#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 (coming soon) 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

[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​

[fireflychaosdemon]

y’all I’m going to rant now

ok so I’m going to go on a really long rant about the land of stories and don’t read past the keep reading if you haven’t read books 1-6 and don’t want spoilers

this will also have slight spoilers for the Message In A Bottle TLoS au on wattpad by TwelveTurquoise12 so if you care about spoilers for that don’t read past the keep reading either (thank you whoever made incognito mode so i can read wattpad without making another account that I’ll fail at keeping)

ok so I was reading the sequel to the invisible string fic on wattpad (the TLoS fic I was talking about yesterday)

and the fic is to the point of Alex and Arthur started dating (a fact I incredibly dislike but the fic is too good for me to stop reading)

and I was thinking about it

and I realized that I have never actually liked the Alex x Arthur ship, even in canon

I am shipping Alex with one of the authors OCs that I wish existed in canon tbh

And the thing about my dislike of the Alex x Arthur ship is that I thought it was just because in canon, how the series is supposed to be about Alex and Conner, but a fair amount of it is just about Alex (hence why my favourite books in that series are A Grimm Warning and An Author’s Odyssey, as it focuses on both of them instead of mainly just Alex)

like I love Alex as a character , I relate way too much to her, and I will defend her but I don’t like how the majority of the series is about her when it’s supposed to be about her and Conner

so I figured that was why I didn’t like the Alex x Arthur ship

but the thing is, if that was the reason, I would’ve also disliked the Alex x Rook ship, and I actually shipped it up until he betrayed her

so I was thinking about it

and I think I’ve figured out why I hated the Alex x Arthur ship so much

first of all, they got wayyy too attached in two weeks. Arthur legitimately speedruns his entire life just to go see Alex after knowing her for two weeks

that’s at least a little bit extreme, like I know you were panicked, but you can’t put your entire life on hold waiting and then just speedrun your life so you can be with her

and idk maybe this is romantic and I’m reading it wrong, but it seems a little obsessive to me

second of all

why did Alex say absolutely nothing to anyone

like Conner didn’t even know that Alex and Arthur were dating until Arthur just showed up while Alex was possessed and Conner was like “who tf are you” and Arthur responded with “oh I’m your sister’s boyfriend”

and I get Alex and Conner had a lot going on

but that’s not really something you wouldn’t say anything about, even in passing. Even a slight mention of “oh btw, I’m dating someone” would have been nice

yes that would cause more questions but I highly doubt that they never had any time to talk about anything not related to preventing the world from being destroyed

crushes? Go ahead, keep it entirely to yourself if you want. Actively dating? No matter how awkward that conversation is, it still needs to happen

and if you can’t have that conversation because it’s unsafe for you at home or something, fine, you don’t need that conversation, (i.e telling your parents you have a significant other of the same gender when they don’t accept the LGBTQIA+ community) but it wasn’t like that

again, maybe I’m reading this wrong, but that’s at least slightly suspicious to me

finally,

it kind of felt like Alex was trying to move on too fast

like, you can have some in between dating people time, especially when you’re trying to save the world

it just felt more like a rebound after Rook than an actual healthy relationship

because at the time they got together, Alex was actively trying to leave the world of Camelot

they were making the portal potion

and I’m not saying you can’t have a crush, but is actively dating the best plan when you are trying to leave so you can prevent the destruction of the world plus like I said, you literally met like a week ago

is this the best idea? Because i personally don’t think it is

Let’s say they didn’t actively start dating, and kept it as crushing by the time Alex left Camelot

maybe Arthur still could convince Merlin and Mother Goose to go to the Otherworld, but instead of just “I really want to go kiss Alex” it was more “let’s go help prevent the destruction of the world so we can maximize the amount of saved lives and so we can have more time to see if anything one day happens, and if not, that’s okay.”

