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Bona Dea - part 4

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 7.4k

A/N: I'm back with part four of Bona Dea! Part 1, 2 and 3 are linked above. After the events of the last part, Acacius is now on his way to Rome with his domina to start planning for their new life together. I was originally thinking this would be the final part but the chapter got very long so there will be a 5th part too.

A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Letica - a vehicle, a litter used for carrying people Vita mea - my life Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia - Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius - Wherever you are, I will be

Marcus remained true to his word, he was there when you woke an hour later. The wagon had come to a stand still and he was gently caressing your cheek as he roused you from sleep with a soft whisper. 

“Carrisime, wake up. We’ve arrived at the inn, let’s get inside,” his arm was warm on your shoulder as he sat up, his cloak still wrapped around you. “Alba,” he said, his voice a bit louder, “wake up, girl, rouse yourself.” 

He held your hand as you stepped from the carriage into the courtyard of a country inn, and reached out to steady Alba as she stepped down too. 

“Cauponi,” he called, seeing the door open, “send someone to take care of the horses and the ladies’ luggage. I want to get them inside and settled as fast as possible, they’ve had a very harrowing day.” 

The guest master nodded and called over his shoulder to someone on the inside. Marcus kept his arm around you, keeping you steady on your feet, as he gestured to one of his men to help Alba. Grateful for his solid body next to yours, you ventured into the inn. A slave girl bowed low and waved you along, leading you all up the stairs to the guests’ quarters. The room she showed you too was small but comfortable, and you gratefully sank down onto the bed. Even though you’d slept in the carriage, the events of the day were catching up with you and you felt tired to the bone. Alba must’ve felt much the same, because she sat down on the bed next to you, aided by Marcus’ soldier. She gave him a grateful smile as he bowed and retreated. Marcus remained in the room, giving orders to the slave girl while you put your arm around Alba and pulled her close. She leaned her head on your shoulder and let out a deep breath. 

“You’re safe now, puella,” you soothed her quietly, “we’ll get a good night’s rest and then the general will escort us to Rome.” 

“We won’t go back home?” she asked and you shook her head. 

“Lunaris gave orders to pack up and move the household to Rome, remember? I will have to figure out what to do with it all when they arrive. But it will take them some weeks to get to Rome.” 

“Where will we stay when we get there?” she looked up at you with worried eyes and you realised you hadn’t thought of that yet. Marcus had asked you to begin a new life with him in Rome, but what did that mean? You couldn’t move in with an unmarried man, you needed a place to stay until everything had been sorted. You bit your lip as you tried to think of a solution, but Marcus came to your aid, as was becoming his habit. 

“I have a good friend, Titus Cassian Aurelius, I’ve known him almost my whole life and I trust him with everything. He’s married and lives with his wife and two children near my villa on the Palantine, you’ll both stay with him for as long as is needed while you get your affairs sorted.” 

“He won’t mind? I can rent something nearby, I don’t want to impose on him and his family,” you said as Marcus sank down next to you on the bed. 

“It was his idea, the whole thing actually, he’s a very strategic man, my most trusted advisor,” Marcus said and then chuckled quietly. 

“She’s already falling asleep again,” he nodded with a smile at Alba whose eyes had already slipped close again, “Get her to bed and come find me, I’m in the room next door. I’ve ordered them to serve dinner there,” he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple. 

Marcus left and you tucked in Alba, lifting her legs onto the bed and covering her with the bedding. She looked peaceful sleeping, and you suddenly felt very tired yourself. The events of the bandit’s attack had been spinning at the back of your mind since you woke up in the carriage, now they filled your head, the choked gasp that escaped Lunaris as the man slit his throat repeating in your ears. You suddenly needed Marcus to hold you, to feel his warm body wrapped around yours, just to make you feel safe. 

You tapped lightly on Marcus’ door and he quickly opened. One look at your eyes misted with tears, and he pulled you over the threshold as he closed the door, pulling you into his chest. 

“Carrisime,” he mumbled into your hair as you buried your face in his soft tunic, his warm hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his arms holding you tight, “hush, vita mea, it’s over, you’re safe now. I’ll always keep you safe, amor.” 

He stroked your back gently, slow soothing movements as your shoulders shook with each sob. All that could be heard was your whimpering, and Marcus’ softly mumbled words of comfort, reassuring you that you were safe, over and over again, until finally your breathing calmed down and your tears subsided. Marcus pulled back a little and gave you a small smile, cupping your jaw to wipe at your tear stained cheeks before he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. 

“I think you need some food, it’s been a very troublesome day. Come,” he took your hand and led you over to the table where a small dinner had been laid out. The inn was fairly simple, but Marcus’ room was clearly meant for guests of a higher status because it had the reclining seats next to the low table. With a grateful sigh you sank down on one of them and Marcus poured a cup of wine and handed it to you. 

“Here, drink slowly, and have some food, it will make you feel much better.” 

He reclined on the other seat as you gratefully sipped the wine, it wasn’t very good, but the sharp flavour of the grapes warmed you. Marcus filled a bowl with a simple stew and added some of the meat before he passed it to you. 

“Here, eat, carissime,” he said, his eyes softening as they met yours and you took the bowl, He moved his hand to carefully push a strand of hair behind your ear, “I wish we could’ve been together in some easier way, I hate to see you so upset.” 

“I’ve never felt so helpless before,” you sighed, “even when my father married me to Lunaris. I could always do something about my life, change something to make it more bearable. I had protection as his wife. But to see Lunaris pulled out of the carriage, and then the other man pulled me out, we were at their mercy and there was nothing I could do to protect myself or Alba. It felt like my world shattered when there was no one to help us. I was so helpless.”

Marcus shook his head wistfully, “I regret my plan, I should’ve taken out Lunaris myself, I never wanted to make you feel helpless. You’ve always seemed so strong, so capable, it’s what attracted me to you when we first met. Ordering me, a general, around like you’d done nothing else your whole life.” The last thing he said with a small chuckle and you smiled back at him as you swallowed down some more of the stew. 

His face grew serious again and he sighed, “I forget when I’m with the army, surrounded by soldiers, how vulnerable women’s situation can be. I forbid my soldiers from hurting any women in the cities we conquer, but I wasn’t always a general who could command his own soldiers. I’ve seen first hand how men treat women after the battle is over.”

“Do you ever think of the people who are killed in all the wars?” you asked quietly and Marcus nodded. 

“Yes, often. But when I was young, I never thought about them. To be a soldier and fight excited me, I was stronger than almost anyone, no one could beat me. And when Roman soldiers fell, I grieved the ones I called friends, but they’d had proud deaths, for the glory of Rome. They would be honoured by the gods for their sacrifice.” 

He paused and put some more stew and bread in your bowl, “Eat and drink, carissime, and then you’ll sleep well tonight.” 

You did as he said as Marcus rubbed his large palm over his face and sighed again. 

“But I’m not young any more, and now they stay with me. Both the ones I’ve killed and the ones who die on my orders. I’ve lost count of all the men I’ve sent to their deaths. Even when we win great victories, men always die on both sides. War is brutal and I find I have less stomach for it these days.” 

“And the men you killed today? Will they stay with you?” 

“Maybe, but probably not. I feel no guilt about killing them, they were bandits. Even if I hired them to attack Lunaris, they were criminals. Titus got them from the local jail, they were headed for the arena.” 

Marcus put his bowl down and took your hand, gently pulling you to your feet, “Stay with me tonight, carissime, no one will disturb us.” 

You nodded as he led you to the bed and helped you out of your sandals, removing your jewellery as you undid your hair. His hands were soft as they brushed over your skin, unwrapping you until you stood in front of him in just your stola. With a soft smile he touched his fingertips to your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw and cupping it. 

“I need to pay tribute to Bona Dea for guiding me to you, and giving me the chance of being with you for more than just one night,” his voice was low, the room very quiet except the crackling of the fire. You looked up into his eyes, warm and golden

“I want to spend all my nights with you, Marcus,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss his smiling lips as he wrapped his arms around you and returned the kiss. 

“I hope you want to spend all your days with me too, carissime,” he mumbled against your mouth, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I do,” you replied, tugging him gently onto the bed and pushing back the bedding. 

Climbing into bed, getting under the covers with Marcus instead of falling into it in a frenzy of kisses and arousal, felt pivotal, even if the moment was very domestic, under strange circumstances. When Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. Never had your husband made you feel this safe and content, so treasured. And despite the tumultuous events of the day, you soon fell into a deep sleep, tucked against Marcus' chest and with his arms around you. 

The next morning you woke, still wrapped in Marcus’s arms. It took you a moment to remember where you were, but at the sight of the strange room, the memories came flooding back. You turned your head to look at Marcus and found him just blinking awake, rubbing a drowsy hand over his eyes. 

“Good morning, dominus,” you smiled at him, pushing back one of the dark curls from his forehead. 

“Good morning, my domina,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep as he yawned wide. 

He pulled you close again, guiding your head to his chest, “It’s too early, I haven’t slept this well in many months, let’s steal some time, carissime.” 

You pressed a kiss against his chest and he grumbled low in appreciation as he closed his eyes. 

He didn’t get many minutes of extra sleep though, barely no time seemed to pass and there was a heavy knock on the door. 

“General, it’s septima hora,” a voice called. 

“Thank you, Orbius. Tell the men to prepare to march.” 

With a grumble he pushed himself up and glanced down at you, still curled up against him. 

“One more day, tonight we’ll be in Rome and we can start preparing for our lives together properly.” 

“I can’t wait, Marcus,” you replied, sitting up too. He took your chin between his thumb and finger and pulled you close, his mouth finding yours for a slow kiss. 

“One for the road,” he smiled, “Come, let’s sneak you back to your room.” 

The day in the carriage was long, but you and Alba passed the time by watching the landscape roll by and chat with Marcus who often rode next to the carriage and entertained you both with stories of his travels. With his men nearby, he couldn’t appear to be more than a casual acquaintance of your husband’s who’d just happened to rescue you from the bandits. But his smiles as he looked down at you filled you with warmth, and the mild December day seemed to hold a promise of spring as the arcadian countryside near Rome passed by.  

You’d been to Rome once before as a young woman with your father, while emperor Marcus Aurelius still ruled. But not even the vague images in your memory could prepare you for seeing the grand capital of the empire up close again. With Alba pressed to your side, you both all but hung out of the carriage window, trying to catch a glimpse of the sprawling metropolis as the Aurelian Gate drew near. The structure loomed high over you, letting a steady stream of carriages, horses and pedestrians into Rome through the imposing city wall. Alba’s eyes were wide, the walls from your own small hometown were nothing in comparison to the thick bulwark that served to protect Rome. 

The small force that had escorted you and Alba diverted to barracks at Campus Martius, and Marcus and two officers led the two carriages towards the Palantine and Titus’ villa. The Aurelian Way was wide and let the traffic pass easily as the tall buildings on either side grew more and more grand, the road beginning to snake its way up towards the crest of the hill. Soon the small party turned on to a narrower road and came to a halt in front of a gate. The sentry challenged the driver but snapped a sharp salute when he saw Marcus on horseback. 

“General Acacius, welcome back, I’ll let Cassian Aurelius know that you have arrived and send men to take care of your party.” 

