#and NOT TO BRING UP ANCIENT ROME AGAIN—

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

I know a lot of ppl felt that a premise as dark as The Hunger Games being geared toward tweens and teens was a terrible idea. but I think it was really good that I saw it as young as I did, bc The Capitol gave me a fantastic lens through which to view Hollywood and the extravagances of the elite, as I came of age at the precise time social media began exporting those extravagances into every home in America.

[lionlena]

Even if you fall apart... (Marcus Acacius x wife!reader)

I'm back! (For a moment)

Marcus Acacius pulled me out of the hole of the abyss and the lack of desire to write.

Summary: Marcus returns from war and has a PTSD attack. (Yes, I know it's ancient Rome and there was no such term back then, but I'm sure that even in ancient times many soldiers had to deal with the emotional consequences of war)

Warnings: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, soft!Marcus, mention of miscarriage, mention of blood, and death of a side character

*I've established canon that Marcus loves dogs…

Even if you fall apart…

You hated it when Marcus wasn't home. You hated the emperor's greed and his wars. You and Marcus had been married for three years, but you didn't see him often because of the constant wars. The first time he had to leave you right after your wedding night and you felt devastated. But when he returned, he proved to you what a caring and loving husband he was. When he left you for the second time, you were pregnant. But when he came back, he had to face your sadness after losing your child and then he proved to you what a supportive and compassionate husband he was. When he left you for the third time, he promised you that it would be the last time, but when he came back, you could easily see the sadness and tiredness in him. And you knew that the emperor would send him to the battlefield again, so you understood that despite how much you hated Marcus' absence, you had to focus on the good times.

You tried that this time too, but you saw that Marcus had returned as someone else. More tired, more sad. Even his warm smile didn't reach his eyes. You knew that he had lost his loyal friend in the battle, and you tried to show him support.

Knowing how much he loves dogs you decided to bring home a new puppy and it seemed to cheer him up as he watched the playful pup run around the floors.

"He's really fast," he remarked one evening as the pup chased a firefly. "I'll need him on the hunt…"

"He's untamed." You muttered and took the glass of wine from Marcus.

"Like my lady."

You snorted in mock outrage and rolled your eyes, earning a quiet chuckle from him that warmed your heart. It seemed like everything was going in the right direction. But suddenly, in his crazy play, the puppy knocked over the table, from which the vase fell. You saw the exact moment Marcus' face changed. He flinched at the sound of the bang and dropped his wine glass, which shocked him even more. His eyes widened and his face contorted in pain. The wine flowing on the floor resembled blood.

"Marcus… Honey?"

"NO!"

His scream shocked you. You had never seen him like this. You caught the puppy in your arms and immediately pushed him into the arms of the maid who was standing nearby.

"Leave us alone!" You growled.

You usually tried to treat your servants with respect, but that wasn't important at that moment. You saw her curious gaze and you were sure that something bad was happening with Marcus and you didn't want anyone else to witness it.

When you were alone, you ran up to Marcus and grabbed him by the arms:

"Should I call a medic and…"

You didn't finish your sentence because Marcus screamed and pushed you away with such force that you fell to the floor. You didn't know what was happening. Your husband would never, ever intentionally do any harm to you. You saw him retreat to the wall, pressing his back against it. You had the impression that he was terrified. Only Marcus was never afraid. He wasn't stupid or reckless, but he wasn't timid either. He was a Roman general who rushed into battle without batting an eyelid. And yet you could clearly see the state he was in.

You slowly got up from the floor and looked at him sadly. It hurt you that he was suffering.

"Marcus… my dearest…"

You saw Marcus put his hand on his chest and try to catch his breath. This time you approached him slowly like a wounded animal.

"Honey, it's me… Y/n… I'll come closer… try to breathe…"

You took a step forward.

"Breathe… I'm here…"

You tried your best to keep your voice steady and calm. Even though you were trembling inside.

"Can I come closer?"

You saw a small change in him. He blinked and took a deep breath, then nodded.

You were so close you could touch him, but you held back, feeling that he had to decide about it.

"Can I help you somehow?"

In response, he extended his hand towards you. You immediately took it. Your small and delicate hand contrasted with his large, strong, and calloused one. You felt him squeeze you tightly.

"Y/n…"

"I'm here, honey. I'm here all the time."

You saw him sigh with relief, and then he slowly slid down the wall to the floor, pulling you with him. You knelt next to him and placed your free hand over his heart. You stayed silent for a few moments. You watched as your husband's breathing returned to normal. Finally, you asked quietly:

"What was that?"

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you with sadness and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry… I don't know… I'm so ashamed…"

You turned towards him and took his face in your hands.

"No, no… Don't blame yourself or apologize. What happened was in no way your fault and it won't make me respect you any less."

Marcus took a shaky breath and covered your small hands with his large ones.

"It was like a nightmare… Like a memory and a dream in one… I… I was there again… I heard the crash of the ships falling apart…" He closed his eyes and whispered: "I felt fear… fear that I would fall apart…"

You looked at him sympathetically, your thumbs rubbing his stubbled cheeks.

"Even if you fall apart, I will pick you up."

Marcus looked at you with love and devotion. He couldn't hold back anymore and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"You are a blessing from the gods."

You stroked his hair tenderly.

"No… You are my blessing…"

And you meant those words. Because you knew that among Roman husbands, domineering, demanding, and strict, yours was an exception.

You hugged him tightly and kissed his temple. You felt Marcus relax and that was the most important thing to you at that moment. Although deep inside you felt your own fear. Fear for Marcus, for another war expedition. And you silently prayed to the gods to surround him with care and not let him fall apart when you were not around.

Permanentny tag list: @harriedandharassed

[profeyandere]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 ─── ☾ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ��ᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴜꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The soft and warm breeze coming from the deserted Roman streets caused you, as was usual in your slightly anxious and nervous person, a strange feeling of restlessness that many could assimilate due to the strange cool gusts that arose suddenly and chilled anyone who was surrounded by them, but all assumptions disappeared when you stressed to yourself that the reason for your anxiety had begun not long after the sudden death of the former emperor of Rome. Marcus Aurelius, known for being a man as strong as Hercules himself or as wise as the ancient ancestors, had been a second father to you, a man who with his extensive memory told you even the smallest details of each of his adventures in the foreigner and the various conquests that he had managed to make and be victorious around Rome to make his empire one that he had managed to take to Africa, being discovered as a technologically backward continent and very little known by those who were around his Roman kingdom, turning out to be one of the kindest men to those who really knew him, having helped the most impoverished population through various laws and in dire situations, including slaves, women, and children. That man had always taken care of you, he had made you feel protected under his attentive, loving, and proud gaze; He was the father you never had. Although you did not belong to one of the highest social classes, at least you did not belong to one of the lowest, and this, together with the fact that your mother took care of her children since the first of them was born, evidently your arrival into the world. It caused you to spend more time in the Roman palace where the emperor and his children were.

"As thoughtful as always," said a voice behind you that caught your attention, bringing you back to reality with a soft gust of fresh air that made you sigh. "Again, you find yourself thinking, even if you are in the safest place in the whole world, next to me."

That voice, which was usually distant from those who bothered him or showed irritability when directed towards less close people, was now soft and calmer than how you had heard it before. He had been angry before, your husband had been really angry, and now everything seemed more peaceful because he could see your wonderful ethereal figure next to the large balcony of your room.

“I find myself thinking about you, as usual,” you murmured, hoping to show him a little of the affection your heart held for him, slowly turning your body to turn your back to the beautiful view of the empire that loomed beneath your feet, facing the sharp and distant look of the man who had not moved from the main door of the room. "You know I always think about you. I worry about you, especially when you're awake when the moon is so high in the sky."

A soft growl, barely audible, came to you like the roar of a lion. You always liked to show your affection towards him, but you were also aware that he wasn't entirely used to receiving it from anyone other than his sister, even if he had shared his life with you since he was five years old.

Now everything was very different. Commodus was no longer the adorable boy who so often held your hand when he forced you to run with him through the palace corridors, trying to get you to keep up with him so that the guards wouldn't catch you in some absurd game that he thought that it had occurred to him and he would win for being the son of the emperor, even though that was only an excuse to be closer to you and explore that physical contact that he had heard so much about from the cooks; Commodus was no longer the charming boy who so many times tried to sweeten your ear so that you would ride a horse with him despite the various denials you gave him every time he proposed that activity that avoided being malicious, even if the only thing he wanted to feel was it was your arms around his waist. Although, despite all this, and even though Commodus had grown to become the man you know today, there was one thing that had never changed despite the years.

"I don't see the point in waiting up for me. Tomorrow you won't get out of bed until it's late and all I want is to share at least a little of my awakening with my wife's love," he scolded you, trying to be a little serious with you, even if the slight curvature of his lips denoted the opposite. "You do it every night. You wait until I come to the room, whether you long to rest in Morpheus's arms or not."

"You know that I don't like sleeping with light, and I'm aware of how much the darkness terrifies you," you told him, approaching one of the candelabras that rested peacefully on one of the pieces of furniture near your large double bed, ready to make the flames disappear that little by little were consumed. "I don't want you to feel afraid in a place where you should feel at home, much less after the great and important service you offer to Rome."

