#caesar is not. death. death upon him.

[dormiloncito]

one thing about me i hate games that have consequenses

[calder]

Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

____

“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

[catilinas]

lucan, pharsalia 7.786-95 trans. a.s. kline

cicero, philippics 2.59 + 71 trans. w.c.a. ker

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae:

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by ‘Prima,’ was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima’s life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: mentions of parental death, mentions of war, ancient rome as a warning all in itself.

notes: there’s a lot of backstory here but I promise it is all pertinent to the story! I really did my best to research and make sure to write something I’m proud of. The dates are 100% not correct and I also pulled characters from the show “Barbarians” on Netflix. Some of this is not historically accurate (for instance, their mother didn’t die till years later.) This idea, however, was born from A. Me being insane and B. Many sleepless nights. The events of this fic begin before Gladiator II and will not exclusively follow the movie’s timeline or chain of events (aka Caracalla’s brain isn’t fried in the beginning and no one important is dead… yet) also, big thanks to @trashmouth-richie for listening to me scream about this for months and @londonfog-chan for beta’ing and becoming a fast friend.

⟡ Imperator- Septimius Severus

⟡ Augustus- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus “Caracalla”

⟡ Caesar- Publius Septimius Geta “Geta”

I

Rome, Fall AD 205

“You have his favor, Prima,”

Varus had said, his words echoing in your mind like the toll of a distant bell. He spoke casually, the sun casting long shadows across the marble courtyard while the Imperator was being formally welcomed home by a group of high-born Romans, the elite nobility of the court.

“Mother, what did Varus mean by that?” you asked later that night, your voice muffled as you chewed a piece of bread at dinner. The flickering candlelight danced in the air, illuminating the empty chair across the table where your father should have been—his absence a perpetual reminder that Rome was his first wife, his first love, his everything.

“The Imperator favors you,” your mother began, her tone measured yet distant. “It is obvious that he has taken a special interest in you.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken truths.

“Do you think the Augustus had his wife killed?” you questioned, your innocence shining through like pure snow under the midday sun.

Visibly annoyed, your mother sipped her wine, the deep red liquid swirling in the glass like her thoughts. She paused, searching for the right words to quell your endless questioning.

“Plautilla and her brother were exiled after their father’s death, which followed the confirmation of his treachery,” she said, her voice carrying an air of finality, as if she were divulging information that should be inherently understood, “No one is dead except the traitor.”

It was all she would give you, a riddle wrapped in a mystery, until you would later stumble upon the truth.

__________________________________________________________________

“Ari,” you whispered, pulling back the sheer curtain to reveal his figure, his back turned to you.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, joining him at the balustrade, looking out into the distance.

He shook his head, his expression somber.

“I’m being made prefect.”

He stood gazing longingly over the view of Palatine Hill, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his breastplate. As he turned to face you, his eyes met yours, holding a depth that mirrored the ocean on a sunny day. To call Ari German would only be half true. When Varus had taken him from the Cherusci tribe as a child, a mere eight years old, he was intended as a token of their submission to Rome. Raised in the image of Rome under the guardianship of a renowned general, Ari had found himself instead in the care of your mother, surrounded by slaves, servants, tutors, and nursemaids. An unmarried Roman general had neither the place nor the time to be a father. Ironically, despite these circumstances, Ari had molded himself into your life as naturally as the turning of the tides. His hair, dark as the endless night sky, was flecked with subtle highlights, and his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his tunic. For all intents and purposes, Ari was the epitome of a Roman citizen, a Roman officer—tall, broad, with a face chiseled from marble. It only made sense that he stood guard of your household when your father was away, which, admittedly, was frequent.

“Wow,” you replied sarcastically, “shall I pretend to be shocked?” Your gaze lifted to meet his, a rueful smile playing on your lips.

“It is the natural order of things, is it not?”

Ari nodded, his silence a heavy cloak around him.

“Tell me,” you pressed on, “do you believe the young Augustus had his wife killed?”

“Why?” Ari’s eyes sparkled with a playful smile, “Are you afraid you’re next?”

You sighed, the weight of the world seeming to press down upon you. “What are our fathers planning?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, his voice low, “But I’m not sure either of us have a choice in the parts we must play.”

__________________________________________________________________

Babylon/Parthia, Spring AD 206

When the moment for travel arrived, a goat was sacrificed on the altar in honor of Neptune, its blood soaking the ancient stones. You, alongside Ari, your father, Varus, and two of your most trusted servants, then embarked on a ship bound for Parthia.

“I understand why you’re here,” you said, peering at Ari through the blur of his swaying figure as the ship rocked on a particularly rough set of waves, “But I don't understand why your father is involved.”

“Germania,” Ari began, leaning in to make himself heard over the sound of the sea, “He has been appointed governor.”

You shook your head, a mix of surprise and concern flickering across your face.

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

Ari nodded solemnly. “We’re leading three legions.”

Varus, despite his strengths, had always struggled with acknowledging his faults. When he had taken Ari from his home—where he was born to their leader, the Reik—he viewed it as a rescue. However, his decision to revoke the agreement that exempted the tribes from paying tributes to Rome had sparked rebellions.

“I assume you’ll accompany him once this brief meeting concludes?”

“No,” Ari replied, shaking his head. “Father will present his plans to the Imperator and update him on recent events. Afterward, he and I will journey to meet with the nearest legion.”

“What?” You couldn’t hide your astonishment, “You’re leaving me?”

“You’ll be assigned a new set of guards soon,” Ari reassured, though his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

You eyed Ari suspiciously just as Varus and your father descended the small set of steps, their gazes meeting yours expectantly.

Together, the two men had always been a force of nature. Varus, at the peak of his military career, had aligned with Septimius Severus when he seized power, claiming new territories in the name of the Imperator. A power vacuum had emerged following Commodus’s death, which your father exploited, advancing from the senate to being elected consul by the people—an office he maintained through each subsequent election. Where Varus led, your father inevitably followed, the bonds of their shared childhood—reared by the same nurses and tutors—unbreakably strong. It was only natural that the two of them would undertake this journey together—the culmination of their ongoing efforts to please the Imperator.

Upon your arrival in Parthia, the chaos unfolded before you, its impact muting your entrance. The once majestic city was a shadow of its former glory, stripped of its power and reduced to ruins.

Parthia had been devastated, its lands desecrated by the advance of the Roman army. Although your four-day voyage was free from conflict, your nerves raged, mirroring the tides after a fierce storm. Most of the Roman forces had moved northward, heavy with the spoils of war. This included hundreds of slaves and treasures beyond all imagination. Every village in their path had been ruthlessly flattened and set aflame. Every well poisoned, livestock slaughtered, the surviving Parthians–few and unfortunate– were mercilessly sent to meet their gods.

Formal greetings were promptly exchanged among the men. Nearby, two boys observed you intently. They were presumably the young Augustus, Caracalla, and his younger brother, Geta, who had not yet achieved the rank of his elder sibling, having only had the title of ‘Caesar’ bestowed upon him. You recalled meeting them years ago when their father had briefly governed Sicilia. All of you were mere children then, no older than six. Your father counseled as needed, allowing you to run freely with the two boys within the confines of the governor's villa under the strict eye of the nastiest nurse you had ever met. You had crossed the threshold of eighteen now, the elder brother barely a year your senior.

They stood an arm's length apart, arms crossed over their chests, eyes squinting as they scrutinized you from head to toe. You wondered how they hadn’t melted under the sun, their skin milk-white despite the unforgiving heat searing down.

As you approached the Imperator, you were taken aback when he grasped your hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it before you had even had a chance to bow your head.

“Prima,” he bellowed, his deep voice startling the servants behind you, “welcome to our humble camp.”

‘Humble’ was certainly a choice word. Even with half the army marching back towards Rome, numerous tents filled with officers, praetors, and generals were arranged in a grid-like formation along the wall that surrounded the city.

“Thank you, Imperator,” you replied with a smile. “It is my honor to be here.”

Next came a tour of the grounds and an explanation of the recent pillaging and destruction, led by Septimius with his two sons beside him and the rest of the men following. You were ushered away, escorted to where you would be sleeping, your servants trailing behind, pleasantly surprised to find your belongings had already been neatly arranged inside the elegant, yet functional, tent.

The antechamber was lit by two oil lamps, casting a warm glow that highlighted the tapestry emblazoned with your family's crest, a striking sight upon entering. The structure itself was supported by ornately carved wooden poles, strategically placed throughout the space. Fabric partitions divided the tent into designated areas for sleeping and dining, creating a sense of order and privacy.

A wooden bed, adorned with light bedding atop a plush feather mattress, promised comfort. Next to your sleeping quarters, a separate section was reserved for your servants, ensuring that both privacy and accessibility were maintained. Nearby, multiple chairs and folding tables were arranged, with the floor beneath them covered in luxurious animal skins.

"What do we do now?" asked Aeneas, your trusted servant and longtime friend.

You shrugged as you sat down on a chaise. "We wait."

__________________________________________________________________

Being seated between the two brothers at an early dinner was far from what you had expected. You knew they would be close, but having you sandwiched between them was less than ideal. As soon as you entered the room and saw them snickering, you could sense their mood. It had been years since you had been this close to either of them, but the memories of the insults hurled back and forth during your childhood were vivid. You quickly remembered the streak of cruelty that seemed to run deep in both brothers.

As a servant pulled out the chair for you, you smiled, bowed your head, and took your seat.

"How nice of you to finally join us," Geta remarked, his smile dripping with sarcasm as he took a modest sip of wine. Caracalla giggled beside you, prompting you to sigh.

"I came as soon as I was called," you assured him, picking up your glass for a sip.

"Brother, are you sure she wasn’t the servant? That slave they brought in was much better looking." Caracalla chimed in. At that moment, you knew exactly what game they were playing.

You huffed, but your smile never wavered.

"You know, the women in the palace snicker as you walk by. Caracalla, what exactly is a ‘penis aciculatus?’" you asked, maintaining a casual, laid-back smile.

"If you hadn't grown tits, I would’ve sworn you were a boy all this time," he retorted. "Perhaps you still are."

"And you would like that, wouldn’t you?" you spat back, leaving Caracalla speechless as Geta picked up the slack.

"Someone must tell the servants to stop feeding dogs at the table," Geta said as he grabbed your plate and handed it to the nearest servant.

"May I please have more olives?" you asked politely, receiving a nod from the servant who took your plate away. You sighed, relieved that a scene had been averted.

All three of you exchanged fake smiles, appearing to get along splendidly to the other men at the table, who were lost in their own conversations.

"I’m going to marry your father and have you both crucified," you smiled, letting out a faint laugh.

"Not if we kill you first," Caracalla retorted.

"I heard your father sent out a search party just to find someone willing to marry you, Prima," he added with a giggle.

"I’ve heard they had to hire servants of a certain height to follow you around just to reach things up high," you responded, eliciting a laugh from Geta, which in turn caused Caracalla to clench his fist, nearly rearing it back to land a punch in his brother’s direction.

“Prima,” Septimius called out, his booming voice cutting through the tension that was nearly turning physical between you and the brothers, “do you ride?”

“She does,” your father interrupted before you had the chance to respond, “I’ve always said she would have made an excellent charioteer in another life.”

Septimius smiled, nodding approvingly.

“Good, because there’s something I’d like to show you after dinner. A quick ride will get us there in no time.”

“Sounds excellent, Imperator,” you replied, offering him a genuine smile.

“‘Sounds excellent, Imperator,’” Caracalla mimicked in a high-pitched tone.

“No wonder your mother died,” you retorted calmly, “She probably couldn’t bear the thought of spending another moment with either of you.”

“Magae,” Caracalla hissed through clenched teeth, “You filthy little wench.”

You responded only with a smile, echoing his signature giggle back at him.

___________________________________________________________

Septimius rode at the center, astride his horse with Caracalla on his right and you on his left, flanked by a number of guards. The knowledge that the Praetorians had secured the surrounding blocks of Babylon, creating a protective bubble around the heart of the empire, did little to ease the knot of fear in your stomach. The possibility of a stray arrow, one capable of changing the fate of the empire, laid heavily on your mind as you rode through the town.

