed my man in a suddenly different direction lol. So I think my final answer would be The Red Prince/Sebille. (Dror Ragzlin/Tav is an incredibly close second to that. Both have very few works on Ao3, it's just that the Red Prince swaps effortlessly between being a complete gentleman and being a terrible brute. He's just got this fantastic style and I love it LOL)

2) I would rate Dror Ragzlin/Blurg as 8.5/10. Probably the same as I'd rate Omeluum/Blurg, actually, they're both really good but they're really different. I really like Dror/Blurg for how they represent acceptance and rejection of hobgoblin society, norms, and expectations. It introduces a really interesting tension to their relationship, something they have to work around (and eventually work through). They also have a little of the grumpy/sunshine trope; I don't know if Blurg is exactly sunshine but he's curious, easily excitable, and (I headcanon) optimistic so I think it counts!

I headcanon Blurg as a good bit older than Dror, so there's also this tension between "respect your elders" and "for fuck's sake man you're a scientist, not even a fighter!" Putting Dror in a situation where he's conflicted between what he's been taught and raised in and what he can see (not just the value of Blurg's resource, how food and medicine gathered locally can supplement supply chains and boost an army but the way he comes alive, the passion and fervor with which he talks about mushrooms. Makes him crazy. I headcanon that Blurg has to learn not to info-dump if there isn't a bed or other comfortable place to fuck nearby because his back and knees aren't what they used to be LOL.)

I'm also very keen on the "Dror was injured and nursed to health by Blurg" angle so with his being vulnerable physically I headcanon he would be afraid to be vulnerable emotionally (at least until he heals some physically and trust develops between them). Blurg can be gentle and open enough for both of them (lucky Dror) but if he didn't understand the fear beneath his growls and gruffness, the concern of losing face or worse, it would never work out. Dror needs either someone as casually violent and ambitious as he is or the opposite, a complement like Blurg.

(I'm realizing that Dror would likely get on very well with Urdnot Wrex. And that I forgot to add Mass Effect characters to my ship list. Oops lol)

I also love the idea of, at some point when Dror is as healed as he'll ever be, something going wrong or some attack targeting Blurg. And how Blurg would feel to see Dror without a single thought (as usual...) throw himself between danger and Blurg. It would redouble his appreciation (and worry!) to see Dror in action, and specifically in a protective role rather than as an aggressor. Blurg tenderly caring for the scratches and bruises he gets in that situation. Dror protesting he's fine, he doesn't need a nursemaid (but secretly loving the attention). The lovemaking afterward. GAH! It's just so good lol.

3) The first song that comes to mind for Dror Ragzlin/Andrek is Liar Liar (Wasteland Monarchy) by Kamelot.

Notable lyrics:

Would you pray if I said you were dying? Would you be a little stronger? Or fall down on your knees Would you stay with me If you knew that I was lying? Would you walk away Or turn the other cheek?

I tremble where I stand My wish is your command The nature of a truly desperate heart Give me something real That I can truly feel Liar, liar on the wall

Also! Honorable mention to Heartkiller by HIM which I remembered when looking for Liar Liar. I feel like it fits for after they head out on their own and begin falling in love as themselves instead of their situations. Basically the moment when they realize they like what they have together and neither of them has to go back to the situations they used to be in. Dror doesn't have to go back to the goblins if he doesn't want to, Andrek doesn't have to go back to his former master. Especially now that he's learning necromancy (and other spells ofc) just fine on his own :3 (For clarity it's "master" in the sense of master and apprentice, this is the guy who took him in as an orphan. Not the best guy and not just because he's a necromancer, but not an actual slaver.)

Farewell heartless world I'll send you a postcard burnt in the flames You've tried so hard to extinguish with the fear of failing I'll write down everything I have learned, And edit it down to a single word: "Love" For you I'm waiting, anticipating

Extra credit:

For the Red Prince/Sebille, I think she's one of the few people who could convince him to give up his throne entirely. Not just convince him that he might fail at trying to take it back (and we all know in the game of thrones, you win or you die lol), but to give up on wanting it. As someone who suffered at the hands of his kin it already had to take a lot for them to forge a true bond and relationship. He couldn't ever win her heart without renouncing his people's (and especially his House's) reliance on and treatment of slaves. Once he's that far it doesn't seem that much further to accept that anything he does to reclaim his throne by force will only end up reinforcing the status quo. He won't be in a solid enough position to rock the boat that much. So why not chuck it all? They can explore the world - and I headcanon that after being sequestered in the Forbidden City up until his exile he would have a hunger to travel more. There's a lot more to Rivellon than his teachers bothered to tell him, and he wants to see it. And if anyone recognizes him there's an opportunity to start changing minds and attitudes from the ground up, to see he's bonded to an elf with a slave scar. (And of course depending on the ending, one of them might be the Divine, which is even more fun. Probably Sebille, if he's managed to recognize his biases and shortcomings enough to form a true bond with her.)

