#but now I have to keep self isolating anyway for longer and I feel so guilty having to tell work :))))

[protobrieile]

sighhhhhhhhhhh

[sssarrrra]

Dying to stay alive. Why does Fyodor Dostoevsky enjoy being killed on purpose? Bsd analysis

Why Dostoevsky looks so young despite living for centuries? I think it's because he often gets killed. He literally has no time to age.

His skin care routine is being murdered every year or so. Maybe, even more often.

Fyodor CAN age, he isn't immune to it. He isn't immortal. He's ability isn't about eternal youth. He can get gray hair and wrinkles. But he doesn't. Dostoevsky looks almost identical to how he's been when he's met Bram centuries ago (minus a scar and an outfit). So why is it?

Let's assume that the physical "age" Fyodor naturally gains can be transferred to the new body he enters. And the only things that get "erased" are traces of harm left by someone else (bruises, cuts, scars, etc.)

Let's pretend that we know Fyodor's "biological" age. And it's 20. (That's just an assumption for this example!)

It would go like this: Fyodor's biologically 20. He lives until his 22, than gets killed. His "new" body will have the age of 22. Then he lives until he's 26 and dies unnaturally. He's biological age in the new body is gonna be 26.

And so on and so on. It means both his appearance and physic will gradually change. But we see NONE OF THAT. Present Fyodor is almost a twin copy of Fyodor from the past.

It means that Dostoevsky has never lived longer than a couple of years max without dying and respawning into a new body. He probably dies quit often and can't even get old enough because he simply doesn't have time.

Maybe, he has some mark on his calendar: "Need to die every year to keep my body young and relative healthy". And it's a strategy and nothing else. But I feel like there is more to that.

Dostoevsky probably enjoys the thrill of death (or near death) experience for various reasons.

People sometimes describe Dazai as a "suicide-addict", but THIS is a new level of it. These two share a hobby of trying to die often. But Dostoevsky not just tries. He dies. Fyodor's way of getting a rid of his stress is being brutally murdered by someone else. I wounder, if Dazai knew it how it would make him feel? To find out that Fyodor is drawn to death in the same way that he is? We'll find out eventually.

Dostoevsky meticulously got himself killed probably more than 300+ times or so. And, yes, sometimes it was work related incidents due to his plans. But he didn't HAVE to die so often, did he?

It honestly seems, that for Fyodor "dying" is just an extracurricular activity he does to pass the time. Some ppl go their friend's house to play video games. And Fyodor goes to someone's place -> dies there.

Maybe, Dostoy tries to connect with people by "dying" by their hands? When he transfers his mind into a new body, it makes him feel less lonely, somehow?

For example, Fyodor didn't have to break into Bram's castle and chat him up about demons. He didn't have to put his life on a line just to see how Bram would react to his musings about world-politics. He knew he would die, obviously. But he went anyway. Just to "catch a glimpse" of Bram (in his own words). And then, of course to get murdered. Did he hope that Bram would be the one to deliver a final blow? Did Fyodor secretly want to "posses" Bram's body from that long, long time ago?

You know how ppl joked about Fyodor's hobby being captured on purpose? Add "dying" to this list, asap.

He's reasons for overusing his ability to "reincarnate" are probably complicated.

A part of it is a need to escape/ease his guilt. Dostoy wants to feel like a martyr that has a right to commit sin. Maybe, it's his own self-punishment, a form of self-harm. He believes these short or long moments of agony "erase" the harm he does to others or, at least, balance it out.

On the other hand, Fyodor is still a human who wants to belong. But he spent decades in paranoia and isolation that affected him immensely. So now the only "true" connection Dostoevsky can create with someone is when he inserts his consciousness into their body. The flow of new feelings/goals keeps him distracted from himself and his bleak view of the reality. So he does it over and over.

Or is it just a boredom thing? Like living is such a drug he can't help but try to die?

Dostoy is too afraid/guilty to go to heaven right away so he passes time by adding bits of different personalities to himself. He has this semi-free subscription to people's agendas, he only has to die to access them. It keeps him entertained. Like a Netflix but he has to die to watch a "movie" from someone's POV, with their goals/emotions intact still.

Dostoy wants to pick up a new passion/hobby? No problem. He just needs to find someone who likes that particular interest, and than get murdered by that person. Then Fyodor can gain their insights into the topic (possibly).

I wish I could see the way Dostoevsky envisions humanity. It seems like he's both enmeshed with it to the point of losing himself and at the same time he's discarded by humanity and isolated from it.

It's such a mixed-up experience. No wounder Fyodor's mind is so… Bizarre.

[darl-ingfics]

Our Chaos

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Everyone but the Maknae Line (flu)

Caregiver(s): Seungkwan, Vernon, Dino

Word Count: 1,633

It wasn’t often that all of Seventeen took sick at the same time. Despite living in such close quarters, being naturally cuddly people with little regard for personal space, and having to squeeze in pre-show spaces meant for significantly less people, the members were highly skilled at self-isolating and taking care of themselves as needed when they didn’t feel well, especially if they were in comeback or concert season. Things usually just… worked out. 

But ‘often’ and ‘usually’ were not a guarantee. 

“Woozi’s trying to escape again!” Chan called from the upstairs landing. Hansol turned around, quick as lightning, just in time to catch Jihoon groan in frustration right at the base of the stairs. Seungkwan also slid into the doorframe from the laundry room, pointing a finger at Jihoon to double down on Chan’s tattling. 

“Am not!” Jihoon’s croaky voice shot back. 

Hansol arched one eyebrow. “Then why do you have one shoe on, hm?”

Jihoon looked at his feet, seeing he did, in fact, only have one shoe on. “Well fuck me, then.” 

“See, that’s how I know you’re sick: my question, it made no sense, but you gave yourself up anyway.” 

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed. The effect was entirely ruined by his influenza-flushed face. “I hate you.” His gaze shifted between the pair. “Both of you.”

Seungkwan smirked. “You don’t.” He nodded towards the den. “Back to the couch.” Jihoon grumbled under his breath, likely things he’d be apologizing later despite neither Hansol nor Seungkwan not fully hearing him. Hansol sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to the pot on the stove, bubbling with homemade soup. 

They’d been home for an hour. One hour. And things had already been chaos.

The only members who had been seemingly spared from the flu from hell were the three maknaes. And management had insisted that the three of them come into the studio for part of the day, claiming that they could still make content, and, as one representative from each unit, help plan some of the group’s upcoming activities. Seungcheol had encouraged them to go, claiming that he, Jeonghan, and Joshua could collectively hold down the fort while they were gone, despite the fact that the three eldest had gotten sick most recently and were definitely feeling the more worse for wear at the moment.

Still, they couldn’t say no to Seungcheol. They’d gone to the studio. And come home to chaos. 

Seungkwan had opened the door on a scene straight out of a horror movie. The entire living room was a cacophony of yelling, with Seokmin in the center of the storm, perched on the coffee table with a cartoonish pout on his face, and blood leaking from a cut on his forehead. Mingyu and Minghao and Soonyoung were all pacing around the room, the main sources of the yelling, while Wonwoo observed and commented from the recliner. Seungkwan had immediately rushed in while Hansol had gone for the first aid kit. The cut had been the result of Seokmin standing up too fast, blacking out from a rush of vertigo, and hitting his head on the coffee table. 

It thankfully hadn’t taken more than a bandaid and a few hugs to get him to calm down. 

So now they’d divided tasks to conquer the most area: Hansol was making dinner, Seungkwan was attending to chores, and Chan was sent on reconnaissance to locate the rest of the members. 

The easiest to locate had been Junhei, who had been in the living room all along, fast asleep on the smaller couch, the back of which faced the door so his sleeping frame had been hidden from the maknaes upon entry. Minghao informed Chan that Jun hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open for longer than 15 minutes, drifting in and out of sleep faster than was legal (Minghao’s exact words.) Chan was just happy that at least one of his useless hyung’s was getting the rest he needed. 

Once upstairs, Chan started by knocking on the closed bathroom door, getting a response from Jihoon, who confirmed he was just getting out of the shower and not actively puking. Chan then checked Seungcheol’s room, where the 95 line usually congregated, but found it empty. Same with Jeonghan’s. Thoroughly baffled, Chan opened the door to Joshua’s room just enough to peek his head inside. All three members of the 95 line were snuggled together in Joshua’s bed, which was an uncharacteristic event. Usually, they could be found in Seungcheol’s room. Chan later learned, through a harrowing tale as narrated by a semi-delirious Soonyoung, that the trio had had to move to Joshua’s room after Jeonghan had thrown up in Seungcheol’s bed (and this after the same thing happening in his own bed). Soonyoung and Wonwoo had attempted laundry, but hadn’t been entirely successful (another fun adventure Seungkwan and Chan had dealt with upon arriving home, leaving the squeamish Vernon out of that picnic). 

So here the three eldest were in Joshua’s smaller bed, Jeonghan on the end, passed out on his left side, gripping a plastic bowl as if it were a stuffed animal. Seungcheol was sandwiched in the middle, his arms around Joshua’s waist while the latter’s arms were thrown around Seungcheol’s neck. And while they looked absolutely adorable, Chan couldn’t help the tug in his chest at just how exhausted and sick they all looked. The day had to have been hard on them, caring for the rest of the members while so ill themselves. Chan knew for a fact they’d had little help; Soonyoung and Wonwoo had likely done their best, but he knew that poor Junhei couldn’t stay awake long enough to be of any assistance, and Jihoon had certainly been too busy planning his escape. 

Regardless, Chan was glad they were asleep now. 

“Cheollie, Hannie, and Shua are asleep in Shua’s room,” Chan reported when he returned to the main level. 

“Hao’s on the couch. Gyu’s on the couch. Seokmin’s on the couch,” Seungkwan began reciting, peeking over at the den. “Wonwoo’s on the recliner. Hoshi’s on the other couch with Junnie.”

“And Jihoon’s trapped with him,” Hansol finished. 

“Fuck you,” the producer said back, raising his voice just enough to be heard and to make him cough roughly. 

“Love you too,” Hansol chirped back. “Also, dinner’s almost ready. I think?” He peered questioningly down at the pot in front of him. Seungkwan moved to the kitchen to check with him. 

“Want me to take a look?” Mingyu asked, moving to stand up. Just the motion of leaning forward had him blinking stars from his eyes, something that did not go unnoticed. 

