#Senator Theater

[smackedwithamace]

urinetown: the quiz

someone me made a urinetown character quiz. they i said it's currently a wip but is fully takeable! new characters, questions, and images will be added!

LINK

i think it's alright!

[ladyofthebookcase]

slimer for president 2028. if elected my first act will be to demolish the white house and turn it into a swimming pool and my second act (from my new swimming pool) will be to kill elon musk

[garthnadermemestash]

mitch mcconnell memes

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[kabuki-writes]

And All Eyes Were Set On Brutus

chapter: 3 chapter 1 | 2 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: After their visit of the Colosseum, Marcus Acacius worries even more about his beloved daughter. Meanwhile a dangerous rumor finds its way into the Emperor's ears.

warning(s): NSFW | mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support and your comments on my previous chapters✨🙇‍♀️! I really enjoy to write this fic as a Geta and Cara stan myself and it honors me that you continue to share your love for these two and this fic. I really hope you like this chapter as well, because this time it gets a little more... spicy.🌶️

word count: 3.6k

Rome was becoming nothing more than a painful cage for General Acacius. From the very first day he had to wear the white armor of victory, he felt like a slave with no other choices than to watch how everything he had known changed for the worse. He despised himself for not being able to protect his own daughter from the eyes of the Emperors, that were now set on her. He should've never taken her with him, he should've sticked with his principles. But then again, what choice did he even have, when he faced an order by the most powerful men in the world.

There was no chance to defy them openly, speaking up now would bring danger to his whole family as they would have to face the consequences of Marcus Acacius' actions. He wasn't so delusional and naive to think that the anger of the Emperors would only befall him alone, no, they weren't like that. So when the day came and a senator stepped forward to the General, he hesitated. Geta and Caracalla were beloved by the people as they gave them victories, bread and games - as long as the plebs had that, no one gave a damn about who sat on top. For them it was all the same, but the senate was different.

After the death of Emperor Commodus, the senate reestablished the Roman Republic, but wasn't able to secure their power. Many cities and regions took their chance to rebel against Rome as most of the generals refused to serve the new order - that included Marcus Acacius as well, who quickly sided with his old friend and brother-in-arms Septimius Severus, the father of the now ruling Emperors Geta and Caracalla. They took their legions and marched on Rome, where Severus took the power from the senate again only one year after the rebirth of the Republic. Acacius did believe in Severus, he did believe in the vision his friend had for Rome as well as his strength and wisdom as Emperor. Nearly two decades he was not disappointed while he served his old friend as a close advisor and his first general.

The senate got reduced to nothing more than a theater stage, with no real power or influence. And Acacius was sure that they would forever hate him for the service he did to Severus. Yet men like Gracchus must've sensed that the general was getting more and more delusional given the current reign of the twins. So the politicians approached him carefully and together they formed an alliance in the shadows. Their plan: Overthrowing the two Emperors and install the Republic again. Acacius stood never on the side of the senate... but nothing was as terrible as Geta's and Caracalla's tyranny. And if that is a way to protect his daughter and his family from them, he happily claimed himself a Roman Republican now.

Coming from one of his nightly visits at senator Gracchus' home, Acacius noticed that there was someone still sitting in the inner garden of his Roman city residence. He took off his cloak and approached you slowly as you watched the turtles in the small pond between the plants and flowers, while the water of a small fountain rippled in the silence. "Your mother told me, that you were sitting here the whole day", he said with a low tone, careful not to scare you with his sudden appearence, before he took a seat right next to you on the stone bench. When he watched your face, he saw all the thoughts that were probably going through your head after the situation in the Collosseum yesterday. For a long moment, the two of you simply sat in silence, while one of the turtles walked along a mosaic before it fell into the water.

"I am not a child anymore, i don't want you or mother to protect me any longer", you suddenly whispered, before your head turned to your father. In your eyes he saw how you struggled to maintain your neutrality as you faced the danger that may come over you, if you'd accept this new attention further. "And yet i don't know how to deal with... them? I suppose i cannot refuse any of this?" Your question carried a sense of pain, because you already knew the answer and it was equally as hard for your father to shake his head in response.

"I thought so...", you mumbled and leaned forward give one of the turtles a leaf of salad you had snached from the dinner table earlier. Acacius had seen many battles and many terrible things, but nothing was harder than to see you like this. And nothing was harder than to feel helpless. All he could do was laying his hand softly and reassuring on your shoulder.

„You’re my daughter, y/n. And you’re right, even if I want it to, I can not protect you anymore… all I can promise you, that it is going to be alright."

He searched for a way to fix all of this, even though he couldn't tell you how. It was better this way as it would only drag you deeper into the dead end that your own father had already set up. The mere thought about it made his heart grow even more painful.

"Do you regret it sometimes?", you suddenly asked, looking at the vibrant clear water of the pond. "What do you mean?"

"That you marched with Emperor Severus back then?"

This question wasn't easy to answer, it was written on Acacius face, as he turned his face to the turtles and sighed.

"I did believe in Severus... i still do. Under him, Rome was able to secure itself and become strong again. What comes after that now - only time will tell. But what i know is that i have to leave in a few weeks with my troups again. An order of the Emperors."

It wasn't a particular surprising news, but nonetheless your fingers digged themselves into the fabric of your toga-like blue dress, while you still hept your head high. Despair was no useful emotion and not a good thought right now. You needed to stay calm, stick to yourself and find a way on how to deal with all of the things that were happening. As you'd said you were no child anymore - you will find a way out if this, even without your father.

You didn't say a word in response, however you closed your arms around him as the fear that with him being gone it could get even worse, lingered on your mind. Little did you know that the world you had known was already on the brink of falling apart.

_____________________________________________

The smell of incence, wine, sweet perfume and sweat filled the rooms of Emperor Caracalla's chambers, while naked bodies moved themselves to the rythm of a small group of musicians. The melodies of their instruments mixed themselves with the moans of the men and women in ecstacy, the worshippers of Bacchus - god of wine, euphoria and madness. Drinking and making love was the way they prayed nearly every night as Caracalla found in it a way to escape the reality that almost drove him crazy. Here in his chambers, the only Emperor that mattered was him, the only word that was heard was his own. At least one small realm for himself, while he had to share the rest of the world with his twin brother.

But it was different this time, when he stared at the scenery with a mind clouded in intoxication. His breaths went ragged, while he sat on a bed decorated with velvet cushions, a young man kneeled between his legs and sent him to elysium with his tongue, while he was surrounded by beautiful slaves, women with golden chains, that decorated their naked breasts and hips. And yet even in a scenery like this, where he usually found a way to calm his restless mind, he was still thinking about her. Not only her, sadly - that goddamn General was another thought. The hero of Rome was no pleasant figure for him anymore, he was nothing more than a Brutus, but Caracalla was not the one to end up like Julius Caesar.

The mere thought of killing this treacherous son of a whore hit Caracalla's brain and made him cum into the mouth of the slave that had his dick deep in his throat. This peak of his pleasure would've helped him to relax if not one of the praetorian guards stepped in and walked with his black and lilac amror through the voyeristic scenery like it was a halluzination in front of the Emperor's eyes. Without a second thought, Caracalla simply pushed the young slave, who was still sitting at his feet, to the side and stood up. His hand quickly grabbed the white toga that layed on the floor which he threw over his own naked, pale body. "Why do you disturb me!?", he hissed, as if he wasn't already expecting him.

The soldier ignored the music, the slaves that layed on the ground and fucked each other, just as he ignored the half-naked Emperor right in front of him, who still wore his golden laurel crown and his jewelries. "Emperor Geta waits for you."

For a moment, the young man with the gingerblonde hair stared at his guard, before he nodded quickly, as if it got him out of a daydream. "Yes, yes i will come to him, i am right there, tell him that. And get that slave Marcellus here," he answered, hand waving him away before his tone shifted and he screamed at his 'guests'. "Get out, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!" The music stopped immediately and all eyes were set on Caracalla, while the first slaves already got to their feet again. „NOW,“ he repeated in a louder and added in a hissing tone „���or I will claim your tongue with a dagger!“

Caracalla was impossible to read fully, just as he was impulsive. It would’ve not been the first time one participant of this nightly debaucheries had lost his tongue or another part of his body.

_____________________________________________

Emperor Geta waited in his embroidered night robe, which was half open, exposing his bare and pale chest. Sitting on a cushioned wooden chair, he stared with tired eyes out the window of the balcony, the darkness of Rome in front of him. Just as his brother he had someone in his chambers, but instead of a whole horde of slaves he had chosen one good whore with hairs that reminded him of you. It was just a dull replacement, he knew that, yet it was enough for a good fuck before he would’ve went to sleep.

If there was not his twin brother, who‘d call for him in the middle of the goddamn night. By the gods he hated to be disturbed like that, especially after countless of times his brother got him here only to share uninteresting - sometimes even paranoid - gossip with him, which Caracalla had heard from the mouth of one of his slaves.

When the curtains of the attached room opened and Geta saw his brother entering with his wild hair and only with a toga over his bare body, his nose twitched in anger. „Don‘t tell me you disturbed my sleep and called for my immediate coming while you were fucking whores at your damn orgy!? When you’re telling me that your problem is, that you can’t sleep now, I will cross you myself!“ Yes, it wasn’t the first time Caracalla had called him for such nonesense. And usually Geta had a lot of patience with him, given his psychological condition, but not tonight.

Caracalla stopped in an instant and looked at his brother with big eyes as if he tries to convince him that he wasn’t guilty of anything. „Yes, but- I had a reason for that!“ he insisted, which only fueled Geta's anger. „Lucinius, bring us the slave!“ Caracalla quickly said and the Praetorian guard who just had informed him about his brother came in with a skinny, yet tall young man. He was a slave but given the clothes he wore, it was clear that he had a higher rank within the household he was serving in.

„Who is that, one of your toy boys?“ Geta asked, eying the stranger he‘d never seen before. But Caracalla shook his head and stepped forth to place his hand on the shoulder of that slave.

„No! He is a slave from the household of senator Gracchus,“ he explained and couldn’t hide an almost devilish smile as this said slave was here for one reason alone - to tell them everything. „Marcellus, tell him,“ he ordered and whispered into his ear. „I promised you your freedom and a good amount of gold, to return to your family. You want to see your daughter again, right? So don’t disappoint me now.“ With those words he stepped back for a moment, giving the slave a moment to breath as he seemingly tried to find the right words. He was nervous, the way his fingers twitched and his eyes were glued to the marble ground under his feet.

"I... i am a servant in the household of senator Gracchus for nearly a decade now", Marcellus began and forced himself to look up into the testing eyes of Geta, who was growing more impatient with each second passing. "The General... General Acacius as well as a couple of other senators visit my master regularly in the middle of the night and they always retreat into a secret room in the cellar of his villa."

With an amused whistle Geta interrupted him. "Why should we care for the sexual escapades of a group of old men?", he hissed, but Caracalla threw in with a darkened shimmer in his eyes. "Wait for it, you will be furious, trust me! Continue."

Marcellus needed a second to calm himself down and stop to shake as he formed his next words. "When i brought them wine once, they stopped with their conversation as long as i stayed in the room, but when i was in the corridor, they spoke again. They didn't know that i was still there, so i just listened and- it was clear that they questioned you, my Emperors. They questioned your leadership and the general - i wouldn't dare to speak out loud such a blasphemy against your rule, if it was not what i've heard with my own ears."

Geta's face darkened with every new information Marcellus was telling him and slowly he realized why his brother was so eager to get him here. The laugh of his twin filled the room, which turned hysterical. "Tell him, Marcellus!"

"General Acacius and the senators Gracchus, Livinidus, Galba and Erebus plan to overthrow you with the legions that are under Acacius' command," he said and had to force every word out of his mouth, afraid of the anger that cooked like a vulcano in Geta. His hands formed fists and he bit his tongue. All this time, Acacius - the hero - was a traitor, a Brutus. And now he connected the dots, thinking about every time this General wined about going off to war. This maggot.

"And this is true!?", he asked in a loud, demanding tone. "If that is a lie, we will punish you in the most terrible ways you could imagine and feed you to the lions in the Colosseum!" Marcellus eyes were filled with tears of fear, yet he shook his head heavily.

"No, please! I speak the truth, i swear it! I swear it in front of Jupiter himself, please, you must believe me! I came to Emperor Caracalla, who promised me my freedom if i tell it here again. It is no lie!"

"Kill him", Geta ordered in a cold tone and before Marcellus could even scream, it was the blade of the Praetorial Guard that cut his head off from behind, making it fall to the ground like a ball of bones and meat, followed by his body. Under the resounding laugh of Caracalla, Geta ordered the Guard to leave them so that he could speak to his brother in private.

"You just read my mind, dear brother! I wouldn't have let him go either", Caracalla sang. "We should kill them all, that bastard Acacius and his old senate sluts! Let's cut off their heads and spike them on the Palatin for all to see!"

But Geta was already two steps ahead when he closed the distance between him and his twin. Yes, he was furious, it took him all restraints to not give in the urge of ordering their murder. "No," he said, which drew a questioning look on his brothers face.

"What no?! Those are traitors, TRAITORS! You've heard the same things i did!?"

"I did, but the senators are no danger. These old men talk about the republic which is nothing more than dust and ashes! A faded dream and without any backing, they just continue to shit themselves in the senate. When our father took Rome, the people cheered to him, because they didn't want a Republic but a strong Emperor to guide them, remember? The head of the snake is Acacius! He must die, and he will die, but not yet!", Geta started and turned to the balcony, leaving his brother for a moment as he stood in the darkness with his his white toga. "We need his legion, and we will make him our fucking dog, who has no chance to ever decline any order of us, if we have his beloved daughter. If he doesn't do as we say, then she will die."

But he will, Geta knew that. Nothing seemed to be more precious in Acacius' life than his family and especially his dear daughter. And this whole situation had a bonus for Geta, because when he turned to face Caracalla again, he announced. "I will force him with an order to marry his daughter to me!"

Caracalla froze in place, his eyes staring at his brother as if he just had a bad dream. "What?", he simply asked again, while his brother's anger turned into anticipation. "With a marriage we bind her to our reign and therefore we will bind the General. Acacius delivers us his own daughter and his own head on a silver tablet with his treacherous nonsense!"

Geta wanted to place his hands on his twin's shoulders, but Caracalla slapped them out of his way. "I don't accept this! NO! I DON'T ACCEPT THIS!", he screamed at him, which really irritated his twin. "Why can't I be the One to marry her!?"

There it was. For the first time, the twins revealed in front of each other that they longed for the same girl. And that made it complicated. Nonetheless Geta was still confused, why his brother reacted like that, so he reminded him of what Caracalla said all those years.

"You never wanted to marry? How many times did you told our father before he died? Every time he said to us, that we would need to find ourselves someone to take as a wife, you refused. You were too busy indulging in your late night activities and Bacchus rituals."

He stepped forward with an intense glaze in his eyes. This way of being instructive, while Caracalla was still his twin and technically even older than him, made his brother's mouth twitch in response to his next words. "May i remind you about the fact that i am the one of us dealing with most of the political responsibilities, because you always wanted to stick to your fun."

Those words were indeed true, as Caracalla hated those senate discussions, which lead to nothing and were only for show - an illusion for both the plebs and the upper-classes. Geta continued, but not without making clear that he saw himself worthier of you being his wife, bound in front of the gods. "All of that is fine, brother. I've always protected you from the boring senators and hypocrites of the Roman elite, while you collected the most beautiful slaves and enjoyed yourself. You have no duties, as long as i take them off your shoulders and finally shut up all the people, finally demanding a royal marriage after all those years. And given all of that, i do think i deserve to marry before you to present Rome an Empress."

Caracalla stared at him, straight into the eyes of his twin Geta and his fingers twitched. If he would just have a dagger now? But he had none right here and given the fact that his brother was always taller and stronger with his statue, it wouldn't make sense to start a fight. In fact he couldn't even argue against him, as it was true, he was never an Emperor that bothered himself with any political nonesense. Yet he couldn't shake off the urge to kill Geta for this. Again, he took a thing from him he wanted to own for himself - only for himself. Even though his twin showed his goodwill, as he always did. His hands layed itself on Caracalla's cheeks and he gave him a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear brother. I am not above sharing her divine presence with you. But she will always be my wife," he whispered, followed by a smile on his lips.

With those words he simply turned and left the room, leaving Caracalla, who was still wearing his white toga over his naked body, as well as the body of Marcellus alone in the dark. His mind got corrupted with so many thoughts in this very moment, but the most prominentely thought was anger. So he screamed hysterically and grabbed the table that stood at the side to throw it down, taking the vase on top and hurled it straight through the room, followed by the head of that damn slave. He hated Geta. He hated him so much and still they had shared the whomb of their mother, which made them share the same blood.

How long would he be able to hold the urge to murder his own brother - especially now as Geta claimed you?

_____________________________________________

Tags:

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[combatbootsanddreams]

I want the Jedi temple to have a radio station. Like we know radio stations exist in star wars, we've seen them (ie: In the Rishi station episode) and I think the Jedi should have a local radio station with different Jedi news programs. Whats going on in the senate, new research the medic corps or educorps just came out with. There's a creche hour where the younglings get to write up and present their own stories. Investigative journalism! Fluff pieces about Jedi theater or music or something. Quiz games. There's a shout out every time someone makes it to the rank of knight or master.

When the war starts Jedi flip to the station to hear a reminder of home. Their clone commanders put it on to remind their Jedi to keep up hope, that this is what they're fighting for. The Jedi give the clones a news segment to talk about whatever they want. New trends, armor paint, weapon tips, they have a call in portion and it gets wild---they have to make a rule that you can't call in from an active battlefield.

The rebellion uses the same station numbers for their pirate radio.

[queenvidal]

The Golden Rose Of Rome

Emperor Geta x Reader

Chapter 1: Thorns

Chapter Summary: The Emperor is not used to being denied. He'll come to find even the most beautiful flowers carry thrones. Drawing his intrigue is dangerous and no prickle will stop him.

Wordcount: 4k.

A/N: Written inclusively, no race mentioned or implied.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2/ Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Masterlist

The air of the Imperial Palaces is buzzing with laughter and music. Expensive wine is flowing freely between Rome's Elite, a parade of wealth and charm where every guest is competing for attention in the glittering spectacle. From their golden dais, the twin emperors oversee the festivities, though each is engrossed in his own way.

Caracalla lounges lazily in his gilded seat, the lack of enthusiasm evident. He is barely paying attention, too focused on his beloved monkey that is sitting on the armrest. While taking long, careless sips of wine he occasionally fed Dundus with grapes. 

Geta on the other hand is sitting upright but his face is mirroring the boredom of his brother, his dark eyes observing the crowd with mild interest.

These elaborate displays of power and wealth had quickly lost their appeal and soon became tiresome rituals of their rule. Necessary evils, as even Emperors have to maintain appearances.

