#without changing that octavian is a bitch but you know

[notcryingtoday]

The missed opportunity of making jason/reyna/octavian a "triumvirat" is crazy.

(They're soldier, poet and king but changed roles the entire story)

(I'm the biggest fan of morally complex Octavian)

[ashilrak]

if youre still accepting requests for make the ship sail: percy and octavian?

Okay, you all know I like my Romans. Also, assassinations should have been commonplace in New Rome. Anyway, let's go with my favorite version of Octavian: an ambitious, power-hungry cunt who's gotten this far because of his family connections and is going to be an asshole about it. Now THAT'S a Roman. Anyway.

Percy walks into New Rome without a memory aside from Annabeth's name and looking so damn Percy Jackson that Hazel thinks he's a God. But, Percy is so Greek it hurts. Percy hates Octavian on sight.

However, Octavian senses something on Percy. Maybe it's Percy's weird tinge of prophecy and fate that follows him, the sheer power, or maybe Octavian just sees a pretty face. Either way, he decides he's going to get Percy on his side.

Percy doesn't respond to the Roman overtures; the shows of power and authority, the finery he's able to surround himself with, Octavian's devotion to the Gods — they all mean nothing.

But maybe Percy needs help with something and figures Octavian is the person to go to, not realizing Octavian was flirting, and catches Octavian amidst a breakdown alone in a Temple.

Octavian is immediately on guard, the strongest, strangest Demigod (who he's still not sure isn't a God) has caught him in a moment of weakness. But this is a moment for Percy. He sees the person underneath the exterior. And maybe falsely, he makes the connection between the front Octavian puts on and how he's had to be a source of strength for others. He might not have the exact memories, but it rings something true deep down. He extends a hand.

From then on, Octavian is always at Percy's side. Percy turns to Octavian with questions about Rome, Octavian turns to Percy as a source of strength and authority.

Percy has a better start on the quest with Hazel and Frank since Octavian's on his side now. Or maybe not, maybe Octavian's being a little bitch because he doesn't want Percy to go. Octavian is still doing all his snivelly Octavian shit btw because he knows Percy won't get it.

Percy comes back as Praetor and Octavian claims Percy in some weird snobby Roman way like giving him a family scabbard or something. Percy doesn't know. Jason brings it up at some point on the quest, and Percy just kinda shrugs and is like. Not surprised at all because Octavian's a possessive, showy bastard.

I think this ends one of three ways: Percy and Octavian end up taking over New Rome with Octavian as the guiding hand, Percy steps in and is like yo Octavian you might like the Greek camp better we have an oracle and Octavian gets adopted as CHB's pet roman asshole, or nothing changes and Percy blames it on the memory loss fiasco and a casualty to the war and occasionally pulls the scabbard out and stares at it and thinks of what-ifs over the years.

// Send me any two characters, I’ll tell you how I’d get them together

[pinkcupboardwitch]

Livia’s daemon is a black leopard. It becomes a byword in Rome: the tall woman in her homespun stola, quietly supervising her slave- and freedwomen in the weaving rooms, while the massive black cat reclines at her feet. She thinks sometimes it would have been easier had he settled as an actual cat. That would have been more fitting for the role of dutiful Roman matron she’s established for herself. Leopards are for generals - for emperors.

The difference, she surmises, is that when you cross a cat you get scratched or bitten. Cross a leopard, and you die.

Her daemon settles the day she learns her father committed suicide in the aftermath of Philippi.

-

Antigone’s daemon is a small grey moth. He often nestles in a fold of her robe or cloak, and really only comes out to speak with Livia or Tycho. Tycho once commented a little bitterly that from the way both moth and Antigone hover around Livia, you’d think she was a flame rather than a mortal woman.

He settles one day not long after Livia had brought her home from Balbina’s. Antigone had risen early, crept through the sleeping house to the kitchen to fetch her own breakfast, smiled down at the two fresh, perfect plums the quiet Egyptian youth - Tycho, she’d only learned his name yesterday - had slipped into her place. Munching on the plums, she sits beneath a low tree in the courtyard, enjoying the faint morning mist, the dawning warmth. The two realizations come almost at the same moment: the sudden awareness of fluttering, dust-covered, right wings at her cheek, and the memory of sleeping, for the first time, the night through without dreams.

-

Augustus’s daemon is, both shockingly and unsurprisingly, an eagle. Shocking because the contrast between his sickly frame and powerful daemon take even the most jaded observer aback. Unsurprising because, after all, what could be more natural than that the princeps of Rome should carry an eagle at his shoulder? No one realizes that it’s the other way around. From the age of nineteen, Gaius made himself consciously into Rome, and scoured his soul of everything that did not serve that.

His daemon settled somewhere on the road between Apollonia and Rome, when they were hurrying back after Caesar’s assassination. He told himself he was still debating whether or not to accept his uncle’s bequest of his fortune and name. Then he looked up at the eagle grown suddenly motionless - at Apollonia she’d been a lioness, a lanky she-wolf, an osprey in imitation of Marcus’s flashy hunter - and knew his soul had already decided.

-

Agrippa has an osprey daemon: a fast, adaptable bird that thrives in a niche few other raptors can match. Ospreys can soar up to six hundred feet, but most of the time they’re content to fly far lower, just above or even briefly below the water’s surface.

She settles when they’re still relatively young: during the first campaign in Spain where they accompanied Caesar and the young Octavian, when Agrippa killed in war for the first time. He knew in that moment who he was and who he would become in life. There’s a reason he’s so scornful of Marcellus, who reaches nineteen and comes back from war with his daemon still unsettled.

-

Tycho has a hare: a survivor, like himself, and not a natural killer. Octavia has a wood dove, fitting for the kind of loyalty that can raise an army for an absent husband and then take in four of his orphaned children as her own. Marcella has a swan: a big gorgeous bird that hisses all day and will not hesitate to smack a bitch. Scribonia has an inky, restless skink; he’s often mistaken for a snake until one looks closely. Both Julia and Iullus still have unsettled daemons as the series closes, though more and more Julia feels like there’s something right in the various glittering snakes that coil around her neck and flick out to whisper in Iullus’s ear. Transformation. She shivers. She knows she’s on the edge of transformation. To shed a skin, to change, and still to remain oneself.

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

hi! so we have established at this point that you have A Lot Of thoughts about antony and brutus. but how does caesar (julius, not the little bitch octavian) play into that? bc like. my knowledge and impression of them is very limited and mainly constructed from watching hbo rome and idk. i think it'd be fun to throw caesar in the mix. love all the art and writing on your blog btw! have a nice day.

Hey, okay! So this used to be over 30 pages long (Machiavelli and Caligula got involved and that's when things got out of hand), but through the power of friendship and two late night writing dates fueled by coffee, I’ve cut it way down to under 10. Many thanks to the people who listened to me ramble about it at length, and also to a dear friend for helping me cut this down to under ten pages!

Also, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the stuff I make! It makes me very happy to hear that!

And quickly, a Disclaimer: I’m not an academic, I’m not a classicist, I’m not a historian, and I spend a lot of time very stressed out that I’ve tricked people into thinking I’m someone who has any kind of merit in this area. It's probably best to treat this as an abstract character analysis!

