Okay, so this episode was utterly brutal and made my heart hurt. Caesar is making Cicero and Brutus publicly endorse him at the senate. Side note: It seems like moderate levels of interpretive dance are incorporated into any sort of public speaking. Even Vorenus does it while he’s giving impromptu election speeches. What the hell, Vorneus.
Atia goes to visit Servillia to gloat ask after her health and find out if she’ll be attending Caesar’s Triumph which is a huge victory party/parade/ego stroke/installation of Caesar as a living god.
Octavian is dispatched to bring his sister home for the Triumph. She’s currently living in some sort of goddess worshiping religious community and atoning for her transgressions by cutting herself.
Servillia takes in Quintus, Pompey’s son, and basically replaces Brutus with the other man and begins penning pamphlets against Caesar and publishing them in Brutus’ name.
Caesar gets his face painted with blood (like you do) and rides his elephant drawn chariot into the throng of people so he can be properly worshipped.
Pullo, at loose ends, wants to rejoin Legion XIII, but the soldiers turn him away, so he moves on to choice number two, which is asking Vorenus to free Eriene so he can marry her. Please note: he doesn’t bother to ask Eriene if she’s down for this.
He tells her she’s free and gives her a dress, she thanks him and goes to put it on and a man runs out and profusely thanks Pullo for Eriene’s freedom because now they can get married, etc. Pullo looses his goddamn mind and repeatedly bashes the guy’s head into a stone pillar and kills him. Eriene is, understandably, destroyed, Vorenus is pissed that Pullo killed his property in front of his children, Pullo is sorry and Vorenus sends him away.
Pullo attempts to drink away his troubles in a pub, and eveyone’s favorite mobster, Eurastes, offers him a job that Pullo turns down with the ironic phrase, “I’m a soldier, not a murderer.”
Fin
And now…the questions.
My favorite part of the episode:
I don’t know why it amused me so much, but I think my favorite part was Caesar’s dialogue about wearing the color of royalty.
“I don’t know…I think it’s too purple. I want to suggest purple without actually wearing it.”
My least favorite part of the episode:
OMG. ALL OF IT. But especially Pullo killing Eriene’s fiancé.
Heart. Crushed.
Favorite costume:
Servillia’s head scarf and tunic that Jen described as pottery teacher wear.
Team Atia or Team Servillia, and why:
They’re both being just awful – to each other, to their children – they’re just the worst.
Favorite watch-a-long tweet (obviously used with permission):
Guess Jess’s head canon.
Warning: Not the usual warm fuzzy slash canon. Okay, so I’m cheating a bit because Jess and I had this discussion this week, but it’s that Pullo is suffering from traumatic brain injury syndrome. Now, it’s true that Pullo never had great impulse control even before the makeshift brain surgery. But since then, it seems worse – particularly coupled with his excessive drinking and obvious depression. After he loses his shit and murders Eriene’s fiancé, he almost childlike in his response and apology as if not understanding the severity of his actions. Of course, some of that could also be attributed to to slaves being less than people and therefore having less of a reaction. But I do think traumatic brain injury syndrome could definitely be a component. NOT that his excuses his actions at all.
I can’t remember if I blogged about it (because I’m clever like that) but several of the Bound books are now available in audio! Both London Bound and Drawn That Way are out at Audible.com and The Professor’s Student will be available, soon!
And Jess and I are going to be giving away a set to a lucky listener or two. And since a lot of people have been asking about newsletters, we decided to combine an audiobook giveaway with a newsletter release.
We’ll only be sending out newsletters when we have news like new releases or events we’ll be attending. And each issue will include a review of a book we’ve enjoyed, a quick and mostly healthy recipe since we’re always looking for easy things our families will eat, and other random bits of interest.
So, if you’d like a chance to win these two books, just click the sign up button on either of our blogs or websites. After you sign up, be sure to check your spam folder – especially if you have a gmail address.
The giveaway runs from now until 11:59PM on February 29th, 2016. For every 100 subscribers, we’ll add a second set of books, increasing the chances of winning. And we promise to never sell or give your email address to anyone else. Because, that’s just rude.
If it’s an at-home kind of a date, bring me some of this, cwtch* up on the couch with me to watch a movie, and I’m your girl.
If it’s a going-out-where-there-are-people-and-I-have-to-wear-shoes kind of a date, I’m good with not going anyplace fancy. I’m not really big into dressing up, and it’s better for the safety of anyone in the immediate vicinity, if I don’t try to wear heels.