“No, Gyu, we got it covered,” Seungkwan reassured him, holding up a hand. “It’s not like majority of you can taste it anyway…”

“But still…”

“Hey Mingyu, you’re gonna sit your ass right down cause we will not be scraping you up off the floor if you pass out,” Hansol replied, his tone carrying order. He snapped his fingers at Jun and Wonwoo, despite Jun being dead asleep and Wonwoo almost there. “That goes for you too, 1.82 meter crew.”

“That feels discriminatory…” Wonwoo muttered. 

“Be less tall, then,” Jihoon retorted. 

“Does that mean Jihoonie gets to pass out cause he’s short?” Mingyu asked, his voice so genuine that Hansol fought the urge to laugh at the question. 

“Sure.”

“Jihoonie, you need to take advantage of your privileges,” Minghao slurred, tapping Jihoon’s knee in earnest. 

“I like you better when you’re asleep.”

“Me too,” Minghao replied, flopping back against the couch. 

As their bickering continued, Chan’s eyes surveyed the room, landing on Soonyoung. The dancer leader had moved to sit with Junhei, propping the elder man’s head up in his lap and playing with his hair. Chan slipped towards them, sitting on the arm of the couch behind his unit leader. 

“Hey,” Chan whispered. 

Soonyoung tipped his head back and smiled. “Hey, bug. What’s up?”

“Just checking on you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Well my throat uncharacteristically hurts.” He sniffled once before pitching forward with a nearly stifled sneeze, careful not to jostle Jun too much.

“Bless you.” Chan’s fingers carded through his hair. 

“Thanks.” 

“Really, though, how are you?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I feel like shit. My entire body aches, I can’t breathe right, and I haven’t been able to fall asleep all day. Normal flu stuff, you know?” He tipped his head back again to look at Chan, a crooked smile on his lips. Soonyoung’s joking grin quickly faded when he saw tears in his maknae’s eyes. “Channie, what’s wrong?” 

“There’s just…” A tear slipped from Chan’s eye, and he laughed incredulously, “nothing I can do for you.” He held up empty hands. 

“Baby…” Soonyoung held out his hand. Chan took it, another tear escaping as he felt Soonyoung squeeze hard. “You being here is enough. You, and Sollie, and Kwannie… you caring enough to be here means everything. You are doing everything you can for us, and we love you for it.” 

“He’s right, bug.” Chan’s eyes snapped up to meet Seokmin’s. Actually, everyone’s attention was on him now. “I know you’re probably super overwhelmed right now…”

“Kwannie, Sollie, you too,” Wonwoo added, looking over at the other two members who had most definitely tuned into the conversation. 

“But you’re doing great,” Seokmin finished, smiling, tired but bright. “We appreciate you three so much more than we could ever say.” “And we aren’t the easiest patients, that’s for sure,” Mingyu added. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jihoon muttered. 

“No, he speaks for YOURSELF,” Minghao replied, leaning against Jihoon’s shoulder, from which he was brusquely shoved off with all the strength the sickly produce could muster. Chan laughed, and Soonyoung squeezed his hand. Maybe things would turn out all right after all.

[loosingmoreletters]

For the ask game Ghostbat, 37

I barely go here anymore babe, you’ll have to excuse the characterizations.

meeting in prison au

Bruce Wayne’s parents die. He copes with it and everything else that happens to him in the next decade as well as one would expect for the richest orphan in the world, pushed around by relatives with sharp teeth and greedy hands. Maybe, in some other world, there’d be someone who cares, but in this one, the Wayne and Kane names are not spoken kindly. Any cousins he has, are much older, distant, and more likely to tell Bruce to stay quiet and out of sight.

Bruce is pulled from school after the first fight he gets into over his parents’ death. It’s just until he’s learned to manage his grief a little better, until he’s fit for society again. He never returns and it suits him just fine. He occupies his days with self-studies in whatever matter interests him and remains unseen as is demanded.

The first real decision Bruce Wayne, all of nineteen, makes about his life, is taking a gun into his hand and shoot the man who ruined his life three times in the chest.

He does so in broad daylight, is caught on the spot, though the police doesn’t have to tackle him down, he’d already on the ground, heaving, throwing up over the gun. Erratic, the report will say later, not a practiced shooter. He isn’t, he’s fired the handgun he nicked from his uncle a hundred times in the forest behind the manor, practiced until perfection, for three shots that will have his parents’ murderer most certainly die a slow and agonizing death.

Poor Bruce Wayne, a fragile child presented only at the right occasions like expensive jewelry.

The sentence they give him is barely a slap on the wrist. After all, so proclaim the papers, what good son wouldn’t avenge their parents?

It should matter, Bruce thinks somewhere, that he perpetuated the same violence as the one that ruined him, ruins him still. It doesn’t matter to anyone, it just feels hollow.

It’s Gotham, they decide on a year in Arkham.

His mental health has never been great, his aunt proclaims in some interview, crying crocodile tears. We had to pull him from school because of it! We tried our best, but poor Bruce, he was hurting so much.

Bruce has no doubt that by the time he is released from Arkham, all of his assets will be seized. All the papers he had to sign to even get admitted, he knows exactly what freedoms he gave up. Bruce Wayne will no longer be of worth to anyone, and that suits him just fine.

It’s fine anyway, there’s no need to live beyond this.

The first month is surprisingly quiet for all that he now resides in Arkham. He supposes the doctors are still careful with him, paid to keep him docile and quiet. They’re probably happy that this criminally insane inmate never throws a fuss, isn’t anything like the freaks they keep downstairs. After all, Bruce Wayne really only got revenge. The motif is clear, his trigger as well. He’s a predictable patient, and the diagnosis they write on their little clipboards amount to nothing more than severe depression. The doses of depressants he’s prescribed is too high, and since nobody expects Bruce to act out, nobody checks if he actually takes them.

More often than not, his therapists end up telling Bruce how happy they are to speak to him instead of anyone downstairs. Bruce’s monotone behavior is well rewarded after the six-month mark, he gets a cellmate.

Anton smiles, flirts, charms, and never speaks of what sentence brought him here.

Bruce isn’t stupid, he figures that whatever it is, it isn’t what he’s actually here for. Anton is amusing in his own way, though Bruce supposes his own reactions to Anton’s flirting are the true entertainment to the other. It’s what you get when you raise yourself in isolation. Anton cracks a joke about attraction and Bruce replies with formula for dopamine.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Anton says one night, out of the blue.

“How’d you know?” Bruce asks in return, his eyes never straying from the page of the book he’s reading, thankful for the moonlight. He can read and keep up a conversation at a same time just fine. Could probably add a third task if he had anything else to occupy his hands with that wasn’t turning a page. Maybe he should ask the doctors to add some creative classes. Cooking would be fun, though he supposes the knives would be a challenge. It’s sad, he misses chemistry.

“The way you talk,” Anton answers.

Bruce doesn’t think there’s anything special about the way he talks. He’s blunt to a fault.

Why did you kill him?

He murdered my parents.

Did you plan this?

Obviously.

Are you taking this seriously at all, Mr. Wayne?

No, sir.

“I don’t say much.”

Nobody wants to listen to poor, orphan Bruce Wayne after all.

“And yet, if I were to ask you how to get to the bottom levels undetected, I’m sure you could tell me, probably open our door as well without anyone noticing.”

Bruce does look away from his page now and finds Anton staring at him with interest, a sincerity about his own character that Bruce hasn’t expected. Anton, Bruce thinks, beneath all his smiles, is angry in a way Bruce doesn’t have the energy or patience for anymore.

Don’t lose your heart, Master Wayne, Alfred said before he returned to England. Perhaps love would’ve suited Bruce better than endless anger.

“Is that what you’re actually here for?” Bruce asks instead.

“Mhm.” Anton leans back on his bed. He brags about his morning routine outside of Arkham, but he looks plenty pretty to Bruce even without. “My teacher sent me here with a little task. Said Gotham is the best place to practice.”

It’s Gotham, Bruce doesn’t really want to imagine what kind of task Anton has been sent here for.

“Do you want my help?” It’s easier to simply cut the chase.

“Maybe.” Anton tilts his head. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Bruce shrugs. He’s got nowhere better to be, really. “Are you offering a place to stay after?”

Anton grins and it’s more honest than any of his previous flirting, though Bruce supposes that wasn’t entirely for show either. “Oh, I’ve got a whole damn world for a brain like yours. Are you in?”

He holds out his hand.

[bittersweetastoria]

twas another rando idea, just to get some sad vibes off myself onto a character thus this happened.. didn't proof cause, heads in a bad spot and wouldn't catch anything anyways so i guess just, enjoy??

title/prompt; "what's the matter, pretty girl?"

Hands through dirty locks, head held in your hands, a heavily defeated sigh left your lips. The sea air was doing wonders for your ability to finally breathe again, after feeling like you couldn’t for hours now since the fight happened. You’d sat where you’d been left for ages, your family had left for food - giving up on getting you to function at all as they did. How you ended up out here by the ocean hours later, you weren’t sure. But you were thankful for the peace it gave you, the isolation you found in this little slice of sand off behind the hotel you all stayed at. Lost to the sound of the waves crashing before you, time and time again. Just barely out of your reach from where you sat in the sand, having not thought about a towel or anything.. Sand would be up in everything with how small your shorts were, but you didn’t have it in you to care.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Head snapping up quickly, your blurry vision took in the Aussie before you. She sniffled before you even realized what you’d done, a little hiccup leaving your lips as you forced them into a fake sugary smile. “Nothing,” You lied, not wanting to rope her into listening to your sap story of fighting with your best friend yet again. It was truly a broken record. One even your family didn’t care about anymore. You two always got past it, and that’s what your family focused on. Not their daughter/sister falling apart cause of it before then. They weren’t willing to deal with you and your sadness. Why would anyone else?

Next thing you knew, you weren’t sitting alone. You could feel her presence before she even spoke up again. It was weird honestly. This little connection you felt with her, when you were barely even friends. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be friends. It was more of, she was this larger than life star - and someone your best friend couldn’t stand for whatever dumb reason she wouldn’t tell you. It was just, easier to keep your distance and not step into the true friendship zone - or beyond. Because truth be told, despite barely knowing her, you did have a crush on Rhea. Who couldn’t though? Just, look at her! While everyone obsessed over Mami, the darker made up persona she played. You found the beauty in her true self, in the woman below all the gothic stuff. Not that you’d ever say that out loud. “You’re a terrible liar.” The moment she spoke those words, your head snapped in her direction. The look of shock on your face, mouth agape as you went to protest and yet found no words. “Okay, fine. I lied. What of it?” You quipped, shaking your head as you watched her slide closer to you. All too easily, she slung her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her frame. Should you? Probably not. But somehow you found yourself leaning into the muscular woman. Your breath exhaling softly as your eyes move from her to the wave, watching as they moved closer to the both of you. “What of it? Really y/n? That the best you got?” Rhea asked, clearly amused as she nudged your side. You laughed despite yourself, hiding behind your hair for a moment before she leaned forward to see your face. “Are you hiding from me, missy? Come on, just tell me. Do I gotta tickle it out of you or something? Cause I will.” Rhea spoke, causing you to laugh slightly.

