#historical grammatical

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

the trouble with learning a minority language is that once you've hit the upper-intermediate stage of actually reading books in the language and so on, it doesn't take very long to exhaust the books at your level that you have any interest in whatsoever, and then there aren't any more. so you read the ones you're not really interested in, but that feels like Work, because you're not really interested in them. but it doesn't exactly get better as you get more advanced because even the more difficult books tend not to correspond too closely to your preferred genres

[lacnunga]

god i love writing in-text letters

[disappointedart]

"Go, go, the Austrian is dead!"

Where my French revolution fans at?

[nekomas-solaris]

Na’vi translation needed

ok I’m very new at trying pronunciations for a fictional language I currently have no access to learning but I’ve got 2 OCs in the Pandora world.

Tsu’nayi is a genuine mix between a Na’vi and a human. I got it to theoretically work out if the dna is compatible even if the… natural way doesn’t work. But bottom line she’s a “failed experiment bc the scientists in charge somehow managed to flip the lung intake system so instead of a human dying when trying to breathe on Pandora, she’s suffocating when trying to breathe oxygen. Her name is derived from her experiment number: 293 (at least they’re similar.) Someone else decided to nickname her Tsu’nayi bc it’s similar sounding to tsunami bc Tsunami was typical, but taking out the ‘m’ is so much better! (Lol)

The next one is Kai’ne (I honestly pronounce it ‘Cane’). His I got from a Navi name generator and made a little backstory to make it plausible as well. He was called Adam bc he was the first of his kind. Some lady got her DNA sent in to have an avatar created and she didn’t find out she was pregnant till later. When the first mind link thing happened, the baby was connected as well and the mom died somehow (cause TBD) but the baby could now flip physically between his human and Na’vi form. However it is to be said that the Na’vi form usually shows in like life or death situations, but he could control it as time went on. After escaping from the scientists during one of the last raids before the 15 year time of peace, he changed his name to Kai’ne as a kind of way to “kill his former self.”

I’m honestly just curious if those names are grammatically correct or if there’s a more accurate name to call them. Any advice would be appreciated tho!

[penhive]

Types of Sentences

Sentences can be classified into grammatical, semantic, and Philosophical sentences.

Grammatical Sentences are:

Simple Sentence

Simple sentence is the one which consists of one independent clause. Example is she dances well.

Compound Sentence

Compound sentences consist of 2 independent clauses joined by and, for or so. Example is I have done my homework and I am going home.

Complex sentence is  the one in which one dependent clause is joined by an independent clause using unless, until, and so on Unless you pay me money, I won’t let you go

Semantic Sentences come from culture and they are historical, cultural, and aesthetic sentences.

Historical Sentence

A historical sentence bears a historical aspect. For example: the holocaust bears witness to the sad plight of the Jews. Through Ahimsa Gandhi won the freedom of India.

Cultural Sentence

Cultural sentence is a cushion of connotation. An example is Coca Cola has become a piece of art for pop art.

Aesthetic sentence

An aesthetic sentence has a figurative meaning. For example: Eternity flies as Sadhus in white unveiling time on mystic flight. Here Sadhu is a metaphor for birds and times stands for streams of consciousness.

Philosophical Sentences

Philosophical sentences are synthetic sentences, analytical sentences and Meta-sentences (coined by me)

Analytic sentence and synthetic sentence comes from the philosopher Kant.

Analytic sentence

Analytic sentence is the one where the predicate depends on the subject. Example is all bachelors are unmarried men is analytic statement.

Synthetic Statement

A synthetic sentence is the one where the predicate need not depend on the subject. For example in the statement all women are blondes is only partially true and blondes need not necessarily depend on women.

Philosophical Sentence

A philosophical sentence carries an idea that is philosophical. An example: is Plato’s theory of forms is reference to an ideal world that exists with the physical world of the sentences.

Meta-Sentence

A meta-sentence is a combination of semantic meaning and a metaphysical truth. An example is: life given by God is a gift to live a life of celebration.

[traditionalwisdomacademy]

THE OLIVE TREE AND THE DESCENDANTS OF ABRAHAM

When Paul says, “These things are being taken figuratively” (Galatians 4:24), he is not giving a new meaning to the text nor is he reinterpreting it nor taking away its historicity.Paul is basically saying that this is not an Interpretation of the text but an illustration to prove a point. It says a lot about how Paul used to interpret the Scriptures, in summary, what he is saying is: “This is…

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.  

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.  

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.  

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”  

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”  

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”  

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.  

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade. 

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”  

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”  

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.  

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”  

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”  

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.  

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.” 

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?” 

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. 

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. 

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY  

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.  

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”  

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.  

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.  

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.  

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.  

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.  

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”  

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.  

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”  

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”  

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.  

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.  

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.  

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.  

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”  

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.  

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.  

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.  

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”  

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”  

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.  

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”  

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.  

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”  

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.  

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”  

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”  

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.  

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.  

IMPERIAL VILLA — NIGHT  

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.  

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.  

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.  

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.  

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.  

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”  

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”  

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.  

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.  

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”  

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”  

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.  

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”  

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”  

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”  

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”  

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.  

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.  

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.  

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”  

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”  

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.  

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”  

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”  

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”  

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”  

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.  

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.  

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”  

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”  

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.  

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.  

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.  

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”  

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”  

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”  

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.  

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”  

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”  

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”  

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”  

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”  

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”  

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.  

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.  

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.  

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.  

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”  

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.  

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.  

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”  

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”  

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”  

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”  

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”  

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.  

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”  

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”  

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.  

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.  

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”  

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”  

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.  

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.  

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”  

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.  

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”  

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”  

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.  

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”  

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”  

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”  

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.  

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.  

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”  

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.  

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.  

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”  

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”  

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”  

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.  

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”  

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”  

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.  

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”  

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”  

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”  

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”  

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.  

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”  

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”  

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”  

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”  

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.  

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”  

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”  

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.  

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”  

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.  

[synticity]

Can you please, pretty-please do a "3 linguistics papers to read" about neopronouns? I'd love to get some academic perspectives on them! :)

Ooh, yes, I can do this!

Three papers to read about neopronouns

The first one I'm linking is by Em Miltersen from 2016, which I am highlighting because the data comes specifically from tumblr!

Miltersen, E. H. (2016). Nounself pronouns: 3rd person personal pronouns as identity expression. Journal of Language Works-Sprogvidenskabeligt Studentertidsskrift, 1(1), 37-62. Open access to the paper here

Next, a very short paper by Rose et al., 2023, which is just looking at whether people even find neopronouns acceptable / grammatical:

Rose, E., Winig, M., Nash, J., Roepke, K., & Conrod, K. (2023). Variation in acceptability of neologistic English pronouns. Proceedings of the Linguistic Society of America, 8(1), 5526-5526. Open access paper is here

And then finally, I'd recommend this super cool paper by Laura Hekanaho, 2022, looking at the metalinguistic commentary and ways people talk about neopronouns - overlaps a bit with Rose et al.'s paper, but goes into much greater depth:

Hekanaho, L. (2022). A thematic analysis of attitudes towards English nonbinary pronouns. Journal of language and sexuality, 11(2), 190-216. Author's copy of the paper here

One thing about neopronouns is that there's comparatively little linguistics research published about them, and what does exist is very focused on English. Part of this is because the ways neopronouns are cropping up in English speech communities (especially online) are different than in other language communities, and the other part of the reason is that they're just super rare -- best estimates of how many people use neopronouns are very very low (the US Trans Census and the Gender Census report numbers <10%, and that's out of only trans people), and their appearance in every day language appears to be very rare.

What this means (frustratingly! and I hope this is changing!) is that at best neopronouns are mentioned in footnotes of linguistics articles and books about other stuff. There's also Dennis Baron's 2020 book, What's Your Pronoun, which is a really thorough documentation of historical attempts to coin gender-neutral pronouns in English... but Baron kind of comes to the conclusion that singular 'they' has 'won' the competition, and that none of the neopronouns he tracks have become mainstream.

Anyways, my personal opinion as a linguist is that I get frustrated with linguists who dismiss neopronouns because they're rare. Just because something's rare doesn't mean it's not a part of the language, and therefore a real part of the phenomenon we've decided to study! Devil's hole pupfish of english, tbh.