Is there cheese involved? I’m probably down for whatever it is. Unless eating the cheese somehow requires wearing uncomfortable shoes. Then, I’ll pass.
Beach picnic to watch the sun go down and a storm roll in? I’m there.
New Star Wars movie? Let’s do it, but I do want popcorn.
Bookstore and you’re buying? Just let me get my shoes on.
Live music? As long as it’s an artist or genre I like (picky, I know, but try all you want, I’m not going to see Nickelback), let’s go.
Ren Faire? Let me grab that crown of flowers.
See? I’m pretty easy to please.
* Cwtch is an actual word. It’s Welsh for cuddling up together. Weirdly, it’s also the word for that spot under the stairs. Basically, Harry Potter lived in a cwtch.
Click the other bloggers’ names to find out what their ideal dates are.
I stared at this picture for a long time trying to figure out what to write, and I kept coming back to a secondary character from a novella I wrote called Finding You. So…here’s Jake’s story. Or, at least, some of it.
I don’t know why I still came down here every summer. The resort had been abandoned for three years, now. Technically, it wasn’t actually abandoned. My aunt still owned it, and, in theory, it was even for sale. But so far, she’d rejected every offer anyone had made. And being a prime vacation spot on the western shore of Lake Michigan, she’d had plenty of offers. Plenty of substantial offers. But she’d turned down every last one. Her realtor had finally had enough and bailed. I couldn’t blame him. Aunt Lila hadn’t been exactly cooperative despite claiming she wanted to sell the place.
When I’d checked on her earlier, she’d been napping in Liam’s room. She’d looked so much older than she had the last time I’d been here. So much older than anyone in their forties should. But grief and loss would do that do a person. She’d been on shaky ground the first year after Liam and his girlfriend, Samara, had gone missing in the endless blue-green waves of Lake Michigan. And then when Samara’s sister, Tabitha, had vanished the following summer, Lila had lost it. Guilt twisted my gut the way it always did when I thought of Tabby, and I pushed away her memory and thought again of my aunt.
Liam had been Lila’s only child, and of course, she’d been devastated when all the Coast Guard could find was the listing sailboat with the broken mast. I’d taken care of her as best I could, but the nephew she’d taken in when her deadbeat brother had dumped him on her doorstep as a kid was a poor substitute for the son she’d loved more than life. Not that she’d ever treated me poorly. I knew she loved me, but there were days I wished I’d been the one the lake had claimed. It didn’t help that I missed Liam almost as much as Lila did. He’d never been just a cousin to me–he’d been my best friend.
I’d lost my best friend, and Tabitha had lost her sister. I’d taken Lila to Samara’s funeral. Tabitha had refused to attend. Her mother had rolled her eyes when she’d explained Tabby refused to believe her sister had died. Tabby had come to the resort the summer after Liam and Samara had vanished. Supposedly, she’d wanted closure. But she’d never talked about her sister in the past tense. Liam, either. It was as if she’d still rejected the idea that they’d perished. And now she was gone, too.
The guilt I’d tried to evade earlier was back. I’d promised her that we’d go sailing as soon as I was back from the chartered fishing trip. But the guy who’d chartered the trip had offered to double my rate if I’d stayed out there another hour. I should have known Tabitha wouldn’t have waited for me. When I wasn’t back when I said I’d be, she’d taken The Serenity out on her own. And she’d been missing ever since. Like Liam’s boat, The Serenity had been found capsized with a busted mast.
That news had been what had broken Lila. Losing Tabitha had pushed her over the edge. She’d told me over and over not to blame myself. That if I’d been caught with Tabby in that freak storm, I’d likely be dead, too. I never told Lila that I was okay with that, but I think she knew. As soon as the Coast Guard had called off the recovery efforts and everyone had gone, she’d poured kerosine on the remaining sailboats and set them all on fire. If I close my eyes, I can still see her standing on the shore, watching them burn.
I scuffed the toe of my shoe against a charred spot on the edge of the dock, before moving on. I found myself searching the the almost glasslike surface of the water, trying to peer through the fog. There were times when the lake was still like this when I could swear there were shapes moving in the mist. And who knew? Maybe there were. It was a busy lake–especially in the summer months. But I could never shake the feeling that somehow I was looking through a veil to the past, and if I could just pierce it, I’d find them all there–Liam, Samara, and Tabitha.
