#its like a religious obligation for her

[hymnsofheresy]

i assume everyone knows what/where assisi is because my mom is a obsessed with saint francis and would drag us on pilgrimages there since we were like one years old. and like i talk about going to assisi and they are like "a see what?" nvrmnd i thought this was normal.

[soleminisanction]

I've always really liked DC's in-house choice of referring to their various superhero groupings as "families," but it has gotten a little frustrating recently with people both in canon and in fandom seeming to forget that families aren't just a parental-unit-and-kids formation. They're complicated, and a lot of the DC families are too messy to fit into that neat little nuclear family mode.

Which is to say... here's some scattered thoughts/summaries about how these families are actually structured in canon, because I think it's interesting:

Supers -- The smaller, more traditional Superfamily (Clark, Lois, Kara, Kon, etc.) is a pretty traditional Midwestern nuclear family, with Jimmy Olsen filling the role of close family friend/goofy neighbor sidekick (in the Silver Age, he was Kara's would-be suitor) and Steel feeling more like part of Clark's personal circle of friends. The recent line up, though, with Jon, the twins, Kong and Nat? Starts to feel more like some old dynasty or noble house, complete with fostered foundlings and the Steels acting almost like knights under a noble's banner, possibly reflective of what the House of El would have been on Krypton.

Arrows -- Might currently be the closet to a traditional nuclear family structure. You've got Ollie and Dinah, their younger sisters, Ollie's adopted and biological children, and Ollie's granddaughter through Roy, plus by some counts Roy's co-parent and her sister as "in-laws." Bonnie and Cissie King-Jones are adjacent to but not technically "part" of the family, though I believe it's implied at one point that Ollie might also be Cissie's bio-dad. Pretty straightforward, these guys are actually family and they act like it, for good and ill.

Shazam Family -- Also a literal, actual family. Not originally, the original golden age "Marvel Family" was considerably more complicated and only Billy and Mary were full siblings, but nowadays the whole point of the modern Shazam family is that they're foster siblings united by familial love and that's fantastic. Meanwhile your average Black Adam story is 75% angsty family drama, 25% Egyptian mythology references.

Flashes -- Technically closer to three nuclear families (the Allens, the Wests and the Garricks; four if you include the Quicks), two of whom are united by marriage and all of whom are bound by the Speedforce, which, given its semi-spiritual connections to things like Speedster afterlives, can act almost like a religious force that connects them to the additional members like Avery, Circuit Breaker and Max as Bart's foster-dad. They're a big, sprawling tree with more cousins than siblings, the kind of family that functionally has a reunion every Christmas and Thanksgiving.

Lanterns -- Now these guys are the exception that proves my point about the whole 'family' thing not being straightforward. The lanterns aren't a family, they're a corps. Soldiers. Space cops. Comrades-in-arms. They respect each other, have each other's backs, might even like or care about each other, but those last two are optional, and they don't have the same kind of assumed obligations towards each other that a family would have. They're friends and co-workers, not family, but that doesn't mean their relationships are less significant, they're just different.

Wonders -- Roughly half of them are either one of Hippolyta's daughters (Diana, Donna, Nubia pre-Crisis) or related to them through the gods (Cassie), and the other half (Artemis, Yara, modern-age Nubia) use sister as a term of endearment more in a utopian lesbian commune kind of way. I think they brought Steve Trevor back recently? He's basically the Ken in this equation and perfectly fine with that role. None of which should be surprising if you've seen Professor Marston and the Wonder Women.

Bats -- This is the one that people get really wrong when they try to force it into a traditional family structure. Don't let WFA fool you, the Bats are and have always been way more a snarled mess of tangled interpersonal relationships than they've ever been a cohesive family. Whether Dick is Bruce's son or his brother depends on what era you're talking about, and the former reading is much more recent than you think -- as in "started cropping up in the early 2000s" recent. Barbara is both Cassandra's sister and her mother. Duke and Steph both have living parents and neither of them want or would ever dream of treating Bruce like their dad; Tim was the same way until his dad died. None of the Robins ever lived in the mansion together, nor did Cass. Babs considered Jean-Paul Valley her brother and Huntress is so close to Tim she once hallucinated him calling her Big Sister. They're a beautiful mess of people finding places where their broken edges fit together into something that works for them and trying to reduce it down to a cozy nuclear family is just so goddamn reductive and lazy.

Blue Beetles -- Are only tangentially related to each other. Seriously, they never even get direct mentoring, each one just takes over when the previous one dies and works on completely different rules from the other two. They're complete strangers bound by a legacy and that's honestly pretty fun.

Zataras -- There's only three of them and they're literally a father, daughter and cousin.

Martians -- Not really a family because there's only the two of them, but an interesting case where the two survivors of what was functionally a war of mutually assured destruction came together in an attempt to find some peace in the aftermath of what they'd lost.

Titans -- The JLA and JSA aren't really in the "family" category, but the Titans lean into it hard, mostly because they're a textbook found family. They don't mirror a nuclear family structure, they're simply a group of people who came together to form a mutual support network. They're the idealized college friends you grew into your own with, some of them childhood companions and others you only met once you leave home for the first time, but all of them friends that you manage to maintain contact with for life, with everyone coming back together even as you scatter and do your own things.

Young Justice -- Meanwhile, this team is the chaotic group of misfits you hung out with when you were a teenager, especially when you were just starting to be allowed to act without adult supervision. You drive each other crazy, none of you know you're all queer as fuck, and you'd fight a bear for any of them even if they asked you not to. They'd probably be insulted if you tried to call them a family. They come out here to get away from their families, thank you very much.

[elamimax]

Alright, here's my theory on what the new Shadow of the Erdtree DLC tells us about Elden Ring and its lore. I'm probably off on a few things, but let's go:

Long ago, the Crucible was a current of energy that flowed through the world and brought death and rebirth. It flows circularly, spiraling, the dead and the living being reborn into one another (we know by now that the Crucible, unlike the Erdtree, was not a single place, after all). This energy was considered divine by many people, including the Hornsent, a pantheistic religious order that saw divinity in the melding of flesh, and would take shamans and force them to meld to achieve sainthood.

They did so by spiriting them away, branding a seal into them, and forcing them into jars until their flesh melded together. After all, "the flesh of shamans was said to meld harmoniously with others." The thing is that the hornsent were right. The shamans were divine, as they were graced with gold.

One such shaman, from a Numen village in the Shadow Lands, escaped that grim fate. Salvaging that divinity from her fallen kin, she ascended the Divine Gate and drew the attention of the Greater Will, who had sown the grace of gold across the Lands Between, and invited it into her. Seeking to ensure that nothing so horrific would ever happen again, Queen Marika founded the Golden Order.

Her firstborn was seduced by an outer god, The One Eyed God, and born with curse like her other children, so she gave him her Scarseal for an eye so that he would retain use of his faculties and she could seal away the worse of his curses, and for her, her burned the Shadow Lands, ensuring that what happened to her kin would never happen again. It was without grace or honour, but out of spite, and vengeance, and fear.

Miquella, Marika's youngest, was cursed three times. He was cursed with eternal youth, though I suspect that he died and was reborn young several times over, shown by the fact that he was quite small when he was absconded with by Mohg but the corpse we find in Mohgwyn palace is massive.

His second curse was that of love. Whether bestowed on him by his parents, the greater will, or chance itself, I don't know, but all who laid eyes on him loved him, and it made him callous. All loved him which, of course, meant that love was valueless. He could steal hearts at a whim, his rune so strong that it enchanted those who laid eyes on it. It was not, of course, enough. He desired a world of peace, of calm, of love, of tranquility, and realized that, as an eternal, beloved child, as an Empyrean of the Greater Will, he would never be able to make that happen.

So, he began the arduous process of dismantling himself, divesting himself first from his body, then his fear and finally, his love, traveling to the Shadow Lands, a land now removed from the Lands Between by his mother's veil, where he knew the currents of the Crucible were strong and he could live without a body, waiting for a consort.

Because Miquella was thrice cursed, and his curse of love was also the same "curse" his mother suffered: his other half lived within himself, and he - or rather she - would travel the world and offer sleep to the sleepless and comfort to the dying, as Saint Trina. By divesting himself of his love, he divested himself of Saint Trina, hardening himself for what would need to be done.

He would need a warrior. His sister was not up to the task. She loved him but she was not capable of being a warlord, her own curse of Rot slowly eating away at her. No, he set his sights on Radahn, greatest warrior of the Golden Order. Radahn refused. So Miquella whispered a request into his sister's ear and she obliged. Radahn reduced to a shadow of his former self, to be slain by lowly tarnished. He didn't need Radahn's body. Only his soul. As for a body...

Miquella's love reached far, and so too did it reach the Luminary Mohg, a man who longed to live up to the promise of dynasty that was his birthright, but who was also a calm, quiet man who sought to inspire others.

Miquella's demands, his love, broke something in Mohg. Forced him into an obsession with the formless mother. Into an obsession with bloodlines and, eventually, blood, something those who followed him have not and never will forgive Miquella for. And Mohg served his purpose: as a corpse, if nothing else.

When Mohg died, Miquella's chosen dragged his body to the Divine Gate where his mother had become Queen Marika so long ago, and used the power there to forge Mohg's body in the Crucible, so that Radahn may be the warrior he had always been, but pliable this time, Mohg's power over blood now merged with Radahn's gravitational prowess. Usable. In the same way that Miquella's mother had used Godfrey, he would use Radahn, slaughtering any and all who opposed his Thousand Year Journey Of Compassion, until such time as he had no more need for such a consort. So, when finally his Consort was "rebuilt", Miquella, divested of his body, his fear and his love, stepped out of the Divine Gate, to protect him.

He failed.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

weren't we the stars in heaven? | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. so sorry i haven't posted a full length fic about matt in a while so as a sorry here's a BEAST of a fic. i have nothing much to say about this, but i will say that i am not thrilled with the ending but oh well. enjoy! i'm gonna go take a nap but i am really proud of this so if you guys like it, let me know! warnings: oh boy. so many things. cursing, use of weed, drinking, matt is married but it's an open marriage, lots of religious imagery, sex, rough fucking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, lowkey some mean matt smut, his kid is autistic but its not mentioned a ton, reader is hard of hearing but its only mentioned once, female reader with female anatomy, age gap, nicknames, ANGST, dirty talk, hella flirting and pining, just. it's a lot. word count: 9.2k (holy moly) summary: you develop a crush on a friend of your dad's from work. the only problem is that he's married, twice your age, and you babysit his son. pairing: dbf!matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: anything - adrianne lenker "lay on your lap when i'm crying/weren't we the stars in heaven?/weren't we the salt in the sea?/dragon in the new warm mountain/didn't you believe me?"

Spring

A week at home is too long. You think about how torturous a whole summer here will be. It’s almost enough to make you sign up to be a summer orientation leader or even a tour leader. Almost. The pay isn’t that good to stay in the dorms without AC all summer.

Of course, your mother asks you to go to church on Easter Sunday and because she did your laundry and cooked you your first home-cooked meal in months, you oblige her.

And as you’re sitting there, on your knees with your hands folded, your eyes peek open, beginning to wander around the church. It’s way too hot in this church, and you are bored out of your mind.

You realize you are the only one who is bored out of your mind. Well.. Almost.

Your gaze catches onto a man who looks just as bored as you do, only, you can’t really tell if he’s looking at you. You lean your head back and roll your eyes, trying to signal how god damn bored you are to him. He just smirks, and your heart flutters.

It almost looks like his smirk widens at that.

Your face flushes and you just put your head back down, closing your eyes as if you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to.

Eventually when the service is over, you’re still thinking about the strange man on the other side of the church as you sip church lemonade that is way too sweet—But you’ve been up for hours and this is the first thing you’ve had since you woke up.

Your parents are making pleasant conversations with various friends they know, and you smile awkwardly at friends from high school. You almost choke on your lemonade when you see the man make his way out of the church, his arm hooked to a woman’s as he taps a cane against the pavement, a young boy next to them as well.

And before you know it, the family of three is approaching your family and your ears are burning red.

Your dad happily shakes his hand and pulls him in for one of those weird man hugs that you don’t really understand, as your mother does one of those weird moves where she presses her cheek against his wives.

Your father gestures over to you and says, “This is our daughter,” And he gives them your name, “She’s home for spring break from school.”

You wave to the kid, before shaking the wife’s hand, and then his— His hand is warm. Your heart is racing and you just shake his hand, trying to ignore the soft squeeze that accompanies the shake.

“Matthew,” He introduces himself like your insides aren’t discombobulated, “Matthew Murdock.” You just look at him, blinking for a second, and your mind begins to wander. How did he know you were rolling your eyes in the church if he’s blind? And how is he so hot?

You think you might die—Your face is flushed, and you think for sure that you’ve been caught, and that his wife will see right through this little charade and knows that you have a huge crush on her husband, whom you just met. He must know what he’s doing because he just smirks at you and opens his mouth to say something, but your mom just looks at you with a look of concern.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks, “You look warm,” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“No, I’m uh.. Well, I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, find some shade—Excuse me.” You say politely, but before you can leave the conversation, Matt smiles,

“I’ll come with you. I could use the fresh air.” He offers, and you almost say no, but your mom smiles like she’s trying to fucking kill you—

“What a wonderful idea, You can tell Mr. Murdock all about your studies.” She offers, and something in your stomach twists with embarrassment—the way she phrases it makes you sound so.. young. So, you just offer Matt your arm, and he hooks his hand onto it like it’s casual.

And so, the pair of you walk through the courtyard of the church, eventually finding a bench where the sun barely creeps through the leaves of the willow tree that hangs over it, and the pair of you sit down, silence overwhelming you.

“So, what’s your major?”

“Oh, uh—English. I’m an English major.” You say, almost ashamed at how boring you sound, “And.. what do you do?”

“I’m a Lawyer,” he smiles. Your dad is a security guard at the court you have in town, so there’s no question of how they know each other.

“Your wife seems nice,” you blurt out, wanting to say something nicer to convince him—maybe yourself, that you really truly are not jealous of a woman you just met.

“She is,” he answers politely, as if that’s.. the kindest thing he can say about her.

“What’s your son’s name?” You ask curiously.

“Lucas.” He smiles fondly now, and your heart melts at the thought that this man truly feels nothing but pure, burning affection for his son. “When do you go back to school?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, tomorrow.” You smile, “Thank god.”

Then, he catches you off guard.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said since we sat down.” He smirks, “Not a fan of your hometown?”

You don’t know how to explain it, not really—When you were applying to college, your mom asked you if you wanted to apply to any local colleges. And while you’re persistent that there’s nothing wrong with community college, you were sure that you needed to get out of here, or else you think you would’ve died.

But, you owe Matt an explanation.. Well, maybe you don’t, but you think you do.

“It’s not that,” You promise, “There’s just something about being here that brings out the worst in people.” You sigh.

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and while it’s subtle, you notice the way that his thumb rubs against your skin, and you might melt right into him.

“Don’t let anyone ever shame you for leaving.” He offers gently, and you think you just about fall in love with him. Then, his head picks up as the screechy tone of his wife calling for him interrupts your conversation. He just sighs, and makes a bold move—his hand goes to your thigh and gently, just barely, rubs his fingers against the fabric of your sundress, the tips of his fingers teasing your skin. “Well, I’ll.. see you in the summer then?” he ponders.

“Uh-huh..” You say, your eyes soft with want. Then, he walks right out of your life.

Summer

As spring melted into summer, and as you finished the rest of your finals, your dad picks you up from your dorm, packing everything you hold near and dear into his truck, and then starting the drive home.

For the past month and a half, you have heard nothing about Matt or his family. Sometimes, you ask your parents, ‘How’s your job, how’s the church’, begging for any crumbs of information about Matt. And you aren’t even sure why, because in your mind, he is very happily married.

It takes about a week. You sit, day after day, summer job hunting, waiting to be doomed to minimum wage and exhausting hours. Then, your mom comes home with groceries and a smile that you know can only mean bad news.

“I found you a job!” She declares happily, as you put the milk in the fridge.

“In the dairy aisle of the grocery store?” You question, and she laughs.

“No, no, I found you a babysitting job for the summer.” She smiles. “For the Murdocks!”

You squeeze the orange in your hand so hard that your thumbnails pierce it as orange juice drips down your hands, blinking before throwing out the orange, your hand reeking of the tangerine, fingers sticky with sugar.

“I’m sorry?” You manage to squeak out.

“You’re going to be babysitting their son, Lucas. They both work from nine to five, sometimes later. You’d get paid to just hangout with the kid,” She shrugged with a soft smile.

Oh, great. You’re gonna be trapped in the man’s house, looking after his kid. Fucking amazing.

-

But, you really don’t even see Matt, especially not the first day. Well, really, you barely see him over the course of the first week, but you get whispers of him, and it’s almost worse. You see his graduation photos, his wedding photos, a photo of him holding Lucas in the hospital.

You see his office door cracked open, you see a mug with his name on it, you see his wedding ring on the table—

You see his wedding ring on the table?

He’s elusive. But, from the fragmented sentences you get from Lucas, he tells you how his parents aren’t quite like other couples. Your mind is caught on the fact that Matt and his wife might not be 100 percent happy together, and then you feel guilty that you want to take it as an opportunity to comfort him, in the least Godly way possible.

Matt and Lucas’ mother will be working late tonight, she tells you in the morning, there’s money for dinner on the counter, and you can just relax until they get home.

Lucas drags you all over town that day. The park, the comic bookstore, and then you spend two hours in target, trying to find anything related to Bluey or Cars 2, the only two things he wants to talk about. Your body is sore from looking after him. He’s a very nice kid, but you recognize that he’s.. different.

Nobody in your town has a diagnosis, but you can tell that Lucas is on the spectrum, and you have every intention of telling Matt to get him a diagnosis, so he has the resources he needs to succeed in school.

But, tonight, you’re tired. Very very tired.

So, after putting Lucas to bed and enjoying a slice of semi cold pizza, along with flat diet soda, you find yourself in the backyard. Lucas’ window is open, and you can see the downstairs steps from where you’re sitting, so you’ll be able to see Lucas if he needs anything.

You’re sitting in a patio swing, letting your feet rock you back and forth. Maybe it’s unprofessional of you.. but you scrounge through your bag, finding your pen and turning it on, taking a long hit. You walk to and from work, so it’s not like you won’t be able to drive yourself home.

