#high Soceity

[undyingimbecile]

Pretty Pink Eyes (High Soceity Queen + Diana's eyes au)

Athanasia De Alger Obelia, due to the resemblance of her late mother, fairy dancer Diana, Emperor Claude De Alger Obelia spoiled the etheral princess with everything and anything he could get his hands on, be it jewellery, a harem with only the finest of boys her age, empires! The title of a goddess, anything. But alas, her rose eyes hold thorns.

#wmmap athanasia #wmmap #athanasia de alger obelia #who made me a princess #who made me a princess athanasia #diana #wmmap diana #high Soceity #athanasia takes the empire by storm #she's beautiful #love her

[thedeafprophet]

Character Summary: The Boisterous Author

Jamie Awnings

Pronouns: They/them or He/him (format is to pick one or the other whenever you're talking about him)

Ambition: Heart's Desire

Profession: Author

Main Skills: Persuasive, Watchful, Mithridacy

Main Quirks: Hedonist, Melancholy, Heartless

They say…

“The current Poet-Laureate of the Neath, said to produce writing of great renown. Any meeting leaves you set to have your ear talked off.”

Further Writeup under the cut:

(warnings for very mildly referenced alcoholism, mental health issues, and spoilers for Heart's Desire)

Backstory

Where Jamie's life began, even they couldn't tell you. Jamie was a foundling, having been abanonded during infancy. They were found in a doorway - left underneath an awning. They recgonize their birthday as October 29th, 1874.

From a young age, Jamie struggled to connect with those around them. The other children at the orphanage could be cruel, Jamie always standing out from the bright red hair to their very loud personality. Outcasted and often mocked by both those around them and the world at large, Jamie took to storytelling as a way to process the ongoings around themself. They learned to read faster then their peers, and found great solace in the stories they could get their hands on.

Sometime after, Jamie was moved from the orphanage to an industrial school, where the people around them were no better. The exception to this being that the school is where Jamie met Josephine, when Jamie was 12 and Josie was 10. The two bonded quickly when they met, both being outcasted by those around them. A year later, Jamie would meet Alex, whom Jamie would befriend after he punched out a girl who had been bullying Jamie. 2 years later, the trio would leave the school together.

Their teen years is when Jamies perspective started to shift. They yearned to be appreciated by those around them, still wanting desperatly to fit in to the world at large, to reach higher ground then that of which they started, and to be truly remembered. To do so, they began a goal: copy that of which you want to be

Of course that would come much later, for now Jamie started small. They followed along of where Alex's crime guided path led him, meanwhile working themself in jobs a long the way, often as a server in music halls

When Jamie was 19, they by happenstance met and connected with a slightly older high soceity girl who had been visitng a music hall where they worked. The two fell into a clandestine relationship- but not for proper reasons. The girl found Jamie to be an interesting spectacle, and Jamie saw her as an oppurtunity for knowledge and social climbing. It is from her that Jamie learned how to better act the part - and it is here that Jamie furthered learned all the ways they could not measure up.

The relationship would not end well, and ended it did, a couple years after it began. It could be said that Jamie's reluctance to form close connections started here, but that path was set long ago.

Jamie fell further into their vices in their early 20s, hanging out with crowds the others displeased of, and pushed against the edges of friendships they had. Their bond with Josephine and Alex was shakey by the time the prospect of going to the neath came up.

It was 1898 when Jamie came to the Neath, at 24 years old.

Game Timeline Events

The neath proved to be a very fruitful location for Jamie upon their arrival. They knew how to please a crowd, how to talk up a room, and how to make a spectacle - all things that served them well in their pursuit of fame.

Jamie took once more to their writings - much less appreciated back on the surface - and found a crowd more then willing to welcome their work. They quickly climbed into fame (and some matters of infamy), taking well to the seductions and the scandals of the neath. When they started writing at the court it was all they had aimed for things to be - climbing as high as they could reach as an artist.

But alongside the rising climbs of fame, so too came Jamie's struggle with their own mind. Melancholy thoughts that had plagued their childhood seemed all the stronger here, and more so concerned was the nightmares and paranoia that seemed to follow them. Jamie had more then one would often prefer of experience with visting The Royal Bethlehem.

Their work as an author was not enough for them, the attention always at risk of dwindling, Jamie's heart always hungry for more. It is here that Jamie's attention was drawn to the marvellous; it is here that adoration was their original goal.

Of course, things hardly ever go as one plans, and Jamies experience with playing the game greatly broadeden their perspective on things. The things they learned about the other players and about themself along the way left much for them to ponder on. In the end, they chose to loose, on purpose, and let Beechwood end the game. One truly selfless act that Jamie has ever taken.

Left aimless after the game, Jamie was unsure of where things would go. When they heard of the railway venture, it seemed like a promising way to distract themself, and get them out of the city. The railway served one further goal for them too: an excuse to bring their childhood friends back into their life once more.

A few exceptional stories are also canon to Jamie's timeline (some spoilers for such stories here):

The Gift

Jamie's personal experience with The Captivating Princess really began here. Not only dealing with the horror the experience brought them, but a much graver fact: this is where they refused to give what she wanted from them, and got caught further in that web. The threat of The Princess taking action against them, alongside what Jamie had learned about the royal family, further solidified their want to leave the court and their work there.

The Bloody Wallpaper

Jamie has a long and complicated history with The Manager. This story further solidifed that despite their interest in him and oft seeking of refuge, he very much is not a healthy connection for them.

Other canon stories include My Kingdom For A Pig and Say It With Flowers

#2 down 2 more to go! #i could have put more in this but it had already gotten pretttttty long #so. yea. thats jamie for ya #fallen london #fallen london oc #oc: jamie #my writing

[horizon-verizon]

Was I the only one frustrated by the fact that there were no Targaryen Queens? I know in canon ( the dance ) was the reason why that was, but It feels like it was aa deliberate choice from George.

You mean Queen Regnants? Women who ruled in their own right altogether? A female monarch who could pass or abolish laws and practices without having to use emotional influence, just full political powers?

A)

Well, anon, this is a territory in a fantasy series adapted from many real-life medieval sociopolitical structures and patterns of behavior and ideology. In real life, there were various women who were EU Queen Regnants or ruled like one, but their world/soceities was/is still patriarchal.

The preferred and much more often case was a male ruler, and a female royal consort (Queen Consorts).

You have less female monarchs in Europe going back even further, into the 10A.Ds, 20 B.C.s, 100 B.C.s, etc. With, of course, notable exceptions, like Boudicca (actually a chief, not a Queen but goes under the category of autonomous female leaders) or the much later example of Catherine the Great.

B)

The pre-conquest Targs and Valyrian dragonlords did not seem to allow women the same exact same level of power as men, similar to some real classical /Near East ancient peoples, And I mean the number of female to male leaders. There were female monarchs in the medical era, yet they were also thought unfit or inappropriate rulers until they "proved" useful or could claim that they were supporting a male ruler.

Valyrian women, I think, were definitely treated better than Westerosi women were and could hold much more power and public respect on her own merit than can a Westerosi woman can, but a man would still be the official leader of the clan/house/etc. 

Over the course of the Targ dynasty, we see the house’s women/Queen Consorts have less and less active and law-affecting political power. (post by @brideoffires)

C)

Then there is the fact, after reading Fire and Blood or even just by reading the ASoIaF wiki pages on the Targs starting from Aegon and his sister-wives (carefully, we still need the books) to the Great Council, we see that the Targ men turn against their female relatives for the sake of power and assimilation into Westerosi culture (for the sake of a stable rule, less rebelliousness) -- especially Maegor I and Jaehaerys I. 

D)

Jaehaerys I was loathe to allow a female heir partially due to his fear of rebellion after his own uncle brought in a few years of high intensity cruelty, but also because Jaehaerys himself didn’t seem the type to believe in women being good leaders or thought they should stick to their strict Westerosi gender roles and “duties”.

He talks to Alysanne condesecndingly about the right of first night and despite her protests and frankness about its affect, he proves loathe to abolish it and start more contention with the Westerosi lords. Really it’s after Septon Barth, on of his most trusted councillors, supports and reasons along with Alysanne that he finally gives in. 

He disproves of Rhaena, his older sister, threatening the Lord Farman after the same lord refused to allow her entry or stay at his castle with his own insulting words (that she responded to). 

He calls his own daughter a slut/whore (Saera), saying she was “always” one and prevents Alysanne from trying to bring her back or any sort of beginning of a reconciliation by pushing most of the blame for her escape and distance on her instead of himself and admitting his comparatively more fault.

He ignored Alysanne’s frequent protests against him passing over Rhaenys and Daenersy as his official heirs when he could have. 

It is not until in a supremely ironic turn of events where the man that is chosen by the Council that Jaehaerys I himself allows that we finally have a female heir to the throne: Rhaenyra.

Even though Viserys had been trying to sire a male, he does what Jaehaerys would have never done -- name a girl/woman his heir and future Monarch. And it is through how before her there was never a female heir/ruler (just princesses of the blood and consorts) that we understand how Rhaenyra’s reign would have had brought about a beginning of a great and indelible change in women’s power and value in a system that uses Andal male primogeniture to keep women from excercising power. Basically, Rhaenyra was/is the opening of a new book (forget the “chapter”) of Westerosi history. Women would have just that much more consideration in other houses’ succession events, even if that takes a few more decades. 

From a sociopolitical standpoint (before Dany) everything rode on Rhaenyra being able to rule and have her word mean law just as a male ruler’s would. It wouldn’t make women all of a sudden be able to be seen as full people, but it is a good start for the context we have.

It is through struggles of power that shifts in political and ideological structures happen, one of the main themes and uses of war GRRM explores.

E)

Before the Targs, the Andal-FM Westerosi lords each had their own individual kingdoms and fought each other for land, revenge, glory, etc. Again, for thousands of years.

There actually were some Andal queens, but they were outnumbered and rarely actually named in comparison to their male counterparts. We don't even know how many were rulers in their own right versus Dowager's and Regents.

Andal/FM patriarchy has been in deep since way before the Targs conquered Westeros and the customs favoring male leadership is the basis/stage of which the Targ males asaimilated into to consolidate their own power. GRRM condenses a bunch of intrigue and generational chaos within about 5 generations of the Targ dynasty of the males, compared to thousands of years of Westerosi male-preference primogeniture and intense misogyny (compared to Valyrian gender politics).