For Dror/Blurg, I headcanon that Blurg would find ways to include Dror in his work. At first probably just "oh my hands are full, could you move that for me?" but slowly progressing to things like grabbing readings or watching for something to bloom or wither. Always framed as assisting Blurg so Dror doesn't even realize he's doing science until he's been doing it for years lol. Though I also think if Blurg tries to get him to make a hypothesis or conclusions from those observations he'd just get snarly. (Whether he could answer it or not, of course. It's just a little too much science for him!)

For Dror/Andrek I like the idea that their association ends up helping Dror to actually be glad he got severed from the Absolute. (Certainly by the time they destroy her, but even before.) Originally he was all-fired to be her right hand man, but once he realizes she's not just a squiddie but basically the head squiddie he finds himself kind of adrift. Andrek ends up being his anchor then, and slowly he gets over the idea of being the leader of a warband and starts considering career choices that make it easier to keep Andrek at his side. And if Andrek had to throw in with goblins to stay with Dror he probably would, but he wouldn't particularly enjoy it. (Plus I headcanon Dror starts to really appreciate having more privacy lol.) They'd make a great pair of mercenaries, perhaps, or even just regular adventurers. Fewer scruples than most, admittedly, but Andrek being able to raise the star witness of murder cases and Dror being his protection detail in essence means they'd have options for sure. And I headcanon that in the end Dror finds himself actually happy. Having fun, doing what he wants to instead of just what's expected of him. And getting some good ass too of course.

Thanks so much for the ask! I had a lot of fun diving into this. Hoping this rekindles some of my inspiration!

[scotianostra]

On 24th of June 1314 Scotland rose as a nation to repel the English invaders at The Battle of Bannockburn.

The First War of Scottish Independence had say sporadic fighting since Edward I of England led a force into Scotland in the spring of 1296 to strip King John Balliol of his crown. During the next decade or so the likes of Andrew Moray, William Wallace and Simon Fraser among others had fought a guerrilla war against the English. Some of the nobility, Robert the Bruce and John Comyn included had chosen to fight with Edwards Armies at times, Moray died of his wounds some time after The Battle of Stirling Bridge, Wallace was executed in London after betrayal by he Scottish nobleman Sir John Menteith in the autumn of 1305, Longshanks must have thought the resistance was crushed but a year later The Bruce, after killing John Comyn at Dumfries, seized the Scottish crown, and so began a chain of events that would see a smaller Scottish Army defeat the English Army of Edward II on the fields at Bannockburn near Stirling.

After nearly a decade of fighting, by 1314 Robert the Bruce was in control of most of Scotland. Stirling Castle was the only major castle left in English hands, and so he sent his only surviving brother to Stirling with orders to take the castle.

However, his brother made a deal with the English commander: if the fort wasn’t relieved by mid-summer 1314, the English commander would surrender the castle to the Scots.

So far, Edward II of England had stayed well away from the fighting in Scotland. But even he couldn’t ignore the challenge of relieving Stirling Castle. He marched an army north to Scotland, stopping a couple of miles south of Stirling Castle, near a stream called the Bannockburn.

Meanwhile, Robert the Bruce had gathered together all of his fighting troops, and had arrived at nearby St. Ninian’s before the English. This gave him time to prepare the ground for the mother of all battles.

There are only about four hours of proper darkness at midsummer in Scotland. For the English army crossing the boggy ground beneath the town of Stirling, that was just enough time to feed and water horses and men, clean equipment and wonder what lay ahead of them once the sun rose. Morale was low. The foot soldiers were exhausted, having been forced to march as quickly as they could from Edinburgh 30 miles away in order to meet the midsummer deadline agreed for the relief of the castle.

Yesterday I touched upon the first day of the battle where the English had failed to best their Scottish enemies in a series of encounters including the infamous attempt by Sir Henry de Bohun to kill the Scottish king.

Nevertheless, Edward II was prepared. What he did not expect was the Scots to fight, for it was their habit to disappear into the hills when confronted by an English army. Preferring to fight on their own terms, the tactics Wallace had used and Bruce also in his battles.

