#i think i am legitimately too nice to this series

[myownwholewildworld]

acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

 “I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

[wellofdean]

So, today was the end of a really fucking good fic, as I am sure my followers must know -- between the essence / and the descent by @kvothes (or tothewillofthepeople on A03) who is just a really legitimately terrific writer. I also strongly recommend their maybe i like the pleasure pain which is also just...so beautiful.

And I am really thinking about how fic is so HEALING. Isn't it? Man.

I know we're all out here dying four years later of a story that didn't end right. A story that ends wrong hurts in such a deep way, and sometimes it just really gets me right in the heart how magical it is that we are all out here thinking about it, fixing it and making it right, and how many times we have fixed this one by giving Dean the love he deserves, or letting Cas have everything he wants.

The way our stories can hurt or heal is something I've been obsessed for as long as I can remember, and I have read so many beautiful stories by people I follow here on tumblr, and I just want you all to know how much I fucking love you guys, and that I am so grateful.

Fic is just astoundingly beautiful, isn't it? Anyway, go read this one if you haven't.

And, while I'm at it, here are my recommendations from my October reading:

Obviously the two linked above. Gorgeous, carefully and skillfully written character studies of Dean and Cas, with lovely Eileens and Sams, too. The one that just finished, between the essence / and the descent is easily my favourite fix-it fic. It's just so delicious, and it feels like it's really THEM. If Jensen never saddles up and makes it happen, I'm just going to close my eyes, see them in my mind, and let this one be my canon.

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick up by @disabled-dean - this is just a gorgeous piece of writing in any genre. The premise is simple - Cas drives, dean is horny about it - but trauma makes desire complicated. I just really, really loved it.

Mouth to Manhattan by @agoodsoldier - This one is Sam-centric, which is off my beaten path. I really enjoyed it. Every take and depiction in it is not the same as mine, but it's so good that I was willing to go along for the ride, and at the end of the day, it's just a really nice exploration of Sam and Dean's bond, and the need to let things change when it's time.

ad astra per aspera by jeremycarver - Sam is at Stanford and Dean is alone on the road. He experiences some loves and losses. It's sad and beautiful.

I've got a about 50 things bookmarked in my ever-growing to-read list, so I think I might do a post like this once a month, if anyone would be into it? Anyway, I hope you read some of them, and if you do, and you like them, I hope you comment and tell the authors that you did. They deserve it!

[btskitty17]

The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt.2 Get Ya

(Jungkook X Reader Series)

Pt. 2 : Get Ya

part 1: wishlist

pt. 3 cinnamon

masterlist

"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not. As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.

part 1: wishlist part 3: cinnamon

main masterlist

genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧

🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout December 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)

warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist

🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧

___ stumbled backwards, stunned by the horrifying expression on Jungkook’s face: a product of her outburst declaring that he was certainly not her boyfriend. She was already unnerved by his unexplained presence in her house and was now unsure of what to make of his insistence on becoming her significant other; the situation itself was unfathomable, how could she ever explain to someone that a handsome young man was delivered to house and he stood underneath her Christmas tree like a good, obedient doll, waiting for her to wake up, only to look at her with an unmistakably dark countenance later when she told him that she could not be his girlfriend.

How could she belong to him? She did not even know him.

“I want you to take a look at the booklet accompanying my toybox. It would explain all of the questions that may now be floating around in your mind. I am neither a criminal nor a prankster; this is real, no matter how ridiculous it sounds to your ears now, I am your present from Santa,” Jungkook said in a stern tone, indicating that he was no longer going to indulge in bantering with her, desperately attempting to explain himself.

Inside a voluminous folder placed in the toybox, there were documents with his whole government name and identity papers that would assist him in navigating through the real world as ___’s partner, and even a photocopy of the letter in which ___ asked for a boyfriend for Christmas; so there it goes, the strange man in her living room was legitimate after all. ___ was not at all ready for Santa to respond to her wish so promptly.

___ still could not wrap her head around the fact that the beginning of her new courtship had been catalysed by a seemingly benign Letter to Santa custom.

“I don’t think anyone has ever resisted their present so determinedly, so unpleasant; I am the top Santa Isle worker, how could this be,” Jungkook huffed to himself, watching ___ go through the documents with an unreadable expression glued to her face.

"Where are you from, again?"

"Santa I-.... Wait, I detect sarcasm. I do do mention it way too much."

“So, I am just supposed to accept you as my boyfriend? I understand that you are here to carry out a task: it is a professional obligation for you but, I can’t just date someone I met like, ten minutes ago. I am still unsure of your origin. Are you even a human being? Why are you radiating such an ungodly amount of heat in the middle of a snow-swamped winter?” ___ wondered, thinking back to the moment when she almost let herself be cradled to sleep in his arms.

“This is…all just too much,” ___ closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips against her forehead. How could she possibly take in and process this information all at once?

The truth was, for Jungkook, it was more than just a professional duty… he had been monitoring ___’s activities since the very day that she stepped into Little Smiles, a shelter that caters to underprivileged children, and also a place that is on the Santa Isle’s workers radar who observe it year-round to ensure that they can deliver whatever the children need and more during the holidays. Around Valentine’s Day, that same year, ___ had walked into the children’s centre for the first time, carrying a bagful of snacks and a few boxes of stationery supply, unsure of what would be appropriate for her maiden visit. She actually invested her time and tried to remember the names of the kids who surrounded her with eager smiles on their faces while she played board-games with them: something which became a bimonthly ritual for her, and her heart would brim with tranquility whenever the children came pouring outwards from the gateway to greet her, hug her or show her their drawings. Jungkook had witnessed it all, from a safe distance of course.

Jungkook had noticed the sway in ___’s hips as she strolled towards her workplace or the children’s shelter, and how the floral sundress collated snugly around her evident curves, and most importantly, he had perceived the angelic-white goodness that shined out of her very being: the sort of purity he would like to possess. It was only fitting for a kind-hearted woman like her to belong to a Santa Isle worker, who was, of course, the bearer of all things pleasant and a bringer of joy, by definition. And most ardently, he wanted to shield her from anything else in the world that was not as good as her, and that was only possible if he could be by her chaste side, all the time. He was a self-styled guardian, and not a longtime stalker, mind you.

“So, you are like an elf?” ___ wondered out loud as Jungkook stared at her from across the room, filing all the papers back into the folder.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. But, I am certainly more fashionable," he chuckled, revealing a an innocuous bunny smile which made his eyes scrunch up at the sides, absolutely nothing like the man who had given ___ a thunderous glance a few moments ago.

As ___ stood in front of Jungkook in a flimsy tank-top, her nipples jaunty against the fabric, owing to the cold weather whilst wearing the most innocent of expressions on Christmas morning, he felt as if it was his wish-list that Santa Claus had taken care of. Of course, he had to compete with several of his colleagues in order to come out as the top worker and finally be able to choose which year-end Santa Isle project he wanted to work on, and then finally, he was assigned to be her boyfriend. Jungkook licked his lips, averting his eyes away from her invitingly pillowy-seeming chest and suggested that he could make her that cup of coffee that she had been craving for so long.

"But, I still do not comprehend how this boyfriend thing would work..."

"I happen to have a thorough list of things to do, angel."

♡

𓍼Man, Jungkook is serving cvnt in his id card pic.

and, if you cant tell THAT Vogue photoshoot JK has a chokehold on me.

(will update my main masterlist with newer parts as i write, thank you for reading 🎀)

DISCLAIMER 

This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

© @btskitty17 on tumblr 2024

~ ୨୧ ♡ · ₊

[netbug009]

okay so i have a hyperspecific theory that is probably not canon but i need to talk about. SO. CONCERNING JAX AND RAGATHA.

(This theory is NOT shippy in and of itself but I'm tagging the Jagatha fans because I think they'll like the potential of this - I hope that's okay!)

OKAY SO WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE NPC THEORY AND THE ORDER OF WHICH EVERYONE ARRIVED AT THE CIRCUS

Kinger was the first of the un-abstracted and Kaufmo (or at least before Ragatha if we don't take Jax's word for it) to arrive at the circus. I find it interesting that Gooseworx has been pretty staunch about not telling us more about the order, only confirming that the only character who could potentially have all of the information is the one incapable of remembering shit most of the time. That sure is convenient. What we DON'T get told tend to be as important as what we ARE told with this series, which leads my Charlie Day brain to think the order has an impact.