“Thank you, Quintus,” Marcus replied, waving the two carriages through the gate. 

Titus Cassian Aurelius’ villa was grand on a scale you’d never seen before, your own back home was nothing by comparison. You stepped down from the carriage as Marcus swung himself from his horse. 

“My lady, it has been my pleasure to keep you safe on this journey, despite the grievous circumstances I found you in. My condolences again for the loss of your husband. I hope to see you soon again.” 

With that, he bowed low, before turning on his heel and marching with sharp steps away into the house. It stung you a little, the way he had to seem almost indifferent to you while in front of others. It would be many weeks before your husband’s affairs were put in order, to declare you a widow and make it possible for Marcus to properly wed you. Until then he would have to appear to treat you as a fleeting acquaintance in public. Perhaps he could visit Aurelius’ villa regularly, they were old friends after all, and you could see him then. Even if Marcus couldn’t treat you like his wife yet, just seeing him would be enough, at least you’d both be in the same room. 

A slave escorted Alba and you through beautifully decorated rooms and hallways until you reached two interconnected rooms in the guest quarters of the house. 

Every wall was covered by mosaics and paintings, and in alcoves and quads were fresh flowers and works of art, beautiful effigies of the gods. The two rooms assigned to you both, opened up to a walled garden, and somewhere behind the evergreens you could hear tinkling water. 

“Domina Aurelius would like to know that the villa’s bath is yours to use should you wish to refresh yourself after your journey,” the servant slave woman said as she stood by the door, waiting while you and Alba made yourself comfortable in your new lodgings. “There’s an alcove for your maid here, and the latrina is through that door.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, “a bath sounds like a wonderful idea. Could you please show us where they are and arrange for fresh clothes to be brought there?” 

The woman nodded and stepped aside to let you leave the room again. She led you to the villa’s thermae and left you to be cared for by the slave woman there. It was bliss to sink into the warm water and rinse off the dust and grime of the road. You lounged in the sunken pool while the woman worked on Alba, massaging sweet smelling olive oil into her skin and scraping it off. When your turn came, you all but fell asleep under her ministrations. The scraping of the strigil made your skin feel soft and warm and you both yawned wide as you made your way back to your rooms. But you weren’t left alone for long, there was a knock on the door and a dark haired man entered. 

He bowed low and introduced himself as the master of the house. 

“And call me Titus, please,” he said, a warm smile on his open face, “any friend of Marcu’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Thank you for letting us stay here, Titus,” you replied gratefully, “I don’t know what we’d do if it wasn’t for your generosity.” 

“It’s no trouble, the villa is big enough as you can see, and my dear wife was delighted by the idea of having some female company stay with us for a while,” he chuckled lightly, “She has no female relatives and and I have been away for a long time, she’s been running the house and taking care of our rag tag bunch of children. To have you two in the house will lift her spirits immensely.” 

The fast thrumming of bare feet could be heard from the hallway outside the door and Titus’s bright blue eyes sparkled as he turned towards the sound.

“I think you’re about to meet one of my offspring, by the sound of it, Gaius, my oldest son.” 

A boy about the age of eight tumbled through the door, a big grin on his face as his father caught him and swung him up in the air. 

“You’ll wake up the dead with all that noise, Gaius,” Titus laughed, “What’s the rush?”

“Mater said to tell you that dinner will be served any moment and you should bring our guests into the dining hall.” 

“Then we best do as she commands, and not upset the cook by letting his food grow cold,” Titus set Gaius down on the floor and extended his arm to you, “Please, domina, let me escort you, Gaius, show some good manners and escort Alba.” 

Titus' friendly manner and easy laugh made you feel comfortable in his company almost straight away. And the fact that he was Marcus’ most trusted advisor further warmed you to him. You knew he knew about you and Marcus, he was the one who’d fashioned the plan for the ambush after all, and he seemed to have accepted Marcus’ words about you without any hesitation or doubt. You accepted his arm with a smile to match his and let him lead you out into the hallway. As you walked, Titus bent his head to yours and whispered. 

“My wife and children don’t know about you and Marcus, I’ve kept it from them to make the secret easier to contain. But my wife is a very perceptive and clever woman, she might guess your attachment anyway.”

“Marcus said he trusts you with his life, does that extend to your wife?” you asked, wondering silently how you’d keep your eyes from wandering to Marcus as soon as he was near. 

“It does, he’s known her for as long as I have and she is a good friend of his too. In fact, I’ve often wished for him to find a woman to marry to equal her. She is my eternal pillar, I truly do not know how I’d go through life without her by my side,” Titus replied with a soft smile. He glanced over his shoulder, Gaius was chattering away to Alba who was laughing at his excitement about the new horse that had just arrived. 

“I’m looking forward to meeting her, she sounds like a remarkable woman,” you said, “And Marcus is lucky to have such good friends, I really can’t thank you enough for your help.” 

“Marcus and I have known each other since we were boys, he’s saved my life countless times and we’ve been through many campaigns together. He is a great man and I’m proud to call him my friend.” Titus' emotions were clear on his face as he turned a corner and led you through a set of wide double doors into the dining hall, “I have never seen him so affected by a woman before, as he was when he returned to the camp after meeting you. If I can help him find the same happiness I have with my Antonia, I’ll do whatever he needs.” 

Titus gave your arm a gentle squeeze before he held out his hand towards the woman who was walking across the room. 

“Domina Lunaris, please meet my darling wife, Antonia Cassius Aurelius.” 

The tall woman’s dark skin gleamed under the light of the oil lamps as she smiled at you. Her jet black hair matched that of her husband and her son, but while theirs was cut short and neat, her tight curls were piled high on her head and fastened with gold combs. 

“Domina Lunaris, we’re honoured to have you and your cousin as our guests,” she embraced you warmly, taking you off guard with her fondness, “I heard of the attack and how General Acacius came to your rescue, what an ordeal! I’m so glad he was there, and please know that you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.” 

“Domina Aurelius, we are very grateful for your hospitality, and for General Acacius' aid, we can’t thank you enough.” 

“Domina.” 

The low voice was very familiar by now, and a frill of excitement shot through you as you turned to Marcus who had appeared behind Antonia. He bowed low as Antonia stepped back to give him space to greet you. He was out of his armour and wearing a dark green tunic, foregoing the cumbersome toga. His dark curls looked damp and you guessed he’d been to a thermae too, maybe the one in his own villa before returning here. He looked wonderfully informal, you thought, relaxed, as if he’d left the general at home, or with the soldiers, and come only as Marcus. 

“General,” you replied, curtsied low to him, catching his smile just as you dropped your gaze to the floor, the perfect image of a deferential lady greeting a celebrated Roman officer. “Thank you again for all your aid and for arranging for us to stay here, we’re very grateful.” 

“It has been my pleasure, Domina Lunaris,” he replied, taking your hand and leading you to the table. It was an informal setting, all of you reclining around the same table, even the children were allowed, and you smiled as you watched Gaius bow deeply to Alba as he showed her to her accubitum. 

Titus reclined next to you with Antonia to your other side, Marcus was opposite with Alba next to him. You could feel Marcus’ eyes on you from the moment you reclined on the accubitum, warm and smiling, as the servants brought out the food and wine. It took all you had to not look back at him and smile like a fool, instead you raised your glass in toast as Titus formally greeted Alba and you to their family home. 

“To new friends and new beginnings,” he smiled at you both. You met Marcus’ eyes over the brim of your glass as you sipped the wine, and he winked back at you with a grin. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, he was clearly giving no care to letting Antonia see his intentions. Already you could sense her curiosity as she took a platter from a servant and offered you the first bites. 

She said nothing about Marcus’ behaviour throughout the dinner, instead the conversation flowed easily around the things Marcus and her husband had seen during their latest campaign. The two men shared stories that made you all laugh, the children giggling as Titus gave a very accurate impersonation of a grumpy Marcus at the end of a very wet and muddy march. You glanced over at the usually so stern general, and found him laughing along with the children as his old friend poked fun at him. Seeing him surrounded by the people who must mean most to him, warmed your heart, and as he turned his gaze on you and smiled, you returned his affectionate look. 

As dinner wound down, Antonia sent the children to bed, and led you all to a smaller, informal room with comfortable accubita filled with pillows, the floor lined with thick rugs to ward off the cold December night. You sat down on one of the recliners, putting a pillow behind your back, but before you could lay down on your side, Marcus sat down next to you, his hand on the small of your back. 

“I’m tired of pretending,” he mumbled, “When the servants have left, I would like to tell Antonia too.” 

“I don’t think she’ll be very surprised,” you smiled at him, “we are terrible at hiding our secret.” 

Marcus gave a soft laugh and glanced over at Antonia who was speaking to a servant. They left an amphora of wine and cups on a small table, and left, leaving the five of you alone in the room. As she turned to the room and came to sit next to her husband, she raised an eyebrow with a smile as she saw how closely Marcus was sitting to you. 

“Something you wish to tell me, Marcus?” she asked, and he chuckled as Titus laughed. 

“It could not have been more obvious if Cupid had stood behind you shooting arrows,” he grinned at you both. 

You felt Marcus shift next to you, his arm sliding more firmly around your waist, and you looked back at him, not bothering to hide the infatuated smile you knew was spreading across your features. 

“Nothing gets past you, Antonia,” he replied, pulling his gaze from you and smiling at her, “It seems Cupid has indeed done me a great favour, and thanks to the protection of the gods and the wit of your husband, I’ve managed to lure her to Rome to be my wife.” 

Antonia’s smile widened and she slapped her husband’s shoulder, “You cur! I knew something was brewing and you told me nothing!” 

“Don’t blame your husband,” Marcus said, “We do need to be careful and keep our commitment to ourselves until the affairs of Lunaris are settled. But as soon as possible, we’ll make an official announcement and be married.” 

“Oh, Marcus, I’m so happy for you!” Antonia rose to her feet and crossed the room, bending down and placing kisses on both his cheeks before she did the same to you, “I’ve wanted love and happiness for you for so many years, I’m so glad you’ve finally found your match.” 

“Thank you, Antonia,” you said, “Now you understand even more why I’m so very grateful to you and your husband for letting me stay with you until all is settled.” 

“For as long as you wish, dear friend,” Antonia assured you, “We’ll be like sisters, after all, Marcus is my brother in all but name.” 

Titus brought forward the cups after that, raising his glass, “Another toast then, to love this time, and to new families.” 

You all drank to that, and Marcus placed a warm kiss on your cheek as he put his cup down. 

“Amor,” he whispered, “Soon I’ll bring you home, and I vow to be the most loving husband Rome has ever seen, nothing will keep me from your side again.” 

When the party finally broke up late at night, you walked with Marcus to his letica while Alba retreated to your rooms, giving you a few moments alone with him. Out of sight from his household guards, he pulled you close by the entrance to Titus’ villa and kissed you deeply.

“I have business to attend to tomorrow, but I will come for dinner tomorrow night again,” he whispered after a long, lingering kiss. 

“I’m counting the days until we can sleep in the same bed again, until I can be properly yours,” you said, leaning your cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. 

