#death deferred
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Death Deferred- Fic Snippet
There's only one type of ghost hunter.
That's the answer Newlyn gave anytime someone questioned his legitimacy or his capability. Ghosts existed, in several different forms, this was a provable fact. Haunts. Spirits. Banshees. Lingerers. Wraiths.
There were as many different types of ghosts as there were concoctions in Newlyn's alchemy book. The dead rarely rested in peace, and they always had something to say after the fact, very loudly if no one was listening. They didn't like to be ignored. It made them angry, and angry ghosts were dangerous ghosts.
Newlyn's hope was to get to them before they got angry, but that rarely happened. People tended to ignore their hauntings until they got deadly, because again, ghosts didn't like to be ignored.
So. Was Newlyn a real ghost hunter?
If asked, he'd smile and say, "there's only one type of ghost hunter," and then he'd launch into a summary of all the methods at his disposal. As long as he knew what he was getting into, he could be effective. It was knowing what he was up against that was the trick. That and plying his trade with a wealthy, but impressionable mark.
There's only one kind of ghost hunter, and Newlyn was the best at what he did. All you had to do was ask him.
Which was why he stood outside the Nightsworn gates, watching them swing open with nary a creak. The rich, the elite, nothing they owned made a noise of disuse. The hinges were well-oiled, the ornate metal curved and gleaming.
Newlyn adjusted his vest and stepped inside as soon as there was room for him to pass. The gates immediately shifted to close again behind him, emanating magical energy. This was no cheap enchantment. Trust the obscenely wealthy to expend unnecessary arcane resources when hiring someone would do the job just as well.
Mica Nightsworn, current matriarch of the Nightsworn family, definitely counted herself among the obscenely wealthy, though most of her coin was generational wealth. Rumor had it that her husband, the original Nightsworn, died under mysterious circumstances. Perhaps that's why Newlyn had been summoned. Had the late Nightsworn made a nuisance of himself?
Nightsworn Manor loomed in front of him, a three-story construction of wood and stone, ivy crawling up the sides, and a balcony wrapping around the east side of the building. The Nightsworn crest hung in gilded platinum above the double front-doors, which opened as Newlyn climbed the stone-carved steps with taps of his boots.
More enchantments, more excess of magic.
Newlyn sighed. Oh, to have that much coin to waste. He stepped into a foyer, lit by a massive chandelier with a thousand tiny everlights casting tiny flickers in all directions. A pair of curved staircases led up to a second floor, and he counted no less than five doors from his vantage point. Huge tapestries decorated the walls, the Nightsworn crest most prominent in the handwoven fabrics.
"You must be the hunter." The cool, cultured voice echoed throughout the foyer.
Newlyn followed the statement to an adjoining door where Lady Mica Nightsworn herself stood, draped in shades of cream and purple, her hands clasped genteel in front of her. She dripped with poise, her lips painted in mauve to match her eyes, the poke of delicately adorned tusks barely visible. She was darker than Newlyn’s tawny-brown, and the coil of her long, black hair had been arranged in a careful twist of knots and braids atop her head.
A servant would have spent at least fifteen minutes on those braids.
"I am." Newlyn planted his most convincing smile on his face, dipping into a polite bow that was low enough not to offend even the most arrogant of nobility. "Zhem-Newlyn Grym, at your service."
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I invite you to a reading of my dark academia novel. You expect a bunch of smoldering boys in button up dress shirts. I start reading. Chapter one is a transcript of a two hour faculty senate meeting. You try the doors. They're locked.
#dark academia to ME: your campus having millions in deferred maintenance but we're getting a new baseball field#reluctance to discuss how peer review favors white Westerners#adjuncts literally being worked to death#that 80 year old professor who still refuses to learn how to use the LMS but also refuses to retire#having to do fucking lockdown drills while state legislators loosen gun laws
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call to a witch song
#beatrice umineko#beatrice the golden witch#shannon umineko#umineko#umineko no naku koro ni#when they cry#wtc#jichanmakes#cw blood#cw death#the way they have so much potential. so interesting#it could be yuri it could just be intense girl envy+admiration it could be both#the evolution of their relationship is just soooooo#hopeless maid and the powerful witch -> the strong maid self assured in her love vs the witch who screams that love isn't real#the way shannon goes from deference and awe to legitimately standing up and fighting as a Whole Person#this is mostly about ep2#not to go too hard into spoilers in front of my dear unspoiled oomf but#obviously i was also thinking of THOSE spoilers as well#because that's what made me more fond of their interactions#and ofc when you know it's impossible to not be thinking about that reading at the same time#anyway. get out of here george and kanon let the girls talk
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❤️🔥🫶 for Aylin and Isobel?
❤️🔥what’s their most erogenous zone? 🫶what does after care look like for them?
Aylin’s hand wrapped around Isobel, holding her close to her as her other hand gently played with Isobel’s hair. Isobel had reclined up against Aylin, her fingers gently brushing back and forth against Aylin’s thigh.
“Curiosity caught your thoughts, young Ophelia?” Aylin questioned as she flittered her wings and lowered them down to relax. “Should we indulge her curiosity, my love?” Her voice questioned as Isobel hummed and grinned. “Why not?” Isobel agreed and allowed Aylin to take the lead.
“Isobel knew almost instantly my most sensitive zones around my body. Naturally, my wings are extreme zones, and all she has to do is touch them and I’ll melt within her fine fingertips. Along the base of my wings is also my back, nails tracing along feather and flesh; it absolutely breaks every inch of resolve. My darling knows how to make me bend a knee,” Aylin smirked as she leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “And the strength of my shoulders is also a sensitive region. Most of my muscular strength lines within my back and shoulders, which makes them as sensitive as spider webbing,” Aylin leaned over and pressed her lips up against Isobel’s neck as Isobel softly moaned.
“My neck is very sensitive, though I only allow Aylin to touch it. After my history with the sharrans, I will never let another soul near it except the love of my life,” Isobel said as she leaned back and reached her hand back to brush up against Aylin’s hair. “My ears are sensitive, because of my elvhen heritage. Nibbles or nips will make them quiver and I easily melt into such touches. And then the last one is my wrist. I learned of that when Aylin kissed my inner wrist for the first time, and every inch of me shivered with delight. I never knew such a touch would lead me to easily melt for my lover.” Isobel turned, so she was leaning up against Aylin now, her legs draped over the side of the set as the two made themselves more comfortable.
“As for aftercare.” Isobel took the lead on this one. “Aylin is such a service. She takes care of me in every way. And I quite enjoy putting her on her knees,” Isobel smirked as she looked over to her darling, who had a smile on her lips. The two kissed sweetly as Isobel moved her arm around the back of her neck. “But no matter what we do, with all that Aylin does for me, I always make sure to pamper my Aasimar. I give her massages. We will take a bath or a shower, but most of all we will always cuddle up together and talk afterward. We never go to bed without knowing the other is satisfied and what the other liked or didn’t like. We tend to sleep in the nude. The comfort of skin to skin just brings us peace that we desperately need after so long of being apart.” Isobel leaned her head up against Aylin’s shoulder and Aylin brushed her hand up against her hair.
“There is nothing I would not do for my darling Isobel. I will give her the world, provide every comfort and joy. As much as our love delves into pleasure of the flesh, we too take comforts of the mind. Isobel will want for nothing, and I desire nothing more than to have her close in my arms, and to hear her moans reach the skies,”
#azzagrazt#[ aylin interactions ] — you will address me with due deference .#[ aylin default verse ] — her face lights the shadows .#[ aylin answers ] — the nightsong will sing again .#[ isobel interactions ] — the moon is rather good at illuminating the darkness.#[ isobel answers ] — and this is where i still need answers.#[ isobel default verse ] — touched by death and moonlight.
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1 week left for Charlie to do the funniest thing he'll do in his life
#CHARLES I AM BEGGING YOU TO KEEL OVER ON THE STEPS OF THE CATHEDRAL#HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK!!!!!#DIE IN FRONT OF THE EYES OF THE WORLD. YOU CAN DO IT. I BELIEVE IN YOU.#look. is it actually good or funny when a monarch dies? the past year suggests no not after the initial gighle#it's just another excuse to spend wildly on royal bullshit during a cost of living crisis and demand everyone is appropriately deferent#however. HOWEVER. if he dies before the coronation that's a different story because. it would be funny for a lot longer.#red said#also let's be real nobody likes Charles. even monarchists think he's a tit. we could all enjoy his death.#also also. 2 down in one year would be a real bummer to the queuers who lined up for their once in a lifetime historic experience#once in a lifetime how about twice in a year#how about twice in a year and ALSO that one's the last one ever bc we all decide fuck this and make Charlie the last king of England#who never even made it all the way to the throne#THAT'S what I'm after. that's the world i choose to live in.
