#like I respect that she believes that happened

[what-bot]

Beck: Paige, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.

Paige: That’s the real Tron? He’s alive? Then…no offense, but why did he need you to be the Renegade?

Tron: Reasons.

Beck: Shut it. Now look, I want the both of you to get along.

Tron: As long as you like her and she doesn’t betray us, I’m happy.

Beck: Oh. Really? Great!

Tron: Paige, if you hurt him, they’ll never stop finding your remains.

Paige: I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Beck: What did I JUST say?

[liekjevenderheurn]

We don't shift to another reality after entering the void (unless intended for reality shifting ofc)

This is my personal belief, I am open for discussion in the comment section and in my dms, but stay respectful pls🥺

Now let me explain my reason for thinking this.

Now unless these void posts are all fake successes, I think going to the void does not necessarily bring you to a new reality since I have been following people on here and after some time, some of them said they reached the void (how can I read this if they are in a different reality?).

Besides this, I think that the void is the ultimate source of everything. Therefore it is also the source between all realities and you can just manifest things for your current one. YOU ARE THE BOSS. You get to decide everything, including in which reality what happens.

(These were my main points incase you do not have time to read the whole thing)

Like in one of my other posts, I have experienced people manifesting for me or even that I would text them. That this worked for them on me honestly blowed my mind, but there was also this account that I followed with this post. Now I saw she asked for this, someone gave her the sigil, the manifestation worked and we were still in the same reality for me to see that it worked.

Some people say when you manifest, you go to another reality in which you already have it. Yet a lot of post I have seen, I saw old post where they did not have it and after they manifested it, they had it. If that reality already had this manifestation, why do I see a post where they stated to not have that manifestation in that same reality. (hope this sense)

I know some people believe we shift every second when we make a choice, but my quantum physics of high school explained it was not really about us humans making different choices but the molecule parts acting randomly (which could create different realities but this is ofc impossible to prove). Besides this, like if I want ice cream I always take the lemon flavor over the chocolate because I like it more, your choices are based on who you are and your past experiences. Choices that you make do not have a 50-50% chance.

Looking at things Ive learned from being in the shifting community, unless you succesfuly permashift, you will go back to what they call your cr (current reality). I believe you go back there because you still have some attachments to it, this is also a reason why I think for the most time you stay in the same reality.

Anyway, it is really difficult to prove anything so take this with a grain of salt, this is just my perspective :P.

PS: this is also a reason why I believe that the void state pact could work and is not limited by shifting

Have a great day❤️

Small update on 23-01-2025:

I made this post after being called thoughtless again for my pact idea. Now I wanted to show people my perspective and why I thought the shifting realities is not the thing that happens when you manifest (actually, I really just wanted to prove that I am not unbelievably stupid and thoughtless hahaha). I have my reasons which I am trying to explain in my posts and it is alright if you still hold on to your belief, but there is no need to attack anyone for having another one.

Now besides the comment section, a few of my friends dm'ed me with some new perspectives which I thought were beautiful:

This was based on research on beliefs in the older days.

There are many spiritualists on youtube who talk about this, everything and everyone being one.

This was based on Neville Goddard and other Neville Goddard succcess stories.

A lot of you have seen also the posts of where the creator does believe in shifting your reality. There are many different opinions on reality which are hard to prove, yet a lot of them are valid. Again, I'm just sharing my perspective, you get to decide what you believe:)

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

This idea I've been reading that queer people are separated into Men, Women, and Freaks. Freaks being the worst one, of course. And that those assigned female can only be put back into "Women" while those assigned male can be "Men" and "Freaks" reminds me of some wildly misogynistic beliefs a lot of gay men would say to my face in the 2000s. Essentially they believed that female sexuality could never be transgressive or even really queer, because women weren't capable of being transgressive. Women couldn't be queer. They couldn't be faggots. No one was beating them up for their sexuality like they were gay men, you see. Their sexuality wasn't as hated because it wasn't really transgressive, or frightening to the establishment, therefore they weren't really oppressed the way gay men were, because they weren't really faggots, you see. They were and would always be, Just Women.

It was wildly misogynistic and a total misunderstanding of queerness and of the way female sexual and gender transgression has been oppressed. It erased the violence against queer women, which is pervasive today and definitely was back then.

I had experienced violence for my queerness. I'd seen a lot of women experience violence for their queerness. Corrective rape happened to people I knew. Their fathers, uncles, classmates. When my sister came out my mom slapped her so hard she fell. I'd been chased, harassed, and hit for my own relationships with women. And all of that was being erased with this rhetoric of "it's safer for women to be queer." And "women have it easier." "Lesbianism is acceptable in a way gay men are not." The violence enacted on us, the beating, the rape, the murder was all being erased while it was being enacted on us. We were told we didn't need solidarity, we didn't need activism because the things that were happening to us weren't happening to us and everything was fine, actually.

And this new rhetoric, while different, because it's about trans issues, is extremely familiar. It's basically the same exact rhetoric applied differently. And it's wildly sexist, just like the previous rhetoric. It doesn't bother looking into the actual experience of the people it's theorizing about. Because they're just silly women birthday boys after all, they couldn't possibly have anything worthwhile to say about their own lives.

And I'm tired of this critique being read as terf rhetoric or misgendering trans men. I can see what's happening, and all of this deflecting and gaslighting doesn't hide it. It's exactly the same rhetoric from the same kinds of people, people who don't respect people who were assigned female and don't see them as fully human, and capable of transgression. Who don't believe them when they say they are experiencing violence. Who think they are all liars with victim complexes who make things up for attention. This is just plain as day sexism barely veiled in progressive rhetoric. Same as it always was. And I'm fucking tired of it.