speedrunning life to the extent that he did was not entirely necessary for the plot

we could also have more development of missing each other, but not to the extreme of “my life is worthless without you” because if you legitimately cannot survive without someone, it’s a little bit excessive in my opinion

this is also why Conner x Bree was a way better ship in my opinion

with Conner x Bree, both of them knew they were crushing on each other by the end of A Grimm Warning, but they were a) still able to function when the other wasn’t there, and b) they didn’t start dating instantly, which gave it more time to develop, which made it better in my opinion, because it was more “I don’t need you, but I want you because I love you” which I actually find more romantic and a healthier dynamic

anyway so tell me if I’m reading all of this wrong, but Alex x Arthur has felt kind of wrong since the beginning for me and thank you for reading this ridiculously long rant

[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.

[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

[terrahlee-cup]

The finale of the ‘holy shit she has a lot to say about this one fic’ series before I return to my regularly scheduled random bullshit. Enjoy lol @raphaelesbian

Chapter 11

*sees author’s note, immediate fear*

Him thinking they look like they should be scared of him hurts me. The baby is not doing too hot tonight huh? Let them like youuuu 🥹

OUTFIT TIME YES! “We need to match if we’re going to be a team!” I KNOW I KEEP SAYING THIS BUT THEY’RE ADORABLE. 

“He’d gone past that feeling, to the frayed mess that he was now. He… didn’t want her to feel like this.” Buddy you shouldn’t feel like that either??? This child is so sweet with other people when he needs to be but never himself ow ouch.

These two are so excited to dress him up and I am excited to read it.

“Well, I love being difficult. Ask Leo.” And the self-deprecation is back. Ohp.

Love these two being legitimately concerned for him when they find out his family doesn’t know what he’s been doing. As much as everything they’ve been up to has usually been dangerous it’s really good for Raph to have more friends outside of his family.

Also, the actual effort to make him feel like he’s part of their little group is incredible and amazing and adorable and-

Ohp they found a landmine— wonder if that’ll come up again later?

Damn Raph didn’t even hesitate with that one did he. Call him a crybaby and he will have his revenge lol.

Oh yeah they still don’t get the turtle noise thing yet do they? And now the alcohol is really hitting time for the sad.

He’s… not going to be as quiet as usual while drunk. This could go poorly. He is so getting in trouble it is so obvious he’s intoxicated. Multiple people are up he is DOOMED.

Yep. Yeah his dad figured it out immediately. Oh boy. AND CASEY’S THERE TOO THERE GOES HIS EXCUSE FOR BEING OUT. I am. Uncomfortable. Agh, lying to his family is not good but he DOES need to be able to get out of the lair. He’s in a bad spot as it is without being cooped up all the time.

Ah. There’s the blow-up. Yayyyy. Donnie… hun, why in the actual fuck would you think suggesting that would be a good idea after everything that’s happened?

“None of you get to decide what I do!” Annnnd there’s the main problem. Sure, Raph may have been the ‘rebellious one’ before the brain worm, but people trying to control him (even if trying to protect him) is probably way more uncomfortable for him now. He lost all control of his body for what, 3+ months? Yeah can’t expect him to not need some level of freedom right now. Anxiety-inducing as hell for his family (entirely fair), but trying to keep him in the lair is probably going to do more harm than good.

Chapter 12

Oh hey he’s dissociating almost immediately after waking up that’s good! Yay! :D

“Karai would hate him for it.” Hun I very much doubt that. She definitely knows your family would find out eventually.

“If I’m such a disappointment, why do you even care what I’m doing?” Agh stupid dumb child must hug him.

“No wonder Shredder favored robots and mind control.” Oh boy. This can only go well. The self-deprecation is getting worse too lovely! Bud your family’s just really fucking worried damn it. They don’t hate you 😫

Mikeyyyyyy <3 bean. Lol he snuck Raph his phone, nice.

Of course he got caught immediately trying to sneak out. “for a moment he wanted him to give in.” This kid is NOT OKAY. AT ALL. That is NOT GOOD.

