#if these are the so called freedom fighters

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

No because can we talk about team Sabbath? Not to say that they're hot and they're cool but like analyse them?

Can we talk about how they're different from others individually? How they're socially rejected as if they're fundamentally different from normals?

Firstly, Vinny Hong.

He was always discriminated for being different in every way one can be different from someone. His looks- red hair and Heterochromia which is said to be his albinism. He has been bullied for looking differently than what's beauty standard in Korea, for being different from normal people as he was convinced that he's abnormal one. He was also bullied a lot for being a poor, which sets his difference between rich or non poor people and him. He has been picked on a lot because of that and the fact that he was struggling with money affected his character a lot. We saw that society doesn't treat ppl with albinism and/or Heterochromia well, and plus poor people are often victims of bullying. On top of that, he got in troubles a lot and made himself a name "a thug" in school, which again set him apart from rest of students. He's called mad dog. Teachers can't deal with him, adults are having problems with him and etc. He's completely rejected by society. That's why he wants recognition so badly, so that he can deal with his inferiority complex.

Secondly, Hajun a.k.a Joker

Hajun is underground fighter, I think that already sets him apart from most people and most boxers (as they don't fight for underground fights) so that's one difference for you. Even his little brother hates that he's underground fighter, despite the fact that Hajun genuinely seems to like fighting just as cycling but despite that, his love for fighting isn't being accepted by his own family. He's also different from others as a character. For example, his attention span seems to be short and messy as he gets easily distracted. He's in middle of important race but he gets distracted and stops at red light when he actually doesn't have to. No one stopped in entire windbreaker at red light except Hajun. He also stopped to save the puppy during the race and came in last because of that. People were confused because what Hajun was doing was not making sense for them, that it was actually very different from what kind of players they're used to. Plus Hajun, just like Vinny, is facing money problems.

Thirdly, Wooin Yoo

Wooin was rejected by his own family but I think it's also said how people, even now, refuse to admit that he's normal. But first of all, his main issue is his family. Wooin has been trying for years to get recognition from his family, some love and acknowledgement but he never got one, in fact he got redeemed as useless, disappointment, troublemaker punk. All he honestly wanted was recognition from his family, no one else. He was locked up, yes fucking locked up, by his own father and the freedom got ripped away from his hands. I doubt he had much freedom from the beginning anyway. He got locked up for assumingly long time and even if his house was big and even if he was rich, he was extremely lonely. Now, he's seen as weird by people but I honestly think it's because he couldn't develop well due to his abusive family.

Lastly, Hyuk Kwon

We all know why Hyuk is being rejected: his style. He's pro Cyclist, he's really good and talented but unfortunately, he can be aggressive. Like his jack-knife, or how he tried to crush team ghost's member's head with his bike while telling them to die. That's what got him expelled from his previous team.

"i heard Hyuk is kicked out."

"Finally. Everyone who races against him ends up injured haha."

So it's obvious he was rejectec by his own team. If it hasn't been Wooin, he'd probably be dealing with this problem again.

Team Sabbath is being rejected by rest of the teams as well, as other crews don't welcome their style of cycling. But it's like Hummingbird and Sabbath aren't that different, they're both similar to found family but they have different morals.

[seleneprince]

Hamas member gives details of their fight for Palestine's freedom and against the zionists in IDF interrogation video

The brave tale from this amazing fighter has left me speechless. I distrusted them as first and pinned them as terrorists, since that's what all my favourite zionist activist in Tiktok told me, and you know the people in this platform are very well informed about these conflicts. Seriously, I'm amazed by the level of courage and love for the country this man represents in his words and attitude. Expected no less from a man that follows the Islam, a religion that values human life above everything else.

But out of all his heart-wrenching lines, this one struck me the most:

"We heard sounds of young children crying, we shot at the door, we didn't hear them anymore,"

If you even DARE to come at me to defend these MONSTERS, save those words for other braindead people like you. Get the fuck out of my blog and block me, or I'll block you, I don't care. But I won't tolerate people supporting terrorists that kill children in my blog.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Did you guys know that the KKK also hates Israel. Did you know that just because a group hates Israel does not mean that they are anti-Zionist Pro-Palestinian freedom fighters. Did you know that antisemitism is real. Did you guys know about this.

[circus-k]

worlds most microscopic design changes

+ tech explanations cause i don't think i've even once said anything about what they do

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Plus the angst is delicious, and how can I say no to angst?<<

I got you Angst! Make the genesis wave happen nad the Fleetway dimension gets affected too, nothing changed but the freedom fighthers don't remember scourge and the only one Who remembers the past is him so Scourge has to Re-connected with them or Re-rizz Sonic.