As dawn crept into the sky on June 4th, Edward could see the Scots across the burn, seing them kneel, legend has it that the English KingI, called out “Ha! They kneel for mercy!” misunderstanding their intent. The Scots then stood up and marched in their schiltrons down the hill, straight towards the massing English knights, under cover from their own archers.

The English archers reacted swiftly, however, and quickly drove the few Scots archers from the field. Beneath a ridge was a line of casualties where the two armies first clashed. The well drilled Scottish lines held at the impact of the poorly organised English cavalry, however, then began driving back the English in a relentless, murderous, crushing slog. The lines were packed so closely together that English support from their archers quickly became impossible.

TheEnglish general The Duke of Gloucester had been stung by accusations of cowardice from his own king the day before. Subsequently, upon seeing the Scots’ advance, he hastily formed up the vanguard of the English cavalry and charged without even pausing to don his own surcoat. With great bravery, he charged the Scottish lines but went down under the spears of Edward Bruce’s men. Without his surcoat, he was not recognised as a potentially valuable hostage and was killed by the rampaging Scots.

The English had redeployed their now redundant archers across the Pelstream Burn, on the Scots’ left flank, where they wreaked total havoc amongst the Scotsmen under the command of the Black Douglas and Walter the Steward. But the Bruce had foreseen just such a development and deployed the Scots light cavalry under Sir Robert Keith in a circuitous movement to dispatch them. Unseen by the English, they tracked swiftly through the concealing countryside to take the English archers by surprise and drove them from the field.

It was at this point that the Bruce deployed his own schiltron, with support from Angus Og MacDonald and his highlanders, who he had previously held in reserve. As they smashed into the thick of the battle, the English began to lose heart. They were being driven back mercilessly and yet most had been unable to reach the front line to strike a blow. They could not manoeuvre effectively in the tight confines and on such broken terrain. Many fell beneath the crush, never to rise again and panic began to surge through their ranks.

English King Edward was persuaded to leave the field by his advisers as order in the English ranks collapsed and he fled for nearby Stirling castle with his escort. Upon seeing the Royal Standard, three golden leopards on a scarlet background, leaving the field, the English collapse became inevitable.

The Scottish archers returned to the field to wreak havoc upon the fleeing English. The “small folk” abandoned their reserve position by Coxet Hill and took to the field. It is unlikely that Robert the Bruce ordered this charge, but its effect was devastating upon the already retreating English forces. Seeing these hundreds of figures rush into battle carrying workmen’s tools as weapons and waving homemade banners, the English mistook them as another Scottish reserve force entering the fray. Subsequently, they totally disintegrated and fled the field, pursued in every direction by vengeful Scots

The English King eventually reached Stirling Castle but was refused entry by the castle commander, Sir Philip Moubray, as this would only have resulted in the King’s ultimate capture. He and his retinue were pursued relentlessly south and east to Dunbar by the Black Douglas, leaving his army to be slaughtered.

[sassenach77yle]

“I have lived through a fucking world war,” I said, my voice low and venomous. “I have lost a child. I have lost two husbands. I have starved with an army, been beaten and wounded, been patronized, betrayed, imprisoned, and attacked.

And I have fucking survived!”

My voice was rising, but I was helpless to stop it. “And now should I be shattered because some wretched, pathetic excuses for men stuck their nasty little appendages between my legs and wiggled them?!” I stood up, seized the edge of the washstand and heaved it over, sending everything flying with a crash—basin, ewer, and lighted candlestick, which promptly went out. “Well, I won’t,” I said quite calmly. “Nasty little appendages?” he said, looking rather stunned. “Not yours,” I said. “I didn’t mean yours. I’m rather fond of yours.” Then I sat down and burst into tears. His arms came round me, slowly and gently. I didn’t startle or jerk away, and he pressed my head against him, smoothing my damp, tangled hair, his fingers catching in the mass of it.

“Christ, ye are a brave wee thing,” he murmured.

“Not,” I said, eyes closed. “I’m not.”

I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips, closing my eyes as I did so. I brushed my battered mouth across his knuckles, blind. They were swollen, as bruised as mine; I touched my tongue to his flesh, tasted soap and dust and the silver taste of scrapes and gashes—marks left by bones and broken teeth. Pressed my fingers to the veins beneath the skin of wrist and arm, softly resilient, and the solid lines of the bones beneath. I felt the tributaries of his veins, wished to enter into his bloodstream, travel there, dissolved and bodiless, to take refuge in the thick-walled chambers of his heart. But I couldn’t. I ran my hand up his sleeve, exploring, clinging, relearning his body. I touched the hair in his oxter and stroked it, surprised at the soft, silky feel of it. “Do you know,” I said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever touched you there before?” “I dinna believe ye have,” he said, with a hint of nervous laughter in his voice. “I would ha’ remembered. Oh!” A stipple of gooseflesh burst out over the soft skin there, and I pressed my forehead to his chest. “The worst of it is,” I said, into his shirt, “that I knew them. Each one of them. And I’ll remember them. And feel guilty that they’re dead, because of me.” “No,” he said softly, but very firmly.

