#Like for extraneous meetings

[drones-of-innocence]

Some officials or whatever organize a big last minute meeting with Princess Peach. She's scrambling, gathering materials, trying to figure out what she needs because it's a important meeting but how important?? She's flipping through documents, committees, everything. Then, at the last minute an attendant knocks on her door and can hardly finish saying "The meeting had to be rescheduled to next week," before Peach has thrown down all of her materials and practically running out of the castle towards the Mario brothers' house before anyone can pin her under another obligation, because the bros mentioned having a tennis match with Daisy and maybe cooking a nice dinner later.

The woman will take any ounce of free time to spend with her friends please and thank you.

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Ameliorate

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

Rating: Explicit- Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Sanemi/Female Reader

Tags: Female Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Bad Dates, Brief Mentions of SA, Oral Sex, Protective Genya, Protective Sanemi, Fucking you better, Slight Self-Esteem Issues, Mating Press, Sexual Tension, Sanemi is a lovable asshole

Wordcount: 5k

Ameliorate: To make something unsatisfactory better

After a bad date you spill the beans that you think Genya's brother is hot and he decides to fuck the memory of your shitty date out of you.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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8627 45th Street SOS pls pick me up ASAP

The hastily sent text was minimal, blunt, and out of character for you. Usually, your messages were sprinkled with extraneous words, emojis, and “please” and “thank you”. You had no time for flowery language today; you needed a quick extraction.

You were hidden in the bathroom, date passed out on the bed after possibly the worst sex you’d ever experienced- for how long, you weren’t sure. Hopefully just enough for you to get out of here.

You weren’t known for making the best decisions and tended to go along with things longer than you wanted to in the name of politeness. It had landed you in many shitty situations, but this was by far the worst one. You rinsed your mouth with water in an attempt to wash the taste of the man who’d been far too rough with you from your palate, holding back the need to gag. You’d done enough of that today, and it was barely noon; a striking contrast to how you felt.

Your phone vibrated, Genya’s number lighting up the screen. You answered it with shaky fingers, keeping your voice low as you spoke.

“Hey.”

You hated how raspy it sounded. That’s what happens when an asshole doesn’t listen when you tell him to be gentle.

“You okay?” Genya’s concerned voice came through the speaker. “We’re almost there; what’s up?”

You appreciated Genya’s swift response but stiffened at his words.

“We?”

“I’m out with Nemi,” Genya told you.

Sanemi.

Genya’s big brother, and the last person you wanted to see you in this state. You couldn’t afford to be picky, though, when you were stranded at a stranger’s house after a variety of bad decisions.

“Just text me when you’re outside. Don’t honk or anything.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah…”

Just having a shitty day.

“We’re just around the corner,” Genya informed you.

“Okay. Be out in a sec.”

You hung up the phone and wished between your legs didn’t ache so badly, wished you weren’t half-limping from everything. There were likely bruises on your wrists and thighs, probably on your ass too if you were being honest. Under different circumstances you would’ve been proud of them, but today you only felt disgust.

You’d been so stupid.

Shuffling out of the bathroom on your tiptoes, you crept past the bedroom door that was left ajar, catching a glance at the man who’d cajoled until you caved, then didn’t listen when you said you weren’t fucking ready yet.

So stupid.

You berated yourself as you softly closed the door behind you for your walk of shame to the vaguely familiar SUV parked on the street. Genya twisted to look at you from the passenger seat as you slid in, avoiding his eyes. You knew you looked like a mess: mascara had streaked, and eyeliner was smudged, hair mussed beyond its normal windswept tousle, and it was a miracle that the majority of the damage inflicted on you was covered by your turtleneck.

“No car?”

“In the shop for repairs,” you kept your eyes glued out of the window, knowing Genya was worried but ashamed to meet his gaze. “I appreciate the ride. Didn’t mean to encroach on bro-time.”

“Not a problem,” Sanemi’s voice cut through the air as he pulled away. You shivered at his words, wetting your lips nervously. “You weren’t too far out of the way.”

“You okay?” Genya asked.

You wrinkled your nose, fighting the shame that filled your throat.

“Bad date.”

The following silence was uncomfortable, leaving you shifting against the leather seats. You knew Genya was probably fighting the urge to ask you if you wanted him to kick someone’s ass, and Sanemi… well, you didn’t know what he thought but you sure could guess what someone might think when they saw what you looked like after exiting a man’s house.

“Hungry?”

The question broke you out of your thoughts, and you caught Sanemi’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’d eaten a couple hours ago, but after the day you’d had, you were starving. You didn’t realize how tense you were until just now, melting into the seat.

“Yeah, food sounds great.”

“Nemi and I were gonna grab something and then marathon Star Wars,” Genya told you. “You down?”

Your eyes flickered between the two brothers.

“Is that okay?”

“You’re over all the time already,” Sanemi replied nonchalantly.

It was true: you often dropped in or crashed at their place after work or on your days off to hang out with Genya. The two of you had been fast friends since you both worked the same shifts at work during high school. You’d moved on to other things, as had Genya, but your friendship had remained and grown as you did.

Sanemi worked quite a bit to provide for his younger brother and himself after an accident that left both of them orphans, and he was often gone when you and Genya hung at his place, but he’d found a better job recently that left him with more days off. With his schedule freed up a bit, he’d been around more while you crushed Genya at Mario Kart and experimented with new recipes in their spacious kitchen.

Sanemi had been little more than a passing thought before, but since seeing him more frequently, you’d developed a fascination with the scarred man with the shock of white hair. It wasn’t like the crushes you’d had on other guys- giddy, giggling things- but instead a hot coal in your stomach that left you uncomfortable and squirming when he was nearby. Sanemi was short-tempered and gruff, and had a permanent scowl on his face, but something about him made butterflies sprout in your chest.

It made you feel foolish, and you knew you’d die if Sanemi ever found out. You’d gone to great lengths to put physical and emotional distance between the two of you, a practiced civility that bordered on cold. It was the only way you could manage to keep yourself in check around him.

With the food acquired (taco bell was Genya’s favorite, much to Sanemi’s disdain), the three of you were back at the Shinaguzawa household in record time. Genya plopped on the couch, patting the seat next to him. You hesitated, the stickiness under your clothes itching uncomfortably now.

“Here,” Sanemi appeared out of thin air, thrusting a towel into your hands. “You know where the shower is.”

Your face heated as you slunk away, disappearing into the tiled bathroom. You must have looked pretty rough if Sanemi was telling you to shower.

Genya furrowed his brows disapprovingly at his brother as you vanished.

“I know you’re trying to help, but you should really work on how you talk to people.”

“Why?” Sanemi settled on the far end of the sofa.

Genya pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Because,” he groaned. “You don’t have tact.”

“I was giving her a towel; why does that need tact?” Sanemi turned the television on. “She obviously wanted a shower.”

“You’re useless,” Genya dug out his burrito. “It’s no wonder nobody will date you.”

Sanemi snatched the food from Genya with a glare, pushing him away with a socked foot when Genya complained and reached for the stolen bag.

“Biting the hand that feeds you means you’re gonna lose the food,” Sanemi told him.

“Genya!”

Your voice from down the hall had the younger brother craning his neck, Sanemi leaning back to peer down the dim hall curiously.

“I’m stealing some of your clothes,” you exited Genya’s room, holding up a handful of cloth. “And I’m borrowing your washer.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Genya nodded, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

The silence as Sanemi set up the movie was relaxed. Genya fished his food from the bag and set it far away from his brother, disposing of the trash as the sound of water reached their ears.

“So I guess you two aren’t fucking then?”

Genya choked on his burrito, slamming his fist into his chest. When he finally could breathe again, he turned his red face towards Sanemi with a glare.

“What the hell would give you that impression?”

“Look,” Sanemi plucked a cinnamon twist from its spot nestled in fast food paper. “I see you guys hanging out all the time. You’re close. I just figured-”

“We’re friends,” Genya cut him off. “She literally was on a date with someone today.”

“A shitty one,” Sanemi interjected.

Genya rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, a shitty one. I swear she’s got the worst luck when it comes to dating. It’s like she’s an asshole magnet.”

“This happened before?”

Sanemi’s interest was piqued. He’d grown curious about the girl who showed up at the house to keep Genya company and use the kitchen at odd hours. You were incredibly sweet but had a sassy streak around people you were comfortable with. He’d heard you swear like a sailor over losing a game, but even from the next room over he could hear the grin in your tone. It did confuse him how you’d go from acting like you were in your own house while Genya was there, to suddenly stiffening and growing formally polite around him.

“Yeah, like four or five times. Usually, I’ll hear about it the next day, but she’s never called for a ride before.”

“She should’ve just told the guy no date until her car is fixed,” Sanemi took a swig of his drink. “That’d fix that problem. Can’t help with the bad taste in men, though.”

“I don’t have bad taste.”

Your voice cut the air sharply, and the brothers twisted around to see you standing behind the couch, hair damp and body swallowed by Genya’s clothes. Your embarrassed face was juxtaposed by the glare plastered across it. A few pale bruises peeked above the loose collar of the borrowed shirt.

“Then how do you explain consistently shit dates?” Sanemi countered, raising a brow.

Your face burned and you ducked your head between your shoulders.

“…bad luck?”

The white-haired man snorted into his cup. You scowled, plopping down on the couch next to Genya.

“I can’t help it men are pigs who don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” you bit back, hackles raised at Sanemi’s reaction.

You didn’t think the air could get more uncomfortable, but here you were, starting to squirm as you did your best to avoid the piercing gazes of the Shinazugawa brothers. Genya’s whole body had leaned forward as his hands dug into the couch. Sanemi’s normal resting bitch face hardened farther and his eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

“I’ve got a crowbar in the garage-”

“Nemi!” Genya elbowed him before quickly turning back to you. “Unless… I mean unless you wanted-”

“No!” you shook your head, covering your face. This night was just getting worse the more you had to talk about everything. “I just want to forget about it. Can we watch the movie please?”

Familiar music filled the air as Star Wars began to play. You honestly didn’t care for the franchise all that much but it was a welcome distraction from your morning. You inhaled your food before snuggling down into the couch your lids grew heavy. You finally let them shut, unable to stay awake any longer as the hum of conversation and sound effects melted into the background.

Your dreams were staticky and punctuated by odd dialogue filtering in through your ears from the movies playing, but eventually you fell into a dead sleep, mind dark and empty as the exhaustion caught up to you.

When you jolted awake, the sun had gone down and the curtains were drawn, leaving the living room dark. The couch’s raised fabric pattern was imprinted on your cheek, accompanied by drool trickling from your open mouth.

Gross.

You wiped it away with the back of your hand, sitting upright. The living room was empty, food wrappers cleaned up and a fuzzy blanket laid over your body. Sanemi and Genya were nowhere to be seen. You pushed yourself up, reaching for your phone.

10:18PM.

Genya would normally still be up at this time. You picked yourself up off the couch and padded down the hall, knocking on his door.

No answer.

You opened it slowly, not wanting to get an eyeful if he was in the middle of choking his chicken or something else that would scar you for life. His room was entirely empty, bed uncharacteristically neat. Eyebrows knit together to create a crease.

“Do you always creep around like an intruder?”

Sanemi’s voice made you jump, spinning around to face him. You clutched your chest where your heart beat erratically from the scare, trying to hold back a scowl.

“Jesus Christ dude,” you spit out when you finally caught your breath. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Sanemi crossed his arms. “Walk through my own house?”

“Surprise me,” you took a step back, gathering your wits. “In the dark.”

Sanemi reached over with one hand, flipping the light switch. The sudden harsh illumination made you squint, which did nothing to make your face look less irritable.

“Genya got called into work about two hours ago,” Sanemi answered your unspoken question. “He said you could use his bed if you wanted to.”

You peered back into the room behind you. Sanemi probably wouldn’t want to drive you home, so you supposed you could crash in Genya’s bed for the night. Wouldn’t have been the first time, and probably not the last. Genya always insisted you take his bed if you stayed the night anyway. He claimed the couch was more comfortable (a lie if you’d ever heard one).

“If it’s no trouble,” you pulled the blanket tighter. “I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

Sanemi let out a long sigh, leaving you to side-eye him as he rolled his shoulders. When he finally quieted and brought his attention back to you, he looked both pissed and concerned.

“Is it something I did?”

You blinked owlishly, cocking your head.

“What?”

“You always do this,” he gestured to you. “You’re relaxed and chill when Genya’s here, but the moment I show up you get all… frosty. Did I say something to offend you?”

You shifted from one foot to the other, opening your mouth briefly before snapping it shut, trying to think before you said anything stupid. It didn’t work, as per usual.

“N-no, you just make me nervous-”

Sanemi’s face briefly reminded you of a kicked puppy, and you felt horrible. Of course he’d assume you were frightened of him because of his scars. You chided yourself mentally, attempting to fix your mistake.

“N-not like that!” you lifted your hands to wave them wildly, and the blanket slipped to the floor and puddled around your feet. “I just-you make me nervous because you’re hot!”

Both of you froze this time, and your face lit up bright red, ears burning as your mouth fell open and eyes bugged out at your slip of the tongue. You wished you could melt into the wooden floorboards of the hall.

Sanemi broke out of his stupor first, a slow grin spreading across his face. You would’ve run if you hadn’t been rooted to the floor in humiliation.

“Oh, is that it?” he leaned down, resting one palm flat against the doorframe near your head.

His face was close-too close to yours to be completely comfortable. You turned your head away, trying to calm your racing heart. There’s no way Sanemi was flirting with you. He was probably just being an asshole, right?

Right?

“Genya isn’t the only one who has a bed,” Sanemi’s smirk was crooked, eyes half lidded. His face swiftly softened when he noted your eyes flickering to your left and right like a frightened rabbit. He took a step back, allowing you your personal space again.

“Sorry,” he apologized, eyes gentle amidst the sharp planes of his face. “You just had a shitty date and here I am being a bad host. You’re probably tired.”

You hadn’t seen this side of Sanemi before much. You were used to his cocky glares and barking laughter. Not this gentle tone like someone coaxing a horse.

“You’re not bad,” you burst out, wanting to ease the tense atmosphere. “I just- I don’t… know how to act around you.”

Your face burned. How many embarrassing confessions would you make tonight? You were already at two and counting.

“I’m not a pig,” Sanemi echoed your words from earlier. “I know how to take a ‘no’.”

“I-it’s not a no!”

Sanemi’s gaze snapped back to you, shocked but curious. You bit your lip, clenching your fists.

“It’s… not a no. I’m just not sure-”

“If you’re not sure, then it’s the same thing,” Sanemi picked the blanket up from off the floor and looping it around your shoulders like a cape.

Your fingers snagged it without a second thought, anchoring it in place where he’d laid it. You weren’t sure where your eyes should settle, but risked peeking up at him. His eyes rested on your visage with a gentleness that rivaled the brush of his fingers as they withdrew from fabric around your body. Those lilac eyes were a little curious, a little resigned, and a little hungry.

You reached out with one hand, hooking your fingers in the hem of his shirt. He paused. You took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I want you,” you maintained eye contact as you spoke- quite the feat when your heart was trying to escape through your throat.

Sanemi stared at you as if trying to gauge your sincerity.

“Please?” you tacked on as an afterthought, suddenly afraid that he’d laugh in your face or- worse- reject you outright for some other reason. You could thin of a million, but the one you worried most about was him thinking you were some kind of loose woman who slept around-

Hands threaded through your hair, and you felt lips on your own. You melted into the unexpected touch, anxiously moving closer until you were fully pressed against Sanemi’s body. Heat rolled off him comfortingly, and your hands twisted in his white tank top. His teeth nipped against your lower lip, forcefully requesting entrance. You granted it, running your tongue along his teeth, tasting mint and the faintest lingering bitterness of tobacco.

Cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” you whispered as he broke away for a breath.

A brief embarrassed guilt flashed across his features before he shrugged.

“I’m working on quitting. Don’t want Genya to think it’s okay but… we all have our vices.”

You laughed, reaching up to touch his hair.

“Genya tried cigs and isn’t a fan, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The look on Sanemi’s face was comical, and you held in a giggle. He glared behind you in the direction of Genya’s bed.

“The little fucker-”

“Hey, he’s a good kid,” you insisted, feeling more at ease speaking with Sanemi now that his hands were around your waist. It was both soothing and thrilling.

Sanemi crowded you against the wall, dropping his head until your gazes were level. His eyes bored into yours and it felt as if you were suddenly being interrogated.

“You two really aren’t fucking?”

The question took you aback a little bit, but you shook your head.

“He’s like my little brother.”

Sanemi’s grin split across his face, crooked and sharp. Your stomach fluttered as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, fanning his breath across your lips.

“Good. Because I’m taking you.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, you were lifted off your feet and carried- with an undignified squeal- through the hall and into Sanemi’s room. When he dropped you on the bed, the air left your lungs in a gasp, and it took a second to get your bearings.

“If you say stop, or no, at any point,” Sanemi’s shirt was whipped off over his head as he approached the bed, “I’ll back off. If you can’t speak, tap me three times.”

Your eyes locked on his torso as you nodded dumbly, taking in the muscles and scars across his ribs and pecs, down his sides and crowning his hips. It took everything in you to tear your vision away to meet his face as he crawled over you, running his hand up your neck until he cradled your jaw.

“Now… how about I make you forget all about that shitty fucking guy from earlier?”

The kiss was soft and chaste, not what you expected after how heated things had gotten in the hallway. Sanemi’s hands reached for the edge of the t-shirt you wore- Genya’s t-shirt- and lifted it until it caught on your face, tugging a bit when your head was stuck until it popped off, leaving your hair mussed. He brushed the stray strands from your face, eyes dropping to your bare breasts.

Shit.

In the chaos of excitement, you’d forgotten about the marks left from your earlier date. Your hands immediately went to cover them in horror. Sanemi stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding them from blocking his view. His lips pressed to each mark, scraping his teeth and sucking them until they grew darker. Each bruise was remarked afresh by his mouth until not one was left untouched.

Your head had fallen back, a trembling hum dragged from your lips at the feeling of Sanemi’s touch. He sucked a few new marks as well, higher up on your neck, making sure to lavish the juncture of your shoulder and throat with attention. Your hands dug into his hair, tugging and holding back a keen of pleasure.

“There,” he pulled back, satisfied with his work.

Your breath hitched, watching him slide his fingers under the satin basketball shorts clinging to your hips. Being fully exposed to Sanemi was frightening, your entire body going rigid, remembering the offhand snide comments you’d endured only hours ago in the same situation. Sanemi noted the way you wouldn’t meet his eye, ducking your head and pulling your legs towards yourself as if you were going to curl in on yourself.

“I can’t see your pretty face,” he lifted your chin with a finger, thumbing your lip. “I want you to look at me while I go down on you.”

Your face blazed red, and it crept down your neck until your chest flushed as well, watching Sanemi drop his face between your legs, forcing them apart while maintaining eye contact. You slowly eased yourself down until you were only propped up on your elbows.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

It was humiliating how your cunt fluttered at the words, and you nodded, transfixed by his cocky smile as he stuck his tongue out, just barely flicking the little nub that hid under its fleshy hood. The anticipation made you squirm a bit, even though the touch wasn’t enough to affect you. Sanemi hooked his arms around your thighs, anchoring you in place before burying his face against your hot core. Your back arched, a muffled moan fluttering past your lips as your nails scratched his scalp.

