#Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome

[rosemariecawkwell]

Pen & Sword Review: Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome, by LJ Trafford

Pen & Sword Review: Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome, by LJ Trafford

Imprint: Pen & Sword HistorySeries: Sex and SexualityPages: 224ISBN: 9781526786876Published: 23rd September 2021 Blurb From Emperors and empresses, poets and prostitutes, slaves and plebs, Ancient Rome was a wealth of different experiences and expectations. None more so than around the subject of sex and sexuality. The image of Ancient Rome that has come down to us is one of sexual excess:…

[bethisblogging]

There’s another post going around vaguely shaming historians for not saying historical people were gay when the signs are there so this is a reminder that

1) the idea of gay as we modernly conceptualize it was Not a thing, historically,

2) they may have been more than friends. They may have fucked. They may have been true life partners. Or they really were just dear friends. A lot of times it’s not very easy to have all the nuance AND come out and be like “yes they were queer.”

3) just because a historian can’t declare someone as gay doesn’t mean they aren’t part of queer history!

Also this is NOT a defense of historians who ignore when someone straight up came out. Like by the time you get to the earth 20th century the modern ideas of sexuality were pretty much established. There are people who were imprisoned then for being gay. They deserve to be fully recognized with their identities.

[crystallilytarot]

Your future partner's hobbies. Choose a cookie cutter!

Since it's a general reading, probably won't gonna resonate all of them.

Pile 1 - butterfly

Sorry but sex hehe, probably very sexual. Good clothes, shoes, fashion. Furniture or electronic devices or unique home decor stuff, but all of them are good quality, probably expensive. Probably likes to read about human nature, psychology. Philosophy. Spirituality or religion. Like to understand themself too, did inner work. Like to help others, their love language can be gift giving, like to surprise their loved ones. If you will have children or pets, they will be so silly with them, like to be playful. Laughing together with you. Some sport too, but probably not in a gym, like to try some unique stuff, fencing, horse riding, rock climbing.

Pile 2 - bunny

Traveling, even just learning about new cultures. Can be a local picnic too, hiking, being in nature. Like arts, painting, music. Creative, probably they make art or playing in an instrument too. Probably into some ancient culture, maybe Egypt, Greece, Rome. Like to participate in contest, very competitive. Like to argue, not because they want to fight, but like to exchange opinions, can have a job related to this too. Like to be in the spotlight, talking with people, talking in front of people. Being with friends, family, a little social butterfly. Sometimes need a little alone time, maybe a selfcare weekend, a spa, massage. Like to take a nap, staying in bed for long in the weekends.

Pile 3 - bear

Feels a succesful person and like to enjoy their money, especially going on nice trips. First class, good hotels, nice view. In sports, they choose something where they need to be persistent. If they go to the gym, they like to sweat. They like to work hard and see the progress. Chess or something where they need to use their brain. They like nice cars, racing or some other vehicles, motorbikes maybe, ships or yachts. Like to read about psychology, science, they need data. A leader type very much, and enjoy it. Probably like their culture's traditions, or their family's traditions and want to share with their partner and future children too. Massage, giving and receiving too. Actually a charming, nice person, like a wise teddy bear.

[finelythreadedsky]

JSTOR Wrapped: top ten JSTOR articles of 2023

Coo, Lyndsay. “A Tale of Two Sisters: Studies in Sophocles’ Tereus.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 143, no. 2 (2013): 349–84.

Finglass, P. J. “A New Fragment of Sophocles’ ‘Tereus.’” Zeitschrift Für Papyrologie Und Epigraphik 200 (2016): 61–85.

Foxhall, Lin. “Pandora Unbound: A Feminist Critique of Foucault’s History of Sexuality.” In Sex and Difference in Ancient Greece and Rome, edited by Mark Golden and Peter Toohey, 167–82. Edinburgh University Press, 2003.

Garrison, Elise P. “Eurydice’s Final Exit to Suicide in the ‘Antigone.’” The Classical World 82, no. 6 (1989): 431–35.

Grethlein, Jonas. “Eine Anthropologie Des Essens: Der Essensstreit in Der ‘Ilias’ Und Die Erntemetapher in Il. 19, 221-224.” Hermes 133, no. 3 (2005): 257–79.

McClure, Laura. “Tokens of Identity: Gender and Recognition in Greek Tragedy.” Illinois Classical Studies 40, no. 2 (2015): 219–36.

Purves, Alex C.  “Wind and Time in Homeric Epic.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 140, no. 2 (2010): 323–50.

Richlin, Amy. “Gender and Rhetoric: Producing Manhood in the Schools.” In Sex and Difference in Ancient Greece and Rome, edited by Mark Golden and Peter Toohey, 202–20. Edinburgh University Press, 2003.

Rood, Naomi. “Four Silences in Sophocles’ ‘Trachiniae.’” Arethusa 43, no. 3 (2010): 345–64.

Zeitlin, Froma I. “The Dynamics of Misogyny: Myth and Mythmaking in the Oresteia.” Arethusa 11, no. 1/2 (1978): 149–84.

[what-even-is-thiss]

If you're wondering how so many books got lost and also how we have surviving ones, let me explain how books used to circulate before the invention of the printing press.

These days, a writer gets into a partnership with a publisher and this publisher prints and circulates these books to bookstores or other sellers and a percentage of every new sale goes to the writer and their agent. Used books are either resold privately or in used book stores or thrift stores or online. Some books are gifted to libraries. When the libraries have no more use for these books they are sold or thrown out.

In ancient times, there was no "books" as we currently understand them. Everything was written down or drawn on long scrolls of papyrus or parchment.

A writer would likely finish their final draft and do all their editing on cheap scrap paper or other writing surfaces like tree bark. Then they would either hire a scribe to make a few expensive copies or make the copies themselves if they were trained to do it all with good handwriting or calligraphy all in columns so that you could roll the scroll from side to side, only reading one column at a time.

The writer would then give these copies to their friends and family members, or as a gift to some important person, or perhaps just to someone who hired them to write it.

So let's say you are an educated courtesan or prostitute in the 1st century BC in Roman Greece and you write a fun and informative sex manual going over sex moves and sexual health complete with pictures. So you finish writing this sex manual and have a copy of it made and sent to a few of your other rich friends.

Your other rich friends think your sex manual is really cool and they take care of it and keep it unscrolled and flat stored in their personal libraries along with all of their other books. When they're moving it around or loaning it out to other people they keep it tightly rolled up to keep it compact.

Some people who borrow your sex manual from your friends really like it and want their own copy. So then either your friends will pay a scribe to make a copy of it and gift it to these people or the people who want it will borrow the copy and pay to have a copy made themselves. Copying your book in particular is even more expensive than normal because it has drawings in it so they need to find a scribe that is trained in copying drawings and not every scribe will take a commission for a sexual book, but they like your books so much that they're willing to take on the expense.

So this keeps going. People keep paying to make copies of your book. People like it a lot and eventually it becomes well-liked by the rich and they pay people to make copies of it for all their friends. After a couple of centuries of your book getting copied over and over again your book is a "bestseller" of sorts but you and your descendants never really saw any money from it because the people getting paid in the circulation of your book are scribes being paid to make copies of it and merchants selling what scrolls of it they can get their hands on.

By now the original copies you gave your friends are likely in the hands of their descendants, if the original copies still exist at all. They might've been burned in a fire when your friend's daughter dropped her lantern, or maybe worms ate it, or maybe your friends didn't keep it in a dry enough place and it just started to rot.

If the people who own a copy of your book like it enough or think it's important enough and they see that their copy is rotting or torn or charred, they can pay to have another copy made, but they also might not care enough and throw it out or just let it rot.

Over the centuries, your book slowly circulates less and less and the existing copies of your sex manual slowly rot in libraries or are purposefully burned as Christianity takes over, Rome falls, and literacy rates plummet while attitudes towards sexual books become even worse than they were in your time. Less people can read, less people work as scribes, less people have the skills to copy the drawings that were in your book.

And then on some unknown date, the last copy of your book is quietly eaten by worms in a damp and poorly cared for library.

This is what happened to The Book of Elephantis, a sex manual written by a prostitute or some other kind of sex worker working under a pseudonym somewhere in Greece in the 1st century BC. Her book was really popular in the time of the Roman Empire but it's since been lost. All the copies of her book just rotted away or burned over a thousand years ago. People just didn't care about sex manuals anymore and most people couldn't read them either.

It's also why most of the oldest copies of stuff like the Iliad we have are from the middle ages. The surviving works we have for the most part are the ones that people kept making new copies of and were stored properly.

Sometimes we get lucky and find some really old parchment scrolls in a dry cave or something or we scan books we have and can find where ink was scraped off and the paper was reused. But for the most part stuff gets lost because someone just didn't want to pay the expense to make a new copy.

Be thankful it's so cheap to make copies of books now and that modern paper lasts longer than parchment.

[wordsaficionado]

Are you a writer constantly in need of cool, fancy sounding words to write about? Are you a person who just wants to expand your vocabulary? Do you just want words to use to make you sound smart? Well then, enjoy this list that took me a few months and tons of books and google searches to create of really good words.

All with the official spellings and definitions from the first result, alphabetically organized :)

Updated and featuring a word for every letter of the alphabet!

Abhor- regard with disgust and hatred

Abject- (of something bad) experienced or present to the maximum degree

Adumbrate/Adumbration- report or represent in outline

Adage- a proverb or short statement expressing a general truth

Aftak (Scottish)- An easing or lull in a storm

Alizarin- a red pigment present in madder root, used in dyeing

Amalgamation- the action, process, or result of combining or uniting

Anchorite- a religious recluse

Anhedonic- inability to feel pleasure

Apocryphal- (of a story or statement) of doubtful authenticity, although widely circulated as being true

Ardent- burning; glowing

Arduous- involving or requiring strenuous effort; difficult and tiring

Askance- with an attitude or look of suspicion or disapproval

Athirst- very eager to get something

Augur- (in ancient Rome) a religious official who observed natural signs, especially the behavior of birds, interpreting these as an indication of divine approval or disapproval of a proposed action

Axiom- a statement or proposition which is regarded as being established, accepted, or self-evidently true

Baroque- relating to or denoting a style of European architecture, music, and art of the 17th and 18th centuries that followed mannerism and is characterized by ornate detail. In architecture the period is exemplified by the palace of Versailles and by the work of Bernini in Italy

Basorexia- the overwhelming desire to kiss

Bawdy- dealing with sexual matters in a comical way; humorously indecent

Beguile- charm or enchant (someone), sometimes in a deceptive way

Benignant- kindly and benevolent

Bier- a movable frame on which a coffin or a corpse is placed before burial or cremation or on which it is carried to the grave

Blunderbuss- an action or way of doing something regarded as lacking in subtlety and precision

Boff- have sex with (someone)

Boudoir- a woman's bedroom or private room

Bovine- an animal of the cattle group, which also includes buffaloes and bisons

Bucolic- relating to the pleasant aspects of the countryside and country life

Calamitous- involving calamity; catastrophic or disastrous

Callow- (of a young person) inexperienced and immature

Celerity- swiftness of movement

Cenotaph- a monument to someone buried elsewhere, especially one commemorating people who died in a war

Claret- a deep purplish-red color

Conglomerate- a number of different things or parts that are put or grouped together to form a whole but remain distinct entities

Consternation- feelings of anxiety or dismay, typically at something unexpected

Coppice- an area of woodland in which the trees or shrubs are, or formerly were, periodically cut back to ground level to stimulate growth and provide firewood or timber

Crépuscule- twilight

Covetousness- the feeling of having a strong desire for the things that other people have

Dearth- a scarcity or lack of something

Debutante- an upper-class young woman making her first appearance in fashionable society

Declamation- the action or art of declaiming

Declaiming- utter or deliver words or a speech in a rhetorical or impassioned way, as if to an audience

Demarcated- set the boundaries or limits of

Dichotomy- a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different

Dilatory- slow to act

Diminution- a reduction in the size, extent, or importance of something

Diocese- a district under the pastoral care of a bishop in the Christian Church

Diaphanous- (especially of fabric) light, delicate, and translucent

Dolichocephalic- having a relatively long skull (typically with the breadth less than 80 [or 75] percent of the length)

Dogmatic- being certain that your beliefs are right and that others should accept them, without paying attention to evidence or other opinions

Dutch Crocus- type of flower I thought sounded pretty

Encroached- intrude on (a person's territory or a thing considered to be a right)

Eleutheromania- a mania or frantic zeal for freedom

Encumber- restrict or burden (someone or something) in such a way that free action or movement is difficult

Epigram- a pithy saying or remark expressing an idea in a clever or amusing way

Ephemeral- lasting for a very short time

Erotomania- a delusion in which a person (typically a woman) believes that another person (typically of higher social status) is in love with them

Espionage- the practice of spying or of using spies, typically by governments to obtain political and military information

Expostulate- express strong disapproval or disagreement

Falchion- a broad, slightly curved sword with the cutting edge on the convex side.

Fallacy- a mistaken belief, especially one based on unsound argument

Fervid- intensely enthusiastic or passionate, especially to an excessive degree

Floccinaucinihilipilification- the action or habit of estimating something as worthless

Foibles- a minor weakness or eccentricity in someone's character

Folichonne- (informal) slight, lightweight; mischievous

Forelsket (Norwegian)- The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

Fungible- (of a product or commodity) replaceable by another identical item; mutually interchangeable

Funambulist- a tightrope walker

Galvanic- relating to or involving electric currents produced by chemical action

Gant- a yawn

Garrulous- excessively talkative, especially on trivial matters

Gloaming- twilight; dusk

Hedonistic- engaged in the pursuit of pleasure; sensually self-indulgent

Hiraeth- (especially in the context of Wales or Welsh culture) deep longing for something, especially one's home

Idiosyncrasies- a mode of behavior or way of thought peculiar to an individual

Idyll- an extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque episode or scene, typically an idealized or unsustainable one

Intaglio- a design incised or engraved into a material

Incandescent- soft glow

Irrevocably- not able to be changed, reversed, or recovered; final

Jettisoned- throw or drop (something) from an aircraft or ship

Kalopsia- The delusion of things being more beautiful than they are

Keening- the action of wailing in grief for a lost loved one

Ken- one's range of knowledge or sight

Lackadaisical- lacking enthusiasm and determination

Logophile- a lover of words

Loquacity- the quality of talking a great deal; talkativeness

Magnanimous- generous or forgiving, especially toward a rival or less powerful person

Magniloquent- using high-flown or bombastic language

Meandering- following a winding course

Meliorism- the belief that the world can be made better by human effort

Mellifluous- (of a voice or words) sweet or musical; pleasant to hear

Metonym- a word, name, or expression used as a substitute for something else with which it is closely associated

Midnightly- Taking place at midnight

Modicum- a small quantity of a particular thing, especially something considered desirable or valuable

Nihilistic- rejecting all religious and moral principles in the belief that life is meaningless

Obsequious- obedient or attentive to an excessive or servile degree.

