#The times I could interact with people I want to i can't because I'm sick or some other fucking bullshit

[solarbiomechanist]

Continuing to build on this proposition about the worldview of mainstream media, and using terms that are centric to that worldview throughout, I am not trying to misgender any person here;

the man characters are relatable, so men can easily walk in their shoes, and women can easily imagine walking beside them. Women aren't supposed to want to *be* the male characters, they're supposed to want to support them as wives or sisters or mothers would do. The internality of the woman characters in media like this isn't explored because 1. Women are considered to have moods in the same way as the ocean does, rapidly changing and possibly dangerous but not something a man could influence. "Why does she want to do this" is generally answered by either "because he wants to do it and she is a loyal 'good' woman", or by "because she is a woman and the things that happen in their brain don't make sense sometimes" for the times where the writer or writers want to have her argue about something.

It's why there's that trope about "could you replace her with that lamp shaped like a leg and have the plot remain mostly intact" is a thing, she isn't supposed to have motivations of her own in a plot like this, she's there to help him, or to be fought over, or to be protected, or she's there to protect the children, but she's not supposed to be there for herself.

Even when she's written as a rude, mean, nasty person, she's not allowed to be mean for her own reasons, there's usually something related to how her womanhood is "faulty or damaged", or an interaction with a man in the past that "made her this way", or she is his overprotective or overly controlling mother. If a woman is acting as an obstacle to the hero of the story, it's because she is being a woman incorrectly, not because he needs to change.

---

CW for references to forced detransition in this paragraph;

Where in this story is there space for a woman to want anything, let alone to *want* to be masculine, without being punished for it? I neither am capable of being nor do I want to be a "correct" man, but from my first actions I have been seen as "squandering" my womanhood by not being a woman correctly. Every instance of masculinity was seen as incorrect performance of femininity by society at large, and more personally seen as me being ungrateful for the gifts I was given, because the stories we tell about women say exactly that; if she doesn't love being a woman, it's because no-one has shown her that she should, yet. The right man could fix her. If she can't be a loving wife and eventual mother, she's broken, and that's sad.

CW for references to forced detransition ended.

---

All trans people fall out of the net of society by being incorrect, so do intersex people, many cis perisex people do as well. All people are caged within the laws of gender and more broadly of conformity, of being who society says you shoud be, even the people who love the cage. Even the people who build the cage. The roles we are pressed into are different, so the ways we are hurt look different. We don't gain anything by arguing over which part of the cage is worse, and I'm SICK AND TIRED of being told I'm not caged at all because other people see my shackles as decoration, so I would much rather work together to dismantle the cage for everyone.

now, i did not get my ass dragged to easter dinner in the frilliest little can’t-go-play-outside-for-the-egg-hunt fuckin dress every single year of my childhood just to put up with you sayin all this bullshit

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

[rottingghosty]

Child of Time | DC X DP

Thanks for almost 100 followers LMAO originally I had a gala idea for when I hit 50 followers and then I disliked it so here's this instead. it's not up to my standards but what can i do when i'm on like 2 hours of sleep. (_　_)。゜zｚＺ

i like the idea of constantine being absolutely disgusting to look and feel to danny

☁️☁️☁️☁️

“I know what Clockwork really wants, he wants to me to kill my motherfucking self. That’s why he fucks with me. That’s why he gave me a fucked up ass life!” Danny shouted as he closed the flap of his tent to give himself a semblance of privacy because he’d been kidnapped by a cult who said that he’d be their priest because he’s the child of Time.

The only time that he knows is the time when he fucking decks Clockwork next time he sees the old bastard.

“But jokes on him, I ain’t going to give that motherfucker the satisfaction.”

Danny took off the cloak that the cultists forced him into and threw it on the chair in his tent, his head throbbed and it reminded him of the fact he’s had that headache for a while now. It’s probably because he hadn’t gone ghost like he usually does, he didn’t want to risk it when these cultists were keeping an eye on him. It really annoyed him.

He took a deep breath as he calmed himself, well calmed himself as good as he could when he has very much unregistered anger issues because he had been in the middle of a project when he had been taken. If he came back to the room ransacked because the Bat brood couldn't keep things clean he's going to fucking snap.

He was a teenage vigilante, he was bound to get anger issues later considering the fact that the GIW was still around and even Danny couldn't go as ghost as often as he wished and was only lucky when Gotham's abiment ecto was high enough to mask it.

The height of his anger was when one John Constantine walked into Danny's life and instantly it was on sight whenever the two interacted because John's soul was DISGUSTING and he'd die (again) on that hill. Especially when the man summoned Danny one time and Danny still gets sick whenever he thinks about the missing parts of John's soul in his magic, of the gaps that dig their claws in Danny's very being. How it felt like he was digging through sludge that dragged him down everytime.

The menace of Danny's major problems walked in, instantly Danny's nose crinkled in disgust at the smell of cigarettes as he tuck a strand behind his ear.

"John?"

"Kid, you need to stop allowing this to happen. I didn't need Wonder Woman on my arse because your ghostly father was pestering her about you being taken."

Danny supressed the urge to laugh rather hysterically because he doesn't need people to remind him that Clockwork is basically his dad in the ghost aspect of things because he basically called dibs.

"Why didn't you leave?"

"Got taken as human, in front of many people. In Gotham. Tell your batty paramour I'm fine."

John choked on his cigarette as he protested about Batman being his paramour but Danny knew that they were AT LEAST tumbling in bed because why else did Danny have the attention of the Bat Brood and it WASN'T because he was prime adoption bait no matter what his classmates said. Nor was it the fact that he accidentally punched Red Hood one time because the revnant decided to sneak up on him one day when he was walking home. Didn't even hear what the man said, just fucking bolted.

"Let's just go, you little brat. I can't believe I let your sister talk me into being your knight." John mumbled as Danny stood next to John while the man grabbed the back of Danny's shirt like he was-

"Are you fucking scruffing me?"

“Have been for the past few years mate.”

[muwapsturniolo]

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH STURNIOLO TUMBLR, AND HOW DO WE FIX IT?

im actually sick and tired of all the bs on this app and I'm being fr.

there has been sm drama, and trust, I've had my fair share of it and this seems hypocritical but it gets to a point where you get tired of the shit.

im tired of getting into drama, ive told my close friends on here that, I've said it to myself so many times and I've been actively avoiding getting into shit that could get me into drama.

it's fucking draining.

im sure you guys are tired of seeing the drama, and i can understand why. you come on this app to get away from drama, you come on this app to kick your feet and giggle with your friends.

it seems like tumblr has become a cesspool of copying, hate, expose acct, and wild ass anons.

i wanna give my thoughts on all of those.

copying:

i really don't get it. like actually. you have writers on here who work hard, spending days trying to work out a fic/new au, only for someone to copy the idea with no credit, or they flat out copy and paste. its so frustrating and im being fr when i ask, what do you get out of copying like that? do you get off on upsetting people or getting them riled up? do you enjoy when you get attention even though it's negative? it doesn't make sense and i can't wrap my head around it. writing may come easier to some people and for others it doesn't, that does not give you an excuse to act like that. if you like an idea sm, ask the OG writer if its ok for you to write your own version. if you don't want to ask for reasons idk, at least tag our user or just put the link to the fic to give credit. its really not that hard! most of the drama on this app does come from people copying and not giving credit, it gets the writers in a tizzy, the anons get wild, and suddenly the OG writer is the bad guy.

expose accts:

we have all seen these expose accts and had run-ins with them. i truly don't know why they exist because usually they are made to hate on one person. you don't have to like that person, you arent obligated to like anyone. but making a hate acct for her or simply sending in hate to these accts about her and others is actually insane. these accts are so fucking draining and its like a constant back and forth because most of the shit they post about, its shit that has been addressed A LONG TIME AGO or hold no weight for the convo they are attempting to have. with that being said, its also people you will get into with on here, that will make posts about it and suddenly they allow all the hate in the world to be sent to them and they answer it. am i projecting? yeah i am, because this shit makes no sense. you want tumblr to be fun but you're making posts actively hating on me and others? you want tumblr to be fun but you're shading people and threatening to expose these people as if this is middle school? and let me just throw this in here, i really do hate when i have a bad interaction with someone and they post about it and suddenly ALLLLL of tumblr has been scorned by me when in reality idk half of you bitches nor know you by username nor have i had a convo with you. so how have i scorned you? the answer is most of yall havent been scored by me or others, you may just not like us and it's fine. but learn to hate in silence, otherwise drama is all we are going to see.

hate/wild ass anons:

CHILLEEEEEEEE, let me tell yall something. i truly do believe the wild ass anons are the main people starting shit and let me tell you why. anons have the ability to hide behind a damn screen, the drama hungry ones literally get off on going into peoples inbox and sending hate about that person, or other people. they know who will react and who wont. ive had anons come in my inbox saying someone copied me, and then i go check and there is literally nothing there. I've had people come in my inbox saying wild shit to me because they feel like they can cuz they arent saying it with their chest off anon. its crazy because truly, what makes them think they could act that way? it's not ok and it's draining seeing so many people hide behind a screen and hate just because they think its funny. ALSO, THE TYPE OF HATE PEOPLE GET IS CRAZY!!! TWWWWW!!! why are we getting death threats and being told we should slit our wrists and get raped? why are you saying you hope we get tortured and our whole family dies? like fuck, I'm not above telling someone to die, that's something i gotta fix with myself, but I'm never going to outright say disgusting shit like that and wish sexual assault/abuse on you. do fucking better.

BIG BLOG AND MEAN GIRL ENERGY

something that has always annoyed me was when people talk about big blogs is , yall have certain ppl in mind but you don't say who you are talking about when talking shit, but yall make it so obvious and that leads to people going in your inbox talking shit, and then the big blogs get upset and either act out or block, AND THEN YALL GET UPSET FOR GETTING BLOCKED!!! LIKE THIS SHIT IS INSANE!!! ITS ONE BIG LOOP OF STRAIGHT SHIT FROM THE BUTT AND ITS ANNOYING. a block is not that serious and i hate when a big blog blocks somebody, its like fucking presidents day and suddenly its a big deal and everyone HAS TO KNOW, when in reality, no one does! the same way yall block people on insta, twitter, snap, fucking Pinterest, WE CAN DO THAT ON TUMBLR AND IT SHOULDNT BE A FUCKING ISSUE!!! ALSO, im so tired of the clique talk and big blogs being mean shit. i can't speak for other people, but ik I'm not cliqued up and I'm not a mean person. i have made so many friends as of recent on here that i love and hype up constantly, I've always followed ppl back even to the point where i hit the fucking following limit which is 5K PEOPLE!!! i reblog fics all the time, i ask for more parts, i even help people with writing! ik others who do the same so it baffles me when they say we mean girls and cliqued up. we mean cuz we calling ppl out for copying and their bs? we clicked up cuz we're big blogs and talk to each other? im not saying this to be a bitch but it does seem like yall wanna be big blogs as well and you're upset we don't interact with your fics as much as others. and I'm sorry for that and I'm not trying to make excuses but we cant see everything! now to yall points, yeah alot of people stick to the writers they know and hype up the same ones. i will be the first to admit that's not ok and they should branch out and read smaller writers works, ill even be the first say more big blogs should do the same!!! now the big question is,

HOW DO WE FIX IT???

truth be told, there is no perfect solution to anything but this is what i came up with. for copying i want to say, just be original. even if you feel like your writing isn't good which makes you want to copy, KEEP WRITING ORIGINAL SHIT!!! there will be someone out there who fucks with it and will beg for more. if you truly do wanna do your version of someone else's fic, just ask. ik for a fact i will say yes and reblog and hype you up! for expose accts, block them and move on. lets stop entertaining them. they don't deserve our time and they feed off the attention. less attention they get, less of them will pop up. of course ppl will still interact and send them stuff about people, but we gotta learn to just ignore. for hate and anons, same with exposing accts. block and move on. i would tell everyone to turn off anons forever but that wouldn't be fair to the anons that actually act right and they don't deserve to have that taken from them. for big blogs what i can say in regards to big blogs is, lets do better for the other writers on this app. if you don't already, start interacting with smaller writers and hyping them up!!! ik when i was just starting out that their words of encouragement would have helped me a lot! as for the people who dont like the bigger blogs or wish we would do more, you don't have to like us, but don't send hate about us to others. truth be told it makes us not want to interact with anyone but our close friends and that's when drama starts and the community starts dividing.

i want better for this community, and again, i have had my fair share of drama. i can own up to that, but i can understand and see when change needs to happen and I'm ready for that change and I'm ready to get back to being a fun community.

you dont have to like me at all but i do hope what i said in this long ass post can at least be something we mutually agree on.

[taeaura]

Thomas Hewitt | Possessiveness, Desperation, and Jealousy

Yeah...Thomas has attachment issues lololol

Thomas' possessiveness is really just a progression of his desperation. For example:

Stay with me, I don't want you to leave

Mutates into

You're my possession - Of that, my love, there really is no question

Okay, yeah, I'm using lyrics to get my point across, so what?

Because of his low self-esteem, Thomas gets jealous without realizing it. He's anxious about his potential future with his S/O, with constant worries surrounding abandonment and comparison.

What if you get hurt? What if you push too far, explore too deeply and find something you hate? What if turn to hate him? He can't have that. No, no, no, no, not here; Not now.

You really are his special someone. He's in love with you, his Momma'll make sure to tell you. Thomas' favorite thing is how sweet you are with him; Buttering him up with compliments {all of which you find to be true statements, though he disagrees}, and variations of physical affection. One thing that never fails:

"You're so handsome, Tommy."

Goddd, does it make him blush. He gets all giddy and shy - a bit aroused, depending on the situation.

What if that stops? What if when he finally reveals himself, you run away? You scream and shriek in terror? Is he really that ugly?

What if I make you feel sick?

That's a question he asks himself a lot. You're all he has {outside of the family}, and he plans to keep it that way {excluding potential future children}.

I explored this a bit in a previous post:

'You can't leave. I won't leave you leave - I have nothing. I'll prove to you how good I am - How good I can be, I swear. You can live with us on this farm, just like momma always dreamed of. You're not leaving me; Not after you've met momma, not after the countless times you've saved me from callous assholes out here. No - I couldn't..' -- He had to keep you. Keep you here; In the basement; In the barn; Maybe in a spare bedroom - His bedroom. It didn't matter. You could would not leave.

_____

At the root of his issues, Thomas is a scared, concerned, insecure man who's been starved of proper connection. Healthy, reciprocated emotions that don't burn out when he does something wrong. Once he's found someone worth opening up to, he'll treasured them. After years of believing they'd never meet, here they are.

Are you an angel? Have I been rewarded?

Or has the Devil sending one of his succubi to ravish me down to the rings of Wrath and Ptolemaea?

Although Thomas' thoughts are not as religiously-driven as those above, he often treads in waters of similar questioning:

Do I deserve this? - Am I being tricked? - They'll leave eventually..

--

Overtime, his anxiety turns to desperation - And soon, that desperation turns into jealousy.

Someone could compliment you, and it'd set him off. Especially if it's a man. He's so scared you'll find someone better than him, and he's envious of how easy it is not only for you to interact with people, but how easy it is for them to interact with you. He wants to interact with you so badly! He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, how grateful he is for you {even if you two aren't in a relationship yet}. He wishes he was approachable - Not that he's comfortable with causal conversation, but he wishes it was plausible in his situation.

--

One afternoon, a {soon to be} victim complimented you; 'Called you 'attractive' in whatever fancy way they put it. You scoffed a bit, albeit amused, followed by a small 'thank you.' - Boy, Thomas couldn't've been more peeved. How dare you? After all he's done to make you comfortable? Really, this is how you repay him?

He had to take a minute to himself, realizing how irrational he sounded. How were you supposed to know the sacrifices he made? It's not like he could tell you..though he wishes he could, just so you would be proud of him.

After his anger calmed down, he was left guilty and worrisome - It wasn't anyone's fault. The stranger couldn't have known his feelings for you, and he doubted you're aware either. That being said, that 'charming' victim made a delicious dinner that night ;)

_____

Thomas thought he had his emotions under control, but he was greatly mistaken. Momma had sent you out to grab things from the {wilting} garden just a few minutes prior; You'd gained enough trust from her to be left unsupervised outside - Though, she kept tabs on you though the windows.

Thomas was just finishing up in the basement when he walked up to the main floor; Oddly enough, he was looking for you. One random evening {a day he couldn't quite remember}, he'd overheard you talking to Henrietta about a locket you had once - A dainty one that complimented your skin ethereally. One of the victims, a nice gal from out of town, had a locket similar to the one you described; And he planned on giving it to you.