You could feel him grin against your cunt as his tongue dipped in and out, tracing the sides and up towards your clit. He avoided directly touching it until you were practically grinding against his face in desperation, desperate short whimpers huffed through your nose. Your lower lip was tucked under your top teeth, bitten and swollen due to your barely restrained desire.

“Please, Sanemi,” you finally gasped.

He pulled back, chin slicked with your juices.

“Please what?”

“You know what!” you whined.

Leave it to Sanemi to be an asshole while eating you out. You couldn’t really complain though- he was impressively good.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you dropped your head to the sheets so you wouldn’t have to look at him as you spoke. “Let me cum.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

You shot up, glaring at Sanemi with a fury you didn’t know was in you. That pleased smirk was plastered on his gorgeously annoying face. You moved your legs so they locked behind his head, holding him in place.

“Don’t be a fucking tease!” you shook him a little by his cornsilk hair, just firm enough to show you weren’t a fan of his antics.  

Sanemi huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His mouth was already back on you, finally going high enough to reach that sensitive button that he’d been neglecting. You sighed in relief, thighs clenching around his face. It didn’t take long after that for that coil in your stomach to build, snapping and throwing you over the edge when Sanemi’s flat tongue caressed your clit.

He kept going despite your choked cry and the way you arched up off the bed, limbs shaking and legs shaking. When you finally couldn’t take it anymore your hands pushed against his head, forcing him away. He sat up, looking over your trembling body and heaving chest. Your eyes were closed, a ringing sound in your ears from the intensity of the orgasm that was currently acting like a muscle relaxer.

A muffled groan pulled you from your pleasure-induced haze, and your eyes slit open. Sanemi’s pants were gone, pupils blown out. You didn’t realize how hard he was already, the outline of his dick inside the confines of his gray boxers surprising you as he palmed himself through the fabric. His own breathing was labored, and he swallowed, noticing your eyes opening.

“You good, princess?”

You nodded, feeling a bit sleepy, but pushed yourself up until you were sitting.

“Up for another round?”

You reached out, a bit hesitant, but tugged on the waistband of his underwear. That was all the answer he needed, and Sanemi stripped out of them, fishing around in the drawer of his nearby nightstand until he was able to produce a condom. It was opened and rolled on in a flash. He nudged your legs apart, settling between them and lining himself up at your entrance. You were incredibly slick from your earlier orgasm, and he pushed in with little resistance. The intrusion was still unexpected, and your fingernails bit into his forearm. Sanemi let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to move.”

Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed up against him, grinding your cunt down onto his dick. The choked cry from his lips was like honey to your ears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Fuck me, Sanemi,” you breathed into his ear.

You barely finished the sentence before his hips began pounding into you, a cacophony of grunts and groans escaping his throat. He grabbed your legs and folded them back, angling deeper into your sopping cunt and hitting something inside you that made your toes curl. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, leaving you too breathless to even moan out your satisfaction. Sanemi’s grip on your legs was leaving bruises but you didn’t care. You were enveloped in the feeling of his cock drilling into you relentlessly, his eyes half closed as the veins in his neck and arms stood out from the force he applied with each movement.

“S-Sanemi!”

The strangled cry you managed to get out among the intense movement filled the hot air of the room. Sanemi’s grip tightened on your legs and his hips stuttered against yours. His mouth had fallen open, eyes lidded with pleasure. His groans rose in pitch until they were more whines than anything, and the staccato beat of skin on skin lost all rhythm.

Sanemi came with a long moan, his mouth dropping to your neck, suckling as he ground up against you, hands loosing their hold on your legs to scramble for your hips. The tension in your stomach snapped with the last few jerks of his hips, a pleasant buzz settling in your limbs and chest a second time as your walls fluttered around his pulsing member. Your arms draped across his shoulders in an embrace as he came down from his high.

It was too warm in the room, but neither of you made a move. You hummed into his soft hair in hazy satisfaction.

“That was nice,” your hoarse voice drew Sanemi’s eyes to your half-asleep face.

He chuckled.

“Just nice?”

You tousled his hair, feigning a pout.

“What, you need your ego stroked?”

Sanemi snaked his hand down your body, flicking your still-sensitive nub with a finger. Your body jerked involuntarily, a cry escaping from your lips. You whined at him, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“I made you come twice,” Sanemi said. “How many times did that piece of shit you call a date make you come?”

You mumbled your answer, and Sanemi narrowed his eyes, gently abusing your clit again. You squirmed in an attempt to get away, but he was still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“He didn’t-” you said, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanemi ground against you, and you wriggled against the intense feeling of overstimulation. “Pretty girls like you deserve to be treated well, don’t you think?”

If you hadn’t been blushing before, you definitely were now. All you could manage was a nod as Sanemi slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and cold as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash.

“What do pretty girls like you deserve?” Sanemi lifted your chin with his fingers.

“To be… treated well?”

Sanemi had a satisfied grin plastered on his face, and he kissed you deeply before pulling back and nodding.

“So how about you find yourself someone who’ll treat you like a princess?”

His words set your heart fluttering again, and you wet your lips, staring at him expectantly.

“Okay. Have any suggestions?”

His laughter huffed through his nose at your innocent and eager expression. Sanemi kissed the tip of your nose, cradling your jaw in his hand.

“You’re looking at him.”

[shojizbae]

Mothers Day

Spencer Reid x Reader

As the newest member of the team, everyone is shocked by your boldness.

Everyone knew not to trespass when Las Vegas or Mental illness was a factor in the case. Everyone but you, apparently. By chance, the team's last case to Vegas was two months before your hire. Now, you were making very dangerous strides around a very delicate subject. The Unsub was suspected to be a man on a psychotic break and had begun devolving before the team had even been called in. Ever the overtly ambitious profiler you wanted to follow Spencer Reid for his ultra-secret contact.

"He prefers to go alone." My eyes met the dark brown hand on my bicep

"We really shouldn't be going places alone. You know the FBI minted the buddy system?" I shook him off

"I know, baby girl, but this is delicate. You just gotta leave it alone."

"Derek, you, of all people, should be aware of my incessant control problems."

"I have to agree with Morgan. This is something you need to let be."

"But you know I can't. Doctor Reid!" I darted off after him. He was tense, like the way people get when they hear a tornado siren and have to put themselves in their basement or put a mattress over their bathtub. He was preparing for disaster. "I truly believe it would be beneficial if I were to go with you."

"Would it be benefitting the case or your psyche?" He prods

"Well, both and neither." I readjust my little rectangular glasses, "As you know, I'm extraneously protective, to a fault. Also, I am working on my doctorate in psychology and I'm writing a dissertation on noncommutative disorder clusters. And I'm comfortable around disorders. Actually, I find it strange that when we talk about OCD, we call it a 'disorder' when people just like things organized in a particular manner." I snort to punctuate my rambling, but he only grits his jaw. "Aw man, that joke usually kills in my schizoid heredity focus group." He sighs as he tugs his satchel on.

"You need to stay quiet and low profile." He orders, and I know my dorky smile splits my face. He leads me to a big black SUV, where I take the driver's seat. He gives me directions, leading me from the way through town street and down some scary back roads. Eventually, we pass a sign that reads Bennington Sanitarium. He tells me to turn left, and we park in the back of the parking lot. He tells me to leave my gun in the car, and I follow him with my head down.

"So, who's this ultra-secret contact you have?" His stress seemed to triple, "Some fancy professor from Caltech?" He's being intentionally nebulous, I'm aware but there's some fun in playing nosy-cop.

"No, it's not someone who worked at Caltech."

"Oh, but a professor? Where'd they work, Burkley? Or maybe some school in Vegas. Let's see, there are not that many high-profile universities in Vegas."

"No, she hasn't worked in years." His voice sharpens in frustration, so I back down, readjusting my glasses, and licking the corner of my lips. We enter and a receptionist recognizes Spencer immediately with a big smile.

"Dr. Reid how lovely to see you. Have you come to visit your mother? She'll be ecstatic. It's been far too long." Oh, like mother like son. She must be a psychiatrist. I smile softly at the notion. It will be so interesting to see who and where Spencer came from.

"Thank you, Sheryl, how has she been."

"Well, she has her day, but mostly, she just reads. You know the book club started a new series." Sherly playfully brushes his arm and giggles.

"That's good."

"She should have just gotten out of therapy." Sheryl smiles and rakes her eyes over the young doctor. Finally, she makes eye contact with me.

"Oh well, you're new," she cheers in a vaguely Midwestern accent. You'll need a visitor's pass, hon." She gets one from a drawer and hands it to me. "So, do you work at the FBI, too, or are you coming to meet the in-laws?"

"I'm an agent," I laugh. If I were lucky enough to snag him, that would be an HR nightmare." Playfully, I pat his chest. He guffaws dryly as I slide the plastic lanyard around my neck.

Spencer leads me through the building, mostly there are elderly people playing chess or using oil pastels as nurses and orderlies orbit them. He leads me through a large living room past an Asian woman knitting. We find a woman with blonde hair biting her nails on the couch as she ponders something.

"Hi, Mom," He warbles. There's an extra beat between his greeting and her response. It's like she snaps out of a trance when she sees her son.

"Spencer, honey, what are you doing here?"

"Me and my frie-"

"Oh my goodness, thank whatever deities you deny the existence of; you're finally giving me some grandchildren."

"No, Mom, this is my coworker Agent (L/n). She and I just have some questions for you regarding our case."

"Well, at least sit down." She pats the space next to her, and Spencer obeys, "You too, young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." I take the only spot right next to him, and Spencer begins rattling off questions while his mom sits there with her hand under her nose. She sits and observes Spencer like no one at the BAU does. When he finishes contextualizing the case with her she stews on every word like his voice is her favorite song.

"So our first question for you is, uh (Y/n), you might be better at asking." He makes the wringing motion of cracking his knuckles, but no sound comes out.

"Um, mostly, the bureau is interested in the capabilities of delusion to overlap reality. When you are having an episode, do you recognize the difference between your actions and your perceptions?" I retrieve a legal pad and a fountain pen and click it theatrically. Diana keeps her hand over her mouth and inhales longingly through her nose. She points at me but doesn't look at me.

"You're a very smart young woman," She locks her eyes on me, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Of course, wagers are the drug of choice in Vegas, well that and alcohol and mostly any other drug you can think of." I correct myself

"God, you're so much like him." She looks to her son."Why aren't you dating my Spencer?"

"Uh," is all that dumbly spills from my mouth.

"You two seem perfectly suitable for each other. Is it because he's so skinny?"

"No,"

"Well, he's incredibly handsome and talented; even a pigeon could see he's intelligent beyond a lexicon." She rambles

"Mom, I think that's enough."

"Spencer, you haven't visited me in over a year, and how do you believe that's any way to speak to your mother." She reprimands me. Had the information not shocked me, I would have giggled.

"Spencer, over a year?!" I swat his arm, "You've had time off. Why wouldn't you come to visit?"

"Oh well, I've still gotten my daily letters," she pouts. But it's been too long, and I'm getting old." She begins to bat her eyelashes, and she holds onto his arm.

"I'm trying, Mom," he whined

"To visit or to get me some grandkids?" she sasses

"Mom," He groaned, and I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips.

"What about you, young lady? Do you have any kids??"

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?" I could see where Spencer gets his tunnel thinking.

"My career has made it difficult to go out on dates and fall in love," I admitted it was almost like Diana could extract the truth from me

"Well, then, date my Spencer."

"Mom!" he protested

"Shh! It's a win-win: I get grandbabies, you get dates, and neither of your careers gets in the way." I meant to retaliate, but her infallible logic knocked all the fire out of me.

"Let's finish up this interview and solve this case then we can circle back." I mitigated

Two days later, the case was solved, and we were riding the jet back to Virginia. Everyone had filed off the plane but Spencer and I.

"So, do you have any plans tonight?" It threw me further off guard than Diana.

"I was just gonna turn on Real Housewives reruns and cuddle cannoli." It was how I spent most nights.

"Would you object to a date?"

"Tonight?"

"We could watch the Real Housewives and hang out with your cat??"

"You want to do that?"

"It sounds much better than sweating in an overpriced Italian restaurant." He laughs and rings his knuckles

"it does, I think I have NBC, we could watch Star Trek after." I offer as we walk from the landing strip to the BAU. We made a sojourn at his home so he could shower and put on comfortable clothes. Two years later it would be cannoli to ring bear your wedding. Spencer would have to credit his mother who walked you both down the aisle simultaneously for your relationship and the whole team would have to agree.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

The latest teaser confirmed it: the Mighty Nein animated series will draw on material that not only predates episode one of the campaign but at least two characters' respective session zeros. The synopsis for the show also highlights what is most likely the Beacon, suggesting it may get significant emphasis early on.

Because of all this, I think it's possible (even likely) that the first season will NOT end with the events of episode 26, which is where I and many other fans figured it would after the initial announcement.

Instead, as a few fans posited, we could see C2E12 and its consequences serving as the season one finale.

When I first saw posters bringing this idea up, I liked how it sounded. It would give the Mighty Nein much more room to breathe than Vox Machina. I didn't want to believe that could happen, though. I didn't want to get my hopes up.

Now, I am getting my hopes up. Just a little.

Because to get to the Iron Shepherds before the end of season one, the CRew has to hustle. They cannot afford to waste time on any extraneous content. Pre-episode-one material is most welcome but it is extraneous to the Mighty Nein's overall story. It is nothing we can't infer from context.

Incorporating this material implies that the pace will be, at the very least, somewhat slower than TLOVM's pacing has been.

Showing how everyone meets means they can dedicate the rest of the season to Trostenwald, the Gnoll Mine, (Shakäste!) various Zadash hijinks, and then the attack. If paced well, that’s enough for 12 episodes, even without moving some later events (Where The River Goes, Harvest Close, the tournament in Whispers of War, etc.) up in the order, which they could do.

But I could be jumping the gun. It could be the CRew makes the mistake of trying to squeeze pre-session-zero content into an otherwise faithful adaptation of a season that ends at C2E26. Or adding that material but slicing out tons of content from the stream to make that work. We don’t know yet. We can’t.

But, again, the allusion to the Beacon makes little sense unless we have some time to sit with it. Not if it’s in the middle of a season racing towards Glory Run. Travis has said here about TLOVM that they had a limited runway and wanted to be off to the races from the jump. But with the Nein, they want to play around more. We could take that in several different ways, but it sounds promising.

We might get a slower burn with TM9 than with VM. If the first season ends around Midnight Espionage, we might not even see Caleb’s or Molly’s backstories until season 2! And that’s exciting; new watchers will have time to get to know these characters, care about them, and mull over who they could be before the bombs drop. And that’ll be fun to watch.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy July 11th Update, Wolfmania, Our Biggest Update Yet!

This update was delayed by about one week, but I think everyone will find that this was well worth it, as this has been our most significant update ever to the rulebook and general content of Eureka. Where do I even begin?

Maybe I’ll start with the best part. For a limited time, this update is FREE! You can grab a PDF from the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club Discord server from now (July 11th 2024) until the next book club round starts! (Which will probably be about a month.)

Here’s just a few of the highlights for this update, you’ll find the full changelog below.

Major cleanup and copy-editing is underway again finally, and we managed to eliminate 42 pages of unnecessary blank space and extraneous text, as well as rewording and reorganizing many rules sections to make them clearer and easier to read. You now only have to read 20 pages before the first mention of how to roll dice, rather than 70.

Ten new character traits.

A PC’s Wealth stat now has a much greater effect on them in more areas of gameplay.

A ton of new art assets.

A bunch of massive improvements to combat that make it flow smoother with fewer interruptions, some of these improvements will be discussed in detail in their own post.

Repurposed Chapter 7 into being a chapter dedicated to GMing and homebrew.

Huge cleanups to the supernatural chapter.

Some changes to monsters overall to make them more modular and less restrictive in character creation.

Two new playable “supernatural” “creatures.”

Two new mage traits as well. (Which also double as two new spells for the witch)

The weaknesses of a vampire are now a bit more subjective and modular. For instance, in character creation you can trade off a greater sensitivity to garlic for a more potent sense of smell, or a lesser sensitivity to garlic for a weaker sense of smell. Vampires are now also explicitly thematically tied to religion, religious trauma, and religious horror.

Wolfmania! The wolfman monster now has different transformation options during character creation. You now choose your wolfman PC’s partial wolf transformation and full wolf transformation, with four options for each. There are some major narrative trade-offs for different combinations but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.

Then, there is "The Eye of Neptune." "The Eye of Neptune" is a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure module that has languished in an unfinished state for like six months, but we finally got it like 99% complete. The only thing missing are the maps and the artwork, which it is fully playable without.

Man has built a city of steel and black blood atop the endless abyss. It is a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins. Hundreds of miles away from civilization, it stands in the midst of the Gulf of Mexico with naught but empty horizons around it. Within is a vast structure of winding halls, grinding machinery, and thousands upon thousands of small parts working to achieve a grand design. It is the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune, and it was once run by 200 workers. Now, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has fallen to more or less a dozen. These last vestiges of life in the rig spread themselves thin and work their hands to the bone to keep the massive beast running. In the midst of this overwhelming isolation, two members of the already shorthanded crew are unaccounted for, Seth Barlowe and Lukas Ward. The installation manager, Noah, has convened a meeting to try to find out what happened to him. With the crew already severely shorthanded and tensions running high, a mysterious disappearance is the last thing anyone needs. 

You can get a copy of The Eye of Neptune, as well as another adventure module, several stories, and continuous monthly rulebook updates from our Patreon for only $5/month!

Now here's the full changelog! I'm mercifully putting it under a Read More because it's our longest one yet!

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 47.

CHAPTER 1

Better clarified how Heat increases.

Minor edit to Role of the Narrator.

Changed the name of Chapter 1 to “Core Gameplay Rules”

Minor tweak/clarification to what happens with a 7-9 on a Heat roll.

Instead of +1 Heat when the villain is in league with the police, Heat now simply does not decrease for the duration of the adventure. 

Heat rolls are now made whenever an investigator’s Heat increases by 3 or more within a single scene, rather than being made on multiples of 3 Heat.

Added another entry to the list of how Heat can increase

How much Heat an investigator starts the adventure with is now based on their Wealth stat.

Minor sentence reworks

Added a more detailed story of A.N.I.M. and Eureka’s history to the foreword

Moved Verisimilitude section out of Foreword down below Inspirations 

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to Chapter 3 above Grievous Wounds

Moved the “Monsters” section of the foreword to Chapter 8

Better clarified starting Heat

Lots of copy-editing and minor twinning, additions, and tweaks

Fixed the Quick Term definition for Truth being inaccurate.

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 1 to Chapter 7, including Heat

CHAPTER 2

Fixed the Believer Snoop accidentally being put with the Woo-Woo trait

Tweaked the None of My Business Trait

Changed Traits section to “Mundane Trait List”

Changed the amount of Penetrative HP for Not Finished Yet trait to 13 instead of 10

Added holster to item list.

Found out bump stocks are no-longer illegal 

Added “It’s for a Book” trait 

Added “Moneybags” trait

Added “The Ascot” trait 

Added “Gang Way!” trait 

Added “Dangerprone Damsel” trait

Added “Master of Disguise” Trait.

