#and show some spine. it's been so many days. stop fearing backlash so much

[yakourinka]

man I knew I liked you for a reason random irish man whose streams i watch sometimes

they raised $32k for PCRF! between this and the drawfee show i hope more people with big platforms like these step up

[inkstaineddove]

Asystole

Ships: AusHun

Characters: Hungary, Austria; mentioned Prussia

Summary: His empire failing, Austria is desperate enough to make anything work. His empire failing, Hungary is desperate enough to finally break free. One of them must give.

Vienna, 1867.

Erzsébet padded across the hallway, spine stiff and shoulders rolled back. A minute before, some poor servant had been tasked to play the messenger, urging her to head to the office straightaway. Ordinarily, this sort of urgency would’ve shocked her; today, it was expected. All people talked, from the lowliest maid to the richest of emperors, and word of their machinations never seemed to escape her. Plus – if she allowed herself a moment of honesty, instead of falsely praising her cunning – her politicians had told her everything. There truly were no surprises.

Her first sight upon entering was that of Austria, scowling down at whatever papers were before him. She wondered when she had last seen him smile – and not the fake one he flashed at diplomats and hangers’ on, but the real one. It couldn’t have been years, could it? It seemed true enough, but for his sake she hoped she was wrong.

“Are you intending to get your face frozen like that or do you just enjoy tempting fate?” Hungary slid into her seat as she spoke. Her voice lilted up in a way that would sound like gentle teasing to the untrained ear.

Fortunately, his was trained perfectly to her pitch. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was in no mood to be messed with. He’d been looking like that a lot recently. It disappointed her, only because it put a damper on her fun. There was little joy in kicking a dog while it was down, even one prone to biting.

“Would you prefer I pretend to sit here, giddy about all my misfortunes? If you wanted that, you should’ve convinced your boyfriend his time and resources would’ve been better off warring with a different enemy of the hour.” Austria attempted to keep his tone dispassionate, though it didn’t work. Try as he might, it never did.

She sniffed, scrunching up her nose. “Do you have to call him my ‘boyfriend?’ That sounds so…juvenile.” It was a minor thing to pick a fight over, but she certainly wasn’t going to over whether Prussia’s war had been legitimate. There was no need when they both agreed.

“I feel I have to because, if I didn’t and forgot my restraint, I’d be tempted to call him something awful like your little bitch, but I would never. I’m above that.” Austria smiled, all teeth and hostility, and Hungary wondered how nice they would look knocked out on the floor.

She flicked her wrist dismissively. No reason to get herself worked up over something so petty. There was business to discuss and deals to be made. She leaned her weight onto the arm of her chair. “Can you just tell me what you want? You know how it is, so many rebellions to plan and so little time.”

A quirk of an eyebrow was enough to show his displeasure. “Not like you to play the fool. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be so unaware.”

“If I didn’t pretend, you might get curious on my methods. If I reveal my hand, there goes whatever illusory personal freedoms I have. You want me even more miserable than I am?” His silence was the answer she wanted. She smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. “So, tell me. What does Hofburg have in store for me?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that for a change, it’s an offer instead of an edict. I don’t see any point in attempting to sweeten reality to you – you live here and you’re not an idiot, after all. The empire, my empire, is in an increasingly bleak situation. You would think this would endear me into the hearts of all my subjects, but I suppose I underestimated how deep nationalism’s poison infected their bloodstreams,” Austria rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. “Yours being the most infected – and, as you love to remind me – being the most likely to one day succeed, a deal needs to be made to quell their bloodlust.”

That certainly was one way to put it. Hungary couldn’t stop herself from laughing, unable to look at Austria’s overly serious expression or risk breaking into hysterics. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, though still with a noticeable smirk. “Bloodlust? Really, Roderich? They want independence, not the death of every Austrian. Who has the time for that kind of petty revenge?”

He scoffed, clearly insulted. “As if they’d be capable of that. If I had to sacrifice a few peasants here and there to keep them peaceful, I wouldn’t bat an eye. My kingdom for a commoner is a trifle. No, the blood they want is mine. They want to see what I’ve built up over the centuries diminished in months, in days. I’ve jumped into wars for less, you know as much. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’d fare well if an army were sent in and the backlash for such a heavy-handed move doesn’t make it worth the trouble.” He shook his head, clearing his mind of useless plans.

Hungary pitied him. Look how desperate he was to hold onto something so ephemeral, so meaningless. Empires came and went like the seasons. Here was a man who thought himself wise, yet he couldn’t grasp such a basic tenet of their existence. She had learnt it; so had Poland and Lithuania and every other plaything these so-called ‘powers’ sought. It was a lunacy, one that infected all of them the same. Now his was crumbling all around him and instead of attempting to move on, he would drag out the process. It was predictable and entirely disappointing. Despite having no reason to, she expected better of him.

She sighed and turned her gaze away from him. If she stared at him any longer, she’d feel nauseous. “What do you want from me?”