Caracalla was deep in conversation with his father about Alexander the Great, barely pausing for breath as the three of you approached the ornate building ahead.

“That building houses Alexander’s deathbed.” Septimius announced, slowing his horse.

His eyes sparkled as he glanced at Caracalla, offering him a glimpse of the past as if bestowing a wish upon him. You found it strange, recalling what little you knew of Alexander and his rise to the level of a god. Dismounting, Septimius assisted you down while Caracalla rushed ahead, his expression a mix of awe and fervor.

You wandered away from them towards the residential quarters of the palace, accompanied by two guards. The decor was as lavish as it was ancient, befitting a ruler though only governors had resided there for years. Entering a room, you stumbled upon a modest scene consisting of a bed raised on a three-step dais, a small tiled pool, and a simple podium. It was unremarkable, and you felt no urge to call out until Caracalla burst into the room, exclaiming, “This is it.”

“You like Alexander,” you observed, watching his reaction closely.

“No, I admire him,” he corrected sharply. “He expanded a small nation to rival the expanse of Rome in just thirteen years.”

“Julius Caesar also idolized him,” Septimius added, entering the room.

“And he was stabbed twenty-three times,” you blurted out impulsively.

Caracalla’s piercing gaze met yours, charged with an intensity that made the air around you feel heavy. Septimius smiled, as if you had made his point for him.

"Since you know everything, what do you know about Alexander?" Caracalla hissed, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, testing your knowledge.

Septimius stood at the edge of the room, leaning against the doorway with baited breath, watching the exchange unfold.

"I know of his triumphs, his beginnings, his end," you began, your voice steady, "But I was always more fascinated by his mother, Olympias."

"They say she slept with a bed full of snakes." Caracalla interrupted with a dismissive wave.

"And she secured the throne for Alexander by orchestrating the death of his father and his young bride," you countered firmly.

"She had their newborn daughter dragged across a hot brazen iron oven. His wife slit her wrists and bled out in a warm bath because of her grief," Caracalla retorted, challenging your morality.

"Olympias ensured her son's legitimacy and handed him the empire on a silver platter," you responded, emphasizing her role in Alexander’s rise without highlighting her alleged brutalities.

"That's why I’ve brought you two here today," Septimius interjected, stepping forward and looking between you both. "Who we surround ourselves with is crucial—family is important, our legacy is important."

You exchanged a glance with Septimius, then Caracalla, absorbing the gravity of his words.

"The two of you will be married once we return to Rome," Septimius declared with a smile.

You quickly masked your surprise, bowing your head respectfully. Caracalla crossed his arms, his face contorting with disdain.

"I am grateful for the honor, Imperator."

"I am not marrying this witch, father," he spat vehemently.

Septimius gave you an almost apologetic look. "Prima, please leave us."

You exited as requested, their escalating argument fading behind you. Caracalla’s insult hung in the air.

"She probably sleeps with snakes!"

"Enough!" Septimius’s voice thundered.

Stepping outside, you exhaled deeply, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

Caracalla brushed past you, his shoulder bumping yours.

"Witch," he muttered under his breath as he mounted his horse.

"I assure you, the only snake I will ever lay with will be you," you shot back sharply.

For a moment, a smirk flickered across Caracalla’s face, almost pleased by your retort. But then his expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed the reins and rode off.

⟡ latin translations ⟡

⟡‘penis aciculatus’- prickly penis

⟡ magae- witch

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, just let me know.

dividers by @ghoulbloggerrr

[bones4thecats]

What If Their S/O Died During Ragnarok?

Characters: Thor, Odin, Loki, and Heimdall Inspired By: My wish to write angst A/N: I have nothing to say so read the angst. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Death, fighting, details in death, murder, and just pure angst no fluff. ⚠️

Disclaimer: F! Reader in Odin's part because of Thor being his son

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╚═════ Thor ═════════════════════════════════╝

🌩️ Thor always adored your strength. You weren't as strong as him but you were quite a threat when you needed to be, so when you were called for Ragnarok, he wasn't surprised

🌩️ You stood before the human named Julius Caesar, and if you were being honest, his cunning nature was starting to annoy you even before your fight began, but now that you were far more advanced into it, it was beginning to make your anger come out

"I'm gonna tear your arms off your body and use them to beat you senseless!" You screamed, raising your weapons to strike him down.

"Bring it!" He yelled back.

🌩️ As you swung downwards, the male disappeared, making your eyes widen and you feel a pain hitting your midsection. Staring downwards, a large gladius blade poking through your body

🌩️ The sound of everyone gasping made Thor look up from his hammer in the private room. His eyes locked with the screen and his grip tightened around the handle, launching up from his seat, he began to practically run outside to the ring

🌩️ Thor ran as fast as he could go up the stairs, his sudden stop between you and the former Roman dictator causing a mass amount of sand to fall upon him. He looked back at you and saw how you fell to the ground

"Y/N..."

"I love you, Thor... after death does us part..."

🌩️ Your body began to shatter as your husband kept his grip on your body, trembling as you died. You, the love of his life, died in his arms

🌩️ He turned around as your green-shattered body began to float away, he then dug his fingers into his weapon, it almost shattering the object he held onto. Thor then looked back at the human, rage in his eyes as he let out a deep warning as thunder wrapped around them all

"You'll pay for this, human."

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╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Vlad the Impaler, former Voivode of Wallachia, well-known blood-thirsty monster, and current-opponent against the co-leader of the Norse Pantheon, Goddess of the Afterlife, Y/N stood before one another, weapons drawn as Heimdall yelled for the round to start

🪶 Thor watched as his mother walked to the human, shook his hand, and readied to fight. Normally he would be just as calm as his father, but after the loss of Poseidon in the third round, it was worrying that they could possibly lose another God, specifically his own mother

🪶 Odin, his father and your husband, just sat there with a blank face as saw how your weapons clashed, leaving sparks behind as you danced around him

🪶 During your time ruling over those who have passed on in Valhalla, Hel, Fólkvangr, and Landscape, you would be able to move around their wispy-like forms with ease, as if you were a dancer. And while it was beautiful in those times, right now it was helping you survive

🪶 Odin's eyes narrowed as Vlad lifted his kilij and sent it smashing down onto your own spear, successfully smashing it in half while you flew back and sent attack after attack at the human who tried killing you multiple times

🪶 It only lasted 20 minutes when you knocked Vlad the Impaler down, causing him to cough up blood and see his blade get smashed underneath your foot. While he did have a Völundr, it was of no use, your skill in battle rose far above his own

🪶 Holding your blade to his throat as he pressed against the wall, he took the final attempt at hitting you by throwing his blade at you, though you dodged and allowed it to fly past you. You scoffed and chuckled at the action of the human

"How amusing, even after so long of trying to stay alive you still don't understand that I cannot and will not allow myself to be taken down by a man with longer hair than my nutcase-nephew. Now, accept your fate. Any final words for your fellow parasites?"

"Yes... I made sure I got my final head."

"What?"

"Y/N, look out!"

🪶 In the matter of a second, time stopped. A large mount of black hair launched in the air with shock while the rest of the beings all froze in fear. It was the leader of the Norse Pantheon, it was Odin who had gone blind in rage so quickly

🪶 Jumping down from his seat, Huginn and Muninn swarmed around your body, now holding a blade within the head and squawked in agony. Loki and Thor stood in complete shock as Odin held his hand up and sent a blast at the human male, killing him slowly and painfully while he picked up your body without any emotion and carried you away

🪶 All Gods watched silently as the humans just looked down or stayed with their eyes glued on the events. The Gods felt ashamed at the loss, yes. But seeing such a kind and loving part of their society fall in such a hurtful manner broke some hearts while Humanity just shook their heads with either shame or pity for the Norse Family

🪶 When Odin fought soon, everyone knew that he wasn't going to go down easy... not after this...

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╚═════ Loki ═════════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Loki and you have been amused watching the humans and Gods fight. At first, the fights went by smoothly, the loss of Lü Bu and Adam not fazing either of you, but as the humans began to rise in power, resulting in the loses of Heracles, Poseidon, and Hades, your nerves slightly grew when your name was called

🐍 Walking around the ring amusing yourself was easy, but standing in front of those they called 'History's Greatest Military Mind', did bring your ego down slightly, much to his surprise

🐍 As you clashed in the arena, your husband of many years, Loki, floated around and laughed at the futile attempts against you. It was pointless, with your mindset and similar, to his, abilities, you were practically invincible

🐍 Loki smirked as you fought, ignoring the calls of his Uncle Odin's birds. And while they were annoying, if he had to endure them to see his lovely spouse win, then so be it

🐍 His face only began to darken the Alexander began to advance with his Valkyrie-bond. Now his attacks were starting to land more often, and that was not good at all

🐍 You were a Deity who has fought in many wars, you knew how opponent's thought, but every time you knew what he was going to do, he'd switch it up on the spot. Now you understood his nickname to the fullest

🐍 Loki's eyes narrowed in worry as you lunged forward to stab him in the head, only for him to dodge, go behind you, wrap his legs around your neck, pin you to the ground, and speak his final words to you

"You were an amazing opponent, Deity of Order. And I wish you no pain."

"Why you-"

🐍 Dead silence.

🐍 With one blow, you had died. A stab wound to your heart, causing your once glowing, glimmering eyes to drown in a pool of darkness. Loki watched as your arms slumped down and as Humanity cheered for their heroine

🐍 But what he didn't know is that the Trickster God from the Norse Pantheon was standing right behind him, ready to make him feel the same pain he made his lover feel a couple seconds ago

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╚═════ Heimdall ══════════════════════════════╝

📯 He has seen all either fall or stand in this tournament, but there was one that he did not wish to witness end with a Gods' non-victory, and that is Round 5 of Ragnarok, Hannibal Barca vs Norse-Deity of the Sound, Y/N

📯 You two have been together since the very beginning, growing from friends to full-on romance in just a matter of a couple thousand years, which is fast for any average Deity-relationship, which normally appears after around four-times that!

📯 He watched you two look at one another blankly, but he knew how you thought. You were coming up with every angle you could hit this guy and he could go down like a fly, and he hoped those plans worked

📯 Heimdall blew into his horn and the match began, the sound of metal clashing and grunts being all he could hear whilst everyone else conversed and made their own sounds in reaction to everything

📯 You could hear everything better than anyone, and using your daggers, you tossed them in the air before they came flying down, making the loudest screeching anyone could ever hear. After doing this many times and having Hannibal come back with his own attacks unique to himself, which made you smirk and laugh

"If you believe such minor attacks with a Valkyrie could kill me, you're wrong human."

📯 Hannibal smirked and raised his weapon once again for an attack set like a joust. You just scoffed and aimed your sword for his heart, but before you could hit him, a pain was felt the back of your head... a shield had come flying down and smashed your head down

📯 You fell to the ground in pain as he grabbed the shield and hit you once again in your head, making you wail in agony from the pain. Like mentioned earlier, your hearing was exquisite, so having this crashing your head while he hit it with his sword wasn't very nice

📯 He then pierced your head with his sword, causing everyone to freeze slightly. Humanity then broke out into a cheer of celebration while the Gods stood in shock... how did he bring you down in a matter of 32 minutes?! What had he done?!

📯 Nobody was more shocked than Heimdall. He had just witnessed his spouse of over four-thousand years die before him. Everyone knew he wasn't going to speak, so, in an effort to help the man, Zeus came down and yelled out the rounds' results

📯 While Humanity celebrated and the Gods just stayed silent with either rage or pain for you, Zeus looked back at the Norse God and spoke gently as to usher him into a room to relax

"Heimdall, wait for me in the room with a soundwave on it. I'll be there in a little bit and we can speak of this."

📯 Heimdall nodded as he rushed away, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he ran. Why did you have to die... why did Zeus have to choose you... why was life such a pain...

[death---dealer]

So Far From Home. ( Caesar x Human!Reader Oneshot. )

My brain after watching Dawn: I'm in a glass case of emotion

Title: So Far From Home. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T ( Mentions of injury, blood, death. ) Pairing: Heavily Implied - Caesar x Human! Reader. Words: 4.2K+ Summary: You had been with the Apes now for a year. Koba has sparked the rebellion, many Apes believing Caesar to be dead. He wasn't, and in one moment of vulnerability, he opens up to you about his past.