Added “Ninja” Trait

Added “Quick Draw” trait

Edited the Food Budget item to be more clear

Changed it so that guns no-longer come with bullets, these must be bought separately

Changed having +2 Wealth to “middle class” and +3 Wealth to “upper middle class,” to better describe how the Wealth skill actually influences the game

The formula for calculating WP is now 3D6+6+[Wealthx2]

Increased the WP price for certain items to reflect the above change

Added “Frugal” trait 

Added “Kleptomaniac” trait

Added art of example investigator Nick Morgan

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 2 to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about investigators losing items to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Changed the name of Chapter 2 to “How to Make an Investigator” because now all the NPC stuff is moved to Chapter 7

Better clarified skills

Changed the heading “Additional Traits” to “Choosing More Than Three Traits”

CHAPTER 3

Added clarification that sometimes it does matter whether a weapon is a blunt weapon, a piercing weapon, or a cutting weapon, and we trust players to be able to intuit what types of weapons are what.

Made animal teeth and animal claws separate entries on the weapon list

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

Explained what a node map is

Removed the rules for doing turn order based on Reflexes rolls, and finally made it so that Epicenter Initiative works with firearms combat.

Added rules for equipping weapons during combat

You now add Acceleration bonus to Athletics rolls for characters moving long distances in theater of the mind combat. Need to go around and remove the special speeds for various supernatural characters. 

Added a section that explains why so many pages is dedicated to combat despite this game being an investigation game primarily

Added art of some small knives

Put “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to this chapter instead of the Foreword

CHAPTER 4

Added some art to the gun information list 

Made Fully Automatic Fire have a hard limit of 12 bullets per attack. 

Added Quick Cycling rule, allowing characters with a +2 or more in Firearms to fire Two-round Bursts with Single-Action and Repeating firearms.

CHAPTER 5

Added rule for ride-by attacks to basic melee attack

Better clarified Escape

Attempts to disarm a character now have bonuses or penalties based on the difference between the Athletics skill of the two characters involved, similar to how Escape attempts work. 

CHAPTER 6

Clarified that Acceleration is not affected by Composure

Tiny tweak to how chases are described

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

CHAPTER 7

Added “How We Play Eureka” section explaining which optional rules we personally do and don't prefer

Changed the name of Chapter 7 to “Advanced Narration and Homebrewing”

Added a ton of stuff from other chapters to Chapter 7 to make it a general chapter for Narrators as well as help with game/module design and homebrewing. It is currently a little bit of a mess but is at least serviceable until we get to the point where we can fully copy-edit it.

CHAPTER 8

Minor vampire tweaks

Made it so that that the vampire sensitivity to certain scents is more codified and now causes composure rolls, and now works more like their compulsion to count things in that the placement of the weakness on their tiers of fear determines how much of a bonus they have to Senses checks involving smell and taste. 

Adjusted Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above changes 

Added more mechanics for how NPC vampires interact mechanically with weaknesses. 

Better clarified the full moon roll for wolfmen. It is now just 1D12+1. 

Better codified superhuman strength as a rule.

Gave the math for handling consistent HP across alternate supernatural forms its own section.

Completely redid the wolfman wolf forms. Now during character creation players can choose one of four options for each of the wolfman’s wolf forms, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Up to 16 possible combinations! Wolfmania!

Improved the werewolf trait to fit with the updates to wolfman

Adjusted wolf manifestation of vampire to fit with new wolfman rules. 

Better clarified vampire claws

Added Supernatural Bonuses and Investigation Rolls section

Tweaked wolfman involuntary transformation so that the form they rampage in is still random even if they are already in a wolf form when the rampage starts

Changed stats of vampire’s bat manifestation

Better clarified vampire sunlight and silver weakness mechanics

Totally revamped vampire’s monstrous beast manifestation 

Redid the Superhuman Speed mage trait, made it a lot better 

Improved the Stealth bonus of the Invisibility mage trait

Improved Stealth bonuses of thing from beyond.

Added a “Purpose” mechanic to living dolls, which is what the doll in question was built to do. When they act towards this purpose, they get +1 to rolls, and when they fail or otherwise ignore their purpose, they may lose Composure. 

Updated Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above

Made it so wolfmen lose 2 Composure from skipping a meal instead of 1.

Clarified that the thing from beyond does not need to stay in human shape the entire time they are digesting a human victim. 

Clarified the possibility of escaping from a monstrous supernatural beast’s stomach for both the giant wolfman forms and the monstrous vampire manifestation. 

Clarified Telekinesis trait

Added “Manifest Weaponry” Mage Trait

Added “Incredible Strength” Mage Trait

Added ability for an investigator to be a talking dog.

Changed “wannabe monster hunter” to just “monster hunter” and added a new sidebar

Rewriting large chunks of the first half of chapter 8, redefining each type of supernatural investigator, and adding a fourth category of investigator. Work in progress

Monster investigators now only require 18 investigation points instead of 21. 

Removed “Is this a monster or a mage” section. This is no-longer needed now that these categories are more clearly defined. 

Removed blood sacrifice from the witch’s true nature and just committed to making it be about cannibalism and about using magic–any of their magic–for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons. 

Gave witches a proper weakness

Changed the name of the witch to Fairytale Witch

Moved Alternative Witch into the misc. category

Removed large chunks of chapter 8 that were either no-longer needed or had become so outdated as to be contradictory to other rules

Vampires now gain 1 additional point of Composure for every 5 Morale or Composure damage they do to their victim during an attack, to better codify how they feed on human suffering as much as the literal blood they drink.

Added the “Monsters” section of the Foreword to this chapter instead

Changed the name of the Thing From Beyond’s “Shapeshifter” trait to “Imposter Syndrome”

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[makethatelevenrings]

Ubi Amor Ibi Fides (Where there's love, there's faith) // Lucius Verus x f!reader

summary: When he saw you that day, surrounded by a gaggle of children who begged you to tell them a story, he had no idea that the Fates had their own epic tale in mind of everlasting devotion. OR, contrasting vignettes of the past and the present through the eyes of Hanno and his wife.

word count: 13.2k

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE!! 18+, war, blood, death, allusions to rape and what happens to female prisoners of war, allusion to desecration of a corpse, historical inaccuracy (if Ridley Scott can do it, so can I!), smut, Lucius being Down Bad for this wife, mythology and religion (with inaccuracies), discussion of suicide, suicide attempt, grief, throwing up, Roman culture???, period-typical misogyny but like, make it feminist

“Tell me a story.”

Exhaustion clouded his voice and you turned away from your weaving to find him leaning against the roughshod mudbrick door frame. It was days like today that you cursed his stubborn nature. While he had been willing to let you help in breaking in the ground for the coming harvest, your husband sent you inside by midday when the sun was at its highest. Now, you were rested and chilled by the wind that eased its way through the small house, and he was completely depleted.

“Come.” You beckoned him with an outstretched hand. “Rest beside me and then I will tell you.”

He didn’t argue, for once, and took your hand in his. You drew him down to sit beside you, his head settling in your lap. Your fingers curled into the soft, downy hair at his temples and he relaxed with a sigh. While you wished you could continue stroking his hair, the weaving in front of you wouldn’t be completed without two hands. As you went back to your work, you began to speak.

“There were once two lovers by the name of Pyramus and Thisbe…” He huffed out a quiet laugh. You smiled at him, delighted that it made him relax even further. Most of your stories were the ones he had told you about from his childhood and you weren’t really in the right mind to come up with a fresh story.

“The parents of our two lovers refused to let them marry, but their love reigned strong through the thin crack in the stone wall that divided their property.” As you spoke, you embellished the story with extraneous details and dramatic gasps, eliciting quiet chuckles from your husband. He looked weary these days and not just from the labor in the fields. The Romans were creeping closer, and it would only be a matter of time before they came to your city. You woke up last night to a cold bed and found him standing at the doorway, staring out towards the sea. He knew what was coming. You both did.

“The gods looked favorably upon their sacrifice and changed the tree to its dark appearance to signify the devotion between them.” You ended the tale and stopped your weaving for a moment to gently trace your fingers along the edge of his features. You loved the sharp crest of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the bright blue of his eyes. His lashes were so long that they left shadows across his cheeks when he shut his eyes.

“I understand why he did it,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” Your hand stroked over his curls once more as you thought through everything you needed to get done tomorrow. You paused, however, when you felt his face turn to see you better and his lips brushed against your palm.

“I understand why Pyramus ended his life.” His calloused palm covered your own and he turned your hand over, his fingers sliding along yours and intertwining. “One can only imagine the pain he must have felt.”

A painful squeeze built in your throat and you felt an awful burning sensation behind your eyes. He sat up and gently cupped your face in one of his large hands, drawing your gaze up to meet his.

“Hanno,” you breathed. He smiled softly and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He was never one for words, always more inclined to act. Breaking apart, you pressed your forehead against his and breathed in the masculine scent of him tinged with soil, sweat, and something purely him.

“When death claims us, we go as one,” he vowed. “I cannot exist in this world without you.”

“As the gods see fit,” you assured him. “I will follow you wherever you lead.”

You wished this was a story.

It had been an easy day in the fields. You were sprinkling seeds in the ditches that Hanno dug earlier. The chickens clucked at you from their pen, begging for a bit more food as if they hadn’t been fed a hearty amount of grain earlier. After you planted these, Hanno would place the earth back over it while you worked on your herb garden.

You were capable of doing the hard, manual labor. Growing up, you would always help your parents through the entire process of planting, but Hanno was insistent on keeping his precious wife away from the heavy work. Rather, he encouraged your herb collecting and training with some of the city healers. You were grateful for him, truly. Most men would sequester their wives in their homes and work them to their deaths from labor, both of earth and child. 

But Hanno was different. 

He taught you to read, speak, and write in Latin. He would easily switch between Numidian, Phoenician, and Latin until you could respond perfectly. When he took breaks from tilling, plowing, and managing the harder tasks with the animals, he sat next to you at your garden and asked about the different plants. He was never cruel, never struck you or screamed at you the way you had heard other wives whisper to one another. In fact, Hanno was exceedingly kind to you and to anyone he didn’t view as a threat.

Which is why you thought this was a nightmare at first.

The horns of war sounded and you stood up straight to watch as the beacons erupted with fire at the top of the wall. Fear seized your heart and you stood frozen, transfixed, by the flames that licked the sky. Smoke curled off the top of them and the smell burned at your nose. You might have stood there all day if it hadn’t been for Hanno rushing out of the small house to your side.

“Come,” your husband instructed you. “We must get ready.”

He grasped your arm gently and it snapped you out of your reverie. Swallowing down your panic, you followed him into the house and to the small trunk he had made to hold your armor. The two of you silently donned your gear and were nearly finished when Jugurtha came to your door.

“My lord,” you greeted him with a slight bow. The chieftain’s face betrayed nothing, but you could see the worry in his eyes. Hanno and Jugurtha would be in the heat of the battle, directly in the path of the oncoming Roman fury. Would the gods listen if you sent them a prayer now? It felt as though they had decided to abandon you.

“The healers are gathering at Taklit’s house.” Jugurtha looked at the two of you, a hidden regret in his gaze. “We will come retrieve you once we have claimed victory.”

“Yes, my lord.” Your voice had softened as you realized how quickly this was all happening.

“I will join you soon,” Hanno replied. Jugurtha nodded and left, his imposing figure leaving an empty space in the doorway and in your heart. Needing a distraction, you turned and focused your attention on securing Hanno’s armor. As your trembling fingers finished tightening his armor, his hand enfolded around yours and he drew your fingers up to his lips. Hanno placed a delicate kiss on the tips of each finger. You searched his face to memorize every last detail, from the crinkles beside his eyes to the slight curve of his lip. Only the gods knew how this battle would end and the anxiety felt like it was going to swallow you alive.

“We go as one,” he reminded you. “I will not lose you.”

“Nor I, you.” His lips ghosted over yours and you leaned up, capturing him in a searing kiss. You poured every ounce of your devotion, fear, and worry into the kiss and he took it all onto his broad shoulders, shielding you from this world. His hand fisted in your hair and he pulled you impossibly closer so he could sink the weight of his devotion into every fiber of your being.

The gods had granted you this man as your husband. Perhaps they had not abandoned you yet.

“Be brave, my Hanno,” you whispered once you broke apart. He pressed his brow to yours and you breathed him in. “Be strong and be brave. And come back to me.”

The warm metal of his betrothal ring pressed into the skin of your cheek as he cradled your face between his hands. He kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your clammy skin. You savored the ring, this physical reminder of his tie to you, and touched the one that rested on your hand as a reminder of your tie to him.

“I will see you soon, my love.”

How bittersweet endings are, you thought to yourself as the walls of the city were seized by Romans. Men and women fell left and right from the parapets and you knew there was no help you could give them once their bodies hit the ground. Instead, you watched in horror as Roman soldiers grew closer and closer to where you were stationed and awaiting the wounded. You could see Hanno at the top of the wall fighting for his very life and your heart beat wildly in your chest at the sight of so many men around him falling in battle. Would he be next?

A cry of pain nearby alerted you to someone needing help. One of your people had been caught within the crosshairs of an archer and you rushed out of the house to grab them and drag them to safety. The child, only a mere babe, shrieked in agony as you dove to cover his little body when another arrow went sailing over your head. Even over the din of war, you heard Hanno scream your name. 

A Roman soldier grabbed you by your hair and yanked you up off the ground, forcing your back to bend sharply and a shout to emerge from your lips. He drew his sword, placing it to your throat with the intention of drawing your blood, your life, out of you with one swift pull. Despite knowing it wouldn’t help, you shouted your status in Latin.

“Healer! I’m a healer!” Perhaps he would be merciful. Perhaps he would let you go. Your eyes sought out the top of the wall and you saw Hanno desperately fighting to get to you, but he was too far away. The blade knicked the soft skin of your throat.

Two things happened simultaneously. One, a general pointed at you from the crowd and yelled at his man to stop. Two, Hanno was shoved off the wall and into the sea, right where huge rocks clashed with the waves.

A scream escaped you. A wail. War makes widows, your mother had said. And here you were, one of them. 

The soldier removed his blade and forced you up to your feet, shoving you back in the direction of the house. You scrambled to scoop up the child in your arms. If you could not save your love, maybe you could at least save a mother from grief.

The child died in your arms by the time you stepped into the healer house.

Numidia fell. Rome claimed victory and dominion over the land. Hanno was dead.

You busied yourself with tending to the wounded in hopes that you wouldn’t think about the fact that you were now under Rome’s control, a widow, and possibly homeless. What would happen next? Would they let you retrieve his body? Or would they throw him into a pile and burn it all along with the city itself?

A shadow fell over you as you tended to one of your own. You looked up to find the general gazing down at you. All at once, you were filled with hot rage and the deepest sorrow. You stood quickly, your hand reaching for a stray knife on the ground but he merely raised a brow. Right. What skill do you have against a Roman general?

“You’re a healer,” he said, not as a question. “And you speak Latin. How?”

“How do I heal or how do I speak Latin?” you spat. He remained stoic and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. You would never reveal Hanno’s secrets. Not even under the threat of death.

“My husband is-” You stopped yourself and swallowed hard. “Was a merchant. He taught me so I could help him sell.”

“But you are a healer.”

You shrugged. “We do what we must.”

He studied you carefully and then nodded at one of his soldiers. A sudden bolt of terror struck you. Was this your future? To be a general’s plaything? A concubine? Some kind of bed warmer until he got back to Rome and disposed of you into the nearest brothel?

No. You were the wife of Hanno, a kind man and a good soldier.

“If you expect me to lay with you, I ask that you let me slit my wrists first so that I can die knowing I never let you take more from me than you already have,” you hissed. The soldier went to unsheathe his sword, but the general raised a hand to stop him. He took in your figure and the way you trembled with rage and grief.

“I need a healer,” he explained. “For my men. I will not touch you, for I am a married man, and you are a widow.”

He turned to the soldier once again. “Place her in chains and then put her in my room. Do not lay a finger on her, nor let anyone else.”

What choice did you have? If you defied them, you would be dead. If you went with them, you would have a chance to avenge Hanno before you died. Either way, you would join your husband in the afterlife. Going meant you had a chance to drag another life with you on the journey.

You dropped the blade and let the soldier lead you to the ships, not daring to look at the mass of bodies being piled up on the sand. Tears blurred your vision as you were hauled onto the ship. The keening wails of mourners raised above the fractured walls and you watched as smoke started to envelope the city. Just this morning, you had been thinking about spring planting and now you were a Roman slave.

What fresh hell was this?

The soldier clamped the heavy irons onto your wrists, connecting them together, and then attached two to your feet as well, forcing you into a shuffle as he then moved further below deck to a room. He tossed a thin blanket onto the wooden floor and pointed at it. You needed no words to explain that it would be your new bed.

When the door shut behind him, you fell to your knees over the chamber pot and promptly threw up everything in your stomach. An agonized sob tore from your lungs and you grit your teeth to silence the wail that threatened to emerge. You beat your fists on the hard, unforgiving wooden floor and wept silent tears, rocking back and forth in time to the crests and waves of the wailing mourners outside. Your people were subjugated. Your home was destroyed.

Your Hanno was dead.

Oh Thisbe, you thought as hot tears coursed down your cheeks. I understand. I understand. I understand. If I cannot shoulder this burden, then let the gods strike me down so that I may join him in peace.

“Tell us a story!”

The voices of children bubbled up over the crowd and Hanno looked up from sharpening his sword to find a woman surrounded. The kids eagerly mobbed her, their little heads bobbing up and down as they pleaded for her to tell them a tale. A basket balanced precariously on her head, but she seemed as though there was no worry about it falling.

But the thing that Hanno noticed the most was that she was completely and utterly beautiful.

“Who is that?” Jugurtha smiled at the young soldier’s question. He saw the way the woman captured his gaze. He knew that look in his eyes.

Jugurtha said your name quietly and explained how your family used to live on the outskirts of the city so they could accommodate a larger farm, but recent skirmishes in the area had wounded your father and drew you behind the walls of the city. Hanno had met your father before and made a mental note to visit the man and see how he was healing. Perhaps he would bring some fresh fruits from the merchants.

Jugurtha must have caught onto his train of thought because he called you over. The gaggle of children followed closely behind and you laughed, a sound that Hanno delighted in hearing.

“Are you interested in a story too, my lord?” You said in greeting. Jugurtha grinned and gestured for you to sit.

“You’ve been hard at work. Take a moment to rest and tell the children a story.”

With careful hands, you reached up and lowered the basket to the ground. Hanno could see it was full of various types of plants and fabrics. He had a million questions swirling around in his head. What did you do to pass the time? Where were you staying? Did you like it here? He stayed silent, however, as you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground. Your dress pooled around your legs and the coins on your shawl clinked against each other. What would you look like bare? He banished the thought as soon as it appeared.

“Come.” You beckoned the children to sit around you and gathered one of the youngest into your lap. The child reached up and played with the ends of your veil and you smiled down at her before beginning your story.

“Long ago, there was a queen of Numidia by the name of Kahina. When invaders came to Numidia to conquer us, she stood strong and fought them off with all of her might. Kahina was brave and smart, using both her strength and her mind to push the invaders back.” You launched into a tale filled with drama, some comedy, and even a bit of romance that had the kids shouting and cheering with glee. Hanno even stopped cleaning his weapons to sit and listen. He was enraptured by the way you kept the kids engaged as you weave your tale. The child in your lap started to drift off and you didn’t even hesitate before drawing her closer into your arms and cradling her.

