#i wrote this in a fit of rage

[w1shb0n3z]

"Oh, Falin's so pure! She'd never put one life over another! She loves everyone equally and would die of sadness if anyone gets hurt under her watch! She must he so anxious and shy! She meeds to be protected and- "

Ermmm, nuh uh?

Please don't infantilze Falin. I beg. my heart can't take it

Just because she's soft spoken doesn't mean she's a "uwu angel baby". That is a grown women that's been through some shit! We start off the series with her being eaten by a dragon goddamn it. You think dragons just pop up and scoop up unsuspecting damsels? NO. You gotta decend in a dank dungeon, beat monsters, and revive who knows how many people to reach that thing.

Also!

I dont think she's anxious. Even in what we see of her as a child, she isn't a really nervous kid! She's just introverted! She isn't really "shy" as much as "quiet". She wins the IDGAF war and is nice (rare combo)

[jaketoria4ever]

The only thing that restrains me is societal constraints. I don't need education, socialization, financial stability, love. I don't need it at all. Except I do, cause that's what I've been conditioned to believe, to be, to do. And despite trying my hardest, I just can't fit into this mold. And because I didn't do it properly, because I can't fit in, because I'm not normal, they call me crazy. Delusional. A dreamer. But no matter what they call me, their half-baked ideas of what they think I am, their stupid minds' comprehension of me, what little they understand, the only thing I am is - Me.

[hilacopter]

y'all have no fucking right to whine about how israeli leftists and pro-peace activists DoN'T aCtuALLy cARe AbOUt PaLEsTine because we don't spread fucking antisemitc misinfo and don't want our country bombed. perhaps we'd be willing to work with you if you haven't made it abundantly clear you don't want our support, you don't want our work and effort. in fact don't want us to exist at all. our existence infuriates you, it contradicts the black and white narrative you've made up for comfort in which all israelis are genocidal bigoted colonizers who's deaths are justified and welcome in the name of resistance. in which the big brave westerners get to play white savior and cleanse the evil israeli hivemind. you aren't willing to acknowledge us or ally with us because we refuse to work on your terms in which we have to disregard our own history in favor of your own false antisemitc narrative, we have to loathe our existence and grovel for repentance over the sin of being born, or we have to actively cheer for our own deaths. if you want help from the people who can make the most of an actual difference, who can protest the israeli government and military directly, then you're going to have to listen, you're going to have to apologise and you're going to have to compromise. you're going to have to hear stuff you might not like hearing and you'll have to make drastic changes to your movement of terrorist stans. but you've made it abundantly clear you don't actually want that. you only make us more reactionary and bitter by spitting in our faces. I've talked to fellow peaceniks who have lost the motivation to protest or donate out of spite for the western pro-palestine movement. I myself have become much more wary of it all. you're causing us to be resentful and then you complain like we were the problem all along when guess what, human beings (surprise, we are ones despite how much you want to think otherwise) don't have that kind of mental tolerance and you can't expect us to keep advocating for your cause while simultaneously having to tolerate your bullshit. in the end I think you're the ones who don't actually care about palestine, when you're actively rejecting movements and protests that are actually helpful as soon as they don't align with your worldview or your ego or your fantasies of a glorious violent revolution. your standards for what's considered pro-palestine and not "both-sidesing" are absurd, hostile and only harm everyone in the long run. peace is the ideal solution for all but you have made it clear you don't want that, you want "justice" based on your own misconceptions about a 2000 year old conflict you knew nothing about before and know nothing about now. you're in this to feel good about yourselves. I said what I said.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #152

Every year around the holidays, a "bug war" breaks out in the Parker-Stark households 

Not bugs as in creepy crawlies. Technology bugs. Surveillance.

Tony and Peter are both determined to figure out what the other wants for the holidays 

The two are on surprisingly even ground: Peter's spider-sense doesn't consider this a threat, and FRIDAY won't snitch. They both have to find any "bugs" the old fashioned way.

Bonus:

Soon enough the whole Ironfam is wrapped up in it. November and December become a time of yearly paranoia, everyone watching what they say and "checking for bugs." 

Even Peter's friends discover tiny bugs on them. When Ned first learns the itty bitty robot behind his coat button is from Tony Stark trying to find out what he wants for Christmas he faints on the spot

Bonus 2, Crack Taken Seriously Boogaloo:

For a bit of drama: it's all fun and games until one year Peter gets kidnapped. The situation is bad. They only find him in time thanks to one of the "holiday bugs" Tony recently snuck on

[neilphen]

people will hate on george harrison like it makes them cool and quirky and different and interesting like ... no u just have hate and malice in ur heart and john and paul AND ringo would hate u and theyre not gonna fuck u... thats theyre baby brother ur talking abt like...

[hadescabin]

TW// GROOMING, MANIPULATION breaking down tigerheartstar and dovewing and why i think its awful ik I said that I dont really like warrior cats anymore but recently i've been thinking about some stuff regarding the series and its fandom and there's one thing that's been particularly bothering me. dovewing and tigerheart. it's just crazy to see the shift of support for tigerdove considering early 2010s warriors fandom seemed mixed on them. now there seems to be this equivocal support for them, probably because most of the fandom's exposure to the couple has been the recent books which frames them as man who loves his wife x burnt out prophecy kid who will do anything for her malewife. which theres nothing wrong with that dynamic, i think it's cute, but people really seem to forget about how tigerheart straight up groomed and treated dovewing awfully throughout oots and even in tigerheart's shadow. it seems to be a forgotten fact that tigerheart was a full grown warrior by the time he was pursuing dovepaw, who was a newly made apprentice. for perspective, this was a 6-7 moon teenager with someone almost the age of her mentor (a little younger). people try to use the excuse "oh but they're cats" and "the age gap isnt that bad" but even the recent books acknowledge with frostpaw and splashtail, that a warrior and apprentice dating is WEIRD. tbf oots was released in the early 2000s, but the fact that canonically speaking the age gap is seen as a teenager and adult relationship gives me the ick. it really puzzles me to see people get on ships like dustfern and bramblesquirrel (both of which i hate btw) for their age gaps but come up with every excuse in the books to defend tigerdove. its not even just the age gap too, again, their relationship has consisted of tigerheart manipulating and grooming dovepaw to do what he wants. in the first two books (esp the second book of oots) dovepaw is presented as someone who got attached to the cats from the journey and doesnt necessarily understand why they must act like they shouldnt exist anymore due to the borders. this is something that tigerheart LEARNS and actively takes advantage of when dovepaw questions why hes at their borders (tldr its dark forest stuff). he shifts the topic and then goes on about the journey and how he felt that they almost became friends, and that if they were in the same clan things would be easier. this may not seem like a big deal, but this goes on for the rest of their interactions whenever tiger needs to pressure her to do something she doesnt want (meeting up, trusting him, etc.) He realizes that the subject of different borders resonates with her and uses it to his advantage whenever he wants something out of her. This can especially be seen in the next book, “Night Whispers”, which kickstarted their relationship. Dovepaw accidentally ran into ShadowClan territory while hunting, and Tigerheart happens to find her there. Once again, he gives her a speech about borders being meaningless, before asking her to meet up with him before the ShadowClan patrol catches them. There’s also other examples in later books where he coerces her into meeting up or trusting him since “that’s what friends are for” or even later in that book, where he manipulates her into using Ivypaw as a captive for herbs. 

