#like she can't be his age and have a relationship with caesar

[navree]

"cleopatra movie starring zendaya as cleopatra and timothee chalamet as octavian" i was having a good day and now i have an anger headache

[crimson-mage-02]

Thoughts on Kingdom of the Planet of The Apes!

It's been a while since I posted something on Tumblr. So here it is! I am so stoked to watch the new film! Which is coming soon in 2 months. Cannot wait.

First impressions, I love Noa so much. He is going to be a true and caring leader in the making. As far as we know he's going to have an coming of age ceremony, earning his place in the Eagle Clan. Which I love! I am also so curious to see where his journey may lead to. Which made me be so curious about his origins. I had theories that he might have come from another ape clan before joining the Eagle Clan. Hence why he doesn't know much about his past. I was also thinking and believing that Proximus Caesar knew that Noa was a direct descendant of Caesar. So maybe, Noa's old family protected him from the other bad apes and that was the reason why the Eagle Clan was distant from other apes.

Maybe that was the reason why the Elders didn't tell Noa everything until his coming-of-age ceremony with his friends. He started to doubt his existence. His place in the clan and in the world. Seems like a journey to the past. Heh get it, lol. Okay moving on.

Let's talk about Mae. At first glance, I thought she is going to be the character that stands out the most as she is a mysterious human who is smarter than most as Raka mentioned in the trailer.

I love how she's there to help Noa but also have an agenda of her own. There's not much known about Mae but im truly curious to see where her character lead to. I'm also so excited to see the friendship between Noa and Mae.

As it was shown in the trailer, Noa was seen shy and cautious around Mae. It was seen when he handed the blue shirt to keep her warm. And throughout the rest of the trailer, it looked like they have a created a way to trust each other by saving each other. As it was discussed in discord with @bookishdaze.

As their relationship with each other, I can't wait to see how it expands and develops through the trilogy. Noa and Mae are each others anchors and are the future of apes and humans co-existing.

I also got this ridiculous thought about Noa's 'birthmark', seems like he is depicted as the sun.

Well, it means it symbolizes his firmness, strength and power. Those traits alone depict Noa strongly. That's who he is. Though he might grow into a mighty leader to the apes by the end of the movie.

As for the moon, well, represents calmness, beauty, and nurturing. Those traits qualifies to Mae. Despite her being mute, she's still a woman with a mission and she's not going to stop at nothing. She also cares about others around her, especially Noa. Their relationship is one the most important key moments for the film.

Both balance out so well yet so distant. That might show Mae and Noa's relationship well in the beginning of the film, maybe.

That's my thoughts on the film and on Noa and Mae. Not saying I ship them or not. I just find their friendship really wholesome! 🙈🙈 I just can't wait to watch the film when it comes out.

[mutfruit-salad]

I have a few I'd love to share, so I'm gonna make this kind of a long post :P

First off is Gaines, or Prentice. He was part of an eccentric family in Vault 21, though they left after House's takeover. Born to a painter father and a mechanic mother, he inherited a great love of mechanics and creativity.

His family moved into Freeside, lending their technical knowledge to the town as it grew in the wake of House's revival. Gaines ended up joining the Followers at a young age, reading voraciously and taking a liking to old text-based RPGs.

His distaste for open spaces and his private attitude led to him self isolating in Cerulean Robotics. He is a talented computer scientist and roboticist, and still considers himself part of the Followers. They drop things off for him to decode or tinker with, and bring him meals to keep him fed. He's very content just spending time with his Mr Handy, Lampwick, and his games and projects. His biggest friend in the Followers is April Martimer, who often stops by to talk about his work and share her expertise with him.

Velimir Manalo, or Vel, was the personal blacksmith of Legate Lanius. When he was young he was an apprentice blacksmith to his adopted father, though the Legion's raid led to his capture. His father, being a ghoul, was killed. But Vel was taken and made a laborer for the Legion war effort. He was an incredible blacksmith, and had a natural artistry that made him stand out from the more utilitarian Legion ranks. He was personally selected by Caesar to draft and construct the Legate's armor, as well as the Armor of the 87th Tribe and other ceremonial / status pieces.

He managed to escape the Fort one night, barely making it to NCR territory by crossing the river in the dead of night.

He holds himself responsible for "building" Lanius, feeling as though his skills were used to give face to the Legion's greatest monster. Lanius is nobody without the mask and sword, and he feels he's responsible for giving face to him.

He can't do blacksmithing anymore either, out of fear and hatred for it. He feels as though his hands were taken from him, and his talents were perverted for war. He wants to reclaim his art, but finds the act of creation too difficult. I envision him as a companion, who joins my Courier, reclaims his own work, and forges a new blade to kill Lanius himself- reasserting his personhood and putting down the monster he made.

And the last one I'm gonna share here is Talitha Murphy, or Tally. Her parents were part of the Desert Rangers before the Ranger Unification Treaty. Her father joined the NCR, and her mother took her into the desert to live as a hunter.

Her armor was inherited from her mother as she aged- a cultural holdover of the old Desert Rangers. Though she's made it her own, and doesn't plan on having her own kids to pass it down to- so she's taken to carving kill markers into the helmet. Her skills with a rifle and her general scrappiness made her a very competent bounty hunter, and she quickly achieved great things as a bounty hunter. She particularly likes working for Mr House, who she helped in his efforts to take over Vegas after his revival. House doesn't trust her, as he sees her as too ambitious and too likely to backstab him, but they have a good professional relationship.

Despite her hatred of the NCR she does love working for them, as they're professional, pay well, and offer a lot of support. She enters my story when she's hired by Moore to take out my Courier after he installs Yes Man. She ends up abandoning the mission however, and hoping to work towards gaining power in Vegas.

She's a major antagonist to my Courier, taking advantage of the deaths of the Omerta leaders to assert herself as the head of the Omertas in a hostile takeover. She mostly opposes my Courier politically, hoping to take control of Vegas herself. She's very business oriented, but could easily kill my Courier without breaking a sweat, something that leaves him incredibly intimidated by her.

And yeah :D that's a few of my non-courier OCs and how they fit into my idea of my Courier's story!

Tell me about your non-courier fnv ocs ❤

[pollylynn]

Title: Caesar Shift WC: 900 Episode: Rise (4 x 01)

He wonders what secret decoder rings go for these days. He wonders what cereal box tops he should have been collecting and how likely it is there’s some kind of buy one, get one offer he can send away for. He wonders if anyone still ships things cash on delivery. These are the burning questions he has because he sure could use a secret decoder ring. He could use two of them.