“Queen Kahina is a reminder to all of us,” you declared. “That each of us has the power to stand up for ourselves, to do what’s right, and to be proud of who we are.” You gazed out onto the sea of little heads bobbing their agreement and then looked up to lock gazes with Hanno. For a brief moment, it felt like everything in the world went still. He scarcely knew he was breathing until Jugurtha nudged him. You tore your gaze away and offered a brilliant smile to the children. Clapping your hands together, you shooed them back towards the gathering of homes.

“Your mothers are probably wondering where you’ve gone off to. Now, go home and do some chores to help her out.”

“Oh, but we want another story!” One boy cried out. You huffed out a laugh and shook your head, your veils moving like buttery silk across your skin.

“Only if you finish your chores for the day. I will ask your mother and you know I will. Now, off with you!”

The children dashed off, leaving you with the sleeping babe in your arms. You slowly started to rise, intent on not waking her, when Hanno spoke.

“Here, let me carry your basket.” He stood and took the wicker basket from the ground so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying both child and items. You regarded him warily at first and Jugurtha had to hide his smile behind his hands.

Truth be told, you were one of the most desired women in the city. You were also one of the least trusting. Your mother desperately tried to set you up with suitor after suitor, but none met your standards. Your father laughed off your mother’s attempts and said that the gods would lead the right man to you. You were older than most women to be unmarried, but you remained steadfast in your belief that the right man would come someday.

And perhaps today was that day.

Jugurtha offered you a short nod to express his approval of Hanno and your suspicious expression melted somewhat. You turned and started to walk towards the village. When you realized that the handsome man with blue eyes wasn’t following, you glanced back at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

Hanno scrambled to catch up and quickly joined your steps, a smile cresting on his face as he asked you about how you were settling into the city.

Hanno cried when his mother sent him away. He sobbed when he fled his hiding place, cried on the boat crossing, and sniffled away into his sleep the first few days of living in Numidia. But he had never wept like he did when they tossed him into the hold of the ship with a Roman brand on his shoulder and a ring that felt infinitely heavy on his finger.

The last thing he saw before plunging into the sea was the blade sliding across your neck. Stuck between the two worlds of consciousness, he saw flickers of a wheatfield stretched before him and, for a moment, saw the outline of your body amongst the stalks. He reached out, his hand passing through where you stood, and then you disappeared from his grasp.

Coming to, he rushed from the sea and towards the city, but two Romans stopped him. He needed to find your body. He needed to see that you were buried properly. He was never as devoted to the gods as you were. You kept idols on the hearth and prayed regularly, but he only found himself turning to the gods at a time like this. But, right now, he found himself praying to Viduus, Libitina, and Proserpina.

Let her soul cross, Mercury. Bring her to the Fields of Elysium. Please. Tell her I will meet her on the other side.

He was forced to kneel next to Jugurtha, stripped of his armor and weapons, and watched as they loaded body after body into a pit. Jugurtha’s gaze never left the growing pile, even as he asked the question that Hanno dreaded.

“She’s gone,” he said, his throat raw from screaming your name across the battlefield. Did it hurt? He wondered. Was it instant? Did you feel pain? His sweet wife who dedicated her life to healing and helping died in such a brutal manner. His hands curled into fists as rage filled his veins. You were supposed to die at an old age, tucked in his arms and surrounded by your children. That’s what he planned that day so long ago when he walked you home, basket in his arms and a babe in yours. You dropped the child off with her mother and he refused to let you take your basket back, instead carrying it to your small house where he checked in on your father, met your mother, and charmed your whole family.

He craned his neck to see the dead lying a few feet away in hopes of catching a glimpse of any sign of you but there were too many dead. Too many lost. He saw the man he had bought silk from two days earlier. The midwife in the village. So many of the soldiers he had helped train.

Hanno glanced beside him and saw a fellow healer who was weeping openly. He leaned closer and asked if she knew anything about what happened to you.

“They took her,” she wailed. “They took her.”

Any grief that remained calcified into pure, hot rage. They took your body? For what sick purpose? To desecrate your corpse? To taint you with their hatred and their delusions of power, even when you were already dead? He started to rise, intent on seeking out your corpse and draping himself over it so that he would still be holding you when they killed him. Jugurtha stopped him with a shaking hand around his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” the leader lamented. “But not like this. This is not how you will die.”

Hanno’s eyes fixed on the man standing in front of the soldiers, in front of the keening mothers and children, in front of the men he had defeated and stripped of their armor to expose their humiliation. Hanno remembered the way he pointed directly at you, encouraging the soldier to keep the bloodshed continuing, and knew what Jugurtha meant.

He was going to kill him, and then he would reunite with you in the afterlife.

“Tell me a story,” Lulit encouraged as the two of you picked herbs from outside the city. The two of you rode out early this morning to gather herbs not grown in the village gardens. Lulit was with child and Jugurtha insisted on a guard coming with you and you glanced over at the man asleep at the base of the tree that the horses were tied to.

You paused for a moment to consider which tale you should tell. Recently, the only stories that came to mind were romances. Your face burned at the thought, but you knew why they were the only things that floated to your memory. A certain blue-eyed man had consumed every waking thought of yours and it was driving you mad.

He was a consummate gentleman and always found ways to visit your family. He started helping your father get his new trading business up and running in the city. He brought your mother fresh wheat to bake bread. He carved toys from wood and willow reeds for your siblings.

Hanno was the man of your dreams. He was exceedingly kind, handsome, and funny. He was sincere and wasn’t putting on some kind of face to impress you. He was just truly nice to everyone he met. You saw him once helping one of the elders bundle their wheat harvest and carry it into their house. Jugurtha had already come by and assured your parents of Hanno’s good nature.

He had started to teach you Latin and how to read and write Phoenician and Numidian. He told you stories from other empires and listened intently when you told him tales your grandmother had told you. The gods had indeed brought the right man, the perfect man. 

“Psyche was one of three daughters of a king and a queen of a far away land. She was renowned for her beauty and praised among the land as the second coming of the goddess of beauty. Her admirers would bring offerings and gifts to her, angering the goddess, who decided that Psyche must be punished.”

A thorn caught on your finger and you let out a hiss of pain as you brought your finger to your lips, sucking the blood away. You began to continue your work and your story when a horn trumpeted across the sky.

The sounds of war.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you immediately looked to Lulit. Her face had drained of color and she traded a worried glance with you. In the time you had lived here, the horns had never sounded.

“We need to move.” Despite being asleep moments earlier, Hanno was already leading the horses to the two of you.

“Who is it?” You knew better than to stall, especially when he wore such a serious expression. He helped you climb onto the back of your horse and paused for only a moment, one of his warm palms resting on your skirt-covered thigh.

“A small war party, by the looks of it. Nothing the defense can’t handle. But we need to get out of the way before they attack. There’s a forest just a few paces away, but we need to get moving.” He ensured that you and Lulit were secured before he climbed onto his own horse. Dust grew in the east and you felt your worry build with it. Hanno tugged at the reins of your horse, urging you to follow. You urged your horse into a gallop and kept close to him, but you still looked over your shoulder to gauge how close the marauders were.

“Hanno.” Your voice carried a warning and he looked back to see a rider closing in on them. He let out an expletive and pointed to the trees that were nearing with every step.

“Go! I’ll find you.” He slowed his horse and fell in line with you, his bright eyes meeting yours. “I swear to you.”

You swallowed against your rising panic and he sent you a reassuring smile before he turned his horse around and rode off in the direction of your pursuer. You looked back to watch as he drew his sword with expert ease.

Focus, you chastised yourself. You need to focus.

Lulit silently followed you as you led the way to the forest. Once the trees began to cloud your vision, you looked back and saw nothing but dirt and sky. He would be okay. He had to be.

Dismounting, you grabbed the reins of your horse and led her further into the forest until you came to a clearing with a good underbrush. You tied the horses and instructed Lulit to dig out some of the underbrush so she could lay down and rest while you brushed out the horses.

“Are we in danger?” she asked. Were you? You had no clue. But you set your shoulders and covered her with the blanket she kept on her saddle.

“Hanno would never let anything happen to us,” you told her. You settled down onto the soft grass next to her. “Let me continue my story. While Psyche’s sisters married, she found herself still unmarried and that worried her father who consulted a seer. The seer predicted an awful outcome for the beautiful daughter, one of a brutish husband in the form of a dragon who came to claim her and whom the gods feared. But truthfully, the goddess of beauty had been so enraged by the people’s devotion to Psyche that she sent her son to enchant her with a hideous creature, but instead found himself falling in love with her.”

Lulit curled up onto her side, cradling her growing belly with her hands as she listened raptly to your story. You spoke of the trials the lovers endured in their pursuit of one another, but as you began to wrap up the story, you found that she had drifted off to sleep.

A branch cracked nearby and you flinched. There was a small knife in your saddlebags that you used for foraging and silently, you crept over to your horse and retrieved it. The leaves rustled and you spun to face whatever beast dared to come close. You held your knife aloft and pointed it in the direction of where the noise was coming from. Oh, you were not brave. You were a farmer’s daughter and a healer. The most you knew with a knife was how to butcher an animal.

“You need to adjust your thumb to the other side,” Hanno said in greeting as he stepped through the forest and into the clearing. “It will give you better control.”

With a ragged sigh of relief, your shoulders fell from their tensed position and you dropped the knife onto the grass below. He stooped to catch it and studied the small blade with a hint of a smile. Droplets of blood stained his face and you carefully examined him for any sign of injuries.

“I am unharmed, my little warrior,” he teased. He rose and handed you the knife once more. “And I will make sure to teach you how to use that.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He could easily be lying. Father always brushed off your mother’s worries so as to not incite her own anxieties. Hanno raised his arms from his sides and slowly turned so you could see that he was indeed unharmed. His sword hung from its scabbard and you could see that blood still lingered on its surface.

“Are we safe?”

His eyes darkened and he stepped closer, his hands hovering over your waist. He searched your face for something, you weren’t sure, but dipped his head into a nod. “Aye. I would never let anything happen to you. To you or Lulit.”

“Then rest, soldier. Let me clean your sword.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but determination furrowed your brows and Hanno reluctantly unstrapped his sword from his side and handed it to you. This was a task you had witnessed your mother perform before when your father took on anyone trying to attack the farm. Blood was not a foreign thing to you, even if Hanno appeared to want to protect you from it.

You took a rag from your saddle pack and sat down by a tree. Hanno joined you, his back against the bark and his eyes studying the treeline for any disturbance. Slowly and methodically, you ran the rag over his blade and ensured that every last drop of blood and gore was cleaned from it. He searched your face for any sign of fear. Fear of what? Of him? A man who so willingly charged into danger to protect you engendered no fear from you.

“There,” you declared. “Good as new.”

He gratefully accepted the blade from you and placed it back in his scabbard. The sun was starting to set and the glow between the trees created a halo of light around you. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair out of your face before curling his knuckles against your jaw and stroking his thumb over your cheek. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into his palm, savoring the rough drag of his calloused fingers against your soft skin.

You loved him. Oh, the thought made your heart race and you surged forward. He caught your waist in his calloused hands and let his lips meet yours in a breathless kiss. Hanno groaned against your touch and you pulled away, thinking he was hurt with some injury you hadn’t seen, but he merely cupped your face and pulled you back in so he could nip at your lips and soothe the slight sting with his tongue. You whimpered at his touch and kissed him once again, moving your hands down to trace along the hard lines of his chest. Your hand moved lower and Hanno quickly pulled away from you, one of his hands catching yours and tangling your fingers with his.

“Not yet,” he panted against your cheek. “Not yet.”

Dawn was breaking when you awoke. Your head rested on a blanket that you recognized as Hanno’s while your own draped over you, protecting you from the bitterly cold nights of Numidia. Your soldier sat wide awake and alert beside you and you could tell, from the fatigue weighing down his eyes, that he hadn’t slept a wink through the night. A silent sentry, guarding you and Lulit from any unseen danger.

The blanket fell from your shoulder as you began to sit up and he instinctively reached over to drag it back up your shoulder, bathing you in warmth from both the outside and surging through your insides at his tenderness.

You woke Lulit and the three of you rode back to the city, barely making it in time before a search party headed by Lulit’s husband went out. He wept when he saw his wife and swept her into his arms. Two men offered to take your horses to the stables to care for them and you graciously accepted. Hanno refused to leave your side until he deposited you at your doorstep.

It was still early but you knew your parents would be awake, both from their anxiety and their history as farmers. Your mother let out a shriek when she saw you approach and ran from the doorway to hug you. Hanno squeezed your hand once and made to step away, but you kept your fingers tightly entwined with his.

“I believe you have something to ask of my father,” you explained. His brows raised in surprise and you offered him a shy smile. As your mother ran back to the house to exclaim of your return, you raised your clasped hands so you could press a kiss to his dirt-stained skin.

“Are you sure?” His hesitation had nothing to do with you, but rather in his belief that he was not good enough for you. You laughed and started to drag him in the direction of the house.

“You foolish man.” A boyish grin lit up his face and he followed you inside.

“What happens to me once we reach Rome?”

General Acacius looked up from the letter he was writing and turned to face you. The floor barely made a comfortable place to lay your head, but he had at least given you blankets and removed the chains from your legs. They only went back on when you were on the deck, thanks in part to your failed attempt to jump overboard and sink into the sea.

“My wife will find a place for you in her house,” he explained. You scoffed and picked at the dried blood under your fingernails. You spent your days stitching up and tending to the wounds of Roman soldiers and spent your nights curled up on the floor of this room, dreaming of bright blue eyes and a crooked smile.

“Why? Couldn’t you just drop me off at the nearest brothel and let them rip me apart?” His compassion, minimal at best but still present, confused you. To him, you were barbarian scum. A conquered people. Prisoner of war, spoils, an artifact of his military prowess. He winced at your accusation, knowing that it was true for many military campaigns that the women were subjugated into the slave trade and forced into prostitution. The general refused to meet your eyes and you savored what little bit of power you held over him.

You could picture it now. You would demure yourself and behave in his wife’s house until you found a chance to slit her throat and leave him with the same raw, empty feeling that consumed you.

“You have skills that would be useful,” he muttered. “Your husban-”

“Don’t you dare speak of him,” you hissed. “My husband was a good and kind man. You do not deserve to speak of him.”

“He taught you well,” he continued on. “Lucilla could use someone with your skill set.”

The name made you pause and you tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing as you mentally ran through your memories. “Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius?”

He regarded you with suspicion. “Aye. How do you know of her?”

“Everyone knows of Marcus Aurelius,” you retorted. “I’d be a fool not to.”

A sudden knock on the door drew his attention away from you and he rose to answer it. General Acacius left the room to sort out some sort of issue and left you alone with your thoughts. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested your cheek against your folded arms. If you shut your eyes, you could see his face. If you thought hard enough, you could feel him in your dreams. The rough stubble of his beard. The high plains of his cheekbones. The crooked smile he gave you when he made you laugh.

Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius, you ran the words over and over in your head. Aurelius. Aurelius.

You could only hope that Hanno would forgive you if you delayed your joining with him in the afterlife for a little bit longer.

He slept fitfully on the ship and in the cages. He dreams of your eyes, your laugh, your smile, and wakes with your name on his lips in a strangled cry that he buries into his bicep and lets only a few tears leak out onto his battered skin. 

He has nightmares most nights and the lack of sleep fuels his rage. Dark circles take hold under his eyes and weariness leaves red rims around his blue pupils, making him appear as the wild barbarian they purport him to be. His muscles ache and scream and bruises litter his torso. He bites a monkey back and savors the burning anger that courses through his veins. The crowds cheer and shout and applaud his fury, but he pays them no mind. All he focuses on is going back to his cell and dreaming of you once more.

Killing men has never been an issue for him. He was raised a fighter, even in Numidia where he helped Jugurtha lead their forces. He fought in skirmishes and battles. When he met you, it brought another reason to keep the fight going. He refused to let a single person pass into the gates of the city when you were seeking protection inside. He had failed you, and every new scar on his body was merely penance.

Ravi chastises him for the way that he seeks out injury, but the man doesn’t refuse to help him. In an opium-fueled haze, Hanno tells him quietly that his wife was a healer. She was exceedingly kind and gentle. Too gentle for him. He was scared he would break her with his brutish nature, but she was also enduringly strong. A stray tear slips down his cheek and he tosses the opium aside in favor of feeling the pain and knowing that it pales in comparison to the ache in his chest. His grief builds and compounds into this sickening version of him that he cannot recognize. The blood of other men stains his skin, no matter how hard he scrubs in the baths. Even when the iron-thick substance is gone, he can still see it.

Macrinus brought the finest courtesans by his cell, but he refused them everytime. Once, the girl shared a similar hair color as you and he invited her into his cell, but merely let her rest on his cot while he sat at his desk and sketched what he could remember of your face on thin papyrus.

When he looked into the stands and saw your murderer seated with his mother, his rage calcified into his heart. With every kill, he pictured your pale face crying out for him. With every breath, he reminded himself of his failure to protect you. His mother had the audacity to reason with him.

“Do you have a family?” Lucilla asked.

He says your name with the reverence afforded to the gods and then hisses out that you were dead and taken from him by her husband. How dare she try to call her son home when she shares a bed with that monster? Ferality consumed him and his thirst for revenge. He meant what he said to Macrinus. Only Acacius’ head will quench this fire in his blood. For a sickening moment, he wants his mother to feel the way he does.

There are times when the night is darkest that his mind descends into the throes of the deepest depression and he wonders about how you would feel if you saw him like this. There is one nightmare that plays over and over again in his mind. He is in the Colosseum and the crowd is cheering in their bloodlust. The gates open and he steps out to face his next opponent, only to find you standing in the sand with your hands outstretched towards him. In this dream, he can’t stop himself from raising his blade an-

He woke up screaming.

Hanno doesn’t trust Macrinus within an inch of his life, but he trusts that he’ll bring him Acacius and that…that will be enough.

“Can I tell you a story?” Hanno whispered into your hair.

The wedding was an all-day event. You looked resplendent with flowers woven in your hair and layers of colorful fabric adorning your body. It felt as though the whole city came out to celebrate your union and the dancing, food, and music flowed for hours. Jugurtha clapped his hands on Hanno’s shoulders and congratulated him. A knowing glint flashed in the older man’s eyes and Hanno was eternally grateful for the man’s meddling.

Your father had tears in his eyes when he took your hand from his and placed it into Hanno’s, but they were tears of joy. When discussing the marriage negotiations and dowry, your father declared that there was no one greater for his daughter. In his vows, Hanno promised to protect and provide for you until his very last breath, one that he would take with you in his arms at an old age, with your children around you.

As the night grew longer, the crowds began to thin out. Parents took sleeping children home and the elders slipped away so they could rise early and start their daily chores. The fires began to burn low and Hanno looked over to you, only to have his breath catch in his throat at the realization.

His wife. His wife. Your lovely face was now his to wake up to every morning and your sweet laughter was his to elicit. Izim was telling some tall tale about his adventures as a sentry, but Hanno didn’t hear a single word. He ignored the hoots and hollers of his fellow soldiers and friends as he left their group and strode towards you.

