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animusrox · 10 months ago

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TOP 10

Past Lives

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

How to Blow Up a Pipeline

Poor Things

Oppenheimer

Barbie

BlackBerry

The Holdovers

The Iron Claw

Killers of the Flower Moon

MY LETTERBOXD Grade A 11. The Killer 12. Beau Is Afraid 13. Dream Scenario 14. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 15. Godzilla Minus One 16. American Fiction 17. They Cloned Tyrone 18. Evil Dead Rise 19. Eileen 20. The Artifice Girl 21. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem 22. Talk to Me 23. Reality 24. Leave the World Behind 25. A Thousand and One 26. Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One 27. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. 28. Theater Camp 29. Carmen 30. Merry Little Batman 31. Priscilla 32. Society of the Snow 33. Infinity Pool 34. Enys Men 35. Sanctuary 36. Rye Lane 37. Skinamarink 38. Monster 39. Anatomy of a Fall 40. Landscape with Invisible Hand 41. Reptile 42. Sisu 43. Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game 44. No One Will Save You 45. Tetris 46. May December 47. The Zone of Interest 48. V/H/S/85 49. Dumb Money 50. El Conde 51. Arnold 52. Maestro 53. Napoleon 54. 20 Days in Mariupol 55. Influencer 56. The Creator 57. Origin 58. Thanksgiving 59. Next Goal Wins 60. The Boy and the Heron 61. Bottoms 62. Wonka

[Press Keep Reading For The Full Graded List]

Grade B

63. God Is a Bullet 64. No Hard Feelings 65. Joy Ride 66. Fair Play 67. Cocaine Bear 68. NYAD 69. Asteroid City 70. Nowhere 71. The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster 72. Divinity 73. The Equalizer 3 74. The Last Voyage of the Demeter 75. Venus 76. Butcher’s Crossing 77. Somewhere in Queens 78. The Persian Version 79. Boston Strangler 80. Polite Society 81. Miguel Wants to Fight 82. The Color Purple 83. The Royal Hotel 84. Saw X 85. All of Us Strangers 86. Fallen Leaves 87. Ferrari 88. Elemental 89. Peter Pan & Wendy 90. Renfield 91. Cat Person 92. Scream VI 93. The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes 94. BS High 95. Blue Beetle 96. Huesera: The Bone Woman 97. When Evil Lurks 98. Dark Harvest 99. A Good Person 100. Final Cut 101. Knock at the Cabin 102. Quiz Lady 103. Leo 104. Air 105. The Super Mario Bros. Movie 106. Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham 107. John Wick: Chapter 4 108. Beaten to Death 109. The Wrath of Becky 110. Passages 111. Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 112. Gran Turismo 113. 65 114. Sick 115. Sister Death 116. The Blackening 117. Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain 118. Flamin’ Hot 119. Nimona 120. Cobweb 121. Totally Killer 122. What’s Love Got to Do with It? 123. Sharper 124. Unseen 125. Dunki 126. Bird Box Barcelona 127. The Marvels 128. Shazam! Fury of the Gods

Grade C

129. Wildflower 130. Freelance 131. M3GAN 132. Strays 133. Sympathy for the Devil 134. Creed III 135. Chevalier 136. The Marsh King’s Daughter 137. A Haunting in Venice 138. The Little Mermaid 139. Silent Night 140. Master Gardener 141. The Flash 142. Fast X 143. The Pope’s Exorcist 144. Saltburn 145. Kandahar 146. Stand 147. Plane 148. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny 149. Fingernails 150. Quicksand 151. Fool’s Paradise 152. Migration 153. Rustin 154. The Covenant 155. Good Burger 2 156. The Pod Generation 157. Alice, Darling 158. Insidious: The Red Door 159. Missing 160. Shotgun Wedding 161. You Hurt My Feelings 162. The Boogeyman 163. Showing Up 164. Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 165. Champions 166. Consecration 167. The Nun II 168. Biosphere 169. House Party 170. The Exorcist: Believer 171. Big George Foreman 172. Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves 173. Children of the Corn 174. The Beanie Bubble 175. Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Grade F

