dogekat

Latest Posts by dogekat

i know i've said this before but i'm going to say it again because the more i work with geriatric women the stronger i feel about the fact that the only anti-aging that women in their 20s/30s should be obsessed with is building strong bones and muscle mass. that's like the most important thing you can you can do right now to lay a good foundation for healthy aging. you can botox the shit out of your face but that's not going to do anything to save you from dying prematurely from a fatal hip fracture that you can't bounce back from because you didn't do anything to prevent yourself from becoming frail and breakable. like i know that sounds harsh but that is reality for a lot of older women and i don't want that to be you.

it's because

even a monster, a woman must remain fuckable.

But to be honest. Men need fap material. Game devs want them to spend more time playing these games right?

The video game trope of the naked female boss is getting old. I can play a game and fight tones of male bosses, all ugly, old or covered in armor, clearly their beauty isn't he point, but the minute it's a female boss she's just a beautiful girl with no clothe on. They don't even necessarily look bad in terms of design (I like the goddess Hela in Hellblade), but the difference with how male bosses are treated is obvious. In Elden Ring not a single male boss was hot. They were all ugly, monstrous or old. No pretty faces, nice slim bodies and none conveniently losing his clothes during phase two and showing his perky youthful ass. I'm embarrassed for the devs.

And don't get me started on horror games and movies. Not only are women naked but their femaleness is used as a scare factor. I'm so tired of this shit.

I had this convo at the table and for gods sake there was one woman who agreed with me.

Obviously there was a guy who outed himself by saying "laws should not interfere with people's private life" and that "in the past it was socially acceptable" to rape kids.

I love it when women

Your white boyfriend will do nothing for you. Leave him. Join my terrorist Organization

It's (not) funny how a man get to define what "woman" is. Not an actual woman. Definitely not a misogyny here. 👀 Definitely not.

And OTHER WOMEN completely and without thinking critically follow men's ideas like sheep. since eons. I can't believe we even got to the first wave of feminism with women like that.

Well duuhh I am a woman so I can say that, being a woman, is not a feeling in the head. You are born a woman or a man.

Only a deeply misogynist society would enshrine the ideals that womanhood can solely be defined by a feeling in a man’s head, but cannot be solely defined by women’s biology, our lived realities (and oppressions) faced by being female sexed.

people with vaginas," "people who menstruate," "people with penises," and terms like LGBTQ and queer.

We have ashorter words for these twrms. Woman/ man? That INCLUDE entire population of homosapiens on earth. Can't be more included than 'woman' or are we participating in erasing that word?

Igimagine using 'person with vagine' in real life situation.

"hey. You saw that person with vagina who just passed us?"

Y'all just weird

Huge TERF following you have, huh? Wonder why that is.

I assume you're referring to the results on this poll.

Respectfully, the way tumblr works is that when a post is reblogged, it ends up getting seen by people who do not follow the OP.

In the first day of that poll going live, the last option made up a very low percentage, around 1.5–2%. After circulating for 6 days, that percentage is obviously much higher. What that indicates to me is that the 2% is most likely more representative of people who saw the post directly from this blog, while the inflated number came after that 2% reblogged the post into their circles/TERFS who follow other rebloggers got hold of it.

TERFs in particular seem to get a lot of enjoyment out of reblogging/commenting on pro-trans and/or anti-terf posts, either to pose as the victim or to make fun of the posts. (Or both.) They love to hate. It's a game to them, and that's why it seems unusually weighted– they have more fun kicking a post like that around, as opposed to everyone else whose additions are less "interesting" comments (meaning less likely to spark further engagement) like "no I haven't" or "yeah once, ugh."

A large number of the non-terf votes are also likely from people who wouldn't want to reblog that poll anyway (for a multitude of reasons), which comparatively lessens the poll's reach among the people who think like them.

Regardless of the reason for the high percentage on that poll, I would hope that my track record would speak for me here. You can take a look through a variety of topics and posts that should more or less communicate my stance. As a reminder, I openly state that I modify the text of many submissions; this often involves changing polls to use more inclusive language, but also means that if I wanted to use less inclusive language, I could very easily do so.