The women around you tittered and giggled as he approached and it drew your attention away from whatever Seble was telling you. You barely had time to react when he suddenly scooped you into his arms. Hanno easily cradled you to him, your long veils swirling around the two of you, and he made his way towards the new house he had built with the help of your father and a few friends. The party cheered and you hid your laughter into the crook of his neck.

Hanno stopped in the doorway and set you gently onto your feet so you could examine your new home. Someone, your mother, you presumed, had already set some lanterns alight in the house and a clay jar of flowers sat on the small wooden table in the center of the room. It was a small house with the bed on one side and a small kitchen on the other. You traced your hand along the furniture that you knew he constructed himself. Your dowry chest laid at the foot of the bed already and a loom was on the wall. Your husband had done all of this.

The word made your throat squeeze with a level of affection you had never experienced before. He watched you carefully from the doorway, but you could see tension in the line of his shoulders and how his hands fidgeted until he clasped them behind his back. The flames from the lanterns made his eyes glow and heightened the smooth planes of his face. You reached up and unclasped your veils, letting them pool at your feet before you took a step forward.

He met you halfway, his hands going to settle on your waist as you nestled into his strong arms. Your hands came up to rest on the rough fabric of his tunic and you could feel his heart beat wildly under the tips of your fingers.

“My husband,” you breathed to the heavens. You wanted the gods to know that this man was yours. He had placed an iron ring on your finger and you savored the weight of it, the press of it against your skin. Hanno’s lips lifted in the barest hint of a grin, but his eyes took on almost burning intensity.

With nimble fingers, you released the clasps of his tunic yet kept your gaze locked on his as the fabric pooled to the ground. Hanno’s breaths grew ragged as you settled your hands back onto the chiseled muscle of his chest. For a moment, nothing happened. You just stared at one another as the air electrified with palpable energy. You had no idea where this boldness emerged from, but you slid your hand down his bicep, along his arm, and then to his wrist where you clasped it and raised his hand to rest on your breast. He swallowed so hard you could see his throat bob and just the simple evidence of his arousal made your skin burn.

“My wife,” he said hoarsely and untied your dress.

Hanno sucked in a shuddering breath as the fabric fell away from your body and joined his on the floor. He stroked his hands over your quivering flesh and stepped forward so that his body pressed against the length of yours. You felt him harden against your thigh as he leaned down to capture your lips in his. The two of you had kissed plenty of times, from small chaste pecks to that heated moment in the forest, but this felt entirely new and you welcomed it. He nibbled at your lips and explored your mouth with the desperation of a dying man searching for water. You moaned your approval which encouraged him and he let one of his hands drift down to cup your breast.

Hanno’s touch made your skin light on fire with every simple brush. How were you supposed to act when the man strutted around shirtless most of the time and built your house? Some of the older women in the city gossiped about their husbands. They told you about how it hurt, about the way he took without giving, and how they hated it.

From the delicate way Hanno touched you and the tender press of his lips against your pulse point, you knew that this would be different. He bent down and hauled you up against him, your legs wrapping around his waist for security, but you knew he would never drop you. You slid your arms around his neck, pulling your chest flush with his and he let his head fall back with a sinful groan, exposing the column of his throat. Eagerly, you licked a stripe up against his sweat-tinged skin and savored the taste of salt, musk, and man.

“By the gods, you will be the end of me, my little wife.” His teeth enclosed around the hinge of your jaw and you let your head fall to the side with a little sigh. Hanno nipped at the skin of your neck and you jolted against him, causing his throbbing cock to brush against you. Hanno squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation that wracked his body and you turned your head so he was facing you. Running your thumb along his jaw, you pulled your husband into another kiss and then pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hold tightened on you, sending a zing of pain mixed with pleasure down your spine.

“Take me to bed, husband,” you panted against his mouth. “Claim me as yours.”

Furs and silk lined the bed and softened your fall. You marveled at the way he prepared everything for you, even bringing over the blankets you wove for your marriage chest and setting them on the bed. He planted himself over you, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he took and you stole a glance down his broad chest to the heavy manhood that stood proud between his thighs. Your body pulsed with want even as your mind protested the idea of taking his length. He sensed your apprehension and leaned down to place a gentle kiss against your temple, your brow, both eyelids, and then your lips once more.

“I cannot promise it to be painless,” he said. “But I will do everything in my power to make sure you find bliss too.”

One of his hands snaked down to your most intimate place and your eyes widened with shock as he brushed the pad of his finger along the seam of your cunt. Your legs spread further apart instinctively and he kissed you in thanks for your invitation. A gasp escaped you as one of his fingers slid past your entrance and he kissed away your shock, even as you felt the rough and calloused pad of his finger slide up and press against some part of you that had you seeing stars. A little whimper from you had him pausing and he immediately pulled his hand away, eliciting a low whine from his wife. Hanno couldn’t stop his cocky smile that spread across his face before he touched that part of you again. His finger drew a circle over your flesh and your hips canted up, a mewl spilling past your lips and your breath catching. He stole a kiss, then another as he sent electricity up your spine and shocks scattered through your bones.

“You are magnificent,” he murmured just as he slipped another finger into your aching cunt. For a moment, you felt a hint of discomfort and bit your lip to refrain from making a sound. Hanno frowned and pulled your lip out from between your teeth. Some small part of you whispered ugly words and lies into your mind in an attempt to push his affection away. He only wanted you because other men did. You were merely a token to conquer. He needed a wife before he could get a concubine.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He kissed the corner of your lips and you turned your head to see him properly once more. His eyes burned with a hunger you had seen before like in the forest or when he saw you carry one of the village babes on your hip. Hanno cheek pressed against your own and he whispered into your ear as he sank one finger into you and then two. He told you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, how precious you were, as he pulled little cries of pleasure from you. You tightened around his fingers and he leaned back and watched your face as your body twitched and seized with the electric shocks of pleasure. A proud smile captured his face and he craned his head down to kiss you again and again and again. You climbed higher, higher, higher but then he abruptly pulled his hand from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

“I know, I know,” he groaned in that deep timbre bass that wracked through your body. Hanno rubbed a gentle circle into your outer thigh and shifted himself until he was kneeling between your spread legs. He grasped his cock in one hand and pressed his other hand to your hip, holding you in place under his heavy gaze. You squirmed as his eyes raked down your naked body and the little thoughts began to creep in once more, but he silenced them with one word.

“Divine.” Hanno leaned down and laid the flat of his tongue along your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a choked out gasp and for a moment, you thought you died and entered the afterlife. He chuckled against your inner thigh and pressed a kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his heels. He stroked his thick length twice before moving closer to you. He nestled his face against your hair and inhaled the sweet scent of rose petals. His cheek rested on your temple, and he shocked you with his question.

“Can I tell you a story?”

You choked back a laugh and kissed the shell of his ear. “I suppose.” While you were the typical storyteller, you would always accept whatever he gave you.

“There was a king of the island of Ithaca by the name of Ulysses*. He was sent to fight in the Trojan War and on the way home, was blown off course. The journey home took over ten years and was filled with countless obstacles and dangers.” You gasped as the blunt head of his cock slid past your entrance and Hanno inhaled deeply. “Odysseus had a wife, the queen of Ithaca, named Penelope. A hundred suitors from the various lands and tribes came in an attempt to woo her and take her hand in marriage. Everyone thought Odysseus to be dead.”

He rocked his hips and his thick length began to split you open and your lips parted in a silent moan. Any air that was in your lungs seemed to evaporate as he filled you fully. Hanno swallowed your shaky whimper with a sweet kiss. You clawed for purchase against his chest, your limbs liquifying when he pulled out. Hanno caught your hand in his and flipped your hand over so he could pepper kisses along the inside of your wrist.

“Penelope was a devoted wife and ever faithful. She never doubted that Odysseus was alive and would come back to her. She lied to the suitors and told them that she would marry them when she finished weaving a funeral shroud. But she undid her work each night.” This time, his intrusion didn’t have the burn like the last thrust. Instead, his cock dragged against your walls in such a way that had your eyes rolling back into your head.

Hanno groaned as he started a steady thrust of his hips. He moved your hands above your head and entangled his fingers with yours, squeezing them in assurance as he fucked you. The pleasure burned so hot in your stomach and consumed your entire being. Everytime he thrust in, it felt like he was carving you out and branding you with his claim and oh, how you wanted this. He built this house for you and your future and even though he put a roof over your head, you saw stars with every touch against your skin.

“Ha-Hann…” You whined as he hit a certain spot that made your head spin. “Hanno.”

He frowned and slowed his thrusts and he touched your cheek, his thumb rubbing away the tear that you didn’t realize slipped down. “Does it hurt?”

You yanked him closer until his nose was touching yours. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he bottomed out in surprise.

 “Don’t you dare stop.” He grinned that reckless, crooked smile of his and swept your lips into a bruising kiss as he fucked every last thought out of your head. His name became a prayer that you chanted to the skies as he took you higher and higher until that coil that wrapped in your stomach snapped. You clenched around his cock and your body seized up as your orgasm washed over you. Hanno let out a guttural, animalistic groan and he spilled his seed into you, flooding you with warmth.

Silence enveloped the two of you, only the heavy exhales from exertion permeating the bubble that surrounded you. Hanno’s body relaxed and he caught himself before he put all of his weight on you. Rolling to the side, his arm came up to curl around your front, and he pulled you to his chest. Nose to nose, you met his gaze and let your breath mingle with his.

“Penelope didn’t falter in her devotion,” you said hoarsely. “Did she?”

His hand drifted up and down the raised gooseflesh on your arm and he reached over to draw one of the furs over you. “Aye, she didn’t.”

You tossed the edge of the fur over him and kissed him once again. “I will always remain steadfast.”

His lips met your temple and he tucked your head under his chin. “And I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.”

Acacius lead you into the villa, the shackles and a new plate around your neck indicating your designation as slave. Lucilla immediately greeted him with an embrace and you looked away, your heart shattering at the sight. Quiet words were exchanged between the two before Acacius paused and stepped back to display you.

“She is from Numidia,” he explained. “She has skills in healing and I felt she would be a good addition to the household.”

Lucilla approached you and took in your sorry state. You felt bile rise in your throat as you bowed your head to the woman, but she stopped you with a raised hand.

“What is your name?” she asked you in Phoenician. You paused before answering her in your second tongue. That’s when you saw her eyes and realized, with a jolt, that she was indeed the woman you had heard of.

“Leta,” Lucilla called for another slave. “Come. Show her to the baths and give her a fresh chiton. Acacius, unchain her.”

He obeyed his wife’s command, but the slate remained. Perhaps you would wear it for the rest of your, hopefully short, life. Leta, an older woman, silently beckoned you to follow her deeper into the villa where a few slave women were gathered together over a pool of warm water.

“Who is this?” one of them asked in Latin.

“A Barbarian whore for the general, I presume,” Leta replied. “He brought her from Numidia. Thing hasn’t had a bath in her whole life.”

You remained silent, hands clasped before you, even as Leta pointed towards the bath. “You. Wash.” You pretended not to understand and she huffed out an annoyed breath and marched off, leaving you to strip out of your ruined and bloody dress from home and step into the water. You didn’t want to wash the gore off of your skin. Not when it was your last reminder of home. Of him.

Taking a moment to look around, you tried to picture what it was like living here in all its splendor. Leta returned and tossed a dress for you onto the edge of the tile and you stared at it blankly. She turned her back to you and started to gossip with the other girls. Your hands scrubbed at your skin, but your ears picked up all that they were saying. Gladiator games, senators, the emperors, it was all banal and boring.

But you found it all invaluable.

When night fell, you slipped out from the tiny cot you had been given in the slave quarters and silently made your way through the halls. Mosaics lined the walls and depicted everything from myths to actual battles. You stopped at the bust of Marcus Aurelius and stared at it for a moment. Shaking your head, you moved on to the hall that everyone had pointedly walked past and Leta explained was off-limits. Or as she said, “no touch”, because she thought that your supposed inability to speak Latin was also an indication of your idiocy.

You pushed open the doors and entered the chambers. Dust covered every inch of the place, as if no one had been in here for years. You carefully made your way over a broken tile and into the bedchamber where the sheets were still unmade and a book lay open on the desk. Turning slowly, you took in the whole of the room with an unsteady inhale.

“The gates of hell are open night and day,” you whispered under your breath. The words were etched onto the top of the wall. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” As you spoke, you could almost feel the presence of him at your back, his rough and low voice breathing the words into your ear.

You fled from the room, unable to bear it.

You almost made it back across the atrium when Lucilla emerged from seemingly out of nowhere. The two of you paused and you quickly lowered your head in deference.

“I hope you weren’t trying to escape,” she said gently. “Acacius told me that you were recently made a widow.”

The wince on your face was visible even in the moonlight and she stepped forward, her hands clasping over yours in comfort. She spoke her next words in Latin. “I am sorry. These meaningless deaths are foolish emperors playing war without considering the human cost of it.” The older woman patted your hand and made to leave, but your voice stopped her.

“Your slaves do not respect you,” you spoke in Latin. “Leta spreads vicious rumors about you and she said she has ties with some of the senators. Your allies are playing you and your plan is shaky at best.”

She whirled around to face you and you jutted your chin out in defiance, your eyes flashing with something dangerous. “In Numidia, my husband was the soldier, Domina. But I was the politician.”

Macrinus delivered on his promise. Acacius faced off with four soldiers in the Colosseum before Hanno was given a taste of vengeance and oh, did he savor it. Acacius ordered your death. Now, Hanno had the chance to ensure you were honored properly.

But Acacius stood across from him, sword on the ground, and accepted his death with a stoicism that Hanno only dreamed of possessing. The crowd roared and swelled with indignation after Hanno demanded to know their morals, but he was ushered away before he joined his father in dying in this ring.

He was granted the chance to see his mother one last time before her execution for treason and his slaughter in the arena. Lucilla told him of his father and he remembered meeting Maximus and how kind he was, even in the jaws of death. When his mother meets him for the last time, his only thought is how much Lucilla would like you.

She gave him two gifts in parting.

One, his grandfather’s ring.

Two, a lock of hair. And not just any…

Lucilla smiled sadly. “Acacius took her from Numidia to be a healer and didn’t realize she was your wife. She is safe, Lucius, and under the care of my household. I’m afraid I put it together too late, and she isn’t aware that you are here.”

For a moment, the rage subsided and he heard only a shrill ringing in his ears, as though he took a heavy blow to the head. Lucius turned the hair over in his hand and raised it to his nose, smelling a faint hint of rose petals.

I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.

His mother was taken back to his cell and he took a moment to curl his palm around this fragment of you and press it to his chest to guard it from the world.

And then he called for Ravi.

Your hands remained steady when you slit Leta’s throat. You did so quietly, in the darkness of an alleyway. Blood never fazed you before, and the taking of a life was no different now. As far as you were concerned, this woman was one of the reasons why your Hanno was dead. Was it a rational thought? Perhaps not. But rationality would come another day.

The Colosseum roared with fury and you tried not to flinch at the deafening sound as you slipped in through the gates below, into the pens with the animals and gladiators. Chaos reigned above and below the world’s largest stadium so it was easy to blend in with others. The cloak you stole from Leta made you appear to be a fellow slave working amongst the masses. It never failed to amaze you how they called you a barbarian when they fought men to the death for their entertainment.

Your fingers skated over the smooth wood that curved over your spine and you felt a little better knowing that it was on you. The games were already underway with a few prisoners being devoured by Barbary lions as the crowd screamed for their blood to spill. You slipped around a few courtesans that lingered in the hall and passed the raised dais where three maidens were chained. Pushing on, you found a small corridor that was unoccupied and slipped in between the stones to hide from any roaming eyes.

The noise increased and you knew what was coming. Lucilla would be executed and Macrinus was to blame. The lanista was the mastermind of all of this, and you knew firsthand what war could do to people. You refused to let Lucilla die and, as much as you hated the Romans for what they took from you, the innocent children in the streets would die.

After this, you promised yourself, you would join Hanno.

Footsteps rushed past your hiding spot and when it quieted down in the hallway, you took that as a chance to peek out and see if you had an opening. You slipped out into the hall and darted towards one of the gates that was partly open. A bloodbath was the only word to describe what was happening in the Colosseum. You blanched at the sight of Lucilla tied to the dais, but it seemed as though the gladiators had it well in hand.

Removing the bow from your back, you notched an arrow onto the string and inhaled deeply. Macrinus was not hard to stop, thanks to his place behind Emperor Caracalla, but you didn’t have a clear shot. The crowd was turning on the Praetors and more soldiers entered the Colosseum on horseback. One Praetor nearly took the head off of a gladiator and you turned your bow in that direction.

Breathe in, aim, fire as you breathe out, Jugurtha had instructed. Keep your arm steady, your aim true, and your mind clear. There is no time to panic, just shoot.

The arrow sailed through the air and straight through the Praetor’s shoulder, knocking him off his horse and to the ground. You drew another arrow and started to aim towards Macrinus once more, but this time he was standing up. Caracalla was slumped over dead in front of him and Macrinus had his own bow in his hand.

Numidians were excellent horsemen and archers. Before you ever met Hanno, before you even bled for the first time, you were trained in the art of horsemanship and archery. Indeed your husband vowed his protection, but you were not one to go down without a fight. He taught you how to manipulate a knife, where to aim on the body, but Hanno never came close to your familiarity with a bow.

Your next arrow arched through the air and collided with Macrinus’ shot. The wood splintered midair and you loaded a third, but the lanista fled the stands before you could take another shot. It gave a gladiator the chance to free Lucilla and pass her to another gladiator, a hulking beast of a man. The gladiator gave chase to Macrinus and you focused your attention on your subject at hand.

There had to have been a reason the gods kept you alive and took Hanno. Clearly, it was to protect your husband’s mother.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re hiding from me?”

His hand stilled from where it had been absentmindedly stroking your thigh. Hanno came home from the field and immediately drew you into his lap, inhaling your sweet smell and letting his hands roam all over your body. You savored his touch, but marriage had sharpened your mind regarding his mannerisms. Something was bothering him.

Hanno sighed and he nuzzled his nose against your shoulder. You let him have this moment, but you would weasel the truth out of him, someway or another.

“Is it another woman? A concubine?” you asked, your voice hushed and wounded. He laid a kiss against your skin and shook his head.

“Rome is moving closer,” he finally said. You turned so you could see his face and cupped his chin, drawing his head up to meet your gaze. He blinked up at you with those sky blue eyes of his and nestled into your palm until he could lay a gentle kiss there.

“My name, my real name,” he whispered, “is Lucius Verus Aurelius and I am the prince of Rome.”

The first thing he did after ascending his rightful place as Emperor of Rome was go to his mother’s villa.

Lucilla was fine, a small gash on her bicep and shaken up, but fine. He tried to be a good son, but she could tell his focus was on anywhere but her. Lucilla directed him to the gardens and that is where he found you.

The Roman dress was different from what he was used to seeing, but you still covered your head with a veil when praying to your gods. Head tilted towards the heavens, hands outstretched, you made a beautiful image of devotion.

Your feet inched closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Forgive me, my love, for being so weak that I could not do this sooner,” you said. Tears coursed down your cheeks and stained the fabric of your chiton with damp tracks. You muttered a mixture of prayer and apology and he strained to hear it.