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caine and chen as acceptance through faith vs caine and ortega as acceptance through obedience
#caine lynzal#dont have the braincells to rant properly but#caine sees chen as an equal and would trust him with his life#trusts him to end things when everything is over. trusts him to understand that the only way to stop them is through death#they may disagree with eachother over what they choose to fight for#but they have faith that the other knows what theyre trying to achieve#meanwhile with ortega#hes an enigma#he has no idea why he does what he does#how could they? they have no way to read his mind#so they default. they assume that ortega knows best even when he really doesnt and will do whats asked even if he shouldnt#and as things go on theyre going to have to figure out the hard way that ortega isnt his handler#and that they cant defer to him all the time#being stuck as hark- where he actually sees and treats ortega as an equal- will prlly be the best thing for his relationship tbh#sorry did i say i couldnt rant properly#well. ig i lied
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I do not need another crossover. I do NOT need another crossover. I do not NEED another crossover. I do not need ANOTHER crossover...
Aaand its already got plot bunnies moving into my head. The fuzzy bastards never pay rent, either.
Feel free to ask me about my crossover ideas with an audience of one because the thing im crossing over with fandoms is my own OC and their lore.
#i have been reading fanfic of the sandman#and got thinking#'hm my mage who is something between a champion and an indebted servant to death could fit into this universe...'#so now im thinking of corva meeting dream and being extremely unimpressed by his mopey emo act#while still technically deferring to him like hes a king (which he is)#shes just doing it sarcastically so no one can call her out on insolence#why is she hanging out with dream? idk. maybe death saw her wet cat brother and said 'hm he needs someone to pull him out of his funk'#corva the shadow mage#corva and matthew would gossip like crazy#corva and lucienne would either be eternal enemies or get on like a house on fire. not sure yet.#update: upon reading more and thinking more about it corva would 100% vibe with dreams mopey emo act#and tbh he has every right to be a mopey emo#he just went through a shitton of trauma and isn't getting much (or really ANY) support for it
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So apparently I can't go out in public without having an immediate suicidal meltdown. That's cool.
#I see the couples and families and people able to buy a bunch of stuff I never could and I just hear 'It can happen for everyone but you.'#I'm just a stuck and stupid girl and nothing good is ever going to happen to me no matter what I do or try#all I get is hurt all my hope is deferred#anyway I feel like death#but no time for dat goku I've got to try to be funny#leo season!!!
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not to sound unwell, but i dearly miss sara chidouin
#i keep thinking abt her and i'm. augh. i cannot get it into words but she's so sweet and she should be allowed to show how loving she is#with her friends; she shouldn't have had to take up so much responsibility. i know it's part of the tragedy but.#she had a life to live. and perhaps it was curated but she still found meaning in it & would've been able to w/o asunaro's interference#and that was just. blatantly stolen from her. and no one was able to defend her within the death game#idly watching by as she suffers the mantle of leadership. not daring to do more than shoulder it at her side -#- though they still defer to her... they are there to comfort her. but they cannot take the burden from her#because they are the ones who placed it there. even unintentionally. only realizing in hindsight - when it's too late - what she's suffered#i'm so. sad. i just want to hug her...#jestersvaguely#yttdposting
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jordan peele made a movie that said this industry and the media surrounding it chews people up to a pulp and spits them out and then wonders why they’re dead or crazy and then has the audacity to make content from their deaths and their insanity and the only way you can survive is if you keep your head down because if you just so happen to slip up if you look up look around when you know you shouldn’t the industry the media everything is going to eat you alive and I totally believe that the powers that be who do the chewing and the spitting and the exploitative death content did not like that at all
i’m a bit bummed and how little recognition NOPE has received this awards season i will say it
#nope spoilers#kind of#which doesn’t even get into the racial aspects but it’s not my place to speak on that so i defer to others in that regard#god for fucking bid a movie criticize you or be hopeful or popular or comedic or anything that isn’t ruben östlund’s slimy smugness#like nominating blonde for acting over something like the woman king or nope or even maverick is like.#oh you fuckers looooove that exploitative death content huh. marilyn & elvis can’t consent to you using their tragic lives as entertainment.#which makes it all the more fun. you love to watch an actor do an impression of a dead famous person.#since none of you would know great acting if it hit you in the face you need a real person for comp you need it to look effortful#they were never going to nominate daniel kaluuya or kekè palmer or even tom cruise because they make it all looks so easy. effortless.#they don’t look like they’re struggling to act they don’t look like they’re suffering emotionally mentally while acting#because they’re actually good at what they do. but they’re not making movies in the genres the academy trips over themselves to award#anyway the day horror and action and comedy get as much recognition from the academy as every middling biopic i’ll keel over and fucking die
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🫡
#well the funeral home called. they will be cremating him within the week#died of a heart attack apartently. wild it took a month for that to be figured out#should probably call the house insurance company again and get this shit figured out but also i feel like throwing up so#not for any deference to the man just. well this is fucked innit#won’t be getting the death certificate for weeeeeks tho 😖 so we’re just dragging it all out even more#need to call his hoa too cause i don’t wanna pay for the yearly dues if ain’t anyone living in his house#250$!!! crazy insane for an empty house#need to sign the health insurance paper work too. need to call a bunch of banks and see where he had accounts#lots of shit to do
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woman with cptsd shower routine be like i love this music, i’m dancing and washing my body in warm water, i’m at the peak of human joy… oh, that lyric kinda cut deep. :/. sobbing silently on all fours to the point of physical pain. the suffering is in every fibre of my being. why didn’t i die three years ago
#r#every time#just… wash off the alienation from myself as well as the grime#and what lies beneath is just a well of sorrow#but now im out of the shower and i want to beat several men to death. lol#i obviously won’t 🙄 in case the though police are watching#but the men i want to die kinda like. deserve to die#i dont want to kill my dad! i just want to yell at him and bring up how maybe the fact that his dad beat his children into compliance#miiiiight be part of why he feels the need to argue every goddamn topic since he grew up in an environment where everyone…#deferred to the patriarch and he’s confused as to why he doesn’t get the same respect when he didnt even beat us!#(aside from that time he STRANGLED me)#but never realized that the being beaten into submission was kinda the requirement to get that sort of deference#idk maybe i should take less hot showers so i dont get mildly tachycardic. but also my muscles
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◈ ⇢ @estarion ⋯ meme I'm to lazy to look up XD ♡ ⸻ forgot to edit this and already deleted the ask >< but soemthing about astarion being near defeated and Aylin comes into to aid the battle.
She had made a vow, and although it was not as binding as her own oath, she would not break such a promise that she had made to the companions she considered friends. Surrounded by ghouls, goblins, knolls, and undead and cultist at every point; they forgot one vital tool.
Never let your guard down.
Reaching Ketheric would be an all out battle; but Aylin knew his strategic and plans. She had fought by his side multiple times over, and she knew how the mind of the man worked. Perhaps some things have changed, but tactics in war always had similar strategies to be relied on. Except he didn’t know that she had escaped, which gave them the upper hand. She had been dealing with the assailants outside the walls of Moonrise Towers, blazing down with moonfire and a silver sword and unrelenting vengeance. They had destroyed her town! Her HOME! They wished to bring death and destruction to the rest of the world. Aylin had nothing but pure undiluted anger and nothing would quench it until she was face to face with her betrayal.
The shouts grew louder within the halls of Moonrise as she twisted her wings and flew downward, bursting through the front entrance. The Harpers and the ones who had freed her were dealing with more than just undead, and it was clear the advantage was on the enemy’s side. Aylin’s wings gave a powerful gust of wing and then, using gravity, she flew downward and at the last moment twisted her body and slammed her wing directly into the mage that tried to harm Astarion. Brilliant white wings flared out, applying another massive gust of wind to knock the others off balance before twisting around and dropping to her knees.
“Death will not have you, my friend,” Aylin said as she reached down to press her hand against Astarion’s shoulder. “Manus impone,” Aylin said as she reached down to press her hand against Astarion’s shoulder, and silver light cascaded from her hand, engulfing his body as she healed the wounds inflicted upon him. “I say this battle is ours to conquer, our victory is near. Fight with every fiber of vigor within you,” Aylin spoke, and then flicked her sword within her hand, providing Astarion cover as she took to the air once more, finding the archers in the rafters as her next target. She would cleanse this tower with the fire of the moon.
#estarion#[ aylin answers ] — the nightsong will sing again .#[ aylin default verse ] — her face lights the shadows .#[ aylin interactions ] — you will address me with due deference .#Aylin just like NOPE I DEFY DEATH IN HIS FACE!
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Sometimes I feel like us as the bat family fandom forget how starry eyed people get about Nightwing canonically.
Because with the exception of early era Tim most of the Batkids are like. lol that’s my loser older brother or some variation of yeah…he’s some guy I guess? He helps me with homework?
And Nightwing is the canonically a center of multiversal light.
When Heroes meet Nightwing they do the vigorous handshake and the “it’s an honor to meet you sir, I have heard so much about you oh my god”
There are so many character where they are literally shown giggling and kicking their feet whenever Nightwing talks to them.