(Previous "3 papers to read" post was "3 papers to read about singular 'they'." If you like these posts, you can request a topic in linguistics and I'll do my best to recommend 3 open-access published papers to read!)

[evegwood]

The Language of the Lords reflects everything the ruling class holds dear: triumph, treasure, and the elite status of the demonic race. Poems and stories are shared through the oral tradition of performance and writing is usually reserved for "historical" documents, grandiose retellings of events that may or may not have gone down quite as recorded. For this reason, the demonic writing style does not lend itself well to quick note-taking or casual texts.

The demonic script is made up of glyphs featuring imagery important to demons; angel imagery is usually reserved for phonetic symbols or less important elements. The script contains several different types of glyphs: heads, slabs, flags, pillars, and banners. Each serves a different phonetic and grammatical purpose.

Heads are used to indicate important words like nouns and verb roots. A single head represents one syllable; words comprised of more than one syllable are made up of multiple heads in a row biting each other. The head is made up of four parts: the eye (initial consonant), nose (vowel), mouth (final consonant), and the ornamentation.

The Language of the Lords has a limited number of syllables and features many homonyms. To avoid confusion, context is given through a head's ornamentation, indicating to the reader which category that word belongs to. For example, fa could mean "rib", "spruce", or "nail"; by using the body, plant or tool ornamentation respectively, the intended meaning is clear. While the category of word is often omitted in spoken conversation, it is always included in writing. If a word is made up of multiple heads, the ornamentation is placed on the final head.

Left: madlas(shi), "snow Right: hebdod(be), "oil substance"

You can read more about the Language of the Lords here!

[nihongonotabi]

Why do i-adjectives and na-adjectives conjugate so differently?

In Japanese, adjectives are categorized into two main types: i-adjectives and na-adjectives. These two types differ in their forms and the way they conjugate.

I-adjectives end with the syllable "い" (i) in their base form and they can directly modify nouns without needing any additional particles. This is how they conjugate:

Base Form: 高い (takai) - "high" or "expensive"

Negative: 高くない (takakunai) - "not high" or "not expensive"

Past: 高かった (takakatta) - "was high" or "was expensive"

Past Negative: 高くなかった (takakunakatta) - "was not high" or "was not expensive"

Na-adjectives usually end with a consonant followed by a vowel other than "い" in their base form. When directly modifying a noun, they must be followed by the particle "な" (na). They do not conjugate in the same way as i-adjectives; instead, their conjugation often involves the copula "です" (desu) or "だ" (da). This is how they conjugate:

Base Form: きれい (kirei) - "beautiful" or "clean"

Negative: きれいではない (kirei dewa nai) / きれいじゃない (kirei ja nai) - "not beautiful" or "not clean"

Past: きれいでした (kirei deshita) - "was beautiful" or "was clean"

Past Negative: きれいではなかった (kirei dewa nakatta) / きれいじゃなかった (kirei ja nakatta) - "was not beautiful" or "was not clean"

The differences between i-adjectives and na-adjectives in Japanese stem from their historical and linguistic origins. I-adjectives are part of the native Japanese vocabulary, known as "和語" (wago), and their conjugation pattern can be traced back to classical Japanese. In contrast, many na-adjectives originated from Chinese loanwords (known as "漢語" or kango) and nouns. When Chinese words entered Japanese, they often carried descriptive qualities but did not fit neatly into the existing adjective conjugation system. As a result, they were adapted in a way that treated them more like nouns that required a particle ("な") to function adjectivally. Na-adjectives can be considered "nominal adjectives" because they behave similarly to nouns. They need the copula "です" or "だ" to form predicates, and they use "な" to modify nouns, indicating their grammatical status is closer to nouns than to i-adjectives.

In conclusion, the distinction between i-adjectives and na-adjectives in Japanese is rooted in historical and logical reasons: this division not only reflects the historical integration of foreign elements into Japanese but also maintains a logical grammatical structure that differentiates between native and adapted forms.

[stellabk]

FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part V

Summary - While the empress has no desire into putting forth effort to bond with her husband, she puts that effort into a new, immediate friendship. Geta has tried countless times to get his empress to hear him out, but swears that if she only sees him as a tyrant, then that is what he shall be… that is until he sees her truly happy and wishes to be the source of her smile. Emperor Geta also learns of a secret of the court that has him ready to do whatever it takes to protect his wife.

Warning(s) - historical inaccuracies, possessiveness if you squint at the end, this one is mainly pretty fluff filled. If you notice any grammatical errors or missed warnings please let me know

Days soared by as if they were mosaics on temple walls, pictures of only certain parts of the day that told a long story rather concisely. Deianira’s shoulder had begun its healing, the once swollen purple mark now only tinged red and splotches of green and yellow from the healing process of the bruising. She had avoided the emperor at every turn, telling herself that he only wished to keep her in line or maybe feed into his own sick fantasies and fetishes.

Emperor Geta had grown paler, not needing his usual makeup to make him look as white, but he no longer possessed his ethereal glow. His usual kohl lined eyes were sunk in and no longer filled with their sly spark they typically possessed. They were hollow and void of life, resembling the statues around the palace. He had become colder, harsher, more tense than he normally was. Even the gold embellishments of his clothing seemed to dull against his new form; he was a walking dead man. He knew the reason, though he told no one of what troubled him, but everyone had their suspicions, even the help.

Deia walked down the long halls, approaching the courtyard to spend time amongst the flowers and trees of the fruit bearing kind, her entourage of ladies behind her. She had tuned out the sound of the women behind her idly chatting and gossiping, only focusing on the sound of her sandals patting against the stone floors. She craved music, dancing, anything that held joy in its melody besides the vapid chatter of women she wished to break away from. She slowed, turning to the women of her court, rendering their yapping to cease.

”If you will excuse me, my ladies, I wish to find my husband. There is an urgent matter I must discuss.” She bowed, the women mirroring and continuing their conversations as they broke away from their empress and started in the opposite direction.

The empress let a sigh of relief escape her as she went into the courtyard, listening to the sound of the water splashing from the fish that swam beneath the lily pads and lotus flowers on the surface, fountains with heads of lions creating a steady, peaceful noise that made the voices that urged her to release her rage to grow silent. She sat upon a stone bench, looking over into the fish pond and watching the koi swim around inside, willing herself to focus on the sweet aromas of pears and pomegranates, lotus and other flowers, and all other verdant life that thrived there. She crossed her arms over the edge, resting her cheek on her forearm to look over the edge, not even realizing just how exhausted she was as she drifted off.

Emperor Geta walked briskly down a corridor, attempting to slow his erratic breathing and douse the flame of his rage. He had just left a meeting with the city’s parliament, the thread holding him steady finally snapping at the excessive chatter of men who only envied his and his brother’s position. His plan was to make his way to the courtyard and yell at the sky, letting the Gods know of his fury and perhaps just let the environment soothe his weary soul. He walked though, screeching to a halt at the sight of his bride lying against the edge of the pond, sound asleep. She looked like a priceless work of art, her long lashes lined with kohl and her peach tinted lips that parted slightly had the appearance of an oil painting done by one of the great artists of their time. He stopped all movements, allowing his shoulders to release their tension and drinking her in like an aged wine, letting the image ingrain itself into his memory. She stirred, raising her head from its position, crimson hair falling over her shoulders. She faced him with sultry tired eyes and making the emperor feel as if she had his heart tied in a noose, the phantom rope there growing more taught with every second she looked his way.

”Forgive me, Imperator. I best be leaving,” she stood quickly, bowing, and tried to quickly walk past him without looking him in the eyes again. As she made to break past him, he grasped for her forearm, unable to control his own movements. She turned back to look at his touch then to his eyes. She could tell he had not been doing so well.

”What must I do to earn your forgiveness? Please, I beg you, allow me to defend myself.”

She stared at him blankly, “You have not earned my sympathy, nor shall you earn my forgiveness. Good day, emperor.”

The sun set on the empire, insects chirped and musicians played outside the palace by the market. Deia could hear it all as she sat perched on the balcony with the thick curtains tucked behind her back.

”Mistress? Are you not joining the ladies tonight?” Aelia folded the linen sheets of the bed tightly enough that the wrinkles were nonexistent.