Obstreperous- noisy and difficult to control

Occultation- An occultation is an event that occurs when one object is hidden from the observer by another object that passes between them

Ochre- an earthy pigment containing ferric oxide, typically with clay, varying from light yellow to brown or red

Panoply- a complete or impressive collection of things

Pastiche- an artistic work in a style that imitates that of another work, artist, or period

Petrichor- a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

Pious- having or showing a deep respect for God and religion

Pithy- (of a language or style) concise and forcefully expressive

Portending- be a sign or warning that (something, especially something momentous or calamitous) is likely to happen

Portmanteau- a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others, for example motel (from ‘motor’ and ‘hotel’) or brunch (from ‘breakfast’ and ‘lunch’)

Propinquity- the state of being close to someone or something; proximity or close kinship

Propitious- giving or indicating a good chance of success; favorable

Pulchritudinous- beautiful (yes, that’s the full definition)

Pusillanimous- showing a lack of courage or determination; timid

Qawwalis- a style of Sufi devotional music marked by rhythmic improvisatory repetition of a short phrase, intended to rouse participants to a state of mystical ecstasy

Rapport- a close and harmonious relationship in which the people or groups concerned understand each other's feelings or ideas and communicate well

Recalcitrant- having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline

Repertoire- a stock of skills or types of behavior that a person habitually uses

Resplendent- attractive and impressive through being richly colorful or sumptuous

Reverberated- (of a loud noise) be repeated several times as an echo or (of a place) appear to vibrate or be disturbed

Reverie- a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream

Requisite- made necessary by particular circumstances or regulations

Ricocheted- rebound one or more times off a surface

Rivulet- a very small stream

Rhododendron- a shrub or small tree of the heath family, with large clusters of bell-shaped flowers and typically with large evergreen leaves, widely grown as an ornamental

Ruched- (of cloth, clothes, etc.) sewn so that they hang in folds

Sablions- French plural word for sand (I’m 90% sure)

Salacious- having or conveying undue or inappropriate interest in sexual matters

Salubrious- health-giving; healthy or a place that is pleasant; not run-down

Sarsen- a silicified sandstone boulder of a kind which occurs on the chalk downs of southern England. Such stones were used in constructing Stonehenge and other prehistoric monuments

Scagliola- imitation marble or other stone, made of plaster mixed with glue and dyes which is then painted or polished

Sceptred- invested with a scepter or sovereign authority

Scintillating- brilliantly and excitingly clever or skillful

Sepia- a reddish-brown color associated particularly with monochrome photographs of the 19th and early 20th centuries

Sepulchral- gloomy; dismal

Sonder- The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it

Soporific- tending to induce drowsiness or sleep

Sumptuous- splendid and expensive-looking

Sycophant- a person who acts obsequiously toward someone important in order to gain advantage

Synecdoche- a figure of speech in which a part is made to represent the whole or vice versa, as in Cleveland won by six runs (meaning “Cleveland's baseball team”)

Taciturn- (of a person) reserved or uncommunicative in speech; saying little

Tangentially- in a way that relates only slightly to a matter; peripherally

Tantamount- equivalent in seriousness to; virtually the same as

Tenacious- tending to keep a firm hold of something; clinging or adhering closely

Trepidation- a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen

Truculent- eager or quick to argue or fight; aggressively defiant

Ubiquitous- present, appearing, or found everywhere

Unequivocally- leaving no doubt

Valise- a small traveling bag or suitcase

Vaunted- praised or boasted about, especially in an excessive way

Venorexia- the feeling of romance that comes with the arrival of springtime

Verdant- (of countryside) green with grass or other rich vegetation

Wanton- (of a cruel or violent action) deliberate and unprovoked

Whelm- engulf, submerge, or bury

Xerically- of, pertaining to, or adapted to a dry environment

Yillen (Scottish)- shower of rain

Yoked- attack, especially by strangling

Yūgen- the beauty that we can feel sense into an object, even though the beauty doesn't exist in the literal sense of the word and cannot be seen directly

Zenith- the time at which something is most powerful or successful

I hope you enjoyed my little panoply of words!

Ily all, and ty for really amplifying the last post I made like this! I hope it helps someone out there and if there are any mistakes or inaccuracies PLEASE lmk!

[lunarlianna]

Vesta in signs/houses

In ancient times the New Year was started with the celebration of the Spring Equinox, originally 1st of March in ancient Rome was the day that the Vestals (also known as priestess of the goddess Vesta) will relight the Roman fire at her temple which was considerate the fire (the heart) of Rome. AS goddess she symbolizes the heart, home and family.

Her priestess where virgins and had to take a chastity vow for 30 years, if the broke the vow it would have been considered infidelity and sealed alive in a room with little food and water, where the god where to decide her faith.

In astrology she is one of the biggest and more important asteroids on Astro.com you can find her by adding her number 4 in the extended chart selection section. She represents our internal flame that’s in our hearts, our sexuality, how we feel about home and family, she also symbolizes our dedication and devotion.

Aries: you need to keep your individuality at all cost, you are the kind of person that is committed towards your goals and you are bold when you truly desire something. It’s best to work alone or have a leadership position. You can make a lot of sacrifice in your way of success. Sexually will be a good idea to let go of old ideas and explore outside of your comfort zone. You need to learn how to better communicate your boundaries. There can be a tendency in selfishness, impulsiveness and no patience when it comes to work.

1st house: vesta here it’s show you the importance of the relationship with yourself is and that even if it’s in a more peaceful sign you’ll still feel the need of independence even in close relationships.

Taurus: when you are grounded you can do anything in order to fulfil your goals. Usually, you tend to be committed towards yourself and your stability, you have feelings of responsibility over the loved one but that doesn’t mean automatically that you’ll trust them with your finances. Sexually it will be a good idea to be intone with your body and understand what works for your and what doesn’t, tape into your sensuality, you may have the tendency to use sex as a form of payment in order to obtaining affection or intimacy. You also have the tendency to be quite stubborn in your commitments and dedications.

2nd house financial security is very import to you and you are good at managing your resource, don’t shy way when someone close to you comes asking for help. Careful in overworking yourself, take breaks when you need them.

Gemini: unlike Aries, you are meant to work with others, usually you should be pretty good at communicating your ideas and probably you are highly intelligent and good at connecting people. The difficulty with this placement it’s that it can be hard for you to commit to a specific interest. Sexually you may be interested in anything new sometimes without thinking about it to much. The advice in your situation is to listen to your body and mind in order to make the good decisions, also you need to communicate clearly when something is not right for you.

3rd house: you can help others by expressing your ideas and thoughts, you can have a close relationship with your relatives, you may need to take breaks from socializing in order to clear your thoughts.

Cancer: vesta here has a very nurturing behaviour; you need a safe environment in order to pursue your goals. You have a high emotional intelligent and you are able to give to everyone the emotional support that they need, just be careful in not sacrificing your own emotional needs for the benefit of others. Sexually you need to feel safe in order to enjoy your sexuality, learn what it means a safe partner for you and to feel safe in your own body. You need to heal the maternal wound and work on your trust issues.

4th house: this placement can indicate that growing up you had a lot of responsibilities but now you like to create your home environment safe and lovely. People may come to you and feel as if they are finally at home, you can help them rebalance the chaotic energy that they come in with.

Leo: you are highly creative and need space in order to express yourself fully. You may have artistic qualities or simply you may like to entertain and play a lot of group games. You will need to follow your heart and be truth to yourself and order to shine. Don’t let others define you and restrain your creativity. Sexually you may need to learn how to express your emotions in a non-dramatic way  and hold space for them. You’ll need to learn self-acceptance and self-love in order to be able to choose partners that make you feel love and wanted.

5th house: vesta here can indicate that you put all your heart when it comes to your work and you need to enjoy truly that task in order to feel fulfilled, you may also be a dedicated parent to your children or work great with children

Virgo: you are a dedicated person towards your work and you need organization and structure in order to be productive. You tend to be over critical and perfectionist which sometimes may be in your disadvantage. When you feel overworked it’s a good idea to take breaks and don’t push yourself. You can be a great healer. Sexually you need to understand that sex is not an obligation or a competition and you should listen only to what your body needs and feels. You will be able to enjoy it once you heal your mind.

6th house: you may need to be careful with your health and take care of you first before taking care of others, you have a good job ethic that your proud of, you can be good at working as a healer or with animals

Libra: you work best when you are teamed up with someone else and need that in order to stay focused and dedicated. Your romantic relationships are important and you require equality in them above everything else. You are the type of person that can get along quite easy with others. Sexually, you may have the tendency to not speak when something is bothering you or not working for you, boundaries is an important theme that you must learn. 

7th house: with vesta here, the most important lesson it’s to have a balance between what you give in partnerships versus what you take, it’s ok to put your need first.

Scorpio: this is a very powerful placement, you can go though a lot of difficulties in order to obtain what you want. You may need to learn how to not be extremely possessive and to have a lighter approach towards life and your partners. Sexuality it’s very important with vesta here and you may have a deep fear of being cheated on. You can be very intense and may see sex as something sacred. You may also have quite a few kinks. With this placement you can be extremely loyal to the partner you thing deserves it.

8th house: with this placement you may need a lot of intensity and soul merging like sex, since sex will be quite important for you as well with vesta here. You may also have an interest in the occult and the mind-spirit connection.

Sagittarius: you need freedom to pursue  your goal as you see fit, in a work place you may need constant mental stimulation. If in negative aspects this placement can create anxiety and a feeling that you are without purpose or having troubles in find your purpose. Sexually you may be very fluid and understanding once you evolve past shame, vesta here can empower you to explore the world through embracing your sexuality.

9th house: with this placement you may need to learn how to tap into your wisdom also wisdom plays an important part in your life. People may come to you in order to offer them clarity.

Capricorn: vesta here can be great at being disciplined and focused when it come to their goals. You can take a while to set a goal because you are very careful and you analysed it from different perspective but once you decided nothing can stop you. Sexually you may be a late boomer and you may not understand why people hurry up. You need to learn that it’s ok to let yourself go completely once you find the right partner.

10th house: vesta here can mean that other people may want to worship you or to treat you as the most precious thing.  This placement indicates also the need to have a cause that has meaning and importance to you.

Aquarius: with this placement you may be interested in technology and humanitarian causes. You may not feel comfortable in a corporate work environment and an entrepreneurial career will be better suited for you. You are high individualistic but in the same time you care deeply about your friends. Sexually you may need a partner that it’s open to try everything but do your research before trying something. You may be prone to multiple partners and also need a lot of freedom in your sex life.  

11th house: this is a placement for people that usually do a lot of volunteer work, you may enjoy bringing people together for a greater cause.

Pisces: there is a lot of emphasis on spiritual work with vesta here, you are highly intuitive and creative. When you commit to someone or something they become part of you. Usually, you show people that they need to believe in themselves first. Sexually, you are highly empathetic and you can get easily manipulated by others ( especially people with Pisces moon). You need to respect your body and learn to but very hard boundaries, see the red flags, you don’t take sex just for the sake of it you feel it all.

12th house: vesta here can put a lot of emphasis into your mental health, you may have an interest into everything that it’s mystical and hidden. You may need to be careful in not confusing spirituality with mental health. You may need a lot of time for self-care and that’s it totally ok.

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[smolvenger]

Dangerous Stubbornness (Caius Martius Coriolanus x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Life as wife to Caius Martius Coriolanus has its benefits. You married him for stability, protection, and status- not to mention the delights of his bed. You expect to be no more than his dutiful wife. Yet...it seems perhaps there is something more there then all of that....

From @muddyorbsblr's request of Coriolanus with the trope "he flals first."

Word Count: 2954 (oop, she exploded from a blurb)

Warnings: There is smut, NSFW 18+ please refer to Dick-tionary (rougher sex, dirty talk I stole from Ana Huang's books, doggy style, some light dom/sub, voyeurism), a creepy sexual harasser gets what's coming to him, Caius being a grumpy angy babygirl sharko bite blorbo who actually is soft for his wife and is wrapped around her little finger, Reader uses Caius as scary dog privilege. Attempts at accuracy to Ancient Roman culture and characterization but at the end of the day it's about the wish fulfillment and the vibes. Lots of fluff. Grammar mistakes bc i just want to get. This. Shit. Done after the wild two weeks I've had.

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at "Three little words. That was all he needed." and ends at "You felt his breaths from behind you, his touch gentler against your arm." Use to your discretion.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were never afraid of walking through the streets of Rome because your husband walking behind you would scare all who dared to harass you. You would go about the streets, your veil fluttering on your head, smiling bright in the afternoon sunshine. Caius always had a frown and glare in his eyes that dared any fool to try to cross with you. 

The marriage was purely for status- you were a good woman from a respectable family. Yes, that was probably why it was arranged between your parents! They wanted someone with a good heart and reputation, and Caius only wanted a wife to manage his house and give him children. Why should you say no? Not that you were scared of him at all- for he never once was cruel to you. Perhaps curt and blunt on occasion, proud and stubborn- but he never bullied you. With his famous wealth, you would never go hungry. He’d be away in battles and you would be alone and be free to do as you wished for months on end. If he died in battle, you figured, the more the better! You would have his money and the freedom of a widow with the respect of his name. Besides, you weren’t in love with anyone and never thought any suitors would show interest in you. 

Such was one walk, early in your betrothal. One fellow had not heard the news or knew who you were and came upon you. Trying to touch you, invite you to dinner or the bathhouses. You kept refusing, he kept insisting.

Then, the braggart leaned over and grabbed your arm.

In about ten seconds flat was Caius, unsheathing his sword, upon the braggart, pulling him by the collar. You shoved him off and ran behind him. The man trembled as if Thanatos stood thundering before him.

“I shall be quick in work and send you to your death-do you understand, villain?”

He nodded, shaking. He already seemed to learn his lesson. You edged forward to your dragon of an intended.

“Please- don’t kill him, there are too many people out watching- just scare him!” you whispered to Caius.

Caius shoved him down. The man shook where he stood and you thought you smelled urine leaking from his bladder.

