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#verity/victor rich
sunboundprometheu · 4 years
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Hello, @wastelandhistorian, I am your @langblrsecretsanta this year! You said you’re interested in “any ancient language” and in history, so I constructed your gift around two passages about deserts from ancient historians. One passage is from the Roman historian Sallust’s monograph Bellum Jugurthinum (The Jugurthine War), which describes a war between Rome and King Jugurtha of Numidia in North Africa; the other is from the Greek historian Herodotus and describes implausibly large ants in the north of India. I’ve translated each passage and then made a short vocabulary list with desert-related terms. I hope you enjoy this gift!
Sed quoniam in eas regiones per Leptitanorum negotia venimus, non indignum videtur egregium atque mirabile facinus duorum Carthaginiensium memorare; eam rem nos locus admonuit. Qua tempestate Carthaginienses pleraque Africa imperitabant, Cyrenenses quoque magni atque opulenti fuere. Ager in medio harenosus, una specie; neque flumen neque mons erat, qui finis eorum discerneret. Quae res eos in magno diuturnoque bello inter se habuit. Postquam utrimque legiones, item classes saepe fusae fugataeque et alteri alteros aliquantum attriueret. veriti, ne mox victos victoresque defessos alius aggrederetur, per indutias sponsionem faciunt, uti certo die legati domo proficiscerentur: quo in loco inter se obvii fuissent, is communis utriusque populi finis haberetur. Igitur Carthagine duo fratres missi, quibus nomen Philaenis erat, maturauere iter pergere, Cyrenenses tardius iere. Id socordiane an casu acciderit, parum cognovi. Ceterum solet in illis locis tempestas haud secus atque in mari retinere. Nam ubi per loca aequalia et nuda gignentium ventus coortus harenam humo excitauit, ea magna vi agitata ora oculosque implere solet: ita prospectu impedito morari iter. Postquam Cyrenenses aliquanto posteriores se esse vident et ob rem corruptam domi poenas metuont, criminari Carthaginiensis ante tempus domo digressos, conturbare rem, denique omnia malle quam victi abire. Sed cum Poeni aliam condicionem, tantummodo aequam, peterent, Graeci optionem Carthaginiensium faciunt, ut vel illi, quos finis populo suo peterent, ibi viui obruerentur, vel eadem condicione sese quem in locum vellent processuros. Philaeni condicione probata seque vitamque suam rei publicae condonauere: ita viui obruti. Carthaginienses in eo loco Philaenis fratribus aras consecrauere, aliique illis domi honores instituti. Nunc ad rem redeo. (Sallust, Bellum Jugurthinum 79)
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But since I have come to talk about this region because of the affairs of the Leptitans, it does not seem inappropriate to recall a famous, incredible deed done by two Carthaginians; the place has suggested this matter to me. During the period when the Carthaginians' empire extended over most of Africa, the Cyrenians were also powerful and rich. Between them was a sandy, featureless field, with neither rivers nor mountains to demarcate their borders. This fact kept them in a great and protracted war with each other; both sides' armies and navies often conquered, often were routed, and each country had inflicted great losses on the other. Fearing that a third party would attack when the near-victors and nearly defeated were exhausted, they entered into a peace agreement stipulating that on a certain day deputies would leave home and that the place where they met would be considered the border between the two peoples. So two brothers named Philaeni were sent from Carthage and moved with haste along their way. The Cyrenians moved more slowly. Whether this happened due to laziness or chance, I don't really know. In any case, in these areas, storms not unlike those at sea tend to inhibit travel, since when wind blows throughout flat and barren places and then lifts sand from the ground, that sand, whipped up by a powerful force, tends to fill one's face and eyes: and so, with one's vision impeded, travel becomes delayed. After the Cyrenians saw that they were somewhat behind and became afraid of being punished at home for their mistake, they accused the Carthaginians of leaving early and confused the matter, preferring anything over leaving as the losers. But when the Phonecians sought another deal (as long as it would be fair), the Greeks let the Carthaginians choose between either those brothers being buried alive at the border they wanted for their people or going themselves on the same condition to whatever place they wanted. The Philaeni accepted the deal and sacrificed themselves and their lives to their country: so they were buried alive. The Carthaginians consecrated temples at that place to the brothers, and other honors were established for them at home. Now I will return to my topic.