It took you a moment, your lips pursed as you thought about it. Before you finally sighed, giving in to her requests. “Just the millionth fight with B.. It’s not a big deal. My emotions just like to over react.” You finally answer, sniffling a bit as you laughed despite yourself. Feeling your hair move, you look up to find Rhea tucking it behind your ear. Her hand lingering upon your cheek a little longer than needed as she watched you, a faint smile upon her lips. You could see her brows furrowed just slightly, a tell of her worry for you. It was confusing, given she had no reason at all to care about how you felt or what you were going through. “If you feel them, it’s not an overreaction.” She replied shortly after, her hand finally leaving your face though she continued to watch you closely. “Anything I can do to help love? Just name it.” She added quickly, causing her lips to twitch up at the corners for a moment.

“Just, sit with me?” You begin, your eyes locked on hers for a moment before ducking to the sand beneath you. Your hand ends up in it; digging the earth as your question sat heavy in the air while it settled in for her what you’d said. Without even answering, her tattooed hand slid through the sand to find yours. Once found, she held and squeezed your hand. “Of course.” Was the only answer she gave, as you both smiled at one another then turned your gazes to the ocean.

[redactedgeek]

a love letter to You and I

To the unfortunate ✨🥀 (or most fortunate 😌🌻 - perhaps neutral? 👀🌱) Soul who sees this:

I wonder what sort of state You’d consider yourself in… The possibilities are thought-wringing. Yes 🙂. Thought-wringing cx

This… may be an attempt to do a life check-in. Sooo, if you’d like to do one with me, please feel free -^u^- 🌸

aight c: Status report: Overwhelmed at everything. Not doing well; multiple breakdowns in a single week alone. Saw burnout from a distance, and promised to treat self with unconditional love, and did best not to take anything out on others. Positive at beginning and “keeping head up.” Proud of self for coming this far [;before, I beat myself up every time I wasn’t able to do what I felt I “needed” to do. Now, I accept that sometimes I do get knocked down, and I allow it to happen, and I do my best to heal while my theoretically burning body lays there].

I am a fool 🤧. For laying there and not rolling around [sometimes I lay in bed, on my phone for hours and declare that “rest” :’) ]. For not yelling out for help or in pain [lashing out because I keep holding everything in; regardless of the reason, I know I haven’t done my part to communicate 😔]. For patching up the wounds and expecting it to be better immediately, moving in such a way that the wounds open up again so it takes even longer to heal than if I had cared for the wound [isolating, and then coming out of isolation from fear-based reasons instead of from actually taking care of myself, so I isolate even more because I’m so exhausted running on negative stress-adrenaline ☹️].

There are two - perhaps three or four? - options I can choose from about what can I do with the above-information:

A: Conclude I can never do anything right and allow that to define me as a person and continue spiraling in the unalchemized darkness. “I try and it doesn’t work. I can’t do anything right. 😀👍✨”

B: Conclude that while I have work to do on the way that I do some things, I acknowledge that I am doing my best with what I have and what I know. Each time I am knocked down, I have an opportunity to be still, reflect on my experiences, and learn what works and what doesn’t. “I tried, and while that didn’t work, this did. I can do more of this and see if it works more. 😌💕”

X: Conclude that I am tired, I just wanna have a good time now, and I push this to future me to handle this because [think nihilism]. “Hey, Ego, here’s something for you [quick fix: ‘you’re doing your best, everyone makes mistakes. Just don’t think about it and move on. It’s fun to be silly li’l guy anyway.] 🤭”

Y: Conclude that each and every one of these are options that are valid, fluid, and each have their own unique consequences. I don’t judge choices that people make because I understand and each of us are on our own made-perfectly-for-us journeys (which I think is wonderful and amazing because we are all embarking on our paths on this Earth together! On the same planet and stuffs! And no matter what we might believe, we’re not alone!), and I should allow myself that same, nonjudgmental freedom >×< I conclude that, since I love myself, I do my best to carry out options that I would hope a loved one carries out. I want the best for my loved ones, and so I want the best for myself. And I hope… by sharing this… this helps more precious souls too uwu 👉👈💕

Now, refer to the beginning. What sort of state are You in? What are you going to do (or not do) with it? :] genuinely curious

[Whatever your answer is, I send you so much love, I wish for you the support You specifically need at this time. And we shan’t forget - there is an abundance of blessings within and all around us! I hope hope hope you accept the blessings meant for You. 143 infinity style ❤️‍🩹♾️]

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 9: The Truth Comes Out

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC) Other Characters: Captain Crowley, Lucifer, Benny, Jack (mentioned). Lord Darius Payton, Lord Ashton Kane, Damon Sharpe, Connor (OMC's), Captain Keira, Carissa Payton, Darcy (OFC's).

Word Count: 4921

Warnings: A bit of swashbucklin' in the church, defending honor. Mention of murder (Carissa + Isabella's backstory). Some separation anxiety leading to a bit more of Rhaya's self-doubt and self-isolation, Karma finally comes around for Stepmother and Annoying Fiancé. (also some great nicknames for the Annoying Fiancé).

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: So, who is it under the veil....?

Lots of secrets are revealed in this chapter, both with Lord Ashton and Lady Carissa, starting with a nugget of truth from an unlikely source. Captain Dean and Rhaya inch ever closer to each other, each learning that their feelings for the other are not unrequited. After a short reunion, Captain Dean has to leave Ochana, but promises to return. As the separation goes on longer than expected, Rhaya begins to doubt Captain Dean's word. Her father grows worried for her, then receives notice that a new player has emerged, and decides to throw a banquet in his honor. Who is the new mystery man? Tune in to find out....Enjoy!

A/N: To all of you who have read, liked, reblogged, commented, or interacted with this story in any way: thank you. There will be one more chapter to wrap things up for our favorite captain and governor's daughter. It has been my pleasure to bring this story to life for you, and I appreciate you all. ❤️

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"WHERE IS RHAYA?!?" Ashton thundered.

When the veil was lifted, the bride standing at the altar was not the same one who had fainted earlier and stopped the ceremony. No, it was Darcy who had taken Rhaya's place, wearing the horrendous wedding gown chosen by Carissa. And she only hoped that enough time had passed to allow Rhaya and the others involved to leave the church.

Ashton grabbed Darcy's arms and yanked her forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Where is she?" he demanded again.

"Let. Her. Go. NOW." Lord Darius glared at Ashton until he released his grip on the young woman's arms. "Darcy, I need you to tell me where my daughter is," he pleaded.

Darcy debated whether or not to tell the governor about his daughter's location. Though she was dependent on the governor for her livelihood, the safety of her friend was more important. Thus, she remained silent and did not respond.

"Please, Darcy. I need to know if she is at least safe and hasn't been kidnapped," he implored.

"Lord Darius, I can assure you that she is safe and in good hands, though she is no longer in this building," she revealed. "Please understand that I hold you in the highest respect and consider you my family. But for her protection, I will not reveal her whereabouts."

All parties glared at each other in silence while they tried to decide on the next move to be made. Amused laughter broke the stalemate, as necks craned to determine the source. Lucifer rose from his seat and sauntered over to where the groom and his future in-laws were gathered. As soon as Lord Ashton's eyes landed on Lucifer, his anger exploded.

"YOU!! You were supposed to keep my bride from escaping, yet she managed to give you and your men the slip! What the hell kind of pirate are you anyway, that you can't seem to keep track of a woman for crying out loud?!? Your reputation makes you out to be some kind of ruthless sea captain who'll do anything to get what he wants. 'Ruthless'? HA! I'd say more like, 'worthless'," Ashton spat out.

Lucifer's hand moved quickly to the grip of his sword, but he did not draw it. "Have a care with your words, Your Lordship. As I recall, you sought me out when your bride left you the first time. Therefore, if anyone should be worried about a 'reputation', I'd be concerned about your own," he pointed out. "Lest you find out firsthand exactly how ruthless I can be," he added darkly.

"Oh come on, Lucifer, we all know you're not going to waste your time teaching a lesson to some pompous, arrogant jerk," a voice called from the church's open doorway. "He doesn't deserve a woman like Rhaya anyway."

Ashton's head whipped around at the comment, determined to learn who made it. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Captain Dean Winchester, whose arms were crossed over his chest. A lazy smirk graced the captain's face, almost daring Lucifer or anyone else to make a move against him, but knowing that no one would.

Dean was wearing a black leather jacket, left open to show off a crisp, white tunic under it. The shirt was loosely laced at the top to show off the medallion hanging from a solid gold chain. His black trousers were tucked into his knee-high boots, and a red sash was tied around his middle. A brown leather belt was buckled over the sash, with his sword securely fastened to it and a knife tucked into a thigh holster.

"Who, exactly, are you and what business do you have here?" Ashton demanded.

"I am Dean Winchester, captain of the shipping vessel The Black Diamond," he declared. "My purpose here is to ensure the safety and well-being of the governor's daughter, Rhaya. We met when I discovered her as a stowaway on my boat. In the time we spent together, we became such good friends that she confided in me the reason she ended up hiding on my ship."

A glimmer of understanding crossed Ashton's face, which morphed into a sneer. "Ah-ha! You mean you kidnapped Rhaya and held her for ransom on your ship, away from her loved ones," he retorted. "Your only goal was to keep her long enough to collect on the 50,000 gold pieces, except Lucifer beat you to it."

"I didn't ask for any ransom and don't know anything about 50,000 gold pieces. None of that makes any difference to me. No, I know she ran away on her engagement day because she overheard her fiancé reveal his true intentions for her. Such as, once married, it was his plan to steal some treasure map from his father-in-law and collect on it. Then, at some point, he would arrange for his new wife to meet with an 'accident'. One from which he would make sure she would not survive," Dean explained coolly. 

"Lies! Absolute fabrication, and I will suffer this indignity no longer!" Ashton shouted, drawing his sword. "Defend yourself, sir, as I will with my blade. Mark my words, I shall be vindicated against such slander!" He lunged forward, slashing at Dean's midsection, the tip of the weapon narrowly missing him.