That’s all for me, today, but who knows…I may revisit poor Jake in the future. But for now, go check out the other blogger’s stories.
Content Warning: Suicide, sexual assault, and incest.
So…this episode got pretty dark.
It opens with Cato and the other dude in some town in Africa. They’re talking and Cato tells other dude he should make his peace with Caesar, and the other dude says he’ll do whatever Cato does. This is…unfortunate. Because Cato goes into another room to kill himself. After the other dude sees Cato properly burning on a pyre, other dude has one of their remaining soldiers cut other dude’s throat.
Caesar declares a victory and Vorenus and Pullo return to Rome after two years away. While they were gone, Niobe has become quite the businesswoman and is running her former lover’s butcher shop with her sister (widow of Niobe’s former lover) and they’re having quite the successful go of it.
Atia, being Atia, has a party for Caesar’s return, and Servillia, much to Brutus’ dismay, insists on going. There’s all kinds of longing gazing going on. Octavian gazes longingly at Octavia who gazes longingly at Servillia who gazes longingly stares balefully at Caesar. Ceasar after telling clearly mind-numbing anecdotes asks Octavian how he’d go about fixing Rome if it were up to him and Caesar likes his answer so much, he appoints him to the pontiff’s table and Octavian tries to decline because he’d rather work on his poetry – which I assume is the Roman equivalent to being serious about his music. However, Caesar gets his way as always.
Octavia lets something slip about Caesar’s secret affliction, and Servillia demands that Octavia find out exactly what the affliction is from Octavian. When Octavian won’t reveal it Servillia basically insists that Octavia seduce Octavian to get it from him. She’s horrified, but then Servillia tells her that she saw one of Atia’s men kill Octavia’s husband. So Octavia seduces Octavian (doesn’t really have to do all that much convincing) and Atia finds out about it afterward and loses her damn mind, all the while denying she had Octavia’s husband killed.
Vorenus quickly grows bored and Niobe puts him and Pullo to work at the butcher shop where Vorenus gets into a fight with early mobsters and is given the ultimatum to apologize and kiss said mobsters feet or die after watching the rapes of his wife and daughters. Before he can confront the mobster, Caesar shows up and asks Vorenus to be his magistrate. He doesn’t want to but agrees, anyway.
Atia gets revenge on Servillia by having her men attack Servillia’s men as her litter is being carried through town. One of Atia’s servants hacks off Servillia’s hair and the others tear her dress off her leaving her lying mostly naked in the street.
Later that night, a drunk as usual Pullo, wakes up Eriene and after rambling on about his mother who was a slave and his father who was likely a slave, and how he’ll never be a slave, he demands she take off her clothes and sexually assaults her.
And now…the questions.
My favorite part of the episode:
Probably when Pullo saw Vorenus dressed in his magistrate robes and told him he looked “like laundry”.
My least favorite part of the episode:
So many choices. Pullo’s rape of Eriene, Servillia bullying Octavia into seducing her brother, Octavian and Octavian both going along with it, Servillia being attacked. This episode was pretty brutal.
Favorite costume:
I’m a fan of most of Octavia’s dresses, but this one is pretty and looks super comfy.
Team Atia or Team Servillia, and why:
UGH. Servillia was the fucking worst this week. But honestly…so was Atia.
Favorite watch-a-long tweet (obviously used with permission):
This is tough. I’m torn between this for obvious reasons:
and this:
Guess Jess’s head canon.
I think it would have been when Pullo seemed sad that Vorenus was becoming a magistrate and leaving him behind. And of course, Vorenus would have to go comfort sad Pullo…
You may be wondering why there’s a psychotic-looking cat biting someone’s toes as the photo for a post about writing pet peeves. Well, I’m about to tell you. This cat is named Peeve. He’s a literal pet peeve. He belongs to my dear friend, Roxanne, and I can tell you, this cat? He’s a total asshole. He’s utterly hilarious, but oh my god, he’s a jerk. I blame her husband. He’s always wanted a pet named, Peeve. I feel like he brought this curse upon their family. However, I’m also kind of delighted because Peeve, while being unbelievably awful, is also unbelievably delightful. Though, Roxanne may beg to differ.
Unlike, the literal pet, Peeve, writing pet peeves don’t have much to recommend them. They’re just there. And they’re irksome. They don’t even purr and look cute. They just chew on my patience like Peeve chews on…well, everything.
In no particular order, here are a few of my writing pet peeves:
Head hopping: You know the one – where the POV bounces back and forth like a drunken game of ping pong in a smelly, frat house basement.