The emperor felt something strange inside him, he always did when it came to you. Your kindness and serenity, your understanding, and your sweet soul were the attributes that made you the perfect candidate to rule the great Roman empire with him, even if the latter was never to the liking of his late father; He had too many imperfections and had committed terrible acts that not even he would forgive himself if he had to judge himself, but you always seemed to see through it all to the person who was really hiding behind that same layer of grime and horror. You had met a Commodus that no one else was able to see, or perhaps no one wanted to accept that he was there. He had always been despised, you had seen that with the constant rejections of his father as he was always chosen as his last option; He had always been separated and humiliated, being the laughing stock of the guards who were supposed to protect him so much when he was pointed out as a weak man for not being able to withstand the constant beatings when he was trained to be noticed by his own father; He had always been the outcast of his own family, only knowing love through her older sister Lucila and seeing her as the mother he lacked so much during her youth. All of this meant that the only thing he knew, as far as feelings were concerned, was bitterness and loneliness, even if he had you to vent in his moments of greatest weakness.

"As my wife, you are supposed to listen to me," Commodus said in an attempt to appear authoritarian with you, even though he was aware of your stubbornness and how much you didn't like him speaking to you that way, trying to make himself look more strong and imposing in your presence. He was obviously looking for a reaction from you and got it when you raised one of your eyebrows in question. "I can be fine in the dark, I'm not a child anymore."

"Did you stop being a child three days ago? Because remember, my dear Commodus, that three nights ago you were in bed hugging me as if something bad was going to be done to you, begging me for there to be a tiny little flame in sight or a light to illuminate your part of the bed," you answered with a soft sly smile, keeping you close to the last lit lamp that provided light to the room, putting more emphasis on that fear that you had never managed to figure out how to remove; Sometimes it was exasperating not knowing how to help him at times like this. "Your well-being is one of my greatest concerns and, if you do not feel well in the only place where you should by obligation feel comfortable, then it is my duty to do everything possible to make you feel protected."

Moments like those, in which you showed your genuine concern for him, could be very common throughout the days, but he always appreciated them as if they were the first time you said those important and strong words for him.

An attempt at a smile appeared on his face. He gently lifted the cheeks of his lips, which made you feel a little more relieved to see that the tension he had carried with him all day seemed to have momentarily vanished with your short speech. You observed the way in which his tall body, muscled by the various exercises he performed throughout the week and which had apparently begun to deteriorate a little due to the obligation to continue doing other chores, let himself fall, exhausted and exhausted, to the edge of the large imperial bed that had belonged to you since he was crowned emperor, making it bounce softly at how soft it was, while the thin pillows full of feathers sank with their weight towards the defeated side, closing your eyes so that the Darkness slowly surrounded him, and it was only because his eyelids had lowered and not because the last light in his room had faded with the air coming from outside.

Small hands that he would recognize anywhere on Earth, as delicate as glass and as soft as silk, he felt as they were quickly placed on his sharp cheeks that, thinner than they had ever been, showed a slight deterioration in his physical appearance state due to stress. Your hands so loved and tender, gently cradled his face so that he would relax, causing his jaw to relax as he felt your thumbs tracing his bone and there were no longer any frown lines on his forehead frowning from him; Now everything was starting to be different at that late hour of the night.

"How do you do it?" He questioned himself, even though his words escaped from his lips and reached your ears. "How do you make him feel safe with your caresses, more than I could ever be in the company of the entire Roman troop?"

Your laughter flooded his ears in such a perfect way that he couldn't help but accompany your laughter with his own, as if it were an effect that you had on him, allowing you to attract his head towards your body, thus causing his face to be buried on your soft belly covered by a long white silk nightgown.

"I don't know, you answer that question for me."

His greenish eyes, always showing curiosity, slowly rose and drew your elegant dark and slightly moonlit figure to finally meet yours in that dark and dull room in which you were. And that's when he saw it, at that moment he was able to answer himself. Your eyes shone with love, with warmth, with a light so strong that it could guide him back to you if, at any point in his life, he felt lost wherever he went; because you were his light within his world of darkness.

[saythenametotheworld]

Timeless | jww

Pairing: SEVENTEEN Wonwoo x Reader

Notes: 2.5k words. Based on a writing prompt I saw today. here's some story written on a whim! Enjoy!

~

The sun shone brightly up the sky, bringing a comfortable warmth to the late Saturday morning at a park by the Han River. Wonwoo sat there, a timeless observer in a constantly changing world. He leaned back on the wooden bench, closing his eyes to the gentle hum of life around him. The soft breeze, the distant laughter of children, and the conversation of people around him that were reduced to soft murmurs in his ears all melded into a soothing symphony. But his thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back through the centuries to a love long past.

Wonwoo had stopped aging a long time ago, a quirk of fate that he had no idea how he came to possess but had left him a witness to the continuous march of time. He had seen the rise and fall of civilizations and empires, cities that crumbled and rebuilt, and the countless faces of people passing in and out of his life. He remembered the grandeur and the bustling markets of ancient Rome, the silent strength of the Great Wall as it snaked through the mountains between China and Mongolia, the rise of the Goryeo Dynasty, and its eventual transition to the Joseon Period.

Exactly how old is he now? He had lost count. Over time, it just didn’t matter anymore. One of his earliest memories was standing on the shores of a vast, uncharted ocean, the salty breeze whipping through his hair. He had been living his early life on an island with his kin and had no idea there was an entire world beyond the high seas. He had watched as explorers docked on the shores of his home and heard said explorers declare that a whole wide world was out there. Civilizations, society, and people. All of these were foreign to him. Surely, he must set out to see this massive world they spoke of, and he did exactly that.

Wonwoo had set sail into the unknown, his eyes alight with dreams of discovery. That was when he realized that he was no ordinary man. He was someone who had been gifted by the heavens with time—a limitless, continuous, endless amount of time.

In the years that followed, Wonwoo lived among these men, never given the chance to find his home again. He watched as men took to the seas, charting routes that allowed Wonwoo to explore the vastness of the Earth. He had walked through the newly founded streets of New Amsterdam, marveled at the opulence of Versailles, and witnessed the fiery birth of the industrial age. 

Wonwoo did everything and anything a man with unlimited time could do. He explored the world, unearthing and discovering its beauty and magnificence. He studied sciences, medicine, engineering, and even advancements in architecture and infrastructure. He dabbled with arts in its many forms. He made friends with some people who eventually passed but would be remembered as important figures in history. Sometimes he liked to think he had contributed to the progress of humanity, however little it may be.

And romance, well, despite not knowing exactly how to engage in genuine romantic pursuits, that didn’t stop him from indulging himself with people he found alluring—whoever they were, wherever they were from as long as he has taken a liking to them.

But among these myriad of memories, one stood out with aching clarity. You. 

You had been his heart's desire for heaven knows how long. Wonwoo had met you in a bustling marketplace, your eyes catching his from across the crowd. There had been an instant connection, a pull that neither of you could deny. You had spent days exploring the city together, hours lost in whispered conversations and shared dreams, and nights spent with passion and warmth.

He remembered the way your hair flowed freely with the breeze, your eyes that shone in the moonlight, the warmth of your hand in his, and the way your laughter had chased away the shadows of his loneliness. But time was a thief, and it had taken you from him, leaving only memories in its wake. Such was the life of an immortal. People will come and go, friends eventually pass, and the bond between lovers withers away like flowers in October. Although he had never experienced love the way he did with you, he tried to move on with his life knowing no power on Earth will ever bring you back. Or so he had thought.

Years later, he had been wandering through the streets of Paris when he saw you again, your face unchanged, your eyes just as bright. You did not know him—not at first—but the connection was still there, and it was as undeniable as ever.

“I know you,” Wonwoo had told you at the time.

You were surprised at first, frowning at the man with whom you unknowingly held hands when he offered to help you board your carriage. You had thought it was your coachman, but it was a stranger—an oddly familiar stranger, but still a stranger.

“You do?” you had told him, maintaining a dignified composure despite being intrigued by him. What was that slight ache tugging at your heartstrings at the sight of his smiling face? “Well, I do not know you so it would be best if you refrain from approaching me without warning, sir.”

“I see. I beg your pardon,” he replied, still smiling as if he was overjoyed to be in your presence. “I am Jeon Wonwoo. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

In that life, you fell in love once more. And like the first, your time together was fleeting, and you were gone once more. This time, Wonwoo was hopeful that you would find each other again.

This became your pattern. Several years after your death, you would reincarnate, always with the same face, the same smile, the same laughter. Fate would bring you back to Wonwoo every time, even when he wasn't looking for you. In the high society of England year 1750, you had been a debutante in search of a husband and found Wonwoo. In the streets of Tokyo, in 1821, you were a painter, your art capturing the essence of the love you shared.  In the serene hills of Tuscany,  you had been a writer, your words weaving your shared story into the fabric of time. In the roaring twenties of New York, you had been a singer, your voice a siren call that drew him to you.

Each time you were reborn, you and Wonwoo would meet as strangers, fall in love all over again, and then, inevitably, you would leave him.

“I’ll come find you,” he told you on your deathbed, sickness has caused your young body to wither away. It had always been this way. You meet Wonwoo, share a couple years with him, maybe a whole decade if you are lucky, and then some illness or accident takes you away.

“I love you, Wonu.”

“I know. I love you more than anything in this world.”

It was a cycle of joy and heartbreak, of fleeting moments to Wonwoo that felt like lifetimes for you. But he was content. He was happy and he finally had something he wanted to keep living for.

But then, suddenly, you stopped coming back. You just… didn’t. Wonwoo waited, searched, and hoped, but you did not return. The decades stretched into a century and even as the 2000s came, still, you were nowhere to be found. He scoured the corners of the earth, looking for any sign of you, but it was as if you had vanished from the cycle of reincarnation. Wonwoo had been complacent. He was too relaxed and got so comfortable that he forgot something like this could happen.