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Ellie had told you to not worry about the shallowness of his breathing, it was normal considering the extent of the damage the bullet did to his shoulder, the nature of infection slowly coming to terms along his body that occasionally trembled as if he were cold. Tightly knitting yourself into a ball on the floor next to the Ape King, you found that plausible. You were incredibly cold, your extremities felt like they were going to break into small pieces, they felt brittle. It was the rainy season once again and the dampness of the jacket you were wearing was doing nothing to help your situation as your eyes rested on the Ape next to you.

Even injured and in the throes of unconsciousness, he didn't lose the roughness of his brows. Always so intimidating and you longed to place your fingers against it to see if it would selfishly soften against your touch. Your fingers flickered at the thought as you brought your face down and kissed your forearm gently, secluding the lower half of your face behind your knees so your eyes were only visible as you kept watch.

The rise and then slow fall of his chest as Caesar was propped against the arm of the couch, accompanied by a pillow for comfort was rhythmic but there were a few times where it appeared he stopped breathing and panic would wash down you before you remembered what Ellie had told you. You tried to say it again and again. His breathing was going to be shallow, maybe even stagnant at points as his body was trying to heal itself with the very minimal use of antibiotics that Ellie had available in her satchel that Malcolm had to sneak into the Colony to acquire. He was injured beyond belief, especially for an Ape, and after laying in a shocked state on the floor of the Muir Woods in complete and drenched rain, silence and bitter chill, it was remarkably brutal when you had stumbled upon him. 

The cry you left out, pushing right past Alexander,  your knees skidding against the ground to the point where your cargo pants ripped, as you wanted to grasp at him immediately but you were pulled back by Malcolm once it was seen by him and Ellie that Caesar was heavily injured, cusping at the brink of death.

The stagger he had as you, Malcolm and Alexander pulled him to his feet, his head lulling towards your own and resting against the side as you held a good portion of his weight, trailing through the woods to the Land Cruiser and placing him in the back gently. His words… always so entrancing to you telling what actually happened. Koba, you had a feeling, was behind it and it all became vividly known once Caesar corrected Ellie who had made the assumption that the rebellion was caused by Humans. You looked at your hands pensively for a moment, uncoiling yourself from your crouched state. It was like you could still see his blood lingering on your digits and it made you uncomfortable to think about. 

It was always a thought that the Humans, at least the three you had gotten to know alongside Caesar, would find your attachment to him unnatural. Untethered and inhuman. It was a tightrope you walked on after they had seen a Human amongst the Apes, but you had explained the situation rather precariously through the time you spent helping them with the dam. Never mates, you were explicit in that despite the underlying want to get there, but you owed Caesar your life for offering you refuge when you were found, starved to death. It was true, what some people said; if the Flu did not kill you, your ability to survive on basic necessities was going to become the forefront on whether or not you could stave death off. They held judgment though when you talked about it, and for that, you were forever grateful. It came to a mutual agreement of ‘you need to do what you need to do to survive in these times’ and it was very seldom brought up again. 

You thought that you were going to need to explain your visceral response to seeing Caesar getting shot, to seeing him fall off the cliff edge, let alone the reaction seen in front of them all when you found his shell-shocked body but they never brought it up, even when you crawled into the back with Ellie as she worked nimbly to help the bleeding, your hands coming to grasp at Caesar’s head and hold it tenderly. It was hard to ignore the fact that he let you touch him so intimately, so closely and the flickering of your eyes between his own gaze told Ellie what she needed to know. But once again, never brought up again and you were once again, grateful to not have to dive into the aspects of the relationship you had with the King of Apes.

It… didn't seem all that comfortable to you as you looked at him, how his body was laying, but you supposed having been through what he just went through, anything but the cold floor of the woods would be better. You knew you were sitting in a small pile of mud from Blue Eyes’ feet standing here previously and he had just departed about fifteen minutes ago to rally those who still supported Caesar, as instructed by Caesar who had a great moment of lucidity before he tumbled into another dreamless fit of sleep. You were left to watch him - by choice, not by force. On the other side of the living room, you figured it might have been a dining room at one time, laid Ellie, Malcolm and Alexander, wound against each other with their blankets. You were envious of that - the warmth they must have felt as you let your eyes fall down to the wound on Caesar’s muscular chest.

It was hard to see in the dim light that was seeping in through the window and the shallow light of a broken lamp in the corner. His fur was so dark that the blood was ultimately undetectable unless you were really looking for it, some of his fur clumping together with the wetness. It was not as bad as it had been, at least you had that small dabble of optimism to cling to as you surveyed your surroundings for the first time, having been previously occupied helping Ellie with Caesar. 

You had not been inside of an actual house in years, you tried to focus on something else other than Caesar’s breathing. Something that would take the edge off as you were now waiting for Blue Eyes to return with the rally. Across the bay, they were heavily rummaged through after the Flu wiped out most of the population, and in a bid to not get shot by another Human, you strayed away from them and focused your attention more on abandoned camps and Colonies that were spread around the area. 

Your eyes turned for a second so you could look at the room you were in. The couch Caesar was against was bright orange and set into a frame of dark wood, explicitly noticeable given the low light you found yourself wrapped in. Trailing your fingers along the wood, you marveled at how smooth it was under touch and smiled dimly. There were shattered photographs lining along the baseboards, scattered like memories as they fell from the wall onto the ground. Grunting quietly, you lifted your body in an attempt to stave sleep off. It felt like you were trapped outside of your body, outside looking in and your feet trailed you around. There were no evident indications on your first sweep of the room of whose home this was, what kind of life they lived other than an abandoned piano across from where Caesar was laying. He brought you here though, a space of solace as Koba began to wage war on the Colony near the mouth of the Golden Gate Bridge. A place where… He was able to tell Malcolm where to drive like he had just been here the day before. The pictures you had seen decrepit on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass from the picture frame colliding with the ground and dust. You squinted and dropped your body into a squat as you reached for one of the frames. 

Picking it up carefully, you shook the glass right out of the frame and dabbled the picture right out of the wood, holding it bare against your fingers. Swiping along it with your middle and pointer finger, the dust cleared away and you studied it intently.  Three humans, you smiled at them in the photograph like they were smiling at you and not frozen in the endless vortex of time. Two men, one older, one younger and a female. A melancholic feeling hit your chest when you drifted your fingers over the young man and woman.  You traced their faces with a gentle touch, wiping the dust away in the process. It felt like years since you had seen a genuine smile like theirs, like that of the young man in the picture. Since you had seen undiluted love like how the woman looked at him, and pure bond like the older man displayed to who you presumed to be his son. It had been years since you had seen these expressions within Humans, but you were reminded of the Apes.

How closely Caesar held Blue Eyes, brows kissing each other.

How, in rare moments of vulnerability, Caesar told you about Cornelia, about the shortened time they had together. 

Your fingers lingered on the woman in the picture. 

How you looked at Caesar, with such awe and wonder.

A moment captured for you to look at years later and feel painstakingly yearning. They remained captured in pictures. Forever immortalized until they faded into oblivion.

A shot of electricity went down your spine at the call of your name from a deep baritone, rounded with seeped deep agony. Quickly, you wiped your eyes of their budding tears and moved towards the Ape who had called your name, clutching the picture tightly to your chest. “Caesar.” You gasped out and bent to crouch near him so you were able to look at him eye to eye. 

Heart sinking a bit in your chest at the state his face appeared to be in, so tired and forlorn with betrayal, his wrinkles seemed as prominent as ever as the lovely nature of his hazel eyes bore right into yours, reddened around the edges. “Blue Eyes isn’t back yet,” You started, figuring that’s where the conversation was going to go either way. “You--- You should rest,” The voice you were using was nothing more than a whisper, your eyes flickering for a moment to the entry point on his shoulder and then back to meet his gaze. “Ellie said resting was the best thing for you to do---” “Do… not feel... like resting.” Caesar said through gritted teeth and pensively shut his eyes for a few seconds, and when he reopened them, they were fixated on the ceiling above with a sparkle of what you would describe as being familiar like he had been here before. With a wash of air against you, Caesar propped his body up further so he was sitting up rather than laying stagnantly. At least he was able to support his body weight, you thought and inadvertently reached forward to help him, but shook off your attempt once he looked at you again with an intent glance. Shuffling around a bit, you realized that Caesar sat up so you could sit down next to him, giving enough room on the ledge of the couch for you to rest somewhat comfortably against his legs. Resting the picture you had in your hands in your lap, you raised your hand and lightly let your fingertips float above his wound. Never actually making contact with it, but you were so near to him that Caesar’s body tensed in anticipation of you actually making contact. “What… What happened?” “Koba… Started this… I must end it… Before it is too late…” He muttered to you and looked at the photograph in your lap for a few seconds too long, an oddly reminiscent sensation taking hold of the Ape King’s chest and swelling it with the uncomfortable notion that you had deduced where you were before he had the opportunity to tell you himself. But, from your lack of questioning regarding the matter, that did not seem to be the case. Caesar drew a raggedly breath in, squeezing his eyes shut as a splash of fire radiated along his chest, across his entire pectoral region despite the wound being on his left shoulder. It had already begun, the war itself. There was nothing that Caesar could do now to stop it, even Caesar had to know that despite his best efforts to presume that it was not a logical possibility.

Still, he moved, still he preserved and survived, sending his son to gather the troops that were as loyal as ever to their King with a plan and what you hoped to be a successful execution. The support he got from his child, from the Apes who refused to follow Koba into battle, was remarkable, and just seeing the respect he garnered by simply walking into a room always left you breathless. That kind of support that humanity lost throughout the years and it was only peppered amongst the bigger colonies and camps, and no doubt, it was going to get worse once they allied against another enemy. He was in pain, surely, but knowing him, you knew he was going to push past it for the sake of the Apes and their rights to freedom. 

“Never wanted… to come back here…” He gestured vaguely, eyes blurring out of focus for a second, moving his uninjured shoulder a bit to bring your attention to the room you were in, “This place…” His voice was hitting in a deeply rich tone, coming straight from his chest and bubbled shamelessly around you. No matter what he said, no matter how it was directed at you, you would always find yourself listening and yearning for more. 

“You know this place…?” Of course he did, you thought to yourself. He just said that! Tightening your grip on the photograph in your hands, you clenched your jaw at his meager head nod, the question you had asked was rebudent and did not need a verbal confirmation. “Wh--- Where are we?” “In the city,” He grunted softly, looking at the photograph in your hands again. This time, you caught the minor movement and flipped it over gently so he could see what was actually printed on the other side. Caesar only glanced at it a moment before preemptively moving his eyes to an indirect source on the wall to the left. “A place… from another time…” 

He moved next to you again, this time urging you to move as well as his legs hit against your back. You drifted to your feet slowly and watched as he placed his feet onto the ground and hoisted his torso up with a sweeping movement. “Come,” He was suddenly standing, and you went to grab him before he tumbled straight back down. Caesar only held up a hand, telling you to stop and that he was more than capable of moving now. He better have been, knowing where he was going once Blue Eyes returned. “I… will show you…”

Silence hit the two of you like a blanket as he stepped forward, bracing his entire weight on one foot first to see if he was okay to proceed. Nodding to himself, Caesar assessed and began trailing towards the stairs, and upwards. It was obvious from the gait of his walk and how he was holding himself with one arm that the pain was eradicating all his other senses, and yet… He still moved, determined almost.  On the landing, your eyes caught focus of the books that were strewn about the built in bookcases lining the wall. All the good material was taken, a few encyclopedias and music books remaining now. 

Then, to the right. You had your suspensions, but now? Confidence beamed inside of your head that your intuition was correct, that Caesar had vast knowledge of this home, where to go, where things may have been hidden. In his bloodied state, he gestured you up the ladder towards the attic, and with a contemplative stare at him, his unequivocal, you succumbed and moved upwards, Caesar right behind you.

