#I've... been using it wrong this whole time?

[seewetter]

"ofc we’re stupid and illiterate our schools suck!!!"

The whole framing is wrong.

Why are people talking about "stupid" Americans? Because they're discussing why America so often is plagued by decisions with foresee-ably terrible outcomes.

But America is an oligarchy, it's participatory elements are minimal and often pure aesthetic. How much control do people exercise in a first-past-the-post electoral system with massive corporate bribes (Superpacs) that also influence media reporting, which is also a surveillance and police state?

Rhetorical question, right? So if Americans barely exercise control, what are we criticizing? Are we criticizing the >70% of Americans who don't even own a firearm? Or the majority of Texans that vote Democrat...even though it's a "red state" due to how their laws work? Are we criticizing the American majority that shows sympathies for Bernie Sanders, support abortion, queer rights, trans rights, realizes climate change is real and is the reason why "woke" (diverse) Hollywood movies make such money?

Why criticize Americans for watching Marvel, when Marvel viewership numbers have collapsed over the years?

Why criticize Americans for not knowing who James Baldwin is, when James Baldwin is in many ways not someone who affected the course of history or someone who Americans -- who I am CERTAIN use the public library all the time -- would necessarily stumble upon when reading in a public library. What, did you learn about Baldwin from watching Nosferatu? Or maybe a Cronenberg movie? Would Americans borrowing books on history naturally stumble on Baldwin? If they borrow the collected speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. or the Autobiography of Malcolm X, will these reference James Baldwin?

People know who James Baldwin is because he is an excellent writer and certain white Jewish intellectuals in the 1970s stumbled across his prose and made him famous and later Baldwin would burn those ties and became famous within progressive activist circles. This does not mean that a visit to a public library will make people aware that he exists. You have to know what to look for.

Also progressives often know who he is but not what he said. How many progressives do you know who don't care that James Baldwin talked about the "myth of race", that James Baldwin considered post-racial thinking to be more progressive than identity politics? Most progessives who know Baldwin quote him second-hand or third-hand, why are you not mad at them? Why some nebulous idea of "Americans"?

"because you assholes have had FREE ACCESS to THOUSANDS of books and audiobooks and classic films this ENTIRE TIME you’ve been blaming your schools for your elected ignorance!!!"

In 19th century anarchist literature, a distinction was often made between the freedom to do something and the capacity to do something. The freedom and legal right to buy a yacht is nice...but if you can't actually buy a yacht, you have the freedom but not the capacity.

Like how many holidays and free weekends does the average American have? There has to be a better way to educate people with a busy schedule than shaming them about their ignorance, especially when ignorance is tied to class. DON'T misread me. I'm not saying working class people are ignorant. I'm saying some people can afford a very nice education for their kids and other people can't. "Oh, it's on the internet, which is free" is not how people spontaneously become enlightened.

Like: just have a chat with a Joe Rogan listener. They're mostly Trump supporters, but all of the ones I've met are achingly sincere. They really do have the wool over their eyes, they're usually not malicious. And they're really really ...like they don't have a good research strategy. They don't even know what that looks like. They think they're "studying" when they listen to podcasts. That's a thing they think. Do you think free access to libraries and internet has given these people all they need to free themselves from their shackles and the risks they pose to others? Do you think people just spontaneously sit down and every week for a year devote all available time to researching academic literature on a hot button topic? Many of these people don't even know where to find appropriate academic literature ("It's too expensive" thought one Rogan listener I know) and many of them associate these resources with academic agendas.

Look up "hermeneutics of suspicion". It's when people approach a topic looking for ways to confirm their suspicious feelings. That's what's going on there. People read some academic article and they suspect it's all BS. If they don't understand a concept, they assume someone is trying to manipulate them. And why shouldn't they, the media is blatantly dishonest, academia has a number of crises and universities have certain conflicts of interest. Why shouldn't these people spontaneously start from such a place? It's not your job to shame them, because if you do, they assume you are doing so from a place of ideological fanaticism, rather than from a place of informed frustration. You know the meme where trans people talking about gender is represented as Plato and Aristotle in the agora, having a debate, while trans people talking to cis people about gender is represented as a mom helping her toddler assemble building blocks? That analogy applies to any topic. There are a lot of adult "toddlers" out there and if you call them toddlers to their face, they will rightfully be ashamed and upset. They put a lot of work into forming their beliefs, they just don't have a good starting point. Or decent tools. Or non-judgmental 24/7 help. And they exist in a quagmire of bullshit claims. And they relate to misinformation in a vibes-based way if the information otherwise seems to be applicable and more useful in their life.

If someone lives in a media environment that reassures them that they are currently studying the (alternate) facts and informing themselves, or that they are currently getting the gist of the facts from experts, then people won't necessarily use the library or grasp its value. Also you have to use the library correctly.

"and if you expect me to you’re classist and 18 year old Americans are too stupid to know bombing foreign countries kills people so it’s okay if they choose to do that rather than work at McDonald’s and of course I have no idea what stocks are or what colonialism is and MCU is the height of cinema and it’s feminist to wear makeup like."

I find teens accusing every intellectual impulse of being classist and ableist unbearable too, but not so long ago, this website popularized the idea that the only valid criticism of feminism was an anti-racist, anti-classist, anti-ableist, anti-transmisogynist, anti-perisexist etc. criticism.

In other words "I refuse to course correct unless you show me how my current course hurts a minority."

So yes, people will defend American complacency using ridiculous "anti-classist" rhetoric. Because it's the only defense they've seen modelled and maybe even the only defense that's socially permitted in their circle of friends.

Defenses of war crimes are horrible. Period. If people think Americans don't have a partial responsibility just because they were ignorant, they're wrong. But partial responsibility isn't full blame and more importantly: are real Tumblr users actually saying that exact thing in good faith? Are people out there defending ignorant Americans who never talked to a soldiers about what a bomb is and does or who never watched a bomb dropped in a movie?

I agree Disney adults can be irritating, but I think that most Americans aren't Disney adults and those that are... are from all walks of life and varying degrees of ignorance. Are Disney adults, Marvel fans, the ones who don't grasp that bombs kill people? Or is this a weird mishmash of stereotypes that don't capture why America, as a state institution, is such a horror? To me it's also sad that Americans get overly emotional about Mickey Mouse and that Marvel movies got so successful, but I think this is not really connected to America. Marvel movies and Disney parks aren't uniquely American, America is just -- at gunpoint -- the largest economy in the world, so a lot of junk that people worldwide consume comes from there. Disney Parks in Japan or France do quite well and also involve Disney Adults, we just don't hear about them so much and the money is ultimately made by America, a country with military bases in almost every other country. Is this the fault of Disney Adults in Orlando, Florida? I don't think so.

Also makeup is an "unfeminist choice", but feminists should, in fact, fight for people's freedom to make unfeminist choices. Kate Harding had an entire essay on that.

As for the reply:

When trying to convince someone that their reasons for believing something are faulty, always make sure to point out what they may have missed and try not to miss anything yourself.

Let me provide a few examples:

"Did you know that to get to a library here, you have to travel?"

The person you are responding to wrote (and you acknowledged it with "I'm glad you found a way to access our libraries") that to read the contents of a library, all that is needed is digital access.

So then "did you know you have to travel" doesn't make sense as the next sentence. It's on its face unconvincing.

"Since you know so much about us, you must know that our public transportation system is all but non-functional, and a lot of people can't even afford bus fare, let alone their own vehicle, and most of our cities are not walkable. The closest library in the town where my half-siblings grew up was a 30-minute drive away. But there are digital libraries, of course!"

Of course! And their existence invalidates all the detailed descriptions you just provided for the inaccessibility of American libraries. Americans that don't use the libraries don't use them because (A) they forget these exist (B) they don't want to use them (sometimes out of shame, sometimes out of misguided conviction).

"Did you know that not every single one of us stupid Americans has access to a home computer and internet?"

The OP you are responding to was concrete about being frustrated by kids (18 19 20 year olds) on Tumblr. If they're on Tumblr, they must have internet and must be able to access an internet library.

"Did you know that exceptionally strict conservative parents monitor their childrens' internet usage and restrict what they can see?"

Yes and.

Yes, and this influences blindspots that some Americans have.

See, on its own "do you know some parents monitor internet" creates a strawman example, where the people OP was attacking (people who freely use tumblr.com, "the queerest site on the internet") are somehow being treated as if they have parents that monitor their internet usage and censor all content that might burst their conservative bubble. I hope we can agree that these are two different groups of Americans.

"Did you know that school library media centers (computer labs) restrict access to a lot of websites and information that do not pertain to curriculum? Of course you did."

But if the people are goofing around on Tumblr calling others "classist" for expecting them to know stuff, how is the computer lab not restricting their Tumblr access? How does Tumblr pertain to their curriculum?

It's possible that this is a censorship oversight or something, but again, the real counterargument against OPs nonsense isn't "Americans aren't free to know new information" and rather "Americans often lack the capacity to even know what they're looking for". I don't think OP name-dropping James Baldwin and stocks will have given people any real idea of what they need to look for, especially if they need comprehensive education on everything from ecology to statecraft and civics to economics, to history, geography, moral philosophy, epistemology, foreign policy, marginalized perspectives and activism, statistics, organizing, protesting safety, IT security and data protection, narrative structure, narrative experimentation, artistic craft, avant-garde sensibilities (I'm being entirely unironic about that.), reading comprehension, project management, culinary skill, survival skills, networking skills, the list goes on.

This also isn't merely an "American" problem. I know plenty of Australians, Kiwis, Canadians, Europeans who use gmail accounts, don't understand imperialism and need a crash course in epistemology every time a hot button issue comes into discussion because they just keep shouting at each other without treating the other party as a human being with their own heuristic for gathering, evaluating and processing information.

"Did you know that lobbyists are trying very hard to defund and even actively shut down our libraries. Partially because they don't want us to have access to free recources, but also because ignorance works in their favor? Did you know book bans are being placed in libraries across the country, based on what conservatives deem inappropriate?"

Most of those points seem a little off topic (lobbyists trying to defund libraries may affect future ignorance but doesn't account for ignorance today), but I grant that the book bans really might have some kind of impact that prevents people from having heard of James Baldwin. It's a decent reply to the OP, who seems to think all libraries serve up the same information to all Americans. But you should be fair enough to recognize that it still is a bit weird when the people who show up ignorant are ...Tumblr users smart enough to be making accusations of classism.

"Since you know all about how we are educated, you must know that American curriculum is designed to discourage curiosity and create the illusion that we are far and above all other nations and that everything we are taught in our classes about others is simply all there is to know."

What I've heard is that many public school teachers in America are extremely dedicated well-meaning people. I've met a few American teachers and their German counterparts, for example, earn about 20 times what they earn. So American teachers often really are in it to help kids learn.

I'm not sure that the American curriculum really exists to "discourage curiosity", that sounds a bit weird to me. I do know the Texas board of education tried to ban critical thinking and I know American schools have some weird national anthem singing and I bet they teach American exceptionalism. But I would say perhaps the only reason any of that sticks is because Americans often can't afford to visit other countries.

I have not heard that Americans learn that school teaches them all there is to know, but when I think of ignorant Americans, they often give me the opposite impression: that of a "do your own research type" who doesn't think "I know everything from school" and instead just never bothered to buy a book about Atmospheric Phenomena (or grab a illegal free .pdf copy) and therefore thinks some glittering orb in the sky is a alien spacecraft. Genuinely, ignorant people are often really nice people who try to learn about the world, have a real desire to learn new things... and then they watch Graham Hancock or some other well-designed nonsense and they mis-educate themselves and get very defensive if anyone tries to correct them, however gently, in part because they lack even the basic skills to know whether the correction is plausible.

"So, with all of this information that you clearly already had at your disposal, do you genuinely believe these children are cognizant or at all concerned with how much they know about other countries and cultures?"

I think the better question to ask is "Do you really think only Americans would fail at "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?""

Because let's face it, I've seen European versions of that premise, where they go out into the street, ask a basic question ("What's the equator?") and get embarrassing answers ("A line that floats in the sky above the center of our planet").

OPs gripe with "Americans" is that they know other countries exist but just don't care. But hey, are Europeans that much better? In Europe, people know European countries...because countries are small and these are almost like American "states" in a way, especially since the EU is in many ways a country in all but name (and lack of military). How many Europeans know how many African countries there are, what their names are, what their capitals are, what their history is, what colonial powers kept which country under control when and for how long? How many Europeans know anything about Laos or Cambodia? Do Europeans even know which continent Cambodia is on?

And I've talked to Japanese people and found incredible ignorance. And do we imagine that the education system in, say, Burkina Faso or Brazil produces much more worldly individuals?

If you want to criticize specifically American ignorance you need to things: you need lots of real-life examples AND you need to prove these examples are unique to America.

Like India recently managed to get a lot of kids into school long enough to learn how to read, which is awesome! But if someone from India (like OP) is attacking American ignorance, OP is likely doing so from a certain degree of "wealth in the family". That's not a criticism, just a (hopefully humbling) observation. Countries around the world can blame their widespread ignorance on colonialism...and then get upset at ignorant colonizers. But maybe no place on Earth really produces a completely sufficiently informed citizenship.

"Adults who are groomed through adulthood to believe that "bombing foreign countries" and selling their body to their government is one of the only accessible options to receive further education."

Isn't the American military facing historically low recruitment numbers and worried about morphing into a "warrior caste" (their words, not mine) because their recruits mostly come from old military families where everyone's in the military? Not to say the poor person going to the army doesn't exist, but aren't most Americans pretty anti-military, especially these days?

"You believe these people are simply bumbling idiots too self-absorbed to want to learn about the history and inner workings of every other nation around them?"

Why emphasize that public schools brainwash the kids with American exceptionalism and then turn around to argue that the people leaving public school AREN'T self-absorbed about their own country? That comes off as overly defensive, not as a reflective response. I doubt OP found that argument very convincing.

"Like, you understand that not knowing what you don't know is a thing, yes?"

But OP must at least be partially correct. Like -- I would blame maybe feelings of overwhelm at all the information, and maybe mistrust of information sources -- but it does often come across, at least at first glance, that a lot of Americans can't be bothered to understand basic geography. Like they know countries outside of America exist, but aren't bothered enough to find out what they are.

Again, this is probably not a purely American problem, but one does sometimes get the impression that many Americans approach conversations without making sure they have a bit of an overview of the topic. They often just seem to research the talking points of their side in a debate (i.e. they know the history of colonialism better than they know which countries have Spanish as an official language, so it's easy to make them look stupid or they have to ask what tariffs are but they already think tariffs are great since Trump is doing them...like why aren't they reading the "tariffs" page on Wikipedia or whatever, to get at least a general idea? What's going on?)

"I would go as far as to point out the hypocrisy of all of your shaming when the beginning of your post clearly states that you were ignorant of a resource available to you before it was pointed out to you."

Now that's a sick burn. But don't get cozy.

"Your time spent belligerently accusing a whole society of people which you deem unintelligent of being willfully uneducated and unwilling to reach beyond their own privilege would be better spent sharing resources you've found and encouraging others to broaden their own horizons. But hatred of the American public as a whole is a lot easier when you can paint us all as intentionally dumb and heels-dug-in fascists."

It is hard for people to grasp how little control Americans have over their society. When America always advertises itself as "land of the free" it seems like they freely choose to be giant assholes on the world stage.