Extra points if the New Fleetway timeline is better or worse (Maybe It could be the King Sonic dimension? 👀)

👀👀👀 ohoho interesting..... an incident that makes everyone forget him would fuck him up big time I think, because by this point Scourge is comfortable with everyone. He has friends, he has a boyfriend, for once in his life he's... happy. And to have it all taken from him in an instant.... oooo he would not take it well

Maybe at first he thinks it's a prank, because that's exactly the kind of prank Sonic would find funny, but as he interacts with everyone else, he isn't so sure; he doesn't believe Tails alone could put on such a good act for so long, so he starts to get suspicious, maybe panic a little, and that's when the change in behaviour really starts to hit home. Sure the rest of the freedom fighters might be more willing to give him a break, but Sonic has reverted right back to his "No Fucking Lookalikes" policy with no exceptions. Sonic absolutely would not trust this bad boy-wannabe skulking about in their base - meeting him out on the street is one thing, but the base is important, they can't afford to let just anyone wander in - and the distrust would cut Scourge deeper than expected. It was one thing to not be trusted by Sonic when he first arrived, because yeah, he was planning on stirring up trouble then so the suspicion was warranted, but he's over that now, and it's another thing entirely to be accused of being shady when he isn't even doing anything. Like, it's his home, and all of a sudden he's not welcome in his own home. It's going to hurt, and that means it's going to piss him off. It feels like rejection, like betrayal, and Scourge does not take rejection or betrayal well

What also strikes me is if he's in the fleetway zone, Scourge doesn't know about the genesis wave. He has absolutely no clue what has happened, no clue he was supposed to be wiped from existence. So he has no idea what the hell has gone wrong. His first instinct is to blame Robotnik, but Robotnik doesn't know who he is either, and no matter how hard he tries, Scourge can't prove he's lying about not knowing him

Ultimately I feel like his priority shifts to figuring out what happened and how he can reverse it. I imagine the freedom fighters have been moved enough by his insistence that they do know each other, maybe they've even bullied Sonic into giving him a chance, and they've agreed to help him figure out what the hell has happened. But even if they do, he still feels alone. He knows them, but they don't know him. They don't know about his favourite things, Sonic doesn't remember their favourite dates, he's checked Kintobor's records and searched for group photos that include him and everything is gone. Scourge the Hedgehog's entire existence has been wiped clean off the face of the planet, except for Scourge himself. Could you imagine what that would do to even a normal person, let alone someone like Scourge? One million issues he's been ignoring not even noticed yet would flare up, and he's desperately searching for a way to fix it. He wants his home back, and if he couldn't restore everyone's memories... well, it would take him time to heal enough to even begin trying to rebuilding his friendship with the freedom fighters and get Sonic to fall in love with him again. Especially when he still doesn't know how he did it the first time. He wants to run away about it, but how can he run away when he doesn't have anywhere else to go?

Getting Sonic to believe his story that he's been here for years and they've all just forgotten would be the biggest challenge, I think. The rest of the freedom fighters are more inclined to believe the story, but not him. In my head, he only changes his mind when, in the middle of a fight with Scourge - kicked off because Scourge, out of frustration at trying to prove he's telling the truth, brings up Johnny, and Sonic is immediately like "how fucking dare you use my dead friend against me to manipulate me" - Scourge blurts out something no one - not even his friends - knows about. Something Sonic has kept entirely to himself, that he only ever felt comfortable telling Scourge after they grew close

In the heat of the moment, of course, he rejects this train of thought and just argues with Scourge harder, because he's stubborn and hates admitting to being wrong. But after they've both stormed off - and maybe Sonic catches a glimpse of Scourge holding back frustrated tears - and he has a moment to himself, he sits and thinks about what Scourge said and slowly realises maybe, just maybe, Scourge is telling the truth after all

[jilyandbambi]

the ceasefire would still be on rivht at this moment had Hamas not broken it with the terrorist attack in Jerusalem and by repeatedly reneging on its agreement to release Israeli hostages.

[curetapwater]

Archie Sonic 🤝🏼 Shadow in general

Getting mislabeled as the leader of their team because they get the most character focus but the girl who actually formed and leads the team is Right Fucking There.

[s0fter-sin]

even though ellie is immune, we see in the mall that infected still attack her and we know that they will rip people apart in an attempt to spread. a vaccine wouldn’t kill the existing infected or stop them from attacking. ellie would never be able to make a decision without the fireflies manipulating her into thinking she was selfish and killing people and turning her against joel by making her think the same about him and maybe even that she’s just a replacement for sarah. not to mention they would just use a vaccine as the ultimate trading tool to topple fedra and become the new world leaders which is what they really want. they were going to kill a little girl without telling her she was going to die on the off chance her brain could produce a cure. joel did the right thing

[the-mist-wanderers]

diversity win! this man-eating rat woman respects your pronouns and gender identity

she's gonna eat u

[wishfulmuses]

How soft are you?

❝ Do. Not. Touch. Me. ❞

[fresh-snow]

Nelson Mandela was in USA's terror watchlist until *2008. The guy who fought against apartheid state of South Africa, won a Nobel peace prize, became a president, a beloved character across the globe was in the terror watchlist of USA. So I wouldn't actually take murica's opinion about labeling a person or group of people as terrorists. Chances are they're actually fighting for the freedom of their country.

That's why they call Hamas terrorists instead of freedom fighters. In their eyes The Nelson Mandela was a terrorist.

Anyways as Nelson Mandela said

Free Palestine 🇵🇸🍉

[snowisflesh-blog123]

i'm still apprehensive about diyoza because of her unnamed pre bombs war crimes that got her labelled the worst terrorist ever alive and are never explained but she DOES rock every time she's on screen in the show .

[infiniteglitterfall]

Setting aside the fact that their entire explanation of the Malaysia one is actually, "this McDonald's sued us, personally," and the fact that BDS is infamously a garbage org -- In fact, just setting aside literally everything it says here:

McDonald's stores are independently run. Each McDonald's location is independent. Each franchisee sets their own policies.