Desperation and longing became his constant companions. His endless life was lonely and devoid of meaning until he found love in you, and now, without you, it felt empty once more.

Still, Wonwoo did not dare give up. In his search for you, he discovered a new passion: music. He found solace in melodies and rhythms, and his talent quickly blossomed. He began composing and singing, pouring his soul into every note. His music resonated with people, and he became a renowned singer, his voice known across the world. While he enjoyed his craft, his fame also served another purpose. He hoped that by becoming a public figure, his face appearing on screens and stages everywhere, you would find your way back to him.

But as the years passed, his hopes began to wane. No one who came to him even remotely resembled you, not your face, not your smile, nothing. His frustration grew with each passing day, the relentless search taking its toll on his spirit. The world lauded his music, yet he remained haunted by an unfulfilled longing, his heart aching for the one person who made his endless life worth living. The world around him has changed so much, technology advancing, cultures shifting, but his heart remained trapped in the past—the time so long ago when you first saw each other. His heart stayed broken, yearning and mourning you that he had lost.

And today, Wonwoo opened his eyes only to realize that hours had passed since he sat in front of the Han River. This was your favorite spot in your last life. You made the best memories here together, and as such, this place has become the one place Wonwoo can go to if he misses you. As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, Wonwoo closed his eyes again, the weight of his sadness sat heavy on his heart. He did not notice the figure that had taken a seat beside him, nor the way they watched him with a gaze full of curiosity and recognition. It wasn't until the voice broke through his reverie that he was jolted back to the present.

“You're still thinking about me after all this time?”

Wonwoo's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned to look at the speaker, his breath catching in his throat. There was no mistaking that voice. Even if it was over a hundred years ago, or two hundred, or four hundred years ago when he first heard you speak, Wonwoo would never forget that voice. And sure enough, it was you, unchanged by the years, as if you had stepped out of his memories and into the present.

“My love…” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief and hope. “My love. Is that you?”

You smiled the same radiant smile that had haunted his dreams. “These days, I think it’s cooler to call your lover Babe, or Bub or something short but sweet like that.”

He reached out, hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You were real, warm, and alive, and the floodgates of his emotions burst open.

You reached back to caress his face. “It’s been a while, Wonu.”

Slowly, unbeknownst to himself, Wonwoo’s tears rolled down his cheeks. With both hands, he held your cheeks, pulling you to sit next to him on the grass. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you!” he said, his voice breaking. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to appear aloof even as your own tears threatened to fall. “Silly. You knew you could never find me even if you tried. It is me who must go to you. Always. It doesn’t matter if I don’t recognize you, I will always be the one to find you.”

“But it has been too long. Too much time has passed without you.”

“Why? Did you get tired of waiting?” you asked, leaning affectionately in his hands. You feigned a sulky face. “Has your love faltered after waiting too long?”

“No,” he denied, a relieved smile finally showing on his lips. “I never stopped looking for you.”

“And I never stopped waiting for a chance to come and find you again,” you replied softly. “I've seen you, through the ages. Always so close, yet just out of reach.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared history pressing down on you. Wonwoo’s eyes never left your face, not even for a second. If he could, he wouldn’t even blink in case you suddenly disappeared and he realized this was all just a dream. You let him stare at you as much as he wanted, enjoying his attention and feeling happy about being able to hold him again. The world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound by time and love.

Wonwoo thought back to the countless lives he had lived, the friends he had made and lost, the wars he had fought, and the empires he had seen rise and fall. Despite having everything, you had been the only one he wanted and loved, a beacon of hope and love that had kept him going. In his long life, he rarely prayed to the heavens who bestowed him the curse of immortality, but he prayed for you. He prayed they bring you back to him. If they really were up there, it seemed to Wonwoo that they had heard his earnest pleas. Or maybe not, but he still wanted to thank someone, whether it was god, fate, or the universe. Whichever it was, they had allowed him to reunite with his beloved once more.

He remembered a conversation with a philosopher in ancient Greece, who had spoken of the eternal nature of the soul. “Love transcends time,” the philosopher had said. “It is the one thing that endures, no matter the changes that come.”

Wonwoo had seen the truth of those words in the faces of lovers across the ages. He had seen it in the way a soldier clung to a locket, a token of his beloved back home. He had seen it in the eyes of a mother, cradling her newborn child. And now, he saw it in your eyes, as bright and full of love as they had been all those centuries ago.

“How is this possible?” he asked, still grappling with the reality of your presence.

“Honestly? I don't know,” you admitted. “But does it matter? We're here now, together.”

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Please don’t let this be a wicked dream that I would wake up from eventually.”

You chuckled heartily, leaning closer to kiss his forehead. “It’s not, Won. It’s me.”

“It really is. It is you, my love,” he chimed, lifting your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

For the first time in centuries, he felt a sense of peace, a feeling of coming home. There was a certain sense of finality in this reunion. Wonwoo could not quite grasp what this meant, but it didn't matter—not now that you're finally sitting there with him after so long.

As the stars began to twinkle overhead, Wonwoo held your hand in his and brought you home. Finally, he had found what he had been searching for all these years. Wonwoo and you found your own timeless moment, a reunion that transcended the ages. And in that moment, you both knew that love, true love, was indeed eternal.

[fin]

[jungle-angel]

The Apples Of The Teacher's Eyes (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob have a little surprise for your students before the start of school vacation

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia Helena my dear, you officially have me desperate to write for Teacher!Bob and Teacher!Reader so any time you want a little short story or anything, don't hesitate to ask (lol).

"Alright my evil little henchmen, let's get down to business!" Bob announced, placing a huge, heavy old book onto his desk.

"To defeat the huns!" sang one of the students.

"Don't even start it Callum," Bob warned him. "I already had to hear it from the choir teacher and I don't need to hear it again."

Callum snickered as the students all moved the desks together while Bob fixed the chalkboard drawing he had made as well as the notes for the new lesson block.

"Alright," Bob announced. "So yesterday we wrapped up our studies on Ancient Rome and now we're starting the Vikings. How many of you guys in Mrs. Floyd's literature class started reading the Norse epics?"

Only a few had raised their hands.

"Ok so just a couple of you," Bob mused. "Well, we're gonna start right at the beginning by getting a lay of the land and the geography of the regions in this particular civilization. Then we're gonna get into key figures, battles, events and all that before we get into any kind of literature, music or mythology."

Bob's students couldn't have been more excited. Both him and you knew how to make these things come alive and jump right off the pages. The scratch of the chalk and the hushed whispers of his students were the best parts of his day, second only to coming home to you.

He knocked at the chalkboard with a free finger, his hand still holding the chalk with smears of stray dust coating his fingertips. "Here we go guys," he said. "Lay of the land.....what can you tell? Alonso?"

"Alot of ocean all around so it must've been a seafaring kind of society," Alonso Garcia answered.

"You would be right," Bob pointed out. "Anybody else? Birdy?"

"I remember from our geography main lesson that there were also rivers, fjords and lakes which made boat travel a staple part of life," Birdy O'Connor answered.

"What else? Elen?"

"I noticed too that there's lots of islands that fly off the peninsulas too," answered Elen O'Neill, the curly redheaded girl in the front row.

"All very excellent points," Bob answered. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

The students laughed a little before Bob continued on with the lesson.

"Now if we remember too," he continued. "People were more likely to settle in and around the sea rather than further inland....."

"With a damn good reason," you joked, poking your head in the door and scaring the ever living shit out of Bob.

"MRS. FLOYD!!!!!" the students shouted.

"SHHHHH!!!" you shushed sharply, holding your finger to your lips. "Do not.....I repeat.....DO NOT wake the baby."

"Oh my Lord you brought the baby?!" Elen gasped.

All of your students clambered to see the little carseat you carried on your arm, carefully moving aside so you could set it on the desks that had been pushed together. Inside was yours and Bob's newborn son, August Robert, who was so tiny he looked like he was being swallowed up by his blanket.

"Oh my God he's so cute!"

"He looks just like Mr. Floyd."

"Look at those little cheeks!"

"Oh my God, I wanna get married so I can have one!"

Bob blushed and bit his knuckles when he heard that out of Elen and so didn't you.

Auggie started to squirm a little, a wakeful little coo making everybody fall quiet as Bob moved to unbuckle him and pick him up. "Shhhh.....shhhh......you're ok.......you're ok," Bob whispered, bringing Auggie carefully to his chest, blanket and all, the baby's whimpering quieting right down as soon as Bob began to gently pat his back.

You and the students couldn't help but take picture after picture on their phones of Bob with the baby, the besotted look on his face making you melt.

"Alright guys, let's get back into it," Bob announced.

"Aw c'mon!" groaned the students as they sat back down.

You laughed a little before Bob kissed you. "You're supposed to be at home resting Mrs. Floyd," he whispered, still gently rocking Auggie in his arms.

"And miss all of this?" you chuckled. "Hell no."

Bob smiled and kissed you again, loving the thought of you sitting in on the main lesson and the ooing and ahhing from the students as he both taught and rocked Auggie at the same time.

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Roman Laundry Uncovered Near the Vatican in Italy

1,700-year-old laundry tubs and tiled floors were discovered by construction workers.

Construction workers in Italy recently came across the site of an ancient laundry near the Vatican, officials say.

Italy's Ministry of Culture announced the surprising findings in a press release on June 14. The discovery was made during construction efforts at Piazza Pia, a Roman square that Italian officials are "pedestrianizing."

