#the main character of gladiator was just There

[mephsation]

Someone tell me to finish my wips before I start writing Dragon Age. Or worse, starting writing fic for the Gladiator sequel, featuring a flat-as-hell main character and Ravi, the random healer who plays more like a love interest than a supporting character.

[normal-about-charcters]

i have a fanfic/universe rewrite in my head of a transformers series and if I ever hunker down and work on it these two will be irrevocably linked together in my head for it

[c0rpsedemon]

can't wait until guaranteed benny tomorrowwwwww

[ialpiriel]

laying on my back on the floor and thinking about Where The Gladiator Came From

[hummingbirdsaltimolockia]

more stories should have the guts to kill their main character

[trashbatistrash]

,

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Oh. Ftwd is doing the whole um. ''cowboys and indians'' bullshit. alright.

[the-one-and-only-elita]

One thing that I absolutely love about TFOne's writing is that it manages to avoid a lot of the heavier criticism I've seen regarding MegOp's hero/villain dynamic over the years (trust me, the mid-2010s TF discourse was crazy)

*Spoilers Below*

First of all, the narrative benefits so much from the main 4 cast members all being a part of the same exploited mining class. So many takes on MegOp have Orion being of a higher status (an archivist, a cop, etc) while Megatron is much lower down on the social latter (a miner, a gladiator, often in the context of being a slave).

I've seen many people be put off by this, because it feels as if Megs is being villianized for being rightfully angry at the system that deeply harmed and exploited him, while Orion/Optimus is praised for taking a more pacifistic stance despite him not suffering as much from or in some ways even benefiting from the system he claims to oppose. I don't find their dynamic to be as simple as that, and I do find these takes to be a bit reductive, but I do very much see where they are coming from.

I am definitely one of those people who's very frustrated with the way pacifism is hailed as the one true path of morality, and the inherent implication that taking any sort of revenge on the people who abused/exploited you makes you just as bad as them. Also, Marvel's particular brand of demonizing any form of radical political action, despite the system clearly being broken and corrupt, but being completely unwilling to offer any other alternatives to meaningfully change things for the better.

When looking at what I described above its pretty easy to see how a lot of versions of MegOp's hero/villain dynamic unfortunately fits into that trope. Bringing it back to TFOne, you can see how Op and Meg coming from the same political/social status subverts this. The existence of Elita and Bee only further illustrates that out of the 4 people of the mining class who were all deceived, exploited, and literally mutilated in the same way it is only D-16 that completely loses himself to his rage, even to the point where he loses compassion for his own companions and disregarding the safety of the other miners (when he decides to "tears everything down" and Elita exclaims he's going to "kill everyone").

What I think I love most about the characterization in TFOne is that Orion is the radical one. Not only that, but he is praised by Elita and by extension the narrative for it. He is constantly challenging authority, and is the first to have the suspicion that their society is structured in an unjust way.

Meanwhile D-16, to be frank, is kind of a bootlicker. He fully believed in the system and that Sentinal Prime, as someone with power, had the right to decided "what was best" for those who are weaker/lesser (I wish I had the specific quote from D-16 to support this, but the movie's still in theaters). It illustrate that D-16 already held certain fascistic ideals, and that he and Orion already have fundamentally opposing moral/political values, it simply hasn't been of any consequence yet. It shows that their eventual falling out was inevitable, even if they had decided to rebuild Cybertron together.

It should also be noted that D-16's feelings of anger and betrayal do not necessarily have anything to do with the unjust system itself, but that said unjust system was predicated on a lie. Hence his fixation on deception in the post-credits scene and him naming his faction the Decepticons. Meanwhile, when Orion learns the truth he's just sort of like "yeah, I always kinda knew something was up" because again, he understood on some level that their system was predicated on injustice.

Even D-16's obsession with Megatronus Prime, while initially an endearing aspect of his character, is also an indicator of the questionably large amount of value he puts on one's strength. It foreshadows the "might makes right" ideology that the decepticons follow, and is a key part of their ideological characterization across continuities.

Instead of the narrative we often see in Transformers media were Optimus is idolized by the narrative for being more moderate and Megatron is villiainized for being radical (or so people often claim), it is instead Optimus who is rewarded and praised by the narrative for being radical, and Megatron who is villainized and punished by the narrative for holding potentially fascistic values.

I do agree with some criticism I've seen that the whole thing with killing Sentinel and D-16's final turn into villainy felt a bit rushed and more than a little cliche, but I also understand it both had a limited runtime and that it is ultimately a family film meant to be accessible to children. More importantly though, I think the movie set the groundwork early on that, no matter how this final act played out, D-16 was always going to turn to darkness, and Orion would not have been able to stop him.

Its perfectly tragic, the way all MegOp should be, while also feeling really well thought out from a thematic standpoint. I love it.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Heaven & Earth 🌍 | Gladiator II Imagine

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Emperor Geta x Empress!reader

Content Warnings: fluff, comfort, depictions of mental illness, mentions of pregnancy, soft!Geta, historical refences and mythology (not completely accurate to the timeline) | female!reader (she/her) like three uses of Y/n | wc: 4.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which the mighty Emperor Geta of Rome becomes the beacon of light pulling his Empress back to Earth when the Gods of Mount Olympus visit her mind in an attempt to beckon her to a place where the Heavens and Earth crash alongside each other.

note: yes this based and inspired by Queen Charlotte and basically the reader has the condition George has. I apologize in advance for any potential mistakes and inaccuracies, I am not an expert or professional in regard to mental conditions please be mindful of that and kind when leaving comments or critique. Thank you.

dilectus meus = "my beloved," in Latin

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

“My Emperor!” The shout echoed, bouncing off the palace walls, racing footsteps in its wake as the servant rushed to the man she searched for. Finding him at the end of the corridor with his guards walking as they readied themselves to greet General Acacius upon his return to Rome. “Please, Emperor, a moment of your time!”

Gruffing, irritation painting his visage, Geta pivoted to face the servant, making them come to a freezing stop feet away from where he stood. Out of breath and red in the face from chasing the sovereign. Geta’s gaze turned hard, “What is it? What is so important you have hounded me at a time like this--.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty, it’s the Empress,” the servant was bold to interrupt Geta, but they did so anyway despite the dire consequences. However their intuition was right as they watched the Emperor’s face shift from anger to panic. 

It was then Geta realized the servant as the main attendee to his wife. Alba. Who��d been with her since she was still in the care of her father and step-mother. A constant figure in the Empress’ life who saw first hand the torment that plagued Y/n’s mind. Normally Alba was successful in bringing her back to Earth, but her state of duress told Geta it was out of her hands and Y/n needed him. 

In a hurry, Geta brushes past her, ordering him to follow and his guards trail closely behind. “When did it start?”

“Only minutes ago. We finished her hair and nearly completed her glamour when I noticed she became silent. I tried calling her back but then she started saying the usual things when this happens.”

“The Gods and Olympus?”

“Yes, Emperor,” Alba confirmed, eyes watering as they approached the chambers. Even after so many years, the suffering of the Empress brought anguish to the maiden. And to her fellow servants, who cared deeply for their Queen. “I cannot place what is responsible for this sudden fit,” her voice drops to a whisper, so only Geta heard her. Yes, the guards close to the Imperial couple had knowledge but still they wished to keep matters private from prying ears. 

“Likely the upcoming celebrations of her father’s arrival,” Geta spoke aloud, turning the corner hastily. The doors of his chambers came into view and he heard the gentle voices of his wife’s servants trying to coax her from her state. “Fetch warm milk from the kitchens and honey bread. She’ll need that once I’ve brought her back.”

“Yes, Imperator,” Alba bows her head before turning on her heel to head in the opposite direction toward the kitchens. Geta continues on, passing his wife’s guards who appear in just as distress as the maids as they stand at the doorway. As he enters the chambers, everyone freezes. 

His eyes scan the room, his wife nowhere to be found but the doleful expressions of the servants confirmed she was there. Hiding somewhere. The vanity was in disarray, rings scattered across the surface and on the ground, indicating she likely removed them in her fit of stress. Face paint spilled against the smooth marble. The vase full of lilies shattered, leaving water and petals puddled together. 

“Where is she?”

The servant pointed to the bed, “underneath, my Imperator. She refuses to come out.” 

With a wave of a hand, Geta orders, “Leave us.” And like birds flocking in the sky, the servants and maids ushered out of the chambers. The guards posting themselves outside after closing the door with a loud *click* 

Now standing alone in his chambers, away from the eyes of his staff, Geta relaxes his shoulders with an exhale. Mentally preparing himself as his attention turned toward the grand bed where the sound of heavy panting filled his ears. 

“Darling?” he calls out softly, feet carrying him to his side of the bed. Upon hearing her shaken, “yes,” Geta kneels himself onto the rug, lifting the sham to peek underneath the bed, where he finds his beloved wife laying on the feathered rug covering the wooden floors. 

Geta’s heart tightened at her state. Body stiff as the statues that adorned the palace grounds. Eyes wide and fearful, lips quivering as she attempts to calm her breathing. Chest heaving at a fast pace, thankfully slowing by the second. Beads of sweat on her forehead, glistening against the golden headpiece the servants had managed to place atop when they finished styling her hair. The makeup beneath her eyes smudged from the tears cascading her cheeks. Face flushed with shame and embarrassment. Geta wanted nothing more than to remove the distress from his wife and free her from the storm her mind bestowed on her.

A ball of black fur was nestled against the Empress’ side. Ears peeking up followed by bright green eyes, revealing her beloved cat Nox. The animal was a gift to her on their wedding day to assist her when times like these occurred. A companion for when Geta was occupied. 

“It’s been quite some time since this happened,” he muses, tucking the sham into the mattress so his view is not obscured, never taking his eyes away from her as he removes his flowing cape, discarding it on top of the bed. “The last was before we were gifted the babe growing in your womb.” He peeked down to see the slight swell of her stomach protruding against the fabric of her dress. 

“I--I’m so sorry,” her voice croaks, sniffing as she fights to hold back another wave of tears. “I do not know--know why today this--.”

Geta shushes her, a whimper leaving her mouth, thinking she displeased him. Refusing to look at the man, Y/n hears shuffling and from her peripheral catches her husband lay his back on the rug before scooting beneath the bed. Inch by inch until he finally reached her side. The warmth of his hand radiated against her palm as he took it in his. Softly stroking the bare knuckles lacking rings. The loving gesture a means to bring comfort.

“The Gods visited you, my darling?”

Her breathing finally calms down at the gentleness in his voice, swallowing the saliva that formed in her throat. Still, she stares at the wood above her, unable to meet his gaze. “Mars--Mars and Venus--they watched from the shadows. Juno stood--stood behind me in the mirror. I--I willed them to leave, to not bother me on a day like this--but they refused, saying I was to follow them home.” shuddering, the Empress squeezes her eyes shut, the darkness welcoming with open arms. “I did not wish to make a spectacle, husband. Especially today with all that’s been prepared. Forgive me, please.” 

“There is nothing to forgive, love.” Geta assures her, lifting the hand he clutched to cradle against his chest. Letting her feel the rhythmic beat of his heart. “Just focus on my voice and my heart. Let me guide you as you return from your journey to Olympus. Our little one needs you to be calm, my love.”

And so the rulers of Rome laid beneath their bed for what felt like hours until the Empress fully rejoined her husband back on Earth. All the while Geta stroked the hand perched on his chest, bringing it up periodically to kiss her fingertips and whisper words of love and affirmation into her skin. 

His thoughts drifted to the past when he felt her relax. To when he first met the woman who captured his soul and would become his Empress. Stunning the court as Geta had never planned to marry and simply enjoyed the pleasures being the Emperor afforded. 

It was an accident. The two were never supposed to meet. For she never attended public events at the palace with her father, the esteemed General of Rome, Marcus Acacius and her step-mother, Lucilla, the adored daughter of former Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Their daughter was a mere mystery, hardly anyone besides close members of the Senate had knowledge of the woman. 