It’s not really new a gap in the wardrobe, though it’s news that there are any gaps in her wardrobe, at least. He looks back on the last three years and it’s a simple task to pick out all the moments between them that might have gone so differently if the two of them had had a pair of wearable, his-and-hers Alberti disks.

The past is the past, though. That, interestingly enough, is a two-way message that’s coming in loud and clear. Three months are gone. She said she’d call. She didn’t, and he’s still mad. They lay all those cards on the table, and in the same frustrated motion, they sweep it clear. The past is the past, and there are new rules of engagement. That’s why they could use a pair of decoder rings, to sort out what that actually means—to get a grip on what means what in this brave new world.

Brave is one word for it—for what he seems to be now. Reckless is another. Stupid . . . Well, he could go on, but he’s not entirely sure what any given word for it might mean right now. So he plays against type. He vaults right over the word for whatever it is he seems to be now and looks at his actions.

He’s done with backing down, chickening out, hiding behind the idea that he’s respecting her boundaries, going at her pace, following her lead. Whatever a spin of the concentric rings might call it, he’s done with it. He learned his lesson at her hospital bedside, and he’ll never get the bitter taste of that unasked question off the tip of his tongue.

You don’t remember . . .

But he’s done with that. Whether it’s anger or the decades he’s aged over these last three months—the decades he aged watching her die in that ambulance—he is simply done ceding ground. Whatever the secret decoder ring might have to say about the source of his newfound whatever, satisfaction is the word that emerges from the cipher when her face goes blank with surprise when he cracks open the new rulebook for her.

He asks about Josh and just keeps asking. He confronts her about freezing up on the job, about the way she’s teetering on the edge of the rabbit hole. He tells her—in not-very-sophisticated code—to cut the crap with the magical thinking about being okay, having leads in her mother’s case, just needing time. He debuts the new Richard Castle from God Knows Where, and there’s a next-level thrill in the challenge accepted narrowing of her eyes.

He doesn’t have words for the shift in her any more than he has them for the sea change in himself. She . . . talks. It’s halting at first, and it hurts. Even when the glare of his own anger is most blinding, God, he can see how it hurts, and still she does it.

He hasn’t kept count of the words. He almost wishes he had. He almost wishes that his brain, for once, wouldn’t inexorably edit on the fly, because he’s absolutely certain that the number of words she speaks in a row have set some kind of record, and still he’d like the exact count.

But more than that—more than even a word count to crow over—he’d like a secret decoder ring. Because she says she really, really liked Josh, but it wasn’t enough, and that last part is too familiar to be a coincidence, isn’t it? It’s the mystery phrase from that he’s turned inside out and upside down in his mind since the night she’d told him they were over.

I have been running around with the school's funniest kid, and it's not enough.

It means—it has to mean—that she’s looking for enough, doesn’t it? It has to be a gauntlet thrown. Or is it his version of magical thinking to believe that beneath the surface, she’s telling him that she is in the market for enough, or she will be once she addresses every damned thing he told her was going on with her that very same night. Crawled inside her mother’s murder and didn’t come out? Check. Serial hiding in nowhere relationships? Checkity check.

He definitely wants a secret decoder ring to confirm that she’s just more or less said he was right about everything. She’s just more or less called him out for being chicken shit when she demanded an answer from him—What about you, Rick?

So here they are, he a man of action, she a woman of not-so-few words. It’s a flip flop, a topsy turvy, a Freaky Friday—Jodie Foster vintage, thank you very much. There’s a word for what this is, for what they are, for what they’ll be in times to come. There’s a word for it, but he needs a secret decoder ring to figure out what it is.

A/N: I feel like Brain Poneh has already gone to this place, but I can't remember when/where. Probably because I am awash in a sea of morphouslessness.

images via homeofthenutty

[arllenn]

image des: I really loved the fact that your brought their past into the light, that you made them actually effected and reflected on it. So often I just see stories focusing on their relationship with the "new" characters (Caesar, Luminous, Johann, The Gen fam) so following that line of thought.

Can I request a flashback scene? Like when we get requested to make it snow (at the beginning of the game) the group of friends reaction to it snowing makes you reflected on your past. In which a fluffy meeting/promise happens between Z, Renata and you. Or even any fluff you can think of between the three? It can be when they were kids or the age they were at during the game.

Admittedly I would love it if you can really focus on Z and the Character interaction/relationship because we all know he cares for Renata; they have that slacker x mother hen childhood friend vibe going on. But the idea that Z and you are ACTUALLY close (it just LOOKS like your friends with Renata and only friendly acquaintances with Z from the outside) makes me happy and bittersweet.

Sorry this got so long!

Tags for this chapter: fluff, hurt no comfort, bittersweetness, pure angst at first tho Tw: mentions of death and cannon typical violence, puke, death Time setting: pre japan like imagine if the mc got an adjustment period at cassell before they got shipped off to dragon war

You smiled happy to be of help to the friends who were separating today. Their cheerful giggles and cries of happiness as they raved over being able to leave on a snowy day just like the one from when they had met made your insides bubble with warmth and nostalgia. Z, Renata and you had been the same once..... before, before Herzog had...

You shake your head, now isn't the time for this. You wring your wrists, it's a habit you picked up from Z, though you two do it for different reasons. You feel a bit light headed, your knees are weak, it's so weird to see snow and not see your beloved friends among it. It just felt wrong to not feel their warmth around you in this cold tempature. The others giggling is getting too loud, it's beggining to ring in your ears and bounce around in your head at the same time as the memories of Renata and Z pour out of your head and spill in front of your eyes. You stiffly walk over to Claudia, left foot, left hand, right foot, right hand. Back and forth back and forth. You want to leave, but it’d feel wrong just going without checking with her.

“We met and departed on a snowy day.” She sounds so happy and while you’re glad that you were able to help them you also can’t help but feel cloying jealousy at the fact that this trio, Claudia, Susu and Leah get to be together, to meet and depart on snowy days filled with joy, while you can’t. You want to be able to see Z and Renata, you want to be able to tease them while jumping for joy and promising to stay in contact. You want to be able to send them off with a smile on your face and a promise to be well.

But you can’t.

And that’s it.

There’s no going back and searching, there’s no making up after an argument, there’s just nothing. Renata is dead Z is dead everyone is dead! And you can’t do anything about it.

Staggering away you start walking towards one of the benches in the courtyard that face the library. To say that you collapse on it would be an understatement. It’s like all the bones in your body liquified then disappeared at that moment. You clench at the snow on the bench, using the all too familiar feeling of it to guide you through your memories. The day you arrived at the orphanage, the first time you met Renata, Z and you arguing over who would get to hold which of Renata’s hands, the day Vera had arrived, so small and only a year old. You remembered her small finger curling around your own while Z helped you readjust how you held her.