With a small ‘thud’ of your feet against the wooden floor, you scooted to the side for the Ape behind you to come to rest his feet on the floor. Rest, he did not though. There was a wash of familiarity on his face as he looked into the room, bending his head down enough to get in from under the beam that had fallen from the ceiling. He had resumed his regular movements, broad, intimidating, but his expression was beyond that and seeped at you intense vulnerability. 

Swallowing gently, you followed him, almost like you were in a dream like state. This… place… You looked at the gymnastic-like set up, chains holding onto loops, one chain dangling, holding a weight at the end, only a few inches off the ground that Caesar grasped into his powerful hand and shifted to the left and watched it in a hypnotic state as it moved back towards him. There was a chess-board, or at least, that’s what it appeared to be as you moved towards the bed, lightly placing your fingers against a pawn as Caesar’s attention was captured by a cam-corder sitting on the desk. Almost hesitantly, he picked it up and analyzed it as he so often did with human technology in his possession. 

“This was,” The screen flashed blue against his already stark features, illuminating it just enough for you to see the flood of what had to be tears right under his eyes. “My home.” 

Mouth agape now at that confession, you suddenly had so much to ask but so little came out as he finnicked around the cam-corder, unplugging it with one hand as he moved towards the bed to finally rest. Much needed, he thought to himself and shut his eyes as his body weight fell onto the mattress. Rounding the iron framing of the twin bed, you felt heavy next to him. His… home? This place? This house? You knew that he lived with Humans, that he had been raised by them, but you had no idea the extent. In your mind, you could see the photograph ingrained on your eyelids, despite it being tucked away in your back pocket for safe keeping. No reason to keep it, you just felt a pull to. 

Caesar, Caesar, look. 

At the sound of a human, you instinctively kicked yourself out of your inner thoughts and realized that the Ape had begun playing whatever was recorded on the device he had intense interest in. 

Apple.

Apple.

Good!Fixation was heavy on the small screen as you both watched it. The man… The same one from the photograph in your pocket and… Widening your eyes in shock, seeing the all encompassing scar on his chest, your mouth felt dry all of a sudden when you came to the candance that you were seeing Caesar… Young… incredibly so, he was so small, the innocence that lingered in his gaze as he looked at the Human showing him sign, the reminiscent stare he now had at the screen. It was flooding back, wave after wave, knowing that Chimpanzee’s couldn’t swim and he’d be brutally swept up in them. Home.  Gently said.

Home. A bit more sternly.

Home. Adamantly. 

You were glad to have a voice to the face. 

Yes. He chuckled and that prickled at your ears. The sound of a Human laughing, and it must have evoked something to Caesar as he huffed in response to seeing himself younger, reaching out with one of his arms to grasp at the man. This is your home. Your home. 

Good, good… That’s good.

The screen flashed a vibrant blue right as the young Caesar had gone to embrace the man, three small beeps coming to the device. That’s all that was on there. Introspectively, the camera was shut, the screen no longer giving any illumination against Caesar’s face as it rested lightly on the bed beside him. 

“Was that…” Your voice came out remarkably quiet and timid, not quite sure if it was appropriate to speak, “That man, was he…?” “A… good man.” You looked at the recorder and then trailed your gaze up Caesar’s body. He wasn’t closing himself off like he often did when you’d bring up the past, about personal details. Your eyes met, and in the soft moonlight that came through the window, you moved towards him, one step… two… And suddenly, you were right in front of him, between the legs he had open for balance as he sat. His eyes rested on your mild collarbone for a few seconds, admiring the gentle nature of your breathing before he shut them and you were no longer able to drown in the color you had come to adore. 

“He raised you.” Nothing more than a peep, Caesar reacted to that with semi-tightened shoulders and a curt nod of the head. “What was… his name?” His jaw moved unexpectedly, dancing forwards and backwards in deep contemplation as his teeth gilded against each other. Caesar had known you were going to ask, but he hadn’t expected the video, he hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to answer, to just say a simple name. So difficult to see him again, to hear his voice, to see himself before the Rise, and before he stepped until weighted down power and responsibilities.

He felt so torn; the knowledge that he would not be there in front of you without the downfall of them. The resistance he had all these years not to think about them, not to remember them as individuals, but as a whole. Humans. But you… were human, and you were not a whole to Caesar. You were an individual, he’d consider you an equal in knowledge and understanding, and if he had been thinking in all logical and illogical perspectives, you would be equal in other, more satisfyingly quipped ways.

Maybe, he told himself with a blur of his eyes as he tried to focus on you in front of him, maybe if this ended and he defeated Koba, and if he found a solemn and safe place for the Apes to go to, he’d change that if you were willing to accept. 

“Will,” Caesar finally spoke and you felt your breath exhale at that, you hadn’t even noticed you were holding it in. “And… the others,” Unexpectedly, he reached around and tugged the photograph from your back pocket. The fact that he knew it was there shouted at you that he was always paying attention to even the smallest movements, as you had shoved it into your pocket quickly when he stood up earlier. “Caroline,” His thick finger pointed at the woman, then swept to the old man, “Charles.” You looked at them and traced their faces. Will, Caroline and Charles… Caesar’s family before he… Gently, you folded the photograph up as you grasped it from him. He did not protest, but looked up at you with sunken eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I never should have…” “They… were good,” Caesar chided and scooted over for you to sit down next to him. Enjoying the sensation of the bed dipping in as you dropped next to him, he continued in a rumbling voice, quite enough that you wouldn’t wake the others downstairs, “Reason why… I… choose to believe… in the good… in you.” You knew that he was talking in broadened terms, that he did not mean explicitly you. But, it was taken that way, and you figured that Caesar was intuitive to know how his words were going to come across once they fell on your ears. How his glances at you were going to be interpreted. “You miss them.” 

That wasn’t a question, it was a fact. An irrefutable one as Caesar drew his gaze into your own, deeper than the ocean and intense that it took the breath right out of your lungs and you felt like you were scrabbling for air. Wrapped up again in silence, you found your eyes lightly dancing between his own, and you were so near, you could smell the irony nature of the blood that was clinging to his fur, feeling his hot breath against his face as his mouth fell open. Caesar didn't feel the need to say anything from that, making his answer evident enough by bringing you into the room he once called his own. 

‘I do not dwell on them.’ He signed at you, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t telling you a lie, that it was the truth, that he did not dwell, or think about them, late at night by himself. Caesar tilted his head to the side wearily. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it verbally. ‘Pointless,’ your eyes watched his fingers and hands move, ‘To live in the past..’

“Not pointless to forget, though.” Muttering softly, Caesar watched your lips form the words with deep intent. “We… can’t live in the future without remembering our past.”

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

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TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[animeyanderelover]

Can i request headcanons for feitan, madara, Indra, jojo( Joseph and caesar) for fem reader being a time and world traveler? Like she can come and go as she pleases or when she gets bored and wants to see something else. She enjoys taking her time and exploring each world she visits

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, paranoia, threats, manipulation, blackmailing, violence, female s/o

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

S/o is a time and world traveler

Indra Otsutsuki

💜​There is something different about you. Years of training and honing his abilities to utmost perfection have given Indra a very keen intuition on people's skills through simple observation. Someone as skilled and strong as he is does not have time like his younger brother to waste his time with everyone, instead he is much more selective with his preferences clearly lying in stronger people. That is why he finds himself seeking you out as he as a feeling that you will prove yourself as worthy of his attention and time. His intuition is after all rarely wrong. As you are a traveler who has found her way to their village, Indra instantly takes it upon himself to separate you from people he does not deem to be worth of the attention and time he plans to invest in you. He shall be your guide and adviser during the time you spend in the village. Despite being known for his unforgiving nature and harsh attitude, you find out that he is quite attentive and mellow when he is left alone with you, answering all your questions.

💜​Accompanying you as you get to know the world around you becomes one of his favorite activities as he relishes in the privacy he can have with only you. As seasons come and go, he finds himself growing quite possessive of your time he sees as far too precious to clown around with those he does not see as fitting. You are far too knowledgable and skilled to waste your day with people who will never become strong enough for him to acknowledge. By now he only seems to tolerate his little brother and his father around you as he scares others away from your side. Yet not only does he scare those he deems as weak away, he also insists for you to let him train you as he would hate for you to not grow fully into the potential he knows you possess. He discovers very soon though that he has barely anything to teach you as the opposite would be much truer. As uncomfortable as he feels when figuring out that you seem to be stronger than him, he shows willingness to learn so that he will eventually surpass you in order to hold the illusion of being in control.

💜​It is his father's decision to name Asura as the next successor that ultimately pushes Indra over the edge and it is the defeat he suffers at the hand of the brother he always thought to be weaker that fuels his obsession. Not being the one who is stronger equals now not being in control which is why he grows quite paranoid with you as he knows that he has never bested you in skills. It is his very real threat of abducting you to keep you for himself that finally leads you to reveal the truth to him about the full potential of your powers. Your powers let you be closer to a god than an actual human and this knowledge humbles and humiliates him. A feeling of insignificance threatens to weight him down as he comes to realise that in your eyes he must be something to be forgotten as time passes by. A knot of emotions, unable to be untangled, is born in his heart and makes it hard to navigate. Between the anger, the sorrow and the paranoia there is one thing Indra is certain of though. That he will have you bending down to his will, no matter what.

Madara Uchiha

🌑​You appear before him in a time of rare desperation as his heart feels heavy as the last member of his family is battling with death after having been mortally wounded by Tobirama Senju during one of their many battles. Everyone from the doctors has proclaimed that there is no saving Izuna yet here you stand, unfaced as you are surrounded by hostile Uchiha warriors and proclaim that you can save his younger brother from the tight grip of death. No one believes you, not even Madara yet you know of his deepest wish to not lose Izuna and ultimately Madara allows you to tend to Izuna. If you cannot fulfill what you have promised, he will see it through to make you regret every single word you have dared to use to lie to his clan. You defy all expectations though as you save his younger brother from unescapable death using a jutsu that no one of the medics in the Uchiha clan have ever seen before. As Izuna is on a safe way of recovery, many beg of you to stay a while longer and to learn the abilities that you possess.

🌑​The Uchiha value power and skill and you possess plenty of it. Madara, quite intrigued by you, only joins the offer of his clan as he asks of you to accept the hospitality of his clan so that he can properly express the gratitude he feels. To the delight of everyone you accept the offer though as you have been planning to settle down for a while to take a break from your travels. As the war continues raging on outside, you are treated kindly within the Uchiha compound as many of the strong clan ask of you to learn from you. You have no interest in the war yet your strength is undeniable as you have taken some offers to spar with some of the warriors out of your personal boredom. Some even suggest to make you an ally to fight against the Senju yet as you voice your clear displeasure against that idea, Madara sees it through to silence all who dare to think like this. It is no secret that he is utterly smitten with you at this point and does whatever he can to ensure that you stay with his clan.

🌑​In his mind he has already named you as the wife he wishes to take as your knowledge, sharpness and skill are most desirable traits. Someone special as you only deserves an equally impressive man. A man like him. Rumors have already spread, the eldest of his clan have already given him their blessing for his decision yet it is then that you decide that it is time to leave. You manage to sneak away from everyone yet he catches you in your attempt. Initially he persuade you to change your mind yet when he realises that you have made up your mind, he switches his plans and instead tries to use force on you. It is that night that he is bested by someone for the first time as not even Hashirama has ever beaten him so effortlessly. He is as impressed as he is humiliated, something he has never felt before. It is only then that you decide to confess to him your true origins and powers. Perhaps for others it would be soothing to know that they lost against someone who transcends through time and even space yet he has never been someone to resign himself to his fate. Red eyes glare at you as you go your separate ways as he swears that he will become even a god to claim you as his.

Feitan Portor

☠️Commonly it is believed that first impressions matter yet if that were to be true, Feitan couldn't care less. You truly appear in the wrong place at the wrong time as the city you currently reside in becomes an unfortunate victim of a heist of the Phantom Troupe. Completely left in the blind with what is going on, you do what you deem to be the right thing to do as you try to save at least some people which leads you to violently clash with no one else but Feitan himself. Initially your brave facade is scoffed at yet you manage to impress him to the point where he even finds himself enjoying a fight he initially is confidet he will win. You are just strong and stubborn enough for him to enjoy the idea of toying a bit with you and eventually break you. Just as it appears like he has won though, you finally seem to be mad enough to use your true abilities. Feitan doesn't fully understand what happens, only that you easily overpower him and shame him as he realises that you held back the entire time.