Relieved to be back on track, Austria’s body became less rigid. “Nothing, really. My offer is quite favorable to you. Our marriage, partnership, whatever descriptor you prefer becomes one of equals. Complete control of your lands returns to you. You’ll have the privilege or the torture to pore over the minutiae of whatever half-formed, barely coherent policy is cooked up by your own hacks in Budapest. Christ, am I normally this cynical?” He shook off the self-awareness. That could be dealt with later or, preferably, never. “Really, everything you’ve ever harassed me and all my various rulers about is now yours. You lose nothing in this arrangement.”

“Everything, bar the most important thing. Just because it’s been roughly twenty years hasn’t changed what the people want. You’re not giving me anything you view as important. Ruling my people has become an inconvenience, so you’ll hand it off to me. Ten years ago, you would’ve been insulted at the prospect. And now the insulted party will be us.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is conceding so difficult for your lot to do? Clinging onto everything will only make the inevitable that much harder.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “Nothing is inevitable. We’re in a difficult spot, but we’ve been through those before. As long as I bide my time and there’s no more incidents, everything will be back on track and no one will make anymore of their bitchy little comments.” The way he sneered as he said that last part, she was willing to bet that bothered him more than anything else. He tried smiling at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve conceded a lot to you with this. Fine, you’re not quite independent, but it’s just as good. In some ways, I’m doing you a favor. Foreign policy is such a nuisance. All of them are sharks, all of them would be circling you, sniffing out fresh blood. Europe isn’t how you remember it.”

Hungary grinded her teeth together. Patronizing, always patronizing. Even desperate for her assistance, he couldn’t view her as a peer. And then he wondered why she behaved the way she did? Why, sometimes, she can’t even stand to be near him? He was dumber than he had any right to be.

“Do you think I’ve been completely isolated from the world? I know how they all act, how they all think. The only ones I’d have to worry about fighting off would be you and Russia, and without me, what army do you have?” She smiled, enjoying how that blow landed. How could he argue against it? He’d said as much to her – sometimes with pride, sometimes with fear – many times throughout the years. “And believe me, I would love to strike out on my own and form my own alliances. I can think of a few who’d be more than happy to spurn you with a treaty or two.”

He folded his arms over his chest, staring at her with derision. “Insulting me won’t get you what you want, Liebchen.” He practically snarled out the nickname. Pet names had always been their favorite weapons. “This is the only deal you have. I don’t get all your bitching either. We negotiated with two of your most darling heroes. There’s no need for you to be putting up this much of a fight. Will you ever be satisfied with anything I do for you, or should I learn to accept your eternal disdain?”

She took shaky breaths through her nose. That was hardly enough to constrain her. “Perhaps I’d be more accepting of the terms if you’d bother to invite me to negotiations! I appreciate,” she roared the word out, her fury overtaking her, “that you were oh-so-fucking considerate enough to know who I would’ve chosen to be my representative. And here I thought you only paid attention to my lands to slaughter innocents! But you have never, will never, respect me enough to listen to me on what my own goddamn people want! Deák and Andrássy are good men, but they know nothing compared to me! How many times must I scream this at you until you get it? If I’m not allowed to have any free will in this life, then so be it! That’s my curse, but at least let me speak on their behalf! Give me the chance, the fucking chance, to win them the freedoms it appears I’ll never have!”

She only realized she was leaning over his desk when she was done. Her rage, built up over the centuries, was causing her to tremble. Staring into Roderich’s eyes, she swore she could kill him. She swore she could and it would be the last time, the most permanent of his deaths. It was so vivid in her mind that, for a moment, she believed it to be reality.

What brought her back to the present was how utterly bored he appeared at her antics. Here was the same song and dance they performed for each other. Here it was, meant to play out for eternity. Why would he fear her? What could she do to him that was permanent? Nothing. The one thing she could, he locked it away in some deal she wasn’t allowed to be apart of.

“Don’t you ever get tired of carrying on like that? So sanctimonious. As if your cause is the most just. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be bound to you?” He shook his head. “I’m convinced that if you ever tried to shut up, it would kill you. Though, honestly, I’d be grateful for the silence.” As she sat down, he smiled with an unrivaled arrogance. “There. Now, please, Erzsébet, try to be reasonable for a change. There’s no use in becoming so hysterical over this. Everything doesn’t have to be such a battle. Fighting like this, you haven’t taken a break in centuries. Aren’t you tired?”

She would not be baited. She refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, refused even if it were partially true. “The only thing I’m tired of is being brushed aside, but I know not to expect change from you.” She looked outside the window and sighed. “The ink is already dried, isn’t it? I can’t stop what’s been put in motion.”

“For the most part. All it needs is ratification. Though, we’ve been assured that that won’t be an issue.” Once more, he relaxed against the back of his chair. His relief was clear across his face. “I’m glad you’ve calmed yourself of those delusions. While I can commend your…dedication, you’ll have much more important things to busy yourself with.”

