#if this is indeed where we're going

[redeemed-wren]

Is there any point in praying and hoping for good things when they haven't been promised in this life?

Is it not better to focus on trusting God and being content in the mediocrity than to pray for something that won't be given and become bitter about it?

[shallowrambles]

So I've been thinking. It's funny how enjoying meta is somewhat embedded with trust.

Like, if you're "friends" and have followed a person for a long time, you have more a sense of their values, and it's easier to read their difficult meta because you trust more that they're being charitable/nuanced.

If you don't know them, it's harder to trust that they're not funneling difficult topics into rationalization of liking/supporting gross shit.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Apparently there's a fic reading challenge thing this year, but after doing a quick skim of the goals... we don't think we'll be touching it with a ten-foot stick. Some of these goals put a VERY bad taste in our mouth. The idea of a "diversity checklist" isn't supposed to be... literal, we don't think? No? We're remembering that one quote about "listening to people of color being like eating your vegetables for white activists" and we're feeling like it may actually have been understating whatever the hell is going on here.

[vyragosa]

idk if you’ve already read the 7.2 chapter but is there any info about Marisbury or/and Chaldean? people on reddit say Marisbury is actually a mastermind and basically U-Olga was a red-herring but idk if it’s really true

.

[osterby]

The incest mpreg she's seeing is her own. She literally invented AO3 so we would all have a place to put incest mpreg without it getting deleted by the latest whims of the Poiwers That Be.

Do you think Naomi Novik ever looks at AO3

sees some incest mpreg

and whispers to herself “I never wanted this.”

[tkbrokkoli]

need to vent in the tags a little :(

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

58 / 2.2k / shapeshifter familiars 141 tormenting witch reader for Halloween c:

...

You hum a song to yourself as you pull herbs from your garden and pile them into the crook of your arm. The sun sets rosy this evening; the sky is clear and the moon will be new.

You turn to go in, brushing off your black skirts with your free hand. But a familiar face darken your doorway. Nobody was there a moment ago. Your serene face falls into a sour frown.

"Soap."

Soap gives you a cocky grin. He hasn't lost that insufferable arrogance. "Evenin', witch."

You approach him with your herbs in tow. "What sad state of affairs brings you to my doorstep?"

"Aw, no warm welcome for your favorite scoundrel?"

"I favor you more as a crow."

"Handsome in all my forms, then."

You stop in front of him. It's clear you're going to have to wait for him to move or else squeeze past him. You plant your feet and wait, squaring your sight with his. "Where are the other two?"

Soap plucks one of the flowering herbs with his fingers to inspect it, then twirls it between his fingers. "About somewhere, likely causing the usual mayhem. They'll be right on my heels."

Your frown deepens. This is the fourth impossible quest you've sent them on. And they keep coming back. "Did you fetch what I asked?"

Soap raises an eyebrow as he moves closer to you, his eyes fixed on yours. He raises the plucked flower to his lips. There's an edge of challenge in his voice as he answers. "We did indeed." He gently sets the flower back on top of the pile. The he pulls out a small vial and dangles it in front of you. "And a little extra somethin' for you."

You reach for the vial only for him to pull it back.

Soap's smirk widens. "Pay up first."

Cold irritation spikes through you. You know just how he'd prefer to be paid. You shoulder past him and into your cottage with a scowl.

Soap, of course, follows you in, saunters through your front door, and kicks it shut behind him. He's not the least bit deterred by your annoyance. In fact, he quite likes it. He runs his fingers along the various bottles and implements on the shelves with idle interest. "Oh, come now. You ought to be glad we're back."

You cast your herbs into a basket near the sink. Then you stand at your scrying table, flensing knife in hand, and carve a niche into your palm. The pain is nothing. Not even when you squeeze your hand into a fist to force more blood out. It drips into the wooden bowl underneath.

Payment is payment.

Soap's breath hitches. He's watching you with keen interest. He likes watching you work, your precise, calculated movements and your confident touch with the knife.

The sight of your fresh blood only makes his smirk wider. He takes a step closer behind you to get a better view. "There are easier ways to pay your dues," he says. His hands come around to rest on the countertop on either side of you. "More pleasurable ways. Other, ah, fluids with which to slake thirst."

"Keep your distance, shapeshifter," you tell him. "Or you get nothing."

Soap rests his chin on your shoulder. The touch is far too familiar. His fingers twitch with anticipation, as if the blood on your hand tempts him forward. He's always been a touch perverse, anyway, about you wounding yourself to feed him. This is all your fault isn't it? Sending them quest after impossible quest. They only demand payment because you insist upon such extremes, naively thinking it will kill them.

"You think you have enough blood for all of us? There's an easier way. Just think," Soap murmurs in your ear. "My lips on your neck. My fingers inside you."

His words sends heat unbidden into your core. Unnaturally so. Immediately, your eyes flash, and an unseen force pushes him away from you.

Soap stumbles backwards from you, his body slamming into the nearby shelf. His shoulders heave, and he breathes heavier. Still smirking, but also looking a little more interested.

You see it in his eyes, what he doesn't say or acknowledge: he likes when you push back. He craves it. He likes to see you assert yourself.

"No need to be so inhospitable." That insufferable grin, cocky and smug again. "Just thought you might want to save your bleeding for more important things."

You ignore this. He takes a seat in your chair, and you resume your work. Another cut. Something brushes at your ankles--something purring and black.

"Gaz."

He purrs, deceptively soft and sweet as he twines around your feet. More blood from your palm hits the bowl. Gaz's nose twitches. He turns his intense cat-gaze upward to watch you from the ground. You ignore it.

Gaz is a more patient man than Soap. He knows exactly what effect Soap's words had on you. He can smell your response on the air, and it entices him. But he knows not to press.

Still, after a stretch of silence watching your blood pool, Gaz grates out a low meow as a bid for your attention. Then he jumps up onto the counter and pushes his kitty face into the blood bowl.

Soap clicks his tongue. "Jealous."

You push Gaz away just as his whiskers start to tremble. "Stop that."

Gaz gives a dissatisfied meow. He sits back on his haunches. With a glare, he licks one of his paws in distaste for your scolding.

You deposit him on the floor. Then you get back to work. Quickly, as you hear the distant call of a screech owl. Gaz saunters away with a languid stretch of his back legs.

The owl's cry echoes again. Louder now. And in reply, a dog outside your window howls.

Your heart thumps. Faster, you bid yourself. You dig your fingertips into the gash in your palm just to draw out thicker clots. Faster. No, there's no time. Casting the flensing knife aside with a clatter, you take the bowl in your uninjured hand and turn, hurrying to stand in the doorway. Two of them inside is enough. You don't want any more in your home. No more. It's all you can do to protect your home from what you brought upon yourself.

The dog howls again. Right outside. Then there's the sound of animal shifting to man, and an enormous shadow darkens your doorway before you can reach it. Ghost. He fills the door frame, towering over you and blocking your path. He's so tall and broad that, deliberate or not, every move feels like a challenge to your authority over him. He's on your side, you remind yourself. His size makes him a formidable ally. And a devastating foe, when he wants to be. He's looking at you like he's contemplating being just that.

He doesn't need to announce why he's here, and he doesn't need to say anything else. He's come for payment just as Soap and Gaz have. He'll take it from you one way or another.

Ghost's expression remains inscrutable. But he burns with an emotion you sense and he carefully hides.

"What's the hurry?" The words are low and gravelly.

You stare up at him as you force your nerves to steady. "Must you transgress into my home?"

Ghost's broad shoulders bunch beneath his tattered cloak. His dark eyes take in the scene before him, the way Gaz and Soap make themselves too comfortable in your home. Then they flicker down to the blood. He doesn't have much patience for these games of push and pull. "You expect us to drink from a bowl? Like swine at a trough?"

You cock your head. "Shall I fetch you all soup spoons?"

Ghost's scowl deepens. "Smartass witch. Be grateful we've been lenient with you."

"Have you?"

It's either amusement or contempt that flashes across Ghost's face. You're not sure which. "Do you need me to demonstrate what it means to not be lenient?" He shifts his weight, his shadow stretching and darkening the room around him. "With your insults and feeble scraps?"

"Payment is payment. Whether or not the blood comes in a bowl shouldn't matter. The source is the same."

He doesn't appreciate mind games. And he definitely doesn't appreciate when you, his witch, are the one playing them. You shouldn't play with him when he's already on edge. "Spoken like a woman who's never known how to starve." He strides closer. The sound of the floor shifts under his weight. He only stops when he's close enough to make you feel like the walls are closing in on you. He reaches forward, and with his forefinger, wipes one of the droplets from the rim of the bowl. He brings it to his lips and licks it off his finger. "The blood doesn't matter."

"The blood doesn't matter?" you echo, doubtful. "That doesn’t seem to be the case."

Ghost's eyes flicker with something. Hunger. "No," he murmurs. "You could fill the bowl with anyone's blood. It's you that makes the difference. You spill it. You offer it. That vulnerability is… personal. Better than blood. Fresh. Warm. A piece of you."

He runs his finger along the edge of the bowl and leaves a wet streak along the rim. He's watching you watch him. "You and your foolish demands. Your workarounds. Blood in a bowl isn't real vulnerability."

He takes a step closer and towers over you. "You think we don't notice how you go out of your way to make it as impersonal as possible? You're meant to give us something we want for our services. You'd be better off bleeding someone else dry and offering that up." He leans in closer and runs his gaze over you with a subtle tilt of his head. "But you would never try that, would you?"

"I told you I won't hurt other people for you. The contract is with me and me only."

Foolish promises. "That doesn't mean you get to cheat us."

You offer the bowl with more force. "Drink."

His annoyance flares. Your stubbornness, your arrogance--qualities that both make you a desirable object of focus and chip away at the shapeshifters' patience.

But they’ll be able to teach you a lesson for it sooner or later.

Ghost reaches forward, grabs your wrist, and raises the bowl to his lips. He looks you dead in the eye as he drinks.

Soap is at his side instantly. His pale eyes fix on the bowl.

You hear Gaz shift from feline to human behind you. He draws up until you feel his body heat.

"Now isn't that much nicer?" Gaz says, his voice just as cocky and insufferable as ever. "Nothing wrong with making it personal once in a while. No need to be so stingy."

You watch Ghost, eyes still locked on you, as he swipes his sleeve across his mouth and hands Soap the bowl without looking.

Soap gulps down two mouthfuls with an orgasmic growl.

Gaz chuckles as he brings it to his lips, drinking until it's empty. Then he lets the wooden bowl clatter to the floor. His mouth twitches up into a lazy smirk.

You pull your wrist free from Ghost’s grasp. "You got what you needed. Give me what you brought me and get out."

"Oh, don't be like that," Soap purrs as he prowls towards you. "You enjoy our company."

"Such poor manners," Gaz says mildly. "Seems we've still got to teach you what your responsibilities are. Price won't like hearing that."

You slow, lowering the bloodied bowl into your washbasin. "Price won't come. It's not time yet."

Ghost scoffs. "Price will do whatever he damn well pleases." He prowls closer as well, the predatory sound in his voice more obvious now, like a beast preparing to sink his teeth in. "And he won't like hearing how his second-favorite witch is a lousy hostess."

"He's not coming," you snap. A tinge of fear crawls up your spine.

"Price comes when he wants," Ghost snarls. "You should remember that before you act so foolish."

You hear the screech owl again. Closer this time. The bowl clangs against the bottom of the basin and dread churns deep in your gut.

"Do you hear that?" Gaz asks softly.

"You drank all the blood," you mutter. "You didn't leave any for him. This is your fault."

Soap smiles, but he’s not meeting your eyes. "We left him plenty."

You're helpless to do anything but watch as the sound of beating wings turns to boots falling on the undergrowth outside your open door.

He stands tall, his form blocking the moonlight and shadowing the already dim room. His dark eyes land on you, and he takes in your blood-stained hand and bloodied bowl with a hard frown. What a mess you've made.

"Witch."

He crosses the room to you and takes your jaw in his rough hand. His gaze drives ice into the blood still roaring hot through your veins.

"We're going to have a chat."

...

more Soap / more Gaz / more Ghost / more Price / masterlist

[alittlebitofrainbyyourside]

Fopps was like 'why have you removed yourself from 90% of your social spaces' and I do not know how to explain that like... it's not that anyone has upset me or that like- Okay, there is an element of like 'the way I care about people is wrong and I am a terrible human being for leading everyone on' but that's like- complicated and more fleeting. 90% of it is absolutely just 'if you give me a captive audience, I will trauma dump rn.' tumblr is mostly safe rn because I frequently forget that I have the ability to make posts and not just reblog things.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#when they’re hunting before bran gets swarmed by wildlings and Robb just #carries a full grown deer around to take back home (via @15-lizards)

As ably illustrated by @lycorim:

And she has this one too, where Jon scruffs a direwolf the size of a pony in ADWD:

rip Robb and Jon, you should've been decathletes in the Westeros Olympics

one of the first physical descriptors given of jon snow is in the comparison between him and robb, wherein robb is singled out as being the stronger (and is later called "strong" again when carrying bran up some stairs). so if jon is out here casually pulling giant spears out of the frozen ground which other men struggled to handle in teams…what incredible feats could robb stark have been capable of. why didn't he standing long jump across the hall at the red wedding to beat up walder frey

ned who was raised alongside child robert baratheon watching robb and jon throw theon clear across the yard during a snowball fight: yea thats about how strong a child should be this checks out

[twitchytwitchtwitch]

.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Real Love

Summary: You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings.

Song: Love Story - Indila

Part 2

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

It all started as a simple PR arrangement between you, a well-known influencer, and Carlos Sainz, the Formula 1 driver. We were both told it would only last less than a year - just long enough to boost our public profiles and create some buzz. Little did we know, someone had other plans.

At first, it was easy enough. We attended events together, posted cute couple photos on social media, and played the part of the perfect pair. The chemistry between us felt natural, which made the whole charade convincing.

Your routine was simple enough.

You and Carlos would meet up at his house and he would drive you both to the paddock while sharing a small conversation about what happened in your jobs in the last weeks.

The roar of the engines and the excited chatter of the fans would fill the air around you.