Pictures of the site show archaeologists uncovering ancient tiled floors several feet below ground level. Tubs, which were used to clean dirty clothes, were also found at the site.

Excavators also uncovered what appear to be ceramic shards from destroyed artifacts. Officials also discovered pits, which may have once been used as baths.

In a statement, Italian officials said that the site was likely built to be an imperial residence. The housing would have overlooked the Tiber River "in a scenic way with arcades, walks and gardens," officials described.

Between the second and third centuries, the site became a fullonica – or a laundry.

According to the World History Encyclopedia, launderers in ancient Rome used human and animal urine as detergent. They often collected urine – which contains ammonia – from public restrooms.

"The urine was poured into a vat with the clothing and the fullers (or their slaves) would tread on the cloth, agitating it the way a modern-day washing machine does, to remove stains and odors," the World History Encyclopedia's website reads.

"This profession continued, operating in the same way with the same cleaning agents, for hundreds of years after the fall of the Roman Empire and up into the modern age when soap replaced urine."

Romans would bring their dirty laundry to a fullonica and pay to have it cleaned. Even though citizens generally looked down on launderers for their unhygienic washing methods, launderers were paid very well.

In a statement, Archbishop Rino Fisichella said that the recent discovery of the fullonica "brought [him] back in time."

"This part of Rome will again be made visible to all, and as a citizen I can only express a sense of deep gratitude," he said. "[The laundry room] was the meeting place of the people, the people, the women of the era."

By Andrea Vacchiano.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirty

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut, fingering, sweet dirty talk, creampie, possessiveness, falling in love

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

“It’s all getting too complex, Tom.”

“Maybe. But not too much for you.”

“Yes, for me.”

“You’ve been through worse though, haven’t you?”

“Have I? I’m not sure… Nothing with higher stakes, certainly.”

“Oh, come on… You’ve moved to a foreign country and lived here on your own for years. Worked for a crazy old man with a monster in the basement —”

“That’s unfair. Ambrogio was just a bit eccentric.”

“What do you think the auctioneers will do? Even if the worst should happen and you make some grave mistake… Will they turn you into a toad? Kill you? Cast a magic spell, what, like Abracadabra?”

“Worse. They’ll laugh at me.”

“Ah.”

“A failure. Humiliated. Publicly.”

“Well, I’ll be there, and if any laugh at you I’ll Avada Kedavra them myself.”

“Saying it doesn’t kill anybody, Tom,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll bring my wand, too.”

For some reason, that’s what made her laugh. It somehow added to the quiet, her laughter in the dark. They lay beside each other on her bed, warm beneath the covers, knee to knee. What started as Tom trying to console her following her meeting with Mr. Malfoy had melted into something else.

“Oh, you had better,” she chuckled. “I am so fond of your magic wand.”

He purred when he felt her careful fingers slip around his thighs. She scratched him gently above his clothes on her way to his waistline, then slid her hand beneath to find his cock and take it in her hand. He could feel her gasp against his lips when she closed her fingers around it, thumb just above the tiny slit that beaded a little pearl of lust at the feeling of her warmth and softness. His gaze travelled from her eyes down to her lips while she slowly thrust her hand upward. The way she made the skin of his shaft shift along his cock made him groan. He swallowed back the vulnerable sounds he was tempted to make and closed his eyes, enjoying the attention, the care of her touch, and the always terrifying experience of true intimacy. Like a whisper, her fingers travelled down the full shape of his cock from the tip down the velvet body until she reached the root, then back again. From beneath the soft protective circle of skin, his tip started peeking out.

“I think my wand likes you back,” he chuckled breathlessly, head leaning back against the pillow.

Her grip tightened at the encouragement. “Would you give it to me, then?” she teased. “Just for a little bit?”

“Mmm… You wouldn’t know how to use a proper wand.”

“I would too,” she protested. “Stop laughing.”

Tom couldn’t help it. Beneath the jokes, there was something deeply sad about their playful exchange — she was just a muggle. When it didn’t gnaw at him he had to catch himself for mentioning things he should not speak about with her, innocuous topics that he would have been free to speak of with a witch… These little jokes were a way for him to make up for it.

To ask for her forgiveness without so many words he leaned forward and kissed her. She moaned against his lips and moved closer, her hand around him tightening its grip. With a shuffle, she began to pull his trousers off his hips and out of her way, and Tom moved to help her. As he was still kicking them off his feet and to the edge of the bed she held him in her hand, cupping his cock gently, feeling it harden, and with a gasp he moved to kiss her again, and again. He let his mouth linger, let her taste his every moan and sigh while he swallowed every breath of hers. With a sweet whimper, she let him go to pull her panties down beneath the sheets and then, more shakily than before, she took his cock in her soft hand once more and brought it to her mound. It was his turn to shiver and he struggled to maintain control and let her lead. Through his half-lidded gaze, he could see her blushing, breathing heavily, excited, her focus all on him.

“I want to play with you a little,” she whispered with a kittenish smile.

“If you think you can handle it…” he breathed, trying to maintain his cool.

“I think I’ve been handling it.”

He grumbled at her silly pun but purred when she rubbed his cock against herself. The soft tuft of her venus mound stuck to his wet and dripping tip, licking across it in such a teasing way he almost blushed. She used him to caress her clit, a satisfied moan bubbling in her throat when their two most sensitive parts met. He could feel her little button, so warm and hard surrounded by its hood… Tom licked away from his lips the desire to kiss it again.

“More,” he whispered, hips canting toward her in a silent plea. “More, you witch…”

“Like this?” she murmured, and he could almost taste her grin.

She rubbed him slowly, methodically almost, and brought him to her slit. Her plump lips closed around him in a kiss. Tom’s breathing grew heavy, his body on a precipice threatening to fall. He felt himself twitch and drip over her folds, the bead of lust a little offering to the beautiful body in which he found such comfort. Slowly, torturously so, she eased him deeper, canting her hips and pressing him against her where she was softest, warmest, and already dripping for him.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he muttered. His hips shifted on the bed, his whole body heating up just from her touch on that singular part of his body.

Her folds encircled him and in a cruel mimicry, she leaned forward to kiss him and drag her tongue between his lips. Tom groaned and reached to bite her but she moved away before he could, giggling. He mumbled a curse and closed his eyes, struggling against the instinct to grab her and push up into her with force.

“I want you,” he whispered, his tone dangerously close to a plea. “Want to feel you from the inside again…”

“Sometimes I think that’s the part of me you like best.”

“It’s true,” he smiled, leaning his forehead against hers while her hand kept stroking him. “Inside of you is your pretty heart, and your clever mind…”

“For such a dirty boy, you say the sweetest words,” she giggled, laying a quick peck against his cheek. “And? What else is inside of me that you like so, so much?”

Tom dipped to kiss her mouth, his hand reaching out to hold her head and pull her into a deep long melding of breath and hot flesh. Her hand almost stilled around him but he gripped it with his own and kept it moving, their fingers closing together on his cock. She covered him and he covered her and without either of them knowing whose choice it exactly was his tip reached the clenching edge of her hole. It caught on the rim and made her tremble, made her sigh into his mouth. Tom smiled and parted from her, nearly breathless. She let go of him to place her hand upon his hip and gently pressed him into her. He tightened his fist around her hair, made her gasp into his kiss as he pushed forward until the head breached her. With a moan she wrapped a leg around him, pulling herself closer until their skin stuck together.

“Tom,” she whispered, her head leaned back in his grip, neck pulled in an arc that was perfect for kissing.

He murmured with his lips along its column and his cheeks round with a smile. “You have me… Right here…”

“I know,” she whined, her fingers curling on his hip, scratching him with her dull claws. The other reached out toward him underneath the sheets, aiming blindly for his chest. “You’re always teasing. Making me suffer…”

He chuckled and thrust a little deeper, deliberately dragging it on. His tongue came out to lick her neck, tasting the sweat there and the hint of her perfume while his other hand released his cock and traced up along her body until he found her breasts.

“You love suffering,” he whispered, finger circling her nipple.

She shivered in his arms and wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper inside. Tom chuckled and obliged her and started thrusting higher, dragging his length across the bottom of her clit to make her moan. His teeth closed around her tender skin and nibbled at her breasts, painting her in blotches of red all the way down to her clavicle. His fingers played across her nipple, circling, plucking, twisting when she least expected it until it hardened in his grasp.

“You always get so wet for me,” Tom murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice. Between her plaintive moans, they could both hear the slick and sticky sounds his cock pulled out of her. “Does anyone else know what a naughty girl you are, hmm?”

“Only you do,” she smiled, her eyes closed, lips swollen, bitten bloody. It was like speaking with the dead.

“Is that so?”

His thrusts gained a slow, incessant rhythm, reaching deeper into her each time. His hand parted from her chest to hold on to her waist as he lavished her with kisses. The fingers that held her head tilted back uncoiled from her hair and slid down to support her back, to hold her bent and open to him. She moaned as his cock reached deeper into her, its length filling her from entrance to her cervix for a moment before pulling back. Her folds dragged deliciously across his length, leaving it wet and sticky before he shoved it back inside.

“You mean,” he started with a teasing tone, his lips hovering over her nipple, “that nobody else knows you,” a kiss then on the puckered tip, “like I do?”

“Nobody…” she sighed.

Tom chuckled and pulled her nub into his mouth, tugging on it in that hungry, desperate way he did, while below his thrusts turned harder, eager to reach further into her than each time before. With lewd suckles, he pulled away only to catch her nipple between his lips and nurse at it a little harshly. She yelped and stuck her nails into his skin but Tom did what he wanted.