When you take this into account, plus him as a full grown warrior, starting a romantic relationship with a barely apprenticed Dovepaw who is shown as having a childish/ immature perception on romance/mates (such as her argument with Ivypaw and claiming that she should “find her own mate”), Tigerdove feels very much like grooming to me. According to the dictionary definition grooming is, “the action of attempting to form a relationship with a child or young person, with the intention of sexually assaulting them”. Of course, in this case, since it’s a young adult book, it’s to form a romantic relationship, which could also be another goal of grooming. Groomers tend to display manipulative behaviors towards the victims in order to coerce them into trusting them more. Whether that be through compliments, gifts, trying to resonate with them or make them feel special. They tend to try to get them to keep and “share” secrets, which is another tactic they utilize both to isolate the victim and to get them to feel more comfortable. 

A lot of behaviors that Tigerheart displays towards Dovepaw falls under this, including the examples I mentioned. There are a couple of other comments that he makes which come off as creepy such as Dovepaw “being his favorite sister”, which as I established, is something a groomer would say in order to make the victim feel as though they’re special and garner their trust. Which is especially the case when you note that he makes that comment in reference to Dovepaw asking about his ties to Ivypaw, which he actively lies about, and quickly reassures her that there’s nothing going on. 

This tactic of manipulation, where he either makes her feel special, or even love bombs and dissuade her from standing up for herself, doesn’t stop when she’s an apprentice. It continues when she’s a warrior, and is constantly used throughout OOTS and “Tigerheart’s Shadow”. At one point in the series, Dovewing and Tigerheart get into an argument about Dawnpelt wrongfully accusing Jayfeather of murder. When Tigerheart defends his sister, Dovewing stands up for Jayfeather, which prompts Tigerheart to try and manipulate her out of the conversation. He jumps straight to talking about how much he loved and missed her, and guilts her by asking why they had to argue like this, and why they couldn’t just “meet like before”. As for Tigerheart's Shadow, he actively goes against what she wants (to raise her kits outside the clan) and actively pressures and guilts her into coming back, before she finally relents. He doesn't care about what SHE wants, it's always about him. Whether it be secretly meeting up, or in The Last Hope, he tries to pressure her to date him again (which she FINALLY refuses and scolds him for thinking about his own needs when they're right before a final battle. as she should). It's especially upsetting in the newest book that tigerheart seems to be the only think at the center of her character. when she argues with ivypool, it's less about the two sister's interpersonal conflicts and more about her and tigerheart's relationship. which...feels like a lot of missed potential to me? i want them to argue, i want dovewing to stand up to herself against ivypool, but why does the entire conflict have to revolve around him? why can't dovewing have her own thoughts and feelings without it tying back to her awful husband?

[incorrectnevermoor]

Hey there! I've seen some really negative comments on Jupiter as a parent figure, and I thought I'd get your feedback. Someone said he's doing poorly because he doesn't have enough time for Morrigan and he should realize this and find her a proper adoptive family. Their thoughts are that he is repeatedly hurting her by keeping her in her current situation and trying so hard to get her into a school that doesn't treat her right.

I don't know, I have a hard time seeing him that negatively. I think he is doing his best in the best way he knows how, and nobody is so perfect that they don't learn things by trial and error. I think Mog would be sad if she had to go live with somebody else. Maybe Jupiter isn't always around, but the rest of the Deucalion family is there for her, so she does have a good family. Idk, I just can't bring myself to think that terribly about Jupiter.

Thoughts?

First thing’s first: I know I have a couple asks I haven’t answered in my inbox right now but this one had to take precedence because I am a Jupiter defender first and a person second, really these are extenuating circumstances.

SECONDLY: my friend. My buddy. Mate. I agree with you wholeheartedly, you are 100% right.

From the first time we meet him in nevermoor to the last time we’ve seen him in hollowpox, the man has been doing his damnest to help Mog in any way he can. Does he keep secrets? Yes, but as I see it, that’s just another way he’s trying to protect her, some information isn’t exactly good for one’s self esteem or comfortable for people (especially children) to know. Is it the best choice? Probably not, considering Mog’s a very curious child, but Jupiter isn’t a dad, from what we know his whole experience having kids under his wing has been Jack for who knows how long and idk if anyone noticed but he is, in fact, very different from Morrigan, so Jupiter is kind of going in blind here!

The fact is, actually, that he’s defended Morrigan more times than we probably know of, and he’ll keep doing so because he loves her to bits. Has he been busy? Yes, he’s a helping soul with a lot of titles and a knack that’s probably very useful in knowing who’s lying and who might know something. Did he force Mog into wunsoc? Not really, if anyone here remembers, Mog was actually really excited to join, albeit also very anxious because trauma. The school doesn’t treat her right? This is something even miss Cheery couldn’t fix, and she was in charge of Morrigan’s education from the beginning! Matter of fact, as soon as he found out how Mog was being treated, he went out of his way to show her not all wundersmiths are bad, that Onstald was biased, AND he made the headmistress change her schedule! I bet you he raised hell for that last one, don’t you think?