Polls tagged #gender

Polls tagged #lgbtq | [category] Polls about LGBTQ stuff

Polls tagged #trans

Posts in which I speak (for more perspective on how I conduct myself and the values from which I approach this blog)

In particular I will draw your attention to phrases like "people with vaginas," "people who menstruate," "people with penises," and terms like LGBTQ and queer. These are terms I deliberately add to polls (when relevant) if they are not already phrased that way; and generally speaking, these are not terms/phrases that terfs use. Every time there's a poll using terms like these, there's a terf in the comments complaining about it. I block them when I see them. I don't catch everything– I'm not perfect– but I do what I reasonably can. We support trans people here.

Huge TERF following you have, huh? Wonder why that is.

I assume you're referring to the results on this poll.

Respectfully, the way tumblr works is that when a post is reblogged, it ends up getting seen by people who do not follow the OP.

In the first day of that poll going live, the last option made up a very low percentage, around 1.5–2%. After circulating for 6 days, that percentage is obviously much higher. What that indicates to me is that the 2% is most likely more representative of people who saw the post directly from this blog, while the inflated number came after that 2% reblogged the post into their circles/TERFS who follow other rebloggers got hold of it.

TERFs in particular seem to get a lot of enjoyment out of reblogging/commenting on pro-trans and/or anti-terf posts, either to pose as the victim or to make fun of the posts. (Or both.) They love to hate. It's a game to them, and that's why it seems unusually weighted– they have more fun kicking a post like that around, as opposed to everyone else whose additions are less "interesting" comments (meaning less likely to spark further engagement) like "no I haven't" or "yeah once, ugh."

A large number of the non-terf votes are also likely from people who wouldn't want to reblog that poll anyway (for a multitude of reasons), which comparatively lessens the poll's reach among the people who think like them.

Regardless of the reason for the high percentage on that poll, I would hope that my track record would speak for me here. You can take a look through a variety of topics and posts that should more or less communicate my stance. As a reminder, I openly state that I modify the text of many submissions; this often involves changing polls to use more inclusive language, but also means that if I wanted to use less inclusive language, I could very easily do so.

Polls tagged #gender

Polls tagged #lgbtq | [category] Polls about LGBTQ stuff

Polls tagged #trans

Posts in which I speak (for more perspective on how I conduct myself and the values from which I approach this blog)

In particular I will draw your attention to phrases like "people with vaginas," "people who menstruate," "people with penises," and terms like LGBTQ and queer. These are terms I deliberately add to polls (when relevant) if they are not already phrased that way; and generally speaking, these are not terms/phrases that terfs use. Every time there's a poll using terms like these, there's a terf in the comments complaining about it. I block them when I see them. I don't catch everything– I'm not perfect– but I do what I reasonably can. We support trans people here.

I feel like I posted it already... Let our man live and rest for two seasons.

he’s gotta be tired

steeling from big corpo is a way to. (checks in avocado as potato...)

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

oneshots

☞the introduction

act one

i. dry humping

ii. fondling

iii. handjob

iv. fingering

v. phone sex

vi. blowjob

vii. thigh riding

viii. loss of virginity

act two

ix. [redacted]

x. [redacted]

.

blurbs

☞luke and cherry making out on a rainy day

☞luke and cherry having a lazy day

☞luke trying to teach cherry how to cook

☞luke helping cherry with her errands

☞luke helping cherry put her christmas tree up

.

throughout history it has been a man’s job to provi..

no, throughout history men have actively prevented the independence of women, they have actively prevented our mobility, rights to an education, and livable income. they’ve abused our reproductive capability and passed us around like properties, they’ve used religion to rationalize their hatred of us, and to put us in a place of subordination. so y’all can shut the fuck up about men being “providers” like it was some benevolent gesture, in an attempt to rationalize sexism.

I dont know how to put it into words... The crude straightforwardness of this post 😂

unpolished,unfiltered,unrefined

Whenever I go on a walk, the amount of men that look absolutely disgusting, maladjusted and abnormal. Is insane. I came across 2-3 men who looked so disheveled and weird. This happens every time I leave my house. Men are like untrained dogs. They need women in their lives to basically manage their lives like their on life support. Genuinely, like why are males so abnormal and animal like. They make me so deeply uncomfortable, these men don’t even look human, I do feel like men know inherently know they shouldn’t even be here nor exist in such large numbers. They know this. That’s why they always look so purposeless and strange, no wonder why males are always searching for meaning and “purpose”. It’s disturbing and It’s a symptom of a bigger issue.