“You’re a dirty little liar,” he purred.

“I am not.”

He found her vehemence endearing but it only made him want to poke and prod at her pride more. He twirled his tongue around her breast a few more times, surprising her with hot and heavy suckles that made her body tighten and shift in his arms, and then he turned gentle all over again. With a heave he thrust inside her once and stayed there, resting his forehead in the centre of her chest.

“Tooom,” she complained, canting her hips to beg for more.

“Shhh…”

“Please, I want it…”

“I know you do,” he whispered, grinning. “But I like feeling you like this.”

She whined but stayed still for him. The feeling of her clenching all around his cock, the thrumming of her heartbeat, the licking of her drops of wetness down his sac and the way her plush folds kissed it, choked around it… It made his flesh burn hot, his blood on fire. He pulled her even closer and wrapped his lips around her nipple then started thrusting into her harder than before. The quick motion dragged heat along her channel, made her cry out his name, nails dragging across his skin as if she clung to him on the edge of a precipice. His lips pulled her nub deeper, tongue crushing it against the roof of his mouth while his cock shoved higher, higher into her, battering against her cervix. The sheets were by now a tangled mess and the bed squeaked beneath them, but neither noticed anything other than each other. Lost in one another’s bodies, they chased pleasure together, Tom inside of her and she around his body. She clung to him as if she could have fallen and he held her close, his cock dripping precum into her, mouth slathering her breasts with kisses, a rapid pulling and pushing of flesh as if they could melt together and become one being.

“Oh fuck, please, so good —” she cried out. “I ca— I’m so close, I can’t—”

“You will,” he muttered against her skin, lips barely dropping her sweet breast out of his mouth. “Like you always do, my good girl. Cum for me.”

She whimpered at his order so confident and cold against his frantic fucking into her, and suddenly her body snapped. She curled forward, legs tightening around his, head bowing to rest against his own, and with a loud and broken cry, she felt her core convulse and clench. Tom moaned with her nipple in his mouth and pounded harder into her throughout it.

“Say you’re mine,” he whispered, peppering her skin with kisses.

“Yours,” she gasped into his messy hair, each breath pushed from her. “I’m-m y-yours…”

He purred at the sound of it and snapped his hips a little faster, more frantic and desperate as he felt his skin catch fire. She started whining, oversensitive, her softest parts abused by him, but Tom didn’t stop until he felt his pleasure rush through him. With a low cry, his arms tightened around her, his hips stuttered, and he came. He held her still, his cock shoved deep, her folds pressed against his churning sac as it twitched and pulsed with each release.

“Tom! A-aaah… T-tom, it’s…”

“I know,” he whispered, “I know, shh…”

He could feel the warmth of his seed as it travelled through his shaft, felt it pooling deep inside her, then down along his length as it seeped out. With his lips against her breast, tongue cradling her nipple, Tom sighed in delectation. Even after taking her so many times, he couldn't understand why this was so satisfying… Filling her, going as deep into her body as he could, and swallowing the sweet taste of her skin.

Tom parted from her chest still panting and gently petted her back as she recovered. Her legs were limp, her arms relaxed around him, even her head was laying lazily against the pillow as she gave out little gasps and moans. The length of her spine was sweaty and cold after the duvet fell from them, but she never seemed to notice.

“Alright?” he asked with a small smile, gazing down at her sated, sleepy face. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Mhmm…” she nodded, licking her lips. Below, he felt her clench around him one last time.

Tom growled and stayed buried inside her, greedy for her body still. Moving gently, his hand curled from her back down to her tummy, and he left it there for a few moments while he muttered the contraceptive charm.

“There there,” he cooed, with a kiss to her flushed cheek. “Sleep now…”

She was already sleeping and knew he’d be with her in her dreams as well.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 11 - prompt 11: Over 30 Years Old [word count 881]

Sirius had always dreaded the age of 35. It was the age Orion Black had become head of the House of Black after his own father’s death, and the age Walburga had always waved in front of him as The Ultimate Goal.

“When you’re 35 you’ll be a grown man and you’ll be the one to provide for me instead,” she had said in those rare memories when he was a little kid wobbling through the house at Grimmauld Place, asking his mother if he could do anything to help her in her chores.

Not that Walburga Black really had any chores, she just ordered around her array of house elves and hexed them when they didn’t do the things as she liked, he would come to understand later on.

“When you’re 35 you’ll see how all this was useful,” she said with a sharp look which clearly warned him never to complain again in front of one of his private tutors when he was barely six and had just gone from his lesson in ancient Greek to etiquette to Latin without having the time to breathe in between.

Even after all those years Sirius hated the fact he could sit at an elegant table and pick up the right fork or spoon by instinct, or could visit a museum and find himself reading and understanding with no trouble at all the old inscriptions on the ancient statues brought there from Greece or Rome.

“When you’re 35 you’ll be head of the House of Black, sole master of the family,” she had told him the day he had turned eleven and had gotten his first wand, her hand digging claw-like in his shoulder as she kept him standing in front of the tapestry with the whole family tree embroidered on it.

Sirius had never known what his father thought of it, because for him to become head of the house Orion would have to die first and he was still quite young and healthy to just pass when his firstborn would turn 35. Sometimes he had thought Walburga would simply ensure her husband would be dead right in time to follow her own deadlines. It wouldn’t really be out of character for her after all.

“This does not change anything. By 35 you’ll be at the helm of this family, a Black through and through despite your disgrace,” she had said sharply on his first Christmas break from Hogwarts, after ripping his Gryffindor tie from his neck and throwing it into the fireplace.

That night had been the first of many Sirius had thought that if he couldn’t escape his family before he would make sure he would not reach that age.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. By 35 you’ll be married to a girl I will have approved, you will have had children to further the legacy of our family and you’ll be continuing the work your father and I started by bringing our name back to power,” she had whispered, wand pointed at his throat, when he had been fourteen and Regulus had been caught asking him during the holidays which one of the Gryffindor girls always trailing behind him he was actually dating.

“I think you have forgotten a detail, son of mine. You have a brother. If you do not comply tonight, if you don’t quietly come back into the fold, I’ll make sure you never even get to see the age of 35. I gave you this life you’re squandering, and as your mother, I can take it away just as easily,” she had hissed, standing over where he was bleeding on the carpet the last day he had spent at his parents’s house.

He had managed to save himself and run away that night, falling almost unconscious in the Potters’ fireplace.

Effie and Monty had taken him in and had given him everything his own parents hadn’t been able to. They had loved him unconditionally, accepted him when he had come out, wiped away tears of joy when he had told them he was moving in with Remus. Still, the number 35 had remained like a screech in his mother’s voice at the back of his mind all those years, as if on that fateful day Walburga would somehow reappear in front of him and remind him how he had failed her and the whole family. He knew it wasn’t possible. He had been disowned after he had run away, and even if he hadn’t, he had barely turned 30 when the old house at Grimmauld Place had been somehow engulfed by the flames one night and both his parents had died in the fire. Orion had effectively died before Sirius turned 35 in the end, and he wondered if his mother had thought about that in her last moments.

Still, the morning of his birthday, Sirius woke up and refused to open his eyes. All the things Walburga had said around that fateful number came crashing back on him and he found himself shivering in his own bed like a child again. Then a movement at his side, two arms wrapping themselves around him and a mouth pressing on his.

“Happy 34th-and-one, my love,” Remus’s voice whispered in his ear.

And Sirius finally smiled.

[milkywaydrabbles]

Flufftober 35 with Alucard? Maybe a chubby reader, everyone likes a soft pillow :3

A/N: This was nice to write, I appreciate this type of ask ;A; I try to keep it neutral when describing reader normally (outside of the fact they're AFAB and fem!bodied) but I love reading/writing about a chubby girlie!! I hope you enjoy it!

"You're my new pillow" x Alucard

It didn’t take long for you and Alucard to become an item. He really couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for longer than two minutes whenever you were around (and that already was pushing it. Trevor would know, he actively counted so he can prove a point.) He tried to stay ‘mysterious’ and ‘alluring’ – but that was hard to do when all he wanted to do was talk to you about anything and everything that came to mind. Whatever would occupy you enough to not leave, to stay with him. It was embarrassing–Or so he would have thought if he wasn’t too enamored with looking at you and your soft figure. It was a breath of fresh air, he thinks, seeing your curves soft and round, fats of your hips squishing from the edges of your pants. He wonders if you realize you would be revered as a goddess in ancient Rome and Greece–he hopes you do. He’d even dare say that the goddesses don’t hold a candle to you, round face with cheeks that squish up when you smile at him so sweetly, chubby fingers that fiddle with the edge of your skirt when you’re picking dirt off it after dragging too close to the muck. His hands itched to simply hoist you up himself so you didn’t have to walk around the mud. Whatever to make your life easier.

Trevor and Sypha were starting to feel bad for him–it was so obvious that he had fallen so deeply in love with you over the last few weeks and yet wouldn’t do anything about it (something about being a gentleman, whatever.) So without his knowledge, Sypha started having ‘girl time’ with you, trying to push you into asking him, even if just out to dinner. Literally anything to get you alone with him. You were terrified really, but decided to take the jump and ask Alucard out on a date, just a simple dinner at your place–you promised you cooked well (and you made well on that promise! He thought it was delicious!)

Alucard asked for your hand in courtship that night.