Caracalla throws a grape in the air, watching Dundus catch it mid-air. His eyes momentarily move towards the crowd before returning back to his monkey. With a sigh, he breaks the silence, gesturing toward a group of dancers performing in the center of the hall. “Do you ever wonder why we bother with all this? I’d wager most of them don’t even remember why we are holding these festivities.”

Geta glances at his brother, with a hint of humor in his voice he asks, “Do you?” Caracalla narrows his eyes at the teasing but keeps silent, his attention back to the monkey.

“It’s necessary,” Geta continues, his eyes resuming to oversee the guests. “The spectacle reminds them of our power.”

“Power,” Caracalla echoes with a grimace. “If they were truly loyal, we wouldn’t need to remind them at all. Loyalty bought with wine and music isn’t loyalty. It’s theater.”

“Perhaps,” Geta shrugs his shoulders. “But the people thrive on theater. It keeps them entertained and compliant.”

Caracalla sighs, swirling his goblet, “We should have asked Macrinus to send some of his gladiators.”

Geta tilts his head, amusement coloring his features. “We can’t have people die at every festive occasion, brother.”

Caracalla’s grin turns wicked as he strokes Dundus’s fur, “Says who?” 

That elicits a faint chuckle from his brother. Geta reaches for a new goblet of wine, with his lips curved into a half smile. “The night’s still young, Caracalla. Let’s see what this evening brings before you write it off entirely.”

As if on cue, the grand doors of the atrium swing open, catching both brothers’ attention. A new set of guests enters the hall. Another senator with his family, but something about them is different, their arrival causes a subtle shift in the room. Heads turn and hushed whispers travel through the crowd.

“More senators,” Caracalla releases a tired breath, his attention already elsewhere.

Geta is about to dismiss them as well but then the senator steps aside, revealing two young women trailing behind him. Geta straights in his chair lightly, his attention sharpening.

The elder of the two wears a pale bluish almost lavender colored dress that shimmers in the light of the chandeliers. Her hair is pinned up, exposing her neck and shoulders. An air of quiet confidence surrounds her as she walks, her head held high as she speaks with her father. The younger one, in a soft, rose-colored gown, clings to her sister’s arm. Her movements try to mimic the elder’s, though she lacks the sisters' confidence. They exchange a few words with their father before he drifts off with their brother, leaving the two to stand at the entrance. 

Caracalla notices Geta’s interest and raises an eyebrow. “Something worth noting?” But Geta doesn’t reply right away. Caracalla follows his brother’s line of sight, observing the young women briefly before turning back to Dundus. “They’re pretty, I’ll give them that. But half the women here are pretty.”

“True,” Geta murmurs softly. 

Caracalla has to smirk, to him they look like every other noble daughter. “Careful, Geta. You seem interested. Should I have them sent up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Geta scoffs at his brother, before leaning back in his chair, his eyes moving over the crowd again.

Caracalla chuckles softly, tossing another grape to Dundus. “The night’s young, indeed.”

The air smells like flowers and honey. Your eyes dart between the crowd, as you take a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves. The practiced mask of composure quickly slips into place. With a pet of your sister's hand on your arm, you smile at her, “Shall we?”

Sabina nods, giving you a faint smile of her own. Her calm exterior is just an act and you know that. You can feel the unease radiating from her. The court is a beautiful prison, a place where every glance and every word carries meaning. Tonight, the eyes of friends and foes will be on you. A dance you’ve learned long ago but it's still new to your little sister.

With Sabina’s hand securely around your arm, you lead her through the hall, exchanging brief pleasantries with the various nobles and acquaintances you encounter. The conversations are fleeting and filled with hollow friendliness. Not wishing to spend the night with unhonest smiles alone, you two continue moving through the crowd.

When a servant approaches with trays of wine, you take two cups, handing one to Sabina with a quiet instruction. “Drink slowly. It keeps your hands occupied.”

Sabina accepts her cup, taking a quick sip. “It’s impressive how you do it.”

You cast her a small reassuring smile, petting her hand on your arm. “All practice, Sabi. Trust me, soon it’ll come as naturally to you as it does to me.”

She shakes her head softly, moving forward through the guests. “No, it’s not that. When you do it, it looks simple. Like you were born for this.”

With your eyes on the nobles around you, you say, “Thank you for the compliment, but I am born into this and so are you. Soon enough, you’ll handle it with ease. Just watch Marcus and me.”

Sabina nods silently, her steps quickening to match your pace as you lead her further into the hall. You come to stand before one of today's entertainments, beautiful exotic dancers. Their bodies move like water as they glide across the floor in a swirl of colors. As you two watch them, servants continue to offer delicacies, exotic fruits, pastries filled with honey, roasted meats sliced finely. You sample a bit of everything, savoring the fleeting pleasure of it.

As you take a small piece of a fruit you haven't heard from before, you nod subtly toward a woman standing near a pillar. "See Lady Amagus, the one in green? She’ll divorce her husband soon. He fathered a bastard with her youngest sister.”

Sabina’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth, momentarily forgetting to conceal her reaction. The shock fades quickly again. "By Jupiter... the humiliation."

You nod, your gaze following the woman. "I can’t imagine it. But she’s holding herself with outstanding grace despite it."

The two of you continue your way through the crowd, gossiping quietly as you walk. Eventually you stop near the archways leading to one of the many palace gardens. The fresh cool evening air is a welcome gift. You turn your back to the arches, enjoying the air brushing over your shoulders, your little sister quickly following suit.

Sabina leans in, her voice lowered as she speaks. “I’ve heard Julia Meranius will marry into House Heras. Not the son, but the father. Lady Heras just died and they’re already making wedding plans.”

You shake your head, your jaw tightening in disgust. "Tasteless. Makes you wonder if her illness was more than just a coincidence.” Sabina glares at you but you just shrug your shoulders. “Unfortunate, no less.”

The music changes and you allow yourself to breathe, savoring the cooling breeze that drifts through the heated hall. Unfortunately, the peace is short-lived, as from the corner of your eye, you catch Sabina’s gaze wandering, drifting upward to the side, to the golden dais.

The Emperors.

“Stop it.” You admonish her quietly, the calm mask on your face intact despite the warning in your tone. “It’s unwise to draw their notice.”

Sabina startles slightly, her eyes snapping back to the crowd immediately. “They look-” “Don’t.” You cut her off with a sharper edge, casting her a quick warning glare.

Your sister exhales softly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she lifts her cup, sipping in silence.

Shortly after your arrival, you’ve stolen a quick glance at them yourself, when moving through the crowd. You know what she was going to say.

That the twin emperors might as well be statues - cold, motionless, carved from arrogance itself. They can’t even bring themselves to feign interest in the spectacle before them.

You glance at Sabina, ensuring her focus remains elsewhere while your own thoughts betray you. War, death and bloodshed are known to be your ruler's true passions and it seems neither music nor wine can compare. True to their title, the mad twins. A name only uttered in the smallest of whispers in the darkest of Rome's corners.

With a slight shake of your head, you try to banish these traitorous thoughts. You’re not here to dwell on politics, that is reserved for your brother and father. You are here to enjoy the evening.

Sabinas' sudden firm grip on your arm quickly demands your attention. She leans closer to you. “Senator Domitianus just arrived.”

You take another slow sip of your wine, eyes flicking over to where the elderly senator stands. “Pay him no mind. He’s toothless. A few years left to live and even fewer alliances to call his own. In a few months, he’ll be nothing more than a whisper in the wind."

Sabina smiles faintly, her fingers tightening just slightly around your arm. It’s comforting in a way, this quiet understanding between you two. “Hold your head up high, Sabina. He will be soon forgotten, while we are still standing despite his efforts. We are proud and everyone shall see it.”

Up on the golden dais, the emperors still watch the growing crowd. Dundus is squeaking happily, performing tricks for his master, much to his delight.

Geta rolls his eyes, annoyed by the loud, little creature. Resting his head on his hand, he suppresses a sigh. This night really does feel endless, the music and chatter blending into a monotonous hum. His eyes wander over the dancers without much interest. He watches their performance for a moment, before a flicker of blue in his periphery catches his attention. At once his gaze shifts again, landing on the sisters he noticed earlier tonight.

The older sister stands out, not only in her appearance but in her demeanor. The woman in blue carries herself with effortless elegance, a composure that sets her apart from the peacocks who parade themselves before him and his brother. Unlike the other women in the hall, she seems unconcerned with drawing attention to herself, oozing quiet confidence as though she has nothing to prove.

“What do you think of them?” Geta asks, his voice low as he turns to his brother, though his gaze never leaves the sisters. “They seem out of place.”

Caracalla glances over at them, his face twisting into a smirk. “Which one caught your attention, the proud dove or the trembling chick?” 

Geta’s lips twitch slightly but he didn’t look away. “The one in blue. There is something about her.”

“That so? And what would that be?” Caracalla asks, his eyes landing on the girls briefly again before looking back at the monkey. “She’s just some noble’s daughter, here to remind us that her family still exists. Probably hoping to secure a good match for herself or the skittish one by her side. And if you’re not careful, she’ll think you’re interested.”

As if sensing their eyes on her, the woman in blue turns her head slowly, her eyes sweeping the room until they nearly meet Geta’s. But before their gazes can lock, a familiar figure strides into the hall, stealing the emperor's attention.

“Fabius Verrinus.” Geta observes quietly, looking at his brother with a knowing grin. He straightens in lazy anticipation. “Finally, some entertainment.”

The brothers share a look of amusement. Senator Verrinus is infamous, known for his sharp mind and even sharper tongue. A man of the kind that thrives on attention and over the time the emperors have become eager spectators. 

“Let’s see who he targets tonight,” Caracalla says, leaning forward with rekindled interest.

Verrinus exchanges a few words with a fellow senator when his gaze finds the two sisters. He pauses mid-sentence, his lips curving into a predatory smile. Geta's brows knit together, it seems the sisters haven’t only captured his interest. 

The senator excuses himself, making his way towards the two women in purposeful strides. By the looks of it, the elder one notices him first, her posture tensing lightly in anticipation.

Verrinus' voice breaks though the music, loud enough to draw attention of the close by nobles. “Ah, the daughters of House Cassius! A vision, as always.” 

The crowd parts slightly as he approaches the sisters. Fabius' voice is laced with honey but his smile fails to reach his eyes. “I must say it's quite surprising to see you in attendance tonight. I’ve heard your family is facing hard times. I heard your father struggles to keep his trading routes safe. Perhaps he should take notes from more capable men.”

His words are calculated, insults cloaked in feigned civility. The younger girl stiffens visibly, her wide eyes darting nervously between her sister and Fabius.

Caracalla chuckles quietly from his seat, leaning in to watch the exchange. “The little one looks like she’s about to cry.”

Geta ignores him, his eyes focused on the elder one. She is completely unmoved by Verrinus' words. 

With a small step, she positions herself between the man and her sister, regarding the senator with a calm expression. “It is said that true nobility lies in enduring challenges with grace, my lord. Perhaps that is why my father commands respect, while others must resort to empty words to make themselves feel important.”

Geta arches an eyebrow, surprise evident in his face. Her boldness gains even more attention, subtle murmurs carry through the crowd of onlookers.

Verrinus' smile falters for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing at her. “Lady Y/N, surely you’ve heard about the rumors that your father-”

“Rumors,” she interrupts him, her tone smooth but direct. “Are like smoke, Senator. They may cloud the air for a time, but they vanish quickly when met with light. Only fools grasp at shadows in their search for relevance. It’s truly a blessing to know my family is above such things.”

The crowd’s whispers grow louder, encouraged by her eloquent retort. Verrinus opens his mouth to respond but before he can so much as utter a word, she silences him with a brilliant smile. “If you’ll excuse us, Senator. My sister and I would rather enjoy the tranquility of the garden than linger in such smoke.” 

Without waiting for a response, she takes her sister’s arm and guides her through the archway to the garden, leaving Verrinus to stew in the bitter humiliation.

Caracalla bursts into laughter, clapping his hands once. “Oh, she’s good! Did you see his face? Like a fish gasping for air.”

Geta huffs a laugh, his gaze shifting briefly to his brother, then back to the archway where the sisters disappeared. Caracalla leans back, clapping his hands again. “That was entertaining. What did he say her name was?”

Geta gestures to a nearby squire. “The woman in blue, who is she?”

The squire bows deeply before answering. “That is Lady Y/N Cassius, Your Majesty. The oldest daughter of Senator Gaius Cassius. Their grandfather was a merchant who built the family’s fortune. Senator Cassius expanded their influence further before securing a seat in the Senate.”

“Merchants elevated to Patricians,” Caracalla sneers, his earlier respect dimming by the family's status. “Hardly remarkable.”

With his eyes lingeing on the archway to the gardens, Geta points out, “Remarkable enough to silence Verrinus,”

The squire explains further, “House Cassius faced challenges of late, but they are still highly respected by many.”

“Respected,” Geta repeats, deep in thought. “Yes, I see why.” He dismisses the squire with a wave of his hand. Leaning back slowly in his seat again, his expression turns unreadable.

He was no stranger to the name Cassius, the family isn’t unfamiliar but the woman herself is. Geta realizes now that he’s never truly encountered that woman before tonight. That in itself feels like a peculiar oversight on his part. How had he overlooked someone like her, surely he would have noticed her before tonight.

Caracalla's mind is already distracted again as he leans against the armrest, his little Dundus sitting on his shoulder. “You see that one over there?” He gestured idly toward a group of noblewomen, his voice dripping with indifference. “She’s been staring at me for the last hour. Desperate for attention, like the rest of them.”

Geta doesn't reply, his focus still drawn toward the garden. Verrinus' still standing off to the side, his face still flushed from embarrassment or rage, likely a combination of both. The man’s pride is clearly wounded and yet Geta feels no pity nor amusement. There is only a quiet, growing curiosity about the woman who had so effortlessly dismantled the most vicious man of the city.

“Are you even listening, brother?” Caracalla asks, tossing a grape towards him.

“Hm?” Geta responds absently.

Caracalla frowns at him, “Brooding about the girls, are you? Don’t waste your time.”

Geta’s expression remains impassive as he keeps silent, his mind still working. Their father is a senator and by the looks of it, his eldest daughter has more wit than half the Senate combined. 

Eventually his eyes shortly move back to his brother before returning to the archways, “If her father’s political acumen matches her wit, House Cassius might prove useful.”

Caracalla laughs, loud enough to make a few nearby guests glance their way. “You always think in terms of politics, brother. Sometimes a woman is just a woman.”

“Sometimes, yes,” Geta agrees quietly. “But not this one.”

Caracalla laughs again, even louder this time. “And what of it? Haven’t you seen that little sister? That girl looked like a frightened fawn. I’ll take her, she seems easy to break. You can have the sharp-tongued one.”

Geta rolls his eyes, his tone dry. “How magnanimous of you.”

Caracalla only grins. “Her tongue will be the death of her. Verrinus won’t forget this. A shame, really. She’d make an entertaining court jester.”

“Or a useful ally,” Geta muses, swirling his wine thoughtfully.

“So? Are you going to sit there brooding all night, or are you going to follow her?” Caracalla teases lightly before tossing a grape into his mouth. “You look like a dog sniffing after a bone.”

“Unlike you, brother,” Geta finally tears his gaze away to meet Caracalla’s amused expression, “I don’t make a habit of chasing every pretty face. And I certainly don’t declare my intentions aloud in the presence of the entire court.”

Caracalla laughs, unbothered by the bait. “Oh, come now, Geta. Admit it - you’re intrigued. The noble merchant’s daughter, standing tall amidst the wolves. It’s practically a tale out of one of those tragic love poems you pretend not to enjoy.”

Geta ignores the jab about poetry, but his curiosity is undeniable. Caracalla's eyes met him again. “But don’t let it distract you from the reality of who we are.”

“And what’s that?” Geta asks, his annoyance clear in his tone.

“Gods,” Caracalla states simply, flashing a sharp grin. “And gods don’t chase mortal girls, no matter how clever they are.”

Geta drains his goblet, setting it down with a decisive clink. Rising from his seat, he adjusts the folds of his imperial robe.

“Oh, so you are going after her,” Caracalla drawls, leaning back with a smug grin. “Be careful, Geta. That rose seems to have thorns.”

Geta doesn’t spare his brother another glance, as he descends the dais. “I’d rather deal with thorns than another evening listening to you.”

The moon is rising behind the horizon, casting its brilliant silver glow across the sprawling opulent gardens of the imperial palace.

You dare to take a deep breath, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. Verrinus is such a coward. Instead of searching the confrontation he so clearly wished for with your father he chose the assumed easier opponent.

A mistake, clearly. Your father was a good teacher and you an even better student. Still, the confrontation was nerve racking and unnecessary. The rivalry between your two families shouldn't be so open on display. 

“That was impressive.” Your little sister beams at you, awe reflecting in her eyes. “He was stunned into silence.”

You two come to stand in front of a marble fountain. You lean against the cool stone lightly, before addressing your concerns. “Father will have a wonderful time in the Forum next time.”

Sabina looks at you with a small smile, petting your shoulder. “But what else could we have done? Ignore him? Surly Father will understand.”

Of course he will but that doesn’t make it any easier. Verrinus is a man who holds grudges. Father will not be thrilled. This will have consequences.

“On another note,” Sabina’s smile grows, “Did mother tell you about her recent encounter with Verrinus' ex-wife?”

Getas' feet take him slowly through the garden, following where the sisters had disappeared earlier. The feast is still lively, the music and laughter echoing in the distance but the Emperor doesn’t take notice. His eyes are set onto the two figures in the middle of the garden.

His pace slows down as he watches the sisters. The younger one is grinning brightly, gesturing wildly as she tells a story. The older one, Y/N as he has learned, listens attentively. The soft blue seems more lavender now, shimmering in the pale light. Her face, shining with a genuine smile, looks like a painting brought to life. Beautiful.

She seems to notice eyes on her, her head turning towards him. In an instant the smile is gone, replaced by the expression of careful composure he came to admire earlier tonight. 

“Lady Y/N,” Geta greets, his voice smooth but edged with curiosity. “A word?”

You dip into a respectful curtsy, your heart taking on speed again. Sabina quickly follows suit, though her gaze carefully darts around, as though searching for potential onlookers.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him back, tone carefully measured despite the storm in your chest. “I hope you are enjoying your feast.”

“I was,” Geta lies, his expression unreadable. “But I couldn’t help but notice you earlier. Not many would dare speak to Verrinus in such a way. You have a sharp tongue, though you wield it well. It’s rare to see such grace under pressure.”

Your heart keeps pounding violently in your chest, fearing guests might taking note of this exchange. With a tight smile on your lips, you reply, “Your Majesty is too kind.”

Geta steps closer, his attention fully on the woman in front of him. “And now I find myself wondering why I have not seen you before tonight.”

“You have, Your Majesty,” you dare to correct him carefully, “I am a rare attendant to the court but we were introduced at the Colosseum some years ago, though I wouldn’t expect you to remember. There are many faces demanding your attention. It would be understandable if mine was forgotten.”