176. Anyone But You 177. Marlowe 178. Paint 179. Extraction 2 180. It Lives Inside 181. Deliver Us 182. Trolls Band Together 183. Finestkind 184. Corner Office 185. Wish 186. Prisoner’s Daughter 187. Pain Hustlers 188. Foe 189. The Mother 190. Old Dads 191. Ghosted 192. Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken 193. Haunted Mansion 194. Mafia Mamma 195. Five Nights at Freddy’s 196. The Machine 197. Justice League: Warworld 198. We Have a Ghost 199. What Comes Around 200. Legion of Super-Heroes 201. The Boys in the Boat 202. Attachment 203. Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre 204. About My Father 205. You People 206. Meg 2: The Trench 207. Pathaan 208. Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire 209. Assassin 210. Dalíland 211. Vacation Friends 2

Bottom 10

212. Sound of Freedom 213. Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 214. When You Finish Saving The World 215. Heart of Stone 216. Family Switch 217. Expend4bles 218. Sweetwater 219. Hypnotic 220. 80 for Brady 221. Spinning Gold

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 2 months ago

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

He Lied: Japanese period au. https://aiimaginesbts.tumblr.com/post/177604651652/he-lied-m

Forced: When circumstances force Park Jihye into a loveless marriage of convenience with the younger brother of the person she has loved with her whole heart, she assumes that the two months will just be a dull chapter of her life. https://www.wattpad.com/story/188623005-forced-jjk-%E2%9C%93

If You Insist: In the months since you and Jungkook finally confessed to each other, you lived for the nights he was off work and you didn’t have class. Yes, you had skipped class on a few occasions, but it was well worth it in your opinion. You didn’t think you could ever tire of his presence; it was a special gift that you treasured dearly. https://ayyosuga.tumblr.com/post/172641291196/the-pleasure-collection-if-you-insist-drabble

The Legend (Of Juanpito): Pornstar JK. https://www.wattpad.com/story/304247760-the-legend-of-juanpito

Good Boys Go To Heaven, But Bad Boys Bring Heaven To You: You and Jungkook have been dating for months. You were able to see each other only 1 or 2 times per month or so. So you two had sex for the first time pretty early in your relationship. Actually, whenever you were going to meet up you did it. https://www.tumblr.com/call-me-bha/172602588165/good-boys-go-to-heaven-but-bad-boys-bring-heaven

Chasing Butterflies: For two years you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because Jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: The Weebs. That is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it. https://ddaenggtan.tumblr.com/post/185297342135/chasing-butterflies-jjk

Curiosity: When innocent Jungkook came to you with a not-so-innocent question... You decide it's easier to just demonstrate. https://hobidreams.tumblr.com/post/183851328946/curiosity-jjk-m

Seven Ways To Sunday: Got you skipping work & meetings. https://www.tumblr.com/jeonjcngkook/724397258026647552/%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%95%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%8D-%F0%9D%90%96%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%98%F0%9D%90%92-%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%8E-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%94%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%83%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%98-a-7-part-jjk-drabble

Thin Walls: He fucks around... She doesn't. She believes in love... He avoids it. Hearing each others' moans and mewls through the thin walls draw them closer. https://www.wattpad.com/story/280199691-thin-walls-completed

Desperate Housewife: Bored with your husband gone all the time, you decide to take up a new hobby…Jungkook can only seem to focus on one thing when it comes to your new pastime. https://kimnjss.tumblr.com/post/614990764610568192/desperate-housewife-jjk

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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fangirl-dot-com · 10 months ago

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Chapter 22 - This Was Not the Spa I was Looking For

Uuuhhh, I don't even know what this was. I had an idea and then this other idea fought the first one and won? so, it's completely different than what I had in mind, but ya know what? its written and done.

