#they're having the time of their lives it seems in Rome

[pluviophile6104]

Two ducks swimming together, two cats walking together 🥹🩵

[vermiciousyidreborn]

People like to talk about the lessons Jews should or did learn from the Holocaust, as though that's the only genocide we've been through. They like to say it should make us the nicest, kindest people because we've been through the worst so how could we ever inflict pain on others? How could we ever hold ourselves as more important to us than others, having seen the camps?

The thing is, we did learn a lesson. And it's a lesson we've been taught time and time again. That when it comes down to it, not only will non-Jews look the other way when Jews are slaughtered, they will gleefully participate and cheer it on. From Rome to the Crusades, to Spain, to Germany and all the places in between, we've learned that we're in this alone. We want to all be in this together, but everyone else has made it clear that that's never going to be the case.

So we know we're alone, that other than a very small minority, the only people who will ever object to Jews bieng murdered are other Jews. The Righteous Among the Nations are a tiny minority, and for every person who was a member, there are not hundreds who think they would have been. Some of them think they would have been and are celebrating the largest pogrom since WWII today. They're wrong, of course. If the Nazis came for the Jews, they'd do what they're doing: celebrate it.

Yes, we learned our lesson. We learned you all hate us, and Jewish existence has to be secured by Jews, no one else will do it for us or help us. This combined with our ancient longing to return to where we came from and created the modern state of Israel. Then there were more attempts to wipe out Jews, more attempts to drive us into the sea and destroy us, but this time, Jews took our future into our own hands and survived. Were there excesses? Yes. War crimes? Definitely. Have the past decades included missteps, crimes, and all sorts of horrible things? Yes.

But why would Israel do these things? Survival. Why has the war against Hamas in Gaza been so destructive? Why has it expanded to Yemen, to Lebanon, and potentially to Iran? Survival. In the end, Israel is a country with a single mandate written in stone: the Jewish people will live. And on October 7th, 2023, Hamas made it clear that whatever mellowing they'd appeared to do, whatever potential there had seemed for peace, Hamas finds that mandate to be intolerable. They believe the Jewish people must die. And then they killed as many as they could. Then the Houthis and Hezbollah joined in, firing rockets and drones.

If you're a country whose mandate is "the people of my country must survive" and with the historical understanding of "and no one will come to our aid if things get really serious" then what do you do? You, too, would view this struggle as existential. You, too, would likely accept casualties and destruction to try to root out the groups trying to wipe you off the face of the Earth. And you, too, wouldn't trust the people who seem weirdly obsessed with attacking the country that is going to extreme lengths to ensure that you survive.

What did the Jewish people learn from the Holocaust? We're alone. Help isn't coming. We have to deal with threats by ourselves. And that's why Gaza is in ruins, why Beirut is being bombed, and why Biden is trying to persude Netanyahu not to destroy Iran's oil refineries. And amid all this, you all are taking to the streets, calling for our deaths, and proving that those lessons were right, but might not have gone far enough.

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

I've recently been inspired by @steviewashere's posts about gay steve and this is the outcome of that :)

Steve was almost bamboozled by Robin.

He just didn't quite get it.

It seemed that, for her, in spite of the fear and hiding that came with being gay, she loved it about herself. She allowed herself to become blushing and gooey when she talked about girls with safe people.

In the privacy of her friendships, it was almost like she was the same as anyone else. A hormonal, perpetually embarrassed teenager jumping from crush to crush.

But being gay haunted Steve.

Every time his eyes lingered just a little bit too long, and every time he felt absolutely nothing kissing a girl left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Its something he can't face.

Won't face.

He hasn't told a soul.

That's why he's filled with a sense of dread when Robin asks him to go with her to a gay club she heard about in Indy.

He knows that she's looking for the support of a friend, and he wants so desperately to be that for her. But she doesn't know. Doesn't know that when a man hits on Steve they'll see right through him. He won't be able to hide.

It's not her fault she doesn't know, though.

So he goes anyway. He sticks by her side until she ushers him away whining that he was "scaring off the babes".

He gets a drink, and he dances. And someone starts flirting with him. Not just anyone, but a man. Because they're allowed to do that here. And that's wonderful.

With the extra bravery from the alcohol coursing through his veins, he thinks "when in Rome...".

He lets go of the weight of hiding that pains him each and every day.

By the end of the night, they're kissing to the Bronski Beat song blaring on the dance floor.

It started off soft, and gentle and beautiful. With whispers exchanged between kisses, kept in their own little bubble only for them. Leaving Steve feeling warm and gooey.

Then it turned to something dirtier, needier. And Steve had never felt so many things at once in his life. Desire, fear, want, acceptance, hatred, and above all a desperation never to let this go.

Something in him was changed. In a single moment, he realised that he could never go back to the denial. He had discovered something beautiful. The weightlessness of being who really was.

He felt a bone deep kind of joy.

As he and Robin left the bar, wandering to a nearby park, they exchanged teary admissions, bearing their hearts to each other.

Once they make it to the park, they lay in the grass, yelling out "I'm a homosexual!" into the void of Indianapolis and 2 am. Their yells a confusing combination of admission and a statement of pride.

They know that they have to stay hidden in their small-minded town. They know their lives will be hard. Their fears do not evaporate purely because of a moment of comradery.

But the endeavor to accept themselves and each other makes life so so much better.

[sparrowlucero]

would life as a larrow suck? like if you could choose to be isekai'd as a larrow rn would you take it up? what about the other way around, would a larrow want to be us

It doesn't really suck anymore than life as a human does, but a lot of humans would see it as bad or stressful in certain ways:

Larrow imago usually only live about 30 years, and it's not super abnormal for them to die before 20. They're also very tiny (like on average the size of a button quail or a smallish parrot) so compared to humans they seem pretty fragile.

Their society doesn't consistently exist; eggs are produced, hatched and grow up at roughly the same time, and all the larrow of a single generation usually die off entirely before new ones emerge from the ocean (with an occasional outlier). That next generation isn't exactly the same culture as before, just formed through similar needs and off of the technology left behind by the last. their whole 'rome falls every few decades' set up would probably be very offputting to most alien cultures

They have next to no health care; larrow learn medical care by themselves, for themselves, and they practice surgery and similarly extreme procedures on themselves quite regularly.

Larrow are basically fine not socializing and will sometimes go years without talking to one another; it's to a degree where even anti social humans may be stressed and lonely. They also don't really show a ton of concern for other people and animals, empathy is more of a philosophical idea than this totally innate thing.

The world they live has very extreme storms; their average low winds would be difficult for a human to walk around in. They don't have houses but public access "storm shelters" which, from a human perspective, look woefully incompetent as they're full of holes and look more like animal nests than a "real" building

On the other hand:

Larrow are adapted to live in an environment with constantly moving air and are instinctively adverse to areas with stagnant air, as they struggle to breathe in it and it can make them really sick. Human buildings seem really gross to them in the same way rot or mold does to us

The way humans are constantly trailing each other and actively trying to initiate touching and interaction all the time feels both animal-like and weird/scammy/aggressive to them, our social behavior is their "about to get mugged" behavior

complex nest building in constant storms was like their main evolutionary pressure to Get Good with the brain power, so they're very technologically minded in a way humans just aren't. They could open up a human car or computer (or indeed a body) for the first time and understand how it worked back to front. This is all just architecture to their lizard brains. Which means humans needing to go to school to study this stuff sounds like, really stupid to a larrow.

the whole idea that humans will bribe other humans to knock them out and operate on them sounds like a horror show. What if the doctors got bored and left? What if it turned out they wanted to hurt you while you were asleep? If letting other people chop you up is a normal cultural quirk why do they keep making scary movies about it

the way humans have all these complex daily networks of giving things up and gaining them is confusing and stressful. they're kind of like that boar in this tumblr post

This is all to say many humans would see larrow as living short lonely survivalist lives in ramshackle houses in a dying culture too selfish to care about each other, where many larrow would see humans as spending most of their lives in gross little prisons being so incompetent at everything that they'll die of minor ailments like "tumors" and "internal bleeding" if other humans don't randomly take pity on them.

Not to say some people wouldn't be interested or jealous about aspects of each other's lives... "what if you could just fly alone for weeks at a time and work on the first draft of your novel" would obviously be appealing to a lot of humans, and getting to root through a world of completely alien tech and biology would make a larrow feel like it was one of these caddisflies

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

yes! love me some mortal x immortal??/god type couples, i think they're cute. It's always sad though when they realize one will outlive the other, unless they do some magical stuff to make the human live just as long or if maybe the god person turns into a human.

I think it'd be so cute for nymph reader to accidentally slip up again before her and marcus officially meet, but she's not quick enough to disguise herself or hide again before marcus sees her so he chases after her and then it's like love at first sight ❤️

Hi, sweetie.

Your idea inspired me to write this…. You can take this as a prologue to Nymph. I thought Marcus could be younger (maybe Javier Peña style?). I hope you like it.

Warnings:  fluff, some nudity, not much going on, mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph. [prologue] l General Marcus Acacius

Nymph [masterlist]

For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. He had to, because his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful. 

All the glory of Rome, with all its provinces, with its cities of marble and gold, were nothing compared to what appeared before his eyes.

A being. A woman. Light and luminous like the rays of the sun, so different from what surrounded her, and at the same time seeming to fit there as if she had been created for this place.

He shouldn't be in this place. Marcus immediately felt as if he had sneaked into a temple where men were forbidden to stay, or as if he had spied on something that was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.

That day his legs carried him to these areas outside the camp. He didn't know why, as if the warm wind was pushing him for fun into the thicket of the forest. And when he stood behind a large and old oak tree, he saw the silver surface of the lake and her in front of him.

Beautiful as early morning, naked, sitting on the shore of the lake with her face turned towards the sun. He should have retreated and forgotten about it, but he couldn't help himself. 

He took a step forward, very quietly so as not to scare the woman away, but when he passed a blackberry bush, a wild bird got scared and flew out of the branches with a screech.

The girl heard this and immediately stood up abruptly. In the full sunlight, he saw her naked figure, standing proudly, although fear flickered in her eyes. She was like one of the statues in the temples.

Marcus raised a reassuring hand, approaching "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

She didn't say anything. She only gave him an angry look and reached for the flowing robe that was lying on the nearby stones. The soft material wrapped around her body, hiding the beauty of her body from his eyes.

"Are you a goddess?" he asked.

