#the results so far are an atrocity

[raplinesmoon]

a brief note:

i’m not usually very eloquent with my words, so if this is rough and i say something wrong or offensive, please forgive me, it’s been hard to piece together the right words. if there’s spelling errors, this is not proofread, and I’m sorry.

I’ve always maintained that writing and this blog is a safe space for me, a place to escape from the real world when I need it. but right now, what’s going on in the world isn’t something I can escape from. it’s robbed me of my sleep and my sanity. and honestly, writing and kpop just don’t even seem like valid enough escapes anymore, even though I feel immensely privileged to have these escapes in the first place. I feel numb. but it’s not even about me or this blog or any wips I have.

if you have five minutes to scroll through my blog, or any other kpop blog on Tumblr, I urge you to take another five minutes out of your day and learn about what’s going on in Gaza right now. do your own research, and uplift voices that aren’t being heard.

the beauty of being here is being able to connect with so many people far away, across the country or even across the world. if we can use our energy to celebrate our groups and our faves, we can also do the reverse.

life as we know it is being uprooted for so many people, the least we can do is be cognizant of that, to give some of our energy to mourn their losses and grieve alongside them. even better yet, we can hope alongside them that this reality doesn’t have to endure, that more innocent lives will not be lost.

if you get nothing else from this, I’ll leave you with this — if you’ve also been like me, feeling completely scared and horrified by what’s been unfolding, i see you. i feel your pain, and if you’re grieving, i feel your loss. i ask you to remember those on the other side of this who have a right to be even more scared and even more horrified, and who deserve your attention. the world is a complex and hard to understand place, but at the same time, it’s not. it’s brutal and violent. Please remember, that far beyond and political or religious debates, foreign economic and social policy, etc, when oppressors and bullies square off, and when people are power hungry, innocent lives are always in the middle of it. and that should be something that none of us are willing to be okay with.

if you want to stop reading here, that’s totally okay, otherwise check the tags to listen to me ramble on

[cursed-rat-of-homosexuality]

Okay so uhhh... visions came upon me and this was the result lol

Based on this absolute atrocity (affectionate... kind of)

[ID: A fourteen panel comic done in grayscale based on a Twitter thread from David Jenkins.

First panel: Neil Gaiman is surrounded by a crowd of fans, a bright spotlight is shining on top of him. One of the fans points a microphone in his direction and says "Mr. Gaiman! How would describe season two using only three words?"

Second panel: A close up shot of Neil, he smiles and says "Uhh... I'd say it's quiet, gentle, and romantic". "Romantic" is written in a flourished cursive font. There are little floating red hearts surrounding him.

Third panel: A shot of the crowd of fans saying "Awww" in unison, there are little hearts floating around. They find it adorable.

Fourth panel: A black screen titled "At David Jenkins' Twitter"

Fith panel: David Jenkins is sitting in table far away from the point of view, at the center of the image, a spotlight is shining on top of him. There is a crowd of fans forming a semi-circle around him, they are squished against one another, stoping at the little fence that is surrounding the table . A fan standing near the front says " I LOVE U... three words to describe season 2?"

Sixth panel: A close up shot of David Jenkins, he is sitting with both elbows proped up on the table, supporting his head with his hands. The harsh light is shining in on him, he looks serious and solemn. His head is tilted down but his eyes are looking directly at the camera, the whites of his eyes make a stark contrast against his shadowed figure. He says " Fucking sweet...".

Seventh panel: The shot is arranged in the same way as in fifth panel. David Jenkins is far away, sitting at his table , the fans are surrouding him in a semi-circle. The fan near the front replies "Give us one more word David"

Eight panel: A huge shock wave tilts the crowd back. All lights are out, except for the spotlight shining in on David Jenkins. David's arms are unnaturally elongated in a spider-like way, fiercely gripping the table with both hands.

Ninth panel: David lauches into the crowd. The point of view remains the same, but now his head is extremely close up the camera. He emphatically says "FUCKING"

Tenth panel: The scene is seen from the side, now we can see that David still remains sitting at his table, but his neck is extended in a long unnatural arch. He is directly looking at the fan from before, his head on top of them. The fan still has the microphone poiting in David's direction. A new spotlight is shining in on both of them. David says, "SWEET"

Eleventh panel: A close up shot of the crowd. The camera lies a little ways below David's head, only the bottom of it is visible. We see that the fan with the microphone is crouched and almost completely tilted back. The fan is looking directly at Jenkins. The crowd continues squished together, watching intently with shocked faces. David continues, saying "YOU"

Thirteenth panel: The shot is arranged in the same way as in the previous panel. David continues, saying "SLUTS". The letters are written in an emboldened font. The crowd is completely shocked, but also weirdly flattered, all of them are blushing.

Fourteenth panel: David Jenkins goes back to sitting at his table, in a movement similar to a metal spring coiling up again after being streched out. He is sitting far away from the camera, at the center of the image. The fans forming a semi-circle around him. They continue blushing, with some assorted murmurs of bafflement as in "oh my god", "dude what" and "why". /END ID]

[olderthannetfic]

I have conflicted feelings about the whole "copeganda" thing. On the one hand of course police procedurals have problems, portray cops of the good guys, etc. show rule breaking to get the "bad guy" as valid. i do see the problem there.

But on the other hand it feels like anti logic to say "you enjoyed x tv show so clearly you condone real world atrocities, you horrible person." And then you see people claiming that sam vimes or ACD Sherlock holmes are copeganda. or that fans watching a show where their fav actor plays a police officer are clearly racist. Or that all little kids who like paw patrol are somehow suspect or corrupted. And I worry we've lost the plot to another x media / depicting x is unredeemable crusade rather than trying to be mindful of the biases and messages in media.

Idk. Thoughts?

--

Copaganda is dangerous because it's a staple of CBS prime time et al. It tends to do things like make Internal Affairs evil in all cases. Even when you get the rare IA character who was arguably good for like 6 seasons or something, they'll still go evil for drama late in a show's run. (CSI: Miami, I'm looking at you.)

This is media with a massive reach that almost always reinforces a host of already extremely common social values, so it's going to be extra impactful relative to something like House of the Dragon incest.

We had some discussion here in the past about the measurable real world effect of B99 on people's opinions of the real NYPD. I'm much more willing to entertain people's fears about media when there are measurable effects and the audience size is large. I don't think we should ban cop shows, but there's a reason I like Miami Vice so much: it's noir, so everyone is horrible, including the authorities. While it was still extremely establishment-y, it managed to question the system a lot more than most of these simply by virtue of being a much darker show.

Mystery genre of various types isn't going away. It's a genre that really is copeganda: It's about social order being restored and making the world make sense.

We can be aware of some of the more insidious messages and push back against them though. It's like the torture thing: a lot of media wants to argue about whether the ends justify the means, but that whole complex philosophical can of worms is irrelevant since torture doesn't produce useful results in the first place.

Copaganda tends to not only make cops seem cool but portray villains stereotypically, demonize the important work of investigating cops themselves, justify police brutality, etc. There are a lot of specific problems that do not have to exist in media about cops solving mysteries. These are choices that mainstream US tv is making.

--

One thing I will say though... Mystery as a genre, including the worst of US cop shows, has often been far ahead of sff in diversity and even exploring contentious social topics. Geeks tend to think sff is so ahead of its time, but it's often pretty stick-in-the-mud compared to crime stuff. (Cue all the individual examples where it's the opposite way. Haha.)

[geekgirles]

Dardondakal: "You used your Dofus' powers to bring this psycho back to life!"

Not gonna lie, it is very satisfying to see somebody call Grougalorasalar out on the willing atrocity of his actions after he spent 95% of his screentime dragging Yugo and Adamaï for things that were either accidents or out of their control.

(Seriously, for all the things he blamed Yugo and his people for, he actually left out the only thing besides Qilby's actions to be directly caused by them—Yugo endangering the World of Twelve when he used the Dofus to fight Ogrest).

There's also the fact that, just like Grougalorasalar brought up valid points regarding the damage—intentional or otherwise—the Eliatropes have caused to their world, Dardondakal is also right in getting angry over the lengths his brother is willing to go to just to make a point.

Dardondakal: "You sacrificed a thousand innocent lives for her!"

After all, tragic as she might be, Julith is a well-known menace and selfish enough to sacrifice hundreds of innocents for the sake of her own family. And she would have succeeded hadn't Jahash acted as her moral compass. Which in turn suggests her husband was the only person she truly cared about, as not even Joris, her son, managed to talk her out of her plan.

With the added fact that she originally planned to destroy Bonta before falling for Jahash, then Dardondakal makes an excellent point on how bringing her along could do more harm than good. Combined with the fact that the Ebony Dragon kept preaching about how everything wrong with their world was the Eliatropes' fault while he, remorseful as he was, didn't hesitate to sacrifice a thousand innocent souls for the sake of his goals, let's just say it only makes Grougalorasalar look like a hypocrite and the only actual threat here.

Dardondakal: "We had a deal. I agreed to help you as long as you didn't go too far. And killing a thousand innocents to bring this murderer back to life is anything but not going too far!

As the Ivory Dragon says, he agreed to help his brother as long as he didn't go too far, and sacrificing hundreds of innocent lives in exchange of a murderer's is indeed going way too far. Especially when Salar makes it clear Julith is mostly a back-up. He killed a thousand people just in case Yugo and Adamaï refused to go along with his ultimatum.

Fella really knows how to put the crazy in "crazy prepared".

But let's be honest. The whole entire chapter is just Dakal spitting facts and bringing his brother's paranoia into question.

Dardondakal: "I told you I could go with you." Grougalorasalar: "You're too soft. We needed to be persuasive during a first meeting. If we want to save this world, Brother, we must be firm!"

Now, raise your hand if you think Salar's animosity against Yugo and his people and his actions are going to end up becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy that will result in the very catastrophe he was trying to prevent.

Grougalorasalar dismissed his brother as "too soft", but in doing so he has inadvertently caused more trouble for himself, because chances are Yugo and Adamaï will choose to hold onto their Dofus and the Eliasphere if it means they get a fighting chance of protecting their people against whatever Salar has planned for them if they don't comply.

Now, if he'd only brought Dakal along and they presented themselves before them without all the mind games and the attempted murder, chances are his more diplomatic brother would have been able to plea their case to Yugo and Adamaï and reason with them to hand over their weapons peacefully. Because as much of an emotionally-driven warrior as Yugo is, he is still deeply caring, empathetic, and prefers to use violence as his last resort. Alongside Adamaï's logical and cautious nature, and Amalia's understanding of their current standing in the World of Twelve, he would have most likely backed down a lot sooner and without collateral damage.

As things are right now, Yugo and Adamaï are equally likely to give in to his request, as they are to refuse him and to hold onto their weapons out of fear of Salar going against his word and hurting even more innocents regardless of what they choose to do.

Because let's not forget how he still wasn't above potentially killing Amalia when he also poisoned her glass. Or how he basically spelled it out for Yugo that he isn't exactly above killing his wife or his little siblings. That level of threat is sure to result in one very pissed off, very protective Eliatrope King. And we all know the things Yugo is capable of when it comes to protecting his loved ones.

(Thank you @cocogum for the screenshots).

And finally, we have this gem of a line that perfectly encapsulates how far Grougalorasalar really is going with his demands.

Dardondakal: "You're asking them for the impossible"

And again, cat boy aims his shot and hits all the targets.

Because Salar's demands are excessive! Not only is he demanding they hand over their weapons, which could very well be their only line of defence against a world that has made it clear time and time again that it won't accept them; but he is also incredibly hypocritical in his demands!

As @cocogum elaborated on in her review, while it could be argued that asking them to hand over the Eliasphere can be reasonable (it's not, and I'll get to that in a minute), asking them for the Eliatrope Dofus is not.

Because that's their Dofus. Powerful as they are, they undoutedly belong to their people, which was precisely why Adamaï was so incensed back in the OVAs when they were stolen or someone suggested they used them. Because it was not their decision to make, but of their people. Likewise, except for Efrim and Nora's, those Dofus house the souls of the remaining members of the Council of Six, of their siblings! He is basically asking Yugo and Adamaï to give their family up for ransom.

Not to mention, such demand is highly hypocritical of Grougalorasalar.

Last chapter he revealed he and his siblings were aware of everything that happened under Ogrest's control, and how much they resented being reduced to his pets just because he possessed their Dofus... And yet he expects Yugo and Adamaï to just hand over their Dofus to him even though they risk following a similar fate? Especially when they have always tried to keep them either hidden or in good hands while it's apparent the Primordial Dofus are basically up for the taking?

Now he really is crossing a line.

And, arguably, he is equally foolish to demand the Eliasphere and expect nothing bad comes out of it.

For all he ragged on about Nox, Qilby, and Oropo, and the damage they did with the Eliacube, he seems to be forgetting one crucial detail: even if the Eliacube and Eliasphere technically belong to the Mechasms, the only ones who can actually wield them efficiently are the Eliatropes (and Eliotropes)!

That's why Nox completely lost it. Because he couldn't handle or properly utilise the Eliacube's power. And Salar expects things to calm down just because the Eliatropes are no longer in possession of the Eliasphere? No! If anything, he's only risking further destruction and mayhem in case it falls into the wrong hands.

Given how Dakal is clearly the most reasonable and most principled of the two, I sure hope he goes behind his brother's back in an attempt to stop him. Who knows? Considering he chose Joris as his guardian, unless that changed in the centuries following his childhood, maybe he'll go to him to warn him of what Grougalorasalar is planning and that will be why Joris appears next chapter.

[ghoulsbounty]

From a Previous Life (Pt 4)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You and the Ghoul quickly learn that your actions—and your words—carry significant consequences.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, doctor examination, sickness/radiation poisoning, arguing, angst, grief, yearning, rejection, slow burn, stubbornness, canon-typical violence, miscommunication, mention of blood/wound, reader throws things.

Word Count: 7.1K

A/N: It's been a while since I posted for this story, part 4 has been kicking my butt! Lots of angst and drama as usual, but the happy ending is on the horizon! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

After thoroughly scouring the house and filling his saddlebag with every vial he could find in the basement, the Ghoul was adamant that you both leave immediately and put as much distance as possible between yourselves and the grim scene. You offered no resistance; despite the crushing fatigue that weighed heavily on your body and muddled your thoughts, you were eager to escape the horrors of that place. The pervasive stench of blood and decay had seeped into your clothing, becoming nearly suffocating, making it difficult to breathe and causing a deep ache in your chest.

As you left, you couldn't resist the urge to glance back at the lifeless forms of Mags and her family. The scene struck you deeply, like a blow to the gut that stole your breath away. In her final moments, Mags had dragged herself to her son, her fingers interlocking with his as she drew her last breath. That image seared itself into your mind, intensifying your desperation to leave until you were nearly sprinting out of the door.

The house now loomed as a grim testament to the violence that had transpired within its walls. Shadows gathered thickly in the corners, murmuring unsettling recollections you wished to erase from your mind. Each groan of the floorboards and whisper of the wind through shattered windows seemed to echo with ghostly reminders of the atrocities you had witnessed—and narrowly escaped. This sinister ambiance was compounded by a deeper regret: your inability to rescue the Ghoul, resulting in your needing to be rescued by him once again.

The Ghoul moved with a newfound intensity and focus that left your nerves frayed. Normally cautious, almost paranoid about traveling after dark with you in tow, his demeanour had shifted dramatically. Driven by a sense of urgency, he hurriedly led the way outside. "We can't stay here," he growled under his breath, more to himself than to you, his voice a tense murmur. "It's not safe. The next town isn't far; we can make it if we hurry." His words were laced with determination, pushing both of you forward into the encroaching darkness.

His usual paranoia had transformed into a fierce resolve. The normally measured pace was replaced by swift, almost frantic strides, and you struggled to keep up. Each step was a battle against the pain and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm you, but the Ghoul's insistence was infectious, propelling you forward despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs.

"We're close," he assured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or trying to convince himself. The path ahead was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the dim glow of the moon partially hidden by clouds. The noises of the night—distant howls, rustling amongst the dunes, the occasional whistle of the wind—kept your nerves on edge, but the Ghoul's presence offered a small measure of comfort despite your earlier confrontation.

You remained silent, too afraid to question why he was so determined to leave the house in such a hurry. You had your own reasons to comply—each step a painful reminder as your shirt rubbed against the scratch on your pregnant belly—but his urgency unnerved you. He was usually the epitome of calm under pressure, but now he appeared almost desperate, causing your own anxiety to simmer just below the surface.

You cast a wary glance at the Ghoul, observing the tension etched into his features. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes flicked restlessly from side to side, meticulously scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. The silence stretched taut between you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. As you approached the edge of the property line, the urge to speak became overwhelming. Unable to suppress your curiosity and growing unease, you finally broke the silence.

"What's chasing us?" you whispered, the question escaping your lips before you could rein it in. His head snapped towards you, eyes narrowing for a moment before he responded, his voice low and gravelly.

"You don't need to worry about that," he murmured. The edge in his tone cut through the night air, sending a chill down your spine. "Just hurry up," he said louder this time, his voice firm. As the faint outline of the town emerged, he quickened his pace, and you struggled to keep up, your backpack bouncing painfully against your spine with each hurried step.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the icy air searing your lungs as a sudden, sharp pang shot through your abdomen. Clutching your stomach, you recoiled in horror when your hand came away slick with thick, crimson blood. Lifting your shirt, the dim light revealed the alarming state of your wound. What had started as a mere surface scratch had transformed into a grotesque display of infected tissue, marked by unsettling shades of green and purple. Yellowish pus oozed from the lesion, trickling down your trembling thigh, each drop intensifying your dread.

The sight alone was enough to send waves of panic through you, but it was the accompanying symptoms—the feverish chills, the throbbing pain, and the overwhelming weakness—that truly underscored the gravity of your situation. Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the escalating fear gripping your mind as you realized just how dire your circumstances had become.

Dizziness overwhelmed you, a disorienting fog clouding your thoughts as a wave of nausea surged, making your mouth water uncontrollably. The chilling night air felt like icy tendrils wrapping around you, adding to the disorientation. You fought to steady your breathing and quell the nausea, each breath a struggle against the rising panic that threatened to consume you. Your vision blurred, and the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway.