”I hate to say it, but I grow tired of those gossips. All they ever seem to discuss is what this lady was wearing—the audacity—or who that lady was caught sneaking into a bed chamber with. I wish I knew of anyone of social standing I could converse with about any other subject matter,” she scoffed with a scrunch of her nose.

Aelia let out an amused chuckle, stepping toward her mistress to braid her hair back for bed.

”I am sure they are intelligent enough… Perhaps all they need is for their empress to speak about what interests her and they will follow.”

The door opened slowly, revealing disheveled Geta, silver chalice in hand that reflected the moonlight and made him look beautiful in a peculiarly haunting way. “Aelia, leave us, please. I need to speak with my wife.”

Aelia swirled the hair at the bottom to tie and secure it, bowing and left silently.

”I already told you I do not wish to speak to you.”

”Please, Deianira, hear me. I didn't mean to hurt you on the night of our wedding.”

Deia scoffed, looking back out the window, remembering the sting of his teeth in her shoulder… the shame of having the court look at it and thinking she had slept with the man that stood before her.

“I am serious,” he knelt in front of her, gazing up at her through glassy, sunken eyes; she could tell he was heavily intoxicated. “I did not want to force you to consummate the marriage; you already despised me then, and I never wished to force on you something so great, but the court—they always watch, listen—I could not let them tarnish your name.”

”You only wished that your name stayed favored.”

”You do not seem to grasp how cruel the public can be. To know you did not consummate the marriage is to know that you are not my wife by law. They could have you thrown from this place, or killed. Whether you despise me or not, I had to try to save you. Your father would-”

”My father would welcome me back at a moment’s notice, emperor, and I advise you not speak of him so loosely lest I take your tongue!”

”Darling, please,” he rested his forehead to her knees before his wife interrupted him. Deia stiffened at the new nickname that rolled from his tongue so easily.

”I will not hear this nonsense. You will leave. Now!”

He picked himself clumsily off the floor, looking at her one last time. She couldn’t pinpoint the look: was it bitterness, disappointment? Disgust?

Nevertheless, he obeyed, pulling his eyes away from hers and slamming the door behind him.

Deianira sat on the edge of the fish pond once again, a flower in between her delicate fingers as she plucked at the bruised petals to reveal the flower’s true beauty. The ladies of the court surrounded her on the stone benches, chattering amongst themselves, droning on about the same, drab subjects of conversation.

”Empress, the emperor must be a wonderful husband. Tell us, what is he like?” A dark haired woman, hair swept in a braided bun style spoke with a smile, earning a giggle of amusement from the others. They were all curious what he was like in bed and she knew it, but she couldn’t exactly divulge the details since she herself didn’t know.

“Oh, I do not wish to speak of my husband while he is not here to defend himself against my verbal lashing,” she smiled back, all the ladies laughing as Deia resumed examining the flower.

“How did you meet? I’m quite sure it was most romantic,” the woman swooned.

”I assure you, it was not. I guess the Gods gave him to me in an attempt to keep my temper at bay… though I suppose it did not work, to their dismay.”

”Well, what about you? We rarely ever hear what interests you… what are some of the great hobbies of the empress?” Another spoke.

Deia turned to examine her, the woman’s eyes a deep brown, a very similar shade to her skin. Her hair was a glassy, curly black and so long that the lady had to keep it over her shoulder so as not to sit on it. Deia’s smile reached her eyes for the first time since she left home.

“I used to study the stars. I always felt as if they called to me.”

”Oh, that sounds lovely! Perhaps one evening you and I may join each other and you can teach me all of the knowledge I’m sure you have accumulated. If it pleases you, of course, empress.”

”I would love nothing more. May I ask your first name?”

The woman returned the excited smile, “Claudia, your grace.”

Claudia and Deia returned to her bedchamber, giggling in fits of laughter.

“The emperor is quite the lucky man to be graced with someone of such sharp tongue.”

”The emperor and I are not of the best relations, but I hope you can keep that between us two.”

”My apologies, empress, I assumed the way you spoke of him in the courtyard meant that you two were getting along. May I ask why?”

”Do not apologize, it is not your fault he is the way he is. I was brought here against my will, forced into this marriage simply because of the position he holds and because he has never been told no. I am simply here to prove to him that not everyone will bow at his feet,” Deianira smirked as Claudia suppressed a laugh. Aelia entered, a bottle of wine and chalices in hand.

”I knew I heard a second voice. Welcome, Miss Claudia Ptolemy. It is a privilege to have you here. Do you require anything else?”

”No, thank you, this is more than enough!”

Aelia exited with a bow and Claudia turned her attention back to the empress whose mouth was agape with a wide smile. She laughed at her expression.

”Why are you gawking? Do I have something on my face, empress?”

”Claudia Ptolemy? You wouldn’t happen to know of Claudius Ptolemy by chance, would you?” Deia held Claudia’s hands in her own, unable to hide her excitement. Claudia laughed once again, the sound like a lyre.

”I am his daughter in fact. Does this surprise you?”

”I do believe the Gods wanted us to be great friends indeed,” Deia smiled, sipping from her chalice with a smile as her new friend did the same.

Emperor Geta still hadn’t spoken to his wife in some time, not since he had been slightly drunk and wandered into her room to beg her to listen. No more, he had told himself. If she thought him as heartless and cold, he would be heartless and cold. He walked down the corridors with two guards at his sides, hearing womens’ laughter as they walked toward him. They whispered between each other, stopping immediately with wide eyes when seeing the emperor.

“Ladies, how are the both of you?” He stopped, pulling a half smile on his features.

“Just fine, Imperator. We should really be going.” The two ladies bowed, scampering away.

Geta shrugged it off as just one more strange occurrence, but couldn’t quite figure out where all the curt and brief interactions lately stemmed from. He didn’t have long to think about it, however, since a gorgeous laugh echoed though the corridor, reverberating off the stone walls like an angel. He approached the courtyard, following the noise with guards in tow, trying to find the origin of the melodious noise. The laughter now sounded so close by. He slowed, never hearing such a delicate, pleasant sound. He looked at his wife by the pond with one other woman, holding a flower as she smiled, the first smile he had seen from her that seemed like it wasn’t forced. He held his hand up to the guards signaling them to halt as not to get in the line of sight for the two women. He knew the one that his empress spoke to, but had never suspected that Deia would grow close to her… after all, she was only an astronomer’s daughter who married a man of parliament. He stared at his bride for the longest time, soaking in the image of her like a sponge in a tub, until Claudia stood and pulled the empress down an opposing corridor. He glanced at the guards and waved them off dismissively, following the two women as they laughed and chattered down the hall.

They entered the empress’s chambers, Emperor Geta standing right outside the door. He listened to his wife talk of how much she loved the stars and how she had always hoped to study them in greater depth. He felt a smile creep to his face listening to how happy she sounded, practically hearing the smile on her lips. How he craved to be the source of laughter and a smile she wore.

”Emperor? Are you alright?” Aelia spoke and diminished the warm feeling that bubbled within Geta’s chest.

”Fetch the empress some wine. She has a guest. I have some business outside the palace today, but wanted to inform my wife of a party that we are holding tomorrow night.”

“A guest? With all that has transpired as of late, I suspected her to be alone for a while,” Aelia looked concerned.

“If you know something, you’d best come out with it.”

Aelia’s eyes grew wide, “You mean you don’t know?” When no response came, she continued. “Forgive me, Imperator. It may not be my place to speak on this, but a rumor has spread that the marriage was never consummated. Some of the men in court have discouraged their wives from socializing themselves with her… something about filling the ladies’ heads with dangerous ideas. I am sorry.”

With that, Geta left in the direction that he came, the smile from hearing Deianira’s laugh for the first time dissipating at the news, ready to make heads roll and run the streets with blood to protect her and her image.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Major Gale Fantasy

(He Racks You Down and Knocks You Up)

The poll on this was so close! 172 votes

The winner 53.5 Sweet and Gentle 💖

VS. 46.5 Hard and Commanding ❤️���🔥

Thank you for all the votes enjoy!

Major Gale (Austin) is obsessed with the thought of getting you pregnant before he leaves to war. After envisioning you pregnant with his child he goes through great lengths to ensure you conceive.