And it's only with a lot of reflection and/or research that people realize just how much the game is rigged. But still...the people who just flat out support tariffs, for example, without wasting a single braincell on experimenting on how they can find information on it that doesn't come from a possibly biased pro-Trump source...like it feels like willful ignorance. Part of me can't believe it isn't.

ever since i got access to american library cards thanks to tumblr user anneemay (pbuh) 2 weeks ago ive lost even the 3% sympathy i had for americans crying ofc we’re stupid and illiterate our schools suck!!! because you assholes have had FREE ACCESS to THOUSANDS of books and audiobooks and classic films this ENTIRE TIME you’ve been blaming your schools for your elected ignorance!!! from my home in India I’ve listened to eight audiobooks and watched half of cronenberg’s oevre and I’m watching nosferatu (1922) today and I can’t even go to a library in person and you people have had these things your entire life yet you come on tumblr at 18 19 20 and say you don’t know who james baldwin is and if you expect me to you’re classist and 18 year old Americans are too stupid to know bombing foreign countries kills people so it’s okay if they choose to do that rather than work at McDonald’s and of course I have no idea what stocks are or what colonialism is and MCU is the height of cinema and it’s feminist to wear makeup like. my god. you people are going to go through the rest of your life being incoherently stupid and it’s not because you’re poor and it’s not because your schools suck but its because you’re so ensconced in your American privilege that you will never be forced to confront the realities of life and you can go on living your Disney adult fantasies because you’ve destroyed your innate human curiosity and potential at the altar of hyper consumption.

[stylesispunk]

The soldier in the armour | part iv

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Acacius put his plan on march, starting by sending you away with a sealing promise of returning back to you, but you cannot bear the thought of him fighting alone, and some plans are destroyed.

wc: 7k (lazy)

warnings: angst, age gap, mentions of miscarriage, blood, violence against women, power imbalance, kissing without consent, mentions of death. The events of this chapter happen on the same night.

a/n: Sorry for being so lazy about writing and updating lately. I'm just a teacher on her summer break. This one will be intense. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Hold my hand," Acacius said, extending his arm toward you. You were sitting by the fountain, feeding the fish. The last couple of days had been torture for you, and he wanted nothing more than to shower you with acts of love from the deepest part of his heart.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet determination that melted the tension in your chest. The cool breeze rustled the leaves above, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to pause.

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if trying to transfer some unspoken strength to you.

"Come," he whispered, his voice a balm against the chaos of your thoughts. "Let me take you somewhere…”

You hesitated, glancing back at the rippling water, watching the fish dart beneath the surface. But the pull of his presence was stronger. You stood, your fingers still entwined with his, and allowed him to lead you away from the weight of the past few days.

He led you through a narrow corridor you didn’t recognize, its walls lined with ivy that crept in through tiny cracks. At the very end, hidden behind a heavy wooden door, Acacius paused. He glanced back at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No one else knows about this place,” he murmured, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “It’s just for us.”

He pushed the door open with a soft creak, revealing a hidden courtyard tucked away from the rest of the villa. It was small, intimate, overgrown with wildflowers and shaded by an ancient olive tree whose twisted branches reached out like protective arms. The air smelled of lavender and sun-warmed stone, and the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant song of cicadas at dawn.

Acacius turned to you, his expression softening. “I come here when I need to feel... whole again.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, it could help you too.”

There was a strange tone on his voice, as if he was lingering to your presence before slipping away from you, but you decided to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I know you're worried” you whispered, looking up at him to meet his gaze, smiling softly “but I’m gonna be fine. I’ll recover from this someday.”

“Can I confess you something?” He asked almost ashamed of the question

You nodded, inviting him to speak his truth.

"This is embarrassing for a general but I'm really scared."He confessed, “I…I have someone to lose this time"

Your breath hitched and sudden wave of anxiety crept into your bones.

"You won't lose me" you reassured, caressing his checks with your fingertips.

"From all the battles I fought. Falling in love with you came easily to me...I thought it was going to be difficult for a man like me to be deserving of someone like you.

"This sounds like a goodbye and I don't like that tone in your voice." You said, voice breaking at the thought.

“You know things could go wrong-“

“They will not.” You interrupted, reassuring him once again.

“Allowing myself to know you and love you has been the bravest thing I've ever done," he whispered, his voice trembling just enough for you to hear the depth of his fear, and his love.

Before you could respond, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently but urgently toward him. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he were pouring every feeling inside on it, every hidden feeling into that single, breath-stealing moment. The world around you seemed to dissolve, the rustling leaves, the distant cicadas, all fading into the background as the warmth of his mouth ignited something deep within you.

Your heart raced, the anxiety still humming in the edges of your mind, but his touch grounded you, as always. You let your fingers trail through his hair, pulling him closer, as if anchoring him to this promise you both silently made.

You won't lose me. We won’t lose each other.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, hearts pounding in the same rhythm, at the same time. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to memorize this moment, to etch it into his soul.

Then, without warning, he kissed you again, this time with a raw urgency that stole the air left from your lungs. His hands slid from your jaw down to your waist, gripping you as though he could mold your bodies into one. His fingertips dug into your skin, tracing every curve, every inch he could reach, as if committing the feel of you to memory.

You responded in kind, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his back, clutching at the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. The heat between you was electric, a fire burning bright against the looming shadow of what was to come.

When he finally pulled back again, his breath was ragged, his lips lingering against yours for a fleeting second longer. His hands framed your face now, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks in contrast to the urgency of moments before. His gaze was heavy, filled with a thousand words he couldn’t seem to say.

He leaned in, pressing one lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime." He whispered, nosing your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime. Since the day you saved me from the bathtub and sword you would love me." You whispered the same words back because you meant them.

He smiled against your neck, feeling his eyes watering already. For a man of a thousand battles these shows of affection tended to seen as a sign of weakness. But by your side he learnt about the vulnerability that it came when you loved someone.

You smelled like calm lavender, and your souls interviewed in an unbreakable thread destined to meet in every single lifetime.

You were his person; the best Rome had ever given him back for all the duty and sacrifice. It broke his heart to send you away.

He didn’t fear death anymore, but not seeing you again broke him.

Acacius helped you up, his strong arm supporting you, your heart still ached with the lingering sensation of his words, his love, his devotion. You walked together, the world outside the villa seeming quieter. His hand remained gently wrapped around yours.

When you reached back to the villa, the air felt heavy, as if something was waiting for you there. The grand doors opened to reveal Lucilla standing near the font, her hands trembling slightly as she stood motionless, her gaze distant. Her expression was clouded with worry, yet there was an undeniable sorrow in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” you asked, stepping forward, concern flooding your chest as you glanced between her and Acacius.

Lucilla turned her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"They are here" she said, painfully ignoring your questions as she looked at Acacius.

"It's time" he said, painfully, avoiding looking at you for a moment, then he glanced at you "Look. They are some of my men. They are here to take you out-“

"I don't want to leave" you protested, coming to Lucilla, "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me"

 You stepped back, your heart twisting painfully as you listened to Acacius, walking to your mother.

"I don't want to leave," you protested again, your voice trembling. You reached for her, the distance between you growing wider with every passing second. "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me."

Lucilla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looked as though she might give in. But the sorrow on her face deepened, and she shook her head gently. "I cannot, my dear. I failed Lucius once." Her voice cracked as she spoke his name, a deep, haunting sadness settling over her. "I won’t fail you too. Not again."

You felt the sting of her words like a dagger in your chest. She was leaving you, just like she had left him. The memories of her absence in the darkest moments of your life, when you were fighting for survival, flashed before your eyes, and the thought of repeating that same pain was unbearable.

"So, you're failing me now?" you asked, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt you felt. Your breath was ragged as you held back tears, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you.

Lucilla stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for you, but she stopped just short of touching you. "Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you to this. If you're away, Geta won’t be able to use you as a tool against Acacius or me. I can't risk you being taken from me as he was."

The words stung, but in them, you realized the depth of her fear. She wasn’t abandoning you, she was trying to protect you, to keep you safe in a world where everything felt uncertain and dangerous.

"But I don’t want to be safe without you," you said softly, your voice breaking. "I can't go alone.”

Lucilla looked at you, her gaze softening for a brief moment, but the fear in her eyes remained. "I love you too much," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And I can't watch you suffer here.”

Acacius stood behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His presence was a steady anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. He knew how hard this was for you, but his silence spoke volumes. He understood what it meant to love and lose, and now, he was offering you something that felt like the only way forward.

Lucilla’s voice quivered as she took a step back, her hands clenched at her sides. "I cannot go with you... but I will wait for you here. And I will pray that one day you come back to me. That we both do."

You felt as though your heart was being torn in two—torn between the woman who had given you life and the man who had become your lifeline. The conflict swirled in your chest, but all you could do was nod, unable to find the right words.

"I love you," you whispered softly to her, your voice breaking as the tears finally fell.

Lucilla gave you a sad, bittersweet smile. "I love you too, my darling. Always."

You turned to Acacius, your heart sinking at the pained expression that crossed his face as his gaze shifted from you to the three men who had appeared in the distance. His posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as they approached with purposeful strides.

The moment felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. His soldiers had arrived. The plan was set in motion. The urgency of the situation weighed down on both of you, but there was something else, something unspoken in the way Acacius held himself. His pain, too, was palpable. As much as he had sworn to protect you, he knew what this moment meant. The time for goodbyes was closing in, and there was no turning back.

"Acacius..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for his hand. But he stepped back slightly, his jaw tightening as his men neared.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes full of regret and determination. "You need to go. Now."

The men stopped in front of him, their faces unreadable but their posture betraying the tension of the moment. Acacius addressed them with a tone that brooked no argument, his voice firm but clipped.

"Prepare the horses," he commanded, and one of them nodded before heading off to carry out his orders.

You looked at Acacius, pain flickering in your chest as you realized that the next few moments would change everything. The world you had known was slipping away, and there was no going back to the life you had before.

"You’re leaving me, aren’t you?" you asked, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

Acacius looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his gaze softened when he saw the hurt in your eyes. "No. I’m not leaving you." His voice was low and full of certainty, though there was a storm of emotions raging behind those words. "I’ll never leave you. But I need you to trust me now."

You nodded, though the uncertainty in your chest remained. His men were getting ready, and you knew that there was no time left to hesitate.

"Promise me you’ll come to get me back," you said quietly, the words more of a plea than a command.

Acacius stepped closer, his hand brushing the side of your face, his thumb tenderly tracing over your skin. "I swear," he said, his voice raw and filled with emotion. "I’ll come back for you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we’re together again."

The words were like a lifeline, but the storm of emotions raging in your chest made it hard to hold on to them. You wanted to believe him more than anything, but the world was so unpredictable, and you knew better than to expect anything in these dark times.

As Acacius turned to give orders to his men, you felt the weight of the world crashing down on you, the finality of this moment settling into your bones. You wanted to run to him, to beg him to let you stay, but you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew what he was doing was necessary.

This was bigger than the two of you.

Acacius cupped your face once more, his eyes soft but heavy with the weight of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of promises and unspoken fears. His touch was tender, like it was the last thing he could give you before everything changed.

"Be safe," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and full of urgency. "No matter what happens, remember that I will always love you."

Your heart ached as his words sank in, the depth of his devotion resonating through every fiber of your being. You nodded, though your throat tightened, unable to find the words to express what you felt. His love, his promise, were everything you had left to hold on to in this fleeting moment.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still resting on your cheek, and without another word, he helped you onto the horse. His movements were swift and precise, his touch strong but careful as he steadied you in the saddle. His gaze never left yours, filled with a quiet desperation, as though he could somehow will the situation to change with just his stare.

As he stood next to the horse, his hand resting on the reins, he gave a final, lingering look, as though imprinting you into his memory. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke again, his voice filled with finality.

"Trust in me," he said, his eyes intense. "No matter what happens, trust that I will find a way back to you."

His men began to move in the background, preparing to take you away. Acacius placed one last kiss on your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that felt like it was marking the end of a chapter. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his presence, remained with you, even as he pulled away and nodded to his soldiers.

With a final glance, he stepped back, his face a mixture of sorrow and determination. His hand reached out toward you one last time, as if he wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you just a moment longer. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

"Go," he said quietly, the word almost a command, but it carried so much emotion that it cut deep.

As the men took the reins of your horse and started moving you away, you cast one last look over your shoulder. Acacius stood there, still watching you, his face a mask of stoic resolve but his eyes betraying the pain that he had hidden behind his duty.

And then, as you were carried further away, the world around you began to blur. The sound of horses’ hooves pounding against the earth, the rustling of the wind, it all faded as you focused on the one thing that remained clear.

As the path beyond you seemed to haunt you, you tightened the cloak around your shoulders, its coarse fabric doing little to shield you from the chill that seeped into your bones. Every step away from the villa felt heavier and suffocating, each one pulling you farther from Acacius, your mother, and Lucius. The road stretched ahead, but your mind remained trapped in the past, tangled in memories and regrets.

You couldn’t shake the image of Acacius’s eyes, the way they softened when he looked at you, or the feel of his lips pressed against your forehead. The smell of lavender on his neck that seemed to lullaby you into sleep every time he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart ached thinking about your mother, her face etched with sorrow and strength as she pushed you to safety. And Lucius, your brother, the rightful emperor of Rome, forced to live as a slave under a name that was never his.

As Acacius's men guided you through the winding paths, the weight of your separation grew unbearable. You were being secured by Acacius’s army, hidden away from the dangers that loomed, but it felt more like a prison than protection. You were trapped in the middle of something larger than yourself, and the distance only amplified the helplessness curling in your chest.

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Acacius stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the direction you had disappeared. His heart clenched painfully, the hollow ache of your absence settling deep within him. A single tear escaped down his cheek, betraying the stoic facade he tried to maintain. The emptiness in his chest felt insurmountable, as if a piece of him had been torn away.

You were the Achilles heel on his life, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being away from his protection.

Lucilla, seeing the turmoil etched across his face, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, like her father” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her own eyes. “And you will find your way back to her.”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his hand coming to rest over Lucilla’s in silent acknowledgment. The touch sent shivers down his spine; it wasn’t love but understanding. The both of you letting go your heart away.

His eyes never wavered from the path you had taken, his heart silently vowing that no matter what, he would find you again.

Beneath the cloak, you knew you hadn’t far away from the villa. Just one bold movement and you could go back.

There was a weight that became heavier to bear. Acacius would risk his life to free an empire from its tyranny, and perhaps the power would go back to your family while your mother would get stuck in the middle and Lucius real identity would display.

Suddenly, the weight of it all became unbearable. Without thinking, you yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a skidding halt. The men guarding you shouted in alarm, but their voices were distant echoes compared to the roaring in your ears. You leapt off the horse, your feet hitting the ground hard, and before they could react, you were running, running back towards the villa, towards the people you couldn’t abandon.

"Stop! Come back!" Acacius's men called after you, their voices laced with desperation. But you didn’t listen. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold.

you couldn’t turn your back on them. Not now. Now after all.

You were stronger than that. You were the daughter of Maximus Decimus, a man of honor.

You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold. The wind tore at your cloak, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet pounded the dirt path. Every step closer to the villa felt like shedding a layer of fear, replaced by a fierce, unyielding resolve.

The villa loomed in the distance; it brought a strange comfort to your heart. Your mind raced faster than your legs, what if you were too late? What if Acacius or your mother were already in danger? The thought spurred you on, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the aching in your legs.

Behind you, the shouts of Acacius’s men grew fainter, their figures shrinking against the horizon. But your heart was set, you belonged there, in the thick of it, facing whatever fate awaited alongside those you loved. As the gates of the villa came into view, your heart pounded not from exhaustion, but from the sheer force of your determination.

You were almost there.

"Acacius!" you shouted, breathless as you reached the entrance. As soon as he came into view, you crashed into him, and he caught you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that felt like home.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hushed, desperate, his hands moving to cradle your face, as if he needed to be sure you were real.

"I can't-" you gasped out, struggling to steady your breath. "Don't ask me to run away while you stay here. Please, don’t."

His fingers traced your jaw, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled shakily. "I can’t put you in danger," he whispered. "I won’t."

You closed your eyes, your breath mingling with his. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you, but the ache in your chest only grew stronger.

"How?" you whispered, searching his eyes. "How can I leave when you will be here fighting?

Acacius’s jaw clenched. "You know what will happen if you stay—"

"And you know what will happen if I go!" You pulled back slightly, forcing him to see the determination burning in your eyes. "I grew up in a world where privilege was handed to me until it wasn’t. My heart was humble until it wasn’t. I never realized how greedy I could be until I met you, until my heart started beating for you. I want everything that comes from you—your words, your breath, your smile, your heart, you. And if there is a chance, they take you from me, then I’d rather meet the spirits myself than live in a world where you don’t exist."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in him. A vulnerability so raw it threatened to consume you both. His hands trembled against your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make this harder for me."