Hungary smiled, pleased with his false sense of security. “You’re right, there will be. I understand that, at this point, I can’t prevent anything. But, when news travels around, most will not be happy. This flies in the face of everything they’ve worked so hard to achieve over these last few years. They’ve been sold out, and I’m inclined to believe them.” She licked her lips, savoring the moment. “So, when the people take to the streets, when they demand what they know is owed to them, I won’t try to smooth things over. Never again. I will be right beside them, doing whatever I can to rile them up. Whatever they choose to do, however they decide to handle this, I will support them with every fiber of my being. And if that creates problems for you?” She stood up, smirking and curtseying. “Solve them yourself. I’m no propaganda piece.”

Head held high, she began striving out of the room. It was the only card she had left, the only thing she could think of. With every step she took, she prayed he’d be as weak as she knew he was. He had said it himself, there was nothing he could do to fight anything. Today did not come about out of a position of strength for him.

“Wait, Erzsébet! Please, don’t do this.” She heard him rise, heard the soft steps of his feet. “If you do that, neither of us will walk away from this looking good.” A soft intake of breath from him. “For once, I’m not too proud to admit that I need you. But, please, don’t throw it all away over nothing.” His voice was gentle, as if he were pleading with a lioness and not a woman.  

When he reached out, she allowed him to touch her and spin her around. When had his hands last been that soft? Cornered, he was like a new man. “All you have to offer me is insults. What should I stay around for? I have more to gain away from you than besides you. I always have.”

“I know, dammit I know!” She watched his Adam’s apple shift as he swallowed. Roderich’s eyes were wide, all too aware that he was on the precipice. “Not now, though. You’re right, you’re my equal. I’ll give you whatever I can, within reason, to prevent that. Anything to prevent you from ruining me.”

The urge to scowl at his self-preservation was there. What else should she have expected? He was still Roderich; nothing could change the core of a man. Still, this was further than she’d ever gotten before. “You know me well enough to know what I want.”

“I assumed I did when making the last deal and look where it got me. Forgive me for wanting you to spell it out.” The beginning of a smile appeared on his face.

Erzsébet didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Feeling off-kilter, she settled for sitting on the sofa. “Not even you could mess this one up. I’m tired of sneaking around your back to leave the home. I’m not a young girl and you’re certainly not my father and you will stop treating me as such. If it’s that important to you, there’s only three places I’d be anyway, and you know them all. More importantly, start treating me like a person! You want your life to be less miserable? Then do yourself a favor and at least treat me with indifference, I’d rather that than constant disgust.” Her eyes met his and held them, challenging him to deny her. “And, whenever some big decision comes up, you better discuss it with me and actually give some consideration to my thoughts. You’re not any smarter than me and I’m as aware on everything as you are. If this is going to be both our futures, for whatever time you just bought yourself, then I’m not going to do anything to sabotage it.”

“That’s the very least of what I can do.” If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she a flash of shame in his eyes. It couldn’t have been. She doubted that he could feel such things, so high were the walls he’d built.

She studied him skeptically. That had been far too easy. There must’ve been something he’d want in return. He couldn’t just have thought what he’d taken was enough. “Don’t you have anything you want from me? There’s no terms?”

Roderich paused, deciding his best course of action. He shrugged, apparently not finding any trap in her words. “Two. The first: cut off the affair. It can be anyone else, but not him. On a personal level, this will make me look like an even bigger cuckold than we all know I am.”

Erzsébet’s eyes hardened and she leaned away from him. “No, that’s out of the question.”

He frowned when she offered no further explanation. “Really? You could do so much better. Don’t tell me you actually love him.”

“You have no right to my personal life.”

“Right. I thought that was the case.” She couldn’t quite distinguish the exact emotions in his voice beyond disappointment and resignation. There was a layer to it that wasn’t simple to place.

He snapped her out of her thoughts when he spoke again. “Now, the emperor wants this sealed with some sort of formal wedding between us. I begged him to do anything but this. Unfortunately for the both of us, he thought it would make such a lovely story for the masses.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m also not exactly asking for you to do this, since there became a gentleman’s agreement on it, but something that means much more to me.” He grew serious again at whiplashing speed. “Let me break the news to Gilbert. Give me the satisfaction.”

Erzsébet could imagine how it’d go. How the scene played out in her mind, it was horrid. Her stomach wrenched. “You’d wreck him.”

“That’s the point,” Roderich wore a cruel smile. He’d been imagining it as well.

“Why do you think I’d ever let you do that?”

He shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant and failed. “Simple, really. If you tell him yourself, do you think he’ll believe you can’t just stop it? God, he’ll have every moronic scheme to prevent it and act all wounded when you tell him it can’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he were just your little plaything all along. Even though I have ‘no right to your personal life,’ as you so kindly put it, I’m no fool. What’s the point in risking it and being stuck with me?” He smiled at her, warm in a way she was unfamiliar with. His tone attempted to strike a friendliness that didn’t fit him. “If I do it, he hates me, comes sobbing to you about it, and you can both continue to curse my very existence. The status quo is maintained. It’s an obvious choice to me.”