“Same, carissime,” he replied, “but know that I’m already yours, you need no law to tell you that. I’ve been yours since the night of Bona Dea,” he tilted your head up with his calloused fingers and kissed you again until you both broke apart, breathless. 

“You make me feel like a young man struck dumb by Cupid’s arrows,” he chuckled, “I really should go, my household will wonder why their master returns from a long campaign only to stay out all night again.” 

“Until tomorrow, Marcus,” you smiled, pressing a final kiss to his cheek. 

The next few weeks fell into a routine, during the days Alba and you would help Antonia with the household, visit her friends and be introduced to her circles of Roman life. In the evenings, almost all of them, Marcus would come for dinner and you would be able to steal a few moments with him alone. You would find a secluded corner of the garden if it was not too cold, he’d wrap his cloak around you as you sat on his lap, cocooned in his warmth. Then you’d let him know if there had been any updates on your husband’s affairs, the slow process to declare you a widow and let you inherit his small fortune. Unsurprisingly your father had tried insisting on you returning to your home town, but you had refused to respond to his letters on that topic. 

These quiet moments with Marcus were the best of your whole day. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Alba and Antonia, seeing Marcus’ face as he arrived at the villa and smiled at you, taking his hand in yours and sneaking off, those were the moments that lived in your heart for the hours when he wasn’t around. 

When your time together was up and you had to return to the others, your lips were always swollen from his kisses, and the imprints of his hands had left warm marks all over your body. Like guilty, giggling school children, you’d sneak back into the dining room or the reception room, cheeks heating up as Titus’ teased you both. 

But then finally came the day you’d been waiting for; the messenger arrived with the documents, stamped with the official mark of your hometown, your husband’s estate was now yours, the assets en route to Rome and you, legally a widow. 

You told Marcus as you sat wrapped together under his cloak on one of the garden benches, and he cupped your face between his big hands and kissed you deeply as the cloak slipped off him. When his lips left yours, he leaned his head against your forehead and closed his eyes for a few moments before he pulled back and looked at you. 

“Carrisime, I never formally asked you to be my wife, even though you know that I wish for nothing else. But now I can finally honour traditions and give you my ring.” 

From the pouch on his belt he took a small package and carefully unwrapped it. The polished gold glimmered in the light as he held it out to you. 

“My hand is joined with yours,” he said, as you took the ring and saw the two hands that embellished the ring, “If you’ll have me.” The last thing he said with a mischievous tone and you looked up at him with a smile, he knew there was no doubt in you, you were his as much as he was yours. Without a word you held out the ring to him to put on your finger, the fourth of your left hand, where the vein that ran to your heart began. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you whispered as he slipped it on and he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. 

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius”. 

The wedding vows spoken between you in the quiet garden would need to be repeated in front of a priest, with all the ceremony required to legally make you his wife. But as far as Marcus was concerned, he was now your husband. And in the eyes of Rome, the ring on your finger now marked you as his, and he would fight anyone who tried to say otherwise. His lips left your hand and moved to your lips as he pulled the cloak around you both again, wrapping it and his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. The ring felt light on your finger, the cool metal a constant reminder that you had left behind your old life, and could now walk through Rome as Marcus Acacius betrothed. 

You were very late for dinner that evening, but the news of your formal status as widow and the new ring on your finger, stole all the attention away from any concerns of cold food and irritated cooks. 

The very next day Marcus began to plan for the ceremony and feast that would make you his wife. Tradition held that a widow should wait ten months before marrying again, but since no one here knew you or Lunaris, it was decided that tradition could be ignored Your father was also left out of the planning, he’d controlled the choice of your first husband, you were determined he would have nothing to do with your second marriage. 

“It will be just you and me and Titus’ family,” Marcus promised, “We’ll keep the ceremonies so that we don’t anger the gods, but to hell with anyone else.” He’d brought you the knot of Hercules for your wedding day clothes and smiled as you traced your fingers over the decorations in the belt. 

“I think I may have untied the knot a bit too early,” he chuckled, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I remember my first wedding night,” you said, and Marcus tightened his arms around your waist at the grim tone of your voice, “I was scared, I’d been told it would hurt, and I was trembling when I lay in bed with him. He untied the knot and told me to take off my tunic and then he just tried to push himself in. I cried and he told me that it proved that I was a virgin.” 

“He was a fool,” Marcus said, his tone soothing as he pulled you closer to his chest, his warm body and presence calming you and reminding you that your next wedding night would be very different, “A groom should have experience of the other sex so that he can show his wife how to enjoy married life, it should be a pleasure for both husband and wife.” 

“Oh Lunaris wanted it to be a pleasure alright, he would lecture me when he couldn’t get hard, tell me it was my fault. But not once did he think to make me feel pleasure too. I doubt he’d be able to though, that man could barely find the right hole to stick his cock in.” 

Marcus chuckled softly behind you, his hand closing around yours, still holding the Hercules’ knot belt. 

“Don’t think about him, and don’t think about your first wedding day anymore. This one will only be about us, I want us to have happy memories, and I want you to think about how many times I will make you cry my name in pleasure when I finally get to untie this belt and make you my wife.” 

His words filled you with heat, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder as you reached up and cupped his cheek. 

“Can we find a secluded spot in this villa for just a few minutes?” you mumbled, pressing your lips to the warm skin of his neck. 

“Carissime,” he growled, his voice suddenly low and hungry as his hands tightened on your hips, “you have no idea what a hold you have on me.” 

You smiled against his throat and let your tongue taste the pebbled skin, tasting the salt and musk of him as he took a deep breath, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Show me,” you muttered quietly, grazing your teeth over his neck, moving up as far as you could, nipping at the thin skin under his ear. Marcus was gritting his teeth, you could feel it under your lips as you continued to press wet kisses over his throat, his jaw, and you inhaled his warm scent. 

He suddenly pulled away from you, taking a few long strides to the door of the room, closing it firmly, and turning the lock. 

“Here,” he said, his voice low and desirous, coming back to you and pulling you close again, “Here will do if we’re quiet and quick.” 

You nodded and shoved aside the white tunic and belt on the table just as Marcus took hold of your waist and pressed himself against your back. 

“How do you want me?” he murmured, his mouth now at your throat, “from behind like the first night, or up on this table like when I showed that fool Lunaris how I make you scream my name?” Marcus’ control was slipping, he could feel his member rapidly growing hard as he grinded against your soft body, his hands pulling you closer as he marked your throat with his teeth. His mind was buzzing, blood flowing in only one direction and it was almost painful how quickly his cock filled. He groaned into your neck again, rutting against your ass like a dog in heat. It had been over a month since he last had you to himself and now he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into your cunt and feel that addictive heat again. 

You couldn’t respond, just moan as his hands began to slide under your stola, his mouth hot against your skin. His fingers wasted no time in pushing aside your undergarments, sliding into your wet folds, growling against your neck at finding you so ready for him. 

“Marcus…” you pleaded, arching your back and urging him to push deeper in as he curled his fingers and began stroking your insides. He could feel you dripping over him and his cock twitched, pressed up against your soft curves. 

“I think you’re ready for me,” he panted, driving his fingers deeper in as you moaned a little bit louder. He swiftly covered your mouth with his other hand, “Quiet, carissime, quiet, my greedy domina,” he chuckled into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. His fingers slipped out of your wet cunt and you gasped under his palm in anticipation as you felt him reach for his cock. 

“Lean forward for me,” he mumbled, gently pushing you over the table. The cool air of the room chilled your skin as he lifted your stola over your hips, but the warmth of his hands as he kneaded the flesh of your behind shot new heat through you. Soon you felt the weight of him over your back as he leaned forward and pressed kisses to your shoulders, his hand guiding his cock through your folds, your arousal spreading over him as he groaned above you. 

When he breached your tight opening, you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out his name, and Marcus hissed, cursing low under his breath. His fingers dug into your hips as he pushed in, rocking his hips back and forth to slide himself deeper into your tight cunt. He was growling, a low rumble in his chest, and you felt him pull you back onto his cock, filling you all the way up as he bottomed out. His fingers moved between your legs and found the swollen pearl at the apex, circling his thumb around it. Your response made him press himself firmer against your backside, feeling you contract around him as you moaned under his hand. Choking back a groan he increased the pace, driving deep with each thrust, your grip on his cock was hurrying him towards his own finish and he suddenly moved his hand from your mouth to your waist. 

“Domina…” he panted against you as he pulled you up, making you arch your back against his chest, “I can’t hold on much longer, let me feel you come with me.” 

His fingers were matching the fast rhythm of his hips and the new angle hit a new spot inside you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as your body felt like it was about to combust. 

You could only groan in response, reaching back and tugging at the curls at his neck, pulling his mouth yours to stifle your cries. Your legs seemed to lose all control as you came, Marcus' arm holding you up as he continued to caress your clit and drive his cock up into your spasming cunt. He was groaning into your mouth, his hips erratic as he felt his cock release deep into you, thrusting hard, pushing in as he lost all other thoughts, only your mouth against his and the wet, tight heat of your cunt filled his mind. 

You seemed to come back to your senses faster than Marcus, your legs finding their strength again even though they felt unsteady. Marcus still had a firm grip on your body, his hand slipped from your wet folds to hold onto your hip. He rested his head against your shoulder, taking deep breaths as he drove his softening cock in and out of your cunt a few more times to milk it all out. With a long, shuddering exhale he finally stilled his movements and released his tight grip. 

“Are you still with me, old man?” you teased him lightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hush, domina,” he chuckled, “don’t mock your ageing soon-to-be husband, you will need to take care of me when I can’t fuck you like this anymore.” 

You giggled as he swatted your behind and kissed him again. He gave a satisfied grumble as he pulled you tight against him. 

“We should probably clean up and be seen in public soon,” you said, “before we raise even more suspicions.” You could feel him dripping out of you as his soft cock slipped out, and he nodded against your back. 

“I can’t wait to have you in my own villa, no one else around, send away the servants, lock the doors, and then we can do this all day,” he said, “I’m making good on my promise from when we first met, when I’m your husband I’m keeping you in my bed, day and night,” he pulled down your stola and smoothed it out, squeezing your behind at the same time, “I do believe you called me your magnus concubinus, I have every intention of living up to that title. 

There was a sudden knock on the door, just as you pulled him in to kiss the wicked smile he’d given you, and you had to end it far too soon. 

“Only a few more days,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek instead, before you went to answer the door.

Tagging some lovely people who showered the first three parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0

[fettuccin-e]

Angel Incarnate

Kinktober Day 7: Soft and Slow

Tags: Javier Peña x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, really really light angst, domesticity, javi is finally happy guys okay (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Alright so this is so fluffy it hardly even feels like a kinktober prompt but y'know what javi has his dick out so it counts okay. anyway i had a really fun time writing this because i love it when sad characters are happy it brings me insurmountable joy (For the month I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Everything around him has always been so violent. His world has always been bloody and bruised and chaotic, and Javier had always supposed that it was just meant to be that way.

He didn’t deserve anything better than the angry pain of Bogatá. He’d hurt too many people, ripped apart too many lives to be redeemed, to deserve any kind of sweetness. His life boiled down to blood and tears, the endless race against the narcos too much to take anything slow. The only sex he had was rough and violent, just like his life, just like his soul.