The origin of her condition was also a mystery. Marcus' first wife, Y/n’s mother, passed during childbirth leaving the General to raise her on his own. She was mostly in the care of maids and servants when he was off to fight Rome’s wars, therefore Marcus did not know what shadowed his beloved daughter's mind until he witnessed an episode himself shortly after her seventh birthday. That’s when her primary caretaker, an older woman by the name of Daphne, confessed to the General the fits began two years prior. 

Most men would be ashamed. Might go as far as to send their child away. Disowning them to be left to the bloody wolves of the world and to not dare claim their sire’s name furthermore. For a child who lived between the Heavens and the Earth was unheard of. Who’s state of mind would relinquish them from any sustainable future. 

But General Acacius was not that man. His daughter was his life, and the memory of his wife whom he adored. It would be the ultimate sin to discard the child as though she were the dirt beneath his feet. His late wife would drag him to the Underworld herself should he dare. 

No, General Acacius vowed to protect and love his daughter the moment she entered the world. He would uphold it until his last breath. 

He only let the best of the best care for the girl. Paying them an Emperors wager to ensure her needs were met and she felt safe in the walls of her home. To bring her back to Earth when the Gods of Olympus called to her and he was unable to return her himself. By the time she reached the age of ten and Marcus remarried Lucilla, he and the staff realized her fits were brought upon by stress and situations that unnerved the girl. 

Y/n was granted freedoms with few restrictions. She was tutored with the best education provided, allowed to roam the gardens, have animal companions, and interact with the children of Acacius’ colleagues when they visited the home. Daphne close to her, the older woman knowing when to step in and remove the girl as the features on her face would consort and she’d stare off into the distance momentarily before the flood of emotions consumed her.

After Daphne passed, Alba entered the picture. And she, Marcus, and Lucilla were the only three able to pull the young woman from the Heavens. Until she met Geta. 

It was a spur of the moment decision. Marcus and Lucilla were summoned to the palace to attend a feast celebrating the founding of Rome. He himself had dismissed his staff to allow them to enjoy the festivities the night held. And he could not leave his daughter alone, but there was no one to watch her while they were gone. In the end, it was Lucilla who convinced Marcus to allow her to accompany them to the palace. For she had not endured an episode in months since her nineteenth name day and it would do well for her to be exposed to their peers. Not to mention she’d be beside them the entire time, and they’d depart immediately if she became overwhelmed. 

Marcus had no issue until it came time for them to greet the Emperors. Geta and Caracalla seated in their thrones, flanked by their companions who fed them grapes and produced goblets of wine. He witnessed with his own eyes the sudden shift in demeanor from Emperor Geta when his gaze landed on the young woman. His bored expression consorting to one of intrigue and interest. Flooding the general with uncertainty. 

He continued to find Geta seeking his daughter throughout the night. Observing her from afar or purposefully conversing with guests in their proximity. Not hiding the way his brown eyes flickered to her in an attempt to lock their stares. Then Marcus discovered the two talking by the feast table, Lucilla having been pulled into a conversation by a Senator allowing Geta to swoop in and steal the young woman’s attention. 

Marcus did not miss the way his daughter’s face lit up. In awe of the man before her and completely immersed in whatever it was they were talking about. Geta too, possessed an expression no man had ever seen before. As though he was in the presence of a Goddess. 

And when Geta summoned Marcus at the end of the feast with his intentions, the General cursed the Gods for putting him in a position that would threaten his daughters livelihood. The decision determined her fate. 

“You deny me, Acacius,” Geta sneered, anger penetrating his tone and visage. “I have proposed to you the gift of a lifetime. I desire to make your daughter my Empress, and you dare voice opposition!?”

Calm and collected, the General simply bows his head before saying, “Emperor Geta, any man would be thanking the Gods for this generous offer, but it is my daughter’s well being I put above all else in this world.” Of course he was not blind to the gruesome reputation Geta and his brother had developed. Bloodthirsty rulers who enjoyed making spectacles of their enemies. No stranger to the violence they enjoyed from Glatorial battles. He’d be damned to let his precious daughter marry a man who’d expose her to distressing events that’ll trigger her. 

“You’re foolish to even think for a moment this was anything but an order.”

Now that was what Marcus was afraid of. That Geta had already made up his mind and wasn’t asking for permission to marry Y/n…. he was announcing his intent to marry her. 

“My Emperor,” Marcus pleaded, “I cannot let you decide this without informing you of my daughter’s condition. And I ask for you to reconsider to allow her the freedom of scrutiny from the people of Rome.”

Geta’s head tilts, confusion painting his form, “Condition?”

Marcus takes a deep breath, feeling the pounding of his heart against his chest. Praying to the Gods for mercy for his daughter should the emperor deem it necessary to exile her. “From time to time, my daughter experiences these episodes that overtake her state of mind.” Geta’s expression shifts, like he understood what the general implied considering his brother also experienced fits. “It’s happened since she was a child. Often triggered by stress or when overwhelmed and usually lasts minutes,” he explains with a shaky exhale, “It is as though her mind lives between the Heavens and the Earth. Where our Gods visit her, beckoning her to come with them to Olympus. Once she’s pulled away it is difficult to return her back to herself as she’s consumed by the emotional distress. My wife, her caretaker, and myself are the ones able to draw her back when her mind is elsewhere.” Licking his lips, eyes trailing to the floor, Marcus finishes by saying, “it is why I’ve never brought her to these functions till tonight. She needs stability, she needs peace. And forgive me, my Imperator, for speaking freely but marrying her to you frightens me for what she may experience without us there to care for her.”

Any man would be warded off at the revelation, but Geta was not deterred. He maintained his proposal, for he was smitten by the beautiful maiden that waltzed into his palace and tore down the marble walls he built around his soul. She was a breath of life in the otherwise dreadful environment surrounding him. He would prove Acacius wrong, and stand by his beloved during her times of need. 

Returning her to Earth when the Gods come to take her.

In the month leading to the Royal wedding during their courtship, the soon to be Empress moved into her own private chambers in preparation to assimilate to the life ahead of her. Geta showered her with gifts and anything she dreamed of having. Chocolates and wine, jewels and gold. Their love blossomed with each passing day. 

The first time the Emperor witnessed her experience a visit from the Gods, Geta wished nothing more than to switch places. He’d approached her chamber door to wish her goodnight when the commotion raging inside filled his ears. The guards posted in front of the doors stiffening at the sight of him. Hesitating to open the doors when he ordered, but when they did Geta entered to find his beloved pacing hastily. Her hair in wild disarray, indicating they’d just taken out the braids when the episode occurred, and robes untied leaving her sheer nightgown to the naked eye. 

Geta saw her lips moving at a fast pace, spilling out incorrigible words jumbled together. Eyes blinking a mile per minute, and hands trembling as she spoke to a presence they could not see. It broke his heart to see her in such distress. Wishing nothing more than to free her from the torment that plagued her.

Her head-maiden/caretaker Alba pleaded with tears in her eyes for her to return home while the other servants observed with sorrow. “My Lady, focus on my voice. You are safe. You are loved. You are home. Order them away and return to us, sweet lady.”

Eventually, and a shock to those in attendance, Geta was the one to calm his beloved and return her to him. Attending to her with care no one expected the Emperor to possess. Then again, it was rare for onlookers to witness him calm his brother when he had an episode. 

When the woman finally steadied her breathing, she broke down into a heap of sobs into Geta’s chest. The Emperor winding his arms around her figure to shield her from the world, murmuring sweet nothings against the crown of her head. Only lifting his head once to order the servants out to grant them privacy, but not before ordering Alba to retrieve warm milk and honey bread for his beloved. 

That night they had their first argument. Y/n begging Geta to withdraw his proposal and let her return to her parents. So that she would not be a burden to him and an embarrassment to Rome. He deserved a better wife. One that will be an image of Venus as Empress of Rome, who would not curse his line with a condition that pulled them away from Earth. Geta refused, confessing his love for her and that he would never be able to find a woman to capture his mind, body, and soul like she has done. 

“Look at me!” she pushed away from his hold, tear streaks smudging her makeup and hair an untamed mane. “I am unwell! My mind cannot place where I am--it is like the Heavens and the Earth collide--!” She takes her fingertips to her temples, the tears flowing like a waterfall. “The Gods--the Gods pry me from the ground--they take me away! I cannot subject you to a life of worry that I’ll have a fit in the middle of a Senate meeting or in front of the people. They will tell you to rid yourself of me--to take a new wife and return me to my father. Why wait when you can do that now and save yourself the shame--!”

Geta grasped her hands in his, pulling them to his chest so she felt the beat of his heart against her palms. The steady rhythm grounding her as his brown eyes penetrated her own with intensity. “Listen to me,” He demands with firmness, but not the type to frighten her. “I do not care what the Senate--or anyone of Rome thinks, you are what matters to me. No one will ever amount to the light you’ve awakened in me. Gods be damned, I will not let anyone take you away.” He keeps one hand clutching hers, the other moving to cup her cheek. “I will stand with you between the Heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are.”

They were married the next morning, neither waiting to swear themselves to the other beneath the Gods and before the people of Rome. General Acacius gave his daughter away, watching with glistening eyes as he witnessed the two souls entwine. Lucilla not shying from her emotion, dabbing the tears that fell with a handkerchief. Emperor Caracalla looked on with a neutral expression, not rejoicing but not averse either. 

The Royal couple trotted the streets of Rome in the carriage, waving to the people who cheered and threw rice and flowers their way. Blessing their new Empress and thanking the Gods for her. Geta held onto her hand the entire journey, pressing soft kisses to the skin to remind her of his presence whenever he caught beginning to dissociate. Pulling her from the Gods before they had the chance to take her. 

Months later, following a delightful honeymoon, the Empress experienced another difficult episode when she was delivered massive news from the Royal physician. Geta was attending a Senate meeting when a guard approached him, immediately departing when told his wife was indisposed. 

“What brought this on,” he commanded the servant walking with him, who’d been the one to pass the message to his guard. 

“She did not digest her morning meal, my Imperator,” they explained with a stutter, “and has been plagued with fatigue the last several days that she ordered the physician to examine her.” Worry etched Geta’s face, picking up the pace that the servant was practically running beside him. “Forgive me for informing you of this--for I know the Empress would rather be the one, but she is with child and we suspect this fit is a result of the news.”

Geta freezes, the air catching in his throat as his brain processes what was just bestowed to him. Warmth fills his chest, and before he knows it a tender smile graces his features. A stunning sight to those around him.

His wife was with child. He was going to be a father. 

Suddenly Geta remembered where he was and who needed him. Shaking his head as he hurriedly walked down the corridors to their shared chambers. He orders the servant to the kitchens for warm milk and honey bread, the guards taking their place outside the room while he enters on his own. There he finds Alba alone by the doors of the balcony, a gentle expression on her face looking at something on the floor. While his wife’s cat, Nox, perches himself on the nightstand. 

“Where is she? They said she was in here.” Geta questioned, panic in his eyes that he could not see his wife. The panic turns into worry when Alba points to the bed.

“She’s laying underneath,” she tells him with a frown. 

Geta rushes over, kneeling down to lift the shame, face dropping when he discovers Y/n shivering on the fur rug laid beneath the bed. Wet cheeks and chest panting up and down as she catches her breath. Glancing up, he waves a hand to Alba as a gesture for her to leave them. The maid bows, closing the chamber doors on her way out.

“My darling, why are you under the bed?”

“The Gods, they--they cannot find me here,” she croaks, staring blankly at the wood as the voices drown out to muffles and the stars leave her vision. “It’s quiet under here.” 

Laying on his back, Geta shuffles onto the rug to the space beside his wife. Reaching for her hand when he gets comfortable. “You are right, my dear. It is rather quiet,” her skin is soft under the thumbs stroking her knuckles. “Very peaceful if I must say.”

“Please accept my apologies, husband,” she sniffs, free hand wiping at her face. “I did not think they’d remove you from your meeting.”