Just Renata, Z and you.

But now it’s just you. You clench at your throat, clawing at it as if that’ll destroy the lump forming in it. You bring your knees up to meet with your chest. Burying your head in your arms. It hurts, you want to see them. At this point you’d even take Anton and Khorkina’s belittling of you or even Ivan and Sherkman failing horribly to hide the fact that they were dating over anything else that could possibly occur right now.

Rubbing your face on your knees you try to get rid of the few silent tears that have begun to spill. It doesn’t work, in fact it just makes everything so, so much worse. Memories of your childhood fly by, you’re loosing your grip on reality you know that. You don’t want to do it here. Not on a bench where anyone can see, if you’re completely honest you don’t want to confront them at all. But that isn’t an option, it’s never going to be an option for you, because you’re trying so hard to push them down and stamp them out right now. And it’s not working.

One of the wandering vending machines come up to you, clawed arm holding something in it. You can't see it at all, your line of sight only contains your legs after all, but you can hear the distinctive beeps of the machine, the whirring of its mechanical organs that allow it to move. You can feel the jagged edges of a wrapper lightly scratching at your leg through your uniform. The robot beeps twice shoving the snack into your leg once again before dropping it and skittering off. Lifting your head up you stared down at the snack you had been left with. Maybe the world really does hate you. Maybe you deserve to constantly have your mind ripped at and heart torn apart, because laying there in front of you is a cookie a chocolate chip one at that. The second your eyes land on the bubbly font that spells out chocolate you cant help but watch in horror as Vera falls in front of you, mere feet away, body still warm as she hits the snow, dead. You feel the bile rise in your throat, it isn't something that you can just swallow down either. Hand clapped over your mouth you stand, getting ready to run.

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

You have no idea how you've made it back to your dorm room without puking on the way here, but now you're sitting over your toilet dry heaving into it. You stare down at the item that made you like this the choco- you spit into the toilet. Cookie, you'll just refer to it as a cookie. You consider tearing off the top half of the wrapper but then the smell of the cookie and the chocolate might just tip you over the edge. Instead you settle for smacking it away from you. In some small way it makes you feel better.

You hate that Herzog has ruined this for you. You hate that you can’t even see the word chocolate without feeling your insides churn, you hate that you can’t see snow without seeing your friends bloodied corpses staring back at you, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cookies were the first dessert that you had ever tasted and the last one. You remember the day you had first tried to bake them.

That day Z had let you in his room, Renata was sick, and neither of you were allowed to be around her as per Herzogs orders. With the knowledge that you have now you think you understand why you weren’t allowed to see her back then. Rather than actually being ill Renata was probably suffering from the side effects of the incomplete evolution pills. But either way natural disease or not it had been just you and Z. Sitting side by side on his bed, you laying with your torso hanging off his bed partially, practically upside down, and him crisscross leaned up against the wall that his bed bordered, a hand close enough to your leg to catch you if you started to slip. You two had been mindlessly talking, reading some book that you’ve forgotten the name of now, alternating turns each chapter. When you had gotten to a part where the main character was making cookies for their friend as a get well gift.

“Hey Z, have you ever had a cookie? I mean I’ve heard of them but I’ve never even seen one.”

“I can’t say that I have,” he yawned, “I’m not a big fan of sugar in general. That combined with the fact that the orphanage doesn’t even get the ingredients for them makes it obvious that I’d never even have the chance to try them, same as you.”

“That’s too bad, based on the description I think they’d be pretty good. You think Renata has ever had one?”

“I’m not her, I wouldn’t know.”

“I mean fair enough, but I kinda expected that you would, you guys spend forever having those late night talks after you send me to bed.”

You haul yourself up and spin on your ass so that you’re looking him in the eye, “Speaking of~, I won’t allow you to marry my daughter young man!” You cross your arms in an ‘X’ in front of you shaking your head. “Absolutely not don’t think I’ll allow anything of the sort!!”

Snorting he had pushed on your forehead with his finger until you were laying down the same as before and used his foot to roll you away from him. “2/10, If you’re going to give me a shovel talk then you should at least be intimidating, 1, and 2 you should do it in front of Renata so that you can embarrass her, who just gives that kinda talk straight to the supposed,” he raised his hands and gave out finger quotations “boyfriend?”

“Is that back talk I hear sonny? Don’t make me get up there!”

”Yeah because you haven’t already.” You can’t see him from your position but you can hear the smile on his voice. An accomplishment if you’ve ever seen one! You mean the stoic eternally tired Z was snorting and smiling because of what you said! You always loved times like this, when you would manage to break through his exterior and draw out a reaction, (preferably positive!!), out of him. Tapping his knee you grip onto his leg to pull yourself up once more, you can see him contemplating rolling you off the bed, thankfully he chooses peace for once.

”No okay but dead seriously, let’s go make cookies for Renata. We just got the shipments a little while ago, there’s got to be some of the stuff we need in there! We’ll just ask Herzog,”

“Or steal”

“Yes, or steal, come on it’ll be great!”

“Normally Renata would be here to stop you, which I am always grateful for since it means that I don’t have to be the one to talk you out of these things,”

You snap your fingers, “Speed it up Z, do I have a partner or am I gonna have to start running before you catch me?”

He claps a hand over your mouth which you look down at “Don’t you dare lick me,” is what he says in response to your stares. “As I was saying before someone cut me off,” if gives you a pointed stare, “Normally Renata would be here to be the voice of reason, however since she’s ‘sick’ and I don’t want to have her on my neck about you getting in trouble later here are my words of caution,” He takes his hand off your mouth and pats slaps your cheek twice before bringing the tips of his fingers in between the book page that you had been on and the next, folding it over and closing it. “Don’t, and if you do don’t get caught.”

It was your turn to snort, “What the heck, you suggested stealing in the first place!” You laughed. He shrugged his shoulders and set the book down on his bedside table getting up off the bed and bringing his arms above his head to stretch.

”I never said that we weren’t going to steal if that’s what you decide to do I simply offered you a word of advice about you stealing alone.

”AWWWW Z I knew there was a reason I put up with you!” You cried jumping up off the bed and attempting to latch onto his back,

He turned to face you swatting your hands away, muttering about you being “too big for him to carry like that anymore”

“What was that!?”