Getting back to Laredo, to his father’s ranch, had been a kind of culture shock that he didn’t think he could experience anymore. The lack of gunfire, the lack of violence, day in and day out, had him reeling.

He’d tried burying himself in the work, fixing up his childhood home and tending to the cattle and the horses, hardly venturing into town at all. The people who knew Javi, the young man who left Laredo with a bride at the altar for a life as an agent, did not need to know Javier, the broken, hollow, shell of a man. He didn’t need their pity, their looks of confusion mixed with sympathy.

He regrets those first few months now, the ones that he spent hiding from the rest of the world. After all, the first time he went out into town, went into the only little library for miles, he found you.

And you, God, you’re so different. So kind and patient, even when he’s rough with you, even when he tries to push you away. It’s a kind of slow, soft sweetness that sings through his bones, that makes him feel human again. 

You’re slow with him, gentle in a way that he hasn’t been treated in years. He feels precious here, with you, between the soft sheets of your shared bed, as you roll your hips on top of him, taking him slow and so deep inside of you.

He wants to grip your hips so hard they bruise, roll you over and slam into you until you’re sobbing and writhing from the pleasure of it. He wants to press your face into the pillows and fuck you hard into the mattress. 

But he holds back, just like you want him to. Let yourself just feel, Javi, you had told him one day, after he’d taken control from you, just like he wants to right now. We don’t have to rush.

So he doesn’t. He brushes his hands along your waist, relishing in your soft skin as  you drop yourself down on his cock, over and over again. You gasp as he stretches you apart.

“That’s it, baby, so beautiful for me,” Javier murmurs. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, whining as he guides you down to grind deep into your g-spot. “It’s so- it’s so good, Javi. You feel so big like this.”

Javier groans as you clench around him, tight and wet and fucking perfect. The soft morning light filters through the curtains you put up last week, illuminating your skin and enshrining you like an angel. You are an angel, he thinks, as close to heaven as he’ll ever get.

He leans up, searching for a kiss that you gladly grant him. He loves kissing you, licking into your mouth and tasting you as you moan for him.

You curl your hands into his hair, grown longer with his time away from the DEA. The one time he’d asked you about cutting it, you’d protested so hard he’d laughed for thirty minutes straight. He’d started letting it grow after that.

You lean back up, undulating your hips in a way that has him groaning, pulling on your hips to help you along.

“You want to cum, Javi?” you murmur, pulling him in so fucking deep his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Por favor, nena, si,” he gasps, and God, you’re the only one that can make him beg like this. To make him desperate like this.

“Come on, honey, fill me up,” you coo, and Javi is lost to it. His hips jerk up of their own accord, pumping into you involuntarily with his orgasm. He spills into you without the fear of knocking you up, knowing that there’s no violence, no uncertainty with you. A small, not-so-secret part of him actually hopes it’ll take.

You whine above him, pushing your hips down on him over and over, frantic for your climax. He reaches a hand between you both and rubs slow, hard circles into your clit, and fuck, the way you cum will always steal the breath from his lungs. Your eyes clench shut, your mouth exhaling a beautiful, melodic little moan as you rock yourself on his cock, working yourself through it.

“That’s it, beautiful, so fucking good to me, so pretty for me,” he husks, and you curl yourself over him, meeting his lips in a sticky-wet kiss that has you both desperate for more. He palms his hands over your back, pulling you down to rest on top of him as you both breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You both don’t move for a long time, content to bask in each other’s warmth as the morning sun rises, bringing another day to spend together. It’s a kind of peace, a kind of contentment, he’d thought was a pipe dream for so, so long.

“How did I ever find you?” He murmurs into the quiet of the room. You tilt your head up from where it rests on his chest to smile softly at him. He feels like he could drown in your gaze.

“I think we were always meant to find each other,” you whisper, and like always, he knows you’re right.

[eldritch-spouse]

"Thank you for being such a generous host Hudsyn, it's good to see you again. I was missing your company. Where did you get this gorgeous cup set from? I have to get myself one, you have very good tastes. And speaking of tastes I'm curious, what type of drink is this? I've never seen anything shimmer like that before and can't say I recognize the aroma either."

(He seems to snap out of the fantasizing daze, seeming immensely pleased with himself.)

" I acquired them just for the occasion, dear mentee. You have yourself a fair pair of eyes for noticing. "

(The demonoid gestures over to your cup, inviting you to take a closer look.)

" Notice the feathers on it? A nice touch, certainly. Fine for the occasion. Oh, and the eye on that spoon- "

(He cackles, looking at the thing as if it were some hilarious, cleverly worked-out joke.)

" Perfect. "

(As his fit dies down, Hudd regards you with a twinkle in his gaze. Tickled pink by the observation.)

" That's because you've never had it before. "

(There's a smug lilt to his tone.)

" Doesn't it look beautiful? There's few ingredients that can make such a mesmerizing swirl of hues. Do have a taste, it'll be the rush of your life, my dea- " (Hudsyn coughs.)

" This last venture of mine has gifted me much in terms of new discoveries. What you see is a delicacy of times long forgotten, there, in the palms of your hands once already, can you believe it?! "

(He looks moments away from kicking his legs in the air like an excited pubescent girl.)

[laughingmaidenarising]

A Confession; an essay on unveiling

I hope that a very specific anon will read this.

Please bear with me as I confess. When I first began this account my goal was to connect with other filianists/deanists/etc. I truly am a believer in Dea. However, one of the great pains that I struggle with is compulsive lying. When I am encountered with an opportunity to formulate a lie, no matter how small, often I do so, even when it could cause hurt to my relationships. Recently I have been working with a therapist to cease my lying and have made great improvements. However, when it comes to the digital world the temptation to spit out lies left and right comes so easy and natural to me that I cannot help but do so. To be completely honest with my followers, I was not raised filianist. My family ranges from hard atheists, to agnostics, to christians, to dabblers in witchcraft and spirituality. And so to be completely honest, I am unsure why I decided to come onto this platform and lie to all of you. I apologize profusely, and am determined to change. By the Grace of the Goddess Almighty I will quit lying and be honest. I am not using my compulsive lying as an excuse, only as a reason for why this has happened. I do understand if I lose some or all my followers, and I will accept this humbly. I apologize to any in this community that I have hurt, or offended, and wish to let everyone know that in my heart I do love Dea. My intentions were never to lie.

My plans are to continue using this account as a filianic space; I will delete all of my posts in which I have spoken lies. I understand also that it might be hard to believe anything I say now, but I am being truthful when I say that I won’t lie anymore on this page from hereafter.

The only thing I venture to ask is that you could all try to be respectful in your replies.

xx, Iridessa

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

FBI!!!!! OPEN UP!!!!!!!

DOWNLOAD (Weapons Included Inside Set)

2 Years Ago, My Two Good Friends. a South Korean @bedisfull And Japanese MUSAE (@effiethejay) Making A Joint Venture on Patreon. And Creating FBI uniforms that I found are Interesting & in That Time and Inspiring me to do the Same. However Due EA New TOU Towards Paywalled Creators back in 2022. they must Cut Their Venture on Patreon Short and Decide to move To TSR (TheSimsResource) And this Stuffs Are Serves as Tribute To Them And Serve Upgrade to Their Works.

Fun Facts:

The FBI do not usually handle offenses related to narcotics or the like, it is usually instead the job of the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration). They also do not dispatch any kind of armed forces in the event of bank robberies or armed assaults, it is often the job of the local police or SWAT. Real-life cases warranting FBI intervention usually have to be an end-result of a lengthy investigation (as described verbatim in the full name of the organization), and an assault randomly happening out of the blue does not present a chance to "investigate" (with brute force) at all.

FBI-armed divisions however, will co-operate with on-site police forces in apprehending assailants during joint operations, though again these activities do not normally extend to common bank robberies or art gallery incursions so the presence of FBI personnel in most heists remains odd.

Thank you For @bdangkingfish For Suggesting A Silenced Pistol For My Future Works, Such A Briliant Idea if you Asked me

Thank you:

@exzentra-reblog , @cctreasuretrove @emilyccfinds @sssvitlanz

[sagevalleymusings]

Kaos and the Fall of Media Literacy

In my junior year of high school English, my English teacher gave us two poems side-by-side to analyze. He said specifically that the poems were challenging to analyze and had a deeper hidden meaning that we might not get right away. The poems were “Douglass” and “We Wear the Mask” by Paul Lawrence Dunbar.

I still remember this many years later, because I sat up with my brother and my mom for hours on end trying to figure out what the deeper meaning was, since “racism” was the obvious interpretation, so that couldn’t be what my teacher meant by a deeper hidden meaning. I looked up the biography of Frederick Douglass, the famous abolitionist. I looked up the biography of Paul Laurence Dunbar, a turn of the century African American poet one generation removed from slavery. I analyzed every single word and beat. My handouts were black with scrawled ink on every available surface as I tried to puzzle out what other than racism this poem could possibly be about.

The deeper hidden meaning was racism. I wasn’t supposed to have instantly known that Douglass was a reference to the famous abolitionist. I wasn’t supposed to have looked up the author, realized he was a Black American with parents that had been enslaved, and read the poem through his eyes. I was supposed to have looked at it, as a white teenager in suburban Ohio more than a hundred years after the ratification of the thirteenth amendment, and assumed that “the mask” was a more generalize-able social face than racial code switching.

“We Wear the Mask” taught me something very important about media literacy. It taught me that most people are terrible at it.

Most teenagers are terrible at everything in fairness. But the fact of the matter is that when our English teacher prompted the class for analysis, there was a pregnant silence before I timidly ventured that “Douglass” was obviously a reference to the famous abolitionist Frederick Douglass. I didn’t say much more than that, though, because I felt like I had missed the mark. I couldn’t figure out the deeper hidden meaning.

I was the only one who’d made the Douglass connection. And if you don’t know that, if you don’t know when Dunbar is writing, it could be easy to miss that this is transparently about race.

Sometimes, in order to understand a piece of media, you have to have a little bit of background knowledge. Knowing these things can lend to a deeper understanding of the true intent of the media. Now that people know that both Wachowskis are transgender, it is transparently obvious that The Matrix is a trans allegory. It’s something that was always true, and people have been telling us it was true for a long time. But knowing the context makes it that more clear that it wasn’t even meant to be a hidden meaning. That was the open interpretation, and we just needed to know the context to know that.

Kaos’ premise is a modern-day Ancient Greek myth, complete with the Olympian pantheon, famous names like Minos and Orpheus, and with locations like Troy, Crete, and Athens. In order to truly understand what the story of Kaos is about, one would have to know a great deal about Greek mythology, so that you could see where the stories are remaining faithful and where they are deviating.

Or at least, that’s how it should be. Instead, the entire show is heavily narrated over, telling you exactly where they remain faithful and where they deviate. Part of the reason why seems to be that they’re not especially faithful to the original source material. The Tacita, for example, draw their name from Dea Tacita, a Roman god of the dead. The Greek interpretation of this seems to be a nymph named Larunda, but in either case, Tacita is not the name of an adherent of Hera.