“Forget the meeting. It was tiresome and if I’m honest I was planning to leave anyway right as my guard approached me.” Her light chuckle relieved him, the emperor turning his head to stare at her side profile. Taking in her beautiful face as though she would vanish from thin air and leave him. “What ails you, my love? What did the Gods want today?”

The Empress’ bottom lip quivered, making his heart sting as he felt her pain. “The physician told me something,” another sniff leaves her, followed by a lone tear. “I’m with child, Geta. And I know I should be overjoyed, thanking the Gods for this gift and celebrating with you--.” she tilts her head away from the bed frame, facing him instead and allowing the emotion to release. “But I am afraid. I fear for our child--that they will endure the same as me and I cannot fathom it.”

Geta leans over, cupping her cheek with the hand not holding hers and stares deeply into her eyes. “Look at me. No matter what happens, whether our child is touched by the Gods or not, we will stand and take this passage of the unknown together. They will be safe and loved, with you as their mother protecting them. No God will pull them from Earth, we will tell them where they are. Understand?”

The Empress nods, bottom lip jutted out like a child in need as the tears leaked from her eyes. Geta tilts her jaw up, bringing her mouth to his in a sweet kiss to seal his vow and remind her of his devotion. They remain beneath the bed for a few minutes until she’s calm, Geta pressing loving kisses to her nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips. His hand moved to her stomach, caressing the silk clad skin where their child grew. Conceived of their love. 

The birth of twins Marcus and Marcella brought celebration to Rome. Citizens crowded the gates of the palace with gifts, games in the colosseum held in their honor. Followed by the anniversary of the Royal couple where the golden statue of the Empress was unveiled. Every night Geta held her after tucking in their children, murmuring words of affirmation to lull her to sleep. 

Time went on and her visit from the Gods became distant. Sometimes brought on by the worry of her father at war or the state of the Empire. Then after the twins second name day they were blessed with the news they were with child once more. 

Now here they were beneath the bed of their Royal chamber months later, Emperor Geta of Rome consoling his beloved wife as he guided her back to Earth. The babe nestled in her womb grew while their twins slept soundly in their nursery until it was time to wake them. Her father had likely arrived at the palace by now and Caracalla was waiting for them to appear so they may greet Acacius together. 

But Geta would not leave their bedroom floor until his Empress was ready. Till the Gods left her alone. 

“Thank you,” her voice brought him out of his thoughts, gaze lifting to find the eyes he adored staring back at him with absolute tenderness. Glistening against the speck of light able to reach them. The Empress conveyed all the love in her tone as she spoke, “Thank you for standing with me. For always telling me where I am.” Warmth erupted in his chest, Geta never breaking eye contact as he brought her hand to his mouth, his own eyes glistening.

“I will fight for you until my last breath. I love you, dilectus meus.” 

[froggerland]

Just had a revelation that the thing I love most about the terror above literally everything else is how serious it takes its audience

There are 40 white guys with enough screentime to be somewhat relevant and they all look vaguely similar and share the same 10 names? Yeah it's confusing as fuck but if you manage to remember (most of) them you discover how every single one of them has an arc and is a living breathing human being, not a background character simply there to drive the plot forward or lick the main characters boots.

There's little details that make no sense to you right now, like what does "E.C." stand for, whos that child next to Crozier in the final scene? Watch it again and again if necessary, I shit you not I've never seen a show that has (dare I say) zero loose ends like the terror.

The characters are just human at the end of the day, not chess pieces pushed around by the writers to get from point A to point B. It feels like the early seasons of Game of Thrones when it was really REALLY good, no one has plot armor, things happen because they're the logical consequence of what happened before.

I've seen Gladiator II a few days before I got into the Terror and I know the movie doesn't aim for historical accuracy over giving the audience something cool to look at, everyone knows that (case and point newspapers in ancient rome). But as a history lover and minor film buff it's kind of sad to me how much hype media like Gladiator II gets, stuff that has zero subtlety and basically spells everything out for you so that no one in the audience misses the point the director wants to make and you don't even have to use your brain. You can leave the theather thinking "yeah that was a cool movie" and forget about within a week.

I wish people would appreciate media like the terror more because without wanting to sound like a condescending asshole we NEED more media that gives you something to chew on, that you have to marinate in your brain a little before it all makes sense because THATS good media.

[earth4angels]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

modern!benjicot blackwood x fem reader ─── p in v, car streamy hot smut, sexting, whipped, possessive benji. reader is jace's younger sister, jace is overprotective. benji has a foul mouth he is also in a band. summary: summer nights were always your favorite nights. the night young and filled with possibilities. your boyfriend was back from his gig tour, and you missed each other so much.

a/n: yea idc kieran is gonna stay my benji, hbo gotta get him back on set for season three.

benji nation tag list: @valdezthg @jacaerysgf @h-0-error @nikki-is-a-nerd @poppyflower-22 @housetargaryenloyalist @not-a-glad-gladiator

You lay on your stomach, your feet tapping in the air to the music blasting through your room. In front of you was a book, entranced in the letters of what lay before you, any noise other than your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room.

"How in the hell would she even want to take him back?" you mumbled angrily under your breath, upset the main character had forgiven her lover after he cheated. "Ugh worst book ever, never letting Aly recommend me books again!"

You swiped the book off your bed as you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You tilted your hand slightly to the side and coming across the picture of you and your boyfriend, Benjicot, you smiled. The picture brings you memories, of that day which rained heavily, but Ben had thought it was a good idea to find a photobooth.

You reached out to grab the small photo that held four different pictures of both of you. Each picture changed but never did the smiles you both held, except for the last photo. You blushed recalling the events that took place.

You sat in front of Ben - on his lap, his hands cupping your breasts as your head was tilted back, his lips locked on yours. You clenched your thighs together at the hot sex you both had that day when you arrived at his apartment.

Ben was still touring; he was a member of a band that was now slowly reaching mainstream media. You were happy for him, hell, you even told him it was a long time coming. However, you missed your boyfriend, it was already three months and all you ever saw of him was through a screen.

The picture returned by your bed stand where you held a lot of polaroids of both of you as your door slightly opened, a head peeked out through the crack of the door. You rolled your eyes, a slight smile slipping onto your lips.

"Are you going to come downstairs to join us for a movie tonight or not?" Jacaerys eyes wandered over your room, wincing at the loud music blasting through the speakers.

"What movie?"

His eyes found yours again before he rolled his eyes in a way that said, 'you already know.' You snorted, "Right. Let me guess, Luke wanted to see Scream and the boys wanted to see Toy Story?"

Jacaerys walked into your room then, his steps soft, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the sad glint in your eyes. "Hey. You know that I love you right?"

You groaned rolling onto your stomach again, burying your face into the pillow, "Ugh Jace..."

He chuckled before he laid his head onto your back, his arms wrapping around your waist, "Just saying. But you can tell me anything okay? Don't keep things bottled inside, it's not good for you."

You peeked an eye open to see him already looking at you, Jace knew how to get you talking, and while you found it incredibly annoying, you knew without your older brother you would have lost your mind. He was the calm while you were the storm.

"I just miss Ben, that's all."

"Ah... well." Jacaerys cleared his throat, his fingers tapping a beat onto your back, it soothed you. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Um... not exactly. Well, I did but it was like two weeks ago, he's been busy touring. He's recently headlined sold-out shows."

Your brother hummed; you sat up noticing his silent demeanor.

"Jace."

He moved his head towards yours, he looked at your narrowed eyes, warning him not to jump to conclusions. He sighed, rising his hands in surrender.

"I know. I know. But can you blame me? I love you, and you're my younger sister -"

You cut him off with a jab, "One year younger, Jace."

He breathed through his nose, "One year younger, whatever. But you're my sister nevertheless, so I will always protect you and feel the need to look for harm before it comes. I know you trust him. However, I'm your brother. Boyfriends and brothers don't always clash well."

You moved your head to the side, avoiding the deep stare your brother was sending your way. He sighed, he moved his hand onto your open knee, "But, I'll trust your judgment, and if you love and trust him a lot, then I will respect that."

A smile reached your lips before you turned to face him again, “That’s all I’m asking.”

Jacaerys poked your forehead with his finger before he cocked his head to the side, “Now come downstairs and stop moping around. If Daemon sees you like this, he’s worse than I am.”

You scrambled to getting up, reaching towards your stereo to turn off the music before following your brother downstairs.

“By the way, his new music is good, I’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves,” Jace mumbled, while he side eyed you. You only bit your lips hiding the proud smile you had.

“Yup, that’s why he’s the best.”

Jace groaned, feeling grossed out, “Okay stop getting cocky, go grab the pizza from the counter while I grab the blankets.”

You saluted him playfully, “Your wish is my command your majesty.”

—

“And so, we kissed and practically made out in the science room, ugh it was so hot!” Aly rambled, her hands moving around as she explained her story to you.

You nodded, replying with a short ‘uh-huh.’ Mentally you were not present, you were focused in painting, your eyes dancing back and forth towards the colors and your drawing book.

“You’re not listening,” Aly said pouting at you. You said nothing, however you held a smile as you painted, bringing you a sense of comfort. “Y/n.”

The brush moved delicately, adding another layer of color, you started to see the vision come to life. You were so close to rendering the shape more before the brush was snatched out of your hands. You gasped, jumping at your bubble being popped.

Aly sat next to you with your brush in her hand, her eyes narrowed, “Welcome back Picasso.”

You struck a tongue out towards her, yanking back your brush before you dipped it back to your glass of paint water to avoid the bristles drying.

“Sorry Aly, I just wanted to finish so I can submit this to the art show next week.”

Aly ruffled your hair in affection, “You’re worse than Ben.”

You winced at the name of your boyfriend, the name bringing you longing. You missed him. As you thought of him, your phone pinged. Your lock screen holding a picture of you two at a orchestra concert, his hands wrapped around your waist and yours held his cheeks laughing. Your heart thumped with a pain you couldn’t describe.

“Has he.. spoke to you by any chance?”

“Um… not really. Two nights ago he called, it was very loud though, so I couldn’t understand him well. But, he mentioned the tour was being successful and he’s in talks to signing into a label!”

You widened your eyes, this news surprised you, “No way? You’re joking?”

Aly shook her head, “Nope, it’s what he said. He’s close to becoming an all time celebrity.”

Your heart soared with pride and love for him. You wished this to happen. You knew how much Ben worked to get his music heard, only playing at small gatherings. He made you so proud, you couldn’t help but laugh with joy.

“Hopefully he’s back soon though, he’s a little shit.” Aly mumbled again, leaning back onto the blanket you both had set up on the grass.

You hummed, still holding a smile. Your phone pinged again, you dreaded it being Jace asking you to come home already. Grabbing your phone, you were then met with a message from your rockstar of a boyfriend. Your heart jumped to your throat as your eyes widened.

“I love you.”

The beat of your heart felt so hard it thumped against your breasts, your hand twisted grabbing your shirt to attempt it to stop.

“Fuck. I miss you. I’ll be home soon baby. Wait for me a little longer.”

You let out a girly giggle as you typed your response quickly. You looked up then, an idea slipping through your head. Grabbing your phone, you scrambled to get up. Aly opened her eyes, a look full of curiosity.

“Aly, i’ll be back! I gotta use the bathroom.”

She only waved her hand, you blew her a kiss before running across the field, into the school grounds. A few people waved at you, you hurriedly waved back, small hellos slipping from your lips. You arrived to the restroom, opening up a stall. The restroom was quiet, thankfully nobody was there. Yet the sound of your heart was loud.

Your fingers shook with excitement, you opened your phone to Ben’s messages. Typing, your foot tapped with mischief.

“I miss you… I wish you were here. I miss you and those hands of yours.”

In a heartbeat, the next message came.

“Yeah? How much do you miss me darling?”

A shaky breath was all you exhaled, you were wearing a skirt with your boyfriend’s band t-shirt and a pair of sneakers Ben had gifted you the first christmas you spent together.