Dean drew his sword as well, with the intent to protect himself against Ashton, but not to inflict any lethal wounds. He was mostly successful in blocking Ashton's attacks, only sustaining superficial injuries as the two of them roamed about the sanctuary. 

In one particularly heated exchange, Dean turned quickly and lost his balance, then fell on his back into the front pew. Ashton lunged forward, his knee on Dean's chest pinning him down to the bench. The nobleman hovered over Dean, his blade aimed straight at the captain's chest. The two men stared at each other, Dean noticing the extreme level of anger and hatred in his opponent's eyes.

"ENOUGH!!" Everyone looked up to see that Rhaya and Keira had returned to the church in time to prevent the fatal blow from being struck. While everyone was distracted, Darcy snuck out of the church to let her know what was happening inside. "Get away from him, Ashton," she ordered.

"Rhaya," Dean whispered. He took advantage of Ashton's momentary distraction to shove his opponent away and scrambled away out of range of his sword.

As he hit the floor, Ashton broke out of his trance and hurried to his feet in an attempt to re-ignite the conflict with Dean. "NO! He told everyone in here a preposterous story about me stealing from your father and then arranging to have you suffer a deadly fate. How could you believe such lies, Rhaya? You know I'd never do anything to hurt you," he pleaded.

The sound of someone clearing his throat drew everyone's attention to the side door of the church. "I don't think that's entirely accurate, Lord Assbutt," Crowley smirked. "I have someone here who can corroborate Dean's version of events." He moved aside as two members of his crew stepped forward, with Damon Sharpe being held in restraints between them. "Caught him trying to sneak out of here to avoid prosecution."

After recovering from the initial shock of seeing his daughter returned to him a second time, Lord Darius approached Crowley's prisoner. "Is this true? Did Ashton plot to steal from me and kill my daughter?" he demanded.

When he didn't answer, Crowley forcefully nudged Damon's shoulder, nearly making him lose his balance. "Yes, it's true, and Lady Rhaya was smart to run away. Ashton hired Lucifer to find Rhaya and bring her home, only he wasn't too specific as to how it was to be accomplished," Damon remarked. At this detail, everyone looked around for Lucifer, but he was nowhere to be found.

Damon continued. "After your daughter ran away, we searched through your study. We found where you'd hidden the map, but it had already been removed."

"That's because once I overheard you two idjits and your plans, I had to make a break for it. I knew all along where my father had hidden the map, and I took it with me when I fled the mansion. I intended to find the treasure on my own. Instead, I made a deal with someone I trust a hell of a lot more than Lord Assclown. I have no doubt that by now, the treasure has been found and is long gone from its hiding place, but in good hands," Rhaya assured the group. She caught Dean's eye and gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

Lord Darius raised an eyebrow at this turn of events, only barely suppressing a smile and filing the information away for later. While Damon was relaying his part in the scheme, the governor's guards were slowly positioning themselves to arrest Lord Ashton. With a nod from Lord Darius, his men grabbed the groom and dragged him to the dungeon, kicking and screaming the entire way. Damon was escorted as well, but with much less resistance.

Carissa whipped around to face Rhaya, her face full of fury. "Do you realize what you've done? You made your fiancé look like a fool, this time by leaving him at the altar, and now he's been arrested!" she screeched.

"What I've done? What about what you've done?? You announced my engagement without consulting me first, so of course I ran away. When I was forcibly returned by Lucifer, you moved up the wedding date and chose that--that--hideous wedding gown for me to wear. Then, as if that's not enough, after everything you've heard about Lord Pain-in-the-Ass, you still take his side?"

"You are a selfish and ungrateful brat, just like your mother!" Carissa seethed. "We used to be friends before she got married and moved away. It was then that I realized she never cared about me. She only pretended to be my friend until she got what she wanted, no matter who got hurt along the way."

"You're lying, Carissa! My mother would never have intentionally hurt anyone!" Rhaya vehemently defended.

Carissa scoffed. "Believe what you want, but I knew I had to get even. I arranged an invitation to the governor's mansion as a respite from some 'personal issues' in my life. That allowed me to get close to Isabella and your father so I could drive a wedge between them. I wanted her to lose that which was most precious to her. At first, nothing I tried was working. Therefore, I had to resort to more....aggressive measures."

Lord Darius' face grew pale. "What are you saying, Carissa?" he whispered.

"I made sure I had access to Isabella's meals, drinks, and snacks when they were served. Little by little, Isabella started to get sick from what I was adding to her food and drink. From there, it was only a matter of time before her illness reached the point of no return." A dark smile twisted her lips as she recalled her endeavors.

It was one thing to suspect her stepmother of such a horrible act of murder. However, it was quite another to have the perpetrator confess her crime and show no sign of remorse. "Y--you poisoned my mother?" Rhaya gasped, to which Carissa simply nodded. "How could you do that?? I loved my mother, but you don't care, do you?? Because for you, it was all just a means to an end! If you had only gotten over your stupid jealousy and let her and my father live out their lives together," she sobbed.

"Now Rhaya, dear, you know I could never have done that. I had to get your mother out of the way so your father could see her true character. And with you being so stubborn and unladylike, I had to find someone who was willing to put up with you long enough to get you out of the picture. Thus the engagement to Ashton, who assured me he could keep you on a tight leash. Although you made a mess of that too, didn't you?" she growled. "I see I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands once again."

With a loud snarl, Carissa lunged forward, her hands outstretched to try and grab Rhaya by the throat. At the last minute, the governor's guards seized Carissa around her waist and pulled her out of reach. They dragged her to the dungeon, with a wild, crazed look in her eyes as she howled to be let go.

Dean rushed to Rhaya's side, both to comfort her and keep Carissa away from her. As soon as he got within a few steps of her, she flung herself at him. He quickly caught her and closed his arms around her and held her against his chest. One hand rubbed up and down her back to soothe her, while the other stroked the back of her head. He whispered in her ear how he was here for her, that she was safe, and he wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Lord Darius quietly observed their interaction as the captain comforted his daughter. It was clear that they had become quite close in the time she spent aboard his ship. He made a mental note to meet with Dean in private to determine the nature of their relationship.

As Rhaya's father, he wanted to know the captain's intentions towards his only daughter. The governor smiled, feeling as if he was witnessing the beginning of a new love story, and decided that it deserved to be celebrated. At some point, though, he would also have to deal with his own feelings about Carissa's betrayal, but that was a problem for another day.

"Well, if there are no more criminals to be hauled off to the dungeon, I say we should all return to the mansion and sort some things out, hmm?" Lord Darius suggested.

Everyone chuckled and murmured their agreement as they climbed into the waiting carriages. Dean opened the door to one of the cabs and grinned when Rhaya slid her hand into his so he could help her inside. At first, she sat on one seat, while he sat on the other. Once the carriage was underway, Dean moved to sit beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she nestled into his side, closing her eyes when she felt his lips softly brush her temple.

As the carriage traveled the road between the church and the mansion, Rhaya tilted her head to catch Dean's gaze. "I've missed you so much," she murmured. "All those nights we spent together, staring up at the stars and talking?" She snuggled deeper into his side. "Mmm. It's been far too long since we've done that," she sighed.

"I've missed you too, sweetheart. And....I'm sorry," he mumbled against her skin.

Rhaya pulled back in surprise. "What on earth do you have to apologize for?" she asked.

Dean's gaze dropped to the floor. "Because I....I didn't protect you, which allowed Lucifer the opportunity to grab you and force you to come back," he remarked.

"There's nothing you could've done to stop Lucifer. I gave in because they were going to hurt Jack and Kelly if I didn't. I was returned home, unhurt, to my father, where I was safe. Except for Carissa, anyway. I suppose the worst part of it all was having to listen to Lucifer for the entire voyage home," she muttered.

Dean laughed at her assessment of the situation and tucked her into his side again, with a bit tighter grip around her shoulders this time. He heard her sweet sigh of contentment and closed his eyes, with his head resting on top of hers. The movement of the carriage lulled them both to sleep, one which the footman was reluctant to disturb. The creaking door caused Dean to stir in his seat, then he gently nudged Rhaya awake.

Upon exiting the coach, Dean held his hand out to assist Rhaya as she stepped down. Her hand was still in his when they walked into the mansion and were greeted by several of the staff. They had heard about what happened in the church, and were secretly glad that the wedding did not go through. Lord Darius had already arrived and given instructions for the staff to prepare rooms for his guests.

Captain Crowley was escorted to his own room, with his and Dean's crew members bunking together in pairs or threes. Rhaya had already left for her room to freshen up, when Dean was approached by a staff member, informing him that Lord Darius wanted to speak to him. He agreed and followed the path to the governor's study.

***

The evening began with a feast in honor of Dean and Crowley, to whom Lord Darius was grateful for their assistance. Ashton, Damon, and Carissa were in the dungeons for the time being, with their fates to be decided at a later date. Lucifer was long gone, with Connor's guards confirming The Red Dragon's departure.

Dinner gave way to dancing, where most of Rhaya's dances were saved for Dean, to no one's surprise. She twirled around the floor with Benny, who was a surprisingly good dancer. Jack was a little more awkward in his movements, but Rhaya didn't seem to mind. There were a few dances with her father, but as expected, the majority of her time was occupied by Dean.

The festivities lasted until just after midnight, at which time everyone said goodnight and retreated to separate quarters. Lord Darius gave his daughter a hug and a kiss to the top of her head and bid her goodnight. Over her head, he caught Dean's eye and his stern gaze softened before giving him a wink and heading to his room.

Holding hands, Rhaya and Dean walked to her bedroom door. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Dean. I thoroughly enjoyed dancing with you. Had no idea you were so talented," she teased.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, sweetheart, but I'm sure lookin' forward to showing you," he replied. One hand rested on her hips, tugging her closer to his body until it was almost flush against him. His other hand trailed up her side, his fingers ghosting their way up her arm until his hand was cradling her face. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, which drew Dean's attention and he was overcome with the urge to kiss her.

Dean began to slowly lean closer, his eyes constantly searching Rhaya's for any signs of resistance and finding none. He paused a fraction of an inch before their lips would be touching, still allowing her the chance to back away, but continued to hold his attention. With an almost imperceptible nod from Rhaya, Dean smiled as he prepared to close the gap and find out exactly how soft her lips are.

"Hey, Rhaya, Dean--oops," called Keira from in front of her room. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt....whatever. Goodnight!" With a knowing smirk, she dashed inside her room and hurriedly closed the door behind her.