Tiktok

sorry guys it's just mr freeze #harleyquinn #ladygaga #beyonce #dccomics

Laga Dyga meme but make it gladiators

reminds me of YTer compaling that what? She can't be part of 4B if she is in hetero relationship? Or men who wants to be women and overall, it being exclusive. It requires a participant will NOT to bear children

4b is exclusive and never will be inclusive. It's in the nameeeeeee. Like Boy's Scouts.(I hate that I refer Shapiro here but it fits then it sits)

I LOVE the fact that korean radfems are only inclusive to women that follow 6B4T. A lot of women whine about how shitty men are and have experienced moid violence in their life own lives but still go back to their Nigel. We need feminist movements that only include women that put in the work for liberation!!

We need to recognise that gatekeeping is necessary for movements and groups in general to prosper. In order to gatekeep, members must meet criteria. If you don’t meet the criteria, you don’t get access into the group. If you don’t follow 6B4T/4B principles, then you don’t get access into the group. That’s fine. Everyone is not meant to be in the group. Everything is not for everyone.

When you recognise that most women have no problem with male supremacy and want to perpetuate it, but they don’t like being excluded, and they consider feminism a dating strategy to girlboss their relationships, their behaviour makes sense.

But those of us who are serious about female liberation need to understand that we will exclude the majority of the female population and we need to be okay with that. Most of us need to be okay with hurting those women’s feelings by keeping them out, because they are antithetical to the movement and want to sabotage it.

One of these things is not like the others

One of these things is not like the others

My heart breaks for this young girl. The way women and girls have to suffer because of Males. Breaks my heart.

all the f1 x gladiator drawings i've done so far

So, to anyone who struggles to understand this, or worse, who doesn't care, to anybody who believes it's "hysterical" to want a female-only space, please feel free to stop using them. The men’s is right over there.

commentary.steveqj.com

How TERFs Became Such Terrible, Hateful, Evil, Bigots

A few weeks ago, while visiting a wine museum, I got an unexpected insight into the trans experience.

Article 25: (...) In any camps in which women prisoners of war, as well as men, are accommodated, separate dormitories shall be provided for them.

not for "free" women in jail, asylums, hospitals...

Articl 29: (...) Prisoners of war shall have for their use, day and night, conveniences which conform to the rules of hygiene and are maintained in a constant state of cleanliness. In any camps in which women prisoners of war are accommodated, separate conveniences shall be provided for them.

not for "free" women in public bathrooms, gyms...

Article.97 (...)Women prisoners of war undergoing disciplinary punishment shall be confined in separate quarters from male prisoners of war and shall be under the immediate supervision of women.

not for "free" women in jail

not "free" women who:

+want to have female physician examining them

+does not to be searched before concert by a man

+does not want to take shower next to man after gym

+does not want to share a space with her kids in shelters for single mothers with men they are running away from

+not for women in La Leche who want help out other mothers with brastfeeding and wanting to have a man in the room.

If you call yourself a feminist and do not see male entitlement in this madness then stop calling yourself a one. You're erasing women's rights that thousands of women died fighting for.

And I will be watching from my conservatist country thankful that it was backwards in its ideology so much to consider that a "woman" means something and means A LOT.

Don't bother fighting in comments. I don't read.

Thank for coming to my TED talk.

commentary.steveqj.com

How TERFs Became Such Terrible, Hateful, Evil, Bigots

A few weeks ago, while visiting a wine museum, I got an unexpected insight into the trans experience.

Not according to men

"But Amandaaaaaaa it's not all men"

Double-Edged Sword - "what's mine is yours"

A/N: okay I am truly just writing this for the vibes so if it seems a bit silly, that’s why 😌 I did briefly go back and edit this, but I don’t expect it to be perfect, so if there’s any mistakes, that’s on me! Just remember that Geta is the biggest spoiled brat and he deserves to be put in his place :3 thank you @johnnyst0rm & @magicalmysterytour13 for once again listening to me yap about these two and further encouraging my brain rot <3

wc: 2.9k

Summary: Geta gets knocked down a few pegs by his empress because he’s a whiny spoiled brat who deserves to be forced on his knees 🙏🏻

Warnings: no smut, but you know they fucked nasty after this, heavy degradation kink (he is rock fucking hard make no mistake) belittling, teasing, reader is so mean, tiny mention of a wound, Geta is the biggest simp, no mention of age but reader and Geta are in their 20’s, reader has no physical descriptions, reader is Egyptian and a direct descendant of Cleopatra, Caracalla gets his own warning, DONDUS!! +18 Minors dni!