You sat at the toilet quietly, extending your hearing to check if anyone was there, when you got confirmation you propped your phone onto the toilet paper holder. You pressed record, not showing your face as you wanted to focus on the way your hands moved.

Slowly, your fingers trailed over your body to the bottom of your skirt where your fingers trailed down the black panties you owned. Slowly, you pulled them off. Making sure the camera focused on your lower half, you continued.

You wanted to make Ben heard the sounds of your breath quickening, the way your fingers trailed through the opening of your folds and the wet sounds that came from it. You thought of the last time Ben had touched you, it was quick but he made sure he dedicated all the time to you, not caring that his cock was hard and straining his jeans the whole night after that.

You pictured his fingers, the fingers that held metal rings that you currently owned one of them. The way his face buried into your neck as he bit onto your skin, whispering how he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to have you.

Your fingers worked quick as you thought of Ben. Your eyes were hooded, filled with tears from how over stimulated you were. You had two fingers inside, pumping them in and out, rubbing your sensitive bud with your other hand. It wasn’t until you thought of how Ben held you over the toilet sink, his tongue licking your throat as his hand cupped your jaw, his fingers deep inside your cunt - you squealed.

Your legs shook hard, the smooth runny liquid of your orgasm dripped down your fingers. You sat dazed, and with shaky fingers you pressed the stop button on your phone. You laughed breathlessly at what you had just done.

“I missed you this much, that I wish you were the one that did this instead.”

You hit reply as you attached the video onto the message. You giggled at the thought of having Benji bothered through his set. You stood up with shaky legs, cleaning up any evidence of what happened.

As you cleaned yourself by the mirror, grabbing your baseball hat to clip it around your head, a message pinged your phone. You quickly opened it, and what you saw left you bothered the entire day. Damn you Benjicot Blackwood.

“Soon, I’ll have you screaming my name darling. Just wait and see.”

Attached was a picture of Ben in what seemed in his tour bus, standing in front of a mirror stark naked, holding his cock in his hand, it was hard, wet, and my god it was big. You gulped, suddenly feeling like you needed water.

—

You sat at your family dinner table, books in front of you as you quietly did your studying. A plate of sliced fruit was placed in front of you, you looked up finding the warm eyes of your mother.

“Eat my sweet.”

“But mom…”

Rhaenyra flicked her fingers against your forehead slightly, you pouted, letting out a whine. She only smiled as she walked closer to you, placing a kiss onto your forehead.

“Eat. Don’t be Jace who forgets to eat when he’s studying as well.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of your brother, “That’s because Jace is a overachiever. Dare I mention a teacher’s pe-“

“Ah ah, don’t be mean y/n. Your brother works hard yes, but he only strives to be the best and to be worthy of being my heir.”

Rhaenyra combed her fingers through your hair as she nagged you. Your head tilted towards her touch, loving when your mother babied you. You said nothing, only nodding your head. You heard her clear her throat suddenly.

You raised your head to look at her, “Mom?”

“I saw Benjicot on the news. He’s becoming quite big isn’t he?”

You moved your head away, avoiding her eyes and dreading of a conversation that happened once in a while. You didn’t blame them, but it was getting exhausting.

Dating the lead singer of a rock band wasn’t on their list, especially knowing he was gaining attention all over Westeros, he had the eyes of not only girls but the media. Your mother, loathed the media as she didn’t like what they whispered about you or your brothers.

You heard your mother breathed in before she grabbed your shoulders softly, “I don’t mind you dating him sweetheart. I just want you to be safe. If you believe he’s the one for you, he respects you, loves you? Don’t worry about what I think. I care about you at the end of the day. I only met the boy once and he was kind, honorable.”

Biting your lip you nodded, “I do trust him, and I understand where you and Jace come from.”

Your mother quirked a smirk, “Ah.. don’t worry about Jace. Secretly he approves but he needs to be a little… intimidating. He wouldn’t be an older brother if he wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s a pain in the ass.”

Your mother swatted your shoulder, “Language. He loves you, be a little compassionate. You will be the pain in Luke, Aegon or Viserys’ once they start bring girls over the house.”

The thought of having girls come over and the possibility of any heart break gave your heart a tug. “Ugh you’re right okay.”

Rhaenyra kissed your head again, gesturing to the plate of fruit, “Make sure you eat, and get to bed early okay? You have your exams in the morning.”

“I love you mom.”

She smiled, “And I love you darling.”

—-

“I am free! Worst experience of my life!” Aly exclaimed as both of you laughed, arms linked together, steps rushing out the door of the school’s grounds.

“Graduation is finally next week, we are going to go off for another 4 years of hell,” you reminded her as she whined

“Such a buzzkill, let’s just enjoy the fact that we are free and we got the summer to relax before we move in to our dorms and start orientation.”

You smiled, you slipped on your sunglasses, blocking the heat of the sun hurting your eyes. You glanced around looking at everyone rushing out the building with big smiles on their faces. However something catched your eye and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to throw up or you wanted to scream and run.

People started to squeal, and whisper between each other. You felt the eyes of people looking at you, Aly gasped.

Benjicot Blackwood, in full leather pants with only a white tank top on stood in front of campus, leaning against his vintage sports car, he seemed like he was talking on the phone, a cigarette hanging on the corner of his lips.

“Oh my god, he’s back and he never told me?” Aly exclaimed beside you, “Worst cousin in the world if i can say.”

You paid no attention to her as you got closer to the man that owned your entire heart. He continued to talk on the phone, his eyes scanning through the faces of people that began to circle him before he found yours.

He spoke something fast before he placed his phone into his front pocket, he tossed his cigarette onto the floor, his lips turning into an amused smile. You ignored the gossip as you continued to walk towards him, you saw how he licked his lips, his smile widening as he took you in.

“Hi my darling,” he said as you got closer, your heart beated fast. You let out a short laugh as you threw yourself into his open arms, he chuckled, holding you close, burying his head into your neck. “I’ve missed you baby.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you finally had him back, “I missed you Ben…”

He pulled away, his eyes twinkling with mischief that left you clenching your hands onto his shoulders. He leaned towards your lips, you met him in the middle being surrounded by the softness of his lips. You tried to memorize the smell, his touch, the scent of cologne mixed with the faint smell of his cigarette that he had just smoked.

He groaned into your mouth as you pulled the hair by his nape, “Careful darling, you’re touching hot territory.”

Tugging it more, you whispered into his lips, “I don’t care.”

He sucked in a breath, his hold tightening around your waist, “You’ll regret that baby.”

“Perhaps.”

His eyes screamed something you wish you understood, his mouth opened to retort something when Aly came forward pushing the crowd of people out of her way, “Nice for you to let me know you were coming douchebag”

Ben held a gaze on you, he licked his lower lip slowly, you felt the moisture gathering down there, you were afraid you might jump him here and there in front of all these people before he side eyed his cousin.

You sighed in relief when he put you down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

He clicked his tongue, “I catched the first flight home. I missed my girl and I couldn’t miss the graduation either.”

You smiled, the blood rushing towards your cheeks. Aly rolled her eyes, “A notice would be nice asshole.”

He grinned a boyish smile, “Love you too Aly.”

Aly glanced around at the people that gathered, their phones out as they took photos of them. You saw the wrinkle on her forehead that only showed she was starting to get irritated.

“Alright shows over! Go home!” Aly screamed, her hands waving around at every word. You heard Ben snicker.

“I’ll take you home and pick you up later,” he told you.

You looked up at him finding him looking down at you, his hair falling down in nice waves onto his forehead. You reached out to push his hair back, smiling when he leaned towards your touch even more, “Where are we going?”

He placed a kiss onto the palm of your hand, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

You moaned in annoyance. He grabbed your waist as you attempted to jump into the passenger seat, he leaned towards your ear, “Dress nicely, hm I’ll like to hear those moans loudly later.”

The entire car ride he had his hand on your thigh, you played with the rings on his fingers, finding every ring interesting as each ring was different than each other. You heard him speak to Aly, your mind wondering where he would take you later.

“Alright baby, we’re here.”

You leaned forward, finding the gates to the big entrance of your family’s home. Turning your head back towards Aly, “I’ll see you later Aly, text me if you want to go to the Riverlands, i’d love to go.”

Aly sent you a kiss, “I’ll text you, have a good night babe!”

Ben had already opened the door for you, his hand stretched out for you to take. You giggled when you held it as he pulled you out, leaning you back onto the door.

“Remember wear something nice,” he softly said it as his hands cupped your face pulling you towards him, his lips warm. You pressed against him harder, feeling him bite into your lip as a warning. You continued however, snaking your hands into his long black hair.

“Y/n”

You snapped your eyes open, pushing Ben away from you in a flash. Besides the car stood Jace, his hand holding little Aegon’s hand.

You saw the way Benji straightened his back, swallowing hard at the sight of your brothers. You nibbled onto your lip, fearing your brother would make a scene. None of you three said a word, until Ben held your hand softly, his throat clearing.

“Hello Jacaerys.”

Jace looked towards Ben, his eyes narrowed. You saw how his eyes moved up and down Ben’s figure, calculating, analyzing him, finding any wrong thing. He resorted to just giving a nod, “Congratulations on the sold out tour.”

Benji laughed, nodding in thankfulness, “Thank you. Um, I wanted to question you for a moment if that’s okay?”

Jace looked towards you who avoided his gaze as you focused on the shoes of your brother instead. “Oh? What about?”

“I wish to take out y/n tonight if that’s alright?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Why are you asking me this?”

Ben only tightened the hold of your hand, “Because you care about her, and I only want to protect her as well. I plan to stay longer, and I truly love your sister, on contrary to what you think.”

He was silent, only looking between you both, analyzing. Aegon only played with his little dragon toy not caring of what was happening in front of him.

You begged him with your eyes to not ruin this for you, Jace only sighed. His shoulders dropping, “I appreciate it Benjicot-“

Benji interrupted him, “Ben or Benji. I hope to have a friendly relationship with the male my girlfriend looks up to and thinks highly of.”

You side eyed him in betrayal, you never wanted Jace to know how you thought of him. Your brother looked at you fast, his eyes widening but now filled with love towards you.

“Alright Ben. I hope we do have a civil nice relationship. Do bring her home safely. Call me if anything happens.”

Ben nodded, smiling in reassurance, “You got it.”

Jace looked at you again, his eyes screaming we will talk later, yet he walked away, Aegon jumping childishly after him.

Ben looked towards you again, his hand lifting yours before he placed a kiss on the front, “See you later baby.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re an ass.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling, “Yeah? Well you’ll have no complaints later on.”

You groaned, pushing him away to follow the direction your brothers took. Behind you Benji was laughing hard, his hair flowing nicely through the wind.

—

Ben never told you where he was taking you so having no sense of occasion how to dress, you wore something casual. A corset shirt, with a mini skirt. You decided on a pair of ballet flats, your hair was straightened, a head band holding the front of your hair back.

Your phone pinged, a message from Benji announcing his arrival. You rushed to grab your essentials, shoving them into your purse as you sprayed your perfume. Your body tingling with nerves, it has been a while since you went on a date with your boyfriend. You missed him a lot, and it felt just like how you first met.

Luke was heading upstairs with a bowl of chips in his hands as you rushed downstairs. He looked at you in shock, “Woah…”

You stopped, stealing a chip from his bowl, he whined.

“If you see mom, tell her i’m out with Benji?”

His eyes widened, “Woah woah?! He’s here?! Please tell him to give me a free CD of his new record, it sold out before I got my hands on it!”

You groaned, rushing out the door, hearing Luke whining how he wants a free CD from his future brother in law. As you got outside you met the eyes of your boyfriend.

He stood with by the door of the passenger seat, his hand holding a cigarette, his hair was slicked back with only a loose strand of hair in front of his forehead.

You were glad you weren’t overdressed. He stood in an all denim outfit, you found it hard to control yourself as again all he wore was a tank-top. Shaking your head from any urging thoughts, you approached him.

His eyes shined, his lips stretched with a huge smile he was sporting as he laid eyes on you.

“Hi.”