I will keep typing because I am properly incensed right now, does anyone think that Morrigan would realistically prefer to live with someone else at the moment? Truly? Or would she feel like she was being pawned off because she did something wrong again and feel abandoned, AGAIN? She’s finally got people who care for her, who defend her, who she sees as family, and that’s because of Jupiter.

Being a parent is, in part, knowing when to push your kid towards what’s best for them and when to let them choose to give up, that’s what Jupiter Amantius North did with the Trials and anyone who says differently can meet me at the Denny’s parking lot so we can fight about it.

[dutybcrne]

Thinkings thinkings of Fatui!Kaeya have been reawakened in reviewing Arle's teasers/animations

[sarifinasnightmare]

VENARARE

I wrote this incredibly pissed off, so if you don't like this too much, whatever.

Rated: Mature

Summary: The Winter Soldier is a terrifying gladiator who doesn't care about the world, much less love anyone. Well we'll see about that.

The Winter Soldier was the greatest, most terrifying gladiator in the area. They say he got his name from his time as a soldier up in the north among the hairy barbarians and in the freezing cold had lost his mind and slaughtered an entire village single-handedly. When he came back to the city he still craved violence and bloodshed so he became a gladiator in order to slack his dangerous lusts.

When he appeared on the line-up people knew they were in for a show. He decimated his fellow gladiators, leaving them out cold or even dead out on the sand if the crowd didn’t protest quickly enough to spare them. If criminals needed to be offed, he’d do it cleanly, sending the head sailing before the fool even knew he was dead. The number of animals he’d killed rivaled the legendary Cop Offerus. He had even made a cloak of white wolf pelt that he’d skinned off the beast that had nearly gotten him.

In his mail skirt, greaves, the Winter Soldier wore a silver manica down his left arm that glittered ominously in the sunlight. What made him stand out from all the other strong, powerfully built Murmillo was his refusal to wear a helmet. His long hair curled around his ear, and he covered the lower half of his face. Why? Some said it was to emphasize the icy blue of his eyes, but he never explained himself to anyone. He cared about nothing and no one. He ate, slept, pissed, fought and fucked with the same expression on his face.

Since he was no slave, but a citizen and a former soldier, the ludus he called home had been obliged to pay him some share of his winnings. The lanista had at first scoffed at paying him anything, but with every successive win and his growing popularity he gladly paid him so he’d stay and not go off with another owner. That did not mean he could shirk his duties. During the observations, people would crowd, scared and intrigued as he paced around the cage like a beast looking for his next prey. Children were terrified of him, men were fascinated and the woman…it depended.

People wanted a piece of him, his sweat was highly prized, he’d been at many homes of wealthy patrons who wanted private demonstrations of his prowess, whether that was sword or cock it didn’t matter to him. Many thought that they could tame him, bring him to heel with their powers or their beauty, but he’d seen it all, done it all. They were all a bore and he plowed through them until they were little more than gasping whimpering lumps of flesh on their perfumed couches. The wives of ancient senators were his personal favorite bit of sport. There was a pleasure in knowing that while the arrogant assholes were congratulating themselves on being so superior in their lecture halls, he was in their houses fucking their wives stupid, spilling his seed into their cunts and filling them with his bastards. He knew of at least three so far. One of the women even went and brought the infant to him. Fat little thing, he wished the child well, knowing that the cuckolded husband had long desired an heir and now he had it, so he needn’t worry about it’s future. She thought she could gain his affection this way, but he wasn’t moved. Those women, those men meant nothing to him. They were the ones who craved him; he didn’t want them at all. They could all disappear, and he’d be fine. One day he’d put his sword down, collect his winnings and leave. Where? No one’s damned business.

On a hot day during a funerary tournament, amongst the sea of white, red and purple togas was the delicate splash of pink that caught his eye. The Winter Soldier had just been stopped from killing his opponent and had been basking in the light breeze that came through only to have a pink linen wrap around his ankle. He picked it up and could smell the faintly spiced fragrance. Looking around he saw a woman also in pink going to the edge of the arena in the hopes of catching her kerchief but then tugged down by her companion. She wore her veil over her braided head, but her face was unmistakable. For one she was Afri, but not a slave, a free woman, a maiden. In fact, she was amongst a small group of them. Merchant class if their clothes were any indication. Her skin was an unbroken, unblemished mahogany with a glossy shine to her cheekbones that made her look almost goddess like. Even from this distance, he could see how plump her lips were as well as the slight glimpse of snow white teeth. Fire suddenly bloomed from his loins at the sight of her.

She stared at him, noticing her linen in his hands, her fingers twitching as if aching to get it back. He stared back, wanting her to see as he brought the soft cloth to his nose to inhale her fragrance and upon finding it pleasing, he slipped it down to tuck under his skirt for safekeeping.

The maiden looked away, blushing furiously and the Winter Soldier’s lips curled slightly.

___________________---

Afterward he waited for her to appear, to ask for her linen back. Much to his disappointment, it was her companion who appeared; a blonde skinny thing, who came in with a slave and an escort. She requested the return of her friend’s linen. He refused.

“She values her chastity, and she can’t be seen in the company of…you.” She explained even as her eyes slid over him in a familiar path. “I however have no such problems seeing you…or you seeing me.”

Boring. He could make this slip of a maiden come in five minutes without even having to take his tunic off. “Then it stays with me. It smells so sweetly of its owner. Perhaps I’ll wear it as a favor during my tournaments.”

Unable to do anything else, the blonde left in a huff and the Winter Soldier sat down on a bench. He took the linen from his pouch and stroked the fabric, thinking of her and savoring the ache that she created in him.

_______________________---

Sarah was upset when her friend returned without the linen and with what he said. She heartily cursed her brother for going against their parents’ wishes and wanting to go see the gladiator tournament. As the sheltered daughter of a wealthy merchant, she’d never been allowed to see such a thing, their mother feared it would be too much for her to handle. Being stubborn and a bit rebellious, and egged on by her new friend Fabia, she decided to make her brother take them. Now because of her impulsive decision, her handkerchief was in the hands of the most dangerous gladiator in the arena!