harena, -ae, f. sand
harenosus, -a, -um sandy
ager, -gri, m. field
flumen, -inis, n. river
mons, -tis, m. mountain
tempestas, -atis, f. storm, time
aequalis, -e equal, level
nudus, -a, -um nude, barren
gignentia, -um, n. plants
ventus, -i, m. wind
humus, -i, f. ground
ἄλλοι δὲ τῶν Ἰνδῶν Κασπατύρῳ τε πόλι καὶ τῇ Πακτυϊκῇ χώρῃ εἰσὶ πρόσουροι, πρὸς ἄρκτου τε καὶ βορέω ἀνέμου κατοικημένοι τῶν ἄλλων Ἰνδῶν, οἳ Βακτρίοισι παραπλησίην ἔχουσι δίαιταν. οὗτοι καὶ μαχιμώτατοι εἰσὶ Ἰνδῶν καὶ οἱ ἐπὶ τὸν χρυσὸν στελλόμενοι εἰσὶ οὗτοι: κατὰ γὰρ τοῦτο ἐστὶ ἐρημίη διὰ τὴν ψάμμον. ἐν δὴ ὦν τῇ ἐρημίῃ ταύτῃ καὶ τῇ ψάμμῳ γίνονται μύρμηκες μεγάθεα ἔχοντες κυνῶν μὲν ἐλάσσονα ἀλωπέκων δὲ μέζονα: εἰσὶ γὰρ αὐτῶν καὶ παρὰ βασιλέι τῷ Περσέων ἐνθεῦτεν θηρευθέντες. οὗτοι ὦν οἱ μύρμηκες ποιεύμενοι οἴκησιν ὑπὸ γῆν ἀναφορέουσι τὴν ψάμμον κατά περ οἱ ἐν τοῖσι Ἕλλησι μύρμηκες κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον, εἰσὶ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ τὸ εἶδος ὁμοιότατοι: ἡ δὲ ψάμμος ἡ ἀναφερομένη ἐστὶ χρυσῖτις. ἐπὶ δὴ ταύτην τὴν ψάμμον στέλλονται ἐς τὴν ἔρημον οἱ Ἰνδοί, ζευξάμενος ἕκαστος καμήλους τρεῖς, σειρηφόρον μὲν ἑκατέρωθεν ἔρσενα παρέλκειν, θήλεαν δὲ ἐς μέσον: ἐπὶ ταύτην δὴ αὐτὸς ἀναβαίνει, ἐπιτηδεύσας ὅκως ἀπὸ τέκνων ὡς νεωτάτων ἀποσπάσας ζεύξει. αἱ γάρ σφι κάμηλοι ἵππων οὐκ ἥσσονες ἐς ταχυτῆτα εἰσί, χωρὶς δὲ ἄχθεα δυνατώτεραι πολλὸν φέρειν.
τὸ μὲν δὴ εἶδος ὁκοῖόν τι ἔχει ἡ κάμηλος, ἐπισταμένοισι τοῖσι Ἕλλησι οὐ συγγράφω: τὸ δὲ μὴ ἐπιστέαται αὐτῆς, τοῦτο φράσω: κάμηλος ἐν τοῖσι ὀπισθίοισι σκέλεσι ἔχει τέσσερας μηροὺς καὶ γούνατα τέσσερα, τά τε αἰδοῖα διὰ τῶν ὀπισθίων σκελέων πρὸς τὴν οὐρὴν τετραμμένα. οἱ δὲ δὴ Ἰνδοὶ τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ καὶ ζεύξι τοιαύτῃ χρεώμενοι ἐλαύνουσι ἐπὶ τὸν χρυσὸν λελογισμένως ὅκως καυμάτων τῶν θερμοτάτων ἐόντων ἔσονται ἐν τῇ ἁρπαγῇ: ὑπὸ γὰρ τοῦ καύματος οἱ μύρμηκες ἀφανέες γίνονται ὑπὸ γῆν. θερμότατος δὲ ἐστὶ ὁ ἥλιος τούτοισι τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι τὸ ἑωθινόν, οὐ κατά περ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι μεσαμβρίης, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπερτείλας μέχρι οὗ ἀγορῆς διαλύσιος. τοῦτον δὲ τὸν χρόνον καίει πολλῷ μᾶλλον ἢ τῇ μεσαμβρίῃ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, οὕτω ὥστ᾽ ἐν ὕδατι λόγος αὐτούς ἐστι βρέχεσθαι τηνικαῦτα. μεσοῦσα δὲ ἡ ἡμέρη σχεδὸν παραπλησίως καίει τούς τε ἄλλους ἀνθρώπους καὶ τοὺς Ἰνδούς. ἀποκλινομένης δὲ τῆς μεσαμβρίης γίνεταί σφι ὁ ἥλιος κατά περ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ὁ ἑωθινός, καὶ τὸ ἀπὸ τούτου ἀπιὼν ἐπὶ μᾶλλον ψύχει, ἐς ὃ ἐπὶ δυσμῇσι ἐὼν καὶ τὸ κάρτα ψύχει.