As you reach the Ferrari garage, Carlos turns to you. "I've got some meetings with Charles to attend to, but you're free to explore or chat with the other drivers' partners if you'd like. I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay?"

You nod, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Sounds good. I'll be around if you need me." With a smile, you part ways, ready to take in the bustling atmosphere of the Ferrari garage.

Because of your ‘relationship’, you were able to make friends with your current bestie, Lily Muni.

You and your close friend Lily would often engage in candid discussions about your romantic entanglements, particularly your faux relationship with Carlos. Despite being the sole confidante privy to the fact that your connection with Carlos was entirely fabricated, Lily wholeheartedly embraced the role of your number one supporter and "shipper."

She would enthusiastically encourage you, even though she was fully aware that your purported love affair was merely a façade maintained for the benefit of others.

"So what's going on with you these days?" Lily asked curiously since you hadn't seen her in a few weeks. You knew that she wanted to know more about your relationship but it was still the same.

"Lily, I don't know what you're waiting for," You replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "We're going to be like this until the contract ends."

Lily looked at you with a knowing look, smiling at your denial, "Not until one of you decides to confess, I bet it's gonna be Carlos. I see where his eyes go when you're not looking."

You can feel your cheeks heat up at Lily's teasing words, and you quickly avert your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Blushing, you try to hide your embarrassment by taking another sip of your coffee, hoping to distract yourself.

Deep down, you couldn't deny the flutter of hope that Lily's words sparked within you, secretly wishing that her prediction would come true and Carlos would finally reveal his true feelings.

"Come on, Lily, you know it's all just for show," you say with a nervous laugh, hoping to dismiss any romantic notions. Deep down, however, you can't help but wonder if there might be some truth to her playful observations.

Lily chuckles mischievously, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I know, I know. But you can't blame me for hoping, can you? Sometimes, even the most make-believe romances have a way of turning real."

You nodded before thinking of her words, realizing that there were indeed moments when Carlos's gaze lingered a little longer, or when his touches felt a little more intentional. Maybe, just maybe, Lily's playful observations held more truth than you were willing to admit.

As you sat there with your coffee, a newfound sense of curiosity and anticipation began to take root within you, wondering if this faux relationship could possibly evolve into something genuine and heartfelt.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't have a crush on Carlos. His charm and the way he made you feel special were undeniable. It wasn't just the little moments or his playful gestures, it was the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.

Every time he looked into your eyes, it felt like there was something more behind his gaze. And now, with Lily's playful observations, the possibility of those feelings being reciprocated started to flicker in your mind, making your heart race with anticipation.

But you knew that breaking the rules of the PR contract because of your feelings was not an option. You couldn't risk jeopardizing the professional relationship and the project you had been working on together.

Besides, you reminded yourself, sometimes it's better to keep a crush as a secret, unrequited admiration rather than risking the potential fallout that could come from crossing that line.

So, you decided to bury those feelings deep down, focusing on the task at hand and maintaining a professional demeanor, even if your heart still fluttered every time Carlos entered the room.

It was a bittersweet realization, but one that you knew was necessary for the sake of your career and the project's success.

After catching up with Lily, you had to head back to the Ferrari garage to see Carlos one more time before he goes to the first sprint of the race, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to put on your best poker face, to hide the feelings that threatened to spill over.

This would be the last time you allowed yourself to indulge in this fantasy, the last time you let your heart flutter at the sight of him. From now on, it would be all business, all focus, and no room for what-ifs and maybes.

As you entered, you found Carlos focused on preparing for the race, his eyes fixed on the car before him. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and skill, a reminder of why you were drawn to him in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, ready to wish him luck and carry on with your professional duties.

But as you stood there, your eyes locked with his, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more beneath the surface, something that Lily's playful observations had hinted at.

As he smiled at you and gestured for you to come over, a glimmer of hope ignited within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between you two, despite the professional boundaries. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the risks involved and the importance of staying focused on the task at hand.

With a smile, you returned his gesture and walked over, ready to offer your well wishes for the race.

As soon as you got close enough, his hand sneaked across your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world seemed to stand still for a moment as the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss enveloped you. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation that there was indeed something more between you two.

But as quickly as it happened, reality came crashing back.

You pulled away, your heart pounding with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

That was normal for you two. It doesn't mean anything.

"Good luck with your race," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you glanced from his lips to his eyes and saw that he did the same thing, a spark of connection flickered between you, leaving you wondering if there was more to this moment than either of you were willing to admit.

“Mi amor, I will definitely win with you being my good luck charm,” He said, smirking at the affect his words still had on you.

Reluctantly, you watched as Carlos tore his gaze away from you and focused on the final preparations of his car. With a heavy heart, you knew that this fleeting moment of connection would have to be set aside for now.

He had a race to win, and you had your own professional duties to attend to. As he climbed into the driver's seat and drove off to the starting line, you could only hope that the universe would bring you together again, when the time was right. . . .

Carlos ended up being first in practice 1, which was very surprising for everyone. His skill and determination were evident as he flawlessly maneuvered the twists and turns of the track, leaving his competitors in the dust.

The cheers and applause from the crowd filled the air, but amidst the excitement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Carlos. . . .

╔═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╗

╚═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╝

As you sat on Carlos's bed, waiting for him to finish dressing up. You couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Carlos and you had to go to an event together so you were now sitting on his bed, all dolled up.

The dress you were given to wear to the event was a stunning crimson masterpiece. Its vibrant hue perfectly represented the fiery spirit of Ferrari, mirroring Carlos's passion and determination on the racetrack.

The fabric gracefully hugged your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The bodice was beautifully adorned with intricate lace detailing, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. The dress flowed effortlessly down to the floor, creating a mesmerizing silhouette as you walked.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of empowerment and confidence.

You glanced at the clock, realizing that time was running out. You hoped that Carlos would hurry and join you soon.

As you read the Twitter comments questioning the authenticity of your relationship with Carlos, a wave of insecurity washed over you.

Despite knowing the truth of your connection, the doubts planted by strangers made you question your ability to convince fans of your 'love' for each other.

It was disheartening to realize that no matter how real your feelings were, they could still be perceived as fake by those who only saw glimpses of your lives through social media.

"Carlos?" you knocked on the bathroom door, wanting to know what he was still doing as they needed to go.

As you waited for a response, you couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same pressure and scrutiny from fans as you were, and if it was affecting his confidence as well.

"Yes cariño, you can come in," you heard his voice and you decided to open the door.

As you entered the bathroom, the sight of Carlos's bare back took your breath away. His muscles rippled under his smooth skin, and the towel that hung loosely around his waist only added to the allure.

His toned muscles glistened with droplets of water, and you couldn't help but appreciate the physical strength and athleticism that made him a champion on the racetrack.

You tried to maintain composure, but it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him. You were suddenly aware of the growing heat in the room, a reflection of the intense chemistry that existed between the two of you.

He turned to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, causing your heart to race even faster.

You quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Sorry," you stammered, turning around to give him privacy. "I didn't realize you weren't dressed yet."

"It's okay cariño, since you're here, do you mind rubbing my back? It's hard to reach sometimes," He asked, gesturing to the bottle close to you on the shelf but still not turning around and applying some lotion onto his face.

"Sure Carlos," you replied.

You took a small amount of lotion in your hands and began to gently rub it onto Carlos's bare back, your fingers gliding smoothly over his muscles.

As you worked your way from his shoulders down to his lower back, you couldn't help but admire the strength and resilience they represented.

The physical contact eased the tension that had been building up in his back, making him stop what he was doing and sigh in relief.

"Am I that good?" you teased.

Chuckling, Carlos' eyes were still closed in bliss. "Well, cariño, you have magic hands. I've never felt so relaxed. Maybe I should consider hiring you as my personal masseur," he muttered.

Giggling softly, you replied, "Well, it seems like I have a hidden talent then. I can give you a massage after your races if you'd like."

"Yes please cariño," He pleaded.

You were taken aback by the intensity of his plea, and the way his voice resonated in your ears sent a shiver down your spine. Your cheeks flushed even deeper as you realized the effect you had on him, and a mix of excitement and nervousness washed over you.

"Y/N? Why did you stop?" Carlos asked, finally turning around to face you, his eyes locked with yours.

The electricity in the room seemed to intensify as you found yourself lost in his gaze, unable to find the words to explain the sudden halt in your actions.

"Carlos, we have an important event to go to. We can't waste time here," you reminded him and yourself. You just remembered the event that left your mind as soon as you stepped inside the bathroom.

Carlos pouted at your words, his disappointment evident. He knew that the event was important, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at leaving behind the intimate moment the two of you were sharing.

"We can't just spend a few minutes?" Carlos asked, trying his luck.

"Carlos, this event is about Ferrari," You started, going over to wash your hands. "You have to be there and be there early."

Carlos pouted at your words, remembering the event too. "I guess you're right," he said with a hint of disappointment. "But don't worry, I'll hold you to that promise of a massage later."

"You'll get them soon enough," You replied smiling, walking out of the bathroom, leaving Carlos to change into his suit. . . .

You two had made it to the event half an hour before it was going to start, and as you got out of Carlos' car, you were bombarded with the paparazzi.

Flashbulbs went off incessantly as reporters shouted questions and cameramen jostled for the best angle.

Carlos, being used to this, instinctively shielded you from the chaos, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you towards the entrance, where security personnel were waiting to escort you inside.

As soon as you two had gotten into the building, you were able to breathe, soaking in the momentary calmness before the storm of socializing began.

You glanced at Carlos, his hand still lingering on your waist, and you exchanged a knowing smile, silently reassuring each other that you were in this together.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to gracefully navigate the room, greeting and mingling with the various groups of people in attendance.

Taking a moment to compose yourselves, you scanned the room and spotted familiar faces from various racing teams and sponsors.

Making your way over to each group, you exchanged warm greetings and engaged in small talk, ensuring that you maintained the necessary professional connections in the racing world for Carlos.

"Carlos! Y/N!" a voice called you from in the crowd, and you both turned around to see Benedetto Vigna, the CEO of Ferrari, making his way towards you with a warm smile.

It was a relief to see a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers, and you greeted him with enthusiasm, ready to discuss the future of the partnership between Carlos and Ferrari.

"It's so wonderful to see you both here tonight," he exclaimed, extending his hand in greeting.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Carlos replied, giving him a quick hug with a smile.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Wasn't he the one who wanted to stay at home longer for a massage?

As you and Carlos were about to join Benedetto Vigna for a group picture with Charles and his girlfriend Alexandra, you couldn't help but notice Carlos shooting you a mischievous grin.

"Looks like someone changed their mind about staying at home for massages," you whispered playfully, causing Carlos to chuckle as the camera flashed, capturing the moment of camaraderie between the four of you.

You couldn't help but blush as Carlos leaned in closer, his grip on your waist tightening. "I'm still getting that massage, aren't I?" he whispered playfully into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You chuckled softly at Carlos's words, feeling a surge of warmth as his grip tightened around your waist. "Of course," you whispered back, leaning into his embrace.

After the group photo, the two of you were approached by the paparazzi, who insisted on taking pictures of just the two of you.

You obliged, striking a pose with Carlos, your smiles radiating with genuine joy and affection. As the camera clicked, freezing the moment in time, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the incredible journey you and Carlos had embarked on together.

Suddenly, you remembered the comments on your relationship being fake crossed your mind. In an impulsive move, you turned to Carlos and whispered, "KIss me."

With that, you leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, not caring about the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

Carlos, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, responded by deepening the kiss, his lips pressing fervently against yours.

The paparazzi went wild, capturing the genuine love and connection between the two of you, proving once and for all that your relationship was far from fake.

When you were able to separate from each other, you grinned at the paparazzi, reveling in the moment of rebellion and spontaneity. Ignoring the bewildered looks from the crowd, you confidently took Carlos's hand and led him off the stage, eager to escape the prying eyes and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's company.

The paparazzi's cameras continued to flash behind you, capturing the image of two people deeply in love, unafraid to defy expectations and embrace their own happiness.

And that's what you were hoping for.

You two spent the rest of the event, stuck to each other like glue, while effortlessly navigating conversations with important people.

As you mingled and exchanged pleasantries, it became evident to everyone around that your connection was genuine, sincere, and unbreakable. People couldn't help but be drawn to the magnetic energy between you, as you effortlessly charmed and captivated those in your presence.

Carlos made sure to take extra care of you on the drive home, keeping a watchful eye as he navigated the streets.

He gently helped you out of the car when you arrived at your doorstep, ensuring you were safely inside before bidding you goodnight and heading back to his own place.

As you lay in bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone like Carlos by your side, always looking out for you and making sure you were taken care of.

If only it was all real and genuine. . . .

You woke up with a pounding headache and a foggy memory of the previous night's events. As you tried to piece together what had happened, you received a call from Carlos.

"Hello?" you muttered into the phone sleepily.

"Oh Y/N, were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake up," Carlos' voice came through your phone and you immediately woke up fully.

When you turned on your TV, the camera panned over to Carlos on the phone, and you were surprised to see him there already.

"Carlos! Why are you there already? You should have called me earlier or something?" you groaned at both your headache and the fact that you would have to go to the paddock by yourself instead of with Carlos.

"Cariño, I already told everyone that you were sick but that you were recovering quickly and everyone wished you well." Carlos stated, making you freeze in the middle of trying to get out of bed.

"You what?"

"You don't have to come Cariño, unless you really want to," Carlos really assured you and you could see his worried face on TV.

"Thank you, you saved me big time," you replied, sliding back into your bed with a relieving sigh.

"You're welcome Cariño,"

During the call, you and Carlos briefly chatted before the race was about to begin.

"Put it on video call for a second," Carlos asked quickly and you did it without hesitation, hoping he wouldn't mind your bed hair.

Carlos gave you an air kiss, and you returned one back, a substitute for the good luck kiss you would always give him before switching off the phone.

You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, knowing that Carlos was trying to be considerate in your absence.

"Okay goodbye Cariño, I'll win the race for you."

"Good luck Carlos."

With your spirits lifted, you sat down to watch the race. You watched attentively as Carlos gave it his all, pushing himself to the limits. To your surprise, he managed to secure second place.