[crescenthistory]

analyze regulus black sunshine reader? like reader is js such good friends with ppl and socializes sm? maybe he gets jealous over how close she is with people? like how does he bring it up to her? :)

hi there darling<3 i would love to! i have also already written several full-length fics about sunshine!reader with reggie, including "you occupy my every thought" (where reg doesn't understand reader's love for him) and "are you falling asleep on me?" (where reader spends late nights in the library with him), if you want to see more 🤞

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE regulus black with a sunshine!reader

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, reg's mental health struggles

regulus had always used his cold demeanor, family reputation that preceded him and lack of social skills as a shield to protect himself

it's better to keep everyone away than to risk under- or overestimating anyone he chose to let in

he had a close knit group of friends in the rosier twins, barty and dorcas, and he told himself time and time again that he didn't want or need more

which is why you walking into his life and choosing him effortlessly was so disorientating and hard to swallow for him

someone who was considered lively, beautiful and pure like you had no place in regulus' orbit, he was certain of it

yet you just settled down like it was the most natural thing in the world

sunshine!reader who loves regulus not just despite every obstacle he has thrown up to keep you from doing so, but even specifically because of it

sunshine!reader who looks at him and sees him instead of looking past

sunshine!reader who is not just bubbly but emotionally intelligent and willing to hold space for regulus in that way he desperately needs but is unable to convey

everything that regulus thought it a given that people dislike in him, you adored -> his deadpan humour that most people found rude, you found hilarious, his quiet and reserved self that sirius always called boring, you found serenity in

and you were so painfully patient and kind with him, never demanding, just showing up and loving him in a way he thought impossible

how could he not fall for you?

it took him a long time to get used to the feeling, let alone act on it or speak it out loud

i believe most romances with regulus, especially from "unexpected" people, would have to start as friendships that he slowly builds up trust and comfort in

which any sunshine!reader would fully understand and encourage him in, making him all the more infatuated

i think regulus would view sunshine!reader as kind of holy, someone who can do no wrong and is perfect all the way through

so if you were to ever reference or communicate any insecurity about being too much, too loud, too bubbly, etc. he would be just so thoroughly confused

i think he might not even understand what you're trying to say until a while later

at which point he would approach you and be like "hold up, what?"

which hits even more if this happens pre-relationship while he's still getting comfortable with you, but his reaction just couldn't be contained

it was simply unheard of to regulus that you view yourself as anything short of perfect

similarly, if anyone made jokes at your expense, he would wield every bit of his harsh facade and reputation that precedes him to ensure it doesn't happen again

barty and evan understand from pretty much the first week of your friendship that you are not to be messed with, and they respect both you and regulus for it

they need to tease someone though, so instead they focus all their energy on how lovesick regulus is becoming

when it comes to jealousy, i think regulus would be more jealous of what sunshine!reader can do than who they're with

it seems to him that everything is easy to you, that it just comes naturally to you to be such a kind individual

i believe his love for you would be permanently settled when he comes to understand that it's not easy for you, but that you do it anyway; it's not natural, it's hard fought for

yet, as he goes on his own healing journey, a part of him would be so envious to hear you navigate through difficult feelings with kindness and logic or see you get on so openly with those around you

he would be so glad you are able to do that and that you get to be completely surrounded by love – he just longs for it for himself

i think he would also be jealous of your friends for being able to match your energy so well

there would be many many conversations where regulus goes "you deserve better" and you go "but i want you"

seeing you and sirius shoot banter back and forth like it's nothing or see you run up to braid lily's hair at a moment's notice would both heal and break something in regulus

he's once again confronted with everything he could be, feels like maybe he should be, but can't

because regulus' personality, no matter how healed he is, is never super outgoing and sunshine-y – when he's with close friends, he is much more lively and filled with banter and jokes and even some physical affection. but it's never the same as your friends.

he wonders if he should be more

you keep showing him every day that he doesn't need to be, that you love him because he's him; he doesn't need to change for you

when he becomes more comfortable in your relationship, his ideal time of voicing any such feelings would be at night in bed

with the lights turned off and his face buried in your skin somewhere, he feels safe enough to be vulnerable with you

you'll drag your fingers through his hair and talk him down every time

the best part of being with regulus is getting to love him through the healing process and see him separate his personality from his coping mechanisms and fully blossom

i think it would be a bumpy ride, but what he needs throughout it all is a rock

his sunshine!reader

i also believe he would call sunshine!reader for sun related nicknames, particularly in french (soleil anyone?)

[broadwaybalogna]

What irks me is why do so many zutara shippers also love dramione or reylo. Azutara is right there if the canon redemption arc is not that relevant to you guys. I personally do not get it, but it is probably because I do not care as much for enemies to lovers as I do for friends to lovers. Or maybe because I do not care for ‘I can fix him’ love stories all that much. I do think that Katara played a role in Zuko’s redemption arc, but to me it’s so important that he changed on his own and for his own reasons. I feel like you get what I mean 😊

I’m gonna be honest I’m so tired I should not be answering this until I completely understand what you’re saying but-

Okay so I havnt watched Star Wars in years. And I never watched Harry Potter, BUT, one thing I believed that happened often was that we got to see enough interactions with these characters for people to say “oh, there’s tension here.” Or “yeah I could ship that”. Correct me if I’m wrong, I could be! But I’m pretty sure all those characters had a lot of time to get to know, understand, and grow together in some respect.

Now, I’ve never been opposed to the “two characters that barely interact should get shipped!” Train. I’ve done it before, it’s fun. You get to create character dynamics based on what you only know of the characters outside of their interactions. It makes for great character studies if anything.

My main problem is that Azula never demonstrates any emotion other than hate for the Gaang. For her brother? Idk, it’s a stretch, but I believe in familial love, it could’ve been there ever so slightly. But she quite literally never sees them as anything other than the enemy.

I can totally understand the parallel aspect to their relationship, though. The parallels are define tot there, and I can see how that can influence a persons shipping preference. I first started shipping Zutara because of all the parallels i saw between them! So yeah, I get it.

I also totally understand not shipping Zutara, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and sometimes enemies to lovers isn’t for you. I’m not asking you to like Zutara or dislike Azutara. Katara “playing a role in Zuko’s redemption arc” also isn’t a large reason as to why people ship the two together. I mean, their talk in the catacombs was definitely filled with romantic tension if you ask me, but that’s aside the point. Almost all of Zuko’s redemption, he fulfilled on his own with Iroh’s help.

Katara’s perspective simply helped him see the war from the completely opposing point of view without outright hate. And I think that’s beautiful.

Anyways, I went really off topic. Uh, TL;DR: I really don’t know anything about Reylo or Dramione. Azutara is still meh and I these mountains are getting really hard to climb in order to find that fuck I need to give. /lh (I’m sure asker didn’t mean any harm I just think it’s funny)

[xyywrites]

How to write believable enemies-to-lovers dynamics.

Enemies-to-lovers is a beloved trope, but it’s also tricky to execute. The transformation from animosity to love needs to feel organic, not forced. 