ἐπεὰν δὲ ἔλθωσι ἐς τὸν χῶρον οἱ Ἰνδοὶ ἔχοντες θυλάκια, ἐμπλήσαντες ταῦτα τῆς ψάμμου τὴν ταχίστην ἐλαύνουσι ὀπίσω: αὐτίκα γὰρ οἱ μύρμηκες ὀδμῇ, ὡς δὴ λέγεται ὑπὸ Περσέων, μαθόντες διώκουσι. εἶναι δὲ ταχυτῆτα οὐδενὶ ἑτέρῳ ὅμοιον, οὕτω ὥστε, εἰ μὴ προλαμβάνειν τοὺς Ἰνδοὺς τῆς ὁδοῦ ἐν ᾧ τοὺς μύρμηκας συλλέγεσθαι, οὐδένα ἂν σφέων ἀποσώζεσθαι. τοὺς μέν νυν ἔρσενας τῶν καμήλων, εἶναι γὰρ ἥσσονας θέειν τῶν θηλέων, παραλύεσθαι ἐπελκομένους, οὐκ ὁμοῦ ἀμφοτέρους: τὰς δὲ θηλέας ἀναμιμνησκομένας τῶν ἔλιπον τέκνων ἐνδιδόναι μαλακὸν οὐδέν. τὸν μὲν δὴ πλέω τοῦ χρυσοῦ οὕτω οἱ Ἰνδοὶ κτῶνται, ὡς Πέρσαι φασί: ἄλλος δὲ σπανιώτερος ἐστι ἐν τῇ χώρῃ ὀρυσσόμενος. (Herodotus 3.102-105)
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Other Indians live in the city of Caspatyrus, bordering on the Pactyic country, having settled farther toward the north than the other Indians; they have a lifestyle similar to the Bactrians'. They are the most warlike Indians, and they made expeditions for gold, because this region is desolate throughout due to its sand. In this desert and its sands, there live ants smaller than dogs but larger than foxes; some of them have been hunted for the King of Persia. These ants make their shelters underground by digging up sand in the same way as ants in Greece, and they are very similar in shape to those ants: but the sand they dig up contains gold. The Indians travel to this desert precisely for that sand: each man yokes together three camels, a male on either side to draw by the trace, and a female in the middle. The female is mounted, having been deliberately separated from her offspring at the earliest time possible. These camels are no slower than horses and moreover are more capable of bearing significant burdens.
I will not describe how camels look, because Greeks already know; but I will mention this, which is not known about them: in its back legs, a camel has four thighs and three knees, and its genitals are turned toward the tail between the back legs. The Indians, in this way and with this manner of yoking, ride out to plunder the gold when, according to their calculations, the heat will be at its greatest and the ants are therefore hiding underground from the heat. (The sun is hottest in these people's land in the morning, not at midday as is the case elsewhere, but from sunrise until the markets close. At this time, it is so much hotter than at noon in Greece that supposedly people drench themselves then; at midday, the day is just about as hot in India as elsewhere; and the sun after high noon becomes like it is in the morning in other places, then becomes rather cold as it sets, until at sunset it is very cold.)
Now, when the Indians reach this region, they fill the little sacks they carry with the sand and ride back as quickly as possible, because once the ants perceive their scent, they chase the men (so the Persians say). Supposedly, the ants' speed is so singular that, unless the Indians have a headstart while the ants are gathering, none of them will escape. Then they unharness the male camels as they lag behind, because the males run more slowly than the females, one at a time; but the females, remembering the offspring they have left behind, do not give in at all. This is how the Indians acquire the majority of their gold, according to the Persians; the rest is mined in their country but is more scarce.
ψάμμος, -ου, ἡ sand
ἔρημος, -ον desolate
ἐρημία, -ας, ἡ desert, wasteland
μύρμηξ, -ηκος, ὁ ant
γῆ, γῆς, ἡ earth
κάμηλος, -ου, ὁ/ἡ camel
θερμός, -ή, -όν hot
καίω, καύσω, ἔκαυσα, κέκαυκα, κέκαυμαι, ἐκαύθην burn, kindle
καῦμα, -ατος, τό burning heat
ἥλιος, -ου, ὁ sun
Happy holidays!
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redsweaterreads · 4 years
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Review: Villains by V.E. Schwab
God, I love villains so much.
I went out on a limb when I decided to read this, and I am so damn glad that I did. I had been more than a little disappointed with Schwab’s Monsters of Verity duology - however, the praise, the promising summary, the adult categorization rather than YA, and the lure of villains instead of heroes all smashed together and lead me into one of the most astounding anti-hero stories that I’ve ever read.
