#he admires the trojans because of their kindness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place.

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional.

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind.

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book.

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you.

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below.

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously.

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out.

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her.

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet.

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him.

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness.

"You're awfully quiet," she tries.

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave.

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right.

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams.

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed.

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?"

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus.

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room?

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug.

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice.

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull.

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders.

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time.

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman.

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met."

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo.

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea.

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist.

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this.

It's her.

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris.

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck.

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv.

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin.

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain."

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust.

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her.

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..."

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are."

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier.

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs.

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine.

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck…

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex.

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…"

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this.

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..."

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering…

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…"

"Yeah? I know."

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength.

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?"

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #cod fanfic

924 notes · View notes

joydoesathing · 5 months ago

Note

After a (lot) of scrolling i found out that u didnt give us a hc post abt the fiancés ;-; (u told us how they met but never any hc on them) so could u possibly give us some hc for them??? :3

i kind of intentionally stalled on my hcs for them since these two are integral to the whole underlying doppel and ddd plot in my eyes

but nonetheless here's the hcs:

Michael

A charismatic man with a friendly and laid-back personality

He is highly intelligent much like his fiancee, but masks it with a humble demeanor

With that said, a lot of his female students and colleagues have a secret , not so secret, crush on him. He does acknowledge this and then respectfully brushes it off

Though some of his closer friends and colleagues do describe that he has "playful and good-willed yet slightly sadistic tendencies" (lil' gremlin energy)

But when it comes down to things he truly cares about , he shows his repressed nature in order to defend them : a cold and unfeeling person who follows the beat of his own drum, no matter how deranged his actions are or may seem

He is aware about his fiancee's role in the Trojan Horse Project but puts his trust in her that she knows what to do next, so he chooses keeps quiet and turns a blind eye for now.

He is aware that if it were to be literally anyone else that isn't already involved of the whole project who figures out his fiancee's role in the whole crisis, they would absolutely condemn her and even be out for her neck . And the people who would excuse her role now are probably ready to throw her under the bus if worst comes to worst.

So he chooses to be there for her, every step of the bloody way, constantly assuring her that his hope for her will never waver.

He deeply despises Keppler and those who blindly follow her every whim and command.

Dr. W

A reserved woman who's not much of a people person

She is known to be a highly intelligent individual, however she can come off as quite standoffish and arrogant because she can be quite critical and is the type to sometimes give unsolicited advice.

She is particularly passionate about science and mathematics and planned to pursue a career in the scientific discovery and research fields since she was a student, however it proved as difficult challenge and an almost unattainable dream due to some strong social biases at the time.

But thankfully, she was able to pursue that dream thanks to Keppler, who volunteered to sponsor her until she attained her doctorate degree. At the time, she was pretty much Keppler's lapdog, as she saw Keppler as the only one who truly believed in her potential as Keppler herself even assigned her as the lead researcher of the upcoming Trojan Horse project.

She would later find herself deeply regretting for ever feeling that way. She slowly came to realize the atrocities and lengths that her director was willing to make for the sake of the success of the project.

She felt guilty for the blood that has been spilt in the name of the project. She felt guilty for have once willingly turned a blind eye to the obvious red flags. She came to be very disappointed at herself for being blinded her admiration and respect for that woman.

Her current course of action is to continue to work under her, but also find her own way how to eventually stop Keppler in secret.

#ask stuff #that's not my neighbor #genderbend #au stuff #dr. w. afton #mia stone #thats not my neighbor

98 notes · View notes

gingermintpepper · 4 months ago

Note

Why did Apollo favor the trojans in the Illiad?

So, dear Anon, I've been thinking about how to answer this question since I got it a couple days ago and I think I kind of want to make something clear before I get into it.

The Iliad by itself as a poem only covers some of the events that occur in the final year of a long protracted conflict that had been brewing for at least two decades and was an active war for ten. Within the space of the Iliad itself, the motivations and affairs of the major players are often referenced but there are many, many parts of the story that are not there because they belong to a different story cycle that has been since lost or was never recorded with words. In the space of the Iliad Apollo's motivations are questioned a lot - his pride is questioned by Poseidon who thinks Apollo should be just as angry at the Trojans as he considering Apollo was treated equally as poorly by Laomedon while they worked together. His honour is questioned by Hera who chastises him for taking the Trojans' side when he'd proclaimed that Achilles would live a long life and prosper at Thetis and Peleus' wedding. His own sister calls him a coward for refusing to fight when Zeus gives permission for the gods to go wild on the battlefield. For all that there's this image of Apollo in the Iliad as some staunch and unwavering protector of the Trojans, believe it or not, I largely think of Apollo as neutral in the war.

Which, I suppose, comes back to the question - why did Apollo favour the Trojans? The truthful answer is that I don't know. The Iliad and all its connected stories isn't something I've done enough research on to have an answer or a reference to an answer off the top of my head. The reasoning I'm aware of is that Apollo was a Patron God of Troy and really a god doesn't need any reason besides that to protect his people but it's not like Apollo abandoned the Greeks either. Calchas is the biggest example of that I can point to - descended directly from a priest of Apollo and one who attributed his mantic power to the god, Calchas was pivotal in ensuring the Greeks even got to Troy in the first place.

From a personal perspective however, I think Apollo was more dedicated to the house of Priam than he was the city of Troy itself. Apollo's affection for that house and all its members ran deep - from his admiration of Hecuba and Hector to his love and attempted courtship of Cassandra to his blessings given to Helenus, Deiphobos, Cassandra, Troilus and even his partnership with Paris - Apollo loved the house of Priam. When you think about the times Apollo lashes out against the Greeks, it's generally because they've done some nonsense to earn his ire. The plague was caused by Agamemnon disrespecting his priest, his aid in the slaughter of Patroclus was because he didn't respect him, his minor grudge against Diomedes too was because he tried to test Apollo's mettle and well, the less said about Achilles the better. Apart from his obvious favouring of Hector in the skirmishes, Apollo doesn't really oppose the Greeks. He has a ton of reasons to by the time the Iliad rolls around, including avenging the death of two of his sons, but he remains mostly satisfied with conducting his father's business and overseeing the war from a somewhat professional perspective. To me, it's always been less about Apollo caring about the fate of Troy as a city itself and more about him just really wanting to protect the people in the city that he's come to love and respect.

Of course, I encourage you to take my words with a big tablespoon of salt - like I said, I don't really know enough about the facts in particular to give a solid, confident answer but I can give you my interpretation of it. Maybe consult someone like @littlesparklight for a more comprehensive and grounded response 🤔

#ginger answers asks #Thank you so much for the question even if my answer was somewhat lacking lmao #For the record btw Apollo doesn't stay mad at Diomedes forever either - he pretty much drops it after the Funeral Games #and helps him get rid of the cursed ass Palladium when he goes to consult an oracle about it lmao #Apollo just generally doesn't fuck with people who have too much hubris for their own good #Like he r e a l l y hates that #But Apollo more or less went wherever he was called and did whatever needed to be done #to keep the war flowing and progressing the way it should #I always find his lack of retaliation against Achilles to be a point of extreme interest #Yes he eventually aids in Achilles death together with Paris but Apollo refrained from getting vengeance against him for years #Depictions of Apollo being held back when Achilles assaults and kills Troilus always ALWAYS intrigue me #And it's always what I think about when I hear people talk about Apollo hating the Greeks or favouring the Trojans #Apollo didn't have any beef with his family at that time and he certainly didn't care enough about any particular human to go against his #family - he says so himself when Poseidon is goading him to fight and yet I cannot help but think about how he kills Neoptolemus #Interesting man indeed #apollo #the iliad

129 notes · View notes

akhillaous · 28 days ago

Text

@wlfhardinc here’s my response to the jayvik and patrochilles post! it was too long for a comment section sorry 😓

I can understand a few of your points if we are only discussing the Song of Achilles versions of Achilles and Patroclus but I disagree overall. I think their stories are not all that similar in terms of character ideals and dynamics and given their circumstances I don’t expect them to be either. Additionally I think some of the parallels you mentioned are wrong. For example; you say that Patroclus has no fighter genes but that’s simply not true. Both him and Achilles were formidable opponents and Patroclus did train to fight he just didn’t do so in the same Achilles did. I can’t remember if song of achilles has him as a fighter or not it’s been so long since I’ve read the book but regardless he does still fight very strongly at the end so this point makes no sense. There is no reason to try and relate season one Viktor to Patroclus by making Patroclus seem weaker in comparison.

Another point you mentioned is that they both have the same principles which is also just… not true. Achilles does vow not to kill Hector so he won’t die in turn but he also refuses to fight in the war wholly. I don’t see how this could align with either Jayce nor Viktor’s principles. To my understanding, Jayce and Viktor want to use their invention to better the world and by the end they advocate for an independent Zain which are very admirable goals they are aiming to accomplish a lot of things. These goals are not so similar to Patroclus and Achilles’. Achilles joins the war to gain everlasting glory because it is prophesized that he will gain it if he fights, something he’s been training and preparing his whole life to do. Whilst at the war he gets increasingly agitated with the way things are handled and feels that this war is not worth sacrificing his life over anymore if he won’t gain adequate glory in return and the Trojan people have done nothing to him personally so this isn’t his war to fight. Patroclus does not indulge in the war but he repeatedly berated Achilles for being selfish and sustaining from fighting while their comrades are dying on the battle field. Both Patroclus and Achilles are trapped in a war they no longer want to be in. Forgive me if you’re trying to say something different and I misunderstood but I don’t really see a connection between these principles?

The point you mentioned with the women Briseis And Deidameia is kind of pointless because the circumstances in which those women met those men are completely different. Briseis was not in love with Patroclus in original mythology and she was basically just their slave. Patroclus was kind to her in the original text but Briseis should not be considered as a romantic or platonic option for either of them because she has no ability to consent to any relationship. Also Deidameia and Achilles’ marriage was out of love in the original myth and Madeline Miller’s decision to make Deidameia sexually assault Achilles is very misogynistic as it simply villainized Deidameia so readers are more inclined to like Patroclus and Achilles together. This could be similar to Mel and Jayce however it would only similar because it’s a heterosexual ship and Mel and Jayce are both more prominent and powerful figures like Achilles and Deidameia were.

For season two you mentioned that Achilles and Viktor have the same principles which is again, no true. Achilles does get high on the glory he receives but that does not in any way parallel viktor’s ascension or whatever the hell it was that he did idk he went crazy in season two. Viktor starts a new ideology and quite literally creates a cult because he believes in a certain higher purpose/power. Achilles simply refuses to fight because Agamemnon is incompetent as a leader and he feels that fighting is beneath him now if it is for a leader such as Agamemnon. So I don’t really understand the similarities here either because they aren’t really there? Achilles goes crazy at the very end of the Iliad when Patroclus is killed and it is not that he goes crazy with like newfound knowledge or extraterrestrial power like Viktor he goes insane with rage. He makes a bloody mess of the battlefield during it and has no care of his own life or anyone else’s. If anything this is more like Jayce in season two when he returns back. I guess you could say Jayce and Patroclus both sacrificed themselves but Patroclus was not planning on dying or sacrificing himself he was simply just killed by Hector at the hands of Apollo. The last point is pretty sad I’d say I’d agree with that.

I know that I’m probably coming off really strong right now so please don’t take to offense anything I’ve said I’m simply far too fixated on Patroclus and Achilles. 😭 I only asked because I didn’t really understand what parallels you were trying to draw and in your explanation post it’s very clearly you were only referring to the TSOA versions of the characters which I already have problems with in multiple ways regarding characterization so just off the bat I was already disagreeing with many of the points made because I feel that if TSOA doesn’t represent them correctly than neither can and explanation using the TSOA versions. Overall I think patrochilles have to be mischaracterized in order for this parallel to work and most of the parallels even then are shallow. And that’s alright! Jayvik don’t have to be similar to Patrochilles to be tragic they are vastly different and that’s a good thing. It would be boring if we had the same ships and dynamics all the time.