“They are dead because of me, Sassenach. And because of their own wickedness. If there is guilt, let it rest upon them. Or on me.” “Not on you alone,” I said, my eyes still closed. It was dark in there, and soothing. I could hear my voice, distant but clear, and wondered dimly where the words were coming from.

“You’re blood of my blood, bone of my bone. You said so. What you do rests on me, as well.” “Then may your vow redeem me,” he whispered.

He lifted me to my feet and gathered me to him, like a tailor gathering up a length of fragile, heavy silk—slowly, long-fingered, fold upon fold. He carried me then across the room, and laid me gently on the bed, in the light from the flickering fire.

~A Breath of Snow and Ashes

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen shines as the firebrand Welsh founder of the NHS Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan in Tim Price’s bouncy 2024 hagiography, revived by its director Rufus Norris as one of the productions marking the end of his ten years running the National. You can see why he brought it back: this is a big but eloquently simple piece of populist theatre, with a star leading a fine ensemble, exploring one of the creation stories of modern Britain.

But the play remains irksomely lumpy: sentimental one minute, overloaded with details on council proceedings in 1920s Tredegar the next. It unfolds in flashback, as Nye lies dying in 1960 in one of the NHS wards he brought into being. Price makes Nye’s motivation painfully obvious, from guilt over his miner father’s death from black lung to blazing anger at the wily Winston Churchill’s incompetent or self-serving wartime policies. A lifelong stutter spurred Nye on to become an autodidact and an orator, we gather.

Norris and designer Vicki Mortimer create a hospital-green swirl of sweeping curtains, spinning beds and billowing sheets on the vast Olivier stage, accompanied by the bleep and blip of a heart monitor. It coalesces into a library, the Parliamentary chamber, the bar where Nye chats up fellow MP and future wife Jennie Lee (Sharon Small) by emulating a rutting stag. At one point it morphs into a delicious Busby Berkeley-style routine to Get Happy.

Massed armies of the needy and the faces of masked, implacable surgeons are projected behind Nye, like hordes from the Lord of the Rings. “No health minister has ever persuaded the British Medical Association to agree to… anything,” Stephanie Jacob’s Clement Atlee tells Nye, in one of the many heavy-handed parallels Price draws between the 1930s and 40s and now.

Sheen’s Nye stumbles through it all, barefoot and pear-shaped in padded pyjamas that make him look like a plump teddy purchased in a hospital gift shop. Even as a cocksure adult and radical MP for Ebbw Vale his Nye never quite loses the air of a wondering child. Sheen’s protean ability has enabled him to play real people (Tony Blair, Prince Andrew), demons (Good Omens), Shakespeare heroes and even a grumpy version of himself (Staged) throughout his career. Yet he always retains a core of likeability that is key to the success of his Nye.

Among the supporting cast, Tony Jayawardena is a delight as a crafty, toad-like Churchill, while Jacobs’s Atlee glides menacingly towards Nye behind a motorised desk, like a beady, centrist Davros. Price and Norris compensate for the innate sexism of the era depicted by giving big, contextualizing speeches to Small’s fiery Jennie and Kezrena James as Nye’s sister Arianwen.

Amid the selective, broad-strokes depiction of Nye’s career and his success in forcing the NHS into being against monolithic opposition in 1948, there are some moments of quiet beauty. Discovering literacy in the library, he is borne aloft by members of the cast. Jayawardena and James double as the doctor and nurse tending him at the end. Rhodri Meilir as Nye’s dad shows him a seam of coal that courses through rock like an ECG pulse, and the play ends with the dimming of his miners’ lamp. For Nye Bevan, it was always about people.

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Review: NYE, National Theatre

[...] Michael Sheen gives a truly exceptional performance as Aneurin Bevan, displaying incredible range as a wonderfully innocent child, an angry out of work young man desperate for change, and a forceful, single-minded government minister - all while dressed only in a pair of stripy pyjamas. We see moments of cheek and charm as he woos his wife, and observe fear and desperation as he watches his father die from black lung, a condition that killed many coalminers, and is credited as part of the reason Bevan became so dedicated to improving the walfare standards of the nation. Sheen’s portrayal has depth, humour and heart, and is more than deserving of the standing ovation it earns him. [...]