Thanks to the alternative POVs and time jumps, pretty much every chapter brought a new revelation or plot twist and I just couldn’t help doing some kind of gleefully evil laugh every single time because let’s face it, we all love villains, especially wickedly beautiful ones like this book has.
The entire point of this story is bad vs. worse, and Schwab pulls it off so well. I really loved the dynamic between Victor and Eli throughout the whole story, and their motivations, though murderous and all kinds of bad, are entirely understandable. Ten years ago they were best friends at college, both of them ambitious, somewhat happy, and searching for more. When they get a little too obsessed with obtaining superpowers and becoming EOs (ExtraOrdinaries), Eli gets there first and thus Victor’s bitterness starts to override his admiration for his friend. His path to power involves the death of Eli’s girlfriend, so Eli rats him out and sends him to jail. Victor spends that decade locked away, intimidating the other inmates, honing his powers, and plotting the best way to get his revenge on Eli - who, in the meantime, has been killing pretty much every EO he can find, because Religion (more on that later). When Victor finally gets out, lemme tell you, everything just ramps up even more.
The plot sucks you in from page one and switches between a glorious cast of wildly different characters. Present-day Victor and Eli are so intense and determined and, dare I say, vicious, and it makes for such a fast-paced and wonderfully evil ride. Seriously, look at this quote:
“He clearly wanted it to be two separate words. Distinct. For. Ever.”
If this doesn’t describe the entirety of Victor and Eli’s relationship, why Victor is doing what he’s doing, the twisted reason he’s dying for Eli’s attention in a multitude of different ways, and how he gets under Eli’s skin so much, then what does?
my new favorite person: Victor Vale
“Victor Vale is not a fucking sidekick.”
I became Victor’s #1 fan pretty much right off the bat and that quote is the truest, most accurate description of him. When that line came up at about 25% of the way through, I got actual chills. I was sitting there just grinning like yes, this is it, here we go.It was right then that I felt his arc kick into gear. It set the precedent for literally everything he would become and everything he would do from that moment on, and it was pretty amazing, watching things play out from there. He’s not so much complex as he is just damn cool.He’s Calm and Collected and I love him!! Is he a mostly terrible person? I mean, yeah. He’s a villain, he kills people, he spent ten years fantasizing about the most satisfying way to torture his former best friend. But Schwab’s writing and characterization of him makes it absolutely impossible not to love him. Though a lot of his humanity is stripped away by the process of becoming an EO, the main difference between him and Eli is that he wants to feel human, and I love that. He doesn’t really want to be a total psychopath, but in the end, his emotional numbness (a downside of his ability to control pain) and his desire for vengeance win out. Unfortunate, but it’s not going to stop me from rooting for him with every damn page (and I mean who wouldn’t, when the other option is Eli?).
Eli Ever - Better Than You (and wishes he had his own inherited alliteration)
So, our genius and driven homeboy Eli has a HUGE god complex. He’s rich, righteous, and he’s got the girl. When he lands Victor in prison and starts his quest of eliminating all EOs, he’s totally convinced that he’s right, that God has given him A Divine Purpose, that he’s completely invincible and that his abilities were bestowed upon him just so that he could wipe out other EOs. It’s a beautiful and incredibly well-developed reason for why he’s doing what he does, and it makes his point of view that much more interesting to read. Is it right? Hell no, but none of the characters in this book are exactly Good. I can and will petition for Eli’s total destruction in the sequel (am I reading it right now? yeah, no luck so far but fingers crossed).
Sydney Clarke (raises the dead, watches Disney Channel) & Mitch Turner (cursed, loves chocolate milk)
Sydney and Mitch really rounded out the story in terms of characters. Not only did they have their own fully developed backstories, relationships with characters other than our protags, and differing morals, they also contributed to Victor’s characterization in that they gave him a sense of humanity that Eli lacked.
Firstly, Sydney, a twelve-year-old necromancer who wears rainbow leggings. How can you not love her? She’s taken in by Victor and you can immediately see her struggling with right and wrong, especially because her survival depends on adopting a dubious code of morals from Victor. Also, she revived a dog and convinced Victor to let her keep it. Love that for her, honestly. And Mitch! An icon! He has a chocolate milk addiction, insane computer hacking skills, and a curse of wrong-place-wrong-time that landed him in jail. The relationship between he and Sydney is so adorable and should be protected at all costs.