I think a good rule of thumb is if there are alternating points of view, stick to one character per scene. Or, one POV per chapter. This is fairly easy for me because I tend toward shorter chapters. But whatever you do, the reader doesn’t need to be in the heads of the taxi-driver, mother-in-law, cashier, best friend, or pizza delivery person. See also: the POVs of every member of the rock band, members of the audience and the formerly non-sentient teddybear on the shelf. (Yes, these are all things I’ve come across in published books.) If what those people are thinking is somehow crucial to the plot, it can be shown through dialogue and action. Except for the teddybear. Fuck that little stuffie.
POV changes mid-story: This is less head hopping and more straight up changes. For instance, if, in the middle of a third person narrative, the story suddenly jumps to second person, that’s super annoying.
Here’s an example:
Ivy hadn’t seen him since Caleb and Charlotte’s wedding reception, and she prayed to the deity of drunken hook-ups that Phoebe’s uncle didn’t remember her. It had been twelve years and zero contact. Chances were good that she might look vaguely familiar to him, but he’d never make the connection. At least, that was her fervent hope. Other than the fact he was the bride’s bother, she didn’t really have any regrets. You know how these things go…you get dumped the night before your friends’ wedding, drink entirely too much, and you find yourself in the janitor’s closet, attempting to fuck your ex out of your system. It happens.
This sudden switch into second person POV is jarring and unnecessary. Now, if you’re writing a first person narrative, you can get away with the occasional jump into second person. Here’s that same section from a first person POV with the jump to second. It’s a lot less jarring, I think , because a first person narrative is already telling the story directly to the reader, and that jump feels less like the author is breaking the fourth wall.
I hadn’t seen him since Caleb and Charlotte’s wedding reception, and I prayed to the deity of drunken hook-ups that Phoebe’s uncle didn’t remember me. It had been twelve years and zero contact. Chances were good that I might look vaguely familiar to him, but he’d never make the connection. At least, that was my fervent hope. Other than the fact he was the bride’s bother, I didn’t really have any regrets. You know how these things go…you get dumped the night before your friends’ wedding, drink entirely too much, and you find yourself in the janitor’s closet, attempting to fuck your ex out of your system. It happens.
Another kind of annoying POV insertion often happens in third person narrative. It’s the jump into an omniscient POV.
Here’s an example:
She slumped against the back of the chair, able to relax knowing Jonah was safe–at least for a little while. But that was all about to change…in ways she never expected.
You see it a lot as a chapter hook. I think it’s often used that way because the author wants the reader to keep reading and thinks that this tantalizing bit of info is going to keep them turning the pages and that it’ll also build tension. But all a jump into omniscient POV does is lessens the actual impact of your plot whenever whatever terrible thing you alluded to actually happens, because the readers knew it was coming. They might not have known what, exactly. But they were on the lookout. It’s more effective to let the plot wind tighter naturally than to try to engender artificial fear in your reader.
Using apostrophes to pluralize words: There’s a sign I see every year, starting around the beginning of Lent: All you can eat fish fry’s every Friday evening.
No…just no. It’s fish fries.
Fish fry’s indicates a possessive. It means that something belongs to the fish fry. What is it? The fish fry’s excessive use of vegetable oil? The fish fry’s extra large napkin order? The fish fry’s pungent odor that clings to the hair and clothing of everyone present? What?
It’s not book’s, rug’s, fan’s, machine’s, or dresser’s. It’s books, rugs, fans, machines, and dressers. Unless something specifically belongs to any of these things, you don’t use an apostrophe.
And if you’re sending out holiday cards or invitations to an entire family, they don’t go to the Jones’s, the De La Rosa’s, the St. James’s, the Jarman’s, the Norris’s, the Cease’s, the Prince’s, the Trout’s, or the Green’s. They go to the Joneses, the De La Rosas, the St. Jameses, the Jarmans, the Norrises, the Ceases, the Princes, the Trouts, and the Greens.
Incorrect use of I and me: This is one of those things that is constantly misused, mostly because a lot of people think that using me sounds wrong, and often childish or uneducated. Here’s a trick that my 10th grade English teacher taught me, because this was one of his biggest pet peeves.
Use “I” if you’re the subject of the sentence. Use “me” if you’re the object.
