Listen To Odie Leigh In The Dark In Some Headphones When The World Is Asleep Send Tumble

i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

please tag your most obscure blorbo

Wrote a little thing based on these tags:

'Nothing is ever mine.' - A frequent refrain.

Not the throne, not Rome, not the titles, not the jewels, not the glory, not even her love.

It had been his idea, after all, though he doesn't remember it, he was certain the idea came from him. Geta took credit for it, just like he did with most things. But it had been his, just like she should have been- or he should have been her's- no-

The sword was cool to the touch and the scent of the flower petals was sweet. It was hot, the Roman sun shining like the smile on her face when she looked at Geta; he didn't even get a smile-

A large hand clamped down on his golden cuff. Rage burned hot but quickly dissipated; the hand was too tan and worn to be Geta- Tegula, that was it-

"Caesar".

A deep voice in his ear, and suddenly his feet are stumbling as he catches his balance.

"It should be me"

This time, his own voice, and all that white hot rage and a black aching sadness fills him again and he finds himself lurching forward. The clang of the sword rings out as it slips from his grip and even Tegula's strength can't keep his free hand from swiping out, connecting with the rich fabric of his brother's robes. Yanking and pulling at the cloth, nails digging into the embroidery, he hears Geta's voice:

"Let go"

Geta is hissing in his ear and now there's another hand on him, pale and bejewelled. There's too much touch but not the right kind-

It's as if he's a spectator, watching the mirror of him, himself but something is off, not quite right- is that him? He's watching himself pulling away, straightening up and turning to Mummy- no, it can't be him, Mummy never-

"Caesar"

Tegula, again. He's back in himself, watching Geta smooth out his robes. But his own feet are kicking now, except it's no use, Tegula has him now and it's out of the room, into the airy hall and away.

He won't remember swinging the blade come morning, nor will he remember the angry tears he shed or the look of pity on Mummy's face. But he knows. He knows.

Of Boys and Wolves

Relationships: Marcus Acacius/Lucilla, Emperor Geta & Emperor Caracalla Rating: Mature Chapters: 3/? Words: 15 321/?   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 )

happy birthday to the most ass-shakable album ever

love you babyy<3

saltburn 2023 / the lament for icarus 1898

(guy who has so much fucking work to do voice) i should write a fic

happy Thursday the 20th

Guys do you think Oliver quick can drive?