On the other hand, I love talking about dead men, so, with enthusiasm, here we go!

For this, I’m going to cut Shakespeare and HBO Rome out of the framework and focus more on a historical spin.

Caesar is a combination of a manipulator and a catalyst. A Bad Omen. The remaining wound that’s poisoning Rome.

Cassius gets a lot of the blame for Brutus’ turn to assassination, but it overlooks that Brutus was already inclined towards political ambition, as were most men involved in the political landscape of the time.

Furthermore, although Sulla had actually raised the number of praetorships available from six to eight, there were still only two consulships available. There was always the chance that death or disgrace might remove some of the competition and hence ease the bottleneck. But, otherwise, it was at the top of the ladder that the competition was particularly fierce: whereas in previous years one in three praetors would have gone on to become consul, from the 80s BC onwards the chances were one in four. For the senators who had made it this far, it mattered that they should try to achieve their consulship in the earliest year allowed to them by law. To fail in this goal once was humiliating; to fail at the polls twice would be deemed a signal disgrace for a man like Brutus.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

The way Caesar offered Brutus political power the way that he did, and Brutus accepting it, locked them into the assassination outcome.

Here is a man who’s built his entire image around honor and liberty and virtu, around being a staunch defender of morals and the republic

In these heated circumstances, Brutus composed a bitter tract On the Dictatorship of Pompey (De Dictatura Pompei), in which he staunchly opposed the idea of giving Pompey such a position of power. ‘It is better to rule no one than to be another man’s slave’, runs one of the only snippets of this composition to survive today: ‘for one can live honourably without power’, Brutus explained, ‘but to live as a slave is impossible’. In other words, Brutus believed it would be better for the Senate to have no imperial power at all than to have imperium and be subject to Pompey’s whim.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

and you give him political advancement, but without the honor needed for this advancement to mean anything?

At the same time, however, Brutus had gained his position via extremely un-republican means: appointment by a dictator rather than election by the people. As the name of the famous career path, the cursus honorum, suggests, political office was perceived as an honour at Rome. But it was one which had to be bestowed by the populus Romanus in recognition of a man’s dignitas.69 In other words, a man’s ‘worth’ or ‘standing’ was only really demonstrated by his prior services to the state and his moral qualities, and that was what was needed to gain public recognition. Brutus had got it wrong. As Cicero not too subtly reminded him in the treatise he dedicated to Brutus: ‘Honour is the reward for virtue in the considered opinion of the citizenry.’ But the man who gains power (imperium) by some other circumstance, or even against the will of the people, he continues, ‘has laid his hands only on the title of honour, but it is not real honour’.70

Brutus may have secured political office, then, but he had not done so honourably; nor had he acted in a manner that would earn him a reputation for virtue or everlasting fame.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

Brutus in the image that he fashioned for himself was not compatible with the way Caesar was setting him up to be a political successor, and there was really never going to be any other outcome than the one that happened.

The Brutus of Shakespeare and Plutarch’s greatest tragedy was that he was pushed into something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. The Brutus of history’s greatest tragedy was accepting Caesar’s forgiveness after the Caesar-Pompey conflict, and then selling out for political ambition, because Caesar's forgiveness is not benevolent.

Rather than have his enemies killed, he offered them mercy or clemency -- clementia in Latin. As Caesar wrote to his advisors, “Let this be our new method of conquering -- to fortify ourselves by mercy and generosity.” Caesar pardoned most of his enemies and forbore confiscating their property. He even promoted some of them to high public office.

This policy won him praise from no less a figure than Marcus Tullius Cicero, who described him in a letter to Aulus Caecina as “mild and merciful by nature.” But Caecina knew a thing or two about dictators, since he’d had to publish a flattering book about Caesar in order to win his pardon after having opposed him in the civil war. Caecina and other beneficiaries of Caesar’s unusual clemency took it in a far more ambivalent way. To begin with, most of them were, like Caesar, Roman nobles. Theirs was a culture of honor and status; asking a peer for a pardon was a serious humiliation. So Caesar’s “very power of granting favors weighed heavily on free people,” as Florus, a historian and panegyrist of Rome, wrote about two centuries after the dictator’s death. One prominent noble, in fact, ostentatiously refused Caesar’s clemency. Marcius Porcius Cato, also known as Cato the Younger, was a determined opponent of populist politics and Caesar’s most bitter foe. They had clashed years earlier over Caesar’s desire to show mercy to the Catiline conspirators; Cato argued vigorously for capital punishment and convinced the Senate to execute them. Now he preferred death to Caesar’s pardon. “I am unwilling to be under obligations to the tyrant for his illegal acts,” Cato said; he told his son, "I, who have been brought up in freedom, with the right of free speech, cannot in my old age change and learn slavery instead.

-Barry Strauss, Caesar and the Dangers of Forgiveness

something else that's a fun adjacent to the topic that's fun to think about:

The link between ‘sparing’ and ‘handing over’ is common in the ancient world.763 Paul also uses παραδίδωμι again, denoting ‘hand over, give up a person’ (Bauer et al. 2000:762).764 The verb παραδίδωμι especially occurs in connection with war (Eschner 2010b:197; Gaventa 2011:272).765 However, in Romans 8:32, Paul uses παραδίδωμι to focus on a court image (Eschner 2010b:201).766 Christina Eschner (2010b:197) convincingly argues that Paul’s use of παραδίδωμι refers to the ‘Hingabeformulierungen’ as the combination of the personal object of the handing over of a person in the violence of another person, especially the handing over of a person to an enemy.767 Moreover, Eschner (2009:676) convincingly argues that Isaiah 53 is not the pre-tradition for Romans 8:32.

Annette Potgieter, Contested Body: Metaphors of dominion in Romans 5-8

Along with the internal conflict of Pompey, the murderer of Brutus’ father, and Caesar, the figurehead for everything that goes against what Brutus stands for, Brutus accepting Caesar’s forgiveness isn’t an act of benevolence, regardless of Caesar’s intentions.

On wards, Caesar owns Brutus. Caesar benefits from having Brutus as his own, he inherits Brutus’ reputation, he inherits a better PR image in the eyes of the Roman people. On wards, nothing Brutus does is without the ugly stain of Caesar. His career is no longer his own, his life is no longer fully his own, his legacy is no longer entirely his. Brutus becomes a man divided.

And it’s not like it was an internal struggle, it was an entire spectacle. Hypocrisy is theatrical. Call yourself a man of honor and then you sell out? The people of Rome will remember that, and they’re going to make sure you know it.

After this certain men at the elections proposed for consuls the tribunes previously mentioned, and they not only privately approached Marcus Brutus and such other persons as were proud-spirited and attempted to persuade them, but also tried to incite them to action publicly. 12 1 Making the most of his having the same name as the great Brutus who overthrew the Tarquins, they scattered broadcast many pamphlets, declaring that he was not truly that man's descendant; for the older Brutus had put to death both his sons, the only ones he had, when they were mere lads, and left no offspring whatever. 2 Nevertheless, the majority pretended to accept such a relationship, in order that Brutus, as a kinsman of that famous man, might be induced to perform deeds as great. They kept continually calling upon him, shouting out "Brutus, Brutus!" and adding further "We need a Brutus." 3 Finally on the statue of the early Brutus they wrote "Would that thou wert living!" and upon the tribunal of the living Brutus (for he was praetor at the time and this is the name given to the seat on which the praetor sits in judgment) "Brutus, thou sleepest," and "Thou art not Brutus."