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Review: Nye (Olivier Theatre)

[...] Unsurprisingly, the most affecting performance comes courtesy of our returning star, the spectacular Michael Sheen. Veering between the confusion of these jumbled memories and the sureness of purpose which made Nye Bevan such a successful figure, Sheen commands the stage with ease, and manages to keep the character charming and easy to root for without softening the annoying habits and grating tendencies which make others less than willing to engage with his ideas. In a large company rich with talent, Michael Sheen makes for a phenomenal leading man. [...]

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Review: Michael Sheen stars in NYE, National Theatre

[...] It’s understandable that, before he leaves The National Theatre, Sir Rufus would want to play back some of his greatest hits but the return of Nye feels slightly premature. Michael Sheen once again leads the charge as the fiery, complex, and endlessly fascinating Aneurin “Nye” Bevan. But while Sheen’s magnetic performance as the founder of the National Health Service anchors this sprawling biographical fever dream, the production itself teeters between brilliance and bewilderment, especially in its confounding first half.

The decision to revive Nye so soon barely a year after it premiered in the very same theatre raises eyebrows. Audiences who saw it in Spring 2024 might feel déjà vu creeping in as they settle into the Olivier’s familiar embrace. Yet Sheen’s sheer force of presence is reason enough for the return. He’s not merely portraying Bevan; even in the striped pyjamas he wears throughout, he embodies him with a kind of visceral, impassioned urgency that makes the air crackle with energy. Whether delivering thunderous oratory or muttering internal monologues in the haze of a hospital bed, Sheen is utterly compelling, threading Bevan’s passion, insecurity, wit, and vision into one seamless tapestry. [...]

Which brings us back to Sheen. In lesser hands, Nye might buckle under its own ambition. But Sheen is the lodestar throughout. His Bevan is not just a saint of the NHS, but a man who is flawed, driven, occasionally overwhelmed, but always human. Whether bantering with miners, squaring off against Churchill, or simply staring into the distance with the weight of the world in his eyes, Sheen holds our attention in a vice grip.

It may be too soon for a revival—especially for a play still wrestling with its own identity—but there’s no denying the impact of seeing Sheen inhabit Bevan’s firebrand spirit once more. Nye doesn’t always make sense, and it doesn’t always cohere, but it pulses with life, conviction, and theatrical daring. Much like the man himself.

[monasteryicons]

Father Emil Kapaun: The Saint in the Foxhole

Born of Czech immigrants in the small farming town of Pilsen, Kansas, in 1916, Emil Joseph Kapaun was ordained a priest in 1940 and served as an Army chaplain in Burma in World War II. During the Korean War, Captain Emil Kapaun was the Catholic chaplain assigned to the 3rd Battalion of the 8th Cavalry. On All Souls Day, November 2, 1950, this battalion of 3,000 soldiers was unexpectedly attacked by a force of more than 20,000 Chinese troops. The Americans, taken by surprise and fighting valiantly, never had a chance.

Father Kapaun ran from foxhole to foxhole, dragging out the wounded and giving last rites to the dying. Over the sound of gunfire and explosions he heard confessions. Feverishly working beyond the American lines in no-man’s-land, he actually stopped an execution and negotiated with the enemy for the safety of wounded Americans. No one knows how many young soldiers he carried to safety on his back. Going back again and again, he was finally taken prisoner as he tried to rescue another wounded soldier.

By daybreak the battle was over and hundreds of newly captured American POWs, including Father Kapaun, began a brutal forced 87-mile death march to a POW camp. Those wounded and unable to continue were shot dead. Father Kapaun picked up a wounded POW and began carrying him on his back, imploring others who were still in fair condition to do the same. Some followed his example and many managed to make it alive to the prison camp. Against the orders of his Chinese guards, Father Kapaun cared for the sick and wounded, built fires for warmth and cooking, searched for scraps of food, and even set up a makeshift system to purify drinking water.

To the great anger of his guards, Father Kapaun managed to gather the men together, officers and enlisted men, black men and white men, even atheists, agnostics and others, to join together in saying the Rosary.

Father Kapaun became an inspiration to the other POWs. The priest would preach openly to the men even though his captors ordered him not to do so. He would pray one-on-one with POWs, and some even embraced the faith and were baptized. Praying was banned, and when Father Kapaun ignored it and prayed with his men, his captors would strip him naked and make him stand on a block of ice for hours on end.