Then, you see Matt come in, and you freeze. Fuck.

You watch as he sets his bag down, slipping his suit jacket off after. Then, he tucks his cane somewhere safe, before his fingers begin to work at folding his sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers rub his temple for a minute, obviously exhausted from a long time. Then, he takes off his glasses and your heart skips a beat.

He pauses as soon as your heartbeats and he smirks when he turns towards the backyard door. Oh fuck.

He slides the patio door open and approaches you,

“Why are you outside?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“Uh.. Just, enjoying the weather.” And he laughs like you’re the funniest person he knows as he sits down next to you, groaning as he does, and your heart can barely take it.

“You’re a horrible lair, sweetheart.” He tells you. Does he know how desperately you want him? “What are you really—” Then he pauses, his nose twitching. “Are you smoking weed?” He questions.

“No.” You say, but as you breath out, smoke blows out of your mouth as you cough a bit.

“Oh my god—”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t fire me—”

“Hand it over.” He says, hand outstretched, waiting for the pen. And not even for a second does your brain imagine denying him. It doesn’t cross your mind that maybe he doesn’t have that authority over you and you’re a grown adult.

In fact, you’re foolish if you ever thought he has no authority over you.

You hand over the pen sheepishly, but.. you’re caught way off guard when is fingers study the pen, finding the button and taking a hit for himself. You just watch him, mesmerized as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he starts, taking another hit before passing it back to you, “I’ll make it up to you.” he promises.

“It’s okay,” You giggle, a little bit from how comical it was, but a little bit from how fucking hot that was. Then, you take another hit, as he just rocks the porch swing back and forth, like he’s rocking you to sleep. The night is cool enough that the smoke barely rattles your lungs, and the intensity of summer has gone to sleep. Silence fills the air, as you just pass your pen back and forth, love in your eyes.

“Why is your wedding ring on the table?” You finally ask. You expect Matt to tense up, to scoff and tell you to mind your fucking business, but he just blows out more smoke before responding,

“My wife and I don’t have the most.. conventional of relationships.” He responds, “We’re in an open relationship.” He adds.

“Oh.” You breath out.

“Yeah. Oh. It’s more like.. She goes out and dates and fucks and I flirt occasionally, but that’s sort of a long title.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He takes a hit, “Oh.”

You don’t have anything to offer to that.

“Are you from here?” you ask, and he just smiles.

“No.” He says, and now there is true yearning in his voice. “Hell’s Kitchen, New York.” He responds.

“Do you at least like it here?” You ponder, as if his far away voice didn’t give him away.

“At first it’s fine. You try to fit in, just, make your way through, settle down. Then, you begin to hate it. You feel like if it sunk into the ground right at this very second, you’d die happy. Then, you become.. indifferent. You don’t mind the numbness of it all, you just stay perfectly complacent. Then, you wake up and are desperate to escape, like your own personal Truman show. The Matthew Show. Wouldn’t that be something to see?” He muses.

And again, you have nothing to offer but another piece of your soul, just throwing it out there,

“Would you date anyone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, if you had someone you were really into, would you date her—Them, whoever?” You ask. “Whomever?” You ask, quieter now, mostly to yourself.

He smiles.

“If someone came along, someone say, who smoked weed, got along very well with my son, and was a horrible liar? Bonus points if she—they,” You suspect he’s making fun of you, “were an English Major?”

You tilt your head with a doe eyed smile.

“You remember I’m an English major?” He coos at you like you’re stupid,

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.” What is wrong with him? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you saying anything more to him?

“You know, sometimes, I remember the feeling of your fingers on my thigh when I touch myself,” And he grins like he knows he’s won.

“I bet you do,” He whispers, leaning forward so that his breath was hot against your skin, “Bad, Bad girl..” he ticks, and you can’t help but blush.

“Sorry,” You giggle out as your hand comes up to his face, just to move the pads of your fingers over his scruff.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he purrs, his hand finding your thigh again, the twitch of your legs not lost on him. “I don’t mind,” he hums. The weed you smoked is starting to kick in, and with it, your inhibitions start to slip away, your hand reaching so that you can barely touch his hair with the tips of your fingers. He takes another quick hit of your pen before taking your face in his hands, squeezing just a bit so he can lean in and blow smoke into your mouth, and as if it’s communion wine, you inhale, wanting every part of him you can have. Maybe it’s greedy, but you’ll atone for your sins later.

When he pulls away, you think you might just die and go up to heaven.

“I think..” You think so many things. You think that maybe he’s fucking with you. You think that this is a nice little dream that you’ll think back on when you’re old and wrinkly. The deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there, says—

What if he leaves his wife for you?

And you completely understand that you’ve barely kissed the man, but you never claimed that the deep dark part of you was smart, chill or even a little bit in touch with reality, only that it exists.

Besides, the deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there isn’t something you can ignore. Ignoring it is like trying to hold a beachball underwater—Eventually it’ll pop back up and hit you in the face.

“I think that maybe I should head home.” You finally answer, and maybe it’s the weed, but you see a flash of.. disappointment cross over his features. But that couldn’t be it, you’re much more pathetic than he is, he wouldn’t be so upset over you having to leave..

Would he?

But as quickly as the disappointment was there.. It was gone. Poof. As if it had never even existed.

“That’s okay,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and handing your pen back to you so you can tuck it into your bag, until the next time you need another hit. His head picks up as you glance over to door, where his wife walks in, putting her things down. He glances over to you, “Let me walk you home.” He offers.

You smile gently, standing up with him. You don’t say much as you make your way to gather your things from the front door, making pleasant conversations with his wife as he waited for you to get your shoes on. Soon enough, you’re making the quiet walk back to your house, and you’re accepting the swirling mess that is your emotions—Sure, he’s married, technically your boss, way older than you, and most definitely able to read you like a book, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all of that.

Maybe it’s just the general look of him—the salt and pepper hair, the stubble that’s just a bit too long, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, the way his hands have just a few wrinkles and are covered in scars (from what, you do not know), the feeling of his hand on your thigh or the way his pink lips blew smoke into yours, the way his pants hug the curve of his ass, or maybe, you pathetic college student, maybe it’s the shine of his shoes, professional but just begging you to ride them.

Jesus, you’re too high for this.

But you’re almost certain that what did you in, the roots of your delusion, is the way he squeezed your hand the first time you met. You think, with the upmost affection, that your handshake was the most intimate two strangers could get on a Sunday in the blazing sun, the hypnotic daze of the light shining through the stained-glass windows of the church finally wearing off.

You want to tell him as much, to tell him that you haven’t gone a day without thinking about him since that day, that no amount of college students who ask you out for coffee have been able to drown out the sound of his voice in the back of your head, that the deepest, darkest, most insignificant part of you thinks that he might leave his wife for you.

But the walk home is silent.

You say nothing, but you listen to his breathing, calm, steady. You’re envious. Sure, he’s blind, but there is quite literally no part of you that doesn’t betray you, that doesn’t give you away.

He stops at the end of your driveway, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak. You can tell he has something to say, by the way he inhales, lips just barely parted. Sure, you’ve been an English major for years, but you’ve quickly picked up a minor in Matt Murdock studies.

“If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I’m sorry.” He starts, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m—You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise. If anything, even though you were the one who said it was time to go, there’s a twinge of disappointment in your throat.

“Still—I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything..” He starts, “Just.. Have a goodnight.” He smiles gently, his hand slowly, all too slowly, sliding off your arm as he steps away, but in a moment of, possibly THC induced, boldness, you grab his hand as he stands, arm outstretched to you. His sightless eyes hold onto you.

“You aren’t even gonna kiss me goodnight?” You ask, your voice vulnerably hopeful.

His lips twitch up in a smirk, pausing for a second, his head tilted in the most curious way. Like he’s waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he pulls your hand towards him so now you’re the one with the extended arm, like the two of you are dancing, pulling each other back and forth with an intensity birthed from desperation.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, something straight out of a fairytale. But just as quickly, he gently drops your hand, his eyes blazing with affection.

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” You confirm with a soft smile, not wanting to dwell on any uncertainty that’s between the two of you. To accept that there is any uncertainty at all would be to accept the chance that this is as far as you two will get—lingering crushes and the ghost of a pair of lips on your hand.

He waits until you get back into your house, then walks down the sidewalk back towards his house, putting the idea of you in the trunk that sits in his armoire, only in the back of his mind, next to his old suit, his old friends, and his old life.

-

On Monday, you get to the Murdock’s house after Matt and his wife have gone to work, but before Lucas has woken up.

On the counter, a tiny envelope sits, your name typed onto the envelope. You tear it open, finding a freshly bought cartridge for your pen. A note falls out of the envelope, and it’s.. in braille.

You sneak into Matt’s office, pulling out a braille dictionary, and you quickly figure out that the note says, ‘We’re okay?’

In the middle of his work day, Matt gets a text.

‘We’re okay.’

-

When you tell your mom you got invited to go out with some friends from high school, she nearly jumps with excitement. You weren’t exactly popular in High School—that’s not really something you hide, since you’re now going into your senior year of college and you can admit that you were something of a loser in high school..

And in college. But, at your college, that’s more normal and even encouraged, so you run with it.

But your stomach churns at the idea of hanging out with the girls that you hung out with in high school—Wasn’t one of them married?

You knew from your mom, mostly, that the three girls from high school stayed very much in touch throughout their time in college. They were always closer to each other than you were with them, but you know that wasn’t really their fault. They were dumb teenagers just like you.

Maybe not inviting you to hangout outside of school was a side effect of being a seventeen-year-old, as so many things were.

You tell her that you have no interest in going out with them, but she tells you that you should have some friends at home! You want to tell her that having no friends was one reason why you went away to school, but instead, you text them back, asking what they had in mind.

So that’s how you end up in a bar two towns over, liquor burning the back of your throat, your head pounding and your ears aching. Your face twists into despair as you swallow the shot, not feeling as good as your ‘friends’. You’ve never been a fan of drinking, even feeling guilty when you took your first shot of communion wine when you were 8.

Your friends start giggling and laughing as you try to keep up with the conversation, a little lost, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you poke at the ice in your empty glass with a straw.

Then, the bartender comes over to you, placing your drink of choice in front of you, your friends pausing their conversation as she does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order that,” You say politely, smiling awkwardly to her. You wish you were underage, you wish you were anywhere but here, you wish—

“Actually, the gentleman at the bar got it for you,” she smiles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the bar and—

Warmth explodes in your chest, your heart beginning to thump loudly in your ears.

Your friends laugh a bit, shoving your shoulders gently, teasing you.

“You have to go talk to him,” One starts, and another picks up,

“He’s hot!” You smile shyly down to the drink in front of you and nod,

“Fine.” You hum, picking up the drink and walking over to where Matt sits at the bar, sipping a whiskey on ice. You sit next to him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, and then his head turns to you.

“Why are you here with people you don’t like?” he asks, and you just blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friends. You don’t like them.” He says, and you just blush, embarrassed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re just.. quieter than usual.” He says honestly, sending you a sympathetic smile. You feel seen in the worst way possible. It’s like you’ve spent your entire life hiding, and Matt can see you for exactly what you are. Your face burns with embarrassment, taking another sip of your drink.

“Can we just flirt and almost fuck like we usually do?” You wonder.

“That makes it sound so much more.. casual than it is.” He pouts, and you just laugh, already feeling more relaxed than you had been before. And it isn’t even because of the alcohol, or so you suspect.

“What are you doing in a bar two towns over?” You ask, unsure how to respond to his comment about the casualness of your.. relationship, although that’s a rather strong word for what you two have.

“I was meeting with a client in town,” he responds, “Thought I’d stop for a drink before going home.” He says, and all you can find to respond is,

“Won’t your wife be mad at you for getting a drink when you could be home?” And he laughs, like you said something funny or cute.

“No, when she says she’s working late, she’s probably getting a drink and hooking up with someone. I thought I’d try it.” He smirks, and your face flushes. This is not a man who has any pure or holy intentions, and that absolutely turns you on. You have so little inhibition at this point that you simply lean forward, grab his tie, and pull him in for a long kiss.

Your nose twitches at the smell of vanilla, mixed with a bit of the whiskey, but quickly followed by just a hint of lemon. His hand quickly finds your waist, causing your posture to straighten as he kisses you deeper, his other hand trailing up your thigh, just like that first day outside the church.

The bar is dingy, so no one cares when he pulls away to finish his drink, then, straightens out his tie (which might kill you), and then he stands up, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly, pulling you along to the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. On the way there, your friends whistle and hoot, and while your face flushes, Matt does not seem to even notice. He opens the bathroom door without hesitation, like he knows it will be empty.

And the bathroom is.. disgusting. It’s dingy, dirty, but the sink looks.. clean enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, Matt has you against it, his hands exploring your body as he kisses you, your hands instinctively going to his hair, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His kisses are gentle, but invasive, like he wants to taste every single inch of your mouth with his tongue, and you happily let him. His fingers slip beneath your skirt, creeping up, finally finding the waistband of your panties, and he hums against your lips as if to shush you when you whine at the contact, his fingers slipping right under them to touch your throbbing cunt—It’s the type of warmth he’ll chase during cold, snowy days come winter.

His lips begin to attack your skin, kissing your jaw and your neck as he rubs circles into your clit, sucking up the breathy moans that escape your lips as he touches you. You’re soaking wet, and he wonders if you’ve ever been with anyone who knows where your clit is.

His fingers don’t even slip inside you, they just rub your clit with the attention it deserves, Matt taking your moans and how your hands grip his shirt as payment. But the movement of his fingers are too much for you, and before you know it, you’re squeezing your eyes tight, hands tangled in his clothes and hair, as you reach your first orgasm of many brought to you by the man.

He continues to rub your clit as you come down from that high, your breath getting more even, despite the way your skin burns and cum drips down your thighs. Then, he kisses you, jarringly soft—

“All that over some attention from my fingers?” He teases, that shit eating grin on his face. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, defend yourself, but you recognize, as does he, that he holds all the power in this dynamic.

“If I say yes, will you fuck me properly?” Because ‘make love’, despite what your mother and aunts always said, doesn’t seem proper. You two aren’t in love.. you’re in lust for this man—Or at least, you’re telling yourself that because of how desperately you want his cock inside you.

“I guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” He says, as if he’s not hard, his cock twitching in his pants at every little whiff he gets of you.

“Yes.” You hum, “All that over your fingers,” And he just smirks before asking,

“Anything else?”

“…Please?” And it seems to be the magic word, because he leans forward and kisses your cheek before adding,

“Good girl.” And at how excited that makes you, Matt finds himself practically fumbling for the condom he had put in his wallet the day he met you, but as soon as you realize it, you’re grabbing at his hands, trying to take it out of his hands, and his free hand finds your chin, gripping it just tightly enough to make your brain feel fuzzy, “What? What is it, baby?” he asks, and you have to take a moment before you respond,

“I’m on the pill, we don’t need a condom,” And a part of Matt’s brain that never quite grew out of the Catholic upbringing in which he was raised wants to remind you of all of the complications that could come with that, but another, stronger and more tempting part of his brain, the devil part of his brain thinks about the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, in the middle of this dingy fucking bathroom, with your ‘friends’ waiting outside, and he literally tosses the condom on the floor.

No words are spoken as he kisses you again, his hand that was holding the condom now working on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his free hand simply holding yours—perhaps the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you.

Eventually, your panties are rolled down to your ankles, and he pulls you just to the edge of the sink so you’re hanging onto him for dear life, and he just kisses you, and in between kisses he says, “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just like that,”, and you trust him.

He pulls away from kissing you, to take your chin in his hand one more time and demand your attention.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he starts, “And it might hurt at first, but we’re gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” and he kisses your forehead, strikingly loving compared to the situation that you have found yourself in. You wait, anticipation dripping down your thighs, before Matt slowly pushes himself inside of you, and as he fills you up, you moan into his skin.

There’s a part of Matt that starts shaking at the feeling of how tight you are around him. He lets out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck, as he bottoms out inside of you, his finger twitching a bit, aching to fuck you so intensely you’ll forget your own name..

But he resists, waiting for your grip on him to loosen softly,

“We’re okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“We’re okay,” You breath out, ready for him to move.

“Yeah, I know, baby, we’re okay,” he purrs, before slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of you, only encouraged by your moans as they begin to pick up, thrusting into you faster, unable to resist the way you clench around him.

Your fingers barely scrape over his skin as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing your skin. He wants to tease you, he wants to tell you that you’re so dirty, letting a grown man fuck you in a dingy bathroom, but he finds himself lost in your warmth, unable to provide you with the dirty talk that he has dreamt of giving you for months.

But.. this is better. This is a well put together man, who falls apart at the feeling of your cunt, who shudders at the feeling of your hands on his, who tears apart at the seams of his being when your lips touch his. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to being an artist, mending and molding him with your hands.

It’s mesmerizing, and if you could, you’d stay here forever, letting him fuck into you like it’s his god damn job, slowly becoming faster, harder, more intense, never letting up, so you decide to push him—

“Need you to come inside me,” You pant out, and Matt won’t ever admit it to you, but he almost comes right then and there, not even bothering to give you a warning. Almost.

“I will, baby,” He hums, kissing your neck as sweat glistens his forehead, trying to push himself, trying to fuck you like you deserve, like he knows you deserve, his thrusts unrelenting.

Your thighs begin to shake as you claw at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Matt- Please, oh my god—” You whine, “I’m gon—”

“Yeah, I know, baby, You’re squeezing around me so well,” He purrs, “C’mon, you can cum, you just gotta let go for me,” He advises, “C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel,” And as you creep closer to the edge, your heart thumps loudly in his ears- You can’t help yourself. You’re sort of taken by the fact that when he’s breathless like this, you can hear his New York accent twinge out of him..

And that might just be what pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a moan, shuddered into his ear, panting as he keeps thrusting into you. The only time your mind wanders is rather briefly, as the way the stained glass windows looked in your church on the day you met him.

He lets out a soft whimper as he bathes in the feeling of you coming around his cock, the feeling of your hands in his hair, the feeling of your breath against his neck—he’s actually falling apart, and his thrusts only stutter as he comes inside you, deep deep within you.