Your heart twisted painfully. "Then don’t make it harder for me, either. You already know how voiceless women are here. Let me make my choice for once."

His eyes darkened with conflict, with love, with fear. And then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours. it was a desperate, aching plea. A promise. A surrender.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged, his hands still cupping your face as though afraid you’d disappear.

"Then stay," he whispered. "And if the gods are kind, we will survive this together."

But you were afraid the gods had never been kind to lovers like you.

Lucilla watched the exchange in silence before stepping forward. "My child," she said gently, "I know you are willing to risk your life for those you love. But this is not a fight you can win with your heart.”

You turned to her, desperation burning in your eyes. "I know this villa better than anyone. I grew up here. I know every passage, every hidden corridor. If I can get to Lucius, I can free him. We can hide. We can escape and Acacius and his army will free Rome."

"No," Acacius said immediately, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

"He’s my brother!" you argued.

"And what happens when you get caught?" Lucilla’s voice was softer, but no less firm. "You think Geta or Caracalla will show mercy to you? He’ll use you against us, just as he always intended."

Acacius tightened his grip on you. "You are the only thing keeping me from turning this entire city to dust. If something happens to you, I won’t stop. I won’t care about the cost."

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Then let me help you. Let me help Lucius."

"The best way to help is to stay safe," Lucilla insisted. "We will find a way, Acacius-“

“Lucius will refuse Acaciu’s help.” You interrupted, “He took the city he was in, but I’m his sister.”

Acacius's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with frustration and the fear it came when danger seemed to follow you. He shook his head. "That’s exactly why you can’t go. You think he’ll just follow you? Lucius is stubborn. He won’t leave. He won’t abandon his pride, even for you."

"He will if I make him see reason," you pressed, your voice trembling with conviction you wanted to believe. "If I remind him who he is, what he stands for. He’ll listen to me."

Lucilla exhaled sharply, stepping between you and Acacius, her presence like a steady force in the eye of the storm. "And if he doesn’t? If he refuses, what then?”

You flinched at her words. The weight of this pressed down on you, but you refused to let it break you. "Then at least I’ll have tried," you whispered. "At least I won’t sit in hiding while the people I love fight for their lives."

Acacius turned away from you abruptly, running a hand through his hair, his breath ragged. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath before spinning back toward you. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you know what you’re asking me to do?" His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. "You’re asking me to send you straight into the lion’s den. To just…juts let you walk into danger while I stand back and watch."

"I’m asking you to trust me," you said, your voice fierce despite the tears burning your throat. "I have spent my whole life being protected, shielded from the ugliness of this world. But I am not some delicate thing to be tucked away. If we are to have any future at all, we must take risks."

Acacius closed his eyes, as if trying to drown out your words, to quiet the war inside him. Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "She is her father's daughter," she murmured, her gaze heavy with understanding. "You cannot change her mind when it is already set."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists before he finally looked at you again. "If you go, you do not go alone."

Your breath hitched. "Acacius-"

"You do not go alone," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not let you face this without protection."

Lucilla nodded. "I know someone who can get you into the cells unnoticed. But you must understand-this is your one chance. If something goes wrong, there will be no second attempt. No coming back for you."

Your heart pounded as the full weight of the decision settled in. There was no turning back now.

"Then I will not fail," you promised, meeting Acacius’s gaze.

But even as you said the words, you knew that fate was a cruel, unpredictable thing.

“I will wait for you at the end of the dungeon” He explained, “Once you free Lucius, both of you, especially you will come and going to go away. Then when tomorrow came, I’ll get everything settle for what’s coming.”

Lucilla’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes something like resignation. "We don't have time to argue anymore," she said finally. "If you're going to do this, you must go now."

Acacius stepped closer, his hands gripping your arms as if he could anchor you to him. His touch burned, searing into your skin, branding you with the weight of his worry. "Promise me," he murmured. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t hesitate. The moment Lucius is free, you run."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you weren’t sure if you could keep that promise.

Lucilla moved toward the entrance, glancing over her shoulder. "I will send word to the one who will take you inside. Wait for him by the servants' passage near the western wall. And keep your head down."

Acacius leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "Be careful," he whispered. "I need you to come back to me."

You lingered there for a moment, memorizing the feeling of his hands on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he looked at you as if you were something worth fighting for.

"Mia vita" he called out, stopping you on your tracks to kiss you softly, the pulled back slightly “Please don't let this to be our last kiss"

"We still have a life to live together" you smiled against his lips, peeking his lips once more "at peace this time"

"I will find you" he promised, peeking your lips once again, savoring every single second of this. "I'll be waiting for you at the end of the dungeon."

You nodded, feeling shivers down your spine. He kissed your lips again as if couldn’t let go because of the fear, tasting the sweet flavor of fruits on them, lingering to the feeling that in a few hours he would free Rome from the tyranny and escape with you to a happy ending, a happy life.

"Be careful, love" he whispered as you walked from his grasp.

Then, with one final look, you turned and disappeared into the shadows.

And as you did, Acacius stood still, watching you leave, his fists clenched at his sides.

He had never felt so powerless.

The night stretched long and cold as you moved through the villa’s outer corridors, keeping close to the stone walls. Every shadow felt like a threat waiting to cut you in half, every sound a warning. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself forward. Your mother’s contact was waiting near the western wall as promised, a hooded figure who barely looked at you before motioning for you to follow.

"This way," he whispered, leading you through a narrow passage. "The guards are fewer tonight, but that won’t last long."

You nodded, pressing yourself deeper into the cloak wrapped around your shoulders. The passage led downward into the lower levels of the coliseum, where the scent of damp stone and burning torches thickened the air. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do settled heavier in your chest.

Finally, the man halted near a rusted iron gate, peering around the corner before motioning for you to stop. "Beyond here, you’re on your own. You already know where the cells, be fast my lady.”

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before slipping through the gate. The corridor was dimly lit, flickering torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. You kept low, moving carefully. Every instinct screamed at you to hurry, but you couldn’t afford mistakes.

Then you saw him.

Lucius sat in the farthest cell, his head down, his hands bound in front of him. His tunic was dirtied and torn; his face shadowed with exhaustion. But he was still alive.

"Lucius," you whispered urgently, pressing yourself against the bars. His head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"By the gods," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Freeing you," you said, already fumbling with the lock. "We don’t have much time, Acacius has a plan, but we need to go now."

Lucius let out a short, breathless laugh. "Acacius? And here I thought you had come to your senses and abandoned him.”

You shot him a glare, your fingers working as quickly as possible. "Do you want to fight about this, or do you want to walk out of here alive?"

Before he could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Your breath caught.

The guards were coming.

You barely had time to think. With trembling fingers, you worked at the lock, gritting your teeth as the iron refused to give. Lucius shifted impatiently behind the bars, his gaze darting toward the approaching footsteps.

"Hurry," he muttered.

"I know," you hissed, forcing yourself to focus. The crude metal bit into your skin, but finally, with a sharp click, the lock gave way. You got the door open, and Lucius stepped out, shaking the stiffness from his limbs.

"We need to go," you whispered.

Together, you slipped into the shadows, pressing yourselves against the cold stone walls. The guards were close now, their voices carrying down the corridor. You gripped Lucius’s wrist, pulling him forward as you sprinted through the winding path of the dungeon.

Your breaths came fast and shallow, your heart hammering with every turn. The torches flickered wildly in the drafty halls, casting distorted shapes that sent chills up your spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the dungeon, the meeting place Acacius had promised.

But he wasn’t there.

You came to a sudden stop, chest heaving as your eyes darted around the empty space.

"Where is he?" Lucius whispered harshly.

You didn’t answer. He should be here.

He said he would be here. You thought.

A cold feeling crept up your spine. Something was wrong.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Think. Think faster. Acacius wasn’t here. That meant something had gone wrong. That meant-

“We have to move,” you whispered, gripping Lucius’s arm.

He gave you a sharp look, but didn’t argue. You took the lead, slipping through the dimly lit corridor, your body tense, ears straining for any sound. The dungeon air was thick with dampness, every breath heavy in your chest.

Acacius had told you to wait. But waiting was a death sentence now.

He could be in trouble. He could be dead.

No. You forced the thought away. Acacius was strong. He was waiting for you somewhere else. He had to be.

Lucius kept pace beside you, his voice low and urgent. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” you said, scanning the hallway. “I know another way.”

A narrow servant’s passage was carved into the farthest wall, one you had used as a child to sneak out when the world inside these walls had felt too suffocating. You yanked open the hidden door, pushing Lucius through before slipping inside yourself. The stone closed behind you, sealing you both in darkness.

The passage was narrow, forcing you to move single file. Your fingers trailed the rough stone as you navigated through the twisting tunnel, the air cool and stale. You could hear Lucius’s uneven breathing behind you, but neither of you spoke.

You reached the end and pressed against the wooden panel that led to the outside. For a long moment, you hesitated.

If Acacius wasn’t here, it meant something had shifted in the plan. But you had no time to figure out what.

You had to keep moving.

Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

The night air was a fleeting whisper of freedom before it was ripped away.

The moment you and Lucius stepped beyond the hidden passage, torches flared to life, illuminating the ring of imperial guards waiting for you. The glint of their drawn swords was the only warning you had before rough hands seized you.

Lucius struggled, his fury a silent storm beside you, but he was outnumbered. A soldier slammed the hilt of his sword into his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Lucius!” you shouted, lunging toward him, but another set of hands wrenched you back.

A grizzled guard stepped forward; his expression smug beneath his bronze helmet. “Did you really think you could slip away unnoticed?” he sneered.

You twisted against their grip, but they held you firm. “Where is Acacius?” you demanded. “What have you done to him?”

The guard chuckled darkly. “Worry for yourself, little dove.” He leaned in, his breath rank against your cheek. “Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason.”

Your stomach twisted. Geta. He knew.

The guards yanked you and Lucius apart, dragging him in the opposite direction. He thrashed violently, eyes burning with desperation as they pulled him away from you.

“Stay strong,” he shouted. “Don’t give them what they want!”

Then he was gone.

You fought harder, but it was useless. The last thing you saw before they forced you forward was the blood-red banners of the empire swaying in the cold night air.

The throne room was suffocating with tension, the air thick with the scent of oil and burning torches. Acacius and Lucilla stood before the imperial dais, their bodies rigid as Emperor Geta lounged with lazy arrogance in his gilded chair. Caracalla stood beside him, his fingers curling and uncurling as if barely restraining his temper.

The moment Acacius learned you had been captured, something inside him had snapped. His presence alone carried a storm, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides, the veins in his neck straining with suppressed fury.

“Where is she?” Acacius demanded, his voice like thunder cracking through the hall.

Geta smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Who?” he mused, feigning innocence. “Oh, you mean your wife.” He sighed dramatically. “A shame, really. I expected more from you, Acacius. But in the end, even the great general is brought to his knees for a woman.”

Acacius took a menacing step forward, only for Lucilla to press a warning hand against his arm. “You do not want to do this,” she whispered, though even her voice carried the edge of a threat.

Caracalla’s lip curled; his rage barely restrained. “You made a mistake, Acacius. You should have fled with her when you had the chance.”

“I will get her back,” Acacius growled. His eyes snapped to Geta, cold and unrelenting. “Emperor Geta, torture me if you want, but don't dare to lay a finger on my wife.”

Geta’s expression darkened at that word.

His knuckles went white around the goblet before he set it down with deliberate slowness. “But I will,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. He walked towards Acacius, stepping closer, his grin cruel. “Now, I’m going to see her.”

Acacius lunged, but the guards were already between them, forcing him back as Geta strode from the room. The moment the doors slammed shut behind him, Acacius let out a roar of frustration. He whirled, striking one of the marble pillars with his fist hard enough to crack the stone.

Acacius’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, but when he turned to face Lucilla next to him, his eyes were filled with something worse than fury.

Desperation.

His hands clenched into fists again. “I will kill him. I swear it.”

The cell was damp and smelled of rust and decay. You hit the ground hard as the guards shoved you inside, the impact jolting through your knees and elbows. The cold stone bit into your skin, but you barely felt it, your mind was reeling, heart hammering in your chest.

"You should have stayed where you belonged," one of the guards sneered from the other side of the iron bars. "Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason."

You lifted your head, eyes burning with defiance. "I still have you to make him beg for mercy."

The guard scoffed but did not reply. He only smirked, slamming the barred door shut with a loud clang before disappearing down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the darkness.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sit upright. Every part of you ached, but pain was the least of your concerns.

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your face as tears threatened to spill. But you wouldn’t cry.

Instead, you allowed yourself a moment to gather your strength. Tomorrow was coming, and with it, the arena and whatever fate awaited Acacius. Whatever happened, you wouldn’t let Geta break you.

Then, a sound.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

A chill ran down your spine.

You knew who it was before you even saw him.

The door creaked open, and there he stood.

Emperor Geta.

The first thing he did as he took glance of you was grabbing your face forcefully with his hand, forcing you to spare him a glance. He wouldn't even dream of seeing you like this, is disbelief, with your hair a mess, and bloody. You weren't made for a life like this, but now under these conditions, this was the closest he had come to have you.

"Escaping with that slave, my dear lady? You marrying Acacius felt less insulting than this." He said, looking dead into your shining orbits.

"Marrying you would an insult to myself. I would rather eat shit than be tied to you." You spatted.

Geta's smile widened as a cruel laugh escaped his lips as his studied your features. Your before soft skin seemed dirty by drops of blood and dirt. You were a delicate doll, but now smashed and crumbled.

Geta’s expression twisted, his smugness evaporating in an instant. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. Before you could react, his hand lashed out, the sharp crack of the slap ringing through the chamber.

The force of the blow snapped your head to the side, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the floor. Your cheek stung, the pain radiating hot and angry, but it was nothing compared to the cold fury swelling in your chest.

Geta loomed over you, his breath heavy, his hand still trembling from the strike. “You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget who holds your life in his hands. You forget who I am. I'm the emperor and you're just a prisoner granted privileges because of your mother and Acacius" his face got close to you, "but now you're a mere slave accused of treason."

You spit on his face. The anger and loathing consuming like a fire burning your body.

Geta took his hand to his face, cleaning your spit with disgust written on his face. You had ended with his patience and he couldn't bear it anymore.

Just a few hours ago you had been secured on Acacius big arms, surrounded by the faint scene of laurel and lavender that seemed to calmed you down.

Now the stink of dirt and humidity rusted your nostrils. You wanted to close your eyes and feel the lavender on your nose, Acacius lips on your temple. You wanted him to save you, you were pleading the gods.

"Please stop this...let me see him" you begged, your voice broken. "Don't hurt him."

Lifting your gaze to see if by chance there would be a tiny bit of sympathy dancing on his eyes, you face the coldest gaze you had ever seen.

"Acacius' life is on my will, your mother's...even that beloved gladiator of yours." He got closer once again, looking directly to your eyes, you felt his wine breath on your face, "Test my patience once again, my lady and I will snap my finger like this" he snapped his fingers in front of you, getting closer to your lips you can almost feel his on your and it felt repulsive "and all of them will be dead. All of them!"

You gritted in protest, the repulsion of his touch filling you with an instinctual fear that made your skin crawl. The air between you felt suffocating, and the words he spoke echoed in your mind like a distant nightmare, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to remain still as his lips lingered too close to yours. The stench of wine and bitterness clung to him, every part of him an invasion to your thoughts, to your soul.

"Don’t you dare," you hissed, your voice trembling but filled with defiance. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of breaking you.

“You have no idea what I could give you,” Geta began, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of his authority. “Power, wealth, freedom to rule by my side as my wife. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of could be yours if only you’d open your eyes and choose me.”

You hold your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed forcefully against yours. The taste of wine and greed made your stomach churn, and every inch of your body screamed in protest. This was not love. This was a sick obsession, an attempt to break your will and twist your bones. You clenched your fists, refusing to let him see the fear creeping at the edges of your resolve.