Label 18+ mature

Established relationship married

Domestic fluff then straight to breeding kink

Smut• fluff • domestic •edging • mutual stimulation •in heat •breeding kink •p in v •mating press •multiple orgasms • cream pie • aftercare

I have no idea what they did in the 40s or how they really speak 😊 just go with it it’s cute

Inspiration: Austin butler looking so seductive in that uniform

(Historically Inaccurate spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, repeat words etc)

Master List

He Racks You Down & Knocks You Up

You were putting the finishing touches on your dish a beautiful roast chicken with vegetables. The cherry pie was warming in the oven Gale would be home any minute. You briskly walk to the wash room and click on the lights. Your makeup kit readily available near the wash basin. You reach in and pull out your favorite rouge lip stick marking up your lips and dabbing some on your cheeks.

You coif up your hair staring at yourself in the mirror and run a hand down your dress blowing a kiss like a pin up girl, you look ravishing.

Even more risqué was the idea to wear a fastener corset under your form fitting dress tonight putting your décolleté on full display.

Your legs were caged by thigh straps holding up your stockings and satin panties covering your derrière rubbing deliciously against your heat.

Gale said to get yourself a treat, and now it’s a treat for him too. He would be deploying after all and you wanted to give him an experience he would never forget to write home about.

At that thought you hear his key in the front door and hurry back into the living room to greet him. He turns the knob and steps in slipping the key into his pocket as his tall frame ducks into the door way. He removes his officers hat and hangs it on the entry way rack.

His handsome features always stun you at first glance. His big blue eyes and wispy lashes, his perfectly angular nose, firm chin and plump lips. He is an absolute dream especially in uniform. His suitcase in one hand and jacket draped on the other, he finally locks eyes with you and your heart flutters. He is slack jawed in return admiring how perfectly pretty you look in this moment.

“Well well well let me get a good look at you doll, do a little spin for me” his deep rich voice breaking the silence as his eyes admire your form.

You twirl around on your toes smiling as you trace your hands along your bodice enjoying the corset hidden beneath. You blush once your eyes meet, he has a seduced look on his face. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, let me settle my things and come appreciate you.” he flashes his flirtatious grin.

He hangs his coat and sets his suit case by the door he struggles to unbutton the top neck of his military shirt but you are right there to assist him lifting on your tiptoes brushing up against him and easily prying the button open with your smaller fingers.

The closeness makes you swoon for each other. He stares into your eyes before taking a peek down at your breasts resting against his chest, a naughty smirk plays across his face. You place your hands delicately on the nape of his neck and trace your fingers lightly over his sensitive skin there giving him goosebumps.

He looks back into your eyes as you stare up at him seductively through your lashes, his breathing increases as passion begins to cloud his thoughts “Gosh I’ve missed you” he nearly whispers it staring at your sultry red lips going directly in for the kiss. Your lips meet passionately and he scoops you into his arms lifting you from the floor.

Feeling his strength and the smell of his cologne arouses you completely. You are overtaken by his presence feeling so safe in his strong arms. You kiss across his lips as he holds you up to his chest. He begins rubbing his soft plush lips back against yours the sexual tension stifling you both. He slowly sets you back to the ground holding fast to your waist with every intention of taking you to the bedroom and having his way with you.

His lips are the beautiful rouge color that you imprinted on him. “Oh my” you say covering your mouth with one hand “What is it darling?“ he asks holding you to him by your waist brushing his hand across your cheek. He’s mesmerized by you, the way he’s staring into your eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

“I..I.. have gotten my lipstick all over you…let me clean you up and come! I’ve made a wonderful supper for you” you pipe up as you regain your thoughts, so proud of yourself for making one of his favorite meals.

He takes your hand and you lead him to the dining room table. He sits in his designated seat at the head taking the time to unlace his shoes and remove his socks setting them in the corner. You arrange his plate and set his dinner in front of him. It is a beautiful display of herb roasted chicken breast, mashed russet potatoes layered in gravy and sautéed green peas.

As his eyes settle in delight on the meal you prepared for him you slip away to the liquor cabinet fetching his favorite brandy. You pour it in one of the set glasses on the shelf and bring it to place next to him on the table. You grab a cloth from the kitchen drawer and soak it in the sink coming back to dab the lipstick off his lips and wipe his hands clean. He smiles at you appreciatively.

You both begin to eat. He cuts into the delicate chicken and takes a bite. His eyes close and he nods enjoying the taste, opening his eyes looking to you admiringly to show his approval. You gush knowing just how much he loves your home cooked meals after a long day on base.

You really can’t focus on your meal watching him eat. As a fully grown man he still looks so adorable as he chews. He’s slender yet toned and you love to see him full it melts your heart. You begin to eat in small bites, enjoying each others company and the meal.

You finish first with your smaller portions and he clears his plate soon after. You collect the dishes and rinse them in the sink

Feeling sated he completely unbuttons his shirt taking it off and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now in a white undershirt and tan military slacks, he rests back holding his glass of brandy slowly sipping it down watching you work.

You fidget with the oven turning it off and opening the door. The smell of the hot pie wafting through the kitchen. You grab your mits removing the pie from the oven and placing it on the stove top. You blow a strand of loose hair falling in your face the heat from the oven making you perspire slightly. You are in an odd state today feeling so sensual wearing the expensive lingerie.

Gale is set back watching the whole thing you bent over your breasts spilling out of your dress. The flash of the back of your thighs to him when your dress lifts as you reach into the oven.

He suddenly has a vision of you mixing pancake batter in the kitchen. You’re wearing a satin gown hair pinned up loosely in a bun your belly big and round growing with his child. His heart skips a beat as you whisk the mixture placing your hand on your hip to support your back. He imagines himself standing behind you planting a kiss on your head inhaling your scent and gently squeezing his hands around your breasts which will soon be full with milk.

He delicately places his hands down around the front of you to embrace your womb. Once he touches it an intensity fires in him of pure unyielding love for you. It infatuates him so strongly he is unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly. He begins passionately kissing behind your ear and down your neck completely obsessed with you having his child.

He was so deep in his thought he didn’t notice you trying to get his attention until you sweetly asked him again “Is everything alright?”

He palms himself under the table his cock growing stiff with anticipation of fulfilling his desires. He smiles at you nodding reassuringly taking another big swig of his brandy and setting his empty glass down.

He then pushes away from the table in his chair setting his sights on you and spreading his legs wordlessly patting his lap for you to sit. You notice the change in his gaze, how his pupils have dilated, how his eyes are fixated on you. It’s such a sultry look you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

You approach his lap and try to sit pretty with your legs together but he grabs hold of your waist pulling you to straddle him. It makes your heart flutter from the abrupt closeness. He looks into your eyes with a coy smile wondering if you can feel his rock hard erection pressing against you yet.

Taking his left hand he softly runs it across the nape of your neck moving your hair over one shoulder, trailing his hand down your spine. He begins unbuttoning your dress with both hands looking you directly in the eyes, each pop of a button making the excitement of having you naked increases.

He unbuttons your dress down to your waist and slowly pulls it from your shoulders to reveal your chest. His eyes lock on the delicate lace covering your décolleté. He pulls your dress farther and his mouth falls open in delight at your breasts in lingerie on full display for him. “All this for me?” He asks staring intently at your chest he caresses the soft fabric covering your nipples “Yes of course” you answer your voice soft from arousal.

He tweaks your nipples making them stiff then gently squeezes them with his fingers he looks up to gauge your reaction. It makes you part your lips wanting to cry out, you clench inside involuntarily pressing your heat against his stiff cock. He has a smile on his face sensing exactly what you need. He begins grinding his hips up gently rocking his massive erection against you. It’s so naughty and good at the same time a high moan escapes your lips as you double over onto him wanting more.

He grabs ahold of you by your arms pressing you down on him and grinding against you harder. He’s so strong and resolute with his actions it has you breathlessly panting and dizzy for him building an ache inside you that needs relief.

Seeing your face flush as your breathing increases he pulls you to him and plants kisses along your exposed neck and jaw line. The smell of you is devine to him he reaches and grabs the base of your neck tilting your head back farther to kiss his open mouth along your throat, It makes you close your eyes and grind back onto him the feeling so good building between your legs you don’t want him to stop.