You knew you should tell him about your worsening condition, but you were reluctant to add to his worry. The Ghoul had enough on his mind without your complications, you rationalized, though a niggling part of you wanted to keep it secret just to spite him. Despite his presence and support, the unresolved tension between you lingered, feeding your stubbornness.

"We're almost there," you muttered to yourself, a mantra to keep your legs moving. The Ghoul glanced back at you, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your distress.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You forced a weak smile, nodding slightly. "I'm fine," you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. The effort to appear composed was draining, and the dizziness intensified, making it harder to focus on the path ahead.

The town's lights shimmered in the distance, their soft glow promising relief and safety. Each step felt heavier, your legs trembling with the effort to keep moving. The Ghoul eyed you warily, noting the beads of sweat that dripped from your brow despite the harsh coolness of the evening. His hand reached out suddenly, gripping your arm and stopping you in your tracks. You swayed on unsteady feet, his firm hold the only thing keeping you upright. His eyes, filled with concern, searched your face for an explanation you weren't ready to give.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and demanding.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's nothing," you mumbled, but your body betrayed you, another wave of dizziness making you clutch at his side for support.

"Don't lie to me," he said, his grip tightening. "You're not fine. Tell me what's going on."

Your vision blurred again, dark spots dancing at the edges, and you stumbled, the infection's toll on your body becoming undeniable. Each pulse of pain radiating from the wound sapped your strength, making it increasingly difficult to stay upright. Despite this, a stubborn part of you resisted admitting the severity of your condition, not wanting to appear weak or vulnerable.

The Ghoul tightened his grip on your arm as he shook you gently but firmly, trying to snap you out of your daze. "Tell me. Now." He urged, his voice low but intense. He dipped his head to meet your eyes, which wandered aimlessly, struggling to focus.

"I... I'm not feeling well," you stammered to the Ghoul, your voice quivering as you struggled to focus on him through the growing haze of discomfort. His eyes widened as he pulled your hand away from your stomach, revealing the crimson stain seeping through your wet shirt. He lifted the hem, his teeth clenching at the sight of the grievous wound.

His gloved hands moved with a mixture of desperation and gentleness as he examined the area around the infected wound. He was careful not to press too hard, yet his touch was thorough, probing the extent of the damage. The seriousness of the situation was unmistakable in his expression—the furrowed brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the flicker of panic in his eyes. You could see him mentally calculating the next steps, his mind racing to figure out how best to manage the injury in the desolate surroundings.

The cold air bit at your exposed skin, adding to your discomfort, while the distant lights of the town seemed both tantalizingly close and frustratingly far. The Ghoul's demeanour was a blend of determination and fear as he quickly formulated a plan in his mind.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, thin with fear. You weren't sure if you truly wanted to know the answer, and even less sure that he would tell you. His eyes flickered with something unreadable and he hesitated for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal.

He grasped your wrist and began rapidly tapping on the screen of your Pip-Boy, his eyes scanning the information with growing alarm. The glow from the screen illuminated the deep lines around his sunken eyes, and in your hazy state, you thought about how handsome he looked. When he finally looked up, you felt unsteady under his worried gaze.

"We need to go—now," he declared, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. His grip tightened around your forearm, the pressure both reassuring and insistent, as he tried to pull you up. The intensity in his eyes and the firmness of his hold made it clear that there was no time to waste, and your mind struggling to keep pace with the rapid escalation of the situation.

Despite his urgency, your legs betrayed you. They faltered, stumbling and ultimately failing as you collapsed onto the sandy ground with a soft thud. The Ghoul's voice echoed as if from a distance, his words urging you to get up, but your body felt disconnected, heavy, and unresponsive. A visceral wave of panic surged through you, tightening its grip around your chest, making it hard to breathe. The edges of your vision began to blur, darkness creeping in, threatening to engulf your senses like a spreading shadow.

As you lay sprawled on the cold, sandy ground, the Ghoul quickly bent down to your level, his face etched with unease. He searched your eyes, looking for any flicker of awareness, but your responses were slow, your eyelids heavy and fluttering, making his movements appear surreal and drawn out, as if you were both submerged underwater.

Despite the chill that pervaded the air, beads of sweat continued to form on your forehead, streaming down your face as a fever raged within you. In a feeble attempt to find solace, you reached out blindly, seeking the familiar touch of your companion, only to grasp at the empty, chilling air.

Then, a profound dizziness overwhelmed you, like being pulled into a deep, dark chasm. You lost all sense of direction, no longer aware of what was up or down, past or present. The world around you faded to nothingness as you slipped further away, drifting into an inescapable void that swallowed all consciousness.

A faint voice, soft yet persistent, gently coaxed you back from the void's embrace. Wrapped in a dense fog, your mind meandered through scattered memories, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Slowly, sensations began to return as if awakening from a deep slumber; nerves tingled and flickered back to life under your tentative command. The first movement was a mere twitch of a finger, but it felt monumental, the brush of thin cotton against your skin amplifying the moment.

What happened? Where were you? These questions nudged at the corners of your slowly clearing mind. With effort, you drew a deep breath, marshalling the strength to pry your eyes open. They fluttered initially, rebelling against the harshness of light and the strain of waking. Gradually, your vision steadied, focusing upward at a ceiling marred by stains and the passage of time. You lay still for a moment, taking in your surroundings, trying to piece together how you had arrived at this unfamiliar place.

"Thought I'd lost you again," the voice spoke, its timbre resonating with relief and lingering anxiety. You turned your head slowly, your neck stiff and uncooperative, to see the Ghoul sitting in a dusty armchair nestled in the corner of the room. He had one leg crossed over the other, and his hands were clenched into tight fists resting in his lap. His posture betrayed the tension that had not yet left him.

"You seem to have a nasty habit of getting away from me," he added, a faint, wry smile playing at the edges of his lips, softening the sternness that had settled over his features. The combination of relief and reproach in his eyes alluded to the worry he had endured. The dusty armchair creaked slightly as he shifted, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you.

Your lips parted to respond, but the pain and dryness in your throat silenced you, leaving only a strained whisper. The effort made your vision blur momentarily, and you felt a wave of dizziness threaten to pull you back under.

The Ghoul jumped from his seat, closing the distance between you in two swift strides. He grabbed a glass of water from the side table and held it to your lips. His hand gently rested underneath your chin, helping you tilt your head back into the pillow as you swallowed painfully. The cool water soothed your raw throat, each gulp easing the burning sensation and bringing a momentary relief from the discomfort. His gloved touch was surprisingly tender, his eyes filled with concern as he looked down at you.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. The rough exterior he usually presented was momentarily stripped away, revealing a depth of care you hadn't fully realized before. As you finished the water, he set the glass aside, his hand lingering on your chin before carefully adjusting the pillow behind your head, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Thanks," you managed to whisper, your voice still hoarse but filled with gratitude. "Guess you can't get rid of me, can you?" You joked, your voice light despite the underlying exhaustion. 

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Wouldn't want to," he replied, his tone gruff but softened by a note of sincerity. A flutter rose in your stomach at his words, and you felt an ache at the growing distance between you as he returned to his seat. Your fingers flexed against the bedsheet, wanting to reach out to him, but the memory of his words in the house still lingered.

The room seemed colder without his proximity, the silence stretching out once more. You watched him, noting the tension still evident in his posture, the way his hands clenched and unclenched restlessly in his lap. His gaze was fixed on some distant point, lost in thoughts you couldn't decipher.

As your eyes adjusted and began to focus, you took in more of the surroundings. You were in a bedroom, worn and slightly dishevelled. The vanity mirror across from the bed was cracked, its spiderweb fractures distorting the reflections it caught. A large, old wardrobe stood partially open, its doors unable to fully close, with clothes spilling out like colourful waterfalls onto the dusty floor.

The walls were faded, peeling wallpaper hinting at a time long past, while the floorboards creaked softly under any movement. A small nightstand next to the bed held your Pip-Boy and the empty glass. The bed you lay in had a wrought iron frame, rusted and showing signs of age, with a thin, threadbare quilt covering you. A faint scent of dust and age hung in the air, mingling with a lingering hint of antiseptic from recent efforts to clean and treat your injuries.

Despite its state, the room had a certain charm, a sense of having been lived in and cared for, even if that care had become sporadic over the years. The small details—a chipped teacup on the vanity, a child's drawing pinned to the wall—made it feel almost homely.

Your eyes widened in a flash of panic as you turned back to the Ghoul, but he cut you off before you could speak. "We aren't back there," he quickly interjected, his voice firm but reassuring, keen to alleviate your fears even momentarily. "We're safe."

His words settled some of the immediate panic, and you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the present. Of course he hadn't taken you back to Mags' house, he'd wanted to get away from there almost as much as you had. Maybe more.

"Where are we?" you croaked, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Your gaze shifted to the window, where thin curtains let slivers of daylight filter through, casting faint patterns on the floor. The sounds of street vendors calling out their wares and distant bird calls drifted in, mingling with the occasional clatter of footsteps and murmured conversations from passers-by.

He shifted slightly in his seat, the gentle sunlight casting a warm glow on his worn features. "A makeshift clinic, managed by an old friend," he explained, his voice calm but laced with a hint of unease. "It's safe, for now." His eyes flickered towards the window, as if to reassure himself of the safety he promised, before returning to you with a determined expression.

He paused, his face reflecting deep thought as he carefully considered his next words. "You've been unconscious for almost two days," he disclosed, his voice heavy with the weight of the vigilance he had maintained while watching over you. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, the lines on his face more pronounced from the sleepless nights.

"You should have told me," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "How could you be so reckless to keep this to yourself?" His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away, the weight of his stare drilling into your conscience. The guilt welled up inside you, sharp and consuming, making your chest tighten with regret.

"I didn't want to bother you," you said softly.

He scoffed in response, rolling his eyes. "That's ridiculous," he muttered.

Narrowing your eyes in determination, you pushed yourself up to rest against the pillow, wincing slightly from the effort. The fabric rustled as you settled into a more upright position, your gaze locked onto his, the resolve in your eyes challenging the storm of emotions swirling in his.

"I'm tired of being a burden," you continued, your voice steadier now. The weight of your words hung in the air, the unspoken resentment evident in your tone. The room felt still, the sounds from outside momentarily fading as the intensity of the moment drew both of your focuses inward.

He shook his head, a sneer playing on his lips as he looked at you. "That's not your choice to make," he said, his tone carrying a cold edge. His eyes shifted away from you, staring out the window as if searching for answers in the distance.

The room seemed to grow colder, the sunlight no longer providing its gentle warmth but instead highlighting the tension between you. Each breath you took felt heavier than the last, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on both of you. The air was thick with emotions, and the distance between you felt insurmountable.

A chill ran through you, his words settling like a heavy weight in the space between you. "Seems I don't get much choice over anything nowadays," your voice wavered slightly, but you held his gaze when it snapped back to you, determined to confront him. You could see his jaw tighten, his eyes flickering with a mixture of frustration and something you couldn't quite identify. Each second stretched out painfully as you waited for his response.

"If you've got a death wish, that's between you and that baby," he growled through clenched teeth, pointing at your pregnant belly. "But don't drag me into it. I'm not hauling my ass across the desert just for you to throw your life away at every turn," he spat, his words sharp and biting.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sunk in. "Glad to see where your priorities truly lie," you said, tears welling in your eyes. Anger surged through you at his insinuation. You didn't have a death wish—far from it. Since the bombings, you had fought tooth and nail to survive and to keep your baby safe, and he knew that.

His words felt like a betrayal. Whether he was trying to push you further away to save face or make it clear that he really did feel nothing for you, his harshness cut deep. The tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down your cheeks. "You know I've done everything to keep us alive," you continued, voice trembling with emotion. "I can't believe you'd think otherwise."

His eyes flickered with a brief moment of regret, but it was quickly masked by the anger that still lingered. "I'm just trying to keep you safe," he muttered, but the words felt hollow against the backdrop of your pain.

"I never wanted this!" you shouted, your voice cracking. "You captured me. I didn't ask for any of this!"

The anger and fear boiled over, and your desperate cries filled the room, making the air between you almost suffocating. The walls seemed to echo your words, amplifying the magnitude of the moment. His expression remained hard, but you could see a flicker of something cross them.

"You think I wanted this?" he shot back, his voice rising. "None of this was supposed to happen!"

"You should have just left me out there!" You cried, voice breaking under the weight of your anguish.

"I wish I did!" The raw emotion in his voice startling you as he stood up, his figure towering over you. The intensity of his words cut through your anger, slicing deep into your heart and leaving you both teetering on the brink of something irreversible. His face was flushed with a mixture of regret and pure fury, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was a stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain. Each of you grappled with the complex web of emotions that bound you together, the weight of your shared past and uncertain future pressing down heavily.

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your gaze dropping to the intricately patterned bedsheets. The delicate floral design blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. "Get out," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the sharp flinch of his jaw from the corner of your eye told you that he had heard you clearly.

The words felt like lead on your tongue, heavy and final, as you struggled to maintain your composure. The room, once a refuge, now felt like a battleground. You could sense his presence still looming over you, his conflicting emotions almost tangible in the air between you. The moment stretched, every second amplifying the tension.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought back to the memories you'd shared together. Each recollection felt like a dagger to the heart—the lingering gazes, the fleeting moments when you sought solace in his arms, the fragile bond you believed was forming between you. Perhaps it had all been a figment of your imagination, a desperate illusion in the midst of chaos.

The realization struck you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and reeling. The weight of it pressed down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs and making your chest ache. You remembered the way his eyes would soften, the rare, fleeting smiles that had given you hope, the comforting warmth of his embrace. But now, those memories felt like cruel jokes, mocking your naïve belief in a connection that perhaps never truly existed.

The Ghoul sighed, running his tongue over his teeth as his gaze briefly flickered to the ground before locking back onto you. "What are you gonna do?" he asked, his tone softer but still edged with irritation. "Don't be so foolish; you wouldn't last a second out there alone."

"Maybe not, but that's no concern of yours," you retorted, refusing to meet his gaze. "If you don't want us, then we don't want you either." You placed a firm hand on the swell of your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

A small flurry of movement, a determined kick from within, gave you a momentary pause. The sensation was both a reminder and a source of strength. You sniffed, drawing in a shaky breath, and willed your voice to work as you finally looked up at him through bleary eyes, the tears making everything a blur. "Leave," you commanded, your voice trembling but resolute.

He sighed again and moved toward you with an outstretched hand, but you stopped him mid-step. "Go! Get out!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls.

The Ghoul looked at you exasperatedly. "There's nothing for you here with me, do you understand? Dispel any romantic notions you have about me, darlin'. I am not a good man," he said, his eyes pleading with you. "But it doesn't mean I want you in harms way—far from it. Just listen to me, dammit."

His words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and final. "I said get out!" You shouted again, your hand gripped the Pip-Boy on the nightstand, and with a surge of adrenaline, you hurled it towards him. He ducked just in time, the metal device shattering against the wall behind him. Shards of glass and metal scattered across the floor, the sharp sound punctuating the tension in the room.

He straightened up, his eyes wide with shock. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your heavy breathing. You sat there, chest heaving, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. The broken pieces of the Pip-Boy lay on the floor, a stark reminder of the irreparable rift between you.

"Just leave," you said, your voice now a raw whisper. "We don't need you." The determination in your eyes left no room for argument. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and walking out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the stillness.

A few hours later, a knock on the door startled you from your sobs. The door creaked open, and an elderly man entered. His features bore the unmistakable signs of ghoulification: mottled, decaying skin and sunken eyes. Despite his unsettling appearance, his expression was warm and kind, a gentle smile softening the harsh lines of his face.

You eyed him warily as he stepped into the room, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he was conscious of not alarming you further. The contrast between his ghastly visage and the kindness in his eyes created a strange, almost disorienting juxtaposition, leaving you uncertain but cautiously hopeful.

"Good to see you awake," he greeted with a gentle smile, his voice carrying a soothing, raspy tone. He moved toward your bedside with a practiced ease that spoke of long experience and familiarity with such situations. His steps were steady and confident, his presence oddly comforting in the wake of the Ghoul's absence. 

He stopped next to you, his eyes briefly scanning the room before focusing on the IV bag connected to your arm. With expert hands, he adjusted the flow, his touch slow and precise. "Your friend said you were feeling better," he remarked, glancing back at you with a reassuring nod. "Looks like the RadAway is working," he commented, his tone imbued with calm confidence. 

The mention of 'your friend' had your eyes darting to the door, replaying the memory of him walking out of it hours before. A sudden dread gripped you as the realization struck: perhaps it really would be the last time you saw him. Why wouldn't it be? You'd told him to leave, said you didn't want him, which was only partially true.

The truth was more complicated. You wanted him. You undeniably craved his affection and needed his approval, but your stubbornness—almost a mirror of his own—kept you from admitting it. He had made it clear that he didn't want you, or at least that's what his words said. Yet, his actions often told a different story, leaving you confused and frustrated.

You weren't going to beg. Pride and self-respect wouldn't allow it, no matter how much your heart ached for him to come back. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, a storm of longing, pride, and hurt. You drew a shaky breath, pushing the thoughts aside as you refocused on the present, determined not to let your vulnerability show.

"Dry your eyes, pet," the doctor said softly, offering you a handkerchief from his pocket. You took it with a grateful smile, dabbed at your wet cheeks until you felt the tears ebb.

"Thank you," you whispered, watching as the yellow liquid filled the tube attached to your arm. "What is RadAway?" you queried, your eyes narrowing slightly with caution as the elderly ghoul continued his examination, his fingers pressing against your wrist to check your pulse.

"It's a medical treatment used to flush radiation from the body," he explained, his voice steady and informative. "It speeds up recovery, especially with injuries like yours." He paused, then gave you a concerned look. "It's essential out here. I'm surprised you don't know about it."

His eyes held a hint of curiosity, perhaps even worry, as he studied your reaction. The weight of his gaze made you acutely aware of your vulnerability and the gaps in your survival skills, but his tone remained kind, without a trace of judgment.