And here you both are, however many years later in the castle you’ve come to know as your home, cuddling on the love seat in the study that you begged him to bring in, you wanted to press yourself up close to him as he read (of course the big sap did exactly that). And Alucard still looked at you with the same adoration as he did the first time he laid eyes on you–with hearts in his eyes, hands squeezing the chub of your hips and roaming your soft belly–he wouldn’t have you any other way. He decided he wanted to get more comfortable after feeling your soft and warm skin–

“Adrian, what are you doing?” You couldn’t help but giggle, hands moving away from your lap to give the grown man more space (his legs were hanging off the loveseat) before running your chubby fingers through his blonde curls. The dhampir simply smiled, fangs poking out the sides of his mouth as he closed his eyes. “You’re more comfortable than the seat–so I’ve decided you’re my new pillow.” You laughed again, rolling your eyes playfully at your loving husband. There were days that you couldn’t look at yourself, wishing you’d be able to lose the extra fluff that you had–thinking that Alucard deserved someone more...fit. Skinnier. Prettier. But he always made such an effort so that you’d understand he’d never leave you for anyone else, that he loved you so much for who you are, and that the extra fat was just more for him to love. He reminded you every day in different ways of that. And you figured that right now, might be one of those ways. You did love seeing him so comfortable in your lap... “Hmm..” You hummed, looking over to the crackling fire in the hearth scratching at his scalp. “You seem a bit too long for my lap, dear.” He cracked an eye to look at you, knowing you were already poking fun. And he loved the apples of your cheeks rounding up on your face with your smile.

“But I’d rather be nowhere else, my love.”

[literallyjusttoa]

My top 7 Apollo exes from Ancient Greece

DISCLAIMER: Though I have done a lot of research of mythology for this, it is based off of the riordanverse version of Apollo. I won't be acknowledging any awful implications in versions of these myths, not because I don't think they're important, but because it simply isn't a part of riordanverse Apollo's characterization in the books. Also I'm not going to mention Copollo. I love Copollo like the rest of you, but sadly that is a Rick Riordan exclusive, and also technically Commodus is an ex from Ancient Rome, not Ancient Greece :3

Ok with that out of the way lets talk obscure and non-obscure Apollo relationships

7. Apollo & Thyia

This one clocks in at number 7 because I love the idea behind it, but it is the most bare bones relationship myth wise. All we really know is Thyia is a priestess of Dionysus and she and Apollo maybe had a kid once. But like, the idea of Apollo dating his brother's priest? Hilarious, A+ stuff. Also, Thyia isn't just one of Dionysus' priests, she is THE priest of Dionysus. She runs his temple in central greece, is thought to have offered the first sacrifice to him, and might have been the first Maenad? Either way this relationship must have been insane. Also she's a nymph so she's definitely still kicking out there, would love for these two to meet again.

6. Apollo & Hyacinthus

Ok ok I know what y'all are thinking. Number 6?? This is like Apollo's number 1 most tragic relationship of all time!!! And yes as an angst lover I do enjoy the pain this relationship brings our boy, but I just feel like there's not many places to go with this relationship besides what we already have. Like Apollo and Hyacinthus were kind of the perfect couple. Which, like, great for them, but it doesn't give me much space to add anything? I guess, great ship, no notes.

5. Apollo & Hypermnestra (& Oikles)

Ok, half the reason this is here is because her name is Hypermnestra. Slay. But also this is a great place to bring up my favorite little headcanon. In a lot of Apollo's relationships, there will be a child, and myths will have different versions with different fathers. Some say it's Apollo, while other's say it's whoever he dated's husband. In this case, myths disagree on whether Amphiaraus was Apollo's son or the son of Hypermnestra's husband, king Oikles (Oikles??? I love these names). The implication here is infidelity, but I disagree. No, I think every time there's confusion over who parentage it's because Apollo was dating both the woman he's said to be with and her husband, and therefore no one knows who ended up, y'know, fathering the child. Anyways Apollo dated both Hypermnestra and Oikles and you can't convince me otherwise.

4. Apollo & Branchus

I like this relationship because in my mind, I always thought it was Apollo's first. In one version of their myth, it is said that Apollo met Branchus after leaving Delos as a dolphin, which I always thought implied this was soon after he established Delphi, which was really early on. Idk something about a young Apollo accidentally revealing his godliness to this boy he really likes is just so sweet to me. And he makes Branchus into a prophet, which is so cool! These two are cutie-patooties is what I'm saying.

3. Apollo & Kyparissos

C'mon, the man died of grief because his deer died. Throughout ToA we learn that deep down Apollo is a mushy ball of emotions and compassion, and that convinced me that these two spent 75% of their relationship crying over baby animals and pretty people. I love the idea of Apollo dating someone who's honestly just as much of a loser as he is. And while it is sad that Kyparissos is another lover Apollo had to turn into a plant, I have to emphasize again that he died of heartbreak, because his pet deer died.

2. Apollo & Cyrene

Listen, these two are boss bitches and you cannot convince me otherwise. In the same way I like Kyparissos bc I feel like he and Apollo are so similar, I like Cyrene bc I feel like, in a lot of ways, these two are very different. Like, don't get me wrong, Apollo can be strong and wild when he wants to be, but Cyrene wrestles lions. I like to think the time these two spent together really helped each of them grow in their own way, which makes for a really fun and interesting relationship. Also, just like Thyia, Cyrene is sometimes referred to as a nymph, so she could still be out there!

1. Apollo & Admetus

The more I think about these two, the more I love them. Admetus meeting Apollo at his lowest and helping him through it. Apollo falling head over heels as a result and doing everything in his power to repay the man. The two of them still holding such strong affection for each other even decades after the time they had together, to the point that Apollo would mess with fate to extend Admetus' life. Apollo's life is full of turmoil, and this period of it was probably the worst, but despite that, his relationship with Admetus seems so steady. The other gods are said to be embarrassed of Apollo's love of Admetus, and I think it's because Apollo loved him in a way that went directly against the values of the gods. Apollo and Admetus' relationship was defined by service and care, filled with selfless intent and genuine love. While many gods give their lovers gifts and special favors, the idea of actually going into servitude for someone you love is as ungodly as you can get. Apollo spent time with Admetus, and he wasn't possessive of him, helping him to find a wife after their time together was through. I think this relationship is a great example of how Apollo, even in his lowest moments, is a genuine and caring person, and how that often separates him from the rest of his family. Also these two are just cute and they both love cows and they're cows in love.

[themoonplantwrites]

So I want to talk about some of the implied elements of the culture that exists in New Rome and Camp Jupiter for a second.

So one of the things we are introduced to about Camp Jupiter and New Rome pretty quickly in The Son of Neptune is that there is a pretty influential anti-Greek/Hellenic bias. There’s more extreme examples, like Octavian, but then there’s the more, I guess average version too. Like I think we all can agree that Frank is pretty accepting of the Greeks and Camp Half-blood and everything, and yet when he is guiding Percy around Camp Jupiter explaining everything to him, even Frank still refers to the Romans as an “improved” version of the Greeks. Like there is just this kinda vibe of “the Greeks suck, especially when compared to us” that exists in the modern Roman culture of Camp Jupiter and New Rome.

One of the other things we are introduced to pretty quickly is that they only learn Latin at Camp Jupiter. Like there is never any implication that Camp Jupiter teaches the Romans any other language than Latin. Like obviously many of the kids know other languages depending on where they come from before coming to Camp, but they only learn Latin at Camp Jupiter.

And I bring these two things up because a lot of Ancient Roman texts were written in Greek. Because in Ancient Rome, knowing Greek as a sign that you were educated. So some Roman writers wrote in Ancient Greek because they only wanted educated folks to read them. So there’s all these texts written by Ancient Romans in Ancient Greek at are either very culturally important (like Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations) or have mythological importance (I’m going through a lot of mythological fragments written in Greek right now and some of them are from Roman sources). And it is heavily implied that no one at Camp Jupiter and New Rome can read them. At least, they can’t read them unless they are translated.

And that’s like, really messed up. Like this implies that at some point between ancient times and when Percy shows up at Camp Jupiter, the Romans’ anti-Greek/Hellenic bias got so strong that they would rather cut themselves off from their own culture and texts than teach their children Ancient Greek so that they could read them.

Now let’s make this sadder. Jason spent six months at Camp Half-blood. He probably picked up some Greek there. It really wouldn’t surprise me if Chiron gave him a copy of Meditation’s with the original Greek text at some point. Because even if there are parts of Camp Half-blood that Jason likes and that work better for him, he deeply cares about New Rome and Camp Jupiter and wants the best for the people there. They are his people, this is the culture he grew up in and he cares about them.

So I can just see Jason planning on introducing teaching Ancient Greek at Camp Jupiter so that they can have access to their ancient texts in their original form again. And either he never got around to introducing this measure to the Senate because he died before he could or he did introduce it and was further shunned for no longer being Roman enough, and that’s part of why we see him living at a mortal boarding school in Trials of Apollo, because he’s “too Greek” and no longer all that welcomed in Camp Jupiter and New Rome. And either option is just really sad.

[viablemess]

I researched Polites history / myths so you don't have to

I wrote an overview of what I can find about Polites in the Odyssey, other source material, etc.

I'm hoping this is helpful for folks who are curious, looking for inspiration for fanworks, new and returning Epic fans alike. This was intentionally done very casually so all mistakes are my own. I’m also not a mythology/history/Greek scholar in any capacity, so my sincerest apologies for any catastrophes I committed. Did I copy paste some Google scholar work cited without fixing the errors? Yes. Am I okay with that for a Tumblr post? Absolutely. Lmk if you need help finding any referenced texts :)

To preview what I will be covering—first I’ll go over mentions in the Odyssey and how they vary across translations. Then I’ll get into some other content that folks have written either about the Odyssey / the Greek language in more academic circles, or other works that are less formal (they’ve published and I think they’re fun, and they relatively are similar in content to the Odyssey). Next, I’ll add in some more “out there” published works that are more loosely inspired. Finally, I’ll do a deep dive into two specific concepts that I have seen (werewolves, ghost story, taken from an acadenic article about vampires) which relate to Polites.