Cassius Dio

Brutus knew. Cassius knew. Caesar knew. You can’t escape your legacy when you’re the one who stamped it on coins.

Caesar turned Brutus into the dagger that would cut, and Brutus himself isn’t free from this injury. It’s a mutual betrayal, a mutual dooming.

By this time Caesar found himself being attacked from every side, and as he glanced around to see if he could force a way through his attackers, he saw Brutus closing in upon him with his dagger drawn. At this he let go of Casca’s hand which he had seized, muffled up his head in his robe, and yielded up his body to his murderers’ blows. Then the conspirators flung themselves upon him with such a frenzy of violence, as they hacked away with their daggers, that they even wounded one another. Brutus received a stab in the hand as he tried to play his part in the slaughter, and every one of them was drenched in blood.

Plutarch

For Antony, Caesar is a bad sign.

Brutus and Antony are fucked over by the generation they were born in, etc etc the cannibalization of Rome on itself, the Third Servile War was the match to the gasoline already on the streets of Rome, the last generation of Romans etc etc etc. They are counterparts to each other, displaced representatives of a time already gone by the time they were alive.

Rome spends its years in a state of civil war after civil war, political upheaval, and death. Neither Brutus or Antony will ever really know stability, as instability is hallmark of the times. Both of them are at something of a disadvantage, although Brutus has what Antony does not, and what Brutus has is what let’s him create his own career. Until Caesar, Brutus is owned by no one.

This is not the case for Antony.

You can track Antony’s life by who he’s attached to. Very rarely is he ever truly a man unto himself, there is always someone nearby.

In his youth, it is said, Antony gave promise of a brilliant future, but then he became a close friend of Curio and this association seems to have fallen like a blight upon his career. Curio was a man who had become wholly enslaved to the demands of pleasure, and in order to make Antony more pliable to his will, he plunged him into a life of drinking bouts, love-affairs, and reckless spending. The consequence was that Antony quickly ran up debts of an enormous size for so young a man, the sum involved being two hundred and fifty talents. Curio provided security for the whole of this amount, but his father heard of it and forbade Antony his house. Antony then attached himself for a short while to Clodius, the most notorious of all the demagogues of his time for his lawlessness and loose-living, and took part in the campaigns of violence which at that time were throwing political affairs at Rome into chaos.

Plutarch

(although, in contrast to Brutus, we rarely lose sight of Antony. As a person, we can see him with a kind of clarity, if one looks a little bit past the Augustan propaganda. He is, at all times, human.)

Antony being figuratively or literally attached to a person starts early, and continues politically. While Brutus has enough privilege to brute force his way into politics despite Cicero’s lamentation of a promising life being thrown off course, Antony will instead follow a different career path that echoes in his personal life and defines his relationships.

Whereas some young men often attached or indebted themselves to a patron or a military leader at the beginning of their political lives,

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

+

3. During his stay in Greece he was invited by Gabinius, a man of consular rank, to accompany the Roman force which was about to sail for Syria. Antony declined to join him in a private capacity, but when he was offered the command of the cavalry he agreed to serve in the campaign.

Plutarch

To take it a step further, it even defines how he’s perceived today looking back: it’s never just Antony, it’s always Antony and---

It can be read as someone being taken advantage of, in places, survival in others, especially in Antony's early life. Other times, it appears like Antony himself is the one who manipulates things to his favor, casting aside people and realigning himself back to an advantage.

or when he saw an opportunity for faster advancement, he was willing to place the blame on a convenient scapegoat or to disregard previous loyalties, however important they had been. His desertion of Fulvia's memory in 40, and, much later, of Lepidus, Sextus Pompey, and Octavia, produced significant political gains. This characteristic, which Caesar discovered to his cost in 47, gives the sharp edge to Antony's personality which Syme's portrait lacks, especially when he attributes Antony's actions to a 'sentiment of loyalty' or describes him as a 'frank and chivalrous soldier'. In this context, one wonders what became of Fadia.19

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 47 B.C.

Caesar inherits Antony, and like Brutus, locks him in for a doomed ending.

The way Caesar writes about Antony smacks of someone viewing another person as something more akin to a dog, and it carries over until it’s bitter conclusion.

Caesar benefits from Antony immensely. The people love Antony, the military loves Antony. He’s charming, he’s self aware, he’s good at what he does. Above all of that, he has political ambitions of a similar passion as Brutus.

Antony drew some political benefit from his genial personality. Even Cicero, who from at least 49 did not like him,15 was prepared to regard some of his earlier misdemeanours as harmless.16 Bluff good humour, moderate intelligence, at least a passing interest in literature, and an ability to be the life and soul of a social gathering all contributed to make him a charming companion and to bind many important people to him. He had a lieutenant's ability to follow orders and a willingness to listen to advice, even (one might say especially) from intelligent women.17 These attributes made Antony able to handle some situations very well."1

There was a more important side to his personality, however, which contributed to his political survival. Antony was ruthless in his quest for pre-eminence

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

None of this matters, because after all Antony does for Caesar

Plutarch's comment that Curio brought Antony into Caesar's camp is surely mistaken.59 Anthony had been serving as Caesar's officer from perhaps as early as 53, after his return from Syria.60 He is described as legatus in late 52,61 and was later well known as Caesar's quaestor.62 It is more likely that the reverse of the statement is true, that Antony assisted in bringing Curio over to Caesar. If this were so, then he performed a signal service for Caesar, for gaining Curio meant attaching Fulvia, who provided direct access to the Clodian clientela in the city. Such valuable political connections served to increase Antony's standing with Caesar, and to set him apart from other officers in his army.63

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

Caesar still, for whatever reasons, fucks over Antony spectacularly with the will. Loyalty is repaid with dismissal, and it will bury the Republic for good.

It’s not enough for Caesar to screw him over just once, it becomes generational and ugly. Caesar lives on through Octavian: it becomes Octavian’s brand, his motif, propaganda wielded like a knife. Octavian, thanks to Caesar, will bring Antony to his bitter conclusion

And for my "bitter" conclusion, I’ll sign off by saying that there are actual scholars on Antony who are more well versed than I am who can go into depth about the Caesar-Octavian-Antony dynamic (and how it played out with Caligula) better than I can, and scholarship on Brutus consists mostly of looking at an outline of a man and trying to guess what the inside was like.

At the end of the day, Caesar was the instigator, active manipulator, and catalyst for the final act of the Republic.

I hope that this was at least entertaining to read!

[arse-crack-thistle]

a firstprince meet-cute

the heroes of olympus au

in which the roman son of apollo meets the greek son of themis

Henry—the quiet son of Apollo and Centurion of the 3rd cohort—leads a team of five demigods through the Long Island woods. Their task: spy on the Greeks and bring information back to Octavian. The golden-haired boy wishes he could’ve refused, but anyone who goes against the Pontifex Maximus gets severely punished and he will not let any harm come to his legionaries. Not again.