He pulls back his lips from your neck and stares into your eyes as you grind each other fully clothed completely drunk in love “I want to fill you up tonight” he says kissing your lips and you taste the brandy “ I want to satisfy you completely” he kisses your neck again. Then he places his hand on your stomach “I want my baby growing inside of you” his voice almost a hush full of so much contained passion.

You grab onto the back of his neck pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes “Yes…Gale please fill me and get me pregnant tonight ” your voice shakes with anticipation. The way he’s making you feel between your legs has your mind reeling as you grind against him with your panties absolutely soaked.

Hearing your words he slowly picks you up from his lap and gently places you to stand in front of him. He rises from the chair and removes his shirt then unbuttons and unzips his pants before unbuckling his belt. As he releases the leather his pants fall to the floor and the buckle clatters. You stare in awe at his massive erection strained back against his woven boxers shorts.

“Finish showing me that lingerie doll “ his deep voice breaks the silence redirecting your thoughts. He sits back into his chair spreading his legs and placing a hand on his cock to watch you. He wants to thoroughly enjoy the surprise you have for him.

You turn your back to him and peer over your shoulder. His eyes are completely fixated on you as you slide the dress down from your shoulders to the floor bending over to show him your black silk panties as you deliberately step out of it. You turn around to face him and he sits back in awe of your beautiful body.

The black silk bra and panties with the corset elaborate your curves, accentuating your hips and chest in the most delicious way. You begin swaying your hips and tracing your hands over your body as if they are his own giving him a show of how badly you need him.

He stands up from his seat and slides his boxers down stepping out of them his large cock slinging as he walks toward you. Your knees buckle a little as you hold the table behind you bracing yourself in anticipation.

He reaches for your corset and begins quickly unsnapping the clasps rocking your body as he looses each one. The corset breaks free and falls to the floor. He easily picks you up by your waist and sets you down on the dinner table.

Your legs are wide open and he eagerly moves himself to stand between them. He grabs you by your hips pulling you flush against him kissing you passionately parting your lips with his tongue his cock caged between your navels. Hes trying to go slow but his mind is racing with the thought of feeling your tightness squeeze around him as he’s pumping you full of his seed.

He refocuses on your pleasure placing his hands on the sides of your breast softly rubbing into your silk brassiere pressing your nipples up and down with his thumbs . A moan escapes you into his mouth everything he’s doing sending pleasurable sensations where you need to be touched the most. You begin winding your hips in small circles on the table to relieve the tension.

He senses your need as the heat is now emitting from your body your eyes pleading him for more. He takes a step back noticing his empty liquor glass behind you on the table and takes it safely to the sink.

As he returns to stand between your legs he places his hands behind your head lovingly holding your gaze. “I would do anything for you” he says softly his heart swelling wanting to make you his forever, the vision of you pregnant with his child burning in his mind. “I’m going to push you over the edge tonight I want to spill my seed into you and I want you to take it all for me”

You stare at him drunk from arousal your heart is pounding so hard you feel the strongest pulses in your pelvis you'll to do anything to make him tear your lingerie off and take you now.

“I want to hear you say it “ he says noticing you are not able to focus on his words.

You regain some composure to respond

“I will take it all tonight every drop you give me” you loosely repeat his words too distracted now staring at his perfectly chiseled naked body down to his large veiny erect cock wondering how good it will feel when he fills you up for the first time instead of pulling out.

“I’ll give you what you need “ he says with a coy smile knowing you’re not paying attention anymore. He’s never seen you so riled up, it warms him seeing you want his baby so badly it’s giving you a fever.

He places his hand on your chest pushing you down to lay flat on the table. He grabs your thighs and slides you down to him your heat directly against his cock your legs on either side of his waist. Your breathing quickens and your heart skips you need him inside of you he has you exposed in the perfect position on the table like you are his meal.

He brushes his hand against your silk panties admiringly not wanting to remove them just yet. His touch there alone makes you feel like he’s set a fire all over your body.

He reaches his fingers between your legs hooking your panties rubbing his knuckles against your slick folds. Your back arcs from the table as you restrain yourself from grinding against his fingers so aroused and needing to be touched so badly you begin panting loudly unable to calm down.

He knows you need him now and quickly pulls your panties to the side. His cock is pulsing hard as he rests it on your wet entrance, it’s covered in a silky liquid so he rubs his tip up through it and groans as you moan not thinking it would feel so good. He looks down into your eyes now needing you too, he lines himself up and slowly pushes inside your tight entrance.

You both cry out in a pleasurable moan his cock guiding in perfectly your walls greedily sucking him in. He penetrates you inch by inch making you gasp as the stretch becomes wider.

He gently caresses your pelvis making you feel the pressure of how far he’s gotten inside. You are impossibly more wet as his cock is going in.

He stares down at you in admiration when you finally take his full length. He stays still inside you for a moment letting you adjust. You feel so full of him, the pleasure coursing through your entire body as you try to focus gazing up at him.

He begins to work you gently, sliding himself halfway out and fully back in. His cock becoming completely covered in your slick making you feel every sensation as he begins gliding in and out it’s already earning the sweetest moans out of you.

You close your eyes as he begins rocking into your body against the table each thrust making your heart want to explode. Your continuous moans are music to his ears he stares at the reaction on your pretty face while you take him the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

He has a drive to impregnate you tonight that he’s never had before. He wants to paint your walls inside and make you cry out for him before he finishes. It makes him high at the thought.

He releases his hands from your waist and hoists your legs up holding onto the back of your thighs spreading you like a “V” he pushes slowly into you on the table the new angle he’s hitting makes you delirious with pleasure he has you in a mating press and it sparks something deep inside you that tightens your core making it feel like it will snap at any moment.

Hes going so much deeper using your legs as leverage, he wants to feel you all the way through he presses his length the farthest and touches his cock head against the deepest part inside you making you moan out incredibly loud for him. He loves that feeling and thrusts into it repeatedly wanting his strongest and deepest ejaculation there.

You begin to feel hotter against his throbbing cock he keeps rocking you back and forth on his length jostling you on the table. He’s working into you with so much virility youre seeing stars. You are so overwhelmed with passion you can’t even think straight each hit pressing the exact button inside to cause a riot in your core. He pauses at the end of his deepest thrusts feeling like he will split you, your body tenses your voice in your ears sounding so foreign as you moan in an unending rhythm, the tightness building inside your core finally snaps.

A relief washes over you as your back arcs from the table your walls flutter tightly around him as liquids pour from your core squishing around his cock as you scream for him. It makes him start sliding into you at breeding speed. He thrusts into you deeper and harder your legs bouncing around at each strong jolt. His abs tighten as he is sucks in breaths through his teeth.

He presses your legs back farther grunting and angling his cock pressing his deepest inside you it pushes him over the edge “Im going to cum so deep in you …take it …all for me” he says through clenched teeth he pushes forward all the way into you and spills thick ropes of hot cum deep inside you painting your walls. He leans forward between your legs heavily breathing from exertion, laying on top of you and propping up lightly on his elbows he holds your face as he continues to empty every last drop inside to get you pregnant. His final thrust hits so deep you squeeze his cock with your walls a second time and moan for him almost crying at how good it makes you feel. You stare at each other panting and sweating you both start spontaneously laughing deliriously high with a sudden surge of endorphins.

As you calm down he stays completely still inside of you laying on top. Propped on his elbows he holds your head lovingly. He pets your hair back and stares into your beautiful eyes “I think we did it” he says suddenly as if the thought was ruminating in his mind . You smile at him “I’ve never felt anything like that” you admit gently stroking his sweaty hair from his face in return. He leans in and kisses your chest just at your heart, he loves you completely. He puts his ear on your chest listening for your heart beat to slow down so he can pull out saftey. When your breathing and heart rate decrease he lifts his chest off on yours.

“Are you ready?” He asks adjusting himself to pull out of you “yes” you say completely void of thought only how wonderful you feel. He holds your upper thighs and slides his cock out slowly when he pulls out the head you both moan from the loss of contact. Slowly you feel his seed trickling out of you. His eyes grow wide and he uses his fingers to push it back inside you. You lift your head to see as he pushes more back in and cups his hand to hold it. “put your legs up” he says quickly thinking. You put your legs up and hold them to your chest.

