#[ i'm like a completely different person now ]

[leilawanderingaround]

Having brainrot about Yandere Phainon again... I should go see my therapist.

"I will have to reject you, fair lady. For I already have someone waiting for me beyond this wall."

Phainon- the ever gentleman, kind hearted hero of Okhema has many suitors on his tail be it man or women but it is undeniable that he only has eyes for one person only.

This person is considered the biggest mystery of Okhema. They would occasionally catch Lord Phainon gaze ever so lovingly at a locket but would soon put it away after noticing he was being watched.

Even the Tribios were curious enough to ask him. The deliverer would only shyly chuckle, scratching his neck. "It is someone I left behind at Aedes Elysiae. I hope to reunite with her one day."

Hearing that they would pale and soon apologies. All people know that Aedes Elysiae was destroyed by the black tide. Its fate is left undiscovered to most people. Only a few people know what truly happened to Aedes Elysiae and the supposed beloved of the saviour of Amphoreus.

"Still mourning for her, deliverer?" While most of the time, Mydei would have knocked or raised his voice to announce his arrival. Today was quite different. To lock oneself in a room of the departed and forbid everyone else from going inside on the day of their death anniversary is quite rude. Especially when it's you.

The crown prince carefully picked the lock on the door before gently opening it to walk inside. Not wanting to affect anything that belonged to you.

"Mydei, sorry but I am not in the mood to banter with you today" Phainon said, still not turning from your bookshelf to face his friend-rival.

"Hm, not like I am here to fight you. Where is it?" Mydei shook his head. Now is clearly not the time for such a thing, even he knows that. "Her locket as well as her weapon. Aglaea told me you kept them, handed them over."

"Surely the crown prince of Kremnos would know better than to ask for something that is not his" Phainon still keeping that nonchalant attitude, turn around to smile at Mydei.

The crown prince has to stop himself from hitting the deliverer on the face. After all, they have promised Aglaea to not wrought havoc on a day such as this. "Well, it is not my kingdom that killed her."

"She is not dead" Of course that sentence alone was enough to anger Phainon.

Mydei let out a huff, crossing his arms "Right, right, as if being frozen in time, waiting for her death is any different than truly dying."

"Mydei, we have talked about this. Once the prophecy is completed, she can be rid of Oronyx's influence and return to Okhema. Let's not lose hope, my friend." Phainon said, lending an olive branch to the crown prince. A final act of putting down the flame of hate between the two.

"She does it all for you. Betray her god, sacrificing herself, and frozen Aedes Elysiae in time. To save your home, family and dear friend. I can only hope you return her as much as she has give, Phainon." Mydei said, reaching Phainon's side and took the bow near him- your weapon before walking out. "Priest of Oronyx, helping Kephale's soldier, how laughable"

Phainon watched as Mydei left the room, his hand held tight onto your locket "You don't have to worry. For her..."

"I'm willing to forsaken my tilte as the hero and burn Amphoreus down just to see her again..."

[entitled-fangirl]

Billionaire Brucie.

Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: Moving into Wayne Manor is an adjustment the two have to manage- spending Bruce's money being one of them. She refuses to spend more than absolutely necessary. He throws it around like confetti.

Masterlist

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Y/n walked through the grocery store, her eyes scanning for the next thing on her shopping list. She adjusted the basket handles in the crook of her arm. 'Where…?' She mouthed. She finally found the aisle she was looking for and took off in the direction.

After moving in to Wayne Manor (finally), she'd barely mentioned wanting to go grocery shopping before Bruce held his credit card between his fingers. 

She was now at the second store, running in to grab the few things she couldn't find at the last one.

Bruce had gotten the notification for the transaction at the first store, and he'd immediately stood, stretched, and grabbed his coat.

His sweet girl was so hesitant to spend his money.

She reached up, reaching for Bruce's favorite protein powder. She felt a sudden presence far too close to her and a veiny arm came around her. "Was thinking about trying a new brand."

Oh. She knew that arm. "Bruce?"

His breath fanned over the back of her neck, his other hand tugging playfully at her ponytail to get her to look up at him. Their eyes meet. "Hi, sweetheart."

He kisses her, using it as a distraction as he pulls the basket from her arm. No need for her to carry that around while he's there. "Finding what you want?"

She sighs, savoring the kiss for just a moment longer. "About."

"Is that so? Hard to get everything you want when you've only spent $35. And you're getting my things too? Sweetheart."

"I'm just moving in, not completely restocking the pantry."

He gave her a knowing look. "But I know you'd like more than," he peeked into the basket, "cheap deli turkey and chocolate muffins."

"Hey, these chocolate muffins got me through college," she reprimands. "Besides, I'm one person. I can't eat $100 worth of snacks in a week."

His head tilted in a confused manner.

Realization dawned on her. "I'm like… half your body weight, Bruce. I don't have," she did a grand gesture over his torso, "outrageous muscle mass to keep up with."

"No, you eat like a bird," he grumbled. "Which is why I'm getting you anything you want. I'm paying, baby. Why are you so hesitant?"

"Why the interrogation?" She questions, moving down the aisle- knowing he'd obviously keep up.

"I have billions, Y/n. You're buying Hillshire Farm's cheap deli meat when I could buy a whole turkey farm for you. I just don't get it. Like that dress last week-"

"-Do not bring up the dress."

It wasn't like in the movies where a dress in the window catches your eye, but she had hesitated passing one of the stores in the mall. Bruce then shoved her inside, disregarding her assurances that she didn't need new clothing.

The thrice repaired coat in her closet said differently.

Bruce had politely waved off the saleswoman and perused the racks like any good boyfriend would do, careful to spot any pieces that would look striking on his girl. Y/n, refusing to touch the racks, peered around him when he'd shuffle through some of the hangers.

"What about silk?"

"I'm bringing up the dress," he reasoned.

"You know what?" She huffed. "I don't need this. I don't need anything in that basket you're holding. Not really. So, I'm gonna go if you're gonna keep being up my ass about what I buy. I just thought doing my own shopping would be nice." She moved past Bruce, shoulder checking him. Then, of course, wincing cause he was as firm as a brick wall.

She had driven back to the Manor in a frustrated manner, slamming the door to their bedroom when she'd arrived. 

Now's a good time to empty some of these boxes. 

She sorted through her clothes, taking careful time to hang them up. They'd been through a lot and she'd be damned if their unfortunate end happened from a hanger. 

Opening the closet, she saw the damn dress again, only rehashing her frustration with Bruce.

"It can be whatever color you want, sweetheart. I'm hosting the damn thing, after all. You want a red dress? I'll make the theme red."

"But the theme is green. And in two days."

He shrugged. "Pick an odd color. Make me work for it."

"I'm not… just…" her words trailed off as an associate walked by with the prettiest white gold dress she'd ever seen.

The one in her closet right now.

It was striking. An absolute vision on and off the hanger. She felt unworthy of even being seen in the same room as it. 

But with one little wave of his hand, Bruce had sent her and the dress off to a fitting room.

She emerged with it on, and she was practically glowing in it. She looked unsure, her smile not quite reaching her lips.

"Isn't she just a vision?" the saleswoman grinned at Bruce.

"Always," he muttered in her direction, his eyes not leaving his girl. "Give me a spin, baby." She did so, and he ran a hand over his jaw to keep his thoughts in. "Give us a minute, will you?"

Before the woman was even gone, Bruce closed the distance. "What's wrong?" He purred. "You not like it?" He spun her around to the mirror, bending to place his chin on her shoulder. "Do you not see how gorgeous you are?"

"It's just… the price," she muttered, her cheeks red at her admission.

"The price," he voice drew out, like he didn't understand. "The price," he said again, finally comprehending it- like it was such a foreign concept. "Do you like it?"

"I do." She ran a hand over her torso, smoothing the fabric out as she admired it in the mirror.

"What do you like about it? Tell me."

"The… the color is nice. I think it goes well with my skin."

"Mm hm," he acknowledged. 

"And the length is already right for me. That's helpful. The slit is a little high."

"That's my favorite part," he grinned against her ear. 

"And the top is snug," she continued, completely ignoring his flirty comment. "It fits nice. It's secure. I like the sleeve situation. It just… it's really nice."

"It is," he agreed. He gently guides her hair out of her face, kissing her shoulder gently. 

"So… at least I know what I like now at least. For… future stores. You know?"

And when she had left to use the restroom later, he journeyed back into that store and had the dress shipped to the Manor.

She put on her headphones, just needing to drown out everything. And eventually, the day turned to night and the boxes were unpacked. Most of them, at least.

With a rumble of her stomach, she elected to go to the kitchen- she'd at least gotten a few snacks at the first grocery store. She would be more than fine.

But upon entering the kitchen, an assortment of all her favorite snacks- ranging from the energy drinks Bruce told her to lay off of, those fucking chocolate muffins, and the healthy granola bars she made all the boys eat- was laid out across the counter in a pretty manner. A small note beside it: 

I'd give you the world and more, pretty girl. -Your Bruce.  P.S. This didn't break the bank, by the way. So, go to bed tonight peacefully for once. And have pleasant dreams (about me). I'll be home after patrol.

He was infuriating. But staying mad at him with those muffins staring back at her was hard. She'd forgive him. This time.

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[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : ... →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one 

[ritualcaster]

I know we're at totally different spots still but i read the article and it i think i've generally figured out what about me pissed you off so much.

Tone policing is a subsection of ad hominem. I'd like you too reread your posts to see if ur making that mistake too.

And yeah i mean it makes sense for the most part I was aligning with the "usually used by" section especially with how i was talking, and for the record i dont usually talk like that that, i just try to punctuate n stuff when it feels important to me i guess.

Im not trying to dismiss anything at all, I'm trying to help somewhere i felt like i could help. And idk why we aren't clicking rn but just read that sentence like 15 times.

Continuing

Yeah i said the equivalency was wrong right in those parantheses right there, yk what just stop looking at the red text in that image just pretend there is NO text there. I was using sex because i felt like you would get what i meant better, but it seems like it just sparked misunderstanding.

Continuing

Sorry for rexplaining all the stuff you already knew i just thought that that was what you were talking about me not getting. Like i just wanted to say it out loud so that its on record that i know too? Like that's something we are agreed upon.