You looked at him over your shoulder. "If I were a goddess, you'd be dead or blind for daring to watch me bathe, mortal." you mocked him.

"So maybe you're a mermaid?" He was already close to you.

The light robes glowed with their own light. It was hard for him to believe that you were real.

"A mermaid?" you laughed. "You really don't know much about the world, but you're sweet." you turned to him with a smile on your face. "I'm a nymph, soldier."

He watched you carefully. Brown, gentle eyes looked at you with reverence. Dark hair, strong body and sun-kissed skin. You've seen many men, this one was really handsome.

"My name is Marcus." His voice was pleasant, low and warm. "I'm Marcus Acacius. I command the Roman troops stationed nearby."

You nodded. "You're everywhere. Even here." you gave him your name though, and he repeated it as if he wanted to check how it tasted on his tongue. "You are not the General of these troops. You are too young." 

Marcus frowned dark eyebrows, arrogance flashing from his eyes "I am over thirty years old."

"Still young." you smiled gently and approached him "I am older than the oldest oaks of this forest, than the lake you are looking at." your hand moved over his chest hidden behind his clean, black armor "I knew the heroes of your myths, I served the gods you worship. You are still young, Marcus."

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every move you made, every grimace, every smile, he wanted to remember it all. His heart was beating hard in his chest, you had to feel it.

"You mortals are truly funny." you continued, your hand sliding to the hilt of the sword at his side. "You confuse sirens with nymphs, you blame gods for your decisions, you call monsters those who weren't."

"Who do you mean?"

Your amused gaze traveled to his handsome face. "Like Medusa."

Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned. "That Gorgon? She was a monster with snakes instead of hair."

"She was a beautiful woman. Neptune possessed her in my lady's temple, which is why Minerva was angry. It was a sacred place." you replied, and although your words were strong, he didn't see the anger in your eyes. You were amused by the naivety of this soldier. "Don't judge a woman for the actions of a man, even if he's a god. She had every right to fly into a rage. Rome does the same, and you serve it. Remember the wrath of Medusa, Marcus."

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A warm hand rested on yours. Marcus tilted his head slightly.

"If you want to disarm me, you have to give me something in return." he said, a small smile appearing under his dark mustache.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Oh, really? What's that?"

"A kiss. One small kiss." His soothing voice penetrated your heart. "Prove to me that you're real."

You considered his words for a moment. Your sisters had often told you about how sweet and handsome mortals tried to charm them just to possess their bodies. Marcus seemed different to you though. You didn't know why, but you liked him.

"That's a big ask." you said, lifting your chin proudly.

"That's also a request from a little boy, as you called me."

You shook your head in disbelief. His impudence was captivating. Finally, you nodded. With your free hand, you reached for his smooth cheek. The skin was warm, you felt his breath on your lips, you could almost hear his heartbeat. 

But it wasn't you who gave Marcus a kiss, it was he who stole it from you, pressing himself into your lips as if he wanted to taste the forbidden fruit at all costs. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer so that you wouldn't accidentally slip away from his lips. 

Warm, soft lips caressed yours, and as soon as you parted your mouth, Marcus took the opportunity and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss.

Your legs almost buckled under you. You'd never experienced anything like it. Your body gave in to each kiss, wanting more and more. The solid hilt of the sword in your hand provided your only stability. 

Eventually, however, Marcus had to draw his breath. It was at that moment that you drew his sword in one fluid movement and took a few steps back.

"You are too careless for a Roman soldier." You declared, raising his sword towards him.

"You can stab me with it, my sweetest." He replied, his eyes shining in ecstasy. "My life is complete now, I can die."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"My life is a blink of an eye to you. To me, you are equal to the gods."

He noticed your eyes widen, your chest heaving in a sharp breath. The blade trembled, too heavy for your unskilled hand. Marcus caught it and pulled you to him.

When his hand rested on your cheek you let go of his sword, which fell softly onto the grass. His touch was warm, gentle, tender. For a moment you thought that he couldn't be mortal, he had too much power over you.

"How can I live without being able to taste your lips every day?" he asked "Do something about it, or I'll go mad..."

"Your life is a blink of an eye to me..." you whispered feeling his lips brush the corner of your mouth "I'll have to live until the end of the world hungry for your warmth."

You let him experience the taste of your lips again. And Marcus seemed insatiable with you. Strong arms held you tightly, protecting you from sinking to the ground. It lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours. 

Marcus spent the whole afternoon with you, talking and listening, laughing and feasting his eyes on the sight of you. His heart was filled with feelings he couldn't name. 

However, his life called him to fulfill his duties to the Empire. He reluctantly reached for his sword.

"Will you be here tomorrow? I want to see you again."

You looked at him with tenderness. "I will be. And I will wait for you."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He kissed your hands with reverence, feasted his eyes on your sight one last time, and then disappeared into the darkening forest, leaving you full of feelings unknown to you.

"My dear child..."

A familiar, calm voice floated to you from nearby. You felt a warm breeze and soon Minerva, your lady, stood by your side. Her armor gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun.

"I didn't think mortals could be like this." You said, staring at the place where Marcus had disappeared. "No one warned me about this..."

"A great future awaits him. His destiny must be fulfilled." the goddess spoke gently.

"Marcus will do great things. Many lives are already tied to him..." your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes "My lady..."

Minerva looked at you softly, her eyes full of infinite wisdom. No one and nothing could hide from her.

"Take this from me." you whispered, with each word your heart shattering into pieces "Take from me what doesn’t belong to me. Take him."

"Do you know what you are asking, child?" Minerva's face was gentle but determined "You don’t know his full destiny. This mortal loves you, his heart is pure. He will come here tomorrow, for you."

"My lady, we are not destined for what we both desire... And I don't want to watch life slip away from his eyes. Please..." tears were already running down your cheeks, but you didn't feel ashamed, it only proved what you felt "Please make him forget about me and take him out of my head too. It was a beautiful day, but I don't want to take away what is destined for him..."

"Are you sure? Will you deprive yourself of this love?"

You nodded. This decision was painful, but you couldn't do otherwise. Marcus was supposed to have a bright future, full of victories and glory. There was no place for you there.

"Let it be so, child." the goddess's hand, hot as the sun's rays, touched your cheek, Minerva leaned down and her lips brushed your forehead "Forget it, it is my will. Let this feeling fly away from you if it is not meant for you. And tomorrow, when he opens his eyes at dawn, he will no longer remember what happened here. May destiny be fulfilled." 

When the first rays of sunlight crept lazily into the camp tent, Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched on the bed. A strange feeling of emptiness and loss filled his heart. He had the impression that he had lost something precious, something that he would never get back.

nymph. [1/2] l General Marcus Acacius

taglist: @ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal

@missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing

[sissylittlefeather]

Bonded: Part 4

Baby What You Want Me to Do

A/N: Here is the next part to the vampire series I started last Halloween! Things are heating up as we move from 1960 to 1970 with vampire Elvis and our vampire reader. I hope you enjoy!

Need to catch up?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but they're vampires so also blood drinking, biting, and someone with a pretty serious illness

Word count: ~3.8k

December 1970

He prays desperately that they'll find you. You're his only hope.

Elvis paces the TV room at Graceland smoking his cigar much too quickly. What will he do if the guys can't find you? He's talked to three different vampires and they all refused to help him. Surely, once he explains, you'll do what he needs.

There's also a small part of him that just wants to know where you are, wants to see you again. He's wondered where you were so many times over the last decade and he almost broke down and looked for you on several occasions. But he was never as desperate as he is now.

He sits down on the couch and stares absentmindedly at the TVs as they play three different football games. Hopefully Sonny and the guys can find you. They have to find you.

******

You leave your job at the Moulin Rouge not long after your encounter with Elvis. People start to notice that you aren't aging. But more than that, everything there reminds you of him. So you pack up and move to Rome. You bounce around Europe for the better part of the decade and then decide you'll go home to America. By the mid ‘60s there are more soldiers, but you have no interest in living in Vietnam. Besides, you’re getting a little tired of the routine that keeps you alive. Several times you consider giving up entirely and letting yourself fade, but there’s always a reason to keep going, even if it’s just that you have to go to work the next day.

You watch Elvis's career from afar, see every single one of his movies, and cry when you watch the Special in ‘68. That's when you go home, settling in Las Vegas to become a showgirl. There is a steady stream of male tourists and, if you’re being honest, the vague chance that you might run into Elvis. In a way, you’re happy, despite living alone. After Paris, you stop looking for others like you and learn to be content to live in isolation. Even after all these years, the only one you really want is him.

You get invited to one of his parties once by some guy who is trying to show off, but you bail at the last second, scared of how he might react to seeing you again. He’s married with a child, why would he want to reconnect with the woman who ruined his life? Still, his life doesn't seem ruined when you read what the papers have to say about his grand return to the stage. You're happy he’s happy and you make that be enough.

******

Elvis walks upstairs to Lisa Marie’s room and stands in the doorway for a little while just watching the scene in front of him. His little girl lays in the bed asleep as the nurse sits beside her waiting for the next coughing fit.

“How is she?” He whispers and the nurse looks up at him.

“Not any better. The doctor is worried that the whooping cough will turn to pneumonia. If that happens-”

“It won't.” He can't entertain that possibility in his mind. She's already too sick. He walks over to the bed and kneels down beside it, looking at his toddler daughter struggling to breathe on the pillow. She's not even 3 years old. “I won't let it happen.”

“Mr. Presley, I know it's hard to think about, but she's not responding to the antibiotics. You need to-” He turns to her with his eyes burning and cruel. It's easy to forget he's a vampire until he looks like this. The nurse doesn't know, of course, but she's filled with an icy cold terror anyway.

“I've already fired three nurses for talking like this. Do you want to be next?” He spits it at her and she shakes her head vehemently.

“N-no sir. I'm sorry.” She shrinks like a mouse in front of a violent predator. Elvis glares at her, nostrils flaring, and seriously considers draining her dry. He hasn't fed in days and he feels his fangs descend just thinking about it. Shaking his head a little, he turns back to face the bed and takes a deep breath to get rid of his fangs.

“You just do your job. Leave the rest to me.” He lifts Lisa Marie’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “My baby will be just fine.”

The nurse nods as he stands up and walks to the doorway, pausing to look back at the bed.

“She will be fine.” He has to find you before it's too late.