“Give me the strength to commit this final act, oh gods, grant me this. I have protected his mother and granted her the life he was not spared. Please, oh Hanno, let me see you in the afterlife. I am tired, so tired of only seeing you in my dreams.”

“Step back from the edge, my heart.” His voice came out in a tremble.

“Hanno,” you whispered. “Forgive me for being so weak. Forgive me for failing you. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been nothing but strong.” A ferocity claims his words. “Step back from the edge.”

“We made a promise,” you pleaded. “We go as one. Let me join you, please.”

You raise one foot over the rocky cliff and he lashed out before he could think. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back so hard that the both of you tumbled to the ground. Quickly, Lucius kneeled by your side to search for any injury.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered. This was the afterlife. It must be. You obeyed his command to find those bright blue eyes that haunted your dreams.

“Am I finally dead?”

“Not for a long, long time.”

No, this wasn’t the afterlife. Blood caked his skin and scars littered his bare arms. He had been muscular before but now he appeared to be only thick, corded muscle. Your hands came up to rest on his neck and you examined his face. The same freckles. Same lines by his eyes. Same long eyelashes.

Trailing your hands down along his arms, you skirted around the obvious injuries he had until your fingers brushed something new, something entirely foreign to you that resided on his shoulder.

A brand.

And with that, the dam within you shattered. The wails of a widow finally escaped your chest and you let out an agonized scream as you curled in on yourself. Hanno gathered you into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck. Hot tears slid down his cheeks and onto your skin. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on the armor that still adorned his body and you eventually settled on cradling the back of his head with one hand and grasping his forearm with the other.

“I am so sorry,” he wept. “If I had known you were alive, I would have come for you sooner.” He wrenched the slave plate from your neck and kissed the places where the chain had rubbed your skin raw.

All the agony of grief and rage and terror from the last month spilled out of him in broken, gasping sobs. His precious wife was alive and in his arms. Numidia had fallen, but now he had the chance to protect her with all the power and might of Rome. He could now have armies at his beck and call, coffers of coins brought to him, and enemies assassinated but the true power laid in his arms.

His little wife was right. He was the soldier, the muscle, the physical strength. But the reason he fought and killed, the reason he kept going even when every part of his body screamed to give up, was because of her. As far as he was concerned, she had the power to raze cities and command armies. All she had to do was ask him.

“Is this real?” you breathed once your sobs and trembling ceased. He pulled you into his lap and almost began crying once again at the feel of your supple body against his.

“It’s real,” he assured you before he bent down and kissed you. Despite the blood that coated his skin, you savored the taste of him. You never thought you would get this again. Maybe the gods did bless you.

He kept you pressed against his side as you made your way back into the villa. One of the slaves nearly dropped her tray at the sight before her and ran to grab Lucilla. The stately woman swept into the courtyard and met you both there.

“Lucius,” she exclaimed. “I take it that this is your wife.”

“Yes.” His gaze never strayed from your face. “This is her.”

You instinctively went to bow to Lucilla but she stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“You are not my slave any longer,” she assured you. “Not only did you save my life, but you are now my daughter and also Augusta.”

Hanno, Lucius, you reminded yourself, stood in all his resplendent glory, covered in dirt and blood with his gladius hanging from his sheath. How different the two of you were now, yet still fit like the gods made you for each other. Your small house was gone. Your home was subjugated. Your family and friends in the afterlife. But Lucius was still here and still breathing. That made it all worth it.

He might be the Emperor of Rome now and you, the Empress, but he was still your charming soldier, your devoted husband. This, you decided, would make an excellent story someday.

[trippinsorrows]

ltye + leya

authors note: no idea where this came from. but, we here.

no tags. if it ends up on your dash, twas meant to be lmao

words: 1.2k // warnings: mental health topics and roman being an ass to literally anyone not his child.

Children get sick.

It's a normal thing that happens from time to time, or more, depending on immune systems, exposure, and other extraneous variables.

However, for Roman and Solana, when one of their girls gets sick, both usually end up with whatever the ailment is before it's all said and done.

It's why they've come up with a system of sorts. Somewhat keeping the girls separated to avoid infection and exposure. It's not foolproof, nor is it liked by their girls who are more or less inseparable, but it saves the parents a ton of late nights with only having one child sick. Or, at least, one child sick at a time.

And to help out a bit, they split up the duties, taking turns with who caters more to the sick child and who caters more to the well child. It's Solana's turn, hence Roman being the one who's currently strapping Leya into her car seat after picking her up from school.

He goes to step back, a bit of a test when Leya's little hand reaches out to stop him. He sighs. "Why don't we just try one time and see what happens?"

It only takes her eyes widening with unspoken fear for him to know that's definitely not happening today.

"Please...." Her voice is soft and pleading and easily drags him over to her side of the fence. Roman proceeds to secure and unsecure her car seat a total of three times, after which her face settles into comfort and satisfaction.

He doesn't say anything, just makes a mental note to tell Solana they need to meet with her therapist again. Leya's OCD doesn't seem to be improving despite almost two months of weekly therapy.

He's just closed the door to the SUV when the single most annoying voice shouts his name. "Oh, Mr. Reigns!" This fucking bitch. "I need to speak with you!"

He doesn't hesitate to dismiss her ass. "Sounds like a personal problem to me." It's never anything important, just her probably trying to bait his ass into donating more money to their already rich ass school. If it doesn't have to do with his girls, and he knows it doesn't, she can fuck off.

Roman finds slight amusement in the way her smile drops off into borderline shock as he hops into the drivers seat and slams the door shut. Also annoying cause when has he ever paid this bitch any mind?

Nevertheless, he's driving home when Leya asks, "is sissy better yet?"

He wishes. It'd be easier on all of them. "Not yet, baby." A glance at her through the rearview mirror reveals her disappointment. Lina really is her best friend and not being able to play with her has to be hard. "You want me to watch that....Brown guy show with you?"

For the life of him, he can never remember the name of that damn show that has a chokehold on all the children.

Leya giggles, and it puts a small smile on his face. He loves hearing his girls laugh. Any of them. "It's Bluey, daddy."

"Yeah, that too." Close enough. "You wanna watch it or not?"

She nods, grabbing and holding her stuffed animal. She doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't really expect her to. She talks when she feels like it, and he respects that. She's like her mom, but she's also like him. Of few words at times.

It's when they're home, and she's changed out of her uniform into something comfortable, he sits down with her as they share their dinner together. Roman making sure to use one of her pink sectional plates to ensure her food doesn't touch.

Cause he knows damn well she won't eat if it does.

And when she asks for ice cream afterwards, Neapolitan, of all flavors, he watches how she uses her spoon to separate all of said flavors.

"What if I just got you the three different flavors instead?" He has to ask. It's probably unhelpful in helping her learn to manage her compulsions, but it seems at least a bit more efficient than her current routine.

However, she shakes her head, explaining in her cute little voice, "it's not the same...."

Roman sighs. "Leya...." Might not be the best time but between the car seat, her needing to see him lock the car and the front door three times, her completing all of her homework yet again instead of doing some there at school and some at home, and now the ice cream, he has to say something. "You know we've gotta work on some of these things."

He doesn't need to say what said things are. She already knows.

Her gaze drops to the bowl of perfectly partitioned ice cream. "It's my brain."

He frowns. "What?"

She lazily moves her spoon around the bowl, explaining, "Tracy at school said my brain is bad and stupid, and that's why i have bad thoughts."

There's never a shortage of people on Roman's hit list. It grows and changes around every day. But, this lil Tracy bitch just made her way to the top of the fucking list.

Kid or no kid.

"Who's Tracy?" He's mindful of his tone, not wanting her to think his simmering anger is any way directed toward her. Like her mom, she can be very sensitive at times.

"She's in my class....." Was in her class, cause this little bitch with the old ass name of Tracy just earned herself an expulsion from the school. "I just don't want bad things to happen."

Her eyes watering is enough to have Roman get up from his own bar stool as he moves to lift her up, takes her seat and settles her onto his lap.

"Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?" He moves his thumb to her eyes, gently wiping her tears. "Daddy's always going to protect you, your sister, and your mom. I promise you that." With every part of his being, every fiber of his soul. "I know it's hard for you, but your mom and I are gonna help you."

And some of that help might include Roman having to set aside his pride and reservations about medicating Leya. The minute her therapist brought it up, he wanted to cuss her out. She's 7. That's too damn young to be on some mental health medication. But seeing and hearing in her own words how she views herself because of her OCD, it's more than enough to have him at least hear out her pediatrician.

He's pleased to see and even feel her spirits lifted a little, prompting him to take it a step further. "Can you smile for me?" She bites down on her bottom lip just like Solana, clearly suppressing said smile. "I know it's in there." His hand is barely on her stomach, tickling her when she bursts out into giggles, moving against him. Roman keeps his arm firm around her to keep her from falling. And he always will. "There it is...." Her smile is also Solana's. Through and through.

Leya presses her body into his chest. "Thank you, daddy."

He kisses the top of her head. Anything. Anything she needs or will ever need, he's got her. For life. "I love you, Cataleya."

[renmorris]

Kim, the mender

I’ve been thinking so much about Kim navigating his own deep loneliness and touch starved-ness through caring for others, and what I feel are implicit statements made by the game that he studied emergency medical first response as his mandatory RCM civil service role

(his year working in body processing, him knowing how to keep Harry alive and able to walk after the tribunal, the morale healing pats on the back, even offering his jacket to Acele etc)

It’s unselfish and not something he has to justify to himself as an indulgence, it’s practical. It’s being a good coworker. Kim mentions repeatedly that gets seen officers in worst states than Harry and I don’t think Kim is unaware that Harry absolutely thrives on his reassurances and praise.

@1tbls has some Kim posts I mull over a lot (one of them is just the sentence 'Kim's horny little need to take care of Harry' because I really feel like that hits the nail on the head. another is the one about how Kim does seem to have self analyzed himself but in a kind of shallow way.) I really agree with that, it does feel like we're meeting Kim after he’s done some internal processing of his own. in the fashion police conversation he mentions that he used to be very uptight before he started wearing plainclothes etc

This is all to say that I know fandom is understandably wary of writing Kim as Harry’s caregiver and that’s good 👍 it’s very good to be aware of racist fandom trends and push against those. But for Kim there is textually, I think, the fact that he does thrive on caring for other people. It gives him a kind of authoritative position, and stability.

(It even ties into his tailoring hobby, he’s a mender of clothes and people, a mechanic, and wants to be that for the city so badly.)

There’s a lot of reasons why Kim wants to take care of Harry, why he believes that he can come back from all of this. Obviously one is that if Harry who is white, who works in this legendary precinct with his heroes, who puts in these impossible hours and burns himself alive for the RCM, who is ranked Double Yefreitor can be so easily left to die by the RCM…it means Kim never stood a chance. That his dwindling faith in the system means nothing and he has thrown his life away in this job.

(Likewise Kim also means this for Harry- If Kim is seen as disposable then there was never any point in being diligent and clean. Both paths are thankless and have left them to rot)

But the other I think is that this is how Kim copes, by taking care of others. He is so very careful about indulging himself in ways that he feels are extraneous. But this is a kind of closeness he is allowed to have, it does good for other people.

And over time this is and will be where Harry sneaks in past his defenses and takes care of him back. Get loved, idiot! Be cared for, bino! ❤️

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The unexpected rise of cooking crush & seme bjs

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 9 of 12 - I love this show so damn much. This may be my KinnPorsche. It’s just so endlessly entertaining in a perfectly unhinged way. I love that they looped Tharn’s dad back into the murder investigations.

You know kinksters have invented necklaces that can’t come off… right? Just saying.

Meanwhile, would it still be BL if our seme didn’t wake up from drowning and instantly go chase snake?

No. No it would not. 

Remember the one hard and fast rule of BL? When a seme gives a BJ it’s penance. Phaya is apologizing to Tharn for leaving him behind.

Heh. Hard and fast. I kill me. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 10 of 14 - How is this absurd creature managing to rise in the ranks? Pavel turned in some stellar grief and ALANJEFF have my whole heart. I make Ikea puns in the... Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 7 of 12 - The make-out montage was absolutely charming and very much American rom com style - interesting (and rare) to see in a BL (not to mention from OffGun. How far we have come since Puppy Honey?)

Meanwhile, another wonderful grandma in a BL!

Next week we do an actual harken back to Puppy Honey, so obviously I’m now enjoying this whole show way more than before. I think it helped that I watched it earlier in the week, when it wasn’t competing with any other BLs. 

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - Not gonna lie, I knew from you all that this was gonna be a rough ep. But I very clearly remember the penultimate Bad Buddy ep so I now have slightly more trust than others in GMMTV on this matter. 

That said, this was a crap episode.

You can’t set Mork’s truth and character motivation reveal up like that and then have his lover choose to dismiss him in a way that diminishes not just both character's growth AND all of Mork's actions towards Day, but also our faith in every other character. It was a shitty narrative thing to do to us, and it was a shitty thing to do to Mork. And that doesn’t even take into account the forgiveness allotted by the story to Day’s unrepentant excuse for a mother.  The doom should have been handled differently. The mom shoudl have leaned in even more evil and actively lied to split them apart.

I don't know if they can redeem this misstep in the final episode. But I'm interested to see them try. That said, this plot seem to be true to the book. 

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - A major trigger has landed. But also it’s clear who’s fault that incident was... and it’s not Him’s. So Blue's so-called-friend really is unhinged. This episode was a little bit more engaging than last week, but it’s only because stuff actually happened. I’m still not sure I enjoyed it. 

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 12fin - Despite the fact that I’ve been annoyed by the show the last couple of episodes, I’m still sad for it to end. It was a good reveal and First had the right response. Also a very sports way to end it. Sprite is a v clingy bf. 

In brief?

A messy very Thai pulp sports romance that actually managed to involve sports in an identical twins trading-places plot. Basically Not Me meets HIStory 2 Crossing the Line (although vastly inferior to either) with an endearing main character and a good lead pair (poor things), both soapy and earnest without too much camp. It tried so hard but the plot, side couples, and extraneous characters let us down. Passable if not great. 7/10 

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - Eh. Whatever. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 22 of 24 - skipped this installment

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - Funny how quickly he retracted that confession and everyone called him out for doing it too soon (including me from a narrative beats perspective). It was a cute screw up - I see what your meta-arse is doing there, Japan. Also our Tokyo-boy’s serious reserved earnestness is extra adorable in the surrounded by Osaka enthusiasm context. His accidental flirting is that much more heart wrenching for our poor baby seme.  And they ended this ep with honorific negotiations!! Be still my heart. I’m really adoring this show.

Your hyung romance super fan is back in the game! 

Meanwhile the Osaka accent is beyond adorable. 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 6 of 8 - Japan what are you doing? I do love the not-sorta-ex from the past. 

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 10fin - I loved all the young people in the hawker center supporting the campaign against the terrible mother. They make a good domestically sappy couple. But that is Taiwan's specialty.

In brief?

A sweet if aimless story about a writer and a chef finding love via noodles, fake dating, and family challenges. If it had a tighter script and a shorter run, more like a KBL this might’ve been quite special. But it didn’t and it lost me too many times. 6/10

I don’t like to be disappointed by Taiwan. 

It's done: I Need to Catch up

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - Is TRUST Entertainment bringing us the first ever Burmeses BL? I don't know if it's really the first, but @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch through.

It's Airing But...

[INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Beside You (Thai YouTube) - a 3 sp short that's supposed to have started but I can't find it.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Ends next week. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

Next Week Looks Like This

1/23 Happy Ending is a new high school set Strongberry 20 min short staring the actor who played Milk on Choco Milk Shake, so... YES PLEASE. I'm not sure where it will air but we all have our fingers crossed for Gaga or YT. Or both.

1/24 Love For Love's Sake (Korea Gaga & iQIYI)- based on the Manhwa ‘Love Supremacy Zone’ by Hwacha. A young man is dropped into a game based off a novel he loves. His mission is to make another player, YeoWoon happy. But then the game starts unfolding completely different from the novel.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Viva la BL grandma superiority! (Cooking Crush)

Cooking Crush casually givign us some lovely lesbians (as indeed did The Sign). GL makes for a lovely acessory BL, carry on.

Now GMMTV, give us the REVERSE.

I love this dork SO MUCH. (Pit Babe)

I love that Cherry Magic is doing this scene over. One of my favs from the original.

Yai is BEST BOY. MVP and most likely the winner for 2024's Namgoong award.

(Last week)

[spinningalbinoturtle]

Lotr characters and their dogs (and other pets)

Frodo

Canonically not a dog person but also just has cat person vibes

He has two cats one of them is a chubby gray kitty named Luthien and she is incredibly spoiled. A birthday present from Bilbo

His other cat is a stray who hates everyone but Frodo- its super scrangly and Sam calls it Gollum and it stuck

After the Quest Frodo gets a little beagle service dog that helps him with PTSD and other medical stuff

Sam

Pre Quest had an old basset hound named Fingon. His dad said they didn’t have room for it but Sam insisted on feeding it and when he moved in with Frodo it came along.

Post quest he has a border collie named Ellie (short for Galadriel) who helps him replant the shire

He also keeps chickens at Bag End and spoils them a bit. They are just for eggs

Also has a little dairy cow for fresh milk. Her name is Bell after his mom

Merry

The Brandybucks have a pack of mastiffs and they love Merry. Frodo is terrified of them

They also have several feral maine coones that lounge around their manor and also love Merry but hate everyone else

Has a full size horse post quest which he is very proud of and scares the other hobbits. Its name is Theoden

Pippin

Lets be honest with ourselves Pippin has a lab who has the exact same personality as him and they go everywhere together. Its name is something really basic like Buddy

He also keeps turtles and has a whole menagerie for them. They’re all named after different foods

Aragorn

Aragorn has a husky/malamute that he found on his travels north. He howls back and forth with it and is convinced he can understand it. When he becomes king it sits at the foot of his throne and occasionally will randomly howl in the middle of a meeting.

Horse girl all the way. Brego is his bestie. Man takes excellent care of his horse and buys all kinds of extraneous shit for it.

Boromir

Denethor has a pack of vicious looking dogs but Boromir has a Dalmatian that loves him so much

Faramir adopts it for a while after Boromir dies but Faramir is much more of a cat person, so ultimately its adopted by Aragorn and becomes mates with his husky. The puppies go to his and Arwens kids

Legolas

This could go one of two ways-either he has a super graceful hunting dog like a greyhound or whippet or he has a little pomeranian he dresses up and treats like a baby

He has tried to domesticate the spiders with little success maybe because he’s also killed a lot of them

Gimli

Gimli is a terrier person. He has a little Scottish terrier who sits on his lap all the time when he’s working. Gimli made it a little sweater and it hates Legolas (its jealous of Legolas stealing Gimli’s attention).

He also keeps canaries and they are very well cared for and all have names and he’s the only one who can tell them apart

Eowyn

Has a massive Rottweiler who is super intimidating to everyone except Eowyn. It has bitten Grima multiple times. Around Eowyn it acts like a little puppy.

She also loves her horse as all Rohirrim do.