Even the people who don’t have the celebrity level worship of him respect the hell out of him and call him as soon as they need help.
From raven to Starfire to Superman to Superboy to all or the flashes there is so much respect and awe given to this one dude.
And it is deserved
But imagine you are Damian Wayne and you’ve been working with what 90% of the people you’ve met (all bats) have been calling an embarrassment to your father’s legacy.
Your mother hates him and your Grandfather doesn’t feel that strongly about him.
The red hood calls him an embarrassment and a coward and he couldn’t even keep Red Robin from running away.
Your father tells him that he never should have been Batman
And you’ve worked with him and you know what you think everyone is full of shit about him and you and him the new Batman and Robin are the best no matter what anyone says.
And fuck it the fact he keeps going in a suit that everyone tells him he’s not good enough for is scratching something in your brain that you’re refusing to acknowledge because why would you feel that way? You are the circus freak have nothing in common (shut up)
And then you meet the justice league and all the extended teams.
And people are falling over themselves to listen to a word out of your brothers, your Batman’s mouth. They wait for a nod or headshake and dictate decades worth of planning on it.
Both Drake and Todd’s hero teams ask him for advice with or without their designated bats presence.
The man of steel asks for child rearing advice and wonder woman cracks a joke about a spar
Newer heroes whisper about him in the halls
He’s literally your favorite hero’s favorite hero
And it’s breaking Damian’s Brain
Because well… he kinda gets slapped around in Gotham. He’s the butt of half the jokes the other Batkids make and Dick just smiles and takes it.
The rogues have a bounty on nightwings ass and he gets leered at by goons, rogues, civilians and anti-hero’s alike and he doesn’t say anything.
He lets oracle crack jokes about a pretty face and having to do everything herself
Let’s Jason run the alley despite the fact that apparently he knows how to take it back
Apparently he’s had 12 people tailing Drake since Paris and despite being the man Ra’s Al Ghul calls detective has yet to notice. (Because you can’t tell me Dick was just magically at the right place to catch Tim falling to his death on coincidence)
And necessary to peace talks because he’s the best they have at deescalation
Like imagine you are a child who was raised to believe power is this obvious, all consuming thing. That the ones who control the board are visibly larger than life figures who fought their way to the top and cling to power by even the thinnest hangnail if they had to.
People who ignore simpler morals or an overall greater goal or good
And then you’re taken in by the man who whispers the correct answers into the larger than life figures ear.
Like I feel like that would have such an impact because Dick didn’t take power from anyone to reach his goals, it’s why his siblings don’t really defer to him unless in crisis.
Dick didn’t take power, no people just looked at him and decided he was the best option to give it to.
Everyone basically looked at this kid and went, yeah you’re the future of all heroism.
And if that dude can’t even get Bruce Wayne’s respect what chance does Damian Wayne have
#dick grayson#nightwing#batman#batfam#damian wayne#Bruce inside his head: wow I love you I’m so proud of your achievements#Bruce externally: hmmm you were sloppy#tim drake#jason todd#batfamily#comics#bruce wayne#manipulative dick grayson#nightwing is your favorite hero’s favorite hero#don’t try me
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oh, this is fascinating. out of curiosity (and also for my own reference lol) here’s almost every major character’s name in the original japanese: (ft. a little informal japanese pronunciation guide cuz i got excited whoops)
ok so… from what i remember of my admittedly quite limited memory of this subject, pronunciation in japanese is actually pretty straightforward: i.e. all 5 vowels typically sound the same (see ref below) and there aren’t really syllables but moras, or rhythmic units of about equal length. so you don’t really emphasize any one sound in japanese, kinda sorta, though this is somewhat debatable. [insert link to funny video that i can’t currently find here.] ANYWAY.
first, a japanese vowels pronunciation guide:
A: like the a in “father” or “taught” (AH) - あ
I: like the ee in “meet” (EE) - い
U: like the oo “ooze” or “food” (OO) - う
E: like the e in “pet” or “debt” (EH) - え
O: like the o in “or” (OH) - お
consonants come in lines, e.g. the K line (ka/ki/ku/ke/ko) and S line (sa/shi/su/se/so), and you can basically just add the consonant right to the vowel with a few exceptions (shi, chi, tsu, fu, etc. also n can be on its own as ん). btw, hiragana and katakana cover the exact same alphabet sound-wise, the difference is just that katakana is usually used for foreign words. so そうだ (so-u-da), as in 「そうだ。僕がキサだ。」 is different from ソーダ (sō-da), the drink.
there’s also a weird little thing where if you have a small tsu, like in the word for school がっこう (romanized as gakkou, w/ a little repeating consonant usually) you just kinda pause/repeat the sound— tbh i have no fucking idea how to explain this through words alone so just look here for an audio ref if you’re super curious. and finally “ー” just means you extend the previous vowel sound for another beat (i’ll add the little line thing on top of vowels for this, like ō).
ok now, the actual names:
Light Yagami: 夜神 月 -> ya-ga-mi ra-i-to. obviously there’s the whole 月(typically つき/tsu-ki) = “Light” thing going on here.
L Lawliet: L・ローライト -> e-ru rō-ra-i-to. really, the ロー here almost sounds like “raw” when i say it out loud, accounting for the whole lack of distinction between R/L thing. like “rohh-raito.” this is where people get the “lowlight” pronunciation i think. personally, my instinct is to go “law-lee-ett,” but i’m also a filthy american, so. also note the katakana here, for a foreign name, not to mention the “L” itself. the “raito,” though… on the nose, yes, but at leas with some basis in canon lmfao.
Misa Amane: 弥 海砂 -> a-ma-ne mi-sa. note, there are no silent letters in japanese!! so e’s at the end of a word/name should always be said aloud, like “ah-mah-neh” in this case
Ryuk:リューク-> ryū-ku. again it’s in katakana which is kinda interesting. this is pretty straightforward since we usually call him ryuk, but i did see a fan translation that called him “Luke” once— maybe cuz of the katakana? lol.
Rem: レム -> re-mu. no notes, just her <3
Near/Nate River: ニア -> ni-a, ネイト・リバー -> ne-i-to ri-bā. the “nia” part of that is pretty well known by now in english speaking communities ig, if only cuz of use of the ship names meronia/niamero lol. speaking of,
Mello/Mihael Keehl: メロ -> me-ro, ミハエル・ケール -> mi-ha-e-ru kē-ru. looking at that now, i wonder if the name “Mihael” was picked for the end “e-ru,” to mimic a certain someone…
Matt/Mail Jeevas: マット -> mat-to (small tsu thing applies here), マイル・ジーヴァス -> ma-i-ru jī-ba-su. the mail to mile thing might make more sense looking at how “a” is pronounced here, “mAH-ee-ru.”
Watari/Quillish Wammy: ワタリ-> wa-ta-ri, キルシュ・ワイミー -> ki-ri-shu wa-i-mī. again note the katakana for both names
Kiyomi Takada: 高田 清美 -> ta-ka-da ki-yo-mi. pretty straightforward
Teru Mikami: 魅上 照 -> mi-ka-mi te-ru. again straightforward though the inclusion of “kami” is perhaps notable, if a bit on the nose lol
Soichiro Yagami: 夜神 総一郎 -> ya-ga-mi sō-i-chi-rō.
Touta Matsuda: 松田 桃太 -> ma-tsu-da tō-ta.
and some bonus…
Minoru Tanaka: 田中実 -> ta-na-ka mi-no-ru.
Beyond Birthday: ビヨンド・バースデイ-> bi-yo-n-do bā-su-de-i. the english words are clearly intended here lol
Raye Penber: レイ・ペンバー -> re-i pe-n-bā. i appreciate that his name is usually written in english as “Raye” to distinguish from the more japanese “Rei”
Shoko Maki/Naomi Misora: 間木 照子 -> ma-ki shō-ko, 南空 ナオミ -> mi-so-ra na-o-mi. never realized that she has kanji for her surname but katakana for her first name. fascinating.
Eraldo Coil: エラルド・コイル -> e-ra-ru-do ko-i-ru.
so, yeah. perhaps that explains some of the origins of the “true” pronunciations that people tend to bring up, though really you can do whatever you want to forever <33
it’s interesting to note that even in the original series (aka not the LABB murders novel), both the japanese & non-japanese names were intentionally made to be not super common/realistic, though ohba perhaps stuck to that rule a little less stringently than mr. “believe bridesmaid” or whatever the fuck
pronunciation
the one thing that upsets me about my dialect is that i automatically put emphasis on YAGami instead of yagAMi as it is intended, so i sound like a poser.
that being said, i don't consider canon pronounciation to be sacred. the way takada's english voice actor pronounces mihael keehl is absolutely sickening, and i refuse to call him anything but mi-hay-el k-ee-l.
amane is left up to the gods to decide. i will usually just stick with a-mayn, rather than ah-mah-nAY.
don't know what the fuck is going on with matt. while i do enjoy that the phonetics of his name are completely different to the pronunciation, how one gets from mail to mile is beyond me. i could say something about how mail and mihael's names sound very similar and uh. maybe that's because. uh. mattwasmadeformello. but i won't. not today anyway.
will we ever learn how to pronounce lawliet? will that ever be something we understand in our lifetimes? maybe one day in a hundred years when we are living in floating pods in space, someone will remember tumblr exists, log back on, and find this post. maybe they will have the answer after all that time. but for what it's worth, law-lee-et. i think low-light is a bit too on the nose.