So, let's say Ragatha comes next.

WHAT IF, hear me out here, there was a moment when it was only Ragatha and an already pretty messed up Kinger, or maybe Kinger was just easy enough to talk into the idea at the time.

If Jax IS a rogue NPC that Caine forgot about, as so many have been theorizing... Who would be nice enough to bring them back?

Who would be nice enough to bring Jax back and continue to hide the fact that he is an NPC from Caine once Caine forgets? Who would be nice enough to continue to protect him even when he's being an absolute dick to everyone?

Y e a h. Funny how it's the same character who spends the most time being frustrated with him and legitimately trying to get him to be nicer.

I love this idea because not only does it make an alarming amount of sense, but it'd add so much ✨SPICE✨ to all those times Jax bullies Ragatha in particular. She has the power to out him and immediately get him killed. He knows she would NEVER and exploits this.

Like I said, this is so specific that we're almost moving from theory territory to fanfic territory, but I just love the potential CRUNCH of it? And if I am right I will forever be hailed as a genius so I've got nothing to lose besides the few people who still thought I was hinged for some reason. Jokes on you: I'm only hinged when I'm too depressed to be otherwise and my new meds are fucking WORKING.

[i520u]

invisible string ʚĭɞೃ⟡

HIII i’m so sorry this took me so long i just didn’t wanna be unemployed after i’m done with my series so i decided to keep this in the drafts for a while 😞 i hope you’ll like this!

PAIRING sung hanbin x gn!reader

GENRE fluff, sfw

MASTERLIST

hanbin is a responsible bf, so you can definitely let loose when you’re around him!

he will always makes you feel safe

when you go out on dates with him, he would always silently take your handbag off of your shoulder and carry them himself 😞

his nicknames for you are usually the common ones, baby, my baby, angel, and i think he’d most commonly use 내 사랑 (nae sarang/my love) because it’s so endearing to give your s/o a nickname in your own mother tongue am i right

but he prefers calling you by your name, bc he thinks your name is already pretty

constantly complimenting you

you get your work done and he’s like “good job baby” and then he’d kiss your cheek

you finish mopping the floors and he’s like “you worked so hard today my love, thank you”

the type of boyfriend that will give you legitimate answers to your “would you still love me if i was a worm?” questions

one time you asked him what he would do if you turned into a snail one day

and he told you he’d have to build you nice house where you would be comfortable living in

drives your around ALL the time

he would freak out if you offered him gas money because he really doesn’t mind spending his time, energy, and money with you :(

if you gave him a $10 cash he would applepay you $15

i think hanbin is a great cook, so eating out is very rare for you both because he’s always cooking up a meal for the both of you

if you don’t like a certain taste (sour, salty, sweet, etc) he’d make sure to alter the recipe a little so you’d both be able to enjoy the meal together

hanbin would be cutting up some vegetables, and then you’d come up to him and ask for a kiss, and he would gladly give you a quick kiss before resuming with the meal prep

conflicts with him rarely ever happens

he’s so good at communicating, and he’s just so gentle there’s really nothing to be mad about with him

he trusts you, and he feels secure in the relationship so he never really asks you about your whereabouts. you’re free to hangout with anyone!

all of your friends loves hanbin. he treats you so well, and he’s so polite and can mix around with them, so he’s practically in your friend group too

when you DO get into fights with hanbin, the fight never lasts longer than 2 days. he either apologises first if he realised that he’s in the wrong, or he’ll talk to you and explain why he felt like he was wronged

plus, even when the two of you are fighting, he’d still cook you a good dinner, and you’d still help him clean up all the things he used to make the meal 😭

also on nights where you both had heated arguments, if the situation was okay, he would still wrap his arms around you while you sleep

hanbin never go all out for anniversaries though

rather than fancy dinner date or a big gesture to show his love, it’s more domestic and meaningful

hanbin prefers celebrating your anniversaries together with things like giving you a photobook of all the moments that you’ve spent together

of course he’d buy you a gift too, but his main idea of anniversaries are more domestic

one time he rearranged your house and made a candlelight dinner all by himself for your anniversary, candles, silk tablecloth, fancy steak, he did that all by himself

whenever you get sick, he’d feel bad leaving you alone while he goes to work but duty calls!!!

he would make you text him and update him every 3 hours so that he knows you’re eating well and taking your medicines on time

when HE’S sick he tells you not to worry about him and then he would get flustered when he finds out that you cooked him some healthy soupy foods for him to eat

he thinks you’re so cute when you’re worried over him getting a stupid little cold

when he gets better he would give you so many kisses and cooing at how cute you were when you were taking care of him

honestly he’s always kissing you somewhere, or you’re always kissing him somewhere, it doesn’t matter. he loves kisses

when you say something funny he would laugh and then bring your hand to his lips for no reason?? when you ask him why he’s just like “you’re so funny i just had to kiss you”

when you’re showing him the new top you just bought and then he would just pull you in to kiss the top of your head bc why not

when you kiss him first his ears will go red

he would even be like “why’d you do that”

when you say you just wanted to kiss him he’d giggle and would call you adorable

“my partner is so adorable today, i wonder what’s got into them?”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs ​, hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings:  EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

   You thought, hell fucking yes.

 What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

 2 for 1 cocktails.

 Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

 God it was going to be a long night.

 After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

 “Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

 She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

 Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

 Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

 Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

 “Ow! Maris!”

 Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

 “Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

 “Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

 You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

 “He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

 Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

 Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

 “Sorry, sorry”

 You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

 It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

 Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

 “You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

 Almost in unison you all say, “No”

 “Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

 “Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

 “Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

 “Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

 “Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

 Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

 “Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

 Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

 You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

 “What the fuck Baela!”

 “Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

 Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

 “Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

 You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

 “Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

 Stalking time.

 You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

 Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

 “Oh my god”

 “Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

 Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

 She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

 “Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

 “Oh shit”

 Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

 “I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

 The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

 You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

 Fuckfuckfuck.

 “Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you”  Maris chimes.

 You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

 Would he?

 He was pretty handsy last time.

 But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

 No you can’t.

 You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

 “Hello! Earth to y/n!”

 Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

 “Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

 Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

 “I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

 “I heard you the first three times you said it”

 “Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

 With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

 She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

 “Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

 “This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

 “Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

 It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

 “Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

 “He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

 “Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

 “We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

 He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

 “Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

 Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

 “Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

 “Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

 A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

 You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

 Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

 A family trait, you see.

 With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

 Oh God, his thighs.

 Stopstopstop.

 You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

 “Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

 Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

 “I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

 Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

 You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

 “Don’t live in the gym like you do”

 He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

 Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

 You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

 “Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

 Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

 “Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

 In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

 Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

 “Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

 When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

 Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

 He seems to delight in the reaction.

 “Have fun on instagram earlier?”

 Oh fuck my life.

 You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

 Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

 “See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

 Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

 Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

 With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

 Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

 But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

 Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

 She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

 Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

 “Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

 Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

 “What”

“Nothing”

 You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

 “Oh yes it does~”

 She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

 Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

   Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

 “I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

 “Nothing is going to happen”

 “Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

 With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

 You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

 The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

 Twat.

 With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

 He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

 “Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

 You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark  at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

 Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

 There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

 He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

 “How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

 He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

 Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

 What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

 “Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

 Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

 His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

 He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

 Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

 “Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

 He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

 “That’s what Rhaena said”

 “Ah” he responds, “she would”

 “Why’s that?”

 He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

 You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

 “Does it not freak you out?”

 You shake your head softly, “No”

 He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

 “Right, stretches”

 Oh boy.

 It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

 Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

 “That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

 Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

 Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

 “Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

 “Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

 “Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

 He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

 But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

 As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

 When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

 “Relax”

 Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

 The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

 He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

 “Push here”

 You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

 “Good girl”

 He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

 It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

 There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

 Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

 “Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

 All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

 “Fucking perfect…”

 Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

 You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

 Buzz buzz.

 Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

 But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

 Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

 “Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

 Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

 Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy​ @lovelykhaleesiii​@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid​ @namelesslosers​  @chainsawsangel​ @warmfieldofgrass​ @mynameisbaby9​ @afro-hispwriter​ @tempo-rary-fix​ @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans​ @svtansdaddyx​ @tssf-imagines​ @darkenchantress​ @vrtualfairy​ @fan-goddess​ @skikikikiikhhjuuh​ @helaenaluvr​ @sarahkimtae​ @blackxisxmyxcolour​ @castellomargot​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @julczimozart​ @amazingdisneyfansblog​ @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss​

[stiwnty]

Hayoo, cool info from Alan's discord:

Celebrating that we are quite close to AvA 11's release, here we have some nice screenshots of Alan answering stuff from that one time he was online. (2022)

(srry if the wording is confusing. English isn't my native language)

Canonicity oc theory:

Really interesting that these screenshots are from 2022. But surprinsingly might be alined with the new AvA and the canon.