☠️​Humiliated and ashamed of his defeat he feels guilty for letting the troupe down by not doing his part yet Chrollo does not think badly of him as he knows of Feitan's skills. Instead it begs the question of what your abilities exactly are for you to defeat Feitan as effortlessly as you did. It would be safe to investigate you and Feitan is quite adamant to participate as he is silently brooding due to the defeat he had to suffer because of you. Very soon he finds himself confronted with the problem that he can't find any data about you as not even Shalnark can dig up information involving you. You may as well be a ghost and all of it only feeds Feitan's growing frustration as he finds himself reduced to the pitiful position of stalking you personally, just itching for a chance to fight with you again and get you back for his shameful loss. What was initially obsession for revenge soon turns into something else though yet when he fully realises the seriousness of it all, it is already too late for him to turn back.

☠️​The amount of time he dedicates to stalk you increases as he starts growing quite impatient and perhaps even a tiny bit desperate. Weeks of stalking yet he knows nothing about you nor about your Nen abilities. Why do you have to make it so difficult for him? When he finds out that you plan to leave the city and continue your journey, he is triggered. You react quite unfazed though even as the sharp tip of his sword is pressed against the back of your neck as his quiet and hoarse voice forbids you to leave this city. He still hasn't gotten his chance to beat you after all. To his dismay you reveal to him that you have known of his stalking the entire time, only adding more insult to his humiliation. You manage to defuse the situation though when you offer him the chance to ask you a few questions which you will answer to the best of your abilities. Whilst at first iffy, he takes that offer and asks you the question that has been bothering him the most. What exactly are your abilities? The answer you give him is too ridiculous to believe yet he senses no lie in your words. He falls silent yet you can see how he is brainstorming for a solution in that moment. He knows that you plan to leave. He can't have you do that.

Joseph Joestar

🦾​Your cover is instantly blown when you travel to a new world. Joseph, with his stupid luck, just had to see you suddenly appear through the portal you opened what should have been a reclusive area. Instead you meet eye to eye with none other than the young Joseph who is gawking at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face. You can't blame him for that. In the next moment he dramatically points his index finger at you, asking you aghast if you are some sort of witch. You fear for a short moment that you'll have to do something but to your luck the Joestar has no intention of stopping you as he tends to avoid problems normally. Instead you manage to figure things out with him as you have no choice but to confess to him the truth, especially since he seems to be quite witty and sharp, recognising it if you try to lie to him. After he has been convinced that you are merely a tourist from another world and plan to cause no chaos, you two instantly hit off.

🦾​Can you blame him though? It is not everyday that he stumbles upon someone who can travel through time and space. Instead he finds himself enjoying showing you around and being able to boost his own ego by amazing you with the stuff that is ordinary to him but new for you. He can't stop himself from flirting with you, although you find out that he does this quite commonly with the people around him so you learn to brush it off. He does like to remind you that you have the most unique and otherwordly charm of all people though. Quite literally. He enjoys your presence greatly though because you keep up with his antics, even if it has gotten the both of you in troubles quite some time before. It is only natural in hindsight that he caught feelings and whilst he may appear quite silly at times, Joseph is quite clever. Though he does like to think at the beginning that his feelings are nothing serious, he has no way to deny it anymore at a certain point.

🦾​He proceeds to act the same way he has always done to not rouse your suspicion but on the inside he is brainstorming already. He is no fool after all. You have told him yourself that you travel around when you get bored of a world. Very subtly he attempts to pry for more information about how exactly your powers, expressing genuine curiosity as he asks you if you can bring other people along. Honestly, he doesn't mind your abilities that much if it wouldn't be for the very real chance that you will simply never return to him again. If he would just know that you would reciprocate his feelings, he would even be up to tag along and see some new worlds for himself. He doesn't know if you feel the same though and even if he continues to flirt and has gotten as of lately more clingy and even a tad bit more jealous, he hesitates to tell you. He knows after all. He knows that his feelings are rather creepy and unhealthy. Let's just hope that he can delay your leave for as long as possible by keeping you entertained until he has found a solution...

Caesar A. Zeppeli

🫧​Caesar is no stranger to the concept of courting young ladies and stealing their heart in the process. He seems to be instantly attracted to you when he sees you as you have something special about you that he can't yet put his finger around. Adamant to discover what makes you so special to instantly capture his heart though, he does not shy away from approaching you with a gentlemanly playfulness that has always worked on women before. Whilst you appear to be amused as you can clearly see his intentions, you decide to see how it'll go out of curiosity nevertheless. You can indeed see the appeal in the young and hot-blooded man after a while as he truly doesn't hold back when it comes to his partner. Expensive jewelry and gifts are all given to you, dates in fine restaurants become a daily occurrence and sweet and romantic words that belong in a romance novel are whispered into your ears. Truly, he does not shy away from making a lady feel like the world belongs to her.

🫧​You can enjoy it only because you have heard and seen that he treats all ladies that way which is why you think of this as nothing too serious. That is until you notice the shift in his behavior. His eyes stray less to other ladies and solely focus on you with a warm and adoring glimmer in those green eyes, he invades your physical privacy by always taking an extra step to be closer to you out of growing protectiveness and you have realised his growing disdain as whenever he spots you with another man as he is turning without a doubt more and more possessive of you. You don't intend to have him fall truly in love with you because you know that you would leave him with a broken heart so you try to distance yourself from him in hopes that he will stop. Yet the moment you dare to pull back, his paranoia seems to increase. His mind is racing, wondering what it could be that has caused such a rift between you two and much to your sadness you find him multiple times in front of your door, begging you to tell him what is shackling your heart.

🫧​Caesar is fully aware of his reputation as a womanizer and he truly regrets it now that he has found the one lady he wants to marry and spend his life with. He is far too delusional to fully acknowledge the unfitting desperation he starts to display the further he feels you drifting away from him. As you notice that no rationality will work on him anymore, you decide to leave the city. The world you are in is still big after all and you have much left to discover. Yet you are aware that Caesar has abilities which aren't common for other people of this world to possess so you address an honest letter to him, trusting him enough to keep your secret safe. The heartbreak attacks him like a vicious dog when he breaks into your empty apartment after you did not answer the door and he finds your letter where you explain the situation to him. Still, he refuses to believe your words that deny that you two could never have a future together, something he has already envisioned multiple times. You poor thing must have never felt true love before to think that. As heartbroken as he is, Caesar is just as determined to find you and convince you of his feelings and the dangers that come with traveling all alone.

[tiny-librarian]

On this day in history, August 12th, two thousand and fifty four years ago, Cleopatra VII, the last active ruler of Ancient Egypt, committed suicide.

Eleven days previously, her husband Marc Antony had already done the same. The couple had been engaged in a civil war against Octavian, the great nephew of Julius Caesar who had been declared his legal heir. During the final battle in Alexandria, Antony suffered serious desertions among his troops and lost the fight. Upon his return, he falsely heard Cleopatra had killed herself and fell on his sword.

After Antony’s death, Octavian arrived in Egypt and effectively took Cleopatra and her children by Antony prisoner. She had sent her eldest son Caesarion, her only living child with Caesar, away for his own safety. She knew that Octavian planned for her to march in chains behind his chariot during his triumph parade, and would very likely have her killed afterwards. Rather than suffer such humiliations and indignity, she chose to take her own life.

Popular history and mythology leads us to believe that she was killed by inducing an asp to bite her, after having locked herself in her mausoleum with her two handmaidens. However, many modern scholars believe that she instead took a mixture of poisons, since the venom of an asp does not cause a quick or painless death. Octavian and his men found her too late to do anything, Cleopatra was already dead and one handmaiden, Iras, was nearly dead on the floor. The second, Charmian, was straightening the Queen’s diadem. According to legend, one of the men asked if this was well done of her mistress, and she shot back “Very well done, as befitting the descendant of so many noble Kings,“ before collapsing and dying herself.

Upon her death, Octavian honoured Cleopatra’s wish to be buried in her mausoleum at Antony’s side. He took her children with Antony, the twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios, along with their younger brother, Ptolemy Philadelphus, to Rome with him as prisoners of sorts. They were fated to march in his triumph parade in their mother’s place, the chains so heavy they could hardly walk. After this they were given to Octavian’s sister Octavia, who had been Antony’s third wife, to look after.

Cleopatra’s son with Caesar, Caesarion, was nominally sole ruler of Egypt after his mother’s death. Eleven days after her suicide, he was found after being lured back to Alexandria under false pretenses of being allowed to rule in his mother’s place. Octavian ordered his murder, on advice that “Two Caesar were too many.”

With Cleopatra’s death, and Caesarion’s subsequent murder, the rule of the Ptolemaic Dynasty came to an end and Egypt became a mere Roman Province.

[merbear25]

Hello ! I hope you're doing well <3 Spookie season almost reachs his end, i hope you'll have a nice halloween night !

Again here to request something for our dear Mad scientist. Something special ~ We all know Caesar is a freak, but his how deep is his loves for death, pain and chemical warfare ? How much does it affect him... May I request a NSFW fanfic of him, sharing a pleasant moment with one of his colleague or assistant ( a x.reader fem ) : Testing the new formula of his latest deadly creation on a subject behind the protective glass of his private lab. The moans of pain and cries of agony lasting for long minutes being a sweet lullaby to his ears. And sharing this with the woman at his side was driving him insane to the point he couldn't hide the depth of his excitement. It could be a established or unestablished relationship. Maybe a x.reader not as innocent or submissive as usual ~ This idea was clearly based on the scenes where he describe his experimentation, like the one with KX launcher, or Koro gas ~

Art by me on @ask-caesarclown-shurororo

I'm always down to write darker themes, so thanks for sending this in. I hope you like it💜💜

Gasps for air, bursting flesh, and the pleading look of panic left him in glee. The flush on his cheeks complimented the heat rising within him as he squirmed and shifted with excitement. Such glorious sounds and delightful imagery sent him into a frenzy. He was restless, needing to release this pent-up energy. That was when it dawned on him—his astute assistant. You’d be the one entrusted to rid him of these overwhelming urges.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, mentions of death, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, 69-ing, orgasm denial, implied creampie

The thrilling chill of death (Caesar)

Collapsing one right after the other, each person had their lungs seared with most having no more than slight discoloration on their necks. That tingling feeling was creeping up on him again. Watching the henchmen look at him with such heart-sinking betrayal when those doors closed and the toxins seeped in and that light in their eyes flickering until it went out completely—a thrill like nothing else.

A familiar heat nipped at his cheeks the longer he looked at them. Tilting his head from side to side, he examined each person’s reaction to the chemical carefully. Some exhibited greenish boils around their throats, while others maintained a green tint up til their untimely deaths. A boyish grin played on his lips at the thought of further testing. 

“What a promising future you have,” he chirped at the clouds dissipating into a light mist. The adoration he felt was making him salivate. He placed his hand upon the glass, not even holding back the furious blush on his cheeks.

He couldn’t help the little sway of his body when he journeyed back over to the computer. Humming to himself, the clicks of the keys matched his uncharacteristically upbeat mood. Pictures of what would become of the victims played in his mind, further sending him into a fit of excitement. However, the rhythmic beating of his thrill seeking heart was not the only part of him pulsating. With all this delight swarming around him, there was bound to be an effect on him elsewhere.

His eye twitched in slight irritation, when feeling a stir in his pants. The thought of setting a moment aside to take care of it himself crossed his mind, but a thoughtful knock on the metal door side-tracked this idea. There you were, prepared with the requested documents as always. His fingers tapped on the doorframe as he took a closer look at you, trying to gauge just what exactly your deal was.

Your eyes flickered over to the glass walls still containing the dead bodies, but his never left you. They held onto the rise and fall of your chest and the dilation in your eyes. Such subtle shifts that indicated interest, which bordered arousal. He stepped aside to welcome you in. 

“Would you like to take a closer look?” After he slammed the door behind you, his pearly white smile and glowing eyes kept on your heels.