He pinched your cheek with one hand and used the other to ruffle your hair in a way that you knew wasn’t meant to be affectionate but instead to mess it up. “Look at how big the babies gotten! It can walk and talk now! Go ahead say ‘papa’ again!” You knew that you could never win against Z in a fight, all attempts left you on the floor with him sitting on you, or you hiding behind Renata and you exercising your lying and puppy dog eyes abilities. But boy oh boy did Z have a way of activating your Cain instinct and making you want to slap the shit out of him (affectionately of course). You heaved out a long suffering groan, and pulled Z’s hands off of you. You walked over to where his dresser was and sucked your teeth as you stared at your reflection. You tried your best to undo his damage to your hair, but it was a lost cause, hanging your head you turned to him with what you hoped was a horrifying, knee shaking, earth quaking, chicken baking, glare.

“This is why you’re an orphan.”

“Fair enough.” He said with a shrug before motioning towards the door, are we leaving now or what.”

“I’m coming, we’re going.” You said waving your hand at him in a shooing motion.

The minute you stepped outside it had been like you were ass blasted into one of the shipment containers mega freezers. You rubbed at your arms, lamenting the fact that you lived on a hunk of ice in the middle of a polar bears ass cheeks. “Okaaay so,” you clapped your hands together, “Do we know where Herzog is?” Z yawned and shook his head no from beside you. “Alright thank you for your participation! Gold star! I’ll go ask Anton, you stay here. And don’t fall asleep!” You ran off to go find Anton ignoring Z’s comment about you acting like a stray dog.

Heaving you clutched at the toilet, sobbing over the loss of your friends. You couldn’t even think of the times back then as being over, you just can’t.

No, that’s not right, you know they’re over, you know those peaceful days of snow and teasing are over. And yet you still long for them, you want to feel Z’s hands in your hair once more, want to feel the thrill of catching him off guard and running to hide behind Renata. You want back the times that you had spent, absorbed in watching Vera as she took her first steps, your young self amazed that anyone could ever be so small. You miss those moments when you seriously contemplated smashing Antons face into the ice under your feet, missed the random times when Ivan would pull you away to look at something cool that he had found. You just missed being homeyou miss the safe feeling that you had been provided with daily back then. Ignorance truly is bliss you suppose. If you had survived not knowing about what Herzog had done, if you survived thinking that all of this was just some randoms attack on you and your family would you have been happier? It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.

You dry heave and spit into the toilet, bile rising in your throat but not to the point in which it would spill past your lips. Your vision is blurry from the tears and your head throbs with the pain of the pressure your tears are both building up and releasing. “I wanna go home…” you mumble slowly laying yourself down on the floor, hands clutched into your hair, fingers threading themselves in with the strands and pulling at them like a tide. You would yank at your hair then let it all fall out of your grip, massaging your scalp slightly, and then yanking at it again. You continued in this way as the blurry memory of that day played in front of you. Anton being no help, Khorkina doing her best to goad you into punching her, Ivan being somewhere that you swear was unreasonably high up. Eventually finding Herzog and asking him, him granting you permission as long as you cleaned up after yourselves, running back to Z with the good news.

“Z! Z! Listen to this!” He looked up at you from his spot on the stairs, clearly bored out of his mind, but hey at least he hadn’t fallen asleep like you asked!

He made a twirling motion with his hand “What is it?”

You placed your hands on your hips and grinned, “Herzog says we can use the stuff in the kitchen as long as we clean up afterwards!” You gave an overzealous thumbs up afterwards to make your point even clearer.

“That’s great!” He said all too sarcastically. Getting up he put both hands on your shoulders resting all of his weight on them before finally standing up straight shushing you and your whining.

It hurry you so much to know that everyone is gone. It hurts to know that you’ll never get that chance to just see them again, to hear their voices, catch a glimpse of them on the street. Instead they’re all dead and there’s nothing that you can do about it. You had watched everyone die, you had seen their eyes glaze over and go out of focus. You had seen how their blood stained the pure white snow a bright and somber red. You had run past them as you registered them as dead, praying to nothing but everything at the same time that at least one of them would live. That you would get to hold at least one of them in your arms as you two promised to stay with each other. But you didn’t get that. Instead you got to watch as Renata faded into the distance, your last hope, you got to claw through icy waters, pleading your legs to move, to allow you to save your dearest friend….

”Z, Z, Z! Help me I have no idea why the egg keeps cracking like that!”

“Maybe it’s cracking like that because you keep squeezing them until they explode.”

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me young man! I’ll have you know that Dr.Herzog says that I’ve made great progress in my home economics studies.” You proudly bumped your chest with your fist only to look down and see your uniform covered in egg goop. Z snickered before handing you a rag and motioning for you to hand him the bowl and the eggs. You slid it over to him with your elbow and focused on cleaning your hands and uniform up.

”Here,” he held up one of the eggs,”I’ll show you how to crack an egg, so that you don't end up wasting all of them.” He hit it lightly on the edge of the bowl, holding both ends of the egg with his fingers and pulling his palm so that the egg slowly slipped out of the shell before proceeding to throw the shell somewhere off to the side of him. He pushed the bowl back towards you with a smug look on his face. "You get it now?"

"Yep, yep, yep," you waved your hand at him dismissively before turning back to the book. "Okay so now we mix wet ingredients and dry, then we add in the chocolate." Getting the chocolate for the recipe had been the hardest part. With how rare chocolate is at the orphanage and the fact that you weren't allowed into your room because of how sick Renata was it had been hard to find any. Eventually after bribing Z and way too much effort on your part, you had ended up on Z's shoulders searching through the backs of the older and dustier cabinets, in one of which you had found a chocolate bar that was a week off from its expiration date. Not the best but it could've been 10 times worse you suppose. Z pushed the chocolate towards you with this hand before resting his head on his hand.

"So how much longer do we have? It's getting late." Z stifled a yawn.

You glanced at the book and back down at the cookie batter that you were currently scooping out and onto the baking sheet. They didn't hold their shape as well as the book described them as being able to but you supposed that it was just a matter of reality vs. idealized fiction. "Um I don't know. The book says that they need 25 minutes to bake properly and who knows how long its going to take to clean this all up."

"Well good luck with that." He said slapping his hand down on the table, turning around on his stool, and standing up.

Even if it was just the memory of the sound, the slapping of Z's hand on the table sent a wave of nausea scorching through your body. Everything was a blur, reality, what you were really seeing, cold white tile and the rug in front of the shower were blending together with the cold white of snow, the rug that was in you and Renata's cabin. You felt hands on your face, were they from the memory of Renata checking your temperature or were they your own? Your vision was swimming, you were underwater, you were lying on the bathroom floor. You were drowning, you're lying on the bathroom floor. You're dying, you can't see.