"I would rather die than choose you," you spat, your voice full of venom.

“I don’t care what you want” he said, pulling away just to stand up, smiling cruelly down at you on the ground. "Chain her to the wall." He ordered the guards

Your despair filled the dirty dungeons "No, please. Don't" you squirmed under the men's hold "Let me go!"

The cold stone wall bit into your skin as the guards’ iron chains wrapped around your wrists, pulling you taut against the damp, dark dungeon. The echo of your cries was swallowed by the silence of the place, but inside, your fury burned with an intensity you had never known. You clenched your teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, determined to stay strong.

"Goodnight, my princess," Geta’s mocking voice lingered in the air long after he was gone, a cruel reminder of his power over you.

Your screams followed geta's steps as he walked away from you. You were left there to drown in your own tears as you curse and whatever plan his Machiavellian mind has.

Your fingers tightened into fists, nails digging into your palms as you whispered a curse under your breath, a spell woven from the ancient words passed down through history. Soon the future of Rome would be defined and you were going to take charge of it.

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[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part 11)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Hanahaki!AU, angst, all hurt no comfort, swearing, tears, the usual 🙂‍↕️

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: It has been WAY too long since I've updated this story and I apologise for that 🙂‍↕️ I finally feel like I've gotten my life back on track to finally be able to post a long awaited update!! Thank you to everyone who still reads and enjoys my fics, it means a lot ! 🥹 - Tae 💜🌸✨

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“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“His girlfriend left him, genius. What do you think is wrong with him?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. His housemates have as much subtlety as an earthquake. Their naturally loud voices seep through the closed door of his bedroom as he stares at his ceiling, a sigh leaving his lungs in the darkness as the outside voices drone on.

“Hyung,” Mingyu sighs. “It’s been over a week now… Should we call someone?”

“Who would we call?” Junhui retorts. “His soulmate? Because up until last week, I thought his soulmate was Ji-ah.”

The mention of her name creates another pit in Jihoon’s stomach. He hates it. He wishes he could just get over the stupid emotions that run through his veins at the mere thought of his not-soulmate, now also not-girlfriend.

“His parents are hours away and he has no siblings that we can contact.” Junhui continues, frustration laced in his voice. “I don’t know who we could call.”

“Doesn’t hyung have a cousin who-”

“I can hear everything you guys are saying. You know that, right?” 

Jihoon’s hard voice carries through the door, his housemates falling silent on the other end.

“Jihoon-ah.” A deep voice mutters, causing him to tense up. He knows that Wonwoo knows how to get through to him. “Can we talk?”

After a long pause, Jihoon’s bedroom door slightly creaks open. “Wonwoo, I told you yesterday,” he stares at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the older man. “I am fine-”

“You are not, Jihoon-ah. And we both know it.” 

“How do you know?” He snips.

“You haven’t left your bedroom since Ji-ah left you last week.” Jihoon sucks his teeth at her name.

“I never left my bedroom before she left me.” He hisses back.

“Yes, you did.” Wonwoo retorts back. 

“When? To go on dates with her?” he barks. “To take her out? To go visit her family? Well, guess what? She is gone, Wonwoo, so I have a whole lot more free time and I choose to spend that time at home.” his voice cracks slightly, bottom lip shaking as he moves to close the door once more, his frown deepening as Mingyu grabs a hold of the door before it closes.

“Hyung, we’re sorry.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now as he looks at him with sad eyes. “We’re so fucking sorry that you’re going through this but we are here for you and want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need-”

“Please don’t push us away.” Wonwoo frowns, his hand resting over Jihoons. “Jihoon-ah…”

Jihoon shakes his head quietly, a small hiccup leaving his lips. “Wonwoo, I promise, I’m fine.” He gently lets his hand fall from Wonwoo’s as he moves to shut the door to his bedroom once more, wiping the stray tears that threaten to spill from his eyes.

“I truly don’t know what to do, guys.” Jihoon winces at the defeated tone of his older housemate’s voice as he climbs back into the comfort of his bed once more, hoping to forget about the world around him for a little bit longer.

Jihoon heaves a loud sigh as he steps into his first Film Studies class in nearly two weeks, slumping down in his chair, rubbing at his temples slightly as Professor Park begins his usual droning on. He really should be listening to the lecture at hand, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when he can feel the eyes of multiple people in the class lingering on him. He’s sure that word has gotten around now about his very public dumping and the fact that Ji-ah was obviously never his soulmate. He hates that he can feel the sympathy radiating off of his peers, and even off of you, his real soulmate, sitting directly beside him with your stupid perfect hair and stupidly neat notes that you wordlessly offered him to help catch him up on the classes he missed. He accepts them graciously, spending most of the lesson copying your notes into his notebook.

“Professor,” a deep voice from the back of the room calls out near the end of the lesson, drawing Jihoon from his thoughts. 

“Yes, Jaebeom?” 

Your soulmate glances at you at the sight of your body tensing up at the mention of the newcomer’s name. He tilts his head slightly as he feels nerves begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach from you, causing him to raise a brow. You take a slow breath before scribbling idly on your page again, indifference on your face, but Jihoon knows it’s a front. 

Why are you so tense?

“About the extension on our group project?” Jaebeom’s voice lulls out in a drawl, a clear cockiness hidden in his tone. 

“Ah yes,” Professor Park hums, nodding his head. “I know some of you have gone ahead and already submitted your essays and presentations to me, and I’m thankful for you guys for getting these to me on time and even earlier. For the remainder of you all who have yet to submit your projects, I’ve extended the deadline by two weeks, due to an unavoidable event I must attend.”

Jihoon hears his classmate’s sighs of relief, and in turn, he breathes out as well. He knew he had neglected his end of his project with you for the last week, and he feels grateful that he can make up for it.

“I do hope the rest of you,” Professor Park sends a look to the back of the room, “get this done in due time. Class dismissed.”

Jihoon wordlessly offers your notebook back to you, a frown forming on his face when he sees you duck your head, letting your hair fall over your face. He glances to see a taller man wearing low jeans and a beat up baseball cap on his head march- no, strut down the stairs to reach the door, sauntering out with what Jihoon can only describe as a sleazy grin on his face. Once he steps out of the room, you immediately collect your things, bow your head to Jihoon with a little smile, and jump up to leave the classroom.

“Professor,” your soulmate approaches the teacher. “I appreciate you extending the deadline-”

“Oh, Jihoon-ssi!” Professor Park smiled. “Are you feeling better? Miss Choi told me that you were unwell when she submitted your project to me last week.”

“Oh.. Yeah, I’m feeling alri- Wait. Submitted?” Jihoon blinked.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Both of your arguments had wonderful points to pit against each other. Well done! I will be posting your grades in a few weeks!”

You finished off the project for him? Why are you so… nice?

“Uh… Thank you, Professor.” Jihoon bows his head in thanks before slowly stepping out of the classroom, starting to walk in the direction of home, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

Jihoon takes a deep sigh as he finds himself sitting down at the park bench that is so familiar to him now, letting the raindrops land on his clothes and face as he tilts his head back.

“Jihoon-ssi?” your voice is quiet over the sound of the loud rain, but Jihoon could hear you. He always does. He blinks as he feels the heavy raindrops that land on his hoodie abruptly stop, looking up to see a pastel umbrella being held over his now drenched body. “What are you doing out here?”

Jihoon shrugs quietly for a moment. “I… don’t know.” He glances down at the wet sleeves of his hoodie. “Just.. Thinking.”

“Well, I think you should think away from a torrential downpour next time,” you quip with a little smile, hoping the joke makes him crack a smile.

“Nah,” he hums. “It’s comforting, the rain..” 

“Comforting?” You echo, tilting your head innocently as he hums a confirmation.

“Mm. Rain doesn’t have colour.” He glances at you for a moment, slightly amused by the cluelessness on your face as you just blink at him. “Ah, it’s silly, really,” he continues. “The sky doesn’t have colour when it rains, it reminds me of what the world looked like before everything changed. Everything is so different now.”

“You’re right.” You agree quietly. “Everything is different.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon mumbles after a brief silence. “For helping finish off the project while I was… y’know.”

“Oh, that?” You shrug. “That was nothing. You had all the arguments, I just articulated them for you. Figured that you already had enough on your plate so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I submitted a little early to get it out of the way for the both of us.”

“How do you do it?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“... Live.” Jihoon’s voice is barely above a whisper as you settle down on the park bench beside Jihoon, still holding the umbrella over his head. “How do you just live life so damn happily while you feel like absolute shit all the time? And don’t deny that you don’t, I have felt every single emotion you have felt for weeks now.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky before humming. “I suppose I just got used to it.” You shrug. “It kind of just became like a background noise for me. It’s just always there.” 

“Even when the pain is doubled now? Because of me?”

You shrug once more. “It’s not something I haven’t dealt with before. I can feel the pain for both of us, Jihoon-ssi. It’s okay.” You give him a little smile. “I have had a lot more practice at loss than you have.”

Jihoon feels the irritation bubbling up inside him slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You blink in confusion as you glance at him. “Huh?”

“I have experienced loss too, you know.”

“I know that, I just-”

“I am more than capable of feeling these emotions too.” He frowns.

“I know,” you emphasize, “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to face them on your own.”

Jihoon scoffs quietly. Who does she think she is, giving him advice on how to deal with his emotions? “I know that too. You don’t need to point out the obvious, Choi.”

“Do you know that?” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “Because from what Mingyu told me, you’ve barely left your room until this week.”

“Ugh,” Jihoon groans, leaning his head back. “Am I not allowed to have time to myself?”

“Of course you are,” you sigh. “But you’re also-”

“You know, you should think about facing your emotions on your own instead of relying on everyone else around you.” Jihoon hisses at you with a glare as you freeze with wide eyes. 

“H-huh?” He can feel your doubt seeping into his veins.

“Your brother, his soulmate, Soonyoung, Seokmin,” he rambles. “They’re always at your beck and call when they could be living their own lives with each other and not have to worry about you every five fucking minutes like you’re their child.”

“I…” You balk, Jihoon wincing at the feeling of your stomach twisting inside him. But he doesn't care, he wants you to hurt as much as he does. It’s your fault he doesn’t have Ji-ah anymore, afterall.

“Just go away!” He barks. “When will you realize that your help isn’t needed?! You’re not needed! I lost the one girl I truly fucking loved because of YOU! Why would I want you around?! Leave me alone already!”

After a long silence, Jihoon finally turns his head to look at you, staring at him for what seems like hours with the same look that you had on the day you brushed hands for the first time. That isn’t what frightens your soulmate, though. What frightens him is the fact that he can’t feel anything inside him anymore, besides his own pain.

“... sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” You mumble robotically, delicately placing the umbrella beside him before rising and walking through the heavy rain in the direction of your house, letting the rain run down your clothes.

“Fuck.” Jihoon sighs heavily and buries his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears your footsteps move further and further away.

He needs to apologize. He knows he does. He knows he said those words out of anger and hurt, and he knows you definitely didn’t deserve it. 

But why can’t he find it in himself to go to you and do it? You’re literally two tables away from him right now.

Jihoon, he scolds himself, it’s been days. You need to man up and tell her you’re sorry. 

Could he be worrying a little now because since he confronted you, he has felt no emotions whatsoever from you? Has he finally lost the tether from you?

“Hello you!!” A loud, cheery voice snaps him into reality. He blinks as he stares at his cup of ramen in his hand, fidgeting on the hard steel of the cafeteria chair underneath him, trying to figure out where the loud voice had come from.

Seungkwan makes his way over to where you’re sitting, draping himself over your back. Before he can ask how you are, you jolt up quickly, scooting away from him like you’ve been burned.

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, pressing yourself up against the wall. “Where’s Hansol? You should be with Hansol.”

Seungkwan’s face contorts slightly as he sticks his lips out in almost a pout. “He had to run to make his next class… Bug, what’s wrong-”

“I actually have to run too, Kwan.” You stammer out quickly, grabbing your backpack and stepping out from behind the table. “Talk later?”

“But, you haven’t even touched your lunch…” his voice fades out as he watches you rush quickly out of the cafeteria, surprise etched on his face.

Jihoon watches on, just as surprised as Seungkwan as he reaches the table with him, Soonyoung and Seokmin.

“Okay, what the hell was that? What happened to Bug?” Seungkwan immediately questions Soonyoung, who upon further inspection, looks just as out of it as you are.

“We don’t know,” Seokmin speaks for his soulmate. “Every time she’s at home, she stays locked up in her room and only leaves to cook dinner for us and clean up. She didn’t even come down for movie night the other night.”

Your soulmate’s eyes widened slightly as Soonyoung took a deep breath. “Something has happened and she won’t tell us what. She doesn’t even speak when she’s at home anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her, get her to come out of her room, do anything, but she doesn’t budge. I’m getting worried.” Seokmin bites his lip.

“I don’t know what the hell has happened to our Bug. She is literally just doing fucking chores and whenver one of us tries to hang out..” your best friend rubs at his temples. “She keeps insisting we hang out with our soulmates. With each other. I don’t know why the fuck that doesn’t mean she can’t hang out with us too.”

Jihoon feels sick as your housemate’s words sink in to him.

When will you realize your help isn’t needed? You’re not needed!

Fuck.

“Jesus Christ, Jihoon-ah.” Wonwoo breathes out when Jihoon finally steps through the door. “You were supposed to be back four hours ago. What the hell were you- Jihoon-ah?” 

His eyes widened at the sight of his housemate stepping under the lights of the hallway, lip trembling and hair sticking in six different directions. Jihoon truly didn’t mean to take so long making it home. He supposes he lost track of time wandering campus with his racing mind.

He knew his words had gotten to you. At the moment it felt good, for you to feel the pain he did. But now? Seeing his friends, your family agonizing over how detached you are? 

What has he done?

“Jihoon…” Junhui looks on worriedly, reaching forward to slip the backpack off his housemate’s shoulders.

“I… I knew what I was getting into when I chose to date her, Wonwoo.” His voice quivers as he stares at the ground. “I knew that she already had a soulmate, but… I-I didn’t think…” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Wonwoo agrees.

“She told me that he had moved countries years ago… There was no chance he’d come back…” a small tear slides down his cheek as his housemate hums in acknowledgement. “And when I… when I found my soulmate and I-” Jihoon chokes back a sob. “And I rejected them to keep a hold of Ji-ah…” His soft cries echo into the quiet hallway. “I… I felt their heart break inside of me, I’ve felt their pain for weeks a-and now I feel their pain on top of my own and… fuck, I broke her, man.”

“Oh, Jihoon…” Junhui sighs sympathetically as Wonwoo pulls Jihoon towards him, bringing his head into his shoulder as his arms wrap around his back in a warm embrace. 

Jihoon pauses for a moment. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before he lets out a soft sob, his hands gripping onto Wonwoo’s shoulders desperately as he buries his face into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung,” he chokes out. “I r-really fucked up.”