On Easter Sunday 1951, the bedraggled starving prisoners saw a silhouetted figure standing alone, illuminated by the morning sun. As the men approached, they realized it was Father Kapaun, wearing his priest’s stole and holding a missal. Somehow he had received permission to hold an Easter service. He could not celebrate Mass, but he read some Psalms and everyone recited out loud the prayers from Good Friday, including the Stations of the Cross. Survivors say that some men openly wept.

Worn down from the horrendous conditions and suffering from his own wounds and poor treatment, Father Kapaun died on May 23, 1951. He was credited with saving hundreds of lives through the loving care, compassion and spirituality he demonstrated to all his men.

In 1993, Captain Chaplain Emil Joseph Kapaun was declared a Servant of God by Pope John Paul II. The canonization process of this selfless priest is underway and there are two miracles under investigation at the present time. In 2013, he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor by President Barack Obama, becoming one of only five chaplains to receive our nation’s highest award.

[girlactionfigure]

The Holocaust Whistle-Blower: Jan Karski

He tried to save the Jews of Europe.

Jan Karski was a Polish resistance fighter and diplomat who warned world leaders about the Nazi extermination of European Jews. Tragically, none of the leaders of Allied countries did anything to stop the atrocity – including U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt.

Jan was born in 1914 in Lodz, Poland to a devout Catholic family. His father died when he was a small child, and his mother struggled to provide for her eight children. They lived in a neighborhood of overcrowded tenements where most of the residents were Jewish. Jan attended military school where he trained to be a mounted artillery officer and graduated first in his class.

He then trained to be a diplomat, and between 1935 and 1938 he worked at Polish consulates in Romania, Germany, Switzerland and the UK.  At the beginning of 1939 Jan returned to Poland to work at the Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In the fall of that year, World War II started when Germany invaded Poland. Jan – Officer Karski – was called up to lead a unit of the Krakow Cavalry Brigade. On September 10 the Krakow Army was defeated by the Germans in the Battle of Tomaszow Lubelski and Jan was captured as a prisoner of war. He managed to escape and went to Warsaw, where he joined the SZP, the first resistance movement in occupied Europe.

At that time, the Polish Government in Exile, overthrown by the Germans, was based in Paris. Jan organized secret courier missions to transport important information to the exiled Polish leaders. He traveled frequently between France, Great Britain and Poland, at great risk to himself. In July 1940 his luck ran out and he was arrested by the Gestapo while traveling through Czechoslovakia on his way to France. He was imprisoned and tortured so badly that he was transferred to a hospital. Fortunately Polish resistance leaders found out where he was and managed to smuggle him out of the hospital.

Returning to Warsaw, Jan served in the information bureau of the Polish Home Army, the main resistance movement in Poland. He and other Polish resistance leaders were horrified by the Nazi persecution of Polish Jews, and increasingly aware that the Germans planned to exterminate millions of them. Desperate to alert the rest of the world about the destruction of Polish Jewry, they chose Jan to gather evidence and then travel to Paris to report to prime minister Wladyslaw Sikorski, leader of the Polish government in exile.

Jan worked with Jewish resistance leader Leon Feiner, who smuggled him into the Warsaw Ghetto to observe conditions there. Jan later described the experience: “My job was just to walk. And observe. And remember. The odour. The children. Dirty. I saw a man standing with blank eyes. I asked the guide, what is he doing? The guide whispered, ‘He’s just dying.’ I remember degradation, starvation and dead bodies lying on the street. We were walking the streets and my guide kept repeating, ‘Look at it, remember, remember.’ And I did remember. The dirty streets. The stench. Everywhere. Suffocating. Nervousness.”

Jan also visited a transit camp for Jews on their way to death camps. He took photographs of what he saw there and in the ghetto, and carried them out of the country on microfilm. His testimony and pictures formed the first accurate account of the genocide of European Jews. Polish Foreign Minister Edward Raczynski published Jan’s reports in a pamphlet which was widely distributed. Jan traveled to several countries and met with high-level government officials including British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, but they either didn’t believe him, or they feared the political consequences of helping Jewish refugees.

In July 1943 Jan traveled to the United States, where he personally met with President Franklin D. Roosevelt in the Oval Office. Jan vividly described the Warsaw Ghetto and the concentration camps where Jews were being murdered en masse. After telling his grim tale, Jan expected Roosevelt to be emotionally affected and want to learn more. Instead, Roosevelt displayed no reaction and didn’t ask a single question. The president heard first-hand about the murder of millions of Jews – and saw the evidence – but he refused to help in any way and showed Jan the door. Ironically, the majority of American Jews voted for Roosevelt, and many Jews still revere him.