You kneeled down to get a better look at what had become of these men. No fear pumped through your veins, just morbid curiosity that alluded to more degenerate interests. He leaned down, allowing his long raven hair to tickle your skin. “Do you want to see it in action?”

“Yes, actually…” The dark desire to witness death first-hand was something you forbade yourself from ever disclosing to others. However, Caesar was different. He would never be turned away from one who harbored such impurity. How could he when he was the same?

A symphony of hissing gas blended with soft chuckles—an orchestral performance to which the body going limp behind the thick paned glass was forcibly mute. Banging on the clear material soon turned into faint taps. An ill-fated guinea pig that was plucked from the litter and served its purpose, the hand of death held it closely while the gas filled the chamber in thick green clouds.

The sweet embrace of death—sweet to the onlooker but bitter to the one it was casted on. The orchestrator remained at attention not quite ready to pull himself away from the show as the final hums of the finale lingered. Their whispers caressed his ears, further bewitching him in the sounds of blissful horrors. His unsettling grin was now pressed into a content smile, his lips twitching slightly. He wet them as if to savor the remains of tragedy.

Tilting his head up to the ceiling, he let out a deep sigh. “You know, there’s nothing quite like the scent of death and despair to really get the blood pumping.” The gentle shift of his head towards you sent a thrill up your spine. His eyes peered down at you, their golden color practically dancing with anticipation. “But, I suppose you already know that.”

His perceptive remark tugged at the ball tightening in your chest. You could feel the sparks of witnessing death surging through you. The intensity in your eyes matched his, and the subtle nod you gave him only whetted his appetite.

Briefly, he pulled his attention back to the caged body. “Dying behind bars, well glass in this case,” he chuckled while looking at the lifeless form. “No hope of escape, only agony.” His voice was becoming higher pitched, mocking one of those who followed him so blindly.

“Watching the light in his eyes fade was truly remarkable,” you mentioned in a dreamy voice, recalling that faith he’d put in your Master getting snatched away.

“Yes…” he drew out. “It’s enough to make one giddy.” His eyes darted back to you. His lips stretched into a sinister grin once more as your gratification was becoming more and more apparent. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and clicked his tongue. “The night is far too young to call it quits now. Why don’t we bring in another? Just to really test all the ins and outs.”

The dragging of the corpse was promptly followed by promises that flowed past his lips so easily. Uplifting, inspirational, drenched with hope: each word had thorns hidden beneath the surface. The piercing blades stabbed into their sides once that moment of clarity came fatally late.

This one was a screamer. Even behind the barrier those choked cries for help carried through to both of you, and you couldn’t stop your heart from racing. Your pupils dilated while this man, whose gravest mistake was placing his trust in the wrong hands, began convulsing on the floor. You didn’t notice at first when Caesar turned to look at you; he was riddled with pleasure both from the shrieks of pain and the desire clearly bubbling within you.

He loomed over you, the sheer size of him causing your breath to catch in your throat. That look in your eyes… it earned a sly grin because he was sure of the type of woman you were, and he was unwilling to hold back from exploiting that any longer. 

Lips crashing into yours, the motion from his body carried so much force that you were levitated off the ground. Scooping you up in his arms, he held onto you tightly. You wrapped your legs around him, letting the skirt of your dress ride up your bare thighs. His fingers pressed into you while they cupped the delicate curves of your backside. While teasing the lining of your panties, his tongue traced your bottom lip. That little quiver from you made his eyes roll back.

His digits slipped under the cotton fabric and slid between your folds. A shaky moan escaped you when his fingers caressed your swollen clit. Looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, his wicked expression from earlier had shifted to one of arousal. Capturing your lips once more, each whimper and groan from you was devoured. His eagerness demanded entry into your mouth, finally allowing your tongues to tangle. As you panted in ecstasy, he plunged two fingers past your glistening lips. Those long digits curled within you, teasing your g-spot to coax any lewd sound out of you.

Watching you unravel with such ease had him breathing heavily. The look of bliss upon your face was made all the better with the dying man’s pleas in the background. Just as you looked as if you were going to delve into the pits of ecstasy, he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whimpering protest was quickly silenced with another sloppy kiss, this time coupled with his own desperate sounds for more.

When you nipped at his bottom lips, you lit a fire in him. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. The quick flip of your body onto the table caused you to shriek, but that shocked voice only made you that much more alluring to him.

Your voice hitched into choked gasps as he pushed as much of himself into you as he could. The stretching of your walls, the spasming of them, the warmth encasing him: your body was heaven on Earth. Thrusting into you slowly at first, he savored your high pitched moans as the tip of his cock pressed against your sweet spot. The fluttering sensation made him thrust harder and faster. Watching you claw at the surface and listening to your sweet euphoric moans stirred something primal in him.

His hands gripped so tightly on your hips that it was nearly painful. You were nearing that blissful peak once again, he could sense it. Just as you were about to fall off the cliff, he pulled out. Your sobs of frustration were muffled against the desk. Your hips swayed, offering you up as a forbidden fruit which he couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into. 

He hooked his arms under you, lifting your molten core to his parched mouth. He wasted no time in trailing his tongue over your pursed lips. It swirled around your engorged clit, while his hot breath bathed your sensitive skin before devouring every inch of it.

Your cries and shakes fed into his ego. Such a deliciously twisted little thing you were, a woman who could finally get that scratch he couldn’t reach. His long hot tongue coated you, plunged into you, swirled along every inch all in an attempt to strangle each groan out of you. His cock twitched from under you, beading with precum. You began stroking him, adoring the feel of him pulsating under your touch. You were able to fit just a little more than the head into your mouth, but that didn’t stop you from attempting to thrust even more down your throat.

He began moaning for more as he bucked his hips slightly. One of his hands tangled in your hair to hold you in place as he sought out more from your delectable mouth. Your gagging and coughing only made him crazier. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” He nipped at your abused nub before throwing you back on his shaft.

He dipped into your core again, groaning as he slid in with more ease. Your body quaked around him, so desperate for release. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, letting your quickened pulse dance under his grasp. His arm snaked around your waist, holding you closely as he thrusted deep inside you.

Your grunts of urgency, the way your nails scraped up his arms, and the tightening of your core: you were right where he needed you. He tilted your lustful expression back towards the test subject—died for the sole purpose of riling both of you up. An image that should have provoked disgust, instead had you singing more loudly for Caesar. He aided his thrusts with rough throws of your body against his hips.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he growled.

“I-I love it. Love it so fucking much.” Your slick arousal was coating him entirely. Wet slapping of your hips colliding was making it more difficult to hold himself together. Your chest heaved and your breaths became shallow. The sensation of your body tensing tore away any shred of control remaining.

In shared cries and groans of blissful sin, your bodies trembled from the lingering shockwaves. Easing you down, your legs buckled under you. Unbothered laughs came from above. He couldn’t help himself; witnessing you in such a state went straight to his pride. Inflating his ego even more was the sight of the trickles of cum pooling beneath your still shaky hips. A hum of satisfaction left him before he scooped you up in his arms. Your body was still flushed, and the heat of it was far more contagious than any disease he could conjure. 

His hands favored resting on certain curves of your figure as he carried you the short journey to the bedroom. Images of those unlucky souls having their lives ripped away were still playing in your mind. When Caesar placed you on the bed, his eyes roamed over you, feeling fairly pleased with himself.

His fingers traced up the softness of your thighs, making you shiver. He grinned down at you, knowing full well the boundless fun that awaited you both.

[damnflirtyape]

I like to imagine that Lake became the leader of the apes after Caesar's death. I think we're given some hints in War that she's quite possibly the best candidate to fill the role. We're shown from her first moment on screen that she's compassionate and reliable, entrusted with the care of young apes and confident in her work.

She's included in Caesar's counsel when discussing the Clan's future and plans. She's not afraid to speak her mind and does not hold back when she disagrees with Winter. It's bittersweet to see her and Blue Eyes; they're a good balance, he's matured since the events of Dawn and now acts as peacemaker, they would have been good leaders together.

Even though she shows a deep respect for Caesar and doesn't challenge him, she does openly question him. She doesn't hide her shock or confusion at his choice to leave the Clan and his son, but still acquiesces to his request. She trusts him and demonstrates he can trust her.

And this trust is deep. She's one of the few apes taken captive who still trusts and believes in Caesar after everything they've endured. She's the only one who will still speak to him, to not treat him with contempt. She's patient and resilient, not unlike a much younger Caesar.

I think it's a testament to Lake's character in how she doesn't lose that trust and belief in Caesar, even when he's not thinking his actions through. Sure it spurs all the other apes on, a show of strength and defiance, but she understands how dire their situation really is, even before the Colonel gives Caesar a brutal demonstration.

And she takes it upon herself to protect their Clan. It's desperate, she's terrified, but someone has to protect the apes when Caesar is lost in his desire for revenge. It's a show of strength and defiance in a way, but not to challenge the Colonel's authority, it's a message to the apes that they can endure this together, together they are strong.

And the Clan listen to her. Someone has to have some sense and her compassion is not a weakness, it's a strength and keeps her thinking straight, keeping the apes safe from as much harm as possible being her priority.

And I feel like there's an echo of the first time we see Caesar in war here, apes parting to allow their leader through. The apes trust Lake's judgement; her strength, compassion and resilience make her a natural born leader. I feel like with Rocket and Maurice as her advisors, she could have been an amazing leader.

[blogthebooklover]

I'll Never See Him Again (Mae)

Author's Note: Here's the one from Mae's perspective, once again inspired by Disney's Pocahontas. This is also available on Wattpad. I've included three human OCs for this one shot! I also snuck two familiar names from Supernatural, however, it is not the beloved characters exactly lol. This is also my first time writing a character who is nonbinary/genderfluid/androgynous; and the character uses they/them pronouns. I did my absolute best to be as respectful as I could. I also apologize in advance if there is any indication of negative stereotypes, because that was not the intention.

They took him.  Her human companions took Noa.  All because he wanted to see her again.  Mae dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands.  She was only trying to help rebuild the human race, under the direction of her leader.  On her mission, the only ones to show any sort of empathy and compassion to her, were the evolved orangutan and chimpanzee.  So soon after the deaths of her team.  

Her affiliation and alliance with them during that time, created the beginning of a conflict within herself.  The girl raised a hand to her neck, and pulled out the medallion of Caesar.  The last connection to Raka as well.

It was Noa’s gift to her to reflect on their time and her grief.

And it was the first one that wasn’t given to her by her parents or friends.

She felt tears stream down her cheeks as she clasped the medallion in her hands.  Mae did not consider herself to be spiritual or religious, she remembered her history lessons about the past 200-300 years and before.  How humans always had conflicts regarding religion and science.  However, whomever this Caesar was to the apes, she prayed silently to him.  She went down on her knees, still clasping the necklace in her hand.  The young woman prayed for Noa’s safety.

Her silent prayer was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall.  It was a former classmate of hers, from her history lessons as a child.  That’s right, they went by Gem now and presented as androgynous.  “Mae,” they said, crouching down to the girl’s level, “are you all right?”  

“No, I’m not,” the girl replied, “they took my…my friend.”   

“That monkey?”

“He’s an ape, not a monkey.”

“Sorry,” Gem muttered, “is he…the one you mentioned on your journey above?”

Mae nodded, sucking in her lips to keep from crying again, “All this happened because he helped me, and I…I almost killed him…Twice.  And now…I don’t know what our commanding officers will do to him.  Either keep him for experiments or kill him.”  “He was already outside the bunker, Mae,” Gem explained calmly, placing their hand on Mae’s shoulder, “he had a weapon on him.”

“Merely for protection,” Mae argued, “I’ve seen it for myself.”  Gem bit the inside of their cheek, thinking about the next thing to say.  

“Forgive me, but were you praying just now?” they raised an eyebrow toward her.  Mae decided she couldn’t lie anymore and nodded her head in response.  “I don’t recall you being the religious type.”  Mae felt a small smile tug at the corners of her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Perhaps I did so for my friend’s sake.”

Gem’s head shot up quickly, they had an idea.  “C’mon, I know what to do.”

X.X.X.X.X.X.