So yes it was a deliberate choice from GRRM. Just not totally in the way I think you are thinking.

Addition#1:

I didn't include this because I was focusing on Fire and Blood's plotline, but this whole thing also presages and contextualizes Daenerys' character development and narrative importance (the ASoIaF narrative itself) as she seeks to become the Queen of Westeros.

Daenerys, thematically, has been likened to Aegon I and Rhaegar by actually thinking persons, and she is pretty much set to "set things right" in her rule, which is why her development as a leader from her experiences, perspective as an abused and enslaved woman, and personal values all matter and connect to her goal to rule.

She will be, we can say, the cumulation, restoration, the "fix", and peak of House Targaryen. At least Watsonianly. And her house's history of assimilation at the cost of higher competency by cooperating with female members instead of against them makes Dany's current development all the more important to create a better future for those in Westeros and even Essos.

#asoiaf asks to me #women in westeros #rhaenyra targaryen #westerosi history #the targaryens #jaehaerys i #jaehaerys i's characterization #fire and blood characters #asoiaf women #westerosi women #rhaenyra i #asoiaf

[youwontunderstand]

Have some thoughts.

I see so much of myself in Jake. So much that it makes me sad. To see his intelligence, his fun interests, the polite pity for him from others, the loneliness. The desperation and erratic behavior, wanting anyone, anyone at all just to notice him, see him hurting.

How he was old. Alone. No family. No one to really talk too. So he made stuff up in his head. If things had gone this way. Maybe if it had been like this. Things would be different.

I do the same myself, granted in a much more high fantasy way. I'm not very old, but i feel anceint. And i feel like, the way things are going now, i may just be old and alone like he is.

I feel like... there is this club. This group in the world of Truly Lonely people. That much is obvious now, with socail media. All lonely together. But I'm talking about the ones that lurk, the ones that never leave comments, are quiet, keep their heads down and don't draw attention. Why would we? No one looks at us anyway.

So few understand, and the ones that do, are hard to find. You can find me in my room, and I'm sure there are others like me, but we hide. We can't talk to each other. We are so far away, so far removed from the soceity everyone seems to be thriving in.

And those people forget not everyone gets a happy ending. Not everyone gets to find somone to be close too. No one wants to imagine such a thing. Sometimes people end up with nothing at all.

Pitied smiles. Quiet rooms. Reflecting on how it got to be this way. I'm not scared of being alone. I'm used to that.

No, for me, the real worry, the fear Jake gives me is;

In the end, will I ask myself the same question?

#im thinking of ending things #just some personal thoughts about the book/film #i have trouble articulating these things #im fine really #i should stress that #but these are things i think about #i did start to think about ending things when i was far too young #but im still here #the cat #don't look #am i awake?

[odinspattern]

What is Tav and Astrid's speech like? Do they have distinct accents? Or any other notable ways of speaking, like using particular phrases, slang, or terms of endearment?

Bonus question: What do their voices sound like?

So I have been thinking about this a lot, hence why this took me so long. Language in dnd and adjacent media facinates me as someone who has studied linguistics.

One if the best and worst things about it is that one is free to interpit what you want it to be. It can be daunting tbh.

Back when Tav was an Adventure Leauge character I was working on, I envisioned them having an US southern drawl, specifically Texan, because I thought it would be funny to imagine the Drow as having that. Their soceity is often portrayed so over the top and chaotically that what comes to mind is the expression; «Helt Texas.»

(For those who are not Norwegian, a common expression for something being over the top or chaotic, possibly insane is «Completely Texas.» Aka the joke.)

However, I have rethought this stance. Instead I have gone more classic. Dnd elves are often inspires by the elves of Lord of the Rings, and fun fact. Tolkien’s Elvish was inspired by the Karelian language, which is really cool.

Now I do not know Karelian, but I am learning Finnish, which is related. So yeah, I am claiming that the elves of Underdark speech sound Finnish, it developed diffrently in isolation and with both Svirfneblin and Duregar neighbours it took on some changes.

When it comes to expressions, they have this one that for the longest time took everyone completely by surprise, because they took one from their own language and translated it directly, and even Astarion and Shadowheart was like. What are you saying?

«This swings like a hook-horror.»

If they are impressed by you they might also claim that you have sisu.

As for Astrid. The dwarves are Norwegian, because this is my city now, and I do what I want. Also a lot of Dwarven names are Scandinavian in Origin, so I am claiming them. Miss me with those bad Scottish accents y’all are putting on them.

Fun linguistics fact about Norwegian. Did you know it is considered a Macro-language? It just means that it has many standardisations, both written and spoken.

I honestly considered giving her a Fredrikstad accent. Partly because it is considered the uglist Norwegian accent, but I found it very funny to imagine the scourge of the world speaking like she came out of Lange Flate Ballær

Because many of you do not know what the Fredrikstad dialect sounds like, here is an example.

Another linguistics fact, that thick L sound is very specific to Eastern Norway and there is some Northern Norwegian dialects that have it, which may suggest it came from the East. It showed up in the 1300’s, and has barely moved since. It is also hotly debated as it started moving the last 20 years after standing still for centuries.

I could also have gone all Oslo on y’all, because I am proud of Oslo, it is my shit city, the jewel and the ass of Norway. we have three dialects (four if you include Kebabnorsk, which would also be funny. I am old enough to remember when media actually took note of it, I was in High School at the time when you could watch a program where they spoke it on NrK, I Even remember that they made a Midsummer Nights Dream performance where they spoke Kebabnorsk.)

I decided not yo go there, for several reasons. Fist off, the kebabnorsk that I know is older already, it is like many other languages changing. But mostly because if I did, I would have to decide what other languages would stand for Arabic, Turkish, Balkan languages and Somali just to name a few that has influenced Kebabnorsk irl.

Not to mention that I doubt that Astrid grew up quite that urban. Which also cancelled out Groruddøling. (And no way she would speak the dialect of Oslo Vest.)

Instead, I have chosen the Hallingdal dialect.

Why?

Again, my city now. Also I am surrounded by it, so it makes sense to me to use it.

She uses the Word krimsjuk, which is specific to where I am located, it means to have a cold. Also pøse, which means bag, and she does love a good vaffel og svall.

#Astrid the drow #Astrid Dawnbringer #linguistics #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my ocs #mostly me ranting linguistics #long post

[heroismisdeadfinally]

I show zero support for WGA and the writers strike cause I live laugh and love seeing high soceity fall so poor people can be happy as fuck😂👏👏👏👏 Much more talented forms of escapist creativity have merge outta the pandemic and same will go for it again against this movement for the next 4 years😇

#Anti WGA🗑💩💩💩💩

[warwickroyals]

what are the official residences of the various warwick families, and can you give us some history/fun facts about each residence?

Anon this is a lovely question, anon, and it's one that's actually encouraged me to begin making a map of my country and where each royal residence is listed.

In Sunderland, a royal residence is a castle, palace, or house in which a member of the royal family lives. Some are considered Crown properties (AKA taxpayer's money fund them), while others are privately owned. Some are only occupied on seasonal or irregular occasions, while others are full-time residences. Below is a quick list of some of these residences:

CHESTER PALACE - Chester Palace is located in Warwick, Sunderland's largest city. It is the main residence of The King and serves as the royal family's administrative headquarters. The offices of the King's surviving sons are located there as well. Despite not being located in Woodbine, the nation's capital city, most state functions are held at Chester Palace, which is more accessible and modern than the older Woodbine Castle. It was refurbished extensively during the 19th Century to accommodate all manners of people, including palace staff, politicians, ambassadors, and tourists. It is often the focal point of the city during times of celebration and morning alike.

COLLINGWOOD CASTLE - Collingwood is a large estate house located four hours north of Warwick. It became the summertime residence of the royal family when it was purchased in 1872 and is private property. Since then the Collingwood Estate has grown, covering tens of thousands of acres, and is home to a wide variety of unique wildlife and landscapes. While secluded from the public, the estate is a working one, and members of the royal family are free to hunt and fish. Collingwood is also home to extensive farmland.

ELLESMERE PALACE - By the mid-19th century, Sunderland had completed much of its expansion westward, and annexed a territory that became known as New Westminister, covering most of Sunderland's northwest coast. Ellesmere Palace is the official residence of the monarch when he is in western Sunderland and is used for local state functions and events. Traditionally, the monarch will spend a few weeks out of the year at Ellesmere, where they would carry out official engagements and events. Due to its proximity to the Scarborough campus of the Royal Military College, members of the royal family have also lived at Ellesmere Palace while engaging in military training and serving domestically.

ROSEDALE HOUSE - Rosedale House and Estate is located in Sunderland's midwest. It is a relatively new royal residence, and is relativly small when compared to other royal residences. It was the country retreat of Queen Anne throughout the 1930s, who tended to the gardens and decorated the house to her tastes. Following the death of her eldest son, Prince George in 1942, Anne isolated herself from the rest of the family at the estate. Following Queen Anne's death, the property has sat largely abandoned until the mid 2020s, when Anne's great-grandson Prince Phillip leased the property from the Crown.

ST MARY'S PALACE - St Mary's is a red-brick palace and the smaller of the two royal palaces in Warwick. It is home to the offices of less senior members of the royal family, and is the headqauters of the King's Royal Court. It is also known as the Curator's Palace due to its numerous artisitc collections and galleries. St Mary's is often the venue for high-profile charity and soceity events. St Mary's Royal Chapel is still used for fuctions of the royal family and the ocassional royal wedding.

WARWICK HOUSE - Warwick House is a country house and, despite the name, is located in Woodbine, just ten minutes outside of the downtown core. Warwick House is famously where the royal family spends Christmastime each year, and the King himself spends roughly two months on the property between November and January. Much like Collingwood, Warwick House is an extensive estate with a dedicated hunting culture. The propery is praticularily beloved by members of the royal family and is regarded as a family retreat. Throughout its history, several members of the family have been born and died on the grounds.