1. Establish the Initial Conflict

Give your characters a solid, believable reason to dislike each other. It could be ideological differences, personal betrayal, or clashing goals. The conflict must be significant enough to justify their animosity.

“You stole my promotion. Do you have any idea how hard I worked for it?” “You mean the one you weren’t qualified for? Grow up, Lena.”

2. Show the Nuance in Their Dislike

Enemies don’t always have to hate each other completely. Maybe they grudgingly respect one another’s skills or admire each other’s dedication, even if it drives them crazy.

“For someone so insufferable, you sure know how to shoot straight.” “And for someone so arrogant, you’re surprisingly not dead yet.”

“She’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” “And yet you can’t stop watching her, can you?”

3. Create Forced Proximity

Give them a reason to spend time together despite their dislike. Forced proximity allows them to see past their assumptions and grow closer.

“If we don’t get this presentation done by morning, we’re both fired. So, shut up and start typing.” “Only if you stop chewing on that pen. It’s distracting.”

“You’re bleeding.” “Yeah, and whose fault is that?” “Mine, obviously. Now sit down so I can patch you up.”

4. Allow Their Views to Shift Gradually

The transition from enemies to lovers isn’t instant. Let them experience small moments of vulnerability, trust, or understanding that slowly chip away at their hostility.

“You think I wanted this? That I enjoy being the bad guy?” “I didn’t think you cared.” “Well, maybe I do.”

“You fight so hard for your people.” “You do too. I guess we’re not so different after all.”

5. Use Banter to Build Chemistry

Snarky, sharp dialogue is the lifeblood of enemies-to-lovers. Their verbal sparring should reveal their personalities, highlight their tension, and hint at deeper feelings.

“Careful, you almost sounded like you cared about me for a second.” “Don’t flatter yourself. I care about not dying, and you happen to be useful.”

“If you were half as smart as you think you are—” “I’d still be twice as smart as you.”

6. Show the Cost of Falling for Each Other

Enemies-to-lovers works best when there are stakes. Their relationship should challenge their beliefs, goals, or loyalties, forcing them to make difficult choices.

“If I help you, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for.” “Then why are you still standing here?”

7. Add a “Breaking Point”

There should be a moment where their growing feelings clash with their existing animosity, leading to explosive tension.

“You lied to me!” “What did you expect? You’re the enemy!” “Not anymore. Or at least, I thought I wasn’t.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” “Because I can’t stand the thought of losing you, okay? Happy now?”

8. Use Physicality Subtly

Small gestures can reveal their shifting feelings—hesitant touches, lingering glances, or protective instincts.

“Watch out!” He shoved her out of the way, taking the brunt of the explosion. “You idiot. You could’ve been killed.” “Yeah, but you’re okay.”

She caught him staring at her, his usual scowl softened. He looked away quickly, muttering something under his breath.

9. Build Toward a Satisfying Payoff

Enemies-to-lovers works because of the build-up. Don’t rush the resolution. Let their relationship evolve naturally before culminating in a moment that feels earned.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore.” “Neither do I.” “Then come here.”

10. Maintain Their Individuality

Their love shouldn’t erase who they are. They’re still the same people who clashed in the beginning, but now they’ve grown to understand each other.

“I’m still not letting you win.” “Good. I’d be worried if you did.”

“You’re still annoying.” “And you’re still impossible. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 23rd of January, 2025

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 23rd of January, 2025

Question: What does Meghan think about her business, her marriage, and her public image?

I drew one card for each part of the question.

What does Meghan think about her business?

Card Drawn: The Queen of Wands

The Queen of Wands can be a fire sign, particularly an Aries, or a person who is confident, charismatic, passionate, in demand socially, vivacious, warm, generous, "hot", and so on. This is how Meghan sees herself and this is how she thinks she is portrayed by her business. Business here refers to her Netflix cooking show, ARO, her podcasts, her documentary - anything she has done to earn money.

With respect to business, the Queen of Wands indicates someone who is a leader, inspiring others by their work, and again this is how Meghan sees herself. As far as she is concerned, her business shows her as a passionate and inspiring leader of others. I get the feeling that this is especially in regards to her latest offering, her cooking show, but she also sees herself as this in all her other ventures.

What does Meghan think about her marriage?

Card drawn: The Five of Wands

The Five of Wands is a card about competition, rivalry, conflict, arguments, clashes of ego, tension etc. This is how Meghan currently sees her marriage, as a competition, a clash of egos, being married to a rival. There is no love or affection here, just two people competing with each other. Wands can be PR, so Meghan could be staying in the marriage for PR reasons, or to score off someone she sees as a rival, or even because she likes the conflict. Whatever the reason, affection plays no part in the marriage at this point in time. Wands represent passion, so there may be passion/sex in the marriage, but it is an act of lust, or of control, not of love.

What does Meghan think about her public image?

Card drawn: The Six of Pentacles

The Six of Pentacles is a card or charity, of giving and/or receiving help. I am getting two meanings from this card. First, Meghan wants to be known for her charity work. That is her current aim with her public image (this could change quickly, but for now, it is charity work). Second, Meghan thinks that people aren't charitable enough towards her. They aren't 'nice', they are not 'being kind'. She truly believes that her bad public image is because people are jealous or envious, and that is why they are 'hating' on her. She has no conception that she is at fault in any way. In her mind, it's all everyone else being mean to her because she is so wonderful.

Underlying Energy: The Nine of Wands

This is a card of persistence, of making one last effort, having one last stand before you give in. The energy of this card is full of desperation. Underneath all of the above situations, Meghan is desperate. She knows this is her last chance. She knows she has to make it work. If it fails, she will get up and try again, but she won't have the chances she has now as doors keep closing for her. She is desperate to make things a success - to have people see her for the wonderful person she is (in her mind), to defeat her husband (win the rivalry), and to be lauded for her charity work as her public image. There is a strong sense of time running out and the frantic hope that this time things will be different and she will finally make things happen the way she wants them to happen.

[cwritesforfun]

Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader: Escape part three

Part One Link <~ read first Part Two Link <~ read this too

Y/N = Your First Name & L/N = Your Last Name

They will not follow the Roman style of speech - it will be written in modern language.

*I do not own the Gladiator 2 characters or plot* I do change some of the plot!!!