Here are some examples:
The teacher gave Sally and me good grades. This is correct usage. You can tell because if you swapped out “I” for “me” and took Sally out of the equation, you’d have The teacher gave I good grades. And if the teacher is giving me good grades for this kind of sentence construction, the teacher and I have bigger problems than using “me” and “I” correctly.
The trick is to remove the other person from the sentence. If “I” still works, you’re golden. If not, switch to “me”.
Telling about a character’s emotions rather than showing them: This falls into the “drives me batty” category. Don’t tell me he was mad or sad or terrified or depressed. Show me. Show me his tightening fists and narrowed eyes. Show me a lump rising in his throat and tears burning his eyes. Show me his rapid breathing, his cold sweat, his inability to move. Show me how he plays one game of solitaire after another so he doesn’t have to think or how he shovels one handful of chips in his mouth after the other so the crunching will drown out the sound of his own thoughts.
Telling about a character’s traits rather than showing them: This involves one character waxing poetic about another character but never seeing anything in the story that backs up the description. (Looking at you, E.L. James.) For instance, Christian goes on at length about how brilliant and amazing and remarkable Ana is. There is nothing in the text to back up these assertions. In fact, if one were to make inferences about her intelligence based on her behavior, one would be forced to admit that she basically falls into the “too stupid to live” category. And there’s nothing remarkable about Ana either, other than she somehow managed to graduate from college without a working email address. So words mean things. By all means, have your characters think what they want about their fellow characters, but back it up. You can’t just run around having people talk about how smarty-smart your character is and have him behave like he’s the village idiot.
Doubling up on the action (no, not that kind): I see this on a fairly regular basis. Character thinks or talks about what action has to be done. Said thought or dialogue is immediately followed by character doing that very thing. No. Just…no.
Here’s an example:
Louloufifibelle sighed and muttered to herself, “Damnation. I have to get the mail.” Louloufifibelle walked outside and got the mail.
That is…just annoying. Not to mention super unnecessary.
Thesaurus misuse: Okay, I’m all about avoiding word reps. They’re annoying to read and when you start noticing a lot of them in the prose, it begins to feel like they’re dumbing down the narrative. Now, I’m sure you’re reading this and thinking, well the thesaurus is the best friend of people who hate word reps. It is…and it isn’t. You have to be careful when you’re choosing synonyms that you have the right one in the right form. Often times, I’ll be reading, and a fairly mundane word will just stop me dead in the middle of a sentence because it reads as so out of place that it jolted me from the story. When you’re searching for synonyms, the thing to keep in mind is that words have nuances. And you need to make sure that those nuances apply to your sentence.
Here’s an example:
Let’s say you write the sentence: He made a good point.
But then you realized that you just used the word “made” three lines above. So you get out your handy dandy thesaurus and you look for synonyms for made.
And you write this: He contrived a good point.
No. No, he didn’t. Just because contrived is listed as a synonym for made doesn’t make those two words interchangeable. Be aware of the word’s nuances before you haphazardly try to swap it out.
Mary Sue as heroine: I’m sure you’ve all seen that character – the heroine who’s clearly a stand in for the author’s idealized self. (Looking at you, Laurel K. Hamilton/Anita Blake/Merry Gentry.) A Mary Sue tends to be pretty easy to pick out. She’s perfect, everyone loves her (except those mean girls who obviously just want to be her), she always saves the day, gets the guy, and she’s boring AF. The corresponding male character is Gary Stu. He’s equally irksome.
Sexist, misogynistic dickbags who are being lauded as heroes: I am so sick of a certain class of dude being portrayed as a romance hero. He tends to be aggressive sexually and otherwise. I’m not talking sexually aggressive in a fun way where both parties are into it – I’m talking the predatory sort of aggression that wears the victim heroine down to the point where she gives in. On pretty much everything. And outwardly, it doesn’t even have to appear sexual in nature. It can be that he’s forcing her to accept a new car, protection from his super secret-y security team, a better job, etc. He’s constantly ignoring the wishes/feelings/autonomy of the heroine because he knows better, and he’s going to prove it. Ninety-nine percent of the time, this dude is ridiculously wealthy gazillionaire but he moonlights as an MMA fighter, the president of a motorcycle club, a former Navy SEAL, or a cowboy – sometimes all. at. once. Is it supposed to make him extra appealing that during the day he crushes his competitors in his super upscale job as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and at night he beats the shit out of his opponents in the seedy underworld of mixed martial arts? Oh, and he fits in some Daddy-Domming on the side in some high-end, yet still skeezy leather club? No. It makes him a douche.