WOODBINE CASTLE - Woodbine Castle is the oldest and largest royal residence. Woodbine is a summit castle, that was built in the Gothic Revival style in order to resemble the European strongholds of antiquity. In a way, it's like the ancestorial seat of the royal family and its proximity to the federal government allowed it to be a venue for many state events. However, in the 19th and 20th centuries, the old Woodbine Castle grew neglected by members of the family. Recent Warwick kings preferred the more modern Chester Palace as their main residence. However, once Louis V took the throne in 1970, he began to make changes and minor renovations to the colossal lake-side castle. Now, he favours it as his weekend residence and country retreat. Several members of the royal family live on the grounds of Woodbine Castle, in smaller properties once dedicated to staff.

#warwick.answers #anonymous

[soul--forge]

🌙 Ontological Minorities

Disclaimer: This is not a mandatory label, nor is it a replacement for pre-existing terms. It is simply meant to fill a lexical gap. This term is also subject to change if something more suitable is found at any point.

"Ontological Minority"

(OM for short) a term to refer to "anyone with a self-determined identity on any axis of alternative* ontology."

(*alternative to hegemonic ontological ideology that is dominant within the soceity they live in/are affected by.)

Explanation: it is a dominant ideology on (this) Earth that anyone born to human-identifying parents must also identify as human, 100%.

So, someone born to human-identifying parents who self-identifies as non-human to some degree would have an alternative/different ontology to the dominant hegemony of (this) Earth.

But it is up to them if they wish to include themselves under this umbrella.

This term is inclusive of: Alterhumans, Otherkin, Endels, Clinical Nonhumans, Physical Nonhumans, Fictionkin, Factkin, Therians, Objectkin, Plantkin, Conceptkin, Polymorphs, Shapeshifters, Divines, Plurals; Otherhearts, Synpathics, Copinglinkers, Funlinkers, Otherlinkers & any other related communities which we didn't specifically name.

What this term does NOT include: Bigotry, TERFS, Trans Medicalism, Baeddelism, Alt-Right, High Control Groups, or any other forms of piss-flavored ideologies.

[shadowloverchi]

With Necrom right around the Corner I wanted to share my OC’s own struggle with Mora...before the expansion was announced XD

*Come.* It was said that the Altmer took smaller paces despite their height because it was that which made their long mortal lives possible, far longer then any other race on nirn. Smaller strides, and of course their grand affinity for magic which made even the weakest amoung them more powerful in magic then the average race of man or beast. But it was not with short steps that Rumanin walked, hard leather heels thudded against the icy floor with a stride more akin to a slow beating heart, making the most of his stride to carry him swiftly to his given destinations.

*Offering.* History, too, was important to the High Elves. Lineage, birthrights...it was what their soceity was founded on, what forced them into the endless pursuit of perfection to rise above one's given station. But Rumanin had none of that now. The name of his family ended with his mother, upon who's skull he laid his hand on now and channeled the familiar spell that would take him *elsewhere.* According to his people, his *history*, he was nameless. Doomed to be forgotten. He had no claim to a birthright nearly seven generations long, a fortuitous number that instead spelled the doom of his ancestors. Since he would be forgotten, and no other lived to carry on Karenoore's legacy...so too would seven generations of mages be forgotten.

*Mine.* But perhaps that was a blessing, in a way. Rumanin had the chance to do something that very few Altmer could claim for themselves and that was to forge *his own* legacy. His could be a name that stood entirely on it's own, with no credit given to who birthed him or to what he could inherit. As he materialized within the small pocket realm of Oblivion that he had claimed for himself, he was reminded that such lofty aspirations were *entirely* possible...should he choose to pursue them. This realm, though still slightly unstable, was testament to his power and ingenuinty. All he needed was time to grow his power even more...and the desire to claim it. *Know.* Idle fingers ran over the spines of books he already collected, safe and secure where no one else could reach them and where they were protected from time an elements both. There were shelves that were still empty, begging to be filled with more, just as his own mind craved the knowledge of all he could get his hands on. Halion had no idea just how much more Rumanin was gaining from their bargain. What was it to teach another mer some basic magic and rudimentary spells if he would continue receiving books like *this* for payment? If Halion was not a friend, the vampire might have called it laughable. *Debt.* Of course...Halion might take his own payment in time. Rumanin was capable of many things, but he could not control the heart of his lover nor would he wish to. Helrhodon...would do as he enjoys, what he knows he can help others with, and there was *nothing* that Rumanin could think of to deny him that. What he said to Halion was true, he would be a fool as so many others had been fools, to try a chain down a spirit such as Hel's. The dunmer's freedom...was part of why he loved him so dearly. Helrhodon was not afraid to live as true to himself as no other Rum has seen able to do. Regardless of even that Hel was mortal, would *remain* mortal, and so Rumanin would loose him someday. It was inevitable.As his newest addition to his collection was placed on a shelf within the realm the vampiric mage now called his, he could not help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle slightly as they always did when a new book was added to the shelf. Once again he had that deep and nagging feeling that he was being spoken to as well, though he knew this realm was unoccupied by anyone but him. And of course the pesky, jellyfish-like creatures that floated amoungst the shelves. *Gol....Hah....*

#RumaninOC #ESO RP #Altmer #Hermeaous Mora

[the-letter-horror-lover]

KENN

Chapter 4: A "Ship"wreck Pt. 1

Notes:

Ugh forgive me, my tablet could only take so much data, and unfortunately the word limit on my tablet is about 8,550 words...LOL. So this will be part 1 of Undertaker's death, and part 2 should either be some time tonight or tomorrow :) Hopefully another 8550 words will be what it takes to finish it XD

There will be another author's note at the bottom, so stay tuned~!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

With a deep inhale, Undertaker leaned forward to look over the calm, greenish-blue seas his ship sailed through. He sighed in contentment, eyes closing as the sea air stirred his long, silver locks that had earned him the reputation of the notorious 'Silver Pirate'. And his reputation as a merciless brute who wouldn't hesitate to cut the throats of a thousand men had also gained him the name of 'The Undertaker', a man that had undertaken many souls to the afterlife without a second thought.

The over-sized, feathered hat upon his head threatened to fly away with a sudden gust of wind that filled the brand new sails above of his precious jewel of a ship, and he pulled from the edge and gripped it in one hand.

"Oh no you don't, hehe. Sometimes I wonder about you, silly hat!" he chastised the piece of clothing, grinning as he looked up only to see the brim.

"C-Captian, am I...interrupting something?"

Turning his attention from his hat to his quarter master: a fairly burly fellow missing a few teeth and fingers. Due to the ring in his nose, the thick, scruffy beard, and the arm pit hair was nearly as long as the thick mane atop his head, Undertaker had 'respectfully' dubbed him 'Ox', a furry, fat, stubborn creature that looked like something to be reckoned with but could easily be put down should things become unfavorable. Afterall, Ox was more fat than he was muscle, more like a roly-poly than an ox...if roly-pollies had that much hair...

Undertaker laughed, grinning from ear to ear as he tilted his head and caused the several earrings that dangled from his lobes to clink together. "Of course not, what is it, Oxie?"

"It's Hubert, with respect sir," he grumbled, pouting as he sulked.

"Ewwbert? What a terrible name. I much prefer your name as Ox! We had this discussion yesterday! Only last time you told me your name was Rubert! Make up your mind already. Is it Rubert or Ewwbert?"

"Neither," he muttered before rolling his eyes and shaking off the Undertaker's childish name games. "Cap' we're nearing port. Crews wants ta know if we be stoppin for the drink and the women."

"Ah, what do you think, Ox?" Undertaker laughed, raising an eyebrow as his bangs shifted at the tilt of his head again.

Ox's eyebrows furrowed in thought (not that he was the brightest of men either), and he chewed on the dip in his mouth. "Um, we're stoppin' a' the port, Cap...?"

"There you are, Oxie. Now, up to it. Pick up the pace! There are women waiting for a little bodacious pirate love~!" he chortled, walking past Ox with a pat to the shoulder and walking across the slippery deck to the large doors that lead inside the ship. Perhaps a nap was in order on the way into port...Yes. A nap sounded delightful...

Xxx

Stepping down the long plank onto the busy docks of the port where they had anchored ship, green eyes scanned the voluptuous clash of culture and soceity where the countries of the north and the west collided in a fierce battle filled with vast colors and music and food of every kind. Naturally, the salty tang of sea and fish still hung about like a heavy cloud, but it could not smother the flavors of several cultures that acted like the sweet sugar in an otherwise bland tea.

His knee-high boots thudded against the wooden dock as he entered the colorful arena of culture, several booths filled with people laughing and gambling and drinking away their worries. Now this was something he could never tire from--the women, the liquor, the laughter.

Undertaker smiled at the attention he almost instantaneously received from the eyes of those nearby; his famous reputation was known to many. It was hard to hide it with his brilliant silver hair and pompous attire that screamed for the attention he strived for and basked in when he received it. His hand rested on the sword that hung from his belt and bounced against his knee with every confident stride. Wanted in almost every major, European country, a bounty that could buy England itself or earn one the title of Sultan had been placed upon his head, but there were few who dared to try and claim that reward. His title as a ruthless murderer was well-known across the seas, and those that dare utter his name said it in a low whisper behind closed doors.

While he smiled, Undertaker marched down to an open tent over the water and supported by wooden planks beneath it only feet from the water's surface. As tall as he was, Undertaker was forced to duck beneath the wooden bar on the way in, and when he stood up fully again, the bar's laughter died down enough that the Undertaker could hear the mouse nibbling on the stale cornbread in the corner. "Now, now, don't stop the party on my account~!" he cooed, chuckling as he waved his hand and started toward a table where he sat on a rather comfy wooden chair and gestured for someone to bring him a drink from the barrels on the counter. "Would someone be a dear and bring the ol' Undataka something to wet his whistle?"

Setting both feet on the table, he relaxed and watched as a rather handsome young woman dressed in a blue and silver kimono. Oh, how he did love the foreign, dark-skinned women that were so rare in these seas as they belonged on the other side of the world. As she poured the amber liquid into a wooden mug before walking toward the pirate, Undertaker hummed to himself, winking at another young lady nearby when they met eye-to-eye. The blonde he caught sight of blushed, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her ear and looking away.

"Thank you, m'dear," Undertaker crooned, managing a polite smile as he took the drink and the crowd began to stir back to life again.

"You are most welcome, Undertaker," she said with a graceful bow lasting no longer than a few moments.

