~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: This is that Angel Face backstory I was talking about. His name is Caleb Handover because I'm not going to call him Angel Face the whole time. There will be no "spice" because I type this on a school computer and honestly I want to expand my writing abilities. ~~~~~~~~~~~
This is a horrible way to start a journal, probably the most over-done and unintriguing sentence used to start a story, but my name is Caleb Handover. I’m 16 years old, and I live in Wilmington, Delaware. I go to Mt. Pleasant High School, class of 2001. That makes me a Junior.
It’s boring. Every single day is the same. The ducks pass over the sky when I’m walking to school, and it looked cool when I was nine, but nowadays it just feels like I’m watching someone drive to work.
Delaware duck schedule: 6 AM, wake up to the same alarm as everyone in the neighborhood. 7 AM, fly to the pond for breakfast and a bath. Pass by that blond kid again.
My hair was born white. People on the street asked my mom while she was pushing the stroller, why do you bleach your baby’s hair?
She never did.
First period is Advanced Placement Calculus. I’m thinking about ducks. Derivatives, ducks, hyperbolas, ducks, factorials, ducks, integrals…
My mom called my hair duck-fuzz.
I like math, but I only say that because high schoolers have to like something. If you say you don’t like any subjects in school, you sound like a wannabe-dropout loser. I’m 16 years old and taking AP Calculus. I don’t think I’m a wannabe anything, but I don’t think I’m genuine, either. I’ve already done the warmup question on the board. Find 34! It’s just a factorial. Does anyone see me?
“Caleb Handover?”
Only during attendance.
I raise my hand until my elbow is about six inches off of my table, parallel to the smooth, fake-wood surface. Not high enough to seem like a geek, but still giving effort.
Invisibility is a science.
“Here.”
There’s a pause. My hand stays in the air.
“Caleb Handover?” my teacher tilts his chin up and surveys the room, his pencil hovering over my name, ready to write truant.
“I said I’m here,” I said louder as I raised my hand higher. My pen balances between my peace-sign fingers. My teacher flicks his eyes to me, and his eyebrows soften. He adjusts his glasses. The sad taste of desperation lingered in my mouth after essentially begging to be accounted for.
“Oh, hello Caleb. Sorry I didn’t see you.” My teacher laughs dryly and clears his throat. “Serena Hofstadter?”
She has mono.
“Gordon Jacobs?”
That’s how Serena got mono.
For a moment I picture Serena and Gordon as Romeo and Juliet during the final act. Gordon drinks from a tall, crystal vial of mononucleosis extract and collapses. Serena, covered head-to-toe in orange spray tan and blonde highlights underneath her Shakespearean garb, discovers him on the floor and gives a tearful soliloquy before kissing him feverishly in an attempt to drink the mono from his lips. In the end, they’re both bedridden, and everyone knows.
In fair Delaware we lay our scene.
I don’t know why, but I’m angry at them. Serena and Gordon. My knuckles turn white as I grip my pen harder, gritting my teeth and thinking about my peers who go to parties to drink and kiss and do drugs. I didn’t even think parties were a real thing until I started listening to rich kids’ conversations.
“I got home so late last night…” quote from the boy wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
“I’m, like, so hungover.” quote from the girl wearing sunglasses indoors at 8:30 AM.
“Her house was so tacky.” quote from the girl whose locker is head-to-toe in sequins and leopard print, who uses perfume to cover the smell of anxiety pheromones.
I’m not jealous, and I’d rather have lifelong diarrhea than be in the same boat as these kids, but it would be nice to have a life.
It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself.
~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, and if I should keep writing this. It would be appreciated :)
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Caracalla: who is your favourite gladiator?
Geta: obviously its the one who rides rhinos
Caracalla: that's such a basic fucking bitch answer
Geta: oh you wanna real answer brother?
Geta: a guy who recited a poem and bit a monkey
Caracalla:...
Geta: look it up. that's my favourite gladiator
Do you ever sit and think just how tragic the twins are during the entirety of gladiator two?
Do you ever think how Geta and his brother, both nearly completely uneducated have to manage political conversations and even exchange "pleasantries" with Roman nobles who have had the highest of educations (or even normal citizens some of whom probably know more than them) ?
Do you ever think how easily manipulated they are because they have noone to trust?
Do you ever think how macrinus manages to assassinate them via pretending to be their friend? How badly both him and his brother wanted someone they can trust (Geta literally confided in him about his brothers illness.....) Macrinus is older than the twins, so it's highly likely that their daddy issues also played part on how happy they were to have someone they can call a friend.
Do you ever think how ALONE Geta feels having not only to shoulder majority of the responsibilities of being emperors, but also to handle his brothers illness? How he has to hide it from the public, as it's such an obvious Achilles heel, that could and most likely would, encourage even more rebellion and be a cause of mockery for them? How Geta has to sleep at night knowing that even after all the blows he had taken to protect his brother from their parents, during his fits Caracalla is incapable of remembering that? Of thinking Geta as anything but an enemy? Of how they are at risk of being assassinated constantly and his brother is not understanding the significance of that threat? How Caracallas biggest comfort (aside from Dondus), the one who loves him the most, is also the one who he fears and despises during his episodes? How Geta feels knowing that his brothers illness could at some point kill him, leaving him completely on his own?
Do you ever think how Geta died looking at the face of his brother and the one person he thought he could confide in? How Caracalla died all alone in the hands of the man who also took away his brother?
The 2054 nuclear family
english people know what stonehenge was for. they just wont tell us so that we have to come to their wet little country
ur first and last recent emojis are ur gender now. mine is 🅱👨❤💋👨
Relationships: Marcus Acacius/Lucilla, Emperor Geta & Emperor Caracalla Rating: Mature Chapters: 1/? Words: 5 854/? Warnings: Violence, detailed depictions of physical and mental illness, referenced child abuse, trauma (varied + sexual) Tags: Canon divergence (Macrinus isn't there), "fix-it", found family, accidental adoption, politics and war, healing and learning to trust.
Summary: Taking over the Palatine Hill is not the end of an insurrection, but merely the beginning of a new Roman era. As dust settles, it leaves in its wake triumphant and devastated men on uncertain foundations: what will dawn bring with its first light? What is the will of the people, and how to best guide it when it is known to be so fickle, and so often at odds with its own best interests? How to convince an Empire that it needs no Emperor, when a thousand shadows are watching through the cracks, waiting for an opportunity to claim the throne for themselves?
And what to do with two orphan boys, abandoned by their gods and their people, in this lair of wolves?
( AO3 )