Alan's channel or the vids have been already referenced in canon, in AvA: showdown, Animation vs Youtube og, AvM: the king, etc... And knowing that newgrounds will have a role in the next AvA ep, I think that they might canonize Alan's channel fr this time (a direct mention). Probably we might also get an explanation about the AvM og vid appearing in the king as mentioned above.

In this screenshot. It's referenced that internet content might be canon to the series, just like Alan's channel is. Without limits maybe! This will make possible the canonization of the channel and more!

Outernet name:

Cool, hoping that we get a canon name (even though I think that nobody will change from the "Outernet"'s name, it's far too old for that)

The void existence:

A common teory that existed for a lot of time, a fanon common knowledge, is that Victim escaped death through a void/dead realm. But as you see, Alan hasn't considered this.

It isn't that much of a surprise that the canon is different from the fanon, yet, this not only proves wrong that cool theory but also mentions that the dead could get revived not only from a dead realm but also from other ways, not by a "revive" process that involves a reconstruction of a body but other facts.

Perhaps, victim could have came back thanks to the original AvA, just as that theory that said that victim could have escaped from that vid one it was uploaded to newgrounds, and considering newgrounds will have an important part of the plot...

Even if these screenshots are old, we gotta remember that series like AvA are planned from long ago. Just as it was stated that the King ep took more than a year to make. Whatever could happen!

The Outernet's realms:

I am kinda confused by these last screenshots. But I think they are talking about the different pages that connect to the outernet. Like multiple streets connecting to a city's center.

Could this mean that sites like newgrounds or more pages can be accesible from the outernet? It is possible with Dark Lord's portals but maybe there could be another more legitimate way, as a direct path. And even if there's not, Alan states that "it could be possible" that these realms ARE in the outernet, meaning that even if they aren't easily accessible they still are there.

This also supports the theory above of victim's revival (not "revival" but you know what I'm talking about), because if victim really came from newgrounds, then he would have found the way to go to the outernet... Also related to the internet content being canon.

------------

Theory time :0000, I feel like theoryzing is a bet, wonder if it will happen, wondering if it will not... Even so if the theories can get wronged, these screenshots are curious anyhow!!

I am posting another theory on friday's afternoon if not sooner. A cool thing rewrited before AvA11, stay tuned!

[gffa]

SO I'M READING OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT AND APPARENTLY I HAVE NOT LEARNED MY LESSON YET because let me recreate a moment for you. They've finally made it through the dinosaur level of the latest Scenario and Kim Dokja has spent quite a bit of time worrying about where Yoo Joonghyuk is and the "worst case scenario" that might be playing out. So my thoughts are basically: "Oh, boy, they're finally going to catch up to Yoo Joonghyuk and the tension in the panels right beforehand are INTENSE, Kim Dokja has been hyper, hyper focused on how important this is, how much danger they're in, and it's been chapters and chapters since they've seen each other and it's going to be SUCH an epic moment--"

"Please, please just let that guy be safe--!" he says, AS IF I WASN'T ALREADY WOUND UP ABOUT KDJ'S FEELINGS ABOUT YJH??? LIKE, ARE WE SURE SHING-SHONG AREN'T IMPLYING WHAT THAT REALLY SEEMS TO BE IMPLYING?? Just. The focus on how fast he's going, the way every step brings him closer to Yoo Joonghyuk, the sheer desperation in his thoughts, it has me legitimately wound up!

AND THEN THERE HE IS! And I have no idea if he's just standing there to be an asshole (totally possible), if he just legitimately does not care about any of this because he's too strong for it to matter (also totally possible), if there's going to be a major confrontation (the lead-up certainly has me prepared for it), or if something is wrong (you never know what this series is going to throw at you!) or what.

KDJ's face is BIG FUCKING MAD at YJH standing with his back to him. "YOU IGNORE KIM DOKJA???" this asshole cat seems to be saying to Yoo Joonghyuk's back. "YOU IGNORE KIM DOKJA LIKE A BUG?? OHHHHH JAIL FOR YOO JOONGHYUK!!! JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS!!!!" I AM SO READY FOR THIS EPIC CONFRONTATION. SO. READY--

AND THEN THE MOMENT OF TRUTH--

...........................LOL YEAH OF COURSE THAT'S EXACTLY HOW IT GOES. THIS GUY COULD ABSOLUTELY WIPE THE FLOOR WITH KDJ, HE IS TERRIFYINGLY STRONG AND HE HAS NO REASON TO BE NICE TO HIM, BUT KDJ CAN'T HELP BEING EMOTIONALLY INVESTED BECAUSE HE READ THE ENTIRE WEBNOVEL STARRING YJH, HE LIVED FOR THAT STORY, AND WENT ON THE EMOTIONAL JOURNEY WITH THE PROTAGONIST. SO HOW DOES KDJ EXPRESS ALL OF THIS? STORMS RIGHT UP TO HIM WHEN HE'S IN A TRANCE AND IS BEING MIND-CONTROLLED AND HITS HIM ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD. He is a horrible, horrible little gremlin man and Yoo Joonghyuk has the galaxy's biggest storm coming in the form of YOU'RE GOING TO LIKE THIS GUY ONE DAY AND IT'S GOING TO BE HELL BECAUSE HE'S AN AWFUL, AWFUL LITTLE SHIT OF A HUMAN BEING. Also, you can never trust this series! N E V E R TRUST OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT. AS SOON AS YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE SCENE TONE FIGURED OUT, NOPE, IT YANKS THE RUG OUT FROM UNDER YOU AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE LEARNED A SINGLE THING.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 악인전기 / EVILIVE.

EVILIVE is a 2023 Korean crime drama about a mild-mannered middle-aged lawyer who becomes convinced by a beautiful tall mob boss that he is tired of being nice and does want to go apeshit.

I'm going to try real hard not to do the "[guy who has only seen Beyond Evil, watching a second Korean drama] this is giving Beyond Evil vibes" thing, but you have to admit up front that comparisons are inevitable. Both of them are tight, emotionally charged dramas with a lot of blurred lines about right and wrong, and both star the absolute acting powerhouse that is Shin Hakyun playing against a gorgeous younger man who sexually threatens him a lot.

However, EVILIVE makes Beyond Evil look warm and fuzzy. The series is tight, violent, messy tale of what happens when bad choices are the only choices left to make, but you lean real hard into them anyway. So especially if you're a fan of Infernal Affairs, The Gangster, the Cop, and the Devil, and/or other homoerotic East Asian crime-and-punishment media, let me give you five reasons why I think this ten-episode series is worth your time.

1. Daddy's home

But which one of them is Daddy??? Well, that's part of the fun. See, one of the characters is older and more composed, but also clearly the economically and hierarchically subordinate of the pair; the other is younger and has spent more time obediently submitting to his crime bosses, but has all the money and wields all the power in any room he walks into (and also uses every inch of his 6'2" frame to do it). So whichever one you think deserves that title, you're right.

Watching Shin Hakyun in a couple other things, I realized how often he's cast as a sniveling, pathetic, nerdy boy-man -- and he makes good use of that experience here. His Han Dongsu starts off as a wet paper towel of a person. They put that handsome fellow in the worst possible haircut a Korean man is allowed to have by law, frumped him up in some ill-fitting suits, and left him out in the rain for a couple scenes. It'd be criminal how much they nerfed his hotness if you didn't know from the start he's got a glow-up coming.

And it's a perfect contrast to the tall, lanky, and always slightly underwashed Seo Doyeong, played perfectly by Actual Runway Model Kim Youngkwang. Equal parts sleepy-eyed and vicious, Seo Deoyeong is a perfect handsome thug. He too looks like a lion who asked a good fairy to turn him into a beautiful Japanese lesbian, only his good fairy missed slightly, but the results were still pretty great.

And oh boy, does he want to fuck that old man in half.

There is a lot going on in this show, but the core dynamic is the weird dance between these two as Seo Doyeong opens the door to the criminal underworld and Han Dongsu makes the choice to step through it. The Korean title translates roughly to 'Villain Story,' so you know from the start this is going to about one guy looking at another and going, I can make him worse. And then he does.