“Hi to you darling, dare I say. You look delicious as fuck?”

You snorted, “I don’t know. Do I?” You spun in front of him in a twirl, enjoying the way he whistled, his dark eyes scanning you up and down.

“You look beautiful darling. Ready to go?”

You nodded your head as he took you into his arms, pecking you softly on the lips as he guided you to the passenger seat.

You didn’t know where you were headed, but whatever or wherever it was, Ben didn’t give you time to guess as he spent the entire car ride talking to you.

His hand never left your thigh, and while you felt comfort you just wished he would lift his fingers closer to your core that was burning with the thought of having him. You bit your lip hard, wanting your boyfriend to ravish you.

“Alright we’re here.”

You looked away from his face, confusion hitting you hard as you didn’t know where exactly here was. You looked back at Ben who only smiled. Deadpanned you asked, “Um.. where’s here?”

“Oh princess, you’re cute and funny.”

You stared at him confused. You scanned the area again with more detail, you gasped when you realized where you were. He had taken you to the highest point of Landing. The mountains where clouds were close to humans touch, where one said humans were closer to the gods due to the way stars felt so close and shined the brightest. You could see the sea from where you stood, the stars, the city’s life.

“Ben.. oh my god this is beautiful.”

You didn’t know he was looking at you with such dumbfounded love eyes, “Yeah. Really beautiful.”

You looked back at him, “Are we spending the whole night here? Sightseeing?”

He clicked his tongue, “Of course not. I bought us take out, we’re having a dinner, picnic style here.” He reached his hand in the backseat where he pulled out a basket, and a huge blanket, it looked soft. Your heart skipped the beat at the details he thought of.

He placed the basket softly onto your lap as he moved to open the door, your eyes followed him silently watching him grab things from the trunk to place them outside. And as you watched him move silently, for some reason you got nervous, jittery. It was like having a first date all over again, the butterflies flowing everywhere in your stomach.

You loved Benjicot, and nobody knew him like you did, no one will ever see this side of him, because the Benjicot they knew was a rockstar, a guy who jumped and sung his heart out on stage. A guy full with fury, with over excessive amount of energy but also with thoughts that were considered anxiety.

However the Benji you knew, the one who sent you flowers before he even introduced himself to you, the one who wrote a song about you which blew him into stardom, the one who would sneak into your room when he overthought another series of scenarios that hadn’t happened yet but he found comfort in your arms, that was the Ben that you knew and grew to fall in love with.

You snapped out of your thoughts as Ben opened the door for you, guiding you towards the picnic he had prepared, your heart soaring to your throat. He had prepped candles, a light holder that was used typically for camping, but he organized everything to the last detail, even going ahead to getting pillows, separate blankets if you were to get cold.

You placed the basket onto the floor as you moved towards the smiling Ben, who was currently feeling extremely satisfied, your hands pulled him down towards you, as you kissed him deeply.

He gasped into your mouth in surprise, holding you tightly against him. You placed two final kisses on his lips as you pulled back, leaving him leaning forward instinctively for more.

“I love you. I love this… thank you.”

He opened his eyes to gaze into yours, “Always.”

You pulled him down into the pillows he had prepared for you both, as you took out the food he had ordered, your heart growing warm at the sight of the food, it was your favorite dishes.

Both of you are in full conversation, never was there a moment a silence, Ben had went out of his way to even bring a small stereo to play music. As you got closer to finishing you began to get quiet, biting absently onto a strawberry he had bought for you.

“Y/n.. are you okay, did you not like it?”

You turned towards him, eyebrows furrowing, “No of course not! I love it, everything. You. I love you. I was just thinking.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything, you know that.” Ben pulled you onto his lap, you straddled him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I just miss you when you’re away… you’re gone for long and then the media is ruthless… you’re signing to an official label… eyes will be on you even more…”

Ben kissed you, interrupting your rambling. You moaned into his mouth when he had bit into your lip, allowing the small gasp to slip his tongue, massaging your tongue with his. His hands ran through your legs, cupping your behind to push you harder into him.

“You talk a lot. And worry for small shit that hasn’t happened yet.”

You opened your eyes to see him grinning, you poked his forehead, “Asshole.”

“Again, I don’t see you complaining. But, you need to relax. I love you y/n. I want to share all of my ups and downs with you, i want to explore the world, share all my success and failures with you. I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widened.

However Ben continued, “I don’t really give a fuck if I have media on me, I just care about you. I care about your opinions, your thoughts, your wellbeing.”

You stuttered, his speech leaving you dazed. You couldn’t find words to describe how you were feeling at the moment, you just needed him. So you leaned down to kiss him, this time your hips moved against his crotch. He grunted, his hands becoming desperate holds on your behind.

He leaned you towards the pillows, “Here? Are you-“

You kissed him again, “Here. God. Anywhere I just want you.”

Benji’s eyes twitched with such emotion that left you tightening your legs around his waist, thrusting softly towards him. Grinding softly, you held onto him tighter, desperate to feel him closer, annoyed clothes were in the way. Benji’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he took sharp breaths.

“Stop. Seven fucking hells y/n, stop.”

You paused, the heat of the night making you feel a little warmer than usual. You were surprised to hear him stop you when usually he would just yank open your clothes to take you.

“Ben?”

He took a deep breath before he got to his feet, still holding you against him. You squealed, wrapping yourself around him as you watched him sit you on top of his car.

“You’re a devil in disguise princess.”

You grinned, pushing his hair back as you leaned towards him to bite softly at his chin. He pushed you back on the hood of his car as he laid kisses on every piece of your skin that was open. You moaned at every suck, bite, lick he was leaving as he explored your body.

He stopped when he got to the waist band of your skirt, “This is pretty.. should we keep it on?”

You were breathing hard as you tried to form a sentence. He chuckled, licking his lips once again. You feared if he took any longer to touch you, you’d just start crying. Your wish came true when you yelped loudly at the cold touch of his rings trailing your legs up to your waist.

He pulled your panties down, but instead of just the usual way of just flinging it to the side, he shoved it into his front pocket. Your core growing more wetter than usual, the thoughts of what he might do with those excited you.

“Are you sure here? We can just go back to my apar-“

You shuddered at the air going to your bare core, “Ben please, here. I need you.”

You watched as his eyes closed, before he leaned down to press a kiss onto your chapped lips. As he kissed you, his fingers moved quietly, your mouth opened as you felt the first finger enter you. He shushed you, murmuring how lucky he was, how much he missed you. He kissed your long loud moans, his finger working in and out of you faster.

Accidentally biting into his lip, you tasted the metallic taste of blood, instead of grossing you out, you kissed him more. Benji only hissed as he buckled into your core, he was feeling stressed knowing he was close to coming just with the way you were reacting to a finger of his.

“Ben-Ben I can’t.. I need you..” you tugged his hair tightly, still moaning into his mouth. He only pressed a kiss onto your cheeks, your nose, leaving you intoxicated with his touch.

He removed his finger, moving to remove you of your corset, his mouth opening in slight shock when you wore nothing but just your top.

“You truly are a little devil.”

You attempted to send him a grin but he had already leaned down to continue his exploration, his mouth wrapped on your perky bud, as the other massaged the other. He moaned, sending vibrations all over your body. Your eyes teared from the sensation, you were laid exposed on the hood of your boyfriends car, at the top view of Landing, you were truly close to the gods than ever.

“Mine.”

Your mind was elsewhere, too lost in the pleasure that you almost missed what he had said, he had grabbed your chin again as he pulled you close to his face.

You probably looked like a mess but if you did, he didn’t complain, he only looked at you with full adoration and all the care of the world.

“Come.”

With the help of Ben who noticed you were too exposed, only wearing the skirt he kept on you, he carried you instead inside his car. He moved quickly. Allowing the front seats of the car to be pushed all the way forward to allow you both to find comfort in the back seat.

He sat you on top of his lap, you looked at him as he did you. His eyes glittered in the moonlight, you felt lost in his eyes, your fingers trailed from the top of his head to every freckle, the slight bump of his nose, his slight scar on the top of his lip that added so much character to the man you loved with all your heart. He breathed you in, closing your eyes as you memorized every detail that made him Benjicot.

You took his peaceful state to remove his jacket, pulling his tee off of him, your core burned as you took in his shape. He had gotten more muscular and god… it made you need him much more.

“Do you enjoy the view or are you going to carry on darling?”

Ben had his eyes closed still, however his lips were twisted into a smirk, you grew with a need to make him start begging.

As you moved to remove his jeans, which he moved slightly to have them off, you noticed how hard he was, you smirked knowing how to get him hot, desperate.

You knew he wouldn’t expect it so you moved quick before he had you shaking instead. You took him in your hand, needing two to handle him, and with a long stripe you took him in your mouth. He gasped loudly, buckling into your hold.

“Fucking hell…” he grabbed onto your hair, pulling it, digging his fingernails when you took him all the way in. You slightly gagged when you felt him deep down your throat but you enjoyed to hear Benji whimper in your hold, he was grabbing tightly onto your hair, not enough for it to hurt but it sent fire through your veins.

You moved your head up and down, using your hands to grab hold of the skin that you couldn’t put in your mouth, and with that motion you had Benji moaning loudly, shaking, trembling. He was whispering, gasping how beautiful you looked, how much he had missed you, how he thought of you every night when he touched himself.

“Seven hells, y/n!”

You yelped when he pushed you off of him, only to have you under him, he kept your skirt on and with no warning, he held you close, his mouth on yours as he pushed in all the way into your wanting core.

The entrance felt too good you only moaned into his mouth as he shuddered indulging himself in your heat and how good you felt around him. You only held him close to you, he had his face deep in your neck.

“Is this okay darling? Do you feel me?”

You felt him more than anything. You felt every push, every single time he pulled back and thrusted into you again, you felt his hands holding onto your waist, how he whispered into your ear the declarations of love. You only nodded whimpering when he began to thrust at a rhythm.

Benji wanted you to feel his love, the absence he felt when he wasn’t by your side. He wanted you to feel how much he would do for you, how he would bring you the fucking moon if you asked for it. He would rather burn himself than to ever loose you.

He held you with such care contrary of the way his hips were moving, how he pushed against you hard that you feared the car would break with how desperate he was thrusting.

“More.. god I love you.” You whined into his shoulder, biting into the pale skin, he whimpered. Shaking in your hold as you probably were as well he moved to the side, sitting you on top of him.

“Ride me darling, let me see you pretty girl.”

You leaned onto your feet, guiding his throbbing cock into your folds again you slid all the way down, gasping at the new angle. With half lidded eyes you watched Ben whisper several curses, his head falling back into the seat as his tongue poked out slightly.

“L-look at me Ben…” you commanded, reaching for his hands to place them onto your waist. You were shaking hard knowing you were close, and you felt he was close as well as you felt the throbbing inside you, the twitching.

He opened his eyes, and he was rewarded with such sight that he wished he had his phone with him to capture such sight. You sat on top, a black flattery skirt on, breasts full on display as the tips of your hair was tangled with the way he had hold of them.

“Fucking hell, you are beautiful my love. All mine. Are you baby? Are you mine?”

You whimpered as you lifted yourself from his throbbing cock to only slide down hard watching his eyes tear from the need to just ravish you but his love overpowered him.

“I’m yours Benjicot Blackwood. Today and tomorrow, and always I will be yours.”

You grabbed his hand which he interlocked with yours.

He sat up to grab you face to face, and with that began a round of the most pleasure you had ever experienced. You never let go of his hand as you never faltered in the stare you had on him. You swore you never felt him this close. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest, Benji’s breath quickening yet he never let his dark stare leave yours.

You were beautiful, you were a goddess to Benji, and though he was surrounded by million of other girls, he would never think anyone matched your level. No one looked much prettier taking his cock like you did. He’d go to war for you if you simply asked.

You clutched into his shoulders, letting out a sob as he had touched your sensitive spot, “There.. Ben…”

“Come on pretty girl, you’re almost there. I’m almost there”

You threw your head back as you moved up and down, Ben meeting your every thrust with enthusiasm. He would be there to catch you when you fell. Always.