"Oh, so my reputation proceeds me, eh?" Undertaker smirked, closing his eyes as he let the amber liquid slide down his throat with a delightful burn.

"Your reputation is legend, Undertaker-sama. There are not many that know not of that name," explained the Japanese woman with the twitch of a frown.

The Undertaker could only laugh as he set his drink down near his feet and wiggle his eyebrows toward another woman who had caught his green gaze. "True, true, never truer."

"Undertaker-sama, why have you come?"

"Just for some fun, of course~! Although being on the sea is fun and all, it can be a little boring when I have no one to share my love with!" he explained before turning his attention to the blonde from earlier who was approaching rather timidly. "Now, don't be shy, lovely. I don't bite...too much."

Giggling, she sat beside the Undertaker and rested her cheek upon her propped up palm. "Wow, I've never seen someone like you before."

"I do hope that is a good thing," he chuckled, lowering his feet to the ground and turning his back to the olive-skinned foreigner.

The blonde blushed, twirling a strand of her golden hair as a few more lovely ladies began to crowd around him. It was as if he were a magnet, attracting women from every corner of the town that had heard the legendary Undertaker was sitting at the local pub.

"Is it true you've sailed the seas from England to the world's end?"

"Your hair is so beautiful! How did it come to be such a beautiful color?"

"Do you already have a woman back home?"

Questions came from left and right until the Undertaker raised both hands, losing all interest in his drink as he stood with a laugh. "Ladies, ladies, this is no place to ask such questions," he said, earning the disappointed moans and sighs from the women crowding him. He then smirked, shrugging as he spread his arms out and pulled a girl close to either side of him. "Ask me when I take you back to my ship."

"Your ship?!" they squealed in delight, most blushing and crowding even closer with their eyes wide in amazement.

"Yes. It's a lovely thing, my Silver Coffin," he chuckled, leading them out the door and onto the docks. His hands slid down either side of the women in his arms, long fingernails drumming on their soft tummies in a silent promise of what he had in store for them later on. "Who wants to experience it first hand?"

"Me!"

"No me!"

"I saw him first!"

"Ladies," he consoled, laughing as his magnificent ship came into sight, towering over them as the large, silver sails lay flacant in the still night. "I can spare time for each and every one of you."

The thought of having all of these women gathered around him made him shiver in delight, hoping to get to his quarters before they either noticed the condition he was getting himself into or before their men noticed he'd stolen them away for the night. However, what he did not count on was the rough hand that grabbed his hair, tugging him back before pushing him into one of the small, wooden boats nearby. The women he had been escorting screamed as a flash of a silver blade came down toward his head with no restraint. It was met by the clang of Undertaker's sword as he blocked the long blade of a katana, and he grit his teeth as he tried to fight the downward force of the blow--gravity not on his side.

Kicking out, he managed to hook the toe of his boot on the attacker's hands and disarm them as the katana harmlessly fell in the boat beside him. The moment the weapon fell, he reached forward, grabbing a hand as he tried to stab forward. His attacker managed to twist away from his sword, ripping away from his hand and attempting to run.

Undertaker grit his teeth, jumping out of the little boat and ignoring the cries of the women as he ran through them after the blur of blue and silver that was running from him. Where had he seen it before? He could hardly care less; anyone that dared to attack the great Silver Pirate wouldn't live to see tomorrow.

As he started to catch up with his attacker, it spun around, several shrunkens spinning through the air toward his head and one managing to catch his shoulder. Ignoring the slight pain, he swung his sword once in range and only managed to clip part of the thick outfit the attacker wore. It flew in his eyes, and when he managed to shake it away, the attacker had managed to disappear into the sea of humanity.

Cursing, he glared in an attempt to pick out the blue and silver attacker, but it seemed as if they had made off like a ghost. "Dammit!" He sheathed his sword. "Curse world's end!"

At that exact moment, he felt a piercing pain in his back from his right shoulder to his left hip, causing him to cry out in surprise and stumble forward, redrawing his sword in defense. The two swords met again with a clash of silver, Undertaker's hair falling in his face as his hat tumbled from his head and rolled down the dock. He could finally make out the face of the Japanese woman he had met in the pub, and he could only smirk ruefully. If only such a pretty face had rather joined him back to his ship instead of attacking him. He would have enjoyed her 'company' greatly.

Nevertheless, he did not hesitate to meet his boot with her stomac, forcing her backward but not without the blade skimming down his leg and tearing the fabric of his pants. She stumbled backward, falling back off the docks and into the dark waters of the night. Undertaker stood at the edge with sword in hand, waiting for the dark head of hair to finally resurface.

When the woman finally came back up, spitting up water and grabbing ahold of the wooden dock in an attempt to get back up, the long end of a blade tapped her chin. "Pity. You are such a pretty thing. Such a shame to put it to waste..."

Spitting out a moutful of water, she snarled and her eyes narrowed into daggers. "Get it over with already."

In consideration, a pensive frown dotted his lips as he tapped her cheek with his sword before withdrawing and scheathing it back into his belt. "I think I have a much better plan for you."

Fisting her hand, she swung and punched him directly in the face, using this as a distraction to swim away. "I'd rather die than be your sex toy!" she screamed, trying to paddle away as fast as she could in her heavy garments.

The Undertaker growled, jumping into the water after her and swimming toward the woman. When she turned with the intention of swinging her sword, he grabbed her wrist, using his free hand to yank it from her firm grip. Once disarmed, he threw her over his shoulder, swimming back to the docks with great difficulty as his attacker wouldn't stop screaming and kicking and hitting. It caused quite the scene.

He threw her back onto the wooden platform before crawling up and pinning her down to keep her from going after her sword that he had slipped into his belt. She screamed, arching and trying to wiggle her way out from under him like a slippery eel. However, his grip was too tight, and he simply raised a hand and brought it across his cheek. "Shut up, bitch!"

The woman huffed, settling like the blossoming red on her dark skin. Her eyes were still screaming bloody murder, and she grit her teeth in disgust at her captor. Nevertheless, she fell silent, huffing as she stilled after one more twitch of her defiant body.

"There we are. That wasn't too hard, no?" he chuckled, his frown breaking into a grin. He stood, pulling her to her feet and pinning her against his chest. They stood face to face, and when his free hand brushed her cheek gently, she recoiled before managing to lock it firmly between her teeth. "OW! YOU COCKCHAFER!"

Undertaker yowled, pulling his bitten finger out of her mouth and pulling her head backwards by her long, ebony hair. "Do that again, and I swear not another man shall ever desire you again."

She bared her teeth with a hiss, eyes narrowing even more as she glared at him in a forced silence.

"Now, let's get you somewhere you won't be bringing me any trouble," he said with a nod, spinning her yet keeping ahold of both her hands and her hair as he lead him past the remaining women toward his ship. "Sorry ladies, maybe another time?"

The women sighed, sulking as they walked off. Undertaker mentally cursed the girl in his arms, and if he wasn't getting laid tonight, he would make her pay for it dearly. "See, sweet? You've cost me something I haven't had in quite a while. Maybe you could make it up to me?"

"I'd rather cut off your dick."

"Ouch. Why such the cruelty?" he laughed, no longer affected by her harsh words as he walked her up to the deck and toward his cabin.

Heart racing, she tried to squim from his grasp, picking up one foot and bringing it down on his boot. She wouldn't let this happen. This pirate wouldn't dare touch her in that way!

Growling, Undertaker ignored it as he shoved her through the door and pushed her off and onto the bed. Quickly, he closed the door as she ran toward the desk and grabbed a letter-opener. She raced toward him, raising her hand to strike as he turned around and forced her down back onto the bed in the struggle for the sharp object. Once it was thrown aside on the wall, the pirate struggled to get the Japanese woman under control as he reached for his belt and discarded both swords before trying to bind her arms together with the thin run of leather but failing before it could be carried out.

Bucking her hips upward, she knocked him off balance and brought her legs up to wrap around his throat tightly. However, the pirate had tucked his chin downward, denying her access to his artery as he brought his fist up and then back down. It struck her temple, causing her to cry out in pain as it left a nasty cut from his ring. Blood streaked down her dark skin, and she tried to tighten her grip as she managed to get an arm free and try to defend herself.

Undertaker was too busy attempting to slide his fingers beneath her legs that were starting to sink in, and the woman used her free hand to grab the nearby jewelry box of sorts and hit him in the head with it. The impact was hard enough to stun him as he held his head and let her go, and she slipped out quickly and made a mad dash for the door.

Without a moment wasted, Undertaker recovered and ran after her, leaping from the bed as he hugged her waist and pulled her away from the door. Her hands flew to the arms around her as her legs kicked out and tried to wrap around the nearby dresser. It wasn't sturdy enough however, and it quickly fell off and knocked many of the pirate's valuable onto the wooden floor.

Lifting her, the Undertaker slammed her down onto the bed face down and pressed a hand onto the back of her neck and a knee to the bottom of her spine. His other hand had her wrists now, pinning her to leave her vulnerable to anything he wished to do to her now.

Although she didn't stop squirming, she could already feel the tug of exhaustion from her fight that was sapping her of her strength faster than snow melts in summer. She cried out as the belt finally tied her arms together and as the Undertaker spun her around and looped her hands around the bars of his headboard. The woman tried to free her hands and her legs managed to press against his chest as he crawled over her. With every ounce of strength, she pushed him off and tried to yank her hands free but to no avail.

The Undertaker fell off the bed from the push, but he was quickly back up again and smiled at the struggle there on his mattress. He knew that as tight as he made the belt that she would not be escaping from it any time soon.

With a smug expression, he took in a deep breath to calm his adrenaline before heading to his desk and pulling out a bottle of rum. A drink was well deserved by this point. And he had to admit, this was much more fun than simply leading a woman to his ship. Oh yes, most definately.

"You know," he began with a small chuckle, hearing the frustrated sounds falling from her lips nearby. "I never got your name."

There was, as expected, no answer to his statement as the woman was too focused on escaping. With his back turned, the woman settled and tried to think her way out. Her wrists were no longer slippery from the water they had both been soaked in. So why not rewet them?

Pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the woman tried to create as much saliva as possible before spitting onto her wrists, now trying to yank them from her restraints. It was as if a hall of trumpets went off when she was free; however, she knew that she couldn't just bolt toward the door again. Gently, she slipped her wrists beneath the belt to look like she was still tied as she began to formulate a plan.

The door was locked as far as she knew, and a key was needed. So where was the key?

A shine of brass caught her eye as she looked toward the desk. There it was, beside a lit candle in plain sight. Yet, the Undertaker was sitting at his desk. She'd have to find a way to get him away from the desk if she wished to escape.

Deciding that small talk would be needed to draw him away and attack him when he was not expecting it, she took in a deep breath and spoke. "Emma."

"Emma? Is that not an English name?" he asked, lifting his head as he stood with his bottle in hand and took a swig.

"My mother was English. My father was a slave from Japan. She was his mistress to serve, and when the master found out that she had cheated, I was sent away to become a slave myself and mother was executed for sodomy and adultry."

"Oh, you poor thing," he said, frowning as he sat beside her. Yes, that was it. Just a little closer...

"Don't pity me. I do not care. I escaped on my own and came here. So what?" she snapped, hoping that a negative comment may provoke him to come closer.

"Don't be hostile to someone who spared your life," admonished the pirate as he set his glass aside.

"I hardly call rape 'sparing'," she muttered, that key looking oh so tempting.

With a pout, the Undertaker cupped her cheek and ran a thumb across the bony lining. "I'm simply a lover of beautiful women. It's your sin to look so tempting."

"It's your fault there's a bounty on that mane of yours."

"They want my hair? If that was the problem all along, I should have just cut my hair off a long time ago," he laughed, chorlting in his mirth as he stood and walked away from her.

Dammit! She missed her chance. Maybe a new approach was needed.

"I wouldn't get rid of that hair," she said softly, boiling inside. "It is much too beautiful."

"Beautiful?" What game was she playing? The Undertaker kept his smile; although, inside he bristled and remained conscious of every movement. "Why thank you! I knew it was attractive, but I didn't know people would pay to have it!"

"I would," was the forced words from the woman's mouth as she attempted a small smile.

It was a nice smile, the Undertaker had to admit, but he wasn't one to fall for simple looks. As he trailed up and down her body, he only smirked at the thought she could fool him into thinking that her hands were still bound.

"Would you now? If that is the case, then if I let you go, would you willingly give yourself to me?"

She nearly choked, trying to keep herself from throwing up the bile that rose up her elegant neck and made her sick inside. "Y-....Yes...I just dislike being manhandled..."

"I see. Then, you should know I dislike being deceived," he pointed out, a grin reaching from ear to ear as he undid his coat and then slid the tattered ascot from around his neck.

"Deceived? What do you mean?" She swallowed, sweat beginning to form on her brow as she realized how close he was getting with the possibility of knowing that her hands were free. Had she made her move too late?

"You think that I don't know you aren't tied to that headboard? I am no fool."

The woman bolted out of bed after the key, managing to grab ahold of it the same moment the pirate grabbed her. She screamed out, but no one would come to her rescue as he pinned her again and took her only way out.

"You sneaky little bitch. Did you really think you could run?" he snapped as his fist collided with her eyesocket.

Managing to free her hand, it immediately flew to her eye as she sobbed uncontrollably. There was no running now. She was going to be raped by this pirate in this rustic old ship where he could easily kill her and get away with it afterward.

Although he did love it when they fought, Undertaker softened at the tears. God dammit! He hated it when women cried. Think of it as his kyrptonite.

"Um...Miss...don't cry..." he whispered, letting her go as his hand gently patted the top of her head. "Um...Miss...um..."

The woman only continued to cry as he realized the blood he had spilled in their fight. Undertaker rose from her and took of his shirt, wadding it up and trying to guide her hand from her eye to see the damage. "Let me see it, m'dear."

She sniffled, giving up as she allowed him access to the bloody and bruised eye. It wasn't too serious, but it was sure to leave a mark and a black eye afterward. He cringed inwardly as he dabbed at the wound with his shirt. "I apologize, dear. I didn't mean to get so rough."

Sobbing angry tears, she punched him in the mouth, barely missing the intended target that was his nose. "You damn, filthy pirate!"

Losing his gentle nature, he grabbed her hands and hauled her to her feet and grit his teeth. "Let's see what you think in the brig!"

Dragging her toward the door, unlocking it, and forcing her down the several levels of the ship, he thrust her forward into one of the many cages in the brig at the very bottom of the ship. It smelled of rotting, moldy food and mildew and sea and fish and everything else disgusting in the world. She landed in a puddle, staining her blue kimono as she fell with a sob and cradled her head in fright.The woman had long lost her firery attitude, that personality doused by the coldness of the pirate's heart.

Although his heart was indeed ruthless and frigid, it wasn't frozen. He softened at her tears again for a moment before he shook his head and slammed the door, locking the door and walking off. He'd deal with the bitch tomorrow.

Xxx

Mai sniffled, curled up in a corner as she wiped away tears and snot on her blue sleeve. Her black hair was plastered to her forehead, still slightly damp from last night. She squinted as the door of the brig poured a blinding light and filled her ears with a dreadful creaking sound as it opened.

"Good morning. Had plenty of time to reflect on your actions, no?" Undertaker chuckled as he brought a bowl of various fish pieces, some burnt and other left uncooked. "I brought you breakfast~!"

Scrambling to her feet, Mai reached her hands out through the bars toward the bowl and took it without flinching. As she ate, the pirate laughed. "You know, for such a pretty woman, I thought you'd have a more...refined taste."

"No one ever said you were a good judge of character," she murmured, stuffing her face with fish.

"Ah, but I'm a better judge of character than you think. Perhaps it is because you have said so little to me that I have had not the time to judge you properly."

"So, I'm talking, judge me if you dare."

Undertaker smirked, adjusting the hat he had retrieved from the docks after putting Mai in the brig. "I see a lonely girl who's known nothing but running all her life. She'll do anything to get ahead, even throwing those she's come to care about in shark-infested waters. Am I right so far?"

Mai rolled her eyes, speaking with her mouth full. "I wouldn't talk. Ye'd do the same."

"Ye? Oh, dearie me. I didn't expect my crew's bad grammar to already wear off on ya, ahehe~!" he snorted, bringing up two curved digits to his lips to stifle his mirth. "Then again, you lack the refined quality I thought you would have at first glance. Tell, me 'Emma', what be your real name?"

"That be my real name," she hissed, gritting her teeth as she held her already empty bowl tightly.

Undertaker paused for a moment, an unnatural frown lining pale lips as green eyes sized her up curiously. "Hmm...you know..." he began, those pale lips pulling back into a feral grimace, "I don't like lies."

Without a moment to react, a hand darted between the bars and pulled Mai forward so quickly her head snapped against the iron bars with such force that blood streaked down an olive face and her head spun like a whirlpool. Her hands reach out to grasp the bars, eyes wide as she made contact with the pirate's. Their faces were inches apart, and her defiance quickly turned into an instinctual fear that wanted nothing but to kick and bite and scratch her way out of this dank prison. A lump in her throat caught, stomach swirling and lips trembling. Oh God, how she wanted away from this man. There were not many things she feared in this world--and fewer things that she regretted--but she was afraid of him, and she regretted knowing who he was.

"What is your name, filthy punk*," he growled, pushing her back only to pull her forward again into the bars.

"A-ah...M...I..." she tried to bring out, starting to sob in terror as her grip on the bars tightened and her elbows locked as if to try and resist. However, whether or not she was pushing away or pulling to keep from being pushed back again was unknown to anyone.

"LOUDER!"

"M-MAI! MAI! MAI!" screamed the prisoner, trying to turn her face away and keep close to the bars as he pushed her away again and repeatedly slam her head back into the bars.

Satisfied with his answer, the pirate stopped for a moment and reveled in the way the crimson film dripped down his captive's face and onto the wooden floor. It wasn't often he got to have such fun on his ship. Blood on board could mean death in the shark waters, but they were far from such waters now. There was nothing in his way. However, his perverted smirk fell, heart softening a bit at the tears running down dark, bloody cheeks. He'd broken his toy too soon it seemed.

Gently, he let go with on hand and gently brushed away her tears with a caring thumb. "Now, now, m'dear. No need for tears. See? All you had to do was answer truthfully, and maybe we could have been friends already, hehehe~!" An insane but gentle smile graced his lips again as he let go of her completely and stood. He turned, looking over his shoulder with a tip of his hat. "Ta-ta, for now. I'll send Ox in to see aft'a ya."

Mai sniffled, quickly crawling from the bars of the cell and huddling against the wooden hull of the ship. She tried to quickly rub away the blood and tears off her face, only sobbing more at the pain pressure caused. Instead, she hug bare legs to her chest and tried to tighten her ruined kimono. The captive didn't care to fight as the First Mate came into her cell and tended to her wounds, ignoring the suggestive looks toward her bosom she was getting.

It didn't matter anymore.

Xxx

Days seemed to blur together, and the gentle lurching of the ship meant they must have left land at some point. There was no escape for Mai now in the open seas. Death would be welcome when it came.

The stench of the cell became a foreign thing to her, and she soon was accustomed to the cramping in her stomach and the diziness in her head.

Any day now, she knew, the captain would finally get what he was after, and she wasn't sure if she'd even fight back this time. Her time in the brig was mellowing her spirit, turning her into an empty shell that seemed no longer worth the effort of fixing. Her face was slowly healing over the infection caused by mistreatment, her hair now tangled and straw-like. Her body had grown bony--a skeleton with skin.

Why wouldn't death come soon? Why wouldn't the man who'd tortured and abused her come forward to get what he had sought? Was she no longer desirable? Then why hadn't he cast her overboard or thrown her to the crew to use like a filthy punk?

Mai's thoughts were interrupted by the clucking of a tongue and the now familiar creaking of a door. "My, my, Ox hasn't been taking care of you very well, has he? I suppose I shall have a word with him later..." Undertaker stepped forward, kneeling before the bars and causing the prisoner across the cell to flinch and tremble at his presence.

"Now, now, why the long face, m'dear?" he asked, taking the key from his belt and unlocking the cell door. With the tiny click of the lock, and the long eerie creak of the iron door, the Undertaker stepped through to kneel before the dark skinned woman and offer his hand. "Here, let's get you fixed up, Miss Mai."