As soon as he was able to, he called you. His voice was filled with a mix of joy and frustration.

"Congratulations, Carlos! Second place is still amazing!" you exclaimed with genuine excitement.

However, Carlos's disappointment was evident as he sighed heavily and said, "I know, but I really wanted that first place. I'll keep pushing harder for the next race."

"You did incredible, Carlos! I'm so proud of you," you reassured him. "Second place is a huge achievement, and it shows how much progress you've made. Don't be too hard on yourself. There will always be another race to aim for that first place."

Carlos let out a small chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Cariño. Your support means everything to me. I won't rest until I reach that top spot."

"Well you can rest at my place with your personal massager waiting for you."

"I can't wait Cariño, I'll see you in the evening," He said happily. A smile could be heard from in his voice and you grinned at that.

You didn't know why you decided to invite Carlos over but now the deed was already done.

As you headed into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You knew how much Carlos loved your homemade tortillas and croquetas, and you wanted to make this evening extra special for him.

The sound of sizzling oil and the aroma of frying potatoes filled the air as you prepared the ingredients, imagining the look of delight on Carlos's face when he tasted the delicious meal you had prepared for him.

You quickly made your way to the bedroom to pick out an outfit that would make you look presentable for Carlos's arrival. After some consideration, you settled on a stylish yet comfortable ensemble—a fitted black blouse paired with high-waisted jeans and a pair of sleek black ankle boots.

To add a touch of elegance, you adorned your neck with a delicate silver necklace and slipped on a matching bracelet.

With your hair neatly styled and a hint of makeup to enhance your natural beauty, you felt confident and ready to welcome Carlos into your home.

Later in the day, there was a knock on your door. When you opened it, there was Carlos, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Wow, Cariño, you look absolutely stunning," Carlos said, his eyes widening in admiration.

You blushed, not realizing the effect you had on him. "Thank you, Carlos. That's really sweet of you to say," you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment.

"Wow, these flowers are beautiful, Carlos! Thank you so much," you said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

Carlos smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration. "You deserve nothing less," he replied softly.

As you led him inside, you were completely unaware of the way Carlos' gaze lingered on you, captivated by your every move. Little did you know, his fascination with you had only grown stronger over time, and he couldn't help but hope that one day you would see him in the same light.

As you entered the dining room, Carlos's eyes widened with excitement as he saw the table set with all his favorite dishes. The aroma of homemade tortillas and croquetas filled the room, making his mouth water.

The warm glow of the candles and the delicious aroma that filled the air made his heart skip a beat. "Oh wow, you've really outdone yourself," he exclaimed, his face lighting up even more. "I can't believe you remembered all my favorites. This is incredible."

"I had to do something for my favourite driver," you teased, having Carlos pull away the chair for you so you could sit down.

"I must admit, being your favorite driver has its perks," Carlos replied with a playful wink, as he took his seat across from you. "But tonight, I'm here as more than just your driver. I'm here to enjoy this wonderful meal with an even more wonderful company."

Raising his glass, Carlos proposed a toast to celebrate their special evening together. "To us," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "May this be the first of many unforgettable nights spent in each other's company."

As you savored each bite of the delicious meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Carlos. Laughter filled the air as you shared stories, dreams, and aspirations.

The setting and shared moments created a deep connection, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this enchanting evening together. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, the empty plates and wine glasses were a testament to the delightful feast.

As the night progressed, you offered to give Carlos a well-deserved back massage. He gladly accepted and lay down on your couch, allowing you to work your magic. You applied gentle pressure and kneaded the tension from his muscles, feeling the knots melt away under his touch.

As you continued the massage, Carlos's body relaxed, and his mind became more at ease. The two of you watched the race replay on the television, analyzing every turn, every move, and every decision Carlos made.

It was a bittersweet moment as you both discussed the missed opportunities and what could have been done differently, but it also kind of brought you two closer together.

In that moment, Carlos realized that having someone who not only supported him but also understood his passion was truly invaluable.

"I think I should have attacked more at this turn," Carlos explained to you as he watched intensely at the way he drove on TV.

Suddenly he felt a sudden weight on his back and he peeked behind him to see you.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you peacefully slumbering on his back. The warmth of your body against his, coupled with the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, brought about a sense of tranquility he hadn't felt in a long time.

Carlos gently shifted his position, careful not to disturb your sleep, and decided to stay in that moment a little while longer, relishing in the comfort and contentment of having you by his side.

As he continued watching the race replay, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that he had found not only a passionate supporter but also a person with whom he could share quiet, intimate moments like this.

You woke up in your bed for the second time in a row without knowing how you even got there in the first place. Confused, you blinked your eyes open and looked around, trying to piece together how you had ended up in your bed again.

The memories of the enchanting evening with Carlos and the comforting massage flooded back, but the details of how you had transitioned from the couch to your bed remained elusive.

It was as if the night had taken on a dreamlike quality, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. . . .

It was the Spanish Grand Prix, and you had the privilege of attending with Carlos for the first time since you've been together.

As you watched from your seat in Carlos' car how the bustling crowd of racing enthusiasts were, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The vibrant red sundress you wore perfectly matched Carlos' spirited personality and love of speed.

You made your way to the entrance, the sun kissed your skin, and the adrenaline in the air heightened the anticipation of witnessing the roaring engines and exhilarating race. It was a moment you would never forget, a celebration of your shared passion and the beginning of many more thrilling adventures together.

As you two emerged from the car, his hand immediately touched your hips, guiding you through the paddock to the Ferrari garage.

As you walked through the crowded paddock, you couldn't help but notice the sea of red surrounding you. It seemed like everyone was wearing the team colors to show their support for Carlos and his racing team.

The vibrant red sundress you chose seemed to blend in perfectly with the atmosphere, making you feel like a part of the action. Carlos looked at you with a smile, appreciating the effort you had put into matching with him.

Occasionally, he would stop to sign autographs for his adoring fans. The anticipation surrounding Carlos was immense, as this was his home track and everyone expected a lot from him.

Before heading off to his meeting, you turned to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Your words were filled with warmth and admiration. You assured him. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens."

"Thank you Cariño." he said smirking at you.

As you watched Carlos prepare for his race, you realized that this time, you would stay by his side instead of wandering off or meeting up with Lily, as you had often done in the past. This time, you understood that he needed more support before this race even started.

Carlos' home track held a special significance for his performance. Not only did it come with a sense of familiarity and comfort, but it also brought with it the unwavering support of the local fans who had been cheering him on since the beginning.

The energy and encouragement from the crowd fueled his determination to push harder and achieve success in front of his home audience.

You watched as he checked his car with the team, catching him glancing up at you multiple times to see if you were still there. It was clear that your presence meant a lot to him, and you were determined to be his unwavering source of support throughout the race.

As the time approached for the race to start, Carlos took you into a private room. As Carlos pulled you into the private room, a sense of urgency filled the air.

With hungry, heated kisses, his lips passionately explored yours, igniting a fiery desire within you. His strong hands tightly gripped your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His actions sent shivers down your spine and intensified your longing for him. In that moment, you realized just how much his presence and touch ignited a deep desire within you, making you crave more of his passionate embrace.

You felt a surge of desire and passion, fueled by Carlos' intense affection. The way he held you, kissed you, and expressed his need for you created an irresistible magnetism between the two of you, intensifying your own desire and emotions.

Then, with a final look, he disappeared, leaving you with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

Minutes later, the roar of the engines filled the air, signaling the start of the race. Your heart raced as you awaited the outcome.

Carlos immediately shot off the starting line, his car a blur of speed and determination. He skillfully maneuvered through the pack, steadily gaining ground on the leaders. As the race progressed, it became clear that Carlos was in a fierce battle for first place with Max and Lando, exchanging positions and pushing each other to their limits.

The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers fueling Carlos' determination to seize the coveted top spot. Lap after lap, he showcased his exceptional racing skills, executing daring overtakes and defending his position with unwavering focus.

The tension in the air was palpable as the race entered its final stages, and it became a nail-biting fight to the finish line.

And then, it happened. The crowd erupted in cheers as Carlos crossed the finish line, victorious. His car sped past, his smile radiating joy and triumph.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, his eyes immediately sought you out.

You melted into his embrace, savoring the taste of victory and the warmth of his touch. The crowd roared around you, but in that moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. Your hands were cupping his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palms, while his hands rested firmly on your hips, anchoring you to the present.

The electrifying chemistry between the two of you was undeniable, and as you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that this victory was not just his, but yours as well.

In that instant, the world seemed to stand still. All your worries and doubts were forgotten. All that existed was the connection between you two.

In that moment, a surge of overwhelming love and pride washed over you. Thoughts of all the sacrifices and challenges you both had overcome flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but feel an immense sense of gratitude for being a part of Carlos' journey to victory.

"I'm so proud of you!" You said loud enough for him to hear over the chants of his name across the platform.

"Thank you Cariño, thank you for supporting me throughout," Carlos said, unable to think straight with the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body.

As the cheers of the crowd continued to echo in your ears, you leaned in and pressed your lips against Carlos' once more, savoring the taste of victory and the sweetness of his kiss. It was a moment of pure bliss, a celebration of their shared triumph.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, knowing that Carlos had to go to the podium to receive his well-deserved trophy.

With a final lingering glance, you whispered, "Go get that trophy, my champion." And with that, he ran off, leaving you with a heart filled with love and pride. . . .

It was the afterparty for Carlos' home win and everyone decided to go to a large club to celebrate.

As the night unfolded, you emerged from the car in a stunning red cocktail dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The dress featured a plunging neckline and intricate lace detailing, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

The silky fabric cascaded down to your knees, swaying gracefully with every step you took. Your outfit was completed with a pair of sleek stiletto heels and a statement clutch, adding a touch of glamour to your ensemble.

As you entered the club, heads turned and whispers of admiration filled the air. The dimmed lights of the venue illuminated the sequins and beads embellishing your dress, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that mirrored the excitement in the room.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drawn into a conversation with the partners of the Formula One drivers.

"We're so proud of Carlos, we can't believe he did it," Lily said proudly, giving you a tight hug.

"Thank you, I can't believe it too," You replied, smiling happily at the memory of Carlos winning a few hours ago.

"It seemed like you were like his main support," Lily teased and your cheeks heated at her words.

"That's- that's not true." You denied it, "I just gave him an encouraging word here and there. It was mostly him that did all the work."

"That's not what Carlos said in his interview," Alexandra said, nudging your shoulder with hers.

Wanting to be a responsible person, you volunteered to be the sober one among you and Carlos. You wanted to allow Carlos to fully enjoy himself without worries, knowing that you would drive him home at the end of the night.

However, the girls in the group had a different idea. They suggested taking shots to celebrate, and despite your reservations, you decided to join the festivities.

As the night went on, the DJ played infectious music, prompting everyone to get up and dance. You found yourself caught up in the rhythm, joining in with the vibrant atmosphere.

Suddenly the music was lowered and you followed everyone's gaze, and to your surprise, there was Carlos walking into the club, holding his trophy high in the air. The crowd erupted into applause, creating a sea of cheering fans.

He made his way through the crowd, making space for himself to pass through. The crowd cleared out, creating a path for him to be in the center, where everyone could see him.

As he stepped onto the stage, the entire club erupted into applause. The cheering echoed through the air, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

You watched from a distance as Carlos delivered his speech, thanking his fans and everyone who had supported him that day. His words were filled with gratitude and humility, and it was evident that he meant every word.

From where you were standing, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Carlos. He had achieved something extraordinary, and you had the opportunity to witness his moment of triumph firsthand.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a man in the crowd. He seemed particularly interested in you, despite it being widely known that you were already in a relationship with Carlos.

"Hello señorita, are you alone here?" The man asked. Some of his words were slurred.

"Umm, I'm not actually, I came with my friends," You said, trying to look for anyone familiar that was close by to help you.

"Well I don't see them so it's only me and you," he muttered amused by you. Everyone was watching Carlos' speech which meant that no one was going to help you.

"I'm in a relationship," you tried to remind him but that got him more angry.

"Lies! Everyone knows that you and him are in a PR relationship." He yelled, smashing his fist on the table he was leaning on.

You jumped at his actions, wishing someone would look and help you but it was never the case. This left you feeling confused and frustrated, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side. It was Carlos. He looked concerned for you but angry at the man flirting with you.

Carlos stood protectively beside you, sending a clear message that you were not alone and that he would not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.

He stepped forward, his voice firm as he said, "I think it's time for you to leave."

The man's confident facade faltered, realizing he had crossed a line. He stammered an apology, his words barely audible, before quickly scattering off into the crowd. Carlos, still standing by your side, maintained his protective stance, his eyes never leaving the man's retreating figure.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for Carlos' unwavering support in that moment.

Carlos then stood in front of you, holding your hands in his, "Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head, thankful that the situation didn't escalate further. "No, I'm okay. He was just being aggressive and disrespectful," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions.

Carlos squeezed your hands reassuringly, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and relief. "I'm glad you're safe. Let's stay together for the rest of the evening, okay? I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his protective nature shining through.

As Carlos guided you through the crowded room, his hands firmly on your waist, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security. It was as if he was determined to keep you close, not wanting to lose sight of you again.

You leaned into his touch, grateful for his presence and the way he made you feel safe in a world that had seemed so uncertain just moments ago.

Eventually, you found the rest of the group and shared with them what had happened. Concerned for your well-being, they all agreed to stick together for the rest of the night, ensuring that everyone felt safe and protected.

As the evening went on, you felt a sense of unity and support among your friends, and the initial fear and uncertainty began to fade away.

Together, you formed a tight-knit circle, laughing, dancing, and enjoying each other's company, grateful for the strength and solidarity you found in one another.

All the boys decided to let the girls let loose and have a few drinks, taking on the role of guardians for the night.

They made sure the girls were safe, monitoring their alcohol intake and ensuring they were comfortable and protected.

It was a gesture of care and respect, fostering an environment where everyone could have a good time without any worries.

"Babe," you whined, clinging onto your boyfriend so you wouldn't fall to the ground.

Carlos chuckled, his eyes filled with both surprise and amusement at your playful whining. He tightened his grip around you, refusing to let you slip off.