Neither of you say anything as your hips pathetically roll, and he leads you down from your high as he slows his thrusts. For a moment, you both need to sit in the silence of your breathing..

And then, you start to laugh.

He laughs with you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks through laughs, tracing the side of your face with his hand, and you just laugh harder.

“You’re just..” You find the words, “You just exceeded my expectations is all,” and it’s so funny to him, that that’s where your mind goes after he fucked you so well. You’re adorable, he thinks, and he needs to keep you like this forever, stuck in time with his cum dripping down your legs.

When you both come down to earth, finally, he kisses you and says gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” And you happily oblige him.

He helps you off the sink, steadying you with his arms as your legs shake, holding onto him like a newborn deer, unsure of your movements.

But soon enough, you’re stable enough to stand on your own and the dawning realization hits you— you just ran away from your friends to go fuck a married man. And.. there’s so little regret—really, there’s nothing much at all that you feel besides an aching in your core for more.

He squeezes your arm gently, before asking,

“Feeling okay, honey?” he asks gently. And you just grin at him.

“Never better.”

-

So, funny enough..

You get grounded after your night out.

“Grounded?” Matt laughs as you tell him that, not at all caring that he has you sitting on his office desk, hands wandering your thighs, “You’re twenty one, how’d they ground you?” He ponders, and you huff.

“Well, my fuckin’ friends were telling their parents about this hookup I had in the bar, and their parents told mine, and they got mad at me—So now I’m only allowed to go to work, and then go home.” You huff.

Matt smirks against your skin, kissing your neck. He pulls back and grips your chin, tilting your head up to look to him, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“What’re you gonna do all summer, stuck in your big bad bosses house?” he asks, and you just roll your eyes as your face reddens. “Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he says gently, planting a long kiss to your jaw, “Your old man is gonna take good care of you.”

And you know he means it, too.

-

One weekend, your parents go away. They trust you won’t have any boys over, not even considering the idea that you’d have Mr. Murdock over.

He has his arm wrapped around you as you lay in bed, mumbling something soft in your ear. You roll over, admiring him for a minute, the way his eyes look.. he’s so pretty. You reach out and gently touch the skin around his eyes, noticing the scarring around his eyes.

“Hm?” You question, tilting your head. You didn’t quite hear him. He looks at you for a long time before responding,

“I think you’re hard of hearing,” And you can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “I’ve noticed it a lot, you always miss things when you aren’t looking right at people, and you’re always asking people to repeat themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just.. You should be able to get the resources you need to help with that.” He shrugs, like it isn’t the most observant anyone’s ever been of you.

You lean in and kiss him, for a long time, your hand on his cheek. When you pull away, you take a second to breath before kissing him again.

“What was that for?” He eventually asks, a smile on his face.

“I just..” You shrug, “No one’s ever really noticed anything like that about me.” You feel seen, in a way that pulls at your heart. He smiles gently to you, kissing your forehead before responding,

“All I’ll ever want is for you to feel seen.”

-

The end of the summer comes a lot faster than you would’ve liked. You had a great summer, you tell yourself, you spent a lot of time at work with Lucas, smoking weed, sitting under the stars, and being with Matt.

But, as your move in date for your senior year approaches, and you begin to start packing, an anxiety starts to creep into you.

How will you say goodbye to him?

Neither of you have discussed what will happen when that day comes, but it looms over you like doomsday. Each day that passes, you get hit harder and harder with the realization that summer will end, and nothing will be the same.

And eventually, though you will and pray it does not, the day comes.

It’s hot. Blaring hot, hotter than you would’ve liked. Even as the sun begins to set, there’s a brutality to the air that does not provide any relief.

You’ve already said goodbye to Lucas and Matt’s wife, so now, you just sit on your front porch, staring at the house down the street. When the door to the house opens, you advert your eyes like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Soon after, you pick your head up to see Matt approaching you. He smiles to you, and you try to smile back, but your heart aches with the knowledge that this will be the last time you see him until.. well, you aren’t sure when. You stand up to meet him at the end of your driveway.

“All packed?” he asks. You scoff softly.

“Something like that.” You shrug, and he smiles.

“What’re you still missing?” You answer before you can stop yourself.

“You.” You say, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Immediately, his arms are around you, overheating you in the late August weather, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He holds you gently, as if you’ll break when he lets go, crying into your shoulder. His hand rubs your back as he gently shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll be here when you get back.” He promises, and you know he’s right. But for the first time, leaving your home will be hard, and you do not know what to do about it, other than buy a candle that might smell like him.

You stay like that for a long time, longer than you care to admit, before he slowly pulls away. You look to him for a few minutes, before he kisses your forehead. He hands you an old Columbia tee shirt of his, one that smells just like him, and you clutch it like your life depends on it.

“We’re okay?” He asks gently, and even if it’s a lie, you nod, and respond,

“We’re okay.”

-

Fall

Adjusting to dorm life comes back to you quicker than you would’ve thought, despite your heartbreak that came with living. You and your friends fill your time with studying, smoking, and doing anything you can to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

But, you can’t deny, that on nights where it’s too hot to sleep, you scroll through Facebook—yes, Facebook of all things, looking at photos of Matt, getting just small glances into his life from two hundred miles away.

And as the time melts away, you become more and more.. numb to the pain that stung so intensely.. But you also spend a lot of time looking for the cologne that he wore, and you won’t deny that when your roommate leaves for the weekend, you spend hours in the memories of the summer, with your hand between your legs, aching for just a bit of the pleasure he gave you.

You almost have a heart attack when your mom asks you to come to church with her while you’re home for fall break. Of course you’ll go, of course it’ll be your pleasure, mainly because you’re hoping—maybe even praying for him to be there.

When that Sunday comes, you spend an hour getting ready. You know that Matt is blind and won’t care, but maybe a part of you believes you need to dress all pretty for him. You even wear the sundress you wore for Easter Sunday.

Your thighs are already slick with heat when you get there, and your eyes scan the crowd for Matt.. and when you eventually find him, your breath hitches in your throat, just like the first night you felt him inside you.

You grin as you see him, all by himself, at the back of the church. You excuse yourself from your parents, making your way back to him like it’s your god damn birthday you’re so excited.

But as soon as you approach him, someone calls his name behind you—an old friend or maybe a coworker, and Matt walks toward you, and you open your mouth to say something your eyes following him, and then—

He walks right past you, avoiding you completely. Your face falls with disappointment, your heart sinking. Maybe.. he just didn’t realize it was you. Maybe. You don’t know, but it messes with your head throughout all of the service.

You and your family are sitting more towards the back, while Matt and his family sits in front of you—You watch him like it’s your damn job, waiting, waiting, Until—

He gets up, quietly making his way towards a door to the side, one that will lead downstairs and to a restroom. You begin to count to sixty, waiting so very patiently, before quietly excusing yourself, and following him down the stairs.

As soon as you open the basement door, Matt is pulling you further into the basement, to a deep dark corner, and immediately, you’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your neck. You moan softly as your hands find his hair, tugging on it, as his hands begin to explore your thighs like a starving man.

“Matt—” You go to say, but his hand clamps over your mouth as his free hand tugs off your panties, his hand cupping your cunt as you roll your hips, desperate for more contact than that.

“You gonna behave for me, pretty thing?” He grumbles, and you nod against his hand, so he bites down on your shoulder, “There we go,” He mumbles, his hand coming off your mouth to pull your panties down, before working on his belt and his zipper.

Your hands work at his hair, trying to cope with the fact that he is not being gentle, in fact, he seems to be purposefully mean, like he’s trying to see if you can even take it. This is nothing like when he first fucked you—this is a fucking that is making you see stars, and will leave you in tears.

Two of his fingers spread you open, making sure that you’re ready for him to fuck you. When he decides he is, still kissing your neck, he thrusts into you quickly—unapologetically. He doesn’t care about much else besides chasing that feeling of you clenched around him. He bottoms out inside you and moans against your neck.

Then, his thrusts start. He doesn’t even pretend to start slow, immediately he is thrusting into you, harder than he had in months, relishing in the feeling and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Missed your tight cunt,” He mumbles into your ear, “Missed how well you take me,” he hummed, his pace relentless. He’s trying to satisfy his cravings for you, but his attempt is messy and he’s losing his mind over the idea of not being able to fuck you for another few months.

“I’m—” You whine, your hair falling into your face, your brain fuzzy, “I’m gonna—” He coos softly as he grips your chin with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty thing, cum for me—” And just like that, you do. You absolutely do. You don’t hold back, and as soon as he feels you clenching around him, he’s coming too. You don’t know what else to do other than let him ride his high. When he pulls out, his hand comes back to your thighs, beginning to gently massage the mess the two of you had made into your thighs, pulling your panties back up so that for the rest of the service, you kind of just.. have to sit with that.

Your hands stay in his hair as he cleans the pair of you up, and you lean in to kiss him, and he lets you, but.. he doesn’t really kiss you back. And it breaks your heart. Your eyebrows furrow, as you reach for him like a child, and he just grabs your hands, “Just.. relax, okay?” He sighs.

“Why are you being like this?” You ask, “You’re..” You struggle to find the words as he buckles his pants, ignoring your gaze. There’s something inside him that’s stopping him from being affectionate towards you, that reminds him that you’ll be heading back off to school in a day or two and his heart will break all over again.

“Go back upstairs, Honey,” he says, but you shake your head.

“No, stop ignoring me—”

“Now.” He says firmly, ignoring the nauseating feeling as the saltiness of your tears fill his senses.

“Fuck. You.” you spit out, and he’s not angry with you for your reaction. It’s valid, of course. He knows why you’re angry, he just fucked you lovelessly, in the basement of the church where you first met.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he listens to the angry sniffles and foot stomps as you make your way back upstairs.

-

Matt’s neglect made you turn a new corner, and as soon as you get back to school, you find yourself constantly working and studying. You can’t possibly think about the intensity of his thrusts, the sternness of his voice.

You can’t talk about it, you can’t talk to any of your friends about the way you fell in love with a married man, you can’t talk to your parents about how you developed such intense feelings for the man who lives down the street..

So, you study.

On Halloween, you get a little too fucked up.

You drink an intense amount, needing to wash away the anger you have for Matt. At some point, you’re sitting in your bathroom floor, leaning against your wall.

Matt does not answer your call.

But you listen to his voicemail like it’s a sermon.

-

Winter

After Halloween, you begin to drink water every day, you eat more balanced meals, and you cut back on your substances. Truly, you know you need to make a change. And you do—school work becomes less of a coping mechanism and more of your job again. You mostly focus on enjoying your senior year.

But as the winter creeps in, you shop around for a gift for Lucas, fondly remembering your time with the young boy, despite your interaction with his father back in October. You store the gift away and focus on your finals. By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted.

You sleep most of the day on the 22nd, and then on the 23rd, you spend your day unpacking and helping your mom get ready for Christmas. Before you go to bed, you wrap Lucas’ present, and store it away, not caring much to deliver it any time soon.

You tell yourself you’ll drop it off tomorrow, and you aren’t sure if you’d rather come face to face with Matt, or his wife. The walk takes seemingly forever, and you feel anxious the whole way there.

You knock on the door, and wait with baited breath.. When Matt opens the door, your breath catches. He looks really good—A grey button up and dark jeans. You just smile at him.

“Hey,” You breath, “Uhm, I was just.. I wanted to give this to Lucas.. Is he here?” You question, not knowing where else he’d be on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, he’s actually staying at his moms today,” And your head darts up.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Matt says somewhat sheepishly, “We’re.. Separated. In the process of getting divorced.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” He chuckles, “I guess It was inevitable.”

“Well.. Then I guess you’re not doing anything tonight, huh?” You wonder, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll probably just have a drink and listen to Christmas music.” He chuckles. You ache for him to invite you over. But you don’t get to tell him that before he says, “I’m so sorry about.. October.” He sighs gently, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You say gently,

“No. It’s not. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.”  

“I got over it,” You shrug.

“So.. We’re okay?” He offers.

You smile.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Good. Because I’d really like to take you out sometime. Like, a real date.” He offers, and your face flushes.

“Yeah, that would be really nice..” You grin.

“No more sneaking around?”

“Well.. Maybe from my parents.. And it is kind of sexy,” You grin, taking a step up further onto his porch.

“Yeah?” He laughs, his hand coming down to rest on his waist. “Maybe that could be arranged.” He hums.

“Good,” You hum, and then you open your mouth to add, but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Tell your parents you’re keeping your old man company?” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I’d really like that.”

“That’s my baby,” He hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

[iwendix]

what if baek harin x reader where harin actually is so hellbent in keeping the pyramid game bcs its what reader wants 😩😩 like harin and reader were together in the orphanage, both got adopted by rich families, and reader is considered as the most special person to harin bcs reader's the one who stayed on harin's side when harin was being bullied and defended her plus !! helps harin cope with her religious trauma and everything she went through so harin promised reader she'd give her everything so when reader asked for the pyramid game, harin so willingly obliged <33 making this request bcs harin deserves so much more (imo) and bcs psycho x psycho 🔛🔝

my dog getting better so I'm back to writing😼

AND OMG THIS IS SO GOOD. just imagine a reader who has problems with aggression due to the fact that her adoptive parents raise her like “if you’re not good enough, you’re trash, and trash shouldn’t exist”, and the most unworthy in the reader’s opinion are those who crossed harin’s path, therefore she bullying them with the most pleasure. but with harin she is the most sunshine person ever exist. PSYHO X PSYHO JUST TOO GOOD

I'm actually thinking about writing full "series" to this request, cuz one chapter wouldn't be enough. I think I'll write this in chapters and post other requests in between.

[seramilla]

Hmmm after Emily learns the truth about WHO her mothers are, wouldn’t she also want to know how and why they got together? Wouldn’t she want to know the REAL reason behind Carmilla’s fall? And wouldn’t Sera feel obligated to tell her everything (within reason Emily doesn’t have to hear about their love life) because she’s kept Emily in the dark for so long now Sera must face these bright and unbearable realities. Like how she had to hide her pregnancy from the elders. How different Carmilla is from the slander spread by the elders. And Emily notices an unsettling trend with each answer she receives. The elders keep coming back as a point of conflict.

This is slowly turning into a merger with the Homophobic Heaven/Carmilla Fell Later AU, because I am really enthralled with the idea of how Carmilla fell in that timeline, not as a follower of Lucifer, but because she loved Sera so much. These two may eventually be one and the same AU, so just a heads-up if you're noticing a lot of similarities between the two. My brain was already rolling with angsty thoughts of how to describe Carmilla's falling to Emily, and it just came out that way. I may end up making a fic out of this somehow, if I can wrangle the two timelines together and make it make sense. There's just something about Carmilla and/or Sera having a secret daughter, combined with religious guilt and convoluted, angsty confessions of love for their children that gets me in a WAY. Tell me I'm not the only one!

"How did you and Carmilla meet, Mom?"

Emily's been asking a lot of questions lately. That's to be expected -- the very nature of Emily's relationship with Sera has been turned on its head. The younger Seraphim is making up for a lifetime of not knowing how she really fits into Sera's life, and it's the least Sera can do to fill in the blanks for her.

This particular question makes Sera smile a little. She hasn't thought about how she met Carmilla in so long. She has so many fond memories of those times...probably the only truly wonderful, carefree days she's had since Carmilla fell.

"I had just been appointed High Seraphim," Sera says. "It was only me back then. Carmilla was in charge of Heaven's holy arms. They weren't called Exorcists yet...this was before Adam took over, before Lucifer fell...even before the Garden was a place humans could dwell. Carmilla and I were both so young, and I was what you might call...a workaholic. I was stubborn in my ways, and only cared about making Heaven perfect. That's what I was created for. It was a lonely existence."

Emily is listening to Sera with rapt attention. The younger Seraphim has never known Heaven to be without its strict enforcers, without Winners, without all the pomp and circumstance of the nobles and elders who would bring down the proverbial hammer on anyone caught getting out of line.

Sera thinks, things had so much simpler back then. Right had been right, wrong had been wrong, and nuance did not yet exist.

Until Carmilla had taught her differently.

"Carmilla was always a dreamer, like Lucifer. She was also much too smart for her own good. Always inventing things, imagining things...wonderful things, but also things that could kill an angel, if she wasn't careful. That's how we were introduced. She was experimenting with some new contraption she'd built...something she probably shouldn't have been testing so close to a noble's house, if I'm being honest. Some Dominion angel or another who would throw a fit if even one of the flowers in his garden got trampled."

Emily giggles. She knows exactly the types of angels Sera is talking about. The uppercrust of angelic society. The Lord's favorites.

"There was a complaint filed by this particular...individual, and when I arrived to investigate, Carmilla and this gentleman were...having a bit of a spat out in an empty field. It looked like a few punches had been thrown, because they were both covered in scrapes and bruises. The moment I laid eyes on her...I knew she was going to be trouble."

Emiliy gasps. "They did not! Did he hit her?!"

"Oh, I'm sure he did, but you should have seen the other fellow...he was in much worse shape than Carmilla was."

This particular memory sends warm, mushy pangs of fondness directly to Sera's heart. Even though she hadn't thought it at the time...she'd always admired Carmilla's ability to defend herself. To not take any bullshit from anyone for any reason.

"I asked what was going on, and the Dominion complained that this 'ruffian soldier' was experimenting with deadly weapons on his property. When I asked if this was true, Carmilla didn't even attempt to deny it. She made me aware that it wasn't his property, though, and come to find out, she was right. He had tried to remove her by force, and she had retaliated. In the end, both were charged with misdemeanor crimes. Carmilla spent a few days in a jail cell...her sentence would have been longer, but I pulled some strings to get her out early. Heaven's army couldn't be without its commander, after all."

Emily shoots Sera a particular look. Like she knows Sera probably had ulterior motives, that had absolutely nothing to do with Heaven's army, and everything to do with the fact that Sera was fond of Carmilla.

"Uh huh. Suuuuure, I totally buy that excuse. There was no other reason for you to get her out?" Emily quips.

"Well...yes, but I didn't know it at the time! We had just met, and I...I felt sorry for her! It didn't have anything to do with love yet."

"Yet," Emily repeats, grinning like a maniac. "You are so transparent, Se--Mom! It's not even funny!"