Serena Clarke, a literal goddess
Even though Serena wasn’t my favorite character of the story, she’s a whole entire goddess and that’s just fact. She’s elegant, cunning, and will not hesitate to step on your throat with her heels. So, why is Eli not killing her, because she’s clearly an EO and doesn’t he want all the EOs six feet under by his own hands? Yeah. Well, Serena’s power is the ability to get anyone to do anything she wants. Literally anything, so she’s got Eli convinced to keep her around. She both loves her power and hates it, and that facet of her inner conflict is explored in wonderfully interesting detail. She’s dealing with guilt over Sydney (her younger sister), her own self-loathing, and the problem of blood staining her gorgeous blonde hair. Respectable priorities.
So.
The only issue I had was how it felt like I was catching up on backstory until the last 30% of the book, mainly because of the time jumps. Otherwise, bury me with this book!! Tattoo every word of it on my eyelids!
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ao3feed-victuuri · 4 years
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You and I
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rfzhqJ
by Verity (PenelopeGrace)
A Beautiful, Dirty, Rich smut scene if Victor isn't too afraid of pain and Yuuri is a bit more of a sadistic master.
Words: 8636, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice), and two other good doggos
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Additional Tags: Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Bondage, Roleplay, Age Reversal, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Sex Toys, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Dildos, Anal Beads, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, BDSM, Safewords, Milking, Spanking, Riding Crops, Milking Machines, Victor's Foot Thing, Cameras, Brat Victor Nikiforov, Spreader Bars, Dirty Talk, Male Lactation, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Ribbons, Medical Kink, fleshlight, Come Marking, Come Shot, Dick slapping, NSFW Art, Punishment
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rfzhqJ
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ivyandcarnation · 5 years
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Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
(72219 words) by
Verity
Chapters: 27/31
Fandom:
Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yakov Feltsman, Yuri Plisetsky, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice), Sara Crispino, Phichit Chulanont, Katsuki Mari, Christophe Giacometti
Additional Tags: Pop Star AU, Alternate Universe, Businessman Katsuki Yuuri, Pop Star Victor Nikiforov, i dont believe in god, but god bless yuuri katsuki's stamina, Kinktober 2019, every chapter has one prompt, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, distention, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Come Inflation, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Except it kind of isn't cause Victor doesn't really need the money, Yuuri just wants to lavish offerings for Victor, Fucking Machines, Double Penetration, Food Play, Oral Sex, so this is supposed to be pwp, there will still be porn per chapter, but it is developing a case of plot, Mirror Sex, Dirty Talk, Temperature Play, Ice Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Public Sex, Creampie, Pole Dancing, Blow Jobs, formal wear, Marathon Sex, Cock Warming, Subspace, Cunnilingus, I guess? I needed the tag to work, Edging, Exhibitionism, gagging, Master/Pet, Roleplay, Praise Kink, Scenting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Frottage, Wax Play, Biting, Umm ch 19 to 23 has plot arc lmao, distracted sex, Masturbation, Sad Wank, Which I can use as a tag, One Night Stands, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff and Smut, Bonding, Mating Bond, Face-Sitting, 69 (Sex Position), Bukkake with one person, Claiming Bites, Age Reversal, Tit-fucking, Breeding Bench
Summary:
World class pop star Agape meets a curiously fascinating but mysterious businessman, Yuuri Katsuki, at the annual Kennedy Center Honors. They fall into a fast, filthy, fervent relationship.
Kinktober 2019
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listwjanka · 2 years
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Victor, Intermission 1
"What can you tell me about war?"
Victor's dark eyes rolled over like heavy iron marbles. Sharing a dugout with a new recruit was bad enough and it was even worse if they were chatty.
"First, you should set your soles on the battlefield. Then ask me again, if the need remains," Victor sneered and adjusted his sleeping position so as to not look at fresh-faced Fyodr, who huddled at the other wall. Fyodr was a disgraceful caricature belonging in a children's theatre play concerning fairytales, not anywhere near a mercenary troop. Both him and Victor were young, still youths, but Fyodr completely lacked the wear of the other mercenary boys. His paleness nearly lit up the dugout and contrasted absurdly with his tinted cheeks that reminded Victor of red apples.
"Currish fellow, are you? Shame, that, would've loved a talk between comrades. We're supposed to be brothers in arms, after all!" Fyodr chirped, cracking open a rich, gold-laced notebook. "See, I was hoping to be the dove that deftly delivers the verity of war to the simple masses - in the form of lyricism!"
This made Victor turn over wildly in his roughly-hewn burlap sleeping sack and cast a furious gaze at Fyodr. "The simple masses are themselves on the field, you fucking dullard! You arse-brained ignoramus! What is this to you!"
"Such violence!" The rookie chuckled gently, flipped a few pages and started scribbling in a voluminous cursive. "Now, I expected you to extend more reverence toward your brethren. Steeled by battle as they are, they're no longer simple, surely." Before the boy writhing in his sleepsack could snap back, Fyodr added: "Take Modovic for example - once a street urchin, now the Ghost of Terviv." He leaned ever so slightly in Victor's direction, almost conspiratorially: "Don't you think war allowed him to ascend? Are the likes of him truly simple?"