There is slight SLIGHT angst, but everything is good in the end :)

so sorry for the delay - will be updating a lot this weekend!

like always comments, questions, concerns, messages in my inbox, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

Budapest Not Included

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 227 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 112 points

Oscar Piastri – 91 points

Lewis Hamilton – 83 points

Alex Albon – 44 points

Fernando Alonso – 41 points

George Russell – 40 points

Logan Sargeant – 30 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 339 points

McLaren – 280 points

Mercedes – 123 points

Williams – 74 points

Aston Martin – 56 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo – 1 point

HAAS – 0 points

f1 has posted

f1 Y/n L/n and Max Verstappen are out of the Belgium Grand Prix after the Red Bull of Verstappen hit the back of L/n. The latter skidded across the track before rolling over. L/n will be looked over at the medical site, especially after her last DNF back in Japan.

liked by y/n.nation, maxverSTOPpen, orange_army, and 802,394 others

max_and_rookie nah man, I like max but that was seriously his fault

y/n_on_top y/n had the priority to make way for him to win. he just ruined both of their races

max_all_the_way y/n should have just let him keep going tho?

redbullcan no she shouldn't cause Red Bull gave the 2-1 strategy, putting priority for the second car

maxiel333 I fear this is Azerbaijan 2018 all over again

f1fan well there goes that amazing teammate bond. great job max, what is this, 7 teammates? bout to be 8

Once again, you were hanging upside down, in the rain. But thankfully, this time you were conscious and talking.

You pressed the button that immediately went to your panicking race engineer.

“I’m fine Mitch. Stupid rain. This was definitely not the Spa I was looking forward to. You tell my asshole of a teammate that he owes me.”

You switched your radio off before Mitch could reply. You were fuming as the marshals were trying to get you out once again. Your race suit was becoming wetter and wetter by the minute. Your back ached as you tried to move.

So, how did this all happen?

You had been able to get around Max, per team request to make way on the track that was a little less rainy. Apparently, Max thought that you were trying to get the jump on him and completely rammed the back of your RB20, sending you flying. It was definitely a mirror reflection of Azerbaijan 2018.

How you ended up rolled over once again, you didn’t know. Maybe your car just didn’t have great balance when it came to kerbs and getting rear-ended.

In a few minutes, the marshals were able to get you out. As you stretched when you got out, your eyes landed on Max’s RB20 with its nose crumpled and wheel hanging off. You smirked under your helmet.

“Serves him right.”

You two were doing amazing that weekend. Max had gotten pole once again, and you were right behind him. Except that Charles was so close behind Max most of the race. Mitch had given you the 2-1 and had told you that GP had also given the Dutchman the same order.

There was still time for you to have given the position back, but you were quicker on the slicks. You could have easily brought home another 1-2 race.

But now Charles would probably get his third win of the season because Max was too selfish.

You watched as he climbed out of his own cockpit and your blood began to boil. He not only ruined his race, but yours as well. Your arms were crossed as you stood in the rain. Replays of the wreck were playing on the big screens, just for your enjoyment.

The longer you watched, the angrier you got.

A push to your arm brought your eyes from the big screen to the Dutch driver.

“The fuck was that?” he angrily questioned.

Your eyebrow raised under your helmet. Although you were shorter, you knew how to throw your weight around. So, you shoved his shoulder back.

“Me? The fuck was that with you Max. I was given priority! This was your fault!” you shouted, earning looks from the marshals around the two of you.

Max just glared. “My fault? That was clearly a rookie mistake.”

He pushed you again.

You let out a dark chuckle. “Rookie mistake? No Max. That was a you mistake.”

Your pointer finger dug into his chest, earning you another shove. One that sent you to the ground. You were now down, looking up at Max as he glared down at you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him stalk away.

A marshal was quick to help you to your feet. Max didn’t ride back with you to the paddock and walked the entire way. You, however, took advantage of the ride back and immediately tried to hide inside your drivers room when you got back. You kept your helmet on the entire time and wanted to refuse to go to the medical room. Mitch was adamant about you going since the last time you were bruised pretty badly.

She made sure it was quick: just a check over. After, your race engineer left you to yourself. While you undressed and peeled off your wet race suit, your mind started swimming.

Feelings of guilt and anxiety were building in your core. Soon, you were beginning to sob as you sat on your little bed. Really, all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep, preferably with your boyfriend, who was all the way in the Ferrari garage.