Geta’s brow arches, the response only deepening his curiosity. “I assure you, Lady Y/N, your face is not one I would forget.” 

His tone is almost playful but there is a weight behind his words that makes you feel even more on edge. “I am honored by your kindness, Your Majesty, but it is likely true. After all, I am one of many.”

Sabinas' eyes move toward a group of men lingering near the garden entrance, Fabius Verrinus among them. She subtly touches your wrist, a silent warning.

Your expression hardened ever so slightly, as you caught the men in the corner of your eye as well. Quickly you return your focus back to the Emperor. “I am honored to have spoken to you, Augustus, but I don’t want to keep you from the feast for too long. Surely you have more pressing matters than to concern yourself with a mere daughter of House Cassius.”

Geta’s eyes narrow subtly. Why does he get the feeling she is trying to leave? At the realization, his voice hardens, “I decide what matters concern me, Lady Y/N. And at this moment, you do.”

Your sister shifts nervously and you place a reassuring hand on her arm. “I am flattered by your attention, but surely it is misplaced.” You attempt a soft laugh. “I doubt I am deserving of it.”

Getas' jaw clenches faintly, “I disagree. You’ve spoken of the arena, do you attend often?”

“Always.” You tell him, a genuine small smile cracking through your mask. “I have never missed a game since my father became senator. I find the games to be fascinating.”

“Fascinating?” The Emperor repeats, intrigued. “Most noblewomen I know prefer the banquets to the arena. Why do you favor the games?”

You hesitate, sensing the weight of his curiosity. “The arena is a place of stories, of triumphs and tragedies. It shows the strength and spirit of Rome and it reminds us of the cost of greatness.”

Slowly Sabina takes your arm, applying soft pressure. A few nobles decided to take a stroll in the garde as well, although they are out of earshot, their discreet glances don't escape the young Cassius. 

Your back straightens instinctively. “The hour grows late and I fear we’ve already taken too much of your time, Augustus. With your permission, my sister and I will return to the palace to find our father.”

“You seem eager to leave.” Geta observes, his voice calm but with an edge of suspicion. He steps forward, blocking her path slowly, a silent challenge. He watches her for any crumb of reaction, anything that might shatter her controlled composure.

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” You sling your arm around your sisters, offering a casual smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “But my sister tires easily. It would be remiss of me not to see her safely back to our father.” 

Sabina is about to open her mouth to speak, ready to elaborate on the excuse but you subtly squeeze her arm, silencing her before she can undo your carefully chosen words.

Geta’s jaw tightens as he considers the women, his piercing gaze flickering between the two. That little one didn’t look the least bit tired only a few moments ago. A very poor excuse, one Geta recognizes for what it is: a dismissal.

He is the emperor. He does not get dismissed.

Hot frustration blooms in Geta’s chest at her defiance. He considers insisting her to stay, forcing her to remain in his presence, but something about her makes him hesitate. 

He has the power to make her yield, to bend her will with a single order. Yet, for now, he lets it go.  With a controlled breath, he eventually steps aside, allowing them to pass. “Good night, Lady Cassius.”

The two sisters bow down again in unison, wishing him a good night as well, before walking towards the palace. 

The moment you move past him, your grip on your sister’s arm tightens like a vice. With swift, elaborate steps, you steer her back towards the archways. She is about to look back over her shoulder but you tug her forward.

“Move,” you almost bark under your breath, the pressure of the night’s interactions finally catching up to you. 

Sabina, despite it, leans in closer, her voice teasingly soft, “He’s handsome.”

With slightly hurried steps, you return to the Atrium, your grip is unrelenting, “I’ve noticed.”

Geta stands still, rooted in place with his mood souring as he watches the women leave. The bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue. All the women in the atrium would fall over themselves for his attention, desperate for any scrap of it, but not her. 

She evadied him at every turn, so politely and as elegantly, it wasn’t just frustrating - this was fascinating. For a brief, aching moment, Geta is consumed by the thought. But then it shifts into something darker, something sharper. He knows he will see her again. And when he does, he’ll make sure she won't slip through his grasp again so easily.

[beansprean]

WHAT WE CLUE IN THE SHADOWS: A FINALE CONSPIRACY BOARD

So. WWDITS may have the actual balls to do this to us. and I for one am INCREDIBLY excited for the possibility. If you're a WWDITS fan and haven't seen Clue (1985), I highly recommend taking 95 minutes to do so before the finale. Just in case.

Clue is my favorite movie, I have probably seen it upwards of 100 times for real, and I can recite it from memory with 90% accuracy. I also have the pleasure of owning and playing the WWDITS-themed Clue game, which is centered around finding out who stole the witch's skin hat and where in the house they hid it. I don't know if that will play into the finale at all, but it's something to think about.

The thing about Clue (the film), if you aren't aware, is that there are three different endings. On the vhs/dvd, you see all three in a row between 'that's how it could have happened, but what about this?' title cards. In theaters, there were three versions of the movie (labeled A, B, and C) that were dispersed to different theaters, so depending on where and when you went to see it you would see one of 3 endings. (It's kinda unclear which letter corresponded to which originally, so my labels will be assuming a 1:1 comparison between the order of the home version of Clue and the airing order of the WWDITS episodes.) The Clue endings are not all made equal, and on the home version, the final ending is announced as 'what really happened.'

So allow me to take a moment to talk about how the different endings work in context to each other and the film, and how that could translate to three different endings for WWDITS.

CLUE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT (for real, go watch it)

(last chance to watch Clue go)

Ending#1: "Communism is just a red herring"

In this ending, the first one that plays in the home version, Miss Scarlet is revealed to be the murderer. She is a snarky, sarcastic madam who runs a "hotel and telephone service to provide men with the company of a young lady for a short while" and has policemen on her payroll. This is what I would consider the expected ending, the one that makes sense for most viewers. It's not shocking, but it's funny and well acted and it makes the most sense. Miss Scarlet has the right personality for murder, was in the most convenient area of the house to commit them, and had Yvette (the maid, formerly one of Miss Scarlet's call girls) committing some of the murders at her direction, so she had enough alibis to not make her too obvious. Many people watching this movie for the first time will have her high on their suspect list.

This ending also dismisses the idea of 'dangerous communism' that had been a thread throughout the film (as it is set in 1953 during the second Red Scare) as a misdirection. Miss Scarlet isn't stealing government secrets to betray the US; she's doing it to make money. The real danger all along was capitalism, something that s6 of WWDITS has said repeatedly.

So, to recap, this is the Standard Ending. The Second Best ending. Version B.

Ending #2: "Mrs. Peacock did it all."

This one, played second in the home version, is in my opinion the weakest ending. It reveals Mrs. Peacock, the neurotic, hysterical, and allegedly politically corrupt wife of a senator, as the murderer. She's hilarious and fantastic to watch throughout the whole film and I love her, but this charm drops after the reveal and she becomes cold and drab as she threatens her way to safety. She committed all the murders herself, which would be very difficult to achieve with the tight timing and her position in the basement during the search.

She ends up being caught outside the house by a police inspector, who had earlier shown up disguised as an evangelist telling her to "repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Interestingly, they originally filmed him immediately shooting her dead without provocation, but they thought that was too dark and edited it into an arrest instead (which is why there is such a quick cut after he pulls his gun, and we only hear her rather than see her after that). This is the 'repent for your sins' ending. You do bad things, bad things happen to you.

The obligatory "it's always who you least expect" ending. The Still-Good-But-Not-The-Best Ending. Version C.

Ending #3: "You're Mr. Boddy!"

This is "how it really happened" - the twist ending! The hero was the villain, the villain was just a pawn, and everyone committed a murder in the house to cover their own asses. Prof Plum killed the fake Mr. Boddy, Miss Scarlet killed the cop, Mrs. Peacock killed Mrs. Ho (the cook), Mrs. White killed Yvette, Colonel Mustard killed the motorist, and Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy killed the singing telegram girl.

Mr. Green, who reveals he works for the FBI, kills Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy and arrests the rest of the cast. Understandably the best and most exciting ending (though not without some plot holes) that everyone loves. We get a surprising reveal from two of our main characters that not only changes the context with how you view them, but informs aspects of their character that have been there throughout the film! Now we understand why Wadsworth retained control of the house and the timeline of events, why he was so familiar with the house, and why this entire thing was orchestrated in the first place. We also understand why the cowardly and clumsy Mr. Green was consistently the first to jump to help and defend the other characters, even when it meant putting himself if physical danger. Unfortunately this ending also suggests that he was only pretending to be gay (wouldn't that be a twist for Guillermo lol), but he could also just be in a lavender marriage which is what I choose to believe.

This ending also has the iconic 'flames on the side of my face' scene and repeats 'communism is a red herring', this time in the context of Mr. Boddy's intention to continue blackmailing them all now that they have taken care of anyone who could have pointed the finger at him.

This is the True Ending. The twist you didn't expect but are delighted to find. The 'nothing was as it seemed' endng. The ending that is the most intentional and complete, where everyone gets to shine. Version A.

So what will we be doing in those shadows?

We can assume that e11 will not revolve around finding a murderer, but it does, from what we've seen in the trailer, revolve around making a wife for the monster. Do we get three different wives? Three different actors to play her? Three different superhero identities for Nandor and Guillermo? Three different levels of nandermo: one with a handshake, one with a hug, one with a kiss? Three different explanations for the origin and/or purpose of the documentary? (this is my personal favorite) Or is each ending entirely divorced from the other? Only time will tell.

What I'm leaning toward is that each episode will come up to the same turning point - a decision, a reveal, etc. The first two versions will have reasonable possibilities, the first less surprising but more enjoyable than the second, and the third... The third will be what really happened, and pull a twist no one saw coming. Perhaps even a character will reveal a hidden identity. Maybe, just maybe...we get Simon the Devious.

I only hope the order of the episodes doesn't change between channels or time zones because that will make things very confusing when liveblogging it in the group chat lmao.

[purlturtle]

Goooooood morning Roooomaaaaa!

It is a beautiful morning in the heart of the empire Republic; the weather is calm, as is the sea off Ostia.

Senate meeting today, folks, at the Theater of Pompey; I repeat Theater of Pompey, okay, not the Capitol! Remember, there's construction going on there. So, Theater of Pompey; be sure to give the area a wide berth if you're not a senator, as it will be the usual traffic jam. And if you're a senator, make sure you head there early to avoid the rush!

I'll be sweetening your morning with the newest carmen, featuring tibia and drums to honor Mars - it's his month, after all! Gotta stay on his good side! After that we'll have the morning news for you, straight from the Senate to your ears! Stay tuned!

[caracalla-dondus]

hi hi i hope you’re having a fab day i loved your most recent works and saw you wanted some requests so here i am i didn’t see any rules posted yet so if anything in this ask makes you uncomfy im very sorry!! but oki okie this is semi inspired by your last geta fic and so i was thinking like Caracalla x like actress reader who comes into town with her acting troop and peforms for the emperors one night when caracalla is in bad mood and readers the only one who can make him laugh while he’s in one of his moods and so geta keeps calling reader back to entertain him and sorta help with his sundowning and caracalla just gets absolutely obsessed with reader and refuses to let them leave and go back with there troop and jsut wants to keep reader all to themselves smut if you do that would be fab but if not that’s okie too!! ~🫐

Thank you for your request and kind words 😊 I hope you enjoy the fic and that it's to your liking. I wrote more than I was planning but actress!reader inspired me.

The Actress

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla/Actress!reader

Summary: Caracalla becomes enthralled by an actress one night and soon becomes completely obsessed with her.

Dividers By: cafekitsune

Author's Note: I refer to actress!reader as a mime actress but "mime" does not mean the modern day mime who wears white face paint and is silent. Mime actors and actresses in ancient Rome were entertainers who did comedy, satirical, or even erotic performances. From what I briefly read, mime actresses were some of the few women allowed to publicly perform and they performed without masks unlike most theater actors. It was a scandalous profession, often equated with sex workers, but they could gain a lot of fame from their work. Empress Theodora was once a popular mime actress before she was empress.

The grand halls of the imperial palace were alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. All in attendance were lively and enjoying the night. All except for Caracalla. Geta could feel his brother's restless agitation beside him. Caracalla had been in one of his darker moods, his hair was unkempt from refusing to allow the servants near him, his toga was disheveled from the tussle him and Geta had when Geta attempted to get his brother presentable. Caracalla had not wanted to be there that night. Geta had hoped his brother’s foul mood would be improved by the pleasant evening of revelry, but it seems to only be worsening it. With a sigh, Geta had a servant refill his goblet and he observed his brother. Geta often found himself playing caretaker to Caracalla, whose moods could disrupt everything. Geta never liked his brother being unhappy and he was determined to change his sour mood.

"Bring in the actors," Geta commanded, waving a jeweled hand.

The troupe of actors and actresses quickly stepped before the emperors and bowed. Their costumes were vibrant, their smiles wide and infectious. Yet Caracalla's face remained a mask of irritation, unmoved by them and their antics. But then the mime actress, with her expressive eyes and exaggerated gestures, and her beauty illuminated by the glow of the oil lamps stepped forward. Her voice was melodious as she spoke, delivering lines with such charm and wit that even the spectators who were distracted by aspects of the festivities had leaned forward with interest. She captivated the audience with her presence. She said a jest, a line mocking a pompous senator that everyone secretly despised and gossiped about. And then something remarkable happened.

Caracalla laughed.

It wasn’t a sarcastic, malicious laugh, nor was it a scornful snicker. It was genuine. It was carefree. It was innocent. Geta was immediately intrigued by her effect on his twin. Caracalla was enthralled, his eyes fixed on the actress as if she were the only person in the room. She had done what no one else had been able to accomplish that night or most nights, she lifted his foul mood. No one had managed to make Caracalla laugh like that in a long while and it gave Geta an idea.

After the performance, as the troupe of actors and actresses bowed and the audience erupted in applause, Geta raised his hand and beckoned the mime actress forward. With a curious gleam in her eye, she approached the imperial box. Caracalla watched her excitedly, his eyes bright with newfound interest. Geta leaned forward and asked, “What’s your name, actress?”

She gave her name in a soft and respectful manner, bowing her head gracefully.

“You will stay here in the palace tonight. My brother finds you amusing, and I wish for you to remain and continue to make him laugh,” Geta informed her.

A flicker of surprise passed over her face, but she quickly adapted. “Of course, Caesar,” she said smoothly, her cheery nature shining through. “It would be an honor.” There was no true choice of course. To refuse an emperor was to invite ruin.

Caracalla’s volatile eyes lit up, very pleased by his brother’s proposition. “Yes! You’ll stay here,” he echoed exuberantly. “You’ll stay with me.”

From that moment forward, the actress’s life changed drastically. The acting troupe she had once called family faded away as she found herself the companion of an unpredictable emperor. While others might have rightfully felt caged after being forced into such a situation, she simply went with the flow. Her time on the streets and on stage had gifted her with invaluable adaptability and resilience. She was blessed with the kind of wisdom that comes only from having to survive on her wits alone for so long. Life was a performance after all, and she was an expert at surviving any role thrusted upon her.

Her time as a traveling actress had taught her to read people quickly. She prided herself on her ability to sense danger or opportunity in a mere glance. With Caracalla, these skills became crucial. She learned quickly how to navigate Caracalla’s tempestuous moods. When he was agitated, she knew whether to soothe him or stay quiet. When he sulked, she held him close, whispering soft reassurances, and stroking his hair as if he were a fragile boy rather than the most feared man in Rome. In moments of volatile rage, she knew it was best to step back, leaving him to tire himself out. Yet her greatest tool of all was her charm. No matter how deep Caracalla spiraled into paranoia or rage, he could never resist her when she turned playful. One kiss, one embrace, one timely seduction, and his dark thoughts would vanish into thin air. His volatile temper would melt beneath her touch, and his anger would turn into boyish giggles. It was surprisingly easy to draw Caracalla under the influence of lust. He hungered for affection, craving a closeness he’d never experienced, and she was quite generous with her attention for her emperor.

Caracalla quickly became obsessed with her.

At first, he simply wanted her near. She was to dine with him, to amuse him, to accompany him in the evenings when his mind became clouded. She spoke to him with kindness, soothed him when frustration overtook him, when he was playful she laughed at his jokes even when they made no sense, and indulged his whims with the patience of a mother tending to a difficult child. Caracalla in turn clung to her like he often does with Dondus, refusing to let her out of his sight for too long.

Caracalla would dress his monkey Dondus in tiny outfits, and she would sit beside them, smiling indulgently at the sight. Caracalla laughed at his own games, turning to her, desperate for approval like a child wanting a mother's praise. “Look! I got Dondus a new dress!” he’d say, beaming.

She would laugh sweetly, clapping her hands. “How distinguished he is!”

Caracalla adored her praise, craving her attention. She became his favorite source of comfort. Often, in the twilight hours, Caracalla would grow restless. His moods turning dark, a product of the illness that plagued his troubled mind. He would pace the room, muttering about imaginary plots, threats, and betrayals.

“Geta is against me,” he whispered one night, eyes wild. “Everyone is against me.”

“My emperor,” she said sweetly, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Do not dwell on such dark thoughts.” She approached gently, her touch gentle on his shoulder. “I’m here,” she said soothingly. “And I’ll shield you from them all.” She had learned it didn’t do much good to try and talk sense to him in these moments. If she denied his claims about Geta then he would just rage at her and accuse her of favoring his brother like everyone else does. She knew these thoughts would naturally fade on their own. But she also knew to carefully choose her words because they held the power to heal or destroy.

Caracalla’s tense body relaxed under her touch. He leaned into her embrace, eyes growing soft, vulnerable. “Promise?”

“I promise,” she whispered, gently running her fingers through his red hair as he buried his face against her. “I’ll always be here for you.”

She knew exactly how to calm his fears, to make him feel safe. She’d hold him until his fears subsided, or distract him with whispered words, soft laughter, and kisses that left him breathless, his troubled thoughts wiped clean.

Geta was initially wary of her influence over his brother, but he eventually found himself grateful for her presence. The arrangement made his life easier and lifted a weight off his shoulders and that was enough for him. Geta recognized the power she held over his brother and began to rely on her to keep Caracalla tamed. “Keep him content,” he instructed her privately. “Keep him calm.”

She understood her role and embraced it. After all, things could be worse than being the favored companion of an emperor. She had influence, luxury, and a kind of power she had never dreamed possible for herself. Caracalla frequently gifted her all kinds of extravagant things. She had silk stolas in nearly every color. She had lavish jewels. She held political sway by being a whisper in his ear. And if she had to deal with some erratic moods of his in return then so be it. She thought it was better to be under the protection of an unstable emperor who cherished her than to be accosted by random men like before when she was a simple mime actress with no one to defend her. To the palace staff, senators, and other nobles, she was no longer just a lowly woman in a scandalous profession who warmed the emperor’s bed. She was now a force to be reckoned with, the woman who had the affections of the mercurial emperor.