You clamored up in a haze, you have to run! You have to get to Renata and Vera and Anton and and and and! And you slam into a desk that was out in the middle of Hezog's lab. Z is right there, Renata is right there, Vera is right there! All you need to do is reach out a little further and you'll be there! You'll be able to save them! You finally latch onto Z's uniform begging him not to go, begging him to stay with you, because if you go alone then everyone will die. "PLEASE Z!" You yell out. "I need you, I need you, I need you, everyone's dying, dead, dying dead, dying, dead, I can't save them! PLEASE!" And then the Z you're holding onto collapses, leaving nothing but a pile of clothes behind. His uniform lies bloodied in your hands. Renata lies bloodied in your hands. Anton lies just out of reach, dead. "Come back, please." You clutch onto Z's uniform harder. The tears don't falter as you trace your hands along the sleeves of the uniform. "The sleeves are too short you should get Herzog to make you a new one." You chuckle fondly. only...

Only...

Only the uniform has too many mistakes for it to have ever been Z's, theres too big a difference in size. It doesn't smell the same. It's not his... it's yours. You're not at the orphanage, you're in your dorm at Cassel. You're sitting on hardwood floors right now, not the powdery snowfall of home. Its warm, not cold, theres no dead bodies, only you and the mess that you made when you stormed through here earlier. You choke on a sob, tears coming down in even thicker streams, your headache had bloomed into a splendid migraine. You can barely see straight, but you know for sure that this isn't anywhere near, by or in the orphanage. And it can never be. The orphanage is gone now. Everyone's bodies are probably still lying on top of the snow, glassy eyes unfocused and unseeing, faces twisted in fear. Or maybe they've been charred to ashes, with nothing left to remember them by, their remains carried by the winds or at the bottom of the sea. You clutch your uniform tighter, biting down on it to muffle your screams and sobbing.

You have no idea how long you've been here. Your tears have faded now, only leaving the uncomfortable burning of the dried tear tracks in their memory. You don't stare at anything in particular, theres nothing left of your emotions, just the dull ache of apathy. Your vision is spotted with dancing black circles and lines. They look a bit like what you imagine TV static would look like but you really have no idea. Your conscious waves and ebbs like the tides from back home. You can't think of anything other than the feeling of the cloth clutched in your embrace right now. Sighing you bury your face in it, resigning yourself to a night on the floor.

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part VI

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part V

Summary: You went to the hospital to tell Joe and your Brother about your relationship. But it seems you weren't the only one with the same idea.

Warnings: Make out sesh?

***

You did not have the best idea, you knew that. Your adoptive father is in the hospital after he almost died and now, you decided you will give him a heart attack.

Wells made it very clear that there is a time to do this, specifically after Joe gets discharged. Much to his dismay, you pleaded the man non-stop. He gave in eventually.

Now, walking down the busy hallway of the hospital to go to Joe's room, it became more and more evident that you were really going to regret this. The nervousness you felt was nauseating. Your hands were cold and sweating like crazy. You felt bad for Wells; he was holding your hands the entire time.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked for a tenth time that night.

"Yeah totally. I mean— he's already in the hospital— what could go wrong?" You chuckled nervously.

He grimaced and pressed his lips in a thin line. That says it all. Bad idea.

Approaching the room, you let his hand go. You don't give it away and be able to explain properly.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. You stepped inside to find Iris there with Eddie by her side. She was saying something and hugging a bedridden Joe. They look like they just arrived as well.

These two are rarely in the same room with Joe around, and you have a feeling that they might be both here for the same reason as you do. But hopefully, they don't, because in this situation two is definitely not better than one.

"Got more room for one?" All heads turned to you. You walked towards Joe and went in for a tight hug. "You gave us a scare there, old man."

"Can't get rid of me that easy," he chuckled heartily, as you let go.

"What are you doing here, Dr. Wells?" Barry's brows furrowed.

Wells gave him a small shrug. "Just want to wish Joe a speedy recovery."

Among other things.

"Thank you, Doctor,"

The whole room shifted. You even started fiddling with the hem of your coat. Tense, awkward. You all had turned quiet as you exchanged nervous glances, uncertain how to break it to the man on the bed without him going ballistic.

Barry, knowing what Iris and Eddie are here to do, cleared his throat. "I'll let you guys talk." He turned to leave, not before signaling to you to do the same thing.

"No. Stay, Barry," Barry shot you a strange look, but stayed nonetheless, putting his hands in his pockets, shifting on this leg awkwardly.

A jolt of fear rushes through your body. If it felt so bad earlier, right now it's even scarier. You sucked in a breath, glancing over to Wells for support and approval. He nodded sternly, eyes staring back ever so assuring. This is really it. You turned back to Joe, letting go of your breath and spoke,

"Dad, we have something—"

"Joe, we have something—"

Both of your heads whipped, sharing a look.

"You go first," she gestured to you.

You shook your head rapidly. "No, you go first,"

"No-"

"Okay," Joe grunted, sitting up. "I know y'all dating."

Your heads quickly whipped to Joe froze. You were both mortified.

"I know,"

"You do?" Iris blinked, stunned. Everyone was.

He rolled his eyes in disappointment for no one in this room giving him enough credit. "I'm a detective, remember? You are lousy liars." You all laughed, knowing it's true. He looked at Wells, finger pointing to him accusingly. "And you, Wells. You think I didn't see those hickeys? You showed up with them and my baby girl was limping— you think I wouldn't put two and two together?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands to hide your blush. You were not just embarrassed, but deeply guilty.

"So, you're not mad?" Eddie inquired.

"Oh, I'm mad. If the doctor hadn't confiscated my gun, we'd be having an entirely different conversation," Joe told him.

The poor man paled, the smile wearing off his face. He gave Iris a nod, and turned to leave. You knew it's time for a family meeting.

"Hey babe, meet me in the car?" You turned to Wells, eyes hinting what's about to go down. He quickly got the gist, and excused himself.

When both men are out of earshot, Barry and Iris gave you an incredulous look. "Wells?!" They both exclaimed.

"What?"

Joe was shaking his head, eyes looking on you and Iris, clearly displeased. But obviously not hell bent. "You girls and your taste in men will be the death of me."

You moved to his side, you placed your head on his shoulder, hugging him. Iris did the same thing. Not that he was very willing to admit it, but you and Iris have him wrapped around your fingers, and you know how to always convince him.

"Please don't be mad," you cooed to him, nuzzling to him and holding his hand.

"But I am. A cop and the man who blew a hole in the city," he sighed heavily.

"It's not so bad," Iris appealed.

"Yeah right," he scoffed.