“Why is it such a bother?” Fabia said in their shared room. “It’s just a little bit of cloth; there’s not even a mark to distinguish it as yours!”

“You don’t know my parents!” Sarah protested. “My mother is the goddess of discovery; she knows when something’s going on. She knows this color is my favorite and should your parents take my parents to the circus, and should she see that bit of pink she’ll get a feeling. Then the next thing I know she’ll pester my brother until he gives up the secret and I’m doomed!” She lays back on the couch and covers her face. “She’ll marry me off to the first fat, rich, old man in order to save my reputation!”

“Nothing a little poison in his wine can’t fix.”

“Fabia!”

The blonde shrugged. “Well if you can’t go to him, then I’ll just have to bring him to you.”

Sarah glared. “How?”

“My father is throwing a feast in honor of your father, right? So I’ll just do a little begging and insist that since us sweet little maidens can’t go to see the games if he’d hire a couple of the gladiators for a harmless exhibition to entertain the guests?”

“You can do that??”

The blonde scoffed. “I’m the only girl out of five sons and if his precious little darling wants to see the great Winter Soldier, then that’s what’s going to happen, so then while everyone is feasting, you can sneak over to him and get your linen.”

It was a crazy idea and the thought of being within reach of him made her shiver, but what else could she do? Sarah immediately agreed.

_______________________---

The Winter Soldier gave no thoughts about the party he and the rest of his companions were being sent to. It was pure entertainment, an exhibition only, so he didn’t care until he saw the older, dark-skinned matron standing next to her husband. Quicky, he saw the similar features to his pink maiden and realized that she might reside within. Now his senses were pricked, and his icy cold eyes darted around, taking in the layout as he carefully sought the slightest glimpse of her. They were taken to the slave’s quarters to prepar themselves until it was time for them to work. Some of the servant girls giggled and flirted with them and most were responsive, but not him. They weren’t the ones who shone like a black pearl in his mind.

“Where is Lady Sarah’s gown for tonight! Tell me it’s dry!” A black servant rushed in frantically.

“Here, here! Just came off the rack.” Another presented her with a folded white linen with green edges.

“Thank the heavens! She didn’t want to wear pink tonight for some reason.”

He appeared nonchalant as he listened to the little tidbits that they dropped for him. Sarah, her name is Sarah and she’ll be in a white and green dress. She’d wear no veil for the event as it was in a private residence, so he’d see the full scope of her beauty.

When they were finally taken to the grounds where he and the others would spar, he took a look around at the partygoers until he found her. She was seated next to the blonde at a small distance with the other women, but truly she shone like a pearl.

Roman men saw true beauty in pale white skin. Idiots to limit their views in such a way, because who could compare to the richness of Sarah’s dark skin? Her black hair was tressed up with cowrie shells and bits of gold. Her eyes were dark and sparkled like the night sky. She was a gorgeous, untouched beauty and his body abruptly ached with a want that nearly split him in two.

Suddenly he almost got walloped by a shield and he was forced to ignore her so as not to make a fool of himself. He wanted this fight to end quick, he didn’t care if he won or lost, he wanted to find her, go to her…

Briefly he caught a glimpse of her looking excited, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out and the frustrated rage that he couldn’t touch her made him charge against his opponent like a madman.

_____________________---

Sarah was nervous, during the mock battle the Winter Soldier fought like a beast unleashed, impressing the men and frightening the women. The other gladiators, groaning and aching were taken back to the servant’s quarters to relax, refresh and prepare in case they were wanted for other things. Now as the party continued, and the wine was being drunk to excess did she finally make her move to meet the great soldier.

Slowly one by one the Winter Soldier’s companions became otherwise occupied but no one called for him, then the black maid from earlier whistled to him and gestured for him to follow. It was time. Wordlessly he followed her. His body tightened in anticipation, he couldn’t help it and then there she was.

Sarah emerged from a darkened corner and gasped to see him suddenly less than foot away from her. He didn’t hesitate to shorten the distance between them until her back was pressed against the wall.

“Please don’t kill me, I just want my handkerchief.” She said breathlessly.

She was taller than he imagined, but that only made her more goddess like and the scent of her was sweeter than the bit of linen had implied. “I’m not going to kill you…” he touched her satin cheek with rough fingertips, “…why would I harm such perfection?”

Heat bloomed on her face and she looked down modestly. “I never knew soldiers could flatter.”

“They don’t, most are brutes who take what they want.” His thumb delicately stroked her lower lip and she shivered. The heat on her face now spread through her chest and further down her body.

“Like you did with my linen?” she managed to say softly. “I need it back.”

“You want me to give back what the gods decided was now mine?” He chided gently.

“It was the wind, not the gods.” She countered and carefully grabbed his wrist, drawing his inquisitive fingers away so she could think clearly. He was handsomer than she first thought, and those blue eyes weren’t cold, but warm, almost burning. “Please, my mother would be furious if she suspected I am here with a man…”

“I too would be furious to see you with a man.” He growled, taking her hands in his, finding her fingers long, but soft. “The thought of anyone touching you…” Dipping down he inhaled the perfume before kissing her knuckles.

He was too much, and she shuddered, overwhelmed. “Why are you so determined to keep my kerchief?”

“Because it is yours and when I touch it I feel as if I’m touching you.”

Goosebumps broke out and her heart skipped a beat. “What’s your name?”

“Hm?”

“Your name? I can’t call you soldier.”

“James.” He revealed softly.

The way he softened a bit when he revealed that to her was so charming. Perhaps he was not the beast he played to be. “If you wish to have a part of me so much then let me offer an exchange. If I give you another linen of mine, one my mother won’t recognize in exchange for the pink one, would you accept?”

The pink one had since lost its scent. “Only if given by your hands, Sarah.”

The butterflies fluttered within. She went with her maid to get the cloth and quicky returned with a soft white linen of the same size. Making sure they were still unseen she rejoined the gladiator in the darkened corner. He watched her, large and silent, as she approached him. With great tenderness she brought the linen to her lips for a gentle kiss, then offered it to him.