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[hrrtshape]

congrats on your shift emmaaaa!!!!! you spent 15 days!! in your dr!!and only over an hour passed by here?!?!?!! how weird does it feel like to come back to find out that time in here didn't seemed to move but you spent literal days!!! in another life!! time is indeed an illusion but still the fact that in this cr 'an hour passed' I just wanna know if did it affect you in any way????

hi omg !!! just to clarify: when i shifted, i think it was about 1 in the morning in my cr and i woke up back in my dr at 12 am !! so technically i was out for 12 hours !!!

and to answer your question. . . will you be the same after shifting?

so i've been back for about two days as of right now, and....even though that amount of time may be insignificant, i can already tell you a confident hypothesis. the short answer: no. the long answer: also no, but with more syllables and a rapidly dissolving sense of self.

so !! i was gone for 15 days. two weeks and a spare. a neat little holiday from here, where time drags its feet like an exhausted child. and then, i came back. i came back, and everything was waiting for me exactly as i left it, except i wasn’t quite the same girl who left.

it's like stepping off a plane after a long-haul flight. your body is technically in the same time zone as your passport, but your soul is somewhere over the atlantic, clutching a complimentary orange juice and debating the morality of artificial lighting. you walk through the arrivals gate and expect the air to smell different. you expect your bed to swallow you whole the way it used to. but nothing accommodates the fact that you have changed.

you’re not just slipping between worlds; you’re shedding skins, trading selves. you spend days, minutes, hours, seconds, whatever being someone who fits perfectly into another life, someone whose name rolls off other people's tongues like a prayer or a curse, someone whose laughter is recognised in rooms that have never existed here. and then you blink. you’re back. but that other you, the one who thrived elsewhere... they doesn’t slot back into this reality so easily. they lingers.

maybe you come back expecting the world to have noticed your absence. maybe you expect your room to exhale, relieved at your return. but the walls are indifferent. your reflection blinks at you, unimpressed. and that realisation slithers in, slow and nevertheless the truth: everything is the same except for me.

you try to re-inhabit your old routines, but they fit strangely now, like a coat that shrunk in the wash. the coffee tastes different. the music grates. you catch yourself reaching for things that don’t exist here. names that no one knows. habits that belong to someone else. you were gone for this significant amount of time, but some part of you stayed behind. or worse. some part of there came back with you.

and the worst part?? you start to wonder if you should shift back just to feel real again.

you are real. both of you. all of you. every version of you that has ever existed, whether here or there, whether draped in silks or school uniforms or bloodied war paint. you are not less for having left. and you are not wrong for feeling dislocated now.

will you be the same after shifting back? no. but maybe that’s the point. maybe the girl who came back is supposed to be different. maybe she’s meant to carve a new shape, one that includes everything she’s seen, everything she’s felt, everything she refuses to forget.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s how you learn to exist here again. not as the person you were, but as the person who knows there is more.

is this a vent? yes.

[acatnamedpusheen]

Two of Hearts (Declan x Reader)

Pairing: Declan x fem!reader

Word count: 7K (I've never written anything this long brace yourselves)

Genre: Mutual pining, enemies to lovers kinda vibes, smut in the end(that was the whole point), hella cliche

Warnings: Some bad words here and there, sexual themes obviously, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (I should be locked away), english not being my first language, me rarely using a full stop

Summary: You and Declan are sent on a trip to Como in Italy to attend an award ceremony. After a series of events you end up revealing your feelings for each other.

A/N: I totally did not get this idea as soon as I read that Aidan got secretly married to Caitlin in Italy (somebody lobotomise me). I should mention that I'm not following the timeline of the series, I mixed things up, good luck with that. Also play along with me and pretend it's normal for the british tv awards to be taking place in Italy, alright? This fic took an unnecessary long amount of time during which I was hopelessly sitting in front of a blank white screen with a blinking cursor every single day for 2 weeks. It took every bit of sanity left in me, I was contantly going between "this is so good" and "this is the crappiest shit to ever be written" . Still leaning towards that secong option but, I shall end my yapping here and let you read.

"You're going to Italy with Declan next week." Tony Baddingham casually told you after calling you to his office.

"What? Why?!" there was nothing in Tony's expression that indicated there was any space for negotiation or a way out of this, but these questions involuntarily came out your mouth with a clear protesting tone.

"British Television Awards, special edition taking place in Como this year. Declan has won an award and I can't send him alone, there needs to be some sort of representation from Corinium. And before you open that pretty little mouth of yours again, neither me nor Cameron can go because there are some issues that need to be settled, regarding the next season of Four Men Went To Mow." Tony finished that last sentence with a roll of his eyes. He obviously would have preferred a nice trip to Italy and a chance to show off his power and success infront of all the other producers and station owners that would be attending. Four Men Went To Mow was all Corinium had without Declan, so he had to make sure everything was arranged for its next season.

"I see..." you slowly nodded with a smile that wasn't really hiding your annoyance and turned around to exit Tony's office, barely catching a glimpse of him winking at you with that smug face of his before ligthing a cigar.

You've been working with Tony for a long time at Corinium, you were used to his 'manners' and how much of an authoritarian he was. That didn't mean he wasn't driving you mad, you just had found your ways of putting up with him. That had changed, however, when Declan O'Hara, the ruthless, irish journalist joined Corinum's picture. You had been assinged as his personal assistant, much to his dismay because, like he'd said: 'he does his own research'. Nevertheless, he did need someone to keep him a bit organised and Tony insisted you reported to him about any ongoing research because Declan tended to get quite uncooporative at times. So now, not only did you have to put up with a dictator of a boss, but also this arrogant, excessively proud workaholic you were supposed to be 'assisting'.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked upon seeing you storming in his office after exiting Tony's.

"Nothing." you tried to sound unbothered as you reached for some papers in hopes of distracting yourself. It wasn't really working.

"Oh I know better than to believe a woman answering this question with 'nothing' while she's looking clearly bothered by something." he replied with an amused tone while crossing his arms, accent thick and textured like crystallized honey, making you huff in annoyance.

"Did you know Tony is sending us to Italy next week?" you turned to him.

"Yes, somebody has to go and get that award. And see the look on the faces of all these idiots that never appreciated me." that smirk on Declan's lips was doing things to you. Things you were sure would send you straight to hell if one was to know of them.

"It doesn't sound like you really need me in any of this, though. Or do you think the award will be a bit too heavy for you to hold it all by yourself?" it was your turn to sound smug and the subtle laugh you earned from Declan felt like a reward.

"It's better for the station's image to not just send me there alone and I'm sure Tony explained how he can't send anyone else right now. Besides..." he paused and took a few steps until he was directly in front of you. "I want you there." he locked eyes with you causing your gaze to quickly shift to some other spot around you. "You're part of this show, you worked for this award too." your eyes met his again and you could really see sincerity in them. It felt like this was the first time he was genuinely recognising your work. Always too proud to let a single compliment about your contribution slip past his lips. Was he resorting to simple flattery for the purpose of the trip, you wondered.

"Could you at least tell me you'll be a bit less of a pain in the arse during those 3 days that we're going to be there?" it wasn't unusual for you to express how irritating Declan could get every now and then and you were sure not giving in to any potential tricks of his just yet.

"You know I can never promise such thing, sweetheart." there came that sinful smirk again as he patted the side of your arm before taking a step back and walking to exit the room.

There was no denying you had caught feelings for Declan over time, but you kept trying to find a way to persuade yourself that it was just a stupid phase. None of this was right. He was technically your boss, married even though his wife had just left him, with 3 children and quite older than you. You never had a chance with him and you never even should. You had it all under control up until then, partially hiding behind you constantly being cross with him. But only god knew how you kept longing to feel his toned back and shoulders under your touch, or taste his lips on yours. No, this was so wrong and just a phase, you constantly lied to yourself. A business trip with just the two of you alone, however, could easily reveal the truth and that was the actual reason why it was making you so nervous. As much as you'd wanted to let Declan know how you felt instead of letting it eat you away you dreaded the possibility of making things awkward between the two of you.

-

"You don't mind me sleeping through the entire ride, do you?" you were up on basically no sleep at an ungodly hour in the morning before the sun was even up, for a 2 hour drive to London to catch your flight to Milan. From there you'd be taking the train to Como for about an hour. 'Why did the British Television Awards had to take place in Italy?!' you kept thinking to yourself, your eyes barely able to stay open and then remembered Tony babbling something about it being a special anniversary edition or whatever this year.

"Of course not, but don't expect me to not do the same as soon as we're on that plane." Declan chuckled softly. He was relieved that the circumstances of your trip were such, that allowed, required even, either one or both of you to doze off during most times. He didn't want to make it awkward between the two of you now that you weren't sitting together for work. And he hated to admit it, but he was glad you'd be sleeping while he was driving, because he could easily steal glances at you without getting caught. He liked you, there was no denying that he did, but this felt so new to him and he feared it all might just be some sort of weird reaction to the fact that Maud had left him, sinking in. All these years married and he'd never even thought about looking at another woman, the way his wife did at another man. But now you had come in the picture and Maud had made her exit and it felt so different. You were different, you intrigued him, excited him. The way you carried yourself, the way you opposed him. It wasn't in the way Maud did, because she never liked him for what he truly was, she just wanted attention, whereas you understood Declan. Your 'insults' were innocent, just there to remind him when he was crossing the line and he knew that. What he didn't know was if there was any chance you saw him the way he saw you.

-

"Just a quick question, what do you find more appaling in this situation, me or Italy?" he turned to you with a playfull tone after you'd found your seats on the plane.

"You of course." you joked causing both of you to laugh. "Don't mind me, really, it was just the way Tony announced it, nothing else." you assured him before going back to whatever book you had picked to keep you distracted, surprised that for once you were thankful for Tony's actions upon realising that he'd booked business class seats, which granted space in-between you two. There was no way you could stay sane with Declan being any closer to you than he already was.

The remaining part of this long trip continued in equal silence. You'd only exchanged a few words on how magnificent the green scenery that occupied hundreds of kilometers outside the train window was, or on some new information about whatever research was currently in progress for the next show. And after what seemed like an eternity, in the late afternoon, you had finally arrived at the hotel you'd be staying for the next 2 days.

- 

"Would you like to join me for dinner later? I'm sure we can find a nice restaurant nearby." his all too familiar voice stopped you before you opened the door to your room right next to his. Oh how he wished he could openly ask you out, reveal his true feelings for you, now that you were away from all the familiar faces. Instead he had to make do with this question and hopes you'd accept. 

"I don't think Declan O'Hara, almost officially divorced, should be spotted having dinner with his assistant alone in some restaurant in Como, don't you think?" as much as you wanted this, you had to put your reputations above it. You might be away from the closed society of Rutshire, but Declan was still somewhat of a public figure and was expected to be here for the awards. You couldn't afford seeing your names on the front pages of tabloids, or be the one having to deal with Tony's rage if that were to happen. He gave you this job because he knew you were the one who could stop Declan from acting on impulse and that's what you were determined to do. Besides, it helped keep your irrational thoughts at bay too. "You can go alone on this, I'll probably just order room service, I'm quite tired anyway."

"Then, I'll order room service too and we can sit on my balcony. I've been told the view is exquisite." he saw you preparing to protest and was quick to continue "Come on, love, we can't act like total strangers until we get back. You got dragged here because of me, let me try to at least make it even a bit enjoyable." 

Hearing the nickname 'love' fall from his lips had your knees feeling weak. He called you things like 'love', 'darling' or 'sweatheart' every so often and it was the way he seemed to use these words so naturally with you that had you melting. "Only because you're asking me so nicely." your expression softened. "Anything along the lines of meat, salad or pasta would be perfect. But make sure there's wine." because not in a million years could you handle dinner with Declan sober. "And I'll be over in a minute." were your last words as you dissapeared behind your door leaving Declan in the hallway, before he had a chance to say another word. 

Alone in your room, you couldn't help the shy smile that found its way to your lips as you let out a deep breath. You had to compose yourself, it was just dinner on a business trip.  Declan seemed to mirror you with one of his signature smirks at the thought of getting to spent some private time with you outside the context of work. Last time he had gotten anything close to that was months ago at the NYE party at his house, where practically the whole of Rutshire was invited and he couldn't recall saying anything more to you than a 'hello' , 'happy new year' and 'goodbye". Did he even see you when you left? He couldn't say for sure. Of course there where times when he was tempted to invite you over to the priory. To have you finishing up work at his study and things escalating to... well, other things, but he knew how irresponsible that was, with Taggie and Maud potentially a few walls away. How it would probably make you believe he was a pervert.

- 

"So, ready for the big day tomorrow?" you asked in an attempt to keep some sort of conversation going and avoid the thick awkward silence that kept threatening to fall. Your eyes followed the red wine in the glass you were placing back down on the table, as the sun was setting behind the green mountains surrounding the lake, painting it in hues of orange. The early September breeze setting the perfect temperature for open-air dining. If anyone were to see you and Declan sitting on that balcony, they would, without a doubt, assume  you were a couple sharing a romantic dinner quite possibly on their honeymoon too. But the truth was far from anyone's assumptions.

"There isn't much to be prepared for anyway." Declan said nonchalantly before taking another bite off his plate. 

"Well, do you know what you are going to say? Won't you get nervous in front of all these people?" your eyes met with his.

"I'll tell them how pleased and thankful I am for the award, I won't forget to mention Corinium and I think I'll be just fine." seeing you nod, he proceeded to add the one thing that was actually making him nervous "And I want you up there with me." his doe eyes had yours widening in surprise. 

"What, me? Why?" as much as you were surprised there was no doubt you found this quite flattering.

"Because, like I've told you before, this award belongs to you too and you didn't come all this way just to sit there and watch me take all the credit, did you?" was he compromising his image by choosing to have you on stage with him so soon after his wife had left him? He didn't care. Besides, you were representing Corinium and your contribution to his show was undeniable.

"Who am I to say no to you, I guess?" two glasses of wine in and rather tired, you smiled in defeat. If only you could stop resisting him in other ways too. Him taking you right on that balcony for any prying eyes to see that he was yours, would have been a true delight. It was moments like this, that you realised you were capable of surprising your own self with such wild thoughts. Luckily, they where soon cut short by the one man conquering them.

"Speaking of which, I have something else I've been meaning to tell you." he was hesitant. Why? Had he spoken to Tony about firing you? That would explain why he kept mentioning how much he appreciated your work. "I want to leave Corinium and bid for the franchise with a team of my own." you didn't say anything, unsure of what that meant for you and your job. "I was hoping you'd be part of it." he chose his next words carefully.

"Y-you're asking me to go against Tony and risk losing my job and any chance of even getting another one?" your blood run cold just thinking about such thing.

"I'm asking you, to help me go against Tony and possibly make televison history. I've got Rupert Campbell-Black on this, we stand a great chance if we work smart." he kept his voice low, forearms on the table as he leaned in closer giving you a stern look. He was definitely serious about this.

"A 'possibly' and 'a great chance' are not enough for me to put my future at stake. If Tony finds out I helped you out with this and then your little venture fails, I'm done. He will make sure I never find a job again, ever." you stressed that last word. Getting fired suddenly sounded a lot less terrifying than Declan's proposal. 

"Why do you always have to bend to his will? Can't you see this is your chance to finally leave that bastard?" he raised his voice and huffed in annoyance, unable to undertsand your obsession with being so loyal to Tony.

"Because, that bastard is the one giving me this job which is mainly to deter you from making stupid decisions and keep things running smoothly." you fired back.

"Sounds more like your job is to do anything he asks you to, to keep him pleased. I wouldn't be surprised if he had you bent over his desk every other night." as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain in your eyes violently brought him back to his senses. He should have never said that, but the thought of that brute having his way with you just for fun was torturing his mind. He wanted to take you as far away from him as possible, he loved you too much to let you stay working for Tony. He needed you for himself.

"Do you really think so low of me?" your voice was barely above a whisper, your brows knitted together in dissapointment. The sun was now long gone behind the peaks, there was no color reflected on the water anymore and the air suddenly felt sharp and cold, perfectly matching Declan's words.

Ηe struggled to form his next sentence. The man who had each and every one of his show guests at his fingertips, who knew how to speak his way through any situation, sat defeated before his most trusted colleague.

"No, look, I'm sor-"

"You know, if this has anything to do with Maud leaving and you feeling the need to take it out on somebody else, I can try to understand but by no means accept it." with firm hands on the table, you pushed your chair back and stood up, ignoring Declan's useless efforts to apologize.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the ceremony. I'll be ready by 5. Good night." with a final glance at him you made your exit. All this time you'd been working together and it seemed like this was the very first moment he'd witnessed genuine hurt and anger taking over you. He sat there, unable to move an inch but instictively reaching for a cigarette, taking it between his lips and lighting it with slightly shaking hands. Why couldn't he separate his TV persona from his real self and refrain from dissecting people just to feel something? Why couldn't he stop hurting the people he loved and cared for?

-

Your reflection in the vanity mirror opposite the room's bed had begun turning into something unfamiliar after you'd zoned out for the umpteenth time while getting ready.