McDonald's doesn't run most of its restaurants; it makes its money from renting out property. Food Theory did a detailed deep dive into this a couple years ago.

McDonald's doesn't HAVE "ties to Israel." It has 229 buildings in Israel. Run by a local company. Which in turn licenses and rents them to individual people.

And that local company said it was spending $5M to donate meals to the IDF. Not McDonald's. Not the individual franchisees.

It turns out that the owner of the company doing this is Omri Padan, one of the founders of Peace Now, which actively fights Israeli settlements in the West Bank; and that the 4,000 daily donated meals are also for "healthcare workers and residents of the affected region" - i.e. massacre survivors from the 22 villages that Hamas demolished in one day.

Why does this matter?

Because, as a result of this boycott,

"the 'local owner operator' distinction was lost on a mob of protesters in Lebanon who ransacked a local McDonald’s restaurant."

McDonald’s Malaysia, which has zero to do wth this and operates in a majority-Muslim country that's actively pro-Palestinian, lost $1.31 million, and is suing BDS.

A Turkish television broadcaster recently fired a news anchor after she appeared on the air with a cup of Starbucks coffee. (Starbucks is the other company BDS has been targeting.)

Protestors covered a Melbourne McDonald's and Starbucks with red paint and anti-Israel stickers that I'm betting its minimum-wage employees had to scrape off.

This is part of why BDS is a garbage org. It doesn't care if the actions it calls for make sense or have a chance of accomplishing anything.

It's literally just there to make noise and waste your attention and energy.

The McDonald's boycott is officially on now, avoid McDonald's restaurants as well as McDonald's products (McCafe Keurig coffee pods comes to mind) in grocery stores in support of Palestine and Palestinian solidarity activities.

[stormtide-leviathan]

i love making ttrpg characters that are so fucked up

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Guiding Light✨

Marcus Acacius x fem! reader

A/N: I was immediately inspired to write this after I saw the pictures drop Monday, and I conjured this up in one night. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading 🩷

Summary: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Yearning, a little angst, soft dom! Marcus, feelings, confessions, jealousy, unprotected piv, oral (male/female receiving), fluff, reader’s nickname is Starlight

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  The arena is drenched in dark crimson colors as the clash of silver armor and jagged swords collide in unison. The audience is obnoxiously loud as their rowdy shouts and chants fill your ringing ears.  

   Thump. Thump. Thump. 

   You can basically feel your heart trying to break free of your insides that pound uncontrollably as you watch Marcus take out another large fighter from his right with only one jab of his shiny sword that catches sunlight and reflects in your wide eyes.

   Come on, Marcus. Win, stay alive!

   You swallow back a trembling whine as you sit on the edge of your seat, fingernails digging into the tough stone as you watch the man you yearn for take another blow to the back. You gasp as you watch Marcus flip the fighter over and finish him off with one slice of his silver sword, barely any sign of pain or fear in his vision that’s focused on taking out every single enemy that stands in his way of freedom.

   You sigh out in relief, fear flooding your veins as your eyes stay glued to every careful move he makes in the arena of death. 

   He stands in the middle of the expansive, gruesome arena, dodging left and right, taking out man after man, completely pulverizing anything and anyone that gets in his way. He’s the best in the game, the most experienced fighter, the champion that never falters, never loses. So why are you a complete mess when he’s in that pit of death?

   You’re not lovers, not exactly. You’re his plaything, the woman he calls to his bedchamber after every battle, every night that suits his needs. He doesn’t care if you’re asleep, doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of other pressing matters, doesn’t give a fuck because you’re his property that he can do whatever he wants with. And you have to admit you find that sort of… hot. You’ll do anything for that man. He can use you all he wants, as long as that means you have him.

   Your pulse thrums in your neck as you watch him completely dominate the arena. The blazing sun rains down on his broad body, leaving him in damp, silver armor, sweat glistening down his tanned skin, greying curls sticking to his forehead, dirt covering every inch of his muscular arms, his sculpted legs, his large hands. 

   You so badly wish you could be every speck of that dirt right now so you could lick up and down every inch of him until you were completely consumed in him, until you could see nothing but him for all eternity, until he melded his own skin with yours as you fused into one. 

   When the crowd chants and the last man falls to his death, the only man left standing is him, General Acacius, the man you’re completely wrapped up in. You have to pull yourself back together as your core burns hot, slick collecting just thinking of what he’ll do to you later tonight. You know he’ll take you, hard. 

   His golden flecked chocolate eyes find yours in the crowd in a heartbeat, a celebratory smirk curling against his plush mouth as darkness and trouble swirl through those beautiful eyes. You know what that means. He’s won you, and he wants you, now.

   When your eyes leave his, you see the emperor’s daughter, Mina, looking over his broad body with those bright blue eyes, her ashy blonde hair flowing down her back, and she’s nearly drooling over his victory, thinking that she can get him with her daddy’s command.

   You flare hot with jealousy at the thought of Marcus and Mina tangling together, their skin caressing over each other’s in his large bed draped with gold sheets that swallow their bodies whole till they’re nothing but shadows dancing in the midst of the night.  

   You see it now. The long walks they take in the gardens, the secret slurs in each other’s ears over dinners with the entire court, an arranged marriage as he fights for her love each time he’s in the arena. 