With all that being said I appreciate that you took the time to go into depth with your thoughts. I’d suggest reading Fagles’ or Wilson’s translations of the Iliad if you want more of Patroclus and Achilles or you could play the hades game where they have a very heartwarming story!

#achilles #patrochilles #trojan war #arcane #jayvik #jayce talis #viktor arcane #eli speaks #absolutely no negative feelings towards op I simply just had a lot of thoughts about this

24 notes · View notes

streets-in-paradise · 1 month ago

Text

Feast of Champions

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Pairings: Maximus Decimus Meridius/The Spaniard x (Fem) Reader, (flirtatious friendship only) Haken x (Fem)Reader.

Warnings: captive man x kind lady captor (reader is the daughter of proximo), the spaniard speaks spanish despite neither spaniards or spanish existed then, trojan war metaphores and historical mistakes here and there ( specially in the few references to roman food I made with the info of the few legit-sounding recipes I found online.)

Summary: After his great performance, the Spaniard has rejected all the typical rewards for a champion. With the news of an upcoming trip to Rome and his intentions of winning freedom there reaching your ears, you offer to honor him with a small feast celebrating the best champions of the school in order to inspire them for the upcoming challenges.

Aware of your feelings for him, he expects to find you performing to tempt him with the idea of taking you as his wife after being liberted. However, the tensions between his own growing fondness of you and the wounds from his past reinforce his resistance. In a desperate attempt to solve the dichotomy, he hopes to counter strike by trying to bring you closer with someone he himself believes to be in a better position to make you happy.

Tags: @wildsaltair ( I am posting this one only because you wanted to see it )

Notes: Works as a continuation for Field of Practice, because I wanted to do one more oneshot with this concept despite I am not really turning it into a fic series.

Glossary: Puls - name of the fava beans and garlic porridge the gladiators are seen having in the film.

Savillum: ancient rome recipe for cheesecake, made of a ricotta-like cheese.

........................

Exactly as you predicted, the Spaniard became a huge success. A surprise since his very first performance, when nobody expected much of him. On the light of his raising popularity, your father found just one major problem with him and it was the lack of an act. He killed for the sake of it, giving quick deaths delivered with frustrated rage as mere means for survival. Like Achilles butchering the young men of Troy, an unstoppable force of destruction no one seemed capable of containing. Ironically distant from the Pelides, he proceeded with complete neglence for his fame. One man that was worth for an army, yet too occupied with the killing to work on the charm.

Fixable mistake on his part, because you have found his charm away from the arena. In the closed range of your home, from the very first moment he spared you an instant of his attention. Everytime you would remember he had once compared you to Helen of Troy observing the combats from some distant tower behind the great walls, you would fluster yourself with the memory. He didn't flirt with you back then, but knowing that didn't ease the effect it had on you.

He was Achilles in the battlefield and Hector in the city, A mindless butcher for the arena, a noble man offering you a cordial friendship ... the one who showed no interest in your beauty despite openly acknowledging it. The one making your heart beat stronger, because you weren't exactly like the spartan queen in what came to him. You couldn't help yourself from admiring him in ways you never did for other gladiators. What you had with him wasn't like your flirty friendship with Haken, treatment you would give him because his easy-going ways encouraged you for it. When the german would compliment you in return for receiving your praise, that would usually get you chuckling and following the game. Whenever the Spaniard did, you would become a flustered mess regardless of how innocent his comment could be.

If he would say your hair looked nice, you would repeat the hairstyle. If he would notice your soft approach of caregiver for the beasts, you would wander the cages of the beasts talking to those as if they were simple farm animals just to see if it would make him laugh.

There was nothing you wouldn't do to make him happy. Your heart was struck by the arrow of Cupid, causing a strong infatuation, and Proximo avoided to adress it for as long as he could. He quickly became aware of it, but it wasn't untill your behavior began to concern him that he decided to have that sort of talk with you.

Once the gladiator started following his indications, he won more than just the crowd. Your receivement was to embrace the victorious champion kissing both of his cheeks as if you would have conciously restrained yourself from trying his lips. The Spaniard had only smiled as if your enthusiasm was amusing to him, but your father could tell you would have clinged to that man with your whole body if it wasn't for his stoich ways creating a barrier.

Business aside, it was enough to raise concern about your fragile heart of wishfull maiden.

" I will arrange a reward for the Spaniard. " He was casually commenting to you in the intimacy of the prívate sections of the complex, where gladiators couldn't disrupt. " … Don't sneak arround this time if you don't want to stumble with what you shouldn't see."

The implications were clear regarding which kind of prize could be destined to the man, but the warning only got from you a skeptical chuckle making you abandon the focus of your writing practice on the foreign language you were learning to look up at him.

" He won't want a whore … Shall we make a bet? "

The proposal amused him, seeing that finding your correct predictions finantially wrecking some of his acquaintances had got you too confident on that matter.

" You are placing too much hope on that man. It is making you forget he is, after all, … a man."

You deviated the conversation strictly back to what it regarded the performance on the arena.

" He hasn't dissapointed, and let me remind you I was the onlyone who had faith in him from the start. Now that he is becoming famous, you would claim it was your idea to make of him a champion. "

He gave a few steps closer to you, untill being ríght in front of your work surface so you wouldn't avoid him when he would start to call you out.

" That's not what I mean and you know it … I watched you act like if you wanted to feel being his lovely wife welcoming him from war. I am aware of the particular ways you adopt with my men, but this is different. You are not playing to comfort him or yourself, you want to believe the fiction. "

From that point you decided to abandon the excercise, feeling the reproach falling on you with too much acuracy to keep pretending being occupated in something else and escape it.

" The difference doesn't matter, it's good for business and that's all you care about. How I feel about him concerns only myself. "

There was a shade of bitterness on your voice, dubitative search for his emotions of father on the matter beyond the calculative concerns of the slave master.

He gave you what you wanted, but allways in his particular way.

" After knowing where you come from ... Do you still want to fall in love with a gladiator? "

Your mother, he rarely talked about her. On his part, all you got to understand from how it happened was that he didn't experience it as an episode of enforced prostitution because of his fame as a gladiator. She was his lover as much as he was hers, and some form of genuine feeling bonded them despite the odd circunstancies for their passion.

" I am not like her, ... getting rid of the evidence before the husband would come back from war. If the campaigns of good old Marcus Aurelius wouldn't have been so long back in the day ... "

" She loved you as she loved me, if that wouldn't have been the case you wouldn't have end up working the nice farm in the villa of her eldery relatives." He interrumpted you right away, as scarce on details through the reminder as he could be. " You would have been placed where the illegitimate children go, to be picked up by a brothel and become a whore instead of the polite farm maid they ended up handing me."

He was correct: you were offered kindness and it was on base of that fact that your worldviews were so divided.

" ... Or a gladiator school. " You teased him in return. " Female gladiators are a curious oddity and in the moment they would have found out I was the daughter of the greatest gladiator in Rome, they wouldn't have resisted it. I would have been raised in a place like this, to become an amazon. The daugther of Mars on the arena. "

Lovely compliments to the treasured aspects of his complicated past weren't enough for you to get away.

" At least your mother knew my name before risking herself with me."

Remembering that you didn't even knew the name of the man sneaking into your romantic daydreams was quite an uncomfortable truth of the kind your father had no carefulness dealing with.

In a strange sense, his brutal honesty was a display of his affection that you didn't hesitate on returning.

" I am proud of you, as I am proud of our men. What I do for you is not an act. It's precisely because I know I could have been one of you that I want to do better for you all. I was given some light in my life, now it's my time to hold a candle and bringing it to you."

You took one of his hands with both of yours and gave him your sweetest grin, to what his voice became softer in the next advice.

" The Spaniard prefers to habitate in darkness and there is not much you can do about that."

You left your seat with an elegant bearing, feeling in yourself the charming effect of your first fruitfull conversation with the man back when he was even more of a stranger to you than then.

" The day we meet he said I reminded him of Helen of Troy watching the combats, ... he said I was beautifull and all our men find me charming. "

Pridefull as you were from repeating that statement, you still didn't manage to impress him with it.

He could easily guess what kind of first impression you would make for some gladiators, and the learnings of his youth only made the image more precise.

" You are the only woman arround who smells as one, a sip of fresh water in the desert. That doesn't mean you should take any encouragement from it. "

His realistic sight underestimated your patience. Even if you just happened to be the better presented woman of the place, that wasn't something to overlook. From the attention that would bring you, there was hope to build something real with the man you wanted.

" Rome wasn't built in a day, Pa ... And for a kiss of the Spaniard I would wait a lifetime. "

The mischievous energy in your tone and the little smirk at the end was an invitation for complicity, to what your father kept teasing you.

" That is easy to say, his is shorter than yours. "

The mean joke still managed to make you laugh, but you cutted his own chuckles with a hug.

" ... You care for me!!! You are thinking of my heartbreak if he dies!"

No matter how many times you would give him effusive affectionate gestures, it always would get him slightly surprised. You found it adorable, a reminescense of his corporal memory more used to predict attacks than caresses. He would tense for an instant, and you would ease him before squeezing tighter.

Proximo wasn't a man easy to catch giving himself in to softer emotions and with your filial love outbursts he used his cynicism as a shield.

"I am thinking that I don't want to load with the bastard of a gladiator because my own late acknowledged descendant couldn't find a husband before getting pregnant from one."

You released him and playfully patted one of his shoulders.

" Don't say that! The Spaniard is a gentleman, .. he would never do that! "

" I hate to admit it, but you are in the right. It could be worse, ... you could be chasing the german. Have no doubt that he would be responding, he loves the attention from beautifull women."

The disguised compliment was your shot to read between lines glimpses of support. Not for your cause, but for yourself as his contextually excentric-mannered daughter pointing to at least one of your virtues. There was little chance for him to calm your excitement anyways after letting you know that he was going to bring in the Spaniard closer to the intimate lounges in his property, even if it was for a conversation in which you had no place to wander. When the guards guided him in, your eyes followed the gladiator all the way through in hardly hidden adoration.

The Spaniard had strutted the place as if he expected to face more difficulties through the unusual call. Properly groomed and better dressed than he was on his early days at the school, he looked every day more handsome in your eyes. The sleeveless blue garment of common use you would see many other gladiators wearing had a different and somehow more perfect fitting for him, highlighting the blue of his eyes and the light glimpses of tanning in his skin. Despite you did miss a bit the messy beard, his lips looked even more kissable. You would have lied denying you thought of rewarding him with a full mouth kiss after the fight where his frustrated reaction turned him into a new favorite of the people.

You were more than entertained, you were amazed.

Distracted as he was with his own thoughts, he noticed you only an instant before getting inside and dedicated you a fleeting smile. A kind gesture, like a friendly salute that in any other would have been a mere courtesy. After Juba, you were the onlyone he would sometimes smile for. It would happen either as a result of your hard work cheering him up, or to let you know he was alright. No matter how stubborn he was, you were equally as persistent in the task of proving you cared for him and he got sort of used to it. At moments, you would get the rare impression that he would pretend neutrality as an active effort to not grow fond of you and that would only inspire you in the contrary direction. The more he would avoid it, the sweeter your concern displays would become.

When you finally saw him coming out from the talk with your father, you smiled to yourself noticing he was carrying a piece of armor. His claimed reward, you guessed, proving you weren't wrong about him.

" Strange preferences for your compensation, my friend. Most victorious champions would want at least a taste from one of the many pleasures denied for them. "

The teasing made him stop in his tracks and you smiled for him.

" You look like Achilles holding the new armour forged by Vulcan ... Who are you going to avenge with that? "

He knew that you had no idea of just how much accurate the mocking affirmation was, but it got you his attention.