#death note#personally i tend to try to defer to the original pronunciation when idk what to do but like. do it in my american accent#but also… it can be weird asf sometimes ahahdksksnnd#especially in cases like mihael kheel or lawliet where it’s so clearly Not intended to be a japanese name#idk it’s just interesting to compare#sometimes i miss japanese i kinda wish i hadn’t dropped it… but also. that teacher was such a pain lmao fuck that class#btw it feels fucking impossible to google the etymology on some of these names cuz of DN’s popularity goddammit ahsjdkdksk#i would get into the kanji for each name too but it’s 3 am :]#ANYWHO. if you see errors here no you don’t#especially in these tags i know it’s keehl* fuck#good NIGHT
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The Farmer's Daughter
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader one-shot
Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.
Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), heavy talks of prostitution, mentions of SA but none occur, reader is a (new) prostitute, virginity loss (no blood mentioned just some discomfort), descriptions of battle wounds/blood, food and alcohol consumption, one bed trope, enemies to lovers-ish, unprotected piv sex, thigh riding, angst, possessiveness
WC: 10.2K
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
A/N: I know by this point his character is mostly referred to as Acacius in the film but I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around someone moaning that name in bed. So let's just ignore that, okay?
How did this happen? Why did fate play you such a cruel and twisted hand?
When you were younger, you expected to be married off to be a housewife to a solider. From what you heard growing up, it wasn't a terrible life. The men were gone most of the time which allowed the women to run the household and raise children in peace. Unfortunately, your mother died during childbirth and your father, a humble farmer, passed away too early in life, leaving you and his few workers to keep the farm operating for as long as possible. To make money, you spent much of your time at the market, selling the food you made on the farm and the goods you weaved and molded from the scraps.
It wasn't enough. You lost the farm after a handful of years and you were on the brink of becoming destitute. Already you were malnourished and dehydrated, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't find work.
That was how you found yourself in a long line of women, standing silently with your heads bowed and your hands clasped as you were all throughly inspected by a senior officer of the Roman army. They were choosing their group of whores to hire to accompany the men on their next battle across the sea. You were left with no other option but to sell your only remaining asset. The thought turned your stomach, but the idea of starving to death was worse.
One by one, women were hand picked to step forward and exit the room. All in all it had to have been close to forty whores hired to service an entire army.
The odds were not in your favor if you were picked.
It came as a relief when you ended up not getting chosen. You breathed a deep sigh and lifted your chin, scanning the room of remaining women and senior ranking soldiers. You would make do somehow. At least you wouldn't be spreading your legs multiple times a night for different men after they've spent the day fighting and working up their appetite.
You turned to follow the women back out onto the streets of Rome, no doubt searching for another way to sell their bodies, when you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name. You froze in disbelief, wondering who could possibly know you, and then you slowly turned.
It was General Acacius. The fearless leader of the Roman army, but you knew him from your stand in the market. Whenever he was home from battle, he always found you and purchased more than he could possibly need, feeding you and your farmhands for weeks. He never said much and neither did you, but you had grown fond of seeing his greying curls and dark, smoldering eyes approach your stall, albeit with a new wound or scar to show for his travels.
You did not even realize he knew your name.
His eyes drifted up and down your worn tunic, noticing the stains and rips and your poor fitting sandals. Your gaze flickered nervously around the room at the other men impatiently looking to wrap up their work and begin their long journey, but remained silent, deferring to the general.
"You will come with us," was all he said, his voice booming in the small room. Your blood ran cold and panic seized your throat.
"But the choices have already been made-"
"I am paying. I believe I am allowed to decide how many whores we bring along."
You clamped your mouth shut, brows furrowing in anger. How foolish you were to assume he was a man of honor, a man who wanted to help you when he bought your meager wares in the market. As it turned out, he was no better than any other, only out to seek pleasure between your legs.
At that point, you knew better than to argue. Your fate was sealed. Begrudgingly, you forced yourself to follow after the other chosen women, walking past the high ranking officials who sized you up as you went.
The army was to travel by ship. Or multiple ships, to be exact. The women were counted off and told to stand in smaller groups, one handful of whores for each ship of hungry soldiers. When your group was assigned, you heard that familiar powerful voice come out of nowhere once again, stopping everybody in their paths.
"She is to travel on mine," General Acacius announced. A few men exchanged confused glances and Acacius grew irritated. "That one," he clarified, pointing directly at you. The other men quickly nodded and shuffled you into another group, and you thought that would be the end of it, but then he spoke again as the others began to board.
"She will stay in my chambers."
If the soldiers were surprised, they hid it well, but you didn't. You whipped around and glared at him defiantly, a litany of disrespectful curses on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, you remembered your place and who you were speaking to and caught yourself before you got killed, but as you turned to board the ship, you noticed an amused smirk play across the general's lips.
A young solider shoved you into the general's quarters, ordering you to not go through his things or they would cut off your hands, then slammed the door shut, leaving you all alone. The rest of the women had gone below deck, most likely to a shared room that was filthy and freezing cold. You, on the other hand, had a beautiful soft bed and a roaring fire to warm yourself by a small wooden dining table. There was a bookshelf tucked into the corner and your fingers itched to pull the books out and examine them, but you didn't dare. Instead, you sat on the small cushioned bench next to the only porthole in the room, tucking your knees against your chest protectively while you waited for the inevitable.
Sleep took hold of you at some point while you waited for the general to retire. The last thing you remembered was the open sea and the glorious golden sun beginning to dip just below the horizon. When you awoke, it was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and unfurled yourself from your bench to look around, then nearly yelped when you found the general quietly sitting at the table pouring himself wine.
Your heart raced violently in your chest, knowing full well what he expected of you. And despite offering yourself up earlier that day as a whore, you had decided you would not do it for this man. Because this man came to your booth in the market under the guise of kindness that turned out to be a lie, and it simply did not sit right with you.
"I will not lie with you willingly," you announced boldly with your arms crossed. The general quirked an eyebrow and took a long sip of his wine.
"When was the last time you have eaten?"
You scowled, body vibrating with energy and ready for a fight only to be met with indifference.
"I am not hungry."
"You will eat or you will die," he said, avoiding your eye and standing to collect a plate of food by the door. He dropped it onto the table and pointed angrily at it. "Eat."
"Why?"
"You need your strength, you are frail."
"You do not like your whores thin, then?" you shot back. Acacius clenched his jaw, eyes still cast down. "You wish to fatten me up so you have something to hold onto when you force my legs apart?"
"That is enough!" he roared, fiery eyes finally finding yours and pinning you with an intense stare that had you trembling. "I will not be forcing you to do anything except eat. Now sit down, do not test my patience."
It was a combination of fear and hunger that made you obey, sinking down into the chair opposite his where the plate of lukewarm food awaited you. Acacius sat down and picked up his goblet, watching you from over the rim as you slowly began to pick at the food. You both remained silent while you ate and he drank, the only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire and the distant laughter and yells from his men in the galley below.
He was right. You hadn't eaten in days. It was no wonder you fell asleep so quickly earlier. You wanted to express your thanks, but you were too stubborn. Instead, you finished your food and put the plate in the basin of water by the door before looking around the room once again. It was easily the nicest room on the ship. You had to imagine most of the soldiers would be sleeping in hammocks stacked on top of one another down below, but the general had the biggest, softest looking bed you had ever seen in your life.
But there was only one.
He watched you from his place at the table, studying your face as you worked out the mechanics.
"I will not force myself upon you if we share the bed," he said, dragging your attention back to him. He was still in his armor, all shiny and clean from the public celebration that took place prior to the army's departure.
"Why am I here, if not to pleasure you?" you asked. You sounded calmer than before but you were still very much on edge.
"You believe I would find pleasure in forcing myself upon a woman?" he questioned before draining his cup. You thought about it for a moment and shrugged.
"Perhaps. Yes."
He stared down at his empty chalice, your heinous opinion of him rolling around in his head and making his chest ache.
"Well, I do not," he proclaimed, standing up quickly and causing his chair to almost topple backwards. He began to unhook his heavy armor, dropping it into a pile on the floor until he was down to his tunic.
"If we were to lie together, it would be because you wish it so," he said softly with his back to you. You swallowed thickly.