Pairing | Emperor Geta x empress!reader

translations:

deliciae - darling

anaticula - duckling

quod meum est, tuum est semper - what’s mine is yours, always

The air was hot, almost suffocating, and the sun's harsh and unforgiving rays beat down upon Geta’s back mercilessly. Gone are his royal garbs; a sign of his endless power and wealth. His laurels were not present upon his golden ringlets, but his rings remained, glinting in the sunlight. The thin fabric of his tunic clung to his sweat stained skin uncomfortably. There was a nagging tightness building in his throat—likely caused by the bone dry air, or perhaps it was the way that the woman directly across from him; his empress, was observing him like he was her next meal. His wife was a force to be reckoned with and he quickly learned that well into their arranged marriage. 

“Perhaps you would be better suited and flexible if you rid yourself of your clothing, husband,” she lilted teasingly, eyes gleaming and her lips quirked into a grin from where she stood opposite of him. 

“With my Praetorians present?” he snarked. A once soft gaze now darkened and burned in her direction like the blazing sun above. “I am flexible as is. The air—it is suffocating. We should rest,” he suggested calmly and dropped his sword against his thigh. The already heavy blade felt even heavier from his consistent exertion. So much for the people of Rome believing that he was some god.

“Our Praetorians.” she was swift to correct him, her smirk turning into a slight scowl. Her own sword dropped to her side as she approached him, sandals kicking up dusty earth beneath her wake. She walked with a confidence that could not be taught; she was born with it. 

“That’s what I said the first time, wife,” he huffed out a breath, letting his posture relax for a moment as a reprieve. But upon her approach he stiffened, standing tall once more. 

“It is unwise for you to play games when I possess a weapon in my hand, Geta,” she acquiesced, tutting under her breath. The blade glinted like liquid silver under the sun as she rose the very edge of it upwards to his face. The tip of sharpened steel rested under his chin. She leaned in and the playfulness in her eyes was replaced with something serious; something that should have intimidated him. “Do you surrender?” 

The tension was apparent, sizzling and crackling like wild flames from a fire. The taste of it upon his tongue was thrilling in itself. The slight fear of the unknown egged him to continue his own taunting game. 

How far will she take it this time? He mused to himself

“I am an emperor,” he hissed through clenched teeth, umber eyes darkening. He raised his freehand to cast her blade aside. “I will not surrender.” 

She giggled wildly at his attempt to throw her off guard, or to perhaps knock her down a few pegs. Her husband was less of an emperor, and more of a mere boy playing dress up. 

“The bead of sweat dripping from your brow, and the slight quiver of your lips says otherwise.” she leaned in, watching the way his eyes flickered with hidden uncertainty as she slowly and deliberately dragged the edge of the blade to rest against the side of his neck, right against a protruding vein. All it would take to spill his blood was a bit of calculated pressure. She wondered if his blood would bleed gold, like the laurels he wore, or if it would be the darkest shade of crimson. “Surrender,” she whispered. 

The stationed Praetorians had already begun to withdraw their own blades, but one silent raise of the emperor's hand in their direction, had them sheathing their blades with an audible clink.

“Kiss me,” he challenged, dipping his head so that his forehead would come to rest upon hers. That same hand that was previously hovering in the air, came to rest along her exposed lower back, ringed fingers curling against hot skin. 

“Surrender,” she repeated and stepped back, watching in amusement as his body seemed to work on autopilot, or perhaps there was an invisible golden thread that tethered them together. The slightest movement had him trailing her like a wounded, stranded, puppy. 

“Kiss me,” he tightened his grip around her, attempting to hold her in place, but she was swift like a lioness, and he the cowardly lion. 

“Surrender and I will do more than just kiss you, your majesty.” A tempting prospect.

And then he was yanking her towards him, using his own height to his advantage. He could feel the slight sting of the blade scraping against his exposed collarbone, but he paid no mind as their chests flushed tightly together leaving no distance between them. 

“Kiss me,” he demanded. “Your emperor commands you.” 

Her brows rose in amusement at his command. “As you wish, big boy.”

He stalled at her crassness, his mouth felt as dry and coarse as the sand beneath his feet. His mind was spinning, and he imagined it was because of the unforgiving heat, but he knew deep down it was caused by her; always by her. “You are the most vexing, deliciae,” he drawled under his breath. 