******

You read in the papers that Elvis is back in Vegas at the end of January 1971. Every time you find out he's there, your heart skips and you try not to pray that this is the time you run into him. You attempt to go about your business as usual and ignore the strange pull you feel to reach out to him.

It takes every amount of threatening from the Colonel to get Elvis to go back to Vegas while Lisa Marie is sick. Her whooping cough does turn into pneumonia and she just seems to get worse with each passing day. Elvis has her moved to a hospital in Vegas so he can be with her any time he's not on stage.

In the meantime, the men he's sent to search for you continue to come up empty handed. Nobody at the Moulin Rouge knows where you are and none of their other leads go anywhere. Mary hasn't spoken with you since the day Elvis was turned. And even though they find Anya back home in Russia, she doesn't know where you are either. Last she heard, you were going back to America, but she wasn't sure where you'd gone.

Elvis breaks almost every knick knack in his Vegas suite flying into fits of rage over their incompetence. He could've told them you were in America. There's a strange feeling in him that tells him you're close by, he's just not sure where.

So when he sees you one day crossing the street in front of him on his way to the hospital, he almost doesn't believe it's you. But he'd recognize you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. For some reason, his extreme senses pick up on you better than anything he's ever experienced. He can smell you and hear you despite the bustling city around him.

Without warning, he unlocks the door and hops out of the car, ignoring the pleas from his bodyguards. He's stronger than all of them combined, so they don't even attempt to hold him back as he runs across the street to you.

You feel him before you see him, his scent almost overwhelming you. Your eyes close and you stop dead in your tracks as he comes up behind you.

“Y/n…”

“Elvis.” You turn to him, opening your eyes slowly. For a second, you both just stare at each other.

“I need you.” You're not sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth, but it wasn't that.

“You… need me?”

“Yes. Please. Come with me.” You're on your way to work, but you don't think twice.

“Okay.” He leads you back through traffic to his car where it's parked as his bodyguards wait for him to come back. Sonny stands there, not sure what to think about the kind of woman that makes Elvis Presley jump out of a moving car.

“What the hell, boss?” Elvis just shakes his head.

“I told you she was close, man.” Sonny's mouth pops open.

“Is that… she's… that's her?” Elvis nods as he opens the door for you to slide into the backseat.

“That's her.” He slides into the seat beside you and slams the car door. You can't get over how good he looks in his velvet jacket. His hair is a lot longer than the last time you saw him, but he's just as handsome as he's ever been.

“Elvis…”

“I need your help. I've been looking for you.” Your body is screaming for you to pull him close to you, but you try to ignore the instinct.

“For me? Why?”

“You'll see.” You ride in silence, not sure what to say to the man you've loved for over a decade when you haven't seen him in just as long. When the car pulls up in front of the hospital, you really start to wonder what he wants with you. “Don't say anything to the press.”

He doesn't give you time to ask any questions before getting out of the car and running to your side to help you out.

“Elvis, what-?”

“Just come with me.” He puts his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers through both of you, and leads you past the paparazzi and through the hospital to Lisa Marie's room. At the door he turns to you with a strange look of desperation on his face. His distress is almost palpable. “I need your help with this.”

He pushes the door open and guides you into the room. When you see the little girl in the bed, oxygen pumping and monitors beeping, your hand goes to your mouth.

“This is my daughter, Lisa Marie. She has pneumonia and it's not responding to the medication.” Your eyes fill with tears, his sadness overwhelming you.

“What do you need from me?” He hesitates for a second and then decides he has nothing to lose.

“I need you to help me turn her into one of us.”

His request hangs in the air like some tangible thing. It takes a second for you to really register what he's asking, before you turn to him with your eyes wide.

“Elvis, she's a child. She's a baby. I'm not-”

“She's dying, y/n. I can't lose her.” You feel the desperation roll off of him in deep waves and look back at the toddler in the bed. For a second, you consider what it would mean.

“No, Elvis! I'm not doing this!” You turn and walk out of the hospital room. In the hallway, you lean against the wall and try to catch your breath. His emotions are making it difficult to think. You don't remember being this sensitive to him before, but it's like the years apart have made your senses even more extreme. There's always a strange sort of connection between a vampire and their maker, but yours seems to be especially strong. Or maybe his feelings are just that intense.

“Y/n! Please. You're my only hope of saving her.” His blue eyes burn with desperation.

“No!” You yell at first and then lower your voice when you realize the nurses at the desk are watching the two of you. “I'm not doing this, Elvis. I can't.”

He grabs your shoulders and shakes you a little, not hard but enough to feel.

“You have to! You did this to me! You owe me this!” He's frantic now, almost hysterical with the thought that you're refusing to do what he needs. You reach up and take his face in both hands.

“Elvis. Not here. Not like this. People are watching.” He blinks a few times and lets go of your shoulders, looking around. He sniffs hard and takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. Placing them back on his nose, he looks at you intensely.

“Okay. Come with me.” He takes your hand and drags you back through the hospital to his car, ignoring the reporters as they yell questions about who you are and why he's at the hospital. Back in the safety of the car, he breaks down. “I don't know what else to do.”

He leans over in your arms and you hold him as he cries on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks and your body is wracked with sobs. You're not sure if it's his sadness or yours that's got you like this, but you hold him and rock with him in your arms the whole way back to his hotel.

When you pull up, he groans and sits up, wiping his face with his hands. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to you to wipe your face with. You're not sure why he didn't use it himself, but it's like that would be admitting he had cried. Once you're both cleaned up as much as you can be, he opens the car door and leads you up to his suite. As soon as you're alone, he rounds on you. His eyes are so much on fire that they're almost red.

“Tell me again why the fuck you won’t save my daughter’s life.”

“Elvis, think about what you're asking me. You want me to help you make your baby a vampire.” He turns and kicks a table.

“I want you to SAVE HER LIFE.” He snarls at you angrily. You decide that yelling back is not going to be helpful. Instead you take a deep breath and ask quietly.

“Did I save your life?” He stares at you.

“What?”

“When I turned you, did I save your life?” You say it slowly and deliberately and watch as he puts together what you're asking.

“No, but I wasn't dying.” He seems to have softened a bit though, so you continue this line of questioning.

“And are you happy that I turned you?”

“Not really.” The bitterness in his voice cuts straight through you.

“Is this the life you want for your child?” That strikes a chord and he looks up at you with his eyes cold again.

“I didn't want this life for myself.” Now it's your turn to shake your head and get a little fired up.

“Oh no you don't. You do not get to blame this on me. You begged me to turn you.” You watch as he puffs up again and prepares for a fight.

“And you knew better!”

“I told you-”

“BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAY!” He walks close to you and towers over you. “YOU DID IT ANYWAY!”

“YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME AN OPTION!” He scares you a bit, but you refuse to back down. “YOU-”

“AND THEN YOU SENT ME AWAY!” You laugh derisively.

“I sent you away?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” You take a step towards him and look up into his face. “You left me!”

He grabs your upper arms and shakes you again.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED TO LEAVE-” You cut him off and scream.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED YOU TO LEAVE?! I LOVED YOU!” He lets go of your arms and his mouth pops open, but he closes it quickly and turns away from you. You whisper to his back. “I love you.”

You try to suppress your tears, dying to know what he is thinking. He doesn't give you long to wonder, though. Instead, he turns back to you with a tortured expression.

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything?”

“I knew better! I knew you didn't love me!” He shakes his head.

“You decided for me.”

“Are you telling me I was wrong?!” Your voice wavers as the tears threaten to spill over. “You know you didn't-”

And then in three steps he's wrapped around you, his mouth crashed into yours, kissing you with an unbridled passion.

You don't even think, your body just responds and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist. He catches you easily and carries you to the bedroom, his mouth never moving from yours. A decade’s worth of pent up passion is escaping you both as he lays you down on the bed and rolls his hips forward to meet yours. He stops for the smallest second and strokes the side of your face with the back of his fingers. Then he leans in and kisses you softly a few times before the heat takes over again and he tears at your clothes. In a few short minutes he's got you both stripped naked and you press your bodies together, soaking in the feeling of each other’s skin. It's been so long since he's had you like this that he almost forgot what it felt like to be this close to you, but it all comes rushing back to him as you whimper underneath him. He presses his lips to your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses in his wake as he moves down your stomach. His fangs have already descended and he grazes them against your inner thigh in the place where he bit you when you made love before he left Germany. How many nights has he thought of that day? The way you tasted and smelled and how you writhed under his body in pleasure.

You're overwhelmed with the reality of him as he worships you, having spent too many years imagining him, replaying your last time together over and over in your mind with your fingers pressed to your clit, whispering his name into the darkness like a prayer. You feel your fangs against your bottom lip and arch your back as he drags his tongue up your thigh and hovers just over your center.

“You really thought I didn't love you?” He whispers, just before he lowers his mouth to you, letting his tongue dart out over your sensitive bud. You moan softly as he begins to lick and suck you with the fire of a man possessed by desire. Words are beyond you as he works your clit with his mouth and then moves down to press his tongue as deep inside you as it'll go. You whimper and gasp as he fucks you with his tongue and then moves back up, sliding two long fingers into you. The feeling of his rings against your entrance is new and particularly delicious as you feel your orgasm start to gather in between your hips. His fangs press gently into your skin as he licks you hard and slides his fingers in and out. He knows you're close to a climax, remembers the way you feel like this, and is pulling out all the stops to push you over the edge. “Come on, baby. You can let go for me. I'm not goin’ anywhere.”

He's not sure why that's what he says, but it works nonetheless and you feel yourself giving in to the pleasure as it washes over you in pounding waves. He moans a little when he feels you pulse around his fingers. As your clit softens, he pulls back a bit and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your thigh. His dick is so hard it almost hurts and he's dying for some kind of release. He hasn't fed in way too long and the knowledge that you're there and you taste so good is about to kill him.

You watch, confused, as he moves away from you and sits up with his back against the headboard, leaning back and sighing deeply.

“Elvis, what-?”

“I'm trying not to bite you.” You sit up and look at him, so beautiful with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, shaggy hair a little wet with sweat. His body is taut and when your eyes land on his hard cock standing at the ready, your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Why?” You whisper as you slink over to him and crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and taking his dick in your hand. He groans as you start to pump him and then lean in and kiss his chest. “I don't mind.”

He immediately lifts his head and looks down as you move your hair out of the way and expose your neck to him. It’s been so long and he knows how good you taste. A low growl escapes him as he leans forward and licks a spot on your neck.