You sniffed and feigned a smile. "I'm still getting my bearings on the surface," you said, your voice small.

His eyes flickered with an unspoken understanding, a subtle nod acknowledging the enormity of adjusting to life above ground. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a sympathetic smile, and he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

"That makes sense," he replied softly, his voice full of understanding. "It's a lot to take in, but you're lucky your friend got you here when he did. He almost woke the whole town with his hollering. I was in the middle of a quiet evening when the commotion started. I looked out the window and saw him rushing through the streets, carrying you in his arms. Poor feller, the colour drained straight from his face with all the worry—well, as much as it can drain from us irradiated folk."

He paused, shaking his head slightly with a wry smile. "He was frantic, you know, practically bursting through the door, demanding help. I've seen people in desperate situations before, but the way he looked at you... It was clear you mean a lot to him."

The doctor's words painted a vivid picture, but you shook your head, dispelling the hopeful image he conjured. The Ghoul's actions came about as a result of you flaking out on him during his urgency to get away from that house. Despite wanting to believe otherwise, you reminded yourself that you didn't mean anything to him.

"He was just trying to get away," you murmured, more to yourself than to the doctor. "I collapsed, and he didn't have a choice."

The doctor studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe," he conceded gently, "but actions speak louder than words. Sometimes, people show they care in ways they can't admit to themselves."

You didn't respond, letting his words linger in the air as he pulled a rusted stethoscope from his coat, preparing to listen to your heart. The cold metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of your conflicting thoughts.

As the doctor listened intently, you couldn't help but replay the moments of the Ghoul's protectiveness in your mind. The anguish on his face when he found you at the house, the curl of his finger beckoning you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you lost yourself in his touch. Had you really imagined those moments? The ones before those? They felt as real as the beat of your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of them.

The tenderness in his eyes, the security of his embrace—it all seemed too genuine to be mere figments of your imagination. Yet, his harsh words and actions contradicted those fleeting instances of connection, leaving you in a state of confusion and doubt.

But sometimes, kind words did slip through. You remembered what he had said hours ago, before the shouting: you had told him that he couldn't get rid of you, and his response had been a soft admission, almost lost in the tension of the moment. "Wouldn't want to," he'd said.

You were so hurt by his past rejection, by his constant pushing you away rather than addressing any feelings he may harbour, that you didn't stop to consider, in the heat of the moment, that perhaps you were doing the exact same thing when you told him to leave.

The doctor finished his examination and removed the stethoscope, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Your heart sounds strong," he said, his tone reassuring. "Physically, you're doing better. But don't ignore what's happening inside here," he added, gently tapping his temple.

You nodded absently, his advice barely registering as you continued to grapple with your emotions. The lines between reality and wishful thinking blurred, and you found yourself longing for clarity in the midst of the turmoil.

"Would you like me to check?" he asked, gesturing to your stomach that you still hugged protectively. You blinked, slow to understand until he mouthed 'the baby.' He was a genuine doctor, or as close to one as you could find in the wastelands. The individuals who had held you captive in the vault were more torturers disguised as scientists than actual healers. However, the risk of revealing your pregnancy was not lost on you, especially after recent events.

His hands stilled as he met your gaze with an understanding that seemed to stretch beyond the typical patient-doctor exchange. It was evident he had a wealth of experience dealing with the unique challenges of the wasteland, a far cry from the so-called doctors of your past who had hidden cruelty behind their clinical masks.

"Yes please," you replied, your voice tinged with apprehension. You hesitated, weighing the risk of revealing too much against the need to know your child's fate. "Is my baby okay? Can you tell me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with the weight of your worries and hopes.

The elderly ghoul's expression softened further, and he nodded slowly, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. "Let's take a look," he said gently, reaching for a small, somewhat battered handheld device from his bag. He moved the device slowly over your abdomen, his eyes focused intently on the faint screen.

After a moment, he looked up, a small smile breaking through his weathered features. "From what I can see, your baby seems to be doing just fine," he announced softly. "The heartbeat is strong and steady. You're both fighters, that's clear."

Relief washed over you upon hearing the doctor's reassuring words, easing some of the persistent tension that had gripped you since you regained consciousness. Your eyes instinctively sought the Ghoul's, and your heart dropped at the sight of the empty chair.

"A few more days of rest and you should be back on your feet," the doctor said, gently covering your stomach with the thin sheet. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "Take one a day with food, and if you come into contact with any large bouts of radiation, double the dose until you can get some RadAway," he instructed, handing you the bottle.

The torn label read Rad-X, and you turned it in your hand, trying to decipher the rest of the words. The doctor watched you with a patient expression, his gaunt features softening as he spoke. "Rad-X is used to increase your resistance to radiation," he explained, his voice steady. "It’s different from RadAway, but just as important, especially with your...relations," he finished, and your cheeks burned at his insinuation.

You thanked the doctor when he promised to check on you again soon before leaving the room. As the door closed behind him, you sighed and settled back into your pillow. Relief washed over you knowing your baby was healthy, but the sense of being on your own left your heart heavy. The room felt both too big and too small, the deafening silence pressing in on you as you stared at the Rad-X label, contemplating the uncertain future that lay ahead.

You didn't see the Ghoul after that, but a supply of RadAway and bullets appeared on your bedside table. The sight of the neatly arranged supplies made you pause, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over you. You assumed it was his doing, imagining him sneaking in during the night amidst the few hours you'd managed to sleep. The thought of him moving silently through the darkened room, leaving behind the essentials you needed, brought a bittersweet pang to your heart.

A woman named Ada, who you had come to learn was the owner of the establishment, dropped in regularly to bring you warm meals. They were hearty and nourishing, intended to build your strength, but your appetite was often suppressed by the weight of your thoughts and the loneliness that settled in your heart. Ada's gentle encouragement and understanding smile were small comforts in the otherwise stark and quiet room.

She chatted with you during her visits, sharing stories about the settlement and its inhabitants, giving you a glimpse of the life that awaited you once you were well enough to leave the confines of your room, if you were to stay in town. Her tales painted a picture of a tight-knit community, resilient and resourceful, each person playing a vital role in their collective survival.

"The Ghoul, he's gone," she informed you on morning, her voice gentle but firm. "I do hope you'll consider staying. He's covered your keep for more than enough time." She rested her hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's not safe out there alone."

Her words hit you like a wave, the reality of his absence sinking in. The weight of his generosity and care pressed heavily on your heart. Her eyes were filled with concern, reflecting the danger that awaited beyond the safety of this town, and her kindness was a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil, a reminder that you still had allies even in his absence.

"Thank you, Ada," you said, offering her a smile despite the worry inside of you. "But I have to go."

The morning sun cast a gentle glow on her face, highlighting the kindness in her eyes. She nodded, her own smile reflecting a mixture of pride and concern. "Where will you go?"

You eyed the map in your hands, the one you had taken from the Ghoul the day you left to find the vials. Your eyes traced the path that led to the haven, a route marked with careful notations and warnings. The map had become a lifeline, a tangible connection to him and his meticulous planning.

During the last few days of your bedrest, you had spent hours poring over it, mapping out your journey, and planning stops for resting and loading up on supplies. The intricate details on the map showed the effort he had put into ensuring your safety on your journey to the haven, each mark a testament to his care.

It wasn't until that morning, as you packed your bag and ran your hand over the tattered paper, that your resolve solidified. The realization that he had crafted this map specifically for you, considering every possible danger and refuge along the way, filled you with a bittersweet determination.

"I'm going to find him," you told her, your eyes steely with persistence as you adjusted your backpack over your shoulder. "There are some things I left unsaid," you finished, your voice resolute. 

You hugged her goodbye and thanked the doctor for his car on your way out. When you left the clinic, your gun felt heavier on your hip, the burden of not having the Ghoul there for your protection weighing it down.

Navigating through the bustling streets, you kept a firm grip on the map, each step taking you further from the comfort of Ada and the doctor's care and deeper into the unknown. Vendors continued to call out, their voices blending into a distant hum as you made your way toward the town's edge.

As you reached the outskirts of the town, the lively sounds of the marketplace faded behind you, replaced by the vast silence of the open desert. You paused for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the endless expanse of sand and scrub stretching out before you. The horizon shimmered with heat, the sun high and relentless in the sky.

You questioned whether you were making the right choice in attempting to find the Ghoul. The vast, treacherous wasteland stretched out in every direction, offering countless places for him to disappear. He could have gone anywhere, but deep down, you felt certain that he wouldn't retrace his steps. He would likely stay as far away from Mags' home as possible, avoiding any place with too many memories or potential danger.

Then, the hairs on your arm stood to attention at the familiar sound of spurs jingling on the ground behind you. The distinct, rhythmic clinking sent a surge of recognition through you, and a hopeful smile began to tug at your lips. However, before you could turn around, the cold, unyielding metal of a gun barrel pressed firmly against your temple, sending a chill down your spine and freezing you in place.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest, the sudden shift from hope to fear almost too much to process. The coolness of the barrel contrasted starkly with the warmth of the sun on your skin.

"I'll ask you this just once," a rough voice growled from behind, the command filled with menace. "Where is Cooper Howard?"

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @lothiriel9 @ancientbeing10 @maeplaysbass @moon-trash1507 @rebelmarylou @giggle-shade @skrzydlak

(if you have been removed from the taglist it is because your blog does not show an age)

[mama-qwerty]

Okay. So. This post got me thinking.

I've seen a lot of people upset because movie!Knuckles isn't all single-focused guardian for the Master Emerald. "That's his people's heirloom, his quest finally fulfilled, why does he keep just leaving it unattended? Why isn't he more interested in guarding it and keeping it safe?"

Step back, Qwerty's gonna think too hard again.

Back when Knuckles was just a boy and lost everyone he loved, that quest was the only thing he could focus on, because that had been what his tribe focused on for as long as he could remember. That was their driving factor. To get the Emerald, return it to their people, return it to where it belonged, and then they'd have their honor again and be able to breathe a sigh of relief as they move on from the atrocities that happened all those generations ago.

It was like the entire echidna race was in a holding pattern of sorts--a constant state of waiting, of anticipation. "When we get the Master Emerald back, everything will be as it should be. Then we can resume our lives and put this war behind us."

Let's go with the assumption that maybe some echidna, long ago, did go a little power mad and actually used the ME in the way the mural at the owl temple claimed. That this echidna maybe pulled a double cross, or was simply too tempted by the power of the ME to resist its pull. He went all super soldier, and the owls had to stop him.

It could be that the echidna were one of the armies that set out to stop this souped-up warrior. But the owls got to him first, removed the ME, and then kept it. OR, the echidna were being threatened by another race, and this warrior deemed it necessary to go to extreme measures to keep his clan safe. The end result is the same--the owls took it upon themselves to remove the ME, fighting any other echidna who tried to get it back.

The echidna don't want it back because they strive for the power, but because it was a sacred talisman their people created, for whatever reason, and one individual used for (possibly) nefarious purposes. It held special meaning to them, and they wanted it back for those reasons.

This is the quest that spurred them on for generations. This is the focus the entire race had. So this is what Knuckles focused on, once his tribe fell. It wasn't the Emerald itself that Knuckles wanted, it was what it represented. The closure it brought his people, the knowledge that their spirits can now rest knowing that honor has been restored.

And it was that focus that helped him feel as though he wasn't all alone. He was doing this for his people, not for himself.

Everything he went through to get it is unimportant. The trials, the pain, the hardships. All secondary to that goal.

And now he has it. His quest is over. His people can rest.

But what does he do now that he's not carrying the honor of his entire race on his shoulders? He has no interest in using the ME, it's a relic of his ancestors. In some ways, a bitter reminder of what happened. It's because of this rock that he's alone. That his people are gone. That so many died.

All for this rock.

It's possible Knux has a love/hate relationship with the ME. It was so important to his people, and held a special significance to them, but it's also the reason they're gone. He personally holds no desire to use it, nor does he tie it to his own honor. Right now, he may be feeling so far removed from his people, he could see himself as a separate entity. An echidna in name, but their heritage and culture is all but lost to him. He lost his tribe when he was so young, he likely doesn't remember hardly anything about the echidna way of life.

So, here's the last of the echidna. His quest fulfilled, his people's honor restored. The holding pattern is done. While he will continue to watch over the ME, he does it more out of obligation now, because he is the last of his kind who is able to do so.

But it's not where his heart is.

He's found a new tribe now. People who care about him. People who fight to protect him, who welcome him into their home, who show him that his fighting prowess and warrior status aren't why they love him. And, as we've seen in Sonic 3, his protective instincts are still there, still strong as ever.

He just has a different focus on what . . . who deserves that dedicated protection. And he will take his role as their protector extremely seriously.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #10

(#) = Notes at end of post

TW: mentions of human experimentation and blood

✦

The Sapphire Stone Sits Highest on the Throne

The GIW have done the unthinkable. They've captured Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and ruler of all who reside within it. The government organization tortured and experimented on Danny so much and for so long that Danny was forced to recede into his core. While a ghost's core is relatively strong by itself --only another ghost of similar strength could shatter it-- it's also extremely vulnerable to misuse if left in the wrong hands.

The GIW use the King's core to ravage Amity Park --uncaring if human citizens got in their way-- as well as the Ghost Zone itself. The Ancients combine their efforts to search for the lost, little king, desperately trying to find Danny's core and take it back from the blood and ectoplasm stained hands of the agents. As a result of their dogged search, the Ancients bring worldwide destruction down upon the Earth in their hunt for every single white suit agent remaining, scurrying from one hiding place to another like rats in the walls of a dilapidated house.

One by one, almost every agent was hunted down and bound in unbreakable chains of ice, awaiting their trials for the atrocities they committed against the Infinite Realms and its King. The only one left is the leader of the organization itself, the one who holds Danny's core. The leader, however, is extremely slippery and has managed to evade capture for months now, going so far as to throw their own men to the wolves if it meant an easy escape with the jewel-blue heart of a scared, grieving, and injured child.

At this point though, the Ancients have caused so much destruction and natural disasters, that the Justice League has no choice but to step in. At first, the JL actively try to fight the Ancients, not fully understanding the situation but having little luck in actually hitting any of them regardless. It isn't until John Constantine runs onto the battlefield like a bat out of hell and skids to a stop right smack dab in the middle of the fight that things change. He's out of breath, his hair is in disarray, he smells heavily of smoke and alcohol, and that's definitely a still fresh coffee stain on his weather beaten trenchcoat along with red blood painting his knuckles.

Normally, one small human wouldn't be able to stop the wrath of the Ancients when they've set their sights on something. This instance, however, was very different. As Constantine raised his hands up towards the rampaging Ancients about to unleash their fury on the JL, one thing managed to capture every single one of their attention.

That being the weakly glowing, sapphire-like core held in one of Constantine's outstretched hands(1 & 2) and the faint, echoing cries of a child begging the Ancients to put an end to the carnage they've unleashed upon the world.

✦

Notes:

(1) Constantine gives little explanation on how he got his hands on Danny's core. Little do the JL know, it was just pure, dumb luck. He ran into the leader of the GIW right as the bastard was leaving a coffee shop. Coffee got spilled all over Constantine and, being slightly drunk off his ass, he decides to deck the person in the pretentious white suit and knocks him out in one shot. Constantine's about to walk away when he hears a child crying. He finds Danny's core in one of the downed guy's pockets and has a panic attack when he immediately realizes what it is. Danny explains what's going on and Constantine books it towards where he can sense a large amount of necrotic energy gathering. The rest is history.

(2) ALSO, sapphire is a pretty significant gem. According to the internet, the sapphire symbolizes wisdom, royalty, prophecy and divine favour. It's a symbol of power and strength, but also of kindness and wise judgement. Which just fits Danny PERFECTLY in this prompt, imo.

[nixnephili]

Psychological Notes - Nikolai Gogol - BSD

These are some simple notes on his psychology

I've done a little analysis on Fyodor in the past. Which you can read here:

Some S4 SPOILERS (nothing huge, tho)

HPD - Histrionic Personality Disorder.

I think anyone who is familiar with HPD can identify Nikolai with it immediately. On a more broad spectrum, he's a near embodiment of HPD.

Histrionic Personality Disorder main Symptoms:

- the constant need for attention/ attention seeking behavior (ex: mannerisms that seek attention, clothing that seeks attention, a specific way of speaking that seeks attention)

- being uncomfortable /physically uncomfortable in situations in which the individual is not the center of attention

- being overly provocative/ seductive

-displaying emotions that seem to be shallow and change rapidly/ do not remain consistent

- speaking vaguely, lacking detail

- being easily influenced by others or circumstances

Considering relationships to be much more intimate than they actually are

On that last point, it brings special attention to Nikolai and his behaviors in S4

His 'friendship' with Fyodor might very well exist only in his head. Fyodor allows him to entertain the delusion to keep him under some flimsy emotional obligation Nikolai sets up for himself. Though, as we've seen, he matches the symptoms as far as shallow and inconsistent emotions go. In one scene, he rejoices over reuniting with Fyodor, and the other, he sends him off to a very possible death.

Nikolai is very eccentric. Going out of his way for flare and drama. Although, on par with HPD, whenever his attention seeking behavior is ignored or doesn't receive the reaction he needed or expected, he either can become distressed or escalate his antics greatly.

//////////

A scene that's very memorable and relevant for Nikolai is his: "I'm completely sane" scene.

I doubt that I need to come in here and tell you that this is very unlikely to be true.

To break this down... there is the notion of "sane or Insane Homicide". That refers to circumstantial points. Sane homicide would imply an act of self-defense or perhaps an accident. The person who committed the homicide was a victim of circumstance or negligence. They had no choice, where survival came first, and they needed to protect themselves or others against another human being that was threatening the individual's life. This presents a completely sane person commuting homicide out of need for survival or prevention of harm to oneself or others.

Insane Homicide would go down the path of a crime committed more out of a 'want' than a 'need'.

Nikolai is not physically forced or obligated to commit the murders and atrocities he is responsible for. He isn't trapped or manipulated (as he hates brainwashing by default i doubt he'd allow himself to be a part of it).