She wandered if he’d prepared that speech just for now. It was tempting to ask him, but the knowing would be worse. Ignorance could, indeed, be a bliss. Erzsébet knew there was an ulterior motive for his words, there always was with him. He wasn’t Feliks, who she wouldn’t feel such guilt over listening to. Still, there was a human part of her that needed outside validation regardless of the source. “Do you think I’m a coward?” Her voice was so soft, she wondered if he’d even heard her.

“No, because I can understand it. Sometimes it’s braver to manipulate.” There was an understanding in his voice. She wouldn’t be surprised if this were coming from experience.

“Fine, but don’t be crueler than you have to. Try to have some compassion if you can.” There was a feeling of hollowness Erzsébet forced herself to ignore. Her life would be livable, that was what was most important. No one would have done it differently.

“He’ll get what he deserves,” Roderich bit back his irritation. They both knew who it was really for. Instead, he nodded his head and offered her his arm. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day watching me work. Allow me to walk you to the door.”

She politely took his arm. They walked in silence to the door, too busy was her mind for idle chatter. Anyways, hadn’t they said enough? Only on her way out did she smile at him and offer him her thanks.

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make this worthwhile.”

[kentonramsey]

Off-White and Louis Vuitton Designer Virgil Abloh Catches Social Media Heat for Perceived $50 Donation to Black Lives Matter: Later Apologizes and Clarifies

Off-White founder and Louis Vuitton menswear Artistic Director Virgil Abloh caught some social media backlash a few days ago after posting a screenshot of his $50 donation for “kids in the street that needs bail funds for #GeorgeFloyd protest.”

Twitter and Instagram users were puzzled and outraged by Abloh’s perceived paltry contribution to the cause. Off White socks retail for $45-$90.

Super model Duckie Thot even joined in on the chorus, expressing disappointed with the Off-White founder.

Virgil Abloh responded to the backlash with a heartfelt apology while explaining what racial inequality means to him. He also explained that he donated way more than $50, and that he only posted the screenshot to show he was participating in a donation matching campaign with a group of friends.

He wrote, “Let me start with a few central facts. I am a black man. a dark man. like dark-dark. On an average trip to the grocery store in Chicago I fear I will die. The risk of literal death is the normal walk of life for almost live as if I’m walking on my tip-toes…”

Backgrid

He continues, “When I apply for a job I fear I won’t get it. Its my nature to be extra polite, but I’m extra polite because before I open my mouth 9 times outta 10 people judge. Any interaction with the police could be fatal to me. A split second interaction I could have with them, Off-White sneakers mean nothing… or that I’m head designer of this… or I showed art work at such and such place doesn’t apply in heat of an exchange. ” SIRRR! Come here!!” sends chills down my spine.. 39 years of my life could be reduced in a 1 second radio call to the police: “A tall black man was…”

Read the full apology below:

I also know that this isn’t about race. My parents immigrated from Ghana with zero dollars to their name. I am lucky that they gave me the tools to grow up to have a successful career. I know that black people with fewer resources and less access to the privileges that I have are much more vulnerable than me. I also know that black women, queer, and trans people go through struggles that are additive. As a black person, I have felt anger, sadness, and pain every time one of us is held victim of prejudice of systemic racism. I am proud to stand in solidarity with every movement to eradicate racism and police violence. Racism has to stop. It is literally killing us. I feel sick that George Floyd and generations of black people have been unjustly killed by police. Every police officer involved in their deaths needs to be charged and convicted. UNEQUIVOCALLY. We the people of the world should protest however we see fit.