“You're sure, baby?”

“Just don't drain me, but yes.” He smiles a little and drags his fangs across your skin. Your hand is still pumping him, but as he moves to bite you, you lift up and sink down onto his cock while his fangs press into your neck. Both of you moan deeply with the double sensation. You roll your hips against him as he sucks the blood from your neck and the passion begins to mount again as both of his hands move to your back. He groans as you begin to bounce on him harder, pushing him so deep inside you that you dance on the edge of another orgasm.

“Fuck, Elvis!” You moan and he backs away from your neck and pulls your mouth to his, your fangs bumping into his as you taste your own blood on his tongue. He moves his hands to your hips and starts to lift and drop you faster and faster, feeling the pleasure rise in him and threaten to explode inside you. Then, he grabs the other side of your neck with his hand and presses his forehead into yours as you fuck him.

“Of course I loved you. I’ve always loved you. I still love you.” You let out a strangled moan at his words and clamp your mouth shut. The instinct to bite him is so strong that you can barely control it. And it only gets worse when he cocks his head to the side and moves his hair off his neck.

“I can't.”

“Yes you can. Please.”

“Elvis…” But it's beyond your control when he moves his thumb to your clit and he pushes you over the edge into another blinding climax. Your eyes darken and the next thing you know, you're sinking your fangs into him as he holds you in place and cums deep inside you. The sweet taste of his blood rushes over your tongue as his cock pulses inside you. The pleasure overwhelms both of you so deeply that for a second it feels like you black out. When you both come to, you're laying on the bed with your head down by his feet and his head by yours. You feel him grab your ankle and kiss it, a smile spreading across your face.

“You okay, baby?” He asks with his lips against your skin. You sit up and rearrange to be in his arms. He kisses your forehead and sighs deeply.

“I'm fine. Better than fine. Are you okay?” You look up at him but he keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“Yeah, I'm… I love you.” You kiss his jawline.

“I love you too. What is it?” There's a pause as you watch him try to find the words to say what's on his mind. Eventually he just opens his mouth and it comes tumbling out.

“My baby girl is gonna die, isn't she?”

You lay together in silence and the thought hits him that at least he'll have you when it happens.

******

To be continued...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[girl4music]

‘When In Rome’ doesn’t seem all that important of an episode at first. But then you realize Xena basically commissioned Gabrielle to kill Crassus. It’s painful cause you know Gabrielle is a person that genuinely does appreciate human life and won’t kill just for the sake of it. If it can be avoided, she will avoid it. Yet, she’s forced to decide time and time again for what to do in the heat of the moment and the conclusion seems to always be for somebody to die. Whether it be herself, Xena or other, and sometimes even at her own hand. She said she accepted the consequences of living her life with Xena early in their travels together, but I don’t think she accounted for the fact she’d have to kill just to keep her and Xena alive. Or, like in the case of this episode, to save Vercinix, a good, innocent man and a hero to his people, from being executed at the order of Caesar. It wasn’t just about sacrificing her own life, it was also sacrificing and betraying everything she stood for so that her and Xena could survive. Season 4 was the storyline for this. Choosing pacifism because she believed it was the right Way for her, then breaking it again when Xena was left vulnerable and defenceless and she had no other option but to make that split-second decision to kill those soldiers that were going to kill her. It was inevitable the way she’d end up. Whether it is a good thing or not is up to you and how you perceive the situations that happen within the episodes. Your better judgement.

This is the life Gabrielle chose. To experience and face all the violence, blood and pain again and again, being just as much a partaker in it as trying to stop it from happening… Just to be with Xena. That’s got to be the most tragically romantic, beautiful and powerful thing I’ve ever known. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Xena and Gabrielle truly are the greatest love story ever told, and I’m not just saying it because they’re my OTP. I’ll be damned if I ever find anything more romantic than Gabrielle’s insistence to throw away her morality for Xena. She’s going against her own sense of self time and again just to protect and defend people’s lives. Especially Xena’s. It’s a testament to how much and how deeply she really loves her and that’s so incredibly romantic. Wouldn’t you agree?

This is another episode where no one really cares about the Xena/Caesar fued. This episode belongs to Gabrielle and her struggle to betray her ideals by personally sending Crassus to the executioner. Commissioned and expected to by Xena, no less.

She's the heart of the whole story here. It all wraps tightly around her.

Just like 'The Deliverer', without what's going on with Gabrielle, it's just another cat-and-mouse Xena VS Caesar game and even though I love the Rome episodes, they're not as interesting as you think they are without Gabrielle’s stuff. And as great as all the other writers are with Gabrielle’s representation and development, only Steven truly gets what Gabrielle’s about. Him and Renee really make this show resonate far beyond a villain-turned-hero seeking redemption story.

Without Gabrielle - this show is half its watch value. Well and truly.

[halforresterluvsford]

This was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day but life happens and I fall asleep in the middle of writing, Oops. I honestly don't know how good this is, and if you see grammar mistakes no you didn't! Enjoy these sappy brosbands!

Stan breathes out into the cool night air, shivering and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It was freezing in the Arctic. He was glad when he and Ford decided to head for warmer waters a week ago, winter in the Arctic circle is hellishly cold, and while it created many opportune moments for cuddling, he was getting real tired of being cold all the time. He wants to go to Tuscany, try the wines, the tomatoes, and the cheeses. Go to Rome and make fun of the hokey tourist attractions with Ford. Is it probably miserably hot down there and will Stan complain about it? Yes 100%, but as long as he's not freezing his balls off, he'll take anything. Subconsciously, he brings a hand out to adjust himself in his pants, thinking about Ford finally busting out those green shorts-

"Stanley?" He whirls around, hands shooting up out of instinct to protect his face before he relaxes. It's just Ford, good Ol' Poindexter scaring the piss out of him.

"Yeah, whatzit?" Stan asks, ducking his chin in his collar to shield his face from the cold. To also hide his blush. Ford looks good. Well, he always does, but for some reason, he looks really good right now. His hair is combed, for once, he's wearing a spiffy jacket and a pair of slacks that cut really nicely around his upper thighs. Stan has a hard time not staring. Hot damn is he lucky to have a one Stanford Pines as his lover. His Lover, capital "L". Sure it took some used to, getting over the whole incest thing, but honestly? They're too old to worry about that, and they've spent too many years apart to get hung up some trivial matter such as being related. At least, that's how Ford put it, and Stan couldn't help but agree, who were they hurting by being together?

"It's a rather nice night, isn't it? Do the stars seem brighter than normal to you?" Ford smiles so softly at Stan that he feels breathless for a moment, his heart aching at how much he loves his twin.

"Yeah, they-um, they're really pretty, the moon, too." Damn, he sounds like a babbling idiot. Just because Stanford looks extra good tonight and smiled at him so sweetly. You're a weak man, Stanley Pines. Weak.

Meh, he can live with that, being weak for the person he loves most in the entire galaxy. No, the entire multiverse. Stan would risk destroying the world a thousand more times for Ford, and he will if he has to, that's how much he loves him.

"Yes, the moon does seem rather bright tonight, does it not? I'm glad the sky seems so clear tonight, we were fortunate enough to catch it as it reaches fullness. You know, there are stories about..." Stan doesn't mean to tune Ford out, really, but he can't help but get lost in thought as he stares at him. The moon really is extra bright out tonight, gleaming off Ford's hair and reflecting off his face. Ford looks, well good is the only word coming to Stan's brain at this moment, but "good" doesn't really describe how he looks. He looks like he belongs in an old film as the smooth debonair protagonist. Like Hampterfuppinshire from "The Duchess Approves". Moses, he loves looking at Ford, looking at how he looks so much like when Stan saw him for the last time in Glass Shard but at the same time so different. He's taller, broader, stronger, and way hairier-Stan can attest for that. But he still smiles the same, still styles his hair-sideburns aside-the same. His brown eyes still sparkle the same when he talks, full of excitement and life and yearning. That's always been Stan's favorite part about Ford, his eyes. How they look like amber when the sun hits them at just the right angle, a shade lighter than Stan's. How Ford can never hide his emotions, not when Stan can look into his eyes and see how tormented, how pained, or how happy he is just with a glance. He loves most of all when they light up when Ford looks at his family, all together, when he looks at him-

Stan is jolted out of his thoughts when Ford drops down onto one knee. He scrambles, scared that he missed something serious or important when he was lost in the thought of Ford's eyes. He stops abruptly when his twin brings his hands up, cupped. He stares intently at Stan, who's getting steadily more confused and worried as Ford just stares at him. Finally, after what seems like forever, Ford opens his hands and reveals a ring glinting under the moonlight. It's black, dark enough that Stan wouldn't have been able to make out what it was if it was for the glinting of the moon off purple and blue hues in the ring. His brother is still staring, eyes looking at him, he knows that stare, he's staring so he can gather his words to speak in a way so that he wouldn't make as ass of himself. Stan's breath catches in his throat, and he fights to swallow the lump that formed as soon as Ford dropped down. He stares, he doesn't know what to think, his mind moving at half a mile per second. What is Ford doing? Why does he look so determined? And the ring? Stan opens his mouth to-to say something to get Ford to stop staring at him like that, to speak. He doesn't have to, Ford finds his words very soon.

"I love you, Stanley Caryn Pines. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. For me, it's always been you. Through our fights and being apart for 40 years, it's always been you. No one can make my heart sing the way you do," here, Ford's voice breaks a little, and Stan can see tears in his eyes before they're blinked away, "I need you by my side, I have always needed you by my side, even when I was a stupid fool who scorned you for mistake, even when I was raging against you, I have always needed you. I love you more than words can tell, more than I can say, really. And-and I know a wedding, especially at our age and with our relationship, probably seems ridiculous-heh-but I still want that. With you, proving our love to the world. I-if you'll have me, of course. So, will you-will you marry me?" Ford concludes his speech with an important question and a shaky smile, eyes tearing up and hands shaking-from nerves or the cold, Stan can't tell-but looking all the world in love. With Stan. He feels his heart clench so tightly he worries he's having a hear attack for a quick moment before shaking that thought away. He doesn't know what to say or how long he's been standing there silent, but he thinks its been too long because Ford is starting to look upset, his hand lowering from where he kept it up. "Stanley, I-I-"

Speechless, Stan reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box he's kept in there for 2 months straight now, too cowardly to offer it up to Ford. He holds the velvet box in his hands for a moment before he reaches out and hands it to Ford, waiting for him to open the case. He does so, slowly, eyes widening as he sees the old and tarnished ring sitting snugly in the case. It was their grandfather's, Stan inherited it-as Ford-when their father died. It's gold with a ring of silver in the middle. Ford's always like the story behind it, how their grandpa so desperately wanted to marry their granny, but couldn't afford a ring for her, so he gave a-Stan can't remember if it was a Jewelry maker or a metal smith, that part always changed-he gave a someone one of his mother's silver hoops and the gold caps from his teeth to make a ring with. Ford found the story sweet and romantic, Stan never truly understood that sacrifice until he spent 30 years living someone else's life just to bring back the only person he's ever loved.