Masterlist

Y/N's POV

Geta rested for a while, and eventually, you realized he was here to stay. He had told you countless times that he wanted to stay, but it hit you that he really did want to.

You thought that him staying would be easy, but why should it be?

Geta disagreed with your leadership style to the point where he kept arguing with you in and out of court. You finally had it with his constant disapproval, and you made your guards escort him out of the room. The rest of the day at court was tense for you. Everyone seemed to be walking on ice around you.

You meet Geta in one of the sitting rooms in the palace and have tea delivered. You take a cautious sip and ask, "So, Geta, would you like to tell me about what was wrong today in court?" Geta glances at you and answers, "I just don't like the way you let everyone have a say in court proceedings. I also didn't believe some of those crimes should have been pardoned. They deserved to be executed." Your eyes widen, and you reply, "I see. Geta, I let everyone have a say in what happens at court because that is what happens in this country. I let everyone preach their case and why they think I should listen to them. It keeps people happy to know that their views have been heard. It also ensures that I know the full story going into the proceedings. I know Rome was different, but you are not in Rome now." He looks distraught, and you continue, "And as for the crimes being pardoned, I think you would benefit learning from my advisors about the rulings in my country. I'll talk to them tonight, and you can attend lessons during the next couple of weeks so you can better understand my decisions. I don't like how you reacted in court and think you can also learn how to better express your disagreements. I'll make sure that is included in your lessons." He asks, "Anything else?" You answer, "I think it might be best if you sleep in another room while you attend the lessons so you can try to remain unbiased. Knowing how I would think may influence your lessons.” He reaches out for my hand and replies, "I thought we weren't going to be parting ways again." You reply, "We're not exactly parting ways. I'll still be at the palace and join you for dinner. Besides, I believe some time apart will benefit us. We began this relationship quickly and with an intensity that no others can grasp." He nods and replies, "Fine, as you wish, your majesty."

Geta's POV

How can one sit through boring lessons all day and not be annoyed?

I keep telling myself that I'm doing this for Y/N, but really, her choices of people to lead my lessons are a drag. For the first week of my lessons, I sat in lessons with her old governess from when she was a child. This lady was cold and stubborn. She kept snapping at me, and she treated me like a child. The second week, I was with her foreign advisor, who was a persnickety old man who kept quizzing me on viewpoints of this country. I kept thinking of how I would react as Emperor of Rome, which was the wrong thing to do. Speaking of Rome, apparently, it thrives under Lucius' reign. Both of these lessons required extra reading too. They had Y/N's notes inside and she often included little jokes that made me smile. I love her. However, the third week of lessons was my favorite. I learned from her military advisor who was both kind and fierce. His team respected him and followed him. He was kind to me and it seemed he actually liked me.

If I thought that was bad, well, I have been attending lessons early in the morning until dinnertime, where I must sit with Y/N and other members of her court as they all chat about their lives. I don't always get to sit next to Y/N, and she rarely acknowledges me. I just want to hold her and kiss her, but her guards keep strict protection around her. Almost no one can even talk to her. Am I a threat? Why is she ignoring me? I need to talk to her. Does she love me?

I'm sitting in my room with a book after my last lesson when a guard informs me that Y/N wishes to speak to me before dinner. Finally.

I get dressed and follow the guard to the sitting room nearest the dining hall. I enter with a smile on my face and see my lovely Y/N sitting at the desk. She stands, walks toward me, and guides me to the couches. I notice her pour two glasses of alcohol from the bottle on the nearby table and I ask, "Love, what is wrong?" She hands me a glass and answers, "I pushed you away wrongly. There was a threat to my life, and I wanted to protect you. So I sent you away. I do believe those lessons were something that you should have done, but I shouldn't have ignored your presence the rest of the time. I'm sorry." I quickly grab her open hand and ask, "What about this threat? Is it neutralized?" She nods and answers, "We apprehended the team this morning after my tea was poisoned. They were trying to harm me because they heard I sheltered you here. They escaped Rome to live here, away from you and Calla's rule. They are being held in prison for the attempted assassination. And as for the tea, well, I noticed it looked weird and I had my doctor test it for anything out of the ordinary. They used a generic poison and we found it quickly." I reply, "Don't send me away again. I'm here for you, no matter what. I love you, my Y/N... does the threat because of me scare you? Will you send me away?" She shakes her head and answers, "No, love. I'm not sending you away. I tightened security, and we'll make sure my people know you are no longer a threat to their lives. This is not Rome, and I would not stand for mistreatment of my people." I ask, "How will you tell them this?" She answers, "It's an idea that I wanted to run past you. I think an engagement is in order." I jokingly answer, "I would like to be engaged to the governess." She tilts her head and asks, "What?" I answer, "I was kidding. I was trying to make you jealous." She replies, "Oh, I'm not threatened by her." I bite my lip, smirk, and reply, "Non-jealousy looks hot on you." She laughs and says, "I meant for us to be engaged, silly." My eyes widen and I say, "I accept your proposal, Queen. I would love to be your husband." She smiles and says, "I am happy to be your wife soon, too... We'll draft a speech for us to give to my people, so they may know the Geta that I love." . . . Taglist: @doodle-with-rhy @ziggeddie

[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

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 23 "Chapter 23 | blessings and burdens⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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The following day, news had spread throughout Ithaca like wildfire. Word of your divine favor and the miraculous healing of the young cabin boy had ignited a spark of awe and curiosity among the townsfolk.

As you went about your morning chores, you couldn't help but notice the change in how people looked at you. Their faces, usually so familiar and open, now held a mixture of reverence and mystery. Whispered conversations would pause as you passed, and some would even make the sign of a blessing in your direction, their eyes wide with respect.

When you delivered Queen Penelope's breakfast, her reaction was even more enthusiastic than the whispers in the corridors.

Her face lit up with a mixture of pride and excitement as soon as you entered her chambers. "Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as you set down her tray. "Everyone's been talking about what happened at the docks! This is such wonderful news!" Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she reached out to grasp your hands, squeezing them warmly. "Would you like a celebration? It's not every day we have someone marked by Apollo himself under our roof!"

You were taken aback by her energy and the speed at which she spoke, her words tumbling out in a joyful rush. "I always knew there was something special about you, right from the start. It's only fitting you'd be Apollo's chosen. Such grace, such talent!" She continued to praise your virtues, recounting anecdotes of your time in the palace that she believed had hinted at your divine favor.