He shook when he felt the bubble in the pit of his stomach, he began to see flashes yet he shook his head as he looked up at you. His gaze turning into a blur, he was close but he wanted to see you.

“Come on baby, give in to me.”

You grabbed onto his neck, sobbing into his mouth, “I love you Ben..”

He felt as if the world ended tonight, he wouldn’t mind. This would be the perfect way to die, “I love you more baby. You are my entire world”

With a final thrust, you came crumbling down into his hold, you sobbed as he kissed you through your aftershocks, feeling him gasp as he came deep inside you.

You sat in each other arms, riding the aftershocks, shaking as if you were in the cold winter, you didn’t want to look at the state of the car knowing you’ll meet a disaster. You and Ben were never nice to the surroundings once you started.

You heard him breathe uncontrollably, holding him onto your chest, you felt his arms cradle you close. You sat in silence, waiting for your breaths to be back to normal. It was then you felt Ben chuckle against your bare skin.

You tilted your head back to have a good eye on your now laughing boyfriend. “What’s so funny?”

“You really did miss me. Maybe I should go away often,” he shook his head, the sweat dripping from his chin. You rolled your eyes as you joined in his laugh.

You were glad your boyfriend was back in town, in your arms where he belonged.

[owlbean]

Vivec as a location has so much going for it. It's a city. It's a ziggurat. It's a termite mound. It has a vast canal and waterworks system. There are few entrances into the main streets and unless you learn to navigate the city on its terms you're going to be lost and confused. There are rooftop parks and courtyards but they're still largely indoors. There's a gladiator arena. An entire district of the city is one giant megachurch. There's an ominous floating meteorite to remind you that your god-king is merciful enough to save you from certain destruction, but they still keep it suspended above your home just in case your sins are beyond saving. It instantly became one of my favourite video game locations when I first played Morrowind. There's just so much character to it.

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (Lucius x Geta)

This is a story of two men, of rage, war and eventually: love. Inspired by Gladiator 2 characters Geta and Lucius.

Summary of part 1: Former emperor Geta survives but falls now under Lucius' regime. An unexpected story unfolds.

Part 2 in the making.

Warnings: angsty, severe emotional and physical (dis)stress, mentioning of war, battle and injury, mentioning of nudity.

"I want Geta brought to my private study later this evening," Lucius told the guard at the main entrance as he made his way to the baths. "Unscathed." He added. Guard Laurentius frowned slightly, then gave a quick nod. "Yes Dominus."

"Thank you." Lucius replied as he proceeded his walk toward the bath house.

As he reached the steamfilled rooms he noticed with glee that they were empty, the water rippling softly as he lowered his naked body into the warm water. Lucius, a shy man by heart enjoyed these quiet moments by himself, washing off the dirt and sweat of the day in the clean water while listening to the soft hustle and bustle of the voices outside. His mind drifted from the battle, to his mother, to former emperor Caracalla who had tried to escape his emprisonment this morning, and finally settled on Geta, who was being taken from his cell at this very moment.

He and his brother had been captured after having been defeated after the battle, a few days prior. The erratic minds of the twins were not to be trusted, yet killing them just because they were able to, did not fit the new ways Lucius was working to introduce. No, surrendering them to the new judicial ways was much more fitting of the modern times ahead. He dipped his head in the water, submerging his dark curls, letting gravity pull him under fully and stayed there a moment before coming up for air again. He pulled his tired body out of the bath and after drying off and pulling a thin cotton tunic over his head, he walked through the halls toward his private chambers.

His two guards stepped aside to let him enter and then pulled the door shut behind him.

Former emperor Publius Septimius Geta was kneeling in the middle of the empty room, his head bowed. The fading evening light behind him illuminated his honey-colored curls, turning them almost auburn, crowning his head and shielding his face from view. His wrists were bound behind his back, and his white tunic was slightly smudged from the dirt in the cells. The air of chaos and power once rippling off him in waves had long disappeared, leaving a young feeble man with no ways to defend himself.

"Geta," Lucius said as he approached, his eyes sweeping over the kneeling prisoner. There was no reaction, no acklowledgement of his pressence.

"Please lift your head when I speak to you Publius," Lucius ordered calmly, stopping just before him.

Geta lifted his head, his hair falling back to reveal the delicate features of his face. The makeup was gone, but his skin seemed equally pale, and the circles under his eyes were just as dark. Lucius noted that he had not slept. Geta avoided his gaze, staring somewhere in the distance, his face as still as a blank sheet of paper. There was no movement, no sign of life. He knelt like a man already half-dead, seemingly struggling even to do that.

Geta opened his mouth but then closed it again. His unfocused eyes remained hazy, like fog.

Lucius stepped closer, close enough to place a hand on the back of Geta’s head. His fingers slid into the curls, pulling gently to tilt his face upward. Then his hand moved forward, tracing the line of his jaw before slipping down and wrapping softly around his throat.

Surely, Lucius thought, he would provoke some reaction by touching such a vulnerable spot.

But there was nothing.

It was as though Geta wasn’t there. The absence of life in his eyes was disturbing, his body was as pliant as a doll in Lucius’s hands.

He was convinced he was to be killed this very moment, Lucius realized. A weak animal surrendering, exposing its belly, wishing for the end to come quickly.

Lucius frowned. Where was the fight? The pleading? The begging for mercy?

Geta’s head grew heavier in his hand. It annoyed Lucius, but it also surprised him. He expected tantrums to be thrown, scratching nails and biting teeth. But there was only quiet yielding. Then suddenly Geta cleared his throat, the vibration rippling through Lucius’s fingers.

"Where is my brother?" Geta asked solemnly.

"I do not know," Lucius replied honestly. "He tried to run earlier this afternoon, stabbed a guard in the eye and made it to the gate. My men have him. I have not yet heard back from them. Now that you mention it, I should have heard something by now." He added pensively. Geta made a soft sound in the back of his throat that he could not place. Lucius sighed and grasped Geta’s chin, tilting his face higher. "Look at me."

Geta’s eyes opened.

"I’m not going to kill you." He said simply, looking Geta straight in the eyes.

Geta remained silent, his lips slightly parted. His eyes flickered between Lucius’s, and a faint line formed between his brows.

He sucked in a breath. "Why not?" He asked, confusion lining his voice.

"I have some political reasons I do not wish to go into now." Lucius explained. "Aside from that, you will fall under the new regime. It is not formed yet, but it will be. And you will get a trial."

"Trial?"

"Yes. You will wait until the new council is formed. Then you’ll have a fair trial, to show the people that even men like you are granted a fair judicial proceeding." Lucius shook his head briefly. "Or should I say boys like you," He added, raising a shoulder, "Given the way you have ruled and acted—like a child." Geta frowned slightly at the stern tone, clearly not used yet to be speaken to in such a manner, and clamped his mouth shut. He averted his gaze. Lucius eyes remained where they were. "After the trial, you will likely be exiled but this is yet to be decided."

Geta gave a small nod, straightening his shoulders slightly. Complete surrender gave way to tension, like a loose thread being pulled taut. Lucius could feel the shift in the quickening pulse beneath his fingers and the faint ripple of the delicate muscles in Geta’s trapezius.

Geta inhaled, looking ashen suddenly, as if he were about to be sick.

"Let me go," he uttered softly.

Lucius let his hand fall to his side, not sure why he was so quick to obey his command and watched as Geta stood shakily. Then he saw him bringing a hand to his stomach before doubling over and collapsing forward, vomiting the little that remained in his stomach.

Lucius chuckled softly, remembering the countless times he’d gotten sick when he first started entering the arena. It made sense: the intense fear of death, followed by the relief of being alive a little longer, often worked heavily on the body.

Without another word, Lucius turned on his heel and left the room, ordering one of the guards to help clean up the mess and return him to his cell on his way out.

Next part: part 2

Please don’t share any of my works without my permission. Thank you kindly!

[galpalaven]

The thing is, I’ve had complaints about shallow companion interactions before for other games that I genuinely enjoy.

FFXIV up until around Shadowbringers did not have anyone ever checking on my character even briefly outside of one or two of the Scions. It effected how I perceived my relationship with them. The difference there is that 1) it’s an MMO and they can only add so much variation and 2) it was eventually addressed and I did finally feel an emotional connection to them.

Veilguard is not the only game I’ve ever been critical of. It’s just the most egregious one right now, especially when they tried to sell me the narrative that it’s the ‘most romantic DA game ever.’ They lied to me and I deserve to criticize it when I spent $90 for what was essentially just some uncooked pizza dough with the toppings on the side while they shrug at me and “just cook it yourself / headcanon it.”

I don’t put my criticism in the main Veilguard tag because I know it can bum people out. If you don’t want to see it, block the “veilguard critical” and “Bioware critical” tags — but stop telling me I have no reason to be angry and I’m just “making shit up to be mad about.” I know how making a game works because I went to school for writing and I know that they just did not do a good job writing this thing, and the decisions they made about where to cut content are silly and ridiculous. To remove dialogue wheels and roleplaying opportunities in favor of like a fkn gladiator arena is stupid.

They made an action game and sold it as a narrative RPG. It’s dishonest and I’m allowed to be annoyed by it.

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.4

Chapter Four: No Man Is An Island, There's Shipwrecks And Sirens

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction, Kissing, Torture, Threats, 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N:  Well, shit, this is probably one of the more difficult chapters I’ve ever had to write. Why is it, that directors look at Pedro Pascal and go, “Hrm, let’s murder his character!” LIKE HELLO??? LET HIM LIVE???? Anyways, I know it’s a short chapter, but we’re halfway through the movie so wish me luck writing the rest of this! T^T

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: hunter by Paris Paloma

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TRAINING GROUND, COLOSSEUM — DAY

As a healer, you’re no stranger to witnessing pain and cruelty, though it never gets easier. Especially not here, in the heart of Rome's unforgiving Colosseum, where strength is tested, and humanity is often discarded.  

The midday sun bore down on the training ground, casting long, harsh shadows over the gladiators. Your eyes fixed on Lucius—Hanno, as they called him now—pulling his oars under the relentless gaze of Viggo. The overseer loomed, his figure dark and menacing against the brightness, as though the sun itself shied away from illuminating his cruelty.  

Lucius, despite the strain visible in every muscle of his body, offered a smirk sharp enough to cut through the tension. “We will not get far like this,” he quipped, his defiance a flicker of hope against the grinding despair around him.  

Viggo’s response was swift. He raised his hand, silencing the rowers with a mere gesture. The command came like the crack of a whip: “Just him.”  

You watched, your heart sinking, as Lucius was left alone to man the colossal oar. The weight of three men now fell upon him, and the sound of the grinding logs echoed through the dust-heavy air. Yet even as Viggo reveled in his cruelty, the other gladiators exchanged glances—silent, simmering solidarity with Lucius.  

Viggo, sensing the shift, barked another order. “Take them away. Leave him here.”  

As the others were herded off, you stood frozen, the healer's instinct to intervene warring with the dangerous knowledge of your limits. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as Lucius labored alone, the weight of his chains mirrored in the ache in your chest.  

Ever since losing your parents, grief had become an unwelcome but constant companion. It arrived in waves—sometimes subtle, sometimes overwhelming. This moment, watching Lucius endure, felt like another tide rolling in.  

But you had learned one thing from grief: it demanded preparation. You turned, making your way toward Ravi under the guise of rearranging your supplies. Bending low, you whispered, “Gather the rebels. Quietly. Every ally who dares to dream of a better Rome. If Marcus’ plan falters, we must be ready.”  

Ravi gave a nearly imperceptible nod, his expression one of grim understanding.  

TRAINING GROUND, COLOSSEUM — NIGHT  

The scorching heat of the day had given way to a quiet, stifling night, the kind where every shadow seemed to hold its breath. The training ground was eerily still, the only sounds the faint rustle of the wind and the distant hum of the city.  