   It’s only in your head, only a sick mirage your jealous mind has conjured up. He barely glances her way half the time, his heated gaze only locked on you each time you’re in the same vicinity. It’s stupid really, the hate you feel for her because you could never measure up to a rich, beautiful goddess like herself. You don’t come from royalty, barely have a cent to your name, and that is why he could never love you, you think. 

   Mina has it all, and you’re just… you. 

   You swallow the lump in your throat as the audience still shouts and whistles from every direction as Marcus is called out and awarded as the winner of today’s events. You want to stay, but you get up quietly and leave, knowing he’ll want you waiting in his chambers when he’s finished. 

   He’s safe. That’s all that matters. 

   You quickly leave behind the bellowing noise of the arena, trading it for a quiet walk through the rose garden, past the trickles of clear blue fountains, entering into a quiet overlay of towering architecture that’s trimmed in carved stone and marble pathways. A place you could never even dream of setting foot in on a regular basis. You’re just a commoner, not royalty, not wealthy, not anything but his to take. And that will have to be enough. For now. 

   You slip past some guards, heading straight for his bedroom, his sanctuary so to speak. He calls it that because you are what he worships night after night in those sheets, inside those marble walls, against his broad body that makes every vibration buzz through your nerve endings. He is what makes this city even tolerable. 

   You throw the double doors open wide and slam them shut, letting the glow of the sunlight fade through the cascading window overlooking the city. The room smells of spice and aroma, the golden curtains sparkle as the sun kisses the see-through fabric and dips against the silky sheets that are bathed in a majestic golden hue. The king sized bed sits front and center as his grand bathing chambers lay to the right, just inside the hand crafted door that’s threaded with gold.

   This room, this place is exquisite, and you can’t believe the emperor is letting Marcus stay here after their falling out that happened just weeks ago. But the best fighter gets to stay in these living quarters. They get money, a title, a chance at freedom from the arena if they’re lucky. That’s what Marcus is fighting for. To be free from this hellish prison, and you just pray to the gods that no one will take him from you. You’ll surely wither and fade away the moment something goes wrong in those walls of torture and murder because he’s all you know anymore here in Ancient Rome. 

   Before you can delve into anymore feelings, you hear the crash of doors being opened behind you, and then you hear the disposal of swords and shields being tossed in a heap on the floor, then you hear the deep, ragged breaths of the one you’ve been waiting for. Marcus.

   You try to twist around, but strong arms envelop you from behind, and a warm breath blows huskily down the shell of your ear. “Enjoy the show?” he smirks as his meaty hands find the back of your long gown and rip, tugging it free as it falls to the floor around your ankles. 

   Your mouth drops open as warmth blooms in your core, hot and heavy like the room begins to feel. “Marcus! I liked that dress,” you pout.

   He grabs the back of your hair and tugs playfully while one hand snakes around your waist and pulls you flush to his silver armor, making you gasp as he cups your bare breasts and starts kneading them together, like he needs you right this very second and can’t wait any longer to get his experienced fingers on your burning skin. 

   “I’ll buy you another one. Not like I don’t already have one hanging in my closet,” he teases, pinching your pebbling nipples together as a slight moan leaves your lips. 

   “Needy thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, pulling you closer as one hand slips down and ghosts over the sheer panties, the only thing left on your bare body. 

   “For you, yes,” you whine, stifling a moan as his calloused thumb glides over your clit, sending a shiver down your spine as you fight to keep standing upright. 

   “Greedy thing I see, wanting to come already?” he teases as he tugs his hand away from your slick center and rips your ruined panties in half, leaving you completely bare and absolutely wet with desire and famished for his touch. 

   “Turn around,” he instructs with a bite as he assesses you from head to toe, licking his bottom lip in anticipation the moment he sees how drenched you are for him.

   Your gaze drops over him, still clad in silver armor, his leather wristbands splattered in dried blood, his Caliga boots biting into his toned shins, the leather kissing his muscular thighs. He quickly loses the wristbands and stalks toward you, backing you up till your back is pressed into the corner of the bed, chest heaving as the possibilities swarm your hazy mind.

   “My armor, unthread it,” he demands as his dark brown eyes pierce into yours as sweat glistens across his tanned forehead, dirt still caking his dark skin as he stands fresh from a win of a long day in the arena. “Now,” he growls as he loses his patience while you stand there staring like a lovesick puppy.

   “Yes, sir,” you nod as your fingers get to work unlacing the gold threads of his armor, making sure your movements are swift and cordial, knowing he doesn't like waiting too long to have you. 

   His eyes follow you with every turn, every move, like he’s some kind of wild animal that’s stalking his prey, ready to pounce and devour at any minute. You have to keep your eyes off his as you unfasten his belt, the silver armor falling to the floor as you tug it off his broad body until he’s standing only in the leather material that covers his upper thighs and the boots that shine against his banged up ankles. 

   You stand there a minute and admire the gorgeous fighter that stands in front of you. Tall, extremely handsome, greying curls slicked back with the sweat from the sweltering sun in the arena, dirt etched across sculpted, tanned skin, eyes the color of bright sunlight and charcoal mixed together to make the prettiest honey-glazed eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. This man is like a god, and you’d happily get down on your knees and worship him at his beck and call. 