Your sobs quieted down as your eyes began to droop. Taking a nap right now seemed to be a good choice as you lied down on the small bed, curling up in a ball. A nap would keep you safe from whatever was going on. You didn’t have to deal with anything if you were asleep.

Right as you were falling asleep, Max had just gotten back to the garage. His helmet was in his hands and his eyes were to the floor, missing the disapproving looks from everyone. On the way back, he had time to think about what he had done.

Yes, he knew that you were given priority, but didn’t know exactly why. You didn’t seem faster on the slicks or were gaining. He didn’t expect you to go around him like that. And now looking back, he could see that you were making a way for him by getting rid of some water on the track so he could get more grip.

What he didn’t expect was a shove to the back and a punch to the face. He barely had time to turn around before he landed on his ass on the concrete of the garage. He was so taken back that he really couldn’t understand what was going on.

All he knew was that his face hurt, his ass hurt, and his pride hurt.

How could he have done that to you?

When he got his bearings, he finally saw a certain Monegasque be held back from jumping on him. Spits of French and English were thrown at him, and he deserved it. Once he was back on his feet, Arthur took two handfuls of his race suit and pulled him down.

There was hardly a height difference, but right now Arthur looked a lot bigger than Max did.

Arthur leaned close to Max’s face.

“How dare you? You know that she would do anything for you and what do you do to thank her? You push her down. You break her down. You blame her for your mistake.”

Silence was all that Max could offer.

Arthur scoffed as he let go.

“You’re no better than her parents.”

With that, he left and walked toward your room. He harshly pushed the door open, only to find you sound asleep, oblivious to the world outside. Arthur turned off the lights before gently climbing into your bed. He didn’t know how the two of you had fit, but you did.

He guessed that you must have sensed him as you turned over and dug your head into his neck almost immediately. Arthur pulled out his phone before googling flights back to Monaco, back to home. He’d keep you in his pocket if he had anything to do it.

Race Results:

Charles Leclerc – 25 points

Carlos Sainz – 18 points

Oscar Piastri – 16 points (fastest lap)

Valtteri Bottas – 12 points

Lewis Hamilton – 10 points

George Russell – 8 points

Fernando Alonso – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 2 point

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point (highest placing this season)

Lando Norris (spun out on last lap and barely missed the points)

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Kevin Magnussen (highest placing this season)

Nico Hulkenberg (highest placing this season)

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Y/n L/n – DNF

Max Verstappen – DNF

Champions Standings:

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 252 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 130 points

Oscar Piastri – 107 points

Lewis Hamilton – 93 points

George Russell – 48 points

Alex Albon – 48 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points

Logan Sargeant – 32 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly - 12 points

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 382 points

McLaren – 270 points

Mercedes – 141 points

Williams – 80 points

Aston Martin – 60 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpha Romeo – 14 points

Alpine – 12 points

Haas – 0 points

Max had gotten a long talking to after everything was over. Christian probably screamed at him for over an hour, plus what GP and then what Mitch had to say after. He had wanted to apologize beforehand, but it seemed as though Arthur didn’t wat Max near you within a 25 foot radius.

And when the Dutchman thought he could speak to you at the hotel, he had to find out the hard way that you had left that afternoon to go back to Monaco before the second Italian Grand Prix. Max huffed as he thought over what he should do.

Just as you had anxiety and guilt about the incident, Max dubbed his as 10 times worse. This was it. In the past, everyone told him that he always messed up teammates for other drivers. That’s why Daniil didn’t work out, or Carlos, or Daniel, or Pierre, or Alex, or Checo. One way or another, Max always fucked it up.

Well, that’s what his mind was telling him.

And he didn’t want you to just be another name to the list.

So with phone in hand, and pilot on call, he made the executive decision to fly back to Monaco. He knew exactly where your apartment was, since you gave me the address when you first moved in and a key for emergencies.

When he landed, he went straight to the grocery store. Knowing that you had the cooking skills of Arthur and Charles combined and the pickiness of Lando amplified, he guessed that you and Arthur probably haven’t had dinner yet. So, he grabbed ingredients to make pizza. Simple enough.