As he searched around the home, he found no trace of you. His anxiety quickly picked up; What if you'd left? No, Momma wouldn't lose you that easily, you'd have to be somewhere. He made his way outside, carelessly throwing the front screen doors open, albeit a bit aggressive. After a few minutes of pacing, he finally found you in the garden - Just as you were supposed to be.

The knot in his stomach relaxed, just as his shoulders did. There you were: Safe and content. He clutched the locket within his right hand, the chain dangling from his stressed fingers.

Unbeknownst to you, Thomas stood a few feet away, just..staring. His mind raced with incoherent thoughts: Would you like the gift? What if you were confused, or even worse, disgusted? What if the locket wasn't to your liking? He was quickly pulled from his thoughts when you finally noticed him.

"Hi, Thomas." You acknowledged, he really was just some big, awkward hunk, huh? "Did you need something?"

He quickly shook his head, bringing his hand forward. He twisted his wrist so his palm could face upward, revealing the locket.

You wiped some sweat off your forehead with your dirt-covered gloves and stood up. Your knees had gotten a bit dirty, but your pants provided a solid-enough layer between skin and soil.

"Is this for me?" You naively asked. Of course it was for you, he wouldn't just hand something to you that he intended on keeping.

He nodded, slightly nudging his hand closer as if to say 'take it.' - Which you did.

"Might be a bit difficult to put on, the jump ring's a bit small."

Were you..asking him to help? Was that it? He wasn't too sure, but he took the chance anyway. He gently grasped the split chain, folding it cautiously around your neck. He fumbled a lot with the chains..he didn't know how to handle such a small mechanism despite his sewing hobby; But eventually, he connected the jump rings.

You adjusted the locket to your liking, turning to face him with a thankful smile painted amongst your face.

"Thank you, Tommy."

Oh god..there it was. You knew he liked being called 'Tommy', you must've. He felt teased, just a bit. Mostly shy, though. He swallowed and gave a small nod.

Gosh, you were gorgeous, at least he thought so. He wanted so badly to tell you - Just like that piece of shit victim previously had. Okay..they weren't that bad, but he didn't want to acknowledge that. His jealously started to fester again, soon overriding his yearning.

God fucking damnit, why do I have to be so restricted? He thought to himself, an anger bubbling beneath him.

"Are you alright?" You hesitantly asked, tilting your head just a bit.

Was he alright? No, he was not 'alright.' He felt silenced. Restricted in his own body. How hard could it be to tell you how much he liked that locket on you?

His throat strained, trying to make any sensible noise - Yet all that came out were gurgles and incoherent mumbles. He shook his head, obviously overwhelmed and fed up. Instead of straining too hard, he pointed at the necklace and nodded - He really did think you were the most beautiful creature in the word, the locket only amplified that.

"You like it?"

He nodded once more.

"Aw; Well, thank you, Tommy. That's very kind of you."

He nodded a final time, making a mental decision: You were never going to leave him. He'd do anything and everything to make you happy, including small things like this.

That piece of shit nobody couldn't treat you like I could; They'd only make you happy chopped up, seared, and served right at the dinner table.

He'd make sure that would never happen to you. That no one besides him or the family would make you laugh, cry, smile; Not like he could. You two would be one, one way or another - Even in death. He'd make sure of that.

_____

Boo lame boo 🍅🍅🍅

I'm not too proud of the one-shot but my brain isn't giving me anything different.

We will, however, get more possessive Tommy as I finished up pt. 2 of Proprietorial 😈

[evalevaeva]

In the future | Yeon Sieun

- in which sieun assumes you'll understand in the future.

"You'll understand in the future, why I'm doing this and I never ask you to go out with me, and especially, why I always say after the college entrance exams," Sieun said as you stared at him, feeling the familiar squeeze in your heart.

It was like this every time, and slowly, you feel like you don't understand him anymore. It felt like you were in a dark room, with the one person who could save 6 it was all a blur. You could see his face, stoic as ever. Always refusing to show even a glimpse of what he felt, just for the sake of 'not being pessimistic'. It hurt. It hurt being one of the people he was supposed to lean on for support, but you just felt like another passerby in his life. He was almost indifferent to you.

It was always about the future, what about the present? The current moment that you were in, with him. It's always the same reason over and over again, "After the college entrance exams".

You would be lying if you didn't envy your friends. Seeing them with their partners, spending even 30 minutes sounded like a luxury. To sit down and have a conversation after a hard day at school, or even a phone call seemed like a million dollar dream that you wouldn't be reaching anytime soon with Sieun.

"Why not now?" Your voice was weak, but Sieun definitely heard it as his eyes were stuck onto your eyes that were beginning to water. You sighed as you lowered your head and wiped the tears with the sleeves of your jacket. This wasn't the time to cry, definitely not infront of him.

It sounded crazy. You didn't even feel like you could shed tears in front of him because it felt like he would tell you you're being sad over nothing, or he'd simply say the same statement;

"You'll understand in the future".

"Stop repeating it, Yeon Sieun."

Your voice was harsher than it should've been, but the pent-up anger was spilling out, and if you couldn't catch it, it would spill, and he'd know. Even so, even if he did know, would he do anything?

He spoke about the future the both of you would share. A house with nice decorations, a house with five children running around, and he'd have a good job and spend his breaks at home. He'd have to leave, but he'd constantly text and send gifts for the children's milestones. He'd miss their milestones, but he'd always come back to spend breaks with you and the kids.

He would bring you to places you'd never been to, and the both of you would grow old, and you'd take care of each other.

It felt like a sick joke that you were living through daily. He treated you like you were some fragile piece of ceramic that would fall and shatter at any time, but all you wanted were answers.

You could barely focus on your examinations anymore, feeling the pain crawl up your spine everyday as you stared at the papers given in class.

"Repeating what? That you'll understand in the future?" Sieun asked as you looked up at him, feeling your hands turn into a fist as you held the hem of your skirt in your fist.

"Why can't you tell me anything? You feel like an absolute stranger to me now. You don't want to talk to me in school nor interact with me in school because you're so worried about what other people have to say. Are you shamed of me? You don't want to call, you don't even ask me to call anymore. It's always me making an effort, what about you? Why is it always me? I give up, I'm so tired, Sieun. I want you to make an effort too, to call me 'just because', to walk with me to the bus station 'just because', instead of treating me like the last option and seeing me as someone you'll only put effort in after examinations. I'm hurt too, Sieun. I have feelings too, Sieun." By this point, your face was covered in tears as they fell down your cheek, hot. You still couldn't get close to him, still only being able to say everything from a distance. An arm's length at most.

"We have all the time in the world to do all the things you want to do. Why are you in such a rush?" Sieun questioned, seriously not understanding why you were so upset over such a minor thing.

You let out an exhasperated sigh as you wiped your tears. He would never understand. He treated you like a child that would never understand the world, and you would never get the answers you wanted, even if you begged the Lord above to help you.

"Nevemind. Whatever." You stated, as you turned and got ready to leave.

"Why nevermind? Are you mad again?" Sieun asked as he walked forward to reach out to you.

"I don't know, Sieun, you'll understand soon."

-

i don't know, will i ever understand?

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare: Part. 11

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Aemond's child. Of that she is certain. What she can't seem to figure out is how to tell him in the midst of a bloody war that has already cost them so much.

Previous part Dividers kindly provided by @zaldritzosrose

Writer's note: I literally can't apologise enough for the biggest hiatus of all time! I completely lost the ability to write at all and hated everything I did write. Then I met Ewan Mitchell and died for a bit, so finally I'm back resurrected. I have no idea if anyone will still want to read this story as it's been sooooo long but here's another part anyway. I said it would be the last but I've had to split it because of the length, so they'll be at least another one before I wrap it up. Thank you to all you lovely readers who made me want to finish this story xxx

Warnings: Female reader, mentions of vomiting for people with emetophobia, mix of fluff and angst, some suggestive content, a scene straight out of Star Wars Attack of the clones (Anidala for the win) Aemond being emotionally constipated but making up for it with grand gestures.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Y/N to hide her condition from Aemond, who had become even more protective if that were possible. Under his ever perceptive eyes she had to make a concerted effort to conceal the waves of nausea that seemed to overcome her at the most inconvenient of moments. It had been a month since Y/N had first taken note of the absence of her womanly cycle and she could no longer prevaricate on the matter...she was pregnant with Aemond's child. At first she'd felt a pleasant warmth spread through her at the realisation, a spark of joy at the thought of seeing Aemond as a father. She'd even been excited to tell him as soon as she was certain of the fact, but each time she tried he seemed to be called away to an urgent council meeting or to scout the skies on Vhagar.

The perfect moment never presented itself as she'd hoped, allowing her anxieties to build and a new fear to rise up within her. As the war continued to consume Aemond's every waking hour, worsened by the splitting of the Blacks' cause into two fronts as Daemon pursued his own claim, Y/N feared Aemond would not be pleased with her news. After all, surely this was the worst possible time to bring a child into the world. They'd never even discussed children, and Y/N had no idea how her husband felt about becoming a father. Without his words to soothe her fears, Y/N grew more and more uneasy with her condition, particularly as she finally felt her stomach begin to swell. She feared for Aemond's reaction, for herself having heard many stories of the pains of chidlbirth. But mostly, she feared for the child she now carried. What would happen if Rhaenyra won the war. Would the child survive. Would any of them?

She was sure Aemond had noticed something was amiss by now by the way she constantly felt his gaze on her, following her every move, not unaware of the look of gentle concern his one eye held. Sleep regularly evaded her, evidenced by the dark hollows that now shaded her eyes. And Y/N had lost her appetite, plagued by bouts of sickness, which had her running to the nearest chamber pot. In the middle of the night, she regularly woke up in a sweat and had to prise Aemond's arms from her body, a difficult feat as he instinctively tightened his iron grip on her in his sleep. In a sense, she was lucky Aemond had normally already left their chambers by the time she felt the sharp tug in her abdomen that sent her running before the wretching started.

But she did miss him during the day when he was detained by the small council and their interactions were limited to stolen kisses and glimpses of one another in the gloomy halls of the Keep. It was selfish, she thought, to wish they could simply return to the way it had been before when they'd spent nearly all of their time together, whilst the war continued to loom over the Red Keep. But she sometimes she found herself longing for simpler times when they would spend hours sitting and talking together, when she was just his handmaiden and he a handsome Prince who'd deigned to grant her his attentions.

Y/N rested discreetly against a column just before the small council chamber. She'd hoped to at least catch a glimpse of her husband as the council dispersed for the morning, but even crossing the short distance from their chambers to this part of the Keep had tired her considerably, likely only a sign of the fatigue she should expect to experience in pregnancy. As the kingsguard opened the doors to the chambers and her eyes met Aemond's, she forgot her weary limbs and smiled as he immediately rushed to meet her. A few moments later, his arms were wrapped around her as he held her to him, spinning her before letting her down gently. He kept a light hold on her waist, grinning down at her.

"You've come to see your husband? I am glad of it. I was in need of seeing something beautiful."

Y/N blushed "I missed you." Aemond squeezed her waist gently, his expression sympathetic.

"I know. But once the war is won, we will always be together. I give you my word."

Y/N nodded, trying to push down her feelings of loneliness and her anxieties around the child she was now certain she carried. She hadn't realised she'd been staring steadfastly at the ground until Aemond tipped her chin up with a single elegant finger and pressed their lips together. The kiss was one of barely repressed hunger that spoke to Aemond's passion for her, she was glad had never seemed to dwindle. But she lightly pushed him away with a startled laugh, aware this was not the sort of kiss appropriate for members of the small council to see as they left the chamber.

"Not here, Aemond."

Aemond's gaze turned steely, his voice commanding.

"Yes, here."

And then he was kissing her again, just as feverishly as the first time, one large hand on the small of her back so she was pressed against him. Sighing and finding it increasingly difficult to care who saw them at the intoxicating feeling of Aemond's soft lips on hers, Y/N gave in fully and melted against Aemond. It was a cough that startled them both enough for the couple to break apart.

Aemond directed the full force of his icy gaze on Ser Criston Cole, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"We have matters to discuss, my Prince."

To Y/N's slight disappointment, Aemond reluctantly released her, briefly pressing his lips to her forehead and whispering an apology before following the hand of the king back down the hall away from her.

Aemond rapped his fingers against the council table with irritation and barely repressed impatience. He felt he had only just won his wife back to him after his transgressions, and yet he was still separated from her, trapped for hours at a time within these same four walls. He understood that he was needed as the strongest sword in the Kingdom and the rider of Vhagar, and he did not intend to shirk his duty to his family in this war. But his eagerness to prove himself, his lust for vengeance, had both diminished as he was forced to bear witness first hand to the consequences of war. Now he wished to end the war as soon as possible, whatever this required of him. His hope that the war would soon come to an end was renewed by the estrangement of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Together, as a united front, they were stronger. Their separation had weakened both their claims and their stances in the war. Aemond was also aware of ravens passing between his mother and Rhaenyra each day, and he began to think it would not be long until Rhaenyra realised her cause was a hopeless one without Daemon and his dragon. Without Caraxes, she had no dragon to counter Vhagar. His uncle Daemon posed the greater threat. Each day brought news of the castles he had taken in the crown lands, and Aemond knew he would have to face his uncle soon to put an end to the war. Part of him relished the challenge, though he feared for his love and his family, should he fail.

"We will reconvene once I have had time to consider your arguments." Aemond realised he had let his mind wander as Aegon dismissed the small council, rising quickly to try and catch a moment with his wife before other matters inevitably called him away from her. He briefly considered running in the direction of their chambers, though he could not be certain to find her there. But was pleased to see his wife already waiting outside the council chamber for him, saving him the trouble. He felt incredulous of the sheepish smile she sent his way, as if she could believe even for a moment that he wouldn't always be pleased to see her. It was a false presumption he would have to remedy. Crossing the distance between them at lightning speed, he immediately took Y/N into his arms, her light giggle as he lifted her off her feet like a warming balm to his troubled mind. He refused to let go of her even once he'd placed her back down, running his hands up and down the dip in her waist. Having to spend so much time away from her side had made him miss her soft timidity and the rosy glow of her cheeks when she blushed. He was sure he had never seen a prettier sight, and he told her as much.

"I've missed you..."

It was difficult for Aemond to hear, to know she felt his absence so keenly. But he wished her to know it was not his desire to part from her side. He recalled expressing this to her when she'd rushed to his chambers to check on an injury he'd received in training. How he'd pulled her onto his knee and told her he always wanted her that close. He had meant it then and he was determined to finish what he had begun when he had slain Luke, to put an end to this war so Y/N would never have to doubt it again.

"I know. But once the war is won, we will always be together. I give you my word."

Though Y/N nodded, he could see the sadness her eyes held, the loneliness swimming in them, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her. Lightly tipping her chin up he pressed their lips together, trying to express with this kiss that he missed her too, that he loved her more than it was possible to say. Aemond felt himself groan in frustration as Y/N pushed him away with a laugh, despite the sweeteness of the sound to him.

"Not here, Aemond."

Was that all that concerned his wife? That people might see them? Aemond was a prince of the realm. They would just have to accept it as far as he was concerned or turn away if they did not. He wouldn't waste the precious few opportunities he had with Y/N of late worrying about tempering his affectation for her to meet the standards of others. And he would not allow her to feel any shame from the ardency of his love for her either. He was resolute on this matter.

"Yes, here."

He captured her soft lips again before she could raise any other ridiculous objections about him expressing his love for her, trying to convince her with each brush of his lips against hers how little the opinion of others mattered. He was glad this did not seem to take long as she pressed herself closer to him and sighed against his lips. Aemond could barely repress his anger at Ser Criston when he interrupted their embrace with his ill timed cough, trying what little patience he had left.

But, much to Aemond's chagrin, the hand of the king was right, they had pressing matters to discuss that could not wait. If Rhaenyra would not cede her claim, then they had plans to take Rook's Rest. This did not make it any easier for him to walk away from his wife when he could so plainly see her disappointment as he stepped away from her.

Aemond cursed as he faltered slightly midstep, hurrying back to his chambers for the evening. Darkness had long since cloaked the Red Keep in it's cold embrace, but he'd had no chance to escape from his duties until the hour had grown far too late for him to reasonably hope to spend any time with his beloved wife. He opened the door to their chambers tentatively, his tread quiet, the silence within a clear sign that Y/N had already retired for the evening. Aemond smiled at the image of Y/N curled up on the chaise, the book she'd been reading now sprawled on the ground, as if she'd been trying to stay awake for him. His heart warmed at the gesture, realising this must be true. Stepping forward, he crossed the room in measured strides, determined not to wake her but to situate her more comfortably if he could. Gathering her up into his arms, he'd only taken a few steps towards placing her on the bed before she was blinking up at him with bleary eyes. Any residual sleepiness was quickly replaced by a look of panic Aemond couldn't understand as Y/N urgently patted his shoulder.