Her rapid chatting was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. A servant, slightly out of breath from haste, peeked inside. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but King Odysseus requests ____'s presence immediately."

Penelope waved the servant away with a gentle hand. "Of course, send her in once we're done here," she said, turning back to you with a conspiratorial smile. "You see? Even the King recognizes your newfound importance. Go on, don't keep him waiting. We'll plan your celebration later!"

Nodding, you excused yourself with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation churning in your stomach. As you made your way to King Odysseus's quarters, the weight of your new reality felt both exhilarating and daunting.

Each step seemed to echo louder in the halls, as if even the palace itself was aware of the change within you. When you finally reached the heavy oak door of the king's quarters, you paused, taking a deep breath before your knuckles rapped softly against the wood. The sound seemed to resonate too loudly in the quiet corridor.

"Come in," a voice called from inside, its timbre resonant and commanding yet inviting.

Pushing the door open, you stepped into a room that starkly contrasted Penelope's elegant and warmly decorated chamber. Odysseus quarters were austere and solemn, reflecting his years of hardship and battle.

The walls were lined with maps and weapons, and a large, heavy desk dominated the room, scattered with scrolls and plans. The only decoration that seemed out of place in the otherwise martial room was a beautifully carved chess set positioned on a small table near the window, where natural light spilled across the board, highlighting the intricately detailed pieces of dark and light wood.

Your gaze fell on the man himself.

Odysseus sat by the window, much like his wife often did, yet whereas her presence seemed to soften the sunlight, his seemed to sharpen it. His eyes, perceptive and piercing, watched you as you entered, assessing your every move as though deducing your thoughts.

He gestured to the seat opposite him at the chess table. "Come, sit," he invited, his voice holding an edge of warmth. "Would you care to play a game? It helps me think."

You hesitated, aware of the metaphorical weight such a game might carry, especially played against a man famed for his strategic brilliance. But refusing would be discourteous. Nodding, you moved to the indicated chair and sat down, your hands slightly trembling as you reached out to arrange your pieces.

Odysseus observed your movements, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Chess is a good reflection of life, don't you think? A constant battle of wits, strategy, and foresight."

You nodded, unsure of how to respond, your fingers hesitantly moving a pawn forward. As the game began, Odysseus's demeanor remained focused yet open, encouraging even. "Congratulations on receiving Apollo's favor," he began, his tone blending seriousness with a hint of curiosity. "It's a rare gift, one that carries both honor and burden."

You paused, fingers resting on a bishop you were considering moving. The straightforwardness of his approach took you by surprise, especially given your status as a servant. It wasn't common for a king to discuss matters of divine favor so openly with someone in your position. "Thank you, sir," you responded, carefully moving the bishop. "It's... overwhelming, to say the least."

Odysseus chuckled softly, nodding in agreement as he captured one of your pawns. "I can imagine. Dealing with the gods is no small matter. They play their own games, ones that span lifetimes and often have rules only they fully understand."

You considered his words, moving your knight to a safer position on the board. "How does one prepare for such a thing? For interacting with gods?" you asked, genuinely seeking his counsel.

"Ah," Odysseus leaned back slightly, studying the chessboard with a tactician's eye. "You must always remember that the gods are not like us. They think and act on a scale we can hardly comprehend. Be respectful, but not servile. Be thoughtful, but not open. Show them that you are grateful for their attention, but not dependent on it."

The advice struck a chord with you. Respectful but not servile—like walking a tightrope of diplomacy and self-preservation. "And what if they ask for something difficult? Something that could change who I am?" you questioned, your hand hovering over the queen.

"Then you must weigh the cost," Odysseus replied, moving his queen to a more aggressive position. "Every favor from a god is a transaction. Think carefully about what you're willing to give, and what you're willing to lose. Sometimes, the wisest move is to refuse, or to negotiate."

Negotiate with a god. The idea seemed daunting, almost absurd, but coming from Odysseus—a man who had dealt with gods and their caprices—it held a certain weight. You moved your queen, taking one of his knights. "Have you... ever refused a god, sir?"

Odysseus smiled wryly, capturing your rook with his queen. "I have. It's not something I'd recommend doing lightly, but yes. Sometimes, standing your ground is necessary. Just be sure the hill you choose to die on is worth the battle."

The metaphor resonated with you, especially given the stakes you were beginning to understand came with divine favor. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, feeling the gravity of his advice settle over you.

Odysseus studied you for a moment, then offered a nod of approval. "Good," he said, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and formality that put you at ease. It was a side of him you had rarely seen, the wise king who had navigated wars and the whims of gods, now offering guidance in a game that felt more consequential than any chess match.

The conversation had brought you a kind of peace and allowed you to see firsthand the wisdom Telemachus and Polites had often spoken of—words that did no justice to the experience of hearing it directly from Odysseus himself. His advice made you feel secure, seen, and surprisingly understood, even in the complexity of your current situation.

In a moment of unexpected confidence, driven by the newfound trust and the comfort of his wisdom, you found yourself speaking before fully thinking it through. "There's something else I should mention," you began, your voice steadier than you felt.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, a gesture inviting you to continue.

"I've... also received a divine lyre from Apollo," you said, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in your throat. "It was delivered to me by Hermes." The admission felt monumental as soon as the words left your mouth, revealing a connection to another deity that you hadn't fully acknowledged aloud until now.

Odysseus blinked, a moment of surprise crossing his features before settling into an understanding nod. "Oh," he said simply, processing your revelation about Hermes. You confirmed his presence in your life, explaining how the god had occasionally guided you, much like Apollo had shown his favor.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as if amused by the complexities of divine interactions with mortals. "It seems the gods find you as interesting as we do," he remarked, his tone light but turning serious again. "You must be quite special to attract the attention of not just one, but two gods."

The words 'quite special' echoed in your mind, mingling with a mix of pride and apprehension. It was one thing to be favored by Apollo, quite another to realize that Hermes, too, saw something in you worth engaging with.

"Dealing with one god can be challenging enough," Odysseus continued, his voice tinged with a humor that suggested personal experience. "Two is a rare and complicated path. You'll need to be cautious, but also bold. Remember, the gods are not infallible. They have their whims and their personalities. Treat them as you would any powerful, capricious monarch."