Trembling, as all movement felt sluggish and slow, Victor pulled himself up and stared incredulously at his bunkermate. "They were mad to put you in my dugout and expect you back alive in the morning. Everything you say makes me ill." He cradled his face in his hands and mumbled: "Promise me you'll shut your rotten mouth if I humour you, else I'll choke you with your own teeth."
Fyodr lit up. "Splendid! That's all I wanted to hear." Smiling, he cast his gentle gaze downward to his pristine notebook, a long, brilliantly black wood grouse feather appearing between his soft, childishly thick fingers.
As Victor removed his own calloused hands from his face, the world around him seemed to swim in dense swirls as if he were caught in a fog full of fractals. He felt dreadfully sick.
"War is..."
No, that wasn't quite right. The boy's eyes turned dull and glassy as the same fractal fog manifested in his skull.
"I am war. We all are. We've been made war. Once we were raw ore slumbering gently in the mountains, but we were made blades.
And.. even if they did smelt us to sickles, after all this, we'd do no good on the fields. We'd keep slicing throats as we were built before. Our hands... will no longer nourish."
Victor felt his skin getting wet and his heart began pounding at the thought of bleeding from somewhere - instead, he noticed rivulets of sweat pouring down his face and back.
"And long as you stand, the dead will not cease their wailing and the living will hunt you down to drown out their lamentations," Fyodr added, as his widening smile split the skin at the edges of his mouth and a delicate trickle of russet fluid leaked from the cracks. "The unborn grandchildren cry even louder than the felled. Do you hear them?"
First, a ringing, then a bass-baritone droning filled Victor's skull, threatening to overtake his senses completely. Pale, sweating and shaking, he risked a glance at the rose-cheeked creature in his dugout, doubtlessly the source of this nightmare, his round-faced tormentor.
At this, Fyodr stroked the side of his head and the bones beneath gave in like the shell of a pickled egg, more of the viscous, russet liquid poured all over Fyodr's body and whatever was left of his face collapsed.
Beneath the yolky sludge, a hardened sphere revealed itself, its iridescent surface forming and breaking fractals hypnotically; it spoke with Bogdan's lifeless voice: "You can still redeem yourself, brother. Even a killer's hands can nourish thousands."
"H...how?"
The vile spectre leaned forward.
"Fill your pockets with seeds, go out and lay down. Let your blood wet the soil and let the worms partake of your form. Let your bones become birches and let your entrails bear fruits of the earth. Do as I did, and surrender."
"MY BROTHER WOULD NEVER SURRENDER!"
Victor's scream pierced the night as he leapt at the monster that stole Bogdan's voice with feral rage; but his spirit far exceeded his current physical abilities and he flopped on his belly like a caught salmon.
The wraith that once was Fyodr or Victor's long departed brother gracefully stepped over Victor's flaccid form.
"What is it, then? Is there honour in butchery after all, it just ought to be done by someone you loved? You really are just a child."
With that, the spectre vanished into the fog and left behind naught a misty shroud. Victor's leaden eyeballs rolled at the back of his skull.
___________________
"And then after he puked in there, he started flailing his arms around and babbling nonsense so I brought you over. Uhm. Sir." "You should've called me sooner, boy." The tan, mousy Fyodr crossed his arms defiantly, but remained quiet. How was he supposed to know that Victor was behaving oddly? He'd just joined the troop this morning and was unfamiliar with everyone's idiosyncracies.
"Look, he's completely drenched and cold." Sergeant Modovic cursed under his breath, but couldn't suppress a dry grin. "Those dickless bastards really did poison our water supplies.. guess I should thank Vic for being the first fish to bite. Got him bad, but not bad enough. Fetch me the med bag, Fyodr."
Fyodr jogged off, Modovic sighed and dragged Victor's wiry body onto his lap and dabbed off the excessive perspiration on his forehead with the dirty handkerchief that he'd received many years ago, from a lady who may or may not be fair these days. As Modovic so worked with paternal care, tears began to flow freely from the corners of Victor's eyes and neither of the men said a word.
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sapphim · 6 years
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400+ tiefling virtue names
I started out brainstorming a couple more names for Verity’s backstory and ended up going way overboard. Enjoy.