"Oh, so you're trying to escape, huh?" he teased, pulling you closer and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Nice try, but I've got you. I won't let you fall, my love."

"Escape? Who said anything about escaping?" you replied with a mischievous grin, playfully swaying your body to the rhythm of the music.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Well, then show me your best dance moves, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you off the hook," he teased.

As the romantic melody filled the air, you and Carlos locked eyes, the playful banter fading into a tender moment. With a smile, you surrendered to the music, allowing it to guide your movement.

As the music pulsed through your bodies, you let your inhibitions melt away and decided to be more flirtatious with Carlos. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you began to sway your hips and grind your waist against him, teasing him with your seductive moves.

Carlos couldn't help but be captivated by your playful and alluring gestures, his eyes locked on yours, as the chemistry between you intensified on the dance floor.

The flirtatious energy in the air was palpable, as you whispered teasing promises in his ear, leaving him craving more of your touch.

"Mi amor, you better stop before you start something I won't stop," Carlos muttered into your ear, a playful warning laced with desire.

You laughed softly, feeling a surge of excitement at his words. "Oh, really? And what if I want to start something you won't stop?" you whispered back, your voice laced with a hint of seduction.

Carlos' eyes darkened with desire, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Then, mi amor, be prepared for a night you won't forget," he replied, his voice low and filled with anticipation

He leaned in and his lips crashed against yours, his kiss lingering for a few moments. You felt your heart flutter and your stomach knot as you melted into him, your body responding to him as if on autopilot.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as you gave in to the moment.

The night unfolded in a blur of passion and desire. Your memory of the events that followed became hazy, fragmented, and ultimately, nonexistent.

All you knew was that you had surrendered to the intoxicating connection between you and Carlos, allowing it to sweep you away into a realm where time stood still and only the sensations of pleasure remained. . . .

"Guys, we're going home," Carlos told the others while supporting you, his protective arm wrapped around your waist. As you stumbled slightly, still lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, knowing that he would take care of you every step of the way.

The night air was cool against your flushed skin as you stumbled towards Carlos' car. The events of the night replayed in your mind, a mix of excitement and contentment filling your thoughts.

As you settled into the passenger seat, you glanced at Carlos, a knowing smile passing between you.

As you fell asleep during the drive, Carlos carefully carried you into his house. His touch was gentle and protective. He laid you down on his bed, tucking you in with care before standing back to admire your peaceful form.

The events of the night had left you both physically and emotionally spent, and in that moment, Carlos couldn't help but feel a surge of tenderness towards you.

You woke up in a daze, your surroundings unfamiliar. Blinking away from the remnants of sleep, you realized you were in Carlos' bedroom. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room.

Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered the events of the previous night and the intense connection you shared with Carlos.

As you tried to move, you were slowly pulled into an embrace from behind you, making you jump slightly. Turning around, you saw Carlos half asleep in the bed, shirtless.

Carlos' dark hair was disheveled and sticking up in all directions, a clear sign that he had just woken up. His usually neat and tidy appearance was now replaced by the unkempt look of someone who had been sleeping soundly.

Despite his sleepy state, Carlos' facial features were still prominent. His strong jawline and high cheekbones gave him a rugged, masculine appearance, while his deep-set eyes and furrowed brow suggested a pensive, thoughtful nature.

As Carlos stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his upper body rippled beneath his skin. The defined contours of his chest and arms were a testament to his dedication to physical fitness, even as he fought against the lingering drowsiness of his slumber.

His tousled hair and sleepy expression only added to his allure, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest.

His eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile formed on his lips as he pulled you closer, whispering, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Did we do it?" You questioned shyly, unable to remember anything after they left the club.

"No, we didn't, you fell asleep before we could do anything," Carlos muttered, fighting against the sleep. "We wouldn't do anything either way, you were drunk."

As you remembered what you were doing in the club, you felt embarrassed and ashamed. The intense connection you shared with Carlos had clouded your judgment, and you realized that you were dangerously close to breaking the rules of the PR contract.

If you didn't stop, you knew that the consequences could be severe, jeopardizing not only your professional reputation but also your relationship with Carlos.

"Carlos, this was only supposed to be temporary, you know?"

"What is?"

"Our relationship."

Carlos then woke up more, resting up against his elbow so he could look at you better. His eyes slowly opened, and a soft frown spread across his face as he gazed at you. He reached out a hand, gently caressing your cheek, his touch warm and comforting.

“You’re talking about the PR contract?”

“Yes, this is what they were worried about, us getting too attached,” you tried to stress your concern but Carlos didn’t look bothered at all.

Carlos fully turned to you, a conflicted look on his face. "I know, I know. But I...I don't think I can just pretend anymore. Not with you."

Your heart raced as he inched closer, his warm brown eyes searching yours. "Carlos, we can't. It'll ruin everything if anyone finds out."

"I don't care," he whispered, cupping your face in his hands. "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

And in that moment, any doubt you had melted away. You pulled him into a passionate kiss, all thoughts of the contract and the façade disappearing. This was real - the feelings you two had developed were undeniable.

His lips met yours with a fervent intensity, the heat between you palpable. All the unspoken emotions you had been harboring came rushing to the surface, igniting a fire within.

The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in his embrace, every touch sending electric shocks through your body.

In that passionate moment, there was no more room for hesitation or uncertainty. This connection you shared was undeniable, transcending any obligations or false pretenses.

It was real, raw, and overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. There was no turning back now - you had given yourself over completely to this man and the feelings you shared.

Whatever happened next, you knew you was in this with Carlos for the long haul. . . .

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An end to the climate emergency is in our grasp

On June 20, I'm keynoting the LOCUS AWARDS in OAKLAND.

The problem with good news in the real world is that it's messy. Neat happy endings are for novels, not the real world, and that goes double for the climate emergency. But even though good climate news is complicated and nuanced, that doesn't mean it shouldn't buoy our spirits and fill our hearts with hope.

The big climate news this past week is the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's clarion call about surging CO2 levels – the highest ever – amid a year that is on track to have the largest and most extreme series of weather events in human history:

https://www.noaa.gov/news-release/during-year-of-extremes-carbon-dioxide-levels-surge-faster-than-ever

This is genuinely alarming and you – like me – have probably experienced it as a kind of increase in your background radiation of climate anxiety. Perhaps you – like me – even experienced some acute, sit-bolt-upright-in-bed-at-2AM anxiety as a result. That's totally justifiable. This is very real, very bad news.

And yet…

The news isn't all bad, and even this terrible dispatch from the NOAA is best understood in context, which Bill McKibben provides in his latest newsletter post, "What You Want is an S Curve":

https://billmckibben.substack.com/p/what-you-want-is-an-s-curve

Financier and their critics should all be familiar with Stein's Law: "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." This is true outside of finance as well. One of the reasons that we're seeing such autophagic panic from the tech companies is that their period of explosive growth is at an end.

For years, they told themselves that they were experiencing double-digit annual growth because they were "creating value" and "innovating" but the majority of their growth was just a side-effect of the growth of the internet itself. When hundreds of millions of people get online every year, the dominant online services will, on average, gain hundreds of millions of new users.

But when you run out of people who don't have internet access, your growth is going to slow. How can it not? Indeed, at that point, the only ways to grow are to either poach users from your rivals (through the very expensive tactics of massive advertising and sales-support investments, on top of discounts and freebies as switching enticements), or to squeeze your own users for more.

That's why the number of laptops sold in America slowed down. It's why the number of cellphones sold in America slowed down. It's why the number of "smart home" gizmos slowed down.

Even the steepest hockey-stick-shaped exponential growth curve eventually levels off and becomes an S-curve, because anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop.

One way or another, the world's carbon emissions will eventually level off. Even if we drive ourselves to (or over) the brink of extinction and set up the conditions for wildfires that release all the carbon stored in all the Earth's plants, the amount of carbon we pump into the atmosphere has to level off.

Rendering the Earth incapable of sustaining human civilization (or life) is the ultimate carbon reduction method – but it's not my first choice.

That's where McKibben's latest newsletter comes in. He cites a new report from the Rocky Mountain Institute, which shows a major reversal in our energy sources, a shift that will see our energy primarily provided by renewables, with minimal dependence on fossil fuels:

https://rmi.org/insight/the-cleantech-revolution/

The RMI team says that in this year or next, we'll have hit peak demand for fossil fuels (a fact that is consistent with NOAA's finding that we're emitting more CO2 than ever). The reason for this is that so much renewable energy is about to come online, and it is so goddamned cheap, that we are about to undergo a huge shift in our energy consumption patterns.

This past decade saw a 12-fold increase in solar capacity, a 180-fold increase in battery storage, and a 100-fold increase in EV sales. China is leading the world in a cleantech transition, with the EU in close second. Cleantech is surging in places where energy demand is also still growing, like India and Vietnam. Fossil fuel use has already peaked in Thailand, South Africa and every country in Latin America.

We're on the verge of solar constituting an absolute majority of all the world's energy generation. This year, batteries will overtake pumped hydro for energy storage. Every cleantech metric is growing the way that fossil fuels did in previous centuries: investment, patents, energy density, wind turbine rotor size. The price of solar is on track to halve (again) in the next decade.

In short, cleantech growth looks like the growth of other technologies that were once rarities and then became ubiquitous overnight: TV, cellphones, etc. That growth isn't merely being driven by the urgency of the climate emergency: it's primarily a factor of how fucking great cleantech is:

https://rmi.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/the_incredible_inefficiency_of_fossils.pdf

Fossil fuels suck. It's not just that they wreck the planet, or that their extraction is both politically and environmentally disastrous. They just aren't a good way to make energy. About a third of fossil fuel energy is wasted in production and transportation. A third! Another third is wasted turning fossil fuels into energy. Two thirds! The net energy efficiency of fossil fuels is about 37%.

Compare that with cleantech. EVs convert electricity to movement with 80-90% efficiency. Heat pumps are 300% efficient (the main fuel for your heat pump is the heat in the atmosphere, not the electricity it draws).

Cleantech is just getting started – it's still in the hockey-stick phase. That means those efficiency numbers are only going up. Rivian just figured out how to remove 1.6 miles of copper wire from each vehicle. That's just one rev – there's doubtless lots of room for more redesigns that will further dematerialize EVs:

https://insideevs.com/news/722265/rivian-r1s-r1t-wiring/

As McKibben points out, there's been a lot of justifiable concern that electrification will eventually use up all our available copper, but copper demand has remained flat even as electrification has soared – and this is why. We keep figuring out new ways to electrify with fewer materials:

https://www.chemanalyst.com/NewsAndDeals/NewsDetails/copper-wire-price-remains-stable-amidst-surplus-supply-and-expanding-mining-25416#:~:text=Global%20Copper%20wire%20Price%20Remains%20Stable%20Amidst%20Surplus%20Supply%20and%20Expanding%20Mining%20Activities

This is exactly what happened with previous iterations of tech. The material, energy and labor budgets of cars, buildings, furniture, etc all fell precipitously every time there was a new technique for manufacturing them. Renewables are at the start of that process. There's going to be a lot of this dematerialization in cleantech. Calculating the bill of materials for a planetary energy transition isn't a matter of multiplying the materials in current tech by the amount of new systems we'll need – as we create those new systems, we will constantly whittle down their materials.

What's more, global instability drives cleantech uptake. The Russian invasion of Ukraine caused a surge in European renewables. The story that energy prices are rising due to renewables (or carbon taxes) is a total lie. Fossil fuels are getting much more expensive, thanks to both war and rampant, illegal price-fixing:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/an-oil-price-fixing-conspiracy-caused

If not for renewables, the incredible energy shocks of the recent years would be far more severe.

The renewables story is very good and it should bring you some comfort. But as McKibben points out, it's still not enough – yet. The examples of rapid tech uptake had big business on their side. America's living rooms filled with TV because America's largest businesses pulled out all the stops to convince everyone to buy a TV. By contrast, today's largest businesses – banks, oil companies and car companies – are working around the clock to stop cleantech adoption.

We're on track to double our use of renewables before the decade is over. But to hold to the (already recklessly high) targets from the Paris Accord, we need to triple our renewables usage. As McKibben says, the difference between doubling and tripling our renewables by 2030 is the difference between "survivable trouble" and something much scarier.

The US is experiencing a welcome surge in utility scale solar, but residential solar is stalling out as governments withdraw subsidies or even begin policies that actively restrict rooftop solar:

https://twitter.com/curious_founder/status/1798049929082097842?s=51

McKibben says the difference between where we are now and bringing back the push for home solar generation is the difference between "fast" and "faster" – that is the difference between tripling renewables by 2030 (survivable) and doubling (eek).

Capitalism stans who argue that we can survive the climate emergency with market tools will point to the good news on renewable and say that the market is the only way to transition to renewables. It's true that market forces are partly responsible for this fast transition. But the market is also the barrier to a faster (and thus survivable) transition. The oil companies, the banks who are so invested in fossil fuels, the petrostates who distort the world's politics – they're why we're not much farther along.

The climate emergency was never going to be neatly solved. We weren't going to get a neat novelistic climax that saw our problems sorted out in a single fell swoop. We're going to be fighting all the way to net zero, and after that, we'll still have decades of climate debt to pay down: fires, floods, habitat loss, zoonotic plagues, refugee crises.

