I do not need you to hold hand @not-yet-finished - Tumblr Blog

Do you think Patroclus ever played with Achilles’ hair and if yes do you think Achilles ever went into battle with multiple braids and ribbons in his hair like bitch I’m fabulous

drageshthewolf

Could change this to Duro and Barca..

The idea of Barca entering the arena wearing brightly coloured extensions is delightful !!

Duro has spent hours adorably weaving them in…

@not-yet-finished

not-yet-finished

//omg that's freaking fantastic!!!! I could totally see it happening!

#;i was bested #barro #barca #duro

shinigami714

Friends! I was given a really great oppourtunity to work on a commission for @lakritzwolf and here is the result! It’s a lineup of our favourite Spartacus boys, Duro, Agron, Nasir, and Nasir’s brother Karim. I like to think all four of them are alive and well and living together on the goat farm. This was challenging in some ways, but mostly just a lot of fun!

syrian-snake-gladiator

Just look at them! Aren’t they amazing

#I'm crying this is so pretty #THE GANGS ALL HERE #;I was bested

|Moment of Peace|

cyprian-of-carthage

Quiet moments.

It was too easy to imagine, and Cyprian didn’t even try to stop those images in his mind. Bare skin and tangled limbs in the flickering light cast by the dancing flames of the oil lamps. Sweaty brows, soft voices, and soft lips, hearts warm and open to the other’s feelings. Or sitting side by side in the pillows, comfortable in warmth and softness after a long day, sharing a cup back and forth.

Quiet moments.

He did not look at Duro, kneeling so close to him. It would be so easy to draw a blade on him, and send the body on its way with the river’s flow. But what purpose would it serve? He would do nothing but cause Barca more grief, and things could not go back to the way they had been, either way. And of course, the thought had taken hold in his mind: were it him in Duro’s place, he would not have acted any different.

Cyprian had held no intentions to ever break words again with this man, but it seemed Duro was offering a truce of some sort. Yet he had no idea what to reply at first. He had never spoken of Barca to anyone; no one had ever been close enough to him to share such intimate thoughts and memories with.

“And what did he tell you, in those quiet moments?” He finally asked, his voice low. He had no idea where his anger had gone.

@not-yet-finished

Duro felt a last tendril of tension unwind from his heart. It seemed Cyprian was willing to break words, instead of bones.

“He spoke of the birds,” Duro continued to watch the river, “and how you both spend countless hours with them. He told stories of your laugh, and your smile. I heard that you saved his life once, risking your own to stop a sword from meeting his back.” Duro paused for a moment, mind drifting back to those long conversations. The emotions had still been strong on Barca’s face, in his voice. Many times, Duro had found himself holding his husband tighter, attempting to fight off the pain that some memories caused him.

When he moved, it was just a small shift of his head, just enough to look at Cyprian, so that he could see the truth in his eyes.

“Barca loved you,” Duro spoke in past tense, only because he did not know Barca’s thoughts now. He may still love this man, and most likely did, but Duro would not pretend to know his thoughts, “and he mourned your passing for longer than you may believe.”

@cyprian-of-carthage

#cyprian #arranged marriage au #v; moment of peace

Apollo “Who are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” Duro glanced at Apollo, pulled back to here and now by his voice. The TV was turned down low, when had the volume changed?

“No one, nothing,” Duro reached for the remote, intent on turning the volume up again and pretending he hadn’t just gotten lost in his own mind. He didn’t want to think about those things right now. Or ever.

@mythandmagicmuses

#apollo #modern au #;I save queue this time #Anonymous

cyprian-of-carthage

► "Get out!" (not-yet-finished)

Cyprian slowly lifted his head to look at the man who he still saw as intruder into his life.

Yet Duro had come into Barca’s life long after his old lover had come to terms with his supposed death, and he cared a great deal for the man who still held his heart. Cyprian knew that nothing of this misery was Duro’s fault. He knew he wasn’t being fair. Help it, he could not.