"Well shit, guess you beat me to the punch, huh?" Stan laughs awkwardly at Ford's silent staring, his eyes going from the ring to Stan himself. "I-um. I got that after pa', y'know. And I-I've been carrying that old thing around for months now, just waiting for the right time," Stan waves his hands as he looks to the side, too cowardly to look at the man who just proposed to him holding the ring he was going to propose with. He pulls at his coat collar, feeling warm and a tiny bit suffocated. "Heh, it's probably not as nice as the ring you got-" yeah, it's probably made from a fucking Meteor or some shit- "but I remember you liked the ring and the story when we was kids s-so." Stan swallows, or tries to, his throat is too damn dry. "Well jeez, Poindexter, say something at least, I'm dying here." But Ford doesn't say anything. He laughs, hard, belly bouncing, head thrown back laughs. Stan joins with some chuckles after a moment, hoping he's not being mocked, that Ford suddenly changed his mind because Stan got him an old and shitty ring compared to his cool sci-fi one.

"Great Minds think alike, Stanley! Hah! I should have known, you've acting odd for weeks now. Well, more than usual, heh." Ford was smiling so wide that Stan's cheeks hurt just looking at it. So, he's not being rejected, that's good. It's great. It's more than great. "And you remembered the ring, oh Stanley you have no idea how much this means to me." If he looks closely enough, Stan can see tears in his brothers eyes, soft and sweet, happy tears.

"S-so 's that a yes to marrying me?" What? He's still afraid of being rejected. Looking at Stan's history, can you blame him?

"Only if you agree to marry me, as well, Stanley." Ford looks nervous, too, but Stan has no doubt in his mind that he'd say yes to his brother's proposal.

"Stanford, I've loved you my entire life, before that, I think. I loved you before I knew you," Stan snatches the cool probably-a-space ring from Ford's hands and crams it on his finger. A perfect fit. He probably took measurements when Stan was asleep. Such a little creep, his little creep. "Yes I'll marry you. Think I'd also propose-no wait, Bropose-"

"Stanley don't call it that-"

"If I didn't?" Stan finishes, ignoring Ford's interruption.

"Well in that case, Stanley, yes I'll marry you, too. You big sap." Ford fits the other ring on his fourth finger.

"Creep, I bet you spent weeks measuring my fingers to get a ring that fits this well." Stan shoots back, he's got to hold on to his pride. He's no sap.

"Says the man who admitted to carrying around this ring for months. What was it you said? You "loved me before you knew me"? Sounds sappy-ow!" Ford rubs his arm where Stan punched him, throwing a pout his way. They break out into boisterous laughter again at the situation, sibling fights after proposing to each other. Can't beat this type of relationship.

"Hey, should I get you a second ring, for your extra ring finger? Symmetry an' all that Jazz?" Stan asks, shoving Ford out of the way to beat him to the door. It really is cold outside.

"Stanley, stop it! I-ugh fine, go ahead." Ford shoves Stan through the door, "I don't feel like it's wholly necessary to do that, but far be it from me to stop you. Should we tell the kids about this?"

"Nah, not right away, at least. We gotta get married on international waters, anyways, no laws against incest marriages here." Stan rubs his hands together to warm them, grinning as he feels the ring rub against his other fingers.

"We could get married far out enough from the Californian Coast to be in International Waters but have the twins there, assuming they'd want to come. Should we have a summer wedding? Hmmm, maybe spring, I want it to be warm enough that no one's shivering, but I do like our summers back in Gravity Falls, and I'd hate to miss out on it, even for our Honey Moon...." Ford talks on as they warm themselves up inside their cabin, pulling out the ingredients for Hot Cocoa.

Stan smiles at his-his fiance's ramblings. Moses, he really does love his brother.

[acesw]

Knowing our Arcanists 12: Pavia

Welcome to entry twelve of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. Today's character is the one and only: Pavia!

Disregard my previous post about Зима being the first one hit with the yaoi beam, he was the meat shield before him. I think I'd want to have his accessories even if they're horribly cheap. Lets get started.

Pavia is a mixed individual born on July 24th in Rome, Italy. When he was young, he was sent to Piedmont and lived there for many years before moving to Sicily. Pavia's arcane skill is a physical manifestation of his trauma with isolation, turning into a pack of wolves molded by darkness.

He's a mercenary that is currently active in the 90s, known for doing jobs left and right. He's an excellent mercenary, but tends to lack collaboration skill and is adamant in working independently.

As a child, Pavia was born from both arcanist and human parents. His mother, who came from Piedmont, moved to Rome to be with his father. At one point after Pavia was born, his mother had been sent to an asylum whilst his father went missing, leading him to be sent to Piedmont to be raised by his aunt.

Likely unbeknownst to him, his mother died back in Rome, and his aunt was overcome with grief. To her, Pavia looked a lot like her sister, and he was a troublesome child. Being taken over by such grief and hate, she confined Pavia in the basement for a long time as he grew up.

Confused and enraged, Pavia did all sorts of things to try to get out of the basement. Cry, fume, attempts to yield and apologize to his aunt, but the door never opened for him.

At first, he had access to the outside, being able to see passersby who crossed Piedmont to travel to different regions in Italy, even meeting a traveler who talked of film to him. But over time, natural light ceased to exist in his world, leaving him in the dark.

Out of that isolation came his friends, the wolves that gathered around him and allowed him to rest easy in the endless night. Like imaginary friends who never seemed to fade away since daylight never reached them. They became family to him, ones who would never leave him behind.

When he became older, he gained that strength to break out of that basement. What became of his aunt is unknown, but he became the infamous mercenary afterwards, traveling from Piedmont to Sicily. With quick and straightforward work, he gained his hard earnings, and

At one point, he worked with a man named James Burton, who published a book named Reminiscences, who described Pavia to be a "madman" and a "punishment." Many jobs later, he found himself hired by the Timekeeper in the Foundation, but didn't realize 'til way too late that he can't back out of it now.

Pavia can be described as a very aggressive and prideful individual. He uses threats to keep people distanced from him and to allow him to work on his own. This resulted in a lot of complaints about him, but he was never one to care.

When he does make friends however, his aggression can become affectionate; while he puts little trust in those around him, he'll always be open to talk of his gore-y and violent fantasies.

He's also an avid enjoyer of art and sweets, wearing cheap and handmade accessories, even wearing patterned shirts and sporting tattoos. He's often found eating gelato and tends to be very specific about its refrigeration.

The trauma coming from long-term isolation runs deep, often making Pavia uncomfortable when working with others. He shows great aversion to collaboration and affection from those around him unless its his close friends: the wolves that grew up with him.

All with names, they're who Pavia can put his full trust in to walk through the cold and dark nights across the world. He'll rarely ever sleep, instead taking the time to admire the dark skies and the guiding moonlight from above.

[lilislegacy]

I actually have my own little head cannons about percy and annabeth's own family, and I'm gonna share them for no reason other than being annoying <3

Percy and Annabeth have lived in unstable homes throughout their childhood; I truly believe that they got married in their early twenties after college

Annabeth hyphenated her last name! She becomes "Annabeth Chase-Jackson" because she loves the Jacksons and is a part of their family while also keeping her last name because she's THE Annabeth chase and it's iconic

I think that they always wanted kids together, but it was always a thought for the future, even when they got married and were busy with their careers

So yes, their first kid was a total surprise, but a very happy one

They were the first of the hoo group to have a kid

Their first kid's a boy (ik unpopular opinion), with blonde hair and green eyes.

I always imagined they'd named their kids something both unique and greek, with maybe a middle name after a lost hero? Giving the first name of a lost hero sounds painful, and also defeats the whole purpose of Sally naming Percy after the only greek hero with a happy ending. An example I like is Amycus Charlie Jackson. idk tho, something more normal makes sense too.

Amycus would probably be a stereotypical angel first child tbh

Because they had their first kid so early on, I think their second would be a couple years later, I think around 4.

They'd have a girl next, Daphne Zoe Jackson, with Percy's raven hair and Annabeth's gray eyes. She'd be a little more troublesome lol, but in a loving way!

I honestly think 2 kids are good enough but my heart says they'd have 3. He'd be a surprise baby, and on the younger end of the hoo group's kids (if not the youngest). I haven't thought of much characterization for him yet, but he'd get Sally's blue eyes for sure.

And they live a great life in New York, I'm sorry but they aren't moving to New Rome! Especially Percy, he's a New Yorker through and through

Annabeth works from home from time to time as an architect, mostly to spend more time with her kids, especially when they're babies.

Percy has a pretty chill job doing something in marine biology or marine vet, so he's there for the kids plenty too

Sally babysits the few times both of them are busy

Ya that's their perfect domestic life in my head hehehe >:)

thanks for the ask @littlesillyfilly!

i love all of these!!! super cute! i shall go through each one

1. same! some people think they don’t get married, but i hate the reasons why most people think that. as demigods, percy and annabeth didn’t grow up in a stable family setting. i think they would want that stability, and to do normal stereotypical couple things, because they crave as much normalcy as they can get.

2. another vote for the hyphenated name! that seems to be people’s favorite option

3. yes absolutely. they always have wanted kids. it’s not even a question in my mind

4. i agree, for some reason i’ve always had the hc that their first kid is either a total shock, or it takes a really really long time for them get pregnant. it’s one or the other 😂

5. completed agreed. honestly? i dont even know if many of their friends would have kids. i mean, frank and hazel, together or not, probably would i think, albeit much later than percy and annabeth. but i don’t know if i see anyone else having kids. i think its not super common amongst demigods, especially greek ones

6. absolutely 1000% agreed. i have always thought and said that their first is a boy with curly blonde hair and sea green eyes.