Continuing

I'm not mad that you can't "transition into intersex" and honestly I highly regret using sex as an example like. At all. You guys are crazy. Sorry.

Honestly I have a pretty lax stance right now on people who would "want to be intersex" (so i can change it if need be) because even after research i just don't really have experience. As an intersex a mean. Like there are a seriously high amount of medical complications, theres all the oppression, all the forced "surgeries" that are an insult to surgery as a concept, nearly complete infertility, and plenty of general pain an unpleasent sensation. so this time I'm asking you a more personal question.

Do you feel like there is anything about being intersex that would make it prefferable to being perisex.

Any positives at all worth metioning? Or would it be better to have the term as something like being disabled. Do you feel like it's just something from birth that just inherrently sucks?

Continuing

I mean this so sincerely i'm honestly just not even sure how to word it, do you just want me to stop? Like replying? I can delete everything right now, or do you think I better serve as an example? If my stances seem to shift or contradict ir just completely change as we keep going back and forth, its because they are, and you changed them. I'm actually trying my damndest to listen and fix my shit man.

I thought you were here because you wanted to change my beliefs, but if you're just here out of anger i'd feel pretty bad.

on this subject, youre the one who knows everything. If youre here to tell me, ill listen, and if you aren't, then? Im not sure why youre still talking to me at all, and id like to hear about that too

I know that i shouldn't correct even tone on subject im unqualified for

I know that being intersex isn't something to be sought after, even for those who are non-bianary

I know that i am a hateful tar pit whos going to hell

And man thats just all the shit i learned in this convo alone so id say im learning plenty already

In case anyone needs a reminder…

Being transgender does not make you intersex.

Going through HRT does not make you intersex. Surgery cannot make you intersex.

Intersex people are born with atypical variations of physical, biological sex characteristics. That is what makes someone intersex.

Perisex trans people (especially on Reddit) have been recently insisting that just being transgender makes you intersex, and therefore able to speak over intersex people on issues that specifically affect us, especially when it comes to dangerous and offensive terminology. This is not true.

Also the idea that you can somehow “make yourself intersex” is untrue. You can make your body more androgynous through things like hormone treatment and surgery, but that does not make you intersex.

Falsely claiming intersex identity based on these things isn’t *always* malicious (though it is often done to speak over us) but it is always harmful.

[wchswift]

ଓ CABIN NIGHTS

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: to celebrate your first birthday with dean as a couple, you plan an romantic and quiet cabin getaway.

word count: 1.4k

notes: I'm actually pretty nervous about this because I don't know if I liked it... but since it's the love of my life birthday I had to post it anyway.

── english isn't my first language :)

You had known Dean for nearly six years, a connection that had blossomed in the most unexpected of circumstances. It all started when you met the Winchesters through Bobby during a hell of a hunt, where you were almost killed. Ever since, they have always been a part of your life, just as you have been a part of theirs.

You’ve been through a lot together, but your bond with Dean was particularly special; it was electrifying, charged with a chemistry that seemed almost tangible. While Dean had a well-earned reputation for charming women with his easy smile and quick wit, the interactions you shared always felt distinctly different. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a sense of completing each other; you were alike in so many ways, you were like the same person in different fonts, intertwining in ways that felt both natural and exhilarating. Over the years, through hunts, heartbreaks, and near-death experiences, the bond between you only grew stronger.

After countless ups and downs—shared glances filled with unexpressed feelings, and being there for each other in the most unimaginable moments— everything shifted. Nearly a year ago, you both decided to take a leap of faith, surrendering to that undeniable connection and be together for real. It was the best decision of your life, actually.

Now, one of the most anticipated moments for you was finally here—Dean's birthday. After knowing him for six years, this would be the first birthday you would celebrate as a couple, and it felt like a significant milestone.

Well, to be fair, Dean never exactly celebrated birthdays.

In the past, birthdays had been overlooked amid the chaos of hunts, danger, and the never-ending weight of saving the world. It was rare for there to be a moment of peace, let alone a celebration. However, this year was different, this time things were surprisingly calm for once, and you were determined to make his day special.

So, you meticulously planned every detail, wanting to create a day that Dean would cherish. He never had the kind of birthday he truly deserved, and you were determined to make it unforgettable, ensuring that he would feel appreciated and celebrated. He deserved that much—and so much more.

That's why, after talking with Sam and asking him to take care of a recent hunt, you decided to plan a special trip to a beautiful, secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods, just for the two of you.

"Ramble On" played softly on the radio. Since it was his day, it was only fair that he got to choose all the songs for the trip. This also kept him from constantly asking where you were going. To be honest, it wasn't entirely effective, but it was enough to spare you from a nagging headache during the drive.

You stole a glance at Dean from the passenger seat of the Impala, your eyes tracing the outline of his profile as the golden rays of the setting sun illuminated his features. The sunlight painted him in warm hues, casting soft, flickering shadows over his rugged face. His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, fingers drumming lightly to the rhythm of the song, a habit of his that hinted at his playful nature. The low, steady hum of the engine blended with the calming music, creating an atmosphere of tranquility as the world outside rushed by, a blur of fleeting colors and shapes in the twilight.

After several minutes wrapped in the warmth of comfortable silence, Dean finally broke the spell with a teasing glint in his eye. He turned to you, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright,” he began, his voice laced with amusement as he cast a sidelong glance in your direction, “sweetheart, are you ever going to tell me where we’re going, or should I just keep driving until we reach the edge of the Earth?”

You let out a soft chuckle, enjoying his curiosity. “I told you, Winchester,” you replied, a hint of excitement bubbling in your voice. “It’s a birthday surprise! That’s why I insisted on driving—so you wouldn’t keep bugging me about it.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically at you, feigning annoyance but unable to hide the small smile playing on his lips.

A grin tugged at your lips. “Come on, hot stuff. Don’t you trust me?” you teased, your tone light and inviting.

"You’re lucky I think you’re sexy when you’re all mysterious like that,” he shot back, the smirk growing wider as he glanced at you, clearly charmed by your enigmatic nature.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you bit your lip, a soft giggle escaping your lips at the energy between you that crackled with lighthearted flirtation.

The drive stretched on, the trees growing taller and denser until the road opened to a secluded clearing. Nestled among the towering pines was a small cabin, warm light spilling from the windows and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. String lights framed the porch, giving the place an almost magical glow.

Dean parked the Impala and stepped out, his eyes scanning the scene. He let out a low whistle. “You did all this?”

You leaned against the car, trying to look casual despite your excitement. “Well, it's not as much as I think you deserve, but I figured you'd like it. It’s your birthday, Dean. You deserve it and more.”

He stood there for a moment, as if trying to take it all in, then turned to you with a look you couldn’t quite place—soft, maybe even vulnerable. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

You pushed off the car and closed the distance between you, resting a hand on his chest. “I wanted to. You should have a good day, especially on your birthday, Dean. For once, let me do this for you.”

Inside, the cabin was cozy and inviting, the kind of place that felt like it belonged in a dream. After you settled in and looked around, you lit the fire. The flames crackled in the stone fireplace, casting a warm golden light over the room. The table was set for two, with plates, a bottle of whiskey, and a pie you’d spent way too long perfecting.

"There's also a cake waiting in the fridge, but I know you prefer pie, so I made both just for tradition," you couldn't help but smile, knowing how much he would appreciate the effort you put in.

As he looked at you, his eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and genuine affection, as if he couldn't quite believe he was sharing this moment with you. A smile spread across his face, illuminating the room with its warmth.

"Sweetheart, you’re so fucking amazing," he said softly, almost reverently, as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in a hug that felt safe and full of love.

Dinner passed in a blur of laughter, playful banter, stolen kisses, and quiet moments where your eyes lingered on each other just a little too long. By the time you were curled up together on the couch, the pie tin empty, the cake half eaten and the whiskey bottle halfway gone, the mood had shifted into something softer, more intimate.

Dean had his arm around you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder. You leaned into his warmth, savoring the moment.

“What did you wish for?” you practically whispered, looking up at him.

He hesitated, his green eyes searching yours before he spoke. “You. To never let you go.”

Your breath caught, and your chest tightened with emotion. “Dean…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice low and raw. “You’re… You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this before—someone like you.”

You tilted your head up and kissed him, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of love you felt into that moment.

When you pulled back, you smiled. “You know, maybe you're the best thing that ever happened to me too... So, good thing you’ve got me, then. Forever, if you want.”

“Forever sounds just about right,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled outside the cabin window, you knew this was a birthday neither of you would ever forget. And you were so happy about it.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @lyarr24 @chevroletdean @foolinthera1n @nochedie

a/n: heyy idk exactly how taglists works, im trying to make one, but I'm not sure so i just tagged some of my moots I hope would like loll. but please let me know if you want to be removed or not! (I might make a taglist on forms)

[bunabi]

What do you think should have been done differently with Harding?

Huh I had to really sit and think about it:

I think I'd remove the Rage Doppelganger thing altogether. I know people-pleasing and shoving her own feelings aside is part of her personality, but it feels off. (To me, for me, and this is my personal opinion, etc etc, disclaimers are necessary in DAV discussions I fear.)

Harding lived her entire life on the surface and seems as connected to her people's legacy as Varric. I could see Dagna or Sigrun —honestly maybe even Oghren — feeling so shocked by the Titan revelation their anger manifests as a shade. But not so much Lace. I just don't find it believable.

Especially since Davrin and Bellara are fine. Worried about the ramifications of their discoveries, and a little unnerved by the murals. But fine. Bellara has that 'guess my gods are evil fuck my baka life' one-liner. And Davrin is too busy having his My Griffon & Me sitcom to really brood over it. Everyone processes grief differently, there is no correct trauma response, their reactions are valid, reading that in Rook's voice as I type this, but the disparity was not helping. 😭

I would have preferred Lace's arc to be more about the future of the thaigs and the Titans. I love that her story is about healing. I completely disagree with Veilguard's idea of what healing looks like.

Dwarven history is not a tragedy to accept: it's ongoing. If they can reclaim their magic: what does that mean for reclaiming the Deep Roads? If this is the final Blight: will they reclaim the lost thaigs? Where does Lace fit in that? How does she feel about being viewed as the first step toward restoring a culture she feels less of a claim to?