Sera rolls her eyes in defeat. "Fine! Yes, something about her was...intriguing, even back then. And as soon as they let her out, she came directly back to me...to thank me, so she said. But...she started coming back every day! And I let her! It was all downhill from there..."

"OoOooOooh! You liiiiiked her!" Emily starts poking into Sera's sides, jibing at her mother to just admit what she's slowly building up to saying anyway. Sera turns toward her and starts jabbing at Emily with her fingers instead. Emily giggles, shouting, "I give! I give!" when Sera won't let up.

Sera smirks. "Now are you going to let me finish?"

"Yes! Just get to it, already!"

"As I was saying..." Sera starts, looking over at Emily to make sure she won't interrupt again. Emily swipes over her lips like she's locking something up tight, and pretends to throw away the key over her shoulder.

"Thank you. As I was saying...Carmilla started coming to visit me every day. At first, it was to thank me with words...then gifts...then invitations to go out on the town. To treat me, she said. I had never once been on a...date, before, even though we never called it that. We would never use those words within earshot of anyone. And before too long...she admitted she had feelings for me, and I didn't know how to respond. I shut her out, denied it, for so long. But she was stubborn. She never gave up on me. And eventually...Heaven, it was probably years, or decades later, after we'd fought and made up about it several times. Eventually, she convinced me that she really loved me...and I had to admit to myself that I loved her back."

Sera pauses for just a moment, reliving the memory in all of its warm, fuzzy details, and then looks over at Emily, who is staring back at her, eyes huge and glossed over, like she's about to cry. She's holding her hand over her mouth, to keep from interrupting again. Sera smiles at her.

But then Sera looks down, at her lap, and braces herself. She knows the tone of her story is about to take a dark, desolate turn...she's readying herself for it, so she can get past these painful memories for her daughter...so her girl will finally know the truth.

"Carmilla and I loved each other very much. I felt guilty about it, at first. Heaven had always taught me that same-sex relationships were dirty, and wrong, and sinful...but over time, she taught me there was nothing remotely wrong with what we had. And I believed her. How could there be anything dirty about us loving each other with everything we had, heart, body, and soul?"

Sera pauses again. Things are about to go south pretty quickly, and she's readying herself, and Emily for it -- for real, this time.

"We had...well, we did things that people in love do. It went on like that for years. Maybe we got cocky, or weren't careful enough, thinking we would never get caught. But someone must have seen us, at some point...or put two and two together. They never implicated me in the act...but someone told the elders Carmilla had a female lover. They took her into custody immediately. They did...so many horrible things to her. Tortured her. I begged with her to come clean, and just tell them it was me, and maybe I could get us both a lesser sentence for cooperation or good behavior. But she wouldn't have any of it."

Sera is the one crying now. Toward the end of that last statement, her voice wavers, and tears start falling down her face in rivers. The old wounds in her heart are slowly being ripped open again at the telling of this story, bleeding anew. She does her best to keep it together, for Emily. But reliving these memories is not easy for her, no matter how much she wants Emily to know.

"They gave her a sham trial. Everyone knew the result before it ended. Lucifer had fallen not long before this, so I knew what was coming before it happened. I watched them...I watched them push her. She fell, right over the edge, like she was nothing. She was my everything. They made an example of her...a spectacle of her. Just like they did with Lucifer and his followers. And right before she went down, she told me she loved me one last time. And then she was gone. And somehow, that made it so much worse."

Sera is actually sobbing now. Crying ugly, wet tears into her hands, trying to keep Emily from seeing, so she doesn't have to watch her mother break down in front of her. Emily rushes toward her, hugging Sera tightly around her shoulders. Sera leans into the smaller angel, letting Emily carry some of her weight...along with the weight of her sorrow and pain, that she's been keeping to herself for all these years.

When she's managed to calm down a bit, Sera continues her story. The next part is much happier...as happy as it could be possibly be, at least, after having just watched her partner receive a fate worse than death.

"What made it so much worse was that the same day that she fell, I found out I was pregnant with you. I had just lost my love, my light, my reason for being...and suddenly I had to find new purpose again, in order to keep you safe, and hidden. I hid away for a while, as best I could, and kept you a secret from the elders until you were born. I claimed that I'd commissioned you, from the same place that I was forged, because with all the new Winners entering Heaven, I needed an assistant. They were so gullible, never imagining I would double-cross them like that. So I raised you as my sister...as my heir. And that's how we wound up here."

Emily has been sitting in silence for a long while by this point, and she continues to be silent, in heavy contemplation, for several moments after Sera concludes her story. Sera reaches over, and rubs her hand against Emily's face. Emily looks up at her, and then holds Sera's hand against her cheek to ground herself.

"Thank you for telling me all this," Emily says, voice a mournful and somber timbre, like she's been reliving all these moments right along with Sera. "I'm sorry for making you...have to recount all those painful moments. But I understand now, why you did what you did. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Mom. I can't even begin to imagine how awful that was. I love you so much."

Emily starts to cry then, too, and Sera pulls her into her arms, and they just sit and hold each other for a while, and cry together, mother and daughter.

"I care about you so much, my love," Sera says. "You were the reason I held on for so long. You are my everything now, Emily, in her absence. You saved me. I could never imagine my life without you in it."

[poppyfamily]

hello no one asked but i brainrotted a bit over a charashamangela church choir/youth group au bc of That games video. thoughts under cut.

tw: minor religious trauma lol

Chanse and Angela growing up in the church. Each of their parents pushing them to be more active in the church through children's choir. Chanse probably starts earlier, maybe like a month before Angela. Chanse is the type of kid who their choir director had to be told to stop riffing because the purpose of a choir is to sound the same, Chanse. But Angela takes to him immediately and they become best friends.

They are eventually invited to join the church's youth ministry and they get so into it, probably dancing to One Way Jesus very enthusiastically. It's a staple for them to play Joseph and Mary during Christmas plays and are like super chill when facilitating prayer sessions. (They understand that people aren't necessarily there for Jesus or w/e but believe that the spirit of the ministry is to find Christ in one another or some shit).

They stay for a couple of years and manage to drag in Arasha, who goes to the same school as them. She's not Christian and is just there because she was sick of inviting them to do shit on Saturday nights only for them to say no and also for the vibes and free food.

Amanda comes in a little later and is forced by her mom to actually join because she was frequently getting into trouble so she'd rather just know that her daughter is praising the lord (or whatever the fuck goes down in youth ministry) on Saturday nights instead of swimming in people's pools or some shit idk. Becomes besties with Chanse, Arasha, Angela.

Making this about Amangela bc I can't help the way I am: Angela welcoming Amanda to the ministry because it's her job as one of its leaders and Amanda is obsessed with her immediately. Probably constantly inviting her to sit right next to her for Sunday service, surreptitiously holding hands during the Lord's Prayer, going out for ice cream together once Amanda gets her driver's license. Something something horny something something repressed, they end up regularly making out (and more?) in Amanda's car without really talking about the implications but they know they feel SOMETHING. Lots of Catholic guilt - but not being able to stop because it feels nice, because it feels right.

And because I like angst - Something something tension because Amanda starts being deprogrammed from Church rhetoric at some point. She still sees Angela doing the thing to appease all the old church ladies and pastors who give her a sense of self because it's really all she knows and are willing to offer her a scholarship for college so there is Even More Pressure.

But Amanda sees all this and sees just how much she's hiding who she is, feeling like she can't really call her out on it because they are Not. Together. Amanda also sees how this is hurting Angela, but Angela is just so young and so confused and just wants to do right by her family, by God, etc... Amanda starts feeling pain and resentment about it.

In my mind, the older active church members think Angela and Chanse are gonna end up together, get married and all that shit. Chanse and Angela never saw each other that way.

Chanse quits out of nowhere and people speak of him like they're speaking the devil's name, basically erasing all history of his contributions (because he's gay.) Amanda soon quits after, and basically stops speaking to Angela. Amanda and Chanse run into each other months later, make comments about not seeing each other in church anymore, and then they reconnect and become besties.

Arasha doesn't quit, she just stops attending because she becomes busy with college. It's just not the same because Chanse and Amanda aren't there. She doesn't really have an obligation to do so, but she still keeps in touch with Angela.

Arasha and Angela become roommates in college. And because this is the first time Angela experiences independence, she goes on a SIN rampage - secular (lmao) theater, drinking, drugs, sex (lmao). All the things the church loves to police. And she has an identity crisis about it, crying to Arasha about it even.

Arasha, not knowing where the fuck all this Christian guilt is coming from calls Amanda and Chanse for backup and it's the first time they all see each other in a while. They all commiserate in the dorm room and bond and it's beautiful.

Angela wakes up. Amanda, Chanse and Arasha remind her that she's worthy of love no matter what. Once Angela finally internalizes that, she unpacks all the ways she hurt herself and how she's hurt others. Angela and Amanda finally talk about the shit that went down between them. They apologize for hurting each other, and decide to try again with a better understanding of themselves.

And they all live happily ever after. The end.

[jess-the-vampire]

I genuinely don't understand the gripes a few people have with how Belos was handled in the finale. "Dont just brush him off as being evil" Well, why the fuck not? Dude wasnt born evil but he purposefully chose destruction and death at every possible opportunity for 400+ years. Nothing about his backstory would have made any impact on the characters affected, because its not an excuse, its not even an explanation! Caleb had the same childhood and he loved the Boiling isles. Eat boots Belos.

Ok, buckle up cause this is gonna be a long one, we gotta have a chat about Belos as a character, because there's been so many takes about this i keep seeing about " he never accepted the isles the way luz did" and "He had 400 years to change and he never took the took the offer", because it just seems like the fandom wants to kinda ignore a lot of the nuance about his situation and why it's not that simple?

and i'm for sure certain it's because the fandom is obviously already pretty biased against him since he's the villain, and what he does to the main characters as well as represents.

And that's fine, obviously he becomes a pretty bad person, no one is obligated to like him and it's ok to feel uncomfortable given the character he is.

But i think a lot of these issues as to why people have such mixed opinions about the finale has a lot to do directly with the fact the show DID keep his backstory as vague as they did, when if they had gone into it i think we would've had less of this discourse.

Now none of this is me excusing him obviously, but the fandom is very adamant to just not allow him to have depth either, when....he's allowed to be irredeemable and have depth at the same time. He's meant to be a very human villain, a character that could happen to anyone under the right circumstances

So not exploring that depth, why it got how it did, and how things like it can be prevented is a flaw within the show and among a lot of fans.

And to be fair, the show does not HAVE to do it, but the show also clearly wrote his character to have a lot of implied depth whether people like it or not, him coming from a very real religious group alone and making him a foil to luz has turned what could of been a very one note villain into one with a lot of layers to his villainy.

And if the show wants to make belos a very one note villian, no depth, they could of very easily done this by just cutting out details like his love and care for his brother, or just make make him want to destroy witches simply because he decided on his own they were worth destroying.

But that's not exactly what they've presented belos as being.

The show thrives in having characters who aren't just simple nor cookie cutter.

Hunter isn't just some cocky sidekick, he's an abused teenager who craves love and affection, and is willing to go high and low to earn it, terrified to be thrown away and replaced and constantly is forced into a mold just to get the affection he craves. He's highly sheltered and isolated just because his father figure doesn't want him to be his own person since that wasn't what he was created for

King isn't just a tiny little brat who craves power, he's a child whose been lied to about his past, and he wanted nothing more then to be taken seriously and feel a sense of belonging. He believes that he wants power, but finds out he really only wanted to be treated like anyone else, and that he's far happier with a family that loves and cares about him rather then being a powerful demon king.

Lilith isn't just a self important antagonist who wants to force eda to do what she wants, she grew up close to her sister and wanting to be by her side well into the future, but felt a sense of inadequacy in comparison to eda. The pressures of the coven system and need to win against her sister made her make a drastic choice she regrets and she wants nothing more then to fix it and make everything the ideal fantasy they grew up wanting to have together. She's also a large nerd, craves the attention of higher figures since her own mother used to put all the attention on eda, and changed her appearance just so people would take her seriously.

And the show does this with most of it's cast, obvi there's the exception like tibbles and even bosha who don't have too much to them, but they're also very minor antagonists and there's still stuff you can pick up on.

Belos however is the main antagonist, everything that happens in the show, happens because of him, his entire backstory is basically why the plot of the show happens.

Not just that, but also caleb and evelyn, if it weren't for the drama between these three, there would be no show.

And people are WELL aware these three aren't the main leads, they aren't going to be the main focus of most episodes and obviously the show was going to end in the favor of the main characters.

But

the story the show tells between these three ties very strongly into the ones with the leads too. We are given at least enough details to notice parallels between stuff that happens with characters like luz, and characters like philip.

We know philip and luz grew up in gravesfield, we know there were outcasts there, and they had one family member they relied on to support them there. They ended up in the demon realm, they both learned magic, and they both are strongly motivated by their beliefs regarding the isles.

So there's a lot they share in common, which makes it really easy to take a look at philip and say "Well it's his fault for not being like luz and accepting the isles like she did".

But, there's a lot of differences here

Luz grew up with fantasy, with magic stories about witches and heroes and demons. Philip grew up in a 1600s puritan village which demonized this stuff, he was a young child growing up being told this stuff was evil and he was taught to fight against it.

Luz felt odd for her interests and out there personality but at worst she felt isolated and misunderstood, she didn't like her mom's efforts to change her to be "Normal". Philip actually conformed to gravesfield, caleb clearly encouraging his brother to do so, just so both of them could fit in with the town. Had they not conformed at best they'd be isolated, but at worst they'd be dead.

Camilia is an adult who eventually opens up and talks to luz about how it was wrong to try and change her to be "Normal", that she herself hid her own interests to do so.

Caleb, was a child, he did not have any open conversations with his younger brother. Caleb hid evelyn and his interests with witches from philip and then on top of this, left philip behind.

You could absolutely say the fact caleb didn't talk to philip is pure speculation, and not confirmed at all. That all of this could be summed up to unreliable narrators.

But we know caleb left for the isles before philip did, we know it took time for philip to find him again (because his beard grew out), we know caleb had a wife who seems to be pregnant, that he was introducing philip to (Implying he not only hasn't seen philip in awhile, but that eve and philip have never met to caleb) and all of that alone feeds into the fact caleb left him behind to start another life. This is all shown in his memories alone, stuff we can't chalk up to unreliable narrators.

So the most logical conclusion to come to is caleb left philip to start a new family, we don't have a lot of details as to if caleb ever planned to return, if caleb had good reasons to do what he did, or much about his mindset.

But we have enough to know Philip loved and looked up to caleb, that he relied on caleb, and caleb lied and left him.

There is again, reason to tie this back to camila and luz.

but this is not a child leaving a parent behind, this is a parental figure leaving a child behind.

This is what i mean by the issue being lack of clear answers, people claim caleb left when philip was an adult, but we actually have no confirmed evidence for this. We have enough of philip's memories to know 2 things, that he was still a teenager when caleb was meeting evelyn, and he was an adult when he arrived.

You could argue philip was an adult by the time caleb left, but it's so vauge you can also argue caleb left when philip was a child and philip didn't figure out his way to the demon realm till adulthood and there's not enough proof to go one way or another.

now titan dad says philip had no genuine reasons for his actions, that he did this all for glory, but as steve put it back in OTWAT, the titan is just a guy.

And given the collector situation, he can make mistakes and screw up just like anyone else.

Titan dad only sees what he can see and make observations based on what he sees. He saw a human come to the isles with a bias already against witches, who ended up killing his brother, who claimed to come here to save others and that's all he's going to see philip as being. Someone who wants to save others but just hurts them instead.

He has no reason to know what philip grew up under, nor does he have reason to know philip and caleb's story before they arrived. There's no denying philip did love caleb, and that they were close, but that caleb leaving him behind for witches drove them apart.

I think the problem ppl even have with what titan dad says is purely because the fans take it at face value, because let's be honest, most fans will believe the objective heroes for what they assume over the villians. And since the show again, leaves philip's story vauge, and never puts it in the main focus, people will just assume what titan dad says must be the truth.

Like yes, you can pick up on these details if you are paying attention, but most people won't do that, so a lot of fans will listen to the god telling them what philip's motivations are coming from rather then put together the sense of betrayal from caleb that hurt philip that most of the evidence is actually pointing to.

philip had no parents, and had no one but caleb as far as we can tell, and then caleb left him too, like he didn't want him anymore.

And he left him in a bigoted town, alone.

the damage this could of done if he was a child is pretty darn bad, and for philip to assume this happened because of a witch means reinforcing everything he's been taught about witches.

Caleb lied about his changes, so when caleb sees him again, caleb seems to be a different person, which does fit with what philip says to luz about the isles "Brainwashing people".

tho you can argue that that's not the truth, that philip knows caleb did it on purpose and killed him for betraying him, cause of how he blames him in episodes like FTF.

But again, this is the result of leaving things vague, because either situation is plausible.

it's plausible philip never intended to kill caleb at all and he died as the result of trying to protect eve because the show says he was trying to target evelyn to save caleb, and it's plausible he died on purpose out of philip's rage for caleb leaving him. Because guess what? That means caleb had the means to go see him and could've seen him but made the choice NOT to, so yeah, that's pretty heartbreaking.

again, this also comes into play regarding Philips's guilt.

People objectively keep saying philip HAS no guilt regarding caleb, but we have evidence for both guilt and non guilt.

Now, sure, his portrait of dead caleb implies philip is not guilty for his death based on his expression after the fact. We also have the fact philip shows distain towards the grimwalkers, that he never outright expresses he feels bad to anyone.

But, we also have caleb's death being treated as one of philip's worst memories in KT that he objectively recalls in horror, he says he "Tried" to save caleb in FTF, which implies he wanted to save him and that he's mad he didn't manage to do so. The grimwalkers and caleb could be seen as ghosts, but also as hallucinations, and if you are seeing them as the latter then it makes sense he'd be seeing them out of some level of guilt towards having them killed.

If the show had these details explained more fully, it would be easy to either deem belos as being a murderous dick with no remorse who thinks killing was the right thing, or as a guilt ridded stubborn murderer who wants to not acknowledge he was wrong and screwed up.

it's why people are split, because you could objectively choose to see him both ways and the ending will affect you differently depending on what you picked up on.

But now let's talk about philip not changing, because people have bashed him for not doing so in the 400 years he's been there and that he had opportunities to do so but didn't.