“As promised from my own hands to you, James.”

He bypassed the linen, grabbed her wrist and pulled her suddenly into his arms. He was a wall of muscle and heat, his blue eyes blazing into hers, catching her breathless.

“Is this linen the only way I will ever know the taste of your lips?”

“Is that all you crave?” She asked, as her hands rested over his shoulders, touching a man for the first time and finding the shape of his lips suddenly incredibly compelling.

“Sarah if I had my way I’d lay you out before that statue of Venus and teach you pleasures that send you to the stars.”

Seduced beyond understanding, she parted her lips and he claimed them, his tongue sliding in to awaken hers to this new form of pleasure. Passion scorched them to the bone as they kissed until they were panting desperately for more.

“My lady! My lady!” Her maid hissed. “Your mother’s looking for you!”

“No,” she whimpered, drawing away. “James I need to-”

“You’ve ruined me,” he growled, letting her go, but not before giving her the pink cloth back.

He watched her go, disappear back into the party full of people who’d keep her clean and pure and far away from men like him.

“Fuck you,” he said to no one in particular, then took the new white linen and pressed it to his nose, inhaling her scent.

____________________----

A fever had broken inside of him and there was no quenching it. It made him irritable and soon people gave him a wide berth. He threw himself into his battles, needing to burn the energy and when that wasn’t enough, he fucked his way through a succession of wives, leaving them gasping and bowl-legged.

But when he closed his eyes, it was Sarah on his mind and the kiss that snatched his soul and bound him to her. Sometimes he’d wake up from a nocturnal emission frustrated and full of longing.

In another part of the city Sarah was struggling with her own desires. His kiss left her aching, throbbing for more of what he promised. She wanted to see the stars, she wanted James to take her there.

“What is wrong with you?” Fabia whined as they walked through the gardens. “All you’ve done for a while is look out into the distance and sigh to yourself. Did your parents tell you something?”

“Well yes. My mother said when we go back home they’re going to start looking for a husband for me, but I knew that would happen soon…It’s just…I think of him…”

“Him?? There’s a him??” The blonde grinned and embraced her excitedly. “Who is it? How did you even meet him?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment. “It’s the Winter Soldier…when I asked for the linen back we spoke…and he kissed me.”

“You kissed the most terrifying gladiator in all of Rome! Sarah you’re mad!”

“He’s not terrible. He’s not terrible at all…Oh Fabia the feelings I’ve had in my stomach, in my heart…”

She clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Oh Sarah, Cupid has struck you.”

“I wonder if he feels the same? It’s been weeks.” She looked over the walls in the direction of the coliseum.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Fabia smiled cunningly.

“Fabia you’re insane!” She guessed.

“Do you wish to see him? Then be brave! True lovers will risk anything.”

Sarah was frightened of the consequences of her parents’ wrath, but the temptation was too strong, and she acquiesced.

___________________---

The Winter Soldier sat at the bench, thoughtfully chewing on his bread, ignoring the crowd that watched him and the other gladiators feast before their fight. He heard in the distance men shout their bets and exchange coins. He knew many were putting money on him, confident in his win. He thought of his share of the money, which has grown considerably.

A pebble suddenly landed on his plate. He looked over, irritated until he noticed it was Sarah’s maid. Realizing what that meant, his gaze darted around until he spotted her. She was escorted, an umbrella covering her from the sun, her veil properly in place, but it was her unmistakably. She came to see him but dared not approach, not with all the other gawkers. Her eyes moved around him, seeking. He pulled out the white linen kerchief and she smiled sweetly. She tapped her chest three times and pointed at him; her heart was glad to see him.

“My mistress wants to see you-” Suddenly one of the spectators tried to take liberties with the maid. Furious he grabbed him by his garment and yanked him violently against the steel bars. The fool fell into a heap, and everyone gave him a wide berth. Before the coliseum guards could pull him away, he listened to the maid finish. “-tonight by the west gate of your ludus.”

As the guards yanked him away he looked Sarah in the eyes and nodded.

_________________------

The whole day was torture for him. He’d fought like a god, knowing that the end of the day he would see his goddess again. The west gate of the ludus was least watched, mostly because it led to nowhere, only thick brush and rocky hills. However they were still locked and bars were solid, yet that didn’t diminish their reunion.

Sarah wore a black cloak, her maid and guard at a safe distance keeping watch, so they didn’t stop them as they kissed between the iron bars. The Winter Soldier was desperate to wrap his arms around her waist and pulled her as tight as the barriers allowed. Sarah cupped his dear face and kissed him fiercely.

“One kiss and I’m yours, James. What have you done to me?” She panted.

“Say it to me again. Tell me you’re mine, Sarah.” He commanded, his hands caressing, seeking.

He found her breasts and cupped them, making her hard little peaks bloom with desire. “I want to be yours, I dream of being yours.”

“The way I’ve starved for you. The way I’ve suffered from the lack of you.” He replied, “No woman nor man has tortured me as you have.”

The primal urge surged throughout her body, begging her to shed her clothes and let it fulfill it’s sacred duty with this man. “I want you to take me to the stars, James. Take me there before my husband does.”

The words stopped him dead. “Husband?”

“My family is leaving in a few weeks.” She revealed softly. “They plan to find me a husband.”

No, no! Is this a cruel joke by Venus to present a woman that finally awakened his soul only to snatch her away and give her to some pompous idiot who would only see her as a broodmare?

“I will go mad.” He said gruffly.

“And I will yearn for you for the rest of my days.” She replied. “Please.”

He could not deny her. “Send your maid to me in three days. I will tell her where we shall meet.”

____________________-----

The three days felt like years to Sarah, but she quietly prepared for their eventual joining. Fabia smuggled in oils and perfumes, helped her groom herself and arranged her clothes. Her mother noticed the change and commented on it.

“Fabia was showing me some new cosmetics.” she said shyly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s different, but it makes me think of what we’ll plan for when you get married. I’ve already ordered some new fabrics for dresses and ordered some stones…”

“Do you think I’ll be married off so fast, Mama? Or is that you want me to go?”