She became more than just a source of entertainment. She became Caracalla’s heart, his anchor to reality. She could be a mother, a lover, a confidante, or simply the pretty distraction that eased his pain. And in return, Caracalla became obsessed with her, refusing to let her leave his side. Her world became a gilded cage, but she learned to live comfortably as the lovely bird within it.

On one particularly bad night, Caracalla's rage became too much even for her to simply soothe with words. He threw things, smashing vases, wine goblets, everything in his path was being destroyed. His shouts echoing through the palace halls. But she approached when she sensed his anger was cooling down, her arms slipping around his tense form. She pressed soft kisses to his jaw, his neck, his trembling hands.

“Come to bed,” she whispered enticingly, her voice honey sweet. “Let me help you forget it all.”

Caracalla shivered under her touch, his anger silenced by desire. He cupped her face roughly, crashing his lips against hers. And just like that, the world around him ceased to exist. There was only her. Only the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, and the promise in her eyes.

She had long learned that lust was the quickest way to control him. It was almost effortless the way she could fill his mind with longing. And as Caracalla’s thoughts clouded over, drowned by his desire, he whispered, vulnerable, “You’ll stay with me forever?”

She smiled softly against his lips. “Always.”

And she meant it. There were worse things, after all, than being the possession of an emperor.

I have no idea if I would ever write a part 2 but I do have some ideas for it 🤔 I was reading about Claudia Acte who was the concubine of Emperor Nero and who may or may not have been a mime actress at one point (I only saw it mentioned on one website) but Nero at one point desired to marry her but she came from a lowly background. So Nero had a whole fake genealogy made up for her linking her to royalty and even bribed ex-consuls to be ready to swear to her royal bloodline but this angered his mother and she prevented the whole thing lol. But that just feels like something Caracalla would do with actress!reader and something that Geta would be forced to arrange because he would want to see his brother happy. So if I did write a sequel it would probably be something like that.

Do you guys remember that House of Gucci movie Lady Gaga was in? Well I was reminded of Patrizia Gucci saying "it's better to cry in a Rolls Royce than to be happy on a bicycle" and that's kinda the mindset I was going for with actress!reader. She's been torn away from her acting profession that she enjoyed, and she should be upset about it, especially since she's the object of obsession for an unhinged emperor and has been forced to essentially be his caretaker so Geta can get a break, but hey now she's got all this access to wealth and she has major influence over one of the most important men in the empire so what does it matter if she's often in the path of Caracalla's destruction? When life with Caracalla occasionally gets too rough, she'll just wipe her tears with a silk palla and then get another expensive one made after her tears stain it lol. Her life experiences have made her opportunistic but she does also truly care about Caracalla and does actually love him.

[absurdthirst]

Dominating the General {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: Courtesan Reader, prostitution, dominatrix, dom/sub dynamic, power imbalance, oral sex (female receiving), grinding, cum eating, fingering, praise, punishment, face slapping, controlling an orgasm, after care, cock binding, oral sex (male receiving), orgasm denial, overstimulation, anal fingering, bondage, cock warming, whipping, anger/frustration, menstrual blood, menstrual cramps, period sex, role reversal

Comments: The weight of Rome weighing on his shoulders, General Marcus Acacius seeks you out. A skilled courtesan with a speciality in taking control and giving pleasure to those who obey. Finding freedom in allowing you to dominate him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

His stomach churns, in fear or perhaps anticipation, the acid rolling and making his steps slow as he approaches the ornate entrance. There is nothing forbidden or taboo about where he is going. Many men seek entertainment within the carved limestone walls. The pleasure to be had within the bodies of those that work there. He would not be rebuked for seeking out an evening in the most famous brothel in all of Rome. 

Marcus Acacius would be expected to have lovers while he is in the city, resting from his latest conquest and campaigns for the glory of the empire. It would be viewed as unfavorable if he did not seek pleasure. However, only a few, a discreet selection of men who shared his predilections, would ever know why he was seeking out this particular pleasure den out of the many others around the city. Who he was seeking out inside those walls. Senator Crassus had given him the name, assured him of the satisfaction that would be found. Now he simply needs to enter and give the mistress your name. 

The brothel where you live is part bathhouse, part theater and part temple. As large as the Basilica, more ornate than the Pantheon, and more welcoming than the Baths of Diocletian, the brothel was home to hundreds of talented prostitutes. Men of all ages would come to seek solace and entertainment. Whispers of your fame and talents were murmured into ears and many sought and were denied your favors. It is your home and you find amusement in knowing that many important and powerful men bow to your whims and eagerly rush to obey your orders. 

Unlike the other men and women of your brothel, you do not take orders. You give them. You take control and power from men to make them feel weak. You control their pleasure and they shower you with coins and jewelry to do so. You have been proposed to by three senators and have been begged to become a permanent mistress to countless more. Turning them all down because it would give them more power over you than you would want. 

Your name is given by Marcus with a nervous lick of his lips and the madame strides off to inform you of your appointment. "Send him back." You declare, knowing that Marcus will not want to be paraded through the halls. The others who have been paid to keep him company have spoken of his ability to pleasure and you are excited to experience the brave General on his knees for you. Marcus swallows harshly as he walks through the marbled halls, his stomach twisting in anticipation and he finds himself at a door where the madame declares it to be yours. "You may go in." She gestures and walks off, leaving Marcus to take a deep breath for a moment. He inhales and reaches for the metal, pushing the door open to enter your room.

“Stop.” You give him the order the second the door closes behind him. Sitting on the edge of your chair, you watch him freeze. A good sign, one that he could obey orders. “Take off your clothes and come to the center of the room to kneel down.” You are eager to see what the life long soldier’s body looks like. You have heard that he is well endowed and you want to see how long it takes for him to get hard. 

His cock twitches at the mere idea of being naked while you stand there fully clothed. He nods and reaches for the hem of his tunic, not wanting to dress in armor when it's not needed, and he kicks off his sandals before he walks into the center of the room and kneels, his dark eyes focused on the marble floor instead of you, knowing you'll need to give him permission.

“Good boy.” You let him wait for a moment in silence, watching as his cock slowly starts to fill. Hardening and lifting up from his groin. You slowly stand, humming as you take in the broad shoulders, the lines around his eyes and scars that adorn his body. This is a man who has lived many lives, battled for his very soul and now he is yearning to give up control to someone else. To you. “When you are in this room, you are to obey me.” You instruct, your sandals striking against the marble floor as you walk around him, looking at him as if you were inspecting a servant. “If you disobey me one time, you will be punished. Two times, you will be sent away.” You believe in being upfront. “Three times and you will be denied my attentions until I feel you have learned.” 

Marcus lets out a whimper, turned on by hearing the rules. He wants to give control to someone else. He doesn't want to think about anything when he's here. He just wants to follow orders. "Words." You demand and he chokes out, "yes, domina." He hardens when you move to stand in front of him but he keeps his eyes on the floor.

Lifting your leg, you drape it over his shoulder and your gown that is slit down the middle, parts to reveal your cunt to his eyes. “I am going to use your tongue for my pleasure.” You tell him. “Eat my cunt. I want to see how well you can pleasure me.” 

Marcus knows this is a test and he groans, surging forward to slide his tongue through your folds. His tongue flicks over your clit as he closes his eyes and groans at the way you taste.

You are surprised at his eagerness, most powerful men balk at the first true test of giving over control. So used to be the ones to receive pleasure, they are almost shocked to learn that the women they fuck want to have the same. You don’t make a sound, withholding them from Marcus to see how he responds. 

Your moan makes his cock twitch and he resists the urge to touch you, his hands on his thighs as he lets you rock your cunt against his face while his tongue slides into your pussy.

His tongue is quick, he feels the way your thighs tense and shake when you like the flick of his tongue and he repeats the move. He’s a quick learner, making you smile even though he cannot see you. It will be fun to control this one, to see him fall apart for you and give you every piece of him. 

Your moan spurs him on, wanting to make you feel good. He groans into your flesh and hisses at the way your fingers tangle in his hair. It's painful but his cock throbs at the feeling. His nails dig into his flesh as he restrains from touching his cock.

You can tell he wants to touch himself. HIs shoulders are tense and his head jutting forward to busy himself with your cunt. He’s good, obeying your orders and just doing what you tell him too. “You are going to make me cum. Won’t you?” You haven’t decided on a name for him yet, but it will come to you. 

He grunts into your flesh, wordlessly letting you know he will make you cum. That's not good enough and you pull his head back, forcing him to look up at you. His chin is slick, eyes dilated as he looks up at you. His chest heaves and pre-cum drips onto the floor as he whines softly, desperate to be buried back in your cunt.

“Answer me.” You demand again, yanking on his hair hard enough to make him moan again and his cock twitches as it sits neglected. “Yes, domina.” He quickly agrees, trying to nod too, but you are still holding his hair. “Good pet.” You coo mockingly and push his face back into your cunt. “Now do it.” 

Marcus groans, diving back into your folds and he slides his tongue back into your cunt, his nose pressed against your clit as he is desperate to feel and hear you cum for him. His nails scratch his skin as he tries to refrain from touching himself.

You tilt your head back and groan. He is doing a good job and you are impressed with how well he takes orders. Much better than the senators that will come to visit you. It takes another few minutes of his tongue pushing inside you before your stomach clenches, your cunt gushing and soaking his face with your juices. “Good.” You pant. “That’s good.” 

Marcus pulls back, his cock leaking onto the floor and he pants, his eyes hooded in arousal as he looks up at you. “Domina.” He pleads, the sound almost caught in his throat as he waits for your next order. This is what he wanted. To be out of control, to let go for a little while and not be the man in charge.

You reach down, caressing his cheek gently as you pull your leg off his shoulder and press the edge of your sandal against his throbbing cock. “Rub against my foot like a good boy.” You order, tapping his cheek gently. The desperation in his eyes is beautiful.

Most men would say fuck no and demand you get down on your knees to suck their cock but your words make him whine and he is desperate to cum. He groans, rocking his hips down so he can grind against your sandal, his chest heaving with the movements and it doesn’t take long for him to fall apart. He cums on your sandal, dripping down onto the floor as he lets out a loud moan of satisfaction. It’s the best release he’s had in months and he’s not even been inside you yet.

You are surprised that he has cum so quickly, it informs you that Marcus is a man who is very pent up. He has not had a release that he has not been in control of in years, maybe ever. “Now you must clean up your mess.” You tell him, making him frown slightly because he doesn’t understand. “Lick up your spend.” You order, looking down at your cum covered foot.

Marcus’s eyes widen but he doesn’t deny you. He nods, leaning in to start licking at your toes. The salty seed coating his tongue and he doesn’t care about the taste as his dark eyes watch you as he sucks on your toe. He wants to please you so you’ll give him more pleasure.

It’s surprising that he did not protest. Another positive mark for him. “You follow orders well.” You coo, pulling your foot away from his mouth. Your cunt is aching and despite wanting his cock inside you, the first session is never an option. “Now you will stand up and move over to the bed.”

Marcus stumbles to his feet, his cock already hardening again and he looks at you, “how do you want me, domina?” He asks and you smirk, “lay down.” He nods and follows your order, laying down on the bed and he licks his lips, tasting his salty cum lingering but he doesn’t care about that, eager to see what you do next.

You lay down beside him, opening your thighs and the folds of your dress fall open. “You will finger me,” you decide. “I wish to see if your hands only bring destruction or if they can bring pleasure as well.”

His eyes darken as they take in your body, you’re gorgeous and he knows you must have men eating out the palm of your hand. He nods, shifting closer and he slides his hand along your thigh, loving the way you feel as he brings his hand up to slide his fingers through your folds.

You have always enjoyed being touched, being stroked to pleasure. Finding so many men ignorant of how to touch a woman beyond their poor attempts to do just the bare necessities, it is a surprising pleasure to feel how his fingers slide around in a slow circle, not just immediately going to your clit and rubbing furiously. Mapping out your entire sex with his digits and even swiping over the skin between your pussy and your puckered hole before coming back up to make another pass at your clit. “That is not fingering me.” You point out and Marcus ducks his head in acknowledgement. “I was wetting my fingers, domina.” His voice is low, respectful and you hum in approval.

His fingers push into you, obeying your order, and his digits are thick as he pushes two into your wet cunt. He lets out a small groan at how hot and velvety you feel around his fingers and he starts to work them in and out of your cunt.

You watch his brow pull together, furrowed slightly as he pumps his fingers in and out slowly. “Do not think.” You urge him. “I will tell you if I want you to change something. You just feel what you are doing to me.”

Marcus nods and continues to work his fingers in and out of you. He wants you to clamp down on his fingers. He wants to please you. He wants to make you moan his name. He wants to make you want him.

His brow smoothes out and you watch as his shoulders relax. His body responding to not being in charge and letting someone take over again. “Good boy.” You praise, reaching up and caressing his cheek gently.

Your praise makes his cock twitch and he relaxes as you order him to curl his fingers. He follows your demand and you moan when he hits that spot inside you.

Once he has found that spot, it doesn’t take long for you to get worked up. Your thighs might tense and you push your hips down against his fingers. “Do not stop.”

He doesn’t stop. He can’t. He wants to watch you fall apart. His dark eyes on yours as he watches you take what he offers. You moan and the sound is like music to Marcus’s ears. He works his fingers at the same pace, letting you take what you need.

You can feel the brushing of his cock against your leg as he continues to work his fingers inside you. Making you proud that he has not started rutting against you. “Make me cum and I will give you pleasure again.” You promise, reaching out and curling your fingers around his cock and squeezes.

He hisses when you grip his cock and he tries to not thrust into your touch. He knows that wouldn’t please you. He pushes his fingers into you, desperate to feel and hear you cum. “Please, domina.” He begs, wanting you to cum for him, to please you.

His plea throws you over the edge, clamping down on his fingers as you use his name for the first time since he has entered the room. “Marcus!”

He whimpers as he watches you fall apart for him. It’s intoxicating to know he’s pleased you and he is not in control of your pleasure. You are. Your grip tightens on his cock and he bites his lip as he watches you work through your orgasm.

You bat his hand away and push him onto his back after letting go of his cock. Still wearing your dress, you straddle his waist and press the soaking folds of your cunt against the underside of his cock. “I never let a man fuck me our first session.” You admit, caressing his chest. “I am tempted though, so I will pleasure you as closely to being inside me as I can.”

Marcus whines, wishing you would sink down on his cock but the whine is cut short when you slap him. His eyes widen and you grip his chin, “you take what I give you.” You growl and he nods, “yes, domina.” You start to rock against his cock, the feeling making his eyes roll in the back of his head.

You roll your hips expertly, having learned that the wet slide of your folds feels good for a man. Not quite as much as having a wet cunt around him, but it is a good reward for him being good so far. “Pull my dress down and squeeze my tits.”

He follows your order, reaching up to pull your dress down, exposing your tits to his hungry eyes, and he groans at the sight of your breasts. He cups them, his eyes flicking up to yours to make sure it’s okay, and he watches your mouth fall open as you rock on top of him.

This is for your pleasure as much as his. Moaning softly at how good it feels, you cover his hands over your breasts and squeeze harshly, showing him how you like your breasts handled.

He squeezes and kneels your flesh, loving the way you moan and he rocks up against your cunt, wanting more, needing to feel more of you. He’s desperate and he isn’t afraid to show it.

You slap his cheek again, this time a little harder than before and his eyes widen. “Do not move unless I tell you.” You hiss. “Did I tell you to move? Did I say that you could rut against me like a dog?”

“No, domina.” Marcus apologizes quickly and forces his hips back down to the bed. “I am sorry.” 

“You will learn.” You know that he is just starting out and he is very used to having his own way, but he sought you out specifically to give you control. “You will find more pleasure if you obey me.” You coo. “I reward my pets. But I will spank your ass until it is red if you disobey me again tonight, and you will not cum.”

Your words make him twitch against your folds and he’s so close. “Domina. I’m - I’m close.” He warns you, knowing you could punish him if he cums before you want him to. “Please.” He begs, wanting permission.

“It is good you let me know.” You grind down against his cock a little harder and appreciate the way his body seems to tense, trying to hold out for you to give your permission. “You will cum for me now.” You command, reaching between you to massage the head of his cock as it slips out from your folds. “Cum.”

His eyes close as his stomach clenches at your touch. He groans and you grip his chin with your other hand, “look at him. I need you to look at me.” You demand and he struggles but manages to open his eyes just as he cums, he falls apart beneath you, cum spitting against your fingers as he moans.

His cum spurts against his stomach, painting up his chest as he moans again. “Domina.” You hum as you slowly continue to roll your hips, drawing out his pleasure until he is panting.

He feels boneless and he’s not even been inside you. He offers you a lazy smile of appreciation, “thank you, domina.” He murmurs, his eyelashes fluttering as he tries to come back down from Elysian Fields.

You decide that you won’t press him even more, he has performed well for his first time in your rooms. “You rest.” You hum softly, shifting off his lap. “When you are in my care, I will make sure you are cared for properly.”

He frowns, “but you didn’t finish.” He says and you smile, caressing his cheek, “it’s okay. You rest now, General.” You coo and he nods, closing his eyes as he relaxes on your sheets. He barely hears you as you prepare a rag to clean him and he only opens his eyes when you place a cup of wine at his lips, wanting to refresh him. “Thank you, domina.” He murmurs, enjoying the way his mind is peaceful, free of the horrors he experienced in the battlefield.

He ends up falling asleep in your bed and you let him rest. Sleeping for two hours before he wakes to find you sipping a cup of wine and picking a piece of fruit from a tray that had obviously been delivered to the room while he was asleep. “Now you will dress and return to your normal routine.”

Marcus nods, shifting off of the bed and he reaches for his tunic to pull it over his head. He feels almost boneless and he loves it. He slides his feet into his sandals and looks over at you, “thank you, domina. Can I - will you allow me to come back?”

“I will.” You smirk slightly as you watch him regain some of the commanding presence he had shed for you. “I will send word to let you know when I will see you.”

Marcus nods, reaching for your hand to press a kiss to the back of it before he reaches into his pouch to pay you the coins you agreed upon. He sets the coins down on the table next to you and bows his head, “I’ll await your word.” He declares and makes his way out of your rooms, knowing you’ll want some peace.

You stare at the pouch of coins and smile before you reach for it. It seems like Marcus will be a good fit for you, eager to obey and surprisingly good at following orders even though he is used to giving them. It will be interesting to see how he behaves the next time he comes to you.

****

Marcus hasn’t heard from you for several days and it’s making him anxious. He taps his fingers on the table as he waits for your word. He picks up his wine and downs it, his back tense as he needs a release. The emperors have been breathing down his neck, wanting to send him back out to conquer more land but he is pushing back, telling them he needs more time to let his soldiers recuperate.

Knowing that he must be impatient, you finally send a servant to the general’s villa, instructing him to be in your rooms and ready for you in exactly one hour. It’s not a lot of time, and you have done that on purpose.