It would have been an awesome parallel to the Inquisitor + the Inquisition too! Suddenly finding herself the crux of everyone's hopes, scared of her new abilities, feared for them, tasked with doing what hasn't been accomplished in centuries. Cinema. Call me Shale the way I'm rock solid for the concept.

Thanks for asking! Might pepper this into my worldview now haha.

[saphiccarma]

- Sweet Thing Pt.5

pt.4

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Nightmares plague you in the nights the follow your capture, but luckily, Agatha and Rio are there for you. In more ways than one.

Warnings: Some heated kissing, mention of sex

A/N: HIIII I'm semi-past my writers block because well, here's part five of Sweet Thing, but also it's short and took me a while to write.

The air in the cabin was heavy as you sat upright in your bed, eyes wide and teeth bared instinctively as you flapped your legs, almost as if they were a tail. The bed sheets, a thick cloth designed to keep you warm in the chilly space, suddenly felt too heavy, too hot. Skin tingling with nerves and unspoken tension, you glance around the room frantically. Your heart pounds beneath your chest, a fast, racing rhythm that drums in your ears.

An arm drapes around your waist and you bite down on your lip hard, stifling a scream that threatened to rip from your throat. The sudden contact makes your pulse jump beneath our skin, heart doing a leap in your chest.

"Shh," Rio's voice is familiar, soft, and ladled with sleep. It was hoarse, still dripping with exhaustion. "Lay down."

Every inch of you screams to not obey her, the command sending a spark of mixed fear and anticipation straight to your core. Her head lands in your lap, the light pressure somewhat grounding you back to the present. You couldn't ignore the slight flashes of other pirates, the ones that kidnapped you, and their rough, calloused hands all over you. But Rio's touch is different, her fingers are slenderer and thinner as she splays them across your stomach, under your shirt. Rio was always cold, but not in personality, more like body temperature.

Every time you made contact with her, she was colder, sometimes just as cold as the depths of the ocean you lived in. Rio plopped her head into your lap, brown hair splaying around her like an angel. While most of the time it was kept somewhat nice, at night Rio’s hair was a complete mess.

Agatha stirs next to you, turning over to face you, but her eyes are still closed. Her body presses up against yours beneath the sheets in way that should be confining, should make you feel more stifled, but it doesn't. Instead, like Rio, she helps you stay in the present moment.

"What's going on?" she murmurs, eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbones as her blue eyes open. They're a striking blue that reminds you of the ocean and even though you can't drown, you could in her eyes. The blue irises lure you in, pulling you closer and closer until she hooks you. You were already hooked. You have been for a while now.

Twisting in your lap, Rio presses her face into your stomach, her lips finding your skin as she softly presses a kiss there. Her lips linger and she sucks lightly before murmuring, "Our little siren had a bad dream."

The other woman hums lightly, and she scooches closer. Rio's lips, plush and dark plum-colored lips trailing along the soft skin of your stomach, sending welcome shivers down your spine and heat straight to your core that coiled there tightly and rested low in your body. Ears flicking under their touch, you lean back against the wall of the ship. The soft rocking of the waves echo through the wood, eyes fluttering shut, as you listen to the light crashing of water on wood.

Rio trails up your stomach, sitting up as she climbs higher and higher, pushing your shirt up in the process. You can hear Agatha exhale slowly and can practically see her eye roll. Eventually, your shirt is tugged off your head and tossed to the floor. Rio's weight settles in your lap, her thighs resting on either side of your hips. Her hands find your shoulders and she pushed you further back as she leans down to press her lips to your neck.

You can’t deny the arousal the pools between your thighs, a warm and slightly sticky reminder.  You can feel some of the worries of the day disappearing, and it helps.

At first, the touch is reverent, almost a silent worship, as if she is scared to harm you in your fragile state of mind. But Rio never did care for your mental state, and her kisses became more insistent, firmer. Her teeth graze your skin before she nips at it, tugging it between the canines and sucking. You go limp beneath her, surrendering to her touch. This type of thing has become familiar over the past...you're not sure how long. However long it's been since you were taken from them.

Night terrors would leave you writhing in bed as you screamed, and the sheets tangled into your frantically kicking legs. It only took a couple nights of that before Agatha and Rio dragged you into their bed, squishing you between them. It was stifling for the first few moments, too much, and you struggled, but then it quickly became a comfort.

Some nights, if you're lucky, Agatha will sit up, pulling your head into her lap. Her fingers would card through your hair, nails lightly scratching as the other hand would trace delicate patterns on your arms in smooth, calming movements. Then Rio would curl up behind you, her arm wrapped your waist and fingers splayed over your stomach possessively.

But tonight was not one of those nights. It was a night where Rio thought the best way to help was through distraction. It did help, but her touch also seared and burned and left you a writhing, gasping mess. Her lips found your pulse point, pressing down before she bit, hard.

You gasp, arching into her touch and hips bucking beneath her. The brunette chuckles into your neck, the sound vibrating along your skin as her hands tickle your sides, fingers lightly dancing along the sensitive skin. Her lips leave a trail of wet, lip shaped marks, soft purple bruises already blossoming. Rio loved to stake her claim on you, as did Agatha, but Rio found it enjoyable to watch you squirm as the crew stared at your marks.

You had grown used to the staring, but your cheeks would still flush what Agatha called a pretty pink and the two of them relished in the sight. Licking a long stripe up the column of your throat, Rio paused near your ear, "Let me make you feel good," she murmured, "You're such a sweet little thing." Despite her words, you didn't really have a choice. Agatha did though and she wasn't in the mood for Rio's shenanigans. The blue-eyed woman grabs the back of Rio's shirt, yanking her away.

Moonlight shines softly through the window, a sign that the night is at it's peak. Clearly, Agatha wasn't willing to be kept awake because Rio wanted to have some fun. Rio yelped, a pout coming to cover her lips as she was pulled back and thrown to the foot of the bed.

"Aggie," she whined, kicking her feet petulantly. Her arms crossed over her chest, "I just wanna have some fun." Her brown eyes were wide and pleading, desperate for attention. Agatha had the final say though, and her answer was no. That much was clear based on the scathing look she gave Rio.

Agatha tugged you down next to her, strong muscular arms wrapping around your still trembling and shirtless frame. She held you close, her body a warm, firm presence. Chin resting atop yours she hummed a soft tune, evidence of her good mood, even though she was snappy with Rio. She doesn’t dignify the other woman with a response.

"Rest, my sweet." Her hands stroked your hair, "It will be better when you wake up."

Curling into her you let your arms wrap around her form and dig into her shirt before your eyes start to flutter shut and your breathing evens out. Rio waits for a few, stubborn moments before shimming into the space between you and the wall, wrapping her body around you protectively.

^_____________^

An excited buzz ran through you, igniting your veins on fire as you stood in front of Agatha. Your entire body was bare aside from a pair of panties and a bra. Both items of the clothing faintly smelled of Rio, her flowery scent lingering in the air and easily detected through your sharp nose. It wasn't as pungent as when you first met her, but whether it was muted, or you were just used to it was unknow to you. Agatha circled you like a shark, her steps slow and graceful, sharp and musky scent filling your nostrils.

She pauses in front of you, blue eyes calculating and taking in your entire form. You felt so small under her stare - like a bug pinned down by its wings and forced to be in place as it was studied. Humming softly in approval, a sound that made warmth spread through your cold, bare form, Agatha tilts her head.

"What are the rules?" Her tone is calm, but firm, demanding a clear answer immediately.

Inhaling slowly for a moment, you reply in a slightly shaky voice, "Stay by your side at all times, don't run off, don't talk to people I don't know." Licking your lips, you furrow your brows, thinking that's all, but you know something was missing.

"And?" Agatha's tone holds a note of impatience, also a gentle guidance as she presses you for the final rule. It clicks in your head.

"Listen. If I fail to follow any of the rules I will be punished." Your voice lost its tremble as you repeated the final stipulation to her.

Agatha reached out a finger, tracing your cheek with her pointed nail, "Good girl," she praised, the words sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Her fingers lingered along your cheek, trailing down to your jawline before curling underneath your chin. Tilting your chin up, Agatha pressed a soft kiss on your lips, "Get dressed," she murmured against your tender lips, swollen from last night.

You hurry to do as she says, slipping on a pretty sundress that was picked out by Agatha. It fits your frame perfectly, revealing some, but not to much. Lately the two of them had taken to choosing your clothing for the day, and once they had you walk around in nothing but your undergarments. Although, the crew was on shore that day, leaving just you with the two women.

But today, if you were able to follow the rules, you would be allowed on land again. It both frightened and exhilarated you at the same time. You longed to be on soldi ground again, not just the ship that was constantly swaying back and forth.

Rio enters in the moment, her grin sharp and catlike as her brown eyes twinkle with amusement. She saunters up to you, her steps light, almost skipping and she stops right in front of you. Tilting her head, Rio's smile widens, eyes scanning over your new outfit.

"You look pretty, pececito," she purred. A single, slender finger trailed down your bare arm, the touch feathery light and Rio giggled a little, at your flushed face, "Are you ready for our little-" she paused, licking her lips and meeting your eyes, finger curling under the strap of your dress, "adventure?"

A few months ago, you never would've smiled at her words and close proximity, but now you did. Returning with her look with a soft smile of your own. You nodded eagerly, bouncing on your toes slightly.

"Where are we going?" Your voice is soft as you ask the question, tilting your own head to match Rio's gesture.

Her eyes twinkle and she taps your nose, "That's a surprise."

She wastes no time in grabbing your hand, ignoring Agatha's exasperated sigh. Rio drags you up to the deck, exposing you to the sun that shone brightly. Blinking at the sudden harsh light, you stumble over your own two feet as Rio guides you off the ship. Per usual, her hands were unusually cold, but you found yourself to desire the cold touch. It reminded you of home.

Seagulls cawed above you, circling for any spare food that humans would give them, and feasting off the small fish and crabs. Laughter caught your ear, craning your head, you saw children running along the beach. Their arms flailed as they sprinted away from each other, screeching and giggling from pure enjoyment. The sight of them sent a sharp pain to your heart and you were reminded of your younger sister, who could be thriving. You wondered if she missed you, if she wondered where you were.