"What am I to do here, then?" you asked as he began to turn down his sheets. He slid his tired body into bed and sighed.
"Whatever you like. So long as you stay in this room, you will remain unharmed."
You blinked rapidly, desperately trying to put the pieces together.
"That is all?"
"Yes. That is all. My only wish is you are safe and fed."
You couldn't help it. You had to ask.
"But... why?"
But the general rolled onto his side, effectively ending your conversation and leaving you wondering what you had gotten yourself into.
That first night, you did not share his bed. You slept on the bench by your porthole, curled up small, arms wrapped around yourself protectively until the sun rose. When you awoke, the general was gone, but a plate of food was left on the table for you.
The first week on the ship went exactly the same. You stayed in his chambers, staring out at the sea or sleeping until he returned way past dark with some food for you and a tired look in his eye. And every night, you slept on the bench, still far too distrusting of him.
The second week, the general brought a game with him at dinner time. Two cups and two wooden dice. The idea was you had to guess what you would roll. If you won, you got whatever you bet on the round. It wasn't that entertaining at first since you had only the clothes on your back and nothing else, but what you did have were stories or songs or a slight of hand trick your father taught you when you were young.
You wouldn't realize until much later that it was his way of getting to know you better.
"You released all the cows from the pasture?" Acacius repeated in disbelief. You giggled and nodded.
"I was only six years old! I thought they were being held against their will!"
Acacius laughed, the sound making you grin like a fool and your cheeks warm.
"Alright," he said once he got ahold of himself. "Go on."
You picked up the die and tossed them into a cup, giving it a firm shake and smiling when he shot you a playful wink.
You clapped the cup firmly over the table and before you raised it up, you announced, "One three and one five."
"What is your wager?"
You nodded towards his bookshelf. "One of your books."
He looked up at you in shock. "You can read?"
You gave him a fake look of disgust and nodded. "Of course I can read."
"And you have been here this whole time without picking up a book?"
"Your men told me they would cut off my hands if I touched what is yours."
His face softened and he sat back in his chair.
"No one will touch you," he told you firmly. You stared at one another, the heavy moment weighing between you, the implication of his words impossible to deny. No one will touch you because you are his.
To break the tension, you smirked and said, "So I suppose that means I do not need to wager the books?"
Acacius grinned and shook his head. "Too late, little one."
You rolled your eyes and lifted the cup, pouting when you saw two six's.
"Your turn," you said, pushing the cup to the side.
Acacius collected the dice and dumped them into the cup, shaking it while looking at you curiously from across the table and admiring the way the light from the fire flickered over your beautiful face.
"You can still take a book."
You perked up but shook your head. "That is against the rules of the game, General."
"I make the rules. Take a book tomorrow," he insisted before slamming the cup down. His large hand gripped the top of the cup, keeping it pressed tightly against the table.
"Your wager?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.
He swallowed, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say. The fear that you would pull away from him again fought against the insatiable attraction he had harbored for you for years. But the wine must have won the fight because he said, "One kiss."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment, he thought he made a horrible mistake. But then you squared your jaw and narrowed your eyes and said, "Go ahead."
He grinned, pulse thrumming excitedly in his throat when he said, "One one and one four."
But when he lifted the cup, his face fell. A three and a six.
"Ah, well," he said, shoulders drooping. He yawned and stood to collect the dice. "Better luck tomorrow."
Before you could stop yourself, you stood as well and leaned up to peck a chaste kiss against his scruffy cheek. He looked at you in surprise and you gave him a crooked grin.
"For the book."
He smiled and nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment as you got yourself ready for bed. You had a small pillow and thin blanket to curl up with by the porthole, and it irked him that you wouldn't take more. He feared you would catch a sickness and your malnourished body wouldn't be able to fight off an infection, but you were so stubborn that he couldn't convince you otherwise.
However, the third and final week at sea had you shivering on your bench. Acacius could hardly sleep knowing how cold you were. He could hear your teeth chattering from across the room.
"I beg of you, please sleep in my bed," he said one night as you began to make your little nest by the porthole. You shook your head.
"I am fine, I swear it."
"You are not fine. Please, I will not touch you, you have my word."
You chewed on your lower lip and looked over his shoulder at his warm, plush bed. He could see your resolve begin to falter, so he offered to sleep on the bench in your place.
"No, do not be ridiculous. You have an army to lead tomorrow, you cannot be tense as a knot because you slept on a too small bench."
"I will if it means you are safe and warm," he said softly, his vulnerability taking you off guard.
"General-" you sighed, but he cut you off.
"Please. I promise I will remain on my side of the bed. Just stop being so stubborn for once in your life."
You scoffed and propped your hands on your hips. "For once in my life? And what would you know of it?"
He squinted at you and crossed his arms. "I know more than you think. I know you would not quit until you broke in that filly when you were twelve years old. I know you nearly pushed a boy down a well when he tried to kiss you in front of the whole school. I know you argued with your teacher over the correct spelling of amaranth and I know you poured every last bit of yourself into a dying farm just to keep the memory of your father alive."
Your jaw hung open in surprise, taken aback by the way he stored all of the little snippets of your life you had given him over the past two weeks only to end it with his own observation of you at the market.
You could feel yourself growing weak for him, the temptation to give in too much to bear. He had been slowly wearing you down since you arrived and perhaps he was right, perhaps you were far too stubborn because the last thing you wanted to do was go back on the proclamation you made that very first night.
So, you chose to be defiant.
"Fine," you snapped, swiveling on your heel and stomping towards his bed. "If you wish to share your bed with a whore so badly, then so be it."
Acacius rounded the bed and slipped in beside you, making sure to leave plenty of space.
"You and I both know you are no whore."
"Oh, you know so very much about me, I forget."
You tugged the heavy blankets up to your chin and tried not to audibly sigh at how comfortable it was in his bed.
"If you are a whore, tell me then: how many men have you laid with?"
You clenched your jaw, angry that he was able to figure you out so easily. Instead of answering, you rolled onto your side, your back to him, and muttered, "good night."
Acacius grinned and closed his eyes, proud of himself for besting you.
"Good night."
The following morning, you awoke earlier than usual. When your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your bones was gone. The large, soft bed had been enough to cure you in just one night.
Not something you planned on admitting to the general, of course.
The second thing you noticed when you sat up in bed was that the ship was not moving. It was completely still, and you could hear loud, quick footsteps outside your door and above your head. Men were shouting to one another and the clink of swords and armor were echoing throughout the halls. Then, through the walls somewhere above you, you heard the general's deep, booming voice yelling orders to his men. You threw off the blankets and hurried to the porthole, your eyes widening when you saw land and small boats being lowered into the water.
You had arrived at whatever distant land the emperors demanded Acacius claim for Rome, and the soldiers were getting ready to depart for their first fight.
You chewed nervously on your nail, curled up against the wall and peering out the window for hours until the very last boat sailed away. In the distance, you could see the general's broad back covered in armor, his dark curls fluttering in the sea breeze and his massive sword tucked dutifully at his waist.
He had left for war and didn't even say goodbye.
Why would you care if he said goodbye? Maybe if they all die, you could escape to shore and be free, find a new city and make a home for yourself.
Even you had to admit that fantasy was foolish. No matter where you went, your fate would always be the same. You had no money, no prospects, no skills and no family. Your destiny was already written and it was a miracle your first attempt at prostitution landed you in the cushy quarters of Rome's surprisingly respectful general.
Your nerves kept your feet moving all day. You tidied up the general's desk, sorting his papers and maps. You scrubbed at the dishware until they sparkled and you made the bed, fluffing up the pillows and tucking in the loose edges until you had nothing left to do. The room was as neat as possible, not a single item out of place, and yet you still floundered around looking for something to occupy your busy mind.
When the sun began to dip and his room grew darker, you went around lighting candles to allow for more light. You were in the middle of lighting the last candle when you heard a timid knock at the door.
Nobody had ever come to his chambers the entire three weeks besides the general himself. You swallowed anxiously, wondering who it could be and if you should answer when you heard a woman's small voice from the other side of the door.
You decided it was safe and opened the door a crack to find one of the whores you had boarded the ship with waiting on the other side with buckets of water and a basin.
"For the general," she said softly. You nodded and dragged the buckets into the room, trying not to stare at the bruises and dirt littering her dry skin. Your stomach twisted with guilt after she left and you locked the door. The other women were living like cattle and you were living the life of luxury. Not only was the general not forcing you to fuck him, but you were giving him sass at every turn.
It was a harsh reminder of your fortune, of what your life could be like. The thought of living the life of the women below deck frightened you, so you had decided that evening when the general returned, you would give yourself to him to show your appreciation, as well as out of fear he would soon get rid of you if you didn't give him what he wanted.
You remained at your post, staring out at the dark sea until you could see the bobbing of lanterns making their way across the black expanse, letting you know the men were returning for the night. You rushed to warm up his water over the fire, dumping it into the large basin. You poured some scented oils into the bath just as the door unlocked and opened, revealing a very filthy and exhausted looking general holding two plates of food.