Though if I were to assume, Nikolai could be experiencing a compulsion. This refers to an action that the brain feels a pressing NEED to do. If not, Nikolai may feel uncomfortable or feel physically unwell. Compulsions are most often the results of the brain's desire to cure an obsession.

If you are obsessed with germs or cleanliness, you may feel the compulsive need to wash your hands very often. The obsession causes you to be anxious and overthink -> so your brain tries to resolve that obsession every time it occurs, through that compulsion to wash up.

Nikolai is obsessed with freedom. Complete and utter freedom from the world, society, feelings, and existence. To be truly free. His brain could be trying to resolve this obsession by compulsively 'freeing' people (murdering them) from feelings and, therefore, existence. Nikolai temporarily resolves his obsession with freedom by compulsively freeing those around him. If that obsession in his mind isn't resolved, he can not function. The brain needs and wants to function, so it resolves it repeatedly. Because what resolved it once will resolve it every time. And if the obsession can't be resolved, Nikolai grows uneasy and uncomfortable.

Much like a person who can not control their own mind and life, and compulsively chooses to control other's.

[strangelittlestories]

“What entertainment do you bring before me today?” Squawked Augustine, the king of the birds. “Have the mockingbird players returned from their tour of the provinces? Or maybe that prattling parrot will reprise its human impressions?”

“Alas, milord.” Replied the king’s seneschal, a somewhat fussy flamingo. “You had the parrot killed for excessive repetitions and hesitations.”

“So I did!” The king spread his majestic tail feathers proudly, reliving the happy fuzz of murder. “Well, they knew the rules. Or, at least, *I* knew the rules and they probably should have inferred them.”

“One can never argue with your execution of the law.” Said the long-suffering seneschal, keenly aware that the wrong answer could result in his suffering moving from *long* to *short*. “Or with the law of your executions, for that matter…”

“Speaking of executions,” Said the king, whose mind was never truly far from state-sanctioned violence, “Do we have any on the docket for today?”

“Your majesty, I’m afraid the dungeons are quite empty.”

“What, no traitors left?”

“No, sire.”

“No criminals of any kind? No thieves or fraudsters or comedians who are overly reliant on props?”

“All thoroughly and legally murked, milord.”

“Well, I suppose send in my jester, then. I’m so dreadfully bored.”

At this command, the jester fluttered into the room, wearing a jaunty cap made out of a McDonald’s wrapper with a small lost key jangling from it in place of a bell.

The king and seneschal looked at the jester - the air was heavy with the potential for further royal atrocities. The seneschal crossed his talons.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, hilariously.

A pause. A silence.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester again, making unblinking eye contact with the king.

The silence stretched on further. (Surely it could not keep on stretching or it would pull something…)

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, tragically.

And at this, the king finally burst into laughter. Uproarious, over-the-top, gut-busting laughter.

Which was just the distraction the seneschal needed. The elaborate flamingo costume was abandoned; the false wooden legs clattered to the floor and the fake neck - a painted length of hose pipe - flopped grotesquely back and forth.

From the costume burst forth a small army of truly tiny owls, which set about tying up the king while he was still prostrate from the laughter.

“What is the meaning of this?” Wailed the king.

“Coup.” Said the pigeon jester, accurately.

“Your reign of terror is at an end, vile tyrant!” Chirped an Elf Owl, puffing up its chest. “Revolution is here and your foul murderous regime will fall. In its place will rise a majestic and fair government! Vive la republic of feathers!”

“This is a conspiracy!” Cried the king.

“No,” Said the Elf Owl. “A conspiracy is ravens.”

“Owls are…” It donned a tiny pair of sunglasses. “...a Parliament.”

[monstersdownthepath]

Homebrew Horror: Caligine, the Sweltering Saint

(Art by @fishfacedterror!)

The twisted, self-described "Saint of Spices and Suffering" known as Caligine has numerous other titles with varying levels of detail and alliteration, is one of the youngest and most obscure of the shadowy demigods known as the Velstrac Demagogues. As such, his cult is quite small, but it grows every day as it draws in eccentric spice aficionados, brave gourmands, and all manner of uncommon men with tastes and habits bordering (or surpassing) the inhumane. Whether they wish to experience entirely new forms of suffering or simply test their tolerance, the "Trials of St. Caligine" call to all kinds.

Because Caligine prefers to experiment on the willing rather than the unwilling (if only because the willing are more likely to appreciate the molecular gastronomy at play), he is among the most peaceful of all the Demagogues in relation to his interactions with mortal life, going so far as to place his personal workshop just a three days' walk from Shadow Absalom and encourage patronage and trade with its citizens for exotic ingredients he would otherwise not have access to... but do not confuse 'peaceful' with 'harmless,' and do not believe 'prefers' means 'will only.' Anyone who disrupts his experiments is very likely to become a part of them, and the internal excruciations he delights in causing are a far different torture the common flesh-flaying and bone-breaking of most velstrac, a fact on its own which draws fiends from all over to experience them, fiends which have FAR fewer qualms disappearing Caligine's clientele for their own hideous projects.

While most of the fatalities he causes are the results of his gastric atrocities, Caligine relishes the occasional combat, both to make use of the runoff of his many experiments (it's still good for something) and to relieve the tedium that comes with waiting for endless vats of ingredients to boil down into something worthwhile. Despite his primary occupation as both a chef and a chemist, he is a terrifying and resilient combatant regardless of the range one fights him at, either hacking his foes apart with his enchanted cleaver and breaking their bones with his wretched tongue up close, or hurling truly impressive amounts of caustic explosives at more distant foes.

Despite his ferocity in battle, the Saint is willing to live up to his title in his own bizarre ways. An offering of especially rare or exotic ingredients or powerful, unique potions and poisons may see him pausing his assault long enough for one to reason with him. He may even bargain with those he was just trying to kill to get his hands on something he's never seen before (a challenge in and of itself!), and honors all promises he makes to the best of his abilities with very little litigious twisting, something which may change as he ages. He has been known to even provide healing to victims he's butchered or slain, though his prices for doing so always include submitting to his gastronomic experiments, something which has made many a victim wish they had stayed dead.

Saint Caligine CR 27

Lawful Evil Large Outsider (Evil, Extraplanar, Kyton, Lawful)

Init: +14; Senses: Darkvision 60ft, Keen Scent, See in Darkness; Perception +29

------ Defense ------

AC 44, touch 24, flat-footed 29 (+14 Dex, +1 dodge, +20 natural, -1 size)

HP 740 (34d10+544) Regeneration 30 (Deific and Mythic)

Fort +35 Ref +24 Will +24

Defensive abilities Mithridatism; DR 20/Epic, good, and silver; Immune Charm and compulsion effects, cold, fear effects, petrification, sleep; Resist Acid 30, Electricity 20, Fire 30; SR 38

------ Offense ------

Speed 40ft, climb 40ft

Melee Cleaver of Caligine +45/+40/+35/+30 (1d8+12 plus 1d6 Acid and 1d6 Fire/19-20/x3), claw +38 (1d8+5), tongue +41 (2d6+9 plus 1d10 Acid or Fire plus grab), OR two claws +41 (1d8+9), tongue +41 (2d6+9 plus 1d10 Acid or Fire plus grab)

Ranged Bomb +48/+43/+38/+33 (10d6+8 Acid or Fire)

Space 10ft; Reach 10ft (15ft with tongue)

Special Attacks Coated Tongue, constrict (2d6+14 plus 1d10 Acid or Fire), Ring of Telekinesis (DC 22/CMB +41), Unnerving Gaze (60ft, DC 34)

Infusions Prepared (CL 20; Concentration +28)

1st- Abjuring Step x2, Anticipate Peril x2, Expeditious Retreat, Long Arm, Shield 2nd- Barkskin, Blur x2, Touch Injection, Twisted Innards, Vomit Swarm x2 3rd- Fly, Haste, Heroism, Nauseating Trail x2 (DC 21), Toxic Blood (DC 21), Thorn Body 4th- Arcane Eye, Detonate x2 (DC 21), Fire Shield, Greater Invisibility x2, Spell Immunity 5th- Delayed Consumption x3, Grand Destiny, Overland Flight, Resurgent Transformation 6th-Caging Bomb Admixture, Heal x2, Mislead x2 (DC 24), Walk Through Space

Spell-like Abilities (CL 34; Concentration +41)

Constant--Discern Lies, Freedom of Movement, True Seeing At-will--Dispel Magic, Plane Shift (self and willing targets only), Teleport (self and willing targets only) 7/day--Acidic Spray (DC 22), Beguiling Gift (DC 18), Contagious Flame (DC 24), Tongues 5/day--Caustic Eruption (DC 24), Overwhelming Poison, Wall of Fire (DC 21) 3/day--Quickened Fireball (DC 24), Incendiary Cloud (DC 25) Transmute Blood to Acid (DC 26)

------ Statistics ------

Str 28 Dex 38 Con 42 Int 27 Wis 20 Cha 25 Base Atk: +34; CMB +44; CMD 68

Feats Brew Potion, Cleave, Close-Quarters Thrower (Bombs), Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Wondrous Item, Dodge, Improved Critical (Handaxe), Great Cleave, Multiattack, Point-Black Shot, Precise Shot, Power Attack, Rapid Shot, Splash Weapon Mastery, Throw Anything, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (Bombs)

Skills Acrobatics +24, Appraise +38, Bluff +15, Climb +22, Craft (Alchemy) +55, Diplomacy +22, Disable Device +24, Escape Artist +24, Knowledge (Arcana) +38, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +38, Knowledge (Engineering) +28, Knowledge (Geography) +25, Knowledge (Local) +23, Knowledge (Nature) +45, Knowledge (the Planes) +31, Perception +29, Profession (Chef) +54, Sense Motive +28, Sleight of Hand +24, Spellcraft +45, Survival +25, Use Magic Device +37 Racial Modifiers: +12 to Craft (Alchemy) and Profession (Chef) checks.

Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Ignan, Infernal, Shadowtongue; telepathy 100 ft.

SQ Alchemist Abilities, Crucible

------ Ecology ------ Environment any (Plane of Shadow) Organization Solitary (unique) Treasure Triple (Cleaver of Caligine (a +3 Flaming Burst and Corrosive Burst Handaxe), Ring of Telekinesis, Saint's Spice Bag (a Handy Haversack with three times the normal storage capacity), 1d8+4 random potions levels 1 to 3, 1d3 potions levels 4 to 6)

------

Combat: On any given day, Caligine always has 1d4+3 generically useful spells ready via Delayed Consumption, such as Death Ward, Haste, Cure Critical Wounds, Protection From Energy, and always at least one instance of Greater Invisibility, invoking them the instant they're needed. Caligine begins most fights with Greater Invisibility, then using the granted breathing room to tailor himself to his enemy's apparent might with whatever combination of extracts he feels will give him an advantage. His first order of business in any fight is restraining the hardiest-looking opponent with his tongue to suppress any resistances they may have before striking them with his more debilitating spell-likes such as Transmute Blood to Acid. As a pain fanatic, he doesn't care if he catches himself in the area of his own spells or if he grapples a creature that harms him to touch. He will use any poisons he has access to as early and often as possible, on both his enemies and himself. If his opponents prove particularly vulnerable to poison, he will often teleport away just long enough to craft some especially debilitating ones, bless them with Overwhelming Poison, and teleport back to continue. He utilizes his bombs primarily against foes who keep out of his reach, but will gladly use them against much closer enemies if they group together.

Morale: The Sweltering Saint rarely fights to the death. If brought to below 50 health, he will often concede to his foes' might and congratulate them on an excellent battle, especially if his enemies used Acid or Fire damage or poisons on him. He will attempt to placate/reward them with an offering of powerful potions and, perhaps, more alchemical items at his disposal. If his enemies reject his surrender, he will teleport or shift away, or simply flee with Expeditious Retreat. If he cannot, only then does he fight to the death.

------ Special Abilities ------

Alchemist Abilities (Ex): Caligine has several abilities similar to those from the Alchemist class:

He can can prepare and use extracts as if he were a 20th level Alchemist with the Infusion Discovery. He knows all Alchemist formulae; the above list is his most common selection if he anticipates hostility.

He has the Bomb ability of a 20th level Alchemist with the Fast Bombs Discovery, capable of swiftly hurling caustic chemicals which deal either Fire or Acid damage (Reflex DC 28 dodges the splash damage). He adds his Intelligence modifier to his bomb damage, as well as damage done with other alchemical splash weapons. His bombs have a range increment of 40ft, and he can create 42 bombs each day.

He can create items with incredible swiftness, crafting any alchemical item or poison in a single full-round action and most potions (see Crucible, below) in just 1 hour, provided he succeeds the Craft (Alchemy) check and has access to the materials to do so (he is always assumed to have the materials on-hand so long as he has his gear).

He can apply a poison or oil to a weapon as an immediate action. This includes his own natural weapons, which exposes him to any poison he uses, but see Mithridatism below.

Coated Tongue (Ex): Caligine's tongue is frighteningly dexterous, uncannily strong, and is coated with countless chemicals with deleterious effects on anything touching it. It is always a primary natural attack, and he can grapple and constrict a creature with his tongue without gaining the grappled condition himself. A creature grappled by his tongue has any Fire or Acid Resistance and/or Immunity they possess suppressed while they're grappled, and for 1d4+1 rounds after the grapple ends.

Crucible (Su): Caligine's mastery of chemistry allows him to perform feats that many consider impossible: He can have multiple Delayed Consumption effects in place at the same time. In addition, he can craft potions of spells up to 6th level instead of 3rd. However, a 4th level potion takes one day to create, a 5th level spell takes two days, and a 6th level spell takes three.

Mithridatism (Ex): Caligine is not immune to poisons, but most poisons have an effect on his physiology that is far outside the norm. Whenever he would take ability score damage or drain from a poison, instead he gains a +2 alchemical bonus to his attack and damage rolls, as well as ability checks and skill checks for 1 round. He gains this bonus for each different poison affecting him, and the bonuses stack. In addition, Caligine recovers from ability score damage at a rate of 1 per minute, and ability score drain at a rate of 1 per hour.

Unnerving Gaze (Ex): Any creature that succumbs to Caligine's unnerving gaze becomes suicidally convinced that they can survive his trials, taking a -10 penalty to the next saving throw they make against one of his spell-like abilities or a -10 penalty to their AC against the next alchemical bomb attack he makes against them.

[girlactionfigure]

The Settler Violence You Don’t Hear About

We all know about the Turkish occupation of Cyprus and the hundreds of thousands of Turkish settlers living there since the Turkish invasion and occupation of part of the island in 1974. Actually no, most people have never heard about the illegal Turkish settlement of Cyprus, but that’s a subject for a different story. I want to talk about a more recent Turkish illegal settlement, one that is both ongoing and far more severe.

In June 2024, while Turkey was frothing at the mouth about the treatment of Arabs in "Occupied Palestine" – that is, Israel – Syrian refugees, also Arabs, were being lynched in Turkey for allegedly harassing a Turkish child. This was nothing new. According to EuroMed Rights, this was "yet another example in a series of anti-refugee discontent and violence. Turkey has previously experienced waves of lynching and attacks against refugees in 2014, 2017, and 2019, alongside individual offences that often go unpunished due to a pervasive culture of impunity."

However, this time the Arabs didn’t take this lying down.

Syrian militias allied with Turkey launched several attacks against Turks in Turkish-occupied northern Syria, resulting in Turkish fatalities. This is where it gets interesting, so let’s talk about this occupation for a little bit.

The Turkish-occupied region of Syria is around one-third larger than the West Bank and is rife with human rights abuses that are simply ignored by the Western media. In fact, in 2021 the NYT was accused by Kurdish and international activists of whitewashing Turkey’s occupation…which I bet you didn’t hear about either.

In 2018, Turkey invaded the majority-Kurdish Afrin District of northwest Syria ostensibly to prevent Kurdish attacks against Turkey in what was ironically called “Operation Olive Branch.” To quote Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, "What can that terror army target but Turkey? Our mission is to strangle it before it's even born." So, very proactive self-defense.

Kurdish refugees leaving Afrin in Northern Syria

As many as 510 civilians were killed in the operation. Other atrocities included the mutilation of a female corpse by Turkey's Syrian National Army proxies, indiscriminate bombardment of civilians by Turkish forces, and shooting of refugees fleeing into Turkey.

However, the worst was yet to come. After Turkish-led forces had captured the Afrin District in 2018, they engaged in a wide resettlement program that included moving Arab settlers from southern Syria into homes that belonged to the displaced Kurdish and Yazidi locals. The previous owners were then prevented from returning to Afrin to reclaim their stolen homes. This wasn’t a chaotic process but a conscious ethnic replacement by the Turkish government and its SNA proxies.

Al Amal 2, one of the Arab settlements build in Afrin.

Paragraph 47 of the report of the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the Syrian Arab Republic submitted to the UN Human Rights Council noted that "multiple accounts indicate that the property of Kurdish owners was looted and appropriated by Syrian National Army members in a coordinated manner. For example, in September 2019, civilians in the Shaykh al-Hadid subdistrict (of the Afrin region) described how members of Division 14, Brigade 142 (the Suleiman Shah Brigade) of the Syrian National Army had gone from door to door instructing Kurdish families with fewer than three members to vacate their houses to accommodate individuals arriving from outside of Afrin." It was also reported by Al-Monitor and Arab News that Yazidi and Kurdish women and girls have been kidnapped by the SNA for ransom, rape, or forced marriage. It stands to reason this was also done to “encourage” Kurds to leave the region.

Following the Turkish invasion, as many as 200,000 indigenous Kurds and Yazidis fled from the Afrin District while an estimated 458,000 settlers moved into their homes. According to a GenocideWatch article from 2020, the size of the indigenous population of Kurds in the Afrin region dropped from 97 percent before the occupation to 34.8 percent.

This is an ongoing process. According to a report by the Hawar News Agency from 2024, “Within the aim of separating Afrin from Syria and annexing it, the Turkish occupation continues to commit crimes, intimidate the people, and trade in their property by Turkey's settlers and mercenaries. Local sources said that a settler from the southern Aleppo countryside sold a house belonging to the citizen Issam Hussein, a resident of the village of Andariyah, in the city of Janders to another settler for $1,500.”