“This was my home before it was yours, pup,” he snarled and straightened up. He did not tower over the other as Duro was a tall man himself, but he was a bit taller, just enough to annoy the other man, and also more heavily built. “And I came in search for Barca. Since he is not here I shall gladly… obey command.”

The tone these last two words were spoken in suggested strongly that Cyprian would rather have made Duro choke on his own balls, but he headed for the tent flap and left before he could do something stupid. The only reason Duro yet drew breath was that Barca held a certain affection for him, and he had no intention to cause him further grief.

Outside, he stood still for a moment. That tent had been his home. A lifetime ago. It was no longer home to him, being forced to sleep in the common tent for the unmarried men, and his lover was claimed by another.

Cyprian cast a last look over his shoulder at the tent he had just left and crossed the empty space past the fire pit with slow and heavy steps, his shoulders falling as he stared at the ground in front of his feet. He should not have come back. He had no place here anymore.

@not-yet-finished

not-yet-finished

Duro glared at Cyprian’s back at he left the tent, his hands curled into fists to stop them from going straight for his sword. The sight of the man in his tent, knowing that he was searching for his husband, had provoked a rage Duro hadn’t felt in a while.

But he held himself back; not out of care for Cyprian, or fear of the man; what did he have to fear? No; he held back because it was clear that Barca still cared for him, was confused and unsure of how to react to his reappearance. And Duro did not want to bring any more pain to his husband.

He heard the tent flap fall shut again, and allowed himself to sigh, his shoulders falling from their defensive hold as he reached up to rub his face. This was too much; he’d already fought for his place here, he’d already served the time it took to gain respect and position and Barca’s heart. Now Cyprian was back, alive and well, and everything was out of balance again.

How must it be for him? Duro couldn’t stop the thought even if he’d wanted to. Cyprian had been gone for years, enslaved and forced to fight his way back home. He had obviously still hoped to come back to Barca, to pick up where they had ended. What must it feel like, to come home to a place so familiar, and yet so different?

He was pushing the flap open before he could stop himself, glancing out to watch as Cyprian walked away from the tent, his head and shoulders slumped and low. Duro sighed again.

Fuck the gods…

@cyprian-of-carthage

cyprian-of-carthage

His steps had carried him down to the river, slow and shallow at this time of year. Cyprian stared across the water, at the ridge of hills he had crossed only days ago, filled with joy upon seeing his home again.

How different things had turned out, worse than he could have ever imagined them.

Barca was bound to another.

Cyprian lifted his head and looked up when he heard the chirping in the branches of the acacia tree above him. Like a feathery cloud they had taken to the air as he had stepped free of the bushes, and now sat there between the scarce foliage eyeing him distrustfully.

Not even the birds remembered him.

The longer he thought about it, there surer he got that he couldn’t stay. But where would he go? He had cut the brand out of his flesh and burned the rudis, so turning back to Rome and the sands of the arena wasn’t an option. He might travel west and south to find another clan, take the trials of the warrior if they would let him, and maybe find a place there, far away from the sight that broke his heart more and more with every beat.

A little chirp right next to him on the ground made him turn his head, and he looked at the tiny bird that was eyeing him with a tiny, lopsided smile.

“And you?” He said softly. “Are you old enough to remember me?” He extended his hand, very, very slowly. “I do not carry food for you, apologies. But Barca and I used to sing for you when we came absent crumbs or seeds.”

It felt wondrous, and never since leaving his boyhood had Cyprian felt so close to tears, as the little bird hopped into his palm. He lifted his hand closer to his face.

“Dawn pours blood over the horizon To ashes the fires have burnt This was our last night together, brother The tides of war they have turned.”

He lifted the bird a little higher, his deep voice so low it was almost a rumble.

“Brother, the war drums are calling Brother, the morning is here Death will have found us when dusk is falling At your side, brother, I know no fear.”