"Put me down. Quickly."

Confused and a little put out by the less than warm reception, Aemond nonetheless placed Y/N back on her feet. Not a moment later, she had wrenched herself from his grip entirely, doubling over and holding her hand over her mouth. Alarmed, Aemond made to move towards Y/N only to be stopped in his tracks when she held a hand up to him.

"No don't, I'll be alright in a moment."

"If you are unwell, I shall call for a maestor."

Aemond was already moving towards the door, his own anxiety rising at the thought of his love being taken from him by some illness. Y/N's hand gripping his halted him once again as she weakly tugged him back towards her. "I'm not ill, Aemond."

Though Y/N had lowered her hand from her mouth and was now standing up straight, he was unconvinced by the greenish tinge of her pallor, frowning at her disregard for her health. It was not something he could so easily dismiss.

"I find that difficult to believe, my love."

Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply perhaps to fight off any remaining nausea.

Stepping closer to her and taking both her hands in his, Aemond lowered his voice to a gentle and encouraging whisper.

"Whatever is the matter, you can tell me my darling girl."

Y/N nodded, though her features only grew more pained and anxious by the second and he noted that she would not meet his eye though he tried to chase hers.

And then he felt his heart momentarily stop.

"I'm pregnant."

Y/N awoke with a start as she felt herself being lifted into the air, followed seconds later by a sharp pain shooting through her abdomen. Her brief confusion was short lived as she came to terms with two important facts. She'd fallen asleep in her attempt to wait for Aemond to return..and now she was going to throw up on him.

That thought had her frantically attempting to pull away from him in a frenzy of flurried movement and urgent cries for him to put her down, leaving him looking more than a little perplexed and put out with her. As soon as she was placed upright, Y/N launched herself away from Aemond, clamping a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to push down the bile she could feel rising in her throat. She didn't want this to be the way he found out about her condition. By the grace of the Seven, her concerted effort to take deep breaths was reducing the overwhelming nausea that had washed over her, leaving behind the realisation that she'd have to explain her strange behaviour to her husband, who seemed seconds away from bolting from the room to fetch the nearest maester. That didn't make it any easier to reveal the truth, and just like every other time she'd attempted to share her secret with Aemond, she became tongue-tied and nervous about his reaction. But when he held her hands so gently, squeezing them encouragingly, and spoke to her so softly, she lost control of her speech entirely.

"I'm pregnant."

As soon as she blurted out her confession she regretted it, for every muscle in Aemond's body seemed to freeze as his mouth fell open...and though several seconds passed in agonising silence he said nothing, only staring at her, frozen in either shock or horror.

Ripping her hands from Aemond's hold, Y/N turned her back to him, covering her face with her hands and ineffectively pressing her palms against her eyes to staunch the flow of tears and her crushing dissapointment at her husband's reaction. It had been worse than she had even feared. Her soft sniffles must have broken the spell that had frozen Aemond in place as she soon heard his boots clicking against the cold marble floor as he moved around her, warm large hands wrapping around her own to prise them from her face. Y/N fought against his attempts, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on his face she was sure she'd find.

"Look at me, please." He did not sound angry at least, rather uncertain. Did he think she'd lied to him? Would he have rather she had?

Reluctantly allowing Aemond to pull her hands back down to her sides, she was surprised to see what looked much more like wonder than horror in Aemond's eye, an almost dreamlike expression on his handsome features.

"Are you quite certain?" Y/N heard a definite tremble in his voice, and she nodded simply in response, not understanding his sudden change in demeanour. When he said nothing still, the only change being the widening of his eye, she felt her heart break a little more.

"Are you very unhappy with me?"

Aemond looked like he'd had a bucket of ice water thrown on him and had been abruptly woken from a dream. Reaching for her again and cupping each side of her face, he gazed at her with the utmost tenderness.

"Unhappy with you? I have never been more happy. Hush, my love. Don't cry. I did not mean to make you feel as if I were unhappy."

Y/N shook Aemond's hands off her and turned away from him again. She imagined she must look petulant, but she still felt hurt. Aemond's words did not reflect the fact that only moments before he'd looked completely stricken, and she feared he was only trying to appease her now.

"You looked horrified. I know it isn't the best time to bring a child into the world and there are more important matters you must attend to..."

"Nothing matters more now than you and our child."

Aemond cut her off in her ramblings, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder, though she remained turned away from him.

"I was surprised, but certainly not horrified. I've thought of you as a mother before when I saw you getting along so handsomly with my niece and nephew. I thought of you as the mother of my child. Even before we were married, the image was clear in my mind."

Aemond stroked a hand down her abdomen as if to convey the truth of his words, though her bump was still barely visible. Y/N twisted in his hold to face him, surprised by Aemond's admission. Seeming to sense an onslaught of questions, he continued before she could even pose one.

"I don't want you to worry about the war now. This is the happiest of news. This child...our child, is the greatest gift you could ever have given me and I will love them fiercely. I will not allow any harm to come to you or our child."

Y/N smiled, her heart warming as she observed that Aemond's one good eye glistened slightly. She could see now that she'd mistaken his reaction and nearly sighed with relief. But their shared happiness couldn't qwell her curiosity.

"You said you had thought about us having children together before."

Aemond quirked an eyebrow up at her train of thought.

"Yes." He answered, almost like a question.

Y/N swallowed thickly, thinking of how to ask her question.

"You never mentioned a wish to have children to me before. How long have you thought of it?"

Aemond's expression softened as he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing his knuckles along her cheek as he did so.

"If I'm understanding what I think your truly asking, then I'll simply tell you that as soon as I realised I loved you, I knew I wanted you to be my wife and the mother of my children. It's not a thought I had before you, everything I wish for my life begins and ends with you."

Cursing her heated cheeks, Y/N all but barrelled into Aemond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek into his doublet. Aemond responded to her embrace quickly, laughing at the suddeness of her actions, and began to stroke her hair softly.

Y/N was embroidering a blanket for the baby in the hazy afternoon light when Aemond bounded into their chambers grinning at her. She could tell he was brimming with excitement and had his hands curiosuly clasped behind him as if he were trying to conceal something from her view.

"I've brought you something, my love."

Y/N rose from her seat and tried to peer around him, but Aemond continuously thwarted her efforts until she finally agreed to close her eyes and hold her hands out.

"I went to the Dragon pit this morning to choose an egg for our little dragon. This one was hatched by Dreamfyre. I thought it fitting since you and Helaena are so close." Y/N felt a burst of affection rise within her at Aemond's excitement, and this act of affection towards their unborn child. She knew that it was customary for a dragon egg to be placed in the cradle of a Targaryen prince or princess, but she also understood this tradition must have a special significance for Aemond whose dragon egg had failed to hatch. The corner of her lips lifted at the nickname Aemond had given their baby.

Once the surprise object was placed into her hands she almost dropped it from the heat it exuded, almost as if it were a very large boiled egg. But eggs were never so tough and scaley...except for dragon eggs. She opened her eyes to meet Aemond's expectant look.

"Little dragon?"

Aemond's smile only widened. He knelt before her, placing his hands on either side of her waist and resting his cheek against her now noticeable bump.

"Yes, our little dragon. She'll be a fiersome dragon rider just like her father."

Y/N placed their child's dragon egg on the seat she'd just vacated. Each scale was tipped with a dark blue hue that almost blended in with it's coal black surface, ensuring that it unmistakably belonged to Helaena's dragon. She couldn't help but feel it was perfect, and she raised her hands to tangle them in Aemond's hair, running her fingers through the silver strands.

"A princess then?' Y/N asked, amused by his confidence.

Aemond nodded resolutely in her arms, tickling her abdomen as his eyepatch grazed across it.

"I am sure of it. A Targaryen princess with all the beauty and kindness of her mother."

Aemond had spent far longer than he truly had time for carefully selecting a dragon egg for his baby. It was an important tradition for his House, but to him it felt like more. He never wanted his child to feel like an outsider as he had done all his childhood with no dragon of his own. He was determined his child should never face the loneliness he had, the jeers from his own brother and cousins, that instead they should feel loved and secure, that they truly belonged.

Aemond had spoken to Y/N many times of Targaryen traditions, but he did not know until he placed the dragon egg in her hands if she would understand fully how much this simple tradition meant to him. But when she graced him with a resplendent smile, he immediately knew that somehow she did.

I want someone to spin me around like that. It just looks so fun! Also Ewan Mitchell is the nicest person ever and I briefly held his hand and I'm deceased aaaah

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[baby-tini]

Yandere Shuji Hanma Alphabet

DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He is intense but it's more of a possessive intense. He is also very physical with you, always tugging at your hair, grabbing at you and whispering nasty things in your ear as he pulls your head back and mocks you, he's pretty mean.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Oh he loves getting messy, he fights just for fun and just because he can. So, he absolutely would get messy for you because he does it in general. He will purposely start shit with you and other people because he enjoys it. He doesn't mind cracking a few skulls and breaking a couple nooses for you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Oh 100%, you're gonna hate his company especially after he abducts you. He's is so fucking cruel and he will intentionally do things he knows pisses you off just so that he can tease and punish you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, there's no doubt in my mind. Shuji hates being told 'no' so if he wants a blow-job, he's gonna get head from you. He doesn't care about what you want- at all really. He always gets what he wants and you arguing just goes in one ear and out the other.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Not at alllll. Which, c'mon, is very unsurprising coming from a man like Shuji Hanma, sure he has some soft moments with you, especially in the early afternoon but it's a rare case in general for you too see him be sweet at all, given how mean he is all the time.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

That shit makes him hard, I'm not even gonna lie. That's literally his end goal though, is too get you pent up so he can have fun with you. It's so much fun for him when you put up a fight, he gets off on it. He knows he's a lot stronger then you and way more experienced then you could ever be- but that's the fun part, your struggling, your like a little bunny attempting too fight back against a much more dangerous predator.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Everything is a game to him, that's what life is to him, a game. He enjoys mocking and toying with you, you're just so fun too fuck with. He'd love watching you try and escape from him though, because he'll let you, he'll purposely do things that will allow you too escape so that he can hunt you down, drain every last little bit of hope you have left. Give you tiny breaths of freedom before he takes it away again, all with a sick grin.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Most experiences with Hanma are pretty bad with Hanma, he's not the most empathetic guy- he lacks empathy actually. He's not the guy you wanna misbehave with, like, at all. I would say the worst thing though, is the berating. He's so mean and he know exactly what gets under your skin. He never apologizes either because in his mind, he's never wrong.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

One full of chaos and nasty fights, no, for real, though, he doesn't really envision a future with you - much less for himself. He hasn't thought that far ahead about anything, and to him, you're just a fun little thing to play around with... but he's not keen on letting you go for a while.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He doesn't get jealous. It's more possessive than anything, really. While he does allow minimal interaction with others when it can't be helped, he's still not to keen on it so anytime he feels as though someone is just the tiniest bit close to you, he'll yank you by the arm and pull you to his chest.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's the same around you as he is with others; mean and sadistic.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You'd have to do something crazy to catch his attention in the first place. To keep it is a little different, so you'd have to be really interesting in order for him to want to pursue you. There'd be no courting though, he just pops up and doesn't go away for a while.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No...? He can be a bit soft in the mornings and when he's tired though.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He's all about teasing and making you uncomfy so he'd probably spank you, throw some infantalization in there to... might break a bone or two if he's pissed enough

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Surprisingly not a lot, privacy isn't a thing for you anymore though.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Pretty patient but it also depends on how his days been, if he comes home stressed he won't even bothering correcting you, he'll just punish you. But, if he's calm and on something, run wild.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Depends on how connected he is to you. If he really liked you and you died, it'll take some time for him to return to normal and he might never return to normal. You'll never escape him though, especially if we're talking bad Toman Hanma, he has connections and favors out the ass.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and only if he got bored of you

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He's probably always been sadistic and mean, realistically, he just wants the company.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He either is getting off on you screaming and crying or it annoys him and he'd get really irritated. You can isolate yourself all you want, he'll just be really loud enough for you to hear him when he's talking to you, plus, he's not home all the time.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He'd let you run away, only for short periods of time though, just so he can chase you down and play detective.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

None really, not only is he a highly experienced fighter but he's also really intelligent, so you're fucked.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes, and it's sometimes for fun

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

If he's bored of you none, and you can't leave, so none

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Could be anywhere from a few days to a few months, really depends on when he wants you. He works on impulse but he's careful.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, and it could either be on accident or on purpose.

[helslastangel]

Moon Conjunct Venus + Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

Based on My Personal Experiences 🔞

This may not resonate for everyone, so if it doesn't hit, please let it miss. There are 18+ topics included this so minors, do not interact. 🔞

Their Moon conjunct your Venus

This aspect is wonderful if you're both feeling each other. They can and will read you like a book without even needing to turn the first page. If you've ever seen or been in one of those couples where the one person knew exactly what the other one wanted or needed, without ever discussing it, even once?

Yeah, those are the vibes here.

You will be loved exactly the way you want to be loved and if things don't work out, there is a good chance the breakup could leave you feeling destroyed for quite some time, even if you were never in a relationship.

This aspect can make it very difficult to be "just friends" if either person wants more from the connection.

But even platonic friends with this synastry aspect can be amazing. These are the kinds of friend that you give the spare keys to, can call at 4 in the morning whether for an emergency or just to sob about something stupid.

They are the ones you who can come over without calling first. In fact, you welcome it and aren't surprised to come home and find them asleep on your couch. Like this is the friend that you're more like family with if you're not in a romantic connection.

If you ever get in a mood and start talking about "everyone this" and "people always/never that," they aren't offended because it doesn't even cross their mind to think they're included in that pile.

There is no guarantee that things will always be perfect or work out with this placement, obviously it depends on factors in the whole chart and other things like time, place, circumstance, and so on.

Of course, anyone who can read you accurately has the ability to use that to manipulate and harm rather than help and support you, but that's a risk of life in general. All I'm saying is: with this aspect, when it's good, it's DAMN GOOD.

To give you an example, I had this synastry with a Scorpio moon several years ago (I'm a Scorpio Venus). We met at an event and hit it off so well that we were talking outside the venue for nearly 4 hours, annoying his friends and mine. Ended up bringing him home with me and I fully expected him to disappear into a cloud of dust the next day, but he didn't.

We didn't end up working out beyond friends with benefits, but he's NEVER been rude or unkind to me once. Extremely patient, always calm no matter what and very sweet to me whenever we run into each other somewhere in the city every couple of years.

The way he handled me emotionally was just beautiful, I can't think of another way to put it. Most of my friends at the time would ignore anything I did creatively - not him, he found one of my books and posted it on his story with a cute caption saying how much he loved intelligence and that he was proud of me. The type to show up in the rain and keep me company when I was sick (back when I lived alone), even though he had class, work and practice all that day. The first time we hooked up, I was getting my laundry together and wondering why he hadn't left yet. He picked up the bags talking about, "Nah I got 'em, lead the way to the laundromat, why would I leave you to do this by yourself."

TMI / TW (mentions of sexual activities, body fluids, menstruation/periods) so again, minors, get out of here and the rest of you proceed with caution or skip to the next paragraph.

He was very much empathetic and also body positive-absolutely nothing seemed to gross him out. I have so many examples, but let's go with something both extreme and spicy. I was bundled up, laying on his shoulder and trying to deal with menstrual cramps while we were watching a show and him going, "Oh you know I read somewhere that orgasms can ease those, may I?" I'm there like, may you what? sure?? I'm curious?? Next thing I know, he's got a towel down, yeets the tampon and dives in head first talking about "a period ain't stop nothing but a sentence." And, well? All I'll say is.. at least ONE man knows where the clit is! ibuprofen, who? where? 😂😈

Obviously that's a bit much if you're a vanilla type (but a Scorpio moon + Scorpio venus? baby we was freaks, what can I say? lmfao) but this is just an example I mention because the important part is not once did he bring up getting off himself. No hinting for a quickie or a BJ like you might expect. I even offered because I was used to guys doing seemingly selfless gestures only to be guilt-tripped shortly after, and he was just like, "Sorry, what? No, you're not feeling well, I wanted you to feel better, plus I don't need to get off all the time, I read it's healthy to ignore the urges sometimes." (Idk if you could tell, but he REALLY likes to read, loll).