Next I want to apologize. I apologize that my comments yesterday appeared as if my main concerns are anything other than full solidarity with the movements against police violence, racism, and inequality. I want to update all systems that address our current needs. It has been my personal MO in every realm I touch. Yesterday I spoke about how my stores and stores of my friends were looted. I apologize that it seemed like my concern for those stores outweighed my concern for our right to protest injustice and express our anger and rage in this moment. I also joined a social media chain of friends who were matching $50 donations. I apologize that [it] appeared to some as if that was my only donation to these important causes. As many have said, buildings are brick and mortar and material things can be replaced, people can’t. Black lives matter. In this moment, those other things don’t. People who criticize “looting” often do so as a way to make it seem like our fight against injustice isn’t legitimate. I did not realize the ways my comments accidentally contributed to that narrative. As mentioned yesterday, if looting eases pain and furthers the overall mission, it is within good standing with me. I am fortunate enough to be able to rebuild my stores. And I am seeking out anyone who needs help rebuilding, especially whose livelihoods are suffering due to COVID. The donations I posted last night [were] in solidarity with a group of Miami friends chain-posting about coming together for their local community. I can understand your frustration if you think my contributions were limited to $50. Purely false when it comes to the total. I have donated $20,000 to bail funds and other causes to related to this movement. I will continue to donate and will continue to use my voice to urge my peers to do the same. I was on the fence about publicizing total dollar amounts because I didn’t want to look like I’m glorifying only higher amounts or that I want to be applauded for it. If you know me you know that’s not me. In this case my hesistation led to false assumptions on my personal spending. I encourage everyone to band together to match funds of their own proportion, regardless of what you have. Every dollar counts. It’s not just money that solves, my particular aim is to change opportunities for young kids that look like me to design and ascend to the same position I have : past instances I’m proud of the Louis Vuitton show 2018, where I made black men the center of the theme. Designing football uniforms for refugees in France. A 1-year revitalization of the Boys& Girls club on the westside of Chicago Cred, a project to teach the South Side community the same skills I used to make my career emanating out of a screen printed t-shirt. Some upcoming projects include: items releasing shortly where all proceeds support bail funds for protestors. A platform titled “COMMUNITY SERVICE” launched earlier this year that support emerging black artists & designers with financial support and mentoring. A new art publication that centers the voices and work of black artists and writers. a roundtable of other black leaders in creative industries to open source or ideas for any creative or entrepreneur to run with. I will continue to do the work I have always done. There are many private creative projects and initiatives to give back that I work quietly on and don’t broadcast. Anyone who know me personally can attest to this. It’s not something I publicize all the time because it’s a responsibility for someone in my position and a privilege to do, not a PR thing. Know that I am and have been doing the work, my prior projects are out there. The future projects, I will continue to do. I want people to know that I am participating in this movement, from A-Z. Personally donating, being vocal not silent, addressing how my communities with design and global streetwear can help to end racism. My voice is shaped by every black person who came before me and every person today who is fighting for this on the front lines and in multiple other ways. I systematically want racism erased, and I will do my part to ensure it is. In just one week, we lost George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade to police violence. This has got to stop. Iam an agent of change. When you see me in any space, city, museum, restaurant, on the bench of the Mercer, in Italy at Bar Basso, in Pigalle in the line at Dumbo, in LA on Fairfax or at the end of a runway show in Paris know that I’m carrying the flag to redefine the box that we as black people have been put in. I lead with love and move with respect to everyone I ever met.

-Virgil

What do you think?

See the original apology below

Off-White and Louis Vuitton Designer Virgil Abloh Catches Social Media Heat for Perceived $50 Donation to Black Lives Matter: Later Apologizes and Clarifies published first on https://normaltimepiecesshop.tumblr.com/ Off-White and Louis Vuitton Designer Virgil Abloh Catches Social Media Heat for Perceived $50 Donation to Black Lives Matter: Later Apologizes and Clarifies published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[percyinpanties]

Concubine - Chapter 1

I’ve had complaints that I never post long fics on tumblr as well, so here we go. updates will be tagged with the fic title and ‘#fic update’

Pairing: Jason/Percy/Will

Rated M for now.

Summary: 

His home destroyed and dragged away from his family, Jason is faced with the choice between a life amongst vile pirates, or being sold to the highest bidder to do with however they please. Really, there is not much of a choice at all.

Things take a turn when, instead, he is presented as a gift to the praetor of a small Graece province.

Jason shivers.

He has been kneeling on the stone floor for endless minutes now, both cold and fear are making his legs tremble and the hairs stand at the back of his neck.

He doesn’t want to be here.

The men, the pirates – his handlers; they have put him in a dress. It is not a robe or a tunic, but a woman’s garment made of thin, sheer fabric hat does nothing to cover Jason’s milky white skin underneath.

The dress leaves his shoulders bare and is cut so low that it reveals most of Jason’s chest. Even though the fabric feels soft and luxurious against his skin, Jason cannot bring himself to enjoy the feeling.  The dress is barely even long enough to hide his most intimate parts, even standing it rides high on Jason’s things.

Jason knows it was not made to conceal as much as it was made to tease.

It’s decoration, like a bow on a present.

Golden paint has been applied around his eyes, berries squishes against his lips and cheeks to give his paled features some colour.

Jewellery hangs heavily around his neck, decorates his wrists and his ears.

Jason has no doubt what he is being offered as.

In the distance, Jason hears talking. First, only the gruff voices of his handlers, then another, new voice mixes with them.

Steps echo in the hallway leading to the room, becoming louder as they draw closer. Jason bows his head low when the door opens. He has learned his lesson; he’d rather swallow his pride and submit instead of daring to look up and risking another beating.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Jason understands that he is lucky to be alive.

The mercenaries who attacked his village could killed him easily, after Jason’s laughable attempts at defending himself and his people.

Instead of receiving a blade through his guts, however, he’d been disarmed and bound, tossed aside so they may decide his fate once the rest of the village was erased from the surface of the earth.

Some of the invaders had called him pretty, and remembering the way they’d said it made Jason’s stomach lurch. Even though it was the only reason they had spared his life, the way they’d leered at him, hungry eyes and twitching hands, had almost been worse than a slow death at their hands.

Their leader, a scarred, scary specimen, had stepped forward to examine Jason while two of the others held the boy down.

They’d laughed and cheered as the man felt Jason up while tears made their way down Jason’s cheeks.

He had wanted nothing more than to find his sword and drive it through this man’s chest in that moment.

After this, it was decided that Jason was worth more untouched.

Young enough to be a virgin, pretty enough to be sold to a rich old man or woman – even untrained and unexperienced. During the weeks Jason had spent on the pirates’ ship, he’d imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios, but any owner would be better than these brutes just waiting for permission to corner Jason and have their way with him.