   His blazing eyes slide down your bare body and end at what’s left on his, nodding for you to finish the job. “Well, don’t just stand there. Finish undressing me,” he bites out with scalding irritation, clearly ready to forget his long day in an arena where hyenas bark at him day after day. He wants a release, and that release is you.

   You quickly tug the leather material down his legs, taking his underwear to the floor as his hard cock stands at attention against his sculpted abs, his coarse, wiry, dark hair trailing down the base of him as you gulp with wide-eyes.

   He’s so big, so thick, so very… god-like. 

   He sits down on the wooden chest that’s sprawled at the end of his bed, spreading his muscular legs wide as he points to his dusty battle boots. “Knees on the ground, Starlight,” he instructs firmly with a gravelly tone that makes you clench your thighs together.

   “Yes. Of course, Marcus.”

   “Sir,” he corrects as you bend down and start to unlatch the straps of his fighting boots, slowly stripping them off as you toss them to the side. 

   You idly sit there on your knees, one arm twisting around the back of his thigh as you spread him wider, almost drooling at the sight of his thick cock dripping precum around the angry red tip. Your mouth parts open, and you lose all train of thought. The only thing you want is to choke on that beautiful cock till he tells you to stop.

   He strips you from your fantasies as he grabs a fistful of your hair, leaning down as he bites out slow, deliberate words. “Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to be a good girl and wrap that pretty little mouth around my cock?” His eyes twinkle with a seductive glare, and his dirty words melt all the way down to your heated core until you can actually feel them around your aching clit.

   “Yes, sir. Wanna be your good girl,” you pant as you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

   He smirks and sits back as his rough hand guides you forward. “Then get to work,” he growls, tugging you forward with his hand wrapped around your hair until your lips meet his dripping tip.

   You take your tongue and run it flat up the base of him, following along the bulging vein as you lick up the salty precum that gushes around his swollen tip. 

   Gods, he tastes so good, even after a long day in battle without a bath. You actually prefer to go down on him like this when his musk is drenched around the coarse hairs at his base, sweat pooling down his glorious body as you bathe in the aroma of him. Battle and all, this is when you like him most, when he completely takes charge and dominates you around his chambers, instructing you with filthy words and crude actions. This is how you like it. All hot and sweaty and desperate and messy.

   He groans as you take him deeper, hollowing out your cheeks as you fill your throat with his thick cock, gagging around his massive size as he starts to bob his hips, fucking your throat in steady strides as his large fingers wrap around your soft waves. 

   “That’s it, right there, atta fucking girl,” he moans, tipping his head down to yours as he watches you through the black pits that consume his wide eyes.

    “Look at me,” he demands as he pulls you back up to breathe, letting a bead of saliva connect to your plump lips from the tip of him as you suck in a deep breath, feeding your lungs as you look up into eyes that could eat you alive. 

   “There she is, my good little Starlight. Sucking my cock just the way I like it, yeah?” he coos, threading his fingers through your hair and stroking the back of your neck like you’re a well trained dog on a leash just waiting for their master to give you orders.

   “Mhm. You just taste so good, all hot and sweaty,” you purr as your hand slides down the base of his shaft, squeezing his balls as he grunts in pleasure, tightening his grip on your neck as he pushes you back down. 

   “Yeah? Put those pretty lips to action then, gorgeous,” he growls. 

   He takes you to your limits, cock throbbing as you choke and gag around his thick length, drool dousing him as he fucks you hard and deep, taking exactly what he needs after going through hell and back himself in one day.

   You groan, tears licking your eyes as you swallow the salty taste of him, letting him move you at his leisure, making your body do exactly as he pleases. Before you can get another good taste of his deliciousness, he pulls you off and throws you on your back in the silky sheets, watching him grab some of the gold cords from his armor. 

   Your breath escapes you as he crawls over your body, the dirt caking his broad arms as his hungry eyes nearly devour you whole as he carefully binds your wrists to the headboard, stilling your writhing legs as he starts to slowly spread them. 

   Your heart is beating wildly like ocean tides collide with your body, and your core is humming for Marcus to touch you in every single place he can get his filthy hands on you.

   He takes the tips of his fingers and melodically strokes them down your neckline, skating between your peaked breasts, teasing along your inner thighs until you’re a writhing mess beneath him. “Marcus, please,” you beg, nearly panting his name raggedly as you beg for his touch. 

   “Sir,” he corrects sternly as he stares at you with dark eyes in warning.

   “Sir,” you apologize with a meek voice.

   He chuckles and drags his finger higher, teasing around your drenched folds as he hikes one leg over his shoulder, your other folding around his back. 

   “Now, I want you to look up and watch, can you do that?” he asks as you tilt your head and swallow a gasp as you stare into the reflection of you and Marcus in between the sheets that will soon be soaked.

   “Want you to see what belongs to me, what I own,” he growls dominantly as he sinks down to his elbows and breathes in your musk deeply as your pussy shutters at just the feel of his hot breath.

   You groan in waiting, and then his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick stripe up your center as your wrists tug at the golden clasps, your fingernails digging into your skin as you moan in pure ecstasy when his tongue circles meticulously around your puffy clit. 

   “Oh, yeah,” you whine as the feel of his thick fingers curl up inside you, reaching that sweet spongy spot that makes you dizzy every single time.