“If you ever as much as speak this lady’s name-I will kill you.” he threatened quietly.

The man, having learned his lesson, mumbled a whimpering “yes, dominae” and fled.

Since your marriage, and with your new status as a general’s wife, such incidents never happened.

As you peered about one stall in the market, admiring the fresh fruits offered, you smiled bright.

“Oh, how lovely these berries look! So ripe and fresh! Wouldn’t you agree, dear husband?” you asked.

Caius remained frowning, though eyed down the berries. The man selling them looked pale and kept eying the sheathed sword on Caius’s hip.

“They’re fine,” he said. His pride kept him from commenting further on a simple farmer’s wares. But you felt his eyes over your smile seeing them.

Caius lent his coin to buy you some. The trembling farmer scooped up some berries, and popped them into a little bag, and handed it to you. You thanked the farmer and paused to admire them.

You smiled at them, as if they were jewels in your hands. Then you tried a little handful, popping them into your mouth.

“Mhm! They’re delicious! Thank you, Caius,” you replied.

You leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek. He blinked, and his shoulders loosened down from the feeling of your lips. You could have sworn a faint pink was on his cheeks as he continued behind you- not that he dared smile or keep his guard down in public.

You thought it would be another ordinary quiet night. But Caius Martius was many things. Quiet and ordinary were neither of them.

At home, you wanted to rest your feet from all the walking today. Your loom was coming along and weaving it felt relaxing. As you sat, you heard footsteps. Turning around, you saw Caius standing there.

You stood up. “Husband? Is something the matter?”

“...no…” he said.

“Oh…then, what…what brings you here?” you asked.

“I wish only to sit, I have…scrolls to read.”

“This is, er, not the usual room for a man,” you said, taking note of the loom and embroidery, the flowers from the garden.

“I am going to sit and read. In this room,”  he said determinately.

Letting out an exhale, you relented.

“Oh- your mother is always right! Your dangerous stubbornness- oh, you are welcome here, Caius, dull as it must be for you compared to a fight with a Volsce…” you teased.

He made no answer. But you sat and weaved. Watching how the lines all came together and became one for the latest project.

Little did you know that his eyes were more on you than on the flimsy scrolls. Seeing your profile and your eyes over the work then the dusty work.

Though as you ate dinner, His eyes were on you, the neckline of your dress, showing your shoulders.  Your tempa mesa was presented, eaten, and sent away as was the meal. He moved closer, to sit beside you. You felt him move an arm around you. Speaking to you in soft tones.

 As a slave came in to take an empty bowl, you felt him close, he held up a hand. Talking about some silly complaint with the tribunes Brutus and Sicinia. But it was useless- he only wanted to touch your hand, trace it, and bring it to his mouth as his lips ghosted a kiss onto your palm. You took in a sharp breath as he did.

You felt your breaths become shallow and saw his eyes flutter boldly to your chest. He sat beside you, one hand always lying on your thigh.

“What…is this….”

“I only want to enjoy all that is mine- my house, my meal, and my wife.”

With that, he propped you upon his lap as the slave brought more wine. You felt yourself get warm, feeling him on you. Such…intimacy sent your heart aflutter. Though…after plates were cleared before he could tighten his arms to hold you, you slid off. He let you, his blue eyes widening.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” you announced softly.

His hand was still on your skirt. As you walked away, the fabric pulled and then slid lightly off his fingers. His hand is still in the air as if still touching you.

You sat down before the vanity. Making sure your face was washed, you removed the jewelry you had. Smiling at how lovely they were. Gifts he still found to give you even though the wedding was some time ago. Gifts he still would give you.

The slaves were still around. They kept fanned cool air with peacock feathers. Played soft music on harps and little reeds and made sure there was always water for washing and kept about.

The door opened, and your heart beat hard as he got inside. You continued your nightly routine, removing the ring and necklace as well as the belt before you. Getting ready to change- and yet…here he was. A shadow in the corner. He walked up.

“Husband! My…I’m not in trouble?” you asked, slightly teasing.

“No…”

The servants all shot a look, he gestured at them to stay. To continue their business.

His arms wrapped around you slowly. Then, he laid his head down, looking at you in the mirror.

“But…I didn’t say I wanted this evening to end…” he breathed, he began to pepper kisses down your neck. His hands running down your arms.

“I said I was going to bed…not to sleep…” you said. Enjoying the teasing and playfulness. How you could still hold this mighty, fearsome warrior like wet clay in your hands.

He whispered into your ear for only you to hear.

“I’m going to burst if I don’t have you now.”

You grinned.

“Then have me,” you replied.

Three little words. That was all he needed.

He tore off your veil to where it flew down, fluttering like feathers. He pulled you in and kissed you. You moaned into it. His hands grew bolder, feeling down your sides. You moaned in response as he slid his tongue inside. You pressed yourself next to him, feeling his desire prod against you.

Then he was on you like an animal starved. At once he began to kiss you, cupping your face, keeping a hand on your back to keep you close. You waved a hand through his short, dark blonde hair. His own were going down to feel all over your skin, though his firey kisses never stopped. The man had a craving for you in the bedroom like no other. Not that you complained about it.

You took his hand and led it to your breast to squeeze.

“Caius…yes…more…” you moaned.

“You want more…” he replied.

“Yes- give it to me…” you asked.

“All of it…”

“Yes…”

“And you will take it?”

You looked into his eyes.

“...yes. I want more. Not like on our wedding night. I want it hard. And rough. I can take it. I will take it.”

At once he threw you upon the bed. Lush with blankets and pillows, rich and comfortable. He walked towards you, eyes filled with lust, his steps slow, his head tilted, but not smiling.

“When I take you, I want you to cry out. I want all of Rome, every plebian, every senator, every person, and every animal and god to know you are mine.

He was on you, feeling a hand on your leg and kissing you. You began to grind against him. The servants blushed and looked about, he gestured to them.

“Stay,” he ordered them.

They stayed.

“I don’t want you dignified. No, wife. Show your loyalty-” he moved his hands through your dress.

“Take off your clothes.”

“If you want me naked that badly- take them off yourself,” you dared.

He obliged.

You let a sound as he roughly reached into your dress and shoved down the sleeves. You began to let a sound, a gasp as it broke open. It nearly ripped it. Shaking, you helped remove his own clothes still on him. Amazed at though his chest was filled with those dark, bloodied scars, the muscles still on them. 

He smiled.

“Such a tongue you’ve grown to have on you, delicae,” he said

The music of the slaves continued, as did their fans. Though you could feel their eyes.

 Now you were naked in his room, feeling his hands explore all over you, one squeezing your breast as the other spread around your back, wrapping you in, fingers into your skin as if to mark you.

“Then shouldn’t I be punished?” you asked coyly.

He smirked as looked at you. Then he let the last of his clothes fall. Showing his impressive thighs and impressive cock so hard it dripped against his stomach,

“It was everything in me not to take you at that table…then we’ll make up for it…”

He half threw you to the study part of the room. There sat a desk.

“Lean over that desk.”

You obliged, heart beating hard.

“Spead your legs,” he ordered.

You opened your two shaking legs, your wet sex glistening before him.

“Put your hands on the edge,” he ordered in a rasp.

Two shaking hands of yours gripped the edge. He laid your hips up. Then thrust into you at once. You let out a sound. Then roughly, he began to take you. Pounding in, his large cock straining inside you. You let out a sound.

“Yes- yes keep that- you are- you’re mine, you’re mine now- now-say it-say. it.”

“I’m” you cried between his thrusts. “I’m-I’m-your-yours-you- gods!” 

He pounded into you with a fury. His own groaning increasing. It was so filthy, so depraved, and you loved it. You had to grip the edge tightly as he pounded into you. Grunting like an animal. 

The music from the slaves continued, as did the footsteps from their business. Harps continued on as Caius took you like a whore. You could feel them still watching everything. Wondering if they were frightened, aroused, amazed, disgusted, or all four at once. 

He began to growl to you between pounding you.

“So you-” 

thrust.

 “-never-” 

thrust 

“-forget-” 

He pulled you up by your shoulder to your ear. His voice right next to it, his cock and his voice overtaking you.

“You-” 

thrust 

“-are-” 

thrust 

“-my-” 

thrust 

“-wife.”

He reached a hand, finding your opening between your legs. The bud inside you, swollen and needy and overcome.  One large finger began to strum it and you let out a whimper feeling it. His large, long fingers could already play it so easily. He let you down, and you were gripping tight to keep from losing it all. You weren’t going to last long at this rate.

“Caius! Caius please-please-Caius-”

It was already crawling up, the desk thudded loudly, perhaps breaking if it weren’t so thick and sturdy. The slaves would know he was yours and you were his. That only he and you could bring each other this.

“Yes- cum, dammit, wife- cum for me, cum- just cum, cum with me-”

“Caius-caius! I- Caius-caiuscaiuscaiuscaius-” you repeated, feeling it break. Your voice gets higher until you let out a noise, as your climax hits you.

Then with a shout from him, the seed shot forth inside you. You moaned as you panted, catching your breath. He steadily pulled out. 

You felt his breaths from behind you, his touch gentler against your arm. One wrapped around you for protection. 

“Get her something to drink now!” he barked at the servants.

They nodded their heads and ran off. Caius with one swoop got you into his arms. You felt your breath light, almost dizzy with joy- he hadn’t done that since your wedding when he brought you to this house. You could still feel his strong arms supporting you so easily. He carried you over to the bed, settling you amongst the blankets. One slave brought a cup of your drink, and you sipped at it with both hands. He made sure a blanket was draped over you for a bit of modesty.

“What kindness…I never would have guessed you would have kindness in you…” you remarked.

“I…want to be honorable…” he said quietly.

He waved a hand, and the flushed slaves left, Granting you privacy at last. You saw Caius look at you, then glance down like a shy maiden.

This wasn’t like him.

“What is it?” you asked.

“What is what?” he asked.

“You and your dangerous stubborness! Well I have some in me too. You have enjoyed me. And you wish to speak of something, I can feel it. You can tell me. Is there something you want of me? A son? I’m sure at this rate, you’ll have one…” you urged, a hand consciously at your belly.

Caius tilted his head again, his hand moving you away from yours. But touching it softly. 

“It…isn’t that. What I have…you must think it isn’t for a man to say aloud,” he said

“But you must say it! Is something wrong? Are you ill? Is your mother ill? What did Menenius try to weasel you to do? Where are they sending you now!? Caius, Why not-”

He quickly got up and cupped your face. He spoke quick, plain, and to the point.

“I love you.”

You paused your breath tight and the room spinning

“You…love me?”

“Why did I ask my mother to arrange us married?”

It struck you.

“I was…am a virtuous daughter of a respectable family-”

He looked into your eyes.

“I’ve loved you the day I met you. I wanted to have you as my wife or no one.  I couldn’t resist you if Diana herself ordered me to.”

Struck silent, you saw his face soften. The orange glow of the candlelight making him that more beautiful. 

“When…when did you know for sure…did Eros really strike the moment you saw me ”

“I…I remember it was- it was the race for the senate. All the crowd gathered to see me speak, to see the consul. I tried to ignore you there, and I could not. I was in denial all that time. But seeing you-when you looked at me, and smiled, I forgot it all. I didn’t want the seat. I wanted you. Honestly, I don’t know when it happened. But it did. And yet- all at once I-I-”

He paused.

“Maybe it was when we were betrothed. Maybe I walked with you to the markets. Or when I saw you there. Maybe it was every dull dinner and banquet I had to attend, that I still went, hoping to see you. To just see you…”

He caught himself.

“But no…I think most of all…it was each time I spoke to you. And you knew of me….and now …”

He touched your hand and you brought it to your lips, kissing it tenderly. You almost saw a tear drop despite the stillness of his face.

“I know what I am. And I thought you should hate me. Beyond whatever duty you may feel to me as your husband-”

“Caius, I don’t hate you. Not at all.”

“Then…could you-”

“I could learn to love you, and choose to love you, Caius.”

You pulled your face to his and kissed him. Then you tucked yourself into him, embracing him as you both lay on the bed. Not just as husband and wife, but as two people deeply in love.

[grecoromanyaoi]

helloo since we're on the topic: top historical fiction (or adjacent) ? can be any time period I just really love your taste in shows/games/etc and am always on the lookout for history inspired media !

thank you!!! im rly glad im like. inspiring other ppl to engage w things im insane abt hudofajsdfdassfsad. anyways. i will probably expand that list bc i literally forgot every single thing i ever read. also i havent watched that many movies so far

ancient times: i havent really watched a lot of movies/series set in ancient times so far :(

rome HBO (2005-2007) (tv series) - OF COURSE. i personally think its one of the best series ever made. they combine political, miliatry history with the lives of every day people in an incredible way. they never let you once engage with the series through modern lenses. according to my teacher (a historian, archeologist & self described 'romaphile') its incredibly historically accurate, mostly the clothing, set designs, characterization, military practices, etc. except for the things they straight up made up, of course.

i really enjoyed gladiator (2000), i think its a masterpiece.

prince of egypt (1998) i guess?

all the asterix movies of course, all the animated ones and most of the live actions. but i wouldnt really call it historical fiction

ok i havent actually finished watching it for now but sebastiane (1976) - an erotic, x rated, gay interpretation of the martyrdom of st sebastian. its in latin also.

wait i cant believe i forgor about assassin's creed odyssey - so far the only one ive played. its so fun and incredibly immersive visually. especially pour moi who cries into the pillow about how ill never experience the ancient world. also you can b a faggot which is always fun. i have things to say about their portrayal of same-sex sexuality and slavery in classical greece but i get why they did that considering its supposed to like. appeal to a lot of people, and a more "historically accurate" portrayal (for example of pederasty or how common slavery was etc.) would b v difficult for a lot of their target audience. alas.

medieval and early modern era:

the name of the rose (1986) - my medieval history teacher literally showed us bits of this movie to teach us about monasteries and monks fhdosiasdjasd.

the borgias (2011-2013) - incredibly messy, lots of political intrigue, and so so fun to watch. about the history of the borgia family. filled to the brim with drama.

the three musketeers (1993) - my favorite adaptation, also coincidentally the one i grew up on. casting tim curry as richelieu was genius. he slays so hard.

i also like bbc's the musketeers (2014-2016) - a neat little series. very fun and entertaining to watch.

outlaw king (2018) - like i dont think most ppl heard of this movie. its about robert the bruce's fight to reclaim the throne of scotland. starring chris pine

vikings (2013-2020) - its fun. i havent watched the entire series tho. dont expect anything resembling historical accuracy

the northman (2022) - you will see something resembling historical accuracy

mihai viteazul (michael the brave) (1971) - a fun movie. very much romanian propaganda tho.