Abandon, Able, Absence, Abstract, Abundance, Abyss, Adept, Adore, Affinity, Agony, Aid, Allure, Alone, Amaze, Ambition, Amity, Amuse, Anarchy, Anchor, Anger, Anguish, Apology, Aptitude, Ardent, Aria, Arise, Art, Ash, Assurance, Audacity
Balance, Beauty, Belief, Benevolent, Bitter, Blame, Blaze, Blessing, Bliss, Blithe, Bond, Bravery, Brazen, Breezy, Bright, Brilliance
Cacophony, Calm, Candor, Capable, Care, Caress, Carrion, Casualty, Caution, Celerity, Chance, Change, Chaos, Charade, Charisma, Charity, Charm, Chastity, Cheer, Cherish, Chime, Chivalry, Clandestine, Clarity, Clement, Clever, Cloud, Comedy, Comfort, Command, Compassion, Condolence, Confide, Constance, Contempt, Content, Conviction, Courage, Covert, Craven, Creative, Creed, Cryptic, Curiosity
Dare, Darkness, Darling, Dart, Dawn, Death, Defiance, Defile, Deft, Delight, Delirium, Deliverance, Dementia, Derision, Desire, Despair, Destiny, Destruction, Devotion, Diamond, Dignity, Diligence, Discord, Discovery, Disdain, Divine, Divinity, Dodge, Doom, Doubt, Dread, Dream, Dulcet, Dusk, Dust
Earnest, Ecstasy, Edge, Eloquence, Elusive, Ember, Empathy, Endure, Enigma, Ennui, Envy, Epiphany, Essence, Esteem, Eternal, Ethereal, Euphoria, Ever, Excellence, Experience
Failure, Faith, Farewell, Fascination, Fate, Favor, Fear, Felicity, Finesse, Flair, Flaw, Flight, Fluke, Forsaken, Fortune, Frailty, Free, Fright, Future
Gaiety, Gallant, Gamble, Gem, Generous, Gentle, Gift, Glee, Glory, Golden, Grace, Greed, Grief, Guile, Guilt, Gutter
Hale, Harbor, Hardy, Harm, Harmony, Harvest, Haste, Haunted, Haven, Havoc, Hazard, Heart, Hearth, Hero, Honesty, Honor, Hope, Horror, Humble, Hunger, Hunter, Hurt
Idea, Ideal, Imagine, Increase, Inferno, Infinity, Instinct, Integrity, Intrepid
Jaunty, Joker, Journey, Joy, Jubilee, Judgment, Just, Justice
Kindness, Knack
Lament, Laughter, Legacy, Legend, Level, Liberation, Liberty, Light, Lively, Loathing, Lord, Lovely, Loyal, Lucky, Luxury
Magic, Majesty, Malevolence, Martyr, Mayhem, Meander, Melody, Memory, Mercy, Merit, Merry, Midnight, Miracle, Mirth, Mistake, Mockery, Modesty, Moral, Motive, Muse, Music, Mute, Mystery
Noble, Nobody, Nothing, Nowhere
Obscure, Open, Origin, Original
Pain, Panache, Panic, Pardon, Parry, Passion, Patience, Peace, Plague, Pleasant, Pleasure, Poetry, Power, Praise, Precious, Presence, Prestige, Pride, Principle, Promise, Prosper, Prudence, Purity, Purpose, Pursuit
Quest, Question, Quicken, Quiet, Quirk
Radiance, Rage, Rain, Random, Ransom, Rapture, Rarity, Raven, Raze, Reason, Rebel, Recollection, Refrain, Regal, Regret, Remark, Remember, Remorse, Repentance, Rescue, Resent, Resolve, Respect, Rest, Retreat, Retribution, Revel, Revelation, Revere, Revile, Revolt, Rhyme, Riches, Righteous, Riot, Rise, Risk, River, Rotten, Royal, Rue, Rumor, Rush, Ruthless
Sadness, Saga, Sage, Salvation, Sanctuary, Sarcasm, Savage, Savvy, Scorn, Secret, Serendipity, Serenity, Severity, Shame, Sharp, Shelter, Silence, Sincerity, Sly, Snow, Soft, Solace, Solemn, Song, Sorrow, Spark, Speedy, Spirit, Stellar, Still, Storm, Strength, Struggle, Subtle, Success, Suspicion, Swift, Sympathy
Talent, Temerity, Temperance, Tempest, Tenacity, Tender, Terror, Thankful, Tolerance, Torch, Torment, Tragedy, Tranquil, Treachery, Treason, Treasure, Tribute, Triumph, True, Trust, Turmoil, Twilight, Twist
Umbrage, Undone, Union, Unique, Unity
Valiant, Valor, Value, Vanity, Venture, Verity, Vice, Victor, Vigil, Vigor, Violence, Virtue, Visit
Wait, Warning, Warrant, Wary, Way, Wealth, Weary, Welcome, Whisper, Will, Wisdom, Wish, Wistful, Wit, Wonder, Worth, Wrath
Zeal, Zenith
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ao3feed-yurionice · 4 years
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You and I
by Verity (PenelopeGrace)
A Beautiful, Dirty, Rich smut scene if Victor isn't too afraid of pain and Yuuri is a bit more of a sadistic master.