“the desperation woven into a noose that tightened with each word that fought its way through his esophagus.” EYYYYY HE SAID THE THING. (Ow.)

“Y’know, he said the same thing.” OW. FUCK. THAT WAS HARSH BUDDY- LIKE WAKE-UP CALL YES BUT ALSO WAY TOO MUCH.

I think I summarized a lot of my thoughts about these two chapters very well here:

But in all seriousness this is very well written and I am very excited for whenever the next chapter is uploaded. Seemingly we’re in for some more angst based on… certain posts *squints*

Love the chaos trio that is Shinigami, Karai, and Raph. They are menaces and will probably give Splinter gray hairs in the very near future lol. I suppose Raph and Karai have probably given him quite a few already on their own, though. Whoopsie.

[bleezebrew]

3, 13, 21 from this ask game

3. I am not entirely sure I can pin down what my style is so that does make this harder. I'm sure I could come up with a different answer every time. This is from "This Flame That Burns Inside of Me" from my Immortal!Leverage series. It contains reference to Nate's alcoholism.

Nate didn't have a problem. He didn't. He didn't know what Sophie was playing at, saying he had withdrawal symptoms. Immortals didn't get withdrawal symptoms. It was this place, these people, getting put under a microscope and picked at by the one person who should have understood— "We're in the middle of a con!" Sophie demanded. "What the hell were you thinking, Nate?" "Just—" stop pushing. "Just—" understand. "Tell me about our guy. What do we know about Hurley?" "We need to talk about this." "No, we don't need to talk. You need to talk. I'm fine. Now read me in." Sophie set a hand on her hip. "You want me to read you in?" she asked sweetly. Nate hesitated, self-preservation kicking in a few moments too late. "Uh—"

13. This is from "Love Like a Sorrow" (wip) and helped me pin down exactly what variety of complicated I wanted to make Ambrosius' mother.

His mother tipped her head in that of course you know way that always frustrated him, because no, Mom, he really didn't. If Bal's flower hadn't been in his hand, he would have balled it into a fist. "Becoming director of the Institute," she said. "I'm not sure why the royal family hasn't sorted out succession yet, but the Kingdom needs the bloodline of Gloreth in this trying time." Ambrosius stared at her. She scoffed. "The nobles haven't even managed to start on repairs to the wall yet, can you imagine? The unrest in the Kingdom—" Ambrosius thought about the lake. He wanted to go there. "Does it...need to be repaired?" he asked. His mother frowned at him, eyes flicking over him in concern. "Ambrosius, you do remember what—" "Yes, I remember almost dying—" "Ambrosius!" she scolded, looking legitimately scared. "Don't say things like that, Sunflower."

21. I don't generally save lines that I cut and I edit as I go, so they're all gone now. But I do have this! It's part of a deleted scene from "Wheat with the Chaff" from my Above Board series that I cut to maintain tension, but enjoyed too much to get rid of entirely.

“Nice to see you, Admiral. Now we can have this whole situation handled and get back to work.” Raner smiled slightly and folded her hands in front of her. “Pressman,” she greeted him. “What is my one rule?” He paused, watching her. He forced a laugh. “Admiral, I will be released, won't I? Just think of all the good I've done you!”

[thewritingautisticat]

WIP Questionnaire

Thank you @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag! (From 2 weeks ago lol but anyways)

I'm answering these for The Flames of Revolution!

1. What’s the first part of your WIP that you created?

Technically this is the prequel to my Days of Resistance series, so I came up with a lot of the world and character stuff before I started this book specifically. Most of the first stuff I created was just bits and pieces of Caldren's backstory, mainly about him being an assassin, and a lot of the moments with him and Peg.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

"Things We Lost in the Fire" by Bastille is one of the songs I really associate with this book in particular. Fire is a huge element to Caldren's character arc. Almost all the big turning points in his life involve flames, hence the name of the book. Both the lyrics and the vibe fit really well.