“How long?” You ask giggling this whole concept so foreign to you “I don’t know but until it takes” he laughs at how absurd he sounds. He grabs a wash cloth and rinses his hands. He turns to check on you and doesn’t like the way you are curled up on the table you look so uncomfortable.

He comes to your side and scoops you into his arms he easily carries you to the bedroom and kicks the door open walking you to the bed and laying you down. It’s so much softer and comfortable for you. He pets your head “ that’s much better “ he says seeing your face relax. He runs to get a washcloth and soaks it with water.

When he returns your still with your knees up. He kneels on the bed in front of you “You can put your knees down now you’ve been so good for me” he says gently as he caresses your thighs. He doesn’t see any more cum spill out of you so he starts undressing you. He uses his hands to slide your panties off with your stockings and fasters. As you lower your legs down he pats and wipes you carefully. He climbs on top of you reaching around your back and unclasping your bra you sit up and pull it off discarding it at the foot of the bed with your panties. He stares at you now fully naked glowing so radiantly from sex. He pulls the covers down behind you and you lift up to pull the covers back over you both as he lays beside you. He kisses your temple staring at the side of you face deep in thought about how much he loves you. He places his and on your stomach thinking about how much he wants his baby growing there, you place your hand on top of his

“honey?” He asks shyly a new thought popping into his head “ yes ” you answer sweetly “I …want to keep those panties with me when I deploy” he divulges.

You blush thinking of what he wants to do with them “Alright I’ll do them with the laundry then the day before you deploy I’ll wear them all day and slip them in your pocket when I kiss you goodbye.” He smiles so big and squeezes you to him. “ I would like that” he says whispering in your ear and kissing it. “And Gale” you ask “yes?” He answers intrigued “I want to write you when I find out if I’m pregnant…” you turn and look into his love filled eyes he wants that more than anything. You kiss his forehead and he tilts your face lower to him and kisses your lips. You reach over his head and click the light off you both rest your eyes and he keeps his hand on your stomach the entire night as you sleep.

~*To Be Continued*~

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕦𝕞 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕣𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

CW: Brief Assault

Jude: What’re ya doin’. Thought’cha were dead?

Kate: Unfortunately, I’m alive.

Jude: Didja call the fire brigade?

Historical Fact: In 1866, the Metropolitan Fire Brigade was est. in England. In 1904, the London Fire Brigade was est. I changed the direct translation from fire department to brigade in order to make it more historically accurate.

The sound of sirens echoing through the night sky gradually grows louder.

Kate: Yes, because the fire was spreading and could cause damage elsewhere.

Jude: Wow, it’s sickenin’ how ya wasted a chance to run just t’kindly help others.

Jude: So, why’d ya show yerself again?

His fingertips reach out and touch the back of my neck.

Kate: …[Gasp].

Force was applied to my carotid artery, and I let out gasp at the pressure.

Jude: Yer act like a masochistic pervert who wants t’die.

Kate: ……No, I don’t…..I don’t want to die, why would I…..

I defiantly stare back at the bloodied amethyst eyes.

Kate: Sure, what I’m saying might be pointless righteousness and pretty words.

Kate: But you’re a little mistaken.

Jude: Whaddya sayin’?

Kate: I didn’t want to ignore the fire, or runaway away alone like pathetic person.

Kate: I wouldn’t forgive myself for not being able to do anything.

Kate: It’s simply “me” wanting to do it.

Jude: …………

Kate: And -

Kate: It would be frustrating to give in to you.

I vented everything I had on my mind, and then smiled.

Jude: …………

However, the amethyst eyes reflected their usual cold color.

Jude: Lookit this damned cheeky face, so messy.

Jude: …..Hey, do ya really want me t’kill ya?

The chillingly ruthless look in his eyes told me he wasn’t joking.

(But, if I back down here, I lose.)

Like a moment ago, he’ll toss me out from his world, and that’ll be the end of it.

(Then I’ll just sink my teeth in.)

Kate: If you want to do that then be my guest.

Kate: But don’t think you’ll kill me for nothing. Before you kill me I’ll bite your throat out!

Jude: ……..

For the first time, his eyes flickered slightly.

Jude: ….Hah, how stupid. Why should I hafta listen t’some hotheaded resolution.

When he removed his hand from my neck, I sighed in relief and the tension of my life being held in his hands melted.

Kate: Oh, and there’s one more reason why I came back.

Jude: Oh?

Kate: Please, let me treat your wounds.

[Transitions to a bench]

(He let me treat him quite easily….)

Jude sat on the bench listlessly, leaving his injured hand to me.

(But it’s still too soon to be happy. It’s unlikely he’s meeting me halfway…)

Imagining Jude’s mind, I think he just got annoyed with arguing.

(Still, it’s a step forward.)

It’s rather surprising I can be so positive.

(I wonder why, maybe it’s because I got so angry at being tossed out by the neck, but I’ve gotten over it.)

Kate: I’m all done treating this arm, please give me the other one to look over.

Jude: ……Pain in the ass.

"Daru" is used here, and it can denote boring, dull, bothersome etc, but it can also be used to mean "pain in the ass." I opted for that.

As Jude cursed while holding his arm out to me, a book fell behind from where he was hunched over.

It was a book he had apparently tucked in his back pocket —

Kate: ….Jules Verne’s “From The Earth to The Moon.”

Jude picked it up with unexpectedly gentle hands.

Kate: What kind of story is it?

Jude: Just science fiction.

(That’s what he says, but….)

Kate: Jude, somehow science fiction doesn’t match you.

Kate: I’d have thought you’d read something more like economics by Mill or Marx.

John Stuart Mill and Karl Marx were both 19th century economists who shared both similar and opposing economic views.

Jude: Whaddya assumin’ all on yer own.

Kate: It’s not an assumption, it’s a guess.

Kate: A company president with that many employees can’t function without knowledge, right?

Jude: There’s some who arrogantly work others to the bone without any knowledge.

Kate: You don’t seem to be that type of company president.

Jude: This woman’s gotta comeback for everythin’. Never stops chirpin’.

I was about to say, “Jude, you’re the one,” but I resisted.

(If we argue, the conversation will quickly derail….)

Once I calmed down, I glanced down at the book Jude was holding.

The book looked pretty worn, probably from being read so many times.

(Looks like he’s been reading it a lot….)

Kate: Jude, do you like the moon?

Jude: Dunno.

Kate: Well, I like the moon. It lights up the streets at night.

Jude: Didn’t ask, ‘n what’s with that daft reason?

Kate: Maybe it looks that way, but don’t you think so?

Kate: If this world didn’t have a moon, then we wouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness of night.

Kate: That’s inconvenient and a little lonely.

Jude: ………..

Jude: I hate it.

Jude: Look up ‘n it’s there.

Jude: It’s so stupidly bright, ya can’t forget it even if ya wanna forget it.

Jude: ……Revoltin’.

For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off him as he grumbles —

Jude: Hey, yer wrappin’ the bandages so tight nothin’s gonna heal.

Kate: Oh my gosh! Sorry!

I quickly let go of the hand I had dressed with all my might.

Kate: Oh, and before I forget to tell you.

Kate: Thank you for protecting me from the fire earlier.

Jude: Ha, are ya off yer rocker?

Jude: Grateful for bein’ tossed out, heads gotta be in the clouds.

Kate: It’s fine because that’s what I want to think!

When I spoke up brazenly, Jude shot me a look and narrowed his eyes.

Jude: …..That right. If yer sooo grateful, then I’ll take a reward.

Kate: ….Reward?

Jude: Common sense that if ya do somethin’ for someone, ya should be compensated.

Sensing something approaching, I braced myself.

Jude: Whatcha gonna do for me?

Kate: ….It - it’s something I have to come up with?

Jude: ‘Course.

Jude: Didn’t know the fairytale keeper’s so important you’d leave things t’others.

Kate: I…….

(Still….I was the one who brought up thanking him about the fire.)

Without dismissing this I need to think of a way to express my gratitude with something other than words.

Kate: Uhhh…..I’ll make tea for you every morning from now on, Jude.

Jude: Bein’ forced t’drink some shitty tea everyday. What sorta harassment’s that?

Kate: Hey! ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

Jude: Rejected. Next.

Kate: W-well then, a massage or something!