When Marcus receives word, his cock is already hardening as he thinks of what you’ll do to him this time. He takes his time as he strolls to the brothel, making his way into the back after he gives your name. He stands in your room and he knows what you’ll require. He strips off and kneels down on the floor, waiting for you to return.

This time you are fully nude, coming out of the small room off of your larger bedroom that the wash basin and pot is. Watching him in approval as he waits for you. His cock is already hard and you want to feel him inside you this time. “You were almost late.” You chide. “If you had been, you would not have been allowed in.”

​“I’m sorry, domina. The streets were busy and-” You cut him off, striding over to grab his hair and you tilt his head up to look at you, “no excuses.” You hiss and he twitches at the tinge of pain. “It won’t happen again.” He promises, his dark eyes darkening even more at the way you pull on his hair.

“You like the pain?” You tilt your head and smirk slightly. “Answer me.” You demand and he gulps. “I- I do.” He confesses breathlessly, his cock already leaking. “What else do you like?”

“I like - I like to not think. I don’t want to give orders or make decisions. I like pain that isn’t inflicted on someone else like I have to do in battle. I don’t want to think about anything but how I feel.” He confesses and he keeps his eyes on you.

“Now, was that so hard to confess?” You coo softly, reaching for the soft fabric that is wrapped around your wrist. “Stand for me, and I will give you both pain and pleasure that will have no other thoughts in your head.”

He stands, his head bowed as he waits for your instructions. “You will stand still and you will tell me if you aren’t comfortable. What is your word?” You ask and Marcus says “prohibere.” You coo, “very good.” He nods and you take the fabric in your hand, your eyes on his until you lean towards him.

His cock is already heavy and from the fullness of his balls, he has not sought out anyone or used his hand for pleasure since he had left your rooms days ago. Careful and expertly, you wrap the fabric around his genitals, binding them together and tightening it as you do. Hearing him groan, you look into his eyes. “Too tight?”

He shakes his head, “no. Not too tight. Just- I’ve never had this before.” He confesses, his stomach clenching as he looks down at his bound cock. “Fuck.” He curses softly, “domina.”

“This will aid you to not cum so quickly.” You caress his length and he moans softly. “You can prolong the pleasure, until the point where it aches.”

His eyebrows raise and he’s surprised he’s never heard of this in his travels but he’s intrigued. He nods and you squeeze his cock, making him moan again. “Domina. I need you.” He begs, wanting you to touch him some more. He’s held off all week, not touching himself in anticipation of you.

“Have you cum since the last time you were here?” You ask, smirking when he shakes his head. “Good boy.” You praise, sinking down to your knees to inspect his bound cock, “now I will make you cry out in frustration.”

He looks down at you, inhaling shakily as he struggles to breathe when your hot breath washes over his cock. The head is almost purple and leaking as he watches you kneel before him.

Instead of easing him into the feel of your mouth, you take the entire head into the wet heat immediately. Looking up to see his reaction.

He lets out a whine, his eyes fluttering shut as he rests his chin on his chest. He groans and his hands twitch but he doesn’t touch you. You take his cock deeper into your mouth and a spurt of pre-cum hits your tongue. He’s so worked up and he knows he has to hold back.

You hum around him, feeling his thighs tremble and you know that he is already wanting to cum despite the binding. Still, he will be taken to the edge many times before you finally allow him to cum.

He hisses and his nails dig into his palms as he tries to control himself. It’s so easy to give in to your touch and his cock twitches in your mouth. “Domina.” He whines softly, “I- I can’t.” He chokes, feeling the pressure build.

You pull away, stroking his hip while he pants, trying to calm down. “You can.” You urge. “You will.” It’s not a question of doubt in your mind. He will obey you and last as long as you want him to. “Close your eyes and concentrate on how it feels.”

He breathes through gritted teeth and he nods, inhaling deeply to try and calm down. You give him a moment and you take him back into your mouth, loving the way he groans like he could lose control any second. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to concentrate on not spilling into your mouth.

You take your time. Making it gentle this time. Adding another layer to the need that is building inside the general. Wrapping your hands around his body, your nails dig into the meat of his ass as your throat closes around his length.

He chokes on his breath, his fingers flexing as he feels your tight throat squeeze him. “Fuck, domina.” He rasps, his eyes still squeezed shut and he starts to count, wanting to be good for you.

You work his cock until his knees nearly buckle and then you pull back again. Your fingers slowly stroke between his hip and cock, waiting for him to calm down again. “Do you feel how heavy you feel? The ache in your limbs?”

He nods, “yes, domina. I feel like marble.” He confesses, inhaling deeply and trying to calm himself down so he doesn’t disappoint you. He wants to please you, to see that beautiful smile on your face when he follows your orders.

“Good.” You reach up and squeeze his hip. “You are doing well. You are following my orders perfectly.” He stiffens slightly under your praise and you smirk at how eager he is for it. “Now we will make your knees weak and your body beg for more.”

He groans, nodding with a plea in his eyes as you take him into your mouth again. He pants, feeling relieved at the wet heat of your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock. “Domina.” He murmurs, “feels so good.”

You hum around him, wanting to hear his sounds of pleasure and see him weak for your attention. Your tongue flutters against the base of his cock and you can feel the way that he wants to thrust into your mouth, the way he holds himself back.

He’s trying so hard to control himself and he clenches his fists, trying to control himself as you rock your jaw on his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses, trying to control himself, to be good for you.

​​This time, he’s worked up so quickly you have to jerk your mouth back when you feel the vein of his cock start to pulse. Hearing him whimper and you reach up to squeeze his balls gently. “Not yet.” You remind him. “You must take what I give you.”

He whimpers but he nods, knowing he needs to obey but gods, it’s hard to resist the urge to cum. “Yes, domina. Whatever you want.” He promises and you squeeze his balls again.

His eyes close and he moans softly, his cock weeping. He already looks wrecked, starting to sweat from the effort he is putting into holding himself back. “Good boy.” You murmur softly, leaning forward and running your tongue over the soft, full sacs beneath his cock.

He loves the way you praise him and that makes the pain of withholding his release worth it. He loves to please you, hear you praise him. You slide your tongue along his thigh as you give him a little time to calm down, and you squeeze his ass in your hands.

“Have you ever had someone put their fingers inside you? Fuck you?” You ask, knowing that some of the senators you have entertained have and some think that it’s unnatural. You don’t claim to judge but most men seem to like it if done properly.

He shakes his head, “no. No I haven’t but - but I’ve thought about it.” He confesses, “I’ve heard others talk about it and I wouldn’t mind - if it pleases my domina.” He says, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Then we will see how you enjoy my fingers inside you.” You lean back from his body and stand. “Lay down on the bed.”

He nods, following your order as he makes his way over to the bed and lays down, his bound cock aching for you, for release, but his mind is blissfully empty as he waits for your touch.

The general is still, awaiting your orders as you move over to the small table where your perfumes and oils are kept. Selecting a costly vial and smirking as you walk over to the bed. “One day I will tie you to it.” You decide. “You would look good in bonds.”

He lets out a groan of approval at that, imagining being completely at your mercy. “Please, domina.” He isn’t too proud to beg as he awaits your movements, praying you let him find some kind of release when he’s so pent up. “I can be good.” He promises, keeping his hands above his head.

You hum and kneel on the bed. Watching as his chest heaves. “You will tell me if you do not like it.” You order, pushing his legs up and apart so you can see his puckered hole.

He lifts his legs higher, his stomach twisting with nerves and arousal as you slide your fingers across the puckered hole, coating it with the oil that makes him sliver slightly and he groans, “domina.”

You don't just push your fingers inside him, it's a slow process. Working the tip of your finger in and watching the myriad of emotions race across his face as his cock throbs and his body tries not to tense. "Relax." You soothe softly. "Just let me play with your body, you are my toy."

He inhales deeply, trying to relax as you work his puckered hole open. No one has touched him there so he’s tense but you push your finger a little deeper and his mouth falls open as he starts to enjoy the feeling. Your voice is soothing and he wants to be good for you.

You can feel how uncomfortable he is, but you decide to see how far he will hold against the new sensations mixed with the familiar so you lean forward to take him back into your mouth. Slowly pumping your finger deeper until it is all the way in and his hole is trembling around it.

He throws his head back against the sheets, eyes closed as you take him into your mouth and he hisses when you hollow your cheeks. “Fuck.” He curses, his fingers gripping the sheets as your finger works in and out of his ass.

You watch the way that he vibrates with need. The desperate whine that comes out of his chest. He can think of nothing but you and what you are doing to him, exactly what you want for him and what he needs. You hollow your cheeks and make your palette as soft as you can for him, caressing his cock lovingly.

He pants, getting closer and closer and you are winding him up. His stomach twists and he whines, knowing he cannot cum until you allow it. “Domina. I’m - I’m so close.” He confesses, almost chokes out as he clings to the bed sheets.

You stop moving your finger and pull your mouth away. “Calm yourself.” You urge him softly. “You can take more. I know you can. It feels almost blissful, does it not? The need that claws at you, consumes you so you are only thinking of that pleasure. It will be so sweet when you cum.”

He nods, a little desperate but he’s eager to obey you. He chokes as he tries to breathe and you look up at him, “do you want to use your safe word?” You ask and he shakes his head, “I’m okay. Just - allow me a moment to control myself.”

You nod, holding still and you don't touch him beyond your finger. Knowing that it would be cruel to push him past his breaking point when it would lead him to failing your orders. Your other hand brushes over his stomach gently, squeezing his hip in encouragement.

He manages to get his breathing under control. His cock still throbbing but no longer on the brink and the binds keep him from spilling without permission. He sighs, “I’m okay, domina.” He murmurs, looking down at you as he lifts his head.

You watch him carefully, giving him another moment before you decide to start pumping your finger again. The reaction is instantaneous, his thighs clenching slightly and his fingers curling into the sheets again as he moans. "Good boy." You lower your head and take him back into your mouth again, knowing this time you will release the bindings and let him cum into your mouth.

You work him up quickly and his cock twitches in your mouth. You press your finger into his prostate and he gasps, his legs jerking in surprise at the sensation. “Fuck. I need - please, domina. I’ve been good.” He pleads, choking on his breath.

Letting go of his hip, you unwind the binding from around his cock, hearing the filthy, breathless groan. You hum and suck harder around him before you pull away long enough to give him an order. "Cum." You demand before you are swallowing his cock down again.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for him to find his release. He lets out a whine and squeezes his eyes shut as he falls apart for you. He lets out a loud groan as he starts to cum, hot spurts of seed hitting your tongue and the back of your throat as he swears he blacks out. His mind is completely empty except for how this feels. How you’ve made him feel.

You work him through it. Curling your finger deep and pressing against his prostate. Drinking him down and making sure that his cock pulses deliciously. Until his moan is one of soft protest and overstimulation. Making you hum and pull away to watch his hazy bliss.

He pants, relaxing into the bed beneath him as his cock starts to soften against his belly. He offers you a lazy smile as you slowly pull your finger from inside him. “That was…incredible.” He rasps, his eyelashes fluttering until he focuses on you, “how can I please you?”

You are impressed that he would wish to pleasure you. You slide off the bed and walk over to the table to pour a cup of wine. “I will ride you next time.” You promise. “This time you have been used hard. You need to rest.”

Marcus pouts but doesn't argue, he knows you'll punish him if he disobeys. He takes the cup of wine from your hand after he sits up, his body boneless from the pleasure and he loves how relaxed he feels. "Do you, uh, take care of yourself after?"

“Sometimes.” You smirk as you walk over to the little room to grab a cloth. “Or I will wait until I am entertaining again.” You wet it in the bowl and come back out to clean him up. “I think you will sleep deep tonight.”

Marcus hums, wishing he could make you fall apart on his tongue but he isn't in authority to demand you sit on his face. "I wouldn't mind watching." He smirks, unable to help himself as he allows his authority to leak through the submissive nature he's embracing.

Your brow lifts in amusement that he would voice such a want. "You like watching, general?" Your session is over and you are caring for him now, so the conversation can be more casual than before. "Perhaps you would enjoy being tied up so you could not touch yourself and watch as other's fuck?"

He smirks, regaining his normally cocky nature, “I meant watching you. I wouldn’t mind being tied up to watch you touch yourself. Or to watch but I’ve never really watched other than in whorehouses before I found my own company.” He admits, looking at you and admiring your profile.

You bring the cloth over and kneel on the bed so you can clean him up. Pushing his thighs apart again so you can see what you are doing. "I will consider it." You hum as you slip the cloth through his cheeks and smirk when he shivers. "Did you enjoy yourself this session?"

Marcus nods, “yes, domina.” You reach out to caress his cheek after you clean him up and he offers you a soft smile. “When can I come back?” He asks, eager to be inside you for the first time in the next session.

He is eager, and that speaks well for him. "Two days." You decide, striking slightly. "You are not touch yourself or find relief in another." You tilt your head to the side and reconsider. "If you touch yourself, you can only finger yourself, do not touch your cock, and do not cum." You order.

He nods, not wanting to disobey you, “yes domina.” He shifts off of the bed, grunting as his body is relaxed and he reaches for his tunic after he sets the cup of wine down on the side. “Thank you.” He says and he smiles at you, feeling almost giddy as the pressures of the world outside your door haven’t hit him yet.

You nod, aware that outside of this room, his social standing is much higher than yours. "Two days." You remind him, ignoring the curling in your stomach, the anticipation of experiencing his skills as a lover.

“Two days.” He agrees and he reaches for his pouch to fetch the coins he owes you. You are his new addiction. The way you make his mind go blank to the pleasure has him ready to come back to your rooms as soon as possible.

****

He is so eager for your attention that he shows up early. You are not ready when the servant brings him to your door and you smirk to yourself when you see that he is already naked and on his knees, his cock hard and jutting up proudly from his lap. "You are eager to please today." You comment, wrapped in a thin robe and your feet bare. Your hair is not styled and you have none of the perfumes or oils on your skin like you would normally have. Fresh from your bath, you are as you prefer to be when you are not entertaining.

You look fresh and clean and that makes Marcus’s mouth water. “I am. I have not touched myself.” He promises, his cock twitching and his balls heavy as he thinks about being inside you. He’s thought about it many times and he’s eager to experience you.

Nodding, you motion to the bed. "Lay down, I will tie you up and then you will watch as I oil my skin." You smirk. "In your eagerness, I was not quite ready for you."

“I don’t care about the oil. I want you as you are.” He declares, “I will take what you give me.” He promises, “and I don’t want to wait.” He confesses, “I need you, domina.”

You should deny him, but there is something earnest and raw about being willing to take you without the trappings of being an expensive courtesan. His eyes are lowered, but his mouth is pulled hopefully. "Go lay down." You order again, deciding that you will tie him up before you let him know your decision.

He obeys, standing and making his way over to the bed to lay down. His cock resting on his lower stomach as he waits for your next move. His heart is pounding and he’s ready for you to touch him but he has to be patient.

You walk over to a chest that you keep your binds in, opening it and choosing ones that are both strong and gentle on his skin. While you know he wears wrist braces and that would hide any abrasions on his skin, you don't want anything that would remind him of war and the brutality of it. "You are so good for me." You coo, bringing them over and starting with his ankles.

Marcus’s cock twitches in anticipation as you start to bind his ankle and he rests his head on the sheets, closing his eyes as he relinquishes control to you. He sighs and opens his eyes when you work on his wrists. “Is this okay?” You ask and he nods, “words.” You remind him and he says “yes, domina.”

Once you have him secure, you strip off your robe, leaving yourself nude and completely unadorned. Joining him on the bed and straddling his waist so your cunt is resting against his belly. Marcus inhales and you smirk, reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around his cock. "I think I will hold your cock inside me while I pleasure myself." You coo.

Marcus nods, wanting to please you, “yes domina. Use me.” He groans when you start to pump him and you shift your hips back, letting the head of his cock slide through your folds. You’re already so wet and he groans, fists clenched in the binds.

You take your time, slowly sinking down on him and watching as his breath catches. "Breathe." You instruct, pulling off of him slightly. "Feel my cunt. Close your eyes and feel how I am surrounding you."

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes as he feels your hot, wet cunt surround his aching cock. He groans and his fingers flex as he tries to revel in the feel of you around him.

When you are finally seated fully on his cock, you lean down and tap his cheek gently. "Open your eyes now." You command softly. "Watch as I touch myself."

He opens his eyes, watching you with bated breath as your hand slides down to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs, you’re so hot around him and he exhales shakily, trying to move his legs but he’s bound.

One hand is sliding between your folds and the other is cupping your breast. "Have you ever watched someone like this?" You ask breathlessly.

He shakes his head, “no. Never like this.” He’s had several lovers and too many whores to count and he’d never watched any of them touch themselves. He was too proactive as a lover.

You don't roll your hips, but your walls do squeeze him when you rub your clit. Making him bite his lip and you grin when you pinch your nipple and moan softly. "So you will see how you enjoy it. Thinking of nothing but my cunt around you, using you to fill me up while I pleasure myself."

He groans, watching you rub your clit, and he aches to touch you. His brow furrowed as he watches you, “fuck, domina. You look so good like this.” He admits, biting his lip as he watches with hungry eyes.

You chuckle quietly, watching his fingers flex. You can hear the frustration in his voice. “You would touch me, wouldn’t you?” You ask mockingly. “If you were not tied up. You would treat me as if I was any other whore in this brothel.” You pinch your nipple again. “But you cannot because I control your pleasure.”

He whines, “I would. I’d roll you over and fuck you so hard you’d struggle to take another man for days.” He confesses, his neck tense, “and you’d love it. You’d give up control. You’ve submit to me.” He growls, his frustration making him dominant even though he’s here to get away from that.

You drop your hand from your chest and reach for his own nipple. Pinching it and twisting it harshly. "No, you wouldn't." You smirk, listening to him hiss in pain. "Not now, because I am the one making you submit."

He groans, twitching inside you. “Yes, domina.” He submits again, his fingers flexing against the binds. “I- I’m sorry.” He gasps, “domina.” He loves the way you pinch his nipple again.

"Good boy." You coo mockingly. "The poor general thought he was in charge." You chuckle, pinching his other nipple before you take away that obvious pleasure and go back to pleasuring yourself.

Marcus groans, his eyes darkening as he watches you rub your clit and you clench around him. He hisses, “domina” knowing you are going to tease him until he’s begging.

You narrow your eyes slightly at his tone but you continue to touch yourself. It takes a lot of restraint to keep from bouncing on his cock, it's thick and fills you perfectly. Instead of grinding down on him, you hold still, rubbing your clit and biting your lip as you moan.

Marcus watches, all he can do is watch, and he twitches inside you. You feel molten around him and it’s getting harder to resist jerking his hips up into you as you remain still except for your walls fluttering around his length.

You can tell how tense he is, poised to move and the only thing keeping him from doing so is because you have ordered him not to. "Your cock feels good." You praise.