But we should take our wins. Even if we're far from where we need to be on renewables, we're much farther along on renewables than we had any business hoping for, just a few years ago. The momentum is on our side. It's up to us to use that momentum and grow it. We're riding the hockey-stick, they're on that long, flat, static top of the S-curve. Their curve is leveling off and will start falling, ours will grow like crazy for the rest of our lives.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 132

Geralt is walking through a town when he senses something off. He glances up right as he watches a man leap out a window on the third floor. Geralt effortlessly catches him, holding him in a bridal carry. "Oh! My hero!" The man says to Geralt, looking at him with awe. "YOU FUCKER! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET DOWN THERE!" Another man screams from the window. "What's going on?" Geralt asks, and the man in his arm flushes. "Fucked his wife." "That'll do it." "Indeed." Geralt sets the man down, and watches him get a headstart running from the husband. It isn't until later that night that Geralt realizes the man he caught didn't mention anything about Geralt being a witcher. Perhaps it was the shock and adrenaline. Perhaps he didn't even fully see Geralt, his mind was too focused on surviving. Months later, Geralt is tacking up Roach to leave town when a familiar blur busts into the stables, and leaps into a pile of hay nearby. A man enters after a minute, raving mad, holding a bottle. "Where is he!?" "Where is who?" Geralt asks, coolly, and watches the man's temper fizzle out into apprehension. "N- Nobody. Sorry for bothering you, mister witcher." and the man scurries off. Geralt turns to the haystack and watches as his acquaintance in bright clothing crawls out, hay still stuck in the creases of his clothes and the strands of his hair. "His wife, too?" "His son, actually." "Mm." "Thank you for helping me again." "I didn't do much." Still, the colorful man flicks a coin to Geralt, and then races out. Huh. The man recognized him. And the other man, the one who chased him, had even called Geralt a witcher. And yet the man was still not scared. He even thanked Geralt. Nobody ever thanks Geralt. Another few months later, Geralt is setting up camp when he senses something in the trees. He readies to fling a knife up there, only to see- The man again. He starts very awkwardly trying to climb down, before falling flat on his ass on the ground. "...Hello again." "Hello, my dear witcher!" "Why were you in the tree?" "Oh, I was chased here-" "Of course you were." "Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?" "I've only met you a few times, but every time I have, you're running from a man who is a relative of someone you've fucked. Out with it, what was it this time? Daughter? Husband?" "Mother." "I can s-" "And his father." "..." "They were a very adventurous couple." And despite it all, Geralt laughs. He throws his head back and cackles. He's never laughed so hard in his life. "I'm Jaskier." The man - Jaskier - introduces himself as he wipes dust and leaves off of his doublet. "I'm Geralt." "Would you mind if I stay with you for the night, Geralt?" "I'm a witcher." "I'm a bard! Glad we're past that." "Of course you're a bard." "Of course you're a witcher." "You already knew I was a witcher." "Then why bring it up when I said I wanted to stay?" "Nobody wants to stay with a witcher." "Well then I suppose I am no longer Jaskier, and my name is now Nobody, dear friend." Jaskier confuses Geralt, but it's not like he'll stay forever, right? Right?

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

IX. The Rage (+18, Smut, MDNI)

GIF -- manny-jacinto

"Aut inveniam viam aut faciam.”

I shall either find a way or make one.

H.

“Can I just ask where we're going so early?” You asked Marcus that morning.

“Patience, my lady."

After you woke up, while you were lying on the bed, resting your head on his chest, he told you that he had something he wanted to show you, before you had even had a chance to eat breakfast. You were even more surprised when Marcus grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the courtyard of the villa, towards the stables. The slaves were feeding the horses their morning meal, and the horses were consuming their food with growls and much appetite. It was breakfast time for the chickens in the hen house as well. Decima was feeding them, saw you from a distance, ceased her work and bowed to you. You could tell from her smile that she was aware of everything that was going on. You noticed that you had never set foot on this side of the villa before. The General had specifically instructed them not to tire you out when you were here as his slave, so you had never had any work to do out here. You smiled as you recalling those times. Remembering, how you had shied away from him at first, but then how you had fallen in love with him as you came to know his softer side day by day.

A slave brought Marcus's horse Dromos from the stables, and Marcus grabbed his reins with a big, beaming smile. Dromos whinnied, and Marcus stroked his face, chuckling. There was a special bond between them that went beyond the typical horse-and-rider relationship. While you were admiring them, Marcus looked at you, pulled the reins, and stepped towards you, holding his hand out warmly.

"My lady, I believe you remember Dromos."

"Indeed I do, how are you Dromos?" You took Marcus's hand and stroked the horse's neck with the other.

He lifted one leg and stamped his hoof and whinnied. You smiled, his warm furry skin was soothing.

"It seems he missed you." Marcus smiled and then looked at something behind you. "Now, we've got some riding to do," he said, straightening Dromos' saddle.

You nodded and approached the horse, but Marcus gently touched your arm to stop you. You looked at him in surprise. He looked at the other side of the stables and pointed with his finger.

‘Your horse is over there,’ he said.

You turned your head slightly and saw Cato first. He was making his way towards you with a horse that was particularly striking, with white hair that shone like satin in the sunlight. The horse lifted its head and let out a soft whinny as its white mane blew gently in the breeze. As it drew closer, its gaze turned towards you, and you were struck by its undeniable beauty. Although you were not particularly knowledgeable about horses, you could say that this snow-white animal was not your typical equine. It seemed to have been meticulously selected. With some hesitation, you reached out and gently stroked the horse's neck, running your fingers through its lustrous pearl-white mane. There was a captivating elegance in this magnificent creature.

“She's beautiful,” you murmured.

“A rare one, just like my beautiful wife,” Marcus said, his eyes meeting yours as he approached. He was smiling warmly. He put his fingers right next to yours. The white horse lifted one of its hind legs, hit it on the ground, and moved a little as if it wanted you to ride on it.

“Bridal gift for you, I didn't have a chance to introduce you two before. Are you pleased?”

You gazed at him and found yourself once more swept up in your feelings for him. His charms were undeniable. With each passing day, your love for him deepens. You wondered how he managed to make you feel this way.

“Marcus, this is the best gift I've ever received in my life. I am immensely grateful." You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He put his arms around you.

“I am more grateful, my love." He gave you a little kiss on the top of your head. “Besides, you need to learn to ride by yourself.” He stroked your hair with his fingers. “Do you feel ready to ride together with me?”

You nodded, “Yes, but I'm not that good. I only rode once or twice back then in Egypt.”

“You'll learn in time. Now I want you to place your foot in the stirrup and mount by yourself. Can you do it?”

You put your foot in the stirrup as he said and looked at him. The horse moved a little, which made you stagger.

"Just make sure it's firm, then grab the saddle and climb up."

You grabbed the saddle and pulled yourself up as hard as you could, then settled down. However, the horse moved and you leaned forward to grasp the reins, your head close to her mane, feeling the wind on your cheeks. You probably looked a bit strange.

Marcus let out a chuckle. “Make sure you're sitting up straight and in control. Keep a firm grip on the reins.”

“But, she’s moving too much, she's not staying still, I'm afraid of falling.” You complained.

“Then you need to calm her down. Give her a gentle pat on the neck with your hand and reassure her by gripping the reins firmly. She needs to know you're in control.”

When you did as he said, you saw that the horse had calmed down, so you gathered your courage, sat up straight, grabbed the reins with both hands and gave them a little tug. It felt great to be in control, and you smiled at Marcus.

"I did it!"

"You haven't even started riding yet, princess."

Your smile faded. "Oh, right. How am I supposed to do that?"

Marcus laughed. "Gently squeeze the horse's ribcage with the calves of your legs to cue her to move forward.”

Your body tensed up a bit as the horse moved forward, but you quickly regained your composure and excitement replaced your fear. It was a great feeling. The horse kept on going, so you turned your head to look at him, but Marcus was already mounted on his horse and came towards you.

“Well done, my lady.” He smirked. “Come now, pick up the pace, follow my lead,” Marcus gripped the reins tighter and gave Dromos a little pat on the rump, and the horse started to gallop. As the distance between you and Marcus increased, you did the same, and with the sudden burst of speed, you swayed, your heart pounding. The wind was blowing your hair and caressing your face, which felt amazing.

“Marcus! Wait for me!" You called out to him, and he looked back at you with that childish smile on his face. It was clear he was enjoying himself, and you were no exception. You felt the same sense of exhilaration riding with him. There is no feeling in the world that can compare to the freedom you experience when traveling on horseback through the trees.

"My Lady! We're nearly there!" Marcus pointed up the hill a little later. Since you had learned to control it, you pulled the reins in the direction you wanted to go and stroked her belly a little and she immediately fulfilled your wishes. You smiled, pleased with yourself. As if you had won a victory. Marcus slowed his horse and circled the area he had indicated, waiting for you. You pulled the reins firmly and your horse neighed, lifted its legs slightly, and stopped. Marcus looked satisfied.

“You are a quick learner, princess.” He said, dismounting and leading Dromos to a nearby tree.

“I think she likes me too,” you said, sliding your leg over her back to dismount and jumping down.

“Would you perhaps like to name her?” Marcus stepped towards you.

“Yes, I was thinking, um. Since she’s so pure and white, I'd like to call her Unio (pearl).”

He nodded. “Clever, well suited,” He then grabbed Unio's reins and tied them to the same tree.

You became aware of the river at the bottom of the hill. It was the Tiber. Just ahead, you could discern the silhouette of the great city, which appeared to be quite beautiful. Also, It was a delight to behold the enormous structure from a distance once more, as you set foot on the very ground from which you had previously observed it from the balcony of the Domus Severiana.

Marcus approached behind you and wrapped his arms around you, placing his head on your shoulder.

“This is where I come every night and think of you looking up there.”

You turned your head towards him. He was pointing to the Domus Severiana.

“Every night?”

“That's true.’ His lips hovered over your cheekbone, his eyelashes caressed your forehead.

“So was I, looking out from the balcony, trying to make out the villa in the distance and thinking of you.”

He smiled mischievously as he brought his lips closer to yours. “Were you thinking about that blissful night we had too? Those intense moments? Did you desire me as much as I desired you?” He purred, tightened his arms just below your breasts, and pushed them slowly upwards.

Your cheeks flushed and you slapped his shoulder. "Marcus." You whined.

"There's no need to feel ashamed, my love," he said pressing his lips to yours and kissing them lovingly. Then he pulled back. "You must be hungry," he said, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to sit among the flowers in the meadow. As you looked at him curiously, he turned around and walked back to his horse. He opened the saddlebag. Then stepped towards you with a bundle in his hand.

“Have you brought breakfast for us?” You shot him a look. He sat down next to you, undid the bundle's knot, and took out a loaf of bread and some fruit.

“I told them to prepare it yesterday. Come, have some, you need strength.” He fed you a piece of bread. Then he put his arm around you.

“What do I need strength for?”

“For your training.’’

You swallowed your bite and frowned. “Training?”

He smiled, “Yes."

“So you're pretty adamant about this?”

“I am.” His look was determined indeed.

Once you had eaten enough, Marcus took you by the hand and lifted you up.

"I had something made for you," he said, reaching for the holster on his waist.

"Another present?"

Marcus was holding a scabbard, but it was smaller than a pugio. He crouched down beside you. You flinched when he lifted the hem of your dress and touched your leg.

“What are you doing?” You tried to pull your leg back, but his hand was so strong you couldn't even move it.

“Stay still.” He was tying it a little above your ankle. It was strange to feel the leather fabric on your skin. You moved your leg as Marcus stood up after finishing. You lifted the hem of your dress to observe the scabbard. It wasn't particularly heavy, but it was a little uncomfortable. Seemed like an irrelevant accessory on your ankle.

“Is that a dagger?” You wailed.

“Not exactly, a small knife. I thought you could use it until we get to pugio.”

You lifted and lowered your leg, it was a strange feeling.

“Try pulling it out of its sheath.” His voice was almost commanding.

Marcus the romantic was gone and Acacius the General was here.

You did as he said, grasped the handle of the dagger, and pulled it out of its sheath, a little slowly. Why was it so difficult?

Marcus put both hands on his waist. “Do you think your enemy will wait for you to draw your knife?”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm a medicus, remember? Are you telling me to cut people with this?”

“Cut if you have to, then cure if you wish.” He said with a stubborn temperament.

You laughed, but he didn't. Wasn't it a joke?

“Now hold it out and attack me.”

You opened your eyes wide. “What? Marcus, I can’t.”

“I said do it, Aurelia.”

“What if I hurt you?”

Marcus let out a little laugh, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Don't worry, my lady. You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to. But you need to learn how to use your knife. Now, attack.”

You did as he said and lunged forward, holding the knife with one hand and making a slashing motion.

He rolled his eyes. “Strike with more power, think of it as having all your strength in your arm.”

You nodded and tried again. Marcus was not satisfied, and inhaled deeply. “The advantage of a short, small knife is that you can change direction more quickly.” He said and grabbed your hand holding the knife and supported your shoulder from behind with his other hand. “But if you have a target to focus on, you should do it like this.” He said and made your knife-holding hand make a fast-forward attack that almost made you stumble. “Like this.” Then he had you take the knife in your other hand. "Then this way." He had you make another attack, this time with a fast-cutting motion. “One, two, three.” Then he had you make a stabbing attack, and he tugged your wrist forward, but his wrist was so strong you stumbled again. Then he stepped back and stood in front of you, spreading his arms. “Now try to attack me once more.”

You raised your arm with determination, but also a hint of hesitation, to attack him. However, he was quick to evade your attack with ease, and you found yourself almost colliding with a nearby tree. You took a moment to collect yourself and then turned to face him.

“Try attacking again.” He said decisively.

This time you lunged at him with all your determination, but he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, almost without moving, and before you knew it, he pulled you towards him, your back slamming into his chest, your knife right next to your neck. His hand was gripping your wrist so tightly it was impossible to move it. You felt his lips on your head, you tried to get out of his arms but he wouldn't let you. “Try a little harder, princess,” he murmured and released you. Then he faced you again, his expression serious as he looked down at your legs.

“Spread your legs properly.” He ordered.

You obey.

“Suck your stomach.”

You breathed deeply and tried to stand up straight.

“Now try it again.”

You did the cutting motions he had just shown you, but for some reason, he still wasn't satisfied. He closed his eyelids tightly and sighed deeply. 

“Why is this so hard,” he muttered. He came over and snatched the knife from your hand and stepped backward. "Watch, how I do it."

He held the knife ready for the attack and skilfully made the same slashing motions as before, coming up beside you. "Do it like this."

His expression was so serious you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Spread your legs, suck your stomach, do it like this," you said, imitating his voice and movements. As you laughed again, his expression softened and he began laughing too.

“You found it quite funny, my lady?”

You were still laughing. “Yes, it was very funny.”

He grinned and extended his hand to you. " I think that's enough for today. Could you lift your dress up so I can put it back."

You took a step backward. "No way, I don't want that sharp thing on my leg." You said it in a slightly joking tone.

He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards you. You took another step back in response.