I know there are those of you reading this right now who like it when those boys get rough with one another. I am here to tell you that EVILIVE does not disappoint on that front. If you consider stabbing someone a love language, this to you will be romance.

2. The TENSION

And I don't just mean the sexual tension, though, as my previous point noticed, there sure is a whole lot of that.

EVILIVE is not an easy feel-good funtime show. The very first scene (a flash-forward) involves seeing a character get stone-cold murdered by another character. This show features Legitimately Bad People Who Do Legitimately Bad Things. You may want some of them to get away with it because you like them for other reasons! But you know that geting away with it gets less and less likely every time you see them do yet another Legitimately Bad Thing.

The general shape of the plot is that a deeply stressed normie man who has been repeatedly fucked over gets a chance to strike back against the people and organizations that fucked him over by going to work for a violent mobster -- because all the systems that were supposed to help him are deeply corrupt and run by people arguably even worse than said violent mobster. So you don't even get the moral high ground of saying that Han Dongsu should have done things the right way because, motherfucker, he tried. He tried doing things by the book, and all that got him was a bunch of debt and humiliation. Worse, it got his loved ones a bunch of debt and humiliation to go right along with his.

Yeah, you notice I call him "normie" up there, and not "normal"? Han Dongsu is not a normal guy. Maybe he was, once, a long time ago, but life broke him very badly. Now he's trying to do what all the nice people say he's supposed to do, all the while being a bottled-up rage monster beneath the surface.

That's where Seo Doyeong comes in.

I do think the back half of the show is unevenly paced, to the point where I don't think it should have taken your full standard sixteen episodes of a regular-sized Korean drama, but I definitely think it should have gotten more than ten. The show kind of handwaves over months-long stretches of time that I very much would have liked to see play out, especially to watch Han Dongsu and Seo Doyeong bounce off one another some more.

If I were to put on my tinfoil hat, I would say that you would have to fast-forward over those stretches, because if you did show the extent of those boys' interactions during those periods -- enough to give some later events in the show the gravity they deserve -- things would quickly get unsustainably gay.

All right, all right, I know I'm calling things gay again, but how gay is it?

Well, to some degree, only as gay as these things ever are. I mean, you know the genre, so you understand the inherent sexiness of busting the lip of a guy you have a complicated life-or-death relationship with. If one of them were a girl, there'd be no question about what we're looking at here. (See: the Butch and Sundance digression in point 5 of my Sand Sea rec post.) You pretty much can't create the intense dynamic needed to sustain this kind of story without getting into at least a little unintentional homoeroticism.

Except I don't think it's entirely unintentional, and for that, I'm going to point (again) to Seo Doyeong.

When we first meet Seo Doyeong, he claims to have a girlfriend -- but then we actually meet her, and she's everyone's girlfriend but his. He never shows any interest in women. He never mentions romantic or sexual histories with women. I don't think he even interacts substantially with any adult women, minus one critical scene. Actual Runway Model Kim Youngkwang playes Doyeong like he clearly has the 'fight' and 'fuck' sections of his brain cross-wired, and he is always spoiling for a fight.

Now, of course, we are getting into the murky territory of 'just because a guy doesn't express interest in women doesn't necessarily mean he's gay!' Which, you're right, it doesn't. But when said guy is spending damn near every scene looking like somebody's about to get their dick sucked, yeah, it kinda does.

Wait, did I say we weren't talking about sexual tension? Well, that's fine, because there's still lots of high-stress surprises left! I've already made allusions to some of the general shapes of the narrative, and I'll make even more before this rec post is through -- and I don't feel like those are spoilers, because you can know the trajectory of the story and still find yourself holding your breath about what's going to happen next. It's like Breaking Bad! You know he breaks bad! That's not a spoiler! It's in the title!

EVILIVE's plot exists in a tangle of warring organized crime factions, all the bosses and goons vying for power inside said factions, the politicians they've paid off, the lawyers who know all their secrets, the businessmen trying to maximize their profits through illegal enterprises, the corrupt law enforcement agencies trying to make the conclusions fit their preferred narratives... What I'm saying is, it's going to get messy.

Oh, and there's also the one honest cop who's onto them, so, you know ... good luck with that.

3. Baby brother. Baby.

Every tragedy needs collateral damage. EVILIVE's comes in the form of Han Dongsu's dipshit younger half-brother, Han Beomjae.

God's perfect failure to launch, Beomjae is an underachieving doofus who has some real computer smarts, but lacks the ability to get his shit together in any meaningful fashion. Dongsu has taken care of Beomjae pretty much their whole shared lives, and now he also takes care of Beomjae's precious daughter, Minhui, who lives all but full-time with Dongsu and his wife.

I like that Beomjae's not some perfect angel either. Pretty much the first thing we do is see him scamming a customer at his part-time job so he can earn some extra cash. He's sweet and earnest, but he's also absolutely capable of taking advantage of situations to get by. When he's lying to customers about the price of refurbished hardware, that's one thing. When the big brother he'd do anything for gets wrapped up with a mob boss, that's quite another.

The show is kind of fuzzy about what the age difference is between them. Shin Hakyun is nearly twenty years older than Shin Jaeha, Beomjae's actor, but we get one little flashback when we see the boys together as kids, and there they look like they're maybe five and ten. I'm going to call bullshit on the flashback and go with the actor ages, because to me it definitely makes a big difference in Han Beomjae's character if he's supposed to be thirty and has been managing being a single dad -- and mismanaging everything else about his life -- since he was twenty.

Beomjae's a gentle little disaster, a petty fuckup who's used to getting by on petty crimes and trying his best (which is not very good). He is not a bottled-up rage monster. He does not want to go apeshit. He wants a mild-mannered existence, scraping together what he can to make a, well, mostly honest living for himself. Unfortunately for him, he's wound up in a genre that doesn't reward honesty.

Shin Jaeha turns in a solid performance here, especially considering his part is more understated than a lot of the others. Most of the time, he's sharing the screen with at least one of two real heavy hitters, but he holds his own. At first, I thought Beomjae was going to be annoying and exhausting, little more than a burden on Dongsu, but he turns out to be wonderful -- and because this show is the kind of show it is, you know eventually that's gonna hurt.

4. It's just beautiful

Ugh, this is the point where I have to get mad about how few screenshots there are of this show to poach from the internet, because it's lovely. The folk behind the camera are quite talented, and shots are framed and lit so well.

Here, I'm going to do my best with what's out there.

I mean, yeah, this show gets a cheat in how Actual Runway Model Kim Youngkwang is so gorgeous that you can't really get a bad shot of him. But the camera knows how to lean into his menace so effectively that it uses his natural resources perfectly.

Also, the posters they did for the main three are stunning.

I actually think this beauty is not just an incidental charm, but a key feature of the show. As I've said a couple times now, this show is quite violent. The violence, however, is presented in a way that is both lovely and awful at once, so you have something worth looking at even during the brutal scenes that isn't just ceaseless human misery. This is especially important to me because I'm pretty squeamish about violence! While I had to look away from the screen more than once (scenes with severing and breaking fingers in particular), I always kept wanting to look back.

Also! This show is set in 2008, which means it's got a cool recent-past vibe to it. Pretty much everything looks modern, except all the technology and cars are just out of date. It's a neat effect.

5. It resists an easy moral

Ah, we're back to Beyond Evil! You knew it was coming. Anyway, Beyond Evil ends -- and I'm saying this in as unspoilery of a way as possible -- with the people who did bad things getting punishments suitable to the level of badness they did. It's a show that skates the edge of copaganda but avoids it because of its steadfast belief that power and privilege should not insulate you from the consequences of your actions. Through this belief, it creates a story about a fantasy world in which power and privilege do not insulate you from the consequences of your actions.

Ha ha ha oh boy that is not EVILIVE's take on things.

EVILIVE exists in a world of extensive corruption and collusion between organized crime, politicians, and businesses -- and that world is very real. I remember when the South Korean president declared martial law last month, which prompted an immediate oh hell no response from pretty much everybody in the vicinity. A lot of non-Korean people were asking online how a country whose citizens seem so cool and action-oriented keep electing a bunch of absolute shitbags. And the answer seems to be, the whole system is jaw-droppingly corrupt, which means all the candidates are shitbags. You must be this shitbag to play. There is no non-shitbag option.