1670 (2023-) - such a fun series!!! incredible cast, shows respect to the actual history and the lives of historical people. really cute and funny.

caravaggio (1986) - a biopic about caravaggio.

wait i also forgor about pentiment - an intriguing, immersive, and incredibly beautiful video game! it has a lot of 'the name of the rose' vibes, with it being a medieval murder mystery taking place in a monastery. its incredibly touching and made me cry, and in the last few years i very rarely cry. also im 99% sure its an indie game? go support the creators!

vaguely-medieval/early modern fantasy:

mirror mirror (2012) - a retelling of snow white. a very fun movie imo, with incredible costume design. julia roberts plays the evil queen and she SLAYS. armie hammer is unfortunately in that movie.

stardust (2007) - one of my fave movies growing up. more modern-inspired but still.

the green knight (2021) - controversial i know but i actually loved this movie! i liked it both as a standalone movie but moreso as a 21st century adaptation to sir gawain and the green knight.

galavant (2015-2016) - !!!!!!! one of the most series ever! they manage to tackle such difficult concepts and conversations with a hilarious wit. so fun to watch. i listen to a lot of the songs still, and rewatch every once in a while.

disenchantment (2018-2023) - very fun to watch, especially the first season.

i also really liked the novel uprooted by naomi novik. its a polish-inspired fantasy.

modern era:

killers of the flower moon (2023) - of course. a masterpiece

aferim! (2015) - a romanian movie set in 19th century wallachia, about two officers, a father and son, who were sent by a nobleman to retrieve an escaped enslaved romani man. a lot of the people in the comments were calling the movie humorous and funny, maybe im missing smth (as im watching with subtitles n dont understand the original language) but it was a very difficult watch for me??

the handmaiden (2016) - need i say more

black sails (2014-2017) - a prequel to the famous novel 'treasure island'. not an easy series to watch. incredibly good.

the favourite (2018) - need i say more pt 2

the rabbi's cat (le chat du rabbin) (2011) - animated movie set in early 20th century algeria. a rabbi's cat learns to talk overnight.

the nice guys (2016) - a fun murder mystery set in the 1970s

o brother, where art thou (2000) - a retelling of the odyssey set in the southern us in the 1930s

victor/victoria (1982) - set in early 20th century paris. julie andrews pretends to be a man and takes on a job as a drag queen. extremely fun, extremely gay movie.

lady chatterley's lover (2022) - very much porn for moms but it was a nice watch imo

amulet (2020) - set in like. idk. sometime in the 20th century. this is a horror movie, deals a lot with misogyny, sa, and so on. i really like it, personally. a lot of people, mostly weird men, dont tho.

the great (2020-2023) - i have mixed feelings about this show. on the one hand, its really fun to watch. on the other hand, its basically ofmd for girls who have public mental breakdowns whenever someone claims corsets were oppressive. and theyre so weird about russians, jesus christ.

disses:

domina (2021-) - i just couldnt get into it, esp since i tried right after finishing rome hbo. it was kind of silly, and not in a good way. takes itself wayyyy to seriously.

i didnt like spartacus (2010-2013) - the dialogue was almost grotesque and the editing, especially the transitions, straight up killed me

damsel (2024) - holy fuck what a trainwreck of a movie. absolute waste of angela basset and robin wright. the only good thing were the costumes.

lancelot du lac (1974) - i just didnt like it at all. couldnt get into it. i guess it was way too french and artsy fartsy for me. a movie that was trying to say both too little and too much at the same time.

i didnt rly like bram stoker's dracula (1992) - i mean. it was a fine movie. it was definitely not the godfather. the movie itself was meh. the visuals tho? absolutely stunning

[officialpenisenvy]

gio what are your thoughts on the story of cimon and pero/roman caritas. devoid of (incestuous) eroticism bc breasts were and are not inherently sexual or rife with voyeurism on something transgressive for the sake of filial piety. also apparently some versions have it be a mother and daughter so make of that what you will

very very interesting question!! i had to look up the sources because i wasn't super familiar with the story in the first place, and for the sake of ease and context i have translated the two sources i referenced and added them here. (exceedingly long answer under the cut, after some figurative depictions and the sources themselves)

Valerius Maximus, Memorabilia 5.4.1:

Such fame of filial piety is said to be held by Pero, who nursed as though an infant her father Mycon, very old in age, having come into the near-identical condition of imprisonment she was in. The human eye marvels and astonishes upon seeing the paintings depicting this story, which perpetually renews the extraordinary nature of such an ancient event through the admiration for the scene being portrayed.

Pliny the Elder, Naturalis Historia 7.55:

Undoubtedly endless examples of filial piety exist worldwide, but in Rome there is one alone to which none other can compare. A humble woman on the verge of giving birth, a plebeian and thus unnamed, had been allowed to visit her mother who was in prison because of a crime she had committed; despite being under constant surveillance so that she may not sneak in food for her, the woman was caught feeding her mother from her own breast. For such a marvelous display of piety was the mother freed, and both were granted food in perpetuity, and that very place was consecrated to the goddess of Pietas.

i think this is a very interesting story, i can see why it is such a common theme to be depicted throughout art history, and i definitely empathize with and share the reaction valerius maximus describes in the viewer of such artistic depictions: the visual effect of a woman breastfeeding an adult, one significantly older than the woman herself, is no doubt incredibly striking, and it is only compounded by the knowledge that said adult is the breastfeeder's own parent.

there is something extremely visceral about this mental image that makes me want to flinch and look away from it, like i am seeing something i am not supposed to be seeing: this is something different from the reaction that a mother breastfeeding her child usually evokes in me, and far more similar to the reaction i have to seeing a couple have sex in public. of course, a lot of this is my own personal and cultural bias speaking: while breasts are not ontologically sexual, they have a sexual connotation in our society, and an adult sucking on another adult's breasts, even with milk flowing, is an act that instinctively reads as sexual and thus incestuous to a modern-day observer, even one who knows there is no sexual intent behind the act.

there is also an element of subversion, and thus further taboo, enshrined in the act: it's more self-evident in the story about the plebeian mother and daughter, but no less present in the one of pero and mycon. a mother breastfeeds her daughter, who in turn grows to have children of her own and breastfeed them, and this goes doubly so for a plebeian woman who would not have had the means to take on a wetnurse: that a daughter breastfeed her own mother shatters the hierarchical dynamic that tacitly establishes itself the moment the newborn daughter latches onto the mother's breast, and it places the daughter herself in a position of power as the one who now controls the mother's access to food and life, as well as forcing the mother into a regression of age where she now has to step into a child's shoes and trust her daughter with her life and her nourishment.

i would argue the same goes for the father, with the obvious caveat that roman fathers usually did not breastfeed their children and so that one immediate parallel doesn't hold up; however, it is still a very clear subversion, especially when you take into account that the roman father as head of the family would have very concrete power of life and death over his children, while he is here fundamentally subject to the whim of the daughter who holds the power of life and death over him in the form of breastmilk. of course, in both cases, the daughter is magnanimous and pious and of her own volition she offers her breast to her parent for feeding, potentially even robbing her soon-to-be-born or newly-born child of the milk that is rightfully theirs: after all, these are both being used as exempla of filial piety and are surrounded by other such exempla, and selfless devotion to the ailing parent even beyond the realm of what is usually considered proper is a storied roman value. in this sense, one can read these tales as the child giving back to the parent, and therein can lie the subversion: as the parent once fed them and gave them life (or even straight up breastfed them in the case of the mother) in a time of the child's helplessness, so too the daughter in a time of the parent's need must take it upon herself to give back and feed her parent with the body she was given by them.

of course, this is just pure speculation on my part, and while i do think it's likely that an ancient roman reader or viewer might interpret the story somewhat similarly to the last paragraph, i cannot be sure: i don't know how breasts were viewed in the roman world, but i can make an educated guess, judging by how even in most nude or scantily clad depictions of roman women their breasts are bound and they are only shown as unbound in erotic illustrations. it is very possible that the ancient romans saw breasts in a somewhat similar way as us, which is to say quite eroticized beyond the context of breastfeeding; i wonder especially if a father would have had the opportunity to see his daughter's breasts organically, if such an instance was normal or possible or if she would have kept them bound in such a situation.

all this rambling to say that breasts were likely eroticized to some degree in roman culture, and to me it's very telling that some narrations report the guards/witnesses of such breastfeeding as being shocked or finding it indecent before understanding it as an act of filial piety: the sheer fact that it needs to be prefaced with this disclaimer of sorts, of it being a story of filial piety, implies that the image of an adult man sucking on a woman's breasts may have had other, sexual connotations (an adult woman doing the same might even have connotations of lesbianism, how ghastly), and so the tale both plays into that ambiguity and tries to dispel it by explaining the context.

i hope this makes even a lick of sense! i had a lot of fun exploring this story and mulling it over in my head, thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so, i really hope you found my answer the least bit satisfactory <3

[planet-gay-comic]

Love and Friendship. Roman Baths: A Meeting Place for Leisure and Sport

Roman baths in ancient Rome were public facilities that were visited by people of all social classes and walks of life. They were a place for socializing, relaxation, and personal hygiene.

The Romans had a relatively liberal attitude towards sexuality. Same-sex relationships were not prohibited, and they were often accepted. In some cases, they were even seen as positive.

In Roman baths, there were sometimes sexual encounters between men. This often happened between men of the same social status. However, it was also common for men from different social classes to have sexual relationships with each other.

Young men often went to the baths together to socialize, exercise, and relax. It was not uncommon for young men to be naked together in the baths. This was seen as a sign of camaraderie and friendship.

There is also evidence to suggest that there were occasional sexual encounters between young men in Roman baths. However, this did not always happen. In some cases, the young men were simply friends who were spending time together.

Text AI Bard Base draft image: Generated with StableDiffusion v1.5 (modul mix) Postwork: out/inpaint composing with CS Paint and Automatic1111 (using different moduls, partial manual up/downscale to recalculate better details), manual composing and correction paint over with CS Paint.

[transgenderer]

I noticed recently how strange it is that the international symbol for toilet is a man and a woman. And it's not even old, gender segregated toilets are young! Much younger than public toilets (which ancient Rome had) From Wikipedia:

The earliest known example of a western sex-separated public toilet was a temporary installation that occurred in 1739 at a Parisian ball. This involved chamber boxes in separate rooms with attendants guiding visitors to the appropriate location. According to sociologist and author Sheila Cavanagh, this was seen by the guests as "sort of a novelty - something eccentric and fun." She argues that this was done to accentuate sexual difference, and project that difference onto public space.

George Jennings, the sanitary engineer, introduced public toilets, which he called "monkey closets", to the Crystal Palace for The Great Exhibition of 1851. They included separate amenities for men and women, and were the first flush toilet facilities to introduce sex-separation to the activity. London's first public toilet facility opened the next year with only provisions for men, although other facilities opened for women at other venues.

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

VI. Rising Stakes

SERIES MASTERLIST

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Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: Another update in only a little over a week? Who is she? I’m going to ride this wave of inspiration as far as it takes me! Summer vacation is right around the corner though, so I do hope I’ll be able to update this story more regularly!

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, mentions of physical abuse, references to injuries and gladiatorial combat, minor language, angst, pining, allusions to sexual acts, implied sex, brief sexual content, Atticus being gross (this deserves a warning all on its own), slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

It had only been a week since Gallus had told you about the upcoming summer games, and yet it felt that everything in the household had been upended in those few days’ time. Dominus was even more preoccupied and snappish than usual, which meant that Domina was even crueler in her treatment of the household servants. Just the other night, she’d smacked you hard across the face for dropping one of her favorite necklaces.

“Forgive me, Domina,” you’d begged, blinking back the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes in response to her brutal slap. With trembling fingers, you carefully picked up the string of carnelian beads that Dominus had purchased for your mistress from an Egyptian merchant and laid them on her dressing table.

“Why should I, you clumsy slut?” Domina snapped, glaring at you with cold eyes. She was a beautiful woman, and yet those eyes seemed as though they could turn a person to stone. “By the gods, my husband really allows you to help care for his gladiators?”

You saw it then, that flash of jealousy in her eyes. Phoenix had been saying for months what a jealous shrew she was and now, with the tragic story of Rufus and Niobe still so fresh in your mind, you could believe it. Though you had been ignorant of your mistress’ proclivities when you first entered the household, you had since seen for yourself, on more than one occasion, new recruits from the ludus being led to and from Domina’s bedchamber on nights when Dominus was dining with his associates or out of the city on business. It made your stomach churn, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt that it was never the Pugiones who were brought to her bed. 

It was never Gallus.

You almost had to laugh at the irony of the situation you were caught up in. Though she was a beautiful woman with more wealth and privilege than you could hope to attain in ten lifetimes, with a husband who spoiled her rotten and lovers she selected on a whim, Aurelia looked at you with a raging jealousy filled with such bitterness, it almost made you pity her. Almost.

And yet, despite the upheaval in the household and your mistress’ savage moods, you were pleased to find that the impending games meant even more time spent at the ludus than usual. With the men’s training regimens becoming even more militant, there were more injuries and wounds that needed tending by Titus, Phoenix, and you. There had been a couple days when the three of you had worked from sunup to sundown, wrapping fractured fingers, stitching broken flesh, cleansing bloody lips and noses.

The summer festivals were fast approaching, and there was a new tension that hung in the air, everyone knowing that the games that would soon be sponsored would be advertised as grand spectacles for the public—which meant greater risk of bloodshed and death for the men whose lives only mattered to the people of Rome when they were putting them on the line for their entertainment.

Magnus had been drilling the men even harder than usual, not accepting even the smallest of errors or mistakes.

“Why are you dead?” you had heard him demand on multiple occasions, staring intently at the gladiators who had made fatal moves during their practice bouts.

They never had an excuse that appeased him.

He’d been drilling the Pugiones hardest of all, and you noticed it was already beginning to take a toll on them, particularly Gallus. You never failed to observe the way his jaw clenched and his dark eyes narrowed when Magnus corrected him, or the way he spoke to his trainer only when he absolutely had to and then stalked off as soon as his practice bouts were over. You wanted so badly to ask him what had happened to sever his relationship with the older man, but you also didn’t want to upset him, especially as preoccupied as he had been as of late.