You both try to make him feel better about the situation, but it occurred to you that this one will definitely take time to get accustomed to. You both went behind his back, and that's something.

You have to leave since Wells is waiting for you in the car. Barry offered to walk you, and you know there's an underlying agenda to that. But he hasn't said anything since you entered the elevator, didn't even dare look at you. He's walking on eggshells, always been.

"So, are you mad?" You broke the silence, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat.

"No. Just surprised." You thought that was perfectly understandable. Then he turned to you and snapped. "I mean, Wells? How? When?" He bombarded you with questions with his hands in the air.

"When you were in a coma. 6 months ago,"

"6 months?! Why didn't you tell me?!" He exclaimed. Your face scrunched up.

"In case you forgot, you just woke up from a coma, and the last thing I want to give you is another reason to be in one again," you explained. "You got powers, and meta-humans appeared."

He sighed, nodding. He put his hand inside his pocket, before asking, "Does he want kids? Can he have th—"

Your cheeks went warm, blushing red. "We haven't had that talk yet," you interrupted.

"Right." Barry mumbled, realizing how awkward his questions were. "Do you love him?"

You nodded, a small smile formed on your lips, cheeks warming up. "Yes."

Barry didn't say anything anymore. You know he's still trying to take it all in. His baby sister is dating his mentor, who is almost the same age as their Dad. It's quite a shock.

"Is it weird?" You cocked an eyebrow.

Barry snorted. "Yeah." You bursted out laughing.

The elevator dings, reaching the underground parking area. The door slides open and you step out. When you got to your car, Wells was waiting there for you.

Barry stood there, he and Wells were having a stare off or something. For a second, you panicked. He's not a totally violent person, but it doesn't mean he can't get angry.

But Barry just stifled a curt nod at Wells. "Take care of her," he said.

"I will,"

He turned and walked away, back to the elevator. You helped Wells get in the car, before climbing in yourself. You started the engine and drove out of the hospital's parking lot.

"Should I drop you off at the lab?" You asked him.

He shook his head. "No. I think a night in with you tonight would be very nice,"

You looked over to him and shot him a smile.

"Okay." You muttered.

Despite the fact that Barry was the one who kicked Nimbus' ass, but your muscles were sore and tense. In your defense though, it was one hell of a day. You just want to sleep and cuddle with Wells. You are so glad that you have the rest of the weekend to doze off.

You came out of the bathroom and stepped inside of your bedroom after a warm, relaxing, well-needed shower.

Wells was already sitting on the bed, tucked in, already halfway through a book. You love how he can lose himself while having a read. His brows furrowed slightly, eyes focused solely on a certain page, then quickly moved quickly to the other page. He reads a book faster than anyone you know, aside from Barry.

You slipped in the sheets, sitting up beside him. You peeked at what he was reading to see which one of literature and philosophy finest books has captured his attention again. Your eyebrows scrunched up, puzzled at what you are reading; it's written in Latin.

"What are you reading?"

"Julius Caesar," he replied, flipping to the next page.

"I thought you read that already?" Your tone changes, subtly hinting him that it's time for bed.

"I did," he answered, not even taking his eyes off it.

You glared at him in disbelief and huffed. Perhaps it was too subtle.

"So, maybe you can ditch that and let's go to bed?" You inquired with the same tone.

He glanced over to you, not showing any sign of expression at all. He stared at you and you know this means to let him finish the book he read over a hundred times before. So you stood your ground, and hardened your stare.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine." He closed the book shut, took his glasses and set it on your nightstand.

"Thank you,"

You were ready to lay down and sleep for the next 24 hours, but he spoke suddenly.

"I booked us a table tomorrow night to this fantastic restaurant midtown,"

Your head snapped to him, a surprised look immediately etched in your face. He said so nonchalantly. "Wha—" you were speechless, sputtering words, your mind processing what he just said. You try to form coherent words, but all that came out from your mouth was a laugh, bewildered. "A-are you taking me out on a date?"

He grinned, clearly amused with your reaction. "Yes. It's time we have some decent steaks, don't you think?" You swatted his chest, shooting him daggers, while he laughed. You swore to God if you perfected cooking steak, it'll be the death of him.

"I mean it." He ceased laughing, taking a hold of your hand. "I have a lot to make up for. And I'm gonna start by treating you like a queen. My queen." He planted a kiss on your knuckles.

You cupped his cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. "You're lucky I love you," you murmured, leaning into him.

"Oh, I know." He chuckled.

You giggled, capturing his lips, and kissed him sweetly. He deepened the kiss, slowly getting passionate. His tongue roamed inside your mouth, you tried to fight for dominance, but surrender to him eventually.

His hands moved up and down your body, then settled on your boyshorts clad bum. He caressed it with his long fingers and squeezed it tightly, before he slapped it, the smacking noise resounded in your room, startling you a bit. You couldn't help but moan, you feel pleasure alighting in the pit of your stomach. Your hand palmed his chest, bunching up his shirt tightly. You were getting carried away, and he as well. You pulled away gently, catching your breath.

"I just wanna cuddle and sleep tonight," You murmured, running the pads of your thumb across his cheek.

"Is that why you didn't wear pyjamas, Miss Allen?" He teased and squeezed your bum once more.

"What? They're comfy," you grinned.

"Right," he chuckled. "Okay." He gave you a last peck on the lips, before turning off your lamp.

You both lay down, he wrapped his arms around, protectively. Your tense and tired body relaxed, as you snuggled up against him. Like a small child, you felt in his arms; a sense of security and the feeling of home washed over you.

You looked up to him and saw that he was in some sort of daze, caught up in his own world and yet aware of his surroundings. His eyes were gazing up to your ceiling. There isn't really anything special on the ceiling, except mold. You pondered what he was thinking about. Perhaps how much of a rollercoaster ride the last 24 hours was?

"I am so glad we worked everything out today," you began. "I don't know if I can sleep tonight if we didn't talk,"

"Me too," he replied, rubbing his thumb against the skin of your shoulder, absentmindedly, didn't even glance up to you.

"I was scared, you know, I thought I was actually gonna lose you," you added in a whispered voice.

He exhaled. "So did I. I'm sorry I made you feel that way,"

"S'okay. I'm sorry I snapped at you." You couldn't take it anymore, your eyes were feeling heavy and they fluttered close.

"It's alright. I understand,"

You nuzzled your head on his chest, hearing his faint heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, slowly lulling you to sleep.

He kissed your hair softly, then murmured. "Good night,"

"Good night,"

You can feel yourself falling deep into sleep in a matter of seconds.