   He chuckles as he pulls you down further, your bound wrists biting into the cords as he swirls his tongue exceptionally fast, groaning at the taste of you as his messy curls fall against your thighs. You want to reach down and lace your fingers into those beautiful locks, want to hear him groan as your nails dig deep into his scalp as you moan his name around the spacious chambers of his living quarters, but you’ll work with this for now, until he says otherwise. 

   He pulls your bundle of nerves into his warm mouth, sucking and teasing as he looks up from under hooded eyes and stares at you playfully with his pupils expanding into dark pits the more he feasts on you. 

   You buck into his mouth as his fingers plunge in and out of you, creating the most obscene wet noises that reverberate off the marble walls. He releases your buzzing clit with a pop, licking the slick from his lips as he groans at the sweet taste of you.

   “This is exactly what I needed, Starlight. Needed to drink you down, taste the savory flavor of this sweet pussy, needed to drown in you,” he pants as he dives back in, licking and sucking and fucking two thick fingers inside your dripping hole until you start to see black dots flick across your vision.

   “Yes, come for me, Starlight,” he purrs, his gravelly voice melting your insides into warm lava as you snap and let the white hot heat take control.

   You throw your head back into the plush pillow and let your moans fill the room as you clench around his thick fingers and release everything you have to give him.

   “Just like that, Starlight. Fuck, yes,” he growls as he licks you clean, lapping up all the slick until you’re completely spent off the way he just demolished you.

   You feel his broad body climb over yours, carefully untying you from the headboard as your arms fall slack to your sides. You feel as if every wave of ecstasy just crashed into you, the high tides pulling you out to sea as you agreeably follow the darkness. Marcus pulls you out of the lapping waves and carries you back to shore where it’s safe and warm by his side.

   “Come here, Starlight. Just lay back and take the pleasure,” he purrs as he glides his massive cock into your slippery folds, spreading you wide as he starts to rock his hips back and forth, feeding himself inside you as your walls clench up around him. 

   You lay back into the dampening sheets as his body presses you deeper into the mattress, his hands tangled in your hair, your own legs wrapped tight around his broad back as you moan with every stroke of his cock. You feel the pressure inside you coiling tight, feeling as if you’ll come undone again at any second. This is what you love, what you revel in, what you need most in this world. It’s him. 

   You lay sprawled in the damp sheets, bodies tangled together like magnets colliding as you stare up into the wide mirror, the motions of his broad body reflecting in your wide eyes as you take the pleasure again and again.

   “Marcus,” you cry out, pleading for him, begging him not to stop as you watch him take you harder, your nails dragging down his back with every deep thrust he gives you as he kisses the back of your cervix repeatedly. 

   “Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, Starlight?” he coos against the shell of your ear as he traces his lips up up up until he’s hovering straight over your lips, his mouth teasing as he nips at your bottom lip.

   “Marcus,” you repeat, your heart straining for him to kiss you.

   Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. It’s all you want, all you need. Like air to fill your lungs, he’s all it takes.

   It takes him less than two seconds to collapse his lips onto yours like he’s as desperate for air as you, like he might die if he doesn’t fill the space between the two of you. You moan into his mouth, tasting salt and sunlight crash against your taste buds as his tongue licks inside your panting mouth. He groans into the kiss, tangling his large tongue with yours as you chase him and let him swallow you down like it’s his last night to live.

    He deepens the kiss, pulling you flush to his chest as he turns you around while still inside you, landing on his back as he laces his fingers through your locks, moaning your name with every lick and every taste he takes from you. It’s like the gods have blessed you, bringing you this man, this mountain of a man that feeds your every need. And gods, you don’t think you will ever get enough of him.

   He disconnects from your swollen lips, resting his sweat covered forehead on yours as he concentrates on his swift strokes inside you, planting his hands firmly on your hips as he takes you for the ride of your life. “Yeah, that’s it, Starlight, You’re almost there, I can feel how much you’re squeezing. Let it out, let me feel it,” he growls through clenched teeth, trying not to fall apart before you do.

   He speeds up his thrusts, filling you fuller than anyone else has before, rutting into you at just the right angle where you can feel him start to uncoil all your tethered connections as your body slackens against his hold on you. 

   One more hard, long thrust and you’re done. “Marcusssss,” you moan, feeling the heat slide down and spill over his entirety as you fall flush into his strong chest. He takes initiative and thrusts deeper, much harder than before, desperate to chase his own release.

   He threads his brows together and groans your name quietly, his lips lingering over the shell of your ear as he takes three more breaths and then spills ropes of hot white cum inside your sticky core. 

   You moan together in ecstasy, bodies entwined as he empties his seed inside you, chests heaving with exhaustion as he carefully pulls out from inside you and collapses on the bed with a thud, your body slack against his as the damp, dirty sheets shift around your naked bodies. 

   After a few seconds of ragged breaths, he pulls your back flush against his sweaty chest and drapes an arm around you, holding you close as you let the sun slowly slip behind dark clouds that paint the sky violet colors.

   “You need a bath,” you giggle as you lace your fingers through his.

   “So do you,” he chuckles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a huff. “Just let me lay here a few more minutes. I’m exhausted,” he murmurs as he pulls you as close as humanly possible to his warm chest. You cozy up to him and sigh, relaxing into his warm touch, reveling in this soft moment that seems more rare than nights you get him all to yourself. 