So it's not like Han Dongsu and Seo Doyeong are inventing some new kind of crime here. This is not the tale of how two bad dudes disturbed a pure and perfect ecosystem. It's a story about how, when presented with the choice of becoming the abuser or staying the victim, the "moral" choice is not the easy one.

I don't even think you can draw an easy conclusion about "oh, back when he was poor, at least he was happy and had friends!" because no he wasn't! His lack of money created so many problems for him and everyone around him! He has moments of happiness and togetherness, but they are vastly overshadowed by the grinding horror of his day-to-day life and the way it keeps him from being able to provide for or protect his loved ones. And he's haunted the whole time by the knowledge that the reason everything is so fucked up in the first place is that, once upon a time, he tried to do the right thing.

The real villain of the show is poverty, with a henchman of how it's so much easier to join a bad system than it is to challenge it. If anything, I wish the show had been a little more upfront about that, because I think that it's subtle about it to the point where it's easy to take away a shallow 'wow, bad things happen to people who do bad things!' lesson. That's not what it's saying. Yes, bad things happen to bad people, but sometimes good things happen to bad people. Actually, frequently good things happen to bad people, because the bad people do the things that make enough money to keep the bad things from happening to them. And bad things happen to good people because the good people don't have enough money to keep the bad things from happening to them. And if you're going to end up suffering either way, why not choose the way that also lets you live in a really nice house?

...I mean, okay, I guess there is at least one easy moral here, and that is DON'T GAMBLE ONLINE, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, JUST SET YOUR MONEY ON FIRE, IT'S FASTER

Ready to play ball?

For some reason, EVILIVE is not available on your regular streaming services. MyAsiaTV was how we were watching it, except that between episodes eight and nine (argh!), whatever external site they were hosting the videos on went kablooey for me. I'm leaving the link there because maybe it'll work for you? However, in searching for a replacement, I found that this DailyMotion account has the episodes as well, and has had them uploaded for over a year now, so perhaps that's a more reliable source. Whatever works for you!

In both cases, the subtitles are absolutely fine -- definitely some hiccups and typos here and there, but on the whole they're fine. They are, however, bowdlerized to the point of hilarity. You get scenes where these blood-covered gangsters are stabbing one another, and the subtitles have them yelling things like, "You jerk!" Which adds to the experience, but maybe not in a good way.

Anyway, watch it, then come back here, and we'll go together to see what AO3 has in the way of fix-it fic, okay?

He's a Benjamin Button baseball boy!

[panelshowsource]

i know people get a lil over-the-top with their line-up predictions

(i feel like i have so much to say about this but don't wanna get into it bc it's not nice to make fun of people for simply being excited about stuff?? but how are you gonna hear there's an "american comedy actor" on the upcoming series and sincerely suggest it's possibly let alone likely a-list hollywood star paul rudd... i love the enthusiasm but some of y'all gotta come back down to earth that's all i'm saying 😩)

but is it too much to ask for graham to just be on new year treat? 🥺 PLEASE? 🥺

omg so cute 💕 there are some people i just KNOW you guys are gonna go crazy for or fall in love with once you see them on something, she was like textbook tumblr crush hahaha

in case you didn't know she's one of the only co-writers of guy mont spelling bee so check that series out if you love her humour!! she is also on s01e01 of the nz ver :)

btw you didn't fall in love w her as hard as robbie did hehehe he is fan goals 🤭

sorry i am late to this ask — did you mean the last one laughing uk version? YES so excited especially because he's co-hosting with roisin and i love how funny he finds her! people have their predictions and i am gonna put it out there for a second time that i think joe lycett and judi love are underrated horses in this race. i know judi loves a laugh BUT she can hold her character with the best of them...👀

we need more new shows!!! i miss everyone ;;

THE REST IS ENTERTAINMENT OF COURSE!!!

wow i'd never heard of this channel (sorry i really don't know youtubers — but i'd like to! i keep saying i want to get into the history and zoology sectors of youtube essays (pls send if you have any you love lol)) but i'm glad to see the pod being used as a legitimate point of research!

bc casual listeners may not realise that when marina & richard address topics and answer audience questions, they're going to specialists in the industry — actors, writers, producers, showrunners, journalists, investors — and getting their input before coming on the pod for discussions. that's a major part of what gives the podcast the depth and authority we find so fascinating!

but was he wrong!! lmao he's so quick

ooo thanks i appreciate it! i listened to the sue perkins and nish kumar episodes and they were really fun — especially because i love goss and little personal life easter eggs. if you have a fave episode lmk!!

i can't say the format of the show blows my mind, but i do think with the right guests it can be fun — and elis is def one of my faves (he's such an underrated yapper)!! i loved alex, ivo, rose, sam as well. i do worry the show won't be worth a full episode listen with the wrong guest or chemistry, but for now i'm staying tuned in! i'll try to post some clips from it too

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - OMG PLEASE STOP SINGING

May 2023 Wk 2 

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Step By Step (Thai Tues WeTV & Gaga) ep 4 of 10 (MDL still says 12, but Gaga still says 10) - Jeng trying to improve himself so awkwardly is kinda sweet. I love that Bruce it here & queer! Yay! Chot is my favorite but Pat is my spirit animal, I always sniff people’s bath products. Jeng looking at Pat in the suit = hello, future husband. The irony of Pat running around trying to find Jeng’s weakness, when it’s clearly him. Also WASH YOUR HANDS & NO SINGING. 

La Pluie (Sat iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - still loving this one, enjoyed seeing the seme’s side of the meat cute. The miscommunication seems properly vested (although we may be manipulated by the visuals into thinking it’s kissing when it isn’t). But so far I am all in. Also killer chemistry with the leads already. My catnip. BUT... NO SINGING! 

Our Skyy 2 (Vise Versa) eps 7-8 - Each day of the month is a BL trope? That jives. The kid was a fun plot twist - if he had been real and not a lie. I chortled a lot and all the domesticity was nice, but I wasn’t surprised when it was all Pluen lying again. Once a liar, always a liar. Could Jimmy please play a better character next time? Also. NO SINGING. 6/10

Pastsenger (Thai Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 eps - Amnesia just makes me feel like we backslid and all the previous work of watching 9 eps is for naught. And it was WORK with this show. At least it only lasted one episode, but still, they’re gonna use it to continue the rift? Sigh. 

A Boss and a Babe (Fri YouTube) ep 11 of 12 - As much as I dislike these characters being constantly betrayed by the narrative, I really do love Cher. A sunshine sweetheart who is actually a decent honest human, who’s not ashamed of his love or his personality, it’s really rare and admirable on screen. I have to give B&B props for this character, if nothing else. And there is nothing else. This was possibly one of the stupidest episode 11 dooms ever fielded. And I do not say that lightly.

The Promise (Thai Weds YT & WeTV) ep 8 of 10 - This show has got to stop dwelling on the separation, every time they do it it just makes Phu look worse. I legitimately didn’t think that was possible. I LOVE Party so much. Not only is he a good friend, and probably an excellent boyfriend, he’s a great businessman. Khun is lovely too. Happy to have him win Nan’s heart. Really, anyone but Phu. Also Nan = an ace who collects hotties everywhere he goes? Props baby. 

House of Stars (Thai Mon iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - Very soap - kinda creepy, too long pauses, bloated cast, and utter confusion. Odd. The captions are insane, one name can (and will) be spelled 3 different ways. It’s a VAST cast and I can only really identify 3 characters: 1. the actor with the (beard?) gf who’s a suspiciously militant ally, 2. The oldest actor in the house with dark traumatic past, 3. The adorable evil femme who needles everyone. I might drop this show, I’m only really still watching bc it’s the only BL airing on Monday. Also: NO SINGING

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I’ve been waiting for this chapter. It’s one of my favorites from the manga. 

Love Mate (Korea Thurs Viki) eps 3-4 of 8 - Aggressive flirting or stalking? These 2 give Lovely Writer vibes. Honestly, I never thought Korea would go so very old school yaoi. Also went quickly to a high heat place I wasn’t expecting (but Japan would). 50% for a sex scene is very gay but wild for a KBL. If this were Strongberry it would’ve ended on this episode and I would’ve been fine with it. Now what? 4 eps of boyfriends? That’s cool but what is this crazy surreal BL world I am living in?

Happy Merry Ending (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 8 - Honestly, Korea, does it always have to be a love triangle? Always? Anygay, timid tsundere & confident sunshine is an interesting match. They’re sweet together, almost kindly. I like the calm ache of this pair. At first I thought it would be too much like Love Mate, but they’re completely different. I really want someone to punch the CEO ex, oh goodie! Battle of the hyungs. 