So even knowing a great deal about Greek mythology, which I cannot claim to, this show could still be meandering and confusing. They change perspective repeatedly through the course of the show, weaving back and forth in time and location to spin out a complex tale with some familiar faces. And the tactic that Kaos decided to take in order to simplify this complexity is a narrator.

Narrators can be useful. But they can also be the bandaid of poor directing. One of the most repeated rules of any kind of storytelling is “show don’t tell” and a narrator is diametrically opposed to the concept of “show don’t tell.” Their entire purpose in a story is to ‘tell’ the audience complex or historical concepts that would be difficult to explain through subtler means.

In moderation that’s extremely useful. If your entire show is narration, that’s a bad sign.

And the worst part is that I appear to be in the minority on this. I’m reading a review on IMDB that says that this show doesn’t “spoon feed” the audience, and actually I would agree. It feels less like spoon-feeding and more like the writers parked a backhoe named Prometheus right on top of my jaw and are burying me alive in irrelevant world-building.

I see a lot of people calling the editing sharp, calling it fast-paced, maybe saying that the first couple episodes are a little slow but things change so quickly that you’re never bored… but the thing is, the first couple episodes are a little slow because someone is explaining the plot to you in painstaking detail the whole time. “Remember her, she’ll be important later” makes me want to claw my own eyes out.

One example I can think of which makes this even more noticeable by being an obvious attempt at subtlety is the “mark” on Orpheus’ hand. In this version of events, Prometheus and Charon were lovers long ago, and Prometheus, who is already plotting the fall of Zeus, has to kill Charon for some reason (I guess so that he winds up in the Underworld in a prominent position? Whatever. A lot of the plot is shockingly irrelevant to the plot.). And before Prometheus kills Charon, he makes Charon promise that one day, there will be someone Charon needs to protect and that “you’ll know him by the mark.” Fast forward to Orpheus who is trying to get into the Underworld. One of the Fates, Lachy, stabs his hand to get him to fess up to complicated plot things (again, honestly not that important) and then some time later (only a few scenes in this sequence, but spread out because of the way the story keeps jumping around) we are shown the bandaged hand as a reminder that Orpheus was stabbed, and then we are shown in the Underworld that Orpheus takes the bandage off and the wound has healed into an X scar. Okay, we’ve been shown, we’ve been reminded, we know that this is the “mark” that Charon is looking for, and we are expecting the payoff to be Charon noticing this mark at some point, we just don’t know how yet.

So we get to the expected scene, and we see Orpheus wrestling with… some guy, honestly I don’t remember or care. And he’s flailing his arm in an obvious ‘hey notice my mark’ way and you’re like, okay this is it. So far, an easy, satisfying plot point with a clear payoff that the audience can follow. Up to this point I don’t have a complaint with how the story is playing out.

But then. Not only are we shown this flailing again at a different angle, but the whole scene slows down as Charon fails to notice once, twice, finally realizes. And then a flashback happens about how he’s looking for a mark. And then Charon asks explicitly where the mark came from and if you hadn’t put two and two together the first time, the answer is “Fate” which Orpheus says not once but twice. And then Charon literally out loud says “This guy? Seriously?” And then we see a message scratched into the sand by an eagle which is literally signed by Prometheus (okay, it just says P but come on it’s literally signed) and then we cut away to Prometheus smiling down at Charon so that you know he absolutely did write that, just to hammer home… Seven. Separate. Times… that this is definitely the important guy and that’s definitely the mark.

That’s bad directing and worse editing. The idea that there’s a mark and that this comes to pass thousands of years later, that Prometheus is doing what he can at a distance and is watching events unfold, all that works as storytelling. It’s an interesting twist of narrative that the way Orpheus was supposed to have gone to the Underworld was the complicated way that led to him being stabbed, so that Charon would know to support him. It ties Orpheus’ story into the broader plot against Zeus in a satisfying way. But they hammer home the points of their story over and over again, a shocking achievement for a story which actually does have a pretty breakneck pace.

The watch is another one. Zeus pauses to say that his watch from Hercules is ‘lucky’ and we slow down to watch it hit the table. We see Zeus take the new watch off but we don’t see him put the new watch back on which is enough to clue the viewer in that it’s important that he didn’t put it back on. Dionysis sees the watch, puts it on, so far I don’t really have any complaints. We know this is going to come back, we just don’t know how yet.

This gets lampshaded to absurdity, however, when we see Zeus quizzing and murdering all his staff over this watch, Hera calling Poseidon who calls Dionysis, we spend so long belaboring the point that Zeus is very upset over this missing watch and then we are told again that it’s Hercules’ lucky watch. Every single story beat is told to us at least twice if not three or four or seven times just to make sure we’re following along exactly.

If I actually sit with it, I like the writing. The watch being missing and then traded to the Fates so that Dionysis couldn’t give it back is an interesting way to treat that thread. There’s some changes to the story that lead to interesting and different outcomes. For example, Orpheus and Eurydice’s relationship. In this version, Orpheus is so in love, so obsessed, that Eurydice has started to pull away. It feels too much. She feels like she isn’t as in love as Orpheus is and that disconnect leads her to feel less and less connected in their relationship as the guilt eats what feelings for him she did have. Cassandra calls her out on this, and we think that we understand that Cassandra is prophesying a breakup, which would be a sharp change from the original story. But turns out the “leaving him today” meant dying (which, we didn’t need Cassandra to be literally standing there explaining that as she’s bleeding out on the road, but whatever. Directing problems). That’s an interesting and new way to get Riddy into the Underworld.

Orpheus might be able to sense the pulling away and is clinging on even more tightly. The song he sings at the concert about sucking up her every breath is peak toxic co-dependence. I don’t like Orpheus for her. So it isn’t really a shock when it turns out that he stole her coin for passage into the Underworld, which winds up keeping her in the Underworld long enough for him to rescue her, a thing which otherwise in this version of the Underworld would not have been true.

That’s just one change that winds up having interesting implications for the story they’ve written. There’s plenty of others. The setting is a good one – I like Kaos.

But the directing and editing make this story feel force-fed for most of the show. It gets a little better as it goes on and we run out of things we need to catch the audience up on. But as late as the last episode of the season, we have a voice over saying “a line appears” while we watch a line appearing just you know for sure that this one this time is the line they’re really talking about.

But at the end of the day, I’m not sure I can even blame them. I haven’t looked into it too much, but I do wonder how a pilot of this show would have tested with audiences, if people who didn’t know anything about Greek mythology found the storyline confusing and meandering, if they came away frustrated rather than intrigued. Maybe the narrator was a late addition, to fix editing problems that led to an unwatchable show. But if that’s the case, then it absolutely is the bandaid I mentioned at the beginning, and that’s not a good reason to have a narrator. I’ve written about this topic before, but I think pop media and the decline of media literacy education have been feeding into each other. Creatives make simple, easy to follow stories because audiences haven’t been trained on media literacy and find it frustrating in ways that an older audience would not have, audiences become used to simple, easy to follow stories and balk at anything else, rinse repeat until you get a show whose premiere episode is 40% narration being called “not spoon fed.”

I want to come back to “We Wear the Mask.” When I was in junior year of high school, analyzing this poem and struggling with my mom and my brother to figure out the meaning, there was no Wikipedia. There was no SparkNotes. I had a full set of encyclopedias from the 60s and dial-up internet. Googling “We Wear the Mask” now gets you an immediate and in-depth explanation of the meaning. But it’s been my experience that the kinds of people who do Google the answers rarely actually read those answers. And most people don’t bother. And that’s assuming that Google doesn’t just lie to you, which it’s now doing with increasing frequency. The internet has any answer to any question we could think to ask at the tips of our fingers and it’s increased media literacy not one iota.

[elkieselkiewrites]

Find the Word Tag Game

@ace-malarky tagged me to find the words bold, wait, crack, and settle

I'm not going to lie, some of these were a struggle. I had to dip into a WIP I'm not even currently working on to get the first one!

BOLD (Nightjar WIP)

"She has been signing for six summers now, she was the one who taught us." "Six summers," He mused. "She must have been very young then." Nightjar nodded. "She was five." This gave the King pause. "She is eleven summers?" Losing her patience, Dea snapped her fingers in front of her brother's face. "Yes, eleven summers. In fact, brother, you know exactly how old she is since you were there at her conception." The enormity of that statement hung heavily between them all for a moment. "That is a bold claim, sister." He said weakly, eyes flitting between Dea and Pipit. "She's not mine. She can't be."

WAIT (Postmaster WIP; Chapter 20)

"My dear Baroness!" The Margrave's wife said, a genuine smile lighting up her angular face. "Look at you! I had no idea congratulations were in order!" Renia allowed Lady Birita to take her hands in her own, pressing a kiss to either side of her cheek. "We were away travelling when we discovered the news, so we decided to wait before an announcement was made formally." Bolek said, diplomatically, and Renia's answering smile was small but grateful.

CRACK (Postmaster WIP; Chapter 5)

Knowing full well she had no right to complain, Ida remained quiet, but the ache of exhaustion had begun to set in and the jolting of the cart did little in the way of lulling her to sleep. Eventually, with a groan and a few cracking pops of her spine, Ida gave up all pretense of sleep and instead looked out into the gathering gloam.

SETTLE (Postmaster WIP; Chapter 15)

They walked in silence for a little longer before Wren spoke up once more. "They used to call these islands Gyalachjar, islands of the moon. My people believed sailing out to them was akin to sailing into the afterlife. The coastline the Imperials call the Whiting Strand to us was simply The Mists, and to venture there was to invite death." "But this is Outer Goria, how could they settle a place they thought was death itself?" Ida said. "Well, it was literally death for many, as we found out, because of the creatures and treacherous rocks, but once Captain Hubert Gorka finally landed here he found there to be nothing more mystical about the islands than there had been at home."

I won't tag anyone in particular, but if you see this and would like to play along, your words are safe, deep, open, and skip.

[rainbows-fanfics]

Help Unwanted (Chapter 10)

Summary: After losing the Pirate, Deacon is unwillingly paired with a partner to help with his job. The only problem is - they can't stand each other, and time is dwindling until he can re-capture all his lost prisoners.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101.

Pairings: Deacon/Queen!Deacon, Deacon/OC

--

Their ship sailed until they reached the village of Santo Pollo. From a distance, the crew spotted smoke rising from the church. There was no doubt that the damage was caused by an act of arson, unequivocally by the marauders that now terrorized the land. As they went about docking, Dea felt a pang of pity as she thought about the villagers. She hoped they were alright and that she could bring a hand in ending this madness. 

As soon as their ship was secured to the dock, Deacon rounded up the crew. A few villagers watched them pass by wearily while others held clear suspicion on their faces. They couldn’t be blamed - they were under attack, and the presence of visitors was unprompted. Still. No one stepped forward to question them, so they passed through until they reached the church. There, they were finally addressed by a friar, who clutched a bible close to his chest and adjusted his circular glasses. 

“Greetings, my children, and peace be with you. What brings you to our humble village?” 

Deacon pointed to the building behind him. “Do you know who did this?” 

He addressed the burning house of God with a sad nod. “We were attacked by a group of bandits last night. But no one has been in there since - we’ve been a little afraid, wondering if anyone’s still in there. Do you plan on venturing forward?” 