Agatha didn't let you dwell on your thoughts because she caught up to you and Rio, her arms wrapping securely around your waist. Rio huffed, annoyed that Agatha was forcing her to slow down, but she grinned when the other woman nipped on your earlobe.

"Do you recognize this place, hun?" She whispered against the shell of your ear, her words husky and low. They sent a fresh shiver down your spine and you shuddered beneath her grip. For a long moment, you didn't say anything, merely melting into her touch, but then she nipped at your skin sharply - a warning.

Breath catching in your throat, you forced yourself to glance around. Tall buildings, built with ceramic bricks and towering over you lined the shores. Small little alleyways sat between them, but despite the size, they bustled with activity. People flooded in and out, shopping at the popup stalls that were set up there. Your eyes narrowed as the scene began to look familiar. Your gaze drifted towards the sea once again, wind blowing some sand onto your feet and ruffling your dress.

Eventually, you murmur a soft, "No."

Agatha chuckles, vibrations running through you, "This is where you first tried to run away." She reminded, her fingers curling round your waist tighter, "Do you remember? You ran so fast for being so new to your legs and the pure desperation on your face."

She laughs lightly, making eye contact with Rio who watches with a silent smirk. "You actually thought you could run," Agatha taunted, "But aren't you glad you didn't?"

A few months  ago, you would've minded. But Agatha's arms were wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you there, even though her nails dug into your skin. Her chin rested on your shoulder, warm breath fanning your skin as she inhaled your scent. Rio stood across from the two of you, one hand on her hip as a coy smile played on her lips. And instead of saying some sharp retort back, some spark of defiance, you only respond with compliance.

"Yes," you agree, hands coming up to land on hers. Agatha's lips tickled your neck once again.

"That's my sweet girl," she praised, her tone heavy with appreciation.

Taglist: @vigilante24ish @xanthreee

[wcnderlnds]

carried away | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: getting to film a movie with seunghyun is all fine until you have to film a kissing scene ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: saw a video of tazza behind the scenes and was inspired 👀

Choi Seung-hyun was one of the most interesting people you had ever met. Not only was he a complete sweetheart but he was one heck of a talented actor. He could switch between himself and the character he was playing almost seamlessly. Not many actors had that kind of talent — some opting to stay in character through the whole shoot to not lose focus but not Seunghyun. When he was in character, he was locked in and when he was out of it, he was the fun, sweet guy that you had come to know over the last couple of months. It amazed you every single day.

When you’d first got the job to star alongside him, the nerves you’d felt were probably the worst you’d ever experienced. He was an icon, part of one of the biggest bands in the world. It was daunting knowing you were going to have to be face to face with one of K-Pops biggest idols. Turns out there had been no reason to worry whatsoever because he was the nicest person you’d ever met. The very first day you’d met on set he’d introduced himself politely, made sure you were comfortable and did everything he could to make it easy for you. It wasn’t your first job. You were pretty well known in the industry but every set was different. All the different actors and crew; sometimes you didn’t know what to expect. So far, this had been your favourite movie to work on. Did most of that have to do with Seunghyun? Absolutely.

Today was the day you had been dreading the most, though. Intimate scenes were always daunting to film but now you had to film one with Seunghyun. Oh, you were so screwed. Over the last few weeks, you had developed a little crush on your co-star. Not a word had been uttered to him but you were fairly sure you weren’t hiding it very well. The giggles at his every joke, the way you’d hang on to his every word, find any reason to be close to him — it was like you were a kid again with your very first crush and didn’t know how to act.

“You ready for this?” Seunghyun asked as the two of you stood waiting for the director to start the scene. He stood there, tie loose around his neck, his white shirt unbuttoned slightly showing off some of his chest. If you weren’t so nervous, you’d definitely be staring right now.

“Yeah,” you nodded, hands flexing at your sides. “I'm a little nervous but I’m ready.”

“I’ve got you, okay? You want to stop at any time just tell me and we will. We don’t even have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it. I’m sure we can think of a way around it,” he reached out to give your arm a reassuring squeeze. Even just a simple touch like that made your heart beat ten times faster so what the hell was going to happen to you the moment his lips met yours? 

“It’s okay, I promise. I’m glad it’s with you. I trust you.” A genuine smile adorned your face making Seunghyun smile, too. Was he blushing as well? Surely you were imagining that.

It wasn’t too long after when the director yelled action and it was all hands on deck. Before you could even prepare yourself (which you’d had plenty of time to do if you hadn’t been so nervous), Seunghyun’s hand was on the back of your head and his lips crashed against yours. The second his soft lips began to move, your head turned fuzzy. Your hands fisted in the shirt he was wearing as he backed you up onto the bed. As you laid back, he settled on top of you, his tongue tangling with yours. You knew you were supposed to be acting, that this was your character and not you but it didn’t stop you from getting lost in the way his lips fit so perfectly against yours. Or the way his body slotted between yours like a puzzle piece.

It wasn’t until Seunghyun pulled away — breathless and with red tinted cheeks — that you realised the director had shouted ‘cut’ over five minutes ago. You could feel the flush of your cheeks as the embarrassment coursed through you. Without a single word, you ran off the set to hide in your dressing room. If that wasn’t the most mortifying moment of your life, you didn’t know what was. How could you have gotten so lost that you didn’t realise the scene had ended? How unprofessional. 

It was five minutes later when you heard a knock on your door. You barely mumbled a “it’s open” when the handle turned and in walked Seunghyun. You had your head in your hands but as you heard him clear his throat, you looked up. There he stood looking as gorgeous as ever. 

“Can I…?” He gestured to the spot next to you on the couch. You nodded your head, resting your hands in your lap. He sat beside you, twisting his body slightly so he could look at you. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m embarrassed and mortified and really wish the ground would swallow me up right now.” The urge to hide your face again was strong but you fought against it. You had to be an adult and own up to what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Seunghyun. That was so unprofessional of me. I…I’m really sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologise. I could have stopped it sooner but… uh, I didn’t want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He didn’t want to stop kissing you? 

“…what?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he let out a low chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. “I like you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make a move without it being weird for a couple weeks now but nothing seemed right. But then when I kissed you and you didn’t seem to stop, I couldn’t help myself. If anything it was unprofessional of me.”

“Just a couple of unprofessionals then, huh?” You joked, gently nudging him with your elbow. “I like you too, by the way.”

“I know, you’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Shutup.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side. “Want to get dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” you smiled up at him, his eyes catching yours. It was so easy to get lost in him. Everything about him was so perfect. 

“For the time being, we have a lot of kissing to do because apparently we were too intense for the scene or something,” Seunghyun jokingly rolled his eyes, holding his hand out for you as he got to his feet. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

If work meant you got to keep kissing the handsome man standing in front of you then you were more than happy to get back on set.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten

[genderqueerdykes]

im feeling so stressed about transitioning under the new regime. i need to get my gender markers/passport/name changed legally but i am not on hrt and do NOT pass at all, so i feel unsafe with the correct docs. i have an appointment for hrt, but thats not for another month. by that time it will be too late to update my docs. ill be visibly trans with my birth gender/name which also makes me feel unsafe. i feel like im being forced to rush my transition or stay in the closet for the rest of my life. i do not have the confidence to be visibly trans as i live in an extremely red part of an extremely red state. i feel miserable and dont know what to do

remind urself its ok to be scared rn. it's very frightening. it's okay to feel unsafe rn. hopefully things don't pan out like that and you have to stay in the closet

we don't know what will happen for sure, n that's the scary part. we don't have control over the future, but we got control of the present and we can do what we can to influence the immediate future.

those laws n bills are still subject to the judicial processes of the house and senate and they can get strangled or killed there. trump isn't special, he thinks he is, but realistically, he still has to contend with them whether or not he wants to . he had to last time, this time will be no different. n u know what? if it is different? n he does put that shit into place asap? well guess what? everyone's calling for "revolution": nows ur chance babes, get started! gather! organize! resist! revolt!

for now what you gotta do is remind urself that it will never be illegal 2 be a trans person on the inside. u being trans, referring to urself as trans, acknowledging that ur trans will never be illegal and yes that IS something you can hold on to for dear life. it's a place to start. they can't take away who you are on the inside. start talking to other trans people and start building plans. look into queer resource centers in your area. look at colleges for these, though you may have some elsewhere. ask ur trans friends where they get their hrt.

going stealth or trying to pass for a cis man and/or woman doesn't mean u are not trans. a lot of trans people have to do this, and if u have to do it for safety, that is completely fine. that says nothing about ur actual gender. it sucks to do, but it doesn't change who u are on the inside, a lot of trans people have 2 do this

i hope things improve for u. i hope you're able to connect with some other queers in ur area and come up with some plans. do whatever u can to make sure that u can get hormones started if that's what u want. like chase it n don't let go. just do it. they can't take the hormone out of ur body. but they also can't magically know ur on hrt. this is just my stance. u can decide not to. but i say NOW is the time to pull the trigger.

get on hrt. do it. now before u literally fuckin can't.

hopefully not much changes if anything at all. i'm not impressed with Dumbass' speeches. he's a lot of hot air. he's about making an impression. but i'm not impressed by the bluff. best of luck. PLEASE remember to stick together right now. when things are stressful in the real world like this, we HAVE to band together. we have to figure out how to sort out THIS situation.

stop fighting with each other n realize that there is literally a way bigger threat n tryin 2 figure out if a stranger has a pussy or a dick. like cmon this shit is on a subatomic level of importance rn, u gotta have some priorities. snap out of it & focus.

[thomaslittlegirl]

nightmare. cillian murphy

cillian was seeing his personal assistant.

your head felt hot and about to explode. this couldn't happen, it couldn't be happening to you. not to you.

your chest closed and prevented you from breathing. murphy only looked at you with sad eyes, but not sorry for what had happened.

"we have to break up." he asked, and it all sounded unreal.

were you worth so little in his life?

your heart seemed like it was going to burst out at any moment from the anguish, the metallic taste in your mouth making everything worse.

"love... love... LOVE!"

when you wake up you take a breath of fresh air, feeling suffocated. it seems like your lungs haven't received air in hours.

your heart beats in your throat.

"are you okay?" cillian asks with concern. his face has a panicked expression you've never seen before.

you swallow and try to respond but only a pained gasp escapes your mouth. the man leans in front of you and caresses your cheek while looking at you carefully.

everything feels so unreal that his touch reminds you that this is reality, this is your life.