"Good evening," you said, standing obediently. Acacius paused at the door, confused by your formality before closing it with his heel and setting down the food at the table. "I have a warm bath ready for you, General," you added, pointing towards the basin. He nodded tiredly and began to work on the hooks of his armor. You rushed forward to help him, once again taking him by surprise until he was stripped down to his red tunic.
"Would you like to eat or bathe first?" you asked. The general sighed and looked longingly at the bath.
"I will clean myself while you eat," he said. He pointed towards the table and motioned for you to turn around.
"May I assist you instead, General?" you asked with your back turned. You could hear the shuffle of fabric falling to the wooden floor and then a sharp hiss when he sunk down into the warm water.
"Assist me with what? Cleansing myself? I believe I can manage," he chuckled. You turned around to stare at the back of his head, his body now submerged in the water and hidden from view, but you could still see his shoulders and arms. They looked bruised and bloodied.
He didn't notice your eyes on him, of course. He was busy scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin while he looked around the tidy room.
"It is very nice in here, you did not have to straighten up."
It was the least you could do and you knew it but said nothing.
Instead, you shakily lifted your worn tunic over your head and let it crumple to the floor. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you slowly approached him, the general completely unaware as he continued to scrub his skin.
"I can think of another way to assist you," you said nervously as you stepped into his eyeline. His chin tilted up and he did a double take when he saw your naked form standing before him. His cloth dropped into the water and his jaw fell open in surprise, eyes wide and greedily raking over your body.
"Wh- what is this?" he stammered, gaze glued to your chest. Your fingers fidgeted at your sides under his scrutiny.
"I thought I would show you my appreciation for your hospitality," you explained. "I would like to repay you in some way for choosing me to share your quarters."
A small smile tugged at his lips as he eagerly reached forward, then stopped when he registered your words. He looked up at you questioningly, excitement falling from his face when he asked, "What do you mean, repay me?"
You shrugged and took a hesitant step forward, close enough now so he could reach out and touch your cunt if he chose.
"I realized today my fate could have been much harsher," you explained. "I have not been showing you my appreciation and respect, and in return, I wish to give you my body to use as you see fit."
Acacius frowned and turned his head away, searching for the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.
"I do not want your body as payment, I believe I told you that weeks ago."
"You said we would not lie together unless I wished it so," you protested. "I now wish it."
"You wish to lay with me out of obligation, not desire. That is not something I want."
Embarrassment and confusion flooded your mind as you slowly stretched your arms across your exposed body, trying to hide yourself out of shame.
"I apologize-"
"Get yourself decent and eat," he commanded without looking up. His voice sounded hard and cold and for some reason, it made you want to cry. You did as you were told, dragging your dirty tunic over your head and sat quietly at his table to pick at your food. You were confused and ashamed, sitting in the tense room with him while you tried to work out what he wanted from you. The idea of wanting a man out of desire never occurred to you. You had grown up under the impression women of your station did not get to experience the luxury of desire, and instead came to terms early on in life that you always had one asset to use at your disposal.
Not one time did you ever imagine being with a man out of affection or love.
"I apologize," you tried again after he had dried off and joined you. He had changed into a clean, white tunic and was clenching a similar one in his fist.
"You may use this," he said, ignoring your apology yet again. He thrusted the tunic towards you and you fumbled when you took it from his grasp. "The one you are wearing looks as if it might fall apart the moment you step outside and feel the sea breeze."
"Thank you," you murmured, fingertips brushing over the soft and expensive material in your lap.
"I will also call for more water tomorrow so you may wash yourself," he said before biting into a chunk of bread.
Your cheeks went hot with shame, still feeling guilt over the mercy and generosity he had shown you.
"I do not know what it is to desire someone," you said after a few quiet moments. Acacius continued to chew and kept his focus fixed on his plate. "I never imagined it would be a part of my life. May I remind you we come from different worlds."
He grunted in response but you noticed his shoulders begin to relax.
"I understand. But you must stop treating yourself as a whore. You are so much more than that, I have seen it with my own eyes. And to watch you debase yourself, to think so lowly of yourself, breaks my heart."
Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears begin to well up, quickly threatening to spill down your cheeks. How could you have been so wrong? How could you not see the man for who he really was? He was a man who was gentle, kindhearted, protective and most importantly, cared very deeply for you. To what extent, you were unsure, but if he wanted you to desire him and he saved you from being used by countless other men, he certainly must have harbored stronger feelings than you ever thought possible.
"Alright."
His dark eyes flicked up to yours when you spoke.
"I will not debase myself," you said flatly. The corner of his mouth twitched before he looked back down at his food.
"Very well. I am pleased that has been sorted," he replied before shoving his plate off to the side and standing to collect the cups and dice. "Shall we play a few rounds before bed?"
You grinned and nodded, gathering up your plates and dumping them in the water by the door to clean later before joining him back at the table. And somehow, the awkwardness from the evening faded away after a few rolls of the dice.
It had been two weeks docked off shore on some foreign land. You hadn't left his room in over a month and you were beginning to feel insane. You told him as much early one morning when he was dressing for battle. It was still dark outside. Acacius had mentioned he wanted to arrive on shore before dawn so that he might get into position under the cover of night.
"When I return tonight, I will take you up on the deck for some fresh air," he promised as he cinched up his armor. "Do not leave this room when I am not here."
"Why not? Are your men not with you during the daytime?" you asked from his bed.
"It is not my men I worry about," he explained, sheathing his sword after lacing up his sandals.
"Then what do you worry for?"
"I worry about everything," he confessed. His hand was on the doorknob poised to leave, but he stopped to turn to you one last time. "I do not trust the soldiers from this city not to try to climb aboard the ships whilst we are gone. It is important the ships appear empty."
You nodded in understanding before burrowing back in his sheets and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you looking comfortable and radiant in his bed.
"Behave, my dove, and we may dine on the deck tonight," he said, making you smile wide. He slipped quietly out of his room and locked the door behind him, fearful if he lingered any longer, he may not leave the ship the whole day.
You spent the afternoon reading and bathing and cleaning the general's dirty clothes in the extra water he had brought up after he left. You weren't sure how it happened, but the two of you had fallen into a life of domesticity amidst war without even sharing so much as a kiss.
What surprised you the most was you enjoyed it. You enjoyed tending to his things and cleaning what you could during the day, and then caring for him at night when he returned all bloodied and tired.
It had not once crossed your mind that he may not return until it happened.
That night, you saw the lanterns bobbing over the water, your signal to begin heating up his water for a bath. Your hair smelled like the expensive oils you poured into his water from your own bath earlier. You smiled to yourself when you thought of smelling like him, and him of you.
Heavy footsteps landed on the wooden floorboards above your head and outside your door. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Acacius usually didn't come to his room right away. He typically visited the wounded soldiers in the infirmary, making sure they were well tended to and fed before doing his rounds, assigning a night crew, and then finally gathering food for you both before retiring for the evening.
But more time passed than usual. You could tell because your stomach began to rumble and his water grew lukewarm. You paced around the room, ears straining to hear the voices from the other soldiers, trying to discern anything from their muffled conversations.
It wasn't until two hours went by that you heard a sharp rap at the door and a man's voice echoing on the other side, announcing he brought you food.
Your blood went cold and you wondered if you should open the door, but then you remembered Acacius told you he wasn't worried about his own men, the underlying message being that his soldiers would never touch what was his. So after a moment's hesitation, you swung open the door.
"Here," a young man said, shoving one plate of food towards you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt and you frowned before taking the food and thanking him softly.
"Where is the general?" you asked timidly.
"He fell in battle," he grumbled before turning away. Your heart plummeted as you reached out and grabbed his shoulder, taking him by surprise.
"What do you mean?" you exclaimed. Fear and adrenaline mixed with something foreign coursed through your veins as you felt your lower lip tremble. The solider shook you off with disgust before stepping back.
"He was struck down. Last I saw of him he was lying still on the battlefield."
When he saw the look of despair on your face, he took pity on you.
"Others were assisting him, his body will return to Rome," he assured you before giving you a firm nod and disappearing down the long hall, leaving you to collapse into a fit of sobs behind the locked door.
The feeling you had in your chest was similar to the way you felt when your father passed, but something was different. It felt like a piece of you went dark, like you may never smile or laugh ever again. Grief consumed every fiber of your being and you found yourself crawling into his bed, face streaked with tears so thick you could hardly see your hands reach for his pillow. You pulled it tightly against your chest and you curled up around it, muffling your wails until your head began to pound and your body felt weak.
You drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning until the room grew cold and the fire dissolved into embers. You stood and wrapped a blanket around yourself, sniffling and shuffling over to the fire to stoke the flames wearing the general's spare tunic he had gifted you. After a few minutes, the fire roared back to life and you sat back with a heavy sigh.