The fire was burning at a steady rate. They’d have to make their move as soon as possible to get clues as to the group’s recent whereabouts. Dea took a step towards him and gestured with her hands. 

“We are here to find someone who helped with this attack. If you’ll let us, we hope to rid you of them entirely.” 

He eyed her attire with obvious judgment, but begrudgingly stepped to the side to allow them in. She was mildly offended as they passed by him and into the doors of the church. None were surprised to see the state of the interior - parts of the walls caved in, a pile of benches and podiums lit aflame in the middle of the room, and rubble scattered everywhere on the floor. Deacon scanned the room while the rest of the crew peeked behind pillars. They came to the conclusion - 

“There’s no one here,” He announced. 

Dea let herself relax as she took a look around for herself. She approached one of the pillars and found a torn flag that had been recently desecrated with a golden bold ‘T’ . She pointed to it and got her co-captain’s attention. 

“..The mark of the vigilante you’ve been talking about?” She asked. Deacon came closer to observe the sight and let out a groan. 

“It’s as I suspected. He must have dealt with the raiders. I wonder if our target is even alive.” 

“-Is he the killing type?” She inquired, following the rest of their crew out. Deacon shrugged while one of their disguised soldiers informed the friar that the church was clear. 

“I don't know enough about the man to say. But I would not blame him for doing what he needs to. However, our fugitives are more valuable alive than dead.” 

They moved into the middle of the village, stopping to gather their bearings. Their crew began discussing what to do next. Dea listened to their ideas, but found her mind clouded. Something occurred to her that she neglected to pry about when she first joined the Armada. She didn’t even question it when she was assigned to aid an Elite’s objective. She’d been so ecstatic to be promoted to such a position, that she didn’t examine the motives behind it…

“Deacon?” She asked, stepping closely to keep their conversation private. She didn’t want to give them away, but also wanted an answer before they continued on. “What exactly happens to these prisoners, when we’re done with our mission?” 

He tilted his head. “You don’t know?” 

“Queen neglected to tell me. It seems to be hush-hush in the Armada.” 

“They will be brought back to Valencia to be questioned.”

“-Questioned about *what*?”

He noted the uneasiness from the villagers around them and picked up his cane. The longer they lingered, the more suspicious they became. It was exactly what he wanted to avoid. “We’ll discuss this later.” 

He moved away and she raised her voice. “I’ll be holding you to that, espía .” 

The spymaster pulled out a map from one of his pockets and unfolded it to share with the crew. They huddled around him. He pointed to an area that was not far from Santo Pollo, trailing his fingertip along as he spoke. 

“The source of the bandit’s operation must be on the outskirts of town, somewhere in Banditoad Trail. If there’s anywhere we’ll find him , I believe it is there.” 

“- ’Bandit’ oad Trail? That can’t be a coincidence?” One of their crew-members spoke up. Even their Captain paused at the implication. 

“...It made it easy to find their location, yes.” He folded up the map and turned on his heel to lead them in the right direction. “Be ready; there’s no telling how many are out right now.”

…

… 

Deacon’s warning was fortuitous. After following the trail, they were abruptly stopped by a group of bandits. The crew sprung into action - delivering good blows to the unsuspecting raiders. Dea and Deacon remained behind - shooting any who happened to slip past. They aimed for their limbs, deterring their enemies and bringing them down more easily. Their fighters remained upfront, taking care of most of the brawl. 

The number didn’t seem to decrease, as they were constantly being bombarded. In the midst of the fighting, they kept an eye out for their wanted criminal - only to come up short on the men who attacked them. Those who wore masks and bandanas were taken care of in a different matter - where Deacon made sure they were incapacitated so he could quickly check their identity. They still had no success. 

After several confrontations, the group was beginning to tire - constantly fighting with no discovery of their target. Their soldiers grew weak, having to move continuously under the blazing sun. As they took care of their enemies at a steady rate, Deacon and Dea were faced with even more bandits than before. They did their best to keep their distance, but stopping to reload their guns presented an opportunity for their opponents to get close. One had landed a rough hit on Deacon - effectively stumbling him back. Dea fired a shot in his direction, not landing, but causing him to move backwards. Her partner returned to his feet and noticed they were surrounded, their crew now long ahead of them. 

“ Cavolo!” He swore. They remained back-to-back as they shot at the marauders surrounding them, who were closing in awfully fast.  

“Where did everyone go!?” Dea exclaimed, attempting to look over the shoulders of the men around them. Deacon lowered his head as he accepted the situation - they’d been separated from their crew in the middle of battle. 

This was not good. 

Before either of them could be attacked, a laugh sounded from above. The group stopped what they were doing to gaze in the sky confusedly. A black figure jumped from practically nowhere and landed in the sand between them. He rose to his feet and pointed a sword in the direction of the bandits, laughing once more at their surprised expressions. 

“Ha-hah!” 

Without pause, the man struck the nearest few and threw his whip to wrap around a nearby branch. He swung on it to slash at the rest, grinning as he watched them fall down instantaneously. When he landed on his feet, he cracked his whip at the backs of two figures who attempted to strike him - watching them fall to their knees and scream in agony. He kept this up until the bandits ordered a prompt retreat, running from the scene as fast as they could.

As soon as they were gone, the man whipped around to redirect the blade of his sword at the two. He flashed a pearly, yet menacing, grin at them. “Now, you fiends shall suffer the wrath…of El Toro! " 

A group of trumpets played around them. They were able to get a good look at the figure that had been moving so fast. He wore a circular hat and black cape that majestically flowed with the wind, sporting a mask that covered his eyes, as well as a black outfit that had an open v-shaped area around his chest, revealing an ample amount of hair. He stomped his boot as he sliced a large 'T' in the air, for extra flair.

Before Deacon could respond, feminine laughter broke the tension. The men looked to the side and found Dea chortling as she pointed at their new company. 

“"A Zorro ripoff?...THAT’S who you are?"

He took offense at her comment and flared his nostrils. "-I resemble nothing of what you just called me! I…am EL TORO! Enemy of all oppressors, defender of the innocent!"

She ignored the trumpets for a second time and continued to snicker at his performance. El toro grew impatient and decided not to pursue her, turning his attention to Deacon instead. He narrowed his blue eyes. 

“I know what you are here for, canalla . I will not have anyone else terrorizing the people of Santo Pollo! Leave while you still can!” 

The Emissary held up his gloved hands to try and diffuse the situation. "We are not here to attack anyone. We are trying to capture a convict who has escaped from our hands."

El toro tilted his head as he closely observed their masks. He shifted his stance. "I am not familiar with your kind, but I know that you do not belong here. Who is it you are exactly searching for?"

"Our target goes by 'Esteban' . He is one of the raiders destroying your village."

His leather clad fingers twitched on the handle of his blade. He clearly recognized the name, but withheld his trust. "Who do you work for? Where have you come from?"

Dea had stopped laughing at this point and composed herself. "We're two people who are enforcing the law. And if you help us, we can help you .”

He remained on edge, refusing to lower his weapon. He turned his head to think about something. "This… 'Esteban ' character…I have learned about him. He is the leader of the bandits. An incredible thorn in my side.” 

It dawned on Deacon. “That would explain why we have not yet seen him. We are trying to reach his base, but have been separated from our group. If you can point us in the right direction, we will gladly take care of the rest.” 

“I cannot allow you to proceed!” He asserted, thrusting his blade further in their direction. “I have been watching you all, since you reached these lands. Your people have grown weak. Without my assistance, you will all undoubtedly die.” 

Deacon muttered something about that being an exaggeration while Dea moved forward. “So you’ll help us?” 

He studied them a bit longer before slowly retreating his sword. "We share a common enemy, do we not? You wish to capture their leader. Without him , I can easily chase the rest out. I will restore peace to the village.” 

He used his whip to lunge himself upward and land on a dead tree to get a better sight. He craned his head down to address the two. “Consider this a… temporary affiliation . I expect you to leave when we are done.” 

Deacon nodded. “I assure you that our departure will be swift.” 

“Good…I see your people up ahead. The place those rogues are staying is in a cave - you will reach it if you keep heading east. I will meet you there.” 

They watched as El Toro easily launched himself away with a hefty swing, and was running on his feet out of sight. They carried on when they were on their own. Deacon handed Dea the small canteen he carried on his person. She took it with grateful hands and moved her head away to take a hefty gulp of water. 

She handed it back to him and clacked her tongue. “So, why exactly did you want to avoid him? He was quick to help us.” 

His answer was one she never expected. “He’s annoying.” 

She thought back to his introduction and held her laughter. It was dramatic and a little overbearing. It still piqued her curiosity. “-You two have met before?” 

“We’ve come across paths during my time in Cool Ranch. I doubt he recognized me just now.” 

“That’s because you’re missing your cape.” She pointed out. “Was it just me, or was his flowing * against * the wind?” 

She sensed him smiling under his mask. He soon shook his head. “I pray we don’t have to fight beside him for long.”

----

They finally reached their crew, who had been desperately searching for their Captains. Once they were reunited, they exchanged water and took a little rest. In just a few minutes, they would be meeting with a masked vigilante who was willing to help them. 

El Toro was waiting there, as promised. The two informed their crew of the help they were receiving, so no weapons were pointed at him when they approached. He dropped himself to the floor of the cave entrance and turned expectantly towards Deacon and Dea. He made a quick once-over of the group that would be fighting with him. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t voice aloud, as he turned and led them inside.

“We must waste no time!” He exclaimed. 

They followed after, staying alert of their surroundings. Dea took this chance to make sure her gun was loaded while Deacon discreetly pressed a couple of buttons on his communicator. El Toro motioned for them to stay back. He moved forward cautiously as the two captains joined his side and got a good look at what awaited them. 

A group of bandits remained ahead, conversing with each other as they idly stood around. They eavesdropped on their conversation, but found nothing of value. El Toro motioned for them to charge ahead, and the rest complied. They successfully took the group by surprise and had them all knocked out in a matter of minutes. They moved forward, not sparing a minute of pause. There, they encountered another group who, this time, had apparently expected them. 

“ Ey !” One of them exclaimed, drawing his gun on their new company. “Are you itchin’ to have your brains blown out?” 

El Toro took a few brave steps forward. He was unimpressed with the barrel currently pointed in his direction. “You brutes have been terrorizing the people of Santo Pollo for too long! Now, justice will be served!” 

With a quick snap of his whip, El Toro smacked the gun out of the man’s hand and struck him with the end of his sword. Everyone charged forward - the sounds of knives clinking and gunshots echoing in the enclosed cave. It was hard to tell what was going on amidst the scuffle. Blood was sent everywhere, several strikes sending the liquid in different directions. Some cries of pain sounded on top of the other. What rang the loudest was when the fight was over and silence ensued. Everyone stood glancing at each other, taking note of who was still standing. 

Once all heads were accounted for, they rushed to continue their journey. They stumbled upon Esteban himself - who stood proudly in front of his desired group of lackeys. He was as repulsive as Dea imagined - a man with the sides of his head shaved, grease coating his skin, accompanied with ripped clothing and fingerless gloves. He had an intense look in his eyes as he grinned much too widely, stepping forward with confidence as the awaiting group poured in. 