Lucius lay slumped over the oars, his body unmoving save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The chains binding him to the machine glinted faintly in the moonlight, a cruel reminder of his captivity.  

You and Ravi approached cautiously, your footsteps muffled by the dirt. Ravi was the first to break the silence, his voice low but warm, meant to soothe rather than startle. “Ah! Ah! It’s just vinegar, my friend,” he murmured as Lucius stirred awake with a sharp intake of breath, his hand instinctively clutching at his wrist. “There will be no more opium for you.”  

Lucius blinked, his gaze flitting between you and Ravi as understanding slowly dawned. The tension in his shoulders eased, though the exhaustion in his eyes remained heavy, almost unbearable to witness.  

Ravi clicked his tongue, settling himself beside Lucius with an air of practiced calm. “There’s plenty of pain waiting for you in the next life, my friend. You don’t have to be so greedy for it in this one.”  

Lucius let out a short laugh, but even that cost him. He winced as his ribs protested, slumping back against the oars. “Are you a free man, Ravi?” he asked, his voice tinged with irony.  

Ravi chuckled, though the sound carried a note of bitterness. “Free. Huh. I am,” he said, his tone contemplative. “I laid down my sword and swore I’d never pick it up again.”  

As you set down a few vials beside your seat, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at Ravi’s words. Lucius turned his gaze to you then, his eyes sharper now despite his weariness. “And you?” he asked, your name slipping from his lips like a question he’d pondered long before this moment. “Are you free, my lady?”  

His question hit deeper than you expected. Your jaw clenched, the ache spreading to your temples as you fought the instinctive bitterness in your tone. “A free woman of Rome is unheard of,” you replied, your voice low but steady. “If so, this freedom tastes like ashes. This is who we are—a product of war.”  

Lucius’s eyes lingered on you, searching for something unspoken in your answer. Then he shifted his attention, addressing you both. “And yet you remain in this hell? Where was your home before?”  

Ravi spoke first, his voice calm but tinged with longing. “Varanasi,” he said simply, shrugging as if that one word carried the weight of an entire world.  

You worked silently, pouring a tincture over Lucius’s knuckles. He winced, his sharp intake of breath breaking the stillness. As you tended to him, Ravi continued, his voice softening. “I wish I could — I met a woman.”  

Lucius gave a dry laugh, his lips curling despite his pain. “Always a woman.”  

Ravi smiled faintly, the memory brightening his face. “From Londinium, in Britannia. Our boys speak only Latin now. My daughter’s eyes are as blue as yours. We are Romans, through and through.”  

Lucius smiled at that, a wistful expression passing over his face. He gazed off into the distance, his voice soft as he said, “I grew up hearing stories at my grandfather’s knee. He used to talk about the dream that was Rome.”  

You leaned in slightly, your voice quiet, almost reverent. “And what was this dream?”  

Lucius’s smile turned fond, his words carrying the weight of something fragile, something precious. “A Rome where all would live under fair law. Where everyone would be protected. A Rome for the senate… a Rome of hope.” He paused, then added, almost to himself, “It was so delicate, you could only whisper it. Say it too loud, and it would vanish.”  

Ravi muttered under his breath, a flicker of admiration in his tone. “Your grandfather sounds like a dangerous man.”  

Lucius chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with pain. He met Ravi’s gaze, the exhaustion giving way to determination. “The odds are against you,” Ravi said, his voice serious.  

Lucius smirked, his spirit unbroken. “The odds are always against me. Don’t worry, old man.”  

Ravi clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he stood. “You must rest. Your men will need you to lead them tomorrow.”  

You packed your vials in silence, your fingers lingering on the edge of Lucius’s hand for the briefest moment before pulling away. “Take care,” you said softly, your voice carrying all the unspoken worry and hope you couldn’t put into words.  

Lucius nodded, his eyes lingering on you as you and Ravi turned to leave. The night swallowed your footsteps, leaving him alone once more under the watchful gaze of the moon.

THE COLOSSEUM — DAY  

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, its light glinting off the azure water that now filled the Colosseum floor. The transformation of the Arena into a vast, shimmering sea was nothing short of breathtaking. Sculpted stone heads lining the walls spouted streams of water, feeding the artificial ocean below, while the scent of salt and damp stone hung in the air.  

You stood alongside Ravi in the shadows of the grandstands, both of you tense and watchful. The Master of Ceremonies’ voice boomed over the amphitheater, amplified by the natural acoustics, “Today we re-live the Battle of Salamis! The Trojans versus the Persians!”  

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices blending with the pounding of war drums and the triumphant blare of trumpets. Two ships, one from the North gate and the other from the South, emerged into view. The Roman vessel, manned by Centurions dressed in gleaming Athenian garb, glided gracefully through the water. Opposite them, the “Barbarian” ship teetered under its mismatched crew of gladiators.  

From her place in the Royal Box, Lucilla leaned forward, her sharp gaze scanning the ranks of the so-called Barbarians. You followed her line of sight, your heart in your throat. Every gladiator bore the same garb, making them indistinguishable, but you knew who she sought.  

Your breath hitched as the Roman ship unleashed its first volley of flaming arrows. They arced through the air like fiery serpents, their impacts devastating. The sails of the Barbarian ship caught fire, flames licking hungrily at the rigging. The gladiators scrambled, raising shields against the onslaught, but the damage was done.  

“Look at them,” Ravi murmured beside you, his voice tight. “Fighting tooth and nail for survival while the crowd drinks and cheers.”  

You barely heard him, your attention fixed on the unfolding chaos. Lucius was at the helm of the Barbarian ship, his jaw set in determination. Under his command, the crew moved like a singular force, cutting the burning rigging loose and tossing it into the water. Below, tiger sharks circled like phantoms, their sleek bodies slicing through the blue in search of prey.  

“He’s going to ram them,” you whispered, your nails digging into the railing.  

Lucius steered his vessel with unflinching precision. At the last moment, instead of colliding head-on, he veered sharply alongside the Roman ship, splintering their oars with a sickening crunch. The Barbarian ship swung around, grappling hooks flying as the gladiators pulled the two vessels together.  

And then chaos erupted.  

The battle was a storm of clashing swords and cries of pain. Lucius led the charge, every inch the commander he had been born to be. He moved through the melee with calculated ferocity, cutting down his enemies with swift, precise strikes. You couldn't take your eyes off him, your heart pounding with every close call.  

Amid the chaos, a Roman archer fell, his loaded crossbow skittering across the deck. Lucius’s sharp eyes landed on it, but as he moved to claim it, a Centurion tackled him, nearly dragging them both into the water. Lucius grabbed the rail, holding on for dear life as the Centurion slipped, his leg plunging into the water below. A tiger shark struck with terrifying speed, dragging the soldier down in a swirl of blood.  

The water churned red as the sharks, drawn by the carnage, slammed against the hulls in a frenzy. The crowd roared, drunk on the spectacle of blood and death.  

Lucius pulled himself back aboard, his movements frantic yet purposeful. His men had seized control of the Roman ship, but there was no time to celebrate. Smoke and the acrid scent of burning wood filled the air as the two vessels began drifting dangerously close to the Royal Box.  

And then you saw it—the loaded crossbow, still lying on the deck.  

Lucius moved fast, his eyes narrowing against the haze. He picked up the weapon, turning it toward the Royal Box. Your heart stopped as his aim shifted, the crossbow trained on a figure emerging from the smoke—General Acacius.  

“No,” you whispered, the word caught in your throat.  

Before you could cry out, Lucilla stepped into view, her presence obscuring Acacius. Lucius hesitated, his finger hovering over the trigger. His eyes met hers, recognition flickering in his gaze.  

And then the arrow released.  

The crowd gasped collectively as the bolt sailed through the air, narrowly missing Lucilla. It struck the gilded post of Geta’s throne, quivering there like a harbinger of doom.  

Geta shot to his feet, his face twisted in rage. “Praetorians! Where are the Praetorians?!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with fury.  

Caracalla squealed in terror, clutching at his robes as the guards swarmed in to shield the Emperors. Lucilla, however, remained frozen, her face pale as she stared down at the deck of the Barbarian ship.  

“Lucilla!” Acacius’s voice cut through the chaos as he grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away.  

But she didn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on Lucius, and you could see the guilt settling over her like a shroud.

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and boos as the Master of Ceremonies, clearly shaken, declared, “In the name of the Emperors! Victory has been declared to Hanno!”  

The crowd roared, their frenzied cheers and applause rising like a deafening tide, echoing off the Colosseum’s ancient walls. On the deck of the Barbarian ship, Lucius stood motionless, the crossbow slipping from his hands to clatter against the damp wood. His expression was a mask of stoic calm, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the storm raging within him.  

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your chest heaving as the adrenaline drained from your body. The railing beneath your hands was slick with sweat, and you forced yourself to loosen your white-knuckled grip.  

Beside you, Ravi shook his head, his brow furrowed with deep concern. “Oh gods have mercy,” he muttered, his voice a fragile thread against the roar of the crowd’s drunken jubilation.  

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze fixed on Lucius as he stood on the deck of the Barbarian ship. His shoulders were stiff, his chin lifted in a defiance that made your heart ache. From this distance, you couldn’t see his expression clearly, but you didn’t need to. The tension radiating from him was unmistakable. Your chest tightened painfully, a familiar ache settling low in your stomach—a forewarning, a visceral instinct honed by years of navigating Rome’s treacherous politics.  

The crowd’s cheers and jeers blurred into white noise as you turned to Ravi, your voice low but resolute. “We must prepare. Immediately.”  

Ravi’s head snapped toward you, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. “Prepare? Now? For what? This could mean the end for him—or for all of us.”  

You stepped back into the shadows, your movements deliberate despite the thunderous rhythm of your heartbeat. “If Macrinus knows... if he even suspects...” Your words faltered, the unspoken weight of what could follow hanging heavy in the air.  

Ravi’s jaw tightened, his usual humor replaced by grim understanding. “Do you think Macrinus will act?”  

You swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat and nodded. “Yes.”  

Ravi hesitated before asking, “What of Lucilla and your beloved Acacius?”  

Your breath caught at the mention of Acacius, but you quickly steadied yourself, masking the fleeting crack in your composure. “There is a plan for tonight,” you said softly. “I trust Acacius and offer prayers to the gods that all will unfold as intended. But still...” Your voice faltered, dropping to a near-whisper, heavy with unspoken fears. “I cannot silence the thought that something may yet go awry.”

Ravi’s expression softened as he took a step closer. “I understand... but what of you?”  

“What?” you asked, confused by the shift in his tone.  

“They could kill you!” Ravi’s voice rose, tinged with genuine fear.  

You turned your gaze toward the Royal Box, where the twin Emperors had lounged in decadent arrogance, and narrowed your eyes. “If I was easy to kill, they would have done it already.”  

Ravi sighed, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re brave to a fault. Just... don’t let it be your undoing.”  

You didn’t answer, your attention already shifting back to Lucius as he stepped forward, his silhouette sharp against the golden glow of the torches. The ache in your chest deepened, but there was no time for hesitation.  

THRAEX MANSION — DAY

The air in the corridor was suffocating, the shadows thick as you crept silently along the edge of the room. Your palms pressed against the cold stone pillar, and your breath hitched as you heard the rumble of a carriage pulling to a halt outside.  

The door to the mansion creaked open, and Macrinus stepped inside with a swagger that made your stomach churn. Viggo followed close behind, a shadow to his master’s menace. Macrinus scanned the lavish room with the casual arrogance of someone who already considered it his.  

“What are you doing here?” Thraex stammered, stepping forward with a nervous bow. His pale face and trembling hands betrayed his fear.  

Macrinus sneered. “This house is mine now. Your debt is over ten thousand denarii.”  

Thraex’s lips parted in a desperate attempt to argue. “I have other things. Cattle. Art.”  

Macrinus let out a sharp laugh, his grin wolfish. “You offer me beef and paint? Oh, Thraex.”  

The desperation in Thraex’s voice was palpable. “Slaves then. Or... what do you want?”  