The group weaves through the trees, dodging the sight of any patrols. Henry has no idea how he’ll get close enough to hear anything, but he might be able to interpret some battle strategy from the Greek’s night preparations. As his fellow soldiers fan out beside him, Henry inches up the hill. He’d say a prayer to his father if he thought it would help, but he doesn’t. After many unanswered prayers about his sexuality, about his rather fucked up influential family, he doesn’t bother with Apollo anymore.

Henry gestures for his right-hand man—Pez, son of Mercury and the only one who actually knows he’s gay—to peer over the hill with him; the others stay back, keeping watch. The Centurion readies an arrow just in case, while Pez has his hand on the hilt of his blade, and they watch Greek demigods reinforce their buildings, sharpen their weapons, and prepare medical tents. None of them are practicing formations, which doesn’t help Henry or Octavian at all. He has to come back with something, so he puts the arrow away and crawls forward.

This could be really stupid, but he has to try—not for Octavian but for New Rome. It’s the only place that’s felt like home to him. Back in England, there’s his grandmother, the CEO of an underwhelming home goods empire. The stuff is cheap, but they’re still the number one seller back home. His mother and brother have a part in it. His sister ran off a few years back, and he has no idea where she is or if she’s even alive. His father—or rather ex-step-father—hasn’t wanted much to do with him since about three years ago when he found out Henry’s mother had an affair at a music festival fourteen years before.

They had a scandalous divorce, covered by every major news outlet, and Henry found out his true identity when a handsome demigod knocked on his door and told him he was in danger and had to be take to California. Several monsters, a few thousand miles, and a few months with a wolf goddess later, he found himself at Camp Jupiter. Everything that happened to him up until then—the blurry images of creatures at the corner of his eyes every time he turned a corner, the dyslexia that made his passion for writing frustrating, the way he never really fit in with his family—finally made sense. He was a demigod! And when the sign of Apollo appeared over his head after he made his first bullseye at the archery range, he truly felt like he found where he belonged.

Pez whispers for him to come back, but Henry lifts a hand in warning. Just then, someone—a dryad probably—screams an alert to his enemy, and all Underworld breaks loose. His legionaries get in formation behind him, readying themselves for the Greeks. They were taught never to run from a fight, but Henry can’t allow this to happen. He’s been in enough battles to know when he can win and when he can’t. Eventually, they’ll be outnumbered because Octavian won’t send him reinforcements if he can help it. He doesn’t know how violent the Greeks will be, but if they willingly fired on New Rome when their defenses were down, then he can’t take the risk. And he won’t repeat what happened in the Titan war.

Henry orders his soldiers back, telling Pez to take temporary control of the cohort and share the minimal information they gathered with the Pontifex. If they’re to be any casualties tonight, it will only be Henry and the Greeks he can take down with him.

•••

The last thing Alex—the wise-ass son of Themis—wants to do in the middle of the night is go to a counsel meeting at the Big House. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he walks up the creaky steps. Inside, Chiron and the other counsellors gather around a table. It’s times like this he wishes it was a year ago when the children of minor gods were left out of meetings and decision-making. But as soon as he slaps himself awake, he regains his undying need to get involved and raise hell—fair and just hell, of course.

He sits down next to Nora, the temporary head counsellor of the Athena cabin. She’s bouncing in her seat—no doubt high on caffeine and nectar and ready to get back to developing war strategy. She gives him a wink and taps her fingers like she’s back home typing on a computer. Chiron clears his throat and tells the demigods of a Roman scout team that was spotted an hour ago. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers got away, but they did manage to capture one. He’s being held in one of the Big House’s guest rooms.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to bounce. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this. A prisoner of war means they’ll need to get information. There will need to be a lawyer present—or a lawyer in training that is. He can preside over the questioning, be the voice of justice, and maybe even get the Roman to see the right side is his. He can picture it now: Camp Half-Blood safe from the Romans and that dude reformed in his ways, joining them to stop Gaia. Yes, this is his chance to step out of his sister’s shadow.

He volunteers to mediate for whoever is charged with the interview. Alex ignores Chiron’s obvious hesitation; just because he can get a little heated—thank gods Leo isn’t here cracking a dumb pun joke at that, which would inevitably leave them both laughing on the floor—doesn’t mean he can’t be objective. So he hates the Romans’ guts and thinks they should go back to their stuck-up little camp, so what? Once he’s in the real world, going to college, running for congress like his father, he’ll have to deal with a shit-ton of people he doesn’t like. Looking at you, Bitch McConnell.

Just as Chiron decides he, Nora, Will Solace, and reluctantly Alex will talk to the Roman boy, a camper from the Aphrodite cabin bursts through the door and tells him one of the Hephaestus girls accidentally blew up a boy from the Ares cabin. Apparently, armor strapped with projectile explosives wasn’t the best idea. So Chiron declares they will talk to their guest in the morning, and in the meantime, they’ll take shifts in pairs guarding him. Alex raises his hand to get the first watch, but Chiron appoints Drew Tanaka and Connor Stoll. They both roll their eyes at the idea of being stuck together for the next few hours. Alex’s chest deflates.

Ever since his sister left—he and June are some of the rare demigods that have the same mortal and immortal parentage without being twins—the responsibility of the Themis cabin has fallen on his shoulders. He wanted it, of course, but his siblings also elected him to the head counsellor position, thinking he’d follow in June’s footsteps: ruling with truth, justice, and wisdom. Just like their mother.

Back in his cabin, Alex stares at the marble statue of her that presides over her children. Her iconic image—blindfolded, holding a sword in one hand and balancing a scale in the other—reminds him he’s definitely no June.

She was a leader of quests; Alex has never been on one. June was the voice of reason at counsel meetings; he struggles just to sit still, let alone calm a room with one enlightening sentence. When the children of minor gods were finally given their own cabins, there was no question who should run theirs. Now, he hears his siblings whisper whether they should hold another election. Gods, you call out your conservative brothers one time—it was way more than once—and suddenly, you’re imposing your opinion on everyone.

That’s not it though. Alex has never been given a chance to step up. No matter how many times he tries to convince the counsel they should establish a court system at camp—nothing settles an argument like a nice, fair trial—he always gets shot down.

Not anymore. He’s not going to sit back this time. Not when the threat to camp is this great. He’ll get what he needs from that Roman. If June were here, she would’ve been trusted to go ahead without Chiron, so Alex will do the same.

•••

Henry wakes up to angry whispers outside of his door. The twelve Greeks overtook him easily, but he did put up a good fight. At least, he did until he was knocked unconscious. On the table beside his bed, a note sits atop a plate of food.

Eat well. Hydrate. Rest. We’ll speak with you soon. -Chiron

A glass of juice spiked with nectar sits next to the plate. Why would those imbecilic Greeks give him what’s essentially strengthening serum? He intakes his surroundings: a bed, a table, a dresser, and a chair. Window to the left. Only door out to the right. There’s a clean set of clothes at the end of the bed, but Henry would rather go to Tartarus and back than put on another camp’s shirt.