Jude: Havin’ yer body fiddled with by an amateur’s just plain torture. Rejected, next.

After that I made all kinds of suggestions, but they were all denied with a scoff.

Kate: Geez, no matter what I say you don’t like it!

Jude: Stop yappin’ it’s loud.

Jude: Should I cover that mouth, ‘n shut’cha up?

Jude’s tone suddenly changes.

(Um….)

Jude: …………

(W-what…..?)

Kate: ….—

(R-really, at this rate our lips will touch…)

I shut my eyes tightly, and all I could hear was my heart pounding like it was about to burst.

But…..

(…..Nothing’s happened?)

“There’s no contact” is the direct translation. Changed this for a better flow.

I quietly lifted one of my eyelids, and there was Jude peering at me in the same position as before.

Jude: PFF…..whadda blockhead gettin’ yer hopes up.

(Wh-what….?)

As I blinked incessantly at the difference between expectations versus reality, Jude laughed loudly.

Jude: Ain’t starved ‘nough to dish out to a birdie who ain’t got no sex appeal, a shame innit?

Kate: WHAT….?!

Heat suddenly rose up my neck.

Kate: I-I don’t want anything from you, so a kiss or two doesn’t matter!

Jude: Really.

Jude:…..Then should we do it?

His seductive smile approaches again.

Although I know he’s teasing me, I falter at his unexpected gaze.

Kate: Jude, that…..?

Gradually the distance between us shortens, and naturally I inch away along the narrow bench until it disappears….

Kate: Kyah…..

Sliding down the bench, I tumbled to the ground clumsily as cold eyes looked down on me.

Jude: Haha….ya really are a princess who never learns.

His smile seemed both pitying and exasperating but……somehow gentle, and for a moment, it made my heart pound.

(This isn’t happening….I’m not nervous…..)

Maybe I’ve gone crazy from this person having fun with teasing me day in and day out.

I’m sure that’s it.

Jude: Ridiculous.

Jude: Lookin’ forward to seein’ ya runnin’ away weepin’.

Kate: I’m NEVER going to run away!

Jude: Ohhhh, not sure ‘bout that but give it yer all.

Even now, I still haven’t found anything to like about this cruel and ruthless man.

(But.)

If I don’t fulfill my promise — I will fall prey to him for breaching the contract.

I sigh at the extremely difficult life ahead, and Jude walks away.

Only the moon hanging in the sky shone upon our contrasting sides equally.

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 5]

Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

If you wish to be added (+18 YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[weirdsht]

How are you, beautiful?. How about your life?. If it doesn't bother you, can I make a request Cale Henituse x isekai reader?.. Where does the reader not want to interfere with the story even though the reader loves this story but the reader is more important and chooses a peaceful life.. However, the reader often ran into Cale and his group made the reader always run away (just helping silently) because the reader didn't sign for it...Cale started to suspect because they met often.Reader often rejected Cale's offers 😂😂..Comedy and chaos

Leave Me Alone! - LoTCF & Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, transmigrated reader, cursing at the end

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Navigation Masterlist

“Ugh… what time is it..? Wait am I late for my classes!?”

You jolted up and rushed to feel for your phone, only to not get a hold of it making your heart drop.

Frantic, you rummage through the bedsheets, hoping you will soon find your beloved device. However, instead of your phone, you instead notice how you don’t seem to be in your room.

As you finally look around your surroundings you can see that you’re in a completely different place. Everything around you looked extra luxurious, you were almost blinded by how shiny everything was. Aside from that, unknown tools are also neatly scattered around the room. You don’t recognise them, but they look like magical tools that one would see in a fantasy anime or manhwa.

Creek.

“Oh my! The young master is awake! I shall fetch the healer!”

Before you could think about where you were and what happened to you, a woman wearing a traditional maid uniform opened the door. She seems to be in shock to see you awake. And so, she disappeared as fast as she came.

Not even a minute later, she came back to the room you were residing in. On her tow seems to be a healer. Once they settled in, the healer immediately got to work to check your body. As they do you wonder how you would be able to play this off. It doesn’t look like you’re in your world anymore, nor does it look like you have a way to go back.

“Miss, who are you? Where am I?”

The amnesia route it is.

“Who am I?”

The maid looks like she’s about to cry and have a heart attack at the same time. You feel bad, you really do, but it’s not like you can pretend to know information when you don’t even know where you got transmigrated. 

“Everything else is okay now except for their memory. The cause is most likely from the impact they sustained during the accident. We don’t know when those old memories will resurface. In fact, we can’t be sure if they ever will. My only advice is to not force them to remember anything as it could do more harm than good.”

With that, the healer excused himself to go to his next appointment leaving you with the maid.

Looking at the maid made you wonder if you’re in a historical manhwa and that you’re a child of a wealthy noble. Maybe you’re in one of those cliche tropes where you transmigrated as the villain and need to try to take down all the death flags waving.

“What are we going to do now young master? First, you lost your parents and now you lost your memories…”

The maid sobbed for a few more minutes before gathering herself and finally explaining your predicament.

Apparently, the only part you got right was the wealthy part. Your name is still [Name] [Lastname] surprisingly enough and you’re a magician’s child. Unlike other magicians who are neck-deep into their research, your parents focused more on commerce. The result of their efforts is the wealth your family has now, the [Lastname] family are as wealthy as nobles because of various magical tools they invent and sell.

“Of course, we are not as wealthy as the Henituse family or any of the duchies in the kingdom.”

Well, that’s a given since the Henituse is on a different level.

…wait Henituse? Like Cale Henituse? From the holy trinity of web novels? Lout of the Count’s Family?

And so that was how you confirmed that you have been transmigrated in your beloved manhwa/web novel as a no-name extra that isn’t even mentioned once.

The life of a wealthy, orphaned amnesiac seems to be good to you. You have everything at your disposal as there are servants at your every beck and call. Income is also a no-brainer as your body seems to remember mana and how it works. Creating and modifying magical tools and potions come to you easily.

In the midst of everything you still manage to find time to support your favourite characters from behind the scenes. You don’t have any plans on stepping into the limelight but you also can’t help but meddle a little since you hold those characters belovedly in your heart.

‘If Cale Henituse can’t stay still and live as a wealthy slacker then I shall do it for him!’

That was supposed to be the plan.

“Good day I am Ron and I am a servant of young master Cale Henituse.”

So why is this goddamn assassin interrupting your tea time at your favourite cafe!?

“Ah, the new hero of the kingdom. What could such a person need with a humble person like myself?”

You blatantly put your guard up, showing the cunning man you won’t give in to his whims.

“A prodigy such as yourself can hardly be called humble. But on that note, our young master would like to avail your services.”

…what now?

“I’m sorry Mister Ron but I do not do commissions. I work to provide for the masses, free from the constraint of an employer even if it’s a temporary one.”

You composed yourself and pushed down the urge to throw a fit right then and there. But Ron didn’t seem to notice your efforts as he slid a bag of gold coins across the table. He probably thinks you’d do the job at the right price.

“Money won't change anything. I have enough to sustain me for a lifetime. Now please excuse me as I only wish to lounge around.”

With that, you stood up and left the cafe.

The days following that weren’t easy. Everywhere you go, you seem to bump into one of Cale’s people. It has gotten to a point where you have to pause your meddling endeavours because they almost caught you a couple of times.

But since when has fate been on anyone’s side in LoTCF?

“I’m Choi Han from the Henituse family I am here on behalf of Cale-nim.”

“I’m Hans visiting on behalf of young master Cale.”

“I am the priestess Cage, I am visiting with Marquis Taylor Stan to conduct business.”

“Can you help this poor soul named Bob?”

“Hello, I’m Cale Henituse. I’m sure you’ve met the people I sent to your house.”

Cale Henituse is more persistent than you thought. He wouldn’t stop no matter how much you try to refuse his antics. It even came to a point where he had to visit you himself.

But still, even if you love his character deeply… there’s no way you would let yourself be caught up in his whims.

It’ll be the end of your peaceful life once that happens.

“Young master [Name] the prince, his Highness Alberu Crossman has ordered your presence in his castle.”

“That fu–”

“Did you say something, young master?”

“Ah no… you must’ve heard wrong.”