That's what I'm talking about with the Moon-Venus conjunction. This kind of synastry will vary in the specific ways it's expressed of course, but all other things being equal, someone with their moon conjunct your venus will intuitively know what you want and need to feel loved, and it works because it blends very well with their own emotional needs. If the moon person tells you they enjoy doing something for you or with you without expecting anything in return, believe it. It sounds like a lie because of the types of people who would lie about that, but with this aspect, chances are they meant that shit.

Not only that, but you'll feel like you've known them for a long time. That's because you'll also understand their emotional expression on an intuitive level. This isn't as one-way as it could sound. Oh, no, not at all. You will feel like you've met before and find yourself making time and space, and finding energy for them even out of thin air. You could live in a tiny studio that you'd never share with anyone and then find yourself cleaning out your closet on a Sunday afternoon to "make a little space" for their extra work uniform or even as tiny as keeping an extra toothbrush, clearing a hook in the bathroom, keeping their favorite snacks in the fridge, stuff like that. You'll generally feel at home with each other and trust can build VERY quickly. Others could even wonder if you're okay, especially if you're normally a paranoid person.

With Scorpio moon guy, he accidentally left his wallet the first time he left my place and I called him when I found it. His response was "Oh I left it at yours? Oh good, that's okay then, I'll come get it at some point this week, let me know what days you'll be home". He knew me for less than 24 hours at the time, lol. 3 months later he had the door code to my place and there were two toothbrushes and two towels instead of one LOL, trust was never an issue and it certainly wasn't the reason we didn't work out either! We basically just couldn't really keep pace with each other because... we had a 6 year age gap. Completely different life stages. I have a feeling if we both were a lot older, it would have worked out. Literally nothing else was wrong with us.

Now, that was with me being the Venus (and Ascendant-see below) person. I'll be honest, as a Capricorn moon, I'm curious about how it would be if I meet a Capricorn venus romantically. I wonder how that would play out all the time, and I think I'll let that remain a mystery until it happens, then I'll hopefully still be blogging then and come back and tell yall about that too. THAT BEING SAID... I do have this aspect (as the moon person this time) with a platonic Capricorn venus friend I had for nearly 13 years. We would literally be in each other's houses (and hair and business lol) all the time. We had yearly festivals we always went to together, talked almost everyday, knew how each other was feeling before the other one would even say anything. Mopped each other up off the floor when going through shit. She punched a guy I was dating who cheated on me, and I introduced her to a mutual friend who I thought she might like to date, and then cussed the hell out of him when he didn't pull his weight like I thought he would. Things like that.

The friendship ended nearly 7 years ago but I miss her every day. I remember what happened, but in hindsight, it seems so foolish now and I miss her every single day. We would have been friends for 20 years by now and I don't have a lot of regrets in life, but that is one of them. She hurt me but I handled it so poorly both before and after she reached out to talk that it just destroyed the entire foundation of our friendship. I haven't even tried to get over it because I don't want to. To me, that would be just disrespectful, I feel like it's something I need to carry with me as a reminder to do better next time. I'm sure you see by now that this is a quite an intense and dynamic placement!

Bonus Observation:

Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

If someone with their moon conjunct your venus ALSO has their moon trine your ascendant, WHEW that is hot. Not only will the emotional connection be strong, but they will find everything about you on the outside just as enticing as the inside.

They genuinely enjoy the way you express yourself and can have a lot of patience for any shenanigans you might get up to. These people will watch you from across a crowded room all evening and suddenly appear by your side just before you leave to tell you they think you're attractive and want to get to know the rest of you beneath the surface. And it's rarely ever creepy. They'll know just how to approach you. I've had this synastry aspect a few times and it's always been like that. Genuinely charming. Perfect rizz.

This kind of synastry, as I said earlier, will leave you in absolute shambles if things don't work out, especially if you don't encounter this synastry often in your connections. Personally, I'd consider this one of those aspects where one or both of you can feel like the other was a soulmate, or "the one that got away," and end up being celibate or single (if romantic), or becoming asocial (if platonic) for a long time after splitting up. That or cycling through a series of awful relationship and friendship rebounds in an attempt to find them in another person.

Not too much on me for this, but there's a country song by Colt Fold that I'd loved for half a decade now called 4 Lane Gone. I'm sure there are other songs out there that would capture this better, but this is the one that stuck with me.

Something about the way this artist captures the feeling. Wistful, you can tell dude is acting strong, but knows damn well a good thing just got royally fucked up. Maybe I'm just melodramatic (I'm water dominant after all), but have a listen and see if you get what I'm talking about.

Idk. From my experiences with these aspects (been lucky enough to experience it with more than one person), I'd say it gives a pretty good idea of how either side could feel when it ends. Probably more so the Moon person, though, as they're likely to react like this to either a) being the one to end the relationship prematurely and regret it, or b) being blindsided by the Venus/Ascendant person up and leaving, and taking so long to process and recover from the shock, that by the time they chase after them...they're...well...four lanes gone. Lol.

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Been raining for three days

On the fast track to the highway

Trying to save a little time

Lord I never should have tried

Taking this back road shortcut

Now I’m way stuck, so sunk

I’ll never catch her now

So I just put the tailgate down

She’s probably somewhere doing 95

I got nothing but this cooler and time

[Chorus]

I cracked one waiting on a ride

Two or three just to pass the time

While she’s headed to a new town

And I’m too lost to be found

She probably thinks that I don’t care

Stuck in the rut in the middle of nowhere

And just my luck I’ll be here all night long

Man, I’m bummed out back road buzzed

And she’s four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

[Verse 2]

Every empty beer can makes me

Miss her like hell, man I can kick myself

For the place and the shape I’m in holding me back

Yeah my wheels keep on spinning

And she’s ticked off blacktop fast

[Chorus] x 1

[Bridge]

While I’m stuck here all alone

With a midnight natty light

One more chance I’ve blown

[Chorus] x 1

[Outro]

I’m out here all alone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane, four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane gone

[hbheavensent]

Mammon/Leviathan

Ugh my favorite toxic situationship, let's rock and roll-

OH AND LIGHT TW FOR CANNIBALISM FOR LEVIS BACKGROUND

Let's start with Mammon, being that he's my favorite cannon!sin and that I didn't change much with his design. Really I just wanted to see him in more outfits/makeup so I just played around with that idea. Leaned into the rich guy circa 1600s, somewhat inspired by the fat officials from Demon Souls but only loosely. Really I think his designs works really well already but I am bias. In terms of his personality, I'm changing the fact that he's portrayed as stupid- it doesn't make sense to me that the guy handling all of the money is dumb as a box of rocks. So I made him generally very smart, just easily distracted and silly.

He is also another subject of me exploring how each sin handled falling from grace, Mammon in particular went full fledged head in the sand. He could never handle the fact that he could never have Heaven again, could never have his old body, the vast wealth of knowledge that Heaven had him be in charge of. Back in Heaven I've pulled from a couple sources and also written my own stuff in but in THIS version he was a Principality Angel in charge of the Celestial Treasury of Heaven. A celestial vault containing not just material wealth but also knowledge, wisdom, and spiritual riches, which he could bestow upon those deemed worthy, though often doesn't. Mammon was Angel of Prosperity before falling shortly after Beelzebub. He professes that there's no reason to talk about Heaven and fully leaned into his sin immediately because processing anything is way too much for him.

Mammon, aside from Levi and Lucifer, has the hardest time maintaining relationships with anyone including the other sins. So he's wildly lonely, which is hard to talk about without bringing up Sariel (a character I've written in) but we'll get there later.

However there is one person who puts up with Mammon on the regular...

Leviathan went through a lot of changes, while I like the conjoined twin look something about the way it was animated felt... off. Levi struck me as uninteresting compared to the rest of the sins. A lot of what I did was just smash the two halves of Levi together, give her some bangles and jewelry, and make her a sick ass fish form. About that fish form, there's a slight glow behind the inside head which is actually from her sister's broken halo! Let's get into that. So I'm using the interpretation that The Crusaders Academy uses because it's metal as all hell and I can't find any other interpretation where Leviathan has twin specifically (makes me wonder if Viv saw the same wiki page? I dunno. It's a neat wiki but I have no idea where it came from.) The way I'm writing it is that the Levithan we know used to be a run of the mill Angel along with their twin sister Ziz who served under Uriel. Uriel was an Archangel who presided over wisdom and the Archangel who took over the Treasury of Heaven after Mammon's fall. Both Levi and Ziz were close with Mammon, though Ziz was much more friendly and a touch ditzy which made her endearing. Very likable, where Leviathan sort of fumbled every interaction. After sin was created by The Apple Incident, Levi found herself drifting more and more from social interactions with anyone as they filled her with unending jealousy. She was friends with all of the sins before they fell but only by account of being friends with Mammon, by the fact that she was there but no one really knew her.

As people fell and titles were gained across Heaven and Hell, Levi and Ziz took up their jobs as sort of secretaries under Uriel. Uriel took a shine to Ziz's creative spark and really became close with her while Levi was struggling internally with her sin. Eventually it came to a head, and by a technicality, Angel's mouths are not considered holy weapons. Leviathan ate her sister alive, by some merit Ziz is alive still. Her halo was taken by Raguel only after Sariel, Sera, and Uriel walked in on the gory scene. A part of Leviathan's punishment is to have half of her face and body be reminiscent of her sister for all of eternity. That artistic spark and sense of fashion is all Ziz, Leviathan just stole it.

While being one of the lowest classes of Angels in Heaven, Leviathan is the only sin to technically still have a halo.. even if it's not outward. It burns sometimes in Levi's throat I imagine. Levi is incapable of having healthy relationships, while Mammon struggles he could be worked around in order to maintain healthy distance with someone. However, his relationship with Levi is anything but healthy. Levi is temperamental, always assuming the worst, the definition of "you KNOW other women???". Levi is also the type of person to hold back any grievances in order to appear socially acceptable and then blow up at someone for not being a mind reader. Mammon has to walk on glass around her, which is notably hard for him. They fight a lot but Mammon keeps coming back. Partially because he can't let anything go, but also partially because he understands your sin ruining your ability to maintain any social aspects of your life. Who else is going to put up with her if not him? Who would put up with him if not her or the people he literally PAYS to stick around? And the part he wont acknowledge, having Levi is almost like having Ziz again. Almost. Levi on the other hand, absolutely knows why Mammon sticks around. She finds comfort in the fact that he is a social disaster, in turn making her look better. She knows he'll always come back. It's a constant that she really needs to keep around. If he wants to pretend he still has her sister, then he sure can do that. She'll just yell at him when it gets to be too much later.

Anyway I love her, she's so fucked up. I have more thoughts really but this is a LONG ASS POST-

[myownwholewildworld]

vi. O Seanalair - acta, non verba

chapter 5 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you irremediably find yourself in Marcus' bed again and make a discovery which may help your people. a/n: i have a genuine question. do people like long chapters? because i can't seem to stop when i start writing for these two D: as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, marital abuse, etc - i think you know the drill by now. attempted SA (not by Marcus), callie fights back. fluff and angst. some internal battles. smut. unprotected piv but no creampie. oral (m!receiving). fingering (f!receiving). sleepy morning sex. aftercare. marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd. if i'm forgetting anything, please let me know! w/c: ~11.3k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what happened yesterday morning. Every time your mind wandered, it ran back to the exact moment Marcus buried himself in your slick heat for the first time.

How he made you feel. How he ensured you were comfortable and thriving under his touch. How he talked you through it and paced it down to make the whole experience even more pleasurable. How his fingers found refuge in your pussy, working you expertly in preparation to take him. How your cunt deliciously burnt with that heavenly stretch.

How you were gushing now for him, craving the fullness of his dick, pussy desperately clenching around nothing.

“Dè air thalamh? (What on earth?)” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head to clear your mind.

The fact that the memory kept coming back―to your despair―was dangerous, extremely dangerous. Yes, sex had been good ― no, fucking amazing. But it didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.

A means to an end, that’s all he is, you mentally reprimanded yourself.

It shouldn’t bias you, despite how good he had fucked you. You couldn’t get… attached, because whatever this was, it was doomed from the beginning. That was what you had decided the first time you locked eyes with him in the battlefield, and you were not one to go back on a promise. Especially one you made to yourself ― to avenge your family.

To your disgust, you had to admit to yourself that it was harder to keep the focus on that now, knowing how satiated he had left you yesterday. It was truly shameful that you were looking forward to getting fucked stupid again.

In a couple of hours, hopefully. You couldn't wait to have Marcus plunge in and out of you. In... Out... So deep inside…

You bit your bottom lip down out of pure, horny desperation and pressed your knees together, containing the dampness that threatened to soak your underwear if you didn’t rein your thoughts in.

“A bheil thu nad shlàinte, mo bana-phrionnsa? (Are you well, my princess?)” Brighid’s soft voice pierced through your wet daydream, bringing you back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, you gave her a stern nod. A muted reply, since your throat felt dry with desire.

“Are you sure, my lady? You look flushed. There’s a fever going around in the village,” she pushed, lips pouted with concern.

Fuck, kill me now.

“I’m fine, Brighid, don’t worry,” you croaked once you found your voice.

Your cheeks were burning and had nothing to do with an illness. Unless feeling cock-drunk could be considered an ailment. Maybe it should.

“Are Daimh and Iona sick? Perhaps you―”

“They are fine. It’s just hot in here with the hearth running on full blast,” you cut her off, slightly embarrassed by the fact that Brighid had noticed your flustering.

But if she had been fucked the way you had been, she would fully understand. Of that you were sure.

Not by Marcus though, she can find another man. He’s mine.

What the hell was that about?

To avoid any further interrogation, you grabbed the jug, filled to the rim with wine. Veering around, you exited the kitchen promptly. The cold air of the hallway was most welcomed ― the Gods knew you needed it, considering you were about to enter the room where the personification of your wet dreams was.

As soon as you reached the double doors to the great hall, you quickly scanned the room. Every night the great hall of your family home would be desecrated with the presence of your enemy. The legionnaires were chatting and laughing loudly, goblets clinking with their contents spilt all over the wooden tables.

Once a sanctuary for your family and clan, you barely recognised it anymore. The beautiful tapestries that your ancestors had woven had been taken down, the stone walls bare and undressed. Even with the giant fireplace crackling nearby, it still felt cold. It even smelt different ― musty and sweaty, the lingering stench of death they carried coating the air.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you made your way to the dais. Only when you went up the wooden step did you realise that Marcus’ chair was occupied by a man you didn’t recognise, and Maximus’ spot was empty. Another sweep of the room told you what your blood already knew: for whatever reason, they had stepped out.

“Expecting someone else, puella (girl)?” the man on Marcus’ chair cackled as you approached, interrupting his talk with Cassius.

Raising a mighty brow, you decidedly ignored him, pouring wine in Cassius’ cup.

“I am talking to you, you stupid, savage woman,” he sneered.

Before you could think, the man laced his arm around your waist, forcing you to sit on his lap. Your blood ran hot with rage, palms itching to slap him until he fell unconscious. The need to turn around and spit on his face was a call from the Gods themselves.

But you couldn’t, not in a room full of Romans who would behave exactly the same way. You were at a loss here, and you only wished that when the day came and you encountered this bastard on the battlefield, you could slit his throat.

Clutching the jug between your hands, your eyes landed on Cassius. He was watching you with intent, almost studying you, but it was pretty obvious that he was not about to keep his man in check. If anything, he was about to fucking smile.

“Where’s that arrogant look now, huh?” the man cackled, pressing you against his tiny bulge.

“Do you really think you can threaten me with that?” you hissed, referring to the small erection brushing your buttocks. “That is the size of a barnacle.”

You definitely hit a nerve there, because the man pushed you off his lap hastily, grunting something unintelligible, but heard enough to know he was cursing you.

How bad you wished you could empty the contents of the jug on his face. For a long minute, you really considered it, running through the scenario and its outcomes in your mind ― you would be fast enough to catch him off guard, throw the jug at him and make a run for the small door on the back of the dais, latching it behind you and running up the spiral staircase to your father’s solar.

However, before you could act on any of it, Marcus’ deep voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Move, Brutus. Now,” Marcus snarled.

You turned around at the fury his tone distilled, his eyes locked on the man you now knew as Brutus. His pupils had darkened, his jaw tightened. Despite the tenderness he had shown you in the bedchamber, the General was an imposing man outside of it, and Brutus knew as much.

He soon scuttled away like the vermin he was, while Cassius straightened his back, eyes fixed to the front, avoiding contact with his General. Odd.

Maximus was a few steps behind Marcus, closing the door you had planned to escape through. The thought of both of them in your father’s solar didn’t sit well with you, but there wasn’t much you could say without blowing your cover.

“Dux Meus,” you bowed your head down, stepping aside to let him sit.

His opaque orbs lingered on you for a second too long, softening ever so slightly as he studied your composed expression.