But wait, this gets even crazier!

Many of these settlers are Palestinians.

That’s right. Even as you read these lines, illegal Palestinian settlers are moving from the West Bank into stolen Kurdish homes in an occupied region, displacing and replacing the indigenous population… and they’re proud of it!

According to a 2022 article from the Afrin Post, “the first part of a residential community constructed in Jindires district was opened, with direct funding from the residents of Al-Zaeem village in the occupied city of Jerusalem. The project plan consists of 75 housing units, each of which consists of 4 houses, to accommodate about 220 families. Today, 32 housing units (about 128 families) have been settled in, while work is underway and preparations are being completed to start the second part of the project.”

"Funded by Al Zaim donations, in Quds Town.”

According to exiled Kurdish politician Abdulrahman Apo, all the villages of Afrin have been “turned into settlements. In addition to Syrian Arabs, 10,000 Palestinians are stationed in Afrin.”

A spokesman for one of the Palestinian settlements said, "Today, we arrived from Palestine to the airport, and from there to northern Syria, to deliver the housing units… [We] know the meaning of occupation, displacement, asylum and home displacement."

He sure does! He’s actively engaged in it! He’s doing exactly what the Palestinians falsely accuse Israel of doing, only on steroids.

In just a few years, more than 100 settlements have been built by Turkey and funded by Gulf countries and Palestinian associations in areas under Turkey’s control. In fact, one of the settlements is even called “Palestine Ajnadine.”

What can I say? The man is a master of irony, almost as much as the genius who called the whole thing "Operation Olive Branch."

Western liberals make so much noise about Israel, they silence the screams and pleas of tens of millions of victims of severe and ongoing human right abuses all over the planet. This obsessive tunnel vision creates the ultimate smokescreen for a plethora of atrocities that dwarf anything Israel may be involved in. Be honest, I’m sure you’ve never heard about Palestinian settlements on Kurdish land before you read this article. Why would you? Western media never talks about it. Western intellectuals never talk about it. It seems no one cares about it except the Kurds themselves.

This obfuscation by fake moral outrage is a big reason for Turkey’s ostensible obsession with Gaza. It’s less their concern for the Palestinians or objection to settlements, and more their desire to distract from their own ongoing crimes. I’m sure the Kurds, as well as the Greeks, Cypriots, Syrians, and other nations colonized by Turkey, would appreciate it, if Western liberals could spare some of their moral outrage for the occupation and colonization of these nations.

URI KURLIANCHIK

DEC 3

[yanderes-galore]

I feel like Wyll is not appreciated enough in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom, so can you write a yandere concept for him?

I can try, sure! I researched him the best I could :)

Yandere Wyll Ravenguard Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Fear of loss implied, Manipulation, Mizora is an enabler, Possessive behavior, Conflicted feelings, Violence, Murder implied, Kidnapping, Blood, Forced relationship.

Wyll is a Fiend Warlock with a pact with the demon Mizora as his patron.

He gave her his soul to protect Baldur's Gate and is very dedicated to protecting people.

He is commanded to slay demonic creatures, Tieflings unfortunately included in Mizora's eyes.

Wyll is heroic and kindhearted, his obsession would puzzle him as he wasn't expecting to want to do dark things for someone he loves.

Mizora probably finds Wyll's obsession amusing... her pet seems so infatuated with you...

Perhaps she'll help him obtain you... a treat for her pet.

Even as a hero, Wyll is very playful in nature.

He seems genuinely nice to be around and would definitely be conflicted if he noticed darker desires within him towards you.

Wyll is already conflicted enough as is due to the mischievous nature of Mizora, the source of his powers.

Mizora would definitely feed into the dark desires Wyll begins to develop.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Mizora senses Wyll's obsession and wishes to play around with it.

She wants to encourage him to take what he wants... something Wyll hates the thought of.

Wyll's obsession definitely develops due to Mizora.

It originally starts as a yearning to protect you.

Especially if you are afflicted with a Mind Flayer parasite.

Wyll's heroic and playful nature would quickly make you two friends (For this concept I am assuming you are not a Tiefling).

As a result, you're mostly on good and mutual terms with Wyll.

You two trust and probably even care for one another as friends.

You don't have much of a clue when Wyll starts feeling conflicted.

He's willing to do nearly anything for you... but how far does he plan to take things to protect you?

Plus, does he even see you as a friend at this point?

With how he feels towards others around you... this may be deeper than he thought.

It doesn't help that whenever he's away from you he keeps feeling a certain yearning that won't go away.

He despises it when Mizora appears to tease and tempt him when you're gone.

The demon always whispers in Wyll's ears small promises.

She can give him more power... enough to take you all for himself.

Why should he watch you from afar and daydream?

Why should he settle for being friends?

Is he really going to let others take claim to you?

Doesn't he feel the burning jealousy within him?

Wyll has to push Mizora away, cursing her for putting such vile thoughts in his head.

Yet the ideas still persist.

Mizora simply promises her pet a gift, a treat... you.

Why should he refuse?

Mizora enabling Wyll is what causes the poor hero to corrupt more and more.

Wyll can't help but stare as you converse with other companions... his grip on his rapier tightening.

He tells himself not to listen, he tells himself if it's meant to be... you'll come to him.

But the longer he has to wait, the longer he has to pine... Mizora tempts him, pushing him to the brink.

He really does want you all to himself, to protect you and care for you.

No other person could care for you like him.

When Mizora meets with Wyll again, she grins.

She can tell her pet has decided to give in.

Wyll apologizes to you as he finds himself committing atrocities for you.

Murder, fire spilling across the land, it's all too much to handle.

He tries to keep his destruction to a minimum.

By the time he snaps, he has you locked away, blood coating his hands and rapier... but you in his arms.

You're so warm against him... as warm as the blood and tears staining him.

When he looks at you he realizes he has sinned.

Mizora has corrupted him more than he'd like to admit.

As he stares at you... he tries to put it aside.

His father was right, he was just as bad as the demon he made a pact with...

But at least he has you now.

[creepzkilla]

Jahaiahaiahajajs I'm so glad your back!!!

I have an idea for you >:)=

Can I request some of your darkest headcannons for the Proxies? Like what are their toxic traits, it can sfw or nsfw or anything but the request is basically how dark and evil can they be?

I hope this makes sense and you don't have to do it, it's only of you're comfortable!

↳˳⸙;; ❝ HOW DARK ARE THE PROXIES? HC'S! ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗:

★Tumblr relies on reposting, please repost my work.★

tw. warning— mentions of self harm, mentions of aggressive actions, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of sexual ordeals

[A/N]— theme change?!??? pls let me know if u guys wanna be tagged in the next post! also i wanted to do the pastas as realistic as possible… should i make a post on how the proxies + others met their lover😴 or just my general hc’s?

THE QUESTION ITSELF IS FUNNY—

the proxies are slashers— murderers. psychopathic, deranged men that are hardly short of completely and utterly insane. their sanity-if they have any- is practically none besides possibly a sliver of humanity. if anything, they aren’t even men— they were resurrected from the pits of hell itself and placed on this god forban world. the atrocities that these men have commited rightly earns them the title of not men— but demons. their sinful actions could never be erased, not even if they bathed in the waters of Babylon. the screams, cries, the sobs of their victims as they carry out their orders doing god knows what to them, will forever be ingraved into their very being. not even god can save them from their damnation— if anything god is laughing.

SANITY IS NOT SOMETHING OF LUXURY FOR THE PROXIES—

it’s something that fought for. everyday, it’s a constant battle for control—the continuous thirst to satisfy the need to kill. not to mention the the operators hold on their minds, making them carry out heinous missions consisting of nothing but death and blood. their minds are plagued with nightmares of what they have done, on repeat like a broken record, replying over and over. yet, behind the insanity, the malice, the control over their minds, they have regained just a sliver of sanity. it’s not like they want to kill—but they have to. for the operator… for this urge. little by little, they begin to feel like an actual human being. but it’s not like you know anything.

TOBY ERIN ROGERS—

is the most far gone. since the operator took over his mind at such a young age without much resistance , he has the pleasure of sculpting toby’s mind into the perfect cast. despite the most—insane, he’s the one that hangs onto his sanity the strongest. almost like he’s able to flip it on and off like a switch. yet, the line between sanity and insanity draws very thin, so he can’t help it when… it slips sometimes.

Self-Destructive Tendencies: Toby's self-destructive tendencies, which are often associated with his character, could negatively impact the relationship. This is either emotional or physically. He may engage in self-harm or reckless behaviors, disregarding the well-being of you and causing them emotional distress and constant worry.

Emotional Instability: Toby's own emotional instability could create an unpredictable and volatile environment within the relationship. His mood swings, anger outbursts, and tendency to lash out verbally or physically could cause you to constantly walk on eggshells.

Explosive Anger: Toby may have anger management issues that result in explosive outbursts. He might have difficulty controlling his temper, leading to verbal or even physical aggression toward his partner. This behavior creates an environment of fear and intimidation.

Jealousy and Insecurity: Toby might struggle with feelings of jealousy and insecurity, leading him to exhibit possessive behavior. This could manifest in him constantly questioning your actions or relationships with others, even if there is no real cause for concern.

Over-Dependency: Toby may have a tendency to become overly dependent on you, relying on you for emotional stability and validation. This can lead to an unhealthy dynamic where he becomes possessive or overly clingy, causing his partner to feel suffocated or trapped.

HOW FAR WOULD TOBY GO—

well, he certainly wouldn’t go far enough to hurt you, no, never. he is specifically always careful not to harm you, especially during sex. but that wouldn’t mean that he would hurt you emotionally or mentally. his favorite punishment is ignoring you. he’d shun you for days on end in your shared apartment, just to teach you a lesson which is very rare. physically, he treats you like a delicate glass doll that could break at any moment. during sex, it’s almost like he’s afraid to touch you. he doesn’t want to corrupt you like the way he is… he wants to preserve your innocence, and your being, and because of that, he would do anything to protect you. anyone who would ever do you wrong would soon come under his hatchet in the most painful way imaginable.

Dark and Evil level: 6/10, Moderate, just "protective"

TIMOTHY WRIGHT(MASKY)—

is in a constant fight for control, more so than the other proxies. In Marble Hornets, it is referenced that he may have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). because of this, he comes into the separate entity known as Masky during blackouts. the operator has stalked timothy ever since he was a child and anyone else he came in contact with. the operator is setting his sights on timothy so young he can influence him just enough to do his bidding. of course, timothy hates the operator and works against him, but after so long, after all the pain and blood, he’s just too tired to fight back anymore. Masky, hates this. he hates that timothy gives up too quickly. during missions, a blackout is typically triggered, giving Masky complete control. and so soon enough Masky became tired as well. and then killing became second nature.

Controlling Behavior: Tim, overwhelmed by his own insecurities and paranoia, becomes possessive and controlling in his relationship. He constantly questions and monitors your actions, isolates them from friends and family, and exhibits manipulative behavior to maintain control.

Emotional Withdrawal: Tim, due to his secretive and guarded nature, may struggle with opening up emotionally to his significant other, that being you. He might withdraw from sharing his thoughts and feelings, leaving you feeling neglected or shut out.

Jealousy and Possessiveness: Tim's loyalty and protectiveness towards his friends, particularly towards Jay, might manifest as excessive jealousy and possessiveness in a romantic relationship. He may feel threatened by your interactions with others and attempt to control or isolate you.

Neglecting Emotional Support: Tim's own emotional struggles consume him, leaving little room for providing adequate emotional support to his partner, you. He may dismiss your concerns, minimize your feelings, or fail to offer the empathy and understanding you need, leaving you feeling unheard and invalidated.

Anger Issues: Tim/Masky occasionally displays violent and unpredictable behavior, driven by his internal struggles and external pressures. In a relationship, this volatility could lead to outbursts of anger, creating an unstable and potentially harmful environment for you

TIMOTHY AND MASKY WOULD NEVER HURT YOU—

not without reason. mentally or emotionally, timothy understands human emotions, despite not having any himself. yet, when he’s around you, everything changes. suddenly, he can feel again, suddenly, he has the strength to fight back. you are everything to him. the only good in this hell-bent world. he needs you, and he can’t let you leave him. so you can’t blame him when he starts chewing nicotine gum, “claiming to quit cigs.” you can’t blame him when he stops taking his gum out when he kisses you, “he forgets to.” you can’t blame him when suddenly all you want to do is kiss him. but it's not enough, no, no, no. he needs to make sure that your, 're addicted to him, completely and utterly infatuated with him. so, you can't blame him when he starts wearing nicotine patches, "the gum just wasn't working." you can't blame him when he starts placing the patches on you when you're sleeping next to him. you cant blame him when you practically breakdown when he leaves you, only for a few hours. you cant blame him when you feel a pinch on you arm during sex, when he stuck the nicotine patch into your arm without you seeing, saying that "oh darling its nothing." you can't blame him when you've become addicted to his presence and cock. no you don't understand, you really just can't blame him, he wants to keep you safe, really, he promises.

Dark and Evil level: 8.5/10, Very high, obsessive and insane.

BRIAN THOMAS (HOODY)—

has the most grip on reality. like tim, he has blackouts to which he comes into the separate being known as “Hoody”. also like Tim, he hates the operator. at first, he resisted, refusing to carry out those abominations; its heinous fantasies of mass destruction. except he was more willing than his counterpart, timothy. brian is calculating, he's a smart guy, he understood what would happen to him if he disobeyed the operator. the most excruciating torture that anyone has ever gone through. proxy brainwashing is no joke. he's not stupid, so that's why he's played the long game. do the operator's bidding until he's able to conjure a plan, it'll only be for a few, just until he can figure out how to get out of this hell space. soon "a few" turned into months. soon "months" turned into years. then suddenly he stopped keeping track. and then, he started to enjoy it.

Isolation and Control: Brian might isolate you from your friends and family, attempting to control who you interact with and where you go. By limiting your support networks, Brian exerts more control over their life, making it challenging for you to maintain independence and make your own decisions.

Difficulty Opening Up: Brian/Hoody's burden of guilt and emotional turmoil might make it challenging for him to open up and share his vulnerabilities. This could create a one-sided dynamic in the relationship, with you having to provide emotional support without receiving reciprocation, potentially leading to resentment and emotional imbalance.

Manipulative: brian plays on the emotions and insecurities of those around him, manipulating their feelings to further his own agenda. he understands their weaknesses and uses psychological tactics to subtly influence their actions, pushing them towards his desired outcomes.

Apathetic: Brian's apathy also masks underlying insecurities and vulnerabilities. By presenting himself as emotionally detached, he avoids exposing his true feelings and weaknesses to others. .

Emotional Unavailability: Brian/Hoody's reserved and stoic nature could make it difficult for him to express his emotions or be emotionally available in a relationship. He might struggle to communicate his feelings or provide the necessary emotional support to you, leading to a sense of distance and detachment.

BRIAN AND HOODIE ARE NEVER GONNA LET YOU GO--

you are the one thing that is keeping him sane. so don't even think about leaving him. you wouldn't get the chance anyways. your everything that he's ever wanted, there is not a chance in hell that he's gonna have you slip through his fingers. he can be mean sometimes, but he doesn't mean it, it just slips out! typically when he gets back from "work", he's aggravated, its like he's a different person. he's cold, calculating, a robot practically; so you cant blame him when he needs something to release his sexual frustration. he just loves pleasing himself inside of you, he loves the way your body reacts to his corruption. now since your body is "bound" to him, he still needs to take extra precautions to keep you from leaving... specifically, brian will pit you aganist your friends and anyone close. pointing out how your friend's remark was passive-aggressive, pointing out details on how your friends "don't care about you, how they will never care about you, how he is the only person that will ever truly care about you. of course, he leaves you at least one friend, maybe two if he's feeling generous, he doesn't want you to go insane after all.

Dark and Evil level: 7/10, Getting up there, crazy ex bf vibes

Toxic traits that all proxies/creepypasta have in my opinion:

Stalking

Manipulative

Gaslighting

Apathetic

Mean :(

Sexually all pastas have a corruption kink-- some more than others

DEEP DOWN THE PROXIES ARE STILL HUMAN--

after everything they've been through, after everything they have seen, they're just scared kids. their lives were stripped away from them at such a young age, their lives were just beginning--now its like they don't even live at all. they never wanted to do this, they never wanted to kill, they never wanted to serve an eldritch demon of mass power, they just wanted to grow up. be a kid, go to college, and have a life. maybe in a different universe, a different timeline, maybe just maybe, everything is the way it should be. maybe they arent as fucked up as they should be.

🏷️— @spookyravioli

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 16

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 10.8k

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Note: the queen has returned everybody! good luck

Wood echoed off of wood, clapping together in a viscous motion as Jungkook’s brows pinched together, frantic to stave off the aggressive blows. He was already exhausted though, training before sunrise until sunset, only to sneak out like this. 

It could get him in a lot of trouble- both of them for that matter.

He fumbled against a blow he deflected, stepping back only for his foot to hit a dip in the ground. 

The next blow came but his reflexives weren’t sharp enough to block it, resulting in the wooden sword slamming hard into his shoulder as he yelped out.

The breath felt as though it had been knocked out of him as he gasped for air, his back planted into the ground as his name was called- or perhaps the closest he usually heard to it.

“Your Highness!” Big brown eyes peered over him in concern, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Jungkook sputtered, long black hair accidentally getting in his mouth as he waved her away, “You didn’t hurt me Wheein, and stop calling me that!” He hurriedly sat upright before slumping a little.

Though Jungkook said it, it didn’t take away from the fact that it did hurt, Wheein hit hard, perhaps harder than she intended too. But Jungkook wouldn’t shy away from it, he needed to be pushed hard if he wanted to one day be a good swordsman. 

Wheein quickly backed away from him, kneeling down as she peered at him, still in mild concern, “But you’re the Crowned Prince.” 

This made Jungkook cross his arms with a huff, he knew he was the Crowned Prince, but for once he just wanted someone to treat him as a friend. He hated his title, he didn’t ask to be the next King of Penumbra, and he certainly didn’t ask to be drafted into this stupid war.