But if I was looking for a song for the series as a whole, I really like "War of Change" by Thousand Foot Crutch. It fits with both the outer conflict with the government and with the internal conflict of some of the characters.

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

Peg. I love Caldren to death, but Peg is my favorite little guy in all the world. He's so sweet and perfect and pure. I put him through so much trauma, but despite it all he just keeps going and holding onto his kind, sweet nature.

Caldren is so great too though. He's so, so stupid sometimes, but his character arc is great. He's also such an interesting mess of contradictions, and despite everything he's a great big bro.

Madreline is so hard-working and supportive. She takes no nonsense, but is still very sweet and compassionate. I really wish I could write her in more tbh.

I'm going to put in Scatterwag as an honorable mention because he's probably my favorite side character. He has some of the same vibes as Fagin from Oliver Twist or Long John Silver in Treasure Planet. Like, you know his morals are extremely messed up and he's probably committed absolute atrocities, but there's something so jolly and lovable about him that you can't help liking him.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

I'm honestly not sure. It's a really weird genre, hinting at historical fiction but definitely not actually that, but not quite fantasy either? I think that people who like it would also like things like the Hunger Games. It was also inspired a lot by The Wingfeather Saga, so I think that would also be something my fanbase might share.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Training scenes. Caldren's whole thing is wanting to become stronger/more adept at fighting so he can get his revenge, but I am absolutely horrible at writing training scenes. There's like, at least three and I'm trying to figure out how to write them beyond "and then they taught him how to use a dagger" 😅.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

I don't really have any specific animals in this book, although there's a pretty nice dog in other books of the series. In this book, Caldren does have a horse, but it's not super important. There's also a few mentions of the street dogs! They're these unwanted, abandoned dogs that wander the back streets of the big cities in packs, and will occasionally attack humans to try to get food. While they are legitimate threats, there's this whole thing about Peg relating to the street dogs because he knows how it feels to be cast out and considered monstrous and unlovable. Andreu tames one later in the series.

7. How do your characters travel/get around?

It's a time period before cars, so the main transportation is wagons, carriages, and horses. Carriages are usually for the wealthy, though. Caldren rides a horse between cities. Within the city, Caldren and Peg travel mainly by foot. They know the back streets and all the shortcuts really well. Caldren also ends up learning how to travel by rooftop.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

Filling in all the spots I skipped over when I did NaNoWriMo last year. I feel like I'm getting so close to being finished and then I realize there are whole chapters I skipped because I wasn't sure what exactly was going on in it. I guess it's technically still in the first draft but I feel like I've changed things and filled in so many plot holes that it's gotta be at least the third draft 😅

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in?

One big thing is the found family with Caldren and Peg.

Besides that:

- Assassins

- Dystopian, but not super disturbing or graphic

- The fact that it's a Christian YA (?) book that not super annoying and cliche. (I hope 😅)

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Right now I just want to get the whole draft finished. My long-term hopes are to finish up the rest of the series, because this whole backstory prequel for Caldren isn't as meaningful if you don't have the context of the rest of the series.

Tagging! @late-to-the-fandom @agirlandherquill @themswritinwords @ryns-ramblings um and open tag!

Blank questions!

1. What’s the first part of your WIP that you created? 2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be? 3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why? 4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share? 5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP? 6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! 7. How do your characters travel/get around? 8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now? 9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in? 10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

[castlebyersafterdark]

do you think the duffers will save the byler kiss for the final episode as the big damn kiss sorta thing? or will it be earlier in the season? or will there be more than one kiss lol. and if there’s a spicy byler moment how do you imagine that to happen in the show realistically? cause if they save the big damn kiss for the end, they would have to have sex right then and there if they’re gonna include it at all