During their time at sea, Jason had a few close calls with the crew.

Having deemed him a pretty little thing, they’re eyes were on him whenever he was let out of his make-shift prison in the hull.

They were not allowed to have him, but that didn’t stop them from seeing how far they may push, how much they could grope and touch and squeeze before their captain found out or one of the other crewmembers jealously pushed them away.

More than once, Jason overheard one of the men trying to convince the captain to let them keep Jason as a playmate, to keep crew’s morale high during long trips at sea.

The captain had been insistent, though, that Jason was to be left untouched – only then could he be sold at the highest price.

He could not have been taken before, not even by force.

Jason had thought bitterly that maybe, he should count himself lucky for this though.

Any fate awaiting him here on the cold stone floor will be better than another day on this pirate ship with these pigs of men.

Being here means he will, most likely, get to live, and he will not be given to a horde of brutes who’d fight over who got to throw a leg over him first.

If Jason is lucky, they’ll make him a servant.

Judging from the way he is being presented however, wrapped up in silk and jewels and painted with gold, Jason knows that this kind of servitude is not what his future holds.

Maybe a wealthy widow has bought him – a pretty virgin boy for entertainment during her last years of life.

Or maybe he is being sold to a man, someone influential enough not to bother with marriage, or someone who can afford buying some new toy to warm their bed at night despite having a wife. A General, a Lieutenant, possibly, or just some high ranking soldier who has the money to pay for a slave.

A senator, some old politician or businessman.

Anything would be better than those vile pirates.

“What is this?”  The new voice booms. A man’s, deep and mature – but cold and clearly angered.

Jason has to bite down in his lips to suppress the instinct to flinch away.

“You know that I do not trade in slaves.”

Jason hears the wet noise of a tongue wetting lips – he recognises the pirate’s leader, filthy and unmannered.

“The boy is a present, my lord. An apology for our little… misunderstanding.”

The slick noise again, like a reptile darting out its tongue between its words. Jason feels sick to his stomach.

A present, a toy. That is all he is now. Something to be used and then left for the crows.”

“I saved you the prettiest, he would make a good sum on the market. And I made sure he was still … pure, for you, my lord. Not a scratch on the boy.”

Jason cannot help it then, he scoffs.

There are plenty of scratches and bruises on his skin even now, and there would be many more hadn’t the captain locked him away from his men’s reach the last few days before their arrival here.

Even before, the pirates who managed to catch him out of sight of the captain had been careful not to leave any marks in their frenzy to grope and touch and use as they pleased, until their leader had made it clear he would not tolerate any of them having Jason to themselves.

After that, the men had turned resentful, blamed Jason for their captain’s decision – they had showed him just how many bruises they could leave him with before their leader cared.

When a slap hits him hard across the face, Jason is not surprised. His vision blurs, from the impact or the threat of tears Jason cannot tell.

He almost topples over, but a hand yanking him back up by his hair prevents him from touching the floor.

“Do not lie, slave.” The pig snarls, spit flying with every word, the vile droplets hitting Jason’s face.

If the grip was any less tight, Jason would flinch away from the contact.

He whimpers, a pitiful sound, but he cannot stop it from escaping his throat.

As suddenly as it came, the hold on his hair disappears – followed by the sickening sound of a nose breaking under a fist’s impact.

Jason watches the pig fall over his feet trying to get away, only to land hard on his behind. His lip and nose are bleeding, but he is not looking at his assaulter. Instead, he is glaring daggers at Jason.

That is when Jason realises this place is his only chance at survival.

If he does not get to stay here, he will not survive going back to that ship.

The painful fist from before is replaced by a much gentler touch now – two fingers hooking under Jason’s chin and tilting his head upward. His gaze is directed upward to Jason’s soon to be owner.

The man is not as old as Jason has expected. He must be Jason’s sister’s age, maybe a little younger than that, even. Jason finds it hard to tell with the beard growing on the man’s cheeks.

Jason meets the man’s eyes hesitantly, afraid of backlash. They are a startlingly bright green colour.

“Do not lie to me, boy.” He says. His voice is as deep as before, but none of its earlier anger and coldness is direction at Jason now. “Did they lay a hand on you?”

Jason nods carefully. Honesty must be the best way to go, although... Jason doubts this man will want a used good.

“I have been beaten, but… but they have not… they haven’t…” Jason cannot bring himself to say it.

Claiming he hasn’t been touched with sexual intent would have been a lie, and Jason wishes to be truthful with this man. Details hardly matter, but if it is his purity that will sell him, Jason has to make sure the man knows Jason was never taken, not even by force.

The man nods, but his expression is conflicted. He must understand what Jason is trying to say, but Jason fears he has guessed why Jason struggles to express what has happened during the weeks spent with the pirates.

He lets go of Jason’s chin, who drops it to his chest again.

“I’m taking him.” The man says. “But do not believe for one moment this petty gift settles your debt.”