"I said lift your dress up." His voice was stern and commanding, but his expression was mocking.

‘What if I don't?’ You took a few more steps backward as he was coming towards you.

"Then I'll have to force you to do it."

“Try,” you said, turning on your heel and striding off with a laugh.

Marcus grinned. “As if I can't catch you easily,” he said and started running after you. As you ran as fast as you could across the meadow, he was chasing you.

“You must surrender before you trip and fall, Aurelia!” His voice echoed across the meadow.

"No way, General!" You continued to run, this time you turned the other way, but Marcus was faster. He grabbed you from behind with his strong arms and you giggled and struggled with all your strength. He deliberately let you both fall, and you rolled among the flowers in the meadow. One more roll, you were lying on the ground with Marcus on top of you, gasping for breath. You looked up at him and saw that he was laughing as you were. "I told you I'd find you wherever you ran, my lady," he said and bent his head down and kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through his hair as Marcus' hand grazed the fabric of your dress sliding it up your leg. You broke the kiss and looked at him in surprise.

"What are you-"

"Easy," he said, and he grabbed your leg, lifted it up, and sheathed the knife. Then he kissed your knee and looked at you.

"Promise me you'll carry this knife when I'm not around." His expression was stern, the kind you couldn't argue with.

You nodded. “I promise.”

He uttered a soft, tender murmur as his fingers stroked your hair. "I truly hope that you never have to use it." Then he kissed you again, with greater intensity this time, conveying the emotion he was feeling to you through his lips. All of sudden, you heard the sound of a pipe echoing in the distance, and he broke the kiss. It seemed to you that the sound of the drums and pipes preceded the public announcement. You both turned your heads in that direction, it sounded more like a murmur through the meadow.

“It must be almost time for the game to start,” Marcus muttered.

You let out a sigh. “I really don't want to go,” you whined, glancing at the silhouette of the Colosseum.

Marcus turned his head towards you and helped you sit down. “I don't want to provide Caracalla with another reason to summon you.”

“You're right, I think I can bear it with you by my side,” you said, brushing his hair with your fingers to remove grass particles.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “As long as I'm with you, you don't have to worry about anything, my love.”

You nodded. Then he stood up and held out his hand to you. “We should head home and prepare to get going.”

As you and Marcus were traveling to the Colosseum, the crowds were gathering in that direction. There was a great deal of discussion about Gaius and his treachery. You could hear people talking about him and his fate with great enthusiasm. The carriage stopped in front of the stairs, and you and Marcus got out. As you ascended the stairs together, those who recognised you greeted you, and you responded by saluting them with a raised hand. The members of the Senate were also making their way up the stairs at a brisk pace, each of them turning around to greet you with a kind smile. It would be fair to say that you were the most talked about married couple in Rome. While holding Marcus' hand, you made your way to the imperial tribune together, where you observed that Geta and Caracalla had already arrived and taken their seats. Caracalla gave you a brief glance and turned his attention back to the arena. He and Marcus exchanged glances as Geta stood up and waited for you to sit next to him. Marcus greeted them and moved to sit next to your seat. However, as soon as he pulled you close, Geta reached out and hugged you, but Marcus was determined to keep hold of your hand. You found yourself stumbled between the two of them.

“Sister, you're here.” He looked at Marcus's hand gripping yours and grinned. “Come now, take a seat, it's almost time.”

Marcus's expression was stern as he pulled you close, made sure you sat down and then settled down next to you. He had no intention of letting go of your hand, and you were perfectly comfortable with it. Geta turned around and called Macrinus, who had just arrived. For some reason he looked happy. You didn't like it. His usual cheerful mood usually puts you in a tense one. Marcus probably felt the same. He bowed to you and took his seat. Geta and Caracalla seemed to be in high spirits and excited as usual, probably because it was their favourite moment. They stood up, and greeted the crowd as the announcer announced the game. Then stepped back and took their seats. Geta leaned towards you. “Ready to see the tigers, sister?”

You pouted your lips and shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm so thrilled. Look, my palms are all sweaty.” He showed you his palms with a wide smile, you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Good for you,” you said sarcastically. "I do wonder, though, if all this preparation is really for the purpose of making our cousin lunch for the tigers.”

Geta laughed. “No, that would be sooo boring. Macrinus has brought new gladiators, you will see them soon. Today's games will be slightly different from the others. It has been a while since we have seen warriors fighting dangerous animals.”

‘Gaius isn't a warrior,’ you muttered.

‘No, he's just a bait. Here we gooo,’ he said with clapping his hands, as the drums began to beat. The announcer threw up his arms and the crowd fell silent.

“People of Rooome! Who do you cheer for? The barbarian warriors who have come here today, risking their lives, are they worthy of your praise? Or do you cheer for the fearless gladiators who have embraced death? Or do you cheer for the fierce, dangerous tigers?”

The crowd roared, their voices growing louder with each mention of the tigers.

“Or for the execution of a traitor? The day of judgment has come. Our Emperors and yours must pass judgment on this traitor!”

The crowd was now cheering loudly in approval. One of the iron gates opened and Gaius was forced into the arena by the guards, who prodded him with spears. Geta stood up and gestured to one of the guards. The guard handed him a pugio. Then Geta called out to Gaius, "Hey, Gaius the traitor, take this. I don't want it to end quickly!"

He hurled it down the bleachers at him. Caracalla immediately checked to see where it had fallen. "That fool will die before he gets to it," he said, laughing. And the other gates opened, accompanied by the beating of drums and the sound of trumpets.

The barbarians stormed the arena, five of them, some with shields and spears, others with crossbows. The crowd cheered with gusto, and Geta and Caracalla applauded. Then the gladiators entered the arena, three of them, with shields and swords, one of them wearing a galea (helmet). Geta and Caracalla clapped even louder. The gladiators gave their customary salute to the emperors and gathered among themselves. Gaius still hadn't got the pugio, and Caracalla gave him a lot of abuse. He was stuck between two groups of warriors, but he was determined to get to the pugio. It was going to be tough. In that dusty, sandy field, everyone was each other's enemy.

"Let it begin!" Caracalla shouted firmly. The drums beat louder and the crowd roared. Tension and Thriller filled the air. Marcus stroked your hand with his thumb and smiled at you. Then he swiftly turned his gaze to the game. You were curious as to why the tigers still hadn't appeared. Geta and Caracalla knew what they were doing. They must have a good plan. The barbarians and gladiators charged at Gaius simultaneously. Gaius was about to take the pugio when a trapdoor opened in the sandy ground and a huge tiger came roaring out of nowhere. Gaius jumped back, but in his fright, he lost his footing and fell to the ground.

“Oh, he'll die so soon.” Geta whined.

“He's boring, as usual.” Caracalla agreed.

They laughed together.

The gladiators reached Gaius first and pulled him back. You looked at Geta. He winked at you, "I told you. Different kind of fight."

Marcus leaned in close to your ear. “Part of the game,” he explained.

It didn't take long to see how dangerous a game this was. While the barbarians and gladiators fought each other, Gaius was played like a toy right in the centre. One of the two groups of warriors was going to throw him to the tigers, but not before giving him a good thrashing on the sandy ground. As soon as the other tiger emerged from the subterranean floor onto the sandy ground directly opposite the other, the barbarians turned on the gladiators. One of them kicked one of the gladiators and plunged his sword into his neck, blood gushing from his throat and splattering the sandy floor like wine red. The violence was overwhelming. You would never get used to this. Gaius tried to run away, taking advantage of the clash of the two groups, but one of the barbarians kicked him in the thigh and pushed him into a tiger. Geta jumped to his feet, and Caracalla had already run to the balustrade.

"Eat him!" Geta clapped his hands excitedly.

Caracalla laughed loudly and madly.

You closed your eyes and squeezed your eyelids tight. The crowd was clearly excited and your half-brothers were shouting with joy. It was obvious that the tiger was eating his lunch. Marcus took your hand in both of his and stroked it. You were grateful he was there because you would have fainted at the sight of this savagery.

“Did you hear his bones crunching?” Geta looked at you and laughed.

When you rolled your eyes, he twisted his lips. "Come now, sister, didn't you watch Gaius' vile body crumble between that animal’s teeth?"

“I think I've seen enough,” you muttered.

“I'm sure you enjoyed it too, you hide it well though.” Caracalla grinned.

You forced a smile in response.

“What do you reckon? Two gladiators left.” Geta asked him.

'The barbarians don't stand a chance.’

“Hmm. I'd like to hear your opinion, Acacius.” Geta demanded.

You three turned your heads to Marcus.

“I agree with Emperor Caracalla. These barbarians are attacking recklessly and without thinking.” He answered without looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the gladiators, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking.

After a while, when the barbarians were down to two, you realised Marcus was right.

“Aaaahh, two on two! Thrilling!” Geta clapped his hands excitedly.

“I told you, the gladiators will take them easily.”

“The game's not over yet, brother.”

Indeed it wasn't, as the tigers struggled to break free from their chains, the barbarians, seeing an opportunity, took advantage of the tigers as hiding behind them to launch an attack on the gladiators with bolts, hitting one in the arm. However, this was a risky move, tigers, despite being bound by thick iron chains, retained a great deal of mobility. One of the gladiators, wearing a galea, managed to remove the bolt from his arm and picked up his spear, which he then threw at one of the tigers. The spear pierced the animal's throat with a single thrust, and it collapsed with a great groan of pain. You felt your chest hurt. Despite it is a deadly predator, it was an animal torn from its natural environment and was forced to fight there.

Geta pursed his lips, “I can't believe how you died so easily, you stupid animal.”

“There's still one left, brother.”

You found their conversation somewhat callous and wished for the game to end soon. You felt a longing to leave this place and return home with your husband.

The gladiator made a swift and decisive move, leaping from the lifeless body of the tiger and engaging in a sword fight with the barbarian. The other tiger let out a roar that echoed throughout the arena, accompanied by the sounds of the clash. As the other two of them fought each other, the tiger touched its claw lightly on the other gladiator's leg, but it was enough to cause significant injury. The man staggered backwards, the pain intense and shocking, and before he could recover, the other barbarian slashed his neck with his sword. The tiger lunged at him, but the chain and soldiers holding him down prevented him from attacking. Geta narrowed his eyes.

“Aaah, now it's two on one!”

“I knew it!” Caracalla clapped his hands in excitement.

The gladiator did not hesitate to engage with the barbarians, swiftly cutting the other one's arm before they could bring their sword down on him. This move seemed familiar to you for a reason. Marcus muttered something, and you knew he was thinking the same as you. You weren't trying to learn something about fighting. You had seen this gladiator fight before. You looked at Geta and Caracalla, then at Macrinus. He smiled meaningfully at you. That was him, that gladiator. The gladiator who injured Marcus' arm in a fight with him last time, and whose life was spared by him. But why?

Marcus muttered, "His movements have improved, but he still doesn't have enough use of his wrist.'

"Why is he here to fight again?"

Marcus looked at you. "There are many answers to that, my guess is rage.”

‘Rage?’

He fixed his gaze on the gladiator who had vanquished one of the barbarians, intensifying the fervour of the crowd. “His eyes are filled with nothing but rage. He battles using it, and when he triumphs, he believes it is because he is strong. However, it hinders his ability to think rationally, and it appears that defeat has made him even more relentless. This is indisputable proof that he is not basing his actions on logic.”

He turned his head back to him and saw that the gladiator had cut down the last barbarian. The crowd was whistling and cheering him on as he raised his arms. Geta and Caracalla were also applauding. Caracalla raised his arms. "And here is our champion! Take off that galea so we can see your face!”

The gladiator obeyed and removed his galea. He was looking at Marcus as he greeted you all. That made you feel very uncomfortable. Marcus squinted at him.

“What a fight.” Geta took his seat, and Caracalla sat next to him.

“This is the part I hate the most, the moment when the fight ends.” Caracalla mumbled.

“You're joining the banquet tonight, aren't you?” Geta asked you.

And you were just about to answer him when, in the blink of an eye, a bolt came out of nowhere and stuck between you and Marcus, just through his seat. You felt your heart leap into your throat. It was so close to you that you could almost hear the sound of it swooshing. While Geta and Caracalla let out screams of panic, Marcus flinched backward. First, his brown eyes locked on you, and then he turned his gaze in the direction of the bolt. You just held your breath, still in shock. Marcus was filled with an incredible rage, jumped to his feet. You pulled yourself together and turned in the direction he was facing. Geta grabbed your shoulders.

“Sister! Are you alright?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed on Marcus. The gladiator was grinning down at you, crossbow in hand, as if trying to enrage Marcus even more. Geta and Caracalla stood up to look at him.

“As a champion, I challenge General Acacius!”

Caracalla burst out laughing. Geta clapped his hands and turned to Marcus.

“You should have killed him last time, Acacius.”

Marcus locked eyes with him, and you could have sworn he'd killed him so many times with his deadly gaze. You gripped his hand in both of yours.

He already knew what you were going to say. He turned to you, his eyes sharp and unblinking. “I'll tear him to pieces.”

“We support you, General Acacius!” Geta cheered.

“You must learn to speak for yourself,” Caracalla complained.

You ignored them, your eyes locked on Marcus'. All your tormenting fears had returned.

“Aren't you going to punish him? That bolt could have hit me or you!” You said Geta.

“He knew exactly where he was shooting it, my sister,” Caracalla said arrogantly.

Geta shook his head. “He challenged the General, and being a man of honor, he must fight. Please make sure you kill him this time, won't you?”

As the crowd watched the General with curious murmurs, you were looking at him with teary eyes. He had already reached a decision at the moment the bolt pierced his seat. He withdrew his hand from between yours, removed the bolt with some force, and approached the balustrade, raising his hand and regarding the gladiator.

"I, Marcus Acacius, accept your challenge." He raised his hand. "I shall ensure that you regret shooting this!"

As the crowd began to cheer wildly, you could feel your heart pounding fast. As Marcus turned to face you and looked into your eyes for the last time, you decided to support him instead of being afraid. He needed it.

“You beat him once, I'm sure you'll beat him again, my love.”

His brown eyes sparkled as he heard those words coming from your mouth, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it.