The walk you'd taken earlier by lake Como, had helped you clear your mind a great lot. You had found yourself unable to get enough of the breathtaking view that stood before you. A vast body of water so calm and still the entire sky was mirrored on it and on its edges, like antexifes, beautiful houses in vibrant colors, all engulfed by the rich green, imposing mountains in the backround. This place felt as if it didn't belong to earth, as if it was a piece of heaven that had fallen from the sky, or was magically accessed through some sort of portal that went unnoticed. 

Your mind kept travelling back to those images, your heart still a bit sore from Declan's false assumptions about you, as you fixed the final details of your hairstyle - an elegant updo containing far more bobby pins and hairspray, that you'd usually go for. You'd hoped this fairytale-like town would have been the catalyst for a much more pleasant series of events, but maybe this was all for the best. A sign that you should deny and bury your feelings for good. How naive of you to expect anything else.

A knock on the door, though gentle, startled you interrupting your train of thought. Withought questioning who it was, realising you must have lost track of time, you were quick to get up and open it. And the sight it revealed was a true eye candy. You could have sworn you were ready to forgive Declan right on that spot just because of that tuxedo he'd chosen and the way his raven black curls were so perfectly slicked back.

"You look ravishing." for a split second you thought he was reading your mind, but the compliment was for you instead. The black velvet v-neck dress that hugged your body in all the right ways certainly did not go unnoticed by the handsome irishman that stood before you. He'd never seen you all dolled up before and that certainly had him feeling something stirring up inside him. Your eyes, carefully outlined with black, looked more enticing than ever and your lips, painted scarlet red suddenly felt too inviting. Was this his punishment for acting like such a jerk the previous night?

"You don't look half bad yourself." you returned with a mischievous look and moved past him to continue down the hallway, but stopped just a few steps in after noticing Declan wasn't following you. 

"Are you coming or not?" you turned around to see him in the exact same spot you'd left him. You'd forgotten that the best part of your dress was its open back rather than the v-neck cut in the front and Declan was definitely pleased with this discovery. Your voice pushed away all the unholy thoughts running through his mind and without missing another second he was striding to your side. 

"I know you still might not want to hear it, but I have the right to apologize formally for what I said yesterday." he began once he caught up with you. "I didn't mean it and I don't see you like that." he added, looking straight ahead as you both walked to the elevator.

"The words weren't the ones doing the damage. After all, I've been working for Tony for a couple of years now, I can handle insults. It was the fact that you, of all people, said them. And I know better than to think they were chosen without thought, so what was the matter?"  stopping in front of the elevator doors, your steady gaze fell on his features that always seemed to be burdened by troubles he rarely revealed to anyone.

"It's just that I think you deserve better, so much better." he admitted with a heavy sigh. 

"Allow me to decide that myself, next time." you replied with a tight-lipped smile just as the familiar sound signaling the elevator had arrived, was heard.

"If you ever change your mind, there will always be a place for you in Venturer. I want you to know that." he let you enter first and followed close behind, taking the space right next to you.

"I appreciate that. Is that how you'll call it, Venturer?" you shot him a curious look. 

"Yes, you don't think it's suitable?" he frowned at your question.

"No, I just think it sounds...dreamy!" the doors opened once again after you last word and you both stepped out to get to the car that was waiting outside the lobby. You may not have caught a glimpse of it, but Declan did shoot you a puzzled look upon hearing your answer. It wasn't really what he was expecting to hear, a simple 'no' or a 'yes but' would have made a lot more sense, but then again he wouldn't have fallen for you if everything you said came straight out that little box in his brain containing everything that made sense to him.

-

"And the award for best TV interview show host, goes to..." this was your queue, the big moment had finally arrived and you turned to look at Declan sitting next to you, only to find him doing the same. His demeanor had changed, though. With a half smoked cigarette between his smirking lips and a glint of confidence in his eyes, there was no doubt that you were now looking at the 'vicious Irish Wolfhound of Corinium'...

"Declan O'Hara!" the room erupted in applause after the presenter's announcement and you hugged each other in the most effortless and natural way possible. A feeling so new, yet somehow neither strange nor unfamiliar.

You walked up to the podium, with Declan leading the way and found your spot just a few steps behind him. You couldn't hide your smile as you watched him recieve the award and despite the fact that you'd be standing behind him for his little speech, you could almost see that sparkle in his eyes, the pride that made his shoulders feel lighter than ever. 

"It's a true honor to be receiving this award. I'd like to thank the audience that showed their support time and time again both live at the studio, but most importantly from their homes through the TV. Of course I would also like to thank Corinium, none of this would have been possible without its hard working people. Their contribution has been invaluable." with that last sentence he briefly turned to look at you, to make sure you knew exactly who he was talking about. Like all these times during his show when he searched for your eyes. He always found you in a corner somewhere by the audience. You were his anchor during any fleeting moments of uncertainty, even if you weren't quite aware of it.

Turning back to the audience once again he raised the award with a proud smile, proceeding to leave the stage with confident strides and you following close behind.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You watched and applauded all the other winners. Declan introduced you to all sorts of old colleagues of his that came by to congradulate him and if you weren't so caught up with the idea of him seeing you as nothing but his assistant, you'd swear you'd spotted jealousy in his eyes when any of then attempted to flirt with you.

Once you were back at the hotel, stood right outside, you told him you fancied taking a quick walk around the lake.

"I won't take long, just want to get a good look at it by night. And then we can get a drink maybe?"

"Oh so now it's not controversial to be seen having a drink with my assistant?" he teased, taking a step closer.

"Her boss just got an award, I think they both deserve a celebratory drink." you replied in the same tone, motioning to the trophy he was holding.

"I will have to agree with you." he gave you a smug smile. 

-

After about 15 minutes you were back. The scenery had indeed looked serene with the light from all the houses resembling fireflies on the surface of the water, but the air had gotten a bit too chilly for the outfit you'd chosen. 

Walking through the lobby you caught a glimpse of an all too familiar figure with the corner of your eye, sitting at the bar further away to your right. You were expecting to find him in his room, but it seems like he was to impatient to wait for you.

"Celebrating without me?" you asked in a playfull teasing tone once you approached Declan, his back facing you. He was slow and reluctant to turn around and when he did your smile faded.

"What's wrong?" your worry peacked once you saw his glassy eyes "Declan, what happened?" he was still taking his time to compose himself before he decided to speak.

"Maud called. She must have found the hotel from Taggie. She's been settled in London and she's filing a divorce." his voice lacked emotion. Either he was still in denial, or had fully accepted what was happening and given that this was Declan, it all pointed to the latter. Silence fell, only the distant chatter of some group of friends further away could be heard. You were unsure of how you were supposed to reply to something like this, but Declan continued on his own after nervously running a hand through his hair. "I knew it was foolish to believe she'd come back." he scoffed bitterly, then took a large sip from the whiskey sitting on the bar counter. A sheer contrast. Just a few hours ago he was the happiest you'd ever seen him, proudly recieving the recognition he deserved for his work and now... You were witnessing his most vulnerable moment. If you were being honest, you never thought Declan was capable of letting his guard down, or even be affected so deeply by something. That didn't mean it wasn't painful to actually see it. To see how much he truly loved his family that was falling apart.

"You can go, I'll just finish this and be up too. I won't do anything stupid, this time." he couldn't bare to look at you, you weren't supposed to be the one having to deal with him while he was like this. He wasn't even expecting you to say something, but eventually you did.

"You know, I'm not the best at giving advice, but I have this one saying I keep going back to when things get a bit rough. 'It's probably for the best'. I mean, sometimes shit just happens and you don't get anything good from it, but other times..." uncertain if you were doing any good, you placed your hand on top of his on the counter. "If it's of any use, I know how much you loved Maud. I saw it all in the way you looked at her during that New Year's Eve party." you took a seat next to him, your words forcing his eyes to bore into yours. He wondered how you had noticed such detail and held on to it all these months later. 

"Love was never enough for her, or at least my kind of love. All she ever wanted was attention, money." you remained quiet, watching him as he let his gaze wander somewhere along the multicolored glass bottles on the bar shelves. "I gave her a second chance after she literally slept with another man, because I believed we could work it out and now she goes and does this just because I was trying to provide for her and the kids." he shook his head irritated. He'd never spoken to you so openly about his marriage and you were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

You weren't quite the fan of his wife, more like you hated every piece of her vain character. She had your blood boiling with her behaviour at that party. With how she craved and thrived from everyone's eyes being on her. With how she refused to be on the same wavelength as Declan and the way she so shamelessly cheated on him. This situation was only making you more furious, more depserate to let Declan know your deepest feelings about him. Still, you tried to refrain from using his divorce for such purpose.

"You can't really change a person, but you can change the way you react to them." he let out a heavy sigh, probably still too lost in his own thoughts to actually process what you were saying. "I can only begin to imagine how all this must feel. I'm really not the person to help with it in any way, unfortunately, because I never understood what you and Maud had. Jesus, I never understood Maud's mindset, because if I had a husband like you I'd never..." you trailed off. This was so wrong, you where taking it too far. You were inappropriately taking advantage of the situation. This was not the right moment. Hell, was there ever a right moment?!

Declan's fierce eyes were immediately back on yours. All sobered up from his aches in an instant. "You'd never what?" the words rolled off his tongue inquiringly. It reminded you of times during his interviews when he'd had his guests right where he wanted them, ready to reveal some big secret of theirs.

"I'd never even think about looking at another man." you admitted with a pounding heart. At that point there was nothing to loose and before you could register what was happening Declan's lips where crashing hard onto yours, letting you taste a dizzying mix of tobacco and alcohol as his sturdy hands cupping your face.

Placing your palms on his chest you wanted nothing but to loose yourself in the moment you'd been fantasising about for so long, but once again you had to put your morals above this and were quick to push him back. Slightly out of breath and anxiously, he waited for your explanation.

"If this is just some kind of reaction, a way for you to feel like you're getting back at her, we should stop now." you drew your hands back abrubtly, fighting the burning urge to simply kiss him as hard as he did.

"This isn't about Maud. This is about you and me. Are we on the same page?" it was your turn to choose to reply with a feverish kiss, much to Declan's relief. Just before he was ready to deepen it, however, you stopped him again, leaving him confused. "Not here. At my room in 5'." you had already risked being seen, you shouldn't push it.

"You never break character, do you darling?" he smirked to which you playfully rolled your eyes before making your way to the elevator.

No sooner had you entered your room than you heard a quiet but determined knock. You were quick to open, locking eyes with Declan and not once breaking contact as you let him walk in and pin you against the door when you closed it. The collision of your lips was harder than before, if that was even possible. Tongues already eager to explore more. Your arms flying around his neck while you felt his hands on your waist and soon one of his palms travelling south behind your thigh, urging you to lift your leg up and let him press against you. The change in position had you letting out a small whimper simultaneously with Declan's grunt. 

His mouth greedily trailed down to your neck and you pulled him closer with the leg you had around his hip. He could feel your heated pulse under his lips. Or was it just his own vibrating through his entire body? Unable to say, he let himself get drunk in the feeling of your soft skin for a little longer before he retreated, freeing your body from his touch but not his presence.

The only sound that could be heard was that of your laboured breaths as you stared into each other's eyes with a spectrum of emotions: hunger, lust, anticipation, uncertainty.

"You can't imagine how long I've wanted to have you like this." he was the first to break the silence, with a low growl.

"Is that why you basically called me a whore the other night? Was that oddly specific image part of some fantasy of yours?" you were starting to put two and two together. Your hands, still on his shoulders got to work, sliding off his black suit jacket. 

"Would it be so bad if I said yes?" his voice was just a whisper, his hand travelling up your torso to one of your mounds, while the other found purchase on your waist. The idea of you bending over for Tony did infuriate him, but partially because more often that he'd like to admit he fantasised about putting you in such position.

"Abdolutely not." you sighed feeling his palm squeeze you in such perfect way, further igniting the heat in your core. The fact that Declan actually saw you in such way was making you feel light headed.

What followed was a hot mess of kisses, touches, pulling and groping, until you'd discarded each other's clothes down to your underwear, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. Declan sat on the side of the bed and took your hand to guide you to straddle him as he settled further up. Shooting you a dirty look he decided to take control.

"The other way around, darling." a bit confused, but too hot and bothered to further question his command you did as he said and let out a chuckle once you were on his lap and caught sight of the two of you within the frame of the vanity mirror on the opposite wall.

"Hope there's no objection to me watching you come undone like this." his voice was sinfully low next to your ear as he hooked two fingers on your black lacey underwear and started pulling it off.

"Who am I to say no to you?" the use of the same phrase you'd said during dinner the other night, drove him crazy, gave him a sense of power over you that was intoxicating and you felt him harden through his boxers against your back as he growled "Good girl" with that delicious accent of his.

Once your last article of clothing had succesfully been discarded, his strong hands were on your thighs, spreading your legs further to reveal your folds. Caressing his way back up he made you lightly jolt once he found your clit, lazily circling it, watching your reaction through the mirror with lust clouded eyes.

"Dirty little thing, you've wanted this too." he murmured before leaving open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. You confirmed his statement by tilting your head to give him better access to the spot. His free hand once again found its place on one of your breasts as the one working on your clit moved south, two fingers gathering your arousal before slowly entering you. 

A moan was bound to leave your lips and Declan was instantly addicted. He continued his ministrations across your whole body, eager to hear more. His mouth on your neck and shoulder, his palm on your breast and his fingers slipping in and out of you. The sight was lewd, filthy but without a doubt far better than anything that had crossed either one's mind.

"Let me see your eyes, sweetheart." his touch not once loosing its pace as he waited for you to meet his gaze on the mirror's reflection adding a thumb back on your sensitive budle of nerves, once you did. 

"Declan..." you moaned. It was all getting too much, you felt your release approaching, eyes fluttering closed as you let one of your hands, that had been gripping the sheets, reach behind and pull Declan's hair, earning yourself a grunt.

"Let go for me, darling." his velvety voice  was all you needed to reach your climax, moaning a mix of his name and profanities, your body writhing in his steady embrace.

Once you had regained control of your body, you were quick to switch your position to face Declan and get rid of the last piece of frabric separating you, just in time to see him bring the two fingers he used on you to his mouth. 

"Delightful" sheer satisfaction was painted across his features as he moaned then let you get a taste of yourslelf with a sloppy kiss. It wasn't long before your hands were on his erection, eliciting a string of heavenly sounds from him.

"I'm starting to think you were getting pissed at me all the time on purpose." he was at your mercy the way you pumped him but still tried to get the upper hand. "Were you imagining me loosing my composure and fucking you senseless against the nearest wall?" and it was working you were getting undenianbly wet again.

"Other scenarios were further up my list if I had to be honest." you slowed down your movements but squeezed harder. Two could play this game.

"Such?" he was stifling a groan.

"Us here, in this hotel away from anyone who knows who we are." with each word you positioned him at your entrance, too impatient to finally have him fill you. You moaned in unison once you relaxed and let him get buried in your walls. Relishing the moment he kissed your lips and every part of your skin he had access to and you welcomed his insatiable hunger by finding purchase on his chest.

"Ready when you are, love." he broke character momentarily to let you adjust to the stretch, but honestly, nothing sounded sexier than checking in on each other. You started moving, lifting and circling your hips as he matched you with slow shallow thrusts, while lowering you back on the sheets.

The change in angle had you whining. Declan's movements began getting harder and deeper. Words where made redundant, both too far lost in each other's touch, in each other's bodies to make a coherent sound. 

His fingers returned to your clit causing your back to arch and allowing him to reach a new spot that had you seeing stars. He was close, desperately chasing his own release but determined to bring you to your second orgasm. 

"Give me one more, sweatheart, I know you can." he groaned once he felt your hands on his broad shoulders pulling him closer, letting his lips find that sweet spot on your neck. 

With an obscene moan of his name you were coming hard once again, your mind going blank with that euphoric feeling and Declan whispering sweet nothings in your ear that soon turned into profanities as he reached his own climax. 