Her mother looked sad. “No! No, my darling it’s just…the relatives think we’ve been holding onto you for too long and that all this traveling will leave you restless and open to mischief. Don’t worry, I won’t have you given away so quickly. We will make sure your husband is a good man who will take good care of you, I promise.”

“And if I fall in love, Mama?”

“Then we will make sure he is worthy of that love.” She promised as well.

That night Sarah thought of her mother and her promise, but it didn’t dissuade her. With maid and guard beside her, she stole into the Roman night to meet with her true lover.

___________________---

By the temple of Venus there was a garden built by one of those snobby senators in order to win more points with the citizens. Of course, he built himself a little villa that overlooked it that only he could use. Luckily, said senator was off doing some pompous bullshit down south so the villa was empty. The Winter Soldier knew when he brought Sarah inside. He cleaned it a little and prepared the bedroom for his maiden. There were only a few oil lamps, but it was just enough for them to see each other as they undressed for the first time.

He never wore much to begin with, but what he revealed to her was shocking to say the least.

“Will that…in me?” She murmured breathlessly.

“I will be gentle.” He promised as he approached her and gently touched the cord around her waist. “May I?”

She nodded and only trembled slightly as the cord fell to the floor and her gown was slowly lifted from her body.

He had seen and fucked so many types of bodies, but hers, hers was without rival. Formed from the finest clay, glossy like satin, designed to make his mouth water.

“Is this pleasing?” she asked and gasped softly when he picked her up and effortlessly carried her to the bed. He hovered over her for a moment before bathing her in kisses.

“Gorgeous, radiant, divine….” He mouthed against her skin, “….the gods wept when they made you.”

He caressed her everywhere and made her feel glorious. When his tongue lapped her intimate place, she was momentarily repelled until new ecstasy caused her to cry out for more. She ran her fingers through his hair and pleaded with him to never stop.

Drunk with the taste of her, he pleasured her, teased her until the sweet music of her cries filled the air and she experienced her first climax. Taking advantage of her fresh slickness, he moved up between her long legs and placed the throbbing head of his shaft against her opening.

“I dedicate our joining to Venus, to guide me in showing you the true love between us and show you the delights of the celestial heavens.”

She knew there would be some pain, so the burn and the stretch didn’t scare her. She did her best to relax and moaned when James stroked her tender nerves, mingling pleasure with pain. It was a marvel that he could fit so perfectly inside her and by the time their roots met, she felt positively stuffed.

“Oh…”

James braced himself over her, sweating, her virgin sheath so good that it was killing him not to move. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…I’ve never felt anything like this….” She suddenly gave him a smoky smile. “I like it.”

“Sweet gods,” he whined, bowing his head in utter defeat as his hips rebelled against his control and began to move.

Sarah wrapped her arms around him and held his muscular body against hers as they gave in to the primal urge that stirred from the first look. There was no shame between them as they kissed, licked, caressed and moved as one. Black and white flesh mingled and rolled around in the sheets as they fought to draw out the pleasure for as long as they could.

James could not take his eyes off her, loving how she gleamed with pleasure, how the sweet scent of her mingled with their sex and then there was her unrestrained moans. She didn’t screech or howl like a whore determined to put on a good show. Her breathless, needy whines were of genuine joy and his own soon broke free, groans that were as deep as the pleasure churning in his loins, threatening to shatter him.

“James, James, I love you, I love you!” She cried out as the wave of delight crested over her body, threatening to drown her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced him deeper and shuddered helplessly.

He was lost, lost in the tight heat of her and then she squeezed, flaying him with ecstasy. “My love, my love!”

The stars burst before them, and Venus blessed them with joy.

__________________---

They could not meet again for another interlude, although the gods knew they wanted to. Too quickly her family was packing their belongings from Fabia’s family’s residence and then she’d be on a ship heading back home.

Sarah did her best to come close to the Coliseum as often as she could, claiming that she wanted to walk it a few more times before leaving. James was there behind his iron bars waiting for her, staring at her as if he could make love to her from his gaze alone.

On the last day she came in her pink gown and dared to approach the bars. He grabbed her hands and dared to openly kiss them.

“I will be a good wife to my husband. I will run his house and give birth to his children, but my heart and soul will forever be yours James. Know this, believe this.”

He nodded and tried to speak. “I’ve been cold for so long. All my life I’ve felt nothing until I saw you. I, who have never prayed to the gods now beg them to reunite us in the end.”

She nodded, fighting back tears and thrust her original pink linen into his hands before turning away to go.

He watched her go, clutching the bars that he suddenly hated more than life itself. He gripped them until he was white knuckled and screamed at the injustice of it all.

Sarah heard the scream down to her bones and cried quietly in her bed as they sailed away.

_____________________----

The Winter Soldier was colder and meaner than ever on and off the arena. His companions at the ludus avoided him like the plague as all he wanted to do was drink, sleep and fight. He rejected the advances of former paramours, refusing to befoul the memories of Sarah with their filth.

She should be back home by now, no doubt picking out fabrics and jewels for her wedding day with her mother. Anger flooded him and he slammed his cup of wine down harshly, causing it to spill over.

“It’s a waste of food, soldier.”

He glanced over and saw that it was Sarah’s blonde little friend. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“When does a slave get to speak to me that way?”

“I’m not a slave, I’m a freeman! I’m here of my own free will!” He snapped.

She arched a brow. “Oh really? Then what’s stopping you from leaving the arena, sailing across the ocean and paying Sarah’s bride price?”

“I don’t have enough to do that….to provide for her and give her what she deserves.” He muttered.

“Bah, I bet you could earn more than enough in a single fight.” She countered. “If you wanted to, but I suppose a soldier like you only takes orders.”

Bullshit! Everything he’d ever done was because he wanted it, but Sarah had her wants too.

“She’s determined to do right for her parents. I cannot ruin that for her.” He argued.

“She slept in the same room as I and her tears for you were endless. Her heart and soul are broken without you. Do you really wish for her to be so miserable?”