You plastered a smile on your face as the maid handed you the summon letter. The maid excused herself after handing you the letter to give you privacy. 

Just before you could open the letter you could hear some rustling from the window. You cautiously approached it as the noise seemed to be deliberate. Once you got on the windowsill you noticed a piece of folded paper neatly tucked in.

Goodluck 

“That fucking piece of shit! Favourite character my ass!”

[adrienneleclerc]

Move to Miami

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: after the Miami Grand Prix, Charles meets a wonderful woman that would make him consider moving to the states

Warning: the usual spelling and grammatical errors, this is based off "Move to Miami" by Enrique Iglesias featuring Pitbull

A/N: LANDO WON THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX!!!!! I cried, I cried so many times hearing him win, watching the edits people have made, the McLaren post of Lando jumping on the team, I was so emotional! I mean i cried when I couldn’t watch it live, I had to go to YouTube for live commentary, I am so happy he won!!!!

After doing beach yoga for the Hilton hotel, Lando actually invited Y/N, the yoga instructor, to the Grand Prix.

"Are you sure? You don't have to invite me, I'm sure you have other people in mind." Y/N said.

"No, no, I insist. You said you've never seen a race before and you're a big fan. I can even pick you up so you could be my personal guest." Lando said.

"All right, sounds great, I'll be rooting for you and for Ferrari." Y/N said, hugging Lando before she went to roll her yoga mat. She made it to the hotel so she could change and put her sneakers on before heading over to Juice and Java for a sandwich and a smoothie.

What Y/N did not know is that a certain Ferrari driver was also heading to Juice and Java. Both were walking from opposite directions but Charles opened the door first, letting Y/N pass.

"After you." Charles said.

"Thank you." Y/N said, walking in to the cafe with Charles walking right behind her. She turned her head. "Oh my god, you're Charles, I'm a big fan, really, I'm Y/N." Y/N said.

"Thank you, always great meeting a fan." Charles said.

"Yeah, I am so excited for the Grand Prix, like you don't even know. Am I talking a lot? I tend to ramble when I'm excited or nervous, and honestly seeing you here makes me feel both emotions." Y/N admitted.

"You are talking a lot, but I find the rambling cute." Charles said, making Y/N blush. She was up next to order.

"Hi, how are you?...I'm good, can I get a blueberry, banana, and strawberry smoothie, a chicken caesar wrap, and a Nutella crepe please...yeah that's it, thank you." Y/N said. Charles also said his order and stood beside Y/N.

"You mind if I eat with you?" Charles asked. There was something about Y/N that drew him in.

"I don't mind at all. Lets find us a table." Y/N said, they chose a table away from the windows. Y/N's order was called up first and then Charles, they sat back down.

"So you're a fan of Formula 1?" Charles asked, taking a sip of his juice.

"Yes actually, big Ferrari fan. By the way, not a fan of the new livery." Y/N said, taking a bite of her wrap.

"Why not? Ferrari should be red." Charles said.

"Yeah, but you guys were teasing how Azzurro la plata and Azzurro dino are historical blue shades, making homage to the North American Racing Team, so you'd think that for Miami only, the new livery would look like that, all white with azzurro la plata details." Y/N said, sipping her smoothie.

"You are right, I can't lie, but I am also under contract so as far as Scuederia Ferrari knows, i love the new livery." Charles said, eating his wrap.

"You mean Scuderia Ferrari HP." Y/N teased.

"Ugh, don't remind me. That livery has so many blue HP logos, what is the point of having the blue background on a red car?" Charles argued.

"The fans have been saying the same thing! A transparent background with just the white lettering of HP would have been just fine." Y/N said.

"So what is it that you do?" Charles asked.

"Oh, I'm a yoga instructor, I actually did the Hilton yoga thing with Lando." Y/N said,

"Really? That's cool, are you going to the race?" Charles asked.

"i am! Lando heard me say I never been to a race so he gave me a pass, I'll be his personal guest for race weekend. I'm sure I'll see you around the paddock." Y/N said.

However, Charles did not truly see her until the celebration in a Miami club. Y/N was dancing to a reggaeton song, truly having a good time, drinking with Lando.

"Thanks for inviting me Lando! I am so proud that you won your first race, and that it was my first time watching one in person, you made me cry." Y/N exclaimed over the music, hugging him tightly because she is an affectionate Latina.

"Thank you for coming! I loved hanging out with you." Lando said. Y/N kissed his cheek befire she started dancing some more, Charles watching her every move, just mesmerized by the way she moves to the music, you won't find women like her in Monaco, that's for sure. Charles took a shot of tequila before going up to Y/N and tapping her on the shoulder, she turned around.

"Charles! Its so good to see you, congratulations on P3, you did so well considering what happened during practice." Y/N told him, hugging him really tightly. "Wanna dance with me?"

"I'm afraid if i dance with you, i'll never want to leave Miami." Charles said, flirting a bit, Y/N giggled.

"Well we wouldn't want that now do we?" Y/N teased.

"I don't know, I think I'm willing to move. Theres good food, good music, a bigger population than Monaco, obviously." Charles said and Y/N laughed.

"Well there's also alligators and crocodiles, hurricanes, i don't think you're built for Florida, guapo." Y/N said.

"Would you consider moving to Monaco?" Charles asked.

"Oh i would LOVE to live in Monaco, but I am broke as fuck." Y/N said.

"Then live with me." Charles said.

"Hold on, espera un tantito, we just met, at least buy me dinner." Y/N joked.

"Mm, we leave tomorrow morning. If you give me your number we could do long distance." Charles said.

"Are you serious? You are willing to do a long distance...whatever this is, with me? Are you drunk?" Y/N asked.

"No, but your body got me tipsy." Charles flirted again.

"I'm serious Lord Perceval." Y/N said.

"I would like to explore this, I haven't had luck dating in Monaco, maybe it was time to explore elsewhere, and where else than Miami." Charles states.

"Fine, don't make me regret this." Y/N said. Charles gave her his phone and she put her number and a contact photo from her instagram. "I made you follow me on Insta by the way." Y/N gave Charles his phone back.

"You won't regret it, I swear." Charles said.

7 Months Later

Charles was in his hotel room after media day, December 5. He decided to FaceTime his long distance girlfriend.

"Hello, mon ange, how are you?" Charles asked.

"Guapo, isn't it like 11pm over there? Go to bed, you have practice tomorrow." Y/N said.

"But i wanted to talk to you, how was your day?" Charles asked.

"Its been fine, I'm just doing Christmas shopping, my niece wants legos but my cousin didn't specify which one and I am this close to getting her a McLaren lego set." Y/N said.

"McLaren? Why not Ferrari?" Charles asked.

"Ferrari is all sold out, mi amor, so McLaren it is until that freaking payasa se digna a contestar el pinche teléfono." Y/N said.

"You know, speaking of Christmas, my winter break is coming up in a few days. How do you feel about me spending the break with you in Miami?" Charles asked,

"Wait, really? But what about your family?" Y/N asked.

"I told her that you don't have the luxury to travel with me so I think she's okay with me spending some time in Miami with you. And so is Andrea as long as I am keeping up with my workouts and diet plan." Charles said.

"Wow, thats amazing. Do you still have that craqzy idea of moving to Miami?" Y/N asked.

"I mean, under normal circumstances, I would never leave Monaco because of my mom, but a certain beautiful angel makes me consider moving every time I speak with her." Charles said and Y/N laughed.

"Que cursi, but that's super sweet of you to say, I must give you some credit. Now please go to bed." Y/N said.

"I'll be dreaming of you, goodnight, mon ange." Charles said.

"Goodnight, guapo." Y/N said and hung up the phone. Who knew teaching yoga with Lando would lead to all of this.

The End

Hope y'all liked it, just a little quick blurb to keep me busy and entertained. Read part 2 of Meeting the Family if you haven't done so, I wrote a little more to it.

[traditionalwisdomacademy]

What is Historical Grammatical Hermeneutics?

How to Apply it to the Scriptures? The text genre dictates its interpretation. This is why we say, historical (even the allegories in the Bible have context, and they are allegories by nature not allegory by interpretation).When we say literal it involves genre (we don’t interpret Proverbs as prophecy for the most part, as we don’t interpret Songs of Songs as a narrative.)I have to say that the…