He jimmies the window, but it’s locked and to hard to break. He lightly tries the doorknob, but it’s locked as well. By the sounds of it, three maybe four people argue outside his door. Romans never had this much trouble changing guard shifts. Henry fiddles about the room, looking for anything to 1. unlock the door and 2. use as a weapon. He can handle four Greeks, and he’ll do everything in his power to get back to his cohort.

Henry hears the click of the door unlocking. Gods, they’re thick, aren’t they? He grabs the wooden chair, and as the door swings open, he thwacks the person walking in with it. Just as he suspected, the chair breaks, and he uses one piece to press against the throat of the careless demigod he’s pinned to the floor.

The boy beneath him groans. He’s got light brown skin and dark curly hair, and if Henry weren’t about to kill him, he’d think he was quite cute.

“Gods, can you Greeks do anything with finesse? Even your hero, Percy Jackson, as talented as he may be, flies by the seed of his trousers.” Henry grits his teeth.

“Ha!” the boy coughs out. “Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you guys were supposed to be strictly trained soldiers. You miscalculated.”

He points behind him, and when Henry looks up, a girl stands battle-ready with a sword in her hand. The distraction is enough for the boy below to wrap his legs around Henry and flip them. The Greek holds a dagger to his neck.

“Listen here, pretty boy, are we going to talk or am I going to go all American Revolution on your British-ass?” He presses the dagger, and Henry yelps.

The boy’s brown eyes peer into Henry’s, and some strange part of him likes it. The Greek looks about his age and, while clearly not as capable as he, definitely has some fight in him.

“I’d like to see you try, graecus. But be forewarned, if you send me to the Underworld, I’ll drag you and your camp down with me.” He keeps his face plain and uncaring, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks. Apollo help him.

The girl interrupts them to remind her partner what they’re here to do. She sheaths her sword and closes the door.

He’s called Alex. Henry swallows. And they need information.

Alex releases him. The two get up off the ground. No one moves to sit or get more comfortable. The boys just stare at each other, long and cold.

Henry can tell this guy is a complete and total arse, and yet he can’t shake the swirling feeling in his stomach. A memory from a quest eighteen months ago flashes in his mind. In Vegas, a priest of Venus dressed like Elvis told him great tragedy would befall his love life, but with the goddess’s blessing, he’d find happiness again.

He already lost someone. The demigod who found him, Daniel, son of Ceres, his sponsor when he joined the camp, his Centurion. Everything was quiet between them—few words needed for mutual understanding. Daniel brought him fresh lavender; Henry played him a tune on the lute. But then the Titan war came. And Daniel disobeyed the Praetors’ orders to save the boy he loved. Henry barely had time to grieve before he took control of the 3rd cohort and lost four other demigods in the process. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of the five who died because of him. Because of love.

No. This feeling he has is the desire to beat the Greeks, nothing more. He doesn’t give a damn about happiness in love or this obnoxiously hot demigod before him. Like even as Alex breaks eye contact first, puts his sheathed dagger in his boot, ruffles his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs, Henry feels nothing. Elvis can go fuck himself.

“So,” Alex says, “what do you have planned, and how can we convince you to stop? We’d really like to prevent another demigod civil war.”

Henry laughs, and even though nothing would make him happier than to stop fighting, to rest as Chiron suggested, he tells Alex, “You’re really a dickhead if you think I’m giving you anything.”

•••

“It was an accident!”

“You expect me to believe with our two camps in a centuries-long feud that the one time we let down our defenses, your lot just attacked us on accident? Right, and I suppose Pluto is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him, too?”

“My buddy Leo was being controlled by Gaia!”

“Your mate Leo should come up with a better lie.”

“You’re impossible!” Gods, Alex really hates this guy. “Nora, can’t we just—”

She shakes her head before he can finish. He’s not really sure what he was going to say. Have Drew come back and charmspeak him? Feed him to the harpies? Pin him down again? Wait—what?

“Listen, dude. We’re really on the same side here. Right now, both Greeks and Romans demigods—our friends—are fighting against a greater threat than the world has seen since the beginning of time. That’s got to count for something,” he says.

The Roman is quiet. Alex hates how he looks like a goddamn prince even after a fight. But maybe he got through to him. After all, it is true. For all the shit he talks about Romans, he knows they’re not bad, just different. They actually have more in common than they’d like to acknowledge. Jason Grace taught him that. If there was ever a Roman WASP he could get behind, it’s Jason.

So Alex tries a different approach. He gestures to the bed. “You want to?” The blond boy stiffens, and Alex clarifies, “Sit?”

“How about we start over?” He sits. Nora takes the opportunity to march to the other side and bellyflops onto the bed. “I’m Alex, son of Themis, the goddess of justice. And you are?”

He watches the Roman look from the undefended door to Alex and back again.

“You could run,” Alex says. “But then we’d have no chance to broker peace. Hera thought she could do it by trading heroes, but I think you and I both know it takes more than one person to heal two armies.”

Power swells in his chest. Alex can’t know for sure, but maybe his mother is looking out for him. This is how he can bring the demigods justice for Gaia’s destruction. June would be the better choice, but Alex is here and he has to try.

“Let’s work together. Or at least, get along long enough for the prophesized seven to come back home,” he says.

The Roman hesitates. Alex can see in his light blue eyes the number of strategies racing through his mind. But ultimately, he decides to sit. Nora snores next to them. Five a.m. and a caffeine/nectar crash will do that to you.

“So your name?” Alex asks. “It’s only fair.” Dumb pun but he winks.

The boy coughs, but then he looks into Alex’s eyes. “I’m—er—Henry, son of Apollo, Centurion of the 3rd cohort.”

so this is a little late but we’re just going to ignore that...

i just finished reading toa a couple of weeks ago, and i can’t stop thinking about it!! so when i saw the meet-cute prompt, i couldn’t resist a percy jackson-ish fic! i hope you enjoyed this little short piece. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[probabilitydirigible]

A "BRIEF HISTORY" OF THE FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC: For no particular reason