You both slept in until 11 am, and you were more than glad that you were able to get him to stay. You didn't even have to plead.

It wasn't until you were having brunch— he cooked, which was for the best. Apparently, he saw you cook eggs before— that it occurred to you that it's really happening. You're going on a date. Tonight. An actual date. You repeatedly told yourself a hundred times today, still not able to wrap your head around it.

You were nervous. Although, you played it off.

You didn't want him to know you were nervous more than you were excited in fear that he'd cancel. And you didn't want to miss out on a highly possibly great date with a great man. You literally fought for this. You can't chicken out.

It's just that your experiences with dates were, well, not so much—the men you went out with were not so much. They tend to turn out pretty boring, pointless and often self-centered. They ditch you or you ditch them. It was a restless cycle and it exhausted you. So, you just never go to one. And it's not like you're going out with some random dude. It's Harrison freaking Wells!

So as soon as he left your apartment after brunch to go home, you panicked for a certain amount of time, then called someone who could help you.

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection, while holding a dress over your frame. You tilted your body left and right, face scrunched up, obviously not pleased with the dress. It's too skimpy, too tight, too short for your liking. You don't even remember buying this dress.

You huffed loudly. "I look like a stripper." You threw the dress on top of a pile of clothes on your bed. You and Iris have gone through your entire wardrobe collection, and no perfect dress is turning up.

"How about this?" Iris walked to you with a bunch of hangers in her hand, showing you a particularly bright red dress. The last thing you want was Wells to look like he's your sugar daddy.

You shook your head. "Too bold." She threw the dress. Underneath the red dress was a long, ruffled sleeves dress, which you knew you only bought from a thrift shop, because it was so cheap. The color faded, at some point you were convinced that it was from the 1940s, although it's still pretty decent

"Yeah, if I want to look like Grandma Esther," you snickered.

She sighed exasperated as yet another piece of clothing was added to the pile. Iris held out what seemed to be the final dress she had. She raised an eyebrow, eyes were basically pleading you to choose it. You can't blame her. You are one picky girl.

It was beautiful. Your eyes lit up at the sight of itl; beige, knee-length and made of silk— with frills. Exaggerated as this may sound, but as if on cue, the angels sang with their angelic voices the moment you laid eyes on it.

"Perfect," you mumbled.

"Oh thank God," Iris groaned. She picked up a pair of heels by the edge of the bed. "I picked out these shoes for you; they'll match with that," she added, handing it both to you.

You dashed off to the bathroom to put on your outfit. As soon as you came out, you checked yourself out in the mirror. You were right; it suited you so well. You still feel sexy wearing it, but it wasn't screaming at your face. You still retain a respectable, elegant demeanor.

From the side of your mirror, you saw Iris standing behind you, arms folded, watching you fondly.

"What?" You broke her out of her reverie.

She smiled softly. "Nothing. You look amazing,"

"Anything else?" You raised your eyebrows, looking at her through the mirror, knowing there's more to it than she says.

She shrugged, shaking her head. "I just can't believe it— you're dating Harrison Wells," she sounded as shocked as she was yesterday.

If you were being honest, you can't quite believe it as well.

"Yup. Much to Joe's dismay," you chuckled, although you couldn't help to frown. Iris quickly saw it.

She walked to you, wrapped her arms around you from behind and rested her chin on your shoulder.

"Ignore him. He'll get it over it,"

He will, you are certain of it. But it doesn't mean it wouldn't be nice if he was fully supporting it. He didn't say anything to discourage it, he probably isn't going to say anything about it ever, but you know he's not a fan of it.

"Yeah. Hopefully soon," you murmured.

"Although, it is Harrison Wells," she started. You rolled your eyes and groaned internally. "I'm not even done— I just mean, it's something that's going to take time for people to warm up about this. He blew up a hole in the city and he's much older than you,"

"I know that, Iris," you exhaled audibly. You didn't need a reminder of that. You tell yourself that everyday for the last 6 months.

"I know you know that. My point is that this relationship is gonna go through a lot of tribulations, and I just want you to prepare yourself for it. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?" She sounded so motherly, locking eyes with you.

You frowned, but nodded. You understand her point, you really do. Joe, Barry and the rest of the team, you know they genuinely care for you. But this is your relationship, and you know when it comes to love, it has it's own challenges and pain and it's something you have to deal with.

Abruptly, you heard multiple knocks all the way from the living room.

"He's here," you whispered.

You both quickly shuffled, you grabbed your purse, making sure you got everything you needed inside. Iris fixed your hair, tucking in some strand that stuck out.

Then, there's your pile of clothes on your bed that's not gonna clean itself. You panicked for a second there. Wells was outside, and you're pretty sure you're both gonna crash here after.

"Go! I got this!" Iris ordered you. You hesitated, because you know she's not going to do it. But Wells knocked some more. Much to your surprise, Iris already started hanging the dresses. So you leave it all to fate— and Iris—, and head for the door.

You took a deep breath, taking it all in. This is it. This is really it.

You opened the door, putting on a shaky smile. "Hey," you mumbled.

He cleaned up well. You don't know what it is with a suit minus the tie, but you absolutely love it on your man.

His eyes raked you up and down, mesmerized by you, jaws dropped. He looked at you with those blue orbs, glinting in the way that is so not good. He just never saw get dressed up before. All the time you just wore your normal, often coffee-stained clothes.

"You look absolutely ravishing." The way those words rolled off his tongue made you weak to your knees and you flushed slightly.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself," you said shyly.

He helped out his hand to you, lifting an eyebrow. "Let's go?"

You nodded, intertwining your fingers with his.

You closed your door, as you stepped out of your apartment. And as you walked down the hallway, your heart was thundering like crazy, so nervous and excited.

God, you hope this date turns out well.

***

How do you all think the date will turn out? Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part VII

[mamapriest]

1952-61 / AN ALLY FOR MARILYN / LOUELLA PARSONS /

Date of birth: August 6, 1881, in Freeport, Illinois.

Date of death: December 9, 1972, in Santa Monica, California.

Exercise: journalist, columnist for the "Herald Examiner" (belonging to the "Hearst" group). Her column was authoritative in Hollywood. She was one of Marilyn's greatest allies, and arguably the most influential columnist in the film industry - a title that her rival, Hedda HOPPER, would certainly have challenged.

At the end of 1952, she met Marilyn for a radio show. At the beginning of 1953 she took up the cause for Marilyn; this one could count on it to throw a veil on the rumors and to give, in general, a positive turn to unflattering events at the origin.

On January 1, 1953, she attended the Cinemascope Party.