An hour later, Gem and Mae walked down the hallway deep inside the bunker.  The two came upon a laboratory the scientists and doctors used for research, as well as an infirmary.  Two guards, who were also former classmates from Mae’s history lessons, stood watch over the entrance of the lab.  Gem greeted the two, giving each a nod, “Dean, Sam.”  The two returned the greeting. 

“Mae wishes to speak to the prisoner,” Gem explained sternly, maintaining strong eye contact with their former classmates.  “On what grounds?” Dean asked, placing his hands on his hips.  Mae bit her lip, thinking up any lie she could to get into the lab to see Noa.  Then it hit her, “I have some questions for him.”

“The general already interrogated the prisoner,” explained Sam, reciting it like he had memorized the words from a textbook.  Gem and Mae exchanged a quick glance with each other.  “He sent me to conduct further questions,” Mae lied, sensing the subtle change in the atmosphere.  She secretly hoped the two guards bought the lie.  

It was Dean who caved in, “Be quick, they might return at any moment.”  He turned around and punched in the key code for the door.

He stepped to the side to let Mae through.  The young woman glanced over her shoulder to Gem, offering them a small smile in thanks.  Gem returned it in kind.  Mae inhaled a deep breath, and stepped through the door.  

X.X.X.X.X.X.

Mae walked into the lab and glanced around for any sign of Noa.  It was dimly lit and there was the low hum of the computers.  Her blue eyes widened slightly when she eventually found him.  

They placed Noa in a cage.

His back was turned to her, he was hunched over and she could see he was hugging himself tightly.  Mae walked slowly over to the young ape, when she was in front of the cage, she crouched down to his level.  She reached out her hand slowly to him, debating on whether to touch his shoulder.  Regardless of his cognitive abilities being so close to humans, he was still an animal.  

And just like humans, animals did not belong in cages.

She lowered her hand and called out softly to him, “Noa?”  The young ape perked up at the sound of her voice, and glanced over his shoulder.  When he saw it was her, he turned around fully to face her.  Noa locked his golden jade eyes with her own sky blue ones.  It was the same expression he had given her, when her human companions took him away.  It was also the same one he had that day, when she aimed her pistol at Proximus Caesar.  A silent plea.

“Mae,” he whispered, reaching his hand through the bars.  She took hold of it with both of hers.  The young woman noticed how huge just his one hand was between her own.  She felt tears well up again in her eyes.  The ape took notice of her tears, reaching up his free hand and softly brushing his knuckles against her cheek to wipe them away.  He cupped her face with that same hand and she leaned into it.

There was only one thing that was on her mind.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For getting you placed here.  For lying to you.  For…for almost killing you and your clan.”

Noa’s eyes widened slightly at this, this time she was sure he could read the sincere truth in her eyes.  “Mae…” he couldn’t find the words to respond to her.  However, there was one way.  The hand cradling her cheek gently pulled her closer, as best as he could from the bars, he placed his forehead against hers.  She breathed a shuddering exhale against his lips.  She felt the emblem of Caesar brush against his chest.    

 The young chimp inhaled through his nostrils, she briefly wondered if he had picked up her scent.  “I am sorry, too,” Noa whispered, “I should not…have come here.  But I am glad…I did.”  Mae pulled back slightly to look at him, biting her lower lip, debating on what to say next to him.  “Maybe…it would’ve been better if we never met,” she said , choosing her words as carefully as she could.  However, she doubted the chimpanzee in front of her believed her words.  He was too intelligent for that, briefly recalling their conversation in Trevethan’s room, and what was supposed to be their farewell outside of his village.

“I do not regret it,” Noa breathed against her lips, “I see you…as my friend.”

Mae felt more tears well in her eyes, she felt Noa’s thumb gently stroking her cheek, brushing away the ones that fell.  In the distance, she heard the door to the lab open and Gem calling out, “Mae, we have to go.”

The young woman sighed sadly, nodding her head so slowly it was hard to tell.  Noa noticed it, though.  “You must go,” he whispered, letting go of her face, “your clan is coming.”  Mae locked eyes with the male chimp once more, “Noa…”  “You will always be my friend,” he whispered, she noticed there were tears welling in his golden jade eyes.  He took a gentle hold of the medallion between them, “Important.”  She let her tears fall like the last time he said that word. 

She stood up, the move forcing Noa to release the necklace, she still had a hold on to his large hand.  She briefly glanced down at their entwined hands, noticing how small hers was compared to the chimpanzee’s.  The young woman reluctantly let go of the ape’s hand, which was still in the air reaching out to her.  Mae turned away slowly, walking toward the door to the hall.

When the door shut behind her, she could hear Noa release a feral screech of pain and sadness.  She could also hear the banging of the bars, she darkly imagined he was throwing his whole body at them.  Mae rolled her fingers into fists, clenching so tight her knuckles turned white, to keep from releasing more tears again.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Never Hijacked!Peeta Fics Masterlist (3)

Part 1 / Part 2 /

Created: April 25th, 2024

Checked:---

all the world's a stage-Abagail_Snow (ao3)

Summary: They'll never live down the stunt with the berries. They should probably just accept that. Peeta is rescued from the arena along with Katniss (post-Catching Fire/Mockingjay divergence)

Any Other Way-cozycoffee (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta are both rescued from the Quarter Quell arena. Written for This Would Have Happened Anyway Summer 2023 prompt. ash and memory-songbirdheart (ao3) Summary: No. The very idea makes me want to cry. I could never have killed him. Never. I would sooner have died for him, with him. I still would. That’s what I wanted, that day. Not a rebellion. Just one man’s life. Katniss and Peeta walk the desolate remains of 12; a both rescued by 13 AU. I, and Love, and You-oh_so_loverly (ao3) Summary: Four snippets following Katniss and Peeta both having been rescued from the Arena and brought to District Thirteen. Peeta's Proposal-sillymarigolds (ao3) Summary: After being rescued from the 75th Hunger Games, the Victors find themselves yet again pawns, this time in the hands of the Rebels. Ever the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee looks for ways to win an advantage in this new arena. A proposed solution by Peeta may just help in bringing about a happily ever after. roses love sunshine, violets love dew-adsofraser (ao3) Summary: Peeta is rescued along with Katniss from the Quarter Quell arena. They are able to grow together miles underground in District 13 as war in the districts rages on. "This Would Have Happened Anyway" Challenge for Summer 2023. Swan Upon Leda-FyreFlys (ao3) Summary: Katniss regrets that night 4 months ago during the victory tour, even if she doesn’t entirely wish it never happened. This part, however- the one where she’s being forced back into a death arena while four months pregnant- would be so much easier if it had never happened. Peeta isn’t supposed to know. So why is he telling Caesar, and all of Panem, on national television? OR: the fic where Everlark aren’t together yet, Katniss is pregnant during the Quarter Quell, Peeta isn’t supposed to know but then figures it out, Peeta never gets taken by the Capital and hijacked, and they try to live their “happily ever after”. The Brightest Timeline-Brown_Eyed_Devil (ao3) Summary: Peeta is rescued from the Capitol and brought to District 13 without having been hijacked. Katniss and Peeta reunite. You know the drill. The Things We Love Most Complete Us-geekymoviemom (ao3) Summary: “You love him,” Finnick told Katniss down in that bunker.  “Anyone paying attention could see it.” Anyone, apparently, except Katniss. Until it was too late.

This doesn’t hurt, does it?-endlessnightlock (tumblr)

Summary: Everlark in Thirteen featuring kidnapped but not hijacked Peeta.

[rypnami]

Aurelia Drusus

About

Full Name: Aurelia Florentina Bassa Drusus Nicknames: Auri, Lia Age: 16 (technically over 1,000) Date of Birth: 26 March, 60. A.D Sign: Aries Birthplace: The Holy Roman Empire Blood Status: Unknown House: Hufflepuff Wand: Doesn’t use one anymore Sexuality: Lesbian Species: Vampire Quidditch Position: Does not care

Appearance

Hair Colour: Dirty blonde Eye colour: Left eye pale blue, right eye emerald green Skin: Fair, tannish Body Type: Hourglass Height: 5’7 Other: FANGS!! Lots of moles on her face and arms, mysterious burn scars across her back, pointy ears. Her skin sparkles a bit tee hee hee

Personality

Traits: Brash, snarky, confident, sarcastic, adventurous, loyal (to those deserving) Likes: Fresh air, pretty women, analysing cloud shapes, Athena Dislikes: Almost everything else Patronus: Owl

Family

Parents: Livilla Bassa Drusus, Publius Calvisius Ruso Siblings: Plubius Calvisius Tullus Ruso Extended Family: Nero (Great Nephew) Caligula (Great Nephew), Gaius Octavius Leanas (Grandfather), Drusus Julius Caesar (Great Grandfather)

(yes, all these people were really related and yes, i did an obscene amount of research to make sure this was historically accurate and that if these people were her parents that she would have this extended family.)

Relationships

Partner: None Friends: None (mara. potentially xox) Enemies: Anyone who crosses her

Future

Career: None Spouse: None Residence: Anywhere she wants Pets: None Children: None

Backstory

(abridged)

Auri is a bastard child born to Publius Calvisius Ruso, a Roman senator, and Livilla Bassa Drusus. By Roman naming conventions, she was named for her mother, as her father wanted nothing more to do with either of them. Her childhood was fairly normal as far as things go, until she turned 15 and was bitten by a vampire. She doesn’t remember exactly what happened, or even who did it, just that it was someone she trusted who took advantage of her. It made her incredibly jaded and she almost never opens up to anyone anymore. As a result of the bite, she was cursed to what was supposed to be an eternal sleep. Because of where she was at the time of the bite, she ended up buried beneath the rubble of Vesuvius until 1860, when something or someone broke her curse.

Upon awakening she was pseudo-adopted by a visiting British researcher (and wizard), who helped her adapt to the modern world, taught her English, discovered her magical ability, and treated her very much as a daughter until he mysteriously died in 1887. Auri is determined to find out what happened to him, and by extension, to her, as she firmly believes whoever was responsible for his death was the same person or creature who turned her.

In 1890 she got a Hogwarts letter, as her magical ability was finally powerful and developed enough for the book of admissions to let her in. Much of her story in that time follows the canon of the game.

She ages much slower than a human, and although she is immortal as a vampire she will continue to age until she is the human equivalent of 20. By the end of the game canon she has finally aged to the human equivalent of 16, after having spent almost 30 years as the mental and physical age of 15, despite having technically lived over 1000 years. (side note, during her period of cursed sleep she did not age at all.)

After both her adoptive father figure and Professor Fig died, Auri snapped. She’s been struggling still to adjust to living in a world she was never meant to live to see, she’s lost everyone she ever loved, and still has no answers as to why this happened to her. She completely abandons her moral compass in a desperate hunt for any kind of reason, and is not above killing those who stand in her path. Driven partially mad by grief, she hardly lets anyone get close to her, paranoid that they too will die and leave her alone.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 4)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Caesar’s audience goes wild over Katniss. The volunteering, the dry humor and the dress to top it off. It’s more than her mentors hoped for; huddled at the viewing screen, on the twelfth floor. The people will remember her.

“How’d I do?” Katniss asks, immediately upon return.

“You were wonderful,” Effie rejoices.

The brunette looks to Y/N, tucked up under Haymitch’s arm. “Better than anything Haymitch could have scripted for you.”

He wrestles Y/N closer in retaliation. “Nice work, sweetheart.”

Katniss hasn’t known them for a particularly long time, but it is odd to find them so entangled without cause. Is something wrong? She has no more than a moment to ponder; now Peeta is in the hot seat.

“So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?” The master of ceremonies grins.

“There is this one girl who I’ve had a crush on forever.” He admits with the crowd now wrapped around his finger.

“Well, surely if you win she’ll have to go out with you.” Caesar laughs.

“No, I don’t think winning’s gonna help me at all.” His easy smile is lost, now solemn in this confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because she came here with me.”

Haymitch huffs a laugh, “kid’s got a knack for this.”

“Well that’s bad luck, isn’t it?” Caesar laments.

“Yeah, it is.” Peeta lowers his gaze. Earning him a few sympathetic sighs.