How many times he and Barca had sung this ancient song together, Cyprian could not recall. Taking turns with the lines they had made their oath anew every time. But the oath meant nothing anymore.

“Brother, the bond of blood between us Brother, stay at my side Brother, I face death with a smile Brother, with you at my side.”

He pushed the little bird up, and getting the hint, it took to the air and joined its friends in the acacia again.

It was time to go.

@not-yet-finished

not-yet-finished

He hadn’t meant to follow Cyprian.

The man had disappeared, and Duro had spent time in the village, talking with some of the others, attempting to laugh and make jokes. But looking at Barca had been hard, and the turmoil in his husband’s eyes had gripped his heart in a bruising hold. Duro needed a break, he needed to breathe, and he’d made his way to the river where they normally bathed, wanting to reconnect to the memories they had made there.

The singing made him pause. Duro did not attempt to move forward until Cyprian had finished his song, simply watching as he held the bird so gently in his palm. Just like Barca.

Duro came forward without a word, his footsteps loud enough to alert Cyprian to his presence. He did not stop until he was at the waters edge, and then he was kneeling down to cup his hands in the river, drawing water for a drink. It was foolish to leave himself exposed to the man who most wanted him dead, but Duro did not feel the same tension in the air now as he did in the tent earlier. They were both hurting. They were both tired.

“Barca told me much about you,” he said after he had wet his throat, “he spoke of you often in quiet moments.”

@cyprian-of-carthage

#cyprian #arranged marriage AU #barro #will cut later

Apollo "Do you remember anything from last night?"

“I, uh, yeah, I think so...it’s all a little blurry...” Duro furrowed his brow as he slowly sat up, the last bit of grogginess leaving him as he started to move. He was in his own bed...but how did he get there? Last night was...the last thing he remembered...

Yelling, anger, Apollo pushing him behind him and then heat and fire and screaming and-

Duro shot up suddenly, launching himself to one side to put even a little bit of distance between himself and Apollo.

“What the hell are you?!”

@mythandmagicmuses

#apollo #modern au #the truth shall set you free!#Anonymous

Apollo “Men. Women. Elves. A dwarf in drag once, but I don't recommend that.”

“Hold on, hold on, now you’re fucking with me” Duro propped himself up on his elbows so he could look down at his lover, eyes bright with amusement. This was a fun game, learning about Apollo, the real Apollo. Once Duro had gotten over the shock of finding out the truth, he’d found himself burning with questions, and asking about past sexual partners was just too hard to resist.

“Elves? Dwarves? They’re not real!”

@mythandmagicmuses

#apollo #modern au #ahhh the truth has come out #Anonymous

Apollo 💬

This again, really? Duro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. One, because he wasn’t actually that annoyed, and two, because he wasn’t actively trying to hurt the man in front of him.

Apollo, that was the guy’s name, was trying to hit on him for the umpteenth time. Normally, Duro wouldn’t have minded. Apollo, and god what kind of parents did this guy have anyway to be given that name?, was hot. And he was funny, his humor fitting well with Duro’s. And if this were any given situation, Duro wouldn’t have hesitated to flirt right back and go home with the guy.

The problem was, Apollo was a paying client. He’d gotten Duro’s name from someone he’d worked with, someone who’d like his camera work, and he’d come to him asking for some photos. Duro wasn’t about to turn down work, especially went it meant being able to get an eyeful of the man. But that meant that sleeping with him was not a good option. Duro had to keep some level of professionalism here.

"You ask a lot of questions for a guy I see once a week,” seemed a little too often for someone looking for good headshots, but Duro wasn’t really going to complain. He continued to pack up his camera, “Try focusing more on your life and less on mine, alright?"

@mythandmagicmuses

#apollo #modern au #it begins xD #Anonymous

mythandmagicmuses

“They called us perverts!” (not-yet-finished for Apollo)

Apollo stopped walking, turning fully towards Duro. It was early evening during Pride, they both had Pride flags painted on their cheeks and slogan shirts on. The shirts had been Apollo’s idea, naturally.