No, and to know that she had been so unhappy made him angry. Why did Venus give him a taste of real love only to cut it off so abruptly? Was it his punishment for treating it so lightly before? Or was she perhaps offering him the chance to prove that he had changed and would risk it all?

“Find me a ship.” He said suddenly, standing up.

“For when?” She asked.

“Three days. It’s all I need.”

______________----

Sarah was glad to be home of sorts. They all arrived safely but her mother became very sick so all concerns were about her recovery. The matron had insisted that they continue with the matchmaking, but Sarah had firmly refused to even consider thinking about her happiness while her mother was in such a state. Relatives would accuse her of being selfish and unfilial.

Finally, when her mother was healthy enough to move around once more did she reluctantly agreed to start looking for a husband. There were plenty of men put forward by relatives insisting that they would be perfect for her. She doubted it.

It turned out the fussiest person in the groom selection process was not Sarah, but her father. He loved his son, but also doted on his daughter and wanted to make sure that the man for her was good, hard working, fearless and rich…very rich. It frustrated her mother to no end when he rejected nearly all the men when they tried to negotiate the bride price. He wanted a hundred head of cattle, goats and sheep, servants to take over their daughter’s former responsibilities, plus some jewels for his wife. There were some men who could do it, but wondered if the merchant’s daughter was worth so much.

“Hey,” Samuel disturbed her and her mother from their weaving, “a new suitor just showed up and he’s Roman. He’s talking to father right now.”

“What?” Both women were shocked and rose to investigate.

Rushing to the main sitting area, Sarah nearly collapsed when she saw that it was none other than James! Except he wasn’t dressed like a gladiator, but a Roman citizen.

Meanwhile James saw her enter and it was as if he had been given water from paradise. He offered her a small smirk before turning back to her father.

“Your daughter is a pearl without price, but I am willing to pay for her to be my wife.” He said firmly.

“I am surprised that you are here making such a request when I don’t even know you.” Her father asked.

“I was a common soldier who joined the legion and fought the barbarians up in the frozen north. I then became a gladiator because after all the ugliness and horror I saw I didn’t care what happened in the world. I was the Winter Soldier and my life was meaningless until I saw your daughter.”

Sarah blushed and her mother studied her. “You know this man, Sarah?”

“I do, Mama. I know him as James.” She admitted, her heart beating fast.

“When she left I wanted to die, but then someone reminded me that I had the choice and the means to get her back.” He then explained how he took his life savings and bet it all to win one of the largest, winner take all gladiator battles exhibited at the arena. There were no less than thirty pairings and winners kept fighting until only one stood standing, then the leaders decided to throw in a few tigers just for fun. By the end of it, he had been battered, bruised, bleeding and exhausted beyond belief. The only thing that gave him courage was the pink linen tucked on his belt, for her he’d fight until the end and he nearly did. His reward finally? He was rich beyond belief, so finally he dropped his sword, took his money and sailed across the sea to find the only one who would make him happy.

“Sarah, be my wife. Run my house, bear my children and I will love you with a flame that will shame the sun.”

“Yes!” She cried out, running and throwing her arms around him before anyone could stop her. To be in each other’s arms after believing that they never would again was intoxicating.

The family was then shocked to see them kiss with a passion that only lovers could have.

Her father cleared his throat sharply. “Sir…the bride price?”

James drew back, his eyes fixed on Sarah’s joyous expression. “Name it, name your price. I’ll give you Rome itself.”

The family matron gave her husband a knowing look and the man sighed understanding. “Rome will not be necessary, but we can negotiate the bride price into something reasonable so long as you promise to make my daughter smile as brightly as she is now.”

In the end her father got his hundred head of livestock, her mother got a small casket of jewels and Sarah sought out the most beautiful fabrics for her wedding dress.

Sam helped his new brother-in-law find a house worthy of his sister and arranged it to her liking. When the ceremony, rituals, and feasting was done, James took his beloved wife over the threshold of their new home and brought her to bed. There their passion was unleashed once more as their bodies mingled on the marital bed. James feasted on her like a man starved and she saw the heavens every time they joined.

“I’m yours, yours completely.” She murmured sleepily as they lay sated in their bed.

“My wife,” he replied pulling her close, desiring her warmth. “I loved you at first sight.”

They had an altar to Venus built and tied around the wrist for safe keeping was the pink kerchief.

[nexus-nebulae]

found my ancient mp3 player recently. finally found a charger for it and plugged it in. and remembered i found a yt playlist of the whole httyd movie chopped up into like 20 videos and i downloaded the mp3s of all of them to listen to on the school bus. which is why i can effortlessly quote the whole first movie now

[cheetah-roll]

Just letting you guys know, I think that the most important things in this post are the last 3 1/2 paragraphs. Everything above is still, just as important, but it is mostly me just ranting. If you want to read the point that I'm trying to get across, just skip to there. Would still appreciate it though if you read everything however.

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

I went to a funeral prayer for a man who lost 10 family members in Gaza. Ten. Please think about that for a second. Ten lives is ten lives too many. Ten people is practically my whole family, on my mothers side at least. Ten people is my grandparents, aunts and uncles. The twins and Baby Grace. Ten people, is literally all of my friends, plus my sister, gone. No one should lose that many people in such a short amount of time. No one should even lose one person to outright mvrd3r and g3n0c1d3. And we’ve lost thousands of people. Thousands of innocent men, women, and children, and for what? To claim a land that wasn’t even yours to begin with? A land that you’ve slowly taken over, over a course of 75 goddamn years? 

I’ve been well aware of what’s been happening in Palestine since before October 7th. This conflict didn’t start then. It’s been going on since 1948. For years, the Palestinian people have been pushed from their homes, attacked, and killed. They welcomed the Jews into their land after the H0l0c@u$t. Giving them a home. A place to live, and feel a sense of safety. Instead, their land was taken over by people who didn’t even belong there in the first place. 