Before we get started, a few disclaimers: Polites is a type of butterfly, so there’s that. There is also a Polites called Polites of Troy. He is King Priam and Queen Hecuba’s legitimate son and Hector’s brother. So, there is a Polites who is related to Hector, and is likely one of the “kill the brothers of Hector” that Neo is tasked with in Epic. So, when you’re looking up Polites info, if you’re new to the realms of Greek literature (like me) those are some weeds to dig through. The deity Iris does at one point speak through Polites (Hector’s brother) as a side story.

Now, transitioning to the Odyssey…

So in the Odyssey Polites is briefly mentioned at best; some sources say he is "The dearest friend of Odysseus" others say "the dearest to me of my crew" etc. The translations vary. Also, he lead the group into Circe's palace, and he eventually talked Odysseus into leaving Circe's Island. This would mean that in comparison to Epic, Polites lived longer in the myth figure. So, it is ambiguous when he died based on the Odyssey alone.

That said, Polites feels like an ambiguous person based on the Odyssey as source material. He cares about Odysseus (closest friend) and wants him to return home to his family and people (gets him off Circe's Island). That's about all we got.

And now for the other materials:

Odysseus by Geraldine McCaughrean is fascinating. I've not read the whole thing but again my goal here is to connect source materials for inspiration for the sunshine character. Polites gets much more screen time here than in the Odyssey. He is still odulysseus' best friend, and he commands some of the fleet at the time. He still shows respect for Odysseus calling him "captain, my lord" But also "master" in some instances, perhaps hinting that he is/was a slave? He and Odysseus are the only ones who know about scylla, which creates a new dynamic and is the one to tie Odysseus to a poll and try to calm him down during the sirens, so he does not jump overboard. Polites does, however, drown to his death in this version having gotten tangled in ropes and swept overboard.

In Goerne, N. Gender Roles in Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome: Odyssey and Aeneid in Comparison. the author mentions that Polites did fall victim to Circe's song specifically and walked into her hall, Eurylocous was the one who was able to return to Odysseus because he hung back.

In Moorman, C. (2014). Kings and Captains: Variations on a Heroic Theme. University Press of Kentucky. Polites is acknowledged as Odysseus' favorite in contrast to Eurylocous who serves as Odysseus' foil.

Cole, D. R. (1976). 'ASTY'AND'POLIS':" CITY" IN EARLY GREEK. Stanford University. Brings up the good point that POLIS as a word is representative of a city, as is the word ASTY. Polis only shows up in Polites' name, asty shows up more frequently including but not limited to Astyanax. Other scholars have mentioned how this is a geopolitical tension of what makes a city, but I'm not sure if I'm reading those scholars correctly and welcome other opinions. This is by no means my area.

I'm chomping at the bit to find a copy but Polites is frequently mention in The Odyssey: Missing Presumed Dead by Simon Armitage. The pages I can find on Google are slim but I think Circe mistakes Polites for the captain? Or Polites is referred to as captain because he has a position of leadership within the fleet.

TRIGGER WARNING TO SEXUAL ASSAULT BELOW. Based on Daniel Ogden, The werewolf in the ancient world. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2021. Pp. 288. ISBN 9780198854319. Daniel Ogden's book argues that Polites is one of the original depictions of a werewolf in Greek literature, more specifically, the ghost of a werewolf. Pls note that I am getting this material based on a review written by Scott Bruce of Fordham University, “Chapter 5 argues at length that the wolfskin-wearing ghost of Polites, a crewman of Odysseus, should be considered a werewolf.” this also refers to the Hero of Temesa by Pausanias of Magnesia, if you want to Google that story. I believe they are the same. I also got material from the article Ogden, D. (2022). Did the Classical World Know of Vampires?. Preternature, 11(2), 199-224. The story goes that in Temesa Polites got drunk and raped a local woman and as a result was stoned to death (other stories depict a different crew member raping a woman and being stoned to death). Then Polites comes back and haunts Temesa as a demon/ghost, and an oracle says if the townspeople sacrifice a virgin to him once a year he won't kill them. Then, Euthymus of Locri fell in love with the woman intended to be sacrificed and chased Polites into the sea, ending the curse. Other readings if the same story say that Polites eats the victim, not just murders and or SAs them. Some readings also mention him wearing a wolfskin, which could be an early nod to him doing these activities under the influence of being a werewolf.

If I find more sources I will be back, but for now that's all folks.

[vvritingmf]

RP Partner Search | 21+

Hello.ᐟ.ᐟ I go by V or my pen name, VV. I got recommended tumblr through a friend who also role-plays, so I’m here to see if I can meet some awesome writers. I’m 22 and prefer my partners to be around the same, however, as long as you are 18+, I’ve really got no qualms.

Experience details listed below:

I’m a very flexible person when it comes to writing, however I cannot say I am great at all. My main weaknesses are probably action and superheroes, but these are just some of the few topics I have done otherwise.

Fantasy

Tropes & Themes that I love or correlate:

Greek Gods, Goddesses, Deities

Mythology

Bestiary/Faeries/Demi-Humans

Sci-Fi, Futuristic, Dystopian, Cyberpunk, Bionic

Opposites attract: Light>Dark, Sun>Moon, Fire>Water, Healer>Destroyer

Merfolk, Sirens, Pirates

Hunter>Hunted

Historical

Tropes & Themes that I love or correlate:

Southern small town horrors: (20’s-80’s)

Medieval Evils: witch hunting, wounded>healer

Westward Expansion/Wild West: Bounty Hunter>Outlaw, Loner>Wanderer

Ancient Egypt/Japan/Rome/Greece: Assassin>Victim

WWI-II/Other: star-crossed lovers, enemies to lovers to enemies, woman guised as militia>unknowing comrade/enemy (mulan moment⚔️)

Mafia: 90’s realistic only, bodyguard>daughter/son

London High Society: Arranged marriage, Klutz>Pessimist

(While all of these are great, I am a sucker for new tropes and ideas, so please introduce me to some of your interests!)

General

More info about me and my preferences!

Dead Dove; Do NOT Eat — As much as I love writing goody-two-shoes characters, sometimes I simply want to write someone morally grey, or perhaps even a bit psychotic… Those who are familiar with dead dove know that it includes mature and sensitive topics, such as non-con, NSFW aside! That being said, I will never abuse this right and all topics are sure to be discussed with my RP partner before hand.ᐟ.ᐟ

Gender Preference: I often find myself writing male leads as opposed to female, but this is solely because I am having to compensate and or carry a plot by myself majority of the time. With male characters, I simply find arrogance easier to strike up interactions with, however I would love to actually be able to play a female character; it depends heavily on the plot. I’m predominately MxF, but with side characters I am open to MxM and FxF, (romance awakening/forbidden love subset mainly.)

NSFW: I am not strict on many of my rules but substituting plot for smut is not tolerated. I am willing to write it but in order for any sort of NSFW, things need to progress naturally. I would prefer a partner who prioritizes world building and plot planning first and foremost.

Requirements: As I am not daily active on discord, I am looking for a lax but serious role-play partner who is literate novella minimum. I frequently exceed the discord message limit, sometimes even four times over. However, this is not a standard for myself; I simply tend to write a lot when I am invested in a story. By no means do you have to match this; I simply ask that you give me something to work with and I will do the same in return. Trust me, I’m not always in the mood to meet a word criteria, I wouldn’t expect you to be either! I need a long-term partner who is willing and understanding of schedules and writers-block. These are two things I struggle with often, but I am writing this ad because I truly want to get on the grind again and meet someone who will bring fresh ideas to the table, as well as still pick up after a week of inactivity… :)

Other: I will not always use face claims, because sometimes celebrities and acclaimed actors just don’t do characters justice. Regardless, I will always give a description in writing or perhaps find some oil art or sketch that best represents my OC. I’m probably not very traditional in the sense that I do not follow all usual discord RP rules; I don’t even know half the jargon. Some more general tropes I love include age gaps, tragedy ending, anti-heroes, redemption, apprentice/mentor to mentee, & unique character impairments.ᐟ.ᐟ

Friend my Discord if you’re interested! (1x1)

(Ive a two role-play maximum so that way I am able to focus. Full currently but if you’d like to be friends I’m so down.) Current: 2/2

[save-the-villainous-cat]

OH MY WORD I LOVE FLUFF PLEASE I BEG OF YOU WRITE MORE FLUFF WITH SHY VILLAINS IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS

I love you by the way, I think your very talented and I really love your writting <3 <3 have wonderful day

“You know, when you survive the so-called end of the world three times, you lose a taste for the danger.”

The hero behaved differently today. They had mentioned apocalyptic scenarios three times in the last two hours. They looked distant.

What should’ve been a meeting to discuss negotiated settlements turned into a therapy session and the villain was absolutely the last person on earth who was fit for this job. But when they gazed over at their hero — who was barely paying attention on anything — they felt their heart sink into a depth they didn’t know existed.

The way their fist dug into their cheek, elbow balancing on the table and that slight frown on their face…they didn’t look quite like the hero, more like an aged-up and tired version of them.