And i think this is half right, half wrong.

Philip came to the isles with biases, he basically grew up in a cult, he came in thinking he was traveling into hell to go find caleb. Caleb encouraged his hatred, and then his hatred got further pushed when caleb seemed to be kidnapped, and then further pushed when he was surrounded by nothing but bigots.

So this man was already on a bad foot compared to luz, who was here to live out the fantasy books she grew up on, and objectively would have no reason to hate or fear witches nearly as much.

And we do know while the BI can be compassionate, it also has it's issues, even luz faced discrimination for being human herself while on the isles. Being powerless there is well, not great, it's why luz had to figure out her own way to do things alongside everyone else.

And the Bi ARE dangerous, especially for humans, so it's at least understandable philip is not going to just show up and look past the flesh eating plants, the evil weather, and the lack of anything he can even objectively eat.

Now philip could of considered things outside of his bias, and made the effort to try and look at things from a new perspective. But we also have to acknowledge that it's not easy to come out of this long time brainwashing either, and that it takes time and help to do so.

And philip, didn't seem to have that.

Yes, caleb grew up the same way, but not only was he older, which already set him up to question things more. But he had evelyn, he had someone to challenge him and his views and change his mind.

Philp, doesn't have that, there is no confirmation anyone ever really chose to challenge his views or make him realize he was following a lie.

Caleb could of but caleb left.

All we see is philip, isolated, following the beliefs he was taught and being hostile to witches, and witches rightfully being hostile back, which just further is feeding into his bias.

You can assume philip had chances to change but didn't, but there's no real strong evidence of that being offered to him either. That any witch ever tried to make him question anything.

It's pure speculation.

Now Philip is a stubborn ass dude for sure, so yeah, we can claim he just simply didn't want to consider it.

But people are claiming Philip was shown help that he didn't take and that's just not true. We never see anyone asking him to do the right thing or making him question things, at least not compassionately.

no one to our knowledge ever did challenge him, or did reach out to him, not even in the show itself.

Luz is rightfully hostile towards him even when trying to challenge him, hunter does attempt to try and come up with helpful ideas but he would silence himself if his uncle didn't like it (Not to mention the existing fact that he is supposed to be a caleb replacement so his existence comes from philip not wanting him to change or question things philip thinks caleb should not), and well....collector giving him a hug isn't gonna do anything at that point to stop him from thinking the worst of the isles.

This is partially because belos has the power in scenes, that if he hears what he doesn't want to hear he can quickly silence the individual and ignore it.

He's basically put in situations where no one is challenging him and if they are, they're usually doing it with distain and he's responding like a dick right back.

So maybe not much could of been done when belos has become emperor, outside of some rare occurrences where he has no choice but to listen or if he was challenged by someone he respected and would be less willing to hurt. Maybe he's too far gone to back out now and has too much power to even allow himself to consider what anyone had to say, even if they did do it kindly and wouldn't face his wrath.

but he was only emperor for 50 years too.

So ok, what about before that?

Well, yeah, maybe there were chances he could of been, but that's a period of time we only see so much of, and none of it shows one way or the other that Philip was offered the chance to improve.

I think had we gotten a scene of philip being offered a chance to do good, to consider things, that he knew he was wrong and still rejected it, it would back up this whole "Philip made the choice to not get better" thing people claim.

but truth is, it's speculation, we don't know.

A guy who spent his life buying into where he grew up and came in with biases that became a cycle of him being terrible and witches reinforcing what he thought isn't just suddenly going to change his mind and be nice now on a whim unless those biases are challenged in a way he can't deny.

it's on him for not considering looking on things outside of his bias for sure, but people seem to think doing that is simple and easy and it's really not.

Philip had no evelyn, he was left with no one but his bias and stubborn mind.

It's like king said back in hollow mind " People don't want to believe they've been following the wrong person their whole lives", and philip didn't have a luz like hunter did to help him realize how wrong he really was.

Instead it got worse and worse.

This is why philip feels real, because this can happen to people, that they can grow up with hate and never receive the help they needed to pull them out of the mindset. So they get worse, they become worse people.

and we can argue philip didn't deserve the chance to get better, but you'll never know if you don't try and we don't know if anyone did try before he was too far gone.

to think all of this could of been avoided if caleb actually spoke to his brother and gave him the chance to change...

Tying this all back to the beginning-

Philip's story ties into luz, they are foils in a lot of ways, but people need to remember they have differences outside of luz being a good person and philip being a bad person. Those differences make them into the people they are.

That luz was set up to love the isles in a way philip was set up to come in with a bias against it.

That it is not as simple as "Philip should of just got better" given what happened to him and the lack of help he had.

That philip never really is objectively shown to be offered genuine chances to reconsider his views on the show as much as people keep claiming so, and it's mostly all assumption at this point.

That so much of this argument over whether he's one way or the other could of been fixed if the show hadn't kept things vague.

By doing so, it leaves a lot for interpretation about him and therefore means people will have different views on what he thinks and feels and therefore will have different views on how his death should of been handled.

Caleb and philip tie into camila and luz, they tie into the clawthrone sisters, they are the basis for the plot of the series, they tie into hunter and the themes of being understood and being honest about yourself and conformity and it is no wonder people care about them.

It is incredibly valid if anyone expecting this story, that tied into the plot so hard ,as well as the themes, was upset it felt unexplained or dropped in the finale.

Especially since the fandom, with an obvious hatred for belos, responded to it by treating titan dad's word as god and simplifies philip's story completely despite everything i just mentioned here.

It is perfectly fine if you are not someone who cares about belos, but the people who do are perfectly allowed to be bothered that the show itself kept the complexity vague and not addressed and none of it mattered when it came to how his arc ended.

And that the only person who properly gives a personal opinion of what he thinks his motives are, simplifies him to being evil, and the fandom roles with that and the show never tries to do much to prove otherwise despite the evidence.

because this is a fascinating story about how conformity and bigotry can drive two close brothers apart and it feels like a story the show should of at least dedicated more of an episode to.

Especially since there's no clear idea if we'll ever get extra toh content to really tie any of this up.

Again, none of this excuses belos/philip for what he did, does, or tries to do, no amount of his life being screwed over and people treating him bad and not reaching out to him will ever excuse the fact he went so far.

But let's also just, not pretend it was an easy fix either, that someone can just....stop believing what they believe with the drop of a hat.

Especially given how this can reflect real people who are made into people like this.

He is nuanced, and people are attached to this villain for good reasons.

Nothing is simple about him, and it's just a product of how the show has handled his character.

[streets-in-paradise]

Concealed Fighter - Hector x Wife!Reader/ Achilles x Captive!Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Warnings: Manipulative woman twisting the power dynamics of captivity while her master tries to seduce her.

Summary: Reader is the wife of Hector ( they got married after he returns from Sparta) and she sacrifices herself to protect Briseis. As a captive of the greeks given to Achilles, then stolen by Agamemnon, she takes the only advantage of the situation she has to actively assume a role of destabilizing agent and wreck the enemy from the inside.

However, the life on the greek camp also leaves its effect on her putting the self assumed mission at risk when the persuation tactics turn against her due to the awakening of desire in his original captor. Achilles refuses to fight for the greeks because of her, but if he gets her back he will try anything in his power to convince her of willingly staying with him.

Tags: @thorssweetheart ( I wrote this one for you. It's not completely dark, but I mixed a bit of my tone with yours here.)

Glossary of homeric terms: Atreide - Means son of Atreus, a way to reference either Agamemnon or Menelaus.

Scaean Gate - Name of the main gate of Troy

When your father in law instructed you to follow Briseis for the religious rituals that morning, it was out of the pure intention of helping you adjust to the functions expected of royalty in your cultural context. Freshly made a princess through a blissfull marriage to his eldest son, you were starting to get comfortable in that role and wanted to impress him in order to make your husband proud. His cousin was the high priestess of the family, but that wasn't an excuse excempting you from the obligation of participating in particular occasions that were regarded traditional for any future queen. Desperate times required of commited attention to that sort of thing, but none of you imagined you would reach the bottom of desperation during the very same action.

The prayers were forever silenced with the arrival of the greeks, dreaded moment unleashing the war taking place at the worst possible timing as you were trapped in the middle of a carnage that was also an obscene act of profanity. Despite the quick reaction of the troops, the temple never stood a chance against the enemy. Myrmidon soldiers had slaughtered the priests, only Briseis and you remained alive as shocked observants in a temporal hidding place that you knew won't stand much longer.

You were a princess of Troy, the queen of Hector's future reign, and you had came to that temple under the purpose of acting as such in the first place. To show your subjects you would do anything to protect them, first you had to start saving your family.

Context demmanded you to act quick, so you came up with a risky plan that you explained to Briseis in whispers while cleaning her tears.

" I'll clear the way for you, run and find Hector. Don't waste time turning back, they will get you."

The pragmatical, almost cold sounding way in which you phrased the idea ruined her nerves even more. She didn't want to leave you behind, Briseis would never accept it no matter how logical you were trying to be.

She refused nodding negatively, too afraid to take the risk of speaking.

" Do it, there is no other way. If we stay together, then we are all doomed. There is hope for only one of us, and I rather it will be you." You insisted, attempting to give further reasons to your sacrifice that would make her feel less guilty. " They will pay for this, I promise you. "

You grabbed her arms like a wake up call before continuing.

" Briseis, I'm giving myself willingly because it's the only way to get one of us inside the camp. Do you see what they can do? Traditional means will not be enough to defeat them, someone has to discover how. "

Fear was starting to make your voice tremble as you thought of your city, your family ... your husband.

" Tell Hector, tell him I'm loyal and I'll return to him with the secret to destroy the greeks ... Tell him I love him and I will do whatever it takes to help our cause."

After a brief, emotive farewell she accepted to execute the plan according to your guidance. The distraction turned out successfull, since the soldiers rushed to take you while she sneaked under their noses given all the fuss you were making. The next thing you knew was being tied up alongside piles of stolen gold inside the recently settled tent of who you guessed was one of their captains.

The master didn't make you wait for long, finding you as a surprise of his men for him when he arrived to clean off the traces of the fight in his appearance. Strong first impressions were his thing, he was standing naked in front of you apparently careless for your presence. The spectacle didn't obtain any reaction, even when he asked for your name.

" You will pay for what you did. " Was your bitter reply inconected to the question." Hector will make you regret the day you were born. "

The grim warning made him chuckle.

" I think your prince is afraid of me, he sees there is no hope for Troy if i charge into battle. "

With one simple mock he had made you aware of everything.

" You must be Achilles … Lucky of mine, I'm being handed to the worst of the savages. "

" My well earned prize. " He confirmed while getting dressed, barely tying a long piece of black cloth arround his hips. " It was either me or Ajax, we were the ones winning the battle. I have obtained greater glory, so I got the ríght to keep you. "

" Shouldn't that be a privilege of the higher commander?" You taunted him, questioning in a poisonous tone. " … He is not going to like it."

The provokation hitted in the ríght spot to make him itch.

" Then he should have won the battle by himself. " Was his cocky reply, given while walking towards you. " … You are too precious to be given away. "

You could tell where the talk was leading, it was a complete twist of the provocative intentions into a territory you weren't allowing him to cross.

" The only priestess inside that temple ran away, i'm a married woman. "

The clarification didn't mean much to him.

" An eye for an eye. " He simplified, twirling your hair in his fingertips. " The trojan prince took Helen, so it's fair for me to take you. "

Achilles was dangerously close, sniffing the scent of your locks.

" She left her husband willingly. " You clarified on purpose. " Paris won her favors."

He caressed the side of your cheek while looking for cuts.

" After a while with me you won't want to leave. " He purred seductively, then proceeded to untie you. " … I like your perfume, it seems he pays for the expensive ones. "

" High nobility, my father is a general of Priam. " You bitterly clarified. " … And i'm married to a mighty warlord. "

You would have wanted to brag about that saying loud and clear that you were the wife of Hector. If it wouldn't be so dangerous, you would have seeked to humilliate him showing your love for your man.

" He failed to protect you, maybe he was not the right for you. " He mercilessly teased you, sitting ríght next to you. " What's your name? "

You had to give him an answer, but you were incapable of being honest. The greeks couldn't possibly know already of your marriage. Their access to news was blocked at the time of your wedding, they were planning the war while it happened.

Briseis escaped to tell the story, Hector had to be aware by then so you didn't need the greeks to bring him the news. Keeping your identity as a secret was safer and a good strategy. As a couple, your husband and you would get the upper hand working against them from outside and inside.

You gave him the very first name that occured to you, a female variation of the name of your father.

" Glauce. "

Achilles had his full attention on you, his eyes were roaming your features with interest.

" Well, Glauce. I'll take care of you better than him. Your safety is granted with me. "

It sounded like a promise, you could tell he didn't want you to fear him. Being perceived as a careless monster by you wasn't as satisfying as the fear he awakened in your countrymen.

The first impression played in your favor, he was Interested enough to seek winning your simpathy. There had to be some sort of limit to his brutality and it seemed to play out in his approach to women. Achilles preferred seduction to coercion, trusting in his looks and charm to do the trick. Softer on the surface, he would rather win you over than force himself on a tied up defensless woman.

At least in that, he was a safer bet than many others. Your chances to keep working on the reading of the greek commanders presented that very same day, when your initial guesses turned out to be truth and his promised was challenged.

Agamemnon felt insulted because his rebel soldier ignored him on purpose and didn't even consider him at the time to divide the profits. His heralds came to take you using the advantage of a distraction the king created by himself to keep Achilles away from you at the moment. They were very impressed to find out you were following them willingly.

Not only it was a matter of principles to never show weakness in front of the enemy, but you were also considering the greek King of Kings was a privileged source of information. There was no better tent to infiltrate if what you wanted was to figure out the patterns of the political relationships within the militar fractions of his army. For so, your entrance managed to exceede any expectations. The soldiers taking you there were disconcerted following your arrogant steps.

Behaviorally wise, you looked like a queen that was heading to negotiate instead of a living object being dragged from one place to the other. Agamemnon was slightly dissapointed, probably hoping the guards would have seen themselves forced to mistreat you in front of Achilles to enrage him even more. However, the visual did manage to surprise him. The taunting smirk didn't fade, only changed its target.

" Wonderfull reward … Even in disgrace her majestuosity remains intact. " He commented, praising you in a menacing tone. " … Woman fitting for a king. And since you aren't one, Achilles. I think you are not going to need her. "

It unleashed the killer beast.

In a matter of instants the whole place got surrounded by guards that Agamemnon called as soon as Achilles merely pulled out his sword, what to you was a measure against the feared quickness of his lethal strikes.

You were still smiling to yourself, thinking of how accidentally accurate the words of the mycenaean have been in what concerned you given Hector was the next king of Troy in the line of succession.

The myrmidon claimed so quickly and pridefully that your husband lost you because he wasn't strong enough to protect you, yet he couldn't keep you for one full day. Delightfully humilliating irony, even if the man missing you inside the city remained faceless to him. At that moment Achilles was measuring himself not only with Agamemnon's power, but also with the memory of the man you loved.

He wanted you to watch him murder greeks in cold blood for you, to prove his point of being the superior man that would cross límits no trojan would.

For as much as you would have loved to see enemies being sacrificed at your feet, you were Interested in something better.

Playing with their minds, taking advantage of the situation and subtly lead the discussion while making them feel in control the whole time.

" I've seen you are a gifted killer, they may have the numerical advantage but those men are trembling. " You stopped him, actually walking towards him with the courage the mycenaean soldiers lacked of. " Before you will unleash another carnage, let's revisit the situation. Shall we?"

Agamemnon was amused by your irreverence, mostly because it was being directed towards his polítical rival.

" I come from a militar family, so i'm not ignorant to the codes of war. " You kept talking as if you would be back in Troy discussing with Hector about the resolutions of the city's council. " Spoils of conquest shall be distributed equally among the warlords, but the commander chief has ríght to a bigger share. "

" Precisely what I'm reclaiming. " The mycenaean agreed. " I'm in command here. "

Unimpressed by the statement, you were ready to throw the web.

" … Considering Achilles has beheaded a monumental golden statue of Apollo. How can you both be so convinced i'm the biggest share of the treasure? You can buy at least fifteen women for that statue only. I have to admit it's flattering, your altercate implies i'm either worth for fifteen women or you greeks are terrible traders. "

The rational observation embarrased them. Achilles had putted down his sword and Agamemnon didn't have enough recovered honor to point it out.

" It's simbolical value. " He attempted to come up with a quick answer for what trully was nothing more than a battle of egos. " You are the first enemy woman in our power, captive of a war started by my brother's wife. "

" If she wouldn't have jumped on board, you would have instructed servants to charge spartan reliques in that ship so you could frame us and invade anyways. " Was your fearless comeback. " Maybe your provincial soldiers believe that, but trojans know you well. "

If they wouldn't know better, they would have feared the goddess of wisedown transfigurated in a slave was lecturing their behavior.

" Theorically, once you finish arguing over who is meant to own me the winner can do whatever he wants with me. The problem is what you should do in order to serve best your personal interest. Achilles is willing to slaugther your men to save me from you. Can you afford that, King of Kings? "

Agamemnon was frankly shocked, not even his royal advisors would have been so direct.

" Who are you? "

" That's not important, what matters here is that i'm aware of what you both want from me and why you won't get it." You cleverly deviated. "For instance, you want to force yourself on me to give your rebel soldier a lesson. I see it in your eyes, sense it in your voice. He made you feel powerless watching the beach battle from afar, so now you are taking me as payback. Fortunately, that's going to take you nowhere. "

Going back to the warrior like a caged beast pacing from one point to the other, you challenged him with the same ferocity.

" As it could be said of your attempts to present yourself as my savior. " You concluded for him. " Legends fail to acknowledge Achilles as a protector of helpless women and it's not hard to wonder why. You aren't acting out of the kindness of your heart, what you want is to keep me reliant on you in order to win my trust so I will eventually give in. "

At that point, despite it would have been wiser to keep silence, no one could have stopped you.

" Keep the sword down, i'm not spreading my legs for this. I despise you and that won't change simply because you are the less of two evils standing in front your pig of a king. "

The comparison had affected him as much as the self perceived unfair claims.