“Yes, yes they did. And worse I bet.” Apollo’s tone was uncommonly seriously. Usually he spent his time with Duro in blissful joy but right now his beautiful young lover was clearly distressed and Apollo couldn’t have that.

“But we as a community have a long standing tradition. We take those insults and we own them….and when the homophobes aren’t in a big group like that, we beat the shit outta them.”

“But tonight we’re going to party coz that’s the biggest ‘fuck you’ we can make to neanderthals like them.” He kissed Duro’s lips softly. “Right?”

There was a fire in Duro’s eyes that told Apollo that if it had been up to him, he would have attacked those men the moment they had catcalled the lovers walking hand him hand. He would fight with every fibre of his being and it was beautiful.

Of course, as the God of disease and pestilence, Apollo had already signed every one of those men down for nasty, slow demises but there was no need for his mortal lover to know that. Especially when Duro thought he was an normal mortal as well.

“It’s Pride,” Apollo reasoned, wrapping his arms around Duro’s neck “The one night of the year when we get to celebrate, let’s not waste it on them.”

@not-yet-finished

not-yet-finished

Duro didn’t relax, even as Apollo kissed him. His shoulders were still set and rigid, his jaw clenched, his fists still held tightly by his sides. He didn’t relax, but he didn’t push his lover away, either.

“I’m fucking tired of this,” he snapped, though his anger was very obviously not aimed toward Apollo. Usually ass holes like those just made him laugh; he could quip back with a sneer, embarrass them, and yeah, occasionally he’d gotten into a fight with one or two. But tonight, tonight he was tired of it. They had just been walking down the road together, and the group of guys, and of course it was a group, fucking cowards wouldn’t have said anything if they’d been alone, just couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

He met Apollo’s eyes as he embraced him, filling his field of vision with his own face, distracting Duro from the men that he so badly wanted to hit. Duro huffed.

“Fine,” he felt his fingers uncurl from their tight fists, “but I swear to god, I hear one more crack, I’m going to go for blood. I’m not afraid to go to jail.”

@mythandmagicmuses

#apollo #modern au #unversed

memeroundups

Send ‘rough touch’

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

Your muse throws a punch at mine.

My muse throws a punch at yours.

Your muse suddenly grips my muse’s hair.

My muse suddenly grips your muse’s hair.

Your muse roughly grabs my muse’s arm.

My muse roughly grabs your muse’s arm.

Your muse grips my muse’s hips.

My muse grips your muse’s hips.

Your muse wraps their hands tightly around my muse’s neck.

My muse wraps their hands tightly around your muse’s neck.

Your muse slams mine against a wall hard.

My muse slams yours against a wall hard.

Your muse pushes my muse to their knees.

My muses pushes your to their knees.

Your muse bites mine.

My muse bites yours.

Your muse clutches their hand tightly around my muse’s mouth to silence them.

My muse clutches their hand tightly around your muse’s mouth to silence them.

Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists.

My muse grabs their muse’s wrists.

Your muse attempts to shove away mine.

My muse attempts to push off yours.

Your muse roughly kisses mine.

My muse roughly kisses yours.

Your muse pins mine onto the ground.

My muse pins yours to the ground.

Your muse delivers beatings to mine.

My muse delivers beatings to yours.

Your muse breaks my muse’s arm.

My muse breaks your muse’s arm.

Mun chooses.

#meme

🐶 - Would you be friends with your muse if they were real?🦊 - Do you come up with plots and replies when you’re not on tumblr?🐵 - Have you got memes stashed up for later? Why?

🐶 - Would you be friends with your muse if they were real?

God I hope so!! I dunno if Duro would feel the same way about me, but I would be completely up for being his friend.

🦊 - Do you come up with plots and replies when you’re not on tumblr?