“Makes you feel…yeah, makes you feel not much, I suppose,” the hero said. They bit their lip, as if not to cry but the villain only sat there and stared at their nemesis from across the table. Why were they having this conversation? Wasn’t there some friend? Some councillor? Someone else?

They blinked tears out of their eyes, long and thin eyelashes ghosting over their perfect skin until they caught themselves again. They probably had played the role of the happy saviour of the world for too long.

“I think what we’ve settled on is pretty good,” they said painfully forced. “But I cannot guarantee that there won’t be more demands in the future.”

“Uhhh…” Out of all the reactions the villain could’ve had uhhh was probably the worst. Meaningless and stupid. They just couldn’t think. Couldn’t think when the hero was like this. “Y’know…we are, I mean, no — once I… fuck…”

The hero looked at them, eyes sunken in and exhausted but they looked patient, calm. Weirdly out of place in such a brutalist room. Someone strong in a way too cruel world.

“…when Rome fell, the world didn’t end, you know?” the villain said. They felt how their cheeks turned into little ovens. “Society collapsed but…I mean, Rome, the city, still stands and the people…I…sorry, I don’t know what I wanted to say with that.”

The hero smiled softly at them.

“I suppose you’re right…the earth still spins. Isn’t that the only thing that really matters?”

“Not if you’re upset.”

“Just…if feels like nothing. You save the world and it feels like fucking nothing. It feels like you didn’t make any progress. Feels like you didn’t achieve anything. You’ve saved billions of people and you still feel empty. As if it was a coincidence. As if someone else did it. You save the fucking world and still feel like a failure,” the hero said. “It’s stupid, I know…”

The villain dug their teeth into their bottom lip, taking their time. Comforting people wasn’t something they were used to, wasn’t even something they attempted. Thank god, no one really wanted nor needed their help.

But Christ, seeing the hero like this was tearing them up.

“In thousands of years, they’ll talk about you,” the villain said slowly. “I know we tend to…I know people tend to think that we will be forgotten and that it doesn’t matter what we do. But when someone’s as extraordinary as you, they’ll talk about you. Not only because you saved the world. But also for the courage that you show every day.”

They squeezed their hands into fists, nervous but the hero’s facial features relaxed, bringing their old self back.

“We still talk about Rome. About Ancient Greece. They thought they’d last forever and…they do. We know them.” The villain looked up at them. “And they will know you. They’ll remember you forever. Not only as a hero but also as…the person you are. Because the admiration people have for you will always withstand time.”

[iwannarunawayandbeapirate]

Relistening to the RQG Cairo arc right now and I have never thought about it from this angle before but holy shit Saira is going through so much??

Like imagine this. You're just going about your business when suddenly, communication, technology and transport all over the world stop working. Less than two weeks later, you hear that your sister has been killed by a wizard. It's all over the news, and apparently your brother was there too? And the wizard cursed him? You don't know if he's okay, and you can't even contact him because all the modern communication systems are down. But like two days later, he just shows up in Cairo with no announcement and doesn't even explain how he got there. He has some friends with him who immediately get drunk and damage the magical mural on the ceiling. Within the span of the next two days, you find out that he got kicked out of university, that your other brother broke into your family's bank and killed someone, that your father is taking the fall for him, that your brother didn't actually kill someone but did break into the bank and is now turning himself in to the police. Oh, and also there's an ancient tomb underneath the bank and it's full of traps. But you have no time to process this, because two of your family members have been arrested and another one has died while you have to basically run the entire family business while also still doing your normal job as a dragon's assistant. And that's not all! Apparently, you are actually descended from the dragon that you work for. Your brother and his friends want to talk to him because one of them is undead?? And your brother has inherited magical powers from the dragon. And so have your even younger brothers, apparently.

Eventually, your brother leaves again, as suddenly as he came. You think you can finally get a moment to breathe and get used to the new situation, but then, your other little brother is kidnapped. And your adventuring brother disappears as well. And then an old German guy shows up and tells you they're in a temporal rift in Rome?? You don't even have much time to worry about them, because suddenly, people are becoming infected with blue veins and betraying their loved ones. Your former home is now the headquarters for the rebellion, who you think also want to bring down the dragons you once worked for? Your brothers show up again after 18 months, but they haven't aged at all, and they've picked up a gnome, a goblin, and a paladin along the way. The older brother disappears pretty much as soon as he arrived - he's off to Japan now. A few weeks later, the abnormal storms that have been sweeping through Egypt suddenly stop. And then, a month or so later, it all stops. The blue veins. Magic. The Meritocracy. And your little brother was at the centre of all of this from the beginning.

What the actual fuck?

[monaluisa]

More on historical Spamano???

Okay idk how much sense this will make because that post came to me in a burst of realization and I haven’t explored Spain very thoroughly before (my speciality as a fic writer is the Ancient Mediterranean and pre-Italian Unification OCs) But there are two contexts in which I’ve discussed Spain:

The first is in “Sons of Naught”, a fic set immediately after Third Punic War, wherein Rome enslaves all of Carthage’s living descendants. Primarily, this fic focuses on my Tuscany OC taking pity on my Tunisia OC, but as Romulus is discussing his plans for his newly enslaved nations with Tunisia, this exchange occurs:

Africanus grew pale. “And what of Sakar—” he caught himself before he finished, and masking his anxiety, continued, “What of Antonius?”

“Oh, worry not, Africanus. I have no designs for him such as those you think. Recall that your father started these wars in Sicily. When we fought at Messana, my men found an infant there, who was Sicily immortal, and my own blood.

“Bearing that in mind, I declare that Antonius be given to Lovinus as an attendant.”

Lovinus looked at Antonius. Antonius looked at Lovinus. Neither spoke; it was neither’s place to do so when Romulus did.

Because Lovino’s existence is connected to the start of the Punic Wars (and because, as per a previous paragraph in the fic, Spain and Portugal are too young to really be useful as slaves) Romulus kind of just hands Antonio over for Lovino to deal with, something that Lovino must have relished.

Antonio was, for all intents and purposes, living proof that Lovino’s success as a nation was guaranteed, because Romulus was an empire who could not only kill other nations like Carthage or Etruria, but actually enslave them, something that’s implied to be especially cruel on Romulus’ part, since the enslavement will only end either when Romulus falls from power or the enslaved nations die for real.

And as we all know, Rome did fall, and Romulus’ death was a pivotal moment for both Lovino and Antonio. Everyone Romulus had enslaved in “Sons of Naught” (except for my Sardinia OC) ransacked the house and escaped to the lands they represented, knowing that Lovino was too powerless to claim ownership of them any more.

As far as Lovino goes as a character, his entire identity was constructed around being Romulus’ heir—if he has no great empire to inherit, he is nothing. The playing field has been leveled, and he has to start from scratch the same way Carthage’s orphaned descendants must. Only for Sicily, though powerful, to be conquered time and time again. Only for Feliciano (who I hc as Venice prior to unification) to totally eclipse him in wealth and trade.

And only, of course, for Lovino to end up a servant in Spain as Antonio becomes the next big power in Europe. Now, until my dying breath, I’m gonna stumble around Chibitalia because there’s no way the Italy bros specifically were as young during this period as they’re shown in the show, but I do believe that Lovino’s physical growth (his age) stunted for a while during this period. Not a good sign for a nation. (see HRE staying a child for centuries before slowly and painfully perma-dying.)

Which brings me to the second example of me talking about Spain in my fics: in “A Sicut Erat”, in which my Sardinia OC reflecting on his life and downfall while he dies at the end of WW2, there’s this section about Spain’s golden age:

And in the mansion in Zaragoza, Lovinus, then called Lovino, had been humiliated once again.

“As his grandfather renamed ourselves,” Antonio explained to Nicola in the light of the fire one night, “I have renamed him and his brother both. They bear the Spanish name Vargas.”

And how miserable time had made Lovino! Sicily had amassed wealth and power, but the boy had aged only a few human years since the last time Nicola had seen him. Lovino burned with shame wherever he went, muttering curses as he swept the floors, retorting Antonio’s every word with a biting tongue. From time to time, he was struck by fits of St. Vitus’ dance, knocking over vases and tripping over his own feet, and secretly, in the pits of the night, Nicola prayed that it meant he would see the boy’s death.

Those were the days when Spain ruled the seas, and so it seemed, the world. A slave of Rome had risen to the same level as him, if not greater: so much was the gold from the New World that its glisten became dull! The merchant ships of Genoa, who had conquered Sardinia, and Venice, Romulus’ rich and happy grandson, became powerless in the face of the brave new world that formed in the West!

Now, the whole renaming thing was just me trying to make the Italy Bro’s Spanish surname make sense 😭 but in another sense, this passage shows that the tables have turned. Antonio is now Romulus, Lovino is now Antonio, and with a new world quite literally opening up for the powers of Europe to imperialize, it seems like Lovino is just…doomed. Trade is shifting from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. A new Roman Empire can never rise again, least of all under Lovino, and to him, promised a world that collapsed under his feet, that’s a fate worse than death.

But that’s not the end of the story either! Spain declines around the 18th century, and Sicily in the 19th as Lovino gets screwed over by Italian Unification (read Brutus and Achilles if you want more insight into this and other aspects of Lovino’s character 👀) but they’re both still alive, and they’re still the people they always were. They have always been bound together for some reason or another, and because neither is nearly as powerful as they once were, they are also now even.

Idk if that made sense, but there’s a lot of twists and turns in their lives that make for a compelling relationship between the two. Not even in a shipping way, necessarily. Add in their conflicting personalities though and oooooooh baby that’s good stuff.

I need to get a life lol