Hmmm well, I at least hope they won't. Because I get that Byler is going to be a little bit of a twist, but I'd like some dealing with it rather than a big dramatic reveal for shock and awe. Like Jonathan and Nancy, but in a more fleshed out season-spanning time line as the mains. Jancy kissed and got together in 2x6. I don't think everything needs to be a parallel in this show, but it would be nice to have time to deal with and work through the big series spanning relationship instead of tacking it on right in the end at some climax. So, at the very least 2x7 would be ok, too. And this also leads to there being potential for more than one moment! Will and Mike deserve screen time, they deserve more than one romantic scene. They deserve more than one kiss, and maybe more than that. Because also - I love Byler, but there is so much stock in this fandom placed on The Kiss. It's like the only thing people care about regarding Byler is the big kiss and then boom they're together, ok cool we did it bye.

Having more than one romantic scene is needed to actualize them as the couple that the entire series was building around. It legitimizes them, too. Let us see some tension after the first kiss and where that leads or let us see the relief in finally kissing and physically expressing feelings, and then the stakes are so much higher for those two now that their feelings are out in the open between each other. Now they have something even greater to fight for. I am hopeful but nervous? I don't have doubt at this point about Byler happening, but I will admit nerves about the portrayal sometimes...

[caliburn-the-sword]

final cress thoughts!!!!

i absolutely inhaled that book holy shit lol. got winter at the bookstore today because shipment just arrived and i gotta say it's HELLA chonky. i am EXCITED. of course fairest will have to come first

since the plan has been explained to us the readers, that means it's DEFO gonna go wrong (note: it did - sybil ambushed them)

god why is cress married to everyone. first thorne now wolf

rolling my eyes sighing bile is rising in my throat. i CANNOT take this alpha nonsense. admittedly when cress says it in a brightest star of a constellation way, that's cute. unfortunately the omegaverse connotations cancels it out completely

OMG CINDER AND KAI FINALLY. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG. rip to everyone that was reading these as they came out because i can't imagine how PAINFUL it would have been to wait two years for them to see each other again as opposed to me just binging the books across like 3 weeks max by the time i finish the series

respect for torin holy shit that must have been SUCH a hard choice for him to make to not only let the prince go but to reveal his tracker chip

NO ERLAND IS NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE LETUMOSIS AND HE'S NOT ALLOWED TO DIE AND HE HAS TO REUNITE WITH CRESS. CRESS NEEDS TO KNOW. I AM LITERALLY IN STUDIES OF RELIGION CLASS RN I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS PAIN

I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT THE PLAGUE IS BIOWARFARE. i'm a genius. but the mutated strain was just genuinely a coincidence judging by levana's reaction LMAO

was absolutely baffled why tf thorne was kissing cress before i remembered the promise he made. i feel sickly and nauseous. get off that minor rn

as much as i hate thorne. gotta admit that the shooting scene was badass

YES SYBIL TAKE THAT, BITCH

wonder who the queen is married to

i respect every ounce of rebellion in erland's bones. yeah piss off the queen!!

grossed out by cress and thorne some more. please man keep pushing her away. literally his responsibility as an adult. ew

holy shit scarlet actually lost her finger

it's nice to properly meet winter

something very strange seems to be going on with winter. master and pet lunar stuff?? weird af. wants to be besties?? girl are you even understanding the situation?? also has she never met a ranga before??? is she HIGH????? and what's with the role playing games??? she's somehow more delulu than cress, acts even YOUNGER than her actual age than cress does

winter seems to THINK that she was friends with cinder. interesting. once again i want cinder to get her memories of pre-fire back real bad

winter is a SIMP for jacin

OH I'M SO DUMB HOW DIDN'T I REALISE THAT SHE WOULD BE DELULU BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T USE HER GLAMOUR. respect for winter has increased. this means that ALL the time scarlet spent thinking about how beautiful winter is was the truth LMAO. gay gay homosexual gay. is it too much to hope for a polycule?? they'd literally be like parks and rec. "i'm wolf andthis is my gf scarlet, this is her gf winter, this is winter's bf jaycin".

ofc a lake on the moon is gonna be called artemisia lake LOL. now we've had one moon titan and one moon goddess reference. chang'e when????