Muffled from his head resting on Rhaya's shoulder, Dean groaned. "Goodnight, Keira," he ground out. This caused Rhaya to giggle and when Dean lifted his head, he was grinning as well. 

"I'll make sure and get even with her sooner or later," she promised. "See you in the morning?"

"Absolutely, darlin'," he remarked. "I'll have to meet you down at the docks, though, because I need to return to Alcaria. There are some things I must take care of; however, my word is my bond that I will come back to Ochana for you."

Rhaya's face fell at the mention of another separation from Dean. "You're leaving? But you just got here," she pouted. "Do you really have to go so soon? How long will you be gone?" she asked, tears threatening at her lash line.

"It shouldn't take more than a couple of months to put everything in order in Alcaria, then I swear I will be back for you, my angel," he vowed. 

She thought for a moment or two then gave him a sigh of acceptance. "Two months isn't too long, I suppose," she conceded. "You won't forget about me if some other woman comes along, right?" she wondered.

Dean hooked his finger under Rhaya's chin and tilted her head up so he could see her face. "Not a chance, sweetheart, because you are absolutely impossible to forget. And there is no other woman in the world for me except you," he finished softly.

Rhaya gave him a watery chuckle. "There's no other man in the world for me except you," she responded. After several more seconds passed, she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Dean," she whispered before stepping around him to enter her room. She gave him one last shy smile before closing the door.

Dean's fingers brushed his cheek, which still tingled a bit where Rhaya's lips had kissed him. A goofy smile broke out over his face, knowing the woman he loved returned his affections. With a spring in his step, he continued on his path to his own room, eager to fall asleep and dream of Rhaya.

***

Early the next morning, Dean and his crew made their way down to the docks and prepared to sail home to Alcaria. Hugs with Benny and Jack were exchanged, with each man reluctant to leave Ochana so soon. The chefs were kind enough to send baskets full of breads, muffins, cookies, and other treats, which were appreciated by all.

Saying goodbye to Dean was the last thing Rhaya wanted to do, but she knew he had to leave. As she lay in her bed that night after the banquet, she realized how much she had grown to love him in their short time together. In her mind, he was a part of her future in so many ways, and she couldn't imagine her life without him. However, because she loved him, she had to let him go. She had to have faith that if he returned, then he would be hers forever.

Dean had done some soul-searching that night in bed as well. When he'd first met Rhaya, he thought she was some spoiled and entitled member of the so-called ruling class. Every day, every moment spent with her since then has been the real treasure. She wasn't brought up to be a fragile, delicate, wisp of a woman who needed a man to cater to her every whim. She was an independent woman, strong yet kind, a testament to the way her parents raised her.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Rhaya remarked, her voice thick with emotion.

"I know, darlin', I wish I could stay and spend more time with you," Dean replied. "But I will be back in two months. I have some business matters to settle in Alcaria, then once that's all out of the way, I will return, my sweet girl," he whispered. His hand cradled her face, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. He gave her a soft smile as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

The two of them stood on the docks for what seemed like hours, with Dean gently swaying with Rhaya in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He never wanted this moment to end, because it felt perfect to keep her close to his body and in his warm embrace. Finally, Benny reluctantly approached the couple. He informed his captain that they needed to leave soon if they wanted to sail during the most daylight. He gave Rhaya a quick smile then left her alone with his captain.

Rhaya gave Dean one last squeeze then pulled back a bit out of his embrace. This time, it was her hand that reached up to caress his stubbled cheek. "Hurry back, hmm? I'll see if I can maybe send messages through Keira. Hopefully your paths will cross at some point, right?" she gave a watery chuckle.

"I promise that if she stops by Alcaria, I will make sure that she doesn't leave without a message from me to you." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "You are the absolute best thing that's happened to me in such a long time. I am so happy you came into my life, Rhaya. I will be back for you, darling."

"I'll be waiting," she whispered. She closed her eyes as Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead. He gave her one last embrace before backing away from her. A shiver went up her spine at the change in temperature without him by her side. She watched as he walked up the gangplank to the ship and handed off his bag to Jack. He hurried to the rail to catch one final sighting of her, his face breaking into a smile when he finally made eye contact.

As the ship left port, Rhaya stood rooted in her spot on the docks. She was determined to remain in place until she could no longer see Dean waving at her from the stern of the ship. Tears continued to streak down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them away. At some point, Darcy joined her in watching The Black Diamond sail away, her arm draped around her dearest friend. Eventually, the ship disappeared into the horizon, and the two women solemnly returned to the comfort of the mansion.

***

The first few weeks without Dean seemed to pass quickly, mostly because her father kept her occupied with business matters for Ochana. He sought her opinion on certain subjects and she was allowed to sit in on a few meetings with his council members. Darcy tried to keep her busy as well, doing whatever she could to shift Rhaya's focus away from Dean's absence.

In the beginning, Keira was able to pass along a few messages between the captain and her sister. The missives helped to banish the melancholy feelings they each held at being apart from one another. However, as the weeks seemed to drag on, fewer and fewer letters were passed, until at one point they finally stopped.

When that happened, Rhaya tried to ignore the doubts creeping through her mind, the ones telling her that Dean forgot about her. She fought them back, replacing those thoughts with the memories of being in his arms and sharing tender kisses with each other. She remembered how it felt to dance with him at the party given by her father after her wedding to Ashton fell through.

As time wore on, it was becoming more difficult than others to banish the fears. Especially the ones that told her that the reason he hadn't yet returned is because he found someone else to make a life with. The time they'd spent together on his ship and the memories made there were becoming more distant in her mind. She confined herself mostly to her room, only emerging for meals, or the occasional council meeting when her father requested her presence.

Around the two and a half month mark, Lord Darius was becoming more and more concerned about his daughter's self-imposed isolation. He quickly called a meeting of the heads of staff, Connor, Darcy, and fortunately, Keira was due to arrive any day. He suspected that Rhaya's misery had quite a bit to do with a certain green-eyed sea captain. His thoughts drifted back to a conversation he'd had with Dean about his daughter.

>>>Flashback&lt;;<<

The governor poured himself and his guest a glass of whiskey, then took a seat in the wingback chair opposite of the captain. Dean had a feeling that this meeting with Lord Darius would have occurred at some point; that it was less a question of "if", rather than "when". The governor's opening volley got straight to the heart of the matter. "So, Captain Winchester, tell me about your relationship with my daughter."

Dean chuckled nervously at first and after taking his first sip, he gave the governor a rundown on how they met and got to know each other. He talked about his first impression of her and how it compared to what he thought of her now.

"I'll admit, we didn't really get along at first, but eventually we found our way. She's amazing, Lord Darius. Kind, hard-working, eager to learn, and is okay with not being the smartest person in the room. Although we know she usually is." They shared a laugh.

"She's my first thought when I open my eyes in the morning and my last when my head hits the pillow at night. Of course she's a gorgeous and enchanting woman, anyone can see that. But her inner beauty is only equal to or greater than her outer beauty. And I love her," Dean admitted.

Lord Darius hummed in response. "And how do you plan to support her? I know the life of a sea captain means long stretches of time away from home and doesn't always pay very well."

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Sir, if she'll have me, your daughter will want for nothing. My business is solid and profitable, thus, I am able to support her well." He leaned back, a shy grin on his face. "Though I'm hoping that I won't have to leave her behind very often, because she'll want to join me out on my ship. She's a very capable and intelligent woman, thanks to your encouragement of her education."

>>>End of Flashback&lt;;<<

A fond smile briefly tugged at the corners of the governor's mouth as he recalled the conversation that occurred nearly three months ago. He wished for Keira to arrive soon, since Rhaya was out in town on a few business matters for him and would soon return. He hoped that there would be some news to share, that Keira had made contact with Dean and carried a letter from him.

A knock at the door broke Lord Darius out of his reverie as he opened the door to let Darcy in. Keira followed having just returned from her important mission. He invited both ladies to join him in some afternoon tea and fresh chocolate chip cookies. Darcy took care of serving, while the governor discussed the assignment and news from Alcaria.

"Everything is in place, Lord Darius. He'll be arriving here in two weeks, though I'm sure if he could be, he'd be flying here right now," Keira grinned. In her last visit, she learned that Dean had been made a duke, courtesy of his newfound wealth. "I think we should have a reception to announce his new title and formally introduce him as our newest trading partner."

Lord Darius stroked his stubbled chin as he considered her suggestion, finally nodding in agreement. "Two weeks should be enough time to plan for his first 'official' state visit," he replied. "We'll need to alert the staff, set the menu, make sure we have everything cleaned from top to bottom, and arrange the accommodations."

Darcy volunteered to coordinate with the various staff members, while Keira promised to keep her sister busy. Formal gatherings were never Rhaya's forté, invariably opting to keep her nose out of the process as much as possible. This time, her father arranged for her to be fitted with a new gown for the occasion. Then she would stand where she was told and greet the visitor with full charm and grace, as expected.

But this would be no ordinary state visit by a foreign dignitary and his entourage. The festivities were being held to introduce the new Duke of Rosevale, both to the world and as Ochana's latest trading partner. Not much was known about him, other than he was only recently granted his title due to his enormous and vast wealth. However, within two weeks, everyone would know the identity of the Duke of Rosevale.

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[bluebunnyears-08]

Keep Your Head Up!

Sonic reminiscences about his friends.

(

I decided to do one based on Sonic.

Sonic suffering, of course.

That's it ^v^

)

=============================================

They looked like them.

They sounded like them.

Most of them even had the same mannerisms as them.

But they weren't them.

They didn't act like them.

They didn't talk like them.

They didn't feel like them.

Amy Rose, once the sweetest and cutest friend to have now was either cold, and lacked compassion. Her once warm and cheery green eyes now blank and empty or filled with suspicion and feral anger.

No more adorable strength, no more cheerfulness, nothing but brute force and stoic brutality.

Rouge, once the alluring jewel thief. He didn't spend much time around her, the bat preferred to keep to herself. But he noticed how she now lead resistance's or groups, nothing like the lone bat thief she once was.

And while he wasn't as bothered with that, he still found it hard to accept and get used to.

Knuckles, once a powerful fighter and dependent friend, was now either crazy or selfishly greedy. His steady blue eyes gleamed with unstable intent.

He even missed him at this point.

Shadow wasn't doing so well either. While he stayed his stoic self, the hero saw some cracks slip through, ones that Shadow obviously hoped nobody would notice, how his eyes held so much pain and sadness, how he was more aggressive than usual, how his voice would barely shake when talking about home.