You gave him a feeble smile, averting your eyes so people would not notice the brief exchange. By the way Maximus cleared his throat and a smirk curled his lips, you had not been as subtle as you had originally thought.

Once both men were seated, you proceeded to fill Marcus’ goblet. Your hand was still trembling with the fury that coursed through your veins, causing the jug to almost kick the wooden cup. Thankfully, Marcus caught it before it spilt.

His eyes shot to yours, and they were screaming at you. His mouth didn’t open, but his orbs spoke for him very loudly: Are you okay? What’s happened? They were mad with worry ― an honest one you didn’t expect at all. The hand that a second ago was straightening the cup, was now softly clamping around your wrist, the shaking gone under his soothing caress.

The weight of his sight, of his concern for you, was momentarily overwhelming.

“I’m okay,” you whispered before he spoke, giving him a reassuring nod.

“Are you―?”

“I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, worried that people would pick up on your hushed conversation.

Marcus finally let go of your wrist, and soon after you stepped off the dais to fill other goblets.

For the rest of the night, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Before his private conversation with Maximus in the castle’s solar, you had been acting all lively and relaxed, but since his return, your features had been tamed into feigned calmness. Marcus could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, seeping like venom dripping off a serpent’s fangs.

Wished he had stayed so could understand what had changed, but his duties to the Empire should come first. That morning, he had learnt that Agricola had been ordered back to Rome, claiming that the Caledonian tribes had been subdued, and his replacement would be Sallustius Lucullus. This news came like a shock to Marcus, who could not wrap his head around the fact that Rome was willing to withdraw the vast majority of troops to assist with other conflicts elsewhere in the Empire. It meant they would be left alone in an island that was far from conquered, despite what the false propaganda said.

They only had a couple of weeks before Agricola left with his men, leaving Marcus’ battalion, and other small military pockets around the area, in a very compromised position. In light of this new situation, Maximus and Marcus had discussed going to the Roman fort of Cawdor, just fifteen miles east of Inbhir Nis, to talk to Agricola before his departure.

But now, seeing your composed demeanour, he wished he could have stayed behind. It was wrong―putting you first before the Empire―but it couldn’t be helped. You lurked in the confines of his mind, ever present in his thoughts. It was even worse considering the ring that symbolised his marriage to another woman. Everything he thought he stood up for, crumbled the moment he had his first real taste of you.

His chest still swelled at the memory of you all pliable around his girth. How you had creamed, coating him in your arousal, the first time he sank into you. How you whimpered and hissed his name in ecstasy, the most beautiful melody he had ever heard.

However, it wasn’t only that what made him swoon, but how you blindly trusted him with your pleasure. How, despite being mistreated in bed, you had let him show you how a man should treat a woman. How fucking fulfilling it had been for him to see you fall apart, rediscovering how sex should really be like.

Marcus had never felt this way before ― caring, giving, in tune with your body. The connection that tethered him to you transcended the sexual aspect your relationship had taken. For the first time in decades, his heart was not as empty and cold. He found himself craving your eyes, your proximity. Not because he wanted to bed you again―he did―but because your presence put him at ease, even when war seemed to be knocking at his door again.

“I take you’ve finally bedded her,” Maximus’ jest forced his orbs onto his friend’s.

Marcus rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, his shoulders slouching. Sometimes he wished he could sew Maximus’ lips together or punch him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Briefly looking around the table on the dais, it seemed like the other men―Cassius, Valerius, Brutus and one of Valerius’ men―were immersed in a conversation of their own.

“That’s none of your business,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

Maximus palmed his shoulder, a hearty laugh reverberating in his chest.

“I’m just saying, the sexual tension every time she comes on the dais can be cut with a sword, my friend. Good for you, about damn time,” he congratulated Marcus, removing the hand from him. “I don’t understand why you want to keep it under wraps though.”

“Because some could think I’d be fraternising with the enemy,” Marcus admitted to his friend, knowing he could confide in him. “And it’s far from it.”

Maximus’ thick brows bunched up, confused with his reply.

“Because you’re fucking one of the savages’ whores? Like every man in your legion―”

“She’s not a whore,” Marcus quickly cut him off, anger firing at the distasteful insinuation.

Maximus was taken aback by his response, silence filling the gaps in the dead conversation for a minute. Marcus looked at his Commander, his own brows knitting now too. How dared he refer to you as a prostitute? The insult burnt his insides, he’d hate himself if your reputation was sullied because of your involvement with him.

“Alright, she may not be a whore, but she is a savage. Don’t lose sight of that,” his friend replied, the mock gone from his eyes. “If she’s not a prostitute, then what does she want with you?” he hushed, tone dropping an octave so people would not listen. “Do you trust her?”

Marcus’ frown deepened, his friend’s words gnawing at him. He had not even contemplated the scenario Maximus was implying ― he thought he knew you enough now, and you wouldn’t betray him like that. Not after yesterday’s passionate morning.

“Again, none of your damn business,” he sneered, emptying the Carmo wine in his mouth with finality.

“But it is my business to worry about your safety, dammit. I’m your second in command,” Maximus sighed, a hand pinching his nose. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Acacius. There’s a lot at stake here, as you well know.”

Maximus’ reminder of his duty to Rome just angered him more.

The night was coming to an end, with the Roman soldiers scattering and walking back to the barracks. You had seen most of Marcus’ retinue leave the dais too, and you hoped you could catch him alone before he retreated to his chamber.

You were returning from the kitchen with an empty wooden tray, hoping to clear the last of the goblets off the tables and call it a day. Saying that you were looking forward to fuck Marcus tonight was an understatement ― not even the small incident with Brutus could put out the fire between your thighs.

As you ambled along the corridor, you almost collided with someone. Gripping the tray tight so it wouldn’t fall, you looked up to apologise, but the words stuck to the back of your throat.

Brutus. His cold hands clamped like a vice on either side of your waist, fingers buried so deep in your skin it would bruise. He slammed you against the stone wall, his body flush with yours and his nauseating mouth too close for comfort.

Your heart was racing wildly as your mind was coming to terms with the situation, drafting a plan.

“You’re not so fierce now, are you? How dare you insult me in front of my Commander, you slut?” the stench of his breath reached your nose, and you couldn’t help but make a face. “You are nothing more than a cockroach. If I want, I can squash you under my foot like the filthy bug you are.”

Before you could snap back with a retort, he grabbed the tray you carried and threw it to a side, then his mouth covered yours. His lips were cold and tasted horribly, his tongue trying to find an opening into your mouth. You jostled, but the grip on your hips was so tight you could barely move. His stubble prickled the skin around your mouth as Brutus kissed you sloppily, your teeth still shut.

Vile rose up to your throat, your initial panic transforming into steadfast resolution. This fucking cunt was about to get what he deserved. Who did he think he was? He was nothing, no one. A man you could best in the battlefield with one hand tied to your back and the other one holding a wooden sword, all whilst blindfolded.

When his hands loosened on your waist to very harshly squeeze one of your breasts, you took the opportunity. You lifted your knee up hastily, hitting him right on that tiny bulge he seemed to be so proud of.

Brutus started wailing, crouching with his hands protecting his groin. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed him back ― snarling now, ready to fight. Quickly you snatched the tray off the cobblestone and as you were lunging forward to hit his head with it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, freezing you in place.

Bewildered, you turned around in the arms that held you to redirect your anger at whoever dared to stop you.

Your resolution faltered the moment your emerald greens met Marcus’ brown irises.

Marcus didn’t understand what he had walked into but was pretty sure that Brutus was about to be in the receiving end of your wrath. Instinctually, he had jumped into the situation, hoping to deescalate it by holding you in place so you wouldn’t kill the man. Because if you hurt the man, Cassius would ask for your head, and he would be between a rock and a hard place.

But the moment you veered around in his embrace and Marcus saw the reddened, wet skin around your mouth, he understood.

For a second, he only stared at you, eyes fixed on your swollen lips. His brain had gone quiet, but the sudden cacophony of his own voice asking for blood brought him back.

“Marcus,” you whispered breathlessly, and his stomach churned at the unspoken plea.

His hands freed your hips to cradle your face, delving into your glassy green eyes. His heart flipped, torn with the idea of what Brutus had tried to do.

“Are you okay?” he asked the question he wished he had said an hour before.

“Aye,” you replied with a small voice.

It didn’t calm him down. In fact, he was seething with rage, blood boiling in his veins with a protectiveness unfamiliar to him.

Once he ensured you were alright, he liberated you from his grasp and faced Brutus. Commandeered by his own anger, Marcus seized Brutus by the neck of his toga, forcing him to stand up and pinned him against the wall as one of his hands clutched around the man’s neck.

Marcus really contemplated the idea of killing him. He wanted the man beheaded and six feet under. How dared he touch you? Force himself on you? Even if you weren’t his to claim, it wasn’t right ― Marcus could never put up with how badly some men treated women, so he would never allow it in his ranks.

“Marcus, don’t,” you called from behind, your soft hand squeezing his shoulder. He looked over it, jaw clenched, to glance at you. “I think…” you paused, “just let him go. I have a bad feeling about this.”

The sense you talked into him finally filtered in, and Marcus released the purchase he had on Brutus, taking a step back. His hands curled into fists at his sides ― he really wanted to smash his skull in, but you were right.

“Get out of my sight,” he muttered, and Brutus quickly obliged.

The moment you two were alone, he looked for you. His hands reached out, one sliding around your waist and his other thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. His heart was still pounding, ears ringing with fear. He couldn’t ask how you were, knowing it was an obnoxious question given the circumstances.

Your gaze locked in on his ― blown pupils, crazed darkened irises. But as much as he searched, Marcus didn’t see any dread in you. Had you been so used to being mistreated by your late husband that what happened unfazed you? How desensitised were you?

What he did see was the ghost of a past memory haunting you, the haze of years of abuse clouding your eyes. You didn’t need to speak it; he could feel it.

His heart cracked at the thought. And what pained him most was that one of his own men was who brought back the pain he had not seen yet swirling in your eyes. And it was so prominent now, he almost folded, lungs burning with ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, removing his hand from your face, afraid his touch would incite any more distress.

Your head tilted, eyes regaining part of the spark that reeled him in.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Dux Meus,” you uttered under your breath. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t in need of rescuing, I was about to smash his head in and have his brain scattered around the floor.”

Despite your smile, there was no joke in your low tone. He realised you actually meant it. And he shouldn’t be surprised, considering he’d already seen you take a man’s life with no regrets.

“I know, but I failed on my promise.”

“What promise?” you asked, confused, with a cocked brow.

“I swore to you that I wouldn’t let this happen again. And it has, right under my nose,” Marcus confessed, the ride back to the castle after the attack still vivid in his mind. “That you wouldn’t need to defend yourself.”

Your brows lifted, expression softening and lips pouting. Were you trying to hide a grimace?

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You said it as if it was meant to make him feel better, but it had the opposite effect on him. If anything, it made him feel worse.

The faded sound of footfall approaching broke the moment, both of you untangling from each other and taking a couple of steps back. Marcus watched one of the other maids scurry along, her scared eyes dancing between the two of you. For a moment, it seemed like she was about to intervene in defence of you.

“Do Ghras (Your Grace),” she mumbled in your language, one Marcus didn’t understand a word of.

Quickly, you gave her a stern look and the girl’s eyes widened dramatically, then bowed her head down and ran towards the double doors as if the devil himself was chasing her.

Your eyes shot back to his, pupils enlarged again, studying his face with a vehemence that would have forced any other man to look away. But he didn’t, mesmerised by the strength you were showing after what had happened. Any other woman in your situation would be upset, but here you were standing as if nothing of relevance had happened.

His eyes lingered on your face, deciphering how you really felt. The darkening purple mark tarnishing your bottom lip really concerned him, to the point where he couldn’t stop himself from raising his hand towards your face.

Your head snapped back away from his touch. Marcus flinched at the rejection, slightly hurt ― but he couldn’t blame you for reacting that way, he should have known where the limit was. It was understandable that you didn’t want to be touched after…

His blood began to boil again ― Brutus would pay, he would find a way to make him suffer.

As his hand dropped back to his side, you took a step forward towards him ― your fingers lacing around his wrist. The caress of your palm against his skin was warm, but your gaze was warmer. Marcus froze in place, overpowered by your eyes.

You averted your beautiful orbs, looking down to the cobblestone, as your free hand tucked away a stray red curl behind your ear. That mere gesture flooded his chest, replacing anger with care. Despite how strong-willed you were, there was this aura of innocence around you; one he had not fully perceived until yesterday morning. Now that Marcus thought he knew you a tad more, every piece of the puzzle started falling into place.

But you still surprised him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Trained reaction…” you trailed off with half-lidded eyes, your teeth sinking in the cushion of your bottom lip.

You didn’t need to finish that sentence for he knew how it ended. Your late husband was, once again, sullying your thoughts.

Heart clenching in his chest, Marcus reached for your cheek again, this time successfully. His thumb hovered over you bruised lip, afraid he would inflict more harm than good.

“No need to apologise, mel. It’s okay…” Marcus hushed, still madly worried about your well-being. “Did he… did he hurt you elsewhere?”

You nodded before nuzzling your cheek against his open palm. That simple action had his heart racing and melting at the same time. He really needed to get a grip, or he’d lose his damn mind over you ― something he could not afford amidst impending war.

“My hips,” a very long pause, “my breast.”

If his blood had been boiling before, now it became sharp icicles scratching the insides of his veins. Hearing you say that actually caused him physical pain. His heart had stilled, then resumed its maddening beating, deafening him.

When he trusted his voice had returned, he cleared this throat.

“Can I check, please?” There were no veiled intentions behind his ask, just honest consternation.

You shyly nodded after a brief pause.

You followed Marcus through the corridor, his forearm softly hugging the small of your back and his broad hand splayed on your hip. The possessiveness of his embrace was weirdly soothing.

Checking over your shoulder, you ensured no one witnessed your affectionate exchange. And once you arrived and took shelter in your old bedchamber, the tension gripping your shoulders dissipated.

But the anger inside you still burnt hot. Brutus deserved what you were about to do, had Marcus not interfered. But when he did, something about the whole night nagged at you. As if there was a bigger plan at play, one you could not construe yet.

“Your lip’s bruising, mel,” his voice tinged with concern forced you out of your thoughts.

When he touched it again, you winced. Brutus the Brute had done a bit of a number on you, one you hoped to repay in the near future.

“Can I see, please?”

Well, this was not how you expected the night to go, because judging by Marcus’ rigid stance, sex was out of the cards.

With a heavy sigh, your fingers lifted up your long skirt, exposing your loincloth. Bunching up the fabric, Marcus’ hand and gaze dropped to your mid-section, fingers careful when pushing down the hem of your underwear. His caress venerating, too respectful in comparison to how he treated you yesterday morning ― the contrast abysmal.

His eyes squinted, nostrils flaring, but he quickly tamed his furious expression. Looking down to where he was focused, you understood his reaction. Where Brutus’ fingers had sunk in the flesh of your hips, he had left deep, purpling imprints ― an aquarelle with shades of red, lilac and blue.

“What a cunt,” you hissed when Marcus’ thumbs ghosted over the bruised skin on your hips. His eyes swiftly looked up at you, apologetic. “Not you, him,” you clarified.

You hoped your half joke would lighten his temper, but it didn’t. If anything, his brown orbs darkened even more, a black veil consuming his dilated pupils.

Awright, no jokes when he’s in a bad mood, you mentally noted.

“Show me, please,” he husked, eyes loitering on the neckline of your dress.

His gravelly words shouldn’t have sent a shiver down your spine, but they did. This wasn’t the fucking time to get all worked up, but the effect he had on you had seeped further into your being than what you originally thought.

I’m so fucked up.

With a trembling hand, you pushed down the frill of your neckline, your left breast spilling over. You held back a raspy breath when the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin and felt your nipple perking up.

You didn’t dare to look down, eyes fixed on Marcus’ torn face. His lips had fallen into a flat line, jaw clenched as if chiselled by the Gods themselves. And while you were burning hot under his inquisitive stare, his eyes were… cold.

Were you broken past the point of repair? Had Iain shattered you so much, altered your perception of sex? How would you, otherwise, explain why you were roused right now when you should surely feel at least shaken up?

By Red Cap’s beard, I’m sick. There’s got to be something wrong with me.

Sick with lust, perhaps. One you needed to control, because when Marcus cupped your breast, there was nothing sexual in his hold.

Pure, utter worry painted his features, his brown irises opaque.

“I’ll kill him,” he muttered under his breath.

When his thumb stroked the skin under your aureola, your eyes finally drifted down.