“Well, well. Looks like the Armada has found me, after all.” He tipped his head in the direction of the disguised crew. “Have they sent their best people? I don’t want to go out without a bang .” 

“Since you’re aware of your arrest, let’s make this easy.” Deacon countered as he disposed of his cane. “Surrender yourself now before any more blood is shed.” 

“I’ll do that when you give me back Alyssa!” He barked angrily. “That’s all you bastards are good at. Bullshittin’ people ‘til they sign their lives away! We were going to start a family, for fuck’s sake!” 

The Emissary was unphased. “Turn yourself in before you leave us no other choice.” 

“Fuck off!” 

Esteban pulled out a gun and shot without warning. The bullet barely missed their battle angel. It was an invitation to run and confront the bastards. El Toro went to work disposing of the henchman while Deacon urgently attempted to make his way to the leader. He was thwarted with every step, some rogue throwing themselves at him before he could even aim his gun properly. They gradually mashed into one mess, with hands being thrown in random directions as everyone attacked those in their general vicinity. 

Dea managed her way to Esteban, and was just about to pull the trigger before a hand forcefully grabbed her from behind. Her reflexes brought her leg backwards to kick the offender in the shin, freeing herself from their grasp. This motion had caught the enemy’s attention, and when she stumbled forward to regain her footing, she was already seized again. This time, by the man she sought after. 

His voice was gruff as he spoke in her ear. “A fighter, huh? Alyssa was one, too. Come to think of it, she had a body * just * like yours…”

Then he did something Dea did not expect. His hand slid down the front of her disguise, smoothing between the valley of her breasts. He nearly slipped his fingers under the corset, but halted his touch below her waist instead. His fingertips brushed along the ends of her skirt, dangerously close to lifting it. Her body tensed as she registered this unwanted action. Then reality kicked in and she thrashed in his arms, hoping to loosen his grip. He held her down and laughed.

“That’s a nice outfit you got on. Do all women in the Armada dress like whores? If I'd known about the easy access, well, I wouldn’t have been running after her …”

An angry tear formed in her eyes as Esteban slipped his hand under and forcefully groped her. She lost every ounce of her self-control and screamed at the top of her lungs. She threw herself forward and attempted to throw him off balance. But he expected her move and countered it easily. He clearly had experience in this scenario. That thought sickened her. He was so distracted with trying to restrain her that he neglected to see the figure running towards them. 

There was no warning as a pistol struck him in the side of the head, loosening his grip and sending him to the floor. Dea reached for her gun, but her shaking arms made the attempt futile. It slipped from her hands when a hand locked itself around her ankle. She fell forward harshly - the air escaping her lungs as her ribs collided with hard rock. 

“You bitch!” Esteban was pulling her with an unexpected amount of force. 

He dragged his body on top of hers and delivered a cruel blow to her masked face. She swore she heard the material cracking under his knuckles. He grabbed her head with his other hand and smashed it against the floor - dazing Dea as the world around her began to mix colors. Before he could do it again, a shoe collided with the underside of his jaw, sending him off of her. She looked up in time to catch him wrestling with Deacon, who attempted to commandeer his weapon. 

During their struggle, one of the guns had gone off - whose it was, she wasn’t entirely sure. She was distracted when a sudden pain came near her stomach and her gloved hand instinctively covered the area. When she glanced down, the blood was already pooling from the spot. The aching in her head became unbearable and she struggled to maintain consciousness. A groan escaped her throat as she attempted to hold herself up. 

Her struggle was noticed by Deacon, who froze when he saw the sight. Taking advantage of his distraction, Esteban launched his fist into his stomach. The spymaster doubled over in pain as the other man grabbed a hold of his pistol. Before he could fire it, a whip wrapped itself around his wrist. A pained scream escaped his throat as El Toro encumbered both of his hands from behind.

“Quick!” 

Deacon jumped to his feet and grabbed a pair of handcuffs. Esteban's hands were secured and he was firmly held down by the masked vigilante, who looked proud with this feat. Deacon had no time to gloat over their accomplishment. He ran in Dea’s direction. He fell to his knees and lowered his head, noting her closed eyes and immobilized body. He desperately checked her pulse, relaxing a little when he confirmed she was still alive. 

“Santo Dios , is she alright?” El Toro implored. 

He inspected her abdomen before searching for the entry and exit wound. The rest of the crew surrounded the scene, their dragoon taking a hold of their prisoner for the time being. El Toro took a few steps forward and watched with concern in his eyes. 

“She’s still breathing, but not very easily,” He announced after a minute. He turned his masked head toward one of their soldiers. “Cinzia, vieni qui!” 

The desired soldier darted to his side and lowered herself to her other captain. She was the crewmember who had the most medical expertise between all of them. It took a few moments until she supplied, “I can’t find an exit wound. But we need to stop the bleeding.” 

Deacon nodded as he produced a roll of gauze from one of his pockets. Cinzia provided pressure and the necessary elevation as he wrapped it around her body. He could hear Rooke’s voice in his head - remembering the time his brother insisted on teaching him basic first aid practices. He encouraged Deacon to always carry around bandages, gauze, and clean cloth on his person for unexpected injury. He glanced at Dea several times as he worked, noticing the new crack in her mask that had nearly split it into two pieces. Something inside him twisted unpleasantly at the sight. 

It took a few layers and careful monitoring until the blood had finally slowed. The air around them was getting colder, so he removed his trench coat and laid it under his co-captain to retain her body heat. He still applied pressure to the wound and kept a close eye on her condition. He wondered what exactly to do next.

Transporting her using the ship was a dangerous option - there was no telling how rough the weather would become, and any excess movement could prove to be damaging. She would need treatment to locate and remove the bullet - neither of which he could supply at the moment, with their limited materials. It didn’t help that they were so far from Valencia right now. 

He sighed. “She may have a concussion. The degenerate slammed her head around pretty hard.” 

El Toro cut in. “I have heard that it is dangerous for a concussed person to fall unconscious. Is that true?” 

“Not in all cases,” Cinzia responded. “We'll need to check on her condition to see if any major damage has been done. What will we do, Captain?” 

Deacon sat there in silence, in a clear mental debate with himself. He felt angry and frightened, as much as he hated to admit it. All of this had happened on his watch - despite coming to her rescue, he could not stop the bullet that had accidentally launched itself during his struggle with the enemy. He felt nauseous knowing that it came from his own gun. He imagined Dea succumbing to her injuries here and struggled for air. El Toro approached them with a solution of his own. 

“I have a friend in Santo Pollo who can help you. His manor has a room to offer you sanctuary, until she is well.” His smile lowered into a frown. “I do not appreciate the deceit you have given me. But considering you have helped me today…It is a way to show my gratitude.”

"Does your friend have any medical supplies?" Cinzia asked seriously. 

"I am sure that he does, and he will be able to aid you better than I can. We must get there soon, so your friend can be treated."

Dea was secured in their Dragoon's arms as soon as he pawned off Esteban to Deacon, who purposefully tightened his cuffs until he heard the man inhale sharply. Several scenarios of torture played in the Spymaster's mind while they traveled to Don Rodrigo's Manor. Methods he was familiar with, and knew were painful for the prisoners who refused to comply.  He normally did not think of these things with such pleasure - he'd always carried them out with necessity and neutrality. But now he felt personal spite to ensure this man would endure every second of pain, as he was forced to spill everything he knew to the Armada.

[deaventures]

Construction Management of Commercial Building

Construction management of commercial building of a 16,000 sq ft facility on 1.73 acres, including 3,000 sq ft office space build out, and over 42 tons of HVAC. Office space included 2 restrooms with 7 total stalls, kitchen, 2 offices, lobby, and storeroom. 

[jamesdeanworekhakis]

Humphrey Bogart, American, 1899 - 1957

According to the Smithsonian, the Postal Service honored Humphrey Bogart with the issuance of a 32-cent commemorative stamp on July 31, 1997, in Los Angeles, California.The stamp features a portrait of the legendary actor Humphrey Bogart. Bogart's career as a beloved "tough guy" spanned a quarter of a century and seventy-five films. This is the third stamp issued in the US Postal Service's Legends of Hollywood Series.Designed by Carl Herrman of Laguna Niguel, California, and illustrated by Michael Deas of New Orleans, Louisiana, the pane of twenty stamps was printed by Stamp Venturers, Inc., in the gravure process.

Copyright United States Postal Service. All rights reserved. July 31, 1997

[ptbf2002]

Zodiak Kids Logo And It's Main Characters

Here's Zodiak Kids Featuring Main Characters From Shows That I've Mentioned On My Top 10 Zodiak Kids Shows.

Marsupilami Belongs To Olivier Vannelle, Vincent Chalvon-Demersay, David Michel, Zodiak Kids Studios, Samka Productions, Banijay, Marsu Productions, Canal J, Groupe M6, France 3, And France Télévisions S.A.

The Amazing Spiez Belongs To Vincent Chalvon-Demersary, David Michel, SK Broadband, CJ Entertainment, Image Entertainment Corporation, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Teletoon, TELETOON Canada Inc. And Corus Entertainment Inc.

Sally Bollywood: Super Detective Belongs To Emmanuelle Boutet (AKA Pepper Sue), Elastik Jane Télé Images Kids, Three's A Company, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, France 3, France Televisions, Super RTL, RTL Deutschland GmbH RTL Group S.A. Télé Images Productions, France 3, France Télévisions S.A. 7two, Seven Network, And Seven West Media Ltd.

Street Football Belongs To Cofinova 1, De Mas & Partners, Zodiak Kids Studios, And Banijay

Famous 5: On The Case Belongs To Enid Blyton, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Chorion Limited, Sony Pictures Television Studios, Sony Pictures Television Inc. Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc. Sony Entertainment, Inc. 

Martin Mystery Belongs To Vincent Chalvon-Demersay, David Michel, Digital eMation Inc. CJ E&M Film Financing & Investment Entertainment & Comics, CJ E&M, DPS, Frontier Works ComicImage Entertainment Corporation, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Sansu Venture Korean Drama No.1 Capital Co. Sidus FNH-Benex Cinema Fund 1, And Sovik Global Contents Fund

Magiki Belongs To Eryk Casemiro, Cyril Deydier, Pegbar Animation, Animasia Studio, Rainbow S.P.A. Paramount Media Networks, Inc. Paramount Global, DeAgostini Publishing Italy S.P.A. DeAgostini Editore S.P.A. DeAKids, DeA Junior, DeAgostini S.P.A. DeAPlaneta Kids And Family, DeAPlaneta Entertainment, Télé Images Productions, Zodiak Kids Studios France, Banijay, Ketchup TV, KidsMe S.R.L. Gulli, TiJi, Metropole Télévision S.A. Groupe M6, Frisbee, Switchover Media, Discovery Italia S.R.L. Discovery Networks Italia, Discovery Networks EMEA, Discovery Networks International, Discovery, Inc. And Warner Bros. Discovery, Inc.

Team Galaxy Belongs To Vincent Chalvon-Demersay, David Michel, Michelle Lamoreaux, Robert Lamoreaux, Digital eMation Inc. Marathon Animation, Marathon Media Group, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Image Entertainment Corporation, Mystery Animation, Quebec Productions, Rai Fiction, Une Coproduction, Rai 2, RAI S.p.A. Jetix Europe N.V. YTV Canada, Inc. Corus Entertainment Inc. France 3, France Télévisions S.A. VRAK-TV, Bell Media Inc. And BCE Inc.