Was this wrong, you couldn't tell, but you were sure that if it was you never wanted to be right.

"You do realise we have some talking to do." he pulled out and plopped down next to you trying to catch his breath.

"Can we do that when we get back? Preferably with me bent over your desk?" you replied with sass, chest heaving and mind still a mess.

"Christ, you'll be the death of me."

~

[mqriuss]

08 | Now playing: Greenlight

from 'bad girls that haven't been caught' series

playlist | series masterlist

hours turned to days and the days turned to weeks. rindou could barely wait any longer.

"you like me too, don't you?" he asked you one day with a smirk on his face.

"shut up, haitani," meant yes.

"get out of my face, rin," also meant yes.

"why don't you start skipping school again?" also meant yes.

but you never actually said what he wanted to hear.

rindou never tried to rush you right after you broke up with fumio—he was there for you the whole time, but patience wasn't exactly his strong suit. you moved on pretty quickly too, probably because you knew deep down the relationship wasn't going to work out even before you broke up with him. and maybe you did start taking a liking to rindou the more you hung out with him.

he wasn't stupid. it's so obvious you liked him too, he sees it in the way you fail to suppress a smile when he teases you. he also sees it in the way your tough exterior shattered one day when you thought you've moved on from fumio, but you still found yourself missing the memories.

that day, he bought your favourite drink as usual and he had offered to walk you home. and you let him. he walks you home often now, whenever he can. he knows you like him too and he sees it in the way you don't pull away when your hand brushes against his.

he also sees it in the way you text him out of nowhere, asking to meet up at 8pm on a random thursday.

the night air is cool against your skin when you open your window. rindou's eyes widen, "are you going to jump down?!" he whisper shouts, getting ready to catch you.

"it's not that far down, relax," you wave him off, sticking one leg out first. "plus, you're not gonna let me hit the ground, are you?"

"hell no, just get down here quick," he urges you with outstretched arms.

rindou knows you like him when you put your trust in him, falling into his arms. he knows you like him when he sees the faint rosy hues on your cheeks from how close you were.

he puts you down, letting you fix your clothes. "so weird seeing you sneak out at night to meet up with your delinquent crush," he remarks with a shake of his head, clicking his tongue. "you should be studying for exams, what a bad girl."

you roll your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "hey, i've studied enough," you defend yourself, strolling aimlessly around the neighbourhood. "and for the record, you're even weirder. you used to skip class often, when did you decide to maintain perfect attendance?"

he shrugs, walking closer to you. "i wanted to see you."

you freeze, your brain stalling for a moment before walking ahead of him—probably to hide your flustered expression. "the hell? you sound like a player now."

"well, do you see me flirting with other girls?" his smirk widens and adds, "i'm not a fumio."

the mention of your ex makes you wince, but before you could come up with a snarky response, rindou nudges you lightly.

"come on, let's face it," rindou says. "i like you, and you like me too—you do the math, sweetheart."

your pace slows as you glance over your shoulder. "you're awfully sure of yourself."

"am i wrong?" he counters, and is met with your silence. "what, are you worried about your reputation? smartest girl in class dates a delinquent," he says, as if reading a clickbaity headline.

you snort, waving off his question. "i don't think people care that much about who i date."

"so you do think about dating me!" he teases, chuckling when you groan. you fall silent again, and he can tell you're thinking of a response, so he beats you to it. "if you're not ready, it's fine. just give me the green light and i'm all yours."

you couldn't help the smile you tried to fight off, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes. "well, we should go on a few dates first. right?"

his face lights up instantly. "i was planning to ask you this saturday, what do you wanna do? lunch? movies? arcade? what food do you like?" he bombards you with question after question, surprising you when he casually slings a heavy arm around your shoulders.

rindou knows you like him, and he can wait for the day you finally say it. he'll be right there when you give him the green light.

- end -

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[d-lanx]

Ok now I’ve slept and the hype over last night is over I’ve had time to actually think about what could happen. So my theories are below the cut. I've almost definitely forgot something so might add to it or tweak it later.

Firstly, Drew possibly feuding with Damian? He was eliminated by him and seemed shocked. Then there’s the whole thing about drew apparently storming out after the show and complaining that someone messed up and eliminated him too soon and “had to get their moves in”. I'm assuming this is probably part of a storyline. So I guess damian? Reminds me of what they did when punk returned. Which also means drew on smackdown as they’ve previously been hinting at :( tbh I’m still surprised. The bloodline story he had was interesting, I was sure he was gonna have a match with Roman at mania. And I feel like it would be weird to briefly go after Damian for something seemingly unrelated to the bloodline, and then to go back to Roman. So I’m assuming this will be a feud till mania. But it does feel very random.

Seth I think might be doing something with Roman reigns. There seemed to be a lot more focus on their dynamic in the match tonight. And now Roman has no title it would be even easier to have a blood feud. Also kinda tired of Seth v punk tbh cos it’s not really as fun when the two of them can’t even talk about half of the shit that actually happened when punk left. Tho a three way match between the lot of them to tide us over til mania would be pretty good. Tho I feel if that happened it would be a mania match, not something for elimination chamber so maybe not. Cos I have thoughts about punk rn.

With punk I’m wondering if the favour might be to garauntee him a place in the chamber match, or to otherwise get him a title match/chance to qaulify for one. I was so sure if he went for a title it would be with gunther cos they keep mentioning him and they had those house show matches. It seemed like only a matter of time before he was back in the title picture. But now I’m wondering if it might be Cody. I was surprised to see punk vow to go for Cody in that promo before the rumble after so much Gunther setup (again, he was constantly mentioning him thru the drew and Seth feuds and they had their house show match). And I’m wondering if this is why. Cos they wanted to pull the trigger on Jey and it only made sense for jey to go for Gunther so they shifted punk to Cody.

The punk/cody promo was interesting with punk being worried for him, and Cody seeming burnt out. Then they seemed to have Cody snap in the match last night. I’m wondering if we’re finally gonna get psychotic heel Cody now for punk to feud with. The thing with Cody is that after his storyline to get the title, his title loss will need to be something just as major.

Punks first wwe title since 2013 would be very major. And I can’t imagine them doing a story of his first title in so long and have him be a heel. Cos all the nostalgia fans r gonna be rooting for him no matter what. So it’s not really worth it to try make him a heel. Plus I think it’s an interesting idea that punk, the former burnt out champion fighting a heel Cody, the current burnt out champion, right after warning him about said burnout.

Yes punk was pissed about his loss last night, but if this is what they do then he won’t be going full heel, just typical angry punk with dirty tactics.

Of course this could all be wrong though. Punk might go after Seth again, or wind up in a three way feud with Roman too after the rumble drama. But the thing is, neither Seth or Roman caused him to lose so aside from Seth going mental afterwards, I can’t see why punk would want Seth when hes been so adament about a title ever since he finished his match with seth back on the first netflix raw. Still not sure how I feel about Seth v punk tho considering how mid the punk/seth feud has been. It’s dramatic, sure, but Seth’s arguments really fall apart when u think about them for more than 5 seconds and consider all the other stuff that happened that they’re not talking about, and punk looks weird not mentioning it.

Of course this all leaves out cena. If he wasn’t here I’d be certain of the Cody/punk feud. But with him I’m not so sure. It’s entirely possible that punks promo with Cody was just to provide a bit of foreshadowing before he actually snapped in the match. And that we’re gonna get heel Cody v cena. Cos I do find it hard to imagine that cena won’t be in a main event on his last mania in the wwe. But I also find it weird that they would have cena take the title from Cody if he’s not gonna be sticking around for long after mania. Also from the sounds of things, Cena won't be on TV till elimination chamber. And if they keep that up all year, with him not being on tv and only doing the PPVs its gonna be annoying if he's the champ and never around. It seems like a weird way to end Cody’s title.

And tbh both of these Cody feuds, I feel if they happen, would lead to the title change. But that means a year long reign for Cody. I was so sure he would keep the title longer. But then again, after the major drama to get it, it needs a major place to lose it, like at mania. And I suppose after Roman they don’t just wanna lock into another multi year title reign. They might want the belt to move around a bit more and give more people chances at a title match. So yeah.

It’s hard to say for sure cos it means we now have 3 world title feuds to consider. There’s not enough belts to go around. I saw some theories that punk would use his favour to get a title match before mania, get the belt and then take gunthers place to face jay. But that feels a bit too convoluted for a 2 month storyline. It would be hard to have punk as a face in even the early days of that kind of story if he's going after Jey, and I find it hard to believe they would try to make him heel for his first title back in the company. Cos they won’t be able to get anyone to boo him. Plus I’d be surprised to see him get a title at elimination chamber instead of mania, again cos it’s such a major thing in his career.

So I don’t really know. All I know is I don’t really wanna see Seth v punk anymore. And Seth v punk v Roman could be good, but I’m still not fully sold on that yet, I guess cos Roman and punk haven’t done a whole lot of talking. Also if they did this, it would have to be Roman v punk at mania cos what tf else could they do? The three of them all have very different relationships with each other and they would need to just focus on something. They’ve already done of lot of Seth with each of them, so maybe do Roman v punk and focus on that a bit more and build on survivor series. I just can't see them going for a 3 way feud instead of them trying to get the title. Presumbably all three will be in the chamber match, but then what? All three of them AGAIN at mania??

But the issue I’m still having with that, is that it leaves out the favour. And the favour has been hyped up so much it needs to be something significant. It doesn't have to be like "give me a title now", but rather "get me in the chamber match". Last night I legit thought when punk stepped up to Heyman, he was gonna cash it in, and have it be to get him back in the rumble somehow. Obviously they didn’t do that, and tbh it’d be a bit beyond Heyman's authority to just put him back in, but the point is it’s gonna have to be something important. And if it turns out to be a place in the chamber and he still loses, I feel like it would be a waste. So maybe the chamber and he wins? But then what about cena?

If jey v Gunther wasn’t happening, u could have cena and punk as faces going after Gunther and Cody and do whatever. There was so many storylines that needed finishing and they decided to revive jay v Gunther which we already saw last week at snme and the whole build to that was just incredibly fucking boring. I love them both, but their feud was just boring, and I thought they only did it to fill the card because they didn't want anything too major when they had the rumble literally the next week.

I still feel snme should be for tag titles and mid card titles to give some of those people more tv time, cos otherwise some of these mid carders only really do anything of note at rumbles (still annoyed tozawa lost his sport to ishowspeed for a meme, i liked otis and maxine, but what has tozawa done of any significance on tv??).

I like jay and Gunther individually but their feud has been dull. It’s just been your average “I’m gonna win because I believe in myself :D” and that’s it. Just like his snme Gunther feud. And just like his ic title feud. It’s a repeat of Sami v Gunther, which I also didn’t care for for the same reason. Also Sami didn’t really do much with his reign, and I feel like that’s gonna happen to jay, just like his IC title run.

I get they wanted to pull the trigger on jey, but there’s just so much other stuff going on that needed finishing. I feel like they should have waited till mitb, have jay win that, and get a title that way once all this other stuff is finished up. Cos there’s no need for him to go after Gunther specifically, as there’s not a lot there aside from gunther’s “I don’t think u can do it” lines. So just have him go after whoever is champ after mitb. But obviously it’s done now so they need to make the most of it. It would be a good opportunity to build jeys character some more beyond being the yeet man, cos otherwise this feud is gonna tank over the next 2 months.

Also, my theories all rely on Cody going heel. If it turns out that isn’t happening, then it’s so fucking over. Cody v cena or punk as a face v face would be so shit. And in either of those feuds, it just wouldn’t make sense for cena or punk to be the heel, and there’s not enough real bad blood between any of them to have a feud without heel/face dynamics and be basing it on fans personal opinions of them like with Seth and punk.

So yeah, Cody’s apparently gonna be gone for a little while. Fingers crossed he’s gonna be coming back as a heel.

Also if they even try to do Logan Paul v cm punk I’m gonna end it.

So yeah I’m feeling a lot about last night and I’m really confused what they’re gonna do. But I can’t see cena not being a main event in his final mania and also not getting a title. So I’m gonna guess it’s cena v Cody and jey v Gunther as main event title matches, then Roman v punk, Damien v drew, and then Seth v ???. But still confused why they keep hyping up future punk world title matches and not fucking doing them. It’s getting annoying. And still no idea where the favour comes in. They need to hurry up and use it tho before people get sick of the edging with that as well. And after all this build up, it needs to be something major.

I was so sure cena and punk would win the chamber and rumble matches, then we’d have Gunther v punk and heel Cody v cena, so I’m not sure what to think now. And I can’t really come up with a good theory without leaving some major plot point of person out completely. Maybe I’m not thinking enough. But I’m still mourning that Gunther v punk match we could have had. It would have been so good. They’d have sassed each other to no end, and I imagine their matches would be really good too, based on what I saw in their house match.

But then again, hhh did say in the post show that they dont want to always go for the obvious match, so maybe jay will go for cody after all? Also I really hope we dont get cena as champ if he's not even gonna be on tv aside from ppv matches. I get that he's ppv talent, but theres plenty of other people of tv who do promos and little scuffles but mostly/exclusively do only ppv matches: like seth, roman, punk. They've done the odd thing on tv, but most of the time, they save their matches for ppvs. If cena's not even showing up between ppvs, theres gonna be almsot no build for anything. I really hope that's not a pattern that's gonna happen all year. But he did say in the post show that he's going to Hungary to film something and won't be back until elimination chamber next month. So yeah, no build. Maybe that's why they didn't have cena win the rumble? cos he's not gonna be around for a title to be worth it?? but I still find it hard to believe he's not gonna get a world title at mania. But who knows. Maybe we will somehow magically get that Gunther v punk match after all.

Still not sure how I feel about everything after last night. There were so many storylines that could have been explored, and I feel like jey and Gunther could have waited. The way it's been so far, I just think it's going to be a boring feud and the match is just gonna feel like a waste of a main event spot. But I imagine my feelings on the rumble could change again after raw so who knows. Maybe hhh secretly has some sort of master plan that I’ve yet to realise and I need to just shut the fuck up and wait. But I enjoy theorising so leave me to make my silly theories, I swear I’m having fun.

But one final thing, there better actually be a cena v punk moment at the chamber or I'm gonna flip. Why the hell did they all stand in the ring together and just stare at each other?!! Pls I need to see Punk v cena one last time.

Anyway I probably forgot something here so might add to this theory or change something later if i remember something else or someone points something out to me.

[inarmes]

do you really think having disclosed that you are also mentally disabled makes you able to slip under the radar when it comes to ableism? yes, i get what your experiences may be regarding but not only are we analysing 3-5 lines and then IMMEDIATELY going with the idea that sid could be developmentally behind, but you seem pretty proud of that idea, which might be a place of relatability for you, but in a fandom where ableism is viciously rampant, this does not give people a proper scope on intellectual disabilities and how to spot them. it will likely make people misinformed, because not everyone who's been shielded from information at a young age (from what it seems like to me,) would then have something neurologically wrong.

vick was also put into a place of responsibility next to rory and gale. he understands because he's seen what they've had to do. the whole family has to chip in to survive. from a couple lines, we can infer that frankly, sid seems exempt from contribution at the moment, minus being haymitch's rooster.

i assume sid *does* know about the reaping, but of course his older brother is going to tell him to be quiet and look nice because number one, district 12 has historically been a place of conflict for the capitol, dating back to the tbosas era. of course he's going to avoid his brother acting out in any possible forms of rebellion to protect him. and what makes you assume that the conversation set to have won't be a little while before the reaping? again, seperate your predictions and headcanons from what we've just been given. it can be presumed that sid is so 'unaware' as you might think because ma abernathy and haymitch have both 1) worked hard enough collectively that it doesn't call for further help and 2) are likely trying to protect him up until the time calls for his own “first” reaping.

it is not “another thing entirely” for haymitch to try and coach his brother to look nice and keep quiet for the reaping, it's manners and discipline, just like what effie “claims” twelve doesn't have. any kid who's never gone to such a monumental event would likely have to be told certain rules and guidelines.

but let me circle back. giving us an anecdote of your experiences doesn't take away from the fact you used DEGRADING terms such as simple to describe a 10-year-old child who has not been hinted to be anything neurodiverse or anything mentally disabled. those distinctions are something SC makes, even if she does them poorly. i go back to the point of this fandom is rife with enough ableism. and sometimes it's not just allistics or abled-bodied people, it is also disabled people, such as yourself applying the wrong ideas to something as small as this, and then creating a chain of people mindlessly following what you're saying without thinking about it. it's a headcanon, you've got it, no one can take that from you. but don't imply something like that as canon with no solid evidence from 2 seperate exerpts that don't even explore who sid is in detail, and are at most, childish characteristics.

what's more, is that your desire for him to *have* something wrong with him is strange and not anything in which i understand. he's a new character. he's one of the first younger characters minus posy and vick that we meet. until SC says out right, don't try and impose a headcanon which is based off of your personal experience, as something that is therefore canon. trying to call a kid for having kid traits likely developmentally behind, as i've said - is plain gross, justified in your opinion or not.

y’all i really think sid abernathy is intellectually and/or developmentally disabled. idk if this is a common belief or not, but after the audio excerpt i’m more convinced than ever. here’s why:

1. sid’s dialogue and behavior

“you said be your rooster. you said you wanted to get to the woods at daylight.”

