Con ficlet
Oct. 7th, 2014 01:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
moth2fic.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
broadstairsbaccMy prompts, drawn from the hat after rejecting a lot that meant nothing to me were:
*real historical personage
*coming out
I've written in Rome fandom and was instantly inspired - at least, our organiser thinks it's worth publishing on here and I suppose I will get round to uploading it to AO3.
I've tidied it up a bit, added the sentence I forgot to read out, plus an introductory line, and changed the whole thing to first person because I think it works better that way. I'd have done that at the time if we'd had a few more minutes. How many did we have - 15? Enjoy!
Title: Out
Author: moth2fic
Fandom: Rome (TV series and Shakespeare's Julius Caesar)
Genre: m/m
Pairing: not given in the heading because it would be a spoiler even given the brevity of the piece
Wordcount: 329
Summary: a historical person comes out about his sexuality
A ghost talking? I can see your disbelief. But we're all ghosts now, those of us who were here two millennia before you. Yet to me it is yesterday and I need to tell someone about it. You'll do.
The word in the forum was rumour built upon rumour until even the youngsters were scrawling their ideas on the walls; black, white and ochre graffiti. 'Who the woman in the relationship?' they scribbled. 'Who the one shamed?' Drawings asked questions as rudely as words; laughter came alike from merchant, soldier and slave. But no-one really knew the truth of it; it was all suspicion and turmoil, envy of those in high position, belief that leaders might or even should have feet of clay.
I could have told them. Throughout the campaigns, military and political, I remained silent and so did he. We never spoke of what we shared, even to each other, of the hot sweaty grappling that ended in heaven-sent release. The army was, in any case, a forgiving environment where what men did in tent or camp stayed there and did not follow them back to Rome. And yet it hurt, somehow, to pretend we were no more than friends or colleagues, hurt not to acknowledge the real, closer relationship.
We all knew events were spiralling out of control. We all knew secrecy could breed sourness on every side and that every public mask could hide a growing private bitterness. I knew in my heart that jealousy and a fear of power would eventually rot and spoil what we had together. But I had never thought that love could turn around as if from north to south, into hate.
I never intended to out myself or my lover. Then as I felt my life seeping away, the dagger thrusts hurting my heart more than my body, I could not help but say, with what I knew was a tone of injury beyond mere death, "Et tu, Brute?"
I assume the mods will wrangle the tags... *g*
*real historical personage
*coming out
I've written in Rome fandom and was instantly inspired - at least, our organiser thinks it's worth publishing on here and I suppose I will get round to uploading it to AO3.
I've tidied it up a bit, added the sentence I forgot to read out, plus an introductory line, and changed the whole thing to first person because I think it works better that way. I'd have done that at the time if we'd had a few more minutes. How many did we have - 15? Enjoy!
Title: Out
Author: moth2fic
Fandom: Rome (TV series and Shakespeare's Julius Caesar)
Genre: m/m
Pairing: not given in the heading because it would be a spoiler even given the brevity of the piece
Wordcount: 329
Summary: a historical person comes out about his sexuality
A ghost talking? I can see your disbelief. But we're all ghosts now, those of us who were here two millennia before you. Yet to me it is yesterday and I need to tell someone about it. You'll do.
The word in the forum was rumour built upon rumour until even the youngsters were scrawling their ideas on the walls; black, white and ochre graffiti. 'Who the woman in the relationship?' they scribbled. 'Who the one shamed?' Drawings asked questions as rudely as words; laughter came alike from merchant, soldier and slave. But no-one really knew the truth of it; it was all suspicion and turmoil, envy of those in high position, belief that leaders might or even should have feet of clay.
I could have told them. Throughout the campaigns, military and political, I remained silent and so did he. We never spoke of what we shared, even to each other, of the hot sweaty grappling that ended in heaven-sent release. The army was, in any case, a forgiving environment where what men did in tent or camp stayed there and did not follow them back to Rome. And yet it hurt, somehow, to pretend we were no more than friends or colleagues, hurt not to acknowledge the real, closer relationship.
We all knew events were spiralling out of control. We all knew secrecy could breed sourness on every side and that every public mask could hide a growing private bitterness. I knew in my heart that jealousy and a fear of power would eventually rot and spoil what we had together. But I had never thought that love could turn around as if from north to south, into hate.
I never intended to out myself or my lover. Then as I felt my life seeping away, the dagger thrusts hurting my heart more than my body, I could not help but say, with what I knew was a tone of injury beyond mere death, "Et tu, Brute?"
I assume the mods will wrangle the tags... *g*
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