7. agreed! i like them doing a mix of things when it comes to names. and this is so funny because i always have liked the name charlie (after beckendorf) for one of their kids! it’s in my percabeth baby names list LOL. so i think i like their second son being named charlie, and then i have a girl name for their daughter that i love.

8. oh absolutely. first babies seem to always be so precious and sweet and easy. that’s how they get you. then the second one comes and all hell breaks loose

9. i agree that their second kid would come a few years later. they would need a hot minute to adjust. having kids as a demigod would be hard i think, but once they get the hang of it, they want more!

10. i absolutely agree that their next kid has percy’s black hair and annabeth’s grey eyes! personally, i always imagined it being another boy though. he is their charlie in my mind.

11. yeah, i think they would originally plan on 2 kids, but end up having three (if not 4🤭). and in my mind, number 3 is their girl! i’ve always imagined her with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes with a bit of green in them.

12. you are team percabeth living in new york? ok ok i like it. idk personally i feel like they would start out in new rome, for safety reasons. also having a community of demigod friends and family would probably be very comforting for them. but i definitely see them ending up in new york again! percy is absolutely a new yorker through and through!

13. aww annabeth being able to work sometimes at home would be cute. i can see that!

14. can i just say im so glad people are getting on board with percy becoming an aquatic/marine vet?? i’ve always been so alone in that thought, so seeing other people like it and agree with it makes me so happy!! he’d be sooo good at it! but yes, it’s a chill job so he can be around for the kids a lot.

15. sally and paul would love babysitting. 100%

i loved all of these so much and agree with nearly everything!! thank you for these!!

[langernameohnebedeutung]

So I noticed something interesting linguistically during my Spanish lessons but then I couldn't find a reason why and thought maybe you would have an idea?

Why does the word 'German' change so much from language to language? I mean you said Deutsch but we say German. But then in Spanish, it's Alemán. That's a massive change across three language. And I know they're from different language families but it still seems like a big change, I wonder why

I mean...yeah, it's kind of a situation

The thing is, Germany was only united as a single country in 1871. Before that, it was really a conglomerate of many different small cities, dukedoms, and kingdoms under the Holy Roman Empire (and before that: Tribes)

Modern-day Germany was just beyond the edge of civilisation during ancient times - Everything to the west and South, including France and England, was conquered and named and cartographed by the Romans but Germania was what was on the "other side":

The beige part was where civilisation ended for the Romans. Everything beyond the Limes was barbarian woods and most attempts to conquer there ended in military disasters like the battle of the Teuteburger Forest so ...not much progress was being made.

The name "Germania", that was used for EVERYTHING beyond the Limes border was apparently adopted from the word the Gauls used for the peoples they knew were living right there on the other side - and which meant something like "people of the forest" or possibly "neighbours" (which means the Romans might have done that ancient thing where they asked the Gauls: "Who lives over there?" and the Gauls were "Oh, yeah, those guys are our neighbours who sometimes come to our markets and that we fight with sometimes and who talk a little weird" and the Romans were like: "Ah, so the name of everyone living in the great beyond is 'Neighbours' and just stamped that name on a large chunk of the continent full of people who had never met a Gaul and had never heard of the word "Germania")

And because that area wasn't centralised the way the former colonies of Rome were, this pattern continued - when "states" (there was no modern-day statehood then, I guess the closest word would be "Reiche" but that would be Empires in English but that also doesn't describe it accurately and Reich has a Connotation in English and kingdom suggests a kind of continuity that didn't exist yet...) interacted with the people who lived in these lands, they often falsely assumed a level of social cohesion that didn't exist. One example is when Charlemagne pushed East, he would often make deals with the pagan Saxon tribes to please stop raiding all the nice monasteries he tried to establish - but it happened again and again, and people at the time concluded that the Saxons simply didn't honour their word. The problem was, that the Saxons were not united under one ruler and were not one cohesive tribe - so just because one of them made a deal to stop raiding monasteries, this doesn't mean anyone else got the memo or felt obliged to stop plundering those monks.

Even today, this kind of happens: Like "teutonic" being used for "german" because Teutons were a German tribe or people identifying Germany with Bavaria bc they hear a lot about the Oktoberfest or "Prussian" and "German" being equated because between 1871 and 1918, the Hohenzollern, being both the royal House of Prussia and the Kaiserhaus, largely dictated Germany's foreign policy and impression to the rest of the world, and even before that posing the biggest counter-weight to the Austrian/Austro-Bavarian role on the German-speaking playing field and often symbolising the different cultures (e.g. protestant vs catholic) existing across the German-countries-minus-Switzerland.

And this is also how the name thing happened: "Deutsch" just means "of the people" and was largely used for the language (hence "Dutch", being a very similar language to German, also having that very similar name, except, since they were the "Low Countries" (flat as a pancake land) of the Holy Roman Empire, they eventually took that name for themselves and their language when they became independent - the Netherlands speaking nederlands, while Belgish dutch-speakers speak "vlaams" after the region "Flanders") But since Germany never "separated" from the Holy Roman Empire but is largely considered its successor, there was no reason to make a regional name the name for a new nation. It just remained "the nation/the people".

Over the centuries, the other countries usually took whatever name there was for the regional tribe of Deutsche/people they dealt with and applied that to the whole thing: If you dealt primarily with the Alemanni people, you would use a word like the French "Allemagne", the English lived on an island and mostly kept using the Latin name "Germania" - which became "Germany". In Finland and Estonia it's "Saksa" and "Saksamaa" because being in the East, they mostly dealt with Saxons.

This also turned into an international game of telephone eventually: People who didn't have much contact with different kinds of Europeans would just pick up whatever name the people they dealt with used for Germany. If you had a lot of contact with the French or Spanish, you would pick up a variation of "Alman", if you dealt primarily with the English or Italians, it would be a variety of "Germania"

Then you have countries like Japan, which entered international exchange very late and had a lot of contact with Dutch and German speakers - which is why they say ドイツ - "doitsu". In Mandarin it's "Déguó" - guó meaning "land" and "Dé" for Deutschland.

Then there is also the language barrier: The modern nation-states of Germany and Italy both were once part of the Holy Roman Empire and neither had a standardised language (even today, on the European continent, Germany and Italy might take the prize for the most variations of their own language on the home continent) or considered themselves "German" or "Italian" until very late. So they distinguished between the people who spoke all the variations of their own language and those people above/below the Alps who were absolutely incomprehensible to them due to speaking an entirely different language family - so the Italians also spoke of "tedesco", which is related to the word "deutsch". (Italy cleverly spared itself most of this chaos by not having a lot of neighbours to begin with).

Another language barrier issue was in the East, because that's where Germanic languages and Slavic languages meet. This meant that while everyone who was part of the German(ic) dialect family could communicate with their neighbouring towns and tribes and everyone on the Slavic side could communicate with their neighbouring towns and tribes, they were also faced with those weirdos from the other side of the language barrier who were speaking absolute gibberish (or maybe just stared at you like an idiot and said nothing when you asked them a basic question) That's why in many Slavic languages, the name for "Germany" is a variation of "Niemcy" or "Německo" - which means "mute" or "non-speaker" or "foreigner" - because those were the people they couldn't talk to. Vācija, Vokietija, and Vuoceja also work this way)

Meanwhile, in Germanic languages, it's often names that also incorporate the word "deutsch & land"- Duitsland, Tyskland, Deytshland, Däitschland, Þýskaland etc

(I think to do the language diversity and mutual communication argument some justice, I think it's also important to point out that there wasn't a lot of personal mobility for the average person at the time, so they probably also identified themselves by what little they saw of the world. If even today there are German-speakers that don't understand each other, that issue was bound to be amplified by 1000000 at a time with no standardised writing, no mobility, a thin population, small towns etc. So even if everyone between the furthest North-East of the Germanic language continuum and the lowest South-West could maybe somehow communicate with their respective neighbouring towns and tribes in pre-nation times, if you had snatched two peasants from the respective ends even of what is today Germany and sat them down on the table in the middle, there probably would have been to have even the most basic conversation or know that the other person spoke a variation of the same language - there is an old saying that "a language is a dialect with an army" - and for German, it's more "a dialect-continuum with a bunch of armies fighting each other until eventually, they got 1 army 2000 years late". Meanwhile for the educated, the lingua franca at the time was Latin.)

Now, a lot of countries ...well, eventually became countries. Which meant they could do some marketing of their own and establish their own name for themselves - but Germany, as I mentioned, was only united in 1871. Even if they considered their language "deutsch", they didn't consider themselves "deutsch" for a long time (and when they did, it was considered a radical idea) and as such, there was no centralised government saying "We are deutsch" the way the French kings said "We are French" or the English kings said "We are English" - in fact, the central authority until the early 19th century was the Holy Roman Empire. Their rulers considered themselves the successors of the old Roman Emperors - this was called the "translatio imperii" according to which Charlemagne was the first "new" Emperor" and the Empire continued until Franz II was forced to abdicate bc of Napoleon. Eventually, it was officially considered "Das heilige römische Reich deutscher Nation" - "the holy roman Empire of the german nation" - but that wasn't really a central aspect of anyone's identity.

The average person just identified by whatever colour their personal patch on this map was:

#InOurFlickenteppichEra

So no one really challenged to disagreed with someone speaking of them as "Saksa" or "German" and that's pretty much why everyone has a different name for Germany.

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Lucius Verus x F!OC (Cassia)- Part 2

They're baccckkkk! Still finishing the outline for the rest of "A Fate Worse Than Death", but still wanted to write something today, so here is another fic with Lucius and our fave thermae attendant, Cassia.

Warning: Smut smut smut-- pinv, oral (male receiving), fingering, angsty longing etc etc. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!

Disclaimer: dont @ me with historical accuracies-- its not that I don't care, it's that my brain only has the capacity for smut when I'm in this kind of feral mood.

A/N: Yes, I know there's not really an ending, but the good stuff is there. My brain just stops after my characters cum, I can't help it, it's a PROBLEM.

Once again, very lightly proof-read, sorry xx

Cassia watched the moon rise over Rome sitting on the steps of the thermae portico, another day come and gone. It had been another busy one as Roman citizens were feeling a sense of renewed hope for the future, eager to discuss the future of the city with one another within the walls of the baths. The city had been buzzing since the rightful emperor Lucius took the throne, stories spreading about the gladiator-turned-emperor.