That afternoon, you and Phoenix were huddled off to the side of the training grounds, intently scrubbing and polishing the daggers, swords, shields, and armor that the men used when they competed in the Colosseum. Your fingers were raw, but you had already been warned by Titus and some of the other household slaves that if the equipment didn’t meet Dominus’ exceptionally high standards of maintenance, he would make you start all over again. And, depending on his mood, there might be some level of punishment involved.

The two of you had been up since sunrise, helping Alba prepare breakfast in the kitchen and serving it to the men of the ludus, then cleaning the men’s cells and washing the incredible volume of laundry that had accumulated in just a couple days’ time. In between each task, you’d been occasionally pulled away to help dress a wound or care for a minor injury. Now, at least, you could sit and chat quietly with one another as you worked.

“What are the summer games like?” you asked Phoenix in a soft voice, scrubbing at a stain on the edge of the short sword that Caius carried. Having never been inside the Colosseum yourself, you had usually paid no mind to the chatter about the games that went on around you, but now you found yourself desperate to know everything. You had to know what your friends were up against. You had to know what Gallus was up against. “Are they really so brutal?”

Phoenix sighed, lowering the greave she’d been polishing and massaging the back of her neck with one hand. “Yes,” she admitted honestly, biting down on her lower lip. “The arena is quieter during the winter, and even through much of the spring, so the people are starving for blood by the time summer comes around. Performances at the theater just don’t entertain the same way a man’s blood being spilled on the sands of the arena does,” she said bitterly, her eyes fixed on a faraway point before she shook her head and glanced over at you. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assured her, carefully setting down Caius’ sword and reaching for a small dagger. You bit your lower lip in shame. You knew better than anyone how bloodthirsty your own people could be. “So what happens?” you pressed.

“It depends on who’s sponsoring the games, how much they’re willing to spend,” Phoenix explained, picking the abandoned greave back up again, though she hardly paid any mind to the task she was performing. “Last summer, Caesar made sure that the games went on for weeks. From what I heard, there were shiploads of animals brought in from all over the empire—gazelles, ostriches, lions, tigers, panthers, bears, even elephants. The bestiarii usually perform in the morning,” she went on, referring to those who were pitted against the wild beasts in the arena. “Then the public executions—Caesar had a grand time with those last summer,” she muttered, gritting her teeth and shaking her head as if trying to dislodge the memory of whatever she had witnessed. “The gladiator bouts are always in the afternoon—they’re what everybody waits for. It’s always about putting on a good show, at least as far as the Romans are concerned. Sometimes there are chariots and men on horseback. Sometimes they make a whole group of them act out past battles—always ones where Rome was the victor, of course. Most of the time, it’s two men pitted against each other, both of them fighting with everything they have not to leave through the Gate of Death.”

You shivered at your friend’s description of what went on within the marble walls of the Colosseum, shutting your eyes against the mental image of men’s bloodied and broken corpses being dragged away through the ominous Gate of Death.

When you opened them again, you discovered that Phoenix’s hands had completely stilled and that she was no longer looking at you, but across the training grounds, where Carnifex was currently engaged in one-on-one combat with Felix, who was doing his best to snag his faux opponent in his net. Her dark eyes were wide and unblinking as she watched him.

Wordlessly, you reached over and placed your hand over hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. She startled at your touch and turned to look at you, her expression softening as she came back to the present moment. She squeezed your hand in return, so much passing between the two of you without a single word being said.

Although she was still terrified, and rightfully so, about word regarding her and Carnifex’s secret relationship getting out to other members of the household, it seemed that a weight had been lifted off her shoulders now that she no longer had to keep it a secret from you. She’d confessed just the other night, as the two of you had been making your way back to your quarters, that it felt good to have someone she could talk to about what was going on between her and the Gallic gladiator.

“They’ll come back,” Phoenix whispered, her gaze breaking away from you as she glanced back at Carnifex and the other Pugiones. You weren’t sure if she was saying it more for your benefit or her own. “They always come back.”

You thought of Gallus’ promise, how he had assured you that everything was going to be fine, and your heart clenched painfully inside your chest. You hoped that it would be.

Both you and Phoenix got back to work then, falling into a companionable silence as you scrubbed and polished diligently. It wasn’t exactly easy work, especially with the threat of punishment from Atticus hanging over your head, but it was mindless enough that your thoughts began to wander until you hardly noticed at all what was going on around you.

That was, at least, until you became distantly aware of the sound of raised voices nearby.

“Oh, no,” Phoenix murmured beside you, lowering the shield she had been working on and rising slowly from the grass.

Blinking away the fogginess that had settled over your brain, you looked in the same direction your friend was facing and felt your heart drop when you saw Gallus throwing his sword and shield down and pointing an angry finger in Magnus’ face.

“I know what I’m doing, you washed up old bastard,” he was growling. You could see the furious sparks flying in his golden brown eyes, even from where you sat. “I don’t need you constantly breathing down my fucking neck!”

Pollux, who had been paired with Gallus for that particular practice bout, took a step back and looked away awkwardly, clearly not wanting to get involved in the dispute between his fellow gladiator and his trainer.

Magnus, though shorter than Gallus by nearly half a foot and most likely twice the younger man’s age, stood his ground without flinching. You were suddenly reminded of the fact that this man was a Rudiarius. He wouldn’t have managed to earn his freedom if he weren’t one of the boldest and bravest gladiators Rome had to offer.

“You’ve been Rome’s champion for a long time, Gallus,” Magnus said, his voice even and calm despite the hulking gladiator glaring down at him and looking like he was ready to wring his neck. “You’re growing too complacent, slowing down when you should be speeding up, pulling back when you should be going in for the kill. It’s going to cost you.”

Gallus scoffed in disgust, glaring even more deeply. If looks alone could kill, Magnus would have been dead long before now. “Just because you were given a rudis doesn’t mean that your way is the only way.”

Magnus frowned at his words, looking frustrated. “I’ve been living in this world a lot longer than you have, Gallus. I know the reality of what you’re up against better than anyone. I care about you and I don’t—”

His words seemed to make Gallus even more irate, judging from the way his body stiffened and his muscles grew taut. “Care about me?” he demanded, cutting off the older man. “You don’t fucking care about me! If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did,” he said coldly.

Everyone in the entire ludus was silent and still now, watching what was unfolding between the two men with bated breath.

“Gallus, there’s more to it than you—”

“Shut up!” Gallus roared, rage filling his expression. He reached for his wooden practice sword and clenched it violently in his hands, so violently that for a moment you were afraid he was going to use it against Magnus. But then he lifted it in the air and snapped it over his knee, breaking it clean in two.

Magnus and everyone else just stared as Gallus threw the shattered pieces of wood down to the ground, his chest heaving in a combination of anger and exertion. Without uttering another word, he whirled off towards his cell, not glancing back once before slamming the door shut so hard, it rattled on its hinges.

Instinctively, you stepped forward to follow after him, but Phoenix grabbed onto your arm and shook her head slowly.

“But he—”

“It’s better to just leave him for now,” Phoenix told you, and you felt a slight pang in your heart for how much better she seemed to know him than you did. “He needs time to cool down before he can speak to anyone.”

You sighed, knowing she was right, but wishing you could go speak to him all the same. For all the anger that had clearly been boiling inside him, you could also tell that underneath his brutal exterior, Gallus was hurting. You didn’t know why exactly, and you didn’t know what could be done about it, but you wanted to offer him what comfort you could.

“I just don’t understand,” you murmured, looking over at Phoenix. “What happened between Gallus and Magnus? What is it that Magnus apparently did?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Phoenix shrugged, frowning. “All I know is that everything was fine between them, and then one day it wasn’t. And it hasn’t been ever since.”

“Let’s go, men! Back to work!” Magnus shouted suddenly, looking a bit rattled but trying not to show it as he goaded the other gladiators back into their training exercises.

For a moment, he met your eye and you were surprised to see a wounded, almost haunted, look in his gaze. Whatever had transpired between him and Gallus, it was clearly eating at the both of them. And while it wasn’t your business, you couldn’t help the overwhelming desire that flooded you to somehow put it to rights.

Gallus remained in his cell for the rest of the afternoon, refusing to come out for the midday meal or for Titus’ examinations. Your heart ached for him, but you knew it was best to heed Phoenix’s advice and give him the space he needed to calm down.

By early evening, you and Phoenix were expected back at the villa to help Aurelia dress for a banquet that she and Atticus were attending at the home of some important politician or other. You never really could keep up with all the names that your mistress tossed about as though they were supposed to mean something to you.

“Ugh!” Domina frowned when you and Phoenix stepped into her perfumed bedchamber, her delicate nose wrinkling in disgust. “The two of you are filthy after being with those disgusting barbarians all day!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed that Phoenix was barely able to prevent her eyes from rolling backwards. You understood the impulse. Your mistress acted as though she wasn’t constantly clamoring to get those “disgusting barbarians” in her bed every chance she got.

“Get out of my sight until you’ve bathed yourselves,” she continued, pinching her nose with one hand and waving the both of you away with the other. “But don’t dally, you lazy gutter rats. I will not be late.”

Neither of you wanting to face the wrath of an even angrier Aurelia, you and Phoenix hurried to the bathhouse, where you stripped down quickly to wash your tired bodies. 

You gasped in alarm when you saw a small, round bruise on your friend’s upper thigh. “Phoenix, what happened?” you cried softly, knowing that she rarely got hit by your mistress the way you did. Part of you thought Aurelia was a little afraid of her.

“What?” Phoenix questioned in confusion, glancing downward to where your eyes were glued. “Oh,” she mumbled, her cheeks suddenly turning red as she covered the mark with her hand. “It’s nothing,” she assured you. “Damn that man,” she muttered under her breath.

Your eyes widened as understanding dawned, and then you felt your own cheeks growing warm. “Oh,” you murmured, feeling a bit foolish. “So Carnifex—?”

“I told him that he mustn’t, but the damn fool doesn’t listen,” Phoenix grumbled, though you could detect the undercurrent of affection in her tone, even as she tried to mask it. “He still leaves them everywhere.”

It was then that you noticed the faint marks littered across her torso and hips and realized that they weren’t the marks of a cruel hand, but the traces of a lover’s touch. You felt even more embarrassed for having brought it up.

Phoenix looked up and must have caught the expression on your face because she suddenly started laughing. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweet Sabina,” she told you, using a strigil to scrape the day’s grime from her skin. “I suppose it’s my own fault, really. I tell him not to do it, but then I encourage him with the sounds I make. As if that man needs any more excuses to be a preening peacock,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“So you like it then?” you asked, curious but shy. You scrubbed underneath your fingernails with the warm bath water. “When he does that to you, I mean?”

“Yes,” she nodded without hesitation. “I know it looks painful, but it doesn’t hurt, I promise you. It actually feels good when he does it. He always makes me feel good,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly getting a bit misty.

“I’m happy for you, Phoenix.” you told her sincerely, smiling at her as the two of you began to dry off and redress yourselves. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be treated well.”

“So do you,” Phoenix replied, her expression serious as she rested a hand on your shoulder. For a second, it seemed as though she wanted to say more, but then she simply said, “Let’s hurry back before that bitch really starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Unsurprisingly, Domina still managed to find fault with just about everything you and Phoenix did, from the way you styled her hair, to the jewelry you selected, to the way you arranged her stola. You were certain she would have made the two of you start all over again if not for the fact that Dominus began calling to her, demanding that the two of them leave.

“Useless sluts,” Aurelia huffed, tossing her curls over her shoulder and pushing past you with a huff as she traipsed out of her room without so much as a backwards glance or a word of thanks.

“What a miserable cow,” Phoenix scoffed once she was out of earshot, sitting down on the edge of the bed without a care for the fact that Domina would have been apoplectic with rage if she could see her. “But at least she and Atticus are gone for the night,” she added with a sly grin, her dark eyes lighting up with the sense of freedom—limited thought it was—that came whenever your masters were out and you could come and go about the household without being concerned about their watchful gazes.

“Should we go see if Alba’s finished preparing dinner for the ludus?” you suggested, your stomach fluttering at the thought of getting to spend a little uninterrupted time with Gallus. You desperately hoped he was in a better mood than he had been earlier today.

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Phoenix winked playfully, rising from the bed and grabbing your hand as she pulled you along to the kitchen.

Lying atop the lumpy mess of straw that passed for his mattress, Gallus stared up at the ceiling of his cell with his fingers laced together across his stomach. He was doing his best to ignore the grumblings that had been disturbing him for hours, trying not to regret his choice to skip the midday meal.

He was still angry. At the world. At Rome. At Magnus. But mostly at himself.

In the past, he hadn’t much cared about allowing his blind rages to take over, his mind devoid of anything except the destructive fury he felt towards those who had stripped him of his freedom and continued to deny it at every turn. He would get it out of his system, lock himself in his cell for a few hours, and then inevitably move on until the cycle began all over again.

But today was different. Today, you were there. You had witnessed his rage and his violence, and for that, he was ashamed.

To the rest of the world, he was a barbarian, but he wanted you to see past that. He wanted you to see him. Not the champion of Rome, not the “Barbarian from Britannia.” Just him.

After the show he’d put on today, he knew the likelihood of that ever happening had all but evaporated like the morning mist. He wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to speak to him again, let alone be alone with him for any length of time. The thought pained him tremendously. He had come to rely so deeply on the time the two of you spent together, especially in the evenings over dinner, and he was furious with himself for jeopardizing that.

He knew he didn’t deserve your presence in his life or your friendship, but he ached for it all the same. You had awakened something inside him, something innate and primal that he’d thought had long since died within him. It took his breath away sometimes, how much he craved your nearness. Just to know that you were close was enough to soothe his agitated nerves, to bring peace flooding his heart. And he didn’t want to lose that.

Rolling onto his side, he thought once more of how he’d lost his mind with Magnus that afternoon, wincing when he recalled his white-hot rage and the violence with which he’d broken his practice sword. Had you been scared when you saw what had happened? Were you scared of him now? The possibility sank like a stone deep inside his chest.

In the midst of his tormented thoughts, Gallus lifted his head when he heard a faint knocking at his door. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he rose and approached hesitantly. “Who is it?” he demanded, his voice gruff.

“It’s Sabina,” came your soft voice from the other side of the door.

He instantly wanted to kick himself for once again being such a brute. Maybe that was really all that was left of him at this point.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door of his cell and felt his heart momentarily stop beating when he looked down at you, standing like a vision of innocence on the threshold, holding his tray of dinner in your hands.

“Hi,” he breathed out, standing frozen in place.