   The room is sweltering, his scent clinging to every part of your body as you bathe in the smell of sweat, dirt, spice, and something that smells a lot just like him. He’s like your very own glass of fine wine, the perfect combination of class and just downright filth. He’s just… perfect. Perfect for you, the only man you truly want. And maybe that’s because you’re in love with him. Maybe that’s why you cling to him as much as you can, afraid he’ll be taken from you at a moment’s notice.

   You can’t lie to yourself, you’re absolutely terrified each time he steps into that arena, knowing the emperor wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if a man slaughtered him to shreds. You fidget against the damp sheets, cringing at the thought of blood filling his lungs, his body parts pulled apart by barbarians as he takes his last breath and slips into the dark abyss. 

   You clamp your eyes shut, thinking of Mina dragging him off to get married, thinking of him choosing another woman over you once he’s offered to cut ties in the arena if he marries someone with a higher title. You tremble at the thought of him leaving you all alone, like you never meant anything to him, like you were just a ragdoll for him to control whenever he wanted, like you don’t mean a damn thing other than knowing you’ll always be there at his command when he wants to blow some steam off from the arena. 

   You fight the uncontrollable tears that lick the backs of your eyes, plead to not break down in front of him, beg the gods to have some mercy on your soul if you were about to lose this man. You can’t lose him; you won’t lose him, unless he walks away and tells you to stay like a helpless dog losing their only person they know will take care of them.

   You can’t stand it, can’t hold in the emotions any longer, so you let them flow, feeling the tears like icy shards spilling down your burning cheeks.

   “Hey, hey, hey. Are you crying?” he asks with alarm in his deep, gravelly voice.

   “No,” you croak out as another tear falls like raindrops on the bed. 

   “Hey now, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he pushes softly, turning you around till you’re facing his direction, concern laced in his soft brown eyes.

   You stare at him with sad eyes, nervously twisting your fingers in the silky sheets that are now covered in grime and sweat. You can’t tell him you’re scared to lose him, you just… can’t.

   “Starlight, talk to me. Tell me what it is.” His fingertips brush off a falling tear, and you shake your head slowly. 

   “It’s nothing…”

   He cups your chin and tilts your head up to where your eyes are aligned with his, and in those eyes swims the most sincere gaze he’s ever given you in his entire life. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you cry. Now talk to me. I’m right here.”

   His fingertips feel like velvet dragging across your cheek, soft brown eyes weighing into yours as he gives you his full attention. And it’s no use now hiding your feelings; you need to just clear the air and get it off your chest.

   You take a deep breath and focus before you choke your words out. “I’m scared, Marcus.”

   “Scared of what?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he hears you out.

   “Of losing you…”

   He sighs and runs his thumb gently down your jawline, stroking it up and down as the soothing feeling seems to settle your nerves. “Oh, Starlight. You’re never going to lose me.”

   You swallow the thick lump in your throat, holding back tears as you shake your head. “I could lose you any day in that arena. The things they put you through, the people you have to kill, the absolute horror you have to go through just to stay alive!” 

   His eyes go wide, but he lets you continue. “I don’t want to watch you die, Marcus! I don’t want them to keep feeding you to the wolves like you’re some kind of mindless entertainment for the city of Rome!”

   He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly opening them back up as he cups the back of your neck. “I know, baby. I know…”

   Baby? That’s new….

   “Just trust me that I know what I’m doing, and that I’ll fight like hell to win my freedom back,” he sighs, his eyes glistening with a look like pain etched in the crevices of those golden brown irises.  

   “What if your freedom meant taking a wife, marrying someone with a title…” you whisper, barely able to lock eyes as he scrunches his forehead together.

   “What?” he asks with lines mapped against his tanned skin, considering your ridiculous question. “What do you mean take a wife with a title?”

   “Someone like Mina,” you murmur quietly.

   “Mina?” he asks with wide eyes.

   “She’s been obsessed with you ever since you first stepped into that arena. The way she looks at you… she could have you with a snap of her fingers if only she asked her father. And Marcus, I don’t want…”

   “Whoa there, slow down. Mina? Where is all this coming from? I have no interest in Mina.”

   You gulp, eyes dropping to the twisted sheets as you feel your heart stutter in your chest. “I overhear her all the time. The way she swoons over you, the way she dreams that one day you’ll notice her in the arena. And then… and what if you want to get married? Not even to her, but to someone with money, a title, someone royal, maybe someone that’ll get you out of here quicker? What if you…”

   You close your eyes tight, afraid you’ve spoken too much, afraid you’ve ruined everything as you lay in a heap with your heart pounding in your chest like a ticking time bomb. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did that, if you saved yourself from the brink of death. But I… I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, too. If you were to choose someone else…”

   You let the tears collect in your eyes, feel them slipping down your face as you try your best not to throw anything else frantic and chaotic into the stormy clouds above Rome. You’ve already said too much, too fast. You weren’t supposed to say anything.

   He lifts his head and stares at you, wordlessly assessing your fragile features as his eyes turn a soft brown, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes become glossy like yours. “Starlight, no. I don’t want Mina, I never did. And I would never ever leave you for someone else, even if it got me out of that pit faster. The only woman I want to see is you. If I haven’t made that clear before, I’m sorry. But… baby, you belong to me. You’re mine.”