“And I wish you all the best of luck. Peeta Mellark!”

The audience cheers him off stage. Sending an unsuspecting baker’s boy into the elevator to meet the fuming girl on fire.

“She’s gonna kill him.” Y/N warns Haymitch, in a whisper.

“Relax, he’s helping her.”

“I don’t think she sees it that way.” Y/N knows Katniss well enough by now.

Her fears are confirmed when Katniss clamps her hand around Peeta’s shoulder and shoves him up against the wall. “What the hell was that?”

“Ahhh!” Effie squeals at the sight. These people are savages.

“You don’t talk to me, then you say you have a crush on me? You say you wanna train alone? Is that how you wanna play? Huh?” Katniss seethes, keeping her partner pinned there.

Peeta does not fight, makes no move to free himself.

“Stop it,” Haymitch shouts. Watching Y/N peel Katniss off of Peeta.

“Let’s start right now!”

“Stop it!” Haymitch repeats. Taking Katniss by the arm so Y/N can check on Peeta.

“You ok?” She gives the boy a once over.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, still in shock.

“He did you a favor,” Haymitch explains. Strategically speaking, she should be thanking him.

“He made me look weak.”

“He made you look desirable. Which in your case, can’t hurt, sweetheart.”

“He’s right, Katniss,” Cinna steps in.

“Of course I’m right.” Only been doing this twenty-four damn years. “Now, we can sell the star crossed lovers from district twelve.” Haymitch reasons.

“We are not star crossed lovers!” Katniss lunges for Peeta again.

“It’s a television show!” Haymitch snaps. Feeling Y/N’s hand on his back, steadying him. “Being in love with that boy might just get you sponsors; which could save your damn life.”

“Let’s get to bed, hmm?” Y/N pats Peeta gently on the cheek. “Tomorrow is a big day.” She steps around her husband to give Katniss the same treatment.

“Good idea,” Haymitch decides. These kids will be the death of him. “Maybe we can deliver you both in one piece.”

————————————————————————

“You stay away from the cornucopia, it’s a bloodbath. Look for allies, water and high ground; remember what I taught you. They’ll show the fallen tributes in the sky each night, incase you lose count of the cannon.”

Peeta nods, hands clasped in Y/N’s as they approach ground level. Katniss is with Haymitch, in the adjacent elevator, receiving similar wisdom.

“If there’s no water, that’s where sponsors come in. We’ll send it as soon as we can.” Y/N tells him. Cover all your bases, this is your last chance.

“What about Katniss?”

“Same goes for Katniss, whatever you need, I’ll do my best to get.”

“I asked Haymitch to throw my sponsor’s money to Katniss.” Peeta tells his mentor. “Save her, for her sister.”

“You have people rooting for you too,” she says pointedly. “Never forget that. If you change your mind about the sponsors just say so.”

The doors open into the scorching sun near the launch pad.

Peeta steps out, still hanging loosely from one of Y/N’s hands. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Bring it in,” her arms open wide.

“Thank you, for everything.” Peeta hugs her, in parting.

“You’re welcome.” Y/N returns the embrace, just as tightly.

“I’m gonna make you proud.”

————————————————————————

“And that Claudius, is the familiar sound of cannon, symbolizing the end of another fallen tribute.” Caesar narrates.

Eight down in the blood bath.

Haymitch takes a steadying breath, the children beside them in the viewing room run about. Brother chasing sister with a toy sword while the parents look on and laugh.

Y/N is deep in conversation with Cashmere, paying them no mind. Pointing to the screen on occasion as they whisper amongst themselves.

The boy trips over his little sister, falling sword first against Cashmere’s back.

The blonde smiles, turning the plastic blade away, “you got me.”

The kids giggle and run off, leaving the parents to apologize. “We are so terribly sorry.”

“No worries.” The blonde is not here to mentor and doesn’t want to draw anymore attention. Excusing herself after a moment.

“Everything ok?” Haymitch asks.

Y/N nods, eyes trained on the monitor.

Haymitch knows better than to push for information she isn’t ready to give. Instead he focuses on the positive, Katniss and Peeta are still alive.

The boy forming an alliance with the careers. Stupid…smart if it doesn’t get him killed. The girl forging a path away from the excitement, she wants to go it alone. Stupid of a different variety.

In the games you pick your poison.

Part 5

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k

[lisaiese]

lyrics in EPIC: the musical that changed my life trajectory

I don't know if it is the fact that I spent five years of high school studying Latin and Greek classics that makes me do this, but here I am writing a long ass tumblr post about some lyrics from the songs of a musical based on The Odyssey, the Homeric epic poem.

Enough chit chat, let's start from the lyrics in the first very song of the musical, 'The Horse and The Infant' from The Troy Saga:

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose All you can choose is whose

UGH so good already! Here we have Zeus speaking at the end of the song, basically telling Odysseus that killing in war is his duty as a man and a hero. This obviously kind of sounds like bullshit for us, but we have to understand the ancient culture behind it: in ancient Greece going to war was a symbol of honor. Think of the scene where Hector and Andromache met again, Hector really embodied the "I know that I probably won't come back to you and to our son (opsie), but I have to go"

Andromache said: “Dearest, your own great strength will be your death, and you have no pity on your little son, nor on me, ill-starred, who soon must be your widow…Please take pity upon me then, stay here on the rampart, that you may not leave your child an orphan, your wife a widow.” Hector responded: “All these things are in my mind also, lady; yet I would feel deep shame before the Trojans, and the Trojan women with trailing garments, if like a coward I were to shrink aside from the fighting.”

A key word is shame: many times my professor told us students about the 'shame culture' in ancient Greece, which Hector clearly refers to here. Therefore, it's either honor or shame: for the Greek dying in war was better than living like a coward. Through these lyrics - and also the next song of the album ('Just a Man') - we can notice how the characterization of Odysseus is different from that of heroes like Hector and Achilles: he seems more human. After all, it is no coincidence that he is characterized not only by physical strength but above all by intelligence: he is a 'Warrior of the Mind' (quoting one of the most iconic songs of the musical). In the first verse of The Odyssey, Homer calls Odysseus πολύτροπος, a term that literally means "of many turns" and can be translated as multifaceted, versatile, cunning.

Next lyrics are from 'Remember Them' from The Cyclops Saga:

What good would killing do? When mercy is a skill More of this world could learn to use

I chose these lyrics for two reason:

they are so well connected with the first ones and show how Odysseus still has his morality here (you have a long way my friend)

it is such a good phrase honestly, let's appreciate it

Actually, something to reflect on could be the theme of mercy, but I don't really remember a lot of information about it and I don't want to write about things I'm not so sure about. In fact, what I rememeber pretty well is mercy related to the Roman/Latin culture, in particular to the figure of Ceasar: Cicero attributes to Caesar the virtue of clementia, which is the term used in Latin to represent mercy. Apparently he is the only one who, among all the military leaders, stood out for his goodness of soul, so noble that it is not enough to simply compare him to great men, but he must be judged similar to a god («haec qui faciat, non ego eum cum summis viris comparo, sed simillimum deo iudico»). That's basically everything I can give you about the topic. I would dive into it more by talking about the musical itself, analysing how this is connected to Odysseus' relationship with his morality, but then I would really be writing an essay here and now, which would ruin the order and logic of this very long text.

Let's move on to the next lyrics from 'Ruthlessness', from The Ocean Saga, which made me gasp so hard the first I heard them:

You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great A Greek who reeks of false righteousness, that's what I have 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done

Speechless. Mind-blowing. The earth shook. You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great Hello??? Sorry Ulysses, but Poseidon ate. 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done Like, where do I even start to talk about this. Poseidon is actually throwing the naked truth in Odysseus' face! Everything so far has a logic:

Zeus tells Odysseus that he has to kill Hector's son Astynax (which he does in the end, for the sake of going home)

Odysseus spares Polyphemus (maybe because of guilt? He is just a man, afterall...)

That mercy results in a literal god (Poseidon) wanting to have vengeance: if Odysseus had been ruthless, he would have put mercy upon himself (yeah that's a direct reference to the lyrics Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves)

Now we finally arrive at my favorite saga (aaaaa): The Circe saga. Starting from some very simple lyrics, but so impactful, from the 'Puppeteer':

But this was a hell of a twist, cause we are weak to a power like this What was it? A woman

Hell yeah, a woman! Clearly, you are just a man (another reference, got you!). Ok, return to serious talk. I think most of us know that women were often portrayed as bewitchers, source of evil and misfortune, in ancient times, especially in the Greek culture. Let's think about the story of Pandora's box: it is a myth narrated by Hesiod in the poem Works and Days. According to it, the first woman on earth, named Pandora, was gifted a jar by the gods. However, led by curiosity, she opened it and, by doing so, she released sickness, death and many other unspecified evils. She then closed the jar and only one thing was left behind: Hope. This story (one of many and one of the most famous) perfeclty exemplifies how women were considered dangerous and, at the same time, powerful, as bringers of evil.

Next, from the same saga, let me present to you the best lyrics from the song 'There Are Other Ways':

There are many ways of persuasion There are many modes of control Maybe showing one act of kindness Leads to kinder sould down the road

AAAAAAA. Circe you are such *incomprehensible adjectives of praise* woman. Here Circe basically gives Odysseus' morality hope, let me explain: until now we saw how Odysseus' kind soul and his mercy led him to antagonize a god, on the other hand (in theory) killing a child opened the doors for him to return home. From these observations the only "lesson" that can be deduced is that behaving like a "monster" is better than just "being a man" (yeah I love referencing). BUT Circe kind of destroys this reasoning, proving that a good soul can take him so far... aaaand of course it's a woman who does this

Moving on: The Underworld Saga, lyrics sung by our favorite prophet Tiresias:

I see you wife with a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies (who?)

This song? Chills. Literal Chills. The song in itself is a forshadowing, an oracle. I chose these lyrics specifically because they forshadow Odysseus' darkest moments in the journey, by specifically pointing out what he becomes: [...] a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies Who? Odysseus you ask. It's you. It's you in the future, and you know why it's "no longer you" (yeah, another quoting)? Because you will have lost your morality by then. Honestly? We kind of all expected that, sorry not sorry Odysseus.

And directly connected to that we have the lyrics from 'Scylla', from The Tunder Saga (it's orange because there is no yellow):

We are the same, you and I, I

Just this one final verse, so powerful. Odysseus encountered mermaids and was merciless with them, after that he went to the lair of Scylla. They are actually the same: monsters. Or at least, Odysseus has become like her.

And now, in The Wisdom Saga, we welcome back the badass of the arena: Athena! Let's hear what she wisely says in 'Little Wolf':

One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined

It's always the women guys. Athena's appearance to help Telemachus fighting the suitors is so crucial: her words and herself gift us that ray of hope and goodness that was lacking ever since The Underworld Saga. Here she refers to Telemachus, Odysseus' son, who is called a young wolf. While at the beginning of the song the suitors were using the term "little wolf" to basically mock him, Athena changes the connotation: he is not a little wolf, he is a just a young wolf, with a good soul and heart. Even a wolf (an animal) is more good-hearted than a man, but here who actually is the animal and who is the man? Athena, a godess, knows best.

Finally, The Vengeance Saga, from which the best song (almost cried listening to it) is, of course, 'Six Hundred Strike':

After everything you've done... ...how will you sleep at night? Next to my wife...

OMG. Literally OMG. Here, at the final showdown between Odysseus and Poseidon, our hero prevails. Poseidon asks: "After everyhting you've done... how will you sleep at night?". I don't know if my interpretation is right, but this is what I think Poseidon meant with his words:

after everything you've done (and been through) to get here... how will you sleep at night? -> will the trauma spare you?

after everything you've done as you became a monster... how will you sleep at night? -> will the guilt spare you?

And Odysseus just answers with a "Next to my wife", because that's what he wanted from the very beginning, to come home, and he will achieve his goal. His story is the story of a journey: obviously, a journey back home, but most importantly, a journey of someone who is 'Just a Man' (got you again with the reference). Odysseus is just a man, a human being who has encountered countless obstacles, who has had his ups and downs, who has thrown his morality into the sea to return home. And what is this, if not life?