But the blue urchin didn't say anything, never commented on it. He didn't think Shadow would accept it anyway with how mad he is at him.

Then there was...him. The fox who always stuck by his side, who was once just a little kid who followed him around, who was always tinkering away on inventions a happy smile on his face, who was the greatest friend, greatest brother, anyone could ask for.

Most of his variants were the same, but not exactly. Mangey was nothing but a feral animal, unable to even speak, only talking with grunts and growls and Sails, while being the closest to resemble him, didn't have...it just wasn't the same.

But then there was Nine, the most different from him. The metal tailed fox was blunt and cold, barely smiled, worked alone, was always alone. Once bright and curious baby blues were now cold and pained icy blue (please dont look at me like that). Once fluffy and bright fur was now limp and pale. His ears were longer than his too, ending with darkened tips at the end.

He noticed how Nine's metal tails wrapped around his organic ones, making an illusion of one tail. He felt his ears droop at the sight.

The most painful thing was how...isolated and...and scared this kid was. When he first met them, they attacked him because he called them his name he broke into their lab. 

And he felt a harsh pang in his chest at how much they hated his name at how lonely this kit is.

He couldn't bear the sight of it.

So he tried to make sure he was there for Nine. Giving him compliments and encouragement, cheering him on, letting the fox lean on him for support, everything he used to do for him.

But it still hurt so so much...sucked.

All of this still sucked so much.

He sometimes wished he would wake up and all of this would be over. Just a nightmare.

But that never happened, he was still here, still in the now broken world he once lived in and protected.

Sometimes he felt a wetness in his eyes a little down, but he held his head high.

All of this will work out in the end, he just has to keep going, just has to keep staying positive. 

Just keep going.

Just.

Stay.

Positive.

[its-no-biggie]

omg do you guys wanna hear about the church family tree from my rvb fantasy au. i spent quite a bit of time working it out bc, since its fantasy, theres no ai and i had to figure out how it would translate lol

this will contain mild spoilers for my au but a) it doesnt exist yet and b) most of them are derived from the plot of rvb so theyre kind of already spoiled. so. anyway, on to the actual post

ok so first off. church (alpha) has DID. so all the ai fragments exist but theyre no longer ai and theyre in his head the whole time. and this includes beta!tex (tentatively called beth? since tex also exists. we'll get to that). it also includes epsilon which will be. interesting. i have some ideas for how to handle that but its kinda besides the point.

the director is churchs father, and allison is churchs mother (who dies when church is a kid). the director is also carolinas father, but carolina has a different mother, so church and carolina are half siblings. tex was also raised by the director but she is not blood related to any of them - she bears a coincidental resemblance to allison (in personality, not necessarily physical appearance), which is why the director favours her over carolina (keeping the carolina/tex favourite child tension, of course). i havent worked out exactly when the director took in tex, but if it was early enough that the director named her, he probably would have named her allison (i mean, he also named his son after himself in this au. you know he'd do it, ESPECIALLY if allison is already dead at this point) and she chooses to go by tex or smth. alternatively, the director named her tex the same way he named the other freelancers like washington and york, keeping the whole "leaving your old name (read: old self) behind when you join the freelancers" thing from canon, meaning that her previous name (and whether she had one at all) is irrelevant. hmmm now that i say that, its probably the latter tbh

now, i may keep beth being based on allison, but while i know what an introject is, i dont know if i feel comfortable really. representing one. so it may not be CANON canon but itll probably be canon to me. additionally, church is raised separately from carolina, tex, and eventually the other freelancers [the freelancers are kinda like a family in this au btw. but like a fucked up hierarchal one. and church is completely isolated from it even though the director is "raising" him. anyway] for plot reasons, but he coincidentally runs into tex one day as kids and they meet in secret for years until tex eventually helps him escape the director. which is to say. beth will likely pick up traits/mannerisms from tex just by virtue of tex being churchs only friend in childhood, combined with the fact that allison and tex are kind of similar in personality. so shes blood related to allison and potentially an introject of her, and has spent a lot of time with tex/knows her very well, so shes gonna have similarities to both of them but she is ultimately her own person. in churchs head.

uhhhh i think that covers it? anyway this means i get to write interactions between tex and beth which will be extremely fun. i like tex as a character and itll probably be difficult to decide how to characterize her in 2 different ways (plus allison but shes gonna be dead for most of it so i dont really have to worry about her) and then to have them interact? they would be chaotic besties i just KNOW it

[fivveweeks]

fivve ur past the point of needing to cook u need to SIMMER , u need to STEEP like ur a bag of tea

n i know i cried abt verdante being a tragedy but now i no longer wish to b sad, i just want to b happy... ToT!!!

V-verdante skinship is a concept that has me insane, DID U READ THAT FIC WHERE VERG MAKES OUT WITH DANTE'S HAND THAT SHITTT HAS ME IMPLODING I NEED MORE THINGS LIKE THAT I NEED A VERG FIXATED ON THE SLIVERS OF SKIN PEEKING OUT OF DANTE'S CLOTHES IM GONNA CORRODEEEEEE AHWWFUWSIFKDIR

Fixated on body warmth rn with either verg or dante being too cold / too hot and just?? using eachother to cool off or as a furnace do u see what im getting at rn spinning u around especially in the dead of night when no one else is around to bother them just them!!! having this peaceful moment of touch despite everything happening around them!! GRAHHHH

- 🎭

i'm being skewered and barbecued rn turning my verdante switch from ANGST to FLUFF

YES i know exactly which fic ur talking about. YES I AM DERANGED OVER IT. i always think about how dante doesn't have facial features or the ability to talk to most people outside of the sinners. how the most basic forms of human expression n communication is ripped away from them in the form of a head prosthetic. it's why it makes sense to me that dante is portrayed as so cartoony in canon BECAUSE they would be extremely expressive, especially with their hands - gestures upon gestures n flailing n pointing n all. in a verdante scenario i can picture them being into hand holding n just doing stuff bc that's all they can do.

because body language is the only thing they have access to. BECAUSE body language is the only thing they can offer as comfort to the people they care about.

the touch starvation goes both ways i think - vergilius n his self-isolating ass n dante's tendency to keep themselves covered up from neck to toe (maybe it's a way to feel secure n protected after losing their memory methinks). tbh i do see dante being more affectionate in public than verg (although it is still very little due to professionalism n out of respect for verg's privacy). in an established verdante scenario dante would probably like to stand close to verg n sometimes bump shoulders or maybe curl an arm around verg's waist or a hand on his lower back if they're feeling bold.

ANYWAYS i need to beam u the imagery of vergilius pressing a soft kiss onto their knuckles or pulse or palm bc it lives rent free in my head. it's chaste n quick n dry but it's one form of how he can express affection other than simple hand holding n i think dante would appreciate it. or whenever they hold hands verg would probably hook a finger or thumb beneath their gloves just for the simplicity of skinship. it could lead to steamy times but ultimately he's just content to feel dante's pulse n warmth against his own. maybe they do it at night when it's just the two of them (don't get me started on them cuddling in bed). crying rn

[asimplearchivist]

I feel like I'm offering excuses hand over hand regarding the lack of updates for my WIPs, and I admit that I've been a bit lazy lately since I've been replaying DAI, but something happened this weekend that might keep me from being able to write for a while. I'll probably still be active as far as responses/asks/rbs go, I've just been struggling creatively anyway and then circumstances like this always complicate matters even more. I hope to have something done by the time I go back to uni at the end of August, but I may be busy, idk yet.

(C/TW below the cut: pet/animal death, vague description of injuries bc I won't put y'all through the gruesome details, etc. I don't expect anyone to read this if it's upsetting or brings up bad memories; please don't distress yourself for my sake.)

I lost my cat, my baby, of nineteen years Friday evening due to unfortunate and rather terrible circumstances. It was gruesome, but we were able to get her help as soon as we could. Her injuries (from large dogs that have been roaming the neighborhood recently, because apparently their owners don't care about the havoc they wreak on all the rabbits that live around us; but it's hard to tell when they'll be out and about, and my cat has been indoor/outdoor all her life, plus we're mostly isolated, so it was just terrible timing) were extensive enough that there was little hope she would make it through surgery. I made the decision to have her euthanized so she wouldn't suffer, and I held her through it so she wouldn't be alone.

I'm not hunting sympathy, and I'm not really looking to discuss it privately as I am still coming to terms between acknowledging that, logically, I handled it as best as I could given the time-intensiveness of the situation while struggling with normal guilt and self-doubt. Well wishes are welcome, of course, I don't mean to sound standoffish in any way - I'd simply prefer not to dwell on it nor languish in reliving the details, if that's all right.

She lived a very long, very spoiled life, and even the nurses were offering some comfort in saying that she was in remarkably good shape to be that old. I had her since I was about four, and while I wish I could have done and handled some things differently, I know that she was getting feeble anyway. I noticed the other day that she was looking abnormally thin, and I've been preparing myself for this for the last couple of years because she gave us a couple of scares recently. While the circumstances were not ideal by any means, and perhaps this sounds horrible, but to have the option sort of taken from me makes it the tiniest bit easier. I had prayed for that very thing because I didn't think I could handle making a decision regarding an illness or something of the like bc you never really know if it's the right thing to do. I just would've preferred she'd gone asleep.

This ended up way longer than I intended, I apologize. She was the best cat I could've ever asked for. She was sassy and smartassy and ran our house her whole life. She would come to me at night when she'd hear me crying and lick my face to distract me. She let me baby her and carry her around and she was so very sweet. She slept with me many long nights and kept me warm. I'll miss her more than I could possibly put into words, as she meant so much to me.

(I worry this will spark a debate about the 'ethics' of having outdoor cats but we live in a mostly rural almost country area, and we've never had very many problems with dogs before so this was all very unexpected. She always stayed close to the house. But I suppose it doesn't matter now. We're keeping our new baby inside on lockdown until the dogs can be dealt with. She isn't happy about it, but she's tolerating my clinginess better than she did before, since she's not super touchy-feely. I think she knows I'm needing a little comfort.)

I digress. If anyone reads this, I appreciate it. It isn't easy. I would never wish this upon anyone. She was my best friend and companion and comforter for many years, and I'm just glad I was able to be there with her when she went. I hope she knew how much I loved her.

[flameontheotherside]

Star-crossed

Separation isn't for the weak. It eats at you and at times the feeling of it lies dormant until something so simple like the time on the clock reminds you that you will never really be with your twin soul in this life. In all our past lives we were never supposed to be together. I don't know what's worse; having a dead twin soul or one who is alive but unable to reciprocate. It might be all the same pain.