" He is not my king … and i'm not who you think I am. "

" Prove it. " You insisted. " Untill then, you are just the same to me. "

The provocation worked better than you could have expected, discovering there that what Achilles hated the most was being compared to Agamemnon. It carved over the fresh wound of the anger he was already feeling about the desestimation of his efforts in the war.

A fierce lion had turned into a meowing kitten when the master he reluctantly followed took away his slave, humilliation you wished you could have shared with your people as perfect payment for the destruction of the temple. From then, his efforts were focused on showing the greeks that he wouldn't accept being controlled while proving to you that he was the better man. The special weapon of the enemy had opted for inaction as a form of protest, refusing to fight untill Agamemnon would come back crawling expecting he would beg to him ... expecting to get you back.

Coldess of mind was your best weapon against them, their fates were already on your hands. Agamemnon was too haunted by the warning you made him to actively seek to fullfill the full punishment, since Achilles was being completely serious about his thirst for revenge and for having you. The little glimpses of yourself he managed to figure out from your brief talk and the interventions you have made in their fight weren't enough, his interest only had escalated since then.

Without him, greeks lost, and they lost badly. Hector deprived them of two leaders during the course of the same battle, one of them being the husband of Helen whose cause gathered everyone. They were running out of excuses, starting to point fingers at each other attributing blames where those didn't necesarily belong. On his part, Agamemnon saw the warning you have made him the day before becoming real and sensed something almost supernatural in it. Of course, he was completely unaware that the crushing lost was a result of his own stubborness and the team work of the heir couple of the trojan throne.

Even trojans themselves weren't completely aware that Hector and you could sometimes become your own separated fraction operating underneath the obstacles presented by the local politics. No matter what the council presided by his father would dictaminate, you would allways have his back to do what you knew was right. Even while being so far away from each other, the combination of your strikes was making the greeks bleed despite you haven't had any ocassion of discussing the course of action. You knew each other too well, in a fair world you would have been designing strategies with him in front of the army and not against their backs.

Hidding your adoration while overhearing the feats of your husband as you poured wine for the kings was your main challenge during that post battle night among the greeks. They were already discussing rendition, all thanks to the fear that he inspired. It was clear that you would have to handle yourself finding a scape way if that would happen, but you were amazed seeing your goal at the verge of fullfillment. Agamemnon recklessly kept you there as a symbol of the only victory they had achieved, showing you off to the commanders in an attempt to tempt them to stay exciting their greed. He presented you as a promise of future wealthness, if they would pass the hardships every chief would have one like you.

Odysseus was completely careless for that and trying to make the myceanean come to his senses was hard even for his audacious mind. At that hour of the night, only him and Nestor remained in the Atreide's tent and only one particular moment during his long callout catched your attention.

" Hector is ONE man ... Look at what he did to us today! "

You were forced to hide your flusterred smile full of pride for your man and you did through a humble gesture bowing the head.

They kept arguing for a while, two against the stubborness of one.

" Even if I could make peace with Achilles, the man won't listen to me! " Agamemnon reminded them with frustration, the wine you were serving him non stop starting to hit him. " He is as likely to SPEAR ME as to SPEAK TO ME! "

You chuckled briefly and Nestor noticed it while awaiting or Odysseus' resolution.

" ... I will talk to him. "

Once that part got resolved, the old king reminded them of you.

" He will want her back."

The mention gave you a proper space for according intromission.

" I will pack my things ... I mean, just the blue dress I was wearing when you kidnapped me. " You mordaciously commented. " Can I change back into it or your plan is to send me looking like this hoping I would have the kindness of whoring myself to save you? "

The taunting ask pointed at the uncomfortable suggestive dressing the king forced you to wear for his visits.

" I haven't touched her! " Agamemnon excused himself to his friends. " Take her back to him or I will give her to the men, the whore is cursed and I will not take the risk. "

He refused to explain further, but you did for him.

" His brother made a curious joke last night when we meet. He said that it would be his right to go first because he was the one that trojans had ofended, now he is dead ... And how about Ajax? He was the second in line who could have got me as reward, if the glory of Achilles wouldn't have outshined him. I think Apollo is using me to pick the victims of Hector, maybe desecrating the temple of a god we both worship wasn't a brilliant idea after all. "

The macabre warnings upsetted the myceanean king.

" Take her now, Odysseus. If he wants her still, she is all his. "

The king of Ithaca didn't wait any longer, instructing you to only pick up your dress and put on a cloak he handled you in order to comfortably follow him to the tents of the myrmidons.

As soon as you were out of sight the tries on guessing you began.

"These are not virgin robes. " He cassually commented about the clothes you were carrying. " It means you are not a priestess, so what were you doing that morning in the temple? "

" Pouring thracian wine to the priests. " You sarcastically mocked him. " Isn't a bit obvious I was witnessing a religious ceremony? "

" Obligation of female royals in times of war, women are commaned to pray while the men prepare to fight. " He quickly replicated. " Wives of royalty preach with the example. "

You stopped walking right away.

" What has given me away? "

" Your smile, the way your eyes shine with pride when we talk of Hector. It's true that any trojan gets excited hearing of him, but you don't look like one more of the people who worships him as the city's hero. " He began to explain you. " The eyes of Penelope shine the same way when I tell her my stories after coming back home from a long journey. "

The melancholic husband couldn't be forgiving you out of the kindness of his heart and a mere parallel with his wife.

" Why aren't you warning them? "

" Because I know Agamemnon wouldn't have agreed to return you and right now, all we need is to have Achilles back." Was his simple reason. " If you want my honest advice, girl? Your husband should have came with a ransom by now. He hasn't, and to me it feels he is letting you go because he can't stand the shame. Even if he does love you and would rather have you by his side, the city may have resolved it that way. The heir prince, the bastion of Troy ... he can't come back home with a marked woman. "

He was good, doing an excellent job at sowing doubts.

" Your stance here has stained you, people would look at you wondering how many greek generals had laid their hands on you. Even when we know that no one has touched you, they will never believe it back in Troy and Priam's dinasty is in crisis. It would be easier and politically safer for him to arrange a new marriage for Hector."

" The same king that's sending him to fight so Paris can keep his wife won't do that to me. " You snarked back, clinging to what were your certainties. " They may be religious hypocrites, but I know my people better than you. "

" Adjust to your new life, princess. " He grimly warned you. " The prince may never come to save you and the myrmidons could use a clever girl keeping their hot headed mess of a leader grounded. "

You spat on the ground, right at the side of his feet.

" He will rot in his tent and Hector will set your ships on fire to rescue me. "

A young lad gave you the welcome, warning your master of the arrival.

Achilles smiled at you, but responded to Odysseus with the same carelessness he had dedicated to Agamemnon days before.

" Whatever you have to say can wait untill the morning." He told him in a cold tone. " I want to speak with her ... alone. "

Not wanting to make a fuss that could ruin the mission, the ithacan king acceded to his demmand.

" Understandable, I will be ouside with Patroclus so the walk won't be in vain. " He mocked him. "I could use a drink now, and hear some positivity. The last time I was in Phtia I have seen your cousin is great at that. "

The young man chuckled and accompanied him outside, presumably for a chat arround the campfire of the night watchers. Before they left, Achilles ordered him dinner would be served to you and he called two other myrmidons to arrange it.

You didn't seem mistreated and that was encouraging for him, so he gesturally invited you to sit in front of him and served you by himself.

" Eat."

" Mind to tell me the reason for this? " You cutted off his attempt of soft approach. " Agamemnon didn't touch me, I think it's fair to say he is slightly afraid of me. You don't have wounds to tend, no need to fake kindness."

" I'm just trying to be a decent host." Was his vague reply. " You are my guest tonight."

" Odysseus was your guest, and you had kicked him out. I'm your prisoner. " You reminded him. " I had enough of your games, Achilles."

" Such a shame, I'm very into yours. " He teased you. " What do you think of all of this? One day has passed and they already brought you back to me. I'm feeling destiny playing a move here. "

You began to eat so you wouldn't have to reply him right away.

" Why do you care ? I'm a nobody. "

" You are not under the orders of Agamemnon, you are the onlyone besides from me with the courage to stand up against him. "

The facts were conveniently twisted and you knew of that.

" I also stood up to you. "

" And i don't forget that. " He corrected you. " ... Trust me, I had plenty of time alone to think about you."

The provocation was not going to disarm you.

" I believe it shows how desperate they are, and that you would be a fool if you stop now. The mycenaean king is not at your feet yet, he stil sends heralds to make his apologies. Make them wait some more, it will give us time to get to know each other."

He smirked and you couldn't tell which part of the answer made it.

" You are good, diligent little snake. It almost makes me want to take the advice just to see how far you can go to keep me away from your husband. "

He offered you a goblet to drink, making it reach your mouth with the movement of his hand so he could have an excuse to stare at your lips during the first sip.

" Why trying so hard? Have you considered he could be dead by now? "

" He is the kind of man you find once in a lifetime, I would remain loyal to him even after death simply because he worths it. " You explained him. " I don't expect you to understand it, your world is seducing war captives. Maybe you have never thought of that, having a wife to love for the rest of your life. Form a family, somewhere to belong in."

Your blow hitted, even when he won't admit it and opted for strike another one.

" Is he alone with the children now? "

" We didn't get time for that, he was part of the crew that travelled to Sparta and we got married once he came back." You vaguely admitted, being carefull of not giving any revealing clue. " It was the happiest moment of my life, even despite we knew what was coming. The city was cheerfull for a while right before all of this got to happen, our wedding party was the last time. "

For an instant he took the effort of imagining you on your wedding dress heading inside the temple of Hera. He had no idea of how trojan weddings were like, neither knew their fashion trends for brides, so he pictured it the greek way.

Lucky of the man that got to experience that. To remove your veil and find a smiling face at the other side, to kiss your lips ... To find you laying naked on the thalamus knowing you were waiting for him after the maidens holding torches guided you inside to be beautified for him. Asian scents flooding the air, your body of trembling virgin craving to be explored.

" I have been in Sparta, if he was a guest of Menelaus let me tell you that he cheated on you. " He interrupted you out of spite. " The hipocrite that reclaimed his cheater wife actually encourages it on the men visiting him and the dancers of his palace perform amatory wonders. "

A challenging smirk showed how little you cared for his disruptive opinion.

" My man is not like that. He would NEVER cheat on me. "

He chuckled with skepticism and you wished you could have smacked him.

" How sweet! You really are convinced he is different. "

It enerved you to the core.

" You don't know him like i do."

He was enjoying your rage, even when directed against him.

" You don't know Sparta like I do. "

You wanted to him to spite him for real.

" My husband is a hundred times the man you will never be. "

The peak of the altercate was something you wouldn't expected he would dare to say.

" Your husband will never touch you like i would."

Angry as you were, you lost control and slapped him. Fear of his reaction made you back off inmediately: it was the first moment of weakness he had ever witnessed from you.

" You are fierce, I like that. " He commented, careless for the hit. " Was he really that good? Or is it just that you can't compare? "

" You will never compare to him. " Was your quick comeback. " From no point of observation, he is simply the best. "

Even when he didn't know who the mysterious man was, he already hated him. Achilles was genuinely jealous of your love for him, he would have killed for someone like that.

To calm the hostile enviroment he decided to torture himself making you talk more.

" Really? Tell me about him … How did you meet? "

" Our parents are best friends, so we have known each other for a lifetime." You began to narrate. " I think I realized I had a crush on him when I was ten and it followed me all my life. As a young lass I used to believe I could never be the one, wasted so many years thinking he could only want me as a friend. He would never make a move, thinking that was not what I desired for the same reason and we kept each other single untill an unreasonable age. Then, a suitor with great chances of success came to the city soliciting to marry me and the situation forced us to be honest with our feelings. He came to my home with a huge treasure as dowry, told me he couldn't live without me, and kissed me in front of everyone. If you would know him, you would understand that was a huge gesture coming from him. He is a private man in terms of affection displays … "

" The term you are looking for is repressed. " Achilles mocked you. " Why making you wait for so long? "

" These are dangerous political times we are living in and you greeks aren't our only enemies. " You corrected him. " He was always fighting, life was too bussy to think of romance. "

" … And it seems like that hasn't changed. " He added before taking a long sip of his wine, then keep questioning. " How do you deal with it? How would you receive him when he just came back from battle? "

It was a strange ask,but for once you didn't mind indulging him.

" With a warm bath and all my love … Although I must clarify we haven't live wartimes as a married couple yet, since you kidnapped me at the start of one. If I was back in Troy with him, as I desire, that's what I would do. "

There was no intention of playing with him, you were telling the truth because you were starting to feel comfortable and he realized of that.

It only made him more envíous.

" Lovely, so lovely. " He whispered, talking to you but sounding as if he was talking to himself. " My tent isn't as big as Agamemnon's, so you must be aware your only option tonight is sleeping by my side. Why don't you start by taking off that ugly cloak, now that we are more relaxed ? "

If that was what he wanted, you were going to give him a taste of his own poison.

" I must warn you: the old pig dressed me to his taste. " You answered as you stood up to remove the long cloth. " What do you think? Do I look like one of those girls you claim my husband has cheated with prior to the wedding? "

Achilles watched you in silence for an instant.

" Way better. " He concluded, then gifted you a smirk.

You were ready to hear whatever lustfull comment that would occure to him, but that wasn't what he ended up delivering.

" I don't want a concubine, I want that trojan's wife. She sounds wonderfull, and looks wonderfull in her cute blue dress. "

Surprisingly sweet, it trully caught you out of guard.

" You are out of your mind, or have drank too much and it got to your head. In either case, you need to rest so the morning will bring you clarity of thought. "

His teasing became a bit childish.

" Come with me … "

You couldn't take him seriously.

" Let me interrupt your little fantasy: i still love my husband and you are keeping me prisoner. "

" Not if i make you want to stay. " He replicated ríght away. " Paris got Helen to leave hers and their kingdom for him. "

You couldn't believe your ears. Was he really that much starved for affection? The greatest warrior of the greeks was a lonely man, a living weapon.

" That's never going to happen between us. "

After you concluded the meal he gave you proper space to change your clothes in privacy, courtesy that satisfied you given what was about to come. Once he settled the furrs on the ground to make the closest thing to a bed available in the camp, he picked a blanket and invited you to get confortable first. In the meantime, he took off his footwear and upper garments in front of you. The spectacle made you turn over to the opposite side, deviating your eyes from him completely, but that simple act of resistance didn't mean much compared with what he was about to do.

Achilles grabbed you from behind, trapping you in an embrace too íntimate for your taste. His strong arm was rou nding your waist, initially ríght under your chest. You were perfectly able to feel his firm muscles in contact with your back and the hand keeping you secure in the position he wanted started tracing your curves.

You wanted to yelp, but it was pointless. What else could you do? You were his slave, and sleeping anywhere else in the camp was even riskier.

Maybe other man finding you wouldn't be as sweet as him. Peraphs you would encounter a beast forcing you to fight for your honor.

" So beautifull. " He whispered close to your ear. " Feels really good to me … How are you feeling? "

" Strange. " You confessed. " It just doesn't feel ríght. "

" It doesn't have to. " He teased you. " It just has to feel good. "

He began to kiss the side of your neck, but kept stumbling with your cold reactions. To him it was all performance, you were holding back to feel a faithful wife for a man that from then would be just a memory because you would most likely never see him again.

" You are mine now … " He reminded you in a husky tone. " Stop pretending, I know you feel good. No need to hide it. "

You weren't giving in, but he was willing to take the challenge. Distracted as he was with you, he kept the refusal to fight still on given that his pride wasn't completely avenged and that was at least hopefull result of your sacrifice. Every single night he would try to tempt you, but you remained strong deviating the seduction tactics into night talks with no sort of filter on both sides. He would ask you all kinds of innapropiate questions, but in response he would have to tell you more about him than what he could afford to tell any enemy.

The mission became harder and harder to mantain over the course of the days. You were happy to be serving your country but wondering if the cost was actually worthy. Achilles seemed determinated to keep you, he wanted to destroy your marriage and there were moments when you wondered if he haven't already done it.

Would the love of your life want you back, knowing you were forced to share the bed of the enemy? Even if your strong resistance kept things away of sexual territory, you had to stand his caressing, his kissing … and sometimes you weren't completely disgusted by it.

It was confusing, you were the one playing with a man who fooloshly believed to have power over you, but you also felt played by the situation. Staying focused was hard when everything seemed to point out Odysseus was in the ríght. There were no signs of your people, of your husband, wanting to reach you. Could have he forgot you? Have the city gave up on you?

One particularly long night you were sitting on the shore watching the sea and the fear became so strong that you began to sob uncontrollably. Achilles wasn't coming for you yet, since in his tent more embassors of Agamemnon were trying to convince him of returning to the battlefield.

Suddenly, a myrmidon in full armor sat beside you. The helmet was on, so you couldn't see his face, but you guessed he was one of the guards of the night shift.

" Beautifull night, isn't it? " He said in a familiar voice. " Perfect for a sneakout … "

You couldn't believe your ears.

" Paris? " You questioned in whispers soft enough to not be heard by anyone else, but showing clear excitement. " How did you got here? Brother, you can't fight even to save your life. Is a miracle you are still alive. "

" I may be a terrible fighter, but i'm a master in the art of sneaking into the most unbelievable places. " He explained you. " Glaucus is so desperate that he didn't present objections to the plan, your father trully adores you. "

You wanted to hug him, but that would have been too suspicious.

" You are insane! What if they discover you? "

" I have that covered. I'm trying to redeem myself at the eyes of our people, but if the worst happens i'm going to do what i know best: cry to my brother for salvation. "

A hopefull smile made your sadness fade.

" Hector, … Is he with you? "

" Of course he is! Who else would have faith in my stupid plans?" Paris mocked himself. " He loves you soo much. He has been loosing his mind since the first day without you, but presenting a ransom to the greeks was a risk. From the moment they would be aware you are his wife, it would be over. They would have refused to return you and submitted you to all kinds of humilliations. No, with them you always have to do things by force. "

He made you chuckle.

" Any idea of how are we going to escape? "

" Working on it, just act natural and follow me. "

Your heart beated fast the whole way, since you were the one guiding Paris using your greater knowledge of the camp's structure. The myrmidons were ubicated at one extreme, what made things somewhat easier, as the naturalization of your presence there did.

A man in a mycenaean armor awaited for you, his eyes were giving him away.