Cassia had listened to Alba in disbelief, in their small shared room one night, as she relayed the fantastical stories she heard in the marketplace earlier that day. The gladiator champion-- yes, Hanno-- was Lucilla's lost son, rightful heir to the empire. Cassia had laughed at Alba's tale, she couldn't believe such a rumor, her friend must have misheard. But as the days and weeks passed, it was confirmed time and time again by bathers, and by the fact that Hanno had not returned to the thermae. She had slept with a Roman emperor-- no one would believe her if she told, except Alba-- who had blushed bright pink with excitement when Cassia regaled her with the story. 

And now Alba waved as she crossed the courtyard towards their living quarters, her silhouette illuminated against the fading lamp light. Cassia was about to get up and follow Alba when she saw their master, Italus, walking at a furious pace towards her.

He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't cruel like other masters in the city, as long as she did her job well, he let her be, so the look on his face was cause for concern. 

"Italus, good evening.." she said standing up to greet him, hoping that a civil start to the conversation would be heeded.

"Who do you know in the palace?" he demanded, his brow furrowed. 

"What do you mean?" Cassia asked-- she had never set foot on Palatine hill, how would she know someone in the palace?

 "I've received a summons for you from the palace! There is a guard here ready to escort you."

Cassia was at a loss, she never rubbed shoulders with elites, especially anyone residing in the palace. But it was then she realized it could only be Hanno-- or Lucius, now, she supposed. She kept quiet though, not wanting to divulge her history with the new emperor. 

"It.. must be a mistake, how would I know someone there?"

She could tell Italus was suspicious, but she knew that he could not reject a request from the palace-- even if it was a mistake.

 As he turned away hastily, he shouted back to her "Go change.. I don't need you embarrassing me in front of whoever has summoned you."  Cassia did change, with help from Alba, into her nicest tunic, in a deep saffron shade. Alba quickly brushed Cassia's hair and pinched her cheeks, bringing the slightest flush to them. She hurried to the main entrance where a guard was waiting next to a carriage. He said not a word but helped her in.

Cassia's stomach and mind turned the whole way there. When Hanno-- Lucius-- left the thermae for the last time, he had kissed her gently and taken a moment to just be in her grasp. She hadn't known at the time that he was only a day or two away from changing the future of the Roman empire.

It seemed so simple, a gladiator and a bathhouse servant, it was certainly nothing new, but she saw everything in a different light now. He was no longer more or less equal to her-- he was an emperor. He surely had everything-- and everyone- at his disposal now, but he still wanted her. Cassia wished her heart didn't swell with hope at this thought-- this was a whole other beast itself. She never wanted to be a concubine, never wanted to be at the beck and call of a man-- but was this now her fate? She was, after all, answering his call. 

The carriage came to a stop at the front of the palace, where she was helped out and led to the complex of grand buildings that made up the imperial palace. The servant who met her at an imposing archway led her through halls and rooms of unspeakable magnificence. Cassia had to remind herself, she was not here to admire the frescoes and mosaic floors. They arrived outside a set of doors, the servant opening one and motioned for her to enter.

Cassia could feel her heart pounding as she stepped across the threshold into a room, lit with countless lamps that reflected against the gold leaf that seemed to adorn every corner, but she didn't take note of any further details, as her eyes trained on him, standing by the entrance to a courtyard. 

She stood still near the door, not sure what she should do in the presence of an emperor. A radiant smile flashed across his face, as if she had materialized from the heavens. 

"You're here" he declared with satisfaction and what Cassia noted was a hint of relief. 

" I don't think I had a choice." she said quietly, still standing in the same spot.

His face fell with confusion, "why do you say that?"

"Refusing a summons from the palace isn't something one does." she explained, her heart full of so many different emotions-- wariness, apprehension, happiness at seeing him again-- unsure of how to act around him, now that he was emperor. 

Lucius walked towards her then. He looked like the same man she had known at the thermae, except dressed in vibrantly embroidered tunic and no longer covered in bruises and blood. 

"You came here... out of obligation?" he asked, an edge of disappointment in his voice.

He was standing near, but kept his distance from Cassia. She was honest with him, "Not only out of obligation."

A hint of a smile flashed across his face, and Cassia couldn't help but smile to herself. 

"What am I to call you now?" she asked, the knot in her stomach loosening in his presence.

 He gave another small smile, " whatever you want to call me."

She took a step towards him, "Caesar?... Imperator?...Hanno...?"

He laughed heartily at this last one, "you can call me Lucius."

Lucius stepped closer to Cassia and grabbed her hand, "I'm glad you came.. I had wanted to call on you sooner, but I wasn't sure if I should."

She felt comfort in the fact that he was also apprehensive, aware of each of their statuses in this world now.

"And why did you call me here?" she ran her fingers through his hair, a move he leaned into with eyes closed, "I don't think you need a bath..."

He gave a laugh and pulled her in close, his eyes searching hers, before he whispered, "you know why..."

Lucius met her lips with a sigh that stirred something in Cassia. She could feel relief in his kiss, and urgency to be as close to her as he could. His tongue brushed her lower lip and she met him with her own. Cassia kissed him as if it was the last time she would ever kiss him, or anyone, for that matter-- with a hunger, a desire to feel everything with Lucius so intensely that it would be burned into her memory forever. 

He pulled away reluctantly and led Cassia to the lavish bed that was centered just so that the moonlight shown on it through the open courtyard. Lucius pulled her in once more, untying the belted knot at her waist before turning Cassia around so her back was against his chest.

She could feel his cock, already fully hard and she hadn't even touched him yet. Lifting the fabric of her tunic, his hands, still calloused and rough from fighting, found her core.

He made slow circles around her clit, leaning into the rhythms that made her moan. Cassia grasped at him behind her, as he placed bites down her neck and collarbone. He slipped two fingers in her and pumped them in and out slowly. 

"You're already so wet for me..." he growled in her ear and retreated from within her.

 "Lucius..." Cassia breathed, her nails now digging into the side of his neck. She felt weak with pleasure, resting herself against his body.

Cassia grasped his hand as he pulled back from under her tunic, taking his fingers, still slick with her, into her own mouth. She hummed as she sucked herself off his fingers. She could hear a throaty groan from Lucius at her action and she turned back around to face him.

His mouth crashed into hers, desperate to taste what was left of her wetness. Cassia grasped at his elaborate tunic, helping him to pull the weighty fabric up and over his head.

She took a step back, pulling off her own tunic before casting a glance at his body. He might be emperor now, but he was riddled with scars-- some old, some newer, still healing. Cassia passed light fingers over his arms, feeling the taut, warm muscles, then moving her hands over his shoulders and chest.

Lucius's eyes fluttered closed, relaxing deeply at her touch. She felt along his cock with the lightest touch, feeling it twitch at the feather light feel. 

He kept his eyes closed, he breathed, " don't tease me.." 

She let her hand close around his shaft and replied, "I would never tease the emperor."

Cassia guided him back to sit on the bed while she got to her knees. Placing kisses and small bites up his strong thighs, she worked Lucius gently with her hand before taking his length into her mouth.

His cock was warm inside her mouth, filling her up to her throat, savoring the feeling and taste of him in her mouth. 

Cassia," he moaned, "Cassia, oh gods..."

 She pulled back, his cock making a pop as it left the velvety warmth of her mouth. Cassia sucked on the tip while stroking his shaft with one hand and gently massaging his weighty balls with her other.

Lucius grasped the back of her head, wrapping his hand around her hair and pulling gently. In a moment, he sat up on her elbows and looked down at her, his eyes heavy with lust, " I can't come until I have you."

She placed gentle kisses around the head of his cock, giving it one final suck before climbing on the bed. Lucius straddled her as soon as she lay back, spreading her legs open for him.

He held the tip of his cock against her cunt, rubbing it against her clit making Cassia squirm with pleasure underneath him. "Please, Lucius..." she moaned as she grasped her own breast, feeling the need to do something-- anything-- to feel pleasure. 

He dragged his cock up and down her cunt once more, gathering her wetness before he leaned down over her. Both of them stilled for a moment, simply looking into each other's eyes, their breathing was in unison now.

Lucius positioned his cock at her wet entrance and pushed in, slowly filling her up. Cassia felt her walls stretch with his length and thickness, breathing through the intensity of the stretch until he was fully in her.

He started slow and deep with his thrusts, eliciting a low moan into his ear, somehow making him even harder. He picked up his pace when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her as deep as he could go.

Lucius placed one leg up over his shoulder, burrowing even deeper into her. Cassia arched her back into him, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched around his that she was going to come soon.

Cassia held onto his arms as he continued to fuck down into her, hearing her gasp his name as he felt her approach her orgasm. He followed soon after with his own climax, crying out as he collapsed on top of her.

"I'm crushing you, I'm sorry..." he said breathlessly, attempting to roll off of her but she stopped him.

"Don't... not yet," Lucius let himself rest back into her arms.

[the-ghost-king]

Asking you because you Know Things. But... does it actually say in PJO that demigods rarely live beyond teenage years or am I making that up? Or is it because of the war? Or do all demigods just expect never to make 20????

Thankyou great wise one

Haha, I had to do some thinking about this one actually- the first bit that came to mind was this scene from Son of Neptune

Just before this scene (after they meet Octavian) Percy describes the various actions of people out and about and what they're doing and it's in the way he describes it you get a sense of shock almost from him. He doesn't seem to quite believe what he's seeing, he feels like it's too many people to make sense for what he knows, but it's not the most explicit.

The other time I remembered was in PJO I believed Annabeth had told him something along the lines of "demigods don't stand a chance" so some digging... I pulled this up next (SoM), not super explicit but Percy does mention that demigods don't get happy endings and that he doesn't believe he will live long:

In BOTL Clarisse says this:

I couldn't find anything more explicit than variations on scenes like this, not even the scene with Annabeth I thought I remembered. Nobody ever explicitly outright says anything about when most demigods don't make it to their 20s but it sounds like the odds are poor. There's a lot of points where Percy talks about feeling like he's going to die or he makes comments like "I won't make it that long" I do think this is connected to the fact that Percy thinks he is going to die before 16 because of his prophecy, and because Percy is forced to handle more quests of a higher caliber than most other demigods seem to get tasked with.