"are you here with me?" he asks again; his blue eyes watching your reaction.

you carefully nod, feeling the sting of tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. "i'm here."

murphy nods and swallows nervously at your state, letting out a long sigh.

"i had the worst nightmare of my life." you say. he looks at you, frowning.

"what did you dream?" he asks curiously.

you swallow and sit up in bed, hair tickling your shoulders annoyingly.

"you... you left me..." you speak slowly. cillian watches you quietly, watching the tears fall from your eyes.

a lump appears in your throat.

"i... left you?"

you nod, pouting at him. you feel so sad that you want to shelter in his arms until there is no evidence of the nightmare you just had.

"you left me." you confirm. cillian caresses your thigh lovingly, listening to you. "you said we couldn't be together... that the difference in our ages was starting to get in the way and you couldn't deal with it."

that topic was something that often affected them both. each time the differences were more noticeable between the two; it was something that tormented you, the fact that you two were in completely different stages of your lives, the fact that people commented on it as freely as if either of you had asked for advice.

it was a topic that tortured you, but you both always knew how to solve it like the two adults you were.

"also, you... you told me that you were seeing someone else... that..." you try to speak, feeling the lump in your throat worsen. now it was difficult for you to even swallow saliva, much less speak. "... that you were... in love with someone else..."

your husband notices how it's getting harder and harder for you to maintain your composure and knows what he has to do: cillian knows he has to reassure you that everything was a horrible nightmare and that you are everything he wants.

he knows that you need his sweet words to calm you down and prevent you from having an attack.

the man takes your face in both of his hands and caresses your cheeks gently.

"love..." he begins, his light blue eyes soften and he looks at you with an expression full of calm. "it was just a dream, okay?" he promise, caressing your soft skin. "there is no woman in this world that would make me leave you... i would never look at anyone with the eyes that i look at you... much less at someone who works for me, much less at my damn assistant."

oh...

oh.

your eyes widen in terror and you tense under his touch. your mouth becomes so dry that it seems like you haven't had any fluids in days.

cillian notices your expression and lets go of your face, biting his lip.

"you never told me it was about her, did you?"

you shake your head, realization falling on you like a bucket of ice water.

. . .

request by this sweetheart <3

[hancocksspouse]

Not him slipping up and calling Doll his ‘wife’ 🥺

Sold

WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE AND VIOLENCE AND DEATH. IF YOU ARE EASILY UPSET OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS OF HARM, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

OTHERWISE, PLEASE ENJOY THE IDEA OF AN ANGRY HANCOCK READY TO RIP A MAN APART FOR HIS 'WIFE'.

-

Hancock wouldn’t consider himself a cruel man. In fact, he hated cruelty. Didn't see a point in cruelty unwarranted.

But if you were to ask him right now about it as he stared unfeeling holes into the man strapped to the chair before him that was struggling to collect himself while he tried to ignore the splinters that had been hammered beneath 2 of his nails, he'd admit he could be pushed to it under the right circumstances.

He learned at a young age how to get in and out of Diamond City unseen. Even had a full body outfit specifically for the occasions when he followed Doll into town, which he did often. With McDonough still in charge and prejudice running alive and well through the city, it wasn't often he left Doll to be alone there. It was no secret she wasn't a fan of people's behaviors towards ghouls and synths. Made it clear to plenty of people that she did not think highly of people that treated anyone lesser for being different rather than use their actions and behaviors as a basis.

So when a 'brief stop' at Home Plate turned into a full on missing person's case, it didn't take him long to figure out what may have happened. The panic that had settled in his stomach when she never came back out from Diamond City and he found signs of struggle in her house was only amplified when he got Valentine to help him look and confirm that there was not only a fight, but somehow, whoever broke in managed to sneak her out of the city without any eye witnesses. He almost didn't believe him but Diamond City jail was completely empty and despite her personal beliefs, many citizens still held a respect for her enough to notice if something happened to her.

Valentine knew that nothing he could say to him would ease what was festering in his chest and he wasn't going to attempt it. Even a blind man could see the feelings he had developed for his companion over the time they had been traveling together and he knew how dangerous a man in love could be. Hancock alone was already a force to be reckoned with. Put his heart into it, it's a whole new monster.

"I know I can't change your mind on whatever it is you're going to do, but at least give me a little time to point you in the right direction", he said, offering Hancock a cigarette as he lit his own while they stood in Doll's house together. "Don't need to get anyone involved unnecessarily". Hancock almost rejected the offer, but knew he needed whatever help he could get. McDonough wasn't going to help and his Diamond City security cronies were useless. Instead, he nodded slowly, taking the offered cigarette.

"I'll give you til tonight. If you got nothin', I'm doin' it my way. Meet me back here in Home Plate", he said, breathing out a cloud of smoke. The calmness he responded to Valentine with was eerie and he knew he meant what he said. He knew what him handling business would look like and he simply nodded in response.

"I'll take it".

True to his word, come nightfall, they were once again at Home Plate, the mask of Hancock's disguise set atop the table as he took a breath in, not used to having to hide behind such a heavy piece of clothing.

"Traveling caravan was let in not too long before she went missing. They were seen wandering in, but no one recalls doing any trading with them, only them taking a large container out of Diamond City. I'd bet caps it was her. One of the security guards had also been seen both in Home Plate and helping the caravan load the container, so there's an inside man", he says, a frown on his face while looking at the mess left behind in her normally put together base. Hancock's eyes lower into a glare.

"Sounds to me like you're insinuating McDonough set it all up", he says, leaning forward against his knees. Valentine shakes his head.

"I'm not gonna say one way or another, but nothing comes in or goes out of Diamond City without him knowing and there's no solid proof he had a hand in it. A corrupt politician isn’t something unheard of. You and I both know that. But the theories will have to take a chair for now. The security guard that was seen is currently stationed out at the gate tonight", he says as he looks over the clearly distressed mayor.

"A large container, huh? That's not soundin' too promising either, detective". The edge in his voice is very audible and Valentine can't help the discomfort he's feeling at the idea of what it'll be like being on the receiving end of his ire once he gets a hold of that guard.

"You know her better than that, Hancock. She's not giving up that easily, nor is she going to make it easy for them. I'm sure of it. Just...don't tell me what happens to that guard, alright?" he asks him and Hancock gives a nod, thinking to himself for a moment before standing up and sliding his mask back on.

"Ya know what? That's fair, Nicky. You did more than you had to and I ain't gonna forget that". He pats his shoulder. "Thanks. A lot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe they got somethin' of mine". Hancock doesn't see the confused look on Nick's face as he passes and by the time he realizes what exactly he means, he's already shutting the door behind him, heading back out to the gates of the city.

-

Getting the guard alone and subdued is light work for Hancock, leading them to their current situation, a nonchalant, unamused, unimpressed Hancock leaned against a wall while the guard in question struggles to calm down and mentally regroup as wooden splinters firmly jut from beneath his fingernails. He struggles against his binds but Hancock has him firmly bound to the chair and all he has done is tired himself out more.

"Now, let's try this one more time, brother. This time, without lyin' to me, yea?", he says, slowly strolling over to the man as he tosses the hammer aside onto the table he has set up. An array of different objects and weapons are strewn across the top, most of which were for intimidation, but Hancock is all too ready and willing to use everything he's got and even make things up if he has to. He takes a handful of the man's hair in hand and yanks his head back, forcing him to look up at him as he continues to sputter and whine.

"I-I s-swear I-I-I don't know wh-what you're talking about", he cries, his breathing ragged and rushed but Hancock shakes his head and sighs.

"See, I'm afraid I don't believe that, friend. And do you know why?" he asks, casually pulling his trusty knife from his pocket and dragging it against his cheek. The panicked guard looks from the knife to him and carefully shakes his head no.

"B-but I-"

CRACK

A bright red hand print quickly appears on his cheek and he yelps at the impact before once again being yanked into Hancock's line of sight.

"Before you even try to lie to me again, I'll tell you. I don't believe that because you were seen. Ain't that crazy?"

Hancock is toying with the man, but his patience is quickly wearing thin and his temper is getting the best of him because his knife soon begins to trace against the man's thigh.

"Now. I'mma share a little fun fact with you, brother. You're gonna love it, I learned it from Doctor Amari. Smart woman. Taught me a few interesting things here and there. Did you know that you have three arteries in your thigh that if cut, could cause you to bleed out and die? Wild stuff", he says, the tip of the blade resting above where his femoral artery would be found.

"W-w-wait! Waitwaitwait, j-just h-hold on-", the man quickly stutters out and Hancock smirks a bit, pocketing the knife.

"Well well well, looks like someone's ready to sing?" he says. The man struggles and whines, fighting between his brain and the pain and Hancock frowns and reaches down, tapping one of the splinters in farther and the man lets out a scream that bleeds into sobs.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT! YOU'RE RIGHT! WE TOOK HER!", he cries out, the tears mixing with sweat and blood. "We-we took her".

Hancock nods with a chuckle and pulls up a chair in front of him, flipping it around and seating himself, leaning against the back of it.

"Keep talkin', brother. Now, we're gettin' somewhere".

The man hiccups and sputters before catching his breath and swallowing.

"W-we were told t-to get h-her o-out of Diamond C-city. Stage i-it to look like a break i-in and s-sell her off to r-raiders head-ding out towards N-Nuka W-World", he manages to say. Hancock frowns.

"Keep goin'", he says, rising from his chair.

"M-Mayor McDonough d-didn't like wh-what sh-she was saying about h-him and thought sh-she w-would make people ch-change their minds about th-the anti-ghoul d-decree and start trying to m-motivate p-people t-to let ghouls a-and synths into the c-city, so he paid o-off some r-raiders to come in as a c-caravan to get h-her".

Hancock stands quietly for a long time, processing what he's heard while staring dead eyed at the man, making him begin to cry again until his footsteps make him look back up at him and when he sees the knife in his hand again, he begins to sob once more.

"I just got one more question for you, brother", Hancock says, once again pulling his head back by his hair and resting his blade against his adam's apple. The blank abyss of Hancock's eyes convinces the guard he's about to die and he can do nothing but cry, unable to break eye contact.