   “I’m… yours?” you ask carefully, your tears spilling over the edges uncontrollably as you cling to his chest.

   “Of course you’re mine, Starlight. You’ve been mine since the first day I locked eyes on your beautiful face,” he whispers, curling a lock of hair behind your ear as you breathe in deep, surrounding yourself in the very essence of him as he tells you exactly how he’s felt the whole time this has been going on. “I’ve been yours longer than you know.”

   You whimper out a sigh, threading your fingers through his tousled hair as you stare into starry brown eyes that you’d really like to slip in and stay for all eternity. “Really?” you ask with wonder in your eyes.

   “Really,” he nods. “Do you know why I call you Starlight?”

   “No,” you whisper quietly, shaking your head as a fresh tear streams down your skin. He catches it with his thumb and caresses your cheek gently as his calloused fingers soothe your cloudy thoughts. 

   “Because you’re the brightest thing I see every single time I step into that arena. The only thing that keeps me fighting week after week in that bloodbath is you, so I can get back to you.”

   His answer leaves you completely breathless as you suck in warm air, your body still as you look longingly at the man that starts devastating wildfires in your heart.

   “Me?” you ask in a shaky breath.

   “You,” he nods with a smile. “The very first time I stepped into the arena, the first thing that crossed my vision was your eyes. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes were the only thing I focused on, the only thing that kept me from losing myself on that battlefield was you.”

   You gasp, his deep words taking the breath from your lungs as he confesses about the first time he noticed you, saw you, really, truly saw you. You weren’t invisible to him. You were never invisible. “Marcus…” you say shakily as he strokes your jawline lovingly. “But… I… I’m just a simple woman. I have no titles, no money to my name, no prospects. I’m just… me,” you state slowly.

   He sighs, cupping his hand around the back of your head as his fingers lazily stroke through your strands gently. “I don’t care, Starlight. I don’t care about money or titles or really anything about an important name. What's life of riches and freedom if I can’t have you?” 

   You swear your heart blooms like lush roses in your chest as you hear those words repeat again and again in your mind. He wants you, he wants you.

   “I want you,” he repeats, as if he can hear the sounds of doubt play in your mind like a music box that won’t stop spinning. 

   He cups both sides of your face and looks at you with pure intent in his glossy brown eyes. “I want you every day, every minute, every second, and I burn for you in that arena,” he promises as his lips graze over yours delicately. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you sitting in the audience all wide-eyed and beautiful. And I want you even more now that I have you, want you by my side every minute of every day because I can’t stand the thought of losing you. And I’ll fight like hell to earn my freedom back because I love you.”

   He loves you.

   “Marcus, I…” 

   He crashes his lips against yours, a hot, needy, yearning kiss that nearly sends you soaring into the night sky as his lips surge like fire through your very veins. It’s soft like snow, kissing at your eyelashes as you let him pull you flush to his chest, needing to be as close as possible as love burns through your bodies, connecting them together as if this is the very first time you both ache to collide together. 

   “I love you, Marcus,” you whisper against his lips.

   He pulls you on top of his chest and sinks his mouth down on yours, slowly slotting his tongue in your mouth, drawing lazily circles as he drinks you down as you allow him to take all of you. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs from you he has. He tastes like the stars that shimmer in the sky, and you’ll be his entire galaxy, his Starlight that’ll guide him off the battlefield of the arena and back into your arms where he’s safe from harm.

   When he disconnects from your mouth, he stares at you, his soft brown eyes shimmering up at you as he runs his calloused fingers tenderly through your hair. “You’re mine, Starlight.”

   “I’m yours,” you repeat, smiling down at him as he brushes his lips against your forehead, kissing you with love written all over his touch as he pulls you up from the bed. 

   “Come on, my love. Let’s go take a bath,” he says softly as he picks you up and carries you to the bathing chamber, his strong arms cradling you against his warm chest as he places a lasting kiss to your forehead. 

   All your worries are shed, all false pretenses are gone, everything you were mourning over is suddenly lifted off your shoulders as they fly away into the night sky. This man is yours, and he’s never ever planning on letting you go. 

   Starlight shines brighter than any Roman Empire games, and you’re his guiding light back home.

[shehzadi]

disgusted by all the photos and videos of palestinian men being stripped, abducted, and tortured by iof soldiers (and settlers!) and almost equally disgusted by the fact that the majority (the non-arabs, non-muslims, non-palestinians) continue to refuse to include palestinian men in any of their calls for justice and palestinian freedom because they either: 1. still see them as barbaric 2. as deserving of the treatment they are receiving or 3. at best, not effective enough tools for garnering sympathy as the children and women are and so not worth mentioning. hurts even more to see male palestinian journalists focus almost entirely on the women and children because, yes they are the majority of the victims, but palestinian men 110% know their lives aren’t of the same value to the rest of the world, despite their overwhelming love for their people, for their families and friends, for life.

and, just so you know, today (14.12.23) iof soldiers once again forced palestinian teenaged boys to strip and turn themselves in as alleged hamas fighters in ghazzah, and they also stripped palestinian men in jenin (occupied west bank) as part of the invasion that lasted 3 days, appearing to end today, in which dozens of palestinians were detained, 12 palestinians were martyred and at least 10 homes blown up by israeli forces. this has been the largest invasion of jenin in 21 years (x)(x).