A cold shiver run’s down Jason’s spine. He tries to convince himself that this will be better in the long run, but it is hard to believe.

Once the pirates’ leader has been escorted outside, the man helps Jason up from the floor.

He does not speak, but calls a servant girl out of the shadows that Jason has not spotted before. Has she been there the entire time, silently watching?

They exchange a few words Jason doesn’t catch, then the girl nods quickly before bowing her head to the man.

She turns to Jason and the small, kind smile on her lips makes him relax minimally.

“Follow me.” She says curtly.

Her voice is pleasant and warm, but she does not speak again after – Jason is glad for it. He is not sure how he would answer any of the questions she might ask.

Where is he from, how did he get here, did the pirates treat him well?

Jason’s has questions of his own – Where am I? Who is this man? What will happen to me now? – but he opts to stay quiet nevertheless. His time will come to answer those questions, but for now, Jason is grateful for every moment of silence.

For endless minutes, they walk down long hallways that are only occasionally lit by candles or torches. The windows breaking through the stone walls every now and again hardly provide any light – the sky is overhung with clouds raining down on the earth around.

The movement keeps the chill out of Jason’s bones, although he can still feel it creep up his legs from his bare feet on the stone tiles. The skimpy dress doesn’t do much in terms of warmth either.

Neither the man - his owner, Jason tries to make himself think without recoiling – nor the servant girl have bothered to untie his hands. He does not think the cruelty is intentional, but the rough ties have started worrying the soft skin of his wrists wound. Even so, Jason doesn’t dare speak up and ask for help.

It is not long before they stop in fron of a heavy looking set of doors. They are made of dark wood, and Jason is about to say he will not be able to open these with his wrists bound when the servant girl leans against one of the door wings with all her weight.

It creaks as it gives way, and she shoots Jason another sympathetic smile.

“You will stay here.” She says, but does not offer any more information.

Jason nods and steps towards the doors. He murmurs a small thanks to her as he passes, but his eyes stay glued to the floor. Whatever is on the other side, Jason is not sure if he is ready to face it.

Warmth is the first thing that hits him.

Despite his hesitation, Jason’s gaze snaps up and he takes in the room around him.

It is much larger than he expected and dressed in warm, sensual colours.

There is a large window, casting the room in the dull, grey light of a rainy day. Jason imagines it must be beautiful if the sun shines through the light curtains instead.

Across from the window, a fireplace is set into the wall – lit and undoubtedly the source of the warmth. Most of the space in the room is taken up by a large bed and a table by the fire. There is a chair on either side or a set of candles unlit on top.

To Jason’s left, an arch leads into another room, but Jason cannot see far inside. There seems to be a vanity there, a dresser and towels on a wooden bench.

The door falls shut behind Jason with a thud and he jumps, turning around to find the servant girl gone.

“Do you need some help with that?”

Jason startles again, whirling back around and already prepared to duck away from whoever has spoken. He had not believed he would be expected to earn his place so quickly.

It takes Jason’s eyes a moment to find the voice’s source, but eventually they fall onto a boy Jason’s age, slouching against the arch leading to the other room.

He is tanned much darker than Jason, freckles litter his face and arms, as well as the skin of his legs as far as Jason can see. His face is framed by golden curls, similar in colour to Jason’s hair, and blue eyes that match Jason’s own.

The bright smile that had been previously taking up the boy’s face falls when he recognises the fear on Jason’s features. He raises both hands in surrender, slowly pushes off the arch and takes a few steps toward Jason.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says. His voice is melodic, warm. Jason forces himself to relax. “I just want to help you with that rope. It looks very painful.”

Jason’s back hits the door, even though the boy doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest. Now that he comes closer, Jason can tell he is about a head shorter than Jason. He’s is wearing something that is similar to Jason’s own dress, although more modestly cut and made of opaque purple fabric.

It is clear what his role is in this house… what Jason’s role will be from now on.

“My name is Will.” The boy offers, along with a gentle smile as he carefully unties the knots between Jason’s wrists.

The skin is angry red where the rope had rubbed against it over days, and Jason hisses under his breath when his wrists finally come free. Will looks up at Jason, clearly expecting an answer, but all that leaves Jason’s throat is a weak croak.

Will chuckles and steps back, giving Jason some space.

“Would you like some water?”

Jason manages a nod in reply, and as Will steps further into the room, Jason follows along hesitantly. There is a carafe on a smaller table by the window, and Jason watches as Will takes it to fill a cup with water.

Jason takes it gratefully. He gulps the water down without any grace, relief for his parched throat, then sighs a little into the empty cup.

“Thank you.” Jason whispers. His voice is still hoarse, and it hurts a little to speak, but Will breaks into a bright smile when Jason tries nonetheless. “I-I’m Jason.”

Jason finds that, once Will gets talking, it is hard to make him stop again.

He doesn’t mind, really, after weeks listening to nothing but disgusting men and hearing all the things they’d like to do to him, the soft and harmonious flow of Will’s voice is a relief to his ears and mind.