All the time; I spend my work days daydreaming about threads and ideas. The problem is remembering them/having the muse to write them when I get online again.

🐵 - Have you got memes stashed up for later? Why?

I do! Mostly because I don’t want to spam the blog with a flood of memes, and because I know I’m slow to reply to...anything. So I try to limit the amount of memes I put out at one time to control the flow into my askbox.

Though, I accept any meme at any time so...I don’t think my logic is all that helpful...but it is what it is!

Thank you for the ask!!

#;I was bested #mun and muse #darkestbeforedxwn

rpsourcedmemes

Animal Mun-Muse Meme

🐶 - Would you be friends with your muse if they were real? 🐱 - Do you find yourself going off on tangents about your muse? 🐭 - Are you shy about explaining your headcanons to people? 🐰 - Do you follow duplicate muses? How does your muse react? 🦊 - Do you come up with plots and replies when you’re not on tumblr? 🐻 - Do you get protective of your muse? 🐯 - Do you think you have similar characteristics to your muse? 🦁 - What about your muse makes you most proud of them? 🐷 - How many AU verses have you got in mind? 🐵 - Have you got memes stashed up for later? Why? 🐺 - Do you prefer group verses or private verses for your muse? 🐴 - Could you imagine having to share living space with your muse? 🦄 - Wildcard!

#meme #;I was bested #lets give this a shot!

mythandmagicmuses

“You always this damn mouthy?” Auctus asked, not really complaining at all. “Maybe I’m enjoying having you be the naked, writhing one right now.” He promptly licked as Duro’s neck and then bite, rougher than before but still only enough to leave a mark for now and nothing that would last into morning.

If this was a completely anonymous hook up from a bar or app, well in the first place they probably wouldn’t be in Auctus’s bedroom but anyway, since this was Duro and he new the kid enough to know he’d be vocal about what he did and didn’t want, he knew he could test the limits. If he thought for a second that Duro might be too shy or intimidated and likely to just go along with something, things would have been different.

But, as it was, he moved up the younger man’s body in a smooth and fluid motion until his crotch was pretty much level with Duro’s face. Then he hooked his thumbs under his own waistband and tugged the sweatpants and underwear down just enough to free himself and let his cock and balls pretty much hit Duro in the face.

“Well, come on, show me what you got.” He urged the other man, knowing how Duro always rose to the occasion when a challenge was issued. “Get me nice and hard to fuck that cute lil ass of yours.”

@not-yet-finished

“Watch your damn teeth!” Duro pushed at Auctus’ head when he felt another bite. He didn’t want to risk his interview, not for a random hookup, and if Auctus left any kind of visible mark, Duro was going to be pissed.

But then Auctus moved, pressing against his body as he moved up, and Duro settled for a mild huff before he turned his attention back to Auctus. Or rather, his cock.

“Save that kind of talk for whatever twink you have in your bed later,” Duro grinned, reaching up to hold Auctus’ hips while he brought his head up and trailed his tongue over one side of Auctus’ cock. He glanced up, meeting Auctus’ gaze before flicking his tongue over the tip, a smirk playing over his face.

@mythandmagicmuses

#auchan #modern au #nsfw #v; rebound #;I save queue this time

syrian-snake-gladiator

|I don’t wanna miss a thing|

not-yet-finished

syrian-snake-gladiator

Karim allowed himself a quick, smug smile around the hard flesh in his mouth when he heard Duro’s shout. He could feel him shift, could also feel the trembling in his hips that told him how much Duro had to fight the urge to thrust up into his mouth. So he adjusted his position and rested both hands firmly on Duro’s hips to hold him down. That made it also easier for him to swallow Duro down, and he slowly pulled up and lowered himself down again, swallowing around the tip of Duro’s cock with a soft hum.

Then he pulled up again, let his tongue swirl around the tip of Duro’s cock and the slit at the tip, then cast Duro a quick look with a luxurious smile, his eyes half-closed.