" We will be going to Rome, as you warned me, for what your father wants to guide me and promote me so I would one day stand in front of the Emperor like he once did. "

The clarification was vague and from it you understood that he had decided it was the time to stop fighting for mere survival to focus on winning his freedom. You thought he was no longer self perceiving as a doomed prisoner and perhaps started to envision a future for himself.

Guided by the very little amount of factual knowledge you had about him, it was understandable for you to think he had found hope.

" THAT'S WONDERFULL!!! Take it from me, Spaniard: a man with your skill and charm will have no problem winning the crowd. " You couldn't stop yourself from inmediately encouraging. " Pa says the romans are more demanding because they are used to spectacles of a great magnitude that isn't experienced anywhere else in the empire, ... but you are something out of this world. "

He smiled to the praise and you followed the gesture looking at his lips.

" He is still not entirely convinced of that, but thank you. ... I only hope you remember what I told you about Rome."

" To watch out from the Emperor? Yes, sir! " You repeated, like a happy subordinate following orders from a general. " That would be no big deal, I would be too preoccupied for my champions to socialize during the games. "

He remained a bit skeptical and through his protective reasoning he let you know that he didn't ignore at all your daily activities.

" The scribe has been teaching you greek, the one foreign language that roman elites value. "

Lovely surprise painted in your semblance to that simple acknowledgement of you he revealed and you ended up telling more than what you should, going in details that shouldn't concern him.

" The original language of the Iliad, that I am learning for my own enrichment because now I have the chance." You began to explain yourself. " ... My mother was wealthy, but the people she sent me with weren't going to raise me like one of them. I grew up a fatherless child from an union they wanted to hide, so to them I was more like a freeborn servant they liked as family than a real relative. The owner of the villa taught me to read in latin because he used to say that is what distinguishes the civilized folk from barbarians. I think that is nonsense: Haken and Juba are more polite than many latin speakers and avid readers I meet. "

" Clever, ... you won't let the bright of the city blind you. " He praised you in return. " Your father was once a slave yet you remain the humblest of the family. How is that even possible? "

Whatever he spoke with your father inspiring him into asking further, you were thankfull of. Men rarely asked you about your own story, despite you were there to listen everyone.

"Meeting him changed my life, not just because I became suddenly richer. For me it was as if one day you would find out your father is Hercules and he has finished the twelve labours, so you can follow him for adventures. He is my hero, no matter how different we are, I adore him and I trully wish to make him proud. He didn't abandon me when he found out of me."

You gave a mischievous glance to the guards, indicating them to give you a bit of space to talk comfortably before they would guide him back where he belonged.

They did so, and you confessed yourself in a more mundane aspect of the experience.

" The change of enviroment was brutal ... Can you imagine, going from a farmhouse to a gladiator school? So used to cultivate life and you find yourself surrounded of death. Reading the epics was my way of adjusting to it, of trying to inmerse myself in the fantasy that you all incarnate."

Like it happened a few times before, a sudden yet unexplainable burst of laughter from him shifted the tone of your conversation. It was an odd habit of his that you finally felt in condition to interrogate him about.

" Why do you always laugh harder when I am being serious than when I joke with you?

" Sometimes I hear you speak and feel as if the gods would be pulling a bad phrank on me." He simply stated. " Not thinking your saids are meaningless or I find them a mock, but because we understand each other too well"

Incapable of fully comprehending what he meant, you chuckled and grabbed the piece of armor from his hands. After a quick examination, you smirked in approval and handed it to the guards so they would keep it save for him during an instant. Enough for you to take his hands staring at him with absolute delight.

" May I tempt you with one more reward, Spaniard? Not just for your results on the arena, but for your wise advice and attentive ears. I rarely find a good listener here."

His smile adquired a shade of cheerfull nervousy, as if something in him feared of your proposal despite he trusted in you.

" ... That would depend of which offering the lady of the house is about to make. "

Your chuckling evolved into louder laughter, surprised by the assumption.

" What kind of woman do you think I am? No matter how much they said Helen was a whore, she only slept with her oddly circunstantial husbands during her time in Troy. Men may die in front of me but I don't reward the champions with my beauty. "

He knew you have grown fond of the image he presented you with during the little game you played the day you meet. Seeing the charming effect you had in many of the other gladiators, he had said that in the parody of the heroic times they represented you played the role of the face that launched a thousand ships. From then, you never stopped teasing him about that observation.

" Very well, divine among women, because rejecting you puts me in a very difficult position none of us wants to be in ... What do you have for me? "

His use of the famous ephitet of the epics was a mere mock, a harmless participation of the inside joke he accidentally started, but you were melting for him regardless of how ilogical that was.

" To invite you for dinner, so for once you would be fed like a man and not as a beast. " You proposed, as friendly as you could because you didn't want to give him the impression of romantic hints in the invitation. " ... Besides, it doesn't have to be just you. I would invite Haken, I don't want him to feel displaced by your popularity ... And Juba too! He is your friend, another great champion, and allways so sweet to me. It would be a delight to count with his company. "

You were starting to stumble in your own words and he attempted to help you make it sense from what he interpreted on the petition.

" Let me understand this: you want us to have a feast of champions, ... a banquet like the ones given to the heroes of the trojan war? "

You nodded in agreement, relieved to have found a sensical explanation for what initially was an idea initially born from your wish to present him with new comforts as silent way to express your love.

" A more humble adaptation of the concept. I will even cook for you, because honoring my best gladiators with food made by other slaves is unnaceptable. "

He approved your mindset, coming to notice you had the sort of humble dignity and honor the place often lacked of.

" It sounds fantastic, but I believe your father would find it goes against the rules and you already risked a lot for the scribe."

" I stopped Pa from wasting resources: that slave was useless for fighting, but not worthless. " You defended yourself in the logic of the business. " He payed him incredibly cheaper and I am giving good use to his skills. If he eventually wants to get rid of him, selling him as a teacher to a wealthy family in Rome gives more profit than letting him die on the arena. "

As witness of your interaction with the man, he perfectly knew that wasn't your motivation. You had mercy of him and wrapped your feelings in a language convincing enough to please your father.Maximus was very proud of you for it and acted as your accomplice, never questioning your true reasons because it was a tacit understandment between you.

It was a hopefull relief for him to find in you a person of matching values, specially because you weren't limiting yourself to a quiet lamment for your surroundings but taking action in whatever way you could.

" You saved the life of that man, ... and I would gladly sit by your table If the master allows it. "

Signaling his moment to retire, he kissed the knuckles from both of your hands and you allowed him the permission in between non stop giggling.

It was nothing serious, he was just joking in the light-hearted way you often encouraged with the others, but following his style more inclined to keep proper manners for it. Seeing the kind of jokes you had with Haken made Maximus guess it wouldn't encourage you too much.

He had came to notice that you admired him, not in the way the crowd cheers for a gladiator, but as a lonely woman that fancies a man. It was an understandable reaction in your perspective, given that he had no way of crushing your hopes without revealing his story to you. As long as you knew, he was a lonely man in position of enjoying your company and he had a soft spot for you. Despite nothing you have done has had any explicit intentions of a romantical advance on him, Maximus would see the love in your eyes whenever your glance searched for his.

Remaining for too long near you was like being tempted with the promise of peace hidding underneath the mundanity of never ending combats without a purpose. He needed to be more cautious, but your unspoken complot with Juba to make him cling to life for a little longer was very much effective. While his gladiator friend kindly encouraged him to stay alive, you tried hard to make him enjoy of his cruelly prolonged existence and you often obtained brief success.

He couldn't keep affording it, not when the chance for revenge against Commodus was finally presenting itself. Temporally indulging in the comforting fiction that your innocent ignorance of his personal tragedy encouraged wasn't fair for you either. Precisely because you have made for yourself a little spot in his heart, he had to do better and make you see you deserved more than an infatuation with a doomed man whose ultimate wish was following his murdered family in the afterlife.

A cheerfull man who still had life to give and his whole heart for you was what a woman as lovely as you trully deserved. If he would have been captured as someone with nothing else to mourn for but the loss of his freedom, fighting to get it back knowing you would be waiting for him could have been the perfect deal. It wasn't the case, but you didn't know that and he couldn't be feeding that hope.

It occured to him that the best way to put you in the right path without breaking your heart or revealing his past was finding the right man for you, or at least the most adequate option available. From all the other gladiators, it was clear that you were closer with the german. Juba was becoming another close favorite too, but ever since he told you about his wife and daughters you had respectfully toned down the praise on him. In contrast, Haken seemed to love every instant of your attention and often played to impress you whenever you would catch him during trainings.

Energic and vivacious as his arrogance allowed, he was the onlyone finding some amusement in his enforced role. His crave for freedom didn't imply a complete disdain of being a gladiator. Only he felt comfortable enough in the cruel settling to be pulling jokes all the time and no shadows of the past seemed to be tormenting him. Haken was a man seeking freedom with the intention of living a plenty life, but he never stopped living.

If betting on a freed gladiator was an option you considered, that one was your perfect deal. In his empty life there was plenty of space for someone like you and he had a strong will to live. It was a convenient arrangement for your father as well, given someone so involved in the functioning of the school could be a good heir for his business. Maybe someday after his revenge would be concreted, when he himself probably wouldn't be there to see it, Maximus believed Haken could eventually be able to win his freedom. Considering how his carelessly individualistic attitudes contrasting with your kindness weren't an obstacle in your process of befriending him, he could guess you had better chances with him.

Despite his differences with the german made him suspect you were perhaps too good for him, that man had everything he himself wouldn't be able to give you. Seeing his act of rude bastard crash in pieces when you would softly reprimand him for being unnecessary mean to the weaker men made him suspect you would get something good out of him.

After falling to notice he had inpulsively accepted your strange invitation, Maximus decided he could use that to twist your expectations. He had no doubt that you would be trying to impress him as the maiden that seeks to catch a potential suitor of her wants, but he was one step ahead and would present you with another one instead. Intially, he sincerely thought you wouldn't get away with such insane idea, but he underestimated how much Proximo enjoyed of any reminiscenses to the glorious side of being a champion. For once, one of your weird occurences got him excited and invested. You two resembled a lovely family whenever you would pass by to consult him on the rushed planifications you were working on.

As expected, news about a trip to Rome to fight in the Colosseum and an upcoming previous celebration for the best champions of the school were of great interest for Haken. He looked foward it with increasing excitement, wishfull of the glory an honors. Humble and reserved, Juba initially showed to be disconcerted about being selected to receive a distinction. However, watching his friend work the ego of the german without any explanations for the sudden shift made him suspect he could be making him participant of some joke.

In his role of quiet observant, he eventually figured out the direction of his plan and subtly shared his mind at one particular ocasion in which the Spaniard returned to sit beside him after leaving you in company of his nearest contestant of the arena.

" You like her, but you push her away."

His friend remained in silence, to what he insisted from a more specific approach.

" He has been here for longer than us ... Don't you think that she would have tried it if that was her interest? "

To Juba's complicit chuckling, he found himself cornered to reply.

" What would you do in my place? Mine isn't a life anymore, just surviving and waiting. "

Unlike anyone else, he knew some truths that came from the deeepness of his heart. The longing for his wife and son, his hopeless crave for spiritual rest found only in seeing them again.

The reason why you had no future with him, why he would never be able of giving you back a sparkle of the light you brought to his life.

" You choose how to wait, and you can decide not to do it in agony. " The numidian adviced, with his usual comforting, wise-sounding calm. " She wants you to live again and that wouldn't damage you, ... unless ... "

He stopped himself for an instant, feeling the inquisitive glance of his fellow gladiator.

" ... Unless you don't want to find worthy delayments in the way. "

The Spaniard smiled, then turned his gaze at the scene he created.

" His only wait is the time of fighting that separates him from living free, and look how happy they are. "

They observed how Haken was bending down to hear you better on whatever you were telling him. His response lead to chuckling and after you playfully smacked his shoulder, he grabbed your hand to kiss it.