He pants, watching you as you palm your breast and rub your clit. “Fuck.” He curses, knowing he’s going to struggle to keep from thrusting up into you. He watches as you throw your head back, your fingers rubbing your clit a little faster, and when you clamp down on his cock, he can’t stop himself. He spills into your fluttering cunt, a strangled groan escaping his lips as he falls apart without permission.

Your eyes widen when you feel his seed flooding your womb. Hissing because you had not given him permission to cum, you pull off his cock. "You should not have done that." You warn. "Now you will be punished."

He doesn’t have time to enjoy his orgasm as you are soon reaching to unbind his ankles, twisting him onto his stomach so his arms are crossed. “I’m sorry, domina.” He chokes out, knowing you aren’t happy with him.

"You are not sorry yet." You promise, climbing off the bed and walking back over to the trunk to pull out a long and thin whip. "Soon you will be."

His eyes widen at the sight of the week and you pause, “safe word?” You ask and he shakes his head, “n-no. Keep going.” He swallows harshly in anticipation and nerves but he is here to see what you can do to him and that includes punishment.

You smirk slightly, tapping the whip against your palm as you look at him. "Now, I know that you are used to pain, so I am sure that it will take quite a while to get my point across. Do not muffle your sounds." You order right before you draw the whip back and bring it down on his ass.

He hisses but it’s not as painful as he thought it would be. He’s been stabbed and punched and cut so the whip isn’t hurting as much as being stabbed with a knife or a sword. Still, being so vulnerable, the whip makes him jerk when it comes down on his ass again.

You pull your hand back again and again, bringing down the whip against his flesh. Watching the welts raise and the reddening of his skin as you punish him for cumming without permission.

He pants, the pain surging through him but his cock is already hardening again. He cries out when you whip him again. "I'm sorry, domina. I'm sorry." He chokes, knowing his apologies won't mean anything to you.

You grunt, knowing that you should pull your punishment after a few more licks. Despite it being a punishment, you don’t want to cause any lasting pain to the general. “You spilled your seed without permission.” You remind him. “Without warning.”

He gasps, "I'm sorry, domina. Let me - please. I want to make it up to you. Tell me how I can make it right." He begs, his cock hard against the bed and he whines when you drop the whip after a few more licks.

You roll him back onto his back and smirk. “You will eat your seed out of my cunt.” You decide, straddling his chest. “You ruined my pleasure and made a mess.” Your fingers tangle into his hair and you pull his head up slightly to make him moan. “Now you will clean it up.”

He nods, knowing he needs to repent for his punishment and he moans when you tug on his hair again as you lift your hips and shuffle up until your creamy cunt is hovering over his face. "I'm sorry, domina." He murmurs as he tilts his head when you start to lower onto his face.

The first swipe of his tongue is tentative, almost apologetic as he carves a path through your folds. Your fingers tighten in his hair. “You can do better than that.”

He hisses when you tug on his hair and you lower your hips a little more to almost smother him. He slides his tongue through your folds and flicks over your clit, groaning at the taste of his cum mixed with your arousal.

You grind against his face, setting the pace and forcing him to keep up with you. His tongue flicks over your clit before he dips into your cunt and you moan, starting to forgive him after his mistake. “You just could not help yourself, is that it? My cunt too tight for you to hold yourself back?”

He groans into your flesh, “domina.” His tongue curls as deep as it can go, pushing his nose against your clit, and he wishes he could touch you, squeeze your breast or grab your ass but all he can do is let you rock down onto him.

You ride his face, not caring if his cock is already hard against his belly again. You won't let him cum again this session since he had disobeyed your instructions. Now you throw your head back and moan, using his mouth for your own pleasure and having no issue with it.

Marcus loves how you grind down onto his face, making his cock twitch but he knows you won’t let him cum again. He already knows you will continue to punish him by creaming over his tongue then sending him away. The thought makes pre-cum leak from the purple head of his cock.

Your cunt is soaked with his saliva and from the slick he causes as his tongue laps inside you. He has thrown himself into the task, trying to absolve himself of his sin through his tongue. Turning ravenous as he groans into your folds and pleads for you to cum for him. You close your eyes, enjoying the scratch of his beard on your sensitive skin and whimper softly.

Marcus needs you to cum. He wants to feel it. He wants to hear it. He loves the way you grind down onto his face and he tilts his chin so you can get more friction while his nose presses against the clit while his tongue pushes deep.

“That’s it.” You moan, close to cumming now. “Use your tongue.” You close your eyes and pinch both your nipples before you cum with a cry of bliss. Feeling the wetness of your pleasure soaking his face as you grind down harder on his tongue to ride it out. “Fuck.”

Marcus eagerly laps up everything you give him, a groan vibrating through you as he enjoys the tang of your cum on his taste buds. His fingers flex with the need to touch you but he can't move so all he can do is lay and wait for you to move off of him.

You pull your cunt away and shift off of him. “You did well, this time.” You reach out and tap his cheek lightly. “Do not do it again.” You warn him.

Marcus nods, "yes, domina." He promises but he must admit that he didn't hate the punishment. He's still rock hard and aching but he knows he cannot touch himself without your permission.

You untie Marcus before you clean him up. Feeling his cock throb as you run the rag over him. “Go.” You dismiss him. “I have other things to attend to.”

He frowns at your dismissal but nods, shifting off the bed and he grabs his tunic, pulling it over his head. It tents as he slides his sandals on and reaches for his pouch to set the coins down on the table for you. “Thank you, domina.” He bows his head and makes his way out of your rooms, his cock thankfully softening before he’s back out on the streets.

****

You let a week go by without sending word to Marcus Acacius. He has sent servants with gifts and flowers, hoping to soften you to forgive him. You are not angry with him, but it is amusing to see the general slowly start to lose his patience.

Marcus grunts, swinging his sword at his opponent. Since you have neglected to invite him into your rooms, he has buried himself in training and he is getting tense. He needs a release and he hasn't touched himself since he left your rooms. He growls as he swings his sword and his opponent surrenders. "General, you are vicious. You are...wound up. Go fuck a whore or take a bath." His sparring partner demands and Marcus sniffs, rubbing his nose as he feels ready to pounce. He grunts and nods, setting his sword on the stand before he stalks out of the gardens, making his way to the brothel. He strides up to the madame and demands to see you. "She has not called for you." She tilts her head and Marcus hisses, "I do not care. Tell her I am here."

You were resting when there is a knock on your door. “I am not to be disturbed.” You remind whoever is beyond the door, your monthly flow making you unusually tired and the pains in your stomach only good for knowing that you were not carrying a child.

Marcus clenches his jaw when the Madame comes back to inform him that you are indisposed. “Does she have company?” He asks and the Madame sighs, “well no, but-” She doesn’t get to finish before Marcus is striding past her down the hall to your rooms. He opens your door and barges in, his chest heaving.

You shoot up from your comfortable position on the bed, frowning when you see an agitated Marcus in your doorway. “What are you doing here, General?” You demand. “I have not sent for you.”

“I cannot wait any longer. I haven’t heard from you for days. I- I need release.” He growls, pacing your room after the door slams behind him. He’s hard and aching but he won’t take what you won’t give him. He has never been that kind of man.

Your anger that he has burst into your room subsides slightly and you lean back, watching him prowl like a caged animal. He is a warrior and despite that, he has not approached you. “And why do you think that is?” You ask.

Marcus’s chest heaves, “because it’s been too fucking long and I- I have been training and I need to let out some of this - fuck!” He hisses, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, “domina.” He murmurs, turning towards you with his head bowed, “please.”

You should turn him away. You should deny him. Or punish him, but his plea is stressed, his entire body is tense. A man who is pushed to the limits of his restraint. “I am bleeding.” You wince as you move, standing up from the bed. “That is why you have not been summoned. I have entertained no one.”

He feels a bit foolish now he knows the reason why you haven’t sent for him. “My apologies, domina.” He bows his head despite his shoulders being tense and he struggles to contain the pressure that’s built up inside him from a lack of release.

You can see his struggle. “I can offer you relief.” You like Marcus, even if he had broken the rules your last time together. “You can fuck me, even if I am bleeding.” You offer. “Or I can send for another one of the girls to have you fuck under my instruction.”

He shakes his head. He wants you and he voices that gruffly. You nod and he swallows, his throat dry as you shift towards him. “How can I have you, domina?” He asks softly, his hands still by his side.

“This one time, I will allow you to take me as you wish.” You decide. Your stomach is cramping and pleasure would ease the ache, although most men do not wish to fuck a woman who is bleeding. Perhaps because he has lived his life soaked in blood, he does not mind it.

Marcus’s cock twitches and he reaches for you, pulling you into his chest as he cups the back of your neck and presses his lips to yours. He’s hungry for you. He groans into your mouth, his tongue tangling against yours and his hands grip your ass, pulling you against his hardening cock.

This version of Marcus is aggressive, taking charge. You yield to him, letting him grind against you and pull you towards the bed. He’s impatient, you can tell that and one hand moves from your ass to start pulling off the loose robe you are wearing.

Marcus groans, sliding the robe off your shoulders, and he loves the exposed flesh, immediately leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth. He loves how sensitive you are as he bites down on the bud.

You cry out at the sharp pain. Your body is always more sensitive during your monthly bleeding. You don’t mind it though. “You seem to be eager, general.”

Marcus groans at the way you arch into his touch, pulling back so he can look at you. “I have missed your body. I have missed you.” He confesses, “domina, let me take you as you are.” He pleads, kissing up your chest to press kisses to your neck.

You are surprised by his confession, sure that you would never hear such a thing from a man like Marcus Acacius. Missing your attention, your body, but never just missing you. “Do with me what you want.” You assure him. “Just do not be too rough.”

He leans in to press his lips to yours again, guiding you back towards the bed to lay you down. His hands slide down your waist, squeezing your ass as he lifts you onto the bed. When you are spread out on the bed, blood between your thighs, he watches you with hungry eyes as he starts to strip off.

You don’t have any shame because of your blood, it is natural and it doesn’t take away from the way his cock is tenting his tunic until he rips it off. It is heavy, already leaking and you believe him when he says that he has not touched himself. “How will you take me?”

Marcus grunts, “on your back.” He demands and he grabs your ass, lowering you back onto the bed. He is eager for you, pressing his cock against your thigh as he kneels on the edge of the bed.

His fingers don't come between your thighs, but you don't expect it. He spits in his hand and smears it on his cock, pumping himself with a groan before he is notching his cock at your entrance. "Fuck me, general." You can't help but order him again, giving him permission to take what he needs from you just this once.

He groans as he starts to push into you. His eyes fluttering closed as he enjoys the feel of your walls gripping him. It’s so wet when your arousal combines with your blood and he clenches his jaw. He’s been so pent up, needing release only you can offer him. “So good, domina.” He groans as he opens his eyes to look at you.

You soak up the praise, knowing that he will be quick this time. Perhaps even needing more than one release before he is satisfied. The feeling of his cock inside you helps the ache already, making you moan softly.

Marcus groans, his fingers caressing your sides as he looms over you. His dark eyes narrow in concentration as he starts to rock into you, his hips pressing against your ass as he takes you without you being in charge of his pleasure.

You murmur your name, giving him permission to use it instead of domina this time. “Marcus.” You groan, closing your eyes and feeling him push deep.

He loves your name, moaning it as he grips your thighs, pushing them back towards your stomach and he looks down at his cock between your thighs. His length is bloody as he rocks in and out of you and he isn't bothered by the blood. He's seen gore beyond anyone's imagination on the battlefield. His hands slide up you cup your breasts, not squeezing, just liking the weight in his hands.

You are thankful that he doesn’t squeeze your tits, they are always sore when you are bleeding, although the feeling of his hands on them makes you moan. “Your cock-“ you pant. “It feels so good.” The normal relationship has been put aside for now, so you can praise him how you wish.

He groans at the praise, cock twitching inside you as he pushes deep. The linen sheets beneath you are ruined with blood but he doesn’t care as he pushes into you over and over. He leans down to press his lips to yours, shifting to support his weight on his forearms so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

This is the first kiss you’ve shared during sex. It’s surprisingly passionate, gentle as his tongue moves against yours and he tastes the wine you had to ease your cramps. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and anchor yourself to him.

He isn’t as rough as he thought he would be, considering how pent up he’s been, and he slides his tongue against yours, rocking into you and loving the way you cling to him. It’s not emotional but it’s not without weight. He groans and kisses along your jaw, “so fucking hot.” He hisses when your walls clench around his bloodied length.

You chuckle softly. "You are just happy to have a cunt to use." You tease, even though he could have taken another to bed with your permission and still he chose you. "What do you do when you are at camp?" You demand. "What will you do when my attention is not an option?"

Marcus sighs, “I haven’t really thought about it. I do not wish to return to war but I have no choice. The emperors demand it of me.” He admits as he slows his pace. “Unless you come with me.” He suggests between kisses he places on your neck.

Your eyes widen when he voices that. Leave Rome? Become a camp whore for the men? Or would he want you for himself? You choke out a sound of surprise.

“I want you to be my mistress.” He confirms, “you will be protected as mine. I want you to be with me during my battles.” He declares against your skin.

A mistress. Many men had begged you to become their mistress. Promising you elevated status and riches beyond what you could imagine. Marcus is not promising you any of those things. He is greedy. Wanting you with him to see to his needs while he battles for Rome. To be the comfort he craves when he is away from the excess of the capital. You stroke his back and groan. "You would have me lounge in your tent until you return to fuck me as you wish?"

“I would wish for you to remain in my tent and wait for me to return from battle before you took control of me, allowing me to forget the battle, forget anything but the feel of your touch as you control my pleasure.” He confesses, his hand sliding down to your thigh, squeezing it after he shifts his weight onto one elbow.

So you would still be in control over him. The idea is intriguing and you hum before you feel him lift your leg onto his hip. "I would make you forget everything. Every swing of your blade or scream of pain." You promise softly.

He groans, pulling out of you. Blood straining his cock as he shifts to lay down on the bed and he grabs your hips to pull you onto his lap. “I want you to ride me. I want you to give yourself pleasure from my cock.”

You know that you shouldn't. You should make him do all the work, but you enjoy riding. It's easy to slip him back inside your cunt and you moan softly. "I am surprised that you have not cum already." You tease, smirking before you pinch his nipple.

He groans, “need you to tell me when I can fill you up. I love it when you control my pleasure.” He confesses, his hands reaching for your waist to caress your skin.

You smirk and lean down to kiss him, biting his bottom lip when you pull away and he twitches violently inside you. Making him groan your name in a plea to have mercy on him. "The general will be moaning in surrender a lot then." You promise, grinding down on his length and enjoying the way he chases away the ache that comes with your bleeding.

You grind down and his chest heaves as he watches you. His hands sliding down to caress your thighs, enjoying the way you rock on top of him. He’s happy he can touch you, watch you as you work yourself closer to your peak.

You lose yourself in the sensation, leaning back and closing your eyes as you bounce on his cock. Despite you taking no clients during your bleeding, you enjoy sex like this. Finding it refreshing that he is not disturbed by your body's natural flow. "Fuck, Marcus." You whine, leading down and pressing your lips to his again. "So close."

Marcus groans into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands find your ass. He squeezes the flesh and helps you rock a little harder on top of him. “Cum for me, puella.” He demands, wanting to feel you clamp down on his cock.

You bite his chin and grind down harder on his cock, a few more rolls of your hips throws you over the edge. Making you cry out in pleasure. “Marcus!” You clench down around him and shake.

He groans as you rock down onto him, squeezing him in your walls. “Fuck, you’re - shit - you’re going to make me cum.” He admits, it’s been too long since he had a release and he’s throbbing when you gush around his length.

You stop moving and he huffs but he does not say anything. “Fuck me.” You order, and you drag him down with you as you fall back onto the bed. “Show me how you would fuck me if I were just another whore.” 

He grunts as he adjusts his weight over you and he starts to move inside you. His hips hit your ass as he pushes your thighs back towards your stomach and he groans as he starts to fuck you hard and fast.

Your stomach heaves as you try to breathe, your fingers twisting in the sheets as you whimper. He’s good at fucking you, his hips pushing in desperation. “Fuck, that’s good. Cum for me. Fill me up.”

Marcus can't hold back any longer. He hisses as he pushes deep, a loud groan of your name escaping his lips as he pulses, painting your walls with his hot seed.

He drops his head to your chest and you him, stroking his back as he fills you with hot ropes of cum. Letting him ride out his pleasure and enjoying the way that he trembles over you. It’s rare you let a client fuck you this way and it had been good.

He kisses along your jaw, enjoying the way you feel around him while his cock twitches as he rides his high. He sighs, "you are incredible."

You smile, relaxing into the bed. “That is all part of my appeal.” You remind him, although you are a bit more gentle with him, reaching up and running your fingers through his curls.

He smiles against your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he shifts to pull out of you. He looks down at the mess between your legs and the crumpled linen, "we made a mess." He chuckles and you snort, "You mean you did." He shrugs, unable to feel bad for that but he shifts off the bed, making his way over to the water bowl to wet the rag so he can clean you up.

It’s rare that you let a man care for you, but this time, you let Marcus clean you up. “The sheets are ruined.” Marcus hums, the blood streaked on the linens. “They will be changed.” You wave away the sentiment. “They are ones that I always use when I bleed.”

Marcus nods, knowing you are in control again. This is your room and so he picks up his tunic, ready to be sent on his way after he’s paid his coin. “I am leaving in three days time. The emperors’ wish for me to conquer more lands in their name. That’s why - why I was so pent up.” He confesses and he’s loath to leave Rome so soon when he longs to stay and relax, lose himself in you.

You bite your lip and move to the edge of the bed, still naked and you watch as he dresses. “Did you give me an honest offer?” You ask quietly, not as composed as you might appear. “About joining you as your mistress?”

Marcus turns to look at you once he’s dressed and he nods, “yes. You’d be mine and only mine. You’d want for nothing. I just…I cannot return to the battlefield without something…someone to give me hope, to motivate me to return.”

You look around the rooms that you have called home for many years. Weighing your options seriously before you look back at him. “I accept.”

His eyes widen before a surprised smile appears on his face, certain that you were going to say no. He surges forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours. “You shall want for nothing.” He promises, “I’ll come find you in three days' time. I have much to prepare for my absence in Rome.” He informs you, “prepare yourself and be ready, amor.”

His stride is sure and proud as he walks out of your rooms, the confident gait of a man who has tasks to accomplish. You will be ready for him in three days time as he wishes, packed and will travel around the world with him and his army. He is important to Rome and her emperors, and you will make sure that he is well rested and prepared for battle.

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

The Comfort of Strangers //Padawan! Obi-Wan X Fem! Reader

A/N: Well...Hi! I haven't written in two years! I'll post a little update soon but I was INCREDIBLY horny inspired after seeing the Phantom Menace in theaters! Hope you enjoy this lil smutty Padawn Obi fic!

Summary: You and all of Queen Amidala's handmaidens are stuck on Tatooine waiting for Qui Gon to get the hyperdrive parts you need. With all the stress and anxiety of escaping Naboo, the good-looking Palawan stuck on the ship with you looks like a good distraction.