ONCE UPON A TIME there was a city that wasn't called Rome yet founded by two brothers, Remus and Romulus. Romulus killed his brother and got the town named after him. NEVER AGAIN UPON A TIME, the city had a king everyone hated so much they just all stabbed the crap out of him at once, and made a big public pact that next time there was a king, they would do the same thing. This isn't foreshadowing. LATER they went to war with Carthage, another city in North Africa, and although they technically won that war, the enemy general Hannibal was so cool (he took elephants over the alps into Italy! Terrifying) we remembered him forever and while history remembers the roman generals, we really don't care. UP UNTIL NOW the roman army was entirely 'citizen-soldiers' who were expected to provide their own equipment and who treated the occasional war as a temporary distraction from their normal jobs. This was replaced by full-time soldiers partially for logistical reasons (it's bad when your entire army is like 'Sorry, can't fight in October') but also for economic reasons- the poor could no longer reliably afford swords. As such, it was exclusively the poor who signed up for the army, and they were extremely aware that if the army ever stopped paying them, it was a return to crushing poverty. WHY WERE THE POOR POORER? The rich were richer! For complex legal reasons, but the biggest among them was that the rich had bought all the farmland. There was also special government farmland that in theory was available to poor people on a temporary basis until they could afford to buy their own farms, but the rich tended to acquire that too.  DEMOCRACY TO THE RESCUE: A guy named Tiberius Gracchus attempted to enforce an existing law that you could only own so much land. It was on the books but nobody actually was doing it. During his political campaign, a shit ton of senators clubbed him to death with chair legs for threatening their wealth. OKAY ONE MORE TRY:  Gaius Gracchus, his little brother, tried to do the exact same thing. He did much better until he tried to extend citizenship, which went over about as well as it does in modern times, and he committed suicide before being torn apart by an angry mob. WHAT IF SOMEONE POWERFUL TRIES IT? Gaius Marius, a famous general, attempts to pass the same basic set of reforms, but is defeated at every turn. He's also a petty bitch, so he tries to steal command of a giant army about to lead a cool war from his arch-rival, Sulla. Sulla responds by killing the messenger and marching on Rome, which Marius attempts to defend by grabbing every gladiator he can find, in the hopes that a ragtag band of badasses might just work. It does not and he escapes. Sulla kills all his friends and allies and anyone who ever talked about how cool reform would be. He makes eye contact with a young Julius Caesar and explicitly says "I'm not going to kill you, but I have a weird vibe you're going to grow up to be just like your uncle Marius." HE GROWS UP TO BE JUST LIKE HIS UNCLE MARIUS: Julius becomes a politican and teams up with a great general named Pompey and a great rich dude named Crassus, on the theory that with his public speaking skills and their resources and connections, they could take over the country. They do! Julius then takes the opportunity to borrow the army for a bit and conquer a huge chunk of Europe just for fun and profit because he's a great general apparently. Crassus gets jealous and tries to conquer syria but dies. CIVIL WAR: Without their mutual ally, Julius and Pompey begin circling each other. Julius is ordered back to Rome to end his military campaign, but he's worried about what happens if he steps down as general. (Similar to today where you can't prosecute the president for crimes APPARENTLY, Julius was immune as long as he was on duty) So he brings his whole army back to Rome and the war begins. Julius wins! IT'S TOO BAD THERE WASN'T A WELL ESTABLISHED PRECEDENT FOR THIS: Julius starts quietly hinting that he should be king by like, organizing astroturf movements and having people graffiti crowns onto statues of him and paying attractive people to stand in bars and crowds and be like "This would be much better if we had a king again!" Inevitably, everyone stabs him at once. SEQUEL: Julius's adopted son, Octavian, is a shutin nerd whose best friend, Agrippa, is a beefcake military powerhouse, but this was still like 30 BC, so nobody wrote slashfic about them. With Julius's death, suddenly there's no one unarguable ruler again, and everyone fights to be the next Julius. Octavian wins. He changes his name to "Augustus" which is roman for "Awesome Guy" and starts calling himself "First Citizen" which is very different from king and is careful never to visibly like, order anyone around so much as just quietly make suggestions through back channels that always happen because everybody knows what's really going on. But the facade works and nobody stabs him to death, possibly because he's better at politics than big J, or possibly after three civil wars in a row everyone was just TIRED. By all accounts, he was a pretty solid governor. EPILOGUE: Tiberius, his successor, would have wild orgies with child slaves and have so many political rivals killed that the bodies dumped into the river sometimes accidentally dammed it and they had to send dudes out with poles. After that came Nero, a guy so messed up you know his name, who was so obsessed with killing christians and jewish people that they wrote a bunch of mean stuff about him using a nickname, 666, and that's where that comes from. It's like, the scrabble score of his name in ancient judiac numerology code.

[alleycat97]

Before There Was Us

Pairing: MC x Kamilah

Tag list: @themaskedanon @onyxgaytrash @kamilahslittlehoe @kelseyapperson @lightning-fury @beyondthenakedeye28 @wildsayeed @scarlet-letter-a0114 @mrskamilxh if you want to be added or removed let me know!

...

It was just a typical Thursday night for Kamilah, number 107,328 to be exact, but who was counting? There was no more days to her. She didn’t live by a calendar anymore, there was no need, the sun rose and set each day, nothing more or less.

Kamilah typically came home from work to work, a solitude she grew use to in her many years of being alone. Except a horrific cough coming from her master suite made her alter her typical plans.

She entered the room and set her eyes on the source, Amy. Amy, the mortal, the one who came into Kamilah’s life and completely stole her heart and ran with it. The young woman had Kamilah bad, something the vampire was trying to come to terms with after being alone for over a century.

She sat down on the bed next to Amy and instinctfully placed her hand on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. I think I’m dying.” Amy winced as she tried to sit up, Kamilah holding her down.

“No. You need to relax and rest.”

“I’m tired of being here...” Amy whined causing Kamilah to laugh.

“Well I don’t want to tell you I told you so, but what did I say?”

Amy groaned recalling the other night. She wanted to go bar hopping with Lily but Kamilah insisted she stay in due to the rain and flu going around. Amy insisted she was immune and went anyway. After the 4th bar and way too many shots later she was stumbling around outside waiting for Kamilah to pick her up...in the rain.

Amy just slid further into the bed in defeat not wanting to admit that Kamilah was right, she would die before she would let her have that satisfaction.

Kamilah just laughed and kissed Amy’s forehead before rising to leave. “I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll just be in my office.” She couldn’t be too hard on her. She knew what the culture was like today and young adults of Amy’s age all did these things. Except it was very different from when she was that age, she just wanted Amy to be happy.

“Kami?” Amy called out in a tone that usually gets her anything she wants.

Kamilah stopped in the threshold, “Yes habibti?”

“Can you tell me about Egypt?”

Kamilah made her way back to the bed, she knew it would come eventually, but didn’t really want it to, not wanting to recall the past.

“I don’t know Amy. It was so many years ago. I don’t think I can recall it.” She lied crawling into the bed to join Amy who instinctfully latched on.

“Please....” Amy insisted.

“Ok let’s see...Well you know of my twin brother and being Cleopatras cousin.”

“Was she your first cousin?” Amy asked.

“Well then we didn’t call them that, but yes. Her father, the one who gave Lysimachus the horse, and my mother were siblings.”

“That’s so cool! Tell me about Cleopatra! I bet you guys were like partners in crime!” Amy said getting excited.

“Well early we were pretty close. Especially when my mother passed. We would play by the Nile with the other children. Cleopatra even talked me into wrestling against the boys.”

“So that’s we’re you get your tough act from.” Amy replied.

“Cleopatra was the more exciting one as kids. She was older than me but she was smart and cunning and would do anything.”

Kamilah took a minute to just sit back and enjoy the memory’s. “A lot was expected of us even as children. Her father, Ptolemy Xll was very strict. We did have fun but we also worked like any other. He went easier on Cleopatra because he was her favorite child.”

“What about your father?” Amy inquired.

“He was a General for the Army. He was always away fighting and one day he didn’t return. Lysmachus, wanting to be like father, joined the army and went off to fight much to the pleasure of Ptolemy. He took me into the palace and I was an assistant to Cleopatra.”