Seeing the growing bruise around your nipple was a goddamn reality check, as if someone had thrown a jar of icy water on you. It looked bad, really bad. You didn’t think he had such a tight grip on your breast, but the rush of adrenaline had drowned any other feelings, letting survival guide you.

It reminded you of a time when your body was covered with marks and lesions, and you would do your utmost effort to conceal the damage Iain had caused. How you made up excuses when your siblings queried about a bruise you could not camouflage―oh, don’t worry, I’m just clumsy―or a new limp―ah, it’s fine, I fell off a horse―that had you barely walking.

How you hid under layers of textile when visiting family so your father wouldn’t feel the guilt of shipping you off like cattle to the slaughter.

“For peace you must,” had been his final words before Iain snatched you away from the comfort of your home.

Fiercely loyal, you played your part dutifully. For clan you had silently suffered for a decade, not even once questioning your father’s decision. You endured what you had to, so your people would know peace in their time.

Never once did you let the façade tumble down. Never once did you show your fear, your desperation ― your thirst for freedom.

Never once, until now.

Seeing those bruises again brought back all those feelings you had deeply buried and thought forgotten. Panic bubbling within the walls of your chest, you blinked rapidly to clear the tears that threatened to fall.

Years of abuse crawling back, clamping your throat, stalking your mind ― it all came back in a trice. Your heartrate quickened, the sensation of nasty ants creeping along your skin unbearable. Trying to calm your agitated breathing, but the memories only making it all worse.

Suddenly you felt the searing pain when Marcus brushed your skin again. Not physical pain, but the kind that had tangled itself up around your entrails and become a part of you ― strangling your resolution, your very being. Silently suffocating you for a decade.

Why was it all coming apart now, out of all the fucking moments?

“Hey, look at me, hey. It’s okay, mel,” Marcus’ mellow voice pierced through your eardrums.

Wet eyelashes fluttering, you glanced up at him. For the first time, feeling lost in a loch of torment.

Marcus’ chest squeezed at the sight in front of him.

Your face tilted up, a downcast expression distorting your beautiful features. Your mouth had parted, letting out a trembling sigh that had him shaking with you. Your eyes, always bright, sparkly green, were now of a deep shade of a darkened hue, your blown pupils swimming somewhere in there. And they became darker with every spent tear that wetted your cheeks.

He searched your face, impending dread consuming his heart as your curated front crumbled. Something primal twisted within him, a sense of protectiveness gripping him tight.

Marcus couldn’t see you like this ― with your defences down, as if you trusted him enough to hold the pieces of you together. For a fleeting instant it felt overwhelming, staggering him.

But he knew what he had to do ― what he wanted to do. Marcus let go of his gentle grasp to envelop you in his embrace, hoping to bring you some sense of tranquillity. One of his hands softly rested on the back of your head, fingers lost between your red curls.

At first, your arms were just loose by your sides, but soon enough, when the warmth of his body seeped into yours, you laced them around his waist, hugging him in return.

Time became ethereal, and Marcus wondered if what saddened you had anything to do with today, or past events. You had hinted at a life of marital negligence, and he couldn’t help but ponder the atrocities you had to survive. Society wasn’t kind to women, at least in Rome. Was your culture any different in that respect? How had your life been?

Not easy, by the looks of it. And it pained him realising that, especially after seeing the fierce side of you. The part of you that intrigued him the most, that reeled him in despite the wedding ring on his finger.

How could someone even dare break your spirit? How did Brutus even dare to breathe in your direction?

“I’ll kill him,” he reiterated in a hush, lips pressing on the crown of your hair.

“No,” you muttered, leaning back to let him dive in your determined eyes. “I think that’s what he wanted. What Cassius wanted.”

“Cassius?” he repeated after you, confused.

You paused, lips pouting, and then nodded with averted eyes.

“Aye. There’s something about him that is not quite right… Do you trust him?”

Why was everybody making him question other people’s loyalties today? He couldn’t afford the doubt, not when Agricola’s departure was just around the corner. Marcus needed as many men as possible, and he had to trust them.

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about him, or about―” he stopped himself before Brutus’ name leaked. “Let’s not talk about them now. Come sit.”

Marcus carefully guided you to his bed as you readjusted your dress, palm pressed on the small of your back. Once you settled, he turned around in search of the concoction Atticus had prepared for his wounds ― a mix of aloe, lemon juice and onions. The balm had been cool and soothing on his skin, so he hoped it helped alleviate your pain.

He snatched it off the chimney’s sill and walked back to you, handing it over so you would apply it. The pad of your fingers touched his knuckles, the feathery caress of your gentleness. When you didn’t grab it, Marcus foraged for your eyes.

“Will you help me, Dux Meus?” you whispered, tone stripped of your usual snappiness.

“Are you sure?” he found himself saying, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

You gave him a soft nod in reply, gathering your long skirt and holding it around your mid-section.

Marcus crouched down in front of you, knees cracking with the friction of time, and dipped his index and middle fingers in the gelatinous mixture. He reached for your hip, one last undecided glance at you, and then gently rubbed the composite on your skin.

You sighed at the touch, shutting your eyes, muscles visibly relaxing now.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, eyes focused on the other side now as he administered the balm.

“Aye, it’s cold. Tapadh leibh a Seanalair” you muttered, palms resting on the mattress as you leaned back.

Marcus’ brows pinched together at the unrecognisable, softly delivered words, but it didn’t stop him from pressing soft circles on your skin, hoping the imprint of fingers would disappear.

“Is that―”

“That barbaric language, yes,” you retorted, head tipped to one side, your green orbs watching him with intent.

Inevitably, he flinched. Those exact words had almost slipped his tongue when you both were returning to the castle after the skirmish in the forest. It was hard letting go of the old ways ― Romans always considered other cultures uncivilised. Now having been in Caledonia for a few months hadn’t wholly changed his mind, but he was starting to see that you all were more similar than what Rome had her people believe.

As a General, he had been trained―indoctrinated―to not see humanity in others. That was the only barrier keeping him from losing his sanity. Because if he saw other people eye to eye, if he acknowledged their humanity, then the resolution to wield his gladius would falter in battle.

And his resolution had faltered. Once.

“May the Gods protect and guide her, for her path is to become darker today,” was one of the few exchanged words that Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had whispered to him before Marcus claimed his life.

They still haunted him to this day. The piercing shriek of the female warrior still rang in his ears like a broken bell, her scream a dark omen it was hard to forget.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” was his poor attempt at apologising. You cocked a brow, expectant of another explanation, and Marcus sighed, realising that was a lie. “Perhaps I did, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Not following Rome’s doctrine doesn’t make us savages, Marcus,” you hushed, expression softening. “Just different.”

“I know that. I just― Force of habit,” he shrugged, slightly embarrassed for being called out. “What does it mean?”

“Aye means yes. Then I simply said thank you, General,” you explained, letting your skirt go after the concoction had dried on your skin.

“Seanalair means General? It sounds so different,” he thought out loud. “I like it. Although Dux Meus sounds better to me,” he ventured with a lopsided smirk.

“Does it now?” you laughed, the first time a crack of happiness making its appearance.

For a moment you didn’t say anything else, just pushed down again the hem of your neckline for him to spread the mixture on your bruised breast. He didn’t waste time, being extremely careful around the sensitive skin of your nipple as to not cause you any more pain.

“You like it when I call you Dux Meus, don’t you?” you said under your breath, voice low and laced with need.

Marcus’ sight shot up to yours in the blink of an eye, removing his hand from your chest. The unexpected tone caught him off guard, so focused on spreading the balm he almost missed the seductive inflexion in your tone.

He couldn’t reply, breath hitching at the back of his throat while a ray of warmth travelled down his spine.

His reaction felt wrong given the circumstances that brought you to his bed. Feuding with himself, Marcus froze when your hand found his cheek, cradling it. You bowed down towards him, the tip of your nose brushing his aquiline one.

“Don’t you?” you insisted, your mouth now ghosting his, testing his wavering resolve.

“I do,” he avowed, eyes fluttering close when your lips caressed his. “Callie― I don’t think this is the time.”

Your head canted back, a flash of anger swirling in your pupils, robbing him of the warmth of your mouth.

“Don’t tell me what I want is wrong. I am not going to let that bastard and his ruffian manners take away from me what I desire. Who I desire,” you retorted back. Not appealing but demanding. “I want you, Marcus, and I want you now. Yesterday you asked me to come back, nothing has changed. Is this not why you’ve taken me to your chamber?”

The carnal delivery of your words gnawed at him, your last question triggering his heart to spike, rejecting such vile idea. He was not a man to take advantage of anyone, least a woman who had barely escaped the hands of a repulsive scoundrel.

“Of course not. I wasn’t thinking of― Deodamnatus (dammit), Callie, I just wanted to help you,” he gritted, springing tall to his feet and raking his curls back in muted desperation.

You swiftly followed, rising up from the bed with unravelling determination in your eyes.

“Then fucking help me. Help me forget his hands, replace his memory with yours,” you beseeched in a hush.

This was fucked up. You were fucked up in the head, it was the only reasonable explanation to why his caress while applying the concoction had turned you on, literally a few minutes after you were crying your sorrow in his embrace.

You knew you shouldn’t, but your body thought otherwise.

And despite the wrong timing, you were serious about not letting Brutus ruin this, ruin you. He was just another notch in the weave of your life, another man who had wronged you, and you were not about to let him become more than that.

You were done with letting men dictate how you should live your life. How you should or shouldn’t react, how you should or shouldn’t feel. You had been ashamed of your sexuality your whole life, forced to be a sack of meat for a despicable man since a very young age. Marcus had soothed that fear, letting you rediscover what you actually desired, opening your eyes to a new world of wants and necessities.

No, you were not fucked up. Men were. You were just dealing with the repercussion of their fucking actions the best way you could. And if Marcus thought otherwise, then he was just part of the problem, not the solution. No matter what he had shown you so far.

Good fucking riddance.

“Faex (shit),” he exclaimed under his breath before framing your face between his broad hands.

His mouth crashed against yours, teeth colliding. The moment his tongue sank between your lips, you moaned a sigh of relief, the heat between your legs enlivened.

The desperate strokes of his tongue had you answering with fierce ones of your own, fingers quick to find the V opening on the front of his toga so one palm slid across his ribs. His skin felt like fire under your touch, and you only hoped that heat was redirected south of his tummy.

Stalking the hairy trail guiding you down, soon enough you found his manhood. Still soft and pliable, you felt a throbbing pulse shooting up his length. With a smirk, your fist clamped around his girth and Marcus gifted you with a guttural groan that you eagerly swallowed.

Slowly you began pumping him, working him hard, while his mouth ransacked yours with tidal force. His cock palpitated and you felt high with power, knowing you literally had him on the palm of your hand. Thumb swiping his wet glans, you squeezed him hard, endowing you with yet another rumble.

“I want to taste you, Marcus,” you purred against his lips, drunk with the memory of your visit to Naimh’s cottage.

“Fuck,” he blurted out, jaw as tight as a bow. “Don’t― Fuck,” he repeated after another compression on his already stimulated cock.

His resolution finally dissolved. While still gripping his shaft so he wouldn’t go anywhere, Marcus unwrapped his toga in quick motions, the white fabric falling to the floor and leaving him completely exposed to your hungry eyes.

Marcus was the fucking reincarnation of Alator, all hard edges except for the welcomed softness of his lower tummy. Your mouth watered at the sight, proving it difficult to show self-restraint.

This time around, you were not shy to undress yourself, anxious to get started. Then you faced him, both standing bare in front of the other.

And without any other words, you dropped to your knees. Marcus closed his eyes, face tilted to the ceiling, while his erection swayed at your eye level, enticing and yearning for your touch.

The second you fisted his base and led him to the damp warmth of your mouth, Marcus hissed between gritted teeth, his eyes meeting yours instantly. Suckling on his flushed head, you maintained eye contact with him, but when the musky taste overtook your senses, your eyelashes fluttered close as you gave yourself free rein on his cock.

Your tongue twirled around his glans, the tip playing with his slit to clean off the precum beading there. Then your lips trailed down his length, pressing gentle kisses on your way south to lick the heavy balls underneath. When you were satisfied with the spit covering his sacks, you lapped his underside, feeling the throbbing, feeding vein until your lips sealed shut around him again, hollowing your cheeks to make room for his delicious girth.

You went through the motions over and over again, revelling on his taste, on his growing weight on your tongue. While saliva and precum overflew, dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you looked up again.

Marcus’ heavy-lidded eyes were transfixed on you, his hand gently resting on the back of your head to feel your bobbing. His hips slanted forward when you stopped, waiting for him with an open, welcoming mouth.

Slowly he fed you, rocking his hips softly, while you remained still below him. The tip of his mushroom head kissed the back of your throat, and you irremediably moaned around his circumference, clamping your lips on him.

When he pulled back, the pop sound forced you to open your glassy eyes. A bridge of spit connected his angry tip to your swollen lips ― a connection that reached further down to your gushing pussy.

“Stop, mel. Or I’m going to come,” he pleaded, caressing your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted heavily to what you had just done.

“And is that a bad thing?” you asked innocently, blinking rapidly as one of your fingers swirled in the air between you to catch the thread of saliva and push it into your mouth, licking your finger clean.

Then you pressed a kiss on his tip, lingering with parted, waiting lips.

Marcus pouted, his fist wrapping around his base to contain himself, but couldn’t resist the urge to stroke your lips, swiping his glans a few times on your mouth.

“No, it isn’t. You’ve sucked me so good, mel, but I want to fuck you as you deserve,” he admitted, and you definitely didn’t argue.

He extended a hand towards you, which you gladly accepted to stand up to your feet.

“And I want to fuck you so good, you’re even going to forget your name,” his promise made your slick pussy throb at the expectation.

“That’s all I’m asking,” you whispered, crawling onto the silky bed.

His gaze tracked you like a wildcat chasing after a vole, lingering on the swaying of your hips as you inched forward, settling on the centre of the mattress. You saw his eyes darkened with desire, taking in the moment ― for a tad too long, because his attention drifted to the bruising skin on your hips.

“Marcus,” you called softly, shifting his attention as you coaxed your thighs apart, your sweet dripping nook in display for him.

He stilled, transfixed on your sex as if it was the first time you bared yourself in front of him. His mouth fell flat into a fine line, then the tip of his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip ― a simple gesture that had your pussy leaking onto the linen.

Without a second to waste, Marcus joined you on the bed posting himself between your legs, his broad frame blanketing yours as you slowly sank into the feathery cushion underneath. Your hands reached up his ribs, tracing the battle-scarred map of his skin until your palms rested on his shoulder blades, pushing him down towards you.

This time, the kiss was gentler, paced. The languid strokes of his mouth pulled a wanton moan out of you as the weight of his throbbing cock rested heavily on your mound, his balls rubbing against your puffy fold every time he leaned forward. It was feverishly intimate ― the way his nuts would kiss your sex, your clit writhing in your seam.

The soft pressure of his lips turned into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. His hand cradled your left breast with reverence, thumb skimming your pebbled nipple delicately and incessantly. Fingers intertwining with yours, Marcus brought your laced fists down your belly and past his erection.

Guiding your hand, Marcus pushed your own fingers past the cover of your seeping slit. A throaty sob escaped your lips, eyes shutting with pleasure, as the General showed you how to press tight circles on your thudding clit, leading you and your desperation right to the edge of a cliff. A now-known wet warmth pooled around the bottom of your spine, your inner walls squeezing nothing but the emptiness of your womb.

“Oh…” you cooed, back arching into his chest.

“You love that, don’t you?” Marcus teased you, his fingers moving yours against your slick nub. “You’re melting, mel. You’re so wet already, why?” You didn’t reply, brows pinching in concentration, mouth agape. “Did tasting me excite you, hm?” You gave him a little shy nod, too focused on the thunderous, pulsing feeling in your cunt. “You enjoyed sucking me, having your sinful mouth full of me… dribbling, just like your pussy is drooling now.”

His sweet talk had you gushing again, his thumb now drawing tight, precise circles on your clit as your middle and ring fingers framed it for him, for his delightful attention. The sensation was so intense, so delicious, it curled your toes as your limbs stiffened ― climbing up Beinn Uais (Ben Wyvis) was less strenuous than this.

Your lungs were burning, heaving now, but your pussy was catching fire.

“O mo chreach (oh, my goodness), Marcus― I’m coming, don’t stop,” you begged, lewd noises spilling from your mouth. “Please, please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Come for me,” Marcus purred, mouth ghosting yours, inhaling your needy whimpers, fingers insistent.