While in the States, Jan met with other important personages including Jewish Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter. Jan told his story, answered a few questions, and then the great jurist said, “I am unable to believe what you have told me.” Like Roosevelt, he chose to ignore the inconvenient truth of what was happening to the Jews of Europe. A Polish diplomat later confronted Justice Frankfurter and asked if he thought Karski was lying. “I did not say that this young man was lying. I said that I was unable to believe what he told me. There is a difference.” The difference was likely not clear to the millions of European Jews being tortured and murdered while a Jewish Supreme Court justice chose ignorance over a difficult reality.

Jan Karski’s identity was discovered by the Nazi occupiers in Poland, and he was unable to return home. He stayed in Washington DC, and earned his PhD at Georgetown University. After graduating, he began teaching at the Georgetown School of Foreign Service. Jan remained at Georgetown for forty years, teaching generations of American political leaders about East European and international affairs and comparative government. Jan’s students included Bill Clinton and Madeleine Albright. Jan wrote several books about the Holocaust, and gave lectures around the world about the horrors he witnessed, and the tragic inaction of world leaders. He was determined to make sure the Jews of Poland were not forgotten.

Jan said that he had two missions in life. The first was to bear witness to the genocide of the Jews of Europe. The second was to reveal the tragic indifference of Allied leaders.

In 1965, Jan married Pola Nirenska, a Polish Jew who was an acclaimed dancer and choreographer. He adored her, but Pola was scarred by losing 75 (!) members of her extended family in the Holocaust, and suffered from mental health issues. Pola tragically killed herself in 1992.

Jan Karski was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem. He was made an honorary citizen of Israel and received many other awards and honors in Poland, the United States, and Israel. He was nominated for a Nobel Prize. In 2000, Jan Karski was formally recognized as a human rights hero by the UN General Assembly. Soon after, Jan died in Georgetown at age 86. Jan continued to be honored posthumously, and in 2012 President Obama awarded him the country’s highest civilian honor, the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He has been the subject of multiple books, plays and movies. There is a statue of Jan sitting on a bench on Madison Avenue in New York City.

For bearing witness to genocide and speaking truth to power, we honor Jan Karski as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[squidbeans]

Semi-Academic Analysis of The Great Turf War

The Great Turf War was primarily a land conflict as global warming had sunk a significant portion of settleable landmass beneath the ocean, and marine society had progressed enough that their populations were beginning to skyrocket thanks to innovations in science and quality of life.

Inklings and Octarians had amicable relations beforehand and even engaged in cultural exchange, but the fierce tactics they resorted to created a divide between species that is still present today, manifesting in extreme prejudice for the other race.

Some contemporaries have speculated that this entire war may have been the result or at least exacerbated by a particularly harsh breakup between two leaders of opposing factions,  General Octavio of the Octarians and Captain Craig Cuttlefish, a young platoon leader for the Inkling forces.However, because of much of the propaganda floating around regarding the war and its belligerents, this theory can neither be confirmed nor denied.

shown here is a photo of the two leaders in conference, dated before the start of the conflict.

Octavio is equal parts revered and reviled by the people he still leads, but the life and whereabouts of Craig Cuttlefish are mostly unknown. As of today, he is known somewhat of a recluse, having settled with his young lover(identity unknown) in Cuttlefish County after the war to lead a quiet life.

There is much propaganda about the events and outcome of the war, with a popular sentiment being that the Octarians were "more diligent" in addition to their technological advancements, creating many early victories for the Octarian Nation.

The Inklings' early losses are cited as a result of "not wak[ing] up early enough in the morning to defend themselves", emphasizing their purported hedonistic tendencies.

Not long after the inception of the conflict, Octarian scientists had developed a form of organically-supported war machines, "The Great Octoweapons", four weapons of mass destruction designed to defeat the enemy by all means possible. The Inklings had their own response to this, although not well documented due to extensive cover-ups by the inkling government.

Although not widely known to the general public, some defectors from the Octarian cause have come forward with information that the Octoweapons program has been revived and even repurposed, with new machines being created to fight a small guerilla force, confirmed to be unsanctioned by the Inkling military.

Photos provided by former Octoling engineers of the original Great Octoweapons prior to the recent attack by insurgents.

Below is a crude rendering of what the Inkling WMDs could have looked like, accompanied by an Octoling city being razed to the ground. Despite Inkling propaganda portraying themselves as a benevolent force opposed to the crueler, more authoritarian Octoling army, it is clear that there are many atrocities being covered up to uphold the image of acceptance and diversity that modern Inkling society prides itself upon.