" Don't, not yet. " Hector warned you, since he could read your uncontrollable excitement to the sight of him. " Danger hasn't passed. Proper welcomes should be postponed untill we are safe. "

You still dared to express a bit of your lovefull gratitude.

" I knew it! I knew you would come, I never wanted to stop believing! "

" Have they tried to convince you of that? " He wondered out loud. " I knew it had to be you causing division among them since the very first time the myrmidons didn't show up and I couldn't be prouder. "

Passing through the Scaean Gate was living again, you were at home. As soon as the walls were sheltering you Hector held you in his arms and kissed you untill both of you were feeling breathless. The wonderfull moment felt to you like a renewal of your vows, he had the same surprising lack of decorum he showed the day he asked for your hand. Instead of your happyly shocked family, his brother and some trojan soldiers were the ones left to witness it.

He would never stop amazing you, the insightfull understanding of what you have gone through that your husband was showing since your first instants of rencounter made you love him even more. Hector new that you didn't want to present yourself to your parents looking and feeling like a captive, they wanted their daughter back and you wanted to be her again.

Before presenting yourself in public, you needed to feel like yourself. To get back the identity your captors tried to strip you from. It was most likely that the citizens would overwhelm you with questions, the militar council wanting to extract every single drop of information about the greek camp that you had adquired and all of that was very important, but he cared about you the most.

Putting the princess and the spy aside, he wanted to trully reunite with his wife and help her heal before the weight of the city would fall upon her. Some of the servants of your household were awakened for the ocassion and they welcomed you quietly under the prince's recommedation of not disturbing you. They helped Hector out of what was left of his disguise and he returned to his cassual wearing for home.

Once he looked like your husband again, he turned back to face you with an adorable smile.

" Welcome home, my love. For the sacrifice you have endured it is my wish to make of what's left from this night a moment to comfort you in any and every way you desire. If you don't want to talk about the horrors, I'm willing to wait. "

" I want a bath, I stink of sand and greeks. " You joked to attenuate the tone of he conversation. " Is this how you feel after fighting? "

He chuckled a bit, taking your light talk as a good sign.

" You were a concealed fighter, peraphs the most important fighter in this war. " He lovefully praised you. " It takes courage and a great speed for decision making to come up with such insane attack strategy. You cleverly realized there was no chance for two women to get away from the temple and offered yourself to save my cousin. When we found her, she repeated me the last words you told her. Your wisedown surpasses our war council, you knew from the beggining what I'm trying to make them understand. "

" Well, I knew that as a slave girl I was going to get underestimated, but it worked even better than what I guessed. Greeks are surprisingly trustfull of their war prizes or think themselves too high for vengeances to reach them " You humbly admitted. " In me they saw an object to move from one point to the other, but never suspected they could be touring a spy arround. I poured wine for the kings while they were discussing their plans, Agamemnon found no danger in that because he considered me to be merely decorative. "

" Sounds like the riskier war feat I have ever heard of. " He added, then caressed your cheeks as he inspected your face for any signs of damage. " It seems like they trully thought they were going to enjoy of my wife's beauty for long. I can tell they were carefull. "

" They were too bussy fighting each other over who was going to keep me to ask me important questions of any kind. " You revelaed him with amusement. " Only Odysseus discovered it, but he got there too late. Achilles was already eating out of my palm."

The confession surprised him.

" Meaning you have targeted him all this time? "

" He is rabidly jealous of you." You confessed, teasing him. " I discovered that the main obstacle of Agamemnon is his fail to make him act according to his goals. His attempts to manipulate him are rational, but Achilles can only be persuaded irrationaly. "

The start of your tale wasn't worrying him the way you feared.

" Nothing really happened between us. " You rushed to clarify, since he wasn't asking. " He wanted it to happen, but i made him very aware that my husband was in my mind and heart the whole time. "

Your desperation for proving yourself to him was heartwrecking, he could tell you were so full of guilt over a situation that wasn't trully in your control. Even if you played to be, the course of action was limited to the grey zones where the control of men was weaker.

" You were loyal to my vision to the last consequencies, despite you had no guarantee of safety. " He cutted you off. " Many of the men I command claim that they would die for me, but what you did goes beyond their will of sacrifice. This is the greatest proof of love to me and to Troy. "

Tears were falling down your cheeks and he instinctively held you in his arms, as if he feared you would wreck if he didn't.

" What you did to survive is not of my concern, you are here with me now. " He reassured you, making you smile. " But if someone got to hurt you, the bastard responsible for that damage won't see the sun again."

" I think i never saw you making threats like that. " You sweetly mocked him. " It's flattering, but turns out you have been protecting me against it from afar. The two greek leaders you slaughtered a few days back ? Ajax was the second in the line of possible adquisitors for me, Menelaus threatened with taking me to satisfy his hurted honor and died the next day. "

The strange coincidence amazed him.

" I'm always with you, even if this crazy world we live in takes us apart. "

[whencyclopedia]

Charles I of England

Charles I of England (r. 1625-1649) was a Stuart king who, like his father James I of England (r. 1603-1625), viewed himself as a monarch with absolute power and a divine right to rule. His lack of compromise with Parliament led to the English Civil Wars (1642-51), his execution, and the abolition of the monarchy in 1649.

King Charles grew tired of wrangles with Parliament over money and so decided to do without that institution for eleven years. Then between 1640 and 1642, Charles was obliged to call Parliament to raise cash for his campaigns against a Scottish army, which had occupied northern England, and a full-blown rebellion in Ireland, both fuelled by religious differences and the king’s high-handed policies. Parliament attempted to guarantee its own future, and when the king broke his promises of reform, war broke out. The English Civil War was largely fought between ‘Roundheads’ (Parliamentarians) and ‘Cavaliers’ (Royalists) in over 600 battles and sieges in England alone. Ultimately, the professional New Model Army won the day for Parliament and Charles I was tried and found guilty of treason to his own people and government. The king was executed on 30 January 1649. Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658) ruled the ‘commonwealth’ republic as Lord Protector, but his death was soon followed by the restoration of the monarchy in 1660. The new king was Charles’ son, Charles II of England (r. 1660–1685).

Family & Early Life

Charles was born on 19 November 1600 in Dunfermline Palace, Scotland. His father was James I of England (who was also James VI of Scotland, r. 1567-1625), and his mother was Anne of Denmark (l. 1574-1619), the daughter of Frederick II of Denmark and Norway (r. 1559-1588). Charles’ grandmother was Mary, Queen of Scots (r. 1542-1567). James I was of the royal Stuart line, and he had unified the thrones of Scotland and England after Elizabeth I of England (r. 1558-1603) left no heir. Charles was the second son of King James, but his elder brother Henry died of typhoid fever in 1612 and so he became the heir apparent. Charles’ elder sister Elizabeth (b. 1596) married the King of Bohemia, and her grandson would rule England as George I of England (r. 1714-1727), the first of the Hanoverian Dynasty.

Charles did not enjoy robust health as a child, he was shy - perhaps because of his stammer, and he always came second-best when compared to his more favoured brother Henry. Reaching maturity, Charles spent a lot of time with King James’ hated courtier George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham. The duke was seen as a talentless social upstart who had enjoyed a meteoric rise only thanks to the king’s infatuation with him.

In 1624 it was arranged for Charles to marry Henrietta Maria (1609-1669), the young sister of Louis XIII of France (1610-1643). The French royal obviously did not mind the small stature of her betrothed - a mere 1.6 metres tall (5ft 4 in) or his reputation for being rather stubborn, dull-witted, and a complete stranger to a sense of humour. The couple went on to have nine children, the two eldest sons being Charles (b. 1630) and James (b. 1633), both of whom would one day become king.

Continue reading...

[copper-16]

Genuine question here, I hope this doesn’t come off as rude.

I don’t understand why people are hanging this over korbin alberts head so much. Yes I agree she made a mistake, but as lesbian who grew up in a very catholic town, it is against that religion to support the LGBTG+ community. Which is a main reason I left that religion.

There is a difference between supporting and showing respect for a community and while I think she hasn’t shown any to enough respect. I don’t believe she is entirely obligated to apologize for following apart of her religion.

Hope u have a great day🫶

I understand what you are trying to convey, however I have to say that I respectfully disagree with you.

I don’t find religion to be a complete excuse for this, because at the end of the day her actions are the problem, not her religion. I do understand what you’re saying about the fact that she might have grown up in an environment that was very anti LGBTQ+. Perhaps Korbin did grow up in this kind of a church, but that’s doesn’t mean that she still can’t be held accountable for how her actions hurt those around her.

I respect Korbin Albert’s choice to be religious, even if I am not so myself. But her religion cannot be used to perpetuate hatred. There’s a loss of mutual respect and trust between a community and a person when they like or interact with such openly hateful content in such a way. I look at players like Sam Coffey, who are religious and yet still chooses to be allies and not say anything hateful against LGBTQ+ people. Maybe it is Sam’s belief that marriage is between a man and woman, but this isn’t something she imposes to others. And I also don’t see her saying any hateful things toward the LGBTQ+ community.

The reason I find that many people are “holding this over her head” is because her actions were public and hurt a LOT of people. She also appears to show little remorse about it what she has said. I think Sam Mewis put this rather well in saying that because her actions were public, her apology and continuation of learning should be (at least to some extent). We aren’t just going to sweep this under the rug and move on. She is still accountable for her actions.

Under no circumstances does religion justify the perpetration of hate.

There would be a similar reaction towards a player who was equally opposed to the LGBTQ+ community if they weren’t religious. If a completely secular player did or said similar things without a religious reasoning behind it, people would be equally outraged. The conflict at its core is about the actions.

I’m not planning to answer anymore asks on this particular topic on my page moving forward

[scotianostra]

On September 23rd 1880, John Boyd Orr, Nobel Peace prize winner, was born in Kilmaurs, Ayrshire.

John Boyd Orr's pioneering research led to millions of children across the UK being given free school milk from 1946 to 1971 when Margaret Thatcher, then education secretary, cut provision giving her the mick name Thatcher, "Thatcher, Thatcher, milk snatcher”

Boyd Orr was born in Ayrshire into a religious and highly literate family, and it was perhaps inevitable that he should be destined for a career in teaching after studying theology. However, his studies at Glasgow University also opened up new avenues for him. He became interested in the theories of Darwin, and this led to a fascination with zoology.

When he graduated with his MA in 1902, he was assigned to a teaching position in the Glasgow slums to fulfil the obligations required by his scholarship. He lasted only a few days before resigning and going back home to Ayrshire where he was reassigned to a school in Saltcoats. There he completed his teaching but left as soon as he could, saying: "though I liked the children, I hated teaching them”.

Boyd Orr returned to university to study biology and medicine, and he graduated with a BSc in 1910 and MB ChB two years later. He only practised for one month before returning to university to undertake nutritional research. His MD thesis in 1914 was awarded the Bellahouston Gold Medal for the most distinguished thesis of the year.

On the recommendation of his supervisor, he was asked to be the first director of a new research institute in Aberdeen, which would later become the world renowned Rowett Institute. At the time of his appointment, it did not exist, but he would spend the next twenty-five years raising both funds and the profile of nutritional research to make it a reality.

The initial work to build the institute was, however, interrupted by the outbreak of war. Boyd Orr enlisted in the RAMC and saw active service on the Western Front where he was awarded both the Military Cross and the Distinguished Service Order. Later he would never wear the medals saying that the truly brave men had all died.

In the interwar years, he travelled widely and published extensively, emerging as one of the country’s leading experts in nutrition. He first came to national attention in 1936 with the publication of Food, Health and Income, a report of a dietary survey by income group, which revealed that the cost of a diet meeting basic nutritional needs was beyond the means of half the British population.

This led to similar studies being conducted in nineteen other countries and prompted the creation of a Commission of the League of Nations, which tried to formulate a global food policy. It became the forerunner of the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). Boyd Orr would become the Director General of the FAO from 1945-48. These were important years because the predicted European post-war famine was averted in part by policies put forward by the organisation.

Boyd Orr was no stranger to the challenges of developing and implementing food policies, many of which are still with us today. He spent his later career trying to persuade governments and presidents, organisations and companies to rethink the way they did things. However, he would often bemoan the fact that while he could persuade farmers of the importance of the nutrition of their animals, he could not stir their interest “in the food of their ain bairns, far less in the bairns of ither folks”.

His was a life filled with honours and awards, from Gold medals at University to military decorations to honorary degrees and more. He was elected Rector of Glasgow University and subsequently became its Chancellor. He was briefly a British Member of Parliament, and in 1935 he was knighted for his services to agriculture. In 1949, after he was awarded the Nobel Prize, Prime Minister Clement Attlee ennobled him as Baron Boyd Orr of Brechin Mearns.

Reading of Boyd Orr’s long career it seems he had a series of false starts and perhaps even failures. But he was no dilettante. He combined a powerful intellect with an admirable work ethic to achieve a mastery in everything he tried. That he chose to move from a career in teaching to medical practice, to research, to politics and then to governance and policy making was not evidence of mere restlessness but of a constant desire to do meaningful work.

Boyd Orr was at heart a man with an ambitious vision for the world, and he firmly believed that real peace and prosperity would only ever be achieved when no one was hungry.

The citation for the 1949 Nobel Peace Prize read: “for his lifelong effort to conquer hunger and want, thereby helping to remove a major cause of military conflict and war”.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Eight

Content Warning: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), dehydration and starvation, intimate whumper, sexual themes

Thank you to Marz and Gen for beta reading <3

Word Count: 873 Previous Next

Five days without food will wear down just about anyone. Add in two days without water, and the body’s need for it will make itself known.

The man had made good on his promise of setting out a bedpan; fortunately for the both of them, Dani had no reason to use it. With nothing going in, there was nothing to come out, either. Despite dehydration providing Dani the small miracle of not having to pee in a pan, she wished more than anything for just a sip of water, even if it was just to wet her mouth. And if it weren’t so damn demeaning, she would’ve begged for it by now.

Her head hurt something terrible, sharp pain stabbing behind her temples and her eyes, as she watched the ceiling spin above her head. Ceilings weren’t supposed to spin. She knew this, but barely thought twice about it as the ceiling continued its circling. When the man finally came, Dani was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to produce spit to drink. Something was better than nothing.

“Good morning,” the man said, shutting the door behind him. “Sleep well?”

Dani shot him a weak glare, then looked back to the ceiling.

The man walked over to where the bedpan resided, picking it up, eyebrows furrowed, but he said nothing as he placed it back down and made his way over to the side table where he kept his Bible.

“Stand up.” He ordered, and Dani knew better at this point than to deny him of that, no matter how shitty she felt. She was too tired to fight him on this today, and she knew that’s just what he wanted. Pulling herself into a seated position, Dani felt her head swish and body sway dangerously. She was so dizzy, the room had already begun to swim as she attempted to keep herself upright. All she wanted was to lay back down and rot into the floorboards, but she knew the punishment would be worse if she didn’t comply. She brought herself to her knees, catching herself on her hands as she lurched forward. By the time Dani tried standing, her hands and knees shook violently, her head spinning like a carousel.

Standing was a mistake.

The second she was upright, Dani’s vision went white, and she could briefly feel herself move as she began to hurdle downwards. The man was there in an instant to catch her by the arm and ease her back to the floor.

“Alright, alright, easy.” He said as he sat her down. Sighing, the man rubbed his hand over his face. “This isn’t going to work.” He said to himself before sighing again and walking away from her.

Back pressed against the bookcase, Dani blearily watched as the man left the room, doing her very best not to tip over and land on her head. All things considered, a concussion would make things much, much worse for her.

When he came back, the man was holding a plastic water bottle in his hand. Sitting down in front of her, the man made a show of twisting off the cap and placing it down on the floor next to them. Dani reflexively licked her lips.

“Now, this won’t help with the lightheadedness, but it’ll at least keep you hydrated.” He said, moving his hand to her neck. Dani jerked away instinctively. Grabbing her hair, the man yanked and said, “No. You’re going to be good while I do this, otherwise you get nothing. Do you understand?”

Dani nodded.

With a steady hand, the man picked up the water and slowly brought the rim of the bottle up to Dani’s chapped lips. “Tilt your head back,” He murmured, and Dani obliged. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, the water flowed down the neck of the bottle and into Dani’s lips. She nearly choked on it the second it hit her tongue, but resisted the urge to cough, terrified of losing even a drop of the water she was receiving.

The way she drank down the water was borderline obscene, taking in every last drop of it she could. She knew she should’ve shown some self-restraint, especially with him watching her, but she was desperate. She closed her eyes to block out the way the man’s greedy eyes watched her greedy mouth, the way her head was thrown back to take in the water.

He was getting off on this. He had to be, right? Why else would he be watching her like that?

The stop to the water came as soon as the start. Dani resisted the urge to stick her tongue into the bottle for the remaining drops. The man had had enough of a show as it was. She flinched as the empty bottle crunched in the man’s hands, covering up the sound of his throat clearing as he stood back up.

“What do you say?” The man asked in a strained voice.

Dani hesitated. She didn’t dare look up at him, scared of what she might see. “Thank you,” she whispered, as if hoping he wouldn’t hear the words pass her lips. No such luck, however, as he hummed an affirmation and made his way back to his chair.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped, @vivulapom

[luvrseung]

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 - TEASER

## synopsis! You were always filled with the urge to destroy perfect things. It just felt wrong to leave things untouched. People weren't an exception. So, what are you supposed to do when an angel appears in front of you? Well... ruin him of course.

## pairing! innocent! heeseung x corrupted fem! reader

## wc: undecided

## cw! biggg themes of religion,, religious guilt is very heavy through this (maybe i'm projecting), suggestive?

## a/n! hellooooo everyone! ive been writing so many things but keep falling uninterested like halfway through. this one tho!!!!! i am very motivated to write it and cant wait to share it! so heres a little teaser :P my reason for this being so religous-y is because i find the juxtaposition of something so pure and untouched with something so dark and corrupted really beautiful! also in no way am i trying to make fun of any religion. i was quite religious myself! i value and respect anyone in any religion! this piece was also kind of a reflection of my own inner turmoil... anyways! i hope you enjoy and please stay tuned to the end for a poll determining something tehe...AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS OFCCC!! NOW ENJOY!! ALSO NOT PROOFREAD SO PLS KEEP THAT IN MIND!