My life isn't sunshine and rainbows just because I have found my twin soul. It's the kind of pain and anguish I wouldn't wish on anyone or my worst enemy. It's so painful at times I can't eat or sleep, like now. Medications don't work and trust me I've been on so many cocktails of them that I have a box of leftover pills I've yet to throw out.

I thought it would be okay if I just tried to move on, get engaged and have a kid, but it feels like I'm living a lie. Every day I'm tortured by the heartbreak and not being able to do anything about it. I tried to fake it until I made it. I tried to talk to a therapist. I tried talking to a friend. It seems to be all in vain. So no...my life isn't some magical lovey dovey romance novel. I mean in some ways when days are good it can be but some days are dark with a cloud over my head.

I'm left with little to do. I can't die but I can't live either. If I kill myself I'll have to wait longer to be with him but staying alive against all odds stacked up against me I can be guaranteed that in my next life we will be. It's a kind of hell I can't wish on anyone. Everything feels like a chore; eating, sleeping, generally being alive feels pointless. I'm losing weight which I need to do anyway but if this keeps up, I could lose too much of it again.

A depression so stubborn never made me feel so isolated in spite of not truly being alone. No amount of "I'm sorry" coming from him changes the fact we are separated. I should be angry at him but I'm not because I can't really bring myself to. Even if in all our lives he caused a great deal of suffering, I just can't hate him for any of it. It feels unnatural to.

All I can do is ride this out but, it's been a month feeling this way. Last time this happened it lasted 3 or 4 months. Let's hope this doesn't last as long. This is what it means to be "permanently" separated from your twin soul. There is a gapping void in me that feels getting bigger by the day. My whole life there was always a void but it was small. It's like a black hole, nothing seems to fill it.

I ask myself, what God allows this to happen? Does it even care that I'm wallowing in self-pity and doubt without means of escape? Does it even care? What's the real point in this? The truth is I know the answers to these questions but they don't satisfy the deafening sound of my tears.

[lettucedloophole]

i never considered sex also being a social construct, and when you pointed that out, (ESP W THE USE OF DWORKINS QUOTE OMFG) it literally blew my mind, including the fact we don’t know what a society looks like outside of patriarchy. i’m having some trouble tho w homosexuality as a social construct. did you mean that in a way where the term and idea of homosexuality is a social construct bc all love is the same, and shouldn’t be classified as such bc of the fact we think its “different”?

also totally unrelated to the specific topic but still on the basis of radical feminism, how do you keep pushing? lately i’ve been feeling like its so hopeless bc i hardly see any significant change happening in the western world, one of the biggest examples is like how u said everyone wants to defend the status quo, and that contributes to my feelings of “im only one person i cant change it all by myself in my community and inspire others to do the same so i should just give up”. i know i won’t really be able to go back to how blissfully ignorant i once was :’) and that’s probably what keeps me from leaving rad feminism bc there’s just so much truth in it and i know i’d rather me and every other human in the world be liberated than give in and live a life with even more misery but there’s still times where i have those thoughts of complying and it just sucks. i gave up my skincare routine (now its just cleanser and moisturizer & the occasional sunscreen if might be out in the sun), makeup, fashion marketed towards women, porn, FANFICTION 😭, crushing on men, dating men, and even being friends w men. i didn’t give up my libido but it disappeared on its own bc of everything i continue to learn. i realize how deep misogyny is in our society and culture and just want to isolate myself from everyone. I CANT RUN FROM IT NO MATGER WHAT THO……💔

for homosexuality as a social construct; kind of. if sex is a social construct (i.e., the categories of male & female don't exist outside of society), it follows that sexuality is as well-- especially because the social construct of women & man are packaged with expectations of submission (to man), pregnancy, confinement to the home, and domination (of women), all but the last trait for women. in patriarchal mythos the class of people defined as "women" are supposed to be heterosexual, and the same goes for men.

the only context which heterosexuality exists in is under patriarchy, so it's impossible to untangle from bioessentialistic complementarianism. similarly, homosexuality is also a construct of patriarchy, albeit a positive subversion / defiance of the heterosexual structure of relationships. but when sex is eventually abolished, and men + women no longer exist, current classifications of sexuality will disintegrate with them. instead of 'man attracted to woman' or 'women attracted to other women', we will just have people liking people, & relationships formerly regarded as homosexual will no longer suffer a stigma compared to heterosexual ones.

if we argue that people are just "born" as heterosexual or gay without investigating what in society makes hetero or homosexuality so appealing or alien & disturbing (the patriarchy), we concede that homosexuals are naturally unnatural (in that, so little of the world is bisexual or gay or asexual under patriarchy, and this is not because of patriarchy, but "nature". therefore, the order of patriarchy is made acceptable through naturalization.)

-

ANYWAYS, onto your more important question... resisting mental domination, as bell hooks put it. unfortunately this is the hardest thing to answer as i myself haven't even gotten it down yet :') i relate to what you're saying so much, and a lot of other radfems do, so know that you're not alone even if it feels that way.

if i could talk to myself when i first Rad(fem)icalized, i would say... don't be too hard on yourself. we're all suffering from a lifetime of gendered socialization which basically amounts to self harm for women 💀 i went Ham with the radfem stuffs, giving up makeup & sexualized fashion & shaving, and it was relatively easy for me since i was already quite gnc & angry lol, but.

while i think it's good to give up much of that stuff, the world's not gonna explode if you struggle or give yourself some exceptions. don't let up on anything that gets in the way of your personal/political liberation, at least not for a long time, but. don't let people online jerk you around or make you feel like you're a bimbo for wearing makeup or whatever. some internet terfs can be reallyyy misogynistic if you adhere to gender roles or. don't hate trans people.

when you feel angry, don't turn it inward. it's something women & gender minorities do way too much. if you're not comfortable expressing it, though i think expressing it "unhealthily' (screaming at someone, breaking a plate) is better than pointing it at yourself, find a healthy and / or productive way to release it. we are trying to avoid this aspect of female socialization ↓

it's also mega important to remember that... it's easy to think men don't understand the patriarchy, but they do. the thing is, though, they don't give women grace for struggling with sexist socialization and use it as "proof" that women are actually inferior. women who are aware of the patriarchy but have no faith in other women do this as well. have faith in other women. have faith in trans people. have faith in gay & bi people. their liberation is tantamount to your own. and i don't mean individual gender minorities who are assholes... just don't let those assholes make you lose faith in these groups as a whole.

honestly i feel like there's a lot more i could say but idk, don't want to bury you in words lol. feel free to send more asks or message me if there's anything i can elaborate on or help you with! or even if you just need someone to talk to. much love, anon :') 🫶

[masterserris]

mutuals feel free to dm me

make an oc with me! home brew your own for this world and/or help me w this plz i beg

i create new oc like everyday in my head and usually they stay there with most of their story or au and such, sometimes i write them down if they have a lot of meat on their bones but rn i wanna make an oc and i have the idea but also i crave attention and wanna chat to a mutual about it but like it wouldnt be an oc related to any media so there isnt exactly any hyperfixation brain rot to share but also i just wanna share and bounce ideas and maybe craft a world together.

anyways oc idea: in this world with many sentient species like humans, dwarves, and orcs and such (not unlike d&d) there is a race of "gods" or powerful beings referred to as gods. they were formed from primordial energy and have no parents. they formed at different times but they are basically the oldest lived species in this world and are functionally immortal. there is the material world (with cities/areas where gods dwell mainly), there is the netherworld, and there is hell. the netherworld is just like. a mostly barren darker dimension, not evil but maybe like limbo.

there are hundreds of gods and not many of them are attributed or have a single power. there is no "god of the oceans" or what not. there are gods who are ocean based and themed but there is no like... poseidon. no thor. no surtur. no nothing. some are like that but it isnt an exclusive title. multiple of them can be "gods of wisdom" and they can have multiple titles too.

anyways, im thinking the oc is one of them and is a god of power. they have peircing eyes and fair skin with long flowing straight hair. nice clothes. but their demeanor is soft and gentle, caring especially to animals. nurturing. they are friendly to others but some gods grow envious of them and spread rumors of them being evil hearted and craft a prophecy about their downfall. now, such a thing wouldnt happen and they deny it, but with enough belief and power put behind it, they (the envious ones) can make a self fulfilling future even if they dont realize it. they force them to isolate and face scrutiny.

im thinking they leave eventually from their home and make a fortress in the netherworld. they are the ones who crafted beings for fun. dragons or monsters or living machines or spectral beings or eldritch beings. things some might call demons. demons on their own exist in hell, they didnt make those, but it can be hard to tell an armor plated horned creature from another. i guess their spiritual scent would be different ya know? the stench of hell vs the netherworld

and they get villified for such things, keeping the company of the dragons they made. they grow tired of it and take all of their creations away from the world, depriving it of many influential and kind beings, and bring them back into their being. their own pocket world where their things may not be disturbed or harassed anymore. saved, if you will. never to be seen again. they also shut off access to the netherworld for now.

so dragons, celestial automatons, and nether monsters no longer exist and the land is barren once more. there are distant relatives of these beings, dragon hybrids are still around and some are deified for their magical power. humans make their own automatons sometimes. but they are painfully alone and watch the other two realms from their cold fortress. as time went by, the smile was only reserved for the creations and children. their loved ones, but now they are gone, in a better place, a personal heaven, which is comforting, since no being would be able to ever bother them again, but they are alone. their soft robes have turned into more and more dusky armor and a frown graces their soft skin in a dark throne room. pondering a lusterous orb.

sitting in silence wasnt how they wanted to spend eternity, so they reopened the netherworld gates to repopulate the land with plants and animals and for beings of the material world to come and settle. only their castle was shut off from them. and humans and others would come. dragonborn, tieflings, dwarves, humans, and orcs like this world. it is a second home that needs some work and terraforming to make into a paradise. so they do and in the mean time the god reintroduces themselves to others.

like, no one forgot who they were or that they still existed, but for centuries they had been in the netherworld in their castle and people were making rumors about them for a long time so. bad aura, people were afraid of them, but they were assured that they were not malevolent. they marched their ass back to the material world and went back to the council of the gods in their big capital and of course no one stopped them, they were a god of power itself and reason. a god of creation. no one had banished them or anything, they had left on their own long ago. so they sit on the council with this new grimace on their face and the other gods are wary of them.