The advice sunk in deeply, framing your divine encounters in a new light—one that required not just reverence but also a strategic respect. "I will remember that, sir," you replied, your response filled with a genuine gratitude for his guidance.

Odysseus nodded once more, approvingly. "You are welcome here anytime, ____. It's clear you have a role to play in the days to come. And remember, if ever you need counsel, my door is open."

You felt a rush of gratitude for his support, bolstered by his acknowledgment of your role during his absence—how you had been a pillar for Penelope and a support to Telemachus. "Thank you, your majesty. That means more than I can say."

As the chess game continued, it appeared Odysseus was leading, his strategy unfolding with experienced precision. However, as the end drew near, a twist in your tactics caught him off guard. With a gentle checkmate, you claimed a surprising victory.

Rising from your seat with a respectful bow, you thanked him for the game and the conversation. "It's been enlightening, King Odysseus."

He dismissed you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of respect and curiosity. "Go on, then. We'll speak again soon, I'm sure."

As you exited the room, the weight of his words and the unexpected outcome of the game left you contemplating the depth of strategy, both in chess and in dealing with the divine—a lesson you knew would serve you well in the days to come.

☆

☆

The rest of the day passed in a blur, the morning's clarity dissolving into the steady rhythm of palace life. You navigated through your duties with a mind still echoing with Odysseus's advice, his words a constant undercurrent to your thoughts.

Evening found you quietly relieved when the dinner bell rang, signaling an end to the day's obligations. The meal was a lively affair, filled with the usual chatter and clinking of cutlery, but you found yourself only half-listening, your gaze often drifting to the flickering flames of the candles that lit the dining hall.

After dinner, you excused yourself early, claiming fatigue—a not entirely false pretext. Your chambers welcomed you with their familiar, comforting solitude. You changed into your nightgown, a simple garment that felt blissfully soft against your skin after the day's garb.

Settling into bed, you reached for the candle by your bedside, the flame casting a warm glow across the room. Just as your fingers grazed the candlestick to snuff out the light, a soft chuckle stopped you dead in your tracks.

Startled, you smothered a yelp, hastily turning towards the sound. Your heart raced as your eyes landed on the figure now standing by your window—a figure both imposing and impossibly familiar.

"Apollo," you breathed out, a mix of awe and reproach in your tone as you clutched the sheets to your chest. The god of music and healing gave you an apologetic smile, his presence filling the room with a warmth that seemed to dance in the air.

"I hope I didn't frighten you too much," Apollo said, his voice a soothing balm despite the surprise of his sudden appearance. "I couldn't help but come visit. I wanted to see how you were managing."

You blinked, the initial shock slowly giving way to a surreal realization that the god himself was truly standing before you. "It's... quite a surprise," you managed to say, your voice steadier than you felt. "But I'm... well, thank you."

Apollo moved closer, the moonlight spilling through the window casting his divine features in a soft, ethereal light. As he approached, you couldn't help but notice the way the light seemed to dance around him, not just illuminating his form but enhancing it, making him appear as if he was part of the very essence of the moon itself.

Clearing your throat, you decided to tell him about your recent encounter with Artemis, his sister. His expression shifted slightly, a brief flicker of embarrassment crossing his divine features as you recounted the experience. "She was... intense," you said, choosing your words carefully.

Apollo let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair—an oddly human gesture. "Yes, that sounds like Artemis," he admitted, his voice tinged with a brotherly exasperation that made him seem more approachable, more relatable. "I apologize if she was too forward. She can be quite protective... and direct."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. "It's alright. It was actually kind of sweet, in a way," you said, your voice soft. "It's clear she cares a lot about you. The bond between siblings is something very pure, isn't it?"

Apollo's gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth spreading through his eyes that made your heart flutter slightly. "It is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "And it's a bond that can teach us a lot about loyalty, about unconditional support."

He paused, his eyes lingering on you as if seeing you in a new light. "You have a way of seeing the good in things, ____. It's one of the reasons I... Well, it's why I find myself drawn here, to you."

The room seemed to hold its breath, the only sounds the gentle night breeze whispering through the open window and the distant call of a night bird. It was a stillness that felt almost tangible, as if the night itself had paused, acknowledging the significance of the divine presence in your simple room.

Apollo's gaze remained fixed on you, intense yet gentle, and after a moment, he perked up, a new curiosity coloring his tone. "Did you enjoy the sigil the other day?" he asked, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of genuine interest.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. The sigil—that unexpected manifestation of golden light that had seemed to acknowledge and amplify your healing abilities. "Yes, I... it was unexpected," you admitted, your voice a mix of wonder and slight confusion. "What was it, exactly?"

Apollo's lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he shifted, settling himself on the edge of your bed with a grace that only a god could manage. The mattress barely dipped under his weight, his presence as light as it was profound. "I thought you might appreciate a little... confirmation," he explained, his voice soft, as if sharing a secret. "A sign of my support. It's been dark for you for so long, hasn't it?"

You nodded, the truth of his words striking a chord within you. The recent times had indeed felt shadowed by uncertainties and trials that often seemed too much to bear alone. "I did appreciate it," you confessed, smiling faintly at the memory of the inexplainable feeling you felt during your healing of the cabin boy. "Thank you, Apollo. I didn't expect it, but it helped. More than you know."

Apollo's gaze softened further, and he reached out, his hand briefly touching your own. The contact was brief but filled with a warmth that seemed to radiate directly from his divine essence. "I'm glad," he murmured. "And you should know, there's more I can show you, do for you. You've only just begun to explore what's possible with my favor."

The promise in his words was heady, thrilling yet daunting. You were about to respond when Apollo continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned closer. "I'm here not just to guide or to watch. I want to be part of your journey, to help illuminate the paths you choose."

The sincerity in his expression, the depth of his commitment to your well-being—it all resonated deeply within you, stirring a mix of emotions. Gratitude, certainly, for his divine support, but also a new sense of responsibility that came with his favor. It was a daunting prospect, the weight of divine expectations, but also an exhilarating one.

"You've brought light to my path already," you told him, your voice steady despite the quickening of your heart. "I... I hope I can make you proud."

Apollo's smile was radiant, almost blinding in its brilliance. "You already have," he assured you, and then, with a playful wink, he added, "And I expect great things from you, my chosen."