NOT FARAFRAH. i bet you all found it downright HILARIOUS when i went on about how much i love farafrah back in one of the other posts

ngl think it's too early for cinder and kai to be eating each other's faces. kai got over his issues REAL fast lol. idk how i feel about it but willing to see where winter takes us

i didn't even think of the implication because i don't consider kai and levana legitimately engaged so i find it HILARIOUS that the silly family tree of kai being engaged to one woman and then making out with her niece. reminds me of ouat

revolutionary cinder ftw

speculation for fairest:

i did the maths and realised that since levana is like 30 and cinder is 16 then she was about 17 years old when she decided that cinder just had to go. I'M 17. cannot imagine killing a 3 year old. cray z. and then she was even YOUNGER than that when she killed her sister for the throne. ALSO insane. that will be one deeply disturbed mind to dive into in fairest

read the blurb and don't exactly have anymore thoughts other than trying to figure out who the in universe equivalent to her REAL husband would be since we're defo getting backstory on that. since she's the evil queen then it must be winter's father "the good king", however because of the blurb i reckon it's some kind of "mirror mirror on the wall" figure. idk what exactly that would entail. some kind of royal adviser???

speculation for winter, because i don't want to forget everything i'm thinking by the time i'm done reading fairest:

mother reveal for cress - i don't remember if any lunar scientists have been mentioned or named yet, but i WILL be keeping an eye out. i suspect someone who has something to do with the wolf soldier hybrids, she might even know wolf. regardless hope the bitch dies

father reveal for cinder

from the way jacin calls garan linh's device an equaliser, it's DEFINITELY gonna be reproduced in this book, ESPECIALLY with winter going all delulu, and the way cinder is concerned about becoming like levana

jacin pov chapters now that miss marissa doesn't have to make his motivations and loyalties ambiguous

ngl i HATE prequels, ESPECIALLY when they're about the villain of the story, and i often skip them. i'm a bit apprehensive about going into fairest, but i want to have the proper reading experience of tlc, and it's important to the story. putting my personal feelings aside and hoping for the best!!

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees @shellyseashell

[vivid-ink]

Hello babe <3 If you don't already know, I am obsessed with your story the Love Shack! Since it has come to a beautiful close I figure it was time to pay my respects and let you know specifically why this story is so fantastic.

First of all let me start by saying, I was so entranced by this story and emotional over it that after reading the last chapter I ended up talking about it with my boyfriend for over an hour! He let me reccount the whole story in full detail while we ate dinner and let me tell you, he got invested!! At first he was just listening to be nice to me but it got to a point where when I would pause to scarf down food for a few minutes he would get so impatient for me to continue. He's just glaring at me like "Bitch, what did Neyomi do? You can't leave me hanging like that!" I thoroughly enjoyed it, so basically he too is a fan now.

Girl, the way I went into this series thinking "ooh this will be a nice steamy threesome" and then somehow ended up balling my eyes out with every chaper, ILLEGAL! You had me crying within the first few paragraphs of the last chapter. Just for some perspective I actually don't remember the last time I legitimately cried full on while reading. I was holding back sobs so my roomate wouldn't come check up on me. Needless to say, you had me in a chokehold, sis. And I'm living for it! This will definitely be one of my favorite stories to reread and I think about it very often.

I could go on and on about the specific reasons I feel that this story enraptured me, but here are just a few.

Your depiction of Neteyam is honest to Eywa one of my all time favorites! Not only do I feel like he is very representative of the canon character but also extremely captivating. One of the reasons I think Neteyam (and truly all Na'vi men) is so hot is becuase of the raw male power tha radiates off of him, and I mean in the best way possible. Like other Na'vi males he shows that he can be a provider and protector (which biologically does something to me so I can not be blamed for finding this appealing haha) while also holding himself with a confidence and sense of responsibility that only a true man can capture. You get so many reminders of this power in your writing, even just in the way you describe his attire. Things like his battle band and sheathed knife or bow all serve as visual reminders that Neteyam is a respectable powerful and influential male that will someday be Olo'eyktan. And then to see him crumble and shake and quiver for Neyomi....that is so hot! I'm not sure if any of that made sense but basically, you nailed Neteyam. (not mad about the double meaning there haha).