For a moment it appeared as if she was giving in, that she was surrendering (finally) when her freehand came to rest upon his smooth jaw, free of any stubble. She brushed her thumb tenderly under his kohl rimmed eyes, watching as his long lashes fluttered shut from her uncharacteristically gentle touch. The moment was fleeting as her hand dropped from his face and snaked between their tightly pressed bodies. It took her no time to find what she was searching for. 

Too easy. She mused. 

His breath hitched from the back of his throat at her sudden touch, and he felt like a man turned to putty in her embrace. His loins were set aflame and his knees threatened to buckle. 

“Please kiss me, Empress,” he begged, not caring how pathetic he sounded.

“Much better, husband.” She pressed a quick peck to his lips, chapped yet pillowy and all hers. And when he attempted to deepen the kiss, she was slipping from his embrace like a serpent, her sword left his skin entirely and she reveled at the sound of a low growl creeping up his throat at her swift departure. 

He raised his sword in her direction, but she was ready, and their blades met in the middle creating an X formation, one that she leaned through the gap at the top of the blades, her throat threatening to scrape sharpened steel, but she was not afraid. 

“You play a dirty game, wife,” he sneered. “Such a cruel, cruel, cruel lover you can be.” 

She pouted, fluttering her lashes to appear innocent. “Me? Cruel? Oh, dear husband, you are so…dramatic.” She giggled, the sound ringing in his ears. Her tone was like saccharine honey; tooth achingly sweet.

“No more games, please. Let me embrace you,” he pleaded, dropping his sword with a heavy thunk into the sand below. 

At the silent gesture of his surrender, she dropped her sword ceremoniously, and immediately invaded his space, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him properly. 

“They do this everyday,” Caracalla chuckled from the shade of a tree nearby, Dondus perched happily upon his shoulder. “They are like two flames,” he said with a shrill giggle. “Hers burns much hotter than my brothers, but shh! Do not allow him to become privy to such things. His ego could never handle such a burning truth.” The small monkey chittered in response, as if he understood the words leaving Caracalla’s mouth. “Is something amusing to you, Antonius?” She pulled away from her husband's embrace, craning her neck to address her brother in law directly. Even from a fair distance, she could make out his rouged painted cheeks turning brighter, almost as red as his fire-tinged hair. “Ignore him,” Geta said snappily in an attempt to draw her attention back to him and him alone. He did not need his twin interfering. He was not yet ready to part from her enticing and rather addictive embrace. Fuck the opium and wine, no vice compared to the one standing before him, or what lay between the Empress of Rome’s thighs.

She pulled away entirely and bent down to grasp the hilt of her sword once more and lifted it from the sand with ease. She admired the craftsmanship that went into forging a blade such as this one. As if it was far more intriguing than her brooding husband standing nearby. “I wasn’t finished with you, wife,” the emperor muttered in annoyance at her deliberate choice to deny him. “Oh,” she mused, grinning, “I was quite finished with you.” she twisted the hilt of the blade, effortlessly twirling it in her grasp as if it weighed nothing. “I am tired,” he sighed. “My limbs ache, and the baths are sounding awfully inviting, yes? Come join me.” “No.” Another wild cackle sung from Caracalla and Geta’s face burned bright red at her unwise decision to deny him, her husband–unless she had so boldly forgotten who he was. “No?” he echoed, eyes narrowing in on her. He ignored his own sword on the ground and stepped towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I am requesting you to join me in the baths, and you will obey my request.” “No, I will not. I do not wish to attend the baths with you. I know what you seek of me, and I will not give it so willingly, your majesty. Not after you have so coldly disrespected me.” “Dis–excuse me?!” he exclaimed, marching forward till the tip of her blade rested against his sternum, halting his haste-filled movements. “You heard me, husband. As empress of Rome, I refuse your request.” “Drop your blade, wife. Drop it this instant. You will not defy me. I entertained your little game, but no more. I am your husband, your emperor, and you will fucking attend to me when I request you to.”  She pressed the blade further into his covered chest, challenging him to drive himself through it, as if he actually possessed the humility to die at her hand. “And I am your empress. You cannot command me like one of your compliant subjects. I am not yours to command.” His eyes narrowed further, and the veins in his neck became more prominent as his umber eyes darkened to the same shade of kohl that lined his waterline. “Drop. The. Blade. Now,” he said in a low tone, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. She knew his threat was baseless, that he was like a toddler not getting its way and throwing a tantrum over it. A typical spoiled brat that grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. 