At his command, you did. Fuck, did you come… Your pussy clenched almost painfully whilst your overstimulated button pulsated maddingly in your seam ― your whole body quivered as you reached for the sky, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

And as you came crashing down, an intense orgasm hitting you from all flanks, Marcus led your fingers away from your twitching clit, down to your leaking hole. He rammed your two digits in your pliant, slimy opening, compelling you to fuck yourself throughout your blissed climax.

Your pussy wolfed down your own fingers down to the knuckles with ease, Marcus’ hand halting the movement of yours.

“Curl them,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “Curl your fingers, touch that spongy spot for me.”

Still blissed out from your high, you followed his directions as your eyes fluttered open. His blown pupils had yours in a trance as he watched your expression transform when you found the precise point he had referred to.

Without breaking eye contact, you fingered yourself under his attentive guidance. Pleasuring yourself like this should feel wrong, but Marcus made it seem as natural as breathing. His constant reassurance became a mantra, humming his approval when your hips jerked up in ecstasy.

Suddenly, his middle and ring fingers joined yours in your tight pussy, the burning stretch almost unbearable. The feeling of fullness so severe, you started withdrawing your own hand.

“No, don’t pull out, mel. Follow my lead. I know it’s overwhelming, but it’ll be worth it,” Marcus breathed. “Trust me.”

You did. So far Marcus had shown you a path of pleasure you thought forbidden, and this was not the time to doubt him. With four fingers shoved in your throbbing pussy, the palm of your hand cradling the back of his between your thighs, you let him guide you ― it was overwhelming… but in the best fucking way possible.

Marcus knew perfectly what he was doing, because soon enough the pads of his fingers were persistently rubbing that tender spot on your anterior wall while his thumb smothered your clit yet again.

“Fuck, I-I’m coming again…” you hiccupped, whimpering aloud now as the coil inside you started tautening again.

“You’re pulsing so hard, do you feel that?” he gritted out, your walls squeezing all four fingers tight. “Such a sweet grip, mel.”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as another tidal wave washed over you with an ungodly force.

You screamed Marcus’ name, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes due to the intensity the orgasm hit you with. After that, you felt your cunt beating for a very long minute, the contractions further apart as you relaxed under Marcus, all sweaty and satisfied.

“Do you think you can take me?”

Your heavy eyes flew open at Marcus’ strained voice. Looking down, you realised his cock was still resting on your mound. A constant trickle of precum had slid down his shaft, a milky puddle sitting on your skin.

Even if you were tired, you couldn’t deny him ― not when he had been so mindful with your needs. And, truth be told, you wanted him inside.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you curled your fingers around his girth and slid his glans along your slick slit, soaking him in your arousal. You lingered on your sensitive clit, rubbing it with his tip a few times until you led him down.

The moment his throbbing head kissed the mouth of your cunt, you knew you could come again, no matter how tired you thought you were. You led him in and let go of his thudding cock when he was halfway in.

You sighed, trying to relax your muscles, but your pussy had a mind of her own. His girth pried your pussy lips open and, once fully seated inside you, Marcus froze in place. His brows furrowing as you fully sheathed him, wrapping him in your wet, tight heat.

“I could stay here forever. You hug me so tight, take me so well now…” he hushed, leaning forward, his weight almost crushing you. “You only need a bit of encouragement, patience… And I am a very patient man. I’d be so happy with just making you cream, mel.”

He was right. Sadly, you were no stranger to sex, but this kind? This was so new to you, sometimes you doubted yourself ― what you were doing, how you were doing it. Something about Marcus made you feel insecure, because you didn’t want to disappoint him. For once in your life, you wanted the man to enjoy you, make you fall apart.

Your head spun around to the point of almost fainting when he pulled back softly and then back in. A wail broke free from your mouth as Marcus slowly but steadily rutted into you, picking up the pace with every mind-blowing thrust.

You dug your nails on his back, leaving bloody crescent moons behind. His mouth hunted down your lips, fusing into a deep kiss as he fucked you good and harsh. The snapping of his hips against yours filled the room with wet, squelching sounds ― the atmosphere brimming with the musky scent of sex and sweat.

Marcus dove in so deeply, you swore you could feel him in your throat. His sharp stabs hit all the right spots, another climax building up ― both of your sexes pulsing in unison, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. It wasn’t long until you were creaming around his girth again, moaning like a madwoman as another climax overtook all your senses.

The General pumped his cock into you relentlessly, fucking you through yet another wave of ecstasy. He pulsed inside and you knew were close to finding his own release. When your walls relaxed around him, Marcus swiftly pulled out, a chesty groan bouncing between the walls of the room ― his flushed, reddened glans nudging your clit as his warm spent spurted out in thick, white ropes.

His cum clung to your pebbled nub, sliding down your tacky, swollen pussy lips and pooling on the sheets underneath.

Marcus kissed your forehead before falling to the other side of the bed, utterly spent. His skin glistened under the candlelight while his chest raised in quick succession.

As your heartrate calmed down, you giggled, the most content you’d ever been. Marcus looked at you, a creeping smile curling his lips, and extended an arm towards you, inviting you onto his chest.

You were quick to accept, your blushed cheek resting on his sternum. He kissed your forehead again, a slight brush that pulled a satisfied sigh out of you.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Surprisingly, the silence was comfortable, calming in a sense. You never got to enjoy the aftermath, too busy with keeping yourself together. This was different.

Marcus was different.

But he couldn’t be. He was just another man focused on the next battle ahead, planning your demise. Whether you liked it or not, the General was your enemy, a conqueror ― the incarnation of everything you hated. The man who had killed your father right in front of you, with his expression blank and devoid of emotion.

You hated him. You should hate him. Your determination shouldn’t falter just because you were fucking him. You were not doing it for your own enjoyment; you were doing it because you had a purpose. In fact, you should be repulsed every time he put his hands on you, every time he easily sank into you, blissfully stretching your inner walls.

And despite everything, despite knowing who he really was, you still… liked him. You were not disgusted by his touch, but horny for it, craving him.

You were so fucked.

Marcus stirred under you, battling his own demons.

He knew this was wrong but couldn’t stop himself. There was a gravity around you that pulled him in, no matter how hard he fought against it. Irremediably he found himself orbiting towards you, like two stars in a colliding path.

There’s no harm in having a little fun.

But was it just that? A little fun? Couldn’t be, not when his unoccupied mind kept drifting back to you. Before he would be thinking about the next step, what he needed to do to win the next battle, but now war was far from his mind.

He wished he could shut the door and keep the outside world at bay. He wished he could live in this little cocoon with you.

But duty always called.

You had fallen asleep on top of him, so carefully he moved you off his chest. His mind was so loud he couldn’t follow you into Morpheus’ realm.

Sitting back on the bed, Marcus looked over his shoulder at you, sleeping on your side. Your face was buried in the pillow underneath, your red curly hair an angry could around you. Completely naked on his bed, you were a godsend. A voluptuous figure with generous, round breasts; your moonlight skin glistening with the product of your pleasure.

His eyes travelled down your figure, arriving at the sweet gap between your thighs. His cum was still smeared all over your mound and pussy lips, dry and tacky, a reminder of the shared passion.

Damn, you looked beautiful.

With a sigh, he got up and walked towards the basin near the fireplace. The fire kept the water lukewarm, and he dampened a clean rag and wringed it out. Walking back to the bed, Marcus sat beside you. Delicately, he pushed one of your legs aside and swiped off his spent, cleaning your folds with extreme care not to wake you.

But you did. One of your eyes fluttered lazily, and looked over your shoulder to stare at him, slightly dishevelled.

“You alright?”

Marcus smiled softly, discarding the rag to the feet of the bed as he laid down behind you, head propped up on his hand.

“Yes, I was just wiping you clean,” he muttered, kissing your shoulder.

You groaned with a smirk, pushing your sweet ass against his hardening bulge. Your buttocks rubbed his growing erection as your eyes shut again.

“Another round?” you whispered and then bit your bottom lip, wriggling your hips so his manhood found refuge in the gap between your thighs.

“You nymph,” Marcus moaned. Your heat was turning wet again, soaking his now stiffened cock. “But I can’t, I―”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” you husked sleepily, one of your hands slipping down your belly to grab his beating dick poking between your legs. “Just a quickie, Marcus, please,” you added, leading his leaky tip inside you.

There was no discussion after that. Groaning, Marcus plunged in in a smooth motion, your velvety walls parting to greet him and hug him tight. His arm draped around your waist to hold you in place and began fucking into you from behind. You hummed your approval, Marcus paying worshipping attention to your neck, kissing and nipping at it.

When you squirmed and whimpered, your pussy clamped down around him with force, announcing your orgasm. Still rutting into you, the hand holding you down trailed down your belly to gently pet your clit.

Your moans grew louder and needier, your ass pushing back into him, meeting every thrust. You came sobbing his name, strongly pulsing around him, wetting his cock and balls with your warm cream. Mustering all the strength he could, Marcus pulled out, his dick resting between your pussy lips.

You pressed your thighs together to squeeze his throbbing manhood and cradled his glans as he pumped himself between your inner thighs, his tip kissing your clit every time he pushed in. A minute later, Marcus came undone too, his warm spent landing on your cupped palm around his mushroom head.

Marcus remained still behind you as his cock softened and both of your breathings calmed down. Your eyes were still closed, but a smug smile curled your lips.

“See? I was quick,” you retorted.

“Always true to your word,” he joked, pulling back to grab the forgotten rag. He began rubbing your skin again and you parted your legs to have him wipe you clean. “But I really need to go.”

“So soon? Where are you going?” you pouted, craning your neck to glance up at him.

“It’s almost dawn. I…” Marcus fell silent, pondering his options.

He could tell you where he was going as a test to your loyalty. Prove Maximus wrong. He didn’t know why but confiding in you felt natural.

Marcus really wanted to trust you. If nothing went wrong, then he would know he had nothing to worry about.

“I’m going to the Roman fort in Cawdor with Maximus. We need to discuss some news we’ve just received,” he explained, carefully studying your expression.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, completely unbothered by the information he had just shared with you, as if he had just told you that today was going to rain. “I’ll leave then.”

“You can stay and sleep in, no one will bother you here, mel,” he kissed your shoulder, heart lighter, before he stood up and started putting on his black armour.

You rolled around to lay on your other side, watching him dress with your hands tucked under your face.

“Need a hand with that?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” years of practice made it easy. He tied the belt around his waist and sheathed the gladius, then walked towards the bed to bend down and kiss you goodbye. “There’s some more of the concoction there. Please use it.”

You nodded your agreement, still half asleep, and Marcus stepped out.

The moment the door had closed behind Marcus, you had sprung to your feet, dressing yourself in a frenzy. But knowing you couldn’t just follow him, you had paced around the room for half an hour.

You had never run faster in your entire life. Once in the stables, you had fought with Kelpie to saddle her and trotted to Bonnie’s crannog. There you had encountered Torcall, who grilled you with questions.

“Where have you been? You’ve been gone the whole night! I was worried sick! What the hell are you up to?! Don’t tell me you’ve been with him, please.”

Needless to say, you didn’t answer any of it. You were a grown ass woman and didn’t need a nanny. Plus, it was none of his fucking business.

You had not intended on falling asleep on Marcus’ bed, but you had felt so at ease, you hadn’t fought your heavy lids.

You just told Torcall that you had gotten your hands on some valuable information and needed to go again. You knew that Marcus was testing you, if you could be trusted. If you told your father’s men about this, they would take action, outing you in the process.

No, you had to go alone. If you passed his test, then you were sure he would share even more in the future, just what you wanted.

Daimh and Iona were at the dining table, breaking their fast. You had kissed each of them before vanishing again.

It didn’t take you long to track down the prints of hoofs on the muddy eastbound path. Soon you caught up with Marcus and some of his men. Maximus, Cassius and Valerius accompanied him, as well as three other legionnaires you did not recognise.

You kept your distance from them and traversed through the forest instead of the path to avoid being seen. After three long hours, you finally arrived at your destination.

You were not prepared to see all those troops at Cawdor. There were hundreds of soldiers, the fort brimming with life. At the same time Marcus and his retinue arrived, a legion did too.

Why were there so many men here? Something was going on, something that could change the course of history. Was this just a repositioning exercise?

There were no women in sight, so you couldn’t just put a cloak on and blend in as you had intended. So you remained in the shadowy edge of the forest, hidden behind a tree.

Suddenly Marcus halted and veered his horse around. Someone from the newly arrived legion stepped out on a white horse.

“Governor Agricola,” you heard Marcus say in a greeting.

“General Acacius,” the man said back.

So, this was Agricola, the man who terrorised Caledonia. You wanted to hate Marcus, but your easy hate for Agricola burnt hot. He was the one responsible for the defeat of your people, the one who had taken prisoners in boats and parade them around the coast to show others what would become of them if they rose up in arms.

“We’ve heard the news of your premature departure, Governor. We wish to discuss the defence of Caledonia in your absence,” Marcus spoke clearly.

“Not Caledonia. Britannia, Acacius. That’s its new name. Use it,” Agricola’s arrogance seeped through his stupid smile.

Britannia? The bastards had already renamed your land? How fucking dared they?

But this was huge. It seemed like Agricola was leaving, possibly taking many of his men with him. If that was the case, the number of Romans in Caledonia would drastically reduce, giving you a fighting chance.

The snap of a branch behind you startled you, quickly turning on your heels. The forest was dark, so you squinted your eyes while scanning the area.

Perhaps it had just been an animal, so you redirected your attention back to the men.

To your misfortune, they were walking through the portcullis and a second after you lost sight of them.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You ran back to Kelpie, needing to make the way back home fast.

Finally, some good fucking news.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[palmolli]

I did not care for Breath of the Wild.

WAIT WAIT WAIT! I CAN EXPLAIN! DON'T SHOOT!

It's not that I HATE BotW. I certainly don't. I just don't love it. Though I very much DON'T like totk... that's an opinion for later. This is in no way a good critique or a review. It's just my opinion.

Breath of the Wild was the first Zelda game that I ever played, like many of you in the fandom right now. I bought it with my own money (I'm a jobless minor) after interacting with the fandom for a bit before even picking up a game. And like most people, the feeling of starting the game and waking up in that bathtub, that feeling of wonder and mystery, was awesome.

I will give credit where credit is due, BotW got me through a time when I was at my lowest. It gave me an escape to a much better world, a safe space, one I could go to when I had no hope for reality, something to hold onto if you will. The release of TotK gave me something to look forward to during a time when I didn't want to wake up the next morning.

I have every reason to love this game, but I don't.

Honestly, I'm TIRED of BotW and all the sequels and spin-offs.

Botw came out since people were so tired of the linear Zelda formula. ... that formula lasted for longer than I've been alive, yet it's only been about 8 years, and there's been such an uproar of people complaining about the new shiny open world formula.

Why? Well, because most of the gaming industry is open world now and having a linear formula is what made Nintendo feel unique... oh, and also because Nintendo completely failed at making totk's map feel new and interesting. They just slapped a bunch of random crap on the map here, and there with almost zero thought. When I first played totk, I felt like I was playing some kinda modded version of botw. It felt a little illegal. And playing it feels like a chore. That's never happened with any other Zelda sequel.

Even though Majora's Mask's assets were all reused from Ocarina of Time, the game still felt new and inventive. The game had meaning. The game had a THEME. AND THAT GAME WAS MADE IN TWO YEARS. TOTK TOOK SIX!!!

Cough cough. Pardon me.

Another reason I'm just sick of botw.

It's everywhere. It's Nintendo's golden goose. Just about everyone who plays games has played BotW. It's so big that it overshadows the rest of the franchise. It's basically Ocarina of Time all over again. Just... worse.

A sequel, a prequel, and another on the way. Ocarina of Time was never THAT BAD. It was given one sequel. That's it! Nintendo is just turning into Disney. And let me tell you something.

I loathe disney.

Too afraid to make anything new, so they rely on things that they know will make them money. Too afraid to say anything and spark controversy, so all of their content is void of anything actually meaningful. There's no particular audience. They appeal to no one by appealing to everyone while overly reliant on a fan base they know will bow before them and just buy whatever they churn out.

And, again, it's just like the word Zelda has just become synonymous with Breath of the Wild. Any Zelda content on most platforms like Tik Tok, YouTube, Twitter, Pinterest..

I AM SICK OF HIS FACE. WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES HE'S ALL I SEE. WHEN I OPEN THEM, HE'S ALL I SEE. HE IS EVERYWHERE AND I CAN'T ESCAPE HIS STUPID. FACE.

EVERY DAMN SKYWARD SWORD EDIT IS SOMEHOW MADE ABOUT BREATH OF THE WILD ZELINK I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!!!!

and this isn't a you problem, by the way. If Breath of the Wild's your favorite game, own that, bro. This is a Nintendo problem.