Then there's Lo'ak who I have decided is the MVP in this story AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE MY MIND! He shows such a wonderful side of Lo'ak's character that doesn't often get displayed. He is still rebellious and free and a troublemaker, but deep down he loves his brother so much and isn't wiling to let Neteyam get in his own way of his happiness. Not only did the poor man have to witness Neyomi and Neteyam disregard his advice constantly while he suffered to watch but he straight up took a few punches in the face just to get Neteyam to work out his own shit. That is the fire I love about, Lo'ak. Consequences be damned, he will do what needs to be done. He is the ultimate wingman and I truly love him so much in this story. Without him let's face it, those two would have ended up miserable. He is the hero of this story and the main person that made me hold onto hope throughout each chapter.

Neyomi was also such a beautiful character. She is a perfect blend of independant and strong while still embracing her feminine side. I love seeing female characters like this because it shows that this duality exists and it's okay to embrace our own masculine and feminine traits within each of us. Sure she was stubborn as heck (and so was Neteyam of course) but she never completely surrendered herself to grief. She let herself cry and feel her emotions, but still tried to press forward with her life no matter how much her heart ached. I respect that.

What I'm trying to get at babe is that you have TALENT! Your storytelling completely transported me and I wish I could read the whole thing again for the first time. Please write a book or something because I would genuinly read an 800 page book if it meant you were the author. Thank you for all the time and efffort that you have put into your stories and into this community. I know how long projects like these take and I really do appreciate you putting the work in. I hope you have fabulous day! Thanks for reading my very long ramble. Sending you many forehead kisses <3

Oh my goodness, @wheneclipsefalls THANK YOU for your amazing message! I can't believe you got your boyfriend invested in 'The Love Shack'! Your storytelling skills must be A+++ if you recounted it all to him & it kept his interest! 🤣 My husband sighs every time I start talking about Avatar lol!

GURLLL, we all go crazy for a big, strong man who has a good balance of dominance and tenderness... I'm glad you like my portrayal of an adult Neteyam. 😁 I try to keep my characters as well-balanced & as true to canon as I feel they should be. As for my OCs, I always create a little mindmap of them and what their personalities/characteristics are before I start writing. It's like I need to bring life to them that way first. I wanted Neyomi to have a good balance of hard and soft, if that makes sense (I feel like I always write my female leads this way, in different ways), so I'm happy if you feel I've nailed this. I seem to have an inability to write quick drabbles (you may have noticed lol), so the result is usually fleshed out characters and fleshed out plots. 😛 Lo'ak is absolutely MVP #1 in 'The Love Shack'. I often see Neteyam being touted as the 'bestest big bro ever', which I completely agree with. I wanted to portray a more mature Lo'ak who loves & appreciates his big bro, so I thought what better way to do this than to have him repay the favour and look out for Neteyam. 🥰

You want me to write a book?? 🥹 I'm so flattered. I kind of did, in a way. My first Neteyam story 'Violet Eyes' is 20 chapters and 150k words. I always promote this work because it's my proudest achievement to date. It's a real unpredictable rollercoaster with a completely original narrative. Give it a try if you haven't & I hope you love it too.

Honestly, thank you for taking the time to leave me your message. This past 10 months has been full of creative fulfilment writing for the ATWOW fandom. All my works are in my masterlist. It is always such a JOY to hear from readers who have been moved by my work. You have absolutely made my day, my lovely. 😘😘😘 Thank you, THANK YOU so much for your support. A thousand forehead kisses back at ya. xx