There are few surviving first hand accounts, so most of the information gathered here comes from unreliable secondary sources. A handful of modern historians are attempting to parse apart the bias shown from both sides to obtain a true account of this deadly conflict.

The tide began to turn as Inklings figured out that the Octoweapons were powered by recently-discovered electricity, and severing the connections to their power source gave them a desperately-needed advantage over Octarian forces, which had been dominating for months.

Arowana Castle was the site of a major conflict, a siege on the main Inkling stronghold staged by the Octarian army. It lasted for months and finally came to a head as the Inklings made a final push due to dwindling resources and excessive cruelty by Octarian soldiers. The offense was helmed by Captain Cuttlefish, eventually leading Inkling forces to victory. His peers described him as "reckless, but a military genius."

Rather than deliberate in war rooms, Cuttlefish preferred to fight on the front lines with his soldiers, a true revolutionary spirit. His close friendship with Ammoses Shellendorf, a horseshoe crab aligned with the Inklings, lead to many innovative uses of the weapons Shellendorf designed during the siege, at a time when the Bamboozler was the only available ink weapon sufficiently advanced for modern warfare.

A modern replica of the Bamboozler, still used in turf leagues today.

A rare photograph of the Squidbeak Splatoon, Cuttlefish's renowned fighting force. Pictured from left to right: Ammoses Shellendorf, Craig Cuttlefish, Judd, two unnamed Inklings. Despite the group's small size, their prowess with firearms and the insight of Judd, an ancient telepathic cat, changed the outcome of many conflicts.

The Inklings eventually sent diplomatic representatives to negotiate with the battered octarian forces, who were unable to compete with the sheer ruthlessness of the Inkling campaign. They intended to not only win, but to leave the Octolings with a reminder of Inkling superiority, decimating civilian populations not involved with the conflict and razing towns in preparation for new settlements.

The Octarians agreed to leave what were now Inkling lands and remain in the wastelands, a rocky expanse devoid of life-sustaining resources, so long as any and all trade was severed between the two nations. And with the exodus of the Octarian people, a new era of peace began in the region of Inkadia.

A modern map of Inkadia. Large craters can be seen south of Octo Canyon where the landscape has been reshaped by Inkling WMDs. The lakes and surrounding areas have been irradiated beyond safe levels, making it uninhabitable.

[epraim1992]

Bleach: K and N

The Schrifts of Robert Accutrone and BG9 were not revealed in the manga and strangely not in the anime as of now. I think it's a sign they will reappear.

The Bambies fought Soldat that were covered in Yhwach's black energy and eyes. I think they are incarnations of the the Soldat who were hit with Auswahlen.

A keycard revealed that the eyeball monsters who formed out of the torrent of the Soul King's power were a mass of spirits.

I think they are the souls of the people Yhwach shared his soul with.

Yhwach's soul pieces copy the knowledge and abilities of its host. I think with him it's the reverse of Zangetsu and that incarnations of his sacrifices exist in his soul.

Sternritter's offer up their souls to Yhwach when they die so he has the soul of BG9 and Robert Accutrone.

There is a theory that BG9 is Shawlong Koufang which I think will be true. In the anime they have the same VA which I think is strong evidence.

BG9 and Shawlong's Hollow form really look similar.

I think Shawlong was sent to the Soul Society after being killed by Toshiro.

I think after being sent to the Soul Society he was kidnapped by the Wandenreich to gather Daten about Aizen's former army and Hueco Mundo.

Similar with the Soul Society I think he used the knowledge to conquer Hueco Mundo.

After extracting all the info for him I think he was turned into a cyborg Quincy. Sui Feng stated that he was a mechanical doll.

It stood out to me when Senjumaru told Uryu he inherited Yhwach's blue blood.

BG9 literally has blue blood. I think it symbolizes that he was completely overtaken by Yhwach.

Mayuri speculated that the Quincy hostility toward Hollows was not based on resentment but fear because Hollows threaten their existence.

I don't it this will be true and we will see this through BG9. I think part of the reason they turned Shawlong into a cyborg is because they did not believe he deserved peace.

I think he could also reunite with Grimmjow.

Robert was one of the few Sternritter who knew Yhwach would use Auswahlen on the Quincy who were left behind. Showing a deeper understanding of Yhwach.

I think his suitcase will come into play. Due to being an older Quincy I believe he was friends with Soken.

And shared his attachment to Letzt Stil. I think his suitcase holds an upgraded Sanrei Glove that removes the drawbacks of Letzt Stil. In hindsight it seems like Soken gave Uryu he Sanrei Glove to fight Yhwach. I think Robert will give him the glove making Uyru's story go full circle.