Macrinus tilted his head, feigning surprise. “What do I want?” He toyed with the words, each syllable dripping with mockery. “Well, there is... I could... there might always be... you could…” He paused, his grin widening. “Truth.”  

Your heart sank, a sickening dread twisting in your stomach.  

Thraex blinked rapidly, uncomprehending.  

“Nothing happens in Rome without Thraex’s knowledge,” Macrinus continued smoothly, his tone turning sinister. “You have the Senate’s trust. You have Lucilla’s trust.”  

Thraex visibly faltered. “You wish my loyalty?”  

“I wish your house,” Macrinus said, his eyes gleaming. “It is a nice house. But I will take only your loyalty if that loyalty has worth.”  

The silence that followed was deafening.  

Finally, Thraex’s shoulders slumped, his voice trembling. “I have heard of a... plot. To dethrone the Emperors. But the plan has been... delayed. A gladiator is to be rescued from the arena. Tonight. I know not why—”  

Macrinus’s smile was slow and cruel, satisfaction etched into every line of his face. “I know why. And I know who.”  

Your breath caught, panic surging through you.  

Macrinus turned sharply, signaling Viggo to follow, and they exited the mansion with the same arrogance they’d entered.  

You didn’t wait for them to disappear completely. Heart pounding, you slipped through the shadows and out the back, your mind racing. Every step you took echoed the single thought that now consumed you.  

You had to warn them. You had to warn him.

THE COLOSSEUM — NIGHT

The Colosseum loomed in the moonlight, its ancient stones shrouded in darkness. Faint torchlight flickered from the guards stationed outside the main gate, their silhouettes rigid against the eerie stillness of the empty streets. A stray dog sniffed along the gutter, and a beggar pleaded with a soldier, his voice hoarse with desperation.  

"Move along," the guard barked, his tone merciless. When the beggar hesitated, the soldier lashed out with his spear shaft, sending the man sprawling into the dirt.  

The sharp hiss of an arrow sliced through the quiet. A heartbeat later, the guard collapsed, clutching at his throat, blood bubbling through his fingers as he crumpled to the ground.  

From the shadows, a dozen cloaked figures emerged like wraiths, their movements fluid and silent. The leader stepped over the fallen guard without hesitation, gesturing for the others to follow. They disappeared into the Colosseum's labyrinthine tunnels, leaving behind only the faint echo of their footsteps.  

Inside, the corridors were a maze of flickering shadows and ancient stone. Arrows whispered through the air, finding their marks in unsuspecting guards. Silent blades cut through flesh, spilling lifeblood onto the cold floors. The mission was executed with precision—swift, methodical, and deadly.  

You hurried through the tunnels, heart pounding in your chest as the muffled sounds of combat reached your ears. The smell of blood and damp stone thickened the air. Turning a corner, you froze, your stomach sinking.  

A hundred Praetorians flooded the chamber, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. They outnumbered Acacius’s elite unit ten to one. Above, archers lined the high platforms, their bows drawn taut, ready to rain death on those below.  

The chaos erupted in a blur of steel and blood. Arrows flew, striking their targets with deadly precision. Acacius’s men fell one by one, their cloaked forms crumpling to the ground. Your breath hitched as the last of them collapsed, leaving a single figure standing amidst the carnage.  

Acacius.  

His hood had fallen back, revealing his face—stone-set, jaw clenched, eyes burning with defiance. His chest heaved, his sword slick with blood, as he stared down the Praetorians who surrounded him.  

You stepped forward, intent on reaching him, when a rough hand seized your arm. A cold blade pressed against your throat, and you froze.  

“Don’t move,” the Praetorian hissed, his grip tightening painfully.  

Acacius’s gaze snapped to you, his expression twisting into something feral. “Let her go!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. “She has nothing to do with this!”  

The sword bit into your skin just enough to sting, and you winced, swallowing back the sharp cry that threatened to escape. Acacius’s knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword, his body coiled with tension.  

"Nothing to do with this?" The Praetorian sneered, dragging you a step closer. "She's here, isn’t she? Seems she has everything to do with this."  

You met Acacius’s gaze, your eyes pleading yet resolute. “Don’t—” you began, your voice trembling.  

“Enough!” Acacius barked, cutting you off. His voice cracked under the weight of his fury and despair. “I’ll do whatever you want—just let her go!”  

The Praetorian chuckled darkly, his blade still at your throat. “Surrendering so easily, Acacius? I expected more from the great General.”  

“Your fight is with me,” Acacius growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Not her. If you harm her, I swear by the gods—”  

But he faltered, his voice breaking. This wasn’t a battlefield where he could dictate the terms. This was a trap, and he had walked right into it. And now you were paying the price.  

You locked eyes with him, and in that moment, words weren’t necessary. The anguish in his gaze mirrored your own, a silent promise lingering between you: no matter what happened, you would not abandon each other.  

“Marcus,” you whispered, your voice soft yet steady. “Don’t let them win. Not like this.”  

The Praetorian’s grip on you tightened, but Acacius took a deliberate step forward, his sword lowering slightly. His voice was raw when he spoke again, barely louder than a whisper. “Please,” he said, his plea directed to the man holding you. “Let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want. My life for hers.”  

Time hung heavy in the air, each second dragging like chains across stone. The Praetorian hesitated, the indecision etched on his face like cracks in brittle armor, and the tension pressed down like the oppressive heat of a forge.  

In that fraught moment, a glimmer sparked in Acacius’s eyes—a fragile ember of hope, flickering against the darkness. You held onto it with every ounce of strength you had, even as the blade at your throat remained an unyielding promise of how swiftly that ember could be snuffed out.  

[the-possum-writes]

I loved the fire fin stuff you wrote, Can you write more headcannons about him and the reader trying to keep finn distracted while also trying to turn him back, pls

Subdue the Flame

➼Character: Fire Finn (Finn Mertens)

➼Tags (warnings): headcanons, canon typical violence, gender neutral reader, mentions of servitude, sloppy kisses, misogynistic comments

➼Synopsis: Fire Finn headcanons about distracting him in a fight during the Elemental special.

➼With the fire citizens heading for the Candy Kingdom it's up to you and Lsp to try and de-escalate the situation, mainly with you trying to defeat Flame Princess's newest champion while Lsp retrieves the jewel from Princess Bubblegum.

➼"Are you sure you can handle him? I mean he already beat you once, it’s like a more intense version of Finn... It’s lumpin hot." Lsp mutters as the two of you scout the area.

"Yeah, we just gotta improvise a bit. At least knock him off his sense until I use my secret weapon and defeat his hot headed butt for good!"

"You sound way too eager about this. But no dude you got it all wrong! the real Finn is still in there somewhere you just gotta play into his hero heart ya know? pull one of those 'I know the real you is in there somewhere' kind of speech."

It's hard not to roll your eyes at Lsp's dramatics, but if she's trying to tell you to solve things pacifically first, then sure why not. Like don’t get me wrong, of course saving Finn is a priority but knowing this prick fire version of him, it’s gonna take more than heartily speeches to subdue him.

"By all means, be my guest."

➼It goes as expected, Fire Finn just walks past her spewing something about war drums and threatens to slice her down if she tries to stop him. This is where you come in.

➼You're the only one who can confront Fire Finn either cause you're physically strong enough to match him in a fight or you have the mental fortitude to deal with the stuff he'll say in hopes of saving him.

➼Like, the guy was pulled in and created in a toxic and violent environment so that leads me to believe he's bound to say some hurtful things and make fun of you with low hanging fruit. For example, if you're a gal (or female presenting) he'll spew some misogynic comments about how he's biologically stronger "You don't stand a chance against me, I'm all hardcore muscle." or "You'll regret leaving your sewing room this morning."

➼If not, he'll still boast about how he's stronger than you and will wipe your face on the dirt.

➼Uses insults too. Mainly stuff like: nerd, loser, mouth breather, girlie, wimp, roach, useless scum, motherless bastard, to think of a few.

➼I don't know if he'll fight honorably (since the other fighters have kinda roman gladiator inspired designs) or fight dirty, but now that I think about it he'll most likely do the latter. He'll kick you in the shins and throw sand at your eyes, that's how he gets the upper hand when fighting you.

➼Dominant, ruthless and a huge show off. Overtime he gets too cocky.

"You're too much of a wimp, I bet I can beat you with nothing but my hands."

➼To mock you further he kicks away your bag and your main weapon but not without stabbing his own sword into the ground before approaching you with cracked knuckles, wrestling you into the ground as he continues to belittle you- albeit with suggestive undertones. "Once we're done with these candy nerds they'll be nothing left but cinders and ash. Maybe then I'll take you back to the fire kingdom as my personal training dummy... All for myself~"

➼You don't know if you're reading too much into this whole fight, but It's now that the physical contact makes sense. He tightens his hold on you, purposely grabbing you where you're most sensitive (that would make you blush any other day) before tossing you around like a sack of potatoes, the pain is real but it started giving you an idea.

➼If there's one mistake he's actively making it's that he's completely underestimated you and your brain power that compensates your lack of extra brawn to beat him on a one on one.

➼"Oh woo is me, you're obviously the better opponent. Might as well start getting used to serving you as you deserve." you cry out, causing Fire Finn to quirk a nonexistent eyebrow. He grips your hair by the back of your head, purposely raising you to his eye level.

➼"And how would you start serving me?" He asks, suspicious of your change of attitude but quickly allured by the promise of servitude.

➼You momentarily lick your lips, it's subtle but hypes you up for what's to come. "Like this," and you lean forward to kiss the fire elemental on the lips completely unprompted. It's a risky move, and considering Fire Finn isn't returning the kiss you're 90% certain that he's gonna slap or throw you away but the second you attempt to remove yourself from him he instead tightens his hold on your hair and pushes you back into his eager mouth, opening it up as his tongue dwells all around yours in unexpected wanton. You try your best to reprocitate but he's completely controlling in this situation as well, now holding your face with both hands as he gives you the sloppiest kiss you've ever had.

➼Underestimating how sharp his teeth are, you cut your tongue on it and has you groaning at the unpleasant metallic taste in your mouth, fidgeting in the spot as you try to pull yourself from his hold but it only served to rile him up further, running his tongue over the wound.

He eventually pulls you away to catch his breath, completely devouring your breaths as you exhale to take in the fresh air.

➼His reaction is more enthusiastic than you expected. In fact it's his crazed expression that ultimately snapped you out of your foggy daze, immediately taking advantage of his unguarded walls and you kick him where he counts.

➼Now he's the one falling like a sack of potatoes.

➼You suddenly rush to your discarded backpack as you hear him shout angrily behind you.

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! I WILL MAKE IT TORTUROUS FOR YOU! I WON'T REMOVE MY HANDS FROM YOU UNTIL YOUR WAILING AND BEGGING FOR RELEASE BY THE TIP OF MY SWORD!"

➼There's no time to ponder what kind of punishment he's talking about since he's immediately back on his feet and just a few steps away from you, but the second you grab your hidden weapon it's over for this fire elemental. You pull out a plastic water gun and spray it all over Fire Finn, watching him shout in agony as he steps back as you blast him into submission until he lays beaten on the ground. "This is why you need a safe word my dude." You finally spew a well deserved taunt.

➼And to make matters worse and more humiliating for the fire kin, you snap a fireproof collar around his neck, courtesy of Wizard Betty.

"What is this contraption?!"

"It's a little something from a friend, a temporary solution until we find out how to turn you back to normal."

➼With a sigh, you sit back as you watch the fallen warrior attempt to rip out the collar only for it's safety mechanism to activate and spray him with cool water, like one of those automatic car window things.

"I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME!!"

"You're not in a spot to make demands my dude, so unless you wanna turn into a popsicle you'll have to follow me." You eventually stand up with a more nonchalant attitude compared to earlier, still wincing a bit since your safety now doesn't take away that Fire Finn pulled a heavy number on you.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" He threatens, but the collar activated again before he could lay his blue hands on your neck.

"Maybe, if you say please~?"

"DIE!"