Words: 8636, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice), and two other good doggos
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Additional Tags: Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Bondage, Roleplay, Age Reversal, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Sex Toys, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Dildos, Anal Beads, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, BDSM, Safewords, Milking, Spanking, Riding Crops, Milking Machines, Victor's Foot Thing, Cameras, Brat Victor Nikiforov, Spreader Bars, Dirty Talk, Male Lactation, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Ribbons, Medical Kink, fleshlight, Come Marking, Come Shot, Dick slapping, NSFW Art, Punishment
source http://archiveofourown.org/works/21316108
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wholesalestore-blog · 5 years
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sergeant-spoons · 1 year
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Happy Birthday, Verity!
As today, December 17th, is my OC Verity Rich’s birthday, I was hoping to post the next chapter of In Defense of Chicanery sometime today. Unfortunately, writer’s block has proved a fiend, and I don’t think that will come to pass until late tonight/early tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’d like to offer up this post-war epilogue I wrote almost a year ago starring Verity’s father Nicholas and Meredith Chatham, the young woman Verity danced with on New Year’s Eve ‘42. 
Thank you for all the support over the last two years. Writing IDOC truly has been the experience of a lifetime. 💕
This Place We Call Home (Epilogue I - 1954)
The last week in an Alton February was a wet, enduring time of the year. Snow came and went with the frequency of the seaweed on a beach ladled upon the shore by the waves, then sunk beneath that same tide all in one day. The spindly trees creaked from the cold, the icicles clinging to their branches melting and dropping one by one like the same trees losing their leaves in the Autumn. Sometimes, when one fell from the maple just outside Nicholas Rich's kitchen window, or from the sycamore behind the wall where the headboard of his bed stood, a reflex long-buried in his psyche would ring a bell of alarm. His body stiffened and his gaze shot towards the nearest stagnant, plain thing he could find, seeking a reminder of safety, of home, of time's unassailable passage. On his worse days, he might startle so thoroughly his joints would remind him of his age for the rest of the day, or freeze like the snowman the neighbors built across the street last week, or clench his teeth so abruptly his jaw stung with the ache of impact.
He was drying his hands on the dishcloth by the kitchen sink, his coffee mug drying on the countertop towel, when a knocking came at the front door. He paused, his smallest finger, still damp, dripping a drop of water onto his shoe. It was a Wednesday, he had no plans with a neighbor or a friend. Since the kitchen faced away from the street, he could not guess at the visitor, so he must move about to see and alert them someone was, in fact, home. In the end, curiosity brought him down the hall and towards the door; wariness had him glance out through the blinds from the living room. There was a woman standing alone on the front stoop, lightly stamping snow off her heel as she clutched a purple purse and a tan suitcase. It had been raining and snowing on and off all morning, and her hat, hair, and shoulders were damp. She was tense, nervous, and Nicholas went about to the door to let her in. Taking his scarf from the coat rack (even a few minutes in those wintry elements could make his neck sore for the rest of the day), he readied a greeting and turned the silvery knob.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said as politely as he could think to speak, "I was finishing the dishes when I heard the knock."
"No- no worries," said the woman, and Nicholas supposed she must be about his daughter's age as she shifted in her step, falling silent.
"Can I help you?"
"I, uh, well, you see, I-" She was turning red, and when she glanced over her shoulder at the street and realized her taxi had already gone, she started to visibly fret. "I'm so sorry for bothering you, I-"
"Are you looking for my daughter?"
A sense of understanding passed between them, and Nicholas stepped back, opening the door fully.
"Come in, my dear, come in. It's freezing out here, and if you've got something on your mind, maybe I can help you put it to rest."
Read the rest on AO3!
Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​ @50svibes​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​
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sergeant-spoons · 1 year
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#5 for the birthday game, I love a good out of context line!
As do I!
There's an ask that's been sitting in my inbox for far too long, asking about Perry and Joe Toye's relationship from my fic In Defense of Chicanery. Now that IDOC is officially complete, I've been chipping away at writing a long one shot going over parts of the fic from a different point of view, focusing on Perry and Joe, to answer that ask. Here's an excerpt from that...
"You've got a good heart, Joe," she declared. "That's important—I'd even say there's nothing more important in a man than a good heart."
Toye tilted his head to the side and as Perry watched the sunlight gleam off his freshly-shaved chin, she knew somewhere deep inside that she and Joe Toye would be in it for the long haul.
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