Monster Buster Club Belongs To Vincent Chalvon-Demersay, David Michel, Designstorm Animation Studio, Marathon Animation, Marathon Media Group, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Image Entertainment Corporation, Mystery Animation, TF1, Jetix Europe N.V. YTV, YTV Canada, Inc. And Corus Entertainment Inc.

Get Blake! Belongs To Antoine Guilbaud, Kaz, Vincent Chalvon-Demersay, David Michel, Eryk Casemiro, Inspidea, Zodiak Kids Studios, Banijay, Nickelodeon Productions, Nickelodeon (French TV channel), Nicktoons, Paramount Networks Europe, Middle East, Africa & Asia, Paramount International Networks, Paramount Global, Gulli, And Groupe M6

[rejectedbad]

Rejected Bad: Samoyed

The following is a rejected script from an early season of Breaking Bad.

FADE IN:

INT. WALTER'S LAB - NIGHT

Jesse enters the lab with a Samoyed puppy on a leash. He looks excited and proud of his new companion.

JESSE: (to Walter) Yo, check it out Mr. White! I got myself a dog! Ain't he cute? I call him Meth Head!

Walter looks at the puppy with a mix of annoyance and concern.

WALTER: (angrily) Jesse, are you out of your mind? You cannot bring a dog into the lab! This could expose our whole operation!

JESSE: (defeated) Aw, come on, Mr. White. He's harmless. Plus, he can keep me company while we cook.

WALTER: (shakes his head) No, Jesse. This is not a good idea. You need to get that dog out of here right now.

Jesse pouts and walks out of the lab with Meth Head.

Walter massages his forehead, clearly stressed out.

WALTER: (to himself) What am I going to do with that kid?

Suddenly, Hank bursts into the lab, a wide smile on his face.

HANK: (to Walter) Hey, guys! You won't believe it, I just found my true calling.

WALTER: (revolts) What are you talking about, Hank?

HANK: (pointing to Meth Head) I'm quitting the DEA and becoming a dog breeder! Look at that Samoyed, it's a beauty!

Walter looks at Hank, surprised and confused by his sudden change of career choice.

WALTER: (open-mouthed) Hank, are you serious? You're giving up your job to sell dogs?

HANK: (nodding enthusiastically) Yes, sir! And look at that guy, he's gonna be my first show dog!

Jesse enters the lab again, without Meth Head.

JESSE: (to Hank) Hey man, that's great news!

Hank pats Jesse on the shoulder, still excited about his new venture.

HANK: (to Jesse) Thanks, kid. And speaking of dogs, can I ask you a favor? Can I borrow your Samoyed for an upcoming dog show?

All we see next is Jesse's stunned expression as the scene fades to black.

FADE OUT.

[shivamprajapati]

Practice Areas of the Highest Paid Lawyers in India: Where the Big Money Flows

The legal profession in India offers immense opportunities for growth, prestige, and financial success. Aspiring to become the Highest Paid Lawyer in India often requires not only talent and dedication but also strategic specialization in high-demand legal fields. 

Certain practice areas, owing to their complexity, client base, and stakes involved, have consistently proven to be lucrative for India’s top legal experts. 

This article explores these fields, analyzing why they are so rewarding and how they contribute to the success of the country's elite lawyers.

1. Corporate Law: The Cornerstone of Big Earnings

Corporate law remains one of the most lucrative areas of practice in India. Lawyers specializing in this field handle mergers and acquisitions (M&A), joint ventures, compliance, and corporate governance for large corporations and multinational companies.

Why It’s Lucrative:The stakes in corporate transactions are incredibly high, often involving billions of rupees. Companies are willing to pay top-dollar for expert legal guidance to navigate complex regulations, ensure compliance, and protect their interests.

Notable Examples:Many of the Highest lawyers in India profiles are dotted with corporate law experts who’ve successfully managed high-profile M&A deals or represented companies in billion-dollar disputes.

2. Arbitration and Dispute Resolution: The Global Arena

Arbitration, both domestic and international, has seen exponential growth in India. Lawyers specializing in this field are often hired to resolve high-value commercial disputes through arbitration rather than litigation.

Why It’s Lucrative:Arbitration cases often involve international clients, large corporations, and significant financial stakes. The complexity of cross-border disputes adds to the premium fees lawyers can charge.

Case Significance:Arbitration lawyers frequently represent their clients in high-profile forums such as the International Chamber of Commerce (ICC) and the Singapore International Arbitration Centre (SIAC), further boosting their earning potential and reputation.

3. Intellectual Property Law: Protecting Innovation

With the rise of startups, tech companies, and the entertainment industry, intellectual property (IP) law has become a critical area of legal practice. Lawyers specializing in IP handle patent registrations, copyright disputes, trademark infringement, and licensing agreements.

Why It’s Lucrative:The increasing importance of protecting intellectual assets in sectors like technology, pharmaceuticals, and media ensures a steady flow of high-value cases. Clients are willing to pay generously to safeguard their creations and innovations.

Industry Impact:From defending the copyright of blockbuster films to securing patents for groundbreaking medical inventions, IP lawyers play a vital role in high-stakes scenarios.

4. Criminal Law: Defending the High and Mighty

Criminal law, particularly white-collar crime, is another practice area where the top legal minds in India earn substantial fees. High-profile cases involving fraud, corruption, and money laundering often attract media attention, adding to the visibility and demand for skilled criminal lawyers.

Why It’s Lucrative:Defending influential clients or representing high-stakes cases ensures significant financial rewards. These cases often require expertise in dealing with sensitive issues, extensive investigations, and prolonged court proceedings.

Prominent Examples:Some of the Highest Paid Lawyer in India accolades have gone to criminal lawyers who’ve successfully represented politicians, business magnates, and celebrities.

5. Constitutional and Public Interest Law: Power and Prestige

While constitutional law may not always be as financially rewarding as corporate or arbitration law, it carries immense prestige. Lawyers specializing in this field take up cases that challenge constitutional validity, deal with public interest litigations, or represent governments in landmark decisions.

Why It’s Lucrative:In cases involving high-profile constitutional challenges, the visibility and significance of the outcomes often translate into higher fees. Representing the government or influential parties also adds to the financial rewards.

Landmark Cases:Lawyers working on constitutional cases often shape public policy, making this area both impactful and rewarding.

Why These Fields Are Lucrative

High-Value Clients: Corporate giants, celebrities, and government entities often rely on top lawyers for these practice areas.

Complexity and Expertise: These fields demand specialized knowledge, making experienced lawyers indispensable.

Market Demand: With the rapid growth of the economy, tech industry, and international trade, the need for legal experts in these fields is constantly rising.

Advice for Aspiring Lawyers

If you aim to become the Highest Paid Lawyer in India, choosing the right specialization is critical. Here’s how you can align your career with market demands:

Identify Your Interests: Choose a practice area that aligns with your passions and strengths.

Stay Updated: Continuously learn about the latest trends, legal precedents, and industry developments.

Build a Strong Network: Develop connections with clients, senior lawyers, and industry leaders.

Gain Expertise: Focus on honing your skills and gaining experience in high-stakes cases.

Consider Market Demand: Opt for specializations with significant growth potential, such as arbitration or IP law.

Conclusion

The practice areas of India’s top-earning lawyers reflect a blend of skill, market relevance, and strategic specialization. From corporate law to arbitration, these fields offer immense opportunities for aspiring legal professionals. By understanding the demand and aligning your career with these high-value sectors, you can take a step closer to becoming the Highest Paid Lawyer in India and achieving unparalleled success in the legal profession.

[lighthousenewsnetwork]

ALBUQUERQUE, NM — In a development that has left law enforcement officials simultaneously baffled and craving a snack, former methamphetamine manufacturer Walter White has emerged from witness protection to launch what critics are calling "the most meticulously engineered kettle corn operation in history." White, now operating under the suspiciously obvious alias "The Popcorn Whisperer," has been spotted at local farmers markets in his signature Fleetwood Bounder RV, which he insists is "definitely a different vehicle" from his previous mobile operation. The RV, now emblazoned with the slogan "I Am The One Who Pops," has drawn considerable attention for its sophisticated ventilation system and suspicious lack of produce other than kettle corn. "Look, I'm just a simple businessman trying to make an honest living," White told reporters while carefully measuring corn kernels with a digital scale accurate to 0.0001 grams. "There's nothing illegal about applying advanced chemistry principles to create the perfect sweet-to-salty ratio. This is America." DEA agents have reportedly spent weeks attempting to find criminal activity in White's new venture, only to discover that his operation is frustratingly legitimate. "We've analyzed his blue-tinted kettle corn from every angle," said DEA Agent Timothy Roberts, wiping sugar residue from his mouth. "The only crime here is how impossibly addictive it is. I've gone through three bags just writing this report." The operation has also reunited White with former student Jesse Pinkman, who serves as the venture's enthusiastic marketing director. "Yo, Mr. White's corn is like, science, bitch!" Pinkman explained to potential customers while wearing a corn cob costume. "The way he, like, applies thermodynamics to achieve the perfect crystallization structure of the caramel coating? That's straight-up art, man." Local competitors have reported dramatic drops in sales, with several shops mysteriously closing after their owners received unmarked bags of White's kettle corn with notes reading "I am the danger... of market competition." Former Los Pollos Hermanos locations have reportedly seen the ghost of Gus Fring nodding in approval at White's meticulous portion control. White's attention to detail has reached legendary status among customers. He continues to don his signature hazmat suit during production, citing "food safety concerns" and spending exactly 20 minutes explaining the chemistry behind proper popping temperatures to anyone within earshot. Sources report he recently spent three hours berating an employee for achieving only 98.3% perfectly popped kernels. Local law enforcement's frustration reached a peak last week when a raid on White's RV revealed nothing more illicit than a proprietary caramel recipe and a whiteboard covered in complex sugar crystallization equations. "It's maddening," admitted Police Chief Michael Sanders. "We know it's White, we know his history, but the man's literally just making really, really good kettle corn. Even our drug-sniffing dogs just sit there eating it." Health officials have issued warnings about the product's addictive properties, noting that White's methodically engineered formula creates a snack "more habit-forming than his previous blue product." Studies suggest that consumers experience intense cravings and may find themselves binge-watching cooking shows while muttering "Say my name" to bags of popcorn. As White's empire expands, Netflix has reportedly approached him about a potential cooking show. The working title, "Breaking Snack," would feature White teaching basic chemistry through snack food preparation, though producers express concern about his insistence on wearing a pork pie hat and repeatedly whispering "I am the one who pops" to the camera. When asked about his future plans, White remained characteristically intense. "I'm not in the meth business anymore," he declared, carefully weighing a portion of caramel. "I'm in the meth-odically crafted snack business.

" He then turned back to his kettle, leaving reporters to ponder how one man could make something as simple as kettle corn feel so ominous. At press time, Saul Goodman had already erected billboards reading "Did Walter White's kettle corn give you diabetes? Better Call Saul!"