Like... echoes of wisdom... seems like everyone kinda forgot about it. Including me. It brought new things to the table. AND NOBODY CARES!!!! BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO FOCUSED ON BINKLE BONKLE'S MISADVENTURES. Though, it did keep the art style of Link’s Awakening... which I honestly do not like all that much. C'mon Nintendo, give us a new art style, you bunch of greedy cowards.

Now, to get off track for a moment.

My favorite game is Skyward Sword. Yes, this is relevant. Breath of the Wild and Skyward Sword are almost complete polar opposites of each other. One leans into tradition, while the other runs from it. One is reliant on story and characters, the other on gameplay.

People absolutely HATED Skyward Sword once upon a time. Now more people are starting to like it. People LOVE Breath of the Wild, and now more people are starting to think differently.

This point I'm making here is expanded further in this very ahead of its time video that explains this far better than I ever could.

Basically. People complained. Nintendo over corrected. Now we're here.

These two games are what REALLY got me into the franchise. Breath of the Wild was the first Zelda game I ever touched... but Skyward Sword was the first game I ever finished. Like ever not even lying, I'd never finished a game in my life before Skyward Sword.

The game actually motivated me to continue. The dungeons were fun and engaging, and same with the characters. I was genuinely invested and finished the game at one in the morning, shaking and in tears. Keep in mind I'd watched a playthrough of the game before I was able to play it myself. I already knew the story.

Then I finished breath of the wild.

I did not cry.

I did not shake.

I just finished it and put the game down.

Skyward Sword gave me a reason to give a damn, Breath of the Wild did not. Sksw Link felt like a person to me. He wanted to get his Zelda back, and so did I. Breath of the Wild Link, however... he just woke up, and he has no idea who the heck Zelda even is, so he's just gonna go collect koroks and blow stuff up. No motivation... just... do whatever whenever. Which is fun, yes... but it's not all that impactful.

Skyward Sword gives me a cozy, warm feeling, while Breath of the Wild gives the opposite. Empty. Cold.

Like... I just don't care about Breath of the Wild. I really just don't. And I am just so tired of it being the only thing on the menu nowadays. The characters felt like cardboard cutouts to me. You have to actively seek out any character or personality in them (the main ones). That was not a problem in Skyward Sword. Just sit down on a dang bench, and you'll find more character in Link there than in most botw memories.

I know botw Link's whole silence thing has a reason behind it, but it just feels like an excuse. They could've expanded on it a bit more. In concept designs, he's shown to have a family. But they scrapped it. They really could've done so much more with that.

This rant was incredibly messy, I know, but I just needed to get this out somewhere. This has been boiling within me for far too long, and I had to put it into a teacup and make tea, or else I'd go insane. I'm not trying to be a contrarian or anything. This is just how I feel. And I'm not trying to say any fans of botw or people who don't have access to the other games are fake fans. I understand that games are expensive and hard to access.

This is purely my opinion, and you're allowed to think differently. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, and have a nice day.

[miwiheroes]

"You're overanalysing Byler!"

There is no such thing as so-called overanalysis. Media consumption is complex, and I can't believe how hard it is to get people to understand that what they are seeing isn't IT, y'know? Consuming a TV show is much more than simply accepting the content at face value.

Lately, we've seen this decline in media literacy. Milevens saying things like 'but Mike literally loves El' and that post where someone on tiktok was like 'wdym El hates being called a superhero? she literally calls herself one!'. And I'm sick of all intellectual conversation from people who are trying to understand, people who even have degrees in film studies and cinematography, being dumbed down to 'overanalysis'.

People watching Stranger Things sometimes completely miss the point. You don't need to get the point to enjoy the show and that's okay, but don't tell me I'm overanalysing things because I believe the show is about outcasts of society.

If media literacy is lacking (which it is), then overanalysis is good. I believe it could be a took to correct or balance out the passive consumption of media.

"But this post about xyz is definitely not what the author/writers intended!!! "

Hear me out: Analysis doesn't need to necessarily align with author's intent.

Media like Stranger Things is definitely designed with multiple layers of meaning and can be interpreted in many different ways. But there is also media that may not be as 'deep' or may not be as well thought-out. Even with ST, there are some scenes just there for fun or fan service and doesn't necessarily need analysing. BUT media always, no matter what, operates within a larger cultural, historical, and ideological context, which influences how it is understood.

For example, the intent behind a commercial may be to sell a product, but the analysis might focus on cultural stereotypes, gender roles etc. that the ad perpetuates, even if this wasn't the advertiser's explicit goal.

Using Stranger Things, Jancy sometimes parallels Byler. This isn't always the writer's intent, they did not necessarily purposefully have them be similar in some ways because they wanted the viewers to go "oh wait they're a similar couple, they should be together". But it's still good to analyse, because it tells you something deeper about the romantic tropes of the show.

In this way, overanalysis can reveal things about ourselves, things about the media that reflects how it interacts with our worldview in nuanced ways. It can still reveal things about the outcome of the media. We need overanalysis of unintentional meaning to reveal the intentional meaning.

The role of the audience in interpreting media isn't just trying to figure out what the author's or writer's original intent is. It can uncover far more than that, and helps us to gain meaning and specialty from the things we watch without it becoming a waste of time.

[jmdbjk]

Traveling is my thing too...

I'm still marinating in my Are You Sure?! afterglow. I just loved every part of it, every minute of the episodes and behinds. There is one thing that's been on my mind and I know it might ruffle some people because of how it sounds at first.

Jimin and Jungkook spontaneously created "scenes" for Are You Sure?!. Prompted each other for the sake of making content. Another facet of being good entertainers...

They were trying to be content creators and not rely on others to tell them what to say or do. The total opposite of "scripted" which, of course, means the shows were unscripted and made up as the days' activities unfolded.

They both actively initiated moments they could play off each other. This is part of that now-becoming-over-used word we say to describe their dynamic... chemistry.

Was it fake? No. The moments they created were genuine interactions whether it was an inside joke of theirs or just talking about topics like cosmic horror or origins of slang words. Not any different than how we behave with our own close friends and significant others. We initiate conversation topics, we poke at each other, we talk about stupid shit, we sometimes have heartfelt and meaningful conversations.

In other words, we are authentic with our closest people. That's what humans do. And as we also are so comfortable with our friends and significant others, we can also have quiet time just being in the presence of the other. IT'S ALL NORMAL AND NOT FAKE.

Was it fan service? No. Again, they were being content creators, trying to create something that was purely them, purely normal interactions only they could have with each other.

Do they have off moments? Of course they do. When one or the other was not active in the interaction, the other was just being themselves, no faking, no fan service, just Jimin and Jungkook behaving as themselves, the only way they know to behave, in the presence of the other, nothing negative about it, just "being."

But they were on a mission to create content that they knew Army would enjoy while they were away. With a big smile, Jungkook said we'll really enjoy it. He said this before he got in that Jeep and drove away to Connecticut. He already knew before it started that he and Jimin were going to have fun. They trust us, their fans, to enjoy the things they give us. Those who do not enjoy it are not their fans.

I've seen people say they only watched a few clips and not the entire series of AYS and then conclude "its obvious (insert fave name) feels this or that." No Boo, you can't deduce those things from a 5 second slo-mo clip or a screen cap from a split second moment from an 8 episode series (9 hours of interactions between the members). What IS obvious is these people don't want to know the truth.

If you don't watch original content in its entirety, how could you possibly "know" your fave/bias? Especially this particular series. If you are a fan of Jimin, Jungkook or even Taehyung, if you did not watch the entire episodes, your opinion is meaningless. If you based your opinions on select snippets or screenshots with no context, your opinion is meaningless because you don't have the entire story. You have every right to say you don't like it and won't watch it because it doesn't align with your (false) idea of who Jimin, Jungkook and even Tae are. But in doing that, you should also remind yourself you are clinging to your own fantasies of who they are.

If you had access and were able to watch all of the episodes on Disney+, many thanks for helping to make this project of Jungkook and Jimin's a resounding success. Ranked #5 worldwide for 2024 TV shows on Disney+. This chart is sorted by popularity:

In his last live the day before enlisting, Jimin told us he was sick with the flu for a week after returning from Sapporo and only had another week before their enlistment. Maybe he was starting to feel the symptoms on that last day in Sapporo and it contributed to feeling so down.

The behind footage for Sapporo shows at some point the cameras were turned off in the car when they were driving to the airport to return to Korea.

It would have been easy for the show's producers to just edit the footage and write captions that totally ignore the fact the cameras were ever turned off at all. We would have never known. Them including that information helps us put everything in context. Jungkook and Jimin purposely turned the cameras off and they purposely informed us of that so we could understand that there was a lot of time without any recording whatsoever. Maybe they talked about stuff they didn't want recorded. Maybe Jimin took a nap because he wasn't feeling good. No matter, most would call that PRIVATE TIME. They had an abundance of PRIVATE TIME during ALL of these trips.

I feel strongly they will do a few more trips. They loved this so much, and they have a foundation to build on, they will do more.

And now, its been a few weeks after the last episode and we've got the behind scenes. It still sort of feels like a dream that these two produced this project for us. Yet it only made sense didn't it? Who else out of the 7 would do something like this? It's genius level thinking to create this, doing something they both have said they love doing, doing it with each other, the people they connect with the best, and giving us something at the same time. Brilliant.

And I want to say thank you to Jimin and Jungkook. Personally, this was the best of the best.

It is truly the work of the Universe that they have each other, to support each other during this period of time. In recent pics I've seen, they look well. I miss them so much.

And now we're just over 8 months away from having them back. Eight months and 15 days before all 7 are discharged and we look forward to the first group live and an ocean of tears of relief pouring from all over the world for them. 10 days until our Hobi is back. I'm so excited!

My Are You Sure?! photobook arrived the other day, I wasn't expecting it so suddenly because Weverse Shop still had it marked as "shipping soon" and then all of a sudden it was here. YAY!

I am going to scan a lot of it but the big postcard sized photos that were part of the early pre-order gifts are on my refrigerator. I also ordered the Are You Sure?! magnets but those won't be here until December. As you can see, I'm a collector of fridge magnets when I travel so it was a no-brainer to get the Are You Sure magnets.

Also, shout out to anyone in North Carolina trying to recover from Hurricane Helene. The Nantahala area was one of my most favorite vacations. I hope to go back someday. I know it's hard to rebuild, I've experienced the aftermath of too many hurricanes. Take it one day at a time and never lose hope. Normal will come back again.

[eldragon-x]

Gonna write out this idea that Silver inspired in me in a post because I'm not sure I'll get around to actually writing a fic for it and I just need more people to think about Mirabelle and Odile moments with me.

I've brought up before that it's kinda insane that Odile pulled out a spell that stopped Siffrin from looping back in time. Like whatever she used here is able to interact with Time Craft, which itself would normally kill the user.

So I think it's quite possible that she herself might suffer craft exhaustion as a result of this. Add on that the party had to run through the distorted House at night to catch up with Siffrin and that Odile isn't the most physically fit person at her age.

But maybe she pushes that aside. Siffrin was hit harder by Craft Sickness, everyone was concerned about him, the party decided to leave Dormont rather sooner than later for their sake, she can handle it.

But it does catch up to her soon enough after a long day of the party fighting their way through Sadnesses and making it to an Inn by the evening. She's tired, her body hurts, she feels ill, and she's bruised and dirty from the battles, not helped by her performance already dwindling since the party left Dormont.

So she's sitting on her bed, dizzy and aching, wishing she could take the opportunity to take a bath but feeling too weak to do so. It affects her to the point where Mirabelle can tell that she's not doing well and asks if she can help her in any way.

Odile admits at this point that maybe she didn't give herself enough rest since that day in Dormont and that she's frustrated because she can't do much at all right now. And now that she brought it up, she wonders if Mirabelle is alright, since she also performed a powerful spell that day.

Mira appreciates the concern, but assures Odile she's doing okay. The shield spell was complicated, but not so exhausting that she wouldn't have recovered over a good night's sleep. Moreso she feels rather guilty for not having checked up on Odile earlier.

All that being said, she offers to help Odile bathe. Being a healer and having spent a lot of time studying about anything in the House of Dormont, I imagine she has some degree of medical training and trusts herself to handle people.

Odile gets tense but weighting her options, decides it's probably the most logical step here and she'd rather Mira assists her than anyone else. It turns into a bit of a back and forth of them trying to assure each other that they don't have to if they're uncomfortable, but Odile wants to be practical and refresh herself, and Mirabelle can take the innitiative when she needs to and at worst will feel slightly awkward about helping someone she knows personally in such a vulnerable position.

Odile actually feels a lot more embarrassed about the whole situation because it's strange having to rely on someone notably younger than herself after essentially assigning herself as the Adult™️ of the party looking out for everyone else. But Mira doesn't hesitate, gets straight to the point, and after helping Odile settle, she stays to sit down next to the bathub in case Odile needs help reaching something or getting out, make sure she doesn't fall asleep and goes under, and tries to ease the tension for her by bringing up a book she's been reading.

Odile is surprised to hear that Mira's into horror literature but gets genuinely invested which helps her relax. Mira ends up convincing Odile to borrow one of her books and jokes that she will have to read through it while the party decides to stay at the inn for the following week so she can recover.

Odile's tempted to protest the suggestion that they should stop for over a week, just for her, but drops it. The party can take their time now, that the curse isn't threatening the country anymore. She supposes they also did promise to look out for each other, she just didn't think she'd need to rely on anyone else.

On Mira's insistence, Odile gets bed rest for the following days, with the rest of the party helping her get whatever she needs, while she picks up Mirabelle's book whenever she can.

[pearlescentparade]

hello!! I'm very very sorry if this seems abrupt at all but I wanted to share some azure lore bits revealed by co-director juno ... I dearly wish I could link and share the screenshots that someone shared of juno discussing azure's facts, but unfortunately I can't do that as an anon (and I'd rather not reveal my primary blog, as it is very personal ^-^') ... if you'd like to see the messages for yourself, they are in the official two time forum, but you may need to scroll quite a bit just to view them

messages aside, here's the basic gist of the azure lorebits that were shared!!

azure was rebirthed in a field of nightshades after their death to two time, they were buried in said field and the flowers now share some of their essence after they transformed

azure doesn't completely resent two time; in fact, they miss them a lot and wants to have them back in their life. however, their current post-transformation form forces them to feel the hatred and resentment provoked by the spectre (essentially, the spectre enhanced the negativity that azure feels and makes them excessively violent in the process)

when azure transformed, vines sprouted out of their back and their head, taking the appearance of tentacles only because the fibers cause the illusion of the tentacles being made of a shiny, slick material. the tentacles are actually very sharp and thorn-like

^ adding onto this point; azure can grow nightshades from their tentacles and hair because of the vines' properties :)

before two time killed azure, azure was a very amiable individual and liked to help people. they also loved studying plants (they were very into botany) and knew how to cultivate plants into medicine for use (also a personal interpretation, but it's implied that azure was very careful when making their medicine and gave their patients the exact dose they needed, as juno mentions that azure was far more mindful and aware of their limits than two time was)

nightshades are most likely azure's favorite flowers/plants because of their medicinal properties and vibrant purple color

with all that information aside, I personally could see a (post-forsaken) two time x reader x azure where reader got sick from accidentally eating poisonous berries and two time bringing them to azure in a panic, and azure tending to them with grace and expertise ... and reader says after being treated, anticlimactically, "wow, it sure was a good thing you were one of the only botanists in the whole cult, azure!"

by the way, if it isn't taken already, may i be referred to as the azure-addict anon? i know it's a lot, so if that's too much, you can also just use the🪻emoji for me :D either one works!! i love your blog dearly, and I hope youve been doing well!! I honestly wanted to interact with you a lot sooner, but I was admittedly feeling too timid to do so... my apologies ^-^'' please take your time with requests, drink lots of water, and stay safe!! its nice to meet you :)

– azure-addict or 🪻anon

azure-addict anon im going to kiss you /p I NEEDEDDD THIS INFO CUS IDK LIKE ANYTHING ABOUT AZURE BESIDES THEIR RELATION TO THE CULT AND TWO TIME OMG,, thank u for this :] i will keep them in mind and hgehghe ,.,,, azure x reader x two time ,,,,, drools (can u tell i love throuples!!!!

ANBD OUGHGH,,,, im glad uve come out of ur shell and decided to send in something!!! do not be afraid, i dont bite!!! i always encourage anyone to talk to me, and its very exciting when new anons pop up :] thank u for ur support and the lil reminders! be careful with what u wish for cus i fear i need 2 lock in for schoolwork so reqs might take longer,, this is what i get for being a dual enrollment tryhard smh ;; it's very nice to meet you too <3