Every Sunday, your mother would wake you up early in the morning to attend church with your family. The thin line between filial obligation and genuine devotion blurred with each sunrise. Your parents approached church with a fervor you used to share. Honestly, you found it quite boring, like a duty. Don’t misunderstand, whispers of belief still flickered within you, undying embers that display a gentle glow. Even in moments of despair or dark times, you often find yourself praying to the Lord; but on top of the catholic school you had gone to for your whole life, you found Sunday services tedious, as en extension of what you went through on a daily basis. You also spent the last two nights wasted beyond belief, and you waking up early for church was the last thing you wanted to do. This Sunday was nothing special, unfortunately. Peeling yourself from the comfort of your bed, you slowly get ready for service.

Sitting in your pew, your mind can’t help but wander. Thoughts of anything and everything fill your mind, in attempts to keep you awake during the priest’s sermon. A gentle nudge from your mother jolted you back to a semblance of piety. Her whispered reprimand, "Focus, darling," carried the weight of disappointment and a subtle plea for adherence. You plastered a thin smile on your face and offered a barely-there nod. You have stared at the front of this church so many times, you could draw it without reference.

The vibrant hues of the stained-glass windows, the worn kneelers that bore the indentations of countless prayers, the stoic statues flanking the entrance, it all felt more familiar than comforting. Behind the granite altar, sat the deacon and altar servers; like usual. Except this time, your eye catches an unfamiliar face on the right side of the deacon. He sat toward the end, two other altar servers on his left side. He was dressed like the others, clad in the customary floor-length white robe. His hair was a dark red, a little bit longer, and parted a little toward the side. His eyes big, as his attention is on the priest and his words.

A sardonic chuckle bubbled up in your chest, a silent stir in the holy air. Angelic. That new altar server looked angelic. How utterly cliché. If you were any closer, your blatant staring would be a cardinal sin in its own right. Minutes bled into an eternity as you wrestled with the tedious sermon and the incredibly good-looking boy behind the priest. Just as his monotone reached a fever pitch, a stirring announced the impending communion. Relief, both welcome and unwelcome, washed over you. Relief from the droning sermon, yet unwelcome because it meant the inevitable procession of the altar servers – and your unexpected fixation. With a practiced efficiency, the servers rose, their white robes billowing as they glided down the aisle. Luck, or perhaps a touch of divine irony, had placed you at the very end of the pew, closest to the spectacle about to unfold.

Angel boy, as you couldn't help but label him in the traitorous corners of your mind, drew closer. His face, bathed in the soft glow of the stained-glass windows, held an enigmatic quality. Was it the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, or the way his eyes seemed to hold a depth that transcended the sterile walls of the church? The closer he got, the more the sanctity of the ritual blurred with a curiosity that felt both illicit and strangely sacred. Your eyes locked. Inevitably, undeniably. And your eye contact lingers for a beat too long. A smirk, barely contained, played on his lips before he flicked his gaze away. But not before a telltale blush bloomed at the tips of his ears. He finally makes his way out of your view. Shame, hot and unwelcome, flooded your cheeks as you watched him disappear down the aisle. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a loud drumbeat against the backdrop of solemn hymns.

The taste of forbidden fruit lingered on your tongue, a mix of guilt and a desire you couldn't quite place. The once-tedious ritual now felt charged with a newfound tension, the air thick with an unspoken something that threatened to shatter the carefully constructed walls of your - currently dwindling - faith.

The altar servers returned, their white robes whispering against the polished floor. As the line snaked its way forward, a playful thought tickled your mind. A sly smile played on your lips, a secret shared only with yourself, as you approached the angel-faced boy holding the communion bread. With hands demurely clasped in front of you – the picture of a devoted daughter – you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes, the color of rich chocolate, widened momentarily before flickering down. A hint of rose stained his cheeks. You see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

He held a piece of bread out, his voice a mere tremor. "The Body of Christ," he murmured.

“Amen.” You reply, leaning forward slightly, your arms pushing your boobs together and showing cleavage that you know he can see. Instead of extending your hands, you kept them clasped. You stick your tongue out as your eyes look at him through lowered lashes.

He cleared his throat, his hand trembling slightly as he held the bread closer. He placed the bread on your tongue with a slight tremor in his hand. You retracted your tongue with a triumphant smirk, the taste of the bread a mere secondary sensation to the unexpected jolt of electricity that had shot through you at the contact. You met his eyes again, a playful glint in them. A single word, more so a sound, escaped your lips, a soft "Mmm," before you retreated back down the line, a smile playing your my lips. The sign of the cross felt almost sacrilegious in this new context as you maintained unwavering eye-contact with the angel boy.

The brief exchange ignited a thrill within you. This wasn't just harmless interest. An unknown urge, long dormant, roared awake. You craved the challenge of chipping away at that perfect exterior, of shattering the halo that seemed welded above his head. Maybe then, you could see the real boy – and maybe, just maybe, a part of you yearned to be touched by his innocence. Or break it… who knows?

The weight of Monday settled over you uncomfortably and unwillingly. Another week of school stretched before you. In homeroom, surrounded by your friends – Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Minji – you couldn't help but relive the memory.

Sunghoon, slumped over your desk, groaned, "Church yesterday was enough to put a saint to sleep. I swear, I drifted off right after the Our Father."

"Then why'd you drag yourself to the early service?" you chuckled.

"Blame Minji," Sunghoon mumbled, accusatory eyes flickering towards her.

Minji, unfazed, countered, "Hey, it's not my fault you crashed at my place. You know my parents prefer the eight o'clock mass."

Jungwon chimed in, "Maybe we should stop going out so late on Saturdays?"

Four pairs of eyes shot daggers at him. "Thank the lord I snagged a free pass yesterday," Jay said with a smug grin. "Parents out of town mean no mandatory church duties."

"Yeah, but you missed a nice show," Jungwon piped up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What show exactly, Wonnie?" you feigned innocence, a subtle warning lacing your voice. Jungwon wasn't fooled. "The little performance you put on with the new altar server. You're sick and twisted.”

A playful smirk spread across your face. "Maybe I am, but you love it," you declared, smothering him in a teasing hug. Jungwon squirmed, laughter escaping his lips as he tried to fend you off.

Minji chimed in, “Care to elaborate?”

A conspiratorial glint sparked in your eyes. “Yes, yes mother…Let's just say there's a new, really hot, altar boy… and he’s perfect! Too perfect, if you know what I mean.” A beat of silence follows, confusion falls over everyone before you respond, “Need to ruin him a bit.”

The boys rolled their eyes in unison, but Jay couldn't resist a question. "How exactly do you plan on achieving that, Miss Mother Mary?”

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, “Well-“

The shrill of the first bell sliced through your conversation like a choirboy's off-key note. Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kim, swept in with a stern expression, instantly silencing the room. You exchanged helpless glances with your friends and raise both your hands in false defeat as they walk away from your desk and to their respective seats. Leaning in with a conspiratorial glint, Minji whispers, “You better tell us at lunch, bitch,” she points her finger at you and you laugh her off with confirmatory nod.

Before the morning prayer could play through the speakers, Mrs. Kim cleared her throat, silencing the room with a single, sharp rap on her desk. "Good morning, class. Today, we have a new student joining us. Please welcome him warmly." Her gesture towards the door was all it took for the air to whoosh from your lungs. Your jaw practically unhinged itself as the angel-faced altar server from Sunday, walked into the classroom. A breathless gasp escaped your lips, “no fucking way”.

You couldn't believe your luck. Here he was, the object of your amusement, deposited right into your everyday life. An unholy grin split your face, the possibilities swirling in your mind like incense smoke in a cathedral. This was exactly what you prayed for the night before.

You tap sunghoon’s shoulder, who was sitting in the seat in front of you. He leaned back, brow furrowed in confusion, as you leaned in to whisper, "That's him." Sunghoon's eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect "o" before snapping shut in realization. He whipped around in his seat, confirming your words with a silent nod. Jungwon had already caught your message through a glance. You threw him a devilish smile, his lips twitching with barely contained amusement. He leaned over to Jay, who was seated next to him, and relayed the news in hushed tones. Sunghoon, mirroring your earlier action, tapped Minji's shoulder diagonally across the aisle, sending the news rippling through your little group like a clandestine prayer chain. A silent wave of excitement washed over you and your friends. This unexpected turn of events proved to be far more entertaining than any Sunday service. The prospect of having him, the object of your wicked plan, in your daily life was a delicious twist of fate, and you couldn't wait to see how it would all unfold.

“Hello everyone, my name is Lee Heeseung. It’s lovely to meet you all.” He scanned the sea of faces before him, his gaze drifting casually across the classroom. Then, something – you – caught his eye. Your hand twirled a strand of hair with practiced ease. The other waved at him, not a simple greeting, but a slow, deliberate movement that sent a shiver down his spine. You knew exactly what it looked like. An invitation, a subtle message almost saying ‘I know you thought of me last night’. A flush crept up Heeseung's neck, a telltale sign mirrored by the rapid bob of his Adam's apple. He could practically feel the heat of your gaze on him. Mrs. Kim brought his attention back to her, “Nice to have you here Heeseung, there’s an empty seat in the third row by the window.” His gaze met yours once more. He made his way towards his seat, two rows ahead and two rows to the right. Your eyes never left his figure when you noticed the all-too familiar blush at the tip of his ears.

The first bell pierced the charged silence, jolting everyone back to reality. A flurry of activity erupted as classmates gathered their books and shuffled out. You darted playful glances at your friends, their attention firmly fixed on Heeseung. Laughter bubbled up inside you, barely contained. With a final shove of notebooks into his bag, Heeseung seemed to hesitate, catching your eye across the room. You couldn't help but smirk, so excited to ruin him. Picturing how different he would look with pierced ears, a cigarette in his mouth, and you on his lap. You just couldn’t wait. The familiar weight of Jay's arm slung around your shoulder grounded you momentarily. "First period, babe?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "Actually, jongseongie,” you began, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes, "go ahead with the others. I have a… matter to attend to with a certain altar server."

Your friends, well aware of your little new toy, burst into laughter. Jay, however, rolled his eyes playfully. "Imma wait for you outside then,” he announced, resignation coloring his voice. “Or.. you could go to our class? You can’t keep avoiding Giselle forever you know.“

“I do nottt wanna see her _. Also, you know she never liked you, so she gets mad when we walk in together.”

“Whatever you say, Jay.”

He flashed a charming, albeit fake, smile before disappearing out the door. With a final playful roll of your eyes, you turned your attention to the angel at the center of your growing intrigue. Heeseung, now the sole occupant of the classroom, seemed strangely hesitant, his gaze lingering on you. A slow, confident stride carried you towards him, the promise of a delicious encounter hanging thick in the air. Everything about him was a siren song, drawing you in with an irresistible pull. His large, doe-like eyes, framed by dark red hair that tumbled playfully just above his brow, seemed to speak pure and sweet nothings into the air. It’s as if the cruel world hasn’t reach those beautiful big eyes yet. But the most captivating detail was the way his ears, like delicate seashells, flushed a brilliant crimson whenever your gazes met. You already pictured what they’d look like adorned in silver. A slow, predatory smile played on your lips as you sauntered towards his desk. Resting your palms on top of his desk, you leaned in close, the scent of his nervous cologne filling your senses. Your voice, normally laced with mischief, took on a sugary sweetness that would make even the most hardened saint wince. “Nice to see you again, altar boy,” you purred, drawing out the words.

His blush deepens, spreading from his ears down his neck. He stammers a reply, stuttering, "H-hi… I, uh, didn't expect to see you here."

“Likewise…” your smirk widens, reaching out your hand, nails painted red, “I’m _, nice to meet you Heeseung.”

He hesitates before his hand reaches yours, responding to your introduction with a shy smile, his doe-eyes sparkling up at you the whole time. Oh how you wish to swim so deep in those beautiful eyes.

"Well, altar boy," you teased, your voice laced with a sweetness that sent shivers down your own spine. "I'd love to chat more, but wouldn't want to keep you from your first day, would we?"

Fishing out a red pen, you held it between your teeth and uncapped it with a flick of your thumb. "Real quick, though," you bargained, a playful glint in your eyes. You extend your left hand, palm up. Hesitantly, he mirrors your gesture, placing his right arm within your grasp. You scribble your phone number on the smooth skin of his inner arm, finishing it off with a perfectly drawn heart.

"Call me, Hee," you purred, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'll be waiting." With a wink that could melt glaciers, you retreated, your hand brushing against his again as you slipped past him. Out in the hallway, you met Jay, a mischievous grin plastered on your face.

Heeseung, left speechless in your wake, peered out from the now-empty classroom. His fingers traced the inscription on his arm, the warmth of your touch lingering alongside the heat of his blush. With a shaky breath, he tucked your phone number beneath his sleeve. He should probably get to his first period class, but his mind was already swirling with the image of you.

© luvrseung - do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content please and thank you.

AUTHORS NOTE: HELLOOOO!! now for the poll: would you like smut in this? yes or no!

[senkusphone]

Happy Stone Day, everyone!

On this day, when celebrating the onion man is what most people indulge on, let's also turn our eyes to the fascinating civilization that is Ishigami village, in this mini post (compared to what I usually do anyway).

Starting with the reason I am doing this in the first place, Stone Day. It is a celebration from Ishigami Village that takes place in January 4th, which happens to be Senku's birthday, likely an easter egg left by Byakuya in the hundred tales. Unfortunately we weren't shown anything regarding what this celebration involves.

As the manga itself points out, Stone day is significant in several ways, for one, 1/4 is i-shi in japanese, which also means Stone. It is Senku's birthday (and if you've been following me you'll know that the day Senku was born in, January 4th 2004, was the day that Nasa's Spirit rover landed on Mars).

Another tradition is of course the grand bout, which there isn't much left to say about since it was explained in detail in the series, even down to its specific rules

Rule 6 is the only one that wasn't relevant in the series as far as I can tell.

It's been also vaguely implied that there are other fighting tournaments that take place in the village, which makes sense, since why would you keep an open arena just to use it once very 20 years or so?

(Sideways to save vertical space, Suika will pray for your neck)

However it's never explained how this tradition started to begin with; did it exist in treasure island and disappeared after the Ishigami branched off, or did it start with them in the mainland?

The society structure of contemporary treasure island is substantially different, with a number of small villages that are all (at least in theory) managed by a centralized government composed of the master (or "head" much to our amusement) and the prime minister, where most power is held by the master, who also serves as the main religious figure, being the one who largely keeps the hundred tales, which are passed from generation to generation along his lineage.

In Ishigami village things kinda flipped and thus spawned a system that is at least half matriarchal so to speak. Now political power is split between the chief and the priestess, where the chief holds most executive authority while the priestess holds most of the religious power, and it is the lineage of the priestess that keeps the tales and that power in-family, with the chief being some allegedly suited rando from the village.

Even though it's the obligation of the priestess to marry the chief, she is rarely if ever shown as a subordinate to him and both can be seen directing the village, which I think it's very interesting. The anime went as far as expanding on this, by implying that it was Ruri who told Kokuyo to abdicate his position to Senku.

Sneakily she gets to keep being the priestess without having to be engaged, and we see her taking leading roles from then on.

Now I've talked about religious figures but what is their religion to begin with? Hard to tell, we know that they believe in multiple gods who control the forces of nature such as lightning. Similarly it's also been shown that prior to Senku's arrival, they believed themselves to be the only humans on earth, at least some of them believed the earth was flat, and most bizarrely, they believed the moon was something akin to a floating lake, owning to its small apparent size, however that works.

Perhaps they took note of how water tends to form spheres due to surface tension? This reminds me of how some scientist a few centuries ago (but idr who at this moment) believed the moon to be a solid mass of congealed air.

The last thing I want to bring up is the Ishigami village rope, reportedly made with a special technique that's unique to them.

It is also said that the rope reflects rank and profession somehow, but this is not reflected in any noticeable way on the series itself. Boichi probably hadn't been told about this when he designed all 40 known villagers in the span of one week.

The rope is worn somewhere around the body, and it contains a single red thread spun into it, serving as a symbol of kinship among them.

For now I'll leave it at that, as it's getting pretty late in the day, and pretty much all of this is written on the wiki article to begin with. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll see you all some other day.

[bacchant-of-dionysus]

Some thoughts on the concept and importance of faith

When I was praying today I was as honest with Dionysus as I’ve ever been. I told him exactly how I felt - that I felt like a failure, that I was unworthy of him and that I was utterly exhausted. I’ve been caring for my partner who is in the depths of autistic burnout and it’s been utterly draining. My skin has broken out, my jaw is tense, I have angular cheilitis (those cracks that form at the side of your mouth from stress), I’m nauseous, sleeping four 12-16 hours a night and still tired, my shoulders and back are aching and I’ve been neglecting my worship. I’ve barely recovered from my own bout of autistic burnout. I’m not out of the woods and I’m already martyring myself again in the name of love. It’s strange. I don’t do it out of a desire for praise or reward - I don’t even think my partner truly recognises how much effort I put in and how much of myself I give to her well-being. It’s not obligation either. The closest word for it is somewhere between love and duty.

Today I lay down by his shrine and closed my eyes. It felt like I was giving in entirely, placing all my faith in him. I know he watches out for me. I have so much faith. It is what keeps me going. Faith in my partner’s recovery, faith in my god, faith in my own strength and resilience. It took a certain level of hardship and desperation for my faith to be forged to its true potential. I never valued faith like I do now. I wear faith like armour around my heart. It reinforces my bones. Faith drives me to get out of bed each morning and try again. I may be sensitive. I may be thin skinned. I may cry a lot. But through faith I am resilient and unbreakable. I refuse to give up on her. I refuse to give up on myself. And I refuse to give up on my god.

When the world seems hopeless, the only thing left is faith. Not even religious faith, but faith in yourself, your loved ones, humanity, the universe etc.

So, if you take anything from this post, may it strengthen your faith. Faith drives courage, perseverance and resilience. It drives compassion, innovation and unflinching love.

At first, it is something you must remind yourself to have. ‘Remember, most people are kind.’ ‘Remember, she loves you.’ ‘Remember, this will pass.’ And then, one day, it is ingrained in how you think. ‘I will be okay because people are kind, I am loved and this will pass.’

The gods love you. Have faith in that.