He drove to your flat and was suddenly enveloped with fear. He hit his head on the steering wheel once he parked.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispered to himself as he gazed at the lights on in the windows. His head was still on the wheel as he turned to look down. What he failed to notice was you looking through the window.

“Cheri? Is everything alright?” you heard Arthur call out from the kitchen. You two had just burnt some pasta while trying to make dinner. You gazed down at the familiar car parked in front.

“Cheri?”

Now Arthur was close, also looking out the window.

“It’s Max.”

The Monegasque scoffed. “What’s he doing here?”

You hummed. “He’s probably wanting to apologize. I know what he’s like. Thur, he didn’t mean it.”

Arthur’s eyes changed from cold to understanding. He had heard enough stories from his own brother along with gossip in the paddock about Max’s childhood (or lack thereof).

He huffed once before saying, “Go to him and then invite him up.”

He watched as your eyes lit up, before you placed a kiss on his lips. A smile formed on his lips as he watched you slide shoes on and go out the door. Arthur turned back to the kitchen. He guessed he needed to clean up before you invited thee Max Verstappen into the house.

Max was so caught in his head that he missed you peering in. Only when you slightly knocked on the door, did he jump. He accidentally pressed the horn, making it echo down the empty road. He quickly unlocked the door, which let you slip in.

His blue eyes gazed into yours before he started to cry. You looked at him with a frown on your face as he tried to desperately wipe his tears. He took many harsh inhales, trying to get his emotions under control.

Max expected you to yell, scream, and hit at him. Yet, you gently placed a hand on his back and started to comfort him, like he’s done many times before.

You let him cry and cry until he was ready to talk.

“I’m such an asshole,” was the first thing that escaped his lips after his sobs started to break.

You chuckled. “I could have told you that.”

Max’s lips curved upwards in a small smile before going straight once again. He took another shuddering breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to repeat the past. I am so sorry for what I did to you, that was unfair of me. I wanted to apologize before you left, but I was too late. And I didn’t want to end today without apologizing to you. Because I don’t want you to be another teammate that I failed.”

He turned to you, eyes still glossy with leftover tears.

You leaned to give him a hug across the dash, one that he was thankful for.

He was the first one to part, still wiping at his eyes. You only gazed at him with compassion. When he was done sniffling, you started to talk.

“Max, look at me please?”

He turned his head so his bloodshot blue eyes could look at you. He looked utterly exhausted and your heart broke. If he was anything like you, you knew how much guilt he was carrying.

“You’re not, we’re not, going to repeat the past. I just need you to understand that I am your team player. And when I’m given a team order, I will follow it every time.”

Max’s head nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you before I left the paddock. I heard Christian yelling at you.”

A snort left his nose. “It was probably for the best.”

The car was filled with a comfortable silence before Max broke it.

“Did you and Arthur have dinner yet?”

“Max. What do you think?”

“I’m going to take that as a no. Good think I bought groceries. Seriously, I am getting you and the Leclercs cooking lessons for Christmas.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You almost burnt down my entire kitchen.”

“Not on purpose.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 have pizza, teammate, and bestie - will travel

liked by maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, logansargeant, and 90,294 others

y/n&co guys I was super worried but now I'm perfectly fine

rookie+maxie guys I truly believe that y/n is going to stay his teammate for as long as possible

best_duo frfr - no one has been on his level and he finally has a teammate that can keep up with him

y/n.nation generational talent right there

maxverstappen1 glad I could feed you two

y/n.89 we would have been fine on our own maxverstappen1 sure, after you burnt your food and almost set your apartment on fire y/n.89 hey, Arthur was there too? arthur_leclerc what is with this slander?????

f1_fan guys guys guys, it's the Dutch Grand Prix and then MONZA hello?????

true_tifosi I know I want to see Charles win again, but y/n deserves something

dutch_anthem_on_repeat time for MAX MAX MAX SUPER MAX

orange_army we are ready with flags and capes, bring it on Netherlands!!

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myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

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acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

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