Just as you were wondering what you would do come morning and how you would ever be able to move on without him, you heard footsteps approaching. You whipped around in fear and tightened your grip on the blanket. With the general no longer around to protect you, you had assumed the other men would eventually come looking for you, but you had to admit you didn't expect it so fast.
You curled yourself into a ball on your old bench, staring at the doorknob, expecting to see it jiggle and eventually forced open from the other side, but to your surprise the lock clicked quietly and the door slowly creaked open.
When you saw the general appear, limping and bloodied but still alive, you practically screamed. You jumped to your feet and rushed over, moments away from throwing yourself into his arms before you caught yourself.
"Acacius," you whispered in disbelief, the informality slipping easily past your lips for the very first time. He gave you a tired smile and locked the door behind him.
"I apologize for missing dinner," he said. You laughed as two fresh tears trickled down your cheeks. Your hands hovered nervously over his armor as if you weren't sure where you could touch him.
"Apology accepted," you replied before gingerly unhooking the armor around his shoulders. He groaned with relief when you lifted the heavy metal off him and set it against the wall by the door to polish another time. When you turned back around, you gasped at the blood that had seeped through his tunic, staining the yellow fabric a dark red.
"You are hurt," you whimpered, then hurried around his room for clean cloths, healing oils, and salves he kept in his desk. "Take that off and sit down. Allow me to tend to your wound."
He wordlessly lifted the ruined tunic over his head, wincing slightly when the wound at his side pulled, and he sat down at the table just as you instructed. You collected some of the unused water from his bath and set it over the flames to warm up before scooping up some more and setting it on the table next to him.
"They stemmed the bleeding on the boat," he explained. "It just needs to be cleaned and perhaps -"
"I will handle this. You just rest and eat," you told him, pushing your plate of uneaten food in his direction. His eyes fell onto the food and he frowned.
"It is untouched," he said, "why did you not eat?"
"How could I when I thought you were dead?" you snapped as you brought a soaked rag to his side and began to gently pat at the nasty looking gash.
Acacius took a bite of food, the flavors melting onto his tongue and making him groan. He didn't realize how hungry he was and before he knew it, he had eaten all of the food except for the grapes. You were leaning across his lap, bandaging up his wound with intense focus. He sighed contentedly, basking in the warmth from the fire and the soft touch of your hand on his skin. He could already feel his strength beginning to return.
"That should hold," you said, sitting upright to inspect your work. He glanced down and raised his eyebrows at the neat little bandage you had adhered to his wound.
"You did a very good job. Where did you learn such things?"
You shrugged and began to clean up the salves and oils. "On a farm, many accidents happen. You learn quickly how to tend to a wound."
He smiled and sipped from the wine you had poured for him while watching you move around the room, disposing of his soiled clothes and rags and then bringing the bucket of warm water over to the table with a fresh cloth.
When you pulled the other chair closer and sat, fitting your legs between his knees so you could reach him, he began to protest.
"You do not need to -"
"I want to," you said, cutting him off with a warm, wet cloth on his aching shoulders. His eyelids fluttered with a groan, leaning back into his chair and giving in. It felt so wonderful to be washed by your hand, to have you so close and safe while tenderly caring for him. It was all he had been dreaming about for years, ever since the first day he saw you at the market.
"So many scars," you whispered, swiping the cloth down his broad, strong chest. His breathing stuttered when you reached his stomach and he tensed.
"I have been in many battles," he murmured with his eyes still closed. You hummed to yourself and continued to work, diligently and carefully scrubbing away the layers of blood and grime until you cleaned everything you could see.
"Can you lean forward, General?" you asked, "I would like to cleanse your back."
He nodded and with a grunt, sat upright so he could lean forward. You stood from your chair and positioned yourself behind him, taking great care with every swipe of your cloth, afraid of unearthing a new wound under all the filth.
"Back to general now, are we?" he asked.
Your hand paused on his shoulder blade. He sensed your confusion and he chuckled.
"When I first arrived, you called me Acacius," he explained.
"Oh," you breathed before continuing your work. "That was disrespectful, I -"
"No, I quite liked it," he said before you could finish apologizing. "You may call me Marcus when we are alone, if you prefer."
Your eyes widened and although he couldn't see you, he could tell you were surprised.
"That would be highly irregular," you finally said softly, putting down the wet cloth and picking up a bottle of perfumed oil. You sprinkled a few drops into your palm and you rubbed your hands together. "That name should only be used by those closest to you."
He opened his mouth to respond but when your slick hands found his shoulders and your fingers began to dig into the knots in his muscles, he moaned and felt himself go lax.
"Oh gods, that feels incredible," he rasped. The deep timber of his voice sent a wave of arousal right to your core. You continued to work on his back and shoulders, privately marveling at his broad frame and firm muscles under his scarred, bronzed skin. He was truly something to behold. So strong, handsome, and fearless. Yet also kind and gentle. The proximity of his body and the ricocheting emotions you had experienced that evening had you reacting to him in a way you never had before. It was confusing and strange yet also exciting, and the noises you were drawing from his mouth with every roll of your thumbs was causing a dull ache to form between your thighs.
You blinked and cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy curtain of lust that clung to you.
"What happened out there? One of your men informed me you were dead."
Marcus sighed and sat up straight, the angle causing you to drop your hands from his tight shoulders. One of his massive hands reached back to take yours so he could lead you to stand in front of him, between his knees.
"They had called a truce. They requested to discuss terms of surrender, so I called off my men and went to speak with their king," he began, his hand still engulfing your own as he gazed up at you with his soft, dark eyes. "It was a trap. They ambushed me when I got out of range. It must have been twenty of them," he continued solemnly, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he spoke. "I slayed them all, one by one, but once I took down their final solider, an archer took aim from the wall. I was able to dodge the arrow but I was not quick enough," he chuckled and looked down at his wound. "I am not the young man I once was."
"I cried for hours," you admitted quietly. His eyes darted up to yours again, holding his breath as you spoke. "I had never considered you would not return to me at the end of the day. However, when I got word you had died-"
You paused when a sob got lodged in your throat. You knit your brows together, hoping to stave off your tears while Marcus patiently waited. Eventually, you gave him a watery smile and lifted your free hand to cup his cheek.
"I felt a grief I never thought I would feel again," you said, voice shaking. His eyes searched your face, watching the way your anguish rolled through you at the memory. He swallowed tightly and, with his other hand, gently gripped your waist.
"Tell me," he whispered, "did you feel these things only because you feared for your safety if I was not here?"
You shook your head as one singular tear trickled down your cheek.
"No," you breathed, "it was because I felt like a part of me died, too. Because I could not imagine my life without you."
When you saw the joyful look in his eye, you quickly closed the remaining distance between you, leaning down the rest of the way and slanting your mouth desperately over his. He moaned and dropped your hand so he could cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer so you were forced to straddle his lap.
"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned amid kisses that were growing increasingly messy as the heat between you grew. "How badly I want you? How long I have waited?"
Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Marcus didn't give you a chance to respond, anyway. His tongue slipped past your lips, greedily swirling in tandem with yours and forcing your jaw to open wider. The hand on your waist dropped to flatten against your lower back and he pressed you forward so not even a sliver of moonlight could sneak between your bodies.
Underneath your gifted tunic, you were bare. When you joined the other whores all those weeks ago, they told you there was no use for undergarments, that the men would just destroy them if you bothered to wear any, so just like all the others, you never did. It had never been a problem until that very moment, when Marcus had you writhing in his lap, hips stretched wide and cunt free to rub against his thigh. When you first made contact with his leg, the firm muscle brushing against your sensitive clit, you jumped in his lap and moaned into his mouth.
"Tell me, sweet thing," he murmured when he finally broke the kiss. You were panting heavily, eyelids drooping with need as you gazed down at him. "I know you have not sold yourself to a man, but have you ever laid with one before?"
You shook your head and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. His lips brushed up against your throat and he began to suck on the sensitive skin there as both of his hands fell to your hips. Gently, he rocked you back and forth, sliding your slick, bare cunt over his thigh. He heard you sigh and smiled against your skin when your head dipped backwards in pleasure.
"Does that feel good?"
"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and thick. "Oh, yes, it feels... heavenly," you told him with a sigh.
"Good," he grunted, "keep going. Do not stop until you come. I will need you soft and wet before you take my cock."
"Yes, General," you replied obediently, making his cock jump behind his thin loincloth.
Marcus tugged at the back of your loose tunic, stretching the material across your breasts so your hardened nipples poked through. With a low growl, he lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one, cloth and all. His teeth added a surprisingly tantalizing amount of pressure that had you gasping for air as your hips quickened their pace over his thigh. You must have been leaving streaks of arousal all over him but something told you he didn't mind.
"You desire me, yes?" he questioned when he switched his attention to your other breast. You nodded feverishly, face tilted towards the ceiling as you chased your pleasure.