However, as soon as the interaction ended your eyes were back on the Spaniard. The lovely smile you showed him on your way out still managed to cause a subtle warmth of his stoich semblance.

Juba laughed harder that time, remembering to hold on untill you wouldn't be able to hear him.

It was hard, but Maximus had to admit to himself that he had no idea of what to do with you. He enjoyed your friendship, yet he feared you were expecting something more. Part of him was terrified to start getting accustomed, of reaching a point in which he would be wanting to hear your offer ... To give in, to one day realize he had fallen in love with you.

He desperately needed you to fall for someone else before it would be too late for him. The fate awaiting him in Rome was not of your business, all he would have for you there was a promise of protecting you from Commodus or any of his men. A direct meeting between you and the emperor was less likely than what his obsessive worry would make him suspect, but with a bastard like him he could never be sure of anything. You weren't naive or foolish, but your natural inclination to sweetly intervene in favor of broken men would turn incredibly dangerous in his presence.

If you managed to shake a few certainities on a centered man with a clear mind, his deranged and directionless enemy starved for affection he didn't deserve could find in you exactly what he wanted. Maximus was aware that any connection to him Commodus could find would bring him to you.

After a lifetime of treacherous crave for everything he achieved, the emperor wouldn't resist it. Coming to you with fake softness, like the snake he was, making you doubt of the stranger that told you nothing about himself and crushed your ilusions when your protection stopped being usefull. Pretending he was the one coming to rescue you from his lies, charming you with the acting of well spoken prince so you would make him the new target of your admiration.

For the good of everyone, you needed to arrive in Rome under the effect of another infatuation. He himself wasn't in the position of surrending himself to those feelings again, but the german was free of sentimental attachements and was going to need of a consolation prize once he would have realized the master didn't have the greatest aspirations settled on him anymore.

Once he finally convinced himself to be proceeding under the will to do the right thing, even Proximo seemed to have turned against his intentions with his sudden support. Not of your interest in him, but of his future as a champion, yet there was no doubt that could be potentially encouraging to you. The mere idea of his owner wanting him as a future son in law to teach in the business was amusing, but perhaps not impossible to envision for his enamored daughter.

The night of the party all three guests were adorned with tunics of a neat white after their respective proper baths, like house guests would following roman traditions. Like he did from the very first moment that he saw you, the general turned gladiator got from you once more an accidental sense of returned familiarity with the life he left behind. A taste of the human condition teasing him, inspiring him in what you believed was only about the search for his freedom from the emperor.

At the receivement on the halls of the master there were plenty of wonders to surpass the expectations, but one in particular captured stares ahead of everything else. Patiently awaiting for them at the center of the scene, you looked beautifull to the point of cruelty. With your lose hair perfectly styled, wearing a green dress of a carefully crafted asymetric cut that made the skirt fall slightly shorter in on leg and was leaving one of your shoulders completely exposed. An embroidered mantle protected it untill the excitement of the arrivals made you leave it behind and the rescued scribe right behind you acting like a manservant received it with a quiet smile.

Like never seen before in your modest ways of dressing, the strands of matching craft tied arround your waist to secure the fitting of the dress followed your figure with gentle accuracy. Feminine curves enhaced with decorum, but so easily distracting for the eyes of any man. Small glimpses of nervousy in your lovely face, and evidence of a subtle make up done for the ocassion, completed the confirmation from some of the early guesses the spaniard gladiator had.

At least from your perspective, that was all for him. For his eyes to wander lost and numb his reason like if he could ever be a suitor you would be in condition of catching. Seeing you made him feel flattered, even honored, but unworthy of such adoration. His words the day you meet fell short to the painfully beautifull spectacle you were providing, like a young Helen receving her suitors in Sparta.

Probably enraptured in similar observations, or circunstantially charmed in the surprise, Haken practically pushed him so he would be the one reaching you first. Juba didn't miss the move and limited himself to give a mocking glance to his spaniard friend reminding him on that of his warnings.

" This must be the highest rewarding ludus of the empire! Your looks alone are worth for a hundred more deaths by my hand, dear friend."

His praise made you chuckle, but you didn't delay in returning the gesture.

" And I can still see those huge muscles because we never find anything that fits you the way it should, but after all that is exactly what the crowd wants! We will have to protect you from the lust of the rich roman matrons, my germanic god."

From his seat at the head of the table, Proximo corrected with an autoritative mockery that in that image made him resemble the parody of a cheerfull king in the feast.

" For what? We know he is going to throw himself at the herd of screaming women."

The mischievous smile of the german left the matter dubious, not denying or comfirming anything to him untill directing a cheerfull excuse to you.

" ... You will always be my favorite. "

To a sweet look of yours with your arms stretched up, he catched you for a warm hug as salute and then kept playing with you even after you were released from his strong grip.

" Do a little show off for the invitees, let them see what their suffering pays for." He suggested in friendly mocks, taking your hand in order to guide a slow twirl. " That's a really nice dress."

A brief instant of amusing complicity with the others occured as he shared the sight for them, small truce with the spaniard with the mere object of sharing their impression.

" Very nice. " Juba agreed first, politely unimpressed. " … but I still don't see why all of this was done for three slaves. "

Vigilant through the whole interaction, the eye of the father was a more subtle threat than usual. The little indulgence of his men didn't upset him as much as that comment did.

" You are not simple slaves, you are gladiators. " Proximo corrected, serious as if he had been offended. " If you haven't learn the difference yet, Rome will show it to you. That's why she kindly prepared this exercise for you: those who don't like honors need to get used, and those who enjoy those too much need to keep their minds awake or perish for their blindness. "

Guessing himself as the target of the last attack, the german responded with more mockery.

" Are you giving up on finding her a husband outside the circles of old gamblers that frequent you? Perhaps you would have more luck offering her as prize for the last one standing. "

You were surprised by the daring joke, but your laughter was the facade of your eyes chasing the spaniard for a reaction. His usual silence had been prolonged for too long and you started wondering what he could be thinking of you, of the reward you pulled for him, and of the casually presented hipotetical situation implied in the comment. Whatever your father answered to the provocation of your friend defending his honor, you didn't listen for being entranced on the sight of the spaniard and the intensity of his blue eyes fixated on you.

He remembered his plan, and was still aware of his duty saving you from himself on the quest for justice that was his most intimate priority leaving no space for second thoughts. However, something didn't feel right in the jokes of the german adquiring a shade of truth. It was precisely what he needed, a promising first step for you two getting together so you could find a less disgraced fate for your affections, but giving up to those by himself wasn't as easy as he once thought.

After one more instant of silent contemplation, and careless as you were for the course of the conversation, he told you exactly what he wanted to say.

" Is this the beauty we must pay with blood? How many men have died so we will get here to be gifted with one peek at your fanciest looks? … And yet, now that I see you, I can't say it was all in vain."

Nobody saw it coming, except perhaps his confidant numidian, and it certainly managed to amaze you more than anything you had ever heard from gladiators in the mood of practicing politeness. Reminiscense of your inside joke that sounded too personal to be mere jesting.

Trying to escape the inminent flustered reaction that would leave you in evidence through the blatant contrast on your salute to the gladiator, you turned back for a neutral approach doing a general comment on his.

" The romans will not believe this, Pa. We have a hero of the epic times, he even speaks like one ..."

Wisely cooling you down with his cynicsm, Proximo ruined the moment with his unamused reception of your appreciation.

" Guide Achilles to take his seat and let's begin, finding you doing the cooking was already a feat."

You accompanied everyone stiffling a chuckle, not precisely because of the callout made to you, but to the performance of the spaniard as an angry butcher screaming with brutal honesty to the crowd he despised. While every man took his distributed position, the joke left an aftertought that you couldn't keep to yourself.

"Achilles and Hector must have made a pact in the Underworld because both wanted to reborn in you, Spaniard."

You weren't ready for the lovely smirk the polite praise, aparently directed only to his gladiator persona on the arena, had accidentally caused. Despite way more subtle than your friendly, yet shamelessly playfull teasing with Haken, the intimate understandment going on made it land differently.

"I am amazed you got time to lead the cooking and then work in your looks with such great detail in both tasks. I didn't imagine you as a perfectionist."

Heading in the opposite direction to claim your space in front of them, you responded with pleased mischievousness.

" You are not the onlyone who is full of surprises, ... and I got a great one for you. "

To a sign you gave, the scribe brought you back the mantle and you whispered him to help out pouring the wine from a nearby krater.

" Father wants to test as many uses as we can give of him, and I feel like one of those rich roman ladies with their educated greek manservants. For me this is also a testing exercise for the life in the capital, he will be evaluating my banquet manners." You explained for everyone, then subtly redirected your words to him. " I got you spaniard wine, turns out Pa keeps his storages well supplied. "

A quick look at the table showed how much effort you put on making them feel like free men having dinner in the house of a business associate. Roasted lamb, pork stewed with apples and even honey glazed mushrooms were on sight, among many other foods that wouldn't be normally destined to slaves. Breads of many types, kindly different from the one accustomed to be served with their usual Puls. No more fava beans, what everyone was thankfull of, but plates of cheese or fruit served instead. The small touch of a bowl with garum let Maximus know whoever you used to cook for before had roman tastes. He found a confirmation when you bragged a little bit about the Savillum awaiting them near the end of the meal, dish that you had to explain to the other gladiators.

You soon got them invested in a talk about the foods they remembered from their countries, telling on your part some food related anecdotes from your past in the countryfield villa. Proximo casually critiziced the guardians of your early years, claiming the owner of the place was an intelectual that despised the arena but liked bucolic poetry without having worked his fields for a single day of his life. He sounded very satisfied of having rescued you from them, but the Spaniard identified in his claims more than that arrogant relief of being your savior.

A certain cheer of knowing he would get to spend his old age in company of a daughter that admired him, since those intelectuals he cursed couldn't poison her mind against him. Despite he would never say it out loud, choosing to take you with him wasn't a mere act of rescue happening after he acknowledged your existence. Getting to be a father as an old man must have been a strange, late joy for him.

In his reproaches followed by reluctant indulgences there was proof that you were the only thing Proximo cared about more than riches. For once, the general turned gladiator could relate to his perspective.

As parents they got reversed fates: his master finding a daughter late while he himself had lost his boy too early. In the silly anecdots about you driving him crazy that your father started sharing for those who didn't got to witness many, Maximus found a strange remembrance for what he lost. While Juba felt somewhat encouraged by the context to tell you bits about his daughters, he couldn't speak of his son.

The weight of his memory renewed his strenghts, and he noticed Haken was getting bored at that point of the talk because he was probably the only man there who haven't been a father yet. He certainly mentioned to never have had a wife, and that was an excellent point to start planting seeds between the two of you.

" You are always very vocal about your chances to win the freedom we all chase. If you make it, you must start thinking in one. " He casually commented, a disguised advice. " There is no greater joy for the free man than going back home to find the smile of his lovely wife. No amount of paid company will give you that, the most experienced prostitute won't replicate the passion of a wife giving herself to you out of love."

The recommendation was very unexpected, specially because the german didn't want any kindness from his contestant.

" Who would have thought the Spaniard is a hopeless romantic? " Haken teased him towards you. " Is that why you like him?"

Being midly exposed left you out of options and you decided to escape with a joke.

" He may appear to the crowd as an unstoppable force of destruction, but he is the sweetest. "

Your father limited you on purpose becase he wanted to make a speech and bring back some seriousness to the moment. It was deviating too far of his own interests, which weren't the spread of sentimentalisms or watching you flirt with the Spaniard.

" One obvious reason why my sentimental daughter has convinced me of giving you this early show of what glory can bring you, it's because some of you simply won't make it … Not at least in your current conditions. " He began, airs of greatness coming from his past speaking for him. " Rome is not forgiving of the mistakes you three make surviving the province. In the sand of the Coliseum, magnificent beyond your wildest dreams, even your most trusted strenghts can morph into weaknesses. "

He made a brief pause evaluating the reactions before delivering his strongest conclussion.