If you, like me, now have this awesome song in your head…you’re welcome.
I think that’s about it from me. But be sure to share some of your writing/reading pet peeves and don’t forget to check out the other bloggers’ pet peeves, too!
Okay, so Caesar and the 13th head over to Alexandria to visit with King Ptolemy and his advisors, and as soon as I saw Ptolemy, I immediately stated having flashbacks to doing daycare, and the child I’ll call The Young Prince – actually, even his mother called him that in this bizarrely overindulgent sort of way. Ptolemy and The Young Prince had a lot of similarities: highly spoiled, few, if any consequences for their behavior, ruled their homes with tiny iron fists, and their parent/minister lived in paralyzing fear of them.
Imagine this kid with white-blond hair and pale green eyes and you have The Young Prince.
So anyway, Caesar shows up and is looking for Pompey. And there’s some discussion about grain and debts, and I’ll be honest, I was super distracted by this kid reminding me of TYP, so I didn’t really catch all that. BUT! I do know that they were trying to curry favor and brought out this little surprise for Caesar.
Caesar is furious and super unimpressed with his gift. They killed a Roman consul and he’s not having it. Ptolemy sasses him and he shuts that right now. He asks for the rest of the body only to be assured that it was given a proper funeral. (Caesar and I both think they were lying.) He storms out, leaving his servant to bring the head and they burn it properly. Ptolemy’s peeps also give up the guy who killed Pompey and he in turn gets his head cut off and mounted on a spike outside the walls.
Caesar also sends Pullo and Vorenus after Ptolemy’s sister/wife, Cleopatra, who’s being held in some kind of house arrest situation with a lot of pillows and gilded things. However, assassins are also being sent on Ptolemy’s orders to take out Cleopatra, and Pullo and Vorenus cleverly follow them to the location and kill the assassins.
Cleopatra worries that if she can’t seduce Caesar, she’s dead. Then she realizes if she gives him a son which none of his three wives have managed, she’ll be in good standing. Realizing that she’s currently ovulating, she has her servant summon Vorenus. But, he won’t put out, since he’s not about to be commanded by a woman.
He storms out and sends Pullo in who’s only too happy to cooperate. When I say only too happy? I really mean it. I feel like Pullo will be that guy Cleopatra remembers for the rest of her life. He gets all the points for stamina, enthusiasm, strength and balance. Sadly, this was the only picture I could find.
As soon as they get back to Alexandria, she seductively greats Caesar then gets cleaned up to visit her little brother/husband in the throne room. Ptolemy looks like he’s going to piss himself. Cleopatra orders Ptolemy’s advisor’s killed and their heads join the other dude’s on the outer wall spikes.
Caesar and Cleopatra have sex and meanwhile we see Servillia and Octavia have some gauzy, soft focus sexy times and the scenes keep cutting back and forth between the two couples. Oh yeah, and while Caesar and Cleopatra are getting it on, an angry mob is gathering outside.
Back in Rome, Brutus and Cicero are hanging out in the empty senate house, and Cicero is basically saying that if Caesar doesn’t win in Alexandria, he doesn’t want to get stuck with Antony. Brutus reminds him that they swore an oath to Caesar and Antony, having overheard a good portion of the conversation, tells Cicero that if he keeps talking smack, Antony’s going to cut off Cicero’s hands and nail them to the senate door. As he’s leaving, he lets them know that Caesar was victorious.
About nine-ish months later, we’re back in Alexandria where we see Ptolemy floating facedown in the river and Caesar and Cleopatra who’s holding a cute, chubby baby (and who in no way looks like she recently gave birth) walk out into the courtyard to show off the baby boy, Caesarion, to all the assembled troops. Everyone cheers, but no one cheers louder than Pullo since there’s a decent chance that kid is his.
And now…the questions.
My favorite part of the episode:
Hmmmm…I really did enjoy Caesar dialing down Ptolemy’s arrogance quite a lot. And what wasn’t to enjoy about Pullo and Cleopatra’s sex scene.
My least favorite part of the episode:
Ptolemy floating facedown in the river. The kid was a little monster, but he probably didn’t deserve to die. Also the squelching noise of the heads getting put on spikes.
Favorite costume:
Gotta give it to Cleopatra’s simple white shift dress. And also this giant pillowcouchbedthing. I know it’s not technically a costume, but I really like it.