Just the thought had fear plunging into his veins like poison, he only had two weeks of training left before his official draft would begin. 

When his father told him, Jungkook knew better than to cry, though he wanted to. He kept it in, but still his father was repulsed at the sight of the boy groveling, begging his father to not send him.

‘This isn’t fair, father!’ He remembered crying out, his eyes filled with hurt and glassy, on the verge of tears he told himself he wouldn’t cry. 

And then his father’s response was even more vivid than his own.‘Life isn’t fair nor is it kind Jungkook, and you best be learning that as soon as you can.’

Just the memory made him clench his fists, and just as his father suggested, he decided to put all of his anger and frustration into training. But no matter how hard he trained, how hard he tried, how much he exhausted himself. 

It still hurt.His uncle, Jeong Dae didn’t seem to understand either, he had gone to him in some effort to lick his wounds and receive a bit of comfort, but his uncle only replied by telling him he should be honored to serve his country.

That this was his chance to prove himself to his people, to the Rosewood’s, to the world that he would be worthy of being King. 

The only problem was that Jungkook didn’t want to be King. He didn’t want to rule, he didn’t want to go to war and he certainly didn’t want to die. And no matter how much everyone tried to pet him, he could see past their empty eyes, they were sending him to his grave, he was certain of it. 

“Are you okay?” Wheein frowned, mirroring his own as she set down her sword, “You’re crying…”

Jungkook’s bottom lip quivered, both in anger and pent up sadness as he roughly shoved his tears away. How they had managed to slip out was beyond him, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. For his father, his family, and his country, he would do what was expected of him. 

His feelings didn’t matter, evidently enough. 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He shook his head, ignoring her words, “You should get back to Skol before Di Jin catches you out here.”

Wheein’s frown deepened as she folded her hands together, taking one long look at him before she took a breath, “Alright, you should rest as well, I know the War Matron has been pushing all of the underling’s after dark now that there’s only a two weeks left until graduation.” 

Jungkook set his hands on his lap, “If they’d let you serve the war would be over in a day.” 

Wheein offered a small smile, “Maybe, but I’m not a boy and I’m not royalty either. Rest well Prince.” 

And with that Wheein grabbed her cloak that had been discarded, pulling it over her head to conceal her figure before she disappeared into the dark. Jungkook might have been concerned had it been anyone else, but he saw her take her wooden sword. 

He winced as he rubbed his shoulder, she could easily bludgeon someone to death if they made her angry enough, she’d be fine. 

Jungkook had sulked for only a little longer before getting up, rubbing his shoulder as he grabbed his wooden sword before sneaking his way back to the boys barracks. 

“You are an idiot, truly.” 

Jungkook hadn’t said anything for a long while, his gaze looking out over their great kingdom, the very same one his great grandfather built stone by stone, all for it to turn into this? And even despite the shitshow of a display earlier the only person missing from the parlor was his father. 

Perhaps unwilling to bother with such trifles at the late hour despite it being the Crowned Princess who had been missing. Jungkook had felt his whole stomach lurch when he had woken up, you missing from his embrace and he attempted to be rational at first, assuming you had gone on a late walk and taken Yoongi with you. 

But upon seeing Yoongi still on watch outside the doors had him immediately reeling, flashes of anxiousness and worry wrought in his entire being which came in lashes of anger to everyone around him. It didn’t matter what Jeong Dae and Areum told him in an attempt to calm him down, he wouldn’t be until you were found and safe. 

And the relief he felt when you came in, when he was finally able to hold you once more and see with his own two eyes that you were safe, it was in that moment that he knew there was no going back with how he felt. 

You had somehow entangled yourself in his entire being, somehow wiggling your way into the forefront of his mind every time you were apart and making him constantly have the desire to keep you wrapped against him. 

And yet he didn’t understand. Your words still coldly rang in his ears. Things could not be over between you both, they had hardly even begun, so surely, out of a fit of rage, much like you had in the past, said something damning in the moment.

Still, it troubled him deeply, Jungkook shook his head, “I don’t understand what I said wrong,” He frowned, deeply troubled by what had transpired, “It was the truth nobody else would tell her…”

He was honest when he said he took no pleasure in telling you the truth, but everything he said was the truth you so desperately wanted.

Your anger was justified, but why couldn’t you see from his side…? He was stretched beyond thin and Jeong Dae had only goaded him further into investigating you, he was the one who had planted a seed of doubt. 

But deep in the crevices of Jungkook’s mind laid bare his true feelings, ones he wanted viciously to deny, but still they lingered in the dark, perhaps the seed had already been there, Jeong Dae only watered it.

“You don’t…!?” Areum raised her brows, groaning as she ran a hand through her hair, “Good god you don’t understand why she was upset with you!? Jeon Jungkook! You don’t tell the women you love that you were justified in what you did!” 

“Then what would you have me do?” Jungkook snarled, his gaze finally snapping to hers. 

He already had one woman scold him tonight, he didn’t need another one to further it.

Areum puffed a breath, crossing her arms, “You could first start by swallowing your pride and admitting your’re wrong, and then you could move along to groveling for her forgiveness. But something tells me she won’t care until you genuinely mean it.” 

Jungkook’s lip twitched as he angrily shook his head, “She’ll be fine after she’s done throwing her tantrum. She’s prone to saying cruel things when she’s angry, she didn’t earn that title for nothing.” 

His words may be cruel, but they were a truth no one could dispute, Jungkook was the first to witness your wrath the very moment the door to your wedding chambers had closed. Though in time he grew to know you as you were truly seen by those closest to you. 

Tender to the core, there was such a profound air of softness about you that was constantly coiled tight like a venomous snake, hissing and ready to strike at anybody who dared get close to it. 

And yet again, Jungkook was struck by your venom this night. When you loved, you were like the gentlest, warmth of days, the embodiment of the sun in his eyes, incandescent and enchanting, but when you raged? 

You were nothing short of a thunderstorm, not the rain but the lightning that followed, striking yet again in a chaotic manner that no one, let alone he could predict. Your voice was like a war drum that would not be silenced. Areum only raised her brows at this, “Right…well, let me know how that goes for you little nephew. Betrayal is easily the deepest wound one can inflict, lest we all know that here. Goodnight.” 

She spoke with finality before she exited the room, leaving Jungkook alone with his uncle. 

Silence lingered in the room, the fireplace roaring with flames and wickedly dancing as Jungkook glowered in the coals.

He only wanted your safety tonight, perhaps if he had stayed asleep, this all could have been prevented.

“Are you satisfied?” Jungkook finally asked, “She hadn’t even sent a single letter out until she began writing to her mother to inquire about Yule.” It left an empty feeling in his chest as he crossed his arms, “She’d never be a spy, it isn’t who she is.”

You were many things, a dichotomy to the court. You were soft but sharp, merciful but unforgiving, hot and cold. But of all the things you were, Jungkook knew the one thing you were not, was indefinitely, a spy.

He was consumed by paranoia when he sent for your letters to be searched, in hindsight he wondered if he had calmed his mind down, he would’ve made a different decision.

Jeong Dae walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You did what you must to yet again secure your seat to the throne, we would never be certain until you had it done. True as Areum’s words may be, the girl will come to one day understand your reasoning.” 

Jungkook said nothing in return, his eyes still cast out over the dark kingdom, “I hope you’re right.” 

“Get some rest Jungkook,” Jeong Dae replied, “You’ll need it in the days to come.” 

Jungkook was then left alone with his thoughts before he reluctantly returned to his chambers where it laid empty just as he had woken up earlier, the bed felt entirely too big and as he laid awake in bed, staring up at the canopy a feeling began to creep into his chest that felt entirely too much like regret. 

“Princess…I’m not typically someone who pries but…is there a reason we’ve been here all morning?” Yoongi had finally spoken up after taking you to the stables at the first light of day where you had been keeping Fenrir company. 

At first you had went on a walk with him before playing with him and now you had been resting in the stables for the last hour, tenderly stroking through his fur as he rested his chin on his paws, perhaps sensing your downcast mood as he licked at your hands occasionally in comfort. 

The pup had definitely grown, he was bigger now, to some guards uncomfortably so, his head was perched at the top of your stomach when he stood tall now.

“No reason in particular…” You mumbled, not wanting to talk about it at the moment. You had so many things and feelings to sort through, and admittedly you were not used to working through it completely by yourself. 

Not only were you having to deal with Wheein being unrightfully accused of being the assassin but now with the betrayal of Jungkook having investigated you as a spy behind your back along with the news of Eunoia.

It made your head dully ache in all truthfulness, it would have been one thing if Di Jin pounced on you with a dated piece of information, something you wouldn’t have put past Jungkook to do just after your wedding. 

But two weeks ago?

Two weeks?

You felt incredibly naive and stupid to believe, geniunely that you both were closer then this. You didn’t know how to feel, about anything anymore, and more than anything you were wrought with homesickness. 

You didn’t want the gray chilled days anymore, you wanted to go home. 

Yoongi sighed in exasperation as he nodded, “Very well, then let’s discuss why you thought it was a good decision to go outside the castle after hours, by yourself, telling no one of your status and meeting up with the sworn enemy of the crown!”

Your lip jutted a little, not appreciating the scolding, but it was a foolish decision you made and the least you deserved was this for that. One thing however caused your head to shoot up right, “How did you…?” 

It was one thing for you to admit to going to the Undeside, but how could Yoongi know that you met up with Claudin? He fled the moment he got you outside the courtyard. 

“I’m Areum’s right hand and before that an assassin, I have more eyes then just my own after hours.” Yoongi’s glare furrowed, “And to let that rat take you to the Underside, did you want a death sentence Princess?”

You glumly leaned back against the wooden wall, your hand mindlessly stroking Fenrir’s side as he sprawled out at the attention, his feet digging into your side but you paid it no mind. Had you not gone to the Underside you would’ve assumed he meant all of the looming assassination threats.

But after having gone, it was only now that you realized being assassinated was a lot lower on the list of ways you could potentially die in Penumbra then you had originally thought. It was undeniable that your eyes were opened to the truth. Just about everyone in this damn kingdom wanted your head on a pike. It was a bitter pill to swallow. 

“Well it’s certainly come to my attention that a death sentence for me is far more imminent then the court ever let on. If visiting the Underside was anything to go by.” You mumbled the comment that occupied your mind. 

Yoongi ignored your question, “Send me outside if it upsets you Princess but I’m going to ask anyway, why did you go with him?” You shook your head, lip twitching with anger just as he anticipated, “I had no other choice,” You finally spoke, eyes raw with rage, “Not a single person in this castle dared to tell me anything, it’s as if, I was living in a bubble this whole time, blind to what’s been going on in the outside world. I took no pleasure in going with Claudin, but he was the only one willing to show me the truth.” 

Yoongi frowned deeply as he crossed his arms, “And how is that cold truth treating you Princess? Being ignorant is a blessing few come by these days.”

Your eyes stung with tears of rage but you refused to let them fall, “That is a luxury I was never allowed to have as a child. I tended to the disembodied civilians of children, men and women alike, all left from the wars your country waged. I stoked the fires with their bodies and choked on the ash of their bones. Ignorance was never an option.”

Yoongi huffed shaking his head, as though he didn’t particularly enjoy hearing about the mess they caused without thinking twice, “How long will you weaponize the past against Penumbra?” 

You shook your head, “It’s not a matter of weaponizing, it goes beyond Penumbra, beyond myself, it goes back to the Age of Celestia, the moment the Dryads left this earth, the moment we were stripped from our grace. That’s when our eyes were opened to the world around us, it is our curse to bear. To be savage, tooth and fang and yet wholly crave the peace of the earth.”

“Call it whatever you may, but I would always rather the unpleasant truth than the sweetness of lies.”

Yoongi said no more, leaning against the side of the wall as he shook his head. 

It was silent for a long moment before you spoke up, not wanting to bid ill with him, after all he was your personal knight, or you supposed assassin was a better interpretation. He had every right to be upset with you, but you didn’t want any more bad blood to fester. 

“Last night,” You frowned, “When Di Jin came in, it was he who announced I went to the Underside.” 

Yoonig snorted, “A pot-stirrer that one, I’m not surprised.” 

“Neither am I,” You admitted, the little time you’ve spent with Di Jin would point to such, “But it was what Jungkook said to him in return. Something that insinuated Di Jin played a hand in the Underside…?” 

‘My wife would never step foot in that pit you caused.’

Jungkook’s words rang in your ears as you glanced at Yoongi, perhaps with him being Areum’s right hand, he would have more insight into this. Yoongi however only sighed as he ran a hand through his hair before he finally took a seat upon a bale of hay that was against the wall beside him.

“While I am still indefinitely angry at you,” Yoongi glared a little before it softened, “I also want to impart some knowledge on you, seeing how serious you take this whole truthful business. While what you saw in the Underside is very real, it is only a fragment of Penumbra as a whole. It is the depths of criminal activity and the most low or dangerous of people roam.” 

“Di Jin was the captain of the Guard during the five year war, but during this time, we had serviced many into the war to help, many volunteered as well, food had to be rationed and many mourned for their men and boys that would not return. But many men also resisted to help in the war, they flooded the streets with crime of all sorts as a way to rebel against the draft,”

Yoongi frowned as he recalled those days, “While the King was busy buried in the war room, Di Jin took it upon himself to create a prison of sorts in the lowest district in the city, him and his guard raided the whole Capitol at night and threw them all in there as some means of justice and restoring order.” 

You tilted your heads in curiosity at his words. 

“And I understand the idea he had in mind,” Yoongi admitted before scoffing, “But imagine it Princess, throwing all of the lowly thieves and murders together in one place? It’d be hell on earth, well instead of murdering one another like Di Jin assumed they would, they ended up couping the whole place. Tearing it down in troves and claiming it as their own little Kingdom, it is now shrouded from the Capitol in fear of who still roams there. It is without a doubt the most dangerous part of Penumbra.” 

“So what happened to Di Jin when they all took hold of the district?” You asked, almost eager as you sat upright from your previously slumped position. 

“Well he got decommissioned,” Yoongi grinned, as if it amused him, “Conducting something on that scale without the King’s permission was a one way ticket to it, not only that but thoroughly botching it too? Because Di Jin served in the war alongside the King, he allowed him to walk free. Otherwise he’d surely be rotting in the dungeon right now.” 

You grabbed your chin in thought, “There must be a reason Di Jin is trying to say Wheein is the assassin, I just can’t make sense of it…” 

“I wouldn’t think much of it truthfully Princess,” Yoongi said with a soft lament, “I feel as though, in some cases, it purely has to do with being at the wrong place, in the wrong time.”

Somehow this horrified you even more than if it was some clever plot, “Wheein does not deserve to die- let alone at the fate of being at the wrong place and the wrong time!” 

“But think Princess,” Yoongi urged you, “If Di Jin caught the ‘assassin’ he would be back in favor with the court and more importantly, the King.”

“Why would he want the King’s favor now though?” You wondered aloud, frowning at the idea, surely Dae Seong wasn’t blind to the idea that letting Di Jin into his court was a poor idea, let alone letting the man be an advisor to him.

‘Well…You said Di Jin was the one who announced you went to the Underside, did he say anything else…?” 

You thought on it for a long moment, “No he didn’t but…” you trailed off at remembering what Yoongi previously said, how he had more than his own eyes at night, “It’s more, what he didn’t say.” 

You felt a sense of dread fill in your stomach as Yoongi urged you on, “And what would that be?” 

“You said you knew I went with Claudin,” You replied, “But Di Jin…He didn’t mention Claudin at all, just that I had been seen there…Yoongi.” 

You turned to him, something akin to the realization in your face, “After Di Jin was decommissioned from the Captain of the Guard…he became a bounty hunter. The Wolf of the West.” Yoongi's expression twisted from confusion to shock and then to pure anger as he crossed his arms, “Perfect, now we have two rats to deal with. Best we set one trap for both Princess…” 

You nodded, “Yes...you are certainly right about that.” 

The idea of facing your husband once again at the table of Namjoon’s study was less than desired, but if your judgment was right, then you would simply have to put your hurt aside, for the safety of not only Wheein but for yourself and potentially the whole of the kingdom. 

“Are you ready Princess?” Yoongi asked, grabbing the handle of the door. Taking one deep breath to calm yourself you nodded before he opened the door for you stepped inside. 

The others were in hushed voices before pausing at the sight of you, all giving you a bow except for you at the end of the table. 

Jungkook. 

His eyes were unreadable as yours at the moment, but the coldness between you both was difficult to not notice. It was hard to imagine once upon a time, this was a normal interaction to you both, now you felt oceans apart. 

“Princess,” Namjoon spoke first, his eyes filled with both concern and curiosity, “We all received word about you urgently needing to speak with us, has something new developed.”

“It has not completely revealed itself but Yoongi and I were speaking this morning and happened upon an odd but…damning clue that’s been staring us in the face this whole time…” You frowned as you walked to the table, “Please sit.” 

Everyone did so as Yoongi pushed your chair, sitting at the opposite end of the table you chose to ignore his intense stare as you began to recall the events of the evening, leaving out most details of the Underside as you were simply too embarrassed to actually speak of what you had discovered. 

After explaining your thoughts and concerns to them Jungkook was immediately the first to speak, “I’m going to slaughter that man,” There was a deep rage in his eyes, “To have the audacity to parade around in my castle, pretend to be someone he isn’t at my court. Try to murder my wife.” It was hissed out, his fingers twitching as if wanting to pick up a blade and slit the man's throat this very moment. 

“Jungkook,” Namjoon ushered in a soft chastising voice, as if scolding a younger brother that was being too hasty with his decisions, “As the Princess said, we don’t know if this is the full truth. However it is the best lead we have and most likely right. But we need to play our cards right, Dae Seong favors him, it would be best to not go in accusing him of anything without any evidence.”

“So where does that leave us then?” Hoseok frowned looking in thought, “We’ve double downed on our efforts but whatever Di Jin is hiding, it’s locked tight.” 

“It would make sense though,” Jimin frowned, leaning back in his seat, his cheek resting on his palm, “Whenever I’ve spoken to him all he’s said is cryptic things like, ‘if you side with me you’re boon will be great’ or ‘just wait watch as the chaos unfolds’.”