"I will, my lady." He smiled and strode out, passing between the senators' seats and heading down to the lowest level of the Colosseum. Macrinus and you locked eyes as you looked him up and down with a look of pure defiance on your face. He was smiling at you with that disturbing smile, you squinted at him. You were almost certain he had planned this on purpose. Geta put his arm around you and sat you down.

“Oh, it's going to be so exciting. He's going to kill him for sure this time. The tension is so high!”

“But this time a tiger is there too,” Caracalla said.

“So? The general has fought with animals before. He even cut the lion in two in front of our eyes. I'm sure he'll be able to beat the tiger too,” Geta winked at your worried face.

“Really?” You asked curiously, you heard that before but thought it was just a rumor.

Geta chuckled, “I wish you were here with us to witness that moment, sister. It was quite something.”

“I have absolutely no regrets brother.” You hissed. After all, you never would want to see Marcus before a lion.

Your eyes moved between the tiger and the gladiator. While you were praying to Jupiter, the iron door swung open accompanied by drums. You and your brothers sprang to your feet. Marcus was in his armour and looking at the gladiator as he walked into the arena with his sword in hand. The crowd roared and ranged his name out. He went over to the gladiator and they both saluted the Emperors. You saw Marcus's half-smile and you smiled back in return. It was always tough seeing him there. The more fearlessly he fought, the more you worried. It was like a special kind of torture for you.

The game began on Geta's and Caracalla's commands, and you realised that your breathing was already becoming irregular. The gladiator with a smile, approached the tiger, Marcus followed at a distance, as if he understood what the gladiator was up to.The tiger roared, the gladiator made the first move, lunging towards Marcus with his blood-soaked sword in hand. It was a failed attempt; Marcus stepped aside. However, he managed to get a little closer to the tiger. Marcus took a step back as the animal let out a roar, and the gladiator swung a spear at him but missed. When you saw Marcus so close to the tiger, it made you feel so nervous.

The gladiator stepped back as Marcus walked over to him, looking angry. Even from a distance, you could tell what he was thinking. His sword gave off a faint glow as he thrust it at him. The gladiator fought back with his own sword. As the clash of swords echoed around the arena, the tiger moved in to attack them both. Marcus resisted with all his might as the gladiator thrust his sword repeatedly, pushing Marcus towards the tiger. The gladiator let out a growl and tried again, quickly, strongly and determinedly.

But this time, Marcus was more angry than ever. He couldn't stop thinking about the bolt that had been shot at him. In that short time, he didn't worried about himself, but worried about you. In his perspective, the bolt he'd shot had stuck in his seat, right next to you. This attack on him and his wife in his presence will not go unpunished. He was going to get revenge for sure, even if it meant he'd die in the end. Marcus roared and lunged forward with his sword, which glinted in the sunlight, driving it into the gladiator's chest. The man stumbled back but recovered quickly. If he hadn't been wearing his iron armor, he would have been cut in half. They just stared at each other for a while and then Marcus made the first move. He wanted to end this game as soon as possible and make sure his opponent was dead. He brought his sword down with all his might, screaming at him, but the man blocked his attack with his sword. They were making kind of animalistic sounds now, harmonised with the sound of the tiger. During the struggle, the gladiator resisted the General's deadly pressure. Then the urge to pull out his knife and plunge it into Marcus' exposed leg with a decisive and powerful thrust. Although Marcus had been expecting this, he was unable to prevent the knife from cutting him and let out a cry of pain. You leaped to your feet and screamed, covering your mouth with your hands. Geta and Caracalla leaned forward with excitement. You watched him rush towards Marcus, who fell to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the sand and threw it at the tiger, creating a cloud of dust that surrounded them. The crowd fell silent for a moment, and then you forgot to breathe as they shouted excitedly again. Geta jumped to his feet and Caracalla grunted. Geta, realising that your body was shaking, grabbed your shoulders and you both breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the dust cleared and you saw the sword Marcus had plunged into the tiger's throat.

Marcus barely threw himself backward as the tiger's fangs snapped open and closed right next to his beautiful face. His sword remained lodged in the animal's neck and soon the tiger's lifeless body collapsed to the ground. The gladiator lunged at Marcus with his sword while he was down. Marcus swiftly grabbed the spear from the ground and shielded himself. As the sword and spear clashed, a deafening sound reverberated through the arena. Marcus was determined not to let go of the spear he was holding and, despite the blood flowing from his leg, he tripped the gladiator's foot and knocked him to the ground. He immediately got up and tried to stand, leaning on the spear. The gladiator cursed as he got up and Marcus threw his pugio at him. If you had been right next to them in the arena, you would have heard the sharp sound of the pugio cutting the wind.

Caracalla returned Geta's grin with one of his own, and Geta laughed with joy. You soon came to know what had happened as you realised Marcus' pugio lodged in the gladiator's throat. As the gladiator tried to remove the dagger from his throat, Marcus advanced on him and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down. The gladiator had only moments left, but Marcus was not to be appeased. He picked up a crossbow from ground, set a bolt in place, readying the crossbow to be shot – the very same crossbow the gladiator had used – aimed right above the gladiator's face. The crowd of the Colosseum was on its feet, eager to see what the General was about to do. Geta and Caracalla extended their arms forward, and Marcus turned his head in that direction.

The emperors turned their thumbs down, and Marcus's face hardened into a grim smile. He aimed the crossbow directly at the gladiator's head again and pulled the trigger. The crowd roared and cheered again, their approval loud and clear. They all chanted Marcus's name over and over. But your eyes were fixed on the bright red liquid leaking from his calf down his leg, soaking his sandals. You turned to run to him, but Geta grasped your arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To my husband,” you said, pushing his arm away.

‘We shall head together," he said, turning to Caracalla. ‘Weren't you the one who wanted to see the tiger up close?’

Caracalla laughed. “Yes, I want one of his teeth,” he said firmly, holding up a finger to the guard next to him. The guard nodded.

“I want the claw,” Geta said, putting his arm around your neck as you both walked.

Macrinus approached Caracalla and spoke in a low voice, then excused himself and left in a hurry.  The guards accompanied you as you headed towards the iron gate situated just below the imperial tribune. As you made your way down the stairs, the announcer proclaimed the names of the emperors, and the crowd responded with enthusiastic cheers.

You slipped out of Geta's arm and rushed towards Marcus. Two soldiers were with him, tending to his wounds, and when they saw you, they stopped and bowed. You immediately put your hands out to look at his leg. It was deep, and you looked at Marcus with concern. But he smiled.

“General Acacius, our esteemed champion who has a proven track record of success.” Geta applauded him.

“The tiger almost made you lunch, Acacius,” Caracalla said, laughing.

Marcus forced a smile and walked over to the tiger, pulling his sword from its throat with a swift movement. He raised the sword as he approached the emperor, the air filled with the scent of rusty iron as a few drops of blood fell to the ground.

Your half-brothers tensed, and the guards moved to a defensive position to protect them. The crowd began to mutter. You looked at Marcus, curious about his intention. His face was expressionless, but his eyes spoke volumes.

“My emperors, I wonder if you are aware of the number of lives lost in the process of taking these animals out of their natural habitat and bringing them here to Rome and the Colosseum. I have to say that ten of my men have lost their lives in this endeavour. They were Roman citizens, and they served you loyally. Ten good men who cannot easily be replaced.”

You didn't expect this, and you pleased that Marcus brought this truth to their attention. However, they didn't seem to care.

“After all they died to serve Rome, didn't they?” Caracalla smiled arrogantly. Geta remained silent, his eyes roaming over the tiger's dust and blood-covered body.

“Yes, they did, to serve Rome. But that is not the kind of death they deserve, is it?”

“I think he heard about the rhino, brother.” Geta muttered.

"Ah, now I see. You're concerned that a few soldiers might be lost again."

"Rhino?" You looked at them in surprise.

“You don't mention the details to your wife, do you, General?” Geta laughed.

Marcus ignored him. “As I mentioned, bringing a tiger here is a big waste in terms of manpower and also costs a lot of the Rome's resources. I can't even think about a rhino.” He drove his sword into the ground with a sharp thrust. “Rome has so many subjects, she must feed them.” Marcus's tone was stern.

Caracalla took Marcus' sword in his hand and pointed it at him. You gasped and took a step forward.

“They can eat war, General.”

Geta smiled and seemed to agree with him. Caracalla raised his arms and pointed at the crowd.

“Just look at them. They're all watching with great interest. They're all pretty pleased with themselves. They're having as much fun as we are.”

“Yes, but what about the people living in the alleys?” You said suddenly and walked over to them.

Caracalla looked annoyed.

“Do you really think all citizens are coming here? There are lots of people in the alleyways who are going starving, and many of them are children. I had the chance to see them recently. The situation is pretty dire."

You looked at Marcus out of the corner of your eye and saw that he was looking at you.

"Enough! Don't you ever dare to collaborate with your husband and order me around!"

Geta looked at you with a warning gaze, then turned to his brother. "Never mind them, brother, I want to see the tiger," he said and strode off in that direction. Caracalla gave you both a menacing look before turned and stepped towards his brother.

Marcus approached you. "You didn't need to get involved."

"Is it wrong to defend my husband?"

He smiled, "No, of course not, my lady, but the longer you don't confront him, the better."

Then he touched his calf and groaned.

"Marcus, your wound needs to be treated now!" You put your arm around his waist and called out the soldiers.

Marcus insisted you pull your arm back, and they led their general inside. Before leaving, you turned to look at your brothers, who were excitedly observing the tiger and laughing as if they were playing with a new shiny toy. You rolled your eyes and sighed, then turned towards the iron gate and followed your husband inside.

By the time you arrived at the villa, the sun had bathed Rome in its golden light, preparing to say goodbye. Marcus' cut on his calf was deep but not severe. It would take a week or two to heal. The slaves in the villa were taken aback to see Marcus returning, armoured and bruised, after an unexpected fight. As Marcus' body was covered in dust and dirt, you ordered Tullia to prepare the bath immediately upon entering the courtyard. You both ascended the stairs heading to your room, Marcus seemed to be struggling with each step. You helped him remove his armour and other items. Then he watched you with interest as you took off your palla and stola.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," you said, smiling at him.

"Let me," he said, reaching for the bracelets on your wrists.

This had become a daily routine: you helping Marcus take off or put on his armour while he helped you with your dress. He liked to undress you more, though.

Once he'd taken off your bracelets and necklace and put them on his desk, you wanted to take a look at his wound. You noticed that the bandage had turned red, so you quickly crouched down on the floor next to his leg and unwrapped it.

"We need to clean around the wound and wrap it tighter."

You were concerned, but he wasn't really. Your face was right next to his crotch, and your warm breath on his skin made things worse. Marcus's heartbeat quickened as you picked up a clean cloth and came back to him. You were so worried and focused on his wound that you didn't notice his eyes looking at you with desire.

You cleaned the wound meticulously, wrapped it. "You're stronger, so wrap it tightly." You said.

As you rose to your feet, Marcus stopped you by grasping your shoulder and lowering you back to your knees. You looked at him with confusion, and saw the familiar intensity in his dark brown eyes, and then saw the length of him growing under his burgundy tunic.

“But why-“

It was a silly question.

“Because of you,” he grinned. “Desires you,” he said, cupping you under the chin with his hand and bringing your face close to his crotch.

Your cheeks flushed red and you swallowed hard.

“I wish to feel your lips around me,” his thumb hovered over your lips. “And your sweet tongue,” he leaned his head down and kissed you on the lips. After breaking the kiss he looked into your eyes, “Will you give your husband what he desires?”

You were ready to do anything for him, but this was a new and strange thing for you. He's your husband. You should please him as he pleased you, you thought to yourself.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "If that's what you desire," you said, your voice smooth and confident, and grasped the hem of his tunic, lifting it. You were ready. You bit your lower lip as you looked at his glorious length. You had imagined him in your mouth before, but from this angle, he looked big. Marcus sensed your nervousness and took your hand, guiding it over him so that you could grasp his length.

You tentatively took his length in one hand and stroked it a few times, noting that it was already hard between your fingers and that a drop of precum was forming at the tip. You leaned in and gave him a little lick, just to see what it would feel like. It was warm, salty, musky. You let your tongue trail around the ridge of his crown. He exhaled in a low, raspy tone through his nose. You smiled, hearing his low moans gave you confidence. You lowered his throbbing length into your mouth, which was stretched open as far as it could go and still only just fit around him. Your tongue flicked over his more sensitive spot, while your hands worked over the base, kneading it gently. He shuddered in delight. Then, all of a sudden, he thrust deep into your throat.

“Mmmff!” Your voice was muffled, and he felt your gag reflex vibrating against the sensitive skin of his length.

"Look at me, my love,” he purred. You obey immediately. “You are enjoying that are you not?" He hissed cheekily through a struggled breath.

You hum in response and he jolts at the vibration of your mouth around his throbbing length. You continue to suck him and you look directly up into his eyes innocently for a moment which sends him right to the edge, the way you are looking up at him sweetly and seductively but so naughtily, your long eyelashes fluttering everytime the tip of him hits the back of your throat. The yellowish sun light streaming through the window lit up your hair, illuminating the strands of gold and copper that flowed over your shoulders. He grabbed your hair in his fists and yanked. But you liked it.

“So beautiful,” he pants.

He pulls back before thrusting forward again, balls-deep in your mouth, coming inside you, taking you by surprise. You swallow on instinct, surprised that it was really sweet. He touches your cheek, wiping away a few drops with his finger, and you look up at him shyly.

“Gods, you have enchanted me body and soul, I love you,” He purred and held your jaw in both his hands, pulling you off him and you frown a little at the loss of him inside your mouth.

But he did it to pull you into his arms in a hurry, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed you passionately. Then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, pushing the things off his desk and making you sit. You were too busy to care about the sound of the ink bottle falling to the floor and the papers flying around. You pressed your hands on his shoulders, pushed your head back and broke the kiss to catch your breath. Your eyes met and you saw the fire of desire in his eyes. You blinked and swallowed, reacting the same way every time. He grinned at you the same way, and it never seemed to get old.