" Being the strongest won't save you, going unnoticed is a death sentence from the crowd, and rabid butchering followed of insults won't impress them. You may think I am not to be trusted, but there is wisedom in my words you are invited to take. "

The three gladiators looked at their sides, silently attributing to each other every critic. Seeing that your father was about to scare them, you rephrased the intentionality of his speech.

" If of me depended, the three of you would find freedom in Rome. I watched you fight, mourn and laugh. You all deserve it, maybe more than anyone else here. " You suddenly interrupted, in a ceremonial yet comforting tone. " If I could, I would face the Emperor for you. I would beg the son of Marcus Aurelius to have one more mercy with this family and release my friends, the best gladiators I ever had the honor of meeting in my father's home."

The mere idea raised concern on the Spaniard. He knew that, for him and out of loyalty to everyone else there, you could be able of trying such reckless movement. You would do anything believing to be helping his cause, lovely infatuated as you were.

" I have no doubt that you would, that's why your father will have to keep you well surveiled."

He gave you a mischievously reprehensive look and you hid the reaction giving a sip of wine.

" It's good to know all of us count with your support. " Juba completed, with calm relief. " You said you don't like to play favorites, but the crowd does. "

" We are her favorites, but I got to keep her by my side the longest. " Haken pridefully corrected. " You see, she is like a good luck charm: the men she grows fond of always prosper. "

" There are exceptions, like this greek eunuch " Proximo mocked his superstitious talking by pointing at the scribe. " His only use is to keep her entertained as a companion. "

" He will prove himself to you, just like the Spaniard did." You defended the man, curiously glancing at the gladiator instead. " Blame me for having faith, but he deserves it."

The bright in your eyes left him no space for doubts, he knew you weren't really talking about the scribe. For as long as he was forced to endure more of Proximo's tecnical complains on the perfomances of his men regarding the challening tastes and demmands of romans, your reassuring expressions reacting to each remark eased the situation for him.

For as much as you bragged about the dessert you successfully prepared, or the wine you got in honor of his home, neither of those details were the biggest surprise you had in mind. Certain aspects of your planification escaped even your expressed saids to your father, who would end up as surprised as the guests of your table when you cheerfully announced you would bring entertainment for them.

Near the end of the meal, when everyone was quite saciated from food, drinks and conversation, you pridefully stood up as a follow up from the claim that kept the men struggling to guess what would be your next step.

" This is a home of performers, so tonight it is my wish to perform for your entertainment. " You sweetly informed. " Unfortunately for us, I am not instructed in many arts, but I will offer you the one I believe my finest. "

You looked at your father with a cheerfull smile, easing him and looking for his approbation in the same action.

" I have been told that, in Rome, people are fond of acts that tell stories. Gladiatorial spectacles are sometimes structured as stories that narrate the victories of the past for the glory of it. For this, I am going to enact a little tale for you in my singing. "

The introduction made you sound like you were about to become the master of ceremonies of your own act, to what you proceeded into a detailed narration.

" Going back long before Mars loved the virgin Silvia, when Aeneas was still in Troy, yet not remained there for too long. The ruse of Odysseus to conquer the brightfull city had worked, and the greek warriors awaited inside of the giant wooden horse. Undetected by the citizens they were, untill the doubtfull scheming of one among them put their feat in great risk."

Noticing the mood of the small audience, you saw the gladiators in attentive silence and a smile in your father's face. He looked almost proud, and that would only encouraged you.

" In slow, gallant pace, Helen circled the horse three times calling for the greeks. One by one, in her voice they heard the voices of their distant wifes. The memory of their loved ones torturing them, blessing them, invited them to expose themselves in risk of their own survival. Believing to be reuniting with his wife, one man responding to her and the so longed vengeance would have been ruined. "

Something had changed in the calm semblance of the Spaniard, like a sudden fright imperceptible enough for most. Seeing this shift inspired you to shorten the explanations.

" Far from seeking to torture you, I invite you to relax and find in my voice the call of your merriest thoughts. "

Taking a guess in what you were about to do, your father stepped aside. Curiosity kept him surveiling the scene instead of calling him to stop you because it showed him how much attention you have put listening to his tales, how you looked up to him. Being the master of ceremonies of her own arena, his girl had presented herself to perform like an entertainer.

It was adorable, so he could only allow you the creative freedom taking distance alongside the scribe.

Enacting the scene you had just narrated, you began to pace around the gladiators singing about a young wife waiting for her husband describing him between declarations of love and longing. Slow, but confident were your steps circling the table, and you gave yourself completely to the performance adding little seductive quircks through an acting. Juba, the onlyone you knew to be a married man, took it as your well intentioned try to comfort him and inspire him. Your approach of him was perhaps more modest an innocent for this cause, what he appreciated.

If they would have been the crew of hidden greeks, Haken was perhaps the one closer to sentence everyone else to a certain death falling for your act. He would follow it whenever your attention was back on him, clearly responding with cheerfull enjoyment. If your hand would give a brief caress to his cheek, he would grab it to keep it still for just a bit longer, then tilt his head following your way with a smirk. In direct contrast with him was the Spaniard, biggest challenge on the crowd, precisely the one whose cheer you craved for the most.

Unamusement wasn't the source of his gelid receivement, but pretty much the opposite. Conflicted feelings and the incredible coincidence had frozen him on the spot to contemplate you in awe. You knew nothing about him, but in the choice of an act to get his attention you touched the core of his heart. Like the autentical Odysseus of the scene, he resisted with prudence in awareness that his plan for vengeance would be ruined once he would have given in to you. Like Helen tempting the men with the echoes of their wives, you were offering him a second chance in life if he would just take you. The whole gathering was your subtle proposal to him, showing over and over how much of a great wife you could be once he would have obtained his freedom. With a voice as bewitching as your image, you were determined to charm him in particular. The flirty manners with rest were collateral, part of a performance to appear less obvious.

Trapped between his enjoyment of the dangerously ethereal beauty in the performance and the melancholy for his tragically lost love that you had accidentally evoked, he stayed still as emotions overwhelmed him. Lacking a response must have been frustrating for you, but instead of ruining the act with tears of rejectment released in advance you embraced the role even harder.

The last notes came out as you cuped both of his cheeks, tilting his head slightly upwards teasing a kiss that would never happen. His challenging composure, and the tension building up between you, strangely reminded of the moment you meet him.

Good timing in the humor of your german friend saved everyone.

" ... And they say she can't find a husband because of us! "

The choir of laughter and clapping iniciated eased the situation. With the room cheering for you, only your beloved remained silent.

Ríght after your little thankfull salute, you teased him about it.

" At risk of sounding reiterative, I have to ask … Are you not entertained, Spaniard? "

He smiled as if nothing had happened, trying to fool you and himself equally.

" Not more than you want me to be … I think the german cheered the loudest"

You smirked, then pretended to be offended by the neutral review.

" Even after I played the role you found me? Well, I guess I owe myself to my audience then."

You blew a kiss for Haken and he gave you a cheeky wink.

" My friend! If only I was a free man ... you would be suffering no longer. "

You laughed together, untill he pushed Juba a little bit just to be able to round you against him with one arm.

Proximo respected the artistic liberties, but the disruptive time had ended with your performance and he was ready to reinforce the limits.

" You must be drunk off your ass if you think I would ever give her away to you."

His voice reminded you of his presence and you rushed towards him with excitement.

" Pa!! Aren't you going to talk of my act? I didn't tell you about it so you wouldn't have an evaluation ready. "

Noticing you were awaiting with expectation made him more proclive to allow himself a cheerfull reaction even if his men were nearby.

" And when was I supposed to find out my girl is a songbird with acting skills? " He praised you right away. " I allways suspected that you could be more than the country peasant they raised you as. It runs in your blood … You are an entertainer, just like your father! "

Careless for anything else to his display of pride, you hugged him as he kept cheering out loud.

" We will get filthy rich!! Perfect the act, repeat it in a roman banquet, and you will get a herd of wealthy men bringing gifts. If the rumours spread far enough and your fame grows, maybe one day you may even perform for the young emperor. "

His observations got you in blissfull disbelief, so after releasing him you objected the too grandious ideation.

" I was just playing for my friends! I found my voice singing to entertain myself in the farm. You can't possibly think I can become that good."

Before he would get to reply, and faithfull to his strange compulsion, the Spaniard interrupted.

" Are you thinking of selling your own daughter to Commodus now that you found an exploitable talent of hers? That's low, Proximo. Even for you."

" My darling, he worries for me!! " You commented with delight getting your attention briefly back in him. " Fear not, I will explain him. "

Trying to sound as nice as you could, you revealed the small infidence he once made you.

" You know I don't like to critizice your business associates, so I tried to say nothing for as long as I could. Spaniard heard rumours in the legion … And that man? He is bad as disease. "

The reprobatory nod you gave was funny, but it didn't manage to convince your father.

" Why should we believe in him? He didn't even bother to tell us his name."

It was a plausible answer, but the gladiator had something ready for it.

" You don't have to, but there is wisedom in my words you are invited to take. "

Twisting the very own rethoric used on him earlier granted him a partial victory, and when you smiled for him from afar once more, the passion he only allowed himself to unleash through protectiveness found its correct outlet.

" Eres preciosa, … y no permitiré que ese hijo de puta te mire siquiera. "

Evidently impressed and slightly frightened, the scribe ended up exposing him.

" That's not something very appropiate to say about the Emperor of Rome. "

Making himself an echo of the collective surprise, Juba questioned him with increasing curiousity.

" Is his one of the seven languages? "

" Tell us what he said. " Haken followed. " I don't like his wicked grin, I could swear he is up to something."

The greek was all smiles seeing his skills were suddenly acknowledged.

"Indeed, I understand him … but I owe myself to my lady so you can ask her the full translation later. "

He was having a very particular little vengeance against the one who mocked him the loudest for his desperation at the arrival to the school. Perhaps encouraged by your protection, he mischievously showed off in front of the arrogant though whispering you the answer.

You eyes were open wide to the words he murmured, envisiong the meaning in the intense feeling that the original pronunciation gave you. According to your loyal accomplice, the Spaniard had said that he wouldn't allow the emperor, adressed in heavy curse words, to have even one peek of your beauty.

Shielding him with your lies, you mockfully repeated only the part in which he cursed Commodus so everyone could laugh and forget about it.

Was it merely a strong sense of protectiveness? Preventive jealousy? You couldn't possibly tell and it was driving you crazy. He spent the rest of the night being elusive of you, shielding himself in the extroverted nature of Haken so you could never approach him directly again like you have done before. Even his reserved best friend had became more talkative, or at least not subtly closed to your attempts of interact.

Progress made was completely lost, since he had shutted himself down again. Confused by the overal mistery that the man was, but at least happy for the good time you spent near all the other men, you could still say that your merry gathering was a success. Nice closure for one stage at the gateway for the biggest challenge of your lives: facing the great city. For them? The most brutal, and most glorious arena in the world. For you, it would be feeling small again fearing to stumble with the family of your mother. If she still lived, would you find her on the streets and not recognize her unless your father would be there to tell you? Those were things in which you prefered not to think about, or otherwise you would not be able to follow his excitement about leaving the province.

The success waiting for him, all the luxurious wonders of the capital, and your beloved gladiators proving their quality were merriest thoughts. And however, your wishfull thinking couldn't help going back to the same idea. A freshly freed Spaniard, triumphant despite his personal disdain for the emperor, finding his way in the capital. Carrying you in his arms to cross the threshold of his new home, that would be your home.

In the tangled mess of your fantasies you found at least one root of his strange behavior, and you couldn't believe how you couldn't see it before. The matter couldn't wait untill the next day, but you couldn't discuss it in front of your father, so you proceeded exactly in the way you have mastered.