“Chaos unfold?” Namjoon asked with piqued curiosity. 

Jimin lifted his hands in exasperation, “Don’t ask me, I never knew what the hell my old man was on about. What I do know is that he has always put himself first. So even if he is aligned with the Rosewoods, it’s only temporary.” 

“So what?” Yoongi asked, “You think if the Rosewood’s take the crown Di Jin would simply murder them and take it for himself.” 

“That's what I would do,” Jimin shrugged, “Take’s a bastard to know a bastard.” 

“If his information is locked tight then we need to dig harder.” Jungkook replied, he looked brooding and still very much angry, “I want eyes on him at all time.” He looked to Yoongi who nodded, “And Claudin as well, as much as they can without compromising their position.” 

Everyone nodded at this before the meeting was dismissed, everyone departing until it was three who remained. 

“Yoongi, leave us.” Jungkook still sat at the opposite end of you, not even sparing the assassin a glance. 

Yoongi however did not leave as he glanced at you, as if asking for your permission if you were okay with this. 

Did you want to talk to him? Not particularly, but he was your husband and this court was only so big, you would eventually have to talk to him about it, the idea of forgiving him made you seethe in rage though. 

You were tired of compromising, tired of learning, tired of having to be understanding. 

“You may wait outside.” You finally glanced at Yoongi with a nod, he then bowed before he exited, closing the door behind him. It was silent for a long minute as you glanced around the study, it was well decorated, maps lining the walls and bookshelves filled to the brim.

It was a quaint thing, not at all organized like the great library, but absolutely Namjoon, books of all shapes and sizes crammed together, some standing up right, others laid on their side to fit inside. 

You stood up to wander around a little in curiosity, ignoring the blatant stares of your husband before you finally settled at the window out looking over the woodland of the meadow. 

“It doesn’t have to be like Y/n…” Jungkook sighed, staring at your back, a sense of yearning in his chest, as if you were so close and yet so far from his reach once again. 

“No it didn’t.” You agreed coldly, folding your arms. He acted as if you’re the one being unreasonable here when he was the one who betrayed you. 

“All you have to do-”

“Yes I know!” You snarled, turning around as fury whiplashed into your veins once more, “All I have to do! Tell me Jungkook had I not been the one to apologize first to you, would you have ever given me a chance? Had I not been the one to swallow my pride, take the lashings from you even so. All I have ever done is give. I am done giving.” Your lips trembled despite the glares you both mirrored, “I have nothing left to give. I meant every word I said to you last night. I may be many things but I am not a fool.” 

“What I did was necessary to secure the crown,” Jungkook hissed back, angry and upset with your words, as if flat out refusing to believe they were nothing but the truth you spoke, “The world is engulfed in politics, all of that of Eunoia is only rumors, rumors you were better off not festering among the thousand other things we’re dealing with. But most of all, I am not your enemy Y/n.” 

You shook your head angrily, “That may be how you feel but that isn’t how I see it Jungkook, I had every right to know about Eunoia, even if nothing more then rumors. You may not be my enemy but you are certainly not my lover.” 

Jungkook’s lip visibly twitched, as if what you had said struck a nerve before he leaned in, eyes cold as before his lips curled in an icy smile, “That’s not what you said when you were moaning like a bitch in heat stuffed full with my fingers.” 

You ignored how hot the tips of your ears burned as your hands curled into fists, you had thought Claudin would be the only person who ever provoked you enough to consider violence and yet here you stand, silenting seething in rage as you glared up at your haughty so-called husband. 

You were above slapping him, but it certainly seemed tempting. So instead you say the next best thing. 

A cruel smile on your own dancing on your lips, “Perhaps because I was imagining it being my actual lover instead of you.” 

You were suddenly jostled around, pressing against the window with his chest against your back, a hand slithering possessively around your throat, “Funny because you were moaning my name the whole time.”

It would be a lie to say you weren’t shamelessly turned on right now, the sexual tension in the room was bursting from the seams, especially so with the visitation of your last intimacy together. 

But unfortunately for Jungkook, your pride would always outwin your sex drive. “You’re doing no favors for yourself right now.” You glared over your shoulder at him. 

You were unable to, however, as his mouth was already pressing a sloppy open mouthed kiss against your skin, his voice deep and breathy against the shell of your ear, “Then let me do a favor for you.” 

When you don’t reply he turned you back to face him, his lips pressing from your neck down your chest as his hands dragged from your waist to your hips, kneeling down in front of him. 

In the moment you couldn’t help but scoff a little, suddenly grabbing a fist full of his hair, yanking hard on it to make his eyes meet yours, what surprised you however was the moan that escaped his lips.

His expression may have remained neutral but you had gotten to know him too well, the slight part of his lips, his pupils blown out from lust. 

The gesture only made you more angry, “The fact that you think head is going to fix this is a joke better left unsaid. You had your chance and now it is gone. I have things to do, do not bother me again.” 

You shoved his head away from you before you stepped away from him, walking out the door without looking back. 

‘Are you ready to go Princess?” 

“More than ready.” 

“Would you like to visit Wheein meanwhile?” 

Your gaze shot up, “I can do that?” It felt like a stupid question, you were the Crowned Princess, it felt as if you shouldn’t even need to ask but given this was Penumbra, you didn’t know how things work. 

Of course you had heard of dungeons before but you had never been in one, nor did one even exist in Eunoia, the closest equivalent were called Repentance Rooms, and they were nothing like a dungeon, they were clean and well lit with barred windows captives could look out of. 

Comfortable even, they were for the liminal time between a captive being captured and trialed and if their punishment was severe they would be sent to the housing district next. 

You wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for a dungeon. 

Yoongi frowned at your words, “Well, you certainly can but last thing you want is for Di Jin to catch you snooping about.” 

“Can you make sure I’m not seen?” You stood up, folding your hands together as you stared at Yoongi pensively. 

His lips curled into a small smile as he kneeled down in front of you, grabbing your hand, “Of course, my lady. But just know there will be guards that are siding with Di Jin, if they see you they’ll alert him immediately.” 

Your face was covered with a hood and Yoongi had skillfully guided you along the narrow halls as you entered the lower levels of the castle where everything was dark and dimly lit, the smell of must becoming overpowering as guards patrolled each hall. 

Just the dim lights and dank smell made you increasingly worried, you had heard about dungeons before what it meant for captives in other kingdoms, but never thought you’d live to see one yourself. 

A naive thought once upon a time. But here you were, visiting your dearest maid who was being wrongfully accused of something you knew in your heart she’d never do. 

Yoongi had you hide in one last nook before he guided you to the very last dungeon, “Okay,” He spoke softly, “You’ll have only a few minutes with her, be brief.” 

You nodded as you crouched down, making your way to the gate, the sight broke your heart, you could hear a soft sob but Wheein was laid down on the ground, nothing but a pile of straw hay serving as a bed in a windowless cell. 

“Oh Wheein,” Your eyes immediately welled with tears, “I’m so sorry.” 

She jolted, scrambling to get up before she gapped at the sight of you, tearings streaming down her face before she crawled to the bars, “Princess.” She wept softly, before reaching throught the bars to you. 

Your arms curled around her as best as possible as she whimpered quietly, “I don’t want to die! Please! They’ll burn me! That’s what Di Jin will do, please!” 

“Princess,” Yoongi ushered out, “One more minute.”

“Shh!” You ushered, trying to keep your voice down as you pulled away from her, grabbing her soft cheeks in your hands, “We aren’t going to let that happen! Okay?” You nodded, “We’ll find a way to prove your innocence I swear by it Wheein.” 

Wheein only continued to cry, shaking her head, “He’s going to kill me Princess, I’ve dreamt of it for so long, I just know it.” 

You grabbed her hands into yours squeezing them tight as your heart ached seeing her in so many tears, “Not as long as I’m alive he won’t,” New determination rushed into your body, anger that hell had not rage against burning in your veins, “I swear on Galadria that I will serve justice where it is due.” 

“Princess! We need to go.” Yoongi whispered out, ushering you quickly. 

Wheein closed her eyes as tears trickled down her face but said no more, quickly you ushered her into one last hug before you whispered, “I’ll return soon! We better news than I have now.” 

“Please Princess, be safe.”

Those were her last whispered words before Yoongi quickly guided you back to a crook to hide as the guards made their rotation. Unfortunately for Wheein, you had no intentions of being safe, you were going to prove her innocence at whatever cost was needed. 

When you had first been told by the King, Dae Seong that you would be expected to dine with the family once a week, it had filled you with nothing but dread. Being among three men at the time was daunting.

Two which didn’t take you seriously at all, and of course the third, your husband who would either pretend you didn’t exist, or give you an icy stare and then proceed to pretend you didn’t exist.

But after the incident in the market place, Jungkook and you had somehow grown closer, fonder of one another, came to an understanding of one another and where you both had come from. 

Two weeks ago…

Your heart squeezed as you stared in the mirror, several maids floated in and out of your room and while you always tried to be kind, today you felt exhausted, only giving simple answers to whatever they asked.

What did you do two weeks ago that finally made him decide to have you spied on? You had gotten into an argument that week- at the time you thought it stupid but only now did you reflect back and realize Jungkook was venomously jealous of any inkling of an idea of Seokjin ever being your lover. 

Not only this but an odd inferiority complex he has that he would rather die than ever admit too. But…why? It made your eyes sting with tears that you refused to shed. You had said hurtful things during that argument but surely it wasn’t enough to make him do that? You’ve had worse arguments with him before that moment.

You just didn’t understand. 

“Finished Your Highness.”

The maid placed the crown on your head as you stared at yourself in the mirror, taking it in, it was heavier then it looked, but then again it was made of Noxtria metal, elaborately weaving with sharp, angles stones of onyx and metal winging out of it's sides and one large center piece in the middle.

The maids all courtesy to you, you offered a weak smile and thanks before they were dismissed. 

You took a deep shaky breath, wiping your eyes before any real tears had fallen. You just had to get through tonight, somehow, despite all of the time that had passed, it felt as if you were in some liminal space between how you first felt going to a family dinner and what it had slowly turned in too. 

Family dinner was expected tonight, however an additional note had been added on, Di Jin and close friends of the family would be attending tonight. Knowing your friends, and though you were upset with Jungkook- that they would be there brought you comfort. 

But having to deal with Di Jin all evening was not something you wanted to deal with. 

However, you were not about to cower away from him, your eyes had gone from mournful to near vengeful as you glared in the mirror, your hair elaborately done for the night by your request and a specific dress for the occasion. 

It had been hanging for a long while and you had truthfully shied away from it, feeling it was a bit too Penumbrian even for you. 

But not tonight.

It was a raven black gown, cold metal weaved into leaves intricately, an armored sweetheart neckline that wrapped all the way up to your throat, your upperarm dawned with cufflets that flowed with even more black fabric and a solid band of metal cinching your waist. 

Black had become a color of mourning in Eunoia, it was something you wore daily during the Five Year war while working in the tents as a healer. But something dawned on you as you looked through your gowns earlier in the evening. 

Before that, during the Age of Celestia, it was said that black was the color of power. Queen Celestia wore it for her ascension after devouring her husband, becoming the sole ruler of Eunoia. 

You didn’t like to think you took after the gruesome woman. But something that wasn’t often talked about was Celestia and Galadria were sisters. You shared just as much blood from one as the other. 

And right now, you wanted to wield power, not grief. 

Standing upright you were escorted down the hall, heads turned in your direction from various aristocrats to maids and servants alike as you kept your head held high and an unwelcoming expression on your face. 

The double doors were shut as per usual and though you had walked through them many times, tonight you felt just as anxious as you had the very first time as they opened. Every set of eyes at the table had turned to you, seeing as you had clearly interrupted the conversation that went on. 

Many at the table had quickly stood up, bowing to you, some more begrudging than others as your eyes locked onto Di Jin’s, his lip twitching a little as he bowed, your expression stayed as unwelcoming as before. 

You may not have been a Jeon by blood but you would certainly pretend you had their trademark cold glare tonight.

Taehyun who had been standing behind Jungkook’s chair had stepped back to pulled the empty chair out beside his, your cold look softened only a little for him, offering a brief tiny smile of thanks as he pushed you in. 

Jungkook had previously looked bored, crown of his own on his head, though from how he slumped in his chair it was just a hair crooked, dark hair dusting in front of his eyes as they met yours. 

And for the briefest moment you felt just a bit stronger having him by your side before anger quelled in you once more at the memory, two weeks, for some reason two weeks ago he chose to no longer trust you. 

Your expression remained as you looked away from him as the voice of Di Jin spoke, “It’s good to see the Princess can finally grace us with her presence.” 

“Yes, just in time for the meal, seeing as the conversation wasn’t much to look forward to.” A mocking smile curled on your lips, never before did you usually take pleasure in having power over someone, but you were experiencing many firsts in Penumbra. 

No matter how much Di Jin disliked you, he knew better than to openly disrespect you, no matter how hard he tried to undermine you in his discreet way. 

“What matters is the Princess is here now,” Jeong Dae’s gaze narrowed on Di Jin before nodding, “let us all dine now. Tell me, the progress on the market is coming along, yes?” 

You stared into your glass of wine as you swirled in, “Yes, they’re starting to lay the foundation down. Though I must confess, my servant being thrown in the dungeon has caused quite a bit of a mess in my schedule.” 

An uncomfortable energy had taken over the table as you shrugged, taking a long drink from your cup, you were not going to sit here and pretend along with everyone else that Di Jin had not done what he had.

“It’s a necessary precaution, once this assassin business has been taken care of you’ll have your servant back,” Dae Seong answered gruffly, not appreciating your lack of tack, “But should more incriminating evidence come out, a servant is expandable and just as easily replaceable.”

Your gaze slowly pulled to his as the silence at the table ensued once more, when had human life become so expandable as he said? 

You understood less and less as to why they felt this way, why they chose to believe this.

After a long moment your lips twisted into a grin that looked more like a grimace, “I thought you might say that your Majesty.” You however said nothing else as you took another drink from your cup.

The table was quiet for a long moment and nobody spoke, despite the silence it was almost comforting to you, to know that your words held some sort of weight to them even if it felt in the moment they were nothing more than an illusion to how you truly felt. 

“Not to interrupt this moment, but perhaps we should discuss the east, it's come to our attention that Kyoto has movement in the east, if they continue our progress will be delayed“ Jimin spoke up, a frown on his face with evident worry, “We've been tracking them down, and it seems they're making a sort of pattern, if I didn't know any better I'd say they were mapping out the best way to invade us.”

“That would be hasty on their part,” Jeong Dae spoke up, “We just passed The Rite of Peace this year, they wouldn’t be foolish to invade us just after the prince and princess wed.”

“Fools aren't so different from the brave,” Jungkook spoke up, swirling his goblet of wine in his hand looking rather bored, though his gaze occasionally went to you, as if hoping you would be looking at him, “ Would it be that outlandish to assume, that they do not care about the Rite of Peace?” 

“This is true,” Di Jin, surprisingly spoke up with agreement, “After all, why would the world let a nation as glorious as us live for one simple girl.”

There was a certain amount of venom in his tone that did not surpass you, though you didn't let it disturb you as it once may have. you suppose somewhere along the line, that you had gotten used to an unsurpassable amount of hatred that for some reason people in Penumbra felt entitled to take out on you.

it was a ugly truth, but it was the truth nonetheless, and Di Jin had a point, no matter how unpleasant it was, why would the world let a nation that had killed countless people, destroyed homes, decimated nations live on, if there is one thing you had learned in Eunoia, it was that you were indeed replaceable.

Dare you say you felt almost as if you were a sacrificial lamb, sent to slaughter, and whether you died by an assassin or by an invasion, did it ever truly matter in the end? You weren't sure. 

Jungkook did not speak, but he didn't need words to convey his feelings, his glare was enough to display his displeasure in Di Jin’s words.

Hoseok cut in, “Perhaps, but if they were to invade, there's no telling what kind of uproar it would cause with other nations. Especially if they kill the princess in the process, even if it is only one person, nobody can deny the influence Eunoian Princess has.” 

“Regardless, it would be wise to have a plan.”  Namjoon said diplomacy and his voice as he attempted to steer the conversation into a less hostile direction, “The people are restless, and with word having gotten out about Eunoia training soldiers along with Kimhae, and now Kyoto, they'll need guidance especially as winter approaches.” 

You sharply inhaled, trying to not let anger seep through your veins again, though tempting, just the idea of Eunoia training soldiers was outlandish, ever since the Age of Celestia soldiers have been out of the question, if the rumors were true why would they start now?

Nothing made sense, you tried to ignore the stares, but it was evident that people in the room did not trust you, after all even your own husband felt he could not trust you at one time. 

Two weeks ago, no matter how hard you tried your mind kept going back to two weeks ago, what had you done two weeks ago to warrant his distrust, what could you have changed to have changed his mind.

Just the thought made your heart ache and for a brief moment your anger had subsided.

“It would only be right to assume that Eunoia and Kimhae have their own plans to invade us. it would be within our best interest to strike first if that is the case.” Di Jin lifted his goblet before taking a long drink.

I'm just like that your anger had returned.

But before you could speak, your husband had beat you to it, anger evident in his voice as he spoke, “When we wrote the Rite of Peace, we promised Eunoia protection should someone ever threaten Invasion on them, they are honorable, if they desire to have their own protection let them have it, but do not sit at my table and claim loyalty to my family, and then proceed to disrespect my wife and her country in front of me.” 

Di Jin laughed, “You've got a lot to learn boy, love rarely saves anyone and the few bastards it does, life has a certain way of shortening their lives.”

“And men who disrespect women, tend to live even shorter lives.” Jungkook said, his voice having grown a little darker and expressionless, his fingers now drumming against the table as if aching to reach across it and wrap his knuckles around Di Jin’s neck.

“Regardless of Kimhae and Kyoto, I can only speak for my own nation, and I can swear this we are pacifists by nature, we do not desire for nor want bloodshed, but do not mistake our heritage, we do bite back should we be provoked, after all, history proves that.” You spoke, your voice calm, “Should we be treated fairly, you will only expect kindness in return, for that is who my people are, while I understand your caution, we created the Rite of Peace for its very name, to bring peace to the world and put these past grudges to rest. And I intend to keep it that way to the best of my ability.” 