Warnings VERY IMPORTANT: I know Padme and her handmaidens are pretty young, but for the purposes of this story READER IS OVER 18!!!!! That being said, this fic contains, smut, kinda a hookup, using sex with a stranger as comfort, risk of being caught, P in V action, unprotected sex, pull-out method, handy, some finger-banging action, dirty talk, some implied Qui Gon x Reader x Obi-Wan action for a minute there oop, and probably some spelling and grammar mistakes!

Word Count: 2.8 K

With the whirlwind of events that was the invasion of Naboo, one would think that boredom would bring some welcome relief. They would be sorely mistaken. 

The rush of adrenaline that had flooded your veins as you and the other handmaidens frantically dressed sabé, hands, and hearts a flurry, before chasing you up the ramp of the starfighter with gunfire at your back had finally subsided. Now, with the monotonous heat of Tatooine creeping into the ship, there was nothing but dull numbness left. 

Padme had left over a day ago to experience this strange outer-rim world you all had landed on. That left the rest of you with nothing to do but worry. Senator Vancil regularly sent updates urging Queen Amidala to contact him. Each of his messages was more dire than the last. News of your people in camps, starving, dying, surrounded by those damned battle droids, those disgusting Numoidions watching gleefully from the high walls of the Theed palace. 

You could practically feel all of the handmaidens' hearts sink in tandem with each new update. That young Jedi, Obi-Wan, simply reminded the Queen, (or who he figured to be the queen) to send no reply. Had he no empathy?! Obviously, none of you were dumb enough to risk the safety of your mission, the safety of your people, in transmitting any kind of message but could he not for a moment let down his Jedi knight persona and give you all some grace?

Jedi learner actually, I suppose. You thought to yourself. Curled up in an out-of-the-way nook, the hood of your orange handmaiden dress hung limply down your back. Normally you were grateful for the thick velvet robes in space, but even with the ship's cooling systems still online it seemed that they were no match for Tatooine. The oppressive heat sat thickly in the stale air, leaving everyone on board anxious and irritable. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. Between your fear and anxiety, the sight of that young padawan was a welcome distraction. You were positive you weren't the only one who thought so, you had definitely caught your fellow handmaiden's eyes flick over him from under their hoods. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the cocky banter he had shared with his master, even in the flurry of battle, or maybe it was the way the collar of his Jedi robes opened just enough for you to want to see more. Or perhaps it was the way you could imagine tugging on that padawan braid as- 

“Oh, apologies, I didn't realize there was anyone back here.”

You start, ripped from your thoughts by the man himself. He stood, palm braced against the doorway to your little hideaway. He’d discarded his Jedi cloak, leaving him the tan robes. 

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly. “Just…taking a breather.” Truth be told, in a ship this size there wasn't much space for ‘breathers.’ There's a beat of awkward silence before he clears his throat. 

“I assumed you would be with your queen and fellow Handmaidens in the royal quarters.” You resist the urge to scoff. Little did he know your queen was off in the deserts of Tatooine. 

“I think we’re all just processing that last message from the senator. I just needed a moment to myself I guess.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turns to walk away and you scramble for anything to keep the conversation going. 

“What’s it like being a Jedi?” You cringe at the question. He looks back over his shoulder at you. 

“Well, Padawan.” He corrects, sheepishly.

“Right, yes. What’s it like to be a Padawan?” He turned to face you full-on, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” He says simply. “I am devoted to the service of the Republic and the force.” You hum in response. 

“What’s it like being a handmaiden?” He asks, a teasing edge in his voice. From this angle, with you still curled up on the floor, he towers over you, looking down at you with a seductive smirk that makes your stomach do cartwheels. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” You repeat. “I am devoted to my queen, my people, and my planet.” 

“My, my, sounds like we have quite a few similarities.” You crack a weak smile. 

“Why not take a seat?” You offer, motioning towards the cramped bit of floor in front of you. “I highly doubt you have anything better to do.” He raises an eyebrow at you before obliging. “You must live in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, right?” You ask as he squeezes into the cramped space, his knees knocking against yours. 

“Indeed, Coruscant has been my home for as long as I can remember.” 

“I've always wanted to see Coruscant. My family went when I was very small but I don’t remember it. I always meant to visit. I just never thought it would be under such…dire circumstances.” There's another beat of silence. 

“How are you and the others fairing?” You pause, debating your response. None of you had discussed it with each other. Your grief was so profound, deep, and shared in the way only sisters know. There had been no need to speak of it. But perhaps voicing it would help. 

“I think this is going to be the hardest part. At least I, we, were all doing something by escaping the planet, almost getting shot down. But this, just waiting… maker it’s eating me alive.” He nodded solemnly. 

“I understand.” 

“Do you?” It’s not meant to be a cruel question, but definitely a pointed one. “I thought Jedi didn't do emotions?” 

“Jedi don’t do attachments. We are encouraged to feel emotions, they bring us closer to the force, closer to all the living things around us.” Maker, you wanted him closer. 

A part of you hated yourself for wanting distraction, for seeing the first person in front of you, and wanting to find that special kind of escape and comfort. But a bigger part of you craved the young man in front of you, the release from this monotonous boredom and anxiety. 

“And what about…entanglements?” You purposefully tap your knee against his, letting a sultry gaze flood your eyes. He straightened slightly, his quizzical gaze raking you over. 

“Is that really what you want?” His question wasn't accusative or disgusted but genuinely curious, soft, and gentle. The seductive fire in your eyes dies down slightly. Your eyes flick down to the floor.

“Is that so bad?” It comes out barely louder than a whisper. A gentle hand lifts your chin till your gaze meets baby blue eyes, nearly the same shade as the lightsaber you watched him wield earlier. Oh how his hands had moved with such skill and grace, you couldn't help but imagine how those calloused, practiced hands would feel running over your body. Obi-wan smiled. 

“If that's what you feel, then it’s not bad at all.” Abruptly he pulled back, the sensation of him leaving your bubble had you feeling cold even in the burning ship. “Yes, Jedi are allowed to have entanglements.” 

“Oh.” you flash him a sly grin, confidence slowly seeping into you. “Good to know.” 

“Indeed.” His eyes bore into yours, the tension between the two of you was electric.

“Well if you ask me,” You say, placing a hand on his knee. “We have quite some time to kill before your Master gets back with the parts we need, don’t you think?” Obi-Wan’s hand came up to play with the hem of your skirt. 

“I’d be inclined to agree.” 

“Why don't we kill some time then? Hmm?” Obi-Wan’s face lights up in a devilish smirk as his hands glide up to your waist.

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.” 

You lean forward, a soft smile on your lips that matches his before the young Jedi captures your mouth with his. It’s not the quick frantic touches one would expect of a hidden tryst. It’s soft and comforting like you both know you need the solace of another, the soothing touches of a lover not the hard and fast pace of a quick fuck. 

You sigh against him, melting into his touch. Your hands slide over the expanse of his broad chest up to rest on his shoulders. One of Obi-Wan’s hands slides up over your spine, sending shivers through your body before he tenderly cradles your neck. His tongue teases the seal of your lips and you gladly let him in, pulling yourself closer to him as his tongue explores your mouth. 

Pulling you fully into his lap, you can feel the bulge in his pants press against you. Simply the thought of it makes you wet. You grind your hips against him testingly and he hums his encouragement. One of Obi-Wan’s hands moves to your knee. Ever so delicately he slides his hand upwards over your thigh, the hem of your dress pulled ever upwards with his movements. His hand resting on the bare skin of your upper thigh, he gently moves you to grind against him again. 

As you rut against him, Obi-Wan’s lips leave yours to place open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the expanse of your neck, and over the limited bit of collarbone exposed by your dress. You expose your neck to him with a sigh, letting your head fall back into the reassuring weight of his hand cradling your head. 

This was it. What you so desperately needed. The reassuring touches of another that sent electric currents through your body. The safety of being held in someone's arms. Here, in this little nook with Obi-Wan, even if it was for just a moment, was paradise. 

Your hands sneak their way between the two of your bodies. Reaching for his hand that gripped the pillowy flesh of your thigh, you guide him to rest it on your breast. Taking the queue, Obi-Wan gives your tit a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb in little circles over the fabric right where he knows your nipple is. 

You practically whine at the sensation, grinding against him even harder. Your hand comes to rest on his crotch. 

“Help me take these off?” Your voice comes out much more sultry than you expected. He flashes you a smile that makes your heartache. 

“Why of course.” Together, you work him out of his trousers so that his erection stands tall and proud, a tiny bit of pre cum already beading at his tip. Your mouth waters at the sight. Without another thought, you spit in your hand before reaching down to grasp the base of him. He sighs at the contact and without missing a beat you begin to slowly move your hand over the length of him. 

“Is that alright?” You ask, his hands slowly wandering over your thighs, ever closer to where you crave him. 

“A-a little harder if you don't mind darling.” A part of you swoons at the pet name, and a bigger part of you smirks at making such a fine, confident man stutter. 

You oblige, squeezing a bit tighter as you work his length and Obi-Wan throws his head back in bliss. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” Seeing an opportunity in front of you, you lean forward to kiss his exposed neck, his padawan braid tickling your nose. A small blush creeps up his neck and over his cheeks as you continue to pleasure him with your hand. 

Obi-Wan’s wandering hands finally reach under the skirts of your dress, his fingers dragging along the center of you, feeling the wetness that undoubtedly stains your undergarments. 

“Oh my, all this for me?” He teases.

“Just shut up and touch me please.” You groan. Obi-wan places a sweet peak to your cheek.

“How could I say no to someone as lovely as you?” If you weren't flushed before that comment certainly did it. His hands push aside your drenched undergarment, letting two of his fingers leave teasing touches across you, never once letting them brush your aching clit. 

“If I’d known you'd be such a tease I would have approached that master of yours.” You tease. Obi-Wan scoffs. 

“I’m not a tease, you’re just impatient.” He replies slightly breathlessly. “Besides,” He adds finally drawing little circles in your clit. He leans in close to whisper in your ear. “You must be very naive to think Qui Gon Jinn wouldn't be a merciless fuck.” 

For a brief moment, the thought of both of them pleasuring you enters your mind. The older Jedi taking you from behind while he instructs his learner on how to fuck your throat. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Obi-Wan capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, rougher than the last, full of need and lust. 

“Obi-Wan,” You pant breathlessly, pulling away from his kiss. “Fuck me.” He groans, taking his cock in his hand to line it up against your entrance. You shimmy forward, knees on either side of him before sinking down. 

You both sigh in unison, inch after glorious inch fills you up, stretching you out perfectly. He’s barely inside of you before you start moving, grasping his shoulder to help lift yourself on and off his cock. He grasps your waist, helping you move as you work yourself open on him. 

the two of you build up a steady rhythm, it’s all you can do to bite your lip and keep from your moans of delight escaping the room. Obi-Wan hits a certain spot inside of you that sends a sudden gasp from your lips. His hand quickly reaches up to cover your mouth.

“Careful now, wouldn't want the other handmaidens hearing, would we?” You whine quietly in agreement. He smirks. “Think you can handle yourself without me keeping you quiet?” You nod eagerly. “That's what we like to hear.” He practically coos, his hand leaving your mouth to work at your clit, heightening your pleasure tenfold.  

Every stroke of his cock inside of you leaves you a bigger mess than the last. You grind against him desperately, hungry for every touch, every current of pleasure he sends through your body, every sensation that takes you further and further from the predicament you’re currently stuck in. Everything was building up, threatening to spill over at any second. 

“M-make, I won't last muc-ch longer.” Obi-Wan sighs. His movements on your clit are frantic, his thrusts sloppy like that of a man on the edge. “Please, need you to cum for me.” He practically begs. He slots his head between your neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Need to feel you come around my cock.” 

He hits the perfect spot inside you as he whispers his filthy words in your ear, sending you right over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” He works you through your orgasm, not even ceasing as you slump against him. It’s only when you push his hand away from your overstimulated pussy that he ceases. Reluctantly, you move yourself off of his cock, taking him in your hand and watching with immense satisfaction as he falls apart, spilling his seed over your thighs. 

You both sigh, sweat beading both your brows and the air between you hot and heavy with a mixture of your previous actions and the stale Tatooine air. 

Swallowing dryly you break the silence. “Thank you.” 

“Sincerely my lady, the pleasure was all mine.” He nods to the evidence of such on your thighs which raises a chuckle from you. You produce a handkerchief from a tucked-away pocket and start cleaning his cum from your thighs. 

A content quite settles over the two of you as you tidy up, helping each other straighten your clothing. As you tuck Obi-Wan’s padawan braid behind his ear, the high-pitched beep of a comlink interprets the tender moment. 

“Obi-Wan, are you there?” His Master’s voice sounds through the device on Obi-Wan’s belt. He gives your hand a slight squeeze as he picks up the com with the other. 

“Yes Master, any luck acquiring the part for the hyperdrive?” 

“I'm afraid the situation has grown more...complicated.” Obi-Wan sighs. 

“Why do I sense that we’ve picked up yet another pathetic life form?” Obi-Wan casts you an apologetic glance as his master continues. Tucking your hair back into your hood, you give him a small smile and nod for him to go. With a soft smile of his own in return, he turns toward to cockpit, the comlink in his hand updating him on the situation. 

With a sigh, you turn and walk back toward the quarters where you know the others will be. The dull ache of the tragic events around you was still present, but somewhat subdued thankfully. Who knew you could find so much comfort in strangers? 

Taglist:@rentskenobi @mysteryofkokoro @highpriestessrebek @sarapixieelliott08 @princessxkenobi @dexthtoyounglings @book-hoardingdragon​ @cosmic-rich​ @laserbrains @hugmekenobi @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @profkenobi

[saywhat-politics]

By Matt Roan

Throughout the 2022 campaign, U.S. Sen. John Fetterman included as a keynote in his stump speech that he would always be the 51st vote for causes important to Democrats (his election afforded Democrats a narrow majority with the two Independents in the Senate caucusing with the Democrats).

Fast forward to 2024 and things have changed. Fetterman is now a leader among Democratic senators when it comes to capitulating to Donald Trump and the Republican Party that he controls.

It started with Trump’s cabinet appointments. Sen. Fetterman has voted for more of Trump’s objectively unqualified nominees than nearly any other Democratic member of the body.

Among the most egregious yes votes from Sen. Fetterman has been for Attorney General Pam Bondi, who, in a norms-busting piece of political theater, pledged fealty to President Trump during a blatantly political speech recently at the Department of Justice Headquarters where the resident went on a tirade calling out his enemies and declaring journalism by outlets including CNN and MSNBC to be “illegal”.

As President Trump was incoherently rambling anti-constitutional and fascist rhetoric to the nation’s top law enforcement officials, Sen. Fetterman was on the floor of the U.S. Senate delivering a vote in favor of a Republican government funding bill that will enable the continued decimation of federal agencies at the hands of South African Billionaire Elon Musk.

[kabuki-writes]

The Laugh of Nero

chapter: 4 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius faces the consequences of his conspiracy, while his daughter unexpectedly meets Emperor Caracalla alone for the first time.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 3.6k

Romans loved the story of old philosopher Seneca. He was once the teacher of Emperor Nero almost 200 years ago and although body was dead, his life continued through writings: one of it being the drama 'Octavia'. It was a popular play in the amphitheaters of Ancient Rome and beyond. And it was a favorite of yours.

The plot focused on three days during which the Emperor divorced and exiled his wife Claudia Octavia and married another, his lover Poppaea Sabina. It was indeed a tragedy, that gave the audience a glimpse into the madness of Nero, the wisdom of Seneca and the tragedy of Octavia. Oh how you could relate to Octavia. The divergence between her fear, hatred and sadness against her will to withstand and be wiser than what was thrown against her, it intrigued you. Somehow you felt the same in your current situation. On the one handside you feared the future and displeased the attention of the Emperors on you, yet you wanted to do everything to persevere. In a way, the stoic nature of Seneca's character in this play gave you some kind of guidance too. Stoicism, maybe you needed to stick to that even more as you were not able to control your surroundings as it seemed?

You took your seat in the upper-ranks of the amphitheater, accompanied by two of your closest friends. Cicero was one of the grandsons of senator Gracchus and now served as one of the senate’s transcriptors for as long as he was not old enough to candidate for a political mandate himself. The other one was Lydia, the daughter of General Britannicus, who fought alongside your father countless of times and was now fighting with his legions in the far north of the Empire. "Oh, i hope Scato is going to play Octavia this time! The last time i saw him in the role of Electra - it was just mesmerizing. He is just so handsome", Lydia sighed, as she always seemed to be that actor's number one supporter. You and Cicero laughed in response before you gave your friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I already heard that you approached him after the last play. Beware actors, Lydia. They might be charming, but they're also free spirits," you explained with a smirk on your lips, before Cicero added. "Oh everyone would run, when they hear about her father."

"Come on! Stop it! I am just daydreaming! I know he will never let me spend time with someone that isn't a boring military officer!" Lydia turned her face away because she turned completely red, but as she did, she noticed the black armory of the Praetorian guards, who escorted one of the Emperors to the royal box of the Amphitheater. "y/n, Cicero, look!"

You quickly turned your eyes to the scene and your face went pale in an instant, when you saw the luxurious decorated robe, the blonde-ginger hair and the golden laurel wreath. That profile, the curved nose and the make up... you instantly noticed, which brother was here to witness the play of 'Octavia'.

Nero.

In that very moment, he turned his head in an attempt to take a look at the crowd and you tried your best to keep your head low, while your sight was locked to the stage in front of you.

"Is everything alright, y/n?", Cicero asked irritated, while he tried to make sense of your sudden change of behavior.

"Yes, yes i just... i've never seen Emperor Caracalla here."

"Really? He comes to the theater quite often to watch plays", Lydia managed to say, before the crowd slowly fell silent as the first actor slowly walked on stage. The young woman next to you blushed and you could feel Lydia's hand clinging on your arm as if she needed something to hold on - the actor was indeed Scato and the costume he wore was 'Octavia' - a flowing robe with a long, curled wig and extravagant make-up that captured the sadness of her character perfectly.

But you couldn't really focus. Your eyes went to the royal box, the best place to watch the play in a comfortable isolation from the rest of the spectators. Here he sat, accompanied by an entourage of 'friends' and a little monkey which sat on his lap. Suddenly his eyes went from the stage over the crowd and suddenly, he saw you. Your heart sunk to your feet and you instantly turned back to the stage to witness Scato's monologue. He had seen you... and what you were not able to witness now was how he turned to one of his Praetorian Guards, to which he whispered an order.

You tried to keep calm as you stared at the stage, where Octavia was now accompanied by a chorus, who wept for the terrible treason she had to endure when Nero decided to take another woman as his wife. Meanwhile your fingers clinged into the fabric of your toga-styled dress as you gathered your thoughts. You still recalled the words you'd talked with him at the Collosseum - the way you had his attention. Women would kill for what you were able to get if you just continue - but then you heard the words of your father, you saw his worried eyes in front of you and you knew something was terribly wrong.