His tone was light, but then, his smile faded into a more serious expression as he leaned closer, his voice lowering to a murmur that barely disturbed the quiet of your room. "But you must be careful," he cautioned, his gaze intensifying as he searched your eyes. "Not all who watch you wish to see you thrive."

He paused, letting the silence hang for a moment to ensure you grasped the gravity of his warning. "There is a particular goddess whose interest you have piqued," he continued, his voice a soft yet firm whisper. "She is drawn to stories like yours, to the plays of power and affection. Her ways are capricious, and she delights in weaving passion and jealousy as one might weave threads in a tapestry."

His eyes held yours, intense and searching, "Be wary of any boon that seems to echo the desires of the heart. I cannot always be here to deflect her whims."

Your heart tightened at his implication.

The reference was clear without naming names—Aphrodite, the goddess of love, known for her domain of love of all kinds. Apollo's mention of heart's desires brought an unspoken warning about Telemachus too, hinting that what felt like genuine affection might also be a thread in a larger game, woven by divine hands.

Your stomach turned at the thought—No. You're not doing this... not now.

Getting your mind back on track, you cleared your throat. "I understand," you responded, your voice steady despite the turmoil that his words stirred within you. "Thank you, Apollo, for your guidance and for looking out for me."

Apollo's gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek in a tender gesture that seemed to promise protection. "Guard your heart, little muse," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "And remember, not all that glitters in the moonlight is gold, not all who wander are lost, but all who meddle are not friends." His face was so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes, his presence enveloping you in a protective cocoon.

Your heart quickened, and subconsciously, you found yourself leaning in, drawn by the magnetic pull of his nearness. His eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, a silent promise lingering in his gaze. "Goodnight, little muse."

Then, like a whisper on the wind, he was gone. The sudden absence of his warmth left a cold spot in the room, but the lingering touch on your cheek felt like a balm, a reminder of his visit and his vow of protection.

As you sat there, the silence of the night wrapping around you once more, you felt a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. Apollo's visit had brought both comfort and a warning, and as you lay down to sleep, his words echoed in your mind, a lullaby laced with a cautionary tale.

The night closed in, soft and dark, and you drifted off, the memory of Apollo's touch a gentle echo in the quiet of your dreams.

A/N: kinda short but i just had to do some apollo-service ha! also, surprise, double update! incasse you guys wanted to know, second semester just began so updates may be just posted like this (several chapter at once) just because ya girl is in honors and have to complete assignmnets so gpa doesnt drop! thx you all for supporting me on all my works, you guys have been amazing 😭 now if you guys will excuse me, i shall go sleep/hibernate for 12hrs ❤️

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre

[srvphm]

how do you navigate the social interaction of speaking with a classmate for the first time and they’re nice but they also tell you there’s a real piece of the christ’s living beating heart merged with bread in a church somewhere that scientists have proven is real

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[erytherion]

Reading the webtoon and…

Does this imply that Kim Dokja also tried to write a questionnaire for her to fill in since she wouldn’t speak to him, that either he 1) never gave her in the end (especially if he couldn’t find her after she was released) or 2) gave it to her and she STILL refused to answer?

Because that is so so so so awful. It was already bad but if he tried so many ways to get her to speak and she still gave him no response, regardless of her reasoning… isn’t that still directly choosing to cut herself fully out of his life? Why in the hell did she lie for his sake and allow him to visit her if she wanted to never speak to him again?

I know everyone claims Kim Dokja is just like her in sacrificing himself for loved ones, but at least he tries his best to stay with them and to keep them in his life. He still chooses sacrifice, but it’s not because he intends to never return. He always returns (even if much later than planned).

The only time this differs is with 51%, when he STILL tried his best to stay with them - at least as much as he could.

I sometimes like Lee Sookyung, but I am mostly still SO mad at her for completely ignoring her child since he was 8 years old. Especially when he must have looked like shit any number of times from being mistreated and bullied by family, friends, army, employers.

But maybe that’s just the fragment in me being eternally pissed with her. She DOES love him, but like he says in the webtoon in this chapter - maybe such truths are painful enough to be false anyways, because they’re just SUCH bullshit. That’s not how affection should work, if you actually care about someone and want them to be happy.

[leo-fie]

Psst, I wrote it:

The Queen of Mercy, the Regent of Grace, the Mistress of Nostramo, Theophanu Plantagenet Curze liked sewing. It was known. She had of course other interests, mainly not being killed by her husband, and she refused to be pinholed as a sewist only, but still it was what she was known for. And although she had asked her brothers-in-law to restrain themselves in their wedding gifts, both Rogal Dorn and Perturabo have presented her with sewing maschines. Amazing feats of engineering, truly a joy to work with. All her brothers-in-law, except Angron, had also intimated in one way or another they would help her should she ever seek to get away. Horus even said it in Konrad’s presence.

The Primarchs, most of them, were men at the end of the day. Boisterous and pompous and powerful. Knowable. She could handle whomever she probably would eventually flee to. Didn’t even had to fear sexual violence, which was nice.

By contrast her husband was an unknowable entity. She had developed a feel for him, but there was no understanding to be gained of a person who did not know themselves. Sanguinius had been the only one to get this about Konrad’s and her relationship, when he inevidably asked how their marriage happened. For Theophanu it didn’t matter whether Konrad respected her or if he just acted as if he did and not only because it was the same on her end anyway. It was important that he tried.

Funnily enough Sanguinius was also one of only three Primarchs who had reacted immediately positive when Theophanu had called them brother upon first meeting. The others being Leman Russ and Lorgar Aurelian.

So Theophanu sewed. She cultivated a workshop of tradespeople in her household on the Nightfall, who were as enthusiastic as she was about making elaborate stately gowns out of the finest materials the Imperium had to offer. All of their sheers and scissors and snips were always in impeccable condition. Theophanu tended to her duties as Ruler of Nostramo in absentia, but when she wasn’t, she was always working on something. During longer shuttle flights or wait times she would do something small by hand, like embroidery or whipping lacing holes, which also served as a good excuse to not engage in conversation. Which is undoubedly why women had been doing this since time immomorial.

Konrad was clearly fascinated by all this. When she worked alone on turning scraps into decorative patchwork blankets – the people of Nostramo did not waste – he sometimes observed her, initially without really making himself known. After he scared her enough times, he stood there visibly. And over the months, he crept closer, eventually sitting next to her. They didn’t talk much. Theophanu trusted him to leave her bower when she asked him to. She was not afraid of his presence. Sometimes she would even lean against him and rest in the sheer mass of his body. He did wash himself before coming and she decided to be endeared by that.