“It seems you've all mistaken this dinner, we are here to gather and make merry not discuss politics,” Dae Seong looked much like his son, bored by the conversation, “We will not strike first, nor will we feed into their antics, after all this was the very reason I recalled the march to the East, there is no reason to wage war when our enemies have been defeated.”

You glanced around, noting the expressions on some of your friends' faces, it was evident just about nobody agreed with Dae Seong in one way or another, But nobody dared express how they felt, after all he was the king. 

The dinner had went on for the rest of the evening without much of a hiccup, granted it gave you a headache and you had found yourself sunk back into your chair the whole time, more than anything you wanted to get out of your seat and away from your husband, who had been staring at you with puppy eyes most of the evening.

Occasionally you'd watch his fingers twitch as if aching to reach out to you, to pull your chair closer, to brush your hair from your face, or to fix a piece of your dress that I've been wrinkled, but he knew better rather he kept his hand in his lap or against his cup, his sixth glass might you add.

In some ways you understood that this was perhaps unfair on your part, the more you thought about it the more you realized that you could have confided him and you had chosen not to, this was in some ways your fault as well but it did not take away the hurt you felt, that you felt you were closer than this.

But it seemed you both were wrong in many ways and you weren't certain of how to fix this, if you even wanted to fix this anymore, what you did know was that you were at a breaking point, you were uncertain of how much more you could take before you would break.

And every time you thought it couldn't get worse it without a doubt somehow got worse, but surely you would hit a plateau, your husband had lied to you, your servant was on trial for your attempted assassination, and you found out your home country was enlisting soldiers into a military, to say your life had fallen apart was an understatement.

Or at least that was how you felt.

You had been sat in bed, a book in hand though you hadn't read it all evening, and once again no matter how hard you tried to focus a book was just a book, and words were just words, you could read but the sentence just kept going over your head each time you read it, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't focus.

A knock at your door however had drew you from your thoughts causing you to stand up reluctantly before trudging over and opening the door

The person who stood before you was unshocking to you, after all it seemed since the unsavory reveal of his deeds your husband could hardly stay away from you, no matter how many times you would ask him to give you space, in fact he seem to be doing the opposite these days.

“I know you don’t wish to see me-”

You abruptly tried to shut the door but his arm caught against the door. 

“Y/n just listen to me,” Jungkook’s voice was weak, hair brushing over his eyes but the desperation in them was pathetic, “Let me talk, please.” 

“You’re drunk Jungkook,” Your teeth gritted but you didn’t try to force the door anymore, your hand still curled tight against the knob as you glared at him. He reeked of liquor and it was evident as his white shirt had a large inky red spill down the front that had been dried out, this was his sleep shirt which meant he hadn’t stopped drinking even after everyone had retired. 

Jungkook had one hand still flat against the door keeping it ajar and the other on the frame as he peered down at you, “I just wanted to see you, to tell you in my own words, I was complacent about your feelings, about my own. I have no excuses left, I have no words to defend myself, only my desire to be with you.”

You shook your head, trying to not let your heart twist further in pain, you wanted to look past this, to let it go, but how could you? Spying through letters was the first step, how could you know this wasn’t some elaborate plan all along to use you?

“It’s not that easy Jungkook,” You tried to contain the grief in your voice, guilt eating you up the more you thought of your own actions, “I should’ve trusted you more, confided in you about what I heard from Claudin, but I didn’t. I think it’s best if whatever this, does not continue.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to shake his head, his knuckles curling against the door, “We’ve both made mistakes. Forgive yourself Y/n and forgive me. Let me prove myself to you, let me earn your love.”

You roughly brushed the tears from your cheeks, “We were never meant to be together Jungkook, you know that just as well a I do-” 

You were cut off abruptly by his hand suddenly snaking through the small gap of the door,  wrapping around your waist and his lips immediately pressing into yours in a devouring hold, a surprised whimper escaped you at his iron hold increasingly becoming tighter on your waist. 

Your head was telling you one thing, but your heart was so desperately wanting another.

His other hand immediately snaked around your throat in a firm grip, not tight but not loose as you tried your best to not give into the temptation to melt into his hold but it was becoming more difficult when his tongue had pushed between your lips in determination. 

You broke, unable to resist the soft moan that escaped you as you felt your back push against the wall, arms wrapping around his neck before curling into his soft locks, giving them a soft yank as he moaned into your mouth,

You could taste the sweet wine still lingering on his lips, the unmistakable feeling curling into your stomach as you let yourself surrender to him for the briefest moment, and for the brief moment, everything felt better.

Two weeks ago…

The realization quickly followed after you and anger kindled in your veins once more, your hands had quickly slid to his shoulders to push back against him, “Jeon Jungkook!” You broke the kiss by turning your head with a hiss. 

Jungkook didn’t relent though his forehead pressing against yours as he heaved a breath, “What have you done to me? Some ancient dryad magick?” He gave a mirthless smile, “You are all I can ever think about from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed, seeing you cry makes me want to kill whatever is causing them, I’m drowning in you my sweet doe. I’m intoxicated and desperate so indulge me,”

“Tell me what I need to do to earn your forgiveness.” Jungkook ushered out, wet kissing being placed on your neck as the internal battle waged war in your head, one part of you wanting to immediately crumble but the other was indignant, this relationship surely would not end well.

At one time when you were younger, you would have laughed, after all you were married. But your eyes had been opened, things were never that simple, not when one was a Princess, marriage was contract, love was a luxury.

He broke away from you only a little, almost nose to nose with you and hair hanging over his eyes like a cloud, “I thought I knew love, I thought I knew many things before I met you,” His hands trembled as if the emotions were too powerful, “But it turns out I know nothing. Without you, I know nothing.”

“Jungkook…” You ushered out quietly, shaking your head as you tried to swallow down the hurt that began to bubble once more. 

“I feel like I’m being consumed by you,” Jungkook confessed, his hand squeezing your neck ever so slightly, his thumb rubbing softly along your windpipe, “It feels like you’re very being is sucking the soul from my body. And now that I’ve had you,” His voice broke only a little, his eyes like steel as he whispered a growl, “I would die without you.” 

“Jungkook!” You whispered out frantically at the sight of him letting you go only to kneel down on both knees. 

“Let me repeat my question; what do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?” Jungkook’s eyes burned with a bright intensity that nearly frightened you, his hand stroking up your thigh, “Is it Wheein? I’ll get her back for you. I’ll burn this entire fucking kingdom and rebuild it if I have too.” 

Was he hearing himself right now!?

You were panicked at his words and his actions, he had pushed his way into your room but the door was wide open, anybody could walk down this corridor and overhear him! “You can start by getting off the ground and going to bed!” You hissed out panickedly, flailing your hands to gesture him to stand, “And give me some time to think about it! Jungkook I…so much has happened I just need time! There’s no reason for you to say something so damning!” 

“I mean every word I’m saying.” Jungkook’s voice was serious, his eyes burning into you as he gazed up at you. 

It was silent for a long moment and Jungkook’s gaze did not lighten, hesitantly you lowered a hand down to his head, running your nails through his hair, it caused his lids to lower until they closed, his forehead resting against your thigh, hands still delicately trembling against your thighs.

“If you want my love so desperately, then give me time and space,” You whispered out, “You’re right, we’ve both made mistakes, and they can be forgiven, but forgiveness takes time that cannot be rushed.” 

“I can’t lose you.” Jungkook mumbled out, his weight slowly sinking into you. 

“You won’t.” Your words however went unheard as he slumped down, before collapsing to the ground, passed out. 

You stared down at him for a long moment before you sighed, “I’m sorry but you’re not spending the night here.” You stepped over him as you walked to the door, glancing around, the guard at your door must have been dismissed by him. 

You were in luck however as a pair of guards were at the end of the hall, walking quietly as they spoke, you flagged them down, requesting they find Taehyun and then have your guard returned to your door. 

Shortly Taehyun had arrived, the poor boy looking half asleep himself as he took in his Prince’s slumped figure on the ground, “He didn’t cause too many problems did he, Princess?” 

You shook your head, “No more than he usually does, I apologize for interrupting your night Taehyun, thank you for taking him back to his room.”

Taehyun offered a tired smile, “Of course your Highness, have a restful night.” He hauled Jungkook up with a groan, and briefly you wondered if Taehyun could even carry him, but he did manage to get him out the door and you supposed that was good enough.

Taking a shaky breath you sat back down in your bed, deciding you would be reading deep into the night, as you surely wouldn't be getting any rest regardless.

It was late morning and you had been eating out on the second floor terrace, the day was slightly warmer but still gray and cloudy, it made you depressed and you briefly wondered just how Penumbrian’s coped with it. 

But then again, they knew no different, for them, this was normal. 

You envied that.

“You mind if I join, Princess?” 

You twisted in your seat at the sight behind you, “Areum, of course, please have a seat.” You gestured to the empty table. 

You had been sitting out here alone, Yoongi on the inside as you wanted a moment to yourself but deep down you felt alone and you deeply missed Wheein’s company, each passing day made you more anxious, and the gap in your heart widen even more. 

Many questions filled your head, how would you set one trap to catch both Di Jin and Claudin in? You were not in a favorable position either way, Di Jin had a personal connection to the king and Dae Seong would need a damn good reason to believe you.

And you would have to be extra careful navigating Claudin as the Rosewood ties with the Jeon’s was already strained, one weak accusation and it could cause a civil war. 

“You seem so sullied these days Princess,” Areum commented as she sat next to you, promptly grabbing a plate and stacking it with rice cakes.

“I miss when I first arrived here,” You admitted, “Things weren’t complicated the way they are now.” 

“Perhaps,” Areum agreed, “But my, my, look how far you’ve come. I heard from your husband this morning. He looked dreadful.”

Your lips curled into a brief grimace at the memory, he looked rough last night, you couldn’t possibly imagine what he looked like when he woke up, no doubt hungover and upset. 

“What of it?” You felt slightly nervous, had someone overheard Jungkook’s over dramatic declaration last night?

“He asked me to take you to the Jeon Estate,” Areum smiled at your surprised and confused expression, “The estate was created for the royal family during the early days of Penumbra when the castle had yet to be built. It’s no longer used regularly, but occasionally we still hold family celebrations there for privacy. It’s deep in the woodland forest, past the Seer’s refuge.” 

“...May I ask why?” You frowned, uncertain of how to feel about this, there was so much at stake, how could Jungkook just expect you to leave…?

Areum smiled, “Something about wanting to allow you to have space and piece of mind. I understand your feelings Princess, I can’t imagine the weight you must be feeling right now, and I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you want to stay here at the castle.” 

Areum tapped her chin, “However I will say this much, the Estate has something primal to it, some may even call it magick. If you are seeking answers, there is no better place to meditate than there.” 

“I’ll think about it.” You nodded as you gazed out over the meadow in thought. 

Perhaps time away from the castle and Jungkook would serve you well.

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

Lucifer appears to be the only fallen angel in hell in the hellaverse

(even vaggie as pointed out can still enter heaven), with the other sins being far more clearly demonic and somewhat implied to have been created along side hell

and, I love this change, that not all the big names in hell were originally angels, makes hell really feel like it's own place with its own history and power structure that got haphazardly repurposed into an afterlife as a second thought

(there's a very interesting meta-narrative to follow if you assume the human realm of the hellaverse has the same understanding of Christianity and the Lucifer story as we do and all reinterpretations are in world misconceptions, it makes it look like the story was reframed to make hell existence more defined by heaven, to delegitimize their right to self-determination, that anything in hell is just a result of heaven's defects going to stir trouble, which is a justification that commonly pops up in imperialism, and on top the resistance from oppression being used to justified even greater atrocities, golly the themes-)

right where was I?

i like that Lucifer stands out so much, his silly little guy sits a top the throne works cause he feels like he's operating on an entirely different Power system to everyone else, it doesn't matter how weak of an angel he lets himself be they'll never even begin to touch him (overlords cry themselves to sleep over not being able to beat the whimsy out of this stupid little guy that ranted about differences in scale colourization of snake breeds for 3 hours)

the contrast of the other sins being giant demonic creatures while he's this small angelic humanoid of light in chef's kiss

Everyone talks about the other sins being like aunts and uncles to Charlie but we need to acknowledge the equal importance notion that that means Luci crashed into the sins' realm at mach 5 with the impact cater alone probably forming a whole ass new ocean (his distraught sobbing filled it) and they immediately accepted him as their new not-sibling (they fucked at some point lets be honest, you can't convince me he and Lilith have a monogamous exclusive relationship, she invented feeling restrained by a relationship) in the sins weird eternal dysfunctional found family

Fuck, I Need That Fic with a freshly fallen Lucifer and the other sins So Bad, link me if you know one

The Six: No Angels allowed in hell

:Lucifer

The Six: OK we'll make an exception because he looks very polite-Prideful

there is one(1) acceptable angel

It's so important to me that Luci has his sibling archangels in heaven just so they can watch him have a better family in hell

Given it seems like Lucifer's fall wasn't a result of being intentionally cast out but some inherent consequence you know they miss him so much, that twist of 'how could he do this?' and 'why didn't I stop him?', you know there's this awkward mix of pity, anger and longing whenever they interact that Luci's grown both resentful and numb to

He needs to lose his entire family only to find a new one please Im so attached to this concept, shaking him

Trading in one group of assholes that lovingly give him shit out of jealousy(dad's favourite) for a different group of assholes that lovingly give him shit out of jealousy(highest ranking prince, also A Mess)

Luci: "Hey, Can you finish signing off on those trade-?"

Belph, yawning: "Can you talk to your daughter?"

[raxistaicho]

Felix's anger towards Dimitri in Three Houses is the most misunderstood aspect of their relationship and I will die on this hill.

Felix's problem with Dimitri isn't that he can't see that what Dimitri went through was traumatic. It's not that he's running away from his own trauma regarding the death of Glenn.

Its the fact that Dimitri uses the deaths of their loved ones as an excuse to be monstrous.

And the proof of that is in their A-Support.

Felix: Sometimes you have an animal's face, contorted with anger and bloodlust. At other times, a man's, with a friendly smile. Which is your true face? Dimitri: Do not waste your breath on questions with such obvious answers. They are both the real me. My father, my friends, Glenn… They all meant a great deal to me. And they were all brutally slaughtered. I alone survived. If I do not shoulder the anguish and regret they must have felt, who will? Felix: Hah. So, that's how you justify your atrocities.

Dimitri is so far into his own head with his grief and anger that he's using the dead as an excuse to go on his quest for vengeance, hurting anyone and everyone in his path and treating everyone around him cruelly. This desire for vengeance isn't for the dead. It's for himself.

And Felix rightly calls him out on that.

Felix: "I will fulfill my duty to the late king." My old man used to say that over and over, like a mantra. How nauseating. No one seems to understand. The dead won't acknowledge your loyalty. They don't care. What a load of bunk it is, pretending to serve a corpse. You're serving your own ego. Dimitri: You are wrong. Felix: No, I'm not. The dead are dead, the living are living. You have to respect that boundary. If you keep stringing gravestones around your neck, you'll snap.

Dimitri doesn't respect the boundary between the living and the dead. He doesn't understand it, and none of the people who should have been taking care of him made sure to teach him to respect it. And as a result, we're left with a man who uses being "the voice of the dead" to justify his cruelty.

And Dimitri is absolutely aware of what he is doing. He's not well, but he's still very clearly concious of what he's doing. And we know this because of what he says to Byleth following the death of Randolph.

Dimitri: If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me. If you insist that you cannot...then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones.

Dimitri is actively choosing to be a dick. There is no kinder way to put it. He's being a dick, and using the deaths of Lambert, Glenn, and the people of Duscur as an excuse.

And it isn't like Felix doesn't understand on some level. If anything, he's one of the few members of the cast who CAN understand. Glenn was HIS older brother. Rodrigue HIS father. And despite the fact that Dimitri is considered more important and he was often left to the wayside, Felix still loved and cared about them. They're his family. And he knows they loved him too, even if it wasn't in the way he should have been shown (I have so many issues with the fact that Dimitri is more important to Rodrigue than Felix is but that's a rant for another day). If anyone should have the right to be angry about their deaths, it's him.

But he doesn't hold onto that anger. Not in the same way.

Felix: I'm not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it. I haven't gone a day without questioning why my father and brother had to die, while I survived. I'll bear this pain until the day I die, but I refuse to wallow in it. I have more important things to do than blubber for my whole life.

Felix does not and will not allow his anger and grief to allow him to cause atrocious acts in the same way. And he backs up his words with actions. Which is something Dimitri needs to do for their relationship to improve at all. Which is shown in Chapter 18 if you make sure their C-Support has been viewed.

Felix: Hmph. And how do you intend to make up for my father's death? Dimitri: Felix… I realize words alone are not enough to repent, but I fear they are all I have. Felix: I'm not after more empty words. I want you to speak through your actions.

If you don't have their C-Support, Felix won't say he'll agree to help take back Fhirdihad. He will, of course, as he's a playable unit. But because of both the actions of the player and, as a result, Dimitri's actions, Felix won't vocalize his support.

Dimitri can say he has changed and realized the errors of his ways and offer apologies, but for Felix, they mean nothing if those words aren't also put to action.

And THAT is what the entirety of their issues is.

Both of them lost many of the same loved ones.

But while one chooses to move forward, the other chooses to wallow back. While one chooses not use that pain to commit atrocious acts of violence, the other uses it as his justification.

And THIS is why it makes sense for Felix to leave. On top of just not liking being a noble with those kinds of responsibilities, his head of state is someone who he is diametrically opposed. They might have been "friends" once (and I say it like that because prior to the Tragedy their friendship looks very one sided), but friendship doesn't mean you accept and partake in torture and unwarranted levels of slaughter.

And Felix outright tells us this.

But both those around him and a lot of the audience do not want to listen.

Oh, that's good, thanks for breaking that down! :)

Like I've said, Felix is one of the characters I haven't analyzed super well, so I appreciate the breakdown from someone who knows him better.