"Where. Is. My. Wife?!"

-

Her vision has been dark for a span of time she is unsure of and her head has been swimming so much, she only just realizes there's both a bag on her head and she's bound, her body uncomfortably scrunched up in something being carried. A pain shoots through her head and she feels something wet on her scalp that has managed to drip down to her eyelid, making her think to what happened before her current predicament, but her thoughts are cut short when she feels everything stop suddenly and muffled voices sound off around her. The darkness around her shifts and she feels herself getting pushed out of whatever it was she was contained in, a grunt leaving her as she hits the ground and pain racks through her body.

"Huh. This one seems a bit younger than the ones ya'll usually send our way", she hears one say before she's shifted up onto her knees and the bag on her head is yanked off, making her growl a bit before a hand catches her chin and pulls her to look forward, the frown on her face met by what she assumes is a raider in armor she's not seen before. Metal sheets fashioned into what could almost be considered plate armor sits latched onto what looks to actually be a nice suit beneath. Instead of the normal plaque mouthed, grimy raiders she's used to seeing, this one and his companions are actually quite clean and well put together, putting her more on edge than normal.

"Who the fuck are you?", she growls out, making the man smirk a bit.

"A bit foul mouthed but nothing we can't 'fix'", he says as his companion hands him what looks to be a collar over his shoulder and a panic sweeps over her as she looks around. A brahmin sits to the side, the container she's sure she was in open on it's side. It's night time and they're camped on the side of a road she can't readily see at the moment. "Now, hold still, dollface. This'll only take a moment", the raider says, reaching around her to put the collar on. She quickly lurches forward and headbutts him in his nose, a sickening crunch sounding off as they hear it break and he stumbles backwards, dropping the collar and holding his face. "You fuckin' BITCH!"

His companions go to hold her still and she rolls over to her back, managing to kick one in the gut before the other one manages to get around her kicking and hold her down as she keeps struggling.

"Fuckin' hold still, you little shit!", the raider gripes at her, punching her and busting her lip open. Blood begins spilling down her chin and once again, the collar comes back into view as they try to get it on her. "You make this harder than it needs to be and your life is gonna get way fuckin' harder than it needs to, got that?"

Panic takes her over as they try to once again latch the collar onto her and she jerks her head to the side, sinking her teeth into their hand as hard as she can. She can feel the skin beneath her teeth break under the pressure and the raider tries to shake her off, punching her in the head and yelling and when a molotov suddenly crashes against the back of the raider that took her out of Diamond City, everyone in the group is quickly armed as they look through the dark for the source of the explosive, leaving the flaming raider to fend for himself and fight off the fires on his own.

"Who the fuck is out there?!"

No response comes but another molotov soars through the air and cracks near the brahmin, scaring the beast and causing it to begin running in a panic. In it's frenzy to get away, it ploughs through the burning raider and tramples him, leaving him to bleed out and burn as it runs away and the rest of the raiders to scatter before a shot fires and one of the well dressed raiders hits the ground. The sudden shot is enough to distract them as Hancock quickly comes out from his hiding spot and swoops up behind the other, slicing their throat with alarming ease and catching the body to use as a shield once the other raiders realize he's there. They fire, riddling what would be there business associate with bullets before their rounds run dry and his shot gun blasts through ones chest while a shot from nearby takes out the other beside them. Behind them, Doll's teeth remain clamped into the last raider's hand and she's wrapped her legs around them, keeping them from running away. Witnessing their companions die, they struggle to escape but Doll manages to make sure they go nowhere as Hancock makes his way over, picking up the collar on the ground along the way.

"W-wait! You win! Just-just let me go!", he yells. Hancock says nothing, looking down at the state of his friend. She's bloody, beaten, and currently in a state of panicked frenzy. Fight or flight. She chose fight. He looks down at the collar in his hand and at the raider, who is stuck in place both by Doll and fear and he lets his feelings take over for a moment, locking the collar around the raider's neck despite how they struggle against him. "Wait! You don't know what this does! You can't do this!"

The raider's words fall on deaf ears and Hancock wraps his arm around their neck, knife in hand as he looks at Doll and reaches down to her, gently brushing his thumb against her jaw.

"Let go, sunshine. I gotcha", he says, his tone calm and kind to her, contrasting his actions. Her heavy breaths settle and she unlatches from the raider, both her blood and theirs mixing on her teeth. They attempt to struggle again but his arm tightens and the tip of his knife presses their jugular vein and they stop, shaking.

"You can't do this! Y-you don't know what this collar does-"

"Bullshit", he cuts them off with a scoff, picking them up and flinging them to the ground with his one arm as he picks up the remote that had fallen from their pocket. "You think I don't know a fuckin' bomb when I see one?"

They look up at him, not sure what else to do as they get back on their feet and begin running. He lets them get a little distance before rolling his eyes and hitting the detonator, their head disappearing suddenly into a fine red mist. The remote is thrown off to the side while Valentine makes his way from his point of cover to join them, Hancock already making quick work of her bindings. She rubs her wrists and wipes the blood from her chin before her eyes come up to meet his as he kneels down to her, brushing her hair from her face to assess the wounds.

"Like I said. She wasn't gonna make it easy for them", Nick says, looking at the mess left behind. Hancock chuckles a bit and shakes his head, carefully helping her stand up with him and pulling her to lean against his taller frame. His hold on her starts off gentle but slowly tightens more and more as the relief of her being safe hits him and the stress of the situation finally settles. Her face pushes against his chest and into the familiar red of his jacket while his leans down into her black hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner, sister", he says, a slight waver in his voice. "I never woulda thought McDonough would've had the stones to do some underhanded shit like this. I swear when we get back-", but she shakes her head, stopping him.

"No. Don't", she says. His eyes glance down to her and a frown settles on his features.

"Doll, he set you up to be kidnapped and sold to raiders in fuckin' Nuka World-"

"He's also the mayor of a large town in the commonwealth and I'm fairly certain this was set up in a manner that leaves little to no evidence behind proving he did any of that. We can't stir the pot like that just yet, or it'll have a repercussion we're not ready to face. Too many people still support him and with everyone knowing my opinions, they're gonna just think I'm causing trouble".

Valentine frowns, looking up at them from his cigarette before shaking his head.

"She's right. McDonough has too much of a faithful following. We'd just be rattling the cage", he says, a clear note of disappointment in his voice. Hancock growls quietly to himself, knowing they're right.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure him seeing I'm still around and escaped will be enough of a message to him to watch his next steps", she says in an attempt to reassure him. He looks down at her for a moment, the frown still fixed to his face but he soon slowly nods to her.

"Alright, sunshine. We'll play it your way. For now", he says, simply holding her for the moment.

-

It goes without saying they don’t go anywhere near Diamond City as they walk away from said tussle. Nick follows along with them to Goodneighbor to make sure they make it back safely.

“I appreciate the help, Nicky”, Hancock says, shaking his hand at the door of the state house. He shakes his head.

“Of course. Anytime”. He breathes out a cloud of smoke and thinks for a moment before he looks back up at him. “Before I go…I gotta ask…the guard…is he…”

Hancock shakes his head no.

“He’s alive. Can’t promise he’s the same or that he’ll ever be the same anymore, but he’s alive. Should be back in Diamond City by now, if he went back”. He’s very detached and nonchalant about the man he tortured only hours ago and Nick raises a brow.

“Can’t really say you have any regrets about it, can you?” He pokes and Hancock simply shrugs.

“Shoulda kept his hands off my wife. Anyway, be safe gettin’ back”, he says, heading inside to tend to Doll’s wounds.

Confusion briefly washes over the synth detective but once he gives it a moment of thought, he simply chuckles and begins his trek back to Diamond City.

-

It’s late into the night by the time Hancock settles down and Doll is passed out, her head rested in his lap as they take up the couch together. His hand gently rubs against her hair and scalp while his mind wanders, a canister of jet in his opposite palm as he thinks.

He said it. Twice today. Said it and meant it and didn’t feel weird about it at all.

Wife.

He was never one to settle down or dedicate to just one person.

But…

This was different. Had been since they agreed to start traveling together like this. And the idea didn’t seem like a loss of freedom. Just felt like the idea of having someone to be free with.

His eyes look down towards her and fall on her left hand rested in front of her face. The pale tan line wrapped around her finger where her wedding band used to sit.

He wonders if perhaps he could ever put something in it’s place.

———

I’ve been sitting on this one for a hot minute, I’ve just been disgustingly busy but I loved this so much 😩

🖤🖤🖤

-Hancock’s Spouse

[tokkiiibunny]

Chick Habit | Megumi Fushiguro

11: Miss World

Words: 1.6 k

Mainlist

I'm miss world

Somebody kill me

Kill me pills

A girl makes a mistake and is reminded of it all her life

You weren't like the other kids, you always knew that. While everyone seemed happy all the time you felt lonely. You had a good family, a nice house a lot of dolls and yet it seemed that you could not smile more times than you cried.

No one understood what was happening to you but you were like a small ghost that no one could see, you just wandered from one place to another without being noticed by anyone.

You were always alone, that was until Sasha appeared in your life as a bright light, she was not afraid to speak her mind, she was a natural leader, she was kind and funny. She was the kind of girl you wanted to be.

It didn't take you too long to become best friends, there was no force majeure that separated you, you did everything together, you were always together, you were the duo and she with her vivacious personality helped you a little to come out of your shell. 

But when you got to 9th grade everything became different, suddenly you were no longer a ghost, now everyone saw you.

Maybe it was your pretty face, your sweet demeanor, or how charming you were, but overnight you were in the spotlight. Everyone wanted a piece of you and you were more than willing to give it to them because you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the sudden attention.

All the girls wanted to be your friends, all the boys wanted to go out with you. Parties, attention, compliments, maybe it went a little to your head not that you had become a mean girl but it was clear that it seemed that now your priorities were a little scrambled.

You were a beauty and maybe also a flirt too, you loved the game, the attention, that feeling that just by beating your eyelashes a little you could make someone fall in love, it's not that you actually dated all those guys, you didn't date any of them but You were too young to realize that your behavior would later come back to bite you in the ass.