After a time, Konrad gifted her one of his trophies. A piece of a shirt, the right front and right sleeve, washed out dark grey, splattered in blood and what looked like machine oil. It was dry and smelled of the autoclave. He’d placed it on her work table for her to find. It was not a threat, he wouldn’t do it like that. It was a gift. She put it to her cabbage(1).

He brought her more gifts, clothing of his murder victims, leather made from their skin, standards of defeated foes. It wasn’t the same as the bolts of fabric that came with plunder or tribute and got added to the fleet ressources. It was personal. Eventually it was enough to make a quilt top out of, if she added some scraps from her favorite gowns. A quilt for her bed. Was this Konrad’s idea?

She wouldn’t ask about it, but started working on the quilt top(2). She was long past being scared by her husband’s grizzly displays and had never bothered herself with empathy for the victims. She believed in the righteousness of his judgement, it was the very base of their marriage. A quilt that combined his trophies and her craft was potentially a potent symbol.

Or maybe she was interpreting too much into it. A pattern with triangles would be nice, or fan shapes. Something simple, yet precise. If it was for her bed, it had to be three meters squared at least. Seven by seven blocks and a broder. She was getting into this project.

Konrad was observing her more often, more closely, when she worked on this. Eventually she just asked him: „Do you like the design, my love?“

He did not answer, but crept closer and touched one of the finished blocks in the table. His nails needed to be trimmed, she thought incidentally. He felt how the different materials bordered each other, her gorgeous, vibrant Ikat silk(3) and the rough, dirty coveralls of some criminal. Maybe he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Hopefully he didn’t take it as an insult somehow, but he knew she didn’t mean it like that. His face was a little softer than usual. She realized she wouldn’t get an answer and left it at that.

When the top was done, she quickly sewed together the backing from two selvege-to-selvege lengths of canvas woven cotton(4), dried blood red and midnight blue naturally, and sandwiched the top with it and extra fluffy batting. She could do the quilting with Rogal’s sewing machine, but she instead just fastened it with tons of safety pins and sat down in her armchair with it to quilt by hand.

Konrad watched her closely the whole time and when she threaded two needles and held one out, he was there and took it. He watched her bury the thread end and do running stitches. How she held the needle and took care that the layers weren’t shifting. And then he copied her on the other corner of the quilt.

The thought of the Night Haunter sitting peacefully on the carpet of a lady’s bedroom, handsewing, was absurd. But not more absurd than the thought of him marrying at all. No one would ever see it. And even if, who would believe it? The Night Haunter was an unknowable entity, but he wouldn’t do that, right? Fools.

He was calmer, when he worked with her. His hands didn’t twitch as much, but that didn’t bother him like it would have bothered a human anyway. He was perfectly able to do precision tasks no matter how much he was shaking. Nonetheless, she’d wager that this calming effect was why Konrad returned to her bedroom often to sew with her. Eventually, the quilt would be finished and she would have to think of new projects for both of them. Maybe just more quilts. Konrad’s own bed could surely benefit from one. Theophanu hesitated. She didn’t even know if Konrad had a bed or similar structure. She hadn’t been in his bedroom ever, in his inner sanctum. She would be welcome there of course, just like he was welcome in hers, but she had never made her way to it. She could tell herself that this was because she valued his privacy, but that wasn’t really true. Though she felt that she would disturb his save haven if she ever went.

Maybe she could be a safe haven for Konrad too. Appropriate, as his wife. And something only she could really do. She thought about this before and her title as the Queen of Mercy stemmed from many Night Lords perceiving her as a benevolent presence already. “My love, I don’t think I told you this already, but I plan to use this quilt for my own bed. Since we made it together, I think it’s fitting.”

It was now Konrad who hesitated. Theophanu didn’t press him, just continued sewing. But eventually she felt Konrad’s heavy gaze on her.

He said: “I think that would be nice.”

__________________

(1) Cabbage is all your fabric scraps and offcuts that are big enough to maybe still make something out of. Sewists hort them in a bin or basket.

(2) A quilt consists of 3 layers. The decorative top sewn from repeating blocks, then the batting for volume and warmth, and the backing, which is often just plain fabric. When someone “makes a quilt” they often refer to making the top, as that can be done on a home sewing machine easily. The actual quilting is difficult on a home sewing machine, but can be done by hand.

(3) Ikat is a traditional weaving technique where the warp (the fibers strung up on the loom) are dyed in multiple colours before weaving, leaving to a feathery, soft edged pattern in the finished cloth.

(4) Canvas weave is the simplest type of weave, just over-under-over-under. It doesn’t stretch and can come in many different weights.

If I may suggest:

Konrad and his wife, his regent of grace, the sun of his nature and star of his eyes (that's Charles Baudelaire btw)

quilting together. Sitting on the floor, carefully handquilting the artful patchwork she has made out of human leather and clothing trophies from his murder shenanigans. It will be a bedspread once it's finished. The repetitive work is soothing for him, though he still thinks he is ruining her beautiful work. But she has said it's something they will have made together. What she isn't saying out loud is that she's basically running the Sheherazade gamble, trying to stay interesting enough so he won't kill her quite this moment. Or worse.

lmao just sewing together human skin the desperate attempt to make sure he maintains interest in you, and that you can remain unharmed and safe for just a moment longer...

Meanwhile Konrad be like: uwu <3

[simptasia]

the amount of times people used to try to bait my mum into dunking on me in a "stressed out mother complains about their problem child" way and never fucking once did she fall for it. because she fucking adored me and loved me. seeing a mother unconditionally love their child really pisses some people off

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Dumber version of a raised in amphibia AU in which, since Anne and Sasha have been legally adopted by Hop Pop and Grime respectively, they can't marry if Hop Pop and Grime marry first, because legally it would be this and that even though literally no one here is actually related. Old dumb newt laws. So they go through all of these ethically questionable shenanigans to split them up, or to at least beat them to it. Marcy suggests that they go for the latter, but in order to get legally married, they need to perform all of these rituals, some of which need their guardians' presence to be valid, so they need to trick them into going around with dances and tournaments and ceremonies without them realizing. Sasha thinks it's a lot easier if she just lies and tells Grime that Hop Pop cheated.