Sneaking to the cages, even if it was a scandalous hour, so the guards will let you confront him before he would be locked up again. Seeing you arrive didn't surprise him, and having an accusing finger pointed at him even before privacy would allow you to be clear was enough to guess your motive.

" You have been trying to set me up with Haken the entire night … Why?? And don't dare to bring a man that has nothing to be with us into this again. "

He decided to defend himself being completely honest with you, even if that would expose you both to the uncomfortable truths.

" I did what a good friend does, helping you search a prospect seeing you started considering close to be liberted gladiators as a possible marriage strategy."

The callout hitted you strong, but you tried to save your dignity.

" That's absurd! And you clearly don't know him like i do, his jokes mean nothing. Haken won't be looking for a wife anytime soon."

Saying that, to change that, you just had to give him enough time behaving for him in the exact same way you would do for he himself would have been too provoking. It would have angered you, potentially exposing himself as well.

" But you think I will, … ever since you found out i want to win my freedom. You spoiled me so much tonight in order to prove me you could be a good wife. "

" Can you blame me for trying? After all, free men need wives. " You defended yourself. " Besides, you are very different from what one can expect from a champion. You rejected the pleasurable companies offered to you, and that persuasive little speech about the uniqueness of marital lovemaking made me guess you dream with finding a woman you can call your own. "

If there was a moment worthy of being direct, or at least teasing glimpses of his past to help you understand his attitude, it was precisely then. Knowing Rome was near meant for Maximus that, the less you would knew about him, the safest would be for you.

" Following me will keep you chasing ghosts, you are in love with a shadow. How can you be seeking to pursue a future alongside a man you don't know at all?"

His hands were holding your shoulders, more as a caress than a as a pressing grab, and he stared deeply into your eyes as he awaited for an answer.

It made you melt towards him, even if he seemed closer than ever to breaking your heart.

" Because every small discovering of him amazes me a little more, and every single day I wake up more in love than the night before. If I would have found my feelings completely denied, I would have desisted a long time ago. I can tell when I am not wanted, and I respect it, ... but everytime I think you are about to deny me you prove me otherwise. "

Your confused frustration was his fault, a mistake he had to ammend in the kindest way possible.

" Your are so close to make me love you, but I am not meant to have you. I can't afford this, neither it would be fair for you to take the load of treating wounds from my past. The tender flesh is still bleeding from a damage so deep they will never close. The german has only old scars, and sees a bright future ahead for himself."

The confession was stained by the cryptic phrasing surrounding it.

" Spaniard, you claim to be protecting me, but you are obsessed in speculating with other men's desires. You want Haken to fall for me arguing it's for my own good, you have this insane fear that the Emperor himself could want me if we ever meet because he is dangerous… How about you? Have you figured out how you feel for me?"

You took one of his hands and moved it close to your chest, pressing untill he would be able to feel the fastening beatings.

" Can you feel it raise for you? It's yours, even if I have no name for the only man that makes my heart beat like this. "

Intimacy as such was torture for the man in that context. Unable to respond, but craving to do so.

" You will get all the answers soon, I promise. "

The tranquilizing claim managed to make you smile, but it wasn't enough to satisfy your passionate curiosity.

" Can I get a kiss now? "

Your eyes searched for an answer in his face with wondering adoration and even despite the bad ilumination of the enviroment, he still found you lovely.

Gently cuping your cheeks to pull you closer towards him, he granted your wish for a kiss that was exactly as sweet and tender as he had imagined on how you deserved to be kissed.

#gladiator #gladiator 2000 #maximus decimus meridius #the spaniard #russell crowe #maximus decimus meridius x reader #maximus x reader #spaniard x reader

51 notes · View notes

bisexualchaosdemon · 10 months ago

Text

Something about Jeremy's POV of the Trojans vs. Foxes match is so special to me. He doesn't care about media bias, he merely judges them based on their actions on his court. And he shows them so much respect and admiration because that lets him see that they deserve it.

The Foxes are constantly belittled or heralded as dangerous when they're really just kids with fucked up pasts, trying their best to be decent people. I think we get to see that really beautifully through Jeremy's eyes. He watches one of the Foxes (Allison?) steady Xavier instead for going straight for the ball. The Foxes are genuinely kind human beings, they are just misjudged or dismissed far too often.

And they are actually good players! Jeremy is the captain of one of the top three teams in the nation and he's genuinely amazed by their performance. When on an even playing field with the Trojans, the Foxes won 13-9. They had only lost two games all year, despite everything.

(It wasn't just that they only had nine players either, they were forced to adapt in absolutely crazy ways to survive — Both Neil and Kevin played full games without a sub. They had a goalie playing as a backliner and a dealer playing a striker. And, later, a striker playing a backliner. What other team could pull that off? But, I digress.)

They faced too many unimaginable tragedies just that year, and never let it stop them. Jeremy, of course, wouldn't know all of it, but the shit he did know — One of them died. One of them was assaulted and hospitalised for a couple of months. One of them was kidnapped, tortured, and almost killed by his own father.

Speaking of Neil — The bit where he catches Cat is everything to me. The world had just learned the truth about his murderous father and shady past. I'm sure many people would have written him off as dangerous, but Cat didn't shy away from him, and she trusted him to hold her up when she fell. Not only that, but Neil acts as though he only cares about the Foxes, but he caught her without hesitation. He was, in fact, the only Fox who managed to do so before their mark fell.

#tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #tsc #jeremy knox #neil josten #all for the game #aftg

100 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Ch. 5: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The basketball court is busy with activity when they arrive. Their classmates are all there, and Agamemnon is also there, and so is Ajax with Tecmessa and her friends. Ajax grins and waves excitedly at them from the bleachers.

“What you got there, runt?” he calls out to Achilles, who glares at him. He picks up the bundle that is in the basket at the front of his bike.

“Whatever it is, it isn’t for you,” he says, drawing the bag that was covering the object away.

It’s a brand new basketball, a limited edition, shiny and rough and still smelling of newness. The boys gather around to admire it.

“Now that,” Menelaus says as he takes it, passing from one hand to the other, “that's the good stuff.” He grins, dribbling it a little for show, then lifts it and bends his knees to throw, but Achilles snatches it back.

“I brought it, I get the first throw. Either Patroclus or I.”

Patroclus shakes his head wearily. “I’m not playing today.”

“Why?” Achilles gives him a stricken look. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“Hey, man, you can't do that now,” Menelaus cuts in anxiously before Achilles can speak. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to arrive all morning. You have to play. You’re the best defence we have. We’re counting on you.”

Patroclus glances at Menelaus, then at the other boys behind him that are watching the exchange with interest. They’re from Troy High, the nearby town’s high school. It’s practically a stone’s throw from Phthia, but the two schools have been in bitter rivalry since time immemorial. Menelaus himself has personal stakes in this match: everyone knows he has a crush on Helen, who in turn has been sweet on Paris for most of last year.

“We can’t let them come here and steal what’s ours, right?” Menelaus says, and several heads nod around them. “We gotta show them what’s what. And today, they’re going back to Troy with their tails between their legs, because we’ve got the better team and everyone knows it.”

“Damn straight.” Idomeneus laughs, clapping hands with Automedon and giving him a pound hug. The other boys cheer in agreement; Alcimedon tries to clap Achilles on the shoulder, but he irritably shrugs him off. He is watching Patroclus intently, as if he’s trying to see into the depths of him.

“If Patroclus doesn’t want to play, then he doesn’t have to,” Achilles says.

“Come on, Pelides—” Menelaus starts to protest, but snaps his mouth shut again when Achilles glares hotly at him.

“Patroclus says no, it’s a no, get it? End of discussion.”

Patroclus rubs at his temples. It’s too hot and too bright and everyone’s attention on him makes it hard to think clearly. He knows they can play just fine without him, and he doesn’t really care about the petty rivalry between the two schools, or between Menelaus and Paris for that matter, but he hates letting others down. Not when they’re counting on him.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Let’s do this.”

Menelaus grins from ear to ear, his ruddy cheeks brightening, and throws an arm over Patroclus’ shoulders in a rough brotherly hug. “These Trojans, they won’t know what hit them,” he says, then lets him go to shout obscenities at the Trojans, who respond in kind.

Achilles draws close to Patroclus, his brows still gathered in concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks him quietly, so the others won’t hear. “You don’t have to play if you don’t feel like it. We can just go back home, and— I don’t know, play video games or something. Listen to some music.”

“No,” Patroclus says. “No music.” When Achilles doesn’t drag his gaze away, Patroclus tries for a half smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

The teams separate, and they all take their positions. The game starts, and the tension ramps up with it. Within the first ten minutes, Menelaus steals the ball from Hector and almost knocks him down, then has the ball stolen by Sarpedon, who lunges forth and sinks a two pointer from the freethrow line. There are shouts and shoves and various accusations of fouls and wrong-doings being thrown left and right. It’s a rough and fast-paced game, and it’s clear that both sides are bent on winning.

“Damn it,” Menelaus curses during the time-out, raking a hair through his unruly reddish-brown hair. “Get it together, team. They’re only four points ahead of us. We need to catch up with them, and fast. Are you with me?”

The boys whoop excitedly and high-five each other. Achilles rolls his eyes. “It’s a game, Menelaus, not a pissing match.”

“Yeah, well, even in a pissing match you need strategy,” Menelaus counters. “Anyway, as we said: don’t let them break through our lines, right? That’s you, Pat. Don’t give them an inch.”

“You don’t have to keep telling him that,” Achilles snaps at him, scowling.

"I— I don't mind," Patroclus says, but Achilles doesn't even grace him with an answer before he grabs the ball and heads back into the court.

The game starts more decisively in favour of the Phthia team this time. Achilles gets the rebound from Menelaus's missed shot and races down to the other side of the court, sinking a layup before anyone else has even crossed the half-court line. The team and the crowd watching from the bleachers either cheer with joy or shout with frustration. There’s only two points separating each team now; they’re neck and neck, and any throw could mean victory or loss.

The Trojans don’t let them enjoy their triumph for too long. Paris steals the ball from Automedon and rushes across the court; Menelaus blocks his way, but Paris plants his feet on the ground instead of brushing past him, and throws. The ball hovers over the net for a bit, swishing around the hoop before it falls through. More cheers, more arguing, and then Sarpedon takes the ball and attempts to cross the midline again, when he comes face to face with Patroclus.

Patroclus isn’t quite as fast as Achilles, nor does he have a stronger throw than Menelaus, but he’s taller and knows how to guard their side well. Sarpedon dribbles the ball, tries to pivot, but Patroclus steps before him again. Exasperated, the other boy grabs the ball and prepares to throw it over his head. When Patroclus jumps with him and slaps the ball out of his hands, the entire court erupts in hoots and applause.

“Time out,” Hector calls from across the court. He eyes Patroclus warily, as if sizing him up, before turning towards his team.

Patroclus brushes a hand through his sweaty curls. His glasses are steaming, and he wipes them on his shirt. There isn’t much time left, and both teams have almost used up their time-outs. Soon enough, a victor will be declared. Patroclus simply hopes the result will be accepted with alacrity. Little hope of that, he thinks as he kneels to tie his shoelaces.