During this time was when you started sleeping with Sukuna, he was older, trouble some and a rebel (More like a juvenile delinquent) and that's all a 16-year-old girl in need of the false sense of love wants. He didn't love you but you did begin to develop feelings for him, he had been your first kiss, your first time, the closest thing you had ever had to a "boyfriend" because he was never really your boyfriend, for him you were just another girl, someone he could use and mold as he pleased, he didn't care about you and the day he left town he didn't even bother to say goodbye to you.

You were too much into your little world of the little popular princess to realize the reality of things. But there was someone who did notice it and that was Sasha whom you pushed away more and more every day.

You didn't like having someone who called you out for what you were doing, if your friends were fake, if you skipped classes, if your skirts were too short, that wasn't her problem And you didn't want her to get into your life.

Something you didn't realize either is that those you called friends weren't really good people, they weren't just double-faced with you, they were bullies in capital letters.

You always stayed out of it, although you liked attention you didn't like problems and much less being cruel to others, you wanted to be friends with everyone not a bad bitch but being with them somehow Involved you in all that.

They talked about other people behind their backs or in front of them, they annoyed the weaker ones and took it upon themselves to take the smallest thing from people to humiliate them and make fun of them for it.

You remember a lot of a brown-haired Asian girl, she was maybe a year or two older than you and always ignored your friends' teasing and kept a positive attitude. Or at least even your friends went too far and went on to do something That made your stomach sink completely.

Using a fake name (or at least that's what they told you because they had actually used yours) she had been summoned to a bridge in town at dusk. They arrived with balaclavas and gloves, beat her, threatened to abuse her, stole the valuables she had with her and cut her clothes, and then left her lying there On that cold bridge completely scared, half naked and injured. Of course you didn't go to that, You didn't even know what they were planning to do, you just found out about their viciousness because they told you about it the next day in class, You didn't understand how they could laugh and act like it was a joke, you didn't know about the law but you were almost sure that it could be considered a crime.

After that you never saw her again, but your friends said she had dropped out of school, It was amazing to you how they could act so calmly about this.

What you didn't know is that something you hadn't really gotten involved in would end up ruining your life, you just reached out to the wrong people trying to erase that feeling of loneliness, you were just a child who had been too naïve to know the kind of person those who hailed being your friends were.

Even if you surrounded yourself with bullies, everyone still believed that you were sweet and cool and the perfect girl But that didn't last long. When you started noticing that people were muttering behind your back you just ignored it, but when everyone stopped greeting you or turned away when you smiled at them you realized that something was wrong.

Your friends' attitude started to be different, you could almost feel them making fun of you in your face and then they just completely ignored you.

Bitch, whore and slut were words that you began to hear daily followed by laughter and judgmental looks, you didn't understand what was happening and no one explained it to you because everyone began to treat you as if you were a plague.

But there was someone who did not leave you because of all the rumors that were beginning to be heard around the town and that was Sasha. Now when you look back you realize that maybe you didn't treat her in the best way, the reality is that you felt too stressed and anxious, there were too many things going on and the last thing you needed was for someone to scold you constantly. Maybe you were cruel and insensib, you didn't think about Sasha's feelings and you said things that you regret to this day because you didn't think that would be the last thing she needed to make the decision that she had been thinking about for so long, You didn't even know that she was depressed and you had neglected friendship too much but there was nothing left to do.

You still remember how her mother yelled at you, called you a whore and murdered you in front of everyone, blamed you for what her daughter had done And all you could do was stand silent, sad, confused, and scared as you watched her so shattered.

Soon that was another thing that talked about you, but not that you cared because you were too immersed in your own mind, a place that was getting darker and darker.

By 12th grade it seemed like everyone had forgotten about you, the murmurs were practically nil but you had become an outcast, no one was talking to you, no one wanted you around, you were alone every day but you always tried to stay positive, you kept smiling even if no one smiled back, it was your way of trying to keep your mind in order,  You didn't like to be sad, you didn't like them to see how much the situation had affected you.

In your home the situation was very different, you were always quiet, sad, with swollen eyes from crying, you barely left your room and spoke as little as possible with your parents. They even offered you to visit a therapist but you refused saying you were fine and it was just a bit of stress.

That same year you met Choso, you had already seen him several times in the halls or sitting in a corner of the classroom, he was one of the many boys that your former friends bothered, one day you simply started talking and soon became in good friends, you were inseparable, he was your only friend And it really helped you improve your mood, your parents really appreciated it, since he appeared in your life it was like you were happy again.

The day he told you he was leaving college your heart broke but you couldn't do anything about it.

You wondered if things would have been different if he hadn't stopped studying, if you hadn't had to sit with megumi that first day, or if after the first offense you had ignored him instead of trying to be nice to him.

There were so many things you wished you could change about your life but it was useless because the damage was already done, the mistakes were already made and you practically had a scarlet letter on you that would never be erased.

Notes area:

>The next chapter will be the continuation of the previous one.

>Comments, suggestions and feedback are welcome.

>thanks for reading!

Taglist:

@soobinbunnie5 @anonymity-222 @hanakalovesbnha @starrysho @sylussss7 @Shortcakebbg @Szired @briezy04764

[xf-cases-solved]

S2E10: Red Museum

Case: Bro, don't make me try to summarize "Red Museum," so many things happen and every single one of them is baffling.

You know what? This entire episode feels like an SNL Stefon sketch, so I'm going to write it as one.

If you're looking for a monster-of-the-week X-Files tale centering around obscure religions, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode is "Red Museum." This episode has everything. A cult of creepy vegetarians who all wear red turbans and whose sermons are all written on the fly by a dude who has a really impressive WPM. Children wandering around the woods in their underwear with "HE/SHE IS ONE" written on their backs with black Sharpie. Walk-ins.

Oh, what's a walk-in? It's that thing where a body's original soul is replaced by a new, different soul for some reason.

But that's okay if that's not for you. If what you're looking for is a story about a deep-seated conspiracy of unethical medical experiments, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode is still "Red Museum." This episode has everything. An awkward road trip with an old man out into the countryside where he tells you his life story, unprompted. A random plane crash implicating the local doctor. Bovine somatotropin.

Oh, what's bovine somatotropin? It's that thing where you genetically engineer a growth hormone and give it to cows to make them produce more milk.

Still not what you're looking for? That's no problem. For those of you itching for some more myth arc plot, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode continues to be fucking "Red Museum." This episode has everything. A middle-aged white man you're somehow supposed to distinguish from the millions of other middle-aged white men and remember that he's the guy that killed Deep Throat. A complete lack of usable evidence. Purity Control derivatives.

Oh, what's Purity Control? It's that thing from "The Erlenmeyer Flask" where you mix human DNA with alien DNA to conduct a series of experiments on the unsuspecting human population. 

Also, there's a perv creeping on kids through peepholes.

Anyway. This episode... goes some places. 

Moving on.

Does someone die in the cold open: My notes say, "no death in CO, but that kid is fucked up," which I feel is a good summary.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: YES!! Our boy and his projector have finally been reunited at last! He hasn't done a slideshow since "Tooms," which actually makes it all make sense now, bc that was the one he did in court that made me (and Scully) want to die from secondhand embarrassment. Maybe Scully had been keeping the projector locked away until he proved he could be trusted with it. She had the key to the storage closet in her pocket when she was abducted.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Yeah, nah.

Whodunit: Bro, I don't fucking know. All of them. They all did it. Every single person is complicit. You're complicit. I'm complicit. Just blow the planet up and start over.

Convictions: 🙄😒

Did they solve it: Last line of the episode is "this case remains open and unsolved," soooooo. I'm not even giving them a "no, but" bc they didn't even manage to keep Deep Throat's killer alive long enough to get any useful information out of him. Maybe they shouldn't have given you guys the X-Files back, actually...

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

This episode is sponsored by: Part one of this five part SNL Stefon YouTube compilation for those of you who had no idea wtf I was referencing up there

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 15 (they haven't solved anything since fucking "blood," and technically they weren't even on the x-files then. they haven't solved a genuine x-file since "roland," and i only gave them that one out of pity. time to just keep the x-files closed and assign them to the department that tracks down people who pirate movies. mulder & scully and the search for the Truth 20-something college kid making copies of jurassic park to give to his cousin in exchange for weed)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 9

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 14 (i think they technically both could have gotten blown up, right?) 

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 14 (i expected these two stats specifically to be more disproportionate, but so far they're pretty even huh)

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 19 (bbq napkin scene. she wants to devour those ribs and then devour him)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 5

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2 

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 21

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3 

Total Number of (Plot Relevant) Nosebleeds: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 4 (it was just gas, but it was on the floor of a slaughterhouse, directly underneath a hanging hunk of beef, and there was a very obvious red can labeled "gasoline" sitting three feet away on the floor, so i feel like he could have made that inference without sticking his hand in it)

Total Number of Times People Fight in a Parking Garage: 1 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 4 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2 

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 16 

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 3

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 3

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 3 (no more krycek for right now 😔. mulder's projector has returned, but still we lie in wait for rat boy's resurgence)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 13½ (not only did i not know, but i wrote this up over the course of two days, and had already forgotten by the time i got to this stat even tho i looked it up yesterday)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 7 (i am still not convinced i followed the whole thing. i don't think it's possible)

[consultingfujoshi]

REALLY GOOD ADDITION FROM @cowboyidiot. yes I think its fascinating how outie helena and irving are both very much following their own agendas, they both became severed because they have a mission and and point to prove and now we know irving is working with someone, likely both a heavy load of expectations placed on them to perform a certain way - and it's made doubly interesting by the fact that their innies are, whether they know it or not, actively working to undermine their respective agendas. helena is the heiress of lumon and has to deal with her innie taking every opportunity to put her company's reputation at risk. irving is very clearly working to infiltrate and take down lumon from the inside, and his innie has done little other than be lumon's biggest cheerleader since his creation three years ago. both of these characters appear to view their innies as an extension of their will, a means of furthering their ends, but both failed to account for the fact they've basically just created a whole new person with goals and desires of their own and they have ZERO control over what they do down there.

you're very right about the core self being essentially the same but shaped into something completely different by their experiences or lack thereof. irving said so himself, that he was shapeless when he arrived at lumon, and he took on the shape that was presented to him. the same goes for all the severed employees. that same self-righteous and determined attitude that helena eagan has, without the massively privileged and sheltered upbringing and training in the values of her family's company to shape it into a cold and corporate force, manifests in helly r as outright anarchism and refusal to bow to anyone's will but her own. and that same one-track minded craving for a sense of meaning and purpose that drives irving bailiff to deprive himself of sleep for years in the hopes of finding out more about what he's seen, without his lived experiences and understanding of the world around him, manifests in irving b as a perfect canvas for indoctrination into a cult-like dedication to the only form of community he can find down there.

both innies and outies are, at their core, the same bundle of personality, the same wants and desires. but it is history which shapes us, and as we are exposed to more and more experiences, our sense of who we are inevitably changes. so yes, I'm very excited to see if there's any more convergence between the innies and outies. we've definitely seen innie irv become disillusioned with lumon and start to act more like the cynical and determined man we now know exists on the outside. and in this episode, we saw the first cracks start to show for helena upon seeing that her innie has a kind of freedom she has never been allowed. what other changes are we going to see as they learn more about what their alternate selves have been up to?