“I must have you. Now.” The rough timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Her insistent and impatient fingers peeled the fabric of your tunic down your shoulders. The fabric gathered around your waist. His burning lips met yours again, his strong hands gripped your hips once more and pulled you to the edge of the desk. His hands caressed your knees down to your ankles and pulled the fabric of your dress up. In one swift movement he removed his tunic and threw it to the floor. When he turned to you, looking at you like a hungry wolf and your heart began to pound faster. Your mouths met again, and in an instant, you were lost in an all-consuming kiss. You push your hips forward against his crotch and suddenly aware of how hard and big he has again become in such a short time. You admire his heaving chest and all his muscles and his scars. You lean up to touch his chest and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He slides inside you with a sudden movement, your walls clenching instinctively at the excitement of this new position. He moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss, grabs your hips with both hands, pulls out and thrusts deeper. You tilt your head back and try to breathe. He grabs your jaw gently and makes you face him. “I want you to watch me,” he whispered.

You had to learn to adapt to his behaviour, as it was a recurring habit of his, but you still felt that your shyness was holding you back. In contrast to you, he rarely closed his eyes, only when he was nearing the end. He usually prefers to watch you, he values eye contact greatly, as if he doesn't want to miss any moment of this precious moment with you. Probably because he was a very passionate man, filled with pure desire. “Marcus…” You moan his name as your walls clench around him so hard that he groans. Wave after wave you crash into him. Your arms are below his, but wrapped around him and your nails dig further into his back. You think you hurt him when he hisses but he smirks and all it does is make him chase after you with his own climax. At that moment, you feel he was spilling, filling every inch of you, licks and sucks even bite your chin meanwhile. He continues to thrust and the wet sound of him releasing more and more inside you is music to your ears as he rides out the remaining waves of your climax. Finally he slows down and stops, breathing heavily. Both of you enjoying the moment between, admiring how you're almost naked on his desk and he's just had you there. He pulled out slowly, smiled as he enjoys the sight of you. Then run his fingers through his hair, wiped the sweat from his brow and foreground, and took a moment to catch his breath.

“My lady.” He held out his hand, offering to help you to your feet. You slowly get up, thighs together, still holding on to him. He leaned in a little closer to tuck your messy hair behind your ears.

“I believe the best time for a bath is at this very moment.” He grinned. "Shall we?”

In the Balneum, while you were rubbing Marcus's shoulders and cleansing him of the grime of the sandy, dusty surroundings of the arena, he was very quiet. He appeared to be lost in thought. Perhaps he was tired, you thought. The exertion in the arena, the struggle to survive, and dealing with your brothers must have been exhausting for him. However, the feeling of being deprived of his voice was becoming unbearable.

“You know, you could tell me,” you said softly, breaking Marcus's thoughts.

“Hmm?”

You rested your head on his shoulder from behind, your cheeks lightly touching his.

“It must have hurt you, losing those men of yours. You don't have to carry that burden on your shoulders alone. As your wife, you can share it with me.” You kissed his neck right on the jugular vein.

Marcus turned his head to you, his beard brushing your nose. “How fortunate man I am that the Gods have blessed me with you?”

He turned and pulled you towards him, slipping his arms under your shoulders and thighs as he did so, and pulled you into the water beside him. Your giggles were accompanied by the splashing sound of the hot water and echoed through the marble walls of the balneum.

Marcus kissed you gently on the lips, tenderly, adoringly. He pulled back and smiled, gathering your wet hair on one side of your neck. “My beautiful princess, you know I would do anything for you, don't you?”

You ran your fingers along the line of his lips as your head rested on the arm he had wrapped around you from behind.

“With all my heart, I know, General,” you murmured.

"I hope you will be reassured that from this moment on, I will do everything I can for you and for Rome." His gaze sharpened and his expression became serious, as if he was making a vow. Your fingers traced the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

"You sound like you might be about to do something soon?”

His eyes dropped to your wet hair. 'I only wanted to make sure you know that.'

You got a strange feeling all over, and his expression was unlike anything you'd ever seen. And it lasted all night. Even when you were lying in bed together, holding you in his arms and kissing you on the lips, it felt different.

You found it difficult to get to sleep because you were troubled by a peculiar sensation that persisted throughout the night. As soon as you opened your eyes in the morning, you felt a shiver, but it wasn't because your hair was still damp. The sensation you always felt first thing in the morning was missing, the comforting warmth of an arm around you and its owner. Your hand instinctively went to the other side of the bed, you felt the sheet with the back of your hand. It was cold. Usually, it was warm.

You sat up in bed and looked around. He was gone. His armour and other belongings were nowhere to be seen. You got out of bed, shivering, your chest hurting. This room hadn't felt so warm in his absence. However, there was no change in the air temperature, everything must be the same. But it wasn't. Nothing was the same without him. You found yourself wishing that this morning, which had begun inauspiciously, was a dream. However, when you were once again confronted with the feelings you had experienced the night before you decided to leave the room. As if running away.

As you descended the stairs, you saw Norell walking in the courtyard with a tray. You called out to her, and she turned to face you.

“Where is the General?”

Tullia came up to her and mumbled something. You hurried down the stairs and walked over to them. Why didn't they answer you?

“Where's my husband?” Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

Tullia came closer to you, her eyes uncertain.

"My lady, the general left early this morning."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, but he's probably off to the barracks."

"He's never left this early before. Surely he said something?"

Tullia opened her eyes wide. "How dare I ask him questions, my lady?"

You frowned. You felt like she was hiding something from you, but you couldn't be sure what. After she excused herself and left, Decima saw you and walked towards you.

“My lady,' she greeted you. "Your eyes are a little sunken. Are you alright?"

“I don't- I don't feel well,” your voice trembled.

"Please, take a seat." She held your hand and kindly guided you to sit on the armchair.

You sat and sighed deeply. Decima sat next to you. From the look in her eyes, you sensed that she was aware of something and wanted to share it with you.

"Sir Octavius arrived at dawn. Whatever he said to the general, he quickly dressed and left. I thought you knew."

You placed your head in your hands and groaned at the headache you felt.

"I must have fallen into a deep sleep around that time because I couldn't sleep properly at night."

“I’ll bring your breakfast," she said and rose to her feet, but you reached for her arm and prevented her from doing so.

"That is unnecessary. I would prefer to rest in the room until the General arrives.”

However, he did not return that evening or the following day.

The minutes seemed to drag on, each one a painful torture. When the waiting became unbearable, you decided to leave the villa one evening. You needed to find him and see why he wasn’t coming back.  As you had promised him, you wrapped the small knife Marcus gave you around your ankle, put on your black cloak and left the room. Decima spotted you and ran to you, reaching out to take your hand on the stairs, but you pushed her hand away.

Tullia and Norell and even the other slaves ran to you, all of them concerned.

"Domina! Please don't leave at this hour." Tullia pleaded.

“Master will be back eventually, please be patient." Norell reached out to take your other hand but you pulled it back. The others also begged, making you even angrier.

You raised your hand. “Enough!" Your voice, loud, echoed through the courtyard. Mau, startled from her slumber, leapt up, jumped down and ran behind the fountain. They were taken aback and fell silent. Their kind and soft Domina was gone. You turned your head, strode purposefully out of the courtyard. As soon as you came out, saw Cato and Octavius there which surprised you.

“My lady,” Cato ran to you.

You looked at Octavius.

“Where is my husband?”

“My lady, I cannot allow you to leave, please go back inside.”

You approached him frowning. “I asked you a question, Sir Octavius!” It was the first time you had raised your voice to Octavius, who had always been kind to you. He startled and tensed a little.

Tullia, Norell and Decima were watching you anxiously from the doorway of the courtyard.

Octavius bowed his head. "The General has a mission to complete, he has ordered me to stay here and protect you until he returns. You must understand, your safety is paramount."

You opened your eyes wide. "Mission? I want to know exactly what you mean by that."

Octavius' expression was hesitant. You approached him. “Sir, please, I need to know where he is."

He frowned, didn't answer.

"Or is it about my brothers?"

He remained silent, still no answer. You were getting more and more angry.

“If it's an important mission, why are you here? Aren't you his right-hand man?”

“I am, but this is his direct order.”

“Tell me at once what the General's mission is.”

After some thought, he looked at you.

“The General said. If he fails…" Octavius could hardly speak. You swallowed, sensing you wouldn't be pleased with what you were about to hear. “He said that I must protect you with my life, no matter what.”

Your throat got dry. “Octavius, tell me where he is.” Your voice was shaking.

You imagine he was as displeased with the order he had been given, and as worried as you were. His expression became more resolute. “Sir Macrinus. We have been considering various strategies for some time now to ensure a successful outcome. Two days ago, when we became aware that he was departing for Libya, we devised a plan to launch an attack just outside the capital this morning. The general was keen to proceed with minimal disruption and with a few man.”

“Macrinus is no fool. He could very well be outnumbered.”

“That's a possibility,” Octavius stated.

The wave of anxiety had taken over your whole body, Marcus' words echoed in your head. 'For you and for Rome.'

“Cato! Get my horse here at once!” You ordered. He looked surprised at first but nodded and trotted off towards the stables when you looked at him angrily.

“My Lady, but-“

You turned to Octavius. “Lead the way.”

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[gothamite-rambler]

The Wayne boys most days without sleep before they finally crashed (two manage to beat out Batman)

Tim Drake - 12 days

Tim fidgeted with his hands, his gaze fixed on the wall.

Tim: All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel, da da da da—

Suddenly, an alarm blared on his phone startling everyone at the cafe table he was sitting at.

Tim: POP GOES THE WEASEL!

He erupted into cackling laughter, but as he slowly laid his head on the table, the laughter quickly faded away. Cassie, Kon, and Bernard exchanged worried glances.

Cassie: Hey, Tim, how long have you been awake?

Tim (rocking back and forth): 288 hours.

Cassie (stunned): 200 and what?

Kon (shocked): You've been awake for 12 days?!

Bernard (sighing): Again, Tim?

Cassie & Kon: Again?!

Bernard: I've seen this happen with him so many times. At this point, his brain starts to cry.

Cassie: Don’t you mean die?

Tim sobbed for a few moments, his eyes fixed on his phone, before falling completely silent.

Bernard: Nah, I mean crying.

Tim: You've seen me do it before, and I can do it longer. The first record holder lasted 12 days! I can go even longer—like a full month! I can! Batman couldn't even do that!

Tim cackled rocking back and forth.

Tim: Coffee helps especially when you replace it with all other liquids.

Tim grabbed a large cup of coffee, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He took a few big gulps as Cassie looked on in shock, while Konnor blinked and then shrugged, taking a few sips from his tea. Bernard gently rubbed his boyfriend’s back.

Cassie: Dude, why are you even avoiding sleep?

Bernard (explaining for his boyfriend): The double life, regular paperwork and then hero work. Timmy, let's take you home okay?

Tim: Home, no home. I fall sleep. Sleep for the weak... Did you know if you look at the walls long enough, new people appear?

Tim waved, laughing nervously then tensed horrified.

Tim: Their faces are contorting again!

Bernard: Let's take you away from the scary... invisible person and get you home to not rest.

Bernard took Tim's hand and led him outside of the Dunkin' Donuts.

Cassie: I could not handle dating a batkid.

Konnor nodded.

Kon: I dated him for a while. Would not recommend.

----------------------------------------------------

Dick Grayson - 18 days and 15 minutes

Kori and Beast Boy walked into the Titans' living room. Raven was the only one there, deep in her daily meditation.

Kori: Where's Dick at?

Raven: Outside counting blades of grass.

Kori (confused): Counting blades of grass?

Beast Boy (frustrated): Oh Jesus, has he been awake for days again?

Raven nodded, her eyes still closed.

Raven (monotone): He'll crash any second, but he thought being outside in the sun would 'revitalize' him.

Beast Boy: That's not- I'll be back.

Beast Boy went outside where Dick was, indeed, counting blades of grass. BB approached him, tapping his foot. Dick looked up, his eyes wide and one twitching.

Dick: Hey- Hey- Hey buddy. Did you know we have one hundred thousand blades of grass? I- Did you change colors?

BB: What color do you think I am?

Dick squinted his eyes.

Dick: Blue.

BB: All right, we're on that color. How long have you been awake, buddy?

Dick: I stopped sleeping last Wednesday... Then a week passed... Then another, that was 14, now it's Saturday of the second week. And- I hear the world singing.

Dick lay on the ground, counting the same patch of grass as he whispered incoherent nonsense. Beast Boy crossed his arms, sighed, and walked back inside the tower.

BB: 18 days this time.

Beast Boy walked away as Kori covered her mouth in shock.

Raven: He's surpassing the world record holder. Also, his brain might be dying.

Kori (alarmed): Might be?!

Raven: He's a batkid, their brains are made of steel or something.

Kori: I have one trick that usually knocks him out—

Raven: I know it's sex.

Kori (giggling): Yes, but he falls asleep on top of me every time.

Raven sighed, shaking her head while Beast Boy left the house with a water bottle.

Beast Boy: Right, I'm going to give him this sleep juice Alfred sent us. He says it knocks them out in a few seconds.

Raven: Smart choice.

Beast Boy: Thanks.

----------------------------------------------------

Jason Todd - 5 days

Jason: I can't sleep.

Roy: How long have you been awake?

Jason (groggy): About five days. Man, I tried to go to sleep, but my body physically won't let me.

Roy: Well, you have been drinking Red Bulls every other hour. You're too focused on the mission. Just go to sleep.

Jason shook his head, rocking back and forth.

Jason: Can't sleep… Won't sleep… No sleep.

Roy tapped his foot, thinking of a way to get him to sleep, then smiled.

Roy: You know you're becoming just like your dad. That's good; he can go six days without sleep. Maybe you'll—

Jason stood up, went to another room, closed his door, and fell into his bed to sleep.

Roy: Works every time.

----------------------------------------------------

Damian - 1 day

Damian: I don't want to go to sleep! No!

Damian kicked his feet as Bruce dragged him to bed.

Bruce: Nope, you’ve stayed awake for 24 hours. That's it. Go to bed!

Damian: You're so unfair!

Bruce: You're not depriving yourself of valuable sleep—Alfred, shut up!

Alfred, who was reading a book about sleep disorders, smirked and then walked away.