“haymitch!” wails sid. “the sun’s coming up!”

sid’s language and cadence suggest a young child. which makes sense; he’s 10, which is a young child. so it’s consistent that haymitch would tell sid to be his “rooster,” which is, of course, a callback to “tuck your tail in, little duck.” however, while katniss’ pet name for prim is humorous and light-hearted, her intention in using it is to make prim feel better facing the imminent reaping.

sid’s joy on reaping day, especially the reaping day of the second quarter quell, suggests sid is at best aware but unconcerned about the day’s proceedings, but realistically, that he doesn’t know or understand whatsoever what will occur. as far as he’s concerned, the most important event of the day is haymitch’s birthday.

granted, sid is 10, and prim, at 12, is reaping age. but there’s no way he can avoid the truth about the games or reaping day at school. and haymitch “resistance is not an option” abernathy would not indulge such wanton disregard for the dangers of the day. acting like the reaping isn’t happening is insolence in and of itself. unless, of course, sid’s behavior is not disregard, but true ignorance. and the only way he’d be ignorant of the reaping is if he is, at least in the eyes of haymitch and his mother, incapable of understanding it.

2. sid needing an explanation about the reaping

“i wonder whether it'll be me or ma who sits him down beforehand and explains about his role in the reaping, how he had to look nice and keep his mouth shut and not cause any trouble. even if the unthinkable happens and his name gets drawn, he's got to suck it up, put on the bravest face he can muster and climb onto that stage, because resistance is not an option.”

as implied by sid’s happy attitude in the excerpt, and now confirmed by the audio clip, sid will need to have the reaping explained to him when he turns 12. but in his worry about sid’s first reaping, haymitch is concerned with telling sid step-by-step what to do. and it’s not just about where to stand or the proceedings themselves. he will have to explain to sid that he needs to be quiet and docile.

no kid in district 12 would need it explained to them how to act on reaping day by age 12. that is, unless the normal district 12 peacekeepers would otherwise know that the kid means no harm in stepping out of line. on reaping day, with peacekeeper reinforcements and cameras, the same lenience would not apply. an intellectual disability would explain not only that, but why haymitch and their mother intend to keep sid in his happy ignorance as long as they can.

3. sid’s death within two weeks of haymitch’s defiance

the most common question about snow’s punishment of haymitch is why he didn’t have sid or lenore dove reaped. on lenore dove, it would be too obvious to reap haymitch’s girl just a year or two after haymitch’s games. that’s especially true if haymitch’s insolence is so egregious as to warrant a punishment as severe as the death of all his loved ones. after a year or two lenore dove would be aged out. to create some plausible deniability for the capitol citizens, the only realistic option for snow to reap would be sid.

with sid, he would have nine years to choose exactly the right moment to punish haymitch in this way. if sid is anything like prim, he’d be beloved in the capitol during haymitch’s games, largely for his youth and innocence. but katniss herself considers prim to be reaped. that’s a particularly strong possibility once prim was older, and thus less angelic and harmless in the eyes of the capitol. even still, rue is evidence that age is not reason enough for the capitol to grow sour at the idea of any tribute’s reaping.

so why wouldn’t snow wait it out for sid? i’m sure we’ll get plenty of reasons in the book, but the best explanation is that it would create blowback for snow if sid was reaped, regardless of his age or how beloved he is in the capitol. the most realistic scenario why that would be true is if sid is too naive and “simple” to be a threat, even as an older teen in a strong, adult-like body.

that’s not to say the capitol is “above” reaping a disabled child (see: the boy from 10 in the 75th and wovey in the 10th). but a beloved younger brother of a quarter quell victor who is ALSO developmentally disabled? the optics would be terrible for snow. that’s especially true if the capitol’s attitude toward people with mental disabilities is anything as patronizing as that of the people of district 12 (see: the people at the hob treating greasy sae’s granddaughter like a pet out of ignorance rather than malice).

4. it’s great device to explain the games to the audience without too much info-dumping

we’re going to spend much of the games in haymitch’s head. even in the midst of a battle royale, that can get boring really fast. that issue was avoided in tbosas by snow’s narration, since the boring bits of lucy’s gray’s time in the games were easily supplemented by snow’s life in the capitol.

with katniss, the quiet parts of the games were broken up with flashbacks. the flashbacks served double duty of keeping things interesting AND creating character development/worldbuilding. we saw katniss’ father’s death, her interaction with peeta, her friendship with gale, and her life at home with her mother and prim. her father’s death explained her character, the bread incident her feelings about peeta, her friendship with gale her worldview, and prim/her mother the inter-12 seam/town tensions as well as katniss’ motivations.

unlike with katniss, though, we know a lot about who haymitch is and what happened to him. we don’t need as much basic worldbuilding (and i doubt he’d have much more information than katniss does at this point, anyway), so the only things left are his family and district 12. for haymitch’s family, which is 100% seam in a way katniss’ is not, we’re going to need a new lens through which to view 12. it can’t *just* be typical single-mother seam life; we got most of that through katniss and gale. haymitch’s story has to provide a new angle.

i think that additional layer *has* to be sid. haymitch, unlike katniss, was himself reaped—what is motivating his survival? what makes him different than all the others in the seam, who are reaped to an inevitable death? a clear explanation could be that sid is incapable of surviving if haymitch dies. even with their mother working, everyone has to contribute. and if haymitch doesn’t have a gale, sid’s protection is even less guaranteed.

sure, haymitch might just have the same maternal instinct katniss has for prim, but that’s one of the key distinctions between them in the trilogy. haymitch loves peeta and katniss like they’re his own, and yet he lies to and betrays them in a way that katniss considers unconscionable. and, imo, if it’s as simple as haymitch wanting to protect sid’s innocence like katniss wants to protect prim’s, the similarities between them become less parallels and more replicas. what’s the point of sid’s death if katniss and haymitch are so similar that the loss of their siblings conveys the same message?

[polysucks]

I've seen a bunch of your indigenous headcanons for Starks and I love them so. Do you think of all First Men that way or particularly northern First Men/Starks? Also I'm going feral over your idea for a wild west AU!

HI I LOVE YOU.

I will talk forever about indigenous Starks and Northmen.

yeah. I’m that bitch. I am the #1 Indigenous Stark Truther* (unproven claim) and I will happily die on this hill.

I’m answering all of this on mobile like 15 mins before I have to be in class so I have none of my research in front of me and no sources, so yall feel free to jump in the comments and the reblogs to compound or (CONSTRUCTIVELY) Correct me :)

As we know, the First Men are all over the place. I mean it’s been, what, twelve thousand years since they came over from Essos on the Dornish Landbridge? (Sound familiar, fellow US Public Education System Victims?) and maybe six thousand years since the Andals migrated, with all the interbreeding and the thousands of years of generational melding, there’s bound to be traces First Men blood all over the planet by now. Just like all indigenous peoples irl! Imma have to write a whole thing about the Westerosi equivalent to the Columbian Exchange now is not the time—

So like personally, I see Native American coding in the Northmen. And all I know is of the American Indigenous perspective (and not even a whole lot bc I wasn’t raised in the tribe. I was removed from the tribe via my grandparents who are both Blackfoot-Salish out of the PNW and victims of modern colonization but that’s another story for another time. It’s just to preface that I am no expert in Native American culture, and only know what I personally know. I got some baller resources if you’re super interested tho)

In my personal humble onion. There would be a high concentration of First Men blood (god I really hate using the term ‘blood’ bc of blood quantum and lineage politics but for the sake of brevity imma just use it) in the Northmen. To me it’s giving PNW and Inuit who pressed north after the Columbian invasion because they had the means to survive in the harsh lands, where the whites. Simply didn’t. And knowing Peepaw is American, like, I see the parallels.

The First Men lived in close harmony with the land, practicing a nature-based religion—the worship of the Old Gods—centered around weirwood trees, sacred groves, and the guidance of “greenseers” and “skinchangers.” (We don’t use the W word around here but do you smell what I’m stepping in?) Their way of life was deeply tied to the land and vaguely resembles that of indigenous spiritual beliefs about animism and ancestral wisdom.

After however long years of battling with the Children of the Forest, the First Men reached the pact, agreeing to honor the children’s sacred forests and worship their gods. This mirrors real-world treaties between indigenous peoples and settlers, which were often later broken or disregarded (to put it nicely). the pact was chill for thousands of years (I think like I say I got no refs in front of me we die like Icarus), leading to the Age of Heroes, in which the First Men formed their own kingdoms, including the foundation of House Stark.

Bro that. Is so ancient American history coded. Same shit different font.

There’s a large population of indigenous peoples in reservation-adjacent areas cherry picked all over the US. I mean, we’re everywhere. Don’t ever let terminal narratives win. We out here babyyyyyy but to me it makes sense that the highest population of indigenous peoples of Westeros would be on the lands that are least likely to be gentrified (wrong word but imma stick w it) as in. The North. I can’t source any quotes rn specifically but how often is it mentioned that the north is the biggest and the “emptiest” in all their seven kingdoms?

So excellent question! Yeah I think all the Northmen are indigenous coded! You can’t convince me that Lyanna Mormont isn’t some badass fuckin thicc warrior goddess coded. And the Greatjon??? My mans leanin and rockin w a bear pelt. That man kills bears with his fists (just ask him) and I could go on forever about how The Boltons in all their violence and the rumors surrounding all that they’re capable of is so so so sooooo Comanche Ute and Sioux coded. They were so shat in by westward expansionists and rumored to be barbaric and cannibalistic and fuuuuuuucked up—simply bc they fought back against the people who were raping, pillaging, and stealing from them. But that’s pure speculation and personal hot take on my part, and wildly incorrect bc the boltons really do be flaying people. While the Ute, Comanche and Sioux did not. In fact. Flay anyone. (Unless they deserved it :) )

Tl;dr

Yeah man I think all the Northmen are native coded (w some Viking and Norse imagery thrown in there bc this is fantasy. It’s not that serious.) but the Starks heavily so due to the hard focus on the animism, their honor, connection to the land, spiritual beliefs, dedication to family, and the fockin’ wolves bro. Natives do be really into wolves. (Wolves are cool as fuck dude)

Also I got three chapters of my Wild West au already written and so much art I haven’t posted. when I unlearn shame and finally post it all it’s over for you bitches

[marythequeen]

hello guys, i'm here to talk about leah toole's fictional book on mary i of england's. it's called the saddest princess.

at first, i want to clarify that i am highly aware of that this book is fictional and not a biography. so you don't need to say "hey but it's fictional"

also, before reading her book, leah toole was someone i really liked. i used to follow her on tiktok and was really excited to read her book. however as you can understand, i am very, very disappointed.

let's start.

just after i had read the prologue i knew that many things would piss me off throughout the book because it was horrendous.

the vilification of queen mary is outdated now and seeing even the people that claim to like her doing this, made me feel awful. according to countless reports, in her death bed, she was peaceful and her conscience clean. the people that she had executed were mainly guilty of treason and many others were executed without her knowledge. i don't think that feeling guilty about this would be her main concern.

but do you know who was rather frightened and surrounded by guilt? her half sister elizabeth.

apart from this, if you ever saw a video of leah toole's, you probably know that she's a great hater of the spanish princess because of its inaccurate portrayals. mind you, the spanish princess tv show never ever claimed that it was historically accurate or something like that but leah toole was MAD (and rightfully so!! i totally agreed with her.) about it anyway. so imagine my disappointment when i started to read her book eagerly then realized that it, in many aspects, was a cheap copy of the tv show.

"there was no lone for this useless baby girl." i mean, really? that scene and almost everything about it was in the spanish princess. AND this whole scene could be proved wrong with countless reports. do i think katharine of aragon suffered from a kind of postpartum depression? i absolutely do. but do i think she HATED her own daughter for years? no because that's not what happened in reality.

again, this is a historical fiction book and it doesn't have to be historically accurate but it's called a hypocrisy when you criticize another material because of the same thing you did yourself.

(ps. katharine of aragon had blue eyes, not dark brown.)

mary's birth scene was AWFUL. henry saying mary is a useless girl was highly inaccurate. writing such things while mary's reputation is STILL unfairly blackened is very unnecessary.

"katherine had tried to love her daughter. but no matter how hard she tried, nothing the girl did held any meaning in katherine's eyes." are you kidding me??

also having mary curse constantly? this woman didn't know the meaning of whore until she was forty something. i can't even imagine her saying words such as bastard, harlot, whore etc. (in the book she called anne boleyn names when in reality she simply called her that woman. which is respectful enough.) especially when she used the word bastard when she was nine? now c'mon! throughout the book, the author is obviously influenced by the spanish princess tv show, even though she'd been very critical about the show. there's a pretty word for situations like this :) and it's called hypocrisy.

and *that* scene with duke philip? even the most passionate mary hater wouldn't write something like this. that was worse than wattpad, worse than ao3. (if you didn't read the book, take a deep breath, she had sex with him. again, did not happen in reality.)

apart from all of this, the only thing that i've liked about this book is clearly seeing that mary wasn't as forgiving as her mother was. because that's what actually happened. long story short, i was eager to read the other books of this series but i don't think that i'll be reading the rest. i am so very disappointed with this. it was such a waste of time. and i have to tell you that i am also incredibly sad because i used to enjoy her content a lot.

there are many more issues about this book but unfortunately i don't have enough time or will to live to write a detailed review but i think this'll do anyway.

lastly, at least there are very few quotes that i've liked and would want you to see.

—chapuys shrugged, "it would seem the king himself is struggling to separate the two religions," he said, "and his newest testaments have received mixed reactions from his council. i believe that in his heart he remains a catholic, but he does not wish to be told by anyone whether it be the pope or his best advisor - what he can and cannot do."

—"of all the women in my father's life, i have survived him the longest. and that alone is a great achievement."

—"i survived my father's tyranny for all my thirty-three years. this edward seymour could not scare me if he turned up at my doorstep dressed up as the devil himself."

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

[ghostdnfie]

dream stans here who are multifandom, how do u deal with there being outspoken antis (whether its anything between a loud group to literal thousands of them) in ur other fandom(s) bc i feel like im walking on eggshells and unwelcome solely because of who i like and its beyond shit. i can barely interact with anyone like god i applaud your strength bc im literally about to lose my patience with the p.handom and its been just 5 months 💀

[rythyme]

really not a fan of boston very explicitly saying "I want to be exclusive romantically but not sexually" only to be told "You're lying to yourself. I think you should be alone."

[non-un-topo]

My Neekeys over the last two-odd years. I was curious to see the changes 🤔

[star-lights-up]

just had like the worst ever mental breakdown

and it all started because of the FUCKING OFFICE.

the COMEDY. TV. SHOW.

what is my life i am such an idiot

[wrathyforest]

a small sketch with smiling Wolfwood to lighten my friend’s @avelin3 mood