“Hey, you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #johaerys writes

21 notes · View notes

anne-bsd-bibliophile · 2 years ago

Text

While rereading Henry V by William Shakespeare, I remembered how much I love Captain Fluellen! He’s a proud Welshman who is kind of old-fashioned when it comes to war etiquette, but he is very reliable and has a big heart (and his accent kills me). Here are some of my favorite moments with Fluellen:

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

GOWER O, 'tis a gallant king! FLUELLEN Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born! GOWER Alexander the Great. FLUELLEN Why, I pray you, is not pig great? the pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations. GOWER I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it. FLUELLEN I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

GOWER Captain Fluellen! FLUELLEN So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the greatest admiration of the universal world, when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle toddle nor pibble pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise. GOWER Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night. FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? in your own conscience, now? GOWER I will speak lower. FLUELLEN I pray you and beseech you that you will.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER GOWER Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy's day is past. FLUELLEN There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, asse my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in place where I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. Enter PISTOL GOWER Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. FLUELLEN 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you! PISTOL Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. PISTOL Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. FLUELLEN There is one goat for you. Strikes him Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it? PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die. FLUELLEN You say very true, scauld knave, when God's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. Strikes him You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. GOWER Enough, captain: you have astonished him. FLUELLEN I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb. PISTOL Must I bite? FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities. PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat and eat, I swear-- FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you: will you have some more sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by. PISTOL Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat. FLUELLEN Much good do you, scauld knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 'em; that is all.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

FLUELLEN By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly. Hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles' and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you. WILLIAMS I will none of your money. FLUELLEN It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so good: 'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

#henry v #william shakespeare #captain fluellen #my favorite shakespeare play #i read my paperback copy of this play until it was falling apart #it's what started my major shakespeare obsession in high school

7 notes · View notes

knickknacksandallthat · 2 years ago

Note

Bleeding Red and Gold

So you can see the original Bleeding Red and Gold answer here, anon, but I'll post one more small snippet to pair with it! Thanks for asking!

So at the end of the day, it’s clear Jeremy Knox must be some kind of saint.

And maybe the theological comparison is more apt because of how easily Jean can picture it in his mind’s eye: Jeremy painted in the renaissance style with bright and bold colors of red, pink, and gold. Muscles and flesh on display as silk cloth and armor are draped around him. His expression calm and serene yet also fierce and dazzling. A force to behold.

Jean sometimes gets this intense ache to paint him as the archangel Michael, squishing the head of the dragon beneath him. Good triumphing over evil. The epic defeat of his fallen brother, Lucifer, again and again.

A perfectly apt comparison for Riko in Jean’s mind.

He gets now why the Raven hated Jeremy so. Why he put a dart board up with Knox’s face on it in the Nest. Why he would hack and slash at it often, ripping the picture to pieces before putting a new one up to start all over again.

Because Jeremy was naturally everything Riko wished he could be. A natural-born leader, charismatic and adored, with brilliant Exy skills, an unflappable and popular media presence, and the undeniable fact of being just an all-around, genuinely amazing person.

There is no one else who can compare. None of the Trojans even try as they all understand Jeremy is at a level only he can reach. Far up on a pedestal, high above them, where they have no choice but to stand back and admire his greatness.

And so Jean figured it would always be that way. After all, he would never dare to compare himself to the great captain. As his therapist says, it’s enough that Jean is surviving on his own, making it through each day and taking small strides forward. He has no time or mental space to try and compete with the likes of Jeremy Knox, the ultimate in human perfection.

Until one day, when their entire world comes crashing down around them. One day, when Jean gets a real glimpse of the man behind the myth. One day that changes Jean’s life forever.

And it’s all because of some pancakes.

#bleeding red and gold #aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #jeremy knox #jerejean #wip game #fic asks #lovely people

6 notes · View notes

slettlune · 6 months ago

Text

SECOND HALF in which the entire trojan war gets admirably shortened to about three songs

also closing thoughts about the entire thing

i was SO excited for hector having a song of his own but 'no turning back' is not the kind of song i wanted for him

it is really sexy that the trojan choir has both female and male members though, especially when they go "death to our enemies"

okay NOW there's a timeskip, haha. i was wondering how this would unfold. it feels very abrupt though. "oh god the greeks are gonna attack us" and then "well here we are ten years later, agamemnon what the hell are you doing with achilles' slave girl"

i wonder how in the weeds we're gonna get about achilles and agamemnon when this is paris' story

okay that is a fairly efficiently pared down version of the conflict, actually. briseis never gets mentioned by name but at least it conveys that achilles is fed up with agamemnon's leadership

hoho i LOVE the gentle emotion in quast's voice singing the line "agamemnon you divide us all / with your bitching and brooding"

i like patroclus having a point of view song about his feelings. "oh achilles the blood-stained killer... am i a part of you? are you a part of me?"

but then patroclus has to make it weird calling him "my sometimes father / my sometimes son" just guys being related dudes

i wish the guy cast as achilles could sound sad. but fine, he is SUPREMELY creepy and intimidating in all his non-emotional scenes, it's a tradeoff

OH AND ACHILLES AND HECTOR ARE ALREADY ABOUT TO DUEL. shit did we just do almost the entirety of the iliad in two songs. that IS efficient!

wait so if hector's about to die did they actually NOT do the "hector yells at paris for not being on the battlefield" scene?? in the paris-centered musical??

oh my GOD what IS hector's power ballad about love at THIS point in the narrative. "it's better to love and lose than to never love at all". is he singing that to andromache?? yeah like THAT'S the moral of hector's story...!

paris' shocked "you murdering BASTARD" at achilles is so funny. paris everyone's been fighting a war for ten years because you won't give up someone else's wife. everybody been murdering bastards for some time now

achilles at paris: "you may be good with women, boy / but you're no match for me" 🤨

ohhh so in this version paris asks aphrodite to preserve hectors corpse AND to guide his aim to kill achilles. which is narratively efficient but it bums me out that there is exactly one god in this entire trojan war

fuck YES the ulysses-in-disguise scene is a waltz. i go bananas whenever moments of deception are conveyed in 3/4

ulysses is so at a loss he prays to athena. ladies and gentlemen a second god has entered the trojan war!!

ULYSSES AGREES TO BECOME A HEAD WITHOUT A HEART!! he trades his happiness for athena to help him find a way to end the war. that is a very new direction to take the wooden horse and the odyssey but tbh i'm kinda into it

"we need to find a stooge / a fool / sinon, you're perfect!" "whuh?" KILLED ME

'inside outside' is awful and it just KEEPS GOING. WE GET IT YOU'RE DRUNK AND BURPING. NOT THE ENCORE. PLEASSSSE.

okay NOW helen finally says she loves paris, she's sounded very noncommittal and kinda humoring him about it up to this point honestly

oh and then there's a reprise of hector's love power ballad. THIS DOESN'T FEEL LIKE SOMETHING COMING FULL CIRCLE. WHY WAS IT HECTOR'S SONG TO BEGIN WITH AND ALSO HE SANG THAT LIKE. ONLY FOUR SONGS AGO

AND IT'S DONE.

okay yeah okay. i still think a good portion of the music is GREAT. digging the performances. and i have to remind myself it's a concept album because narratively it's kinda... there are some very unbalanced elements here. the complicated plot of the iliad is impressively pared down but then it kinda fails to focus back in on paris, he's missing through most of the second half, and ulysses takes over the protagonist role. also the whole "love conquers all" thing doesn't really work when it provably doesn't conquer anything on this occasion.

secondly, paris doesn't grow at all. he doesn't acknowledge his fault in the war, he doesn't acknowledge his fault in hector's death. he doesn't look back at the end and think about the things he's been through. it's just "i'll always love you mwah mwah. okay i'mma die now".

i'm still gonna listen to my favourite songs a billion times.

alright paris the musical liveblog let's gooooooo

FIRST HALF! watch me lose all principles whenever i think a melody is nice

like idk man the poster for this gives me that HE ONLY DID IT FOR LOVE thing with paris that doesn't appeal to me, that's why i haven't checked it out before. i feel they're gonna turn him into a hapless but sympathetic hero. bet there won't be an oenone. but here we go

IT'S SO EIGHTIES. I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS THIS EIGHTIES. oh this is good actually

when homer (!) is dramatically presenting all the main players, in my mind i can't help but see them strike sassy poses as the spotlights hit them, their sequins flashing. "agamemnon! of mycenea!"

"ulysses! of ithaca! / longs for peace and security" i don't know if i like that as the main trait he's introduced with but okay let's see how he works in this paris-centered narrative

'head without a heart' IS SO GOOD. ohh it's just the kind of eighties' vibe i like.

oh this this framing might place the blame of the trojan war more at paris' feet than helen's, which i like, but also that he's just a stupid youngster, and that's interesting too: "Not some mad messiah of destruction and fire / Just a lovestruck youth"

ohhh and i LOVE paris interacting directly with cassandra! he never seems to do that in any adaptations. "Sister, please don't grieve / I've learned my part to the letter"

'straight ahead': HOLY SHIT GET HYPE. it's so extremely "cool protagonist is finally gonna live his life" opening number. it's weird to have paris be that kind of protagonist. but also it makes me think about how this poor shepherd boy was the WORST guy to make an ambassador, like cassandra IS right about that.

ugh i don't like when they put the weird histrionic plot stuff in the middle of a cool-ass song.

i'm dying at the others screaming at paris while he's like "the sea and sky :D my friends and i :D what could go wrong, what could -AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

paris falls in love with helen at first sight and assumes she's aphrodite. does aeneas know paris is weird about his mom. oh my god i just realized EVERYBODY'S weird about aeneas' mom, that's gotta be exhausting for him

"i married young, in love with power" oh it's one of those where helen's unhappily married. sigh. okay.

OH the way 'business' takes off after agamemnon's evil laugh. i'm appalled at the characterization but i'm just gonna have to roll with it because the music in this thing rocks

THERE HE IS! QUAST-PATROCLUS. who's like "ummmmm wHY are we having a meeting without my bestie achilles here"

OHH AGAMEMNON TRICKED ACHILLES SO HE WOULDN'T APPEAR AND BE VOTED COMMANDER. okay if we're doing evil agamemnon at least he's clever

oh this is a rum tum tugger-ass achilles omg. ohh i hate this but it's so funny. weakest character song so far

ahahaaa ulysses looking at paris' rags and telling him "To gain entry by disguise is an excellent ploy / I shall remember that, prince of Troy"

i enjoy helen being kinda exhausted by the whole thing. "Stop your adoration, I don’t need complications / I'm not a goddess, I am king Menelaus’ wife"

evil agamemnon using the abduction for his own political gain. hm. that makes sense actually (as long as he's evil i mean)

oh now 'thief in the night' establishes that menelaus really loves helen, i didn't expect that from this kind of framing. how is this gonna end now

HELEN HAS SUDDENLY KILLED SOMEONE? WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN SONGS??

"I love her / I believe she loves me" I WISH SOMEONE WOULD ASK HER. I THINK IT WOULD BE GOOD TO MAKE SURE.

jon english who wrote this also plays hector and does NOT give himself enough songs to go ham on, god his voice is so good when he's PUSHING IT

#adaptations tag

3 notes · View notes

blacksunscorpio · 3 years ago

Text

Astro Musings No. 11

Venus/Jupiter aspects in the natal chart...

Will make someone generally likable, charming, generous, and agreeable- especially if it's a conjunction, trine, or sextile you're working with. They'll be the person who might be incredibly popular or someone whose creativity [Venus] is magnified [Jupiter]. They might be very beautiful or well known for their good looks. However, throw a square to Chiron in the mix and this individual might have a hard time believing it. Since Chiron is the place in our chart where we wear our inner wound and a square indicates conflict, the pain to either of these planets has to do with beliefs, how we're educated, and the overall philosophy of life. One could perhaps have a lot of doubt as to whether they are truly attractive. They could be bullied or hated for their attractiveness or popularity. On the other hand, Jupiter Squaring Chiron can make someone have severe wounds concerning their spiritual beliefs. It's common to see this aspect in charts of people who were forced into a particular belief system or religion. In addition, it's also an indicator of those who were abused by organized religion. Often the case/in charts of those in the LGBTQ community who were perhaps shunned by conventional western religious constructs.

12th House Synastry is a bit like Russian Roulette...

Not to scare any of you with significant placements within this house synastrically or in composite, but remember what I said in Astro Musings 1 about Neptune? Wherever he is, there's going to be a feeling that something is hidden. Deception will be a big factor or just naivete or idealism. More so if the aspects in this house are squares/oppositions. With the Trines and Conjunctions, the energy here can feel incredibly spiritual and binding. [Don't bust out the champagne yet, I said FEEL binding- it doesn't mean it necessarily will be]. Sorry. North Node/Neptune might make you two dream of each other or have this strange 6th sense concerning them and their energy. Moon and Neptune will make two people have an uncanny knack for knowing what the other is thinking. It will feel downright Soul-Mate-esque. The same if Mercury and Neptune are joined.