“Was Eypt violent?”

“Not particularly. If anything it was flourishing. Ancient Eygpy however, is a different story. We had chores yes, the men had to fight, but we were prospering, especially under Cleopatra.”

“Tell me more about her.” Amy said shifting slightly.

“Well Cleopatra was actually from Greek descent. She could speak 7 languages and everyone loved her because she embraced Eyptian culture and opened trade to many Arab nations.”

“So if she was the favorite? What happened to her?”

“Well when she turned 18, her father passed away and she took the throne. Except she had to share it with her younger brother Ptolemy Xlll. They were forced to marry and rule.”

“Oh gross!” Amy squealed. “That’s nasty.”

Kamilah laughed, “It was very common among nobility. He was 10 at the time.”

“Ewww. Please skip this part Kami.”

“You know I was engaged then as well.” Kamilah set the trap, feeling Amy tense, she loved when Amy got jealous.

“Kami. I said skip this part!”

“Oh relax, I’m just teasing. Anyway, after Ptolemy got older her forced Cleopatra and myself out of the palace and took over as ruler.”

“What did you guys do then?”

“Julius Caesar...”

“Ya’ll fucked Julius Caesar!?” Amy said cutting off Kamilah, bolting from her sheets.

“If you would let me finish please, no we didn’t. Well I never did but she did however, but not at this point anyway. He came to the palace and she snuck into the palace inside of a bedroll.

“How did she do that?” Amy quizzed.

“Who do you think rolled her into it?” Kamilah sighed face palming.

“Oh. Right.” Amy said blushing.

“Anyway. She made an alliance with Caesar and the two formed an Army and defeated Ptolemys Army at the Nile. Ptolemy tried to escape and drowned. She took back over the throne.”

“I’m getting bad bitch vibes from her.” Amy awed. “That’s when I officially became Nomarch.” Kamilah added.

“What happened to Julius?”

“He and Cleopatra became an item and she birthed his son Ceasarion. Together she ruled with her son.” Cleopatra visited Rome but always declared to keep Egypt separate.”

“Did Caesar like that?”

“It was merely a political alliance. Caesar needed the grain from Eypgt to feed his people, Cleopatra wanted her throne back. She seduced him to get what they both wanted. She was extremely intelligent.”

“Did she ever speak of Rome?” Amy asked.

“I was there. She took me with her.”

“What!!!!! No way!”

“It was beautiful. The culture, the architecture, it was like a complete other world. But it was also scary and chaotic. The country was on the brink of civil war with the thought of Ceasar becoming the Emperor. Fear lined the streets.”

“Then he got stabbed.” Amy recalled from history class.

“Very good Amy, yes he was murdered and Cleopatra and I returned to Eygpt where she later met Marc Antony.”

“Oh he sounds hot.”

“Oh...he was.” Kamilah smiled remembering. “He was just a smart and witty as Cleopatra, a perfect match.”

“Wait...so who ruled Rome after you guys left?”

“Antony, Caesar’s great nephew Octavian, and Marcus Lepidus, know as the second triumvirate. They hunted the liberators, those who killed Ceasar and formed the Roman Empire. Antony took control of Rome’s eastern provinces, alas, Eygpt.”

“So then he and Cleopatra fell in love?” Amy asked.

“Yes. The three rulers wanted more power and Antony married Octavia, Octavian’s sister, to calm the tension and show his commitment. But he kept up his affair with Cleopatra and had three kids with her.”

“So what were you doing while this was happening?”

“I just served alongside of Cleopatra with the other Nomarchs. I was in charge of a province and I spread Cleopatra’s influence in it.”

“Was it fun? Being so important?”

“Well I don’t know about fun. I had important decisions to make that affected peoples lives.” Kamilah recalled having to make tough decisions that helped shape her into the woman she is now.

“So back to Cleopatra, what happened to her and Antony?”

“Well they decided to strikeagainst Octavian to gain control over Rome that broke into civil war. Antony fought Octavian three times and was finally defeated after all of his men deserted him.”

“They left him?”

“Battle after battle, Antonys much larger Army left him and he was finally defeated without a fight.

“What did he do then?” Amy inquired.

“He fled. He was going to be captured so he ran. He received a letter that Cleopatra was dead, which in reality she locked herself and treasure into her mausoleum. Antony stabbed himself however he didn’t immediately die and found out Cleopatra was alive. He made it to Egypt to see her and eventually die in her arms.”

“Ah how romantic!” Amy cried. “True love!!”

Kamilah continued her story, “With Antony dead, Cleopatra sent Octavian her official word to abdicate her thrown in favor of her son and then took her own life once word had spread that Octavian was coming for her and her treasures to parade her around Rome as symbol of triumph.”

“How exactly did she die?”

“Snake poison.”

“I hate snakes.” Amy said shivering, placing her head in Kamilah’s lap.

“Then Octavian had Caesarion killed and he finally cemented his legacy as the first emperor or Rome and the one and only rightful son of Julius Caesar.”

“Oh. Poor guy. How old was Cleopatra?”

“39.”

“What did you do when you found out she died?” Amy asked.

Kamilah started rubbing Amy’s hair with delicacy,

“I cried. She was like my big sister. I was off training troops when a Roman Legion attacked us. We wouldn’t submit and then I met him...”

“Gaius...” Amy started with anger.

“He attacked and killed all of my soldiers and that’s when he turned me and brainwashed me. We immediately left Egypt and I never returned.”

“Omg Kami...I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok now. I was young and dumb then, I was 34 when I was turned.” Kamilah laughed revealing her age.

“Well we should go back and visit.” Amy said yawning.

Kamilah never thought about it. Eygpt was a special time in her life, she never had anyone to share it with. Maybe it would be fun to go visit and see how much has changed. “I think that would be a great idea Amy. Amy?”

Kamilah said as she stopped rubbing the girls head and watched the younger woman sleep in her lap. She easily removed her head from her lap and quickly got up to change before rejoining her and holding her close.

“Goodnight Habibti.” She said kissing the back of Amy’s neck.

[rosella1356]

Two 11/11/11 Tags

Thank you to @bookenders and @dreamingofstarslight for tagging me.

1.       What’s the last book you read? What did you think of it?

The last book I read was Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. I loved that book. It was such an interesting story. Is it right to kill children for their parent’s sins? Should children try to kill you if you’re trying to kill them first? These are the moral challenges that most of the main characters face, and yet there is no good answer. Neither side is wrong in their justification, but that means the bloodshed will continue for even longer.

2.       What’s the one word you always misspell even though you totally know how to spell it?

The word sword. Don’t ask me how, but somehow it always ends up as sworb.

3.       What do your OCs smell like? If you could publish your WIP with scented pages, what would you want it to smell like?

I’ll choose my top three OCs because otherwise this post would be too large for anyone to understand what was happening. Daisy smells like the middle of a thunderstorm, soaked and yet full of potential. Adrian smells like peppermint and pine in sharp contrast with each other. Lulu smells like nothing, if you get close enough to her to actually be able to try and smell a scent, you won’t be able to smell anything. For my WIP, Lost would be the actual old book that’s just opened smell; Hidden Realms would be something sweet maybe cherry pie; Destined for War should smell like smoke, just that would be perfect; and Silence would be something woody, maybe pine like Adrian.