I$r@3l has tried to erase Palestine. They have tried to make it seem as if it never even existed. That there has only ever been I$r@3l. Well, it can’t. Palestine has always been here. It’s in your goddamn bible. One of the world's oldest churches was destroyed. Why aren’t people upset? Jesus Christ was born in Palestine. Look it up. He was born in Bethlehem. Does it say that Bethlehem is in I$r@3l? Well, forget that. Bethlehem was a part of Palestine before I$r@3l took it over. There is proof. Jesus was Palestinian. You're literally destroying his birthplace. His home. If you love Jesus so much, maybe think about that shit before you blindly start following every stupid Zionist, western, colonist nation there is. Stupid colonists who think that they have the right to just waltz right into any country they please, rob them of their resources, mess up their systems, destroy their land, and just leave. And then, years later, they complain about how corrupt those nations are. How uncivilized, and impure. You’re the reason they’re like this! You think that you have the right to do whatever you please? Well you DON’T. YOU are the ones who put these corrupt people in power. My homeland is  messed up because of these stupid colonist nations. These countries may be corrupt, but at least we’re not like America or Britain. At least we didn’t force Native Americans from their land. The land that was rightfully theirs. At least we didn’t k!ll them all. Right, cause that was fucking America. At least we didn’t capture and enslave generations of African Americans. At least we didn’t drop TWO ATOMIC BOMBS on Japan! You’ve gone and messed up everything that you’ve touched. So many groups have lost so much, or now have health problems or are facing poverty because they still carry the weight of what you did to them. 

Another thing that I would like to point out, which I’ve been told is now common knowledge, but I’m not too sure that enough people know about it. 9/11 was an inside job. It was all planned by the US. They hijacked their own planes. The people flying them were most likely forced or were offered money or some shit. The whole point of 9/11 was to get an excuse to attack Iraq and rob it of its resources. Because America just COULDN’T STAND another country having all that oil. So, they took it for themselves. They STORMED into Iraq, killed so many people, stole their resources, and then left, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. 9/11 caused a huge wave of Islamophobia in the US. Muslims were sent to jail for no apparent reason. Muslims were killed. We were feared. We were called terrorists. A security guard had to walk my mother and other Muslim students to their cars so they wouldn’t get attacked. People were so afraid of us, but really, we were the ones in danger. All this, just so the US could get some oil. Now, because of what’s happening in Palestine right now, Muslims and Arabs are more at risk. I don’t want to be afraid that the mosque I grew up going to will have ugly, red words sprayed onto its glorious walls. I don’t want to feel scared of my visibly Muslim mother going out one day and never coming home. I don’t want my beautiful religion to be tarnished by the hate and ignorance of others. 

I was talking to my mom one day. I asked her if we could hang a Palestinian flag outside our door. She took my hands in her own, looked me in the eyes, and with such resignation and certainty, she told me that if we did that, we were going to get killed. Hearing your own mother say that? That’s scary. Its fucking terrifying. That tiredness in her voice is something that I never want to hear ever again. And the sad part is, I know that she’s right. If we did that, our chances of getting murdered right on our front doorsteps would skyrocket. 

I feel like I’m living in some kind of dystopian, alternate reality. People are dying. You can see it on TV, read about in the newspaper, but no one is doing anything to help. People are just going on with their lives as if a genocide is not happening right at this very moment. They don’t care. Why isn’t this on the forefront of our goddamn minds? Are the lives of millions of people not worth talking about? Is their safety and their future not as important as your own? The people of Palestine are fighting for their lives right now. They don’t have access to food, water, or electricity. They are stuck in an open air prison, with bombs dropping directly on their heads at any given moment. They have been deprived of basic human rights and their dignity. How is any of this okay? How is the murder of thousands of innocents something that people are choosing to actively ignore? This isn’t okay. This has never been okay. And yet, it happens time and time again. Over, and over, and over. An endless loop of oppression, hate, and bigotry. When will history stop repeating itself? When will we learn?

I know that people have been speaking up about what has been happening recently. So many people have been showing their support, which I appreciate a lot. It makes me so happy to see people that I look up to speaking out about injustice and doing their part. I really hope that things will get better. For the people of Palestine, and for the world. A world where I’m judged for the God I worship, the people I choose to love, my gender, the color of my skin, and even for the way I think and perceive my surroundings, is not a world I want to be living in. I want to live in a world where I’m respected. A world where my choices, and my views, and my life is valued just as much as the next person. So please, do your part helping to end the occupation. Every little thing counts. Post about it, boycott companies, donate, please, just do something. Standing by and doing nothing will not solve anything. If you think that your small contribution won’t make a difference, you’re wrong. Your life matters. Your help will make a change. We can do it.

And with that, I will be signing off. I hope my questionable writing skills helped to inspire at least one person. Stay safe everyone, and do your part.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!!

[typingfool]

I can sleep in a bed full of clothes, but I can't sleep in a house full of hatred. If someone loves you, they will not go the length to make you feel unloved, unworthy, uncared, unforgiving I can't sleep in the soft mattress, for it retches in the smell of anger: a Father's anger: a Mother's ravage: I can sleep in a bed with no mattress, just wood.

Even trees hold more peace when they're dead, than you have held in the time of your wake.

[pencil-amateur]

noticed some similarities between eddie from rocky horror and beef from phantom of the paradise. flashy performers who got one song then fucking died and then got a song about how much they sucked (but still ended up being fan favorites)

[hoediaz]

about to be a bitch here’s your warning for $10 i will shut up and for $20 i will leave my rage cage and never go back in but it is very obvious that some people on this website have constructed a spine entirely out of the damp toilet paper clumps teenagers throw at their school bathroom’s ceilings and as a result any perceived slight against them real or imagined is enough to kill them on impact which, if they were honest, which of course they never will be, is exactly what they intended because the only way anyone will pay attention to them is if they’re the wounded morally superior victim of a heinous crime that never happened

[agnesandhilda]

it's one am in my time zone right now and all I'm thinking about is how li shimin (who I recently grokked is a fictionalized version of an actual historical figure, which is neat) from iron widow, as a guy who's been on death row since he was sixteen, whose severe alcoholism presumably developed in response to years of imprisonment and the loss of autonomy and violence that entails, who nuzzled the hand of the stranger(!) who comforted him while he was experiencing life-threatening withdrawals, and who also had his organs harvested that one time, is, at the very least, probably not a guy who wants to be the big spoon

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

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