“Hi,” you murmured in response, smiling gently. He loved the way your lips curved upward when you smiled. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he mumbled sheepishly, shaking his head as he stepped to the side and reached to take the tray out of your hands. He felt his heart squeeze inside his chest when he noticed you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the cell instead of sitting down on the stool you had become accustomed to sitting on.

Dropping the tray of food onto the small table pressed against the wall, he moved to close the door, but then thought better of it, worried you were feeling afraid of him.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, indicating the stool that he had grown so used to seeing you perched upon.

You shifted from foot to foot, glancing from him to the stool and back again. “Do you mind if I stay?” you asked, your voice so small that he thought for sure if there was anything left of his heart, it would break.

“Of course not,” Gallus replied quickly, shaking his head. “I—I’d like you to stay,” he added softly.

You were quiet for a moment, but then your face broke out in one of those beautiful smiles. “Okay then,” you said softly, stepping over and closing the door yourself before taking a seat upon your stool. He felt himself breathing a little easier once he saw you in that familiar spot.

Swallowing nervously, he moved to sit down across from you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he sought the right words. “Sabina, I—I want to apologize,” he began, his heart hammering inside his chest. He didn’t even get this anxious before a fight in the Colosseum. “For earlier. My behavior. I was out of line and I—I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond right away, just gazed deeply into his eyes, in that way of yours that made him feel like you could peer into his very soul and see everything that was inside him. It was unnerving, and yet with you, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

“I behaved like a barbarian, and I don’t want you to see me that way,” he confessed, feeling his skin grow warm as his ears and cheeks turned a dark shade of pink.

At that, you suddenly reached across the small table, your eyes full of compassion as you rested your soft hand over his calloused one. “You’re not a barbarian, Gallus,” you said, your voice unwavering.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he could weep.

Gently, almost fearfully, he placed his other hand on top of yours, privately reveling in the feel of your smooth skin against his. “Thank you.”

“Now eat your dinner,” you told him, the tension in the room dissolving as you pointed at the barley and vegetable broth that Alba had prepared.

Tearing the large hunk of bread he’d been given in half, and making sure to give you the slightly larger half, he watched in satisfaction as you tore off small pieces and began dipping them into the soup, no longer hesitant or afraid to share his meals with him. It made him smile to himself, though he tried to hide it as he ate his food, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to swallow it down like a savage after going hungry all afternoon.

“You must be so hungry,” you commented, once again seeming able to read his every thought. “You didn’t eat anything this afternoon.”

He flushed in embarrassment, but didn’t deny it. “I’m starving,” he admitted, stuffing a large piece of bread into his mouth and trying to savor every bite.

“You shouldn’t do that,” you pressed gently, putting your bread down and laying your hands flat on the table. “Skipping meals, I mean. You need every bit of strength and energy you can get with the games coming up so soon.”

He detected the thread of anxiety in your voice as you spoke, and he was both cheered and saddened by it at the same time. On the one hand, it gladdened his heart to know that you were concerned about him and that you cared what befell him. On the other hand, he hated the thought of you being worried.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” he assured you. Realizing, however, that that sounded a bit pompous, he quickly tacked on, “But I also promise I won’t do it again.”

Your shoulders seemed to relax slightly at that, and his did, too.

“Gallus?” you asked after a couple moments of silence, that nervousness back in your voice as you twisted your fingers in your lap. “I was wondering…can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything,” he nodded, one eyebrow rising as he looked across the table at you. Whatever it was that you wanted to ask him seemed to be weighing on you heavily, judging from the way you were biting down on your lower lip and strategically avoiding his gaze. “What is it, Sabina?”

“It’s just—what happened between you and Magnus?” you blurted out suddenly, your eyes widening, seemingly at your own boldness. He stiffened immediately at the mention of his trainer’s name, and that seemed to make you even more nervous. “I’m sorry, of course it’s none of my business. It’s just that—well, Phoenix said that everything was fine between the two of you and then suddenly one day it wasn’t and I can see that there’s so much anger you’re carrying, but also hurt, and I think Magnus is hurting, too, and I just—I want to help you,” you finished softly, your eyes still wide as you stopped to catch your breath.

He sat back silently for several moments, his head cocked to the side as he drank in the sight of you sitting across from him, your beautiful, kind heart put on full display as you revealed that you wanted to help him, that you wanted to be a comfort to him in the midst of all his pain and anger. What had he ever done to deserve you? Nothing. He knew that he didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve your beauty or your kindness or your goodness. But he longed for it. He longed for it so badly that he thought he might not survive the ache buried deep inside his chest, right beneath his heart.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. “What happened between Magnus and me,” he rasped hoarsely, all the old feelings of pain and betrayal being dredged up. “It’s complicated.”

“I’d like to try to understand,” you said gently, sitting with your hands in your lap and giving him the space he needed to speak.

“Magnus has been my trainer for a long time,” Gallus began, clearing his throat. “Ever since I arrived at this ludus. He was a great gladiator, Rome’s champion for years and years. He was so good that Emperor Titus finally granted him his freedom, the rudis. But he always said that he didn’t even know what to do with freedom, that he felt he was where he belonged when he was in the arena with a sword in his hand. So Atticus hired him to train his gladiators to be the best of the best, just like he was.” He took a breath, running a hand through his hair. “When he was a gladiator, Magnus fought in the Thracian style, like I do now. On the one hand, it was helpful because he taught me everything I needed to know.”

“But on the other?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you listened intently to his words.

Gallus sighed deeply. “He’s always been so hard on me, pushing me so much more than all the other men. Sometimes it feels like he wants me to be just like him, but thinks I never will be.”

Once more, your hand slid across the table to rest on top of his and you squeezed lightly, comfortingly. He could get used to that feeling.

“We butted heads sometimes, but we always got along,” Gallus went on with his story, his jaw tightening as he thought of the moment when their relationship fell apart completely. “But that was until the Lupercalia games a couple years back,” he said, his expression darkening.

“What happened at the Lupercalia games?” you wondered, your expression touched with compassion even as the corners of your mouth turned down slightly.

“It’s what didn’t happen that’s the problem,” he muttered darkly, doing his best to tamp down the anger that was rising within him. “Domitian hosted a week of games, culminating in what he called a fight the likes of which Rome had never seen. He announced that whoever won that fight would be given the rudis. The winner would be granted his freedom.”

He noticed your soft intake of breath, and hung his head for a moment before continuing. “I begged Magnus to convince Atticus to enter me in that fight. I didn’t care how dangerous it was. I didn’t care how many men I had to fight. I just wanted to be free. I wanted to leave Rome forever and never look back.”

“So what happened? Did he not speak to Atticus?” you asked, clearly trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in your mind.

“No, he did,” Gallus ground out, still infuriated when he thought back on it. “Atticus kept me out of the Lupercalia games completely. Kept me chained up here while the rest of the men went to fight, in fact. For a little while, I thought it was just Atticus being a greedy bastard—he wouldn’t be able to use me anymore if I won my freedom, so he didn’t want me enrolled in the games. But one day, he was trying to goad me, trying to get under my skin, and he revealed the truth—Magnus had gone to him and specifically told him not to enter me into the games. He’s the reason why I lost my shot at freedom.”

You gasped softly at that revelation, your eyes widening. “But why? Why would he do that?”

“He’s never told me why,” Gallus said bitterly, shaking his head as he tore his half of bread to pieces. “But he didn’t deny it. I’ve never trusted him since. I thought he was my friend, but he betrayed me. He cost me the only chance I’ve ever had to be free.”

“Oh, Gallus,” you breathed out, placing your hands over his to stop him from shredding his food to bits. You waited until his eyes met yours, then went on, “I’m sorry. I—I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry.”

He took a deep breath, feeling grounded from the sensation of your warm hands pressed against his. “It is what it is. There’s nothing I can do to change it. But I—I can’t help this resentment that I feel towards him. When I think of what he did—sometimes it makes me crazy.”

“I understand,” you said simply. And he believed you.

Looking deeply into your eyes, Gallus knew that there wasn’t a cruel or deceptive bone in your body. You didn’t know how to play games with people or how to manipulate others for your own gains. It wasn’t in your nature. Every word that fell from your lips rang with truth and sincerity, and that was why he felt safe with you. He hoped that you could feel safe with him, too.

“I haven’t told that story to anybody,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your face. “Nobody knows what really happened with Magnus, not even the rest of the Pugiones or Titus or Phoenix. Only you.”

“I won’t tell anybody,” you assured him, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing his hand gently. But this time, you didn’t pull your hand away. Instead, you continued to hold onto him, your thumb softly brushing against his skin.

“Thank you. I know that I can trust you,” he replied, his own thumb rubbing a slow half-circle against the back of your hand.

The two of you sat in silence for several minutes, your gazes and your fingers intertwined as the seconds passed. The air became thick with a heavy kind of tension, different from the tension that had been present before. This was a tension that made his stomach clench and his pulse race. This was a tension that made him distinctly aware of every breath you took and just how close your body was to his in this small cell.

He wasn’t sure which one of you moved first, or how the spell was broken, but suddenly the both of you were rising from your seats, pulling your hands back by your sides and fumbling for your words sheepishly.

“I should go and let you get your rest,” you murmured quietly, shifting back and forth, almost nervously.

He just nodded, too dumbfounded to know what to say. As you moved past him and opened the door, however, he suddenly stopped you with a hand on your arm. When you looked up at him, your lovely eyes so full of innocent trust, he wanted in that moment to be a better man than he had been all these years. “Thank you again,” he said in a low voice, hoping you could sense the emotion imbued in his words.

“You’re welcome, Gallus,” you whispered in reply, resting your hand over his once again.

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to stay by his side and never leave. But instead, the words that slipped out of his mouth were, “Get back safely, little dove.”

Little dove.

His eyes widened as soon as the words were out of his mouth. How could he have uttered them out loud? For weeks now, he had been thinking of you as his little dove—so sweet and gentle and delicate and innocent. But he had never meant for the term of endearment to slip off his tongue in your presence. He had never meant to say it aloud.

Horrified, he looked down at you, certain he would find you recoiling and turning away in embarrassment at the familiarity he had presumed. Instead, he was shocked to see your eyes shining as you gazed up at him and a beautiful, heartstopping smile gracing your lips.

“Good night, Gallus,” you breathed out, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning and being swallowed up by the darkness.

“Good night, my little dove,” he whispered into the emptiness, closing the door and laying down on his bed, knowing he would dream of nothing but your sweet smiles.

A few cells down, sweaty and breathless, Phoenix and Carnifex collapsed into one another’s arms after a frantic romp, her dark hair loose and wild across his pillow.

“Fuck,” Carnifex breathed out, chuckling as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and fought to still his racing heart. “I haven’t even been this exhausted after the training Magnus has been putting us through,” he confessed, running a tired hand through his damp hair.

Phoenix smirked smugly, rising up on her elbow and resting her cheek in her hand as she gazed down at him. “That’s why I’m here, gladiator. To put you through your paces. Make sure you maintain that competitive edge,” she grinned, tracing lazy circles on his bare chest.

Smirking cockily in return, Carnifex suddenly sat up and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her beneath him in his small bed. “Oh, I’ve still got my edge,” he assured her, trailing hot kisses down her throat as his hands roamed her slender body, his arousal spiking once more and growing against her thigh.

“Easy there,” she warned, her own body responding in kind as she tilted her head backward, granting him more access to her sensitive neck. “I can’t stay much longer.”

He groaned in frustration, desperate for a night where she didn’t have to leave him, where she could remain tangled with him in his bedsheets all night long and share this pleasure with him as many times as they both wanted. Stubborn as always, he began to trail his kisses downward until he was between her breasts, licking and sucking on her salty skin. She had told him once, in passing, that her people came from the sea and he always felt that he could taste it on her, as if even after all these years, it was still a part of her.

Phoenix fisted her hand in his hair, tugging slightly and pulling his head up until his eyes were meeting hers. “I told you that you have to stop doing that,” she moaned, the tremble in her voice and the look in her eye conveying quite the opposite message.

“What? Marking this gorgeous skin?” he questioned, his voice low and husky as he nipped playfully at the spot just beneath her left breast, lightly catching her skin between his teeth.

“Carnifex, I mean it,” Phoenix insisted, her voice more serious this time as she forced herself to sit up.

He sat up as well and crawled back to her side, brushing strands of her dark hair behind her ear. “I always make sure it’s places that no one will see,” he whispered, knowing she was afraid of Aurelia catching wind of what had been transpiring between them these many months.

“Sabina saw,” Phoenix told him, which made his green eyes widen. “When we were in the bathhouse. She saw my thigh. She was worried that someone was hurting me,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

“She’s a good friend,” Carnifex replied, sitting with his back against the wall and tugging Phoenix to his side. He ran his fingers up and down her spine as rested against him. “I’m glad that you have someone like her to look out for you. And we both know she’s not going to say anything to reveal us.”

“I know that, but that’s not the point,” Phoenix said, running a hand through her hair. “If Sabina saw, then other people might see. Who’s to say someone else won’t catch me while I’m bathing?”

“You worry too much,” he sighed, pressing soft kisses to her jaw.

She put a hand on his chest, pushing him away. “And you don’t worry enough,” she scowled, her frustration mounting. Shifting on the bed, she moved to swing her legs over the side, but Carnifex was faster and pulled her back against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips against her ear. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Phoenix sighed, somehow unable to resist him as he nuzzled his nose across her cheek and whispered soft words against her skin. She relaxed in his hold, longing to linger for just a few moments more.

“I’m afraid, Carnifex,” she confessed quietly, laying her head back in the crook of his neck and closing her eyes as his lips brushed against her forehead. “I’m afraid for us, and for Hrodebert and Sabina and anyone else who finds out.”

“No one else is going to find out,” he rushed to assure her, stroking soothing circles on her arms. “I promise I’ll be more careful. Nothing bad is going to happen, Phoenix.”

She was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Nyx.”

“What?” he asked, tilting her chin so that she was looking up at him. His brow was furrowed in confusion.

“My name—the name my parents gave me—is Nyx,” she told him, quietly revealing to him the story of how she’d come to be known as Phoenix.

Carnifex swallowed several times, trying to keep the emotion he felt rising within his chest at bay. For all these months, she had been coming to his bed, giving him her body but always closely guarding her heart. But recently, something had started to shift. Slowly, piece by piece, he was earning her trust and she was letting her walls come down bit by bit. They talked more of their homelands, and she even let small stories of her family slip past her lips from time to time. But now, for the first time, she had entrusted him with her name—the name that symbolized her freedom and the life she had known without chains and fetters.

What could he give her in response to such a sign of trust, to this slow revelation of her heart?