Team Atia or Team Servillia, and why:
Atia wasn’t in this week’s episode, so Servillia, by default. And also not by default because she’s showing Octavia genuine affection.
Favorite watch-a-long tweet (obviously used with permission):
Guess Jess’s head canon.
Pretty sure it’s Vorenus listening to Pullo and Cleopatra getting it on wishing it was him and Pullo.
Just a few of the things that make me happy. Breaking the rules (as usual) with a few captions.
One of my awesome nieces enjoying a rainy day in the best way possible. This was taken a few years ago, but whenever it rains in the summer, I think of M, and it makes me want to dance in the rain, too.
Retreat happy feet!
Writing retreat happiness!
Monk Muffins make me super happy! So does this monk. He’s my favorite.
My family makes me wildly happy! (Me, the Mama, and Cait)
More family happies. (Me, Matt, Killian and Corwin.)
Fancy kitty feets make me happy, too.
Rocks make me happy.
Lake Superior makes me happy.
Babies make me happy.
Ridiculously beautiful sunrises make me happy, too.
What’s on your happy list? Click the other bloggers’ names to find out what’s on theirs.
This week’s song is Radiohead’s Creep. Here are the lyrics and the video and a bonus video by Damien Rice, because I really like his cover.
“Oh, c’moooooooonnnn.” Jane rolled her eyes and let out a huge, heaving sigh. “I thought we were going to go out and actually have fun. Forget all about guys. Girls’ night. Is any of this ringing any bells?”
“We are having fun,” I said. “You and me. A night out. No guys.”
Jane glanced around the dim interior of the poorly lit bar. “Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Well, yeah. I mean there are guys here. But we’re not here to meet any of them. We’re here for cheap moscato and BFF bonding.”
Jane stared at me. “Promise?”
I held out my pinky finger toward her. “Pinky swear.”
She locked her finger with mine, then grinning turned and led the way to a tiny, empty table that happened to be right near the low wooden stage. Perfect.
Halfway through her third glass of wine, Jane laid her hand on my forearm. Well, it was more like she lost her balance while leaning forward and caught herself on my forearm. “I’m just so tired of asshole guys, you know?”
“I know, Janie,” I murmured. But I was also surreptitiously glancing toward the stage. I’d heard that Evan’s hot musician friend, Ben, was playing tonight. “They’re the worst.”
“The literal worst!” she said loud enough to get the side-eye from the girls at the next table over. “What?” she asked, glaring at them before turning back to me. “So rude. I swear.”
The waiter, who clearly had a massive crush on Jane and had been trying to get her attention for the better part of a year, brought us each a fresh glass. Reaching around the back of Jane’s chair, I tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. When he looked at me, I motioned him closer. “There’s a ten in it for you if you start cutting hers with apple juice.”
He glanced at Jane who stared blearily at the still empty stage.
“I don’t want her to get sick,” I whispered. “She’s gotta study this weekend.”
He nodded and smiled, and, as usual, didn’t say a damn thing to Jane.
The sound of a loosely strummed guitar caught my attention. Jane’s, too. A guy walked out on to the darkened stage and played the opening bars of Radiohead’s Creep.
“I love this song!” Jane squealed, entirely too loudly.
The lights slowly came up as he started singing, his voice gorgeous, if a little gravely sounding. I watched his fingers sliding up and down the neck of the guitar as he switched chords or whatever it was he was doing. I knew virtually nothing about musicians except they were inevitably hotter than anyone else. And Evan’s friend, Ben, was definitely that.
“Hey!” More than halfway through the song, Jane’s head swiveled on her neck as she drunkenly turned to look at me. “That’s douchebag Evan’s douchebag guitar friend.”
I shushed her.
“Is that why we’re here? Are we here because you have a lady boner for the guitar boy?”
“Shhhh!”
“I will not ssssshhhhhhh. I will not be sssssssssshhhhhhhhhed.”
I wiped a bit of spit off my face.
“Seriously, Janie. You’re gonna get us kicked out. And no place else serves wine this cheap.”
“Right. Sorry. But…that guy, Sarah, c’mon. That guy is such a douche. I mean, he’s like the doucheiest one of them all.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. He’s pretty hot.”
“Don’t you remember how he acted when you and Evan were dating? He was like King Douchebag.”
I took a swallow of my wine. “I though that was Evan.”
Jane nodded sagely at me. “You’d think so. But he was merely the Crown Prince. But this guy…” She shook her head.