Vian the series (Vietnam YouTube ) - very in line with the my cat boyfriend tradition but honestly how can any human look like that? He truly myst be a cat. 

The Day I Loved You (Pinoy YouTube) eps 4-5 of 10 - It’s cute. They’re cute. Truth comes out when locked in a bathroom. Yay a new pinoy BL I actually like for a change. It’s been a LONG time. However BOOO for the doomy  “I want to be remembered, are you dying”. But a nicely dramatic midpoint. 

Naked Dinner AKA Zenra Meshi (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - How can he be so completely unaware of how in love he is? Ah well, I suppose we aren’t yet half way through and it’s one of THOSE JBLs. In yaoi half the time you are husbands before you even confess you like the other person. 

It is unfair for a real live human to be this beautiful. We talking Hunjin-level unfair. WTF Vietnam? Why you gotta broadside us like this? 

It’s Airing But ...

Love Syndrome (Thai Sat WeTV) stopped at ep 2 of 12 - I’m just not into any aspect of it (except Lee Long Shi) - saving to binge if the end is solid.

Venus in the Sky (Sat YouTube) pilot/tester?) 0 of 10 - not entirely sure what’s up with this one distribution-wise, but the pilot was classic university-set pulp. I hope it happens because the leads are cute with good chemsitry and I thought it was fun. However, this pilot holds together as its own little short too.

Stormy Honeymoon (Vietnam)

My Story (Pinoy Sat YouTube) ep 4 of 10 - I bounced.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Star Struck (Korea iQIYI) ostensibly starts Thursday but icky is being janky about it, so we shall see - A boy has had a crush on his childhood friend for a long time. Stars Zuho (Kpop SF9 - noted good egg) opposite rookie actor Kim In Sung (the one with the crush).

Happy Merry Ending and Boss & Babe both end. Be My Favorite will be taking the GMMTV Fridgay time slot. 

Coming in May 2023:

5/26 Be My Favorite prev title: You Are My Favorite (Thai YouTube) Adapted JittiRain y-novel (2gether, FUTS, ToL, Vice Versa) one of those “rewrite the past to change the future.” Stars Krist (SOTUS) + Fluke Gawin (DBK, Not Me). Expect this to be v low heat, full of LIES and manipulation. 

5/27 The Luminous Solution (Thai ????) 10 eps - Thana is having trouble at work and in his relationship. He can't seem to catch a break. So he makes a wish to change everything. The wish has a price.

5/27 Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari no Hajimari no Asa (Japan) - NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS (but that has never stopped Japan before) and no, I have no idea where to get it, why would I ?????  (Say it with me everyone: Oh Japan, must you?*)

* At least I never have to tell Japan to stop singing. Small mercies. 

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

House of Cards. I like this character. I don’t have any idea who he is or why he’s so militant of an ally but I still like him. 

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. (Vice Versa’s Our Skyy eps) 

Preach, sweetheart.

Yes, please and thank you. (Both Boss & Babe) 

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? ONEUS - ERASE ME, I like the concept (suits! corset! kinky!) and it’s catchy enough

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 3

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1800

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

You’re getting ready to take your lunch break but are stopped by a grumpy looking man carrying a manilla envelope.

“Are you Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I am,” you hesitate, trying not to look too long at his scars.

“I was told to deliver this to you, tell you it’s from a friend and that your safety depends on you reading it before you see Mr. Fowler again.” He holds out the envelope and, despite the confusion written all over your face, he doesn’t add any clarifying statements. The way his mustache twitches he clearly thinks you’re wasting his time by not taking it from him right away.

“Thank you, Mr….” your tone turns into a question as you take the envelope but he turns away without giving you any answers.

You sit back at your desk and open the envelope. Inside are all sorts of police reports, all violent crimes, and all involving Nick. You recognize the forms and the seals to know these are legitimate. You see his mugshots where he’s clearly been in a fight. You see photos of the people who lost those fights and shudder. 

You’d seen Nick with some mild injuries, the occasional black eye, but you never figured him to be violent. He’d always seem too calm, cool and collected to hit someone. Yet the files in front of you begged to differ. 

And you’re supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.

As you're getting the manilla folder, Nick is cleaning himself up after another messy interrogation. He probably shouldn’t be doing this so soon before a date but Bucky’s been pushing for some intel and this was his best chance. It’s not like he was all that serious about the date, anyways. It was just fulfilling a promise to you and keeping that work relationship solid with the added bonus of keeping you away from Kent.

Curtis showed up at the Basement Studio with his cleaning equipment. Nick thought for a moment and asked, “Hey, Curtis, you got a minute?”

“Whatcha need?”

“I’m taking a lady out tonight. You got any special restaurants you take Teach?”

Curtis softens at the mention of his girl, “I’m not sure the restaurants we frequent would be up to your standards. We’re more into greasy spoon types of places.”

“Yeah, this girl is a bit classier than that.”

“How about Wilson’s new restaurant? Use your connections to get a table?”

“That could work,” Nick hums. “Give her a nice night at an exclusive place.”

“Hope it works out. It must be pretty serious if you’re asking me for advice.”

“Nah,” Nick dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Just promised to help cheer her up after some family shit happened. I need her happy so I can keep doing my job.”

“Does she know it’s just the one date? That it’s not feelings based?”

“Pretty sure.”

“You’re gonna wanna double check that,” Curtis chides. “I’d hate to have to send Teach after you.”

Nick chuckled a little, “I’ll make sure she knows before the date starts.”

Curtis nods, “good luck, then.”

It’s time to clock out of work and go meet Nick but you find yourself hesitating. Stalling, you child yourself. You’ve known him long enough he at least deserved a chance to explain everything. If someone was trying to make you rethink your relationship with Nick, they were going to have put in more work.

Stepping outside you see Nick’s car and you start walking towards it. He gets out and moves to open the passenger door for you, a smile on his face. 

“Hello, pretty Lady,” he greets. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t be able to make it.” His smile drops when he sees hesitance written all over your face. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “in the car, please.” As you sit he closes the door for you and paces to his own. When you’re both settled in you pull the manilla envelope out of your bag and hand it to him. “What is all of this, Nick?”

He opens the envelope and you see his face go from worried to ice cold anger. “How did you get these?” 

“They were delivered to my desk this afternoon.” 

“By whom?”

“Does it matter? Is your answer going to be different depending on who delivered them? I deserve an explanation regardless of their source.”

Nick takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving the reports in front of him. His brain kept trying to work out why someone would give you this. Well, reasons beyond souring your work relationship and hindering his own work as a result. He was so focused on the considerations and possibilities he didn’t hear you calling his name. It wasn’t until he heard your door slam shut that he snapped out of his reverie and realized he’d accidentally ignored you. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he gets out of the car to follow you. “Y/N! Y/N, wait up, please!”

You pause your steps and turn to give him a stern look. “Oh, you’re finally willing to talk about this. How gracious of you.” He flinches at your tone and drops his face a little. “I’m going home, Nick. Good night.”

“Please,” he sighs. “I was caught off guard. I’ll give you all of the answers over dinner, I promise.” You hesitate so he adds, “at the very least I can promise you a free meal at a very exclusive but very good restaurant that just opened.” You raise an eyebrow. Encouraged, he continues, “and if I haven’t answered your questions to your satisfaction, you’ll never have to see me again.”

You nod, “okay. But this had better be a good explanation and some damn good food.”

As Nick promised, the restaurant looks very nice and the smells from the kitchen are exquisite. The hostess takes you to one of the semi-private booths, blocked off with curtains. You’ve never been in such a high-class place and you feel a little under-dressed. Your eyes widen when you look at the prices on the menu.

“Nick, I can’t afford this place.”

“You’re here at my request,” he chuckles. “The least I can do is pay for your food and drink.” He looks into your eyes and sees your discomfort. “I mean that,” he pleads, his sky blue eyes softening. “Please don’t worry about the costs. I’ve got you covered.” You purse your lips but nod.

The waiter arrives for drink orders and you just ask for water. Nick gives you a look and you tell him you don’t know enough about wine to really know what to pick. He nods and orders water and a bottle of something with a way too long name. 

As they leave you look back to the menu and confess, “I’m really not sure what half of these things are.”

“I’m pretty experienced with these kinds of things,” Nick assures. “If something sounds interesting let me know and I’ll see if I can remember what it is.”