I could also see her as raising ferrets or chinchilas as well

Faramir

Firmly a cat person

Doesn’t mind dogs but vastly prefers cats

Has six of them and they’re all rescues. Their names are : Mithrandir, Radagast, Varda, Melian, Beren, and Pippin.

Eowyn indulges her crazy cat husband even when their house is overrun with kittens

Arwen

Also firmly a cat person

She’s fine Aragorn’s dog but that’s just cause its well trained

Usually just has one or two cats at a time. They’re a special breed from Lothlorien and they’re really beautiful. They like to sit on her lap and purr. They’re also vicious mousers.

Eomer

Has a big great dane who hangs out in Edoras. Its super sweet and dorky. Everyone loves it.

[theinfernaldesiremachine]

House of R: The question we got the most is sort of was there ever a version of the story that had a little bit more Rio a little bit more of like Rio and Agatha's relationship before Nicky a little bit more of their back story was that ever on in the cards for you? Jac Schaeffer: It was, it was never on the page. It was much much discussed in the room. Um, we talked about their meet-cute. We had this like fantasy of them living in a cottage together, like, we went deep, it was really fun and we cared very much about the happier times, the falling in love times. Um, but then when we were really breaking the story, it's not that it felt extraneous, like, it felt very necessary to our process but it didn't feel a part of the spine of this story to actually dramatize that, and it also, anytime we sort of looked at it, it was like it felt like, okay will we do that and then we go into, to Nicky, and we wanted the Nicky sequence to be Agatha and Nicky alone, so then it just sort of made that sequence sort of too expansive at the risk of, like, sinking the larger episode. Um, and and honestly I I knew that people would respond to their chemistry, and I knew of course people would respond to Aubrey Plaza as Rio Vidal / Death but I didn't anticipate like the clamoring for them so, so I a little bit at this point have, I have some, some regrets but there are many things in the story and in WandaVision that I feel are stories for another day, that are chapters for another day, and it’s, it's part of the thing that I love about our nonlinear approach is you can visit these characters and these stories all over the place at any time, so, um, that's my answer, but I apologize to the community.

Source

[waitmyturtles]

SOME GOOD SHOWS THAT I LIKED IN 2023! (AND SOME THAT I DIDN'T)

I watched A LOT of stuff that did not originally air in 2023 by dint of my Old GMMTV Challenge. This list is inclusive of this recognition!

THE BEST SHOW I WATCHED THIS YEAR: HE'S COMING TO ME

I have no other words: this is my favorite Thai BL of all time. Perfect length, perfect plot, perfect celebration of Thai culture, perfect acting, the greatest coming out scene of all time, the BEST of the best BL moms. Perfection.

THE OTHER BEST SHOW I WATCHED THIS YEAR: BAD BUDDY

I don't even want to think about how many words I've written on Bad Buddy this year, but they're well deserved for this REMARKABLE show. I've got a thing for shows by Aof Noppharnach that feature Ohm Pawat, what can I say!

THE MOST INFLUENTIAL SHOW(S) I WATCHED THIS YEAR: LOVE SICK AND SOTUS

The influence of Love Sick and SOTUS can be seen in SO MANY Thai BLs, even through today. Without having watched these two shows to start my OGMMTVC project, I wouldn't have the context for what later shows like Bad Buddy and Theory of Love were commenting on by way of their content and structures. Love Sick in particular was a HELL of a lift -- but I am damn glad I watched it, and I certainly feel nostalgia for it today.

Honorable mentions of influential pieces that had impacts on Thai BLs: Love of Siam and Dew the Movie

MY OTHER FAVORITE OLD SHOWS I WATCHED: UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN AND THEORY OF LOVE

BANGERS!!!

If New Siwaj ever tops Until We Meet Again, I'll fly to Bangkok and give him a gold medal. That long-ass show, 17 EPISODES, I WANTED MORE! OhmFluke's chemistry was great, the story delved SO deeply into historical homophobia and how culture and acceptance changes over time -- scrumptious. Theory of Love, man, the way this show ate up implicit compassion bias and gave it right back to us. I loved it. KHAI FOREVER!

THE BEST SHOW I WATCHED THAT ACTUALLY AIRED IN 2023: MOONLIGHT CHICKEN

Not only was Moonlight Chicken my first real live fandom experience on Tumblr, it was a hell of an amazing show, incorporating so much of what I love particularly about Thai BLs, and how many Thai BLs do not shy away from celebrating Asian cultural touchpoints. From exploring Jim's internalized homophobia by way of his rural upbringing, to juxtaposing Pattaya's spiritual symbols with growing development that upends older strains of local culture, Moonlight Chicken offered a lovely commentary on what it means to be queer in an ever-changing Thailand.

THE OTHER BEST SHOW I WATCHED THAT ACTUALLY AIRED IN 2023: WHAT DID YOU EAT YESTERDAY?/KINOU NANI TABETA? SEASON 2

BRILLIANTLY ACTED by literally the best actors in the Asian BL game: we are blessed that Nishijima Hidetoshi and Uchino Seiyou have given so much to this franchise. It's hard to write about this show because it's so perfect -- it needs no extraneous words. Plot, pacing, acting, character development, gratuitous food shots. It has it all.

THE OTHER OTHER BEST SHOW I WATCHED THAT ACTUALLY AIRED IN 2023: I CANNOT REACH YOU

Just like Bad Buddy looked at Thai BL tropes in the eye and said, "over my Nong Nao," I Cannot Reach You asked Japanese BLs about the efficacy of almost every trope we've gotten used to, and questioned them with efficiency. The biggest shocker for me? REAL COMMUNICATION, encouraged by the CIPHER, Hosaka, that allowed the two lead protagonists to confirm their love and understand each other. It was straightforward and FUCKING GOOD.

A SHOW THAT AIRED IN 2023 THAT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ABOUT YET, THAT I NEED TO REWATCH IN CHRONOLOGY, THAT ALSO DID SOME TROPE/GENRE ASS-KICKING THAT I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT: LA PLUIE

La Pluie was FEARLESS. The show had a LOT to say about romance and soulmates not being as much of a realistic thing as content-makers... and, frankly, majority society would like us to think. La Pluie made its characters WORK for love and understanding, and had us viewers face our implicit biases about how romantic content should and could work. I watched this show out of order of the OGMMTVC watchlist to see it it was one of the best of the year, and it certainly is. I'm planning a deep rewatch for early 2024 to pen my words on it.

A SHOW THAT ALMOST TOPPED MY 2023 LIST BUT GOT DOCKED BECAUSE I ENDED UP LIKING THE NOVEL A LOT BETTER: I FEEL YOU LINGER IN THE AIR

@neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan know that I flipped THA FUCK out over this show -- FABULOUSLY acted by Nonkul Chanon and Bright Rapheephong, FABULOUS cinematography, great story up until the end of the series. My fangirling led me to read the original novel by Violet Rain, and -- I found out that Jom was a lot more damn sassy than we got in the show! Tee Bundit's penchant for sadness won. This is not to dock the show, but the novel had more than enough material to carry the series through without repeating themes in the end. So it fell on my 2023 list, womp womp. BUT I STILL LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS SHOW, DON'T GET ME WRONG.

TWO SHOWS THAT I'M SUPER GLAD I CAUGHT UP WITH WHILE THEY WERE AIRING: THE EIGHTH SENSE AND BE MY FAVORITE

Be My Favorite looked at Krist Perawat's checkered past as a BL idol and said: we are going to examine this and make an honest BL out of inspiration from it. It wasn't a perfect show, the time travel shit didn't end up adding up in the end, BUT -- excellent acting from two GMMTV VETS made up for those tangles, and I loved the contextual philosophical references throughout the series. The Eighth Sense looked at the tug-of-war that Korean BLs have with K-dramas and their tropes and said, actually? We will have these dudes full-frontal kiss, and placed that energy against commentaries on mental health, both topics that Korea hasn't quite embraced as quickly as other countries.

HONORABLE MENTIONS OF OTHER AWESOME SHOWS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE AIRED IN 2023

Make It Right, Our Dating Sim, Dark Blue Kiss, Gay OK Bangkok, Dirty Laundry, 10 Years Ticket, I Told Sunset About You, I Promised You the Moon, 3 Will Be Free, Lovely Writer (underrated?!), Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars (UNDERRATED!), and Manner of Death.

And the shows that are airing that I know will stay with me well into 2024: Last Twilight and Cherry Magic Thailand.

I had fun!

WHAT ELSE, WHAT ELSE: THE "NO" SHOWS: THE PROMISE AND STEP BY STEP

I'm not even hyperlinking my thoughts on these shows, nor gifting them with gifs. Insert Bugs Bunny NOOOOOO gif here! We got Man Trisanu, though.

THE SHOW I WAS THE MOST OBVIOUSLY DISAPPOINTED BY: ONLY FRIENDS

Despite my passionate disappointment for this show and how it ended: in the context of the OGMMTVC, Only Friends is still an incredibly important inclusion to the list. Some amazing Tumblr bloggers offered commentary that the bias against sex that OF contained within the show was actually importantly and culturally contextual to the still-conservative state of acceptance that Thailand is currently in (here and here for more reading).

Only Friends reminded us that despite any kind of marketing that we here on Tumblr, as a majority non-Thai audience, may receive about a Thai show -- that we are still not fully plugged into the non-verbal expectations of what a show like OF could promise to do, and to be okay when it doesn't reach those heights. In light of the seemingly pro-sex marketing blasts that previewed the series before its airing, OF ultimately seemed to want to take casual sex, chew it up, and spit it out. There might be reasons why that happened that we just don't know about as outsiders to Thailand. But as an Asian-American viewer that was hoping for neutral -- and maybe even supportive -- commentary on single folks having casual sex without judgement, OF did not deliver for me.

I'm ending the year reading Dr. Thomas Baudinette's book, Boys Love Media in Thailand, the first book-length ethnographic study on the impact of BL on queerness, media, and more in Thailand and across Asia. Baudinette comes from the world of Japanese queer media studies -- as someone who came to Thai BLs this year from Japanese BLs, I appreciate his trajectory. It's clearly a necessity for me to read this book in the context of the OGMMTVC, to understand how Thai BLs have changed over time, and to understand the incredibly larger impact of heterosexual/heteronormative media and themes on Thai media as a whole, as larger and larger swaths of Thai, Asian, and international societies welcome and watch BLs with open arms.

All of this feeds into my ever-growing body of knowledge about the impact of Thai BLs, both in Thailand and across Asia, as Baudinette writes about, and how these shows have and are developed/developing over time. It's been an AMAZING YEAR of watching old and new dramas for me, and I'm looking forward to seeing how the genre grows even more in 2024.

I also made AMAZING FRIENDS on Tumblr -- y'all know who you are! What a year of growth and discovery for me: this has been a fabulous experience, and I'm looking forward to even more growth in the new year!

[gojot-t]

Hihi!! I'm here to place my order for the valentine's event!! I'd love to request an arranged marriage w topping 22 + gojo please!! Like they needed to rehearsal the "you may kiss the bride" kiss and he just kind of messes it up in purpose so they can do it again and again! KSJDJFJS AAAH I LOVE THIS EVENT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS!!!!!!!

from the valentine's day event! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

gojo satoru + arranged marriage + “Wait, that wasn’t good enough. Let’s do another take.” “…It’s been the fourth take already. Just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

tags :: fem!reader, gojo is down bad, fluff, i ended up going in a slightly different direction and this probably wasn't what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway ><

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey now, that's how you treat your future husband? tsk tsk.”

It's funny to think how just a few months ago if someone mentioned the slightest possibility of having something romantic with Satoru, you would choke in the most exaggerated way you could before denying vehemently, unaware of destiny's plans for you.

Even if you knew Satoru since you were a child, being each other's escape from the so boring and extraneous clan meetings and messing around until some wrinkled-faced old man lost his temper and yelled at you two, you wouldn't marry him.

From the sullen boy who would always hold your hands to the energetic teenager who would pull your hair if you didn't pay attention to him, you saw all the facets of Satoru, always by his side. Still, for you, satoru is like a flower in a garden – its beauty making you momentarily forget about its thorns.

“hey, I'm feeling kinda neglected here.” a pouty satoru meets your view. “If you have so much time to get lost in that pretty little head of yours, maybe we should practice more?”

“I'm starting to think you set this all up, you know. to play prince charming on me." you narrow your eyes and accuse him softly with your finger on his chest, the sight of satoru in a suit – just before marrying you – it's not easy to resist, after all.

the firm hands on your waist start to go down and you pinch his (stupidly strong) bicep before they can wander any longer. “hmm, why do you think so?” he teasingly moves his face close to yours – warm breath just above your mouth – lips close but never touching. you already know his little games.

The last conversation you had with him before the whole marriage thing was during a night out for drinks, “for the good old’ time sakes” he had said. You weren't planning to ruin the night with your personal problems, but a few drinks later and the heat of his body close to yours seemed to inebriated you enough to make your mouth run faster than your thoughts.

Originally, you would marry a big shot from the Zenin clan. You were not happy about it, still there's little to nothing you could do. The preparations are already being made and the Shiromuku you had to try felt like a cage against your skin, a warning of what your life would be like from then on.

As those slurred words left your mouth, Satoru's entire body seemed to tense up for a moment and for the rest of the night he seemed distant, furrowed eyebrows and thinking about something. He had ended your little hang out earlier than you expected that day, saying he had "important business calling", leaving you back at your home and saying goodbye with a hug and chaste kiss on your cheek, seemingly back to his usual silly self.

You’re never sure what’s on Satoru’s mind, so you decided not to question him despite the strange behavior. He wouldn't tell you anyway.

A week later your wedding was canceled. You would be marrying Gojo Satoru instead.

“Like, the deal being canceled so suddenly, what happened?And- wait, is my father in debt?" your body stiffened against his arms, worried. You try to move away from him a little, but satoru just pulls you closer.

By the way he just giggles in response you know he's not really listening to you. He trails kisses from your jaw to your neck, teasing lightly with his tongue before burying his nose deep in your hair. “You smell so good…” He seems strangely happy today, all smiley and clingy. “But, no. You can try to guess one more time, though.”

The same second you open your mouth to respond, muffled footsteps can be heard outside the room you're in and you know it's the maids returning with the final jewelry and makeup. Satoru took advantage of the small gap in their presence, basically barging into your room and demanding that the two of you practice kissing for when the two of you finished your vows, apparently too eager to keep his hands to himself.

he groans and drops his head on your shoulder, before looking at you with expectant eyes, just like a child would with their favorite candy in a store. "How about just one little kiss, huh? to be sure that everything will turn out well, you know, that's very important!”

you should say no, you really should, you don't have that much time anymore and one kiss with satoru easily turns into two, three until you're both out of breath, mind clouded with desire, but the protest dies in your mouth when satoru’s soft lips meet yours.

you were half expecting him to mess up again, just like every time he asked for "just one more kiss", turning his face at the last second for you to kiss his cheek or nibbling on your lips before pulling away completely, but he doesn't do any of that, instead, he kisses you, lips dancing against yours, feeling you, appreciating you.

this time, you're the one pulling him closer, hands on his nape and feeling his skin react to yours. Despite your desperation for each other, the kiss is nothing but slow and gentle, a shy waltz between two lovers. If before you couldn't imagine marrying satoru, now you think that a life without the weight of the ring on your finger, sealing him to you, would make no sense.

Satoru tongue caressing yours brings you back to reality and you pull away, before you both really get lost in the moment. "satoru-”

“wait… that wasn’t good enough. let’s do another take…” he chases your lips again, hands on your cheeks and his eyes, normally so bright, are almost dark blue, clouded with desire for you.

the sight of him now, flushed and with swollen lips, makes your face heat up and you cover your nervousness before he can tease you. “…It’s been the fourth take already. just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

“huh, bossy, aren't you?" there's a knock on the door but satoru just smirks and winks at you. "but it's okay, I really like kissing my bride.” the handle turns and he connects your lips with his again.

“my lady, i'm coming-” when you open your eyes, satoru's has completely disappeared from the room, the only trace of his presence being your messy appearance and tingling lips.

“-in. I have returned with the final preparations and- oh… my lady, do you feel alright? you seem kind of... nervous?”

you swear you can still feel the warmth of his hands against your body. "a-ah? oh, y-yes! yes, I'm fine. umm, where did we stop again?”

[to2llynottoby]

people who worked at a CVS one summer when they were 17 be like "I worked in retail I know what it's like"

Ppl who work retail actually understand shrink and knowing that if inventory is awful then you get bitched at every year for the rest of your life

[genshin-impacted]

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 7/?) 

The feelings you and Alhaitham hold for each other run deeper than either of you think. Many things are left unsaid. OR affection + artistry + comfort

Word Count: ~4.2k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, gn!reader, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, slow burn, ft. Sumeru crew

[Previous - Next]

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More than half a year into the arranged marriage, Alhaitham finally decides to provide an update to his family. Being overjoyed would not be an exaggeration, though Alhaitham can tell even through the phone that they are trying to tamper their elation as though he were a skittish animal prone to running away at any sudden movements. Halfway through the conversation his mother gives up and starts to gush about how happy she is for him, among other things. The other things include wondering about the wedding, how you would want to celebrate, when should the wedding be, and oh gosh, what type of theme would the two of you want to have?

His father is better at feigning nonchalance, but then he begins to reminisce about how Alhaitham used to turn his nose up at romantic dramas when he was younger, a tone of warmth seeping into his words. (Alhaitham thinks of telling his father that his relationship with you is nothing like a drama where misunderstandings and tragedies blight the couple like a plague. His union with you is peaceful, though not without its own hiccups, but otherwise... lovely. Serendipitous.

Alhaitham finds that to be the best-suited word.)

Alhaitham updates his grandmother in person. He expected her to be happy for him, smug even, so he is surprised– mildly alarmed– when her eyes grow misty as he describes how his life has been with you. She bats his concern away, a gesture to continue his stories, but her hand holds onto his with a loving tightness that speaks to her joy more than anything. 

You had planned to come with him but then your workplace calls you in for an emergency. You are more disappointed than he anticipates that you cannot go, so he simply reassures you that there is always a next time for his grandmother to meet you. Only, this seems to upset you more: something about how this meeting is important to you because you want to make a good impression.

Alhaitham is unsure how this meeting is any different from a meeting, say, two weeks from now. But you worry—unnecessarily, in his opinion, though the last time he said that to you directly was the first time he has gotten a cold look from you, so he tries to keep it to himself if only to not earn your ire too often. 

(Alhaitham doesn’t recall what the topic was about– unimportant in the scheme of things– but you were worried about something, bringing it up various times during the day, and he had told you that your concern was extraneous– inefficient. Which is true, he thinks. If there was something to be fixed, then it would be done already; if there is nothing to be done, then why worry about it?

You had stared at him, face blank, before you looked away quietly. He could see the hurt flicker in your expression before you quickly made an excuse to be alone.

Alhaitham had believed the first real fight the two of you had was a difference in philosophy. Later, when the two of you had taken some time alone, you reported back to him that it was not the case.

“I know some things I can’t fix,” you had told him, “but I still worry about them anyways. You might call it ‘inefficient-” it only dawns on Alhaitham then that the wording may have been abrasive if you can still quote him, “but I talk to you because I process things better that way.” 