After a deep breath he lowered his head again, swallowing Duro all the way down again, and now kept moving his head up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, his nose reaching Duro’s pubic hair every time. He loved giving head, and he enjoyed Duro’s sounds even more. And he really wanted to make Duro come again.

@not-yet-finished

Duro could barely do more than moan, the sound deep and drawn out. Fuck Karim knew what he was doing...

“Fuck, fuck...Karim...” Duro curled his fingers a little tighter into his hair, shifting his legs a little as he tried to fight back to urge to thrust his hips up.

You’ll fuck up your ribs, you can’t fucking do that right now, FUCK!

He could feel himself getting close again, the pleasure building faster than before, and his free hand gripped at his bed sheets as his breathing started to come in shorter gasps.

He hit his climax within moments, gasping and groaning as he held tight to Karim’s hair, all his willpower focused on not moving too much.

“Fucking christ...” Duro carefully released his hold on Karim, both hands falling lax on top of the bed. He had enough strength to bring his head up and peer at Karim, a small grin trying to tug at his face, “Happy now?”

@syrian-snake-gladiator

#karim #modern au #nsfw #v; I don't wanna miss a thing #;I save queue this time

cyprian-of-carthage

► "Get out!" (not-yet-finished)

Cyprian slowly lifted his head to look at the man who he still saw as intruder into his life.

Yet Duro had come into Barca’s life long after his old lover had come to terms with his supposed death, and he cared a great deal for the man who still held his heart. Cyprian knew that nothing of this misery was Duro’s fault. He knew he wasn’t being fair. Help it, he could not.

“This was my home before it was yours, pup,” he snarled and straightened up. He did not tower over the other as Duro was a tall man himself, but he was a bit taller, just enough to annoy the other man, and also more heavily built. “And I came in search for Barca. Since he is not here I shall gladly… obey command.”

The tone these last two words were spoken in suggested strongly that Cyprian would rather have made Duro choke on his own balls, but he headed for the tent flap and left before he could do something stupid. The only reason Duro yet drew breath was that Barca held a certain affection for him, and he had no intention to cause him further grief.

Outside, he stood still for a moment. That tent had been his home. A lifetime ago. It was no longer home to him, being forced to sleep in the common tent for the unmarried men, and his lover was claimed by another.

Cyprian cast a last look over his shoulder at the tent he had just left and crossed the empty space past the fire pit with slow and heavy steps, his shoulders falling as he stared at the ground in front of his feet. He should not have come back. He had no place here anymore.

@not-yet-finished

not-yet-finished

Duro glared at Cyprian’s back at he left the tent, his hands curled into fists to stop them from going straight for his sword. The sight of the man in his tent, knowing that he was searching for his husband, had provoked a rage Duro hadn’t felt in a while.

But he held himself back; not out of care for Cyprian, or fear of the man; what did he have to fear? No; he held back because it was clear that Barca still cared for him, was confused and unsure of how to react to his reappearance. And Duro did not want to bring any more pain to his husband.

He heard the tent flap fall shut again, and allowed himself to sigh, his shoulders falling from their defensive hold as he reached up to rub his face. This was too much; he’d already fought for his place here, he’d already served the time it took to gain respect and position and Barca’s heart. Now Cyprian was back, alive and well, and everything was out of balance again.

How must it be for him? Duro couldn’t stop the thought even if he’d wanted to. Cyprian had been gone for years, enslaved and forced to fight his way back home. He had obviously still hoped to come back to Barca, to pick up where they had ended. What must it feel like, to come home to a place so familiar, and yet so different?

He was pushing the flap open before he could stop himself, glancing out to watch as Cyprian walked away from the tent, his head and shoulders slumped and low. Duro sighed again.

Fuck the gods...

@cyprian-of-carthage

#cyprian #arranged marriage au #barro #;east of the rhine

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