buttons keep getting pushed and they get into verbal arguments with others, alliances being formed. some of their closest friends forsake the three worlds and enter their secret world. everyone else in existence is an enemy or a neutral party or an acquaintance. little matters to them now other than keeping order and peace. even their castle they picked up and took away from the netherworld now. everything they ever loved or cared for is in their personal realm, so the game is set. the chess match between them and other gods and they play this little game of influencing the world, giving advice to mortal beings, aiding them in their dreams, using their power to change the tides of fate, changing the material world against disasters and the like.

dragonborn, tieflings, some humans, some elves, and orcs end up patronizing them as their god. like their most powerful god, most revered. their master.

all races prior to this loved different and various gods, there was some favoritism, but nothing unifying, really. the council of gods was the most powerful or knowledgeable or influential gods and they ranked highly, even if they did not seek the position, their power was innate and their reasoning sound.

but with races drawing alliances through shared belief, it naturally formed further strain with the envious gods and even the other gods. it was worrisome! the most vocal spoke of them forming an army of brainwashed zealots. evil gods had existed before, of course, anyone could be good or bad, but they were banished or dematerialized/slain or went into hiding. now one of the most powerful gods had a large following and could use their force to overthrow them all. funny. this was the exact thing they had warned about in their very first rumors. things come true if you keep antagonizing and paving the road for it

but they deny having any intentions of war, and they really dont. it's just hard to get along with a bunch of losers who hate you for existing.

so it teeters on the edge. peace and war. the god of power and their followers vs the rest of worlds. (hell is everyone's enemy to be fair)

maybe there is war and they are finally branded the dark god or something and there is a long conflict. they win but dont conquer the world meaning they are cast down from their status. they spared their enemies and their enemies attacked them with their guard down, shattering what was left of their heart and the races that followed them are in disarray and exile into barren lands. hardship for those who took the high road. but they arent done. they do come back in a darker more twisted form, spite and hatred has fueled them. some of their followers turn to darker means for power and this time they do build an army to crash the towers of the envious down from their rotten core and return the netherworld back into their land, their new castle. their new kingdom. others are not welcome, besides basic travelers or settlers. this is one possibility.

another is that they keep the fake smile, take the verbal abuse back and forth and their soul withers from the unhappiness in their hollow heart. the art they make now feels hollow, when they pet animals, there is a distance in their eyes. this was the case when they first were being harassed, but now it has reached a terminal level. oh god of silent isolation? why do you cry tears that never touch the ground? in coldest winter you feel at home. oh heart of ice, will you tell me your secrets? give me your aid? thank you, you always listen, even if you can no longer hear your own voice. basically they live a loner life in the council and rarely interact with others unless they are literally meeting to discuss something. they always offer aid to those who ask for it.

another possibility is that they are successful in turning the world to their side and the envious gods get shamed the hell outta them. some might lash out and attack but they are branded as evil and banished/defeated. some slink out of the limelight feeling supremely humiliated and regretful of their actions. their consequences. the god smiles again, ascendant. returning to how they were originally, but with a wisened heart, a closed off heart. no more close friends, but.... some friends are nice. no new creations, but they still love their hybrid grandchildren of course. in all possibilities they adore their mortal progeny and always help them out. esp if they get harassed for being of their blood. being a dragon hybrid (sorta rare) or nether monster hybrid (very rare) is an instant label of that god. foul blooded to the zealots of the envious, or those deceived by the envious ones. in this possibility, it gets smoothed out and they are no longer villified but in other ones they are. especially in the first one.

there are other possibilities too. which one shall we make? they need a name too.

[waiting-on-a-dream]

Prisoners' relationships with each other (Start of trial 2)

I should have posted this earlier, but better late than never, right?

Ichiro

He still isn't going out of his way to interact with anybody. Due to his increasingly violent habits and self-muttering, the other prisoners keep their distance from him, further isolating him from everyone. He can no longer stand to look at or talk to the innocent prisoners, including Noa whom he had taken a liking to in the first trial.

Daisuke once tried to stop him from self-harming, but he had retaliated violently. The man hasn't approached him since, which he is quite pleased with. Kiyoshi hasn't given up on restraining him whenever he tries to hurt himself though. Perhaps its because he's a cop, Kiyoshi isn't deterred by Ichiro's kicking and scratching.

Akane

She is now less prickly and aggressive, making her more approachable for the other prisoners. She hangs out with Yui nowadays, allowing the older woman to style her hair (mostly out of pity). Now that she's no longer so afraid, it wouldn't hurt to interact with the others more. But the other guilty prisoners aren't very eager to talk to her, so she keeps a respectable distance.

Daisuke

He doesn't flirt with the women in Milgram anymore, which ironically makes them more comfortable around him. Yui isn't very approachable at the moment, so he mostly talks to Suzume and Noa. He even helps out with cooking sometimes (when he's hungry and wants dinner to be served faster).

He misses his friend more than ever and has started talking to Noa about him during her drinking sessions. He drinks with her and she shares about her husband as well.

Suzume

She's become more friendly and is often trying to keep the Milgram. The guilty prisoners aren't in a good headspace, unwilling to even listen to Haku who was the voice of reason in the first trial, so she struggles to keep them calm and happy.

Yui and Mayumi no longer approach her due to the difference in verdicts. Suzume worries for them but doesn't know how to approach them. She's also grown closer to Noa as Milgram's big sister figures. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Haku

He's been trying to approach and get along with the guilty prisoners, with varying results, but none of them have attacked him, so his efforts are going well so far. He's warmed up to everyone in Milgram, and shares Suzume's desire for everyone to get along.

Mayumi has been more quiet and withdrawn lately, but she still treats him well. She sits next to him sometimes when he's practicing the piano, telling him about she was trying to protect everyone too. It seems she's trying to relate to his crime, but he doesn't know why. He nods along anyway.

Yui

Yui avoids the innocent prisoners, feeling bitter and envious over the privileges they enjoy due to their verdicts. Akane is the only one she can tolerate, simply because the girl's new friendliness delights her.

Rin

He still doesn't interact with anyone. He's even snappier now due to his guilty verdict. The only one he talks to is Noa, though she has to approach him first and he only replies to her in short sentences.

Noa

She's taken up the responsibility of cooking for everyone now that Mayumi has been voted guilty. Everyone needs to eat, so they're okay with her. Yui and Mayumi no longer approach her, so they've stopped talking. She's grown closer with Suzume and maintains a good relationship with Kiyoshi. Ichiro won't look at her anymore, but Rin is still civil enough to answer her when she talks to him. Daisuke is her new friend, they can be sad together. :D

Kiyoshi

He's still friendly with everyone, though the guilty prisoners make it very obvious that they don't appreciate his efforts. His friendship with Mayumi has come to a tragic end due to their difference in verdicts. She doesn't want to talk to him, so he doesn't approach her much. He's still on good terms with Noa and Suzume, but Daisuke hasn't stopped avoiding him. Ichiro pretty much hates him now for always stopping him from self-harming (he didn't like Kiyoshi much in the first place). Too bad Kiyoshi feels responsible for the safety of everyone.

Mayumi

She's a bit miffed about not being able to cook anymore, but at least Noa and Suzume have stepped up. She can respect them for that. Also, friendship with Kiyoshi has ended, Haku is now her new best friend. Yes, Haku was voted innocent too, but his motive was similar to Mayumi's. So she likes him.

[kara-does-fandom]

Rough Timeline and notes Digi Au part 2: Paths meet

Warning! Long Read. 3:am thoughts dump

So we left off with Lucemon leaving his castle in child form to see what the humans are like. Piedmon had reported in that he found a neat one, and 'reserved' her for Lucemon to look over, if they happened to meet.

Right now I think it would be Poetic and Neat if Myotismon also encountered Kara, and approved of the polite little human, so he also gives her a charm or at the very least points her in the direction Lucemon most likely will go roaming, under the guise of showing her where a lot of humans and unpartnered digimon hang out. While he might not escort her himself, he is enough of a gentleman and invested in this idea that he has his bats look for another group that is headed towards the cities he has in mind, and heads off once he is sure she is properly on her way.

Unfortunately for Kara, the new group of partner humans and digimon are rather close knit, so she feels isolated and unwanted, and thats gotten only stronger by the time she ends up in the city Lucemon is in. They have probably referred to her as dead weight, despite the skills she does have that benefit the group, and have expressed relief to see her off when they reach the city. There seem to be a lot of spaces for traveling humans and digimon to rest, so Kara is able to get away from the group into a different shared space, and retreat to the library and other areas she can quietly do her cross stitch and other hobbies as she recovers from the trip and tries to gain her self confidence again. She likely runs into Lucemon a few times, and each time he is a bit more intrigued, but it isnt until a bad rain and hailstorm hits that they get talking, stuck in a small shelter until a gap in the intensity allows them to make a mad dash for Lucemons lodgings, which are much closer. Lucemon has it to himself, but there is another bed hes been ignoring, so Kara has a spot for the night. They bond a bit more over tea and the digimon books they've read, and several other interests, and after a week Lucemon regards this human as the best option he's seen yet, even before he spots Piedmon's gift, and the possible one from Myotismon as well.

He was a little bored with the idea of a puppet anyway, but Kara's sense of self worth and confidence were.. mending slowly, but even an easy mental check from Lucemon indicated it was badly injured. But he knew what Piedmon had seen, and clearly Myotismon saw something as well. So he asked a bit and found the group Kara came in with, and quickly noticed the bullying. His court had bullying too, but it tended to be a lot more subtle, so it was easy to see the problem. So he instead focuses on lifting Kara up again, more curious to see what her pride looked like when mended, and well... Kara's pride is the comfortable quiet self confidence in her abilities, and not the searing bright pride that his mark of sin embodied, but that was fine. Her pride was like a warm cup of soothing tea when listening to a storm outside, which happened to be a current fond memory for him, so this suited him just fine. So he invites Kara into his lodgings, to keep a better eye on her, while trying to figure out if she is the one h wants, and if so, can she be manipulated.

It isnt much longer before he decides its time to leave, as he doesnt like any of the other humans, and Kara is bored of the city life, so he pretends to excitedly offer they could head off together. Why not keep his best option by his side just in case, right? Theres prob a dozen stories of the pair traveling together between cities and small towns, helping others and having quiet conversations, but the next scene happens at an area where there are more bonded humans, and the expectation that ANY and ALL humans are expected to help, even if they have no partner, comes into play. Look forward to a part 3 showing the scene that causes Lucemon to finally choose Kara, and what makes him a bit more protective and clingy in regards to his human.