You were so encaptured in your own thoughts that Lydia grabbed your arm again, but this time it was not because she was about to fall for the man on stage, but because a Praetorian Guard was standing right at the side of your seats and pointed at you. "You. Follow me," he ordered in a very demanding tone, while your friends looked at you in shock. They didn't know what you'd witnessed before, so you grabbed their hands and just gave them an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me, we see each other soon, alright?", you whispered before you stood up and followed the guard upstairs to the place where Emperor Caracalla had his seat.

_________________________________

"y/n, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here! Please, take a seat!", you heard the voice of Emperor Caracalla as you stepped into the royal box of the amphitheater and bowed to him.

"Leave us, Go!", he hissed quickly to his entourage, who - without a word - got up from their seats and left as quickly as they could, but not without giving you a two-faced look. It was almost as if they already knew something you didn't, as if they both pitied and envied you at the same time. You hold their glances to not give in to any mockery they might've had in their minds and would speak out to each other when they were gone. Then it was only you and the young Emperor,... and his pet monkey, which was seemingly busy eating grapes from a bowl of fruit.

With slow, careful movements you approached the seats in the front and sat down beside Caracalla, his eyes never leaving you as you did. "A funny coincidence, is it not? I remember that we talked about 'Octavia' and here we are now", he chuckled, while he leaned back and for a moment, he watched the stage, where Seneca approached Nero about the divorce of his first wife.

"A coincidence, indeed", you answered and followed his glance. There he was, the mad Emperor, who complained about the unfair treatment of him through his own mother, which he cursed over and over again. At that point she was already dead - believed to be murdered by an order of Nero himself.

"You haven't fully answered me back then, when i asked why you see yourself as Nero". The question came from your mouth while you still followed the actor's movements in his luxurious decorated robes, a red wig on his head - it somehow reminded you of Caracalla.

"The play is written to portray him as a monster, am i sitting next to one?"

Maybe it was almost too bold to ask that. You already regretted speaking those words out loud, when his view instantly switched to you, his blue eyes digging into you like a sharp blade. Suddenly, he simply burst into a resounding laughter, that made your lose your breath for a moment, as you stared at him with irritation.

"Gods, you're really amusing", Caracalla grinned wide, showing off his gold tooth. Nonetheless he gave you an answer. "It depends..."

He raised his hand and let his little monkey climb on it. When he reached his shoulder, Caracalla took a grape and fed it to the animal, before it started to groom his wild hair. Not caring about it, he continued. "Everyone views Nero as mad for breaking the chains that his mother and his predecessor layed on him. He never loved Octavia, yet he had to marry her. He never wanted to be Emperor, yet he became one. His mother tried to control him, so much so, that he needed to get rid of this old hag." The last words were almost a hissing tone, as if he was speaking of something he could truly relate to.

"Now everyone is plotting against him, the Gods, his damned first wife, his teacher, all of Rome, only because he started to follow his own path and married the woman he loved. A tragedy, truly - not just for Octavia, don't you think?"

He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer and you sensed that this was a key moment, where you could say something wrong. In a way, you could see what he meant, but there was something he didn't see. Nero broke the chains, yes, but he broke them with cruelty, murder and terror.

"Isn't everything in our lives a tragedy?", you asked and it seemed to please Caracalla, as his bright grin returned, before he turned to the stage once more, crawling his pet monkey while he followed the next scene.

Oh how he could relate to those words. No one could understand the tragedy of his own life, always being seen as the underestimated, 'weaker' and younger brother. But he enjoyed this talk more than he was willing to admit. And he was sure that you were able to understand him to a certain degree, the first woman to do so.

Suddenly, his pet jumped over to you, climbing onto your shoulder and taking a strain of hair to look at your curls.

"Dondus, no! Don't hurt the fair lady!" In an instant, Caracalla jumped from his seat, but before he tried to take the monkey again, he noticed your sudden yet beautiful laugh and how you reached out to pat Dondus carefully, softly, with your filigran fingers. How he wished that those fingers would touch him in that very moment, while his hands stiffened.

"It is fine, please - don't worry", you said quickly, since the monkey didn't hurt you in any way - in fact the way he climbed on your shoulders, touched your hair with his tiny fingers and groomed them with interest in his dark eyes, was very cute. And your reaction was honest.

"I think, he likes you", Caracalla mumbled, while he returned to his seat, still watching you how gentle you were with Dondus, one of his only 'real friends'. It was his own pet, his alone and caring for him often calmed his mind. Just as you did in this very moment since no word came from his mouth - he just watched. Why, just why does he have to share you with Geta soon...

Slowly he reached for his cup of wine and poured it down in an attempt to numb his thoughts over this damn fact.

"You said you see yourself in Octavia, but you could be Poppaea", he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

"I could be," you responded, the focus laying on 'could', while you were still playing with the little monkey. In a way you started to find your path in this game. "Either way my fate would end in death then."

Caracalla laughed boisterous once again in response to your words, while he raised his cup. "And yet you would live in delight instead of agony. Let us toast to the inevitable death of us all". You took your cup and followed his toast.

"To the tragedy of us all." As you drank a first sip of your wine, you still saw how he looked you straight into the eyes. It was clear that he just waited for the next chance to say something and this time he was closer than before, leaning over the armrest of his throne. The Emperor was close enough for you to smell the scent of his perfumes and the wine on him.

"I just know we will have a lot of fun, once we see each other more often," he chuckled. His words hit you, but you tried your best not to drop your mask of neutrality. You'd almost began to enjoy this conversation up to this point. What did he mean by that?

Should you ask? No, it would be terribly impolite to question something like that in the presence of an Emperor. Only your lips parted, while you searched for your next words. Caracalla was the one to grin again, his gold tooth shimmering in the lights that came from the stage of the theater. And his next words rang through your ears like a bell.

"Don't forget to thank your dear father, once you're back home."

_________________________________

Marcus Acacius walked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace, escorted by the Praetorian Guard. He was not in chains, but wore his dark brown leather armor with the wine red whool cloak and his helmet under his arm - the armor of a General. In fact, he didn't really know why he was even here in the first place. It was quite early for a new war campaign, but he stopped to question them long ago anyways. It wouldn't be a surprise, if the Emperors had already found a new target for their obsession. The mere hunger for expansion was enough to never satisfy both Geta and Caracalla, who simply took military like Acacius and moved them on a map as if they were simple toy figures. The glory of Rome was what they promised the people, yet all the older man had seen was death and despair over and over again - even though he always came back with a victory laurel wreath on his head. What an irony.

The fact that everything was like the last times he was called to the palace, made him unobservant to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap. He was sure that his secret was still a secret - that he and the senators were safe in a way. Maybe safe enough to carry out their plan once the time was ready for it. How wrong he was on this...

When he stepped into the throne room, the guards behind him closed the door and he greeted Emperor Geta according to the protocol in situations like these. "My Emperor", he said with his fist on his chest and his eyes locked on the young man, who stood in front of one of the two elaborately designed thrones, which were placed on a platform at the center of the room.

"General Acacius! It is good to see you again. Come forward...," Geta called and his waving hand was a signal for him to move, to come closer. As he did, Marcus noticed that the other twin was missing, but this wasn't a surprise too since Caracalla was often 'occupied' with other things. In reality, he simply hated politics and rather threw himself into diffent forms of pleasure in an attempt to escape the stuffiness.

They were not alone, a couple of Praetorian guards stood at their distinct positions as they always did and therefore the general simply ignored them.

Meanwhile Geta had to force himself to keep a straight face, when the traitor approached him as if nothing happened at all, as if he was not about to put a sword into his neck with those filthy senators - just as Julius Caesar got betrayed by his kin and the senate as well. The young Emperor would not let this happen again.

"Tell me, General, why did i call for you?"

Acacius brows furrowed, while he looked to the map table, which was standing alone in front of the great window. It was untouched.

"I thought you might answer me that, your Grace. The last time we talked, you granted me a pause before i will regroup my legions in Ostia and start the next campaign in Numidia."

Geta's laughter filled the room in response to the General's words and it took him even more strength to not scream at him.

"Oh, don't worry, Acacius. This plan hasn't changed yet."

Yet. A feeling of unease creeped up his body, as he stood still, his eyes locked on the pale, gingerblonde royal, who stood in front of him in a toga of black and gold.

"But let us be honest now, shall we? I question your loyality to me and my brother, to Rome. As i know, you're meeting with members of the senate," Geta called out and even though this was true, Acacius kept a straight face, hiding his fear in trained perfection.

"As you know, my dear wife is the daughter of senator Galba. Is it now regarded as treason to meet with my father-in-law?"

Geta stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Acacius in an instant, while his jaw clenched in anger. His mind was like a volcano, ready to erupt at any second.

"Do you think we're fools!?", he hissed with an even more aggressive undertone that grew louder with each word. Marcus had to tackle the urge to say 'Yes', in fact there was even so much more he wanted to say right now. That they were tyrants, mad, arrogant and overall spoiled little brats, which he cursed at every given second of his life.

"We know what you're up to Acacius - a snake amongst the men we regarded as the most loyal to our father and to us. How dare you turn against us and plot with those maggots from the senate, even though you've seen that they were not able to rule an Empire for yourself! Have you no respect for Emperor Septimius Severus, who gave you all what you're now!?"

It was too late, he obviously knew. And Acacius was not even able to put in words how much he hated himself for not being able to keep it as a secret long enough. It not only put his own life in danger but the rest of his family too, his wife... his daughter. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of the consequences that might errupt in the aftermath of this audience. Yet he couldn't hold back what was laying under his tongue for so long: "You father still holds my greatest respect and loyalty even after his passing... may the gods grant him peace in elysium. But i've seen your shortcomings many, many times. You lack the wisdom and restraint he had, yes maybe even the love he had for Rome and its people. You and your brother are not worthy of the crowns he placed upon your heads."

Geta's eye twitched and he grabbed a dagger, placing it right in front of Acacius' throat. His whole body trembled in pure wrath at the audacity of that General's words.

"I should kill you now Acacius! I should kill you and all those filthy senators for that treason!", he screamed at him, while his opponent only responded with a cold and collected gaze. This look alone made him Geta even more aggressive and hateful towards Marcus, but killing him would only create another problem - so he went with the path he had already planned in his mind.

"My brother was right, you are a Brutus. But we're not Julius Caesar", Geta hissed against Acacius, leaning his head to the side for a moment, as he studied his stern facial expression. Oh how much he hated it that he didn't fear him. The Emperor wanted to change that.

"We should start all over again, shall we? As a hero of Rome, the people won't be pleased with you being crucified publically... But we can still kill your wife... your daughter?", he started and noticed how - even for a second - the corners of Acacius' mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something against this. Now there was fear, something Acacius tried desperately not to show, but Geta still noticed.

A wide, knowing smile appeared on his face and he nodded in silent agreement. "Ah, now you see the consequences. Yes, i am not above killing you kin and let you watch... but it would be such a shame, such a waste... especially for your beautiful daughter. I wonder how you will explain to her, that you threw her young life away because of your pride"

The blade of his dagger was dangerously close as the tip touched his skin at his neck, while Acacius stood in an almost frozen position.

"I have a proposal for you, Acacius...it is the only option to safe your own life and the ones of those you love the most - wed your daughter to me."

Geta's word hit Marcus like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened in response to the request of the Emperor in front of him. And his heart broke in that very moment.

"I will not sell out my daughter like this", he answered with a firm tone in his voice, but Geta only smirked and leaned forward, whispering in his ear with an amused undertone. He knew that Marcus wasn't able to say 'No' in any way. He loved his daughter too much to watch her die.

"One option, General. She either becomes my wife - and i will make her Empress of Rome. Or she will be crucified alongside your pathetic senators..."

He would always choose her life, but at what cost.

_________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky

[thoodleoo]

roman senator leaving the theater of pompey on march 15th 44 bc: this really couldve been an email

[mochifiction]

I Saw Transformers One Early Last Week. Let’s Talk About It!!! (SPOILER FREE)

EXPECTATIONS

I’m going to be honest, I had very very low expectations for this movie for a multitude of reasons. The first was the cast, particularly choosing celebrity hires instead of professional voice actors for a franchise where dialogue delivery means SO MUCH historically and the present. I like Chris Hemsworth, I do, but I am so attached to Orion Pax that I did NOT see him as someone fit for the role. I was also afraid of it becoming a WFC situation where the VA tries TOO HARD to be Peter Cullen. I am also a huge fan of Elita One, and Scarlett Johansson was not my first choice by any means. The one thing giving me hope was the fact that Scarlett and Chris interact SO WELL in their films together and in press releases and they do give off that Orion and Elita energy sometimes. Regardless, I was skeptical.

Now for the big thing: I was very nervous how they were going to handle the politics and the buildup that leads to Megatronus and Orion’s separation. It is no secret that Pre-War Cybertron in many continuities begins with a very corrupt and fascist Senate. Corrupted Senators, capitalistic manipulation and unethical abuse, dehumanization, corporal punishment, you name it, Cybertron had it. The concepts of functionalism, shadowplay, mnemosurgery, and empurata also come to mind. It is also no secret that the United States is on the brink of total fascism. A lot of Pre-War Cybertron’s themes, particularly the Decepticon cause in its early days as a movement, emphasized the elimination of the oppressive regime and reconstruction with an end to the very infrastructure that caused class division and brutalization of Cybertronian bodies. Not only this, but Megatronus and Orion’s schism often comes because of class, particularly privilege and lack thereof, which is something that often happens in revolution. Those with more privilege often think that reform can happen underneath the system that looms over them, just with a switching of a guard and elimination of a few policies. They are often ones who partook in and benefitted from the system by birth or for the sake of survival. Those who come from the lower classes want to burn the entire system down, understanding in its entirety that its very infrastructure is unstable and is not sustainable, no matter who is in power. Examples of this divide despite deep friendship and similar ideas is Andres Bonifacio and Jose Rizal of the Philippines (as a Filipino). Orion, in most cases coming from a privileged background, saw hope in simple reform after extracting the corrupt portions of the federal structure. Megatronus, who fought his whole life to be deemed as sentient, understood that the entire system was diseased and could not go on. It would just eventually continue its horrid practices. I can go on a tangent about this, as someone who studies and writes on anti-colonialism, but that’s another post for another day. My concern based on the trailers was that it would address NONE of that and there would be some watered down conflict that removed the nuances and political passion behind a lot of other continuities. The trailers, to me, were not giving me enough proof that it would be handled correctly.

Initial Experience

My theater was filled with mostly adults of various ages who were fans of different continuities. Some people were even talking about how they thought the movie was going to suck, including me with my dad, who has been a fan since G1 in the 80s and was going in blind. However, throughout the entire film, the whole theater was laughing, gasping, cheering, clapping, and screaming. Afterwards, there were people who were literally talking about how it was the movie they’d been waiting for after years of disappointment. Someone literally shouted when leaving the theater that he was so excited for September when everyone else could see it. My dad, who has not been a fan of recent Transformers material, talked nonstop about how much he loved it. Me personally, I was BRIMMING with excitement afterwards, which is huge given that I was ready to criticize the movie’s every move. Let me get into why- note this is SPOILER FREE.

Orion Pax

Believe it or not, I really liked TF1’s Orion. He was witty, had the snark of Aligned Orion, and clearly had a goal in mind: to entirely shift the status quo by breaking the class distinction. He was extremely optimistic like most versions, something that is often criticized in the fanbase, and is also criticized in the film. However, the qualities that G1 created and the Bayverse destroyed were THERE. Orion was a DORK. He was KIND. He CARED for people deeply, even if they weren’t necessarily thinking about him. He was a KNOWN PROBLEM-SOLVER. His intelligence is noted MULTIPLE times. He really is authentically Orion. I’ll do a more in-depth analysis in September.

Megatronus/ D-16

Now, THIS MAN WAS AMAZING. I am so used to the source of his anger being solely lower class-based oppression amongst other things relating to that. The film offered another option, which I will not disclose, but I thought it was a wonderful addition. I will keep my mouth shut about D-16’s personality in this film because it’s a secret, but just know this new take on Megatronus was a bit refreshing and gives new material for both fan continuity writers and fanfic writers.

Elita

I was honestly scared to see how they would portray Elita, especially with their track record of solely making her Optimus’s love interest and killing her off. I also was afraid that they would turn her into a white feminism caricature, which I can go into depth about for clarification if anyone needs it. However, the writers take feminism for Elita and take a much more in-depth route. I found her well done. She was giving mother in this film, absolutely brilliant. There will be an analysis on her as well in September, especially since they have so much intended room for her.

Worldbuilding and Additional Characters

I think that with about an hour and a half, it would have been SO HARD to create an entire world of deep political brutality and nuance like the comics directly. So, I think the writers created a framework that was good enough to convey the fascist undertones of Cybertron while also leaving so many avenues to explore and elaborate on for future films, whether they be prequels or sequels. Some characters were added in with a bit of context, but no in-depth explanations. While I would normally say that’s a downside, I think that it was actually really smart on their part. If you tried to add all of these complex stories from the comics in an hour and a half film combined with everything else, it would have likely been underdeveloped and left more questions and holes than answers. By removing that, I think that it was a smart move to expand on in their own time and with good pacing. Besides, the presence of some characters was very enjoyable and kept the audience I was with wanting more from them. Not in a “there wasn’t enough of them” way at all, but instead a “they were so cool in the short time they were here I need more now” way. Everyone in this continuity gets a new and different start. I honestly think it would give fan continuity writers motivation to continue what they’re doing, now that basic and consistent pre-war plot lines have been redone. I think for how long the movie is, they did a great job.

Additional Thoughts

I think that everything was pretty well done. The pacing was especially important, given we were supposed to witness a buildup in such a devastating “divorce”. That isn’t done lightly, and they made sure that they built it up enough to where the final blow was devastating. It was SO DEVASTATING that people in my theater were gasping left and right. The comedy was well done, as someone who hates poorly-written jokes for laughs. It fit into the characters’ personalities well, that’s what made it work well. It didn’t feel forced because that’s just how that particular character is. I also think that, as a fandom, sometimes we get too wrapped up in very specific characterizations of these individuals to the point where we refuse new ideas. I was extremely guilty of this. However, this film was truly made by someone that loved the franchise and knew exactly what the fans wanted. Brian Tyler, who did the score for TFP, also doing the score for this film was proof of that (as someone who absolutely ADORES film scores as a musician) There was a good amount of brutality within the rating of the film, so bayverse fans who are itching for something shockingly horrible are in for a surprise. I also think that it knew its boundaries well and moved not to push them while also being considerate of certain audiences who may be a bit younger. It was a good restart, especially for animated Transformers films, and I think that they can really build it into something great. This was a very sound foundation and I was not disappointed.

ALSO, THERE IS A MID AND POST-CREDIT SCENE SO DON’T LEAVE IMMEDIATELY