Mai only flinched at the hand, staring at it like an owl. Her hands were clutched together over the legs drawn to her bosom, shaking in fear and lack of blood sugar.

"Nothing to be afraid of. As long as we see eye-to-eye and there is none of that funny business, no harm will come to you on my watch. Take my hand," he whispered, wiggling his fingers slightly in invitation.

A spark of defiance tried to turn into a flame as she almost refused his hand, but it fizzled and a hand left the other to take the pirate's tentatively. This was her escape to death, most likely. However, she would not sit around waiting for the end to come when the answer was right there.

His hand was oddly warm despite his cold heart, so large in comparison to her tiny, bony palm. The Undertaker gently guided her to stand, wondering vaguely where the fiery little assassin had gone before the said captive collapsed, sea legs wobbly and weak with malnourishment. Hugging her to his chest, the pirate frowned as he saved Mai from her fall and scooped her up into his arms. She was so tiny to him in his arms, like a child in comparison. As he walked from the cell with the Japanese in his arms, the pirate thought to himself, 'It appears that I have broken something very precious. Poseidon doth not think well of me now.'

The sea had not been tame for the days that he had the woman in his brig, constantly churning and threatening to sink the vessel time and time again. The Japanese had spoken of a powerful god of the storms and seas--Susanoo--was he trying to protect the woman of his land? To avenge her capture and punish those who threatened her with death?

The pirate snorted, ignoring the the superstitious whispers of such things among his crew that spread like a plague after the last few days. However, perhaps it was those whispers that had caused him to go below and bring the captive back to his quarters in an attempt to mend things with the angry gods--whether it be Poseidon, God, or Susanoo.

With the utmost care, Undertaker laid the weak individual down on his cot and left only to come back after retrieving a damp cloth. He set it on her forehead before dabbing at the infected wounds he had caused on her once flawless face. In order to see the full extent of her injuries, the pirate brushed the bangs from his face to reveal the deep pools of emerald.

Mai bit her bottom lip, staring at the green sea of his eyes that she began to drown in. The slight fear that had formed at being set out on the bed where she had almost been raped had subsided as she willingly waded in the tide of comfort the waves of green brought. She could only stare hopelessly, unaware of the hand that caressed her cheek and temple, and eventually dabbed the cloth over puffy, scabbed lips.

Not missing the look of admiration, Undertaker only smirked and spoke with a slight purr in his tone. "You aren't the first to be breathtaken by my eyes, m'dear," he chuckled, pulling away to rewet the rag within a water basin atop his desk.

"H-How did you...?" Mai blinked, and had her skin not been as dark, the blush on her cheeks would have been more profound. The feeling of embarrassment washed over her, caught in the act of staring at the man who meant to take advantage of her as if she were infatuated with him.

"There's usually a look on people's faces. I've grown accustomed to it after a long while. I suppose I usually tire of those staring at my face instead of paying attention to my words, so I prefer to hide them," he explained, knowing that her next question would have been why he hid them.

With a sigh, Mai lowered her gaze as she avoided those eyes at all costs. However, they were the flame, and she the moth as her eyes begged to look just once more. NO! She would not stoop so low as to form feelings for the monster that had forced her into a pirate's prison. He was the beast of this tale, and she would refuse to become the Belle with every ounce of her being.

"I do not mind the look, Miss Mai. It is just bothersome when it comes to my crew, and it becomes quite awkward when men start staring in the same fashion. I am more prone to lovely ladies then I am to the brutes of this ship, after all," he chuckled, smilng gently as he set the washcloth aside in the basin. Taking her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles before patting them gently with his other hand. "There. All better~!"

Mai only pulled her hand away, brows knitting together as she wiped her knuckles on the sheets in disgust despite the fact that the small gesture had made her cheeks warm.

"Was that really so bad?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the gesture his captive made.

"Disgusting," she muttered, not meeting his gaze as she scowled defiantly.

"Ah, there you are, m'dear," he crooned, grinning at the nature that was already beginning to return. "I thought I'd broken you too soon."

Gritting her teeth, the woman struggled to sit up with a dangerous glare. "Is this all a game to you?"

The expression on the captain's face did not change as he simply stared at the woman with a grin. "Of course it's a game. However, neither of us know what the game is. Doesn't that make it interesting?"

"You're fucking insane," she hissed, looking away as she started the room again for an escape route. He'd neglected to lock the door on the way out, and if she could just make it past him...

"So they say. But the definition of insanity is doing the same thing multiple times and expecting different results," he chuckled as he stood. "Yet, this is all new to me so far. And I'm quite eager to see where this leads. The only insane one here is you, who plans on escaping like last time. How stupid do you think I am?"

Mai froze before deflating, her eyes still narrowed as she glared at Undertaker through the corner of her brown eyes.

"Oh, what did I do to deserve such a look? Hehe, relax. Make yourself comfortable. There are many a thing I must do before I require use of that bed. Go ahead and use my cabin to your leisure, though I must warn you to stay inside. My crew practices less restraint than I," he warned, waving his finger at the Japanese on his bed. Standing, he grabbed his feather head to place it on his head and readjust his shaggy, silver bangs. "Good evening, Miss Mai."

With that being said, he excused himself and left the quarters with the door unlocked. Mai only huffed, laying in bed with a slight pout. The unlocked door seemed promising, but her better sense that even if she were to leave, there would be nothing but the expanse of the sea. There was simply no place to run. As the captain had warned, the crew was more of a threat than she was, and like his eyes, she found comfort in his presence.

How ironic...her captor was her savior, and this prison was her sanctuary.

Xxx

The next morning, Mai awoke with a slight frown as she sat up. She hadn't been awoken by Undertaker's return, and as she scanned the room, she found him asleep at his desk--vulnerable.

If her time to escape finally presented itself, it would be now. However, the question was how it would be done. If she outright killed him, the crew would still turn on her and kill her anyway. Perhaps if she held him hostage, the captain would prove valuable enough to exchange him for a trip back to land..That was a gamble within itself.

However, if they were in the middle of the ocean, the scent of blood might attract sharks...The threat of the entire crew being sunk over one captain might be enough to persuade them...

Smirking, the Japanese woman managed the strength to get out of bed and searched his cabin for rope. Although it was not found, she managed to procure an extra belt in which she managed to subtly tie the pirate's hands together to the chair. She then frisked him, taking away his weapons and then using the belt he had been wearing to tie his feet together.

At the sight of her sword, Mai smirked as she took it from atop the dresser nearby and then proceeded to lock the door and wait for the awakening of the man who obviously was quite the deep sleeper.

Xxx

Undertaker awoke with a yawn, silver lashes fluttering and a slight smile on his face as he rested his head on the back of his chaiir. "Mmm..." Licking his dry lips, the pirate tried to stretch out his arms before a deep frown graced his countenance. "What the hell?" he muttered, trying his restraints as he wiggled in his chair.

"It's no use. You aren't getting out any time soon, pirate," came a familiar voice as a blade pressed to his throat. Mai stood at the end of the sword with a cocky smirk.

"Ah, it's you, m'dear. I was beginning to fear that Oxie might have done this. Then again, I doubt he has the brains for such a thing," he chuckled before clucking his tongue. "Now, are you going to be a dear and untie me? This is starting to get a bit uncomfortable."

"You think I'm just going to untie you?" she asked, her brow twitching as she pressed the blade against his throat a little harder. "Not until you do as I ask."

With a calm shrug, Undertaker closed his eyes in contentment as if they were speaking about nothing except what tea they'd be having. "I know, I know. You want me to order my crew to dock at the nearest port and let you off in exchange for their lives, otherwise you'll kill me below decks to attract the sharks."

With a startled blink, Mai stood there stupidly before her cheeks heated and she swung her swords across his cheek. "Shut up!"

Blood beaded on his cheek, and the pirate tsked at the scratch left on his once flawless face. "Just let me go already. They won't do it. I've already warned them about it. They'll just toss you overboard, and we'll go on with our merry lives. You're just wasting my time. Now, chop, chop. Hop to it now."

"How do you know that? What if I manage to kill you before they kill me?" she asked with a huff, scowling as her face burned with anger and her hand shook.

"Then I'm dead, and I don't give a shit what happens later. If you're going to kill me, then do so quickly. Life is too short to be standing around, bickering about what to do. Get it over with or let me go--simple as that."

Undertaker smiled at the silence he received, and even more so when his restraints were slowly and reluctantly loosened. Anymore blood spilt on the ship would simply attract the sharks or make the crew angry, killing her and throwing her overboard. He knew that this would be the outcome. She was smart enough to realize the flaw in her plan, and Undertaker was well aware of it.

"Good girl," he chuckled as he rubbed a sore, pink wrist and then stood. He bent backwards to stretch his back before yawning and grabbing a belt to hold his pants up. "Now, behave. I have better things to do than play these games."

With a laugh, he put his hat back on and patted the woman's head with a grin. He then paused, looking at the sword before snickering, allowing her to keep it as he started toward the door. "Be careful with that! It's sharp~!"

Growling, Mai nearly ran after him, furious as she shook her sword at him. "FUCK YOU, YOU FILTHY, MANGY PIRATE!!!"

Undertaker's mad, cackling laughter was all she received as the door slammed shut behind him to leave her alone in the cabin once more...

Xxx

The days passed on, each very similar to one another. The pirate captain would return to his quarters at sunset where the angry captive would be fuming, trying to meditate as he walked in. He'd drink a little, tossing jokes and insults her way as she tried to focus on becoming 'one with the universe' in a half attempt to stay calm.

Undertaker would always fall asleep either in his chair at the desk, or on the small sofa on the other wall beneath the circle window. Mai would always get the bed where she would stay most of the day. She spent her time either looking at all the maps and charts on the pirate's desk or throwing up in the 'poop bucket' (as Undertaker so fondly called it) from an occasional bout of sea sickness.