You nod and start saying some of the names of dishes with Nick telling you some of the basics of ingredients and cooking methods for each. His knowledge of these things is quite impressive. When the waiter comes back with the drinks you order a Thai Pomelo Salad and Seared Tuna Niçoise. You hope it’s good. You’re upset with Nick but would hate to waste his money on food you don’t actually like. 

As soon as the waiter leaves you sigh, sit up straight, and ask Nick, “so what do you have to say about those files?”

He nods, “I’m not gonna deny their legitimacy. I’ve done some bad things, had bad things done to me. It’s all part of my work.”

“I thought you were just a Private Investigator.”

“Yup,” Nick nods. “And it’s not all searching records and archives. It’s nice when that’s all I need to do for a job, but most jobs require talking to dangerous people. Sometimes it escalates.”

“Nick, I saw the photos of your victims,” you chide. “That’s not dangerous, that’s deadly.”

“That’s training,” he objects. His face is pained as he continues, “what the files don’t tell you is that I’m former CIA. And yes, I can provide proof of that. I had to learn a lot of combat, a lot of tactics, and a lot of…other things. I quit when I got figuratively backstabbed too many times by other agents looking to just climb the ladder. But you can’t just forget your training.” He pours himself a glass of the red wine and sips it before continuing. “Eddie hooked me up. He was a friend from college and he helped me find my steading here. Introduced me to the right people, warned me against the wrong people, and a lot more.”

You nod as you listen, expression softening as he talks about Eddie. “So all of those people that you hurt?”

“In every case they tried to hurt me first. Even if witnesses were paid to testify otherwise. I never strike first, I promise.” There’s an intensity in his face you’ve never seen before. His eyes almost seem to be changing shades of blue as a reflection of his emotions.

You bite your lower lip as you think. “Okay Nick,” you say after a bit. “I’ll trust you.”

The worry and hurt in his face fades to a soft smile of relief, “thank you. Now will you please tell me who gave you the files?”

Nick gets back to his car after walking you to your door. You might not have known the identity of the man who gave you the folder but what you did know was enough for Nick. August Walker, known lackey in Kent’s conglomerate. He used to be higher in the rankings but got caught trying to kidnap some important person’s daughter. Cost him is rank and his looks. 

Kent wants to turn you against him. Nick knows he’s been a thorn in Kent’s side for years but now you’re a risk. You’re a possible weak point in Nick’s armor and Kent’s not gonna stop until he breaks you, hurting Nick in the process. 

Nick was supposed to make sure you knew that this was just a date as friends. That he was just keeping his promise, nothing more between you two. But during dinner he decided he needs to keep up the facade of interest. The closer he can keep you, the safer you’ll be. Especially after he gets you a bracelet with a tracker, just to be safe.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

[laurelnose]

a disorganized pile of ninefox ttrpg thoughts

it is HERE! also it was late in shipping by like, a day? or two? so android press sent me the PDF version also, which was very very nice of them. For this I will forgive them the weird jank in the PDF version’s character encoding. (Maybe like 5% of characters consistently copy-paste as different characters. I think they fucked up the font subsetting somehow. It’s fine, it’s just weird. Makes quoting it a little bit of a hassle. Might be less fine if you use a screenreader.)

So pleased with several little random details which are not at all relevant to like, gameplay or the worldbuilding at large but which I just kind of wanted to know. The calendar months! The full set of Kel rank symbols! Signifiers for Kujen and Tseya! <3 Also, an additional set of symbolism for the factions per the calendar months? If I’m reading this correctly it's Rahal/Wood (!?), Andan/Bells, and Vidona/Knives. [We basically knew the other three, which are Shuos/Eyes, Kel/Pyres, and Nirai/Stars.] As a visual artist I am contractually obliged to be hype about all my little guys getting Symbols, they make my life easy and fun.

This is a slim little volume, so it’s light on lore details that you couldn’t find either a) in the actual series or b) on Lee's dreamwidth. That said, one new bit was that it was not previously clear to me that the nominal arrangement of power in the heptarchate was explicitly unequal between the Liozh and the others — I thought the extant six turned on the Liozh as one of their fellows, not that they deposed the ruling faction. Interesting.

Disappointing: there are no mechanics for the calendar besides the ability to tag the current festival/remembrance. :( I wanted to roll dice about calendrical rituals!! Funnily enough there's a whole little caveat section where he’s like, inevitably someone will want to have space battles, which can be accommodated by keeping them character-focused bc this system is not designed for battle sim crunch. No similar apology for those who might want magic system crunch, if anyone wanted any further evidence that Lee and Jedao are the same guy, lmao.

Other than that I’m not actually that much of a crunchy rules guy myself so I like the system itself fine. I enjoy the concept of every check involving not necessarily skills but character traits. And also the commitment to sixes. You need A LOT of d6s for this game.

If you’re really committed I think it would be fun to play with a set of these (normal d6s except instead of numbers or pips they have clock faces showing hours 1-6):

Jedao’s character sheet is so funny. “Complications: I have abysmal taste in lovers.” BE NICE TO HIM LMAO

It’s not entirely clear to me under which circumstances you wind up the Hexarchate Clock. Is it actually only if Kujen is in play? Does that mean he’s literally required if you want to run a long take-down-the-whole-hxx campaign?

The prewritten scenarios are neat! I don’t have a lot to say about them. They look like they would be fun. I like “The Field of Diplomacy” and the concept of the adjacent polity a lot. Oh also the note at the end of “A Heretical Sacrifice” that is just like “if the ‘human sacrifice’ bit is too vague for you and you want to add more torture, here are some ideas!” is 1) funny and 2) appreciably graphic and wince-inducing. HXX-typical gore: delivered on!

This is a petty note, but excluding servitor PCs on the grounds that this is a game about moral complicity and thus only human faction members can be PCs sure is a Statement. I know servitors are slaves and thus the moral calculus is certainly different, but like, the complicity is the entire point of Hemiola’s arc??? And faction servitors quite obviously often consider themselves to be legitimately part of that faction? The one Shuos servitor we meet is as interested in games as any fox, the assault on Shattered Needles is made possible because the Unspoken Law’s servitors consider themselves Kel, the Aerie interlude with sin 𝑥² is about a servitor who considers itself so deeply Kel it wants to go down with the hivemind. I understand they complicate things mechanically but excluding servitors for thematic reasons is silly.

That said, I feel like a servitor hack wouldn’t be too much more mechanically complex. None of the prewritten scenarios work with an all-servitor group, but I think they could all be run with one or maaybe two servitor PCs. You’d have to do some pregaming to figure out how you’d open communication between human/servitor PCs. Lore-wise, the faction traits are clearly not meant to represent the faction exotics or the Shuos wouldn’t have one; they read more like “specialized skills developed as a consequence of picking this faction” than calendrical stuff, so faction servitors could have standard faction abilities, with the caveat that a lot of interpersonal Edges may be hard for Andan servitors to hit on account of social interaction between servitors & humans being, well, you know. Alternatively, no faction abilities for servitors, but all servitors +2d6 to anything involving grid-diving and/or mechanics. Servitors can have ranks just like human PCs, though these ranks are only relevant to other servitors (and possibly moths). Servitors can probably tag calendar traits like humans, they just can’t participate in formations or affect calendrical gradients (neither of which have explicit mechanics in this system anyways). Heresies are the same for servitors as humans.

This really made me want to dig out that calendrical cryptocurrency heist concept I had to see if I can put together a scenario. And maybe also make some cardboard game spinners for a tactile clock experience...

[funishment-time]

haha, I can't relate - momota was very much my favorite character from the jump! (from the jump in this case meaning starting from the chapter 4 trial [which I took a chance with bc I was having a hard time getting into the earlier chapters] and then only going back to the prologue after watching all the way up to the start of trial 5) I wonder if I'd have had the same experience with momota as you did if I'd listened to the english cast (like I assume you did?), as I'm not as big a fan of his english voice compared to his japenese one...but either way, I'm really glad you grew to like him :D he's definitely my favorite character from v3- I really liked his scenes with saihara in chapter 2 especially, like when they were investigating + the talk they have right before the trial. if you don't mind me asking, do you remember if there was any specific thing in chapter 3 that made you come around to him? :o or was it just a general, 'eh, this guy's not bad actually/I kinda appreciate his presence' sort of thing?