He could only give his own in return.

“My name is Senovir,” he revealed, his tongue nearly tripping over the name he had not uttered aloud in over a decade. “My real name. The name my parents gave me.”

She just smiled in return, reaching up and cupping his face in her hands. “Senovir,” she murmured, the name so foreign on her tongue, but so right at the same time. He shivered at the sound of it. She said it once more as her lips closed over his, kissing him deeply.

Moaning softly into her mouth, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close as their tongues moved in tandem with one another, so familiar now after all this time. And yet, she never failed to surprise him. The taste of her honeyed lips, the feel of her soft skin, the sensation of her body pressed against his—he knew he would never get used to any of it, no matter how hard he tried.

“Nyx,” he sighed, feeling the loss of her when she pulled away and trying to take her into his arms once more.

“I have to go,” she told him gently, stroking his cheek. “Sabina will be waiting for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Covering her hand with his own, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Good night,” he said quietly, kissing her one last time.

In a flash, she was dressed and deftly pulling her wild hair back into a loose braid, and then she was gone.

Falling back on his bed, Carnifex closed his eyes and tried to shut out the pain that her leaving always caused him.

He had always known it was a dangerous game that they were playing, though he hadn’t been able to stay away. What he hadn’t quite realized, but was now coming to learn with shocking clarity, was that falling in love was the most dangerous game of all.

The next morning, not long after the sun had dispelled the last vestiges of evening darkness, the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus slowly began to come to life, exhausted gladiators falling out of bed and rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they fumbled with their sandals and began arriving on the training grounds.

After a night of tossing and turning, Gallus was feeling particularly weary as he stepped out of his cell, his muscles and joints screaming in protest as he moved. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been clinging to him since you’d left his room the night before. It was a strange sense of foreboding, as if someone or something was trying to warn him, but about what he couldn’t even dare to venture a guess.

Seeing that Felix, Pollux, Caius, and Carnifex were already starting to assemble near the training arena, he approached them and offered a wordless greeting, which they all silently returned. No one said a word about yesterday’s incident with Magnus, and for that he was grateful. None of them knew exactly what had taken place between him and their trainer, but they didn’t ask and they didn’t pass judgment. They’d all been beaten down by this life in one way or another, and they knew better than to stick their noses in business they had no part of.

Breakfast hadn’t yet been served, but Gallus was hopeful that you would be arriving soon with Phoenix and that he would be able to lay eyes on you. It had become a habit of his, a morning routine of sorts—he woke up each morning and wasn’t able to fully relax until he saw you and could confirm that you were okay. After your conversation last night, he was feeling especially antsy about seeing you again. Dawn was just breaking, so he knew he might have a while longer to wait.

Just then, however, he suddenly caught sight of Hrodebert hurrying towards him and he frowned slightly. The other man wasn’t in the habit of being in the ludus at this time of day, particularly by himself. Worried about you and Phoenix, and what the steward’s presence this morning might mean, Gallus met him halfway across the grounds.

“Hrodebert, what is it?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

For his part, Hrodebert didn’t seem to mind his bluntness. He never did. “Atticus wants to see you,” he replied, looking a bit anxious and uneasy himself. “He sent me to fetch you before training starts.”

Gallus’ frown deepened. “Why does he want to see me?” he demanded, the sense of foreboding he’d been experiencing only growing stronger.

Hrodebert shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, Gallus, I don’t know. He just told me to fetch you as quickly as possible.”

Gallus scowled, though he tried not to direct his frustration at his friend, who he knew was only the unfortunate messenger. What the hell did Atticus want now? Had he heard about yesterday’s altercation? Had Magnus gone and complained about his behavior? Letting out a grunt of disapproval, he crossed his arms over his chest, but muttered, “Fine, let’s go.”

Nodding, Hrodebert turned and led him through the gates of the ludus and towards the main house. He so rarely left the grounds of the gladiator school, except for when he was being transported to the Colosseum, so it was always a bit of a shock to his system when he stepped foot onto the property of the villa, with its tinkling fountains and fragrant flowers and expensive mosaics. Keeping his head down, he followed behind Hrodebert through the winding halls until he was standing outside Atticus’ private tablinum.

Hesitating only for a moment, Hrodebert reached up and rapped swiftly on the door.

“Come in,” came Atticus’ cool voice, always so calm and calculating.

Pushing open the door, Hrodebert stepped to the side so that Gallus could step in behind him, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. “Gallus is here, Dominus,” Hrodebert murmured respectfully, keeping his head bowed slightly.

Gallus looked over at his friend and frowned. Hrodebert was ten times smarter than Atticus could ever hope to be, and yet he was forced to play the meek and subservient slave. It sickened him.

“Thank you, Hrodebert,” Atticus smirked, rising from behind his spacious desk. “You may go,” he said, dismissing his steward with a careless wave of his hand. “And close the door on your way out.”

Hrodebert shot one quick glance in Gallus’ direction, but then did as he was told, leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

“Gallus, my boy,” Atticus grinned, spreading his hands outward as if he was a benevolent father welcoming his son to dinner and not a greedy lanista intent on sucking his gladiators dry for every sestertius they were worth.

Gallus remained rooted in place, his arms crossed firmly across his wide chest and his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Come now, Gallus, is that any way to greet the man who’s been responsible for your astonishing rise to fame?” Atticus demanded, that smug grin still planted firmly on his face as he stepped around his desk and pulled out a chair for him. “Sit, sit.”

Biting back a retort about where Atticus could stick his fame, Gallus took a begrudging step forward, but still did not sit down. He knew other members of the household could be punished for such disobedience, but Atticus couldn’t afford to have him beaten. Not when he made him the most money out of everyone in the ludus. He smirked coldly in return. It looked as if two could play at this game.

Not missing the defiant glint in Gallus’ eyes, Atticus dipped his head in acknowledgement and moved back behind his desk. “Suit yourself,” he stated, remaining standing as well.

The two of them stood in a silent faceoff, neither saying anything for long minutes. Atticus could keep him here as long as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to play his games.

“So, Gallus, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to see you this morning,” Atticus finally said, moving around some scrolls littered across his desk.

Gallus simply raised an eyebrow, once again not giving his master the satisfaction of a response.

Annoyance briefly flashed across Atticus’ face, but then he quickly schooled his features back into a controlled mask of calm. “I know you have much training to get back to, so I’ll make this as brief as possible.” He lifted his hands, revealing the heavy rings that bedecked several of his fingers. “You are my champion, Gallus, and you’ve been training quite hard from what I’ve heard. I’m a generous man, as you yourself know.”

Gallus had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting aloud. He remained silent, waiting to see where Atticus was going with this.

“As such, I wish to give you a reward,” Atticus explained, his eyes glittering and his smile looking particularly serpentine.

Once again, that uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck.

“I don’t need a reward,” Gallus muttered darkly, having a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. The only thing he wanted was his freedom, and he knew Atticus was never going to give him that.

“Oh, but I think you’ll enjoy this one quite a bit,” Atticus smirked, resting one hand on his desk and looking directly into Gallus’ eyes. “After all, I’ve seen the way you’ve been…admiring her, shall we say.”

Gallus could feel himself blanching at his master’s cold words, his heart stuttering in his chest for a moment and then immediately picking up its pace. Still, he tried to remain aloof and keep his feelings hidden.

Atticus just smiled all the more, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. “She’s quite pretty, I do have to say. And sweet, from what I hear. If I wasn’t so busy as of late, I might even want her for myself,” he chuckled, knowing his words would land just where he wanted them to.

Gallus’ fists clenched tightly and he could feel his face growing warm as he fought back the urge to punch Atticus in his smug face.

“But like I said, Gallus, I’m a generous man and I’m more than willing to give her to you as a gift for all your hard work,” Atticus went on, his smile growing more oily and manipulative by the second. “I’m sure she’d look quite pretty sprawled out across your bed.”

Rage began boiling inside him as he seethed silently, incensed by Atticus’ words and their implications. How dare he! How dare he speak of you like that, like you were nothing more than some common whore in the Suburra. How dare he treat you like a piece of meat that could be thrown to the dogs as a reward for a job well done. Gallus conjured up the image of your sweet face, with your innocent eyes and your gentle smile, and it took everything within him not to reach across the desk and strangle the life out of Atticus.

“No,” he ground out sharply, his dark eyes narrowing even further as he glared daggers at his master.

“No?” Atticus gasped, feigning surprise. He was as phony and manipulative as they came. He knew from the start that Gallus was going to refuse him, and yet he pretended to be shocked by the denial of his “exceptionally generous” offer.

“No,” Gallus repeated, his voice as hard as the iron with which his sword had been forged. “I’ve told you this enough times, Atticus. I do not want a woman who’s been forced into my bed against her will.”

He and Atticus had been doing this same old dance for years now. He would never forget the night after his first major win in the Colosseum, when he’d returned to the ludus amidst cheers and celebration to find a naked prostitute on his bed.

Atticus really had been surprised—and angered—that night when Gallus threw her out of his cell without touching her.

“I already paid her,” Atticus had hissed after having him dragged to his office. “A very generous sum, I might add. And this is the thanks I get?”

“Keep your money and your women,” Gallus spat, his body still trembling from the white-hot rage that had overcome him. “I have no interest in ones that come to my bed through no choice of their own.”

“Would you look at that? A barbarian with feelings,” Atticus had barked out laughing, openly mocking him.

After that night, he had tried several more times, parading pretty slave girls in front of him and tipping the whores he hired for the other men to pay a visit to Gallus’ cell after they were done with the others. Each time, Gallus resolutely turned them down. His stomach soured at the thought of lying with a woman who had been paid or coerced into throwing herself into his arms.

Eventually, Atticus stopped trying. Which was why Gallus knew that this wasn’t about offering him a reward at all. This was a power play, an intentional move designed to show him who was in charge—and how powerless he was to do anything about it.

“And here I thought you’d be so thrilled about my very kind offer to let you have the lovely—oh, what’s her name again? Sabina?” Atticus asked, raising his brows wickedly. “Ah, such a shame. I’m sure some of the other men would be more than appreciative.”

Gallus couldn’t help it. At the insinuation that he would give you to the other men, he lunged forward, slamming his hands down on the edge of Atticus’ desk and breathing heavily.

“Seems I struck a nerve,” Atticus smirked coolly, straightening up and crossing his arms across his chest. “Don’t forget, barbarian, that Sabina is my property and I can do whatever I wish with her. Same goes for you.”

Chest rising and falling with barely concealed fury, Gallus said nothing, fear hammering through his veins at the thought of Atticus doing anything to harm you. Above all, he was angry with himself for rising to the bait. This is exactly what Atticus had wanted, just as he’d feared. He wanted to goad him, to figure out just how much you meant to him and how much he could use that against him. With Atticus, it always came down to leverage and manipulation. And now, perhaps for the very first time, he truly had something to hold over him.

You.

Rolling his shoulders back, Atticus smiled serenely as if he’d just been discussing the weather and not the fate of a woman over whom he had the power of life and death. “But now, I see no reason why there should be any issues where Sabina is concerned. Or anyone else, for that matter. Because you’re going to continue to be my champion, aren’t you, Gallus? You’re going to do whatever I ask, and make sure that this ludus remains a success, right?” The look he shot him was pure ice.

“Yes, Dominus,” Gallus muttered bitterly, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from burying his fist in his master’s face.

“I’m glad we understand each other, Gallus,” Atticus said, stepping around his desk and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve always been a reasonable man—for a barbarian, that is,” he grinned

Gallus gritted his teeth, staring blankly ahead and refusing to react to any more of Atticus’ barbs.

“I’ll fetch Hrodebert to see you back to the ludus,” Atticus told him, opening the door and calling out for his steward, who appeared a moment later. “Farewell for now, Gallus. Enjoy your training.”

“Is everything alright?” Hrodebert murmured once they were near the ludus gates, noticing the look on Gallus’ face.

“No, Hrodebert,” Gallus replied darkly, the rage building up inside him once more. “No, everything is not alright.”

For the rest of the morning, he took his impotent rage out on every man who faced him in the practice arena, besting each of them as he pictured himself burying his blade in Atticus’ chest.

He was suddenly glad that you and Phoenix had not yet arrived at the ludus, for he was certain that if he saw you now, he would break down weeping.

You were surprised that morning when, instead of immediately reporting to the kitchen for breakfast duty, you, Phoenix, and the majority of the household slaves were called into the atrium, where Domina was reclining casually. Upon seeing you all, she rose from her couch and clapped her hands to silence you, as if anyone had been speaking.

“There you all are,” Aurelia scoffed, rolling her eyes irritably. She turned up her nose in disgust as she gazed out at all of you, acting irritated, like she’d somehow been kept waiting.

“One day I hope her face gets stuck like that,” Phoenix whispered in your ear.

You lowered your head and bit down roughly on your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“As you all know,” Domina began, cutting straight to the chase, “the summer games will be beginning in just a few weeks’ time. To kick off the festivities, your master and I have decided to host a banquet the evening before the games begin. That gives you all plenty of time to get your sorry acts together and make this villa the most stunning anyone in Rome has ever seen. I expect it scrubbed from top to bottom until it glistens, and I expect this banquet to be the finest of the season. Do I make myself clear?” she snapped.

“Yes, Domina,” you all murmured deferentially, keeping your heads bowed.

“Good,” Aurelia smirked, tossing her dark blonde hair and resting a bejeweled hand on her hip. When nobody moved, she clapped her hands irritably and shouted, “Well, get going!”

All of you scattered, Phoenix tugging your hand and leading you in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, good, I can’t wait,” your friend scoffed with a roll of her dark eyes. She glanced over at you and winced. “If you think Aurelia is bad now, just wait until you see her hosting a banquet.”

You winced as well, cringing inwardly. You had seen Aurelia hosting a few small dinner parties at the villa, and that was bad enough.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your first banquet in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus would be like.

TAGLIST: @callsign-magnolia @eli2447 @lt-spork @dlea203 @cherrycola27 @mikpieboo @callsignblondie @morgan108 @aprilwithapricots @up-thereinthesky @gigisimsonmars @na-ta-sh-aa @fav-fanficssss

[eerna]

As an aspiring male writer, what’s your advice to make my writing not suck? What things should I avoid, what should I focus on?

Probably would want to write mostly fantasy novels, with some romance present, but not as a main focus. More so that the two characters would develop into who they need to be, which brings them together/closer. But the main focus of my stories would be on the individual characters. Thanks mate! 😎

I am not very well versed in academic level feminist discussions, or in any way shape or form educated in matters of creative writing, so I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer your questions. But if you're worried because of my earlier gender-focused criticism of RR, I can try rephrasing my thoughts a bit to make them more constructive!