Ben was doing some sort of monologue thing. Talking about Radiohead and how they were such a big influence on his music and going on and on about them. I studied him while Jane stared sullenly at the stage with her arms crossed over her chest.
He was still pretty hot, but as he droned on about his process like this was a VH1 Behind the Music special, I realized that Jane was right. He really was kind of an arrogant. Actually, I’d go so far as to call him douchey. It was amazing what a difference an actively played guitar made.
“…and that’s how I go about finding inspiration for my music. I’ll be playing some original pieces just for you, tonight.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as he attached a capo to the guitar’s neck and strummed it a few times.
“Anyway…here’s Wonderwall.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “That’s it. We’re out. C’mon, Janie. It’s taco time.”
That’s it for me this week, but check out the other stories and see how Creep inspired the other bloggers by clicking on their names.
Vorenus and Pullo survive the storm that drowned most of the 13th Legion and end up on what basically amounts to a sandbar in the Aegean (I think, but I’m super bad at geography) Sea.
They’re both prepared to die (and Pullo is very sweetly pondering seeing his mother again in heaven) when Vorenus spots a bloated body washing in on the surf and he gets an awful idea. The centurion gets a wonderful awful idea. That wonderful awful idea is to make a raft out of dead soldiers and paddle to whatever land mass is the closest.
Meanwhile, Marc Antony and the scant few survivors of the 13th have made it to Caesar. Caesar’s troops are massively outnumbered by Pompey. Pompey wants to starve them out, but Cato the Whiner want to decimate Caesar and Pompey reluctantly goes to battle and gets utterly trounced by the side with nothing left to lose.
Brutus and Cicero defect and return to Caesar to throw themselves on his mercy. Caesar welcomes them back as old friends who’ve quarreled, but is disappointed that Pompey continues to stand against him.
Pompey, Cato the Whiner and that other dude, decide to take off for Africa, but they split up and travel separately, Pompey pretending to be a merchant and traveling with his family.
His children Vorenus and Pullo washed up on shore. And this dude Pompey hired to guide them and his family, offers Vorenus and Pullo water and food.
Pullo announces that he’s sure he’s seen Pompey before, Vorenus gives him the “shut the fuck up look” which Pullo ignores, and I immediately get this song from JCS stuck in my head for the rest of the episode.
Pompey denies it, of course, and Pullo eventually remembers who he is. The mercenary dude with the metal nose tries to talk Pullo and Vorenus into helping him take Pompey and his fam hostage for a reward from Caesar. Vorenus isn’t having his shit and runs his sword through the dude’s neck. Vorenus then announces that Pompey, his family and his guards are all prisoners of the 13th Legion. He eventually ends up taking pity on Pompey and lets him go while he and Pullo make their way back to Ceasar who’s crazy pissed that Vorenus took it upon himself to let Pompey go. Antony wants him punished and made an example of, but Caesar won’t do it because he doesn’t want to piss off whatever gods are protecting Pullo and Vorenus.
Meanwhile, back at Atia’s in Rome, she continues vying for her undisputed title of Mother of the Year by continuing to have Octavia do her bidding and checking in on Servillia to see how she’s getting on with her gift of the a large penis and the slave its attached to. And also, of course, to beg for guards for protection.
Octavia continues to regularly visit Servillia and in the course of comforting her when she hears that Pompey’s troops have been defeated, but the whereabouts of her son, Brutus are unknown, kisses Servillia and the two (presumably) have sex. (Good for them.).
Pompey and family eventually make it to Africa, and Pompey, while welcomed to shore by someone who’d served under him in an earlier war, is killed by that same person in front of his wife and small children.
Okay…the questions.
My favorite part of the episode:
Pullo waxing poetic about finding his mother in the afterlife. That was actually incredibly sweet. Also, points for Octavia and Servillia having what seemed to be a fulfilling sexual experience.
My least favorite part of the episode:
Probably the raft made of dead bodies. That or Marc Antony being a pompous asshole.
Favorite costume:
The embroidery and beadwork on this is stunning. I also love the dress that goes with.
Team Atia or Team Servillia, and why:
Servillia wins it this week. Why? She’s a mom who actually cares about her child and also seems to genuinely care for others – like Octavia.
Favorite watch-a-long tweet (obviously used with permission):
Guess Jess’s head canon.
I think that Jess feels that Pullo was more than a little turned on by Vorenus’ show of force when he killed that guide dude and declared that Pompey and his entourage were all prisoners of the 13th Legion.