Now, if the aforementioned aspect is afflicted, two people will Pinocchio the fuck out of each other.

The lies will be endless. Now this might not even be malicious, it's more so two people don't want to disappoint each other, so they put on an act they think the other will appreciate/wants to see. There's a lot of pressure to live up to the other person's expectations. Most of the time, the mask will inevitably fall off and bitter feelings may ensue. Choose honesty first.

Aspects to the ruler of the first house will have a similar vibe to aspects on the ascendant.

That’s because your chart ruler and it’s planet are leading your entire chart in energetic expression. By proxy, whatever happens to it [ruler of the 1st], wherever it is in your chart, will be magnified and displayed. For example, if you’re a Scorpio rising but Pluto is in your 3rd house, it might be very apparent to others that you speak and think deeply. Your communication can feel very “psychiatric" and probing. It might be the first thing people notice about you. If you’re a Sag rising and your Jupiter is in your 10th House, you could make a career out of travel or be famous. Everyone will notice your larger than life persona.

Aquarius Moon in the 5th just like these other aspects, can be an indicator of one who might have a fear of motherhood or pregnancy in general. In addition, One with a Cancer Lilith in the 6th might choose career over motherhood. In a woman’s chart, it can also be an indicator of someone who has reproductive [4th house/moon] issues [especially if there are afflictions].

Lilith in the 6th house may feel that they give more than they get. They might also reject the idea of daily work and routine or general discipline. There can be scandal’s at work as well. Wherever Lilith is, you can guarantee that there’s going to be some ‘taboo’ energy involved. Since 6th house is one of the money/career houses, it can indicate that this taboo will be related to whatever you do for a living.

Placements for those who love animals

Will be Neptunian placements ftw. Neptunians/Piscean placements tend to have a monopoly on the “beast whisperer” thing. That’s because Animals sit between the physical and the spiritual world. They see shit we can’t. So they’ll often take to those with strong “veil” energy.

Cancerian’s come in at a cool 2nd. This is because their heightened sensitivity make animals feel them quite strongly. They also have strong nurturing energy which will draw pets to them.

Leos at No. 3- Leonine placements have an uncanny love for animals due to their playful and warm energy. Being ruled by the sun, they’ll be literally “beacons of light” for furry friends.

Virgo is ruler of the 6th house of work and routine. Because of their natural capability towards order and discipline, I often see this sign as pet owners. Often these natives have more than one. They’ll be the sign that has Fido trained and operating like clockwork.

Speaking of animals, the signs I’ve seen to take to cats more than canines are Scorpio and Capricorn. Because of these two sign’s affinity towards introversion, it’s no surprise that one of the most introverted breed of animal feels right at home among them. On the flipside, I’ve seen on numerous occasions where dogs become quite obsessed [Pluto] with Scorpios, on the occasion where they’re not scared of them.

In a female’s chart, Having asteroid Aphrodite squaring her Lilith

will mean her beauty will have a forbidden fruit vibe to it. Her charm will be directly tied to her wild femininity. However, there may be struggles in how she expresses it. Typical placement for someone whose kindness or mild flirtation will be received as overtly sexual. Her charm and grace might have a playboy or pornstar vibe or she may get her value from expressing herself sexually. It can also indicate one who is just oversexed in general. Be sure to keep those Trojans on hand and get those yearly check ups. Nothing wrong with expressing yourself in such a way but Lilith can also indicate diseases of the venereal nature, especially if in the sign of Scorpio or afflicted in the 8th House

Talent in Fashion Design in the Natal Chart will be

Sun in Libra [Andre Leon Talley]

Venus in the 10th

Taurus 10th House

Libra 10th House

Venus in Virgo

Venus in the 6th

Moon conjunct Venus

Venus in the 2nd House

Mercury in harmonious aspect to Venus

Neptune in Libra

Venus in Sagittarius [Expansive/creative mindset/abundance]

Neptune in harmonious aspect to Venus [Anna Wintour]

Talent in Libra

Scorpio Stelliums [Pluto rules the underworld where jewels and finery reside- Gianni Versace and Anna Wintour have this in their charts- So does Grace Kelly]

Having Nessus in Capricorn can indicate that the father figure in your life might have been a bit abusive or a source of pain.

Having Asteroid Talent in the sign of Gemini might make one very well adept at wordplay. They could have a talent for writing or have hardcore skill at wit. In the 12th house might make them very skilled at writing fantasy or even writing for film/fiction.

Uranus in the 1st can make someone unusual looking, they may look androgynous or dress in a ‘rebellious’ or ‘avant-garde’ way. I’ve also seen 1st house Uranians have flat affects. They can have a demeanor that comes off as detached or in general RBF.

Speaking of Uranus, if you had an absentee father figure...

check to see if your 4th house has Aquarian or Uranian influence. In addition, see if your Sun is inconjunct to your Uranus or squaring it. 9 times out of 10 when I’m analyzing a birth chart, I have a native tell me their father skipped out or split from life very early. There’s always a story there.

Asteroid Psyche touching your 10th house/MC might make you a very skilled Psychologist. Asteroid Psyche [16] is about the mind/soul. If it’s in the house of work/reputation/prestige, you might apply this asteroid's energy to your career

Multi-planet oppositions in the natal chart

Will indicate a push-pull in your natal energy. You’ll be the person who struggles between two mindsets constantly.

If it’s between Gemini and Sagittarius you’ll struggle with the logical and philosophical. You may have constant existential crises. On a positive note, if you’re able to balance it, you’ll be able to see multiple sides of an argument. This is an ideal aspect for someone who debates, is in law, or journalism. If it’s between

Cancer or Capricorn you will deal with wanting to be self-sufficient but also have a deep need to nurture or be nurtured.

The Sign your Sun/Rising is in in your Solar Return Chart

Will usually indicate the energy you’ll take on for the year. In Aquarius your might be tech minded and quite detached. In Virgo, you may be especially detail oriented and cerebral. In Scorpio you may find yourself more emotionally sensitive, probing, or ruthless that year. In Leo, you may be more outgoing- self-centered, or unusually popular.

A Taurus Venus will like to feed you to show you they love you. Being Wined and Dined is how this Venus placement likes to demonstrate they care. They may also like to give you gifts to show you their admiration.

Sorry to break it to you, mutable gang...

But Sagittarius, Gemini, Virgo, and Pisces are among the top signs found in Serial Killers. I.E

Ted Bundy- Sagittarius

Jeffrey Dahmer- Gemini

John Wayne Gacy- Pisces

Mary Bell- Gemini

George Chapman- Sagittarius

Charles Cullen- Pisces

Danny Rolling- Gemini

Marybeth Tinning- Virgo

Alton Coleman- Sagittarius

Kenneth Bianchi- Gemini

Andras Pandy- Gemini

Dean Carter- Virgo

Andrew Cunanan- Virgo

Richard Ramirez- Pisces

Randy Steven Kraft- Pisces

Terry Blair- Virgo

Timothy Krajcir- Sagittarius

Yikes....

Taurus Suns, 11th House Virgos, Cancer/Capricorn 5th Houses, and Libra 7th Housers are typically the “Parent/Mom/Dad” of their friend groups.

Believe it or not, when it comes to “jealousy” over material things, it’s not Scorpio. Taurean/Leo placements [typically risings and Suns and moons] and especially underdeveloped will be the types to hate on you for having something [Usually clothing, car, house, etc] they want. Scorpios, though famous infamous for the jealousy stereotype, will usually show this trait only in romantic entanglements. This is because Scorpio is a water sign. Their primary mode of operation has to do with the emotional realm.

Mars in the 10th House is usually seen in those who make athletics part of their career.

Mars in Gemini have the most savage comebacks. They will make you feel so stupid if you argue with them. Mars is war and Gemini is wit. You’ll be hard pressed to win a battle of words with them.

I find those with Mars in Aquarius or aspecting Uranus will swing both ways sexually, regardless of how they identify.

Venus in Aquarius don’t really like to be touched/hugged. Picture Voldemort hugging Draco. Ironically, they will usually be the type of people to take up professions where they have to touch others. I've seen copious nurses with their Venuses touching Aquarius. Massage therapists as well. Might have something to do with the love [Venus] of helping others [Aquarius].

Those with multiple planets in the 12th House can make excellent actors. This is because their personality is in a mutable house. They can morph and chameleonize themselves very easily. Superb for taking on multiple personalities for their craft.

Men with Mercury in Leo, Capricorn, or harmonious aspect to Pluto tend to have very deep voices. There’s also a soothing vibe to them as well. James Earl Jones, Liam Neeson, and Anthony Hopkins all have these placements.

Contrary to popular opinion, Gemini isn’t the only sign that can be a “jack of all trades”. In fact, Libra Suns often fit in in various roles/professions. This has a lot to do with their diplomatic nature. Because they are often the peacemaker and a bit passive than their cousins, they are often welcomed in many different circles. This allows them to excel with networking/social climbing.

Jupiter conjunct/Square Saturn and Capricorn 9th Housers

are the placement[s] I see the most in those who have a deep skepticism of Astrology. Their belief system can be rather rigid [Saturn] which makes it harder/ for them to be open minded [Jupiter] to other schools of thought.

Each Planet/Sign rules a day of the week. Whichever day you were born can inadvertently make you take on some of the traits of that sign, regardless of what your “big 3″ are.

For example: If you were born on a Wednesday, ruled by Mercury, you can be especially cerebral or witty. Tuesday, ruled by Mars can make you fiesty, athletic and perhaps a bit impatient like Arians. Friday, ruled by Venus can make you extremely charming and friendly. Saturday, ruled by Saturn can make you extremely entrepreneurial-minded whereas being Born on a Monday [Moon] can make you security and family oriented.

Venus in Sagittarius, Sagittarius 5th House, 2nd House in Sag or Venus Aspecting Neptune in the sign of Sag might make one have an affinity for entertainment from foreign countries. I see these placements in the charts of those who enjoy anime, foreign film, or those who have a knack for languages [lot of trines to Jupiter is also an indicator of the latter.]

Asteroid Priapus... will make you want to uncontrollably merge with someone.

[I’m not even kidding. I had this aspect with someone and my Priapus touched their Jupiter and I wanted to tear the kid’s clothes off. All my friends had no idea what I saw in him. To them, he was not my “type”- whatever that means.] The sign Priapus is in will give you a hint as to what turns you on. In Virgo, someone clean cut, organized or well-groomed might tickle your fancy. In Libra, someone fashionable and sweet-natured. In Aries, someone outgoing or athletic, Capricorn, there can be an affinity for someone older, someone accomplished, or a general “daddy” fetish.

Sun conjunct Pluto or Sun Square Pluto...

will have gnarly authority issues. Same with Mars in the 1st or Mars in any of the career houses. They do not like being told what to do whatsoever. If you try to boss them around, they will do the opposite just to spite you.

In synastry, a Double Whammy of Sun/Pluto

energy will make two people addicted to each other. All their forbidden fantasies [Pluto] will be exemplified by the other person’s presence [Sun]. The sex will be on the rougher side and can make two people obsessed. However, if a break up were to occur, this placement will make it damn near impossible for two people to be friends again. There’s just too much passion involved.

Astro Musings No. 1 Astro Musings No. 2 Astro Musings No. 3 Astro Musings No. 4 Astro Musings No. 5 Astro Musings No. 6 Astro Musings No. 7 Astro Musings No. 8 Astro Musings No. 9 Astro Musings No. 10

#Astro musings #Astro Musings No. 11 #Hope this helps Y'all #FYP #Astrology #My writing #Blacksunscorpio #Enjoy #feel free to add in comments #astro tumblr #astro notes

897 notes · View notes