The boy is intelligent, educated, too, more so that Jason thinks he’ll ever get a chance to be. Granted, he had learned how to fight – poorly so – but as Will tells Jason about training to be healer while he treats Jason’s rope burns, Jason cannot even pretend not to be impressed.

“How did you end up here, then?” Jason asks quietly. He cannot help himself any longer, curiousity getting the better of him, but Will doesn’t seem to be bothered too much by the question. He simply smiles sadly and shrugs.

“Same way everybody does. My village was burned down by mercenaries and because I was the closest thing they found to a healer they spared my life.”

A shadow falls over Will’s face as he speaks, and Jason knows there is more than the other is ready to share.

“They let me live as long as I would treat their wounded. About a year later, we passed by here and… and I caught the praetor’s eyes.”

There is more to this too, but Jason knows better than to prod. Will’s smile has turned distant, and on a whim, Jason reaches out to cover Will’s hands with his own as a silent offer of comfort. Will does not ask for Jason’s story in return, and it is a relief.

“You will like it here, though, I promise.” Will says as he turns his attention back to Jason, coming back from whatever faraway place his mind had wandered off to. Will turns his hands around underneath Jason’s, holding on to them for a moment and giving them a squeeze.

“The praetor has treated me with nothing but kindness, and he will do the same for you.”

Jason could only hope this was the truth.

As the sun starts setting, taking away what little daylight it had supplied before, Will lights two torches on the walls on either side of the window, as well as the candles on the table by the fire.

Not long ago the servant girl that had brought Jason here had come to bring them fresh water and food. She had exchanged a few words out on the hallway with Will before she left, but the two had spoken too quietly for Jason to catch much more than his own name being said in hushed tones.

It gnaws at him. He is inclined to trust Will, trust his promises and kindnesses, but the praetor – Jason knows nothing about the man, and he had not seemed happy to have Jason here. If he changes his mind about allowing Jason to stay, decides to send him back to the pirates – a shudder runs through Jason’s body.

He’d sooner jump off a cliff and into his death than set foot onto that ship again.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Will’s soft question and his hand on Jason’s shoulder startle Jason much more than they should have.

He flinches away from the touch instinctively, but regrets doing so immediately when he sees the hurt it has brought to Will’s expression.

They have just begun to gain each other’s trust, something fragile and soft blooming between them, but Jason cannot help but be wary of anyone’s hands on him.

Will seems to understand. When Jason turns away from the window and toward him, he offers his hand rather than touching without warning or permission.

Jason allows Will to take a hold of his wrist with a small nod, then lets the other guide him to the table by the fireplace. They take seats across from one another, but instead of reaching for the food, Jason hides his hands in his lap.

“You are worried about what she said to me, are you not?” Will asks after the silence passes on for too long. Jason cannot gauge Will’s expression, as most of his face is hiding behind a cup of water and the hand holding it.

There is no point in lying, Jason is sure Will knows the answer already. He sets his cup down on the table, and without waiting for a reply, offers the information to Jason freely.

“Per – The praetor will be leaving tomorrow.” Will’s voice is not cold, but strangely void of emotion. “The trip has been planned for weeks so he cannot cancel, but he wanted me to know that it will fall to me to make sure you are ready to take on your duties when he returns.”

Jason swallows thickly. Will’s honesty does not surprise him, he does not seem like the kind to lie, and Jason is grateful Will offers the information without prompting.

Everything here, this room and… and Will are much more than Jason had expected when he knelt on the cold stone tiles earlier in the day, painted and adorned like a whore, to be sold as a playmate to whoever old man or woman bid the most.

Having been offered as a gift rather than bought with intent takes none of the pressure off of Jason’s shoulders, and it does not make it less demeaning.

Jason may be lucky that the praetor is young for the position he is in, and that Will is there to guide him, and that he has some time before the inevitable… but none of that makes Jason any less afraid.

Jason swallows thickly. He wants to reply, thank Will for his honestly, but a clump has formed within his throat. He does not look at Will, he knows there are tears swimming in his eyes.

How will he ever be able to do this?

As if having read Jason’s thoughts, Will reaches out and finds one of Jason’s hands under the table. This time, the touch is not unwelcome.

“Perseus… the praetor. He is a good man.” Will begins softly. “He has never forced himself on me, and he allowed me the time I needed to accept this role.”

A thumb caresses the back of Jason’s hand, a small, yet soothing gesture.

A willing slave is still just a slave, Jason thinks, but he doesn’t voice his thought.

Never once since his village was burned to the ground had he dared hoping he’d have a choice again, especially not about this. It is more than Jason can ask for, he knows that, but it does only little to ease the weight in his chest.

Jason blinks his tears away and looks up to give Will the smallest of smiles. He will take what he has to take, there is no choice about that anymore.

Will returns Jason’s smile, then licks his lips uncertainly. It’s nothing like the vile leader’s habit, but it still makes Jason avert his eyes.

“I can teach you everything you’ll need to know.” Will says carefully. He does not meet Jason’s gaze when the other looks up. “About this place and the praetor and your duties here. There is much more to it than warming a bed… but that I can teach you too.”