She bowed her head in a submissive motion and slowly the blade lowered till it was dropped completely and fell at her feet, kicking up grains of sand that landed upon her skin that was not covered by the smooth leather of her sandals.

Unbeknownst to him, she had him right where she wanted him. Men, such simple creatures at the core. She walked towards him, head still bowed and her eyes cast towards the ground. He half expected her to fall to her knees and kiss the jeweled rings that hugged his fingers, but instead, she crept around him—her movements like a serpent. 

“My little…anaticula,” she purred and rested her hands against his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles there. Her lips were at the shell of his ear, her natural scent mixed with perspiration, tension, and flowery perfume oils attacked his senses like a virus. 

“I hate it when you call me that,” he grumbled, turning his head to the side so he could look upon her. 

“But it is accurate,” she giggled, soft and sweet like a siren's song. “You are like a little duckling, Geta.” 

He huffed out a breath, muttering something in latin that she couldn’t quite make out. “Please join me in the baths, deliciae.” 

“No.” She dropped her hands from his shoulders, her presence no longer lingering behind him and she was already walking away. 

“Gods,” he whispered to himself. “Help me.” He shook his head and stumbled after her, ringed fingers grasping her forearm and yanking her back suddenly. She whirled around, chest flushed against him. 

“Not until you apologize,” she said plainly. 

“For what?!” He growled, frustration laced in his tone at her vagueness. What was the reason for him to apologize? If anything, she should be apologizing to him!

“Gods! Have you not listened to a single word that has left my lips?! You disrespected me!” she yelled, shoving at him with everything she had, but he was like marble; solid and unmoving. 

“How have I disrespected you?! Tell me!” he demanded. 

She scoffed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes till they would inevitably get stuck in the back of her skull. “You referred to the Praetorians as yours, and not ours.” 

“You’re still on about that?!” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as if what she had said was truly something inherently crazy and out of touch with reality. 

“Get on your knees,” she commanded and her authoritative tone, and embolden choice of words threw him off guard just enough that she was able to slip from his steel like embrace, again.

He blinked hard as if he could not believe the words leaving her mouth. “No. I’m not getting on my fucking knees for you.” 

“No?” she tilted her head in a condescending manner, pursing her lips in displeasure. 

“No,” he echoed defiantly. “Nor will I be apologizing for something so…trivial.” 

“You are the biggest spoiled brat I have ever met. I Cannot believe I married such a whiny little boy who can’t endure a little respect for his wife,” she scoffed. “Not as if I am what will continue the future of Rome, hm? What would your father think?” she sneered. “I believe he’d be rather disappointed and embarrassed to find his prodigy son acting in such a manner. And at a simple request? The shame.” 

His face paled and his jaw clenched so tightly, he could feel a dull ache begin to bloom from the tension. Ever-so slowly he began to lower himself on his knees before her, head bowed submissively.

His twin could not believe his eyes at the sight of his kin on his knees, in the sand, as if he were a common beggar on the street. 

“Forgive me, Empress,” he whispered, biting down on the soft flesh of his inner cheek. 

She looked over her shoulder, peering at Caracalla with a knowing grin. “Your brother is all bark and no bite, Calla.” She looked back down at her husband, her left hand coming to rest against the crown of his head possessively. “Look at me, Publius.” 

“Why are you doing this,” he hissed, refusing to look her directly in the eyes. 

“Because I can.” 

He was silent as he tasted a burst of copper along his tongue from gnawing on his cheek too hard. His teeth were stained in claret, the iron taste in his mouth was unsettling, but he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing from the motion.

“You’re humiliating me.” 

“That would require humility. You don’t possess that do you? ‘The Great Emperor Publius Septimius Geta,” she mocked, laughing cruelly. “If only the empire could see you now. On your knees. Weak, submissive, and in your true form. Just a little boy playing dress up. A pretend Caesar.”

His claws were sharp, but hers, hers were sharper. She always followed through with intent, and he would fall back into his cowardice. It was like a dance they performed, moving in sync and anticipating one another’s next move. She was cruel, yes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Her cruelty and mean-heartedness was like an elixir, or a drug, as Caracalla would claim. 