"Yes," you gasped, "yes, Ge- Marcus."
He groaned so loudly you thought he might wake up the whole ship.
"Fuck, say that again."
You smiled and circled your hips faster, grinding down onto his thick leg. You were so close, you could taste it.
"Marcus," you whined, "oh, Marcus. I cannot wait to feel you inside of me. I just know you will make me feel so good, will you not?"
Suddenly, his hand was back on your neck and his mouth was pressed tightly against the underside of your jaw, not unlike a wild animal pinning his prey against his sharp fangs. You could feel his hot puffs of air fanning across your skin and his teeth scraping your throat. His intensity might have frightened you if you weren't on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm.
"I will make you feel so good, you will never want to take another lover again," he said darkly. The hairs on your arms stood up but you continued to rut yourself as fast as you could against his thigh, your own chest heaving as you fought for air. "And if I have it my way, you never will," he added.
His words were what tipped you over the edge. You cried out his name and clutched at his shoulders for support as your orgasm rolled through you, covering him with your slick.
Your body was still trembling in his arms when he lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You blinked rapidly in response, poised to argue with him about potentially reopening his wound, but before you could get a single word out he had tossed you onto the sheets and climbed on top of you, caging you in.
"Before I ravish you, my sweet, what do you know of coupling?"
You scoffed. "I am no fool, I know how it works."
Marcus chuckled at your snark and sat back on his heels to peel your tunic over your head, exposing yourself entirely to him. A groan rumbled through his wide, bare chest as he stared down at you hungrily, all spread out and ready for him.
"I cannot lie. Ever since you first stood before me naked, your beautiful body has consumed my every waking thought."
"It shows incredible restraint, then, for you to share a bed with me each night," you teased, eyes dancing playfully as he stripped himself of his loincloth.
"You have no idea," he growled, falling back onto his forearms. The tip of his nose nudged against yours affectionately. "I have waited years for this, my sweet."
The idea of any man pining after you, let alone the mighty General of Rome, was a strange and foreign concept.
"I am just the daughter of a poor farmer," you muttered, fingers brushing his peppered curls behind his ear.
"Your station means very little to me," he replied, looking down between your bodies so he could notch the thick head of his cock at your opening. "The heart wants what the heart wants."
Your pulse quickened when you felt the slight bit of pressure he applied. Knowing how it worked was one thing, experiencing it for the first time was another.
"I-I was told it may hurt," you said meekly. Marcus's eyes found yours and he tenderly cupped your jaw.
"Yes, that is true, but I promise it will not last long," he assured you. You swallowed and nodded before spreading your legs wider and hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.
"Tell me if it is too much," he murmured. He pressed your foreheads together, lips hovering above yours, ready to soothe you from the pain.
"Go on, then," you said bravely.
Slowly, he breeched your opening and sunk one inch inside of you. You gasped and dug your heels harder into his thighs, but Marcus held steady.
"Speak," he demanded after a few seconds of listening to your heavy breathing.
"It stings," you admitted, "but it is not... unpleasant."
He nodded and pecked a chaste kiss against your lips before giving you another inch. You whined and squirmed a bit but once you settled, he took it as his cue to continue. It went just like that until he finally found himself fully seated inside of your tight heat.
"The worst is over, my sweet," he told you.
You wiggled underneath him, moving this way and that until you got used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hands wrapped around the backs of his biceps and you stretched your neck so you could bite and nip playfully at his prickly jaw.
"I enjoy being full of you," you admitted shyly, eliciting a grunt from the back of his throat.
"Good," he grumbled before drawing back his hips and slowly easing himself back inside your warmth. "Because I intend on having you full of me as much as possible. I fear I will never have enough now that you have given me a taste."
Your jaw dropped open when he began to move faster, gently and steadily working you open, carving a space for himself inside of you forever. The only thing you wanted was to have him as close as you could, so you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his neck, molding your bodies together as one.
"My sweet girl," he panted, mouth hunting for yours. "You feel better than I ever dreamed. So fucking tight and wet. I cannot believe my fortune, that you would give yourself to me. I wonder if I did indeed die in battle and have ascended to the heavens."
The stretch was divine, his heavy length dragging in and out of you and nudging against a spot that made your stomach clench and your head grow fuzzy.
"Do not say such things," you scolded him breathlessly. His hips stilled for a moment, waiting for you to continue. "Do not jest about your death. My heart cannot handle it."
His eyes softened and his mouth crashed against yours with a groan, overcome that you would feel so strongly for him. He began to roll his hips again but kept his mouth latched onto yours, swallowing down your whimpers and moans.
"I will never leave you," he whispered against your lips. His thrusts grew quicker but he tried his best to be careful and not drive himself too deep for fear of causing you pain. "I will always return now that I have you waiting for me. I shall be invincible in battle."
You laughed lightly, dragging your mouth down his throat and tasting his freshly perfumed skin.
"Was that all it took for you to become immortal?" you teased.
"Yes," he hissed, "a cunt as snug and perfect as yours is all a man needs to give him purpose."
His hand slithered between your back and sheets, pressing his palm firmly against your spine so you arched underneath him. His knees spread wider so he could get better leverage, and he began to roughly snap his hips. You gasped and grabbed onto his hair, giving it a sharp tug and making him groan. It was lewd yet somehow romantic, hearing the sound of your skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.
"Does it hurt?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.
"No," you whimpered inbetween the soft moans he drew every time his cock slammed back into you. "Oh gods, Marcus, please-"
"What do you need, my love?"
He sounded breathless, his voice slightly strained, and your chest burst with pride. You loved the idea of being the one who made such a strong man so very weak.
"I- I am not sure," you admitted truthfully. "It feels so wonderful, but it is different than before."
As it turned out, you didn't need to figure out what you needed because Marcus knew. Somehow, he managed to know your body better than you. He knew how to make it sing and thrum just for him.
His hand snuck between your bodies and the pad of his thumb found your clit. He rubbed firm, slow circles over the sensitive bud, and his name instantly flew from your mouth, loud and wild. You likely could be heard from shore, but Marcus never shushed you. In fact, he smiled and worked his thumb faster, drawing out more delicious moans with every stroke.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured while sucking a mark into your neck. He could feel your lower belly begin to tense and heard your breath waver, so he circled his hips faster, cock greedily plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, chasing his release with reckless abandon now that he could feel you were close.
"I have obsessed over you for years. Dreamed of having you all to myself, just like this," he continued. He could sense his words had a great effect on you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him when he admitted his deepest secrets, so he kept talking.
"Long nights spent on the cold ground in the middle of war, I would dream of you. I would wonder what you would be doing back in Rome. I would pray you did not find a husband while I was away."
Marcus gasped when your cunt gripped around him so tightly that it took his breath away. "The thought of you belonging to another was enough to drive me insane," he groaned before capturing your lips with his.
"I am yours," you rasped when he pulled away, and when your eyes locked, he could see the adoration he felt for you reflected right back. "For as long as you will have me, I am yours."
Marcus's eyes slid closed in bliss after hearing the words he so longed to hear. "Come for me, my love. Come for me and when we return home, I shall make you my wife. I will take care of you. I promise you will never go hungry again."
Your hands grappled with the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly locks as you pulled him down for a searing kiss. He muffled the sounds of your orgasm, cries of his name dying in your throat while your body bucked wildly beneath him.
It only took a few moments before he joined you. With his hand roughly squeezing your hip, he yanked you towards him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to shake.
Marcus flicked the sheets so he could toss them over your trembling bodies. He planted kisses along the side of your head and jaw, then brushed the hair away from your face until your breathing leveled and your eyes reopened.
"Are you alright?"
You nodded and gave him a weak smile. "I am tired."
Marcus withdrew his hips, sliding his softening cock out from your clutch. You cried out in pain and he instantly jolted out of bed to soak a clean rag in some leftover warm water, then hurried back to press it between your legs.
"Better?"
"Yes," you sighed. "Thank you."
He gave you a quick kiss and slid back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest so he could nuzzle your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear.
"Must you leave me in the morning? Can you not spend just one day recovering from your wound?"
Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and shook his head.
"The war is almost done. Tomorrow, I will make them surrender so we may sail home and start our life together."
You grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Did you mean that?"
"What is that, my love?"
"When you said you would make me your wife," you said sheepishly. "Or was that just your mind getting lost to desire?"
"No, I meant every word," he said before rolling over and snuffing out the candle next to the bed. "When we return to Rome, I will make you my bride. You will bear my children and I will watch them play in the garden with you by my side."
You hummed and closed your eyes. "That sounds lovely."
You had very little idea of the politics in Rome and how the highest ranking general of the Roman army could possibly announce he was going to wed a poor farmer's daughter, but you knew deep down if Marcus wanted it, he would somehow make it happen. You knew this because his determination always won, on and off the battlefield.
After all, you were living proof of it.
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