He remembers that you had fidgeted with your hand in your lap, your words evidently hard to come by during conflict but you still worked through them until you could convey what you felt. “I just like being able to talk to you about it,” you say, “I want to be able to tell you about things that worry me, even if there’s no solution.”

Alhaitham is a problem-solver. It is his default for everything. He is used to being abrasive and hard-to-swallow, and he had believed that someone who could marry him would be someone tolerant of those traits. 

But something has to give. If he is truly to live a life of peace that he desires with you as a part of it, then he must compromise so that you can fit in with it. It is easy for him to make that decision. He does not want to imagine a life where you do not wake up next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he had said, watching as your lips wobble with emotion in just two words. “I’ll learn for next time.”)

You had professed that he often keeps you grounded when your thoughts tend to go awry, so Alhaitham keeps this in mind and strategically anchors you down whenever he deems necessary. It seems to work so far; he just has to hone in on what words can help soothe rather than aggravate. Holding your hands is step one to calming you down. You squeeze his hand when he does, this gesture so familiar that he no longer bats an eye. (Not that he does not enjoy it still; your hand in his is a comfortable feeling that he will never tire of.) 

“You don’t have to worry about making a first good impression,” Alhaitham tells you. “But if you’re really worried about it, we can meet up all together during her birthday in a few months.”

Your shoulders lose tension slightly at the prospect of a future meeting. You still look skeptical at his first statement, but you are reasonable even at the worst of times, so you allow him to elaborate. “Okay, the birthday sounds good. We definitely should get a present,” you say. “But what do you mean ‘don’t worry?’ Why not?” 

“‘Treat my other grandchild well,’ she told me.” Alhaitham feels your hands squeeze his again, more tightly this time, and he looks up in time to see your smile wobble precariously. “So you’re fine,” he says, letting you laugh off the tender emotions to save face.

The year is in the throes of summer now, so it does not take long for things to grow hot and uncomfortable. But still, Alhaitham does not let go of your hands as you swing them back and forth happily– not as long as you won’t. 

(What kind of things has Alhaitham been telling his grandmother? ‘Must be only the good things,’ you try to convince yourself, tempering the bubbly feeling of pleasure from bursting. But Alhaitham is nothing if not honest– so what does that mean for what he thinks of you that his grandmother is able to welcome you with open-arms into the family?)

.

The two of you hold hands very often now. Alhaitham thinks it's convenient to not be separated and to keep you from wandering off: two similar but distinct situations that occur every time the two of you walk anywhere. If it's not to lose you in a crowd during a popular bakery's rush hour, then it is to keep you at his side before you run off to buy yet another houseplant. It's easy to guide you away from the busy streets when you are close to him. Knowing your inability to walk in a straight line (you always lean into him), he feels more at ease if he were the one having to dodge bikers or errant puddles. 

You notice this eventually, and you are enamored by this action of his. Alhaitham can understand where you’re coming from, though he can’t say he truly ‘gets it.’ It is only natural that he keeps his mind from being preoccupied by extraneous thoughts such as whether or not you are safe. If he can keep you near the sidewalk walls, hand in hand, then he can save space to think about the prose of the latest literature he has read or focus on answering random philosophical questions that you happen to blurt out that day. Your questions are borne of boredom and a dash of 'silliness' as you say.

You make the excuse often, despite being very intelligent and serious whenever it is necessary. You are good in a crisis, he has noticed, though you tend to downplay your abilities during these times. ‘Modest,’ he thinks, though he has always found that concept quite pointless. Alhaitham, on the other hand, has never found the need to showcase less than what he is. (Then again, that may be why you are more likable than he is.)

For one, you possess a creative soul that Kaveh bemoans is absent in Alhaitham. You try to deny it, but then he reminds you that you have dabbled in far more artistic pursuits than he has with great fervor. You point out that he has a degree in the humanities and a greater grasp on semiotics and linguistics than anyone you know, but knowing is not the same as doing. ‘Art is beauty with human emotion– something you would never understand in a million years!’ or so Kaveh keeps on telling him when he has to carry the architect back to his apartment drunk. Despite it all, you seem to believe that he is capable of it, so Alhaitham obliges. 

During break, he writes a poem for you on the notepad that you bought him for his office. Alhaitham thinks you must like it because he has seen you keep it on your night stand since, rereading it at least once before you go to sleep.

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Alhaitham believes that he does not have an eye for beauty or an artistic soul, but you think otherwise. Perhaps it is not the same sense of aesthetics as most people, but you know at least that Alhaitham recognizes beauty and acknowledges it. You think it is the same with creating art. 

If art is made of emotion, you know Alhaitham has what it takes to make something beautiful. You are rewarded for this belief when, a week after you try to talk him into writing something, he gives you a small slip of paper of less than five lines in Arabic and its translation in English. You never gave Alhaitham any prompt to write, but he writes you a love poem anyways.

If eyes are the windows to your soul, then what do these few words of raw emotion and tender allegories tell of the artist’s heart?

Alhaitham would ever call himself an artist, but you at least think he’s a poet if the words he writes about beauty, longing, and love etched into your heart is of any indication. 

You aren’t sure if it is a direct result, but you get back into photography– and consequently, scrapbooking soon after Alhaitham writes you his poem. You print out pictures you’ve taken over the years, chronologizing the memories you’ve made in the past few years. With only about half a year with Alhaitham, you don’t have as many photos together with him, but you scrounge enough to make at least a page or two. Most of them are candid ones, selfies, and maybe it is because your fiancé is a handsome man, but you think they turned out pretty good anyways.

Though you jump between hobbies often, you are nothing if not dedicated to these whims of yours, buying pages for photos and printing several dozen of them to find a proper place for them in your album. You are delighted when Alhaitham offers you some picture frames to place photos in and decorate the house, so you corral him to look at the photos you printed to pick a few. 

One of your favorites you intend to put into a frame is a photo of you and Alhaitham with his friends at work. You slide it into view and hold it out for Alhaitham, and though he lets out a small huff at your suggestion to put it at his desk, he still takes the picture frame from your hand. "You can take a few more," you tell him, beaming. You watch as he sifts through the photos, and you can't help the way you flit to and fro, excited to share a hobby with your fiancé– a little bit of you.

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Alhaitham sees the way you attempt to give him privacy to choose the photos he prefers in his periphery. You are too eager for your own good though, your enthusiasm winning out your desire for discretion. You hover at an arm's length, watching him intently ever so often before forcing your eyes elsewhere. 

You're… incredibly endearing. He has to turn his head away to hide his amusement. 

Alhaitham puts more effort into scanning the table instead of watching you then. The array of photos that scatter the table summarizes his time with you well. Though he is not one for sentimental displays, Alhaitham appreciates it now when he can pinpoint the very moment captured in the pictures like it was only yesterday. The first hike on a sunny day– you had drunk two bottles of water in the first hour. What seems to be one of the many trips to the supermarket– Alhaitham cannot quite tell which trip it is, but his eyes catch your phone's camera not a moment before you stick out your tongue and snap a photo. 

You're surprisingly good at taking photos when he least expects it. Alhaitham recalls how you've complained at how he looks good in every photo you take. 'Photogenic,' you had sighed at him, not that he would know; you're the first one to take as many photos of him. 

And the first he does not mind taking a photo of. You seemed as equally awed as you were envious the first time you asked him to take a photo of you at a scenic destination, and it turned out, in your own words, stunning. "I never look good like this," you had argued, though you were pleased enough to like it immediately.

If you had asked him, he would have said that you looked charming in every photo you're in. If Kaveh had been there, he would have said something along the lines of beauty in the eye of the beholder. Loath to admit it, Alhaitham thinks he may have to concede to this point.

"I'll keep this one."

"Which one?" You ask, sidling close to him almost immediately. His heart stutters for a moment in surprise before it settles again, hyper aware of your arm pressing against his. "Oh, this one…"

Alhaitham looks at you when you go quiet. You have a complicated look on your face that he has yet to decipher; it is there and gone the next moment.

Alhaitham doesn't think it's an unflattering photo of either of you, and you must agree having printed it out in the first place. In the selfie, you look up into the phone with your eyes gently closing, a smile stretching wide– the perfect embodiment of the type of person you are to him. He hears you mumble that he isn't looking at the camera in this one. He doesn't mind it; whether he's facing the camera or not is irrelevant in his selection.

(His gaze is softened in the photo, his lips upturned just the slightest bit to showcase his contentment in the moment. You don't think anyone has looked at you as gently as Alhaitham does in this picture.

You remember looking at the photo for the longest time with a sense of yearning, imagining that Alhaitham looked a little bit like he was irrevocably in love with you.)

“The angle for my face isn’t that flattering,” you say instead, smiling, but you don’t do a thing to try and take it away from him. “But you look good for someone not looking at the camera, Mr. Candid. Are you going to put it in the office?” 

Alhaitham takes the photo and slides it into a coffee-colored frame. “Yes,” he says, and if he was any other person, he would have jumped at your sudden shout. Instead, he turns to you with a brow raised in question. 

You scramble through the photos before tapping on one of them– a photo the two of you took at a candlelit dinner that you had a gift card for– with much vigor. “Why don’t you choose this one then? I look so much better in this one!” You bemoan, looking up at him. 

Alhaitham can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him. “No,” he says.

“Then this one?”

“No.”

“How ‘bout this one?”

“No.” 

You huff this time, though a smile tries to peek from underneath your banter. “Why not?” 

The picture soothes him, Alhaitham thinks suddenly, but he hesitates on admitting this to you. It is very funny to him to see you whine and gripe, and you know just as much. Saying something as sentimental as this would undoubtedly change the mood.

Alhaitham prides himself on knowing what others may think, predicting their next move and countering it with great ease. With you, he is not too sure. Partly because he has yet to know everything that makes you the person you are, but mostly because he knows he’s been compromised. He wants to make you laugh. He wants to be the one to put you at ease, reading books until you fall asleep at his side. Though Alhaitham suspects that you would be happy hearing that the image of you has the same effect on him as he does to you, he can never be sure when it’s with you.

(How can he accurately deduce the heart of someone he is fond of?) 

“It’s the easiest way to introduce you to everyone who hasn’t seen you at work,” he says. “So they can finally stop asking me what you look like.”

“You really don’t have any photos on your phone?” You gape. “Maybe we should start using your phone. It probably has the better camera anyways…” You trail off, looking less despondent than your words would convey. The smile on your face says everything as you turn away to fondly look at the other photos. Alhaitham looks down at the one you’re looking at, and he is surprised to find that it’s a rare photo that he does not remember when it was taken. 

For one, Alhaitham is asleep. Based on the light coming from outside and the angle, he can probably guess that the photo was taken mid to late afternoon on a weekend that you were home with him. He must have fallen asleep while reading on the couch because his book is on his chest, one hand still holding onto it. 

It is a strangely vulnerable picture. It is a culmination of the time he has lived with you: the ease in which he finds himself in your company, and the trust he has to not stir even as you, he assumes, quietly laugh to yourself while taking the photo. It is a photo taken with a little bit of whimsy and lots of affection. Alhaitham finds himself oddly embarrassed. His face, luckily, remains impassive, though he can feel his ears getting hot. 

You look back at him, as if only realizing he was still there, and put the photo to your chest protectively. "I'm keeping this one," you say teasingly.

Warmth settles in Alhaitham's chest. "Aren't you embarrassed, taking a peeping photo of your own fiancé?" He asks, his lips twitching into his own small smile when he hears you sputter. 

Sleeping photos aside, Alhaitham is pleased with the photo he has chosen for the frame on his work desk. He was telling you the truth when he said that having the picture would save time for him when people want to see what you look like. His picture frame is turned outward for ease of visitors, but considering how little he encourages visitors, it is hardly ever used for that purpose.

The times that it has been used for that reason are more than likely for the people who have already met you. Dehya comes in his office to hand in a report and always turns the frame toward her, staring at the image for a moment before leaving– though not without throwing Alhaitham a knowing look that he ignores. The first time Nilou sees the photo sitting on his desk, she asks after your well-being and, good-natured as her questions are, Alhaitham can only answer honestly.

But otherwise, Alhaitham likes the convenience of having your smiling face at his desk. That should be reason enough to keep that photo there, isn’t it? (And if he looks at it periodically during work, and more so when work begins to unnecessarily pile up on his desk, then who is there to tell him not to?)

“Working hard as usual, Alhaitham?” 

Alhaitham looks up from clearing his desk of paperwork to see Cyno walking toward him. The clock on the wall reads 4:55 PM. “Only as much as I need to,” he replies back, snapping his briefcase closed. “I have never worked overtime and I don’t plan to start. Besides,” Alhaitham continues dryly, “detective work is more in your wheelhouse than mine.”

At this, Cyno scoffs, his gaze landing on the briefcase with what the both of them know to be papers more important than anyone could ever know. “I’ll have it settled as soon as we get additional evidence on Azar,” Cyno says. “Candace is working on writing the investigation report. Dehya should be able to go through the past transactions the company has made in the past financial year by next week. I’m assuming you’re keeping the other paperwork safe?” 

“There’s always a papertrail in one way or another with embezzlement,” Alhaitham states. “I’d rather not have the company go bankrupt from the recklessness of one man. That sounds rather troublesome, and I’d rather not have to find another place to work.”

“So you don’t have to work overtime?” Cyno smirks at him despite the rather somber topic. “Or because you have someone you want to provide for at home?” 

You have been saving up money to buy a better coffee machine at home, he thinks. “I’m quite comfortable with the salary they offer for my position,” he says instead. Alhaitham adjusts the frame at his desk and checks the clock again– 5:00 PM. “I’m off,” he tells Cyno, standing up. “Don’t call me unless something is urgent.”

Alhaitham vaguely hears Cyno’s response as he heads off, driving as soon as he is able. The car ride is nothing different than the usual traffic. With summer underway, the sun is more likely to shine directly into his eyes with its longer days, but Alhaitham hardly notices the inconvenience as he wonders if you have already started to make dinner at home. And which apron you have decided to use today– the lemon floral design or the funnier one with a phrase that always makes you laugh a little under your breath. 

The thought follows him from his parked car into his shared apartment with you, and when he sees you greet him with a smile, he thinks no photo can compare to the real-life you. It’s a curious thought; your smile is no different then and now, but he feels it inside him that he will always be more satisfied with seeing you in person. 

Alhaitham wonders if he is quieter than usual, sitting with his thoughts because he looks up mid-meal and sees your concerned expression. “Are you alright?” You ask, voice warm and affectionate. He feels his cheeks prickle with a tell-tale sign of an oncoming blush and he cannot understand why. “Did something happen at work today?”

“...It’s busier,” Alhaitham says. He has no intentions on bringing his work home especially now when it may become more complicated than he would want it to. With law enforcement possibly being involved and the company’s livelihood… Candace has advised him to keep it among those in the company and Alhaitham is inclined to agree. He would never lie to you though; he’d say everything if you ever asked, and the realization is abrupt. “I’ve been told I can’t say too much because it’s confidential information, but if you would prefer if I told you-”

“No, it’s fine.” You wince, waving your hand. “I mean, unless you want to tell me. But I don’t want you to get in trouble. I appreciate you telling me though.” Warmth seeps into your voice again. You gaze at him with just as much heat, if not more searing, as though you have something else you want to tell him. 

You don't, though, dropping your gaze to the plate in front of you. (Alhaitham can definitely feel his upper cheeks warm, and he continues to eat again too, hoping to blame the color on the light.) “If there’s anything I can do for you,” you say, “just let me know.” 

You look up again to flash a small smile at him, and he returns it. 

“Thank you,” he says, and finds that it is genuine.

“Of course.” You nudge his leg underneath the table with a twinkle in your eyes. “For you, always,” you say and laugh as though your promises do not have a hold on his heart. 

The quicker he gets this company problem out of the way, Alhaitham thinks, the faster he can start planning for the wedding, financially and logistically. He remembers that you wanted a large wedding, after all, and he will only provide the best for you on your wedding day. His wedding day. Both of yours. 

Alhaitham supposes a few hours of working at home won’t hurt if it means that day can come more quickly. The reason why he feels this way sits on the precipice of his mind, but then you ask him about his opinions on preferred cleaning products for the hardwood floors and the thought is pushed to the back where it will surface when he least expects it.

(And by then, his thoughts will have rearranged everything into three simple words.)

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taglist:

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[pocketgalaxies]

FOR REALLL RE: WHEN MATT ASKED IF ANYONE WANTED TO DO ANYTHING. And then, when they went to Keyleth and Orym said "we want to be useful in the downtime"... my jaw fucking dropped. You all JUST got back from aeor, and right before that you got back from the moon - where your friend fucking DIED. No one wants to process any of that??

From how Matt had framed it, the feywild meeting between Ludinus and the Unseelie was an optional mission they could have delegated to NPCs, yet they jumped right into it with no prep or plan.

[And ohhh, the instant amnesia about why they were there. It was like they completely forgot the intent of the mission, and when Dorian raised that point ("is this what we are here for? To fight?") They all just shrugged and acted like there was no other choice!] I love them all dearly, so my frustration is borne of concern (they just walked into a HUGE fucking fight they are ill prepared for), and I am TERRIFIED Fearne will die now because of it. But also, I wonder - do they even want to be in this campaign anymore?

The way they keep rushing forward...maybe it's bc they've been conditioned by the rest of this campaign's pacing. Part of me feels it's Orym. This whole campaign it's felt like he's been using his pushing attack on the team. [Telling them early on (ep 30s) they need to promise him to be better together, forever reminding them of the ticking clock which means they need to get to Yios, to the malleus key, to reunite post-solstice. Then, an hr into the reunion: they need to keep going to address things "fast and fully". They need to get to Keyleth, to the moon, to stay on the moon even if it's risky bc "it isn't a vacation." Oop Letters died, but let's get back to keyleth, now we need to go to aeor, back to keyleth, and after all of that...well they need to "be useful in the downtime"! That might be too uncharitable? I don't know.

Above the table, I think they are all overworked from making two animated series, running a company, and their professional work outside of CR. It seems like too much. Like they need a break, and maybe subconsciously are running headlong to the finish so they can finally have one. I don't begrudge them that, but it does make me sad for these specific characters that they've been so constrained by the plot.]

yeah for sure, the campaign is sharing space with a million other responsibilities when it used to be The Flagship the single most significant project they were working on. i think it's very likely that both animated series are perceived as a higher priority than the campaign now given the budget, wider audience, etc. which just kinda sucks when the campaign also requires the highest level of emotional and time investment out of all of those projects

orym has definitely played a role in the Always Business No Pleasure vibe of the campaign but i guess i hesitate to put that much blame on him, i think the overall story has been go go go and orym is largely a reflection of that. but also i do agree that it certainly isn't helping and many ppl have made more eloquent posts than i ever could about the space his grief has been allowed in comparison to other aspects of other characters and how that has affected the party and the campaign overall

i really do wish they could've taken this week to recuperate, do something for themselves. literally anything. go shopping. any loose ends they would want to tie up before going into a battle to the death. but they either don't have connections to outside npcs or those connections simply aren't prominent enough. relvin, milo, birdie and ollie, family in zephrah, dariax, etc.? anyone?? imogen v. groon battle was sitting right there? and i just don't understand the necessity of adding in this ludinus unseelie situation it seems like something extraneous that the story could've gone entirely without and now it's just another Thing they have to do?

ANYWAY just struggling a lot about all these things! having a great time!!