“She’ll be the cause of your demise, brother, she’ll no sooner kill you if you are not cautious,” the younger twin whispered to his brother the night of their wedding, an opulent affair that spared no expense. A marriage arranged by their father before his untimely death to ensure the longevity of the Septimius line that was now binded with Egyptian, royal blood. It was a pairing that the gods approved and expressed joy over by bathing Rome's people in abundant wealth and prosperity. Crops flourished, gold flowed like the Tiber, and Geta was blessed with marrying the most beautiful and alluring woman he would ever meet in his lifetime. 

So, yes, she was cruel, but in her cruelty he knew that if his life were ever in true danger, she’d rip out the very throats of his enemies and spill their blood along the pristine marble floor in his name. She’d gut them, one by one if any harm were to ever fall upon his golden head. And he, well, he would do the same for her. She brought out the violence in him that simmered in his heart like a dormant volcano. She encouraged that side of him, but she never shied away from reminding him of his place beneath her. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell me the words I desire to hear from your lips in your native tongue, husband. And look me in the eyes when you speak them,” she said sternly, an edge of softness in her tone, but it was barely noticeable as she tightened her fingers grip around golden tendrils. 

He slowly lifted his head to address her directly, umber eyes softer, more deer like in appearance to their previous blackened look minutes ago. “quod meum est, tuum est semper,” he murmured. (What’s mine is yours, always.) 

banner made by the lovely @saradika-graphics

moodboard by yours truly

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this gets its own post... good grief, sir JOSEPH QUINN as EMPEROR GETA Gladiator II (2024)

Just third degree yearns for all my fictional husbands.

😂 I am sorry but I laughed. It just sounds like a stand-up.

Reminded me of when I baby sat a 6yo boy and he was looking up on his school tablet "nakyd women" with friends.

Boy!!! Do your zoom calls!

the misogyny social contagion of these boys start at the age of 0

I don't think I ever told the story of when I was sexually harassed by a little boy. Sounds insane when I say it like that, but that's technically what happened. It was three in the morning and I couldn't sleep when my phone rang. Obviously, at this hour, I got worried something might have happened to a loved one, so I answered. A child's voice responded in a whisper: "How big are your boobs?" To which I replied, after a second of shock, "go to bed" and hung up. I could picture him in the dark of his bedroom, dialing random numbers, whispering so his parents wouldn't hear and immediately thinking of something sexual to say when he heard a woman's voice on the line. He called back, and I answered, determined to teach him a lesson. This time, he whispered that he wanted me to suck his dick. Based on his voice, I'd say he was around seven years old, maybe less, maybe more, but no older than ten. So I said I was going to tell his parents what he was doing. He got scared and hung up in a hurry. He called back and apologized, begging me not to tell. I told him never to speak that way again to any woman or girl and to stop calling me. He sounded like he was about to cry. I said that I knew where he lived based on his phone number and that I would contact the police and his parents would know what he did if he didn't stop. He sounded terrified as he begged me again. He called back a few times and asked me if we could be friends. I said no, I'm old enough to be your mom, you said disgusting things to me, and you shouldn't be talking with strangers in the first place. I have your number, and if I hear one more thing from you, I'll wake your parents and tell them what a vulgar and disgusting son they have. He didn't call back. And that's the story of when a literal child sexually harassed me in the middle of the night.

Quick google search for y'all

'woman' is not banned. It will finally be used in proper way

The patriarchy is terrified.

Men afraid to say the word 'woman' is pathetic.

The people who think this is a logical step forward deserve a world of loveless agony.

the violrnt crimes the article mention is overwhelming commited by men. Therefore not TERF as no man can be a terf (a feminist). There being two women doesn't change that statistics. Plus considering your ideology all of them can now identify as woman I guess we can tell it's all these damn women.

But hey. These 5 monsters can also be put on women's prison {3 males). Great!

Stop blaming feminist for male crimes. Not very woman friendly huh?

The assault s on men are overwhelming commited by other men so yall fight among each other away from women's spaces.

Trans people has easier life's when people didn't know what they are. Before men decided they should be in our spaces. Y'all brought this.

"everyone wants to be a feminist until it's time to say something controversial" like you can't change your biological sex😶

rest in peace sam. You were caught up in crossfire. Another sensless violent statistic and being that wanted to just be happy

Horrifying news out of New York. I caution all trans folks to be careful if you look into the circumstances of Sam’s death.

I am so sorry to the entire Black and trans community in Oakdale. You and he both deserve so so much better than this.

(Edited to correct where Sam was from.)