I'm starting to think that maybe outie irving sees his innie in a similar way that helena does, ie. a tool he can use to further his own ends. he's clearly got a plan, and he chose to become severed to advance that plan somehow. is he going to be shocked or even angry to find out his innie has spent the last 3 years worshipping the company he's been trying to infiltrate from the outside? he literally created his innie for the purpose of bringing down lumon, and you're telling him he's actually the MDR hall monitor and lumon's biggest cheerleader?? will he freak out if he finds out he's been down there falling in love and getting his heart broken and wanting to LEAVE because of it instead of trying to find the testing floor hallway? innie irv's reaction to breaking out is like the total opposite of what his outie would have wanted if you ask me based on how he immediately goes to tell whoever he's working with that his innie got the "message" (saw the paintings) and that probably means to expect forward movement in whatever their plans are, and instead of pursuing it innie irv wants to leave the severed floor forever. what would outie irv's reaction be if dylan had let him walk out into that stairwell. would he have walked right back in like helena did on her first day?

[sdv-confessions]

Sending this with my mall's WiFi. I've been playing Stardew for about 3 years, 4 if you include 2025. And for my entire first year I didn't have the wiki and I was playing 0.08. So I was in the trenches. For two years I was completely isolated from the wider Stardew community and I've only, very recently, been an active member.

It deadass feels like being raised in a cult and then finally being exposed to the wider world. A jarring but nice breath of fresh air.

I also was a super Elliot hater. Like the full hater meme, I was his number 1 hater. And the reason was because of his 10 heart cutscene. And I'm about to ramble on some game theory bs about why I hated him and also why I think some people hate Elliott too in the community.

Back in the stone ages (0.08 lol), back when Shane and Emily were just regular non-romancable town npcs, the game played crazy differently then it does now. And genuinely I thank CA for this every playthrough. Before it was implemented around 1.3/ the update that introduced romancable Shane and Emily, the mechanic of marriage candidates having 8 hearts total wasn't there, instead being 10 hearts like other npcs. Now the issue was that, if 8 or more hearts were reached with a marriage candidate, they would still behave like you were dating.

And with Elliott having an extremely divisive 10 heart scene (which I love now, my second fave after Harvey's), younger me was genuinely horrified and lowkey disgusted. In my mind I thought that Elliott, MY BEST FRIEND, had invited me to go fishing, as BESTIES, cause he likes fishing and I like fishing too. And sure I was a little unnerved by being in a boat alone in the middle of nowhere with this guy. But still he was my pixel friend. So I trusted him and then he kissed me and I'm shaking. So I thought it was a natural response to getting kissed by a guy I never expresses any romantic interest towards. And this hit especially hard because I was married to Sebastian with kids. So I'm thinking my farmer is uncomfortable being kissed as a married man by a man trying to be a homewrecker.

So for 2+ years that was my entire impression of Elliott and Penny, but to a far lesser extent for her. And this carried onto when I got the 1.15 update. I just avoided the two for all my playthroughs. Only recently did I learn that this isn't the case. This was cause of the wiki and the actual Stardew community that opened my eyes on the matter. I legit see Elliott's cutscene as endearing and it absolutely enhances that Fabio eque part of his character. And I like Penny's cutscene too. It's nice to see her explore out of her comfort zone, not being as timid and habitually reserved as she usually is.

And I think the reason I used to hate Elliott is the same reason some people hate Elliott too. Being thrust into an uncomfortable scenario when you never showed any romantic feelings. And for the pretentious allegations. I think they just hate to see a man try and pursue his dreams and beat the odds. Like bitches bitter that he can play piano, write poetry and literature and defies his stuck up home town. And these aspects of his character are commonly associated with the posh and privileged but Elliott laments about not having money and the like. And Elliott's a romantic, he loves life and sees the beauty in it all. And weirdly enough I relate to him personally. I understand and feel for this man for being the writer and big worded romantic in a lot people’s lives. I'm the Elliott in my family, using too many big words and loving the art of writing. And hating seclusion despite it being liberation. I feel him in my romanticist soul. So I hate to see that people mischaracterise him for being a romantic.

That's my game theory and confession, sincerely the SamPenny/ Harvey is Aussie anon. Yes I'm the same person.

.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some STP Human Headcanons (Vessels)

-I mentioned this in my last Slay the Princess post, but Prisoner loves to dance. As soon as she's free to walk and move around, she learns how to dance as a way to a) feel like she's in control of her body again, and b) fully explore the freedom she's now offered. The day she learns swing dances is the first day that any of the others have seen her smile.

-Witch has about twenty different kinds of carnivorous plants in her house, and all of them have names. She likes talking to them, because plants don't say that you're dragging on when you complain about your day, or tell you that your outfit looks awful when you're trying something new, or tell you that you're a massive dork when you gush about your favorite graphic novel series.

-Oh, yeah, Witch is a comics/graphic novel nerd. She's a big fan of Alison Bechdel, Vera Brosgol, ND Stevenson, and Elaine Lee, and she loooooooooves Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. She reads DC comics for them and them alone.

-As a way to express some individuality while they're still figuring out what their personality is---and if they even have a cohesive one---Stranger dresses in incredibly elaborate outfits, and the style changes rapidly from day to day. They can go from dressing like a Southern Belle (complete with a parasol) to dressing like a Victorian swashbuckling thief (complete with a cane and masquerade mask) to dressing like they're heading to a 1980's roller rink (surprisingly, they make the skates work) on any given day, and all of the girls place bets on whatever they're going to wear next. Nobody has won.

-It's a terrible pun, but I'm ridiculously attached to the idea of Razor being a metalhead---and if not a metalhead exactly, then a major fan of any and all punk rock music released in the Riot Grrl era. She owns every single Bikini Kill album, every single Raincoats album, and will neither confirm nor deny having a Joan Jett body pillow. If she can sing-scream along to it, she'll listen to it.

-Adversary is the most kickass roller derby player you have ever seen in your life. She's got face-paint, she's got stickers on her helmet, she's got scuffed shoulder and knee pads from bodying the girls on the other team... she's fucking awesome. Razor shows up to every single game with a hand-painted sign for her.

-Damsel is obsessed with video games like Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, the Sims---basically, anything that's cute and low-stakes, she'll play. She absolutely has a set of pink cat-ear headphones that Witch bought for her. (Prisoner has matching blue ones, but she never wears them.)

-Nightmare is a theater kid. She recites Shakespearean monologues at the drop of a hat, devours occult-themed musicals like her life depends on it, and has a flawless soprano voice that will actually give you chills. Her rendition of "The Ballad of Jane Doe" at a voice recital made several people cry. She relishes in their tears.

-Prisoner and Spectre both love books, but while it's more of an academic thing for Prisoner (she likes history and math, because it's just facts), Spectre is a total fiction reader. Mostly classics like Jane Austen and Agatha Christie, but she's also got a bit of a guilty pleasure for well-written romance novels, and she loves The Locked Tomb series. Even if the Alecto stuff hits a bit too close to home.

-Stranger is really into arts and crafts, to the point where they've pretty much learned everything from crotcheting to making clay earrings. Almost all of their creations end up being gifted to one of the girls, and they're all very much treasured and appreciated.

-Tower has a difficult time really connecting with most of the girls, since she's still trying to get herself to come down from her superiority complex, but she has figured out that they will always like her as long as she brings her credit card with her. No matter the setting, Tower is fucking loaded, and even the more masc girls like Adversary are willing to go on a shopping spree.

-That being said, I think Tower gets along the best with Nightmare, because they're both absolutely self-assured, barely care about other people (except their best girls, of course), and are both intimidating in their own ways. They're absolutely the kind of best friends who bitch about people while doing each other's nails.

-Witch and Spectre both do witchcraft for funzies, but Witch is more about the plants and herbalism, while Spectre's all about the Oujia boards and tarot cards. They're kind of in a two-person coven together---you gotta find something to bond over, and what better way to connect than your shared interest in magic?

-If I'm not just making Beast into a cat, I'm making Beast into a preteen, because just making her a human adult just doesn't... fit her. Besides, it's way more easy---and more fun---to imagine her as that low-key feral kid who's always digging for worms during recess, always gets into fights with bullies and winds up covered in Band-Aids as a result, always wears the same ratty cat-ear beanie every day, and hisses at people who annoy her. She has weird-little-girl energy, I dunno what to tell you. (She still tags along on hangouts when there's no alcohol involved, though---she's either Witch's little sister or her daughter, and Witch is very keen on making sure she's included.)

-Damsel bakes. Every time one or more of the girls comes over, she has something in the oven, something sitting on the kitchen table cooling, and something that's in the middle of being frosted. She likes doing it because while it is something that she largely does for others, it's also something that gives her a sense of pride, and she also just has a lot of fun with it. Even when she has to clean up, she's humming a song from a Barbie movie under her breath. Probably from Princess & The Pauper (the best one, fight me).

-Adversary used to play the violin when she was a kid, but she got bored of it quick, and she switched over to the bass as soon as she could. Spectre is very good at playing the cello---she even does recitals!---and Witch... well, she played the French horn in high school. During marching band. It was the only extracurricular where she could have free reign to be as annoying as possible to the people who said that she had to have one for college credit. (Oh, also, Razor plays electric guitar. She's a really good singer, but she's an even better growler.)

And... I think that's all I got for now.