In 1956 she accompanied Marilyn to London, where she attended the party organized by Terence RATTIGAN in honor of Marilyn.

In July 1958, she was present at the press conference for "Some Like It Hot".

On March 6, 1960, she attended the "Golden Globe Awards".

In 1960, she went on the set of "Let's Make Love".

Wielding a cleverly catty pen is an art. Historian Gary Wills has identified some of our best known classical authors as also being the earliest gossip columnists, including Catullus for this snappy epigram on the subject of an invitation from Julius Caesar: “Join your party?/I might, mighty Czar,/Could I remember/quite who you are.” Step forward a couple of centuries and the pen was being wielded by two of the most dangerous star-makers and star-breakers Hollywood would ever see: Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons.

Hedda Hopper & Louella Parsons, Vanity Fair

It was fan magazines that helped create the idea of "movie stars". Motion Picture Story Magazine was launched in 1911 during the era of silent films and the appetite was insatiable: this magazine was the first of what would become nearly 300 titles in the genre.

At the height of their power in the 1940s, Hopper and Parsons' rival columns had a combined readership of 75 million people (half the population of the USA) and the industry was just as much in thrall to them, if not more so, than the public, as Bob Hope said: “Their columns were the first thing we looked at every morning to see what was going on.” Both women had a long association with Hollywood and powerful connections which they exploited ruthlessly, against the stars and each other. Hopper began as a bit-part actress. She appeared in around 120 films, hit hard times (probably because she refused to entertain LB Mayer on his casting coach) but retained enough industry friends to eventually be hired by MGM as a journalist to offset the power of Parsons, her one time friend. Parsons, by contrast, was a journalist from the start whose career went stellar after she forged a friendship with publisher William Randolph Hearst's film actress mistress Marion Davies.

Time satirising Hopper's trademark hats

Both women were highly skilled at blurring both their own pasts (editing their marriages and their birth dates) and their colourful lives. When it came to their quarry, however, nothing was off limits.

Louella had informants everywhere, from studios to hairdressers’ salons and doctors’ offices. When Louella received a tip that Clark Gable and his second wife, Ria, were going to divorce, she��kidnapped” Mrs. Gable and held her hostage at her home until she was sure the story was hers first. Hopper ruined Ingrid Bergman's career after she had an affair with Roberto Rossellini and became pregnant - not because of the affair but because she gave the story to Louella.

Hopper's attacks on Marilyn Monroe were so vicious, fans wrote letters after Monroe's death blaming Hopper for the suicide - apparently she didn't give a damn about that or about the skunk Joan Bennett sent her as a Valentine's gift. When she was asked by actress Merle Oberon “What inspired all the vicious things you’ve been writing about me?”, her response was simple and really rather chilling: “Bitchery, dear. Sheer bitchery.”

The end of the studio system in the 1950s, the spread of television and the rise of tabloid magazines such as Confidential which was notorious for making up stories with no basis in fact at all, changed the relationships between Hollywood, its stars and the public. Parsons and Hopper faded away and, while gossip and some of its perpetrators seem to find continuously new lows in this 24/7 internet world, no other individual writers since have held such long-lasting and dangerous power over other people's lives. I can highly recommend the film Trumbo if anyone wants to know more, Helen Mirren's portrayal of Hopper captures her awfulness to perfection. 

The Golden Age of Hollywood, or so this period is so often called: proof that layers of gilt and polish and pretence can't hide the poison under the surface. 

*Sources: skyrock.com

thehistorygirls.com

[navree]

Have you watched Rome (HBO)? If yes what's your opinion on it?

I've watched some of it, but to be honest I didn't really like it. They got things like how society operated in that time, and I think Ciaran Hinds is an incredible actor and did his best with the material he had, and if you just want a good drama and don't know anything about the period and the actual history that went on, you'll probably like it. Plus, James Purefoy was genuinely perfect casting. It's why I wish that the show was better than it was.

Problem is, I do know the history. I know the history quite well, because the general fall of the Republic and rise of the Empire is an incredibly interesting time and Augustus is one of my favorite people to read about, from a historical perspective he's fascinating. And the show bungles a lot in that regard. I've never been a particular fan of "we're going to invent these fictitious characters and make them important to the historical narrative" type things, and the combining of characters caused some major problems for me personally (combining Atia Balba with Fulvia to create the show's version of Atia was very annoying to me personally, considering how at odds it is to the historical Atia Balba), and just in general a lot of the characters felt very shallow and like they were crafted more out of a pop culture understanding of who these people were rather than actually examining them historically. Like, ooh Cleopatra is a sexually voracious and seductive minx and Octavian is a monstrous little viper, how incredibly novel, never been done before. Not like the reality of Cleopatra as someone who wasn't very attractive but was so intelligent and charismatic that she seemed leagues better than any other woman, but still prideful and stubborn enough to let it be her downfall is more interesting than cokewhore but make it Hellenistic. Not like Octavian as an incredibly smart person and brilliant politician whose complicated family life created a situation that had him latch onto Caesar as a father figure (and Caesar himself having lost a child shortly before they started getting close allowing that latching to be entirely mutual) and who started his journey to power as a personal revenge quest and whose litany of personal tragedies at a young age created the circumstances that allowed him to make colder and colder decisions for the betterment of himself and his family and his country is more interesting than wimpy deviant who can't fight. IDK, they made Livia marginally more two-dimensional than most other pop culture portrayals of her (I, Claudius your sins are numerous and shan't be forgiven), but that's about it. From someone who's read a lot about all of these people and has consistently found that who they actually were is leagues more interesting and creatively inspiring than anything anyone could actually make up, the show being composed entirely of preconceived notions with some sprinkling of "this is what I remember from Shakespeare's Roman plays" just did not do it for me at all.

Also, Agrippa/Octavia is a fucking cop out and anyone who writes it is a genuine coward. Like, you cannot tell me that out of the two siblings, the relationship you find the most interesting is the one he had with Octavia, when Agrippa and Octavian were friends since they were twelve and were completely and reciprocally so incredibly devoted to each other that it almost defies description and beggars belief. Agrippa never once tried to grab power even though he absolutely could have and was perfectly happy being nothing more than Octavian's right hand man until the day he died. Octavian's first ever political act, the thing that kickstarted his entire career, was asking Caesar of his own volition to not kill Agrippa's brother (it's complicated) and Caesar saying yes entirely because it was Octavian who asked, not only showing how loyal Octavian was to his friends but also essentially binding the two of them together for life. It was a forty year relationship of the most insanely codependent friendship of all time, either get with the program and make it homoerotic or just admit you have no talent and wanna hetify it.