Seldomly, she would catch Undertaker in the middle of the night writing in his journal or charting a new course to some place she never heard of. As time passed, she grew curious of his travellings, and instead of leaving the cabin to see just where they were or asking the captain, she began to read the journal entries. Most of the time, it would only speak of where he was on a particular day, which direction the wind was blowing, which crew member was ill with scurvy, or where they had stopped to dock (sometimes, in great detail, explaining which women he bedded from time to time). However, as Mai explored his writings, she blushed at his description of her. Seeing his previous entries that lacked any passion in writing and lasted only sentences at most, the descriptions of her and the fun he gained from her presence lasted paragraphs, nearly entire pages. And a small page that looked like it had been ripped out and then placed back in was folded neatly between two pages. On the paperwere random scribblings and words as if he were trying to find the right words for the poem written on the other side:

"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips.

Mai paused, eyes staring over the words again and again. Never had the captain ever displayed such things toward her. There was no sign of attraction other than the obvious fact he had a liking for her body. Her brows furrowed, trying to understand where the sudden affection must have come from. Perhaps this wasn't even his words. Maybe it was just a poem he had seen once and written down since he couldn't keep the original copy. Either way, she didn't believe for a second that this strange change in emotions toward her was anything important--just a type of fondness blooming from her constant presence.

As she closed the book and rested her head upon her hand, fingers drumming on her cheek, she remained unaware of the presence lingering behind her. Suddenly, strong, firm hands clutched her shoulders, causing her to jump with a start and tense with wide eyes. Silver hair cascaded down in front of her as Underrtaker leaned forward to meet her surprised gaze with a fond grin. "My, my~! What's got you so distracted?" he chuckled, lifting his head before he saw the book sitting on the desk in front of her. "Oh? I see. Find anything interesting, did you?"

Mai quickly shook her head, still tense as she looked at the captain in slight fright. If he had known she'd been poking around his personal affects...

"Hmmm, I suppose I'll skip the lecture on how it isn't nice to snoop," he chuckled, shrugging as he let go and retreated to a nearby cabinet. Upon arriving, he pulled out a rather large bottle and uncorked it before starting to down the drink. He leaned against the desk, flashing a toothy grin. "Then again, I suppose this is mostly my fault, seeing as I have you always locked up in a room with no entertainment...Perhaps a little sea breeze might do you some good, no?"

Mai blinked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "You mean...I can go outside?"

Marching straight toward the door, Undertaker bowed and gestured for Mai to step through the open doorway. "This way, m'lady. The outside world awaits you~!"

The poem excerpt was written by: Khalil Gabrin

*And punk is an old word for prostitute

Notes:

Oh geez, it's been a while. Unfortunately, a break was needed do to a loss in the family (my great grandfather), a brand new addition to the family (a new puppy named Karma), and the constant lack of internet due to the fact that Mother Nature has decided to make the Midwest a rain forest now and block the satellite. Yay...

I really worked hard on trying to come up with something interesting for Undertaker as not much is known about his past except pure speculation and the knowledge that he likely committed suicide by drowning. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I will let the audience decide what my next update should be. I will update on three of these stories, comment below on which one you want next:

A Foolish Figure

Death of the Shinigami (this fanfic)

Phantom of the Theatre

I look forward to your questions and comments, perhaps even a few pointers and help with my work as I am prone to overlooking many spelling errors -.- It is a curse I do not particularly like, and even with my vigilance, they still manage to get through...

Thank you for reading and sticking with me all this time.

#black butler fanfiction

[r-a-n-x-i-e]

Your guilty pleasure cliché drama moments:

PART 3: BEACH SCENE

part  1   2

#but seriously they never really go to the sea to swim #they just go there to display their affection #weightlifting fairy kim book joo #wfkbj #high soceity #k2 #marry me or not #full house thai #princess hours #goong #my secret romance #msr #shopping king louie #it's ok that's love #strong woman do bong soon #swdbs

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

ayyyy excema eyelid buddies!! and uh I think that’s also what’s on my hands? my OCD means I wash my hands way too much so they bleed a lot and crack and stuff but I’m pretty sure it’s a mix of excema and OCD? yeet. anywho eyelids are overrated anyways, knife time ~silver

Whoosh

#with a casual reminder to not knife eyelids #that's considered Impolite by high soceity #and weird by low society #the cryptid speaks #whoosh #silver anon

[junibugs]

where are ppl getting these eren knight au? am i missing something 😵‍💫

i was talking about bridgerton the other day and it turned into a royal!high soceity! au which eventually brought up the subject of knight! eren which led me to making a new wip LOL

#junis mail

[harbingers-appointed]

>:( Fiiiiinnnnee... I guess that I'm cuter than you... even thought it feels kinda selfish to say that... Hey DK, what sorts of places are there in hell? Are there libraries or museums? Restaurants or shops? How does society in hell work? Sorry... this is a lot more questions than I planned on asking. I'm just curious because it's intresting to how different cultures can be from what you grew up with. If you could call hell a different culture...

-☆Space Anon☆

"It's not selfish at all to love yourself darling♡"

"Soceity in Hell is similar but also different from how yours works. We do have our own civilization, unlike how some humans believe we exist. We have a hierarchy, with yours truly sitting on the throne. Then there are the prince's and other high ranking demons that reside in different locations over the 9 rings. We have cities and stores, food places and other such things as well,"

"I think one of the biggest differences are the souls of those who ended up here. Things have changed over the millennium though..."

[Dk hasn't exactly been out of the Palace in a while...

Also, I haven't world built too much outside of the basic things so a lot is left vague for now. I imagine demon society is complex though and not just full of rabid monsters that torture damned souls. As I have mentioned in the past, "demons" as a title is used loosely.. since I like to think their kind is not "all evil". I hope you world build Hell more as time continues, but getting the main story worked on is my focus for now.]

#DemonKingYbAu #DkAsk #Dk doesnt leave the palace often.. #maybe you can convince him to get out more

[preparetosufferemotionally]

Home, Part 2: Memories of Yesterday

Prinxiety

TW: Flashbacks, past abuse, past abusive relationship, toxic anxiceit, references to s3xual things, slight anxiety attack, current abusive relationship, cursing (Some characters really like cursing), unsympathetic Deceit/Janus, Remus (But pretty calm), dissociation, PTSD, flashbacks, yelling, tears, arguing, threatening, guilt, and trauma. 

The day started to go south when Roman got home. He had just picked up their son, Remy, from preschool. Virgil had been busy at work, drawing for books. Currently his favorite one to draw for was the story Roman had been working on. Of course, that was only Virgil’s first job. Virgil also had to work as a carer in an adoption center to make the extra money. Roman too had a second job, working as a director for the local theater, but it didn’t pay much and Roman was too stubborn to ask for more money. So Virgil rolled his eyes and told Roman to pick up Remy from preschool. 

Roman ran a bit late, and was surprised when he ran into familiar faces in the building. 

“It’s okay Remy, I’m sure your dad’s going to be here soon kiddo. For now, why don’t you go play with Emile, okay? He’s my kiddo. I’m sure you two will get along fine,” Patton encouraged with a smile, sending the two children off to play in a corner as he turned to his husband, glaring at him. Logan shrank backward, already anticipating pain. 

Roman burst through the door, panting. Patton quickly schooled his features into a more pleasant expression, elbowing Logan into doing the same. Logan obeyed, stifling his shock when a more adult looking Roman entered. He quickly retreated, looking down.

“I am incredibly sorry I’m late Mr. Hart, there was so much traffic. Was Remy okay?” Roman asked as he composed himself, adjusting his hair slightly. 

Patton walked toward Remy, who had jumped up excitedly at the sound of his dad’s voice. Emile quietly giggled, following Remy. Remy slowed down when he realized Emile was behind him, stopping to grab his hand. The two four year olds walked forward together towards their parents, who started to talk. 

“Oh your kiddo was just fine Mr. Empire. He played with my son Emile for a little while, who came to visit today. Remy learned all about frogs today and built with blocks to create a castle.” Just as Remy let go of Emile’s hand to hug his dad, Roman swung him up in the air, sending a flurry of giggles through the little boy.

“That’s my boy!” Roman gently set him back on the ground, still holding his tiny hand, and putting on his jacket. “Thank you a ton much Mr. Hart, for...” Roman trailed off looking right at Patton’s face. “We’ve met before.” Patton giggled nervously, making sure to send a warning look to Logan, who looked pained. 

“Well, you have come to pick up Remy before Mr. Empire.” Roman shook his head, slightly shooing off Remy to keep playing with Emile, which he did gladly. 

“No, I met you somewhere else. Before that.” Then Roman’s gaze fell on the desperately trying to be non-existent Logan. “Logan?” Logan flinched backwards, trying to hide. Patton quickly realized Roman knew, so before he came to a dangerous conclusion, Patton grabbed Logan and pushed him slightly forward. 

“Oh yes, we went to college together. I remember now. You were friends with my Logan.” Roman heard Patton, but stared slack jawed at Logan, who looked so different from the confident law student he had been friends with. Logan looked like a toothpick, thin and breakable, and he was missing his glasses. But more than looking breakable, he looked broken. There was something in his eyes Roman hadn’t seen before. Exhaustion? It seemed to fit, but it didn’t fully ecompse the full emotion in the squinting eyes. Roman finally spoke. 

“So you got rid of those glasses, huh nerd?” Logan kept his mouth shut, avoiding Roman’s gaze. Patton answered for him. 

“He lost his just recently actually. We’ve been trying to get a new pair but our eye doctor doesn’t have our prescription back from our last appointment.” Roman nodded sympathetically, watching Logan from the corner of his eye. “Virgil is your husband correct? Your son is a spitting image of him.” Roman nodded, smiling.

“Yes, dark and stormy night and I got married. If I knew you two were this close to us, I would have invited you to the wedding.” 

“Oh we just moved here about a year ago,” Patton lied. Roman sighed sadly. 

“Well, it's been great catching up with you, but I should probably get home. I don’t want to worry Virgil. Come here Remy! Time to go home to Papa!” Remy gave Emile a hug and then ran to Roman excitedly. 

“Okay dad!” As Roman and Remy walked out the door, Roman offered one last thing. 

“Since our boys liked hanging out with each other today, maybe they can have a playdate some time!” 

“Sure thing! Goodbye now!” Roman hurried out the entrance, headed to the car. He quickly buckled in Remy, who complained he could do it himself. Roman didn’t listen, trying to get home in ten minutes, almost breaking twenty traffic laws in the process. Finally, he made it to their home. It was like a modest cottage like home in a nice neighborhood. He barely noticed as he pushed open the door, and ran in with Remy.