Your goals in writing sound like the thing RR's author didn't have, which was looking at a romance as a partnership between two equally whole characters. His women are written as vessels of either sexual violence or adoration, their motivations and goals are very vague and their character arcs nonsensical. The men are granted clear roles in the story, as each other's foils and enemies and friends, but the women are always someone's girl and they change depending on what the story needs them to be. Sure, the female lead ends up the main ruler of the universe while the male lead is her supporter, but that doesn't mean anything because she was nothing but his love interest the rest of the time. She just gets granted an empty title to prove the writer is feminist without any clear character arcs that would make her success narratively satisfying.

In addition, you can tell he doesn't have very healthy views of gender dynamics because he created a world in which physical inequalities are gone and everyone is genetically enhanced to be the perfect candidate for whatever role they are to fulfill, eradicated sexism on a societal level so that women are viewed exactly the same as men, but he STILL uses "like a woman" as an insult and presents them as the "whores" in casual dialogue. So the society that is said to have equalized itself suddenly isn't equal at all when the main character has to call another man a little girl as an insult, or when women engage in premarital sex with men and get treated badly for it while their partners don't.

And then even if we ignore the female portion of his crimes, his writing style is very reflective of the "mansplaining" way of speaking. He is incapable of separating himself from his characters - the lead is supposed to be 16-18 years old from Mars, but he speaks like a 30-something Earthling weaned on modern politics, which the writer is. And this lead is presented as perfect: super hot, wise beyond his years, and capable of changing tides of a war with nothing but his words, which means he gives very very long monologues, and those monologues are all very on-the-nose and preachy. You can tell that this is all just an excuse for the writer to present his worldview, which he considers superior to everyone else's, through a mouthpiece, and the characters are all completely subjected to it.

Last and least because it's petty but you asked for specifically male identifiers, the worldbuilding is based on Ancient Rome, but a version of it that is clearly pulled from the typically male surface level obsession with the Roman Empire. I'm a woman and spent most of my childhood completely enamored with Rome - it was the only aspect of the book I liked - so I feel like I am allowed to criticize this approach to it. He only features the Roman pantheon/war/slavery aesthetic and doesn't care about any other aspect of their culture, which is what men usually approach history as. To use another dystopian YA novel as an example, The Hunger Games were also inspired by Rome, but they took inspiration from its philosophy on politics and crowd control, death and entertainment, and the American obsession with it. Now imagine if the only thing Panem had to say about Rome is that it named its army positions the same as they were in Caesar's time, worshipped their gods, and also they had slaves.

Anyway like I said I don't think I'm the correct person to instruct anyone on gender dynamics in creative writing. I'd recommend reading written works on the theme to truly get to the bottom of it. Happy writing!

[chaosrealm]

Aella Introduction

General Info

Name Meaning: Aella —  Whirlwind, tempest, storm-wind.

Nicknames:

Fatebringer (given by General Shao and her allies)

My Light (given by Reiko)

Andreiphontês/Destroyer of Men (given by both her enemies as an insult, and by her allies as a compliment)

Age: 10,000+

MBTI: INTJ-T — Introversion, Intuition, Thinking, Judgement - Turbulent.

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Species: Human

Realm of Origin: Outworld

Physical Appearance

Skin: Tawny Fair

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 171 lbs / 77 kg

Eye Color: Violet / Red (when using magic)

Hair Color: Black

Hair Texture: Thick and glossy.

Body Type: Curvy and Muscular

Prominent Features:

Violet Eyes

Left Eyebrow slit with a large scar through it

Scars all over her body

Clothing Style: She wears a muscle cuirass with matching greaves and pteruges. She alternates between light, medium, or heavy versions of her armor, depending on the battle/number of opponents. Ancient Greece and Rome heavily influence the styling of her armor.

Personality

Positive Traits: Courageous, Loyal, Protective, Resourceful, Adaptable, Efficient.

Negative Traits/Flaws: Self-Destructive, Insecure, Hostile, Rebellious, Jealous, Defensive.

Hobbies: Hunting/Fishing, keeping a journal, sparring, sharpening/repairing weapons, healing the wounded.

Likes: Courage, Thunderstorms, Swords, Learning about ancient history.

Dislikes: The royal house/court, Timidity, Earthrealmers.

Goals: Learning more about her family, Succeeding in the rebellion, destroying the royal house, marrying Reiko.

Fears: Failure, Losing Reiko, Being unable to fight anymore.

Health

Physical Health: Being an Outworld soldier, Aella is in incredible shape and muscular. Her stamina and endurance are high, but she is often fatigued long after using her life-absorption powers. Other than that, she has scars scattered across her body, most notably the one across her abdomen that she healed herself after Quan-Chi ripped her child from her, and one across her eye, which she obtained from narrowly dodging a Kytinn pincer. 

Mental Health: Aella suffers from PTSD and Seasonal Depression. She will avoid remembering all of the gore on the battlefield, the memories of others, or the loss of her child, but that has just given her vivid nightmares or flashbacks in which she re-lives her worst moments. Aside from this, she will have spouts of irritability, where she’s likely to snap at anyone and everyone for seemingly no reason. 

The winter months are the worst for her. She usually avoids getting out of bed, even if Reiko tries to encourage her. Her motivation and will to train are drained, and she will try to avoid her duties altogether.

Phobias: Monophobia — Fear of being alone. 

Professional Life

Aella is a decorated soldier with the rank of lieutenant (she shares this rank with Reiko) and has won many battles — both by herself, and alongside General Shao or Reiko. Her most notable win is the defeat of the Kytinn, in which she aided Reiko and the General in defeating the invading troops. 

In the past, she has won a tournament by defeating Earthrealms champion. Outworld celebrated her victory for weeks.

Fighting Attributes

Abilities/Powers:

Life-Absorption —  Aella can absorb the life force of others and transfer it to others to heal them. The price of using this power is that she sees memories of the person she absorbs, sometimes even feeling them. Depending on the strength of the absorbed, she will be in extreme pain.

Skills:

Swordsmanship —  Proficient in the use of both short and longswords. 

Mixed-Martial Arts

Tracking/Hunting

Strengths:

Close-Combat / Sword Combat

Large Battles

Weaknesses:

Fire

Mind control

Weapons:

Shortsword

Longsword

Bow (only when hunting)

Relationships

Family:

Unknown Biological Mother & Father 

Ione — Mother Figure

Friends/Allies:

Ione

Goro

Motaro

General Shao

Reiko

Onaga

Enemies:

Sindel

Mileena

Kitana

Liu Kang

Quan Chi

Shang Tsung

Love Interest:

Reiko

Backstory

As a teen, Aella was taken in by a temple comprised of only female warriors. After living on the streets for most of her life, she felt things were finally improving. Their leader, Ione, had taken her under her wing —  fed and clothed her, taught her how to read and write, how to ride a horse, and how to fight and defend not only herself, but for the greater good. 

Aella grows comfortable in this new life she’s given, but it doesn’t last long. One evening, a particularly strong storm rolls in, and with it comes pirates. They attack in the dead of night, but are quickly discovered when the war horn sounds. Ione and her women jump into action, as does Aella, but they stop her. 

“I won’t risk you, daughter.” Ione says.

Aella, although shocked by her words, only nods her head in understanding. But once they disappear into the night, she doesn’t hesitate to grab her sword and dagger. She perches upon the rooftop of a random home, surveying through the heavy rain what little she can make out of the pirate forces. Opting for a silent approach, she dawns her dagger and stalks through the streets, taking them down one by one. 

But all it takes is one misstep, and she doesn’t notice the sheet metal where the body of the person she’s just slain falls. Aella silently curses the merchant who happened to stack it there, but before she can duck back into the shadows, she is surrounded by a dozen spear-wielding pirates. 

They circle her, taunting her with “little girl” and “that sword is far too big for you” but she doesn’t flinch, smirking as she hears hoofbeats on the hillside above. Who she presumes is their leader tells half of them to investigate the noise, and Aella uses this distraction to her advantage. She slides through the rainwater, slitting a few of the men’s heels open with her sword, and as they fall she finishes them with stabs through the back of their neck. The final two rush at her with wild swings. Aella narrowly dodges them, but ultimately gets side-swiped on her arm, crying out as she holds her sword up to block, she kneels and swipes the dagger from her boot. Their swings almost become overwhelming until an explosion of red erupts from her body. 

Aella’s are just as wide with shock as her opponents when she takes a final swing toward the men’s abdomens. She watches with a sneer as their intestines spill onto the rocky ground. All that is left to deal with is their leader, who wastes no time leaping toward her red aura. If only he’d known how big of a mistake that was. 

Aella turns toward the sound of gasps for air and sees he’s tangled in the glow. She tosses her weapons aside, and pounces, unrelenting in her punches. Even as the man’s face turns to a pulp, she isn’t satisfied. So unsatisfied that doesn’t hear the sound of soldiers on horseback approaching her. It isn’t until a deep, commanding voice demands she stop, that she rears her hand back once more. Only this time, her fist is caught by a larger one, and she’s pulled up to stand. 

She had no idea who the horned man before her was, but she answered all of his questions. They exchange names, and he tells her he is General Shao. He motions for a boy with silver eyes to help her gather her belongings, and Aella immediately wishes to know why. 

“Do you not want to know more about the red glow you emit during battle? To understand what power you truly possess?”

Although she had found a home with Ione, she found herself intrigued. She nodded. After all, there had been no signs of any sorcery powers until tonight, and she needed to know the source.

A boy with silver eyes accompanies her as she discusses the matter with Ione and gathers what little belongings she has. Although Ione has her doubts, she has taught Aella everything she knows, and she knows nothing of magic. She sends her away with her blessing, in the hope that one day she will come back to visit her soon. 

Ione had no idea when she watched her leave that Aella would one day alter the fate of Outworld.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Jun 4, 2024

Here we go again. The culture war is apparently nothing more than a myth, a fabrication intended to distract the lower orders. It’s like the “bread and circuses” of Ancient Rome, or the Easter Bunny, or Milli Vanilli.

On this week’s episode of Newsnight, the former Tory MP Dehenna Davison was asked whether she welcomed Kemi Badenoch’s recent attempts to clarify the Equality Act in order to ensure that women’s rights to single-sex spaces are protected. “I don’t at all,” she said. “I think regrettably the debate around trans issues right now seems to be used as some kind of political football for this mythical culture war that the Conservative party seems to be fighting.”

That’s a relief. So the disabled women who are smeared as bigots for requesting female carers are simply fantasists? And the female prisoners who are terrified of being accommodated with convicted rapists are just worrying over nothing? And victims of sexual assault being turned away from rape crisis centres because they don’t want to speak to a male counsellor have just imagined the whole thing?

Apparently, yes. Here’s what the Tory Reform Group had to say in a post on X:

“The Conservative Party has to think very carefully about the type of campaign it wants to run, and the longer term impact of stoking culture wars. It is clear that voters are rejecting the politics of division. We must not run on ‘wedge issues’ for a narrow core voter base alone.”

I remain unconvinced that the rights of 51% of the population qualifies as a “wedge issue”.

Of course the culture war doesn’t end with the ongoing erosion of women’s rights. Gay people are being shamed for being attracted to their own sex by the very organisations who were set up to protect their interests. We have men demanding access to lesbian dating apps and speed-dating events. We’ve had gay youth medicalised on the NHS for being same-sex attracted. We have the bullying and harassment of gay men and lesbians in the name of “progress”. And yet in her Newsnight interview, Davison claims that same-sex marriage is one of the Conservative government’s “proudest achievements” while in the same breath dismissing these attacks on gay rights as trivial.  

And what about the ongoing assault on free speech? What of those activists who demand that we should be prosecuted if we do not adopt their language (something that is actually happening in Canada and is likely to come to Ireland with the proposed new “hate speech” laws)? And what about campaigners who now leverage huge influence in all our major institutions attempting to rewrite our history, remove statues and monuments that they find “problematic”, censor books, and criminalise dissent? What about the ideologues in schools who are teaching highly contested theories as fact, from Critical Race Theory via Brighton School Council’s “anti-racist schools strategy” to this week’s revelation that 95% of Scottish schools are allowing pupils to self-identify their gender?

At this point, it’s difficult to believe that anyone genuinely believes that the culture war is “mythical”. There is an abundance of evidence of the antics of culture warriors who seek to reconstruct all the fundamental aspects of our society in order to better align with their ideology. I do make a point of assuming that people are telling the truth, and so the charitable explanation is that Davison and her ilk are simply ignorant of some of the most significant cultural developments over the past decade, from the fallout of the Black Lives Matter protests to the Scottish hate crime bill to the campaigns of harassment against gender-critical feminists. Perhaps she doesn’t read the newspapers. If only someone had written a book that provides a wide-ranging overview of the countless examples of how culture warriors have sought to reshape the world. Oh well…

Of course Davison is not the only political commentator to imply that the rights of women and gay people simply don’t matter. Former Labour strategist Alastair Campbell was quick to jump on to X to offer his contribution:

“I’m sure the world of trade and business will take note that the actual Secretary of State for trade and business has decided that the biggest issue on her agenda on her first big election outing is the weaponisation of trans rights. Anyone might be tempted to think Kemi Badenoch has less interest in the general election than the internal ideological shitshow likely to follow.”

As J. K. Rowling pointed out, Campbell seems to be unaware that Badenoch is also the minister for women and equalities, and so it’s hardly a stretch to suppose that women’s rights and the Equality Act fall within her remit. As Rowling put it: “Thanks once again for highlighting Labour’s complacency and indifference towards the rights of half the electorate.”

The culture war is often misunderstood as a matter of Right vs Left, but the ill-informed comments of Davison and Campbell show that it’s nothing of the kind. As I have pointed out many times, the Conservatives have presided over the worst excesses of the culture war during their time in office. We shouldn’t give them a free pass simply because matters are likely to get a whole lot worse under Labour.

Far from being trivial, these issues could not be more important. If we can’t preserve the rights of women and gay people, how can we claim to be living in a civilised society? And when activists are successfully pressurising governments to force citizens to declare falsehoods, how can we in good conscience remain silent?

The claim that the culture was is a “distraction” is, in itself, a distraction. Yes, other issues are crucial and require our attention. But resisting the creeping authoritarianism of our times should also be a priority. When those in power are not only insisting that 2+2=5, but demanding that we all repeat the lie, we cannot afford to be complacent.