I'm in the same-ish boat as you re: saimota vs oumota, I think, with the slight caveat that I not only think oumota is generally interesting, but I am just a huge fan of it in general. like to me they are Prime Yaoi, if that makes any sense- my impression is that oumota's the kind of yaoi ship people would go to war for, lol. like chapter 4 trial was just crazy bc of the oumota + saimota + saiouma dynamics all happening all at once

kaito growing on me like an Adorable Purple Moss definitely came along as a "aw, it's nice that he's around" kind-of thing. i don't think there was any particular moment, but the feeling started in chapter 3 and fully materialized towards the end of the game when i found myself legitimately Feeling Bad at his reaction to the "apocalypse." i mean, this sprite is painful:

poor guy. i also loved his Exit a lot, and that he totally seems willing to be a Wingman to some kind of potential Shuichi x Maki thing, ha. just a bro. we don't have too many of them in the Franchise. (Makoto really lacks one, and i think Kazuchi wanted to be something like Kaito for Hajime...unfortunately, he is Kazoo Itchy.) Kodaka didn't make one on Kaito's level again until Desuhiko in Rain Code.

regardless, V3 has the most interesting Yaoi for me in the series. before that, there's some cute-ish ships/funny ones/logical ones, but nothing i'd really want to see Explored A Lot. the boys of V3 knocked it out of the park there, much like how all the girl designs are chef's kiss best in the series overall

[imhereformr]

Tag game: Tag nine (9) people you want to get to know better

Tagged by: @florelia12

Three Ships:

(Why have I just forgotten every show I've seen or book I've read???)

Musa/Riven (Winx Club): I don't think this needs an explanation...

Ben/Leslie (Parks and Rec): I love you and I like you. I mean, come on! There's nothing I love more than a healthy couple (we all know that's a lie cause my #1 ship is Musa and Riven but, like, stfu) that genuinely like each other and respect each other.

Mickey/Ian (Shameless): Me again, proving that I am a hypocrite with my so-called love of healthy relationships while actively LOVING dysfunction. I just love Mickey and I love how much he and Ian love each other. (I also love that Mickey became a groom-zilla - as a wedding professional that one made me laugh a lot). I cried when Mickey showed up as Ian's cell mate. Legitimately, cried 😭😭

First Ship:

Sakura/Tomoyo (Cardcaptors): Now, I watched the American version as a kid where they named Tomoyo MADISON??? and had her very much less in love with Sakura. That being said, I still shipped it. (And yet it still took me 25 years to figure out that I'm not straight?)

Last Song:

Penthouse by Kelsea Ballerini

My girl was ROBBED at the Grammys. Rolling up the welcome mat deserved the best country album award. That shit had me feeling and crying like I was going through a divorce too (I am in a healthy, happy relationship). I listened to 70000 minutes of Taylor Swift last year and yet 4/5 of my top songs on Spotify were from this album.

Last Movie:

My friends and I (try) to do a monthly movie-night where every month gets a theme, then we suggest movies and vote on a winner. We haven't been able to get everyone together since September so we watched our October movie 2 weeks ago... Bring It On: Cheer Or Die. It was awful.

Currently Reading:

Sabriel by Garth Nix. I just got Terciel & Elinor, so I have to reread the whole series. I've read this series 3 times. I highly recommend.

Currently Watching:

...Should be watching Winx Club. Am actually rewatching Brooklyn 99.

Currently Drinking:

Water.

Currently Craving:

Would absolutely kill for cream of broccoli soup rn. With some nice warm baguette.

Tagging: holy shit i gotta think of people... @duchessodette @redhairedgirl95 @onehellofakathy @valtors-bitch @anotsosecretdreamer @charmixpower @skylaryozora @sunacousins @krissykakesss

[rouge-fauna]

I wanted to ask you, do you have any advise in making meta analisys? I'm interested in making some analysis on the dsmp lore once i finish the lore and start watching the vod closely. But i feel kind of intimidated by seeing how people can be rude to each other when talking about the lore and a bit lost on how to interact with other's analisys. And wanted to know if you have any advise for people who want to start on the meta analysis part of the fandom?

Well, I'd hardly call myself an expert since well... I'm not exactly one of the ogs here and I'm getting the impression there are many people here who don't exactly like what I have to say, but you ask so I'll give you my two cents and hope I don't lead you a stray.

You will probably notice a variety of how people go about their analysis. I wouldn't say there is a right or wrong way, it's not like we are professionals or anything, we are just having fun looking at a story and its elements. Some people take that too seriously, which is unfortunate since at the end of the day we are talking about characters of some Minecraft roleplay series. But it's easy in a writing format to come across the wrong way and make people feel attacked, because there isn't tone or body language and stuff.

Anyways, here are I guess some of the things I keep in mind.

There is a difference in fact and opinion, and just because I see things a certain way doesn't make it fact or the other person wrong, so the way I make sure to highlight this is through statements like - "the way I see it" "in my mind" "in my opinion" "personally I see it as" "I think" "I feel like" "It is interesting to me"... etc phrases to emphasize that this is my opinion, but that is not the end all be all. I also like to include plenty of "perhaps" "maybe" "I don't knows" and legitimate questions in there. I do this to hopefully open it up to say - hey this is how I see it - which hopefully comes across as less as me correcting them but just adding thoughts. One of the things that frustrates me sometimes, is that I see people say things as if they just are facts and true when they aren't necessarily. Something that further frustrates me when no evidence or way for me to see for myself is provided. Which is why I also try to provide, links, clips, quotes and stuff so people don't have to just take my word for it. Not to say I am always great about doing this or that it is always required, there are some things that are just more wildly known so it's not needed to cite everything. My rule of thumb for this is if it's more obscure or not common knowledge, so whether it's word specific, a scene not talked about, an like an academic source (or if I just so happen to have it clipped or written down lol XD). Not that you have to do either of those things of course, it's very much up to you how you want to do it, this is just how I do it because my autism engineer ass likes the facts and the why and how of things. Like if you say 'c!Dream's hair is green' I'm like - okay, that's an opinion, good for you - but if you say 'I think Dream's hair is green and this is why', then I'm a lot more interested in what you have to say, but again that's just me. It is worth noting also, that I'd say don't insult someone's intelligence or person because of something they said about a Minecraft boy at 3am ya know? Try to avoid being derogatory or nasty. You don't have to respect their opinion or agree, but you should respect them as a person, a person with the right to say something on the internet without being bashed because people don't like it. I would say it is better to say I think 'this take is dumb', not 'you are dumb' because of this take (though also probably best to avoid dumb in general as it is kinda derogatory and rude but hopefully you get the gist). It can also be nice to highlight something you agree with or liked that the other person said to make sure you're not being all negative and give them credit when you are agreeing and adding to a statement so they don't think you are correcting them.

Other things I do, to hopefully not come across aggressive is not using all caps or exclamation points - cuz in my mind I'm like why are you yelling at me ya know :( - I prefer italics and bold and sometimes capitalizing words, but that's just how I do it because I noticed that those things make me feel attacked whether or not that person meant it that way. Sometimes people will straight up say they are done, but sometimes it may be is less directly, so in general I'd say if the other person doesn't seem to want to engage further or has conceded in any way, big or small, they are probably done talking about it. When you go past that mark, then they will definitely feel more like they're being attacked (I think this is one of the things I run into with asks as I feel done, but they continue it on (which of course I know why, they may not have gotten to share their points on the matter yet or whatever) and I'm always torn on whether to continue, because I may also just feel tired of talking about it). I'd say also either ask them permission directly or in your response, like sometimes I'll say - "I hope it's okay if I add on" because that person may not want to engage. And if it's about direct statements or arguments, then make sure the other person is made aware, like if I'm responding to tags I try and tag that person. Or if I am building off of what someone said in a different direction I might also tag them, or go to their ask box, go to the comments, or whatever. It doesn't feel good to have people pick apart what you said without being given a chance to defend yourself. Assume the best in people, they may not be trying to be a certain way, and the way you read something may not be the way they meant and I'd say it's always better to ask for clarification then take something the wrong way. (I'd say that genrally about real life too - like if you don't know a word someone is using, ask them to define or clarify, to most people it shows you are actually listening so they are more than happy to explain)

General rule - be respectful and kind, remember to not take things too seriously cuz we are talking about characters after all. We are all here to engage in something we love. <3

Also in regards to analysis and lore, I'd say be aware of bias and context and assumptions, keeping in mind are you looking at something from a character's point of view or an outsider.