“Go put your coat away okay? I just want to check on your papa.” Remy grumbled, but listened. “Virgil, are you okay? I’m home! So sorry I’m late. I just lost track of time.” Shuddering breaths came from the “office” in their home. 

“I’m fine,” Virgil called, slowly calming down from his anxiety attack. Breath in for four... Random events like showing up late often led to anxiety attacks, which Virgil wasn’t exactly sure he became used to, but he did expect them. 

“Okay!” Roman said. “Do you think you can come downstairs? Remy’s home.” Virgil let out a shuddering breath, Out for four. 

“Coming down as we speak.” Virgil quickly went down the short flight of stairs where Roman stood at the bottom. Roman smiled at Virgil, happy to see him. 

When Virgil reached the bottom, Roman quickly asked, “Touching or no touching?” Virgil thought for a moment before answering.

“You can touch me, but not too much.” Roman smiled brightly and gave Virgil a quick hug. Virgil rolled his eyes, and hugged back. 

“Hi papa!” Remy shouted excitedly, going to join the hug. Roman and Virgil smiled, and let him in. Virgil hugged him tightly.

“Hey kid, how was school?” Remy smiled as his dad let him go. 

“Good! Dad ran a little late but Mr. Hart let me play with Emile!” Virgil looked at Roman.

“Who’s Emile?” Roman’s smile wavered slightly. 

“Mr. Hart’s son who came to visit.”  Virgil looked at him suspiciously. Roman quickly changed the subject. 

“I heard you learned about frogs today! And built a castle! Can you tell me and your papa all about it!” Remy nodded ethusically, starting to rattle on about frogs. Virgil gave Roman a look, but listened to Remy.

Finally, when dinner ended, and Remy had been put to sleep, Virgil asked. 

“Okay, what the hell was that about?” Roman awkwardly fiddled with his fingers, sitting back down on a kitchen stool across from Virgil. “I would like an answer.” 

“Okay. So, Mr. Hart is Patton.” Virgil scrunched his nose up in confusion. 

“Who’s that? Oh wait. Hang on. It's that asshole from college, isn’t it?” Roman nodded, sighing. “Didn’t he have a different last name though? Lügner?” 

“Yes, but he changed his last name with his spouse.” Virgil furrowed his brow, as Roman watched him connect the dots. 

“He married Logan,” Virgil said with the assurance of the morgue pronouncing a person dead. Roman didn’t need to ask why he knew. “That fucking bastard. I am going to find where he lives and kill him.” 

“Darling, while of course I always support you, murder is frowned in polite soceity.” Virgil let out a frustrated groan of annoyance.

“I hate that family so fucking much. I hate them,” Virgil whispered, angry tears leaking out of his eyes. “They are fucking monsters.” Roman started to gently rub Virgil’s back, soothing him.

“I know darling. I’m so very sorry.” Virgil just kept crying into his hands, eventually turning around and embracing Roman, who kept soothing him, until Virgil began to calm down. He let out a humorless laugh.

“Sorry for the emotional outburst Ro.” Roman smiled.

“Not a problem stormy. I love and care about you. That's why I married you.” Virgil looked him up and down, smirking

“I suppose there was a reason I married you.”

“Love?”

“Tax benefits.” Roman dramatically placed his hand to his chest, offended. 

“You have fooled me! Bewitched me! Tricked me!” Virgil stifled a laugh. “Betrayal, oh lover of mine, betrayal!” Virgil frowned slightly but tried to keep himself grounded. This is ACTUALLY a joke. He isn’t here. He doesn’t have power over you anymore.You’re OKAY. No. You aren’t. You’re weak and  worthless and you can’t even take a damn joke. Virgil thought he heard Roman asking him something, but the noise in his head was too loud and the world was too blurry. Virgil held his head and covered his eyes,trying to shut out the voice and  thoughts in his head. You have to let one of us win at some point. I don’t want to. Too late. Vaguely, Virgil heard Roman ask a question, but he slipped away.

----------------------------------FLASHBACK BEGINS-------------------------------------------

“You goddamn bitch,” Janus fumed, Virgil shrinking back on the bed. The two had been dating since sophomore year of high school, and now the two shared a dorm in college. “Are you trying to make me angry? Going out without telling me, sleeping in, and refusing to have sex? Its like you don’t care about me anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil mumbled. Janus scoffed. 

“Yeah right. I bet you’re cheating on me. You are a “bisexual” after all.” Janus got in Virgil’s face. “A fucking whore. I can’t believe you’d actually betray me like this.” Virgil didn’t know when he started crying but tears were pouring down his face. 

“NO! I-I-would never do that to you! I love you Jan! So so much!” Janus sneered, looking at Virgil dead in the eyes.

“Then prove it.” 

-------------------------------------FLASHBACK ENDS------------------------------------------

Roman knew when Virgil started rocking in place, he had to call Remus. He pressed his contact and prayed his brother would pick up. Much to Roman’s relief, he did. 

“Hello Bottom!” Roman sighed.

“For the record I’m a switch. But that's beside the point. Virgil’s having a flashback and I want some backup in case Remy wakes up.” 

“I’m on my way. Be there in five.”

“But you live twenty minutes away. To get here in five minutes you’d have to break numerous laws.”

“FUCK THE LAWS!” Remus screeched through the phone. Roman rolled his eyes and hung up. He then turned to Virgil, kneeling beside him. Roman knew he couldn’t stop the flashback, he just needed to support him. Virgil generally hated being touched in times of extreme panic, so Roman didn’t touch, but instead offered soothing words,knowing the only thing he could do.

“It's okay stormy. It’s just a flashback. It’s not real. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe. Can you try and breathe for me?” Somehow, through the covered ears, Virgil heard him. Virgil let out a cry of pain and Roman’s heart broke. 

“STOP PLEASE STOP! I SAID I WAS SORRY I PROMISE! I WON’T DO ANYTHING PLEASE ST-” VIrgil was cut off by his own sobs and no doubt something in the flashback. 

Still, Roman kept going, trying to help. “In for six, out for six. I’ll do it with you.” Roman breathed as he said, as loudly as he could. Virgil whimpered and sobbed, but tried. Roman heard the screech of Remus’s car. The door opened quickly and quietly, and Remus went to the kitchen. He went next to his brother and started helping Virgil. This was one of the worst flashbacks Virgil had had in years. 

“Hey Virge, it’s Remus. We’re all gonna breath together. Okay?” At first Virgil didn’t respond, still shaking and sobbing. Then he nodded. “In for four, out for five.” Remus did that with Virgil, while Roman kept assuring him he was safe. Slowly and surely, Virgil took his hands off his ears and started to open his eyes. Roman and Remus were calm and encouraging, soothing him, telling him to tell them what the room looked like.

At first Virgil described his first college dorm, that image burned into his eyelids. But eventually he began to see his home. The home where he lived with Roman and raised Remy. Where he was safe and secure. And Virgil was brought back. He was still shook and though he wanted to be hugged and comforted, he was deathly terrified of it. Roman drapped a heavy blanket over Virgil’s shoulders, one specifically for situations where grounding and security was needed. Remus went upstairs to make sure Remy was asleep. Virgil choked back a small sob. 

“Sorry I freaked out. Again. I wish I could control this damn thing. Its so fucking painful. He’s never coming near me again, hasn’t in years, and he still can hurt me. He still has that fucking power. And I hate that.” Virgil hugged himself with his blanket. 

“Hey, it's not your fault. I should have known that might trigger you. I’ll be more careful in the future.” Virgil chucked a pillow at him, angry.

“But that’s the thing! You shouldn’t have to worry about what triggers me! You shouldn’t have to ask just to tap my shoulder! You shouldn’t be worried that our child might wake up and be scared because his father is screaming and crying on the ground and no one can stop it! You don’t deserve this!” Virgil, said, emotions bubbling and breaking. 

“No Virgil, you don’t. You don’t deserve to feel this type of pain.You deserve happiness and love. And that’s why I am here. Because I know you deserve everything in this world. And I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that you’re worth the world to me. I will never stop loving you. And I will never stop trying to support and be there for you. I made a vow to love you until death, but I know I’ll love you long after.” Virgil went silent. “I  will always be here, by your side.” 

“Big promises princey,” Virgil exhaled quietly. Roman smiles gently at him.

“And I mean every word of them.” Virgil walks up to Roman, embracing him tightly. Roman hugs back, holding him like he’s the world. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Right back at you princey,” Virgil whispers into Romans chest. Remus clears his throat and the two look up. 

“I’ll go to the guest room soon so you two can be all romantic on your lonesome. But just thought I’d make you aware, your kid was out cold. He’s impossible to get to sleep but once he is, he is never waking up until morning.” Virgil smiles shakily at him.

“Thanks Remus.” Remus smiled, glancing at the two. 

“Hey, what are awesome brother in-laws for?” Roman shoved him lightly.

“Going away?” 

“Alright, alright jeez. Man, you two lovebirds act like you’re still in your honeymoon phase.” As Remus goes up the stairs, the two embrace, falling asleep on the couch, in the safety of the other’s arms. 

(Just a note, I have never personally met someone who experiences flashbacks, so I wrote this one the best I could with the limited knowledge I have. Also, when I say -----FLASHBACK ENDS--- it just means that we don’t see any more of the flashback. It does not end until Virgil is fully situated and in the present.)

#unsympathetic deceit #unsympathetic patton #logicality #toxiclogicality #prinxiety #abuse #emotionalabuse #abusiverelationship #physicalabuse #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #emile sanders #past abuse #trauma

[massvoraciuseffect]

Hey Miranda are you enjoying the club and what are those Alliance officerces talking about?

Miranda took a sip of champagne from wineglass in her hand:

- Great club - interesting visitors, exquisite menu and drinks, nice music and atmosphere - she let a little burp out - Buuarp! Excuse me. With group of high-ranking Alliance's officers we disscussing about pred politics in humanity space. Unlike asari and quarians, humans learned "vore" relatively recently. And we still haves many grey zones in System Alliance politics, legislation and government about predators. And we still don't know, where are we going. Personaly, i'm think predators soon or later becomes a ruling class in System Alliance, like it happened in asari's Republics and quarian's soceity.