4.       Your OC is given a pair of boots that mute the sound of their footsteps. What kind of shenanigans do they get into with these sweet new kicks?

Oh god. None of my current OCs are good enough people not to abuse this power. Adrian, Daisy, and the entire cast of Lost would use those to conquer the government and kill the queen, no question. Vivian would probably start running in whatever direction the fae weren’t in. Kairavi would start like 18 wars in under 24 hours, please don’t give her more power. She’s already started one war; I don’t need her to get ideas about more. Lulu might be the most controlled of all of them. She’d just prank her brother, granted that might lead to her brother murdering like an entire city.

5.       How did you decide on the setting for your WIP?

What setting? All of my books have large amounts of scene changes. Lost is them trying to save the entire planet, which means they have to travel the whole world. Hidden Realms initially had a setting in what was once the outskirts of the Roman Empire, now Hungary, but then they ticked off the Church, so they fled to the Americas, but then they found out about an entirely new realm with dragons and went off to that realm. Silence is going to be in some woods somewhere, but I haven’t gotten far enough to figure that out. It starts in NYC. Destined for War starts in Pakistan, but ends in the realm of Gods that doesn’t currently have a name.

6.       Your OCs are given a vast array of finger paints. What do they create?

I’ll do my top three again because this is already a super large post. Adrian would likely draw the winter palace and the family he left behind there. There would probably be tear marks on the page, he’ll deny them, but they’re there. Daisy would probably throw the paint on the page and create some abstract mess to call art. Lulu would spend hours making sure she got every detail of Octavian mapped out on canvas, again. She’s done this before. Like every time she has free time. Don’t worry about why she draws him on repeat. (author moves out of view)

7.       How many times do you rewrite a draft? Or, how many drafts of a story do you go through before arriving at the final draft? Which story has/had the most drafts?

Gosh I don’t know. Lost is the only one I’ve finished the first draft for because I just started writing last year, so I’m planning on 7 drafts. I don’t know if I’ll keep that plan.

8.       What’s your favorite line from your least favorite book? Or, what is your least favorite line from your favorite book?

Least favorite line from my favorite book is actually in Harry Potter from Albus Dumbledore when he says “We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy?”. I don’t disagree with the principle of the quote. In fact I agree that it is a choice most people will have to make. But I can not stress this enough. This burden falls on adults, not children. If you make a child make this choice, I will come find you and beat the absolute shit out of you. Children should not have to fight wars that their parents started before they even reach adulthood. Mini rant over.

9.       What questions do you ask yourself when drafting a WIP?

So I don’t generally start a draft until I know what all the major events are and what order they are occurring in. That means I tend to ask myself: what is the plot? Why do my characters give a shit? What am I doing to these poor characters? Generally, the answer is just pain. I like putting my characters through a whole lot of shit.

10.  A fellow writer once said that “we’ve all trapped Sims in the swimming pool.” What are the “trapping Sims in the pool” moments in your stories?

Oh my god. In Hidden Realms, I killed a character in order to force the issue of the Holy Roman Empire to attack our main characters. Only I realized after I wrote that, that it meant one point of view wasn’t going to cut it when half the plot takes place after death. I had to go change the entire story to have 6 point of views. I’m still screaming at myself.

11.  What’s your favorite bad metaphor?

She had brown eyes like mud. (yes I know this is a simile, but still.)

12.  Do you have any pets in you WIP(s)??

Daisy has a pet raven, and a pet mountain lion. I mean they’re not really pets, so much as companions, but it counts. I think Vivian has a fish in her office, but like it doesn’t have a name and her brother is the one who feeds it, so does it count?

13.  How many story names have you gone through so far?

Lost was always Lost. Hidden Realms didn’t have a title for about a year, then suddenly one of my friends started referring to it as the book series in which all the realms are found, and then Hidden Realms became the title. It’s the title of the series though. The first book is called the “The merging of Realms.” (The readers won’t understand its meaning until the second book, but that’s called foreshadowing.) The Destined series came about because of a moodboard made for the main character where someone summarized her as Destined for War and I went “oh that’s perfect for the whole series.” Silence is a shitty placement title, so I can refer to the book. It definitely won’t be marketed as that. If you have suggestions for it, please tell me.

14.  Are there any important bodies of water in your story??

We cross the ocean in like all of them, so yes. All the oceans. Just all of them. A couple important rivers too.

15.  Describe an oc with ten or less words,,,

Daisy: A wild fae with anger management issues.

Adrian: A prince who really wants family but never succeeds.

Lulu: A vampire with a human fiancé and twin witch children.

16.  What was the inspo behind your story’s name?

Haha. I kind of answered those in question 13 except for Lost. Lost is a book about children choosing a revolution that will almost certainly kill them in order to save a world that was lost centuries if not millenniums before they were born. So they are Lost ones. The title should be Lost.

17.  What’s the most you’ve written in one day?

If you mean new words, I once hand-wrote five chapters in an 8 hour car ride to avoid dealing with grief. If you mean most written period, I typed 31,756 words in three hours from a journal I had hand-written it in.

18.  Are there any couples in your story that you find really cute??

Lulu and Octavian are goals. Daisy and Leahsidhe are my baby lesbians, who definitely don’t get a happy ending. Please don’t ship them. It does not end well. I’m a terrible person.

19.  Do any of your pc’s have allergies? If so, what??

Do any of them have allergies? I have a gut feeling Balthazar has some allergies, but he is not fully developed yet, so I can’t easily tell you what they are. Its some kind of plant. We’re going to find out when they move to the woods.

20.  Is there any lgbt+ rep in your story?

There is a shit ton. I am lgbt+, so are the vast majority of my characters. Adrian is asexual. Daisy is pansexual. Leahsidhe is bisexual. Ruby is lesbian. Suno and Balthazar are gay. Those are the ones who have names. I have ideas for other works that have so many sexualities, its going to be an adventure.

21.  Do any of your oc’s have tattoos?

Rose has an entire sleeve on both arms. They’re for all the 28 of the members of the revolution. When Daisy’s baby is born, she adds one for her too. Its one of the only happy scenes in Lost. (author runs away)

22.  What’s your favourite friend pairing trope?

Friend pairing trope. Being able to communicate without talking. I love that shit.

 My questions for people:

1.       Who is your favorite OC?

2.       How many WIPs do you have?

3.       How often do you write?

4.       Why did you get into writing?

5.       Have you created any moodboards for your work and if so what are they?

6.       Where do you write most?

7.       What’s your favorite part of writing?

8.       What is your favorite quote?

9.       Are there any authors who inspired you to start writing?

10.  If you had to publish one of your WIPs right now with no more editing, what would you choose?

11.  What is your favorite genre?

Tagging people: @marewriteblr @quartzses @elizabethsyson @rainy-rose @awritinglen @scottishhellhound @cometworks @cheshireinunderland @writing-is-a-bitch @writebruh @comfypitbull