So some of it seems like demigods die young, especially because characters like Clarisse (who rarely agrees with Percy on anything) also seem to hold similiar opinion. However, part of it is also very likely depression (Percy talks about wishing he could fade away/drown/etc, and people with depression struggle to imagine a future) and trauma (people with PTSD struggle to imagine a future). There's also a contrast with other characters, for example Jason somewhere in HoO (I don't remember where I'm so sorry, maybe House of Hades?) mentions having dreams of growing old and having grandkids- which means as a roman demigod even if things were hard Jason does imagine a future for himself, which Percy only does a few times within the boundaries of New Rome he's never allowed himself before then to have that sort of a dream (well, technically one of the fates shows him his future after Luke dies).

I think maybe it's one of those things were just supposed to assume? Demigods need to go to CHB to be safe, demigods smell more as they get older, demigods never return to CHB after they leave (we never have any warm welcomes for past demigods stopping by). I don't think it can be as cut and dry as "in their 20s" though, in ToA we're informed one of the Stoll brothers is in college (I'm not even going to try to remember if it's Connor or Travis- it's the older one but I can't remember) and that he only returns to CHB over holiday breaks. So this means we have a son of Hermes in his 20s living at college and doing college things and he's only returning to camp for a few weeks or months at a time, so, I mean, he's alive. Apollo in ToA also mentions having some demigod children in various aspects of show business and if you look up those celebs they're not all people who died young.

I can't remember where, or again if it wasn't something outright said but just something the audience was supposed to figure out from implication- but we get the sense that children of the big 3 are most effected by leaving camp and struggle the most to stay alive outside of magic anti-monster boundaries, then it sounds like children of the 12 Olympians (or 9 in this case if we strip Zeus, Hera, and Poseidon, and we can go down to 8 because Artemis's hunt isn't her children) are effected the next most. Then it seems like demigods of minor gods, Hypnos, Iris, etc. are effected the least out of any of the demigods by monster attacks. I would make a personal argument that it's possible theres an even smaller group of extremely unknown dieties children who may be effected next to not at all by these things, outside of people deeply invested in Greek myths people probably don't know who say Aristaeus or Markaria are, so it's possible if we go by a more complex ranking system they could be even less effected by monsters, I would even argue you could make a smaller tier for dieties like Angela or Plutus (different from Hades/Pluto)- that's not explained well in text and would be personal world building, would a child of Plutus be less effected by monsters than a child of Morpheus? I don't know and I doubt Rick's ever considered it, so the reader doesn't know either.

I don't really have a clear cut answer for you based on what I know and could find, sorry nonnie. It's possible someone else remembers a specific scene I don't (maybe that Annabeth scene I'm not entirely sure I didn't make up or misremember from a fic or the movies) and may have more information but by my best guess- the stakes and their severity are based on how you interpret the text. Do demigods live long lifes? No, and that's cannon until were introduced to New Rome and the safety it provides. However what constitutes as a "short life"? Teens? Twenties? Thirties? Fourties? Another question is: how much do you believe that what Percy is describing is his personal opinions/traumas/concerns vs what he has been told? How much of the weight of Percy's life on his shoulders is dictated by the weight of the prophecy and the high stakes of his life rather than what's typical for demigods? Etc.

Hopefully this is at least a jumping off point even if it's not such a clear cut answer! Good luck!

[unhonestlymirror]

I've seen meme made by @flashlight-sticker and I wanted to remake it based on my real life experience (with explanations):

1. Every Eastern European country is very good at cooking - but the first place is shared between Ukraine and Latvia.

In Ukraine, I recommend you to visit "Flagman" restaurants (expensive), "Dary morya" seafood store (affordable, may have delicacies like escallops or pike caviar by a pretty good price sometimes), and of course Silpo (used to be hella expensive but worth it, idk for now, GO BUY THEIR BUCKWHEAT BREAD AND PIZZA!!) and Puzata Hata cantine net (pretty affordable but very good quality).

In Latvia, it's Lido. Just go there, you won't regret it, the staff speaks English. They also have very nice dairy products and ice cream in Rimi shops. Latvia is fucking awesome at cooking, literally nothing's ever disappointed me there.

Belarus is also very good cook, especially when it comes to potatoes, ofc, but their meat and meat products are too extravagant for me... but it's definitely worth trying! People often bring chocolate sweets, birch juice and dark bread from there as souvenirs because they're pretty delicious, too.

Lithuanian food is also amazing, especially if you're a sportsman or student (someone who got used to burn lots of calories on daily basis). Biržų Duona bakery, Iki shops, Maxima shops, Lido shops, Charlie Pizza and Fokus Pizza (serve non-pizza nice business lunches), CAFFEINE - these are some delicious and affordable options, I don't go often to restaurants. Lithuanians tend to like pretty spicy hot soups (India's nephew, afterr all XD). My only advice to you: if you visit Lithuania and you don't feel like you're gonna drop dead if you don't eat something right goddamn now - DO NOT GO TO FAST FOOD POINTS. Literally go anywhere else but McDonald's, KFC and Hesburger. There are so many finger-licking options, don't waste your time on some average hamburgers.

Turkey is good at cooking (they're Ukraine's neighbours after all). Especially at local sweets and French creme soups. I recommend you katmer (sweet hot pistachio lasagna) and grilled seafood.

2.

Spain didn't impress me with its cuisine. 90% of tourists who praise it are Germans - and whatever Germans eat on daily basis would make any Eastern European miserable and depressed. In Spain, it seems like they drink fresh orange juice only, which is not bad unless you have citrus allergy. Then it's gonna be a serious quest, especially if you're out of funds (still water is more expensive than orange juice). Also, Jordan makes paella better.

Never been to Belgium so idk.

Never been to Bulgaria either but they're Ukraine's cousin so their food must be good. Thus, I place them higher.

Finland is Okay cook, definitely better than the rest of Nordics, so I place them higher.

France is pretty good cook, but even with their huge food diversity, they still don't have affordable good quality cantines. Some of them tend to close cafes and restaurants during lunch time?? Thus, I place them lower.

3.

Sorry, Greece, but never in my life I've been served with unpeeled deep fried microshrimps... Karavidopsiha is pretty nice, tho. Potatoes are meh. I recommend you to order fish and seafood. I usually order non-spicy fish because it's cooked really fast and it's hard to hide bad smell&taste in case it's rotten.

Literally every restaurant in the center of Rome!! will serve you with black-peppered pasta carbonara... In many cases, it's also not boiled enough - and in all cases, it costs too much for its quality! Wtf, Italy, that's your capital, the face of a country! You better book in an apartment with kitchen because small local shops have some nice fresh products which you will definitely have to cook yourself in order to stop being depressed. You also need to have a guide or a good old friend who lives here for a while, who can recommend you some nice restaurants (in most cases, far from the center). If you're a very rich& influensive guest visiting Italy, in ALL 5 starts restaurants, they're gonna serve you with Tiramisu (not bad, just keep it in mind). Also, DON'T order pizza here without a guide - better go to McDonald's.

4.

Hugary is good at cooking meat.

Egypt is good in everything which isn't European cuisine.

Switzerland has nice warm spinach bakery in Migros. McDonald's there fucking sucks!!!!

Never been to Canada and USA so idk.

Liechtenstein idk, Poland... overall has nice cuisine but almost every time it's a bit too burnt and/or oily to my taste. If you're from USA/Western Europe, you'll find it amazing anyway.

5. Norway trying very hard but still can't cook for shit. They don't even have salted salmon in shops, wtf! Vegetables and fruist costs like they're made from gold. Bakery's tasteless, but I give kudos for the visual appearance. My favorite pastime there became eating sugar substitute. Idk how non-fishermen live there, if I had to eat like this everyday, I'd hang myself.

6.

Germany is famous among Eastern Europeans for having really bad taste in food. They really believe pop tarts are delicious, and that coffee&croissant is a rich man's breakfast, poor guys... Every time I go there and pick a random cafe, I order a soup and it's ALWAYS inedible. If you can't even cook a normal soup, then what can you cook at all?... Bakery's also tasteless. They drink so much beer it leaves me speechless. McDonald's and Chinese cuisine will be your calm island in the middle of a stormy sea.

In UK, the only dish I remember as good was street food (fresh strawberries in chocolate). And they were made by Polish girls. Fish&Chips isn't even worth trying. Literally every country cooks better English breakfast than England. Just go to McDonald's, don't torture yourself/your family&friends.

[angelicsjn]

Hello! I was wondering what the boys' relationship is with their families? How do they feel about their relationship? I hope it's okay to ask, thank you very much!♡☆

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A B O U T: The boys and their family.

W A R N I N G S: None.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman has a large family, and it's full of love. His family is his life. He adores them.

Roman's parents are his biggest fans. His father is quite well known in the motorsporting industry as he provides quite a lot financially in Formula 2 and 3.

His dad is his biggest role model.

Roman has two brothers who are also in the racing industry. One drives in F2 and the other in F3 — their parents are dedicated to creating world champions, it seems.

He also has plenty of cousins and loved ones — holidays, such as Christmas, are wild.

— LATEN REED.

Laten has a cosy family compared to Roman, but it's still full of love.

His dad died when he was in his early teens and that separated his family massively as his dad wasn't from the area he grew up, so, he rarely sees his dads side of the family anymore.

He has a younger brother and took on the role of 'dad' at a young age, having to become the man of the house.

But, he loves his family and gets on well with his cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents on his moms side.

Laten is full of love, but the death of his dad puts his emotions on pause, hence why he finds it so hard to emotionally connect with people.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Jae's family is very private and wealthy, but it's never spoken about.

There's rarely any photos online, no posts, nothing. You only know what you've seen and experienced yourself.

His father is a businessman and works closely with the KPOP industry — which allows him to get away with a lot of stuff...

His mom used to be a model when she was young. Now she's a sort of 'trophy wife', who lives in luxury and doesn't have to lift a finger.

He's not super close with his family. He has better things to do, and his family likes it that way — as long as he's not fucking his career up.

He's also an only child.

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

Kaidan is only in contact with his mom.

His dad left at a young age, and his family beyond his mother's love was non-existent.

Kaidan doesn't mind, though. All he needs is his mom, friends, and now you.

He'd rather spend Christmas with his friends on a trip to New York that he invites his mom to rather than playing happy family with people he's never met.

— HAYDEN WEST.

Much like Kaidan, his family is sparse.

He dislikes his birthday for a reason.

He's always been alone, and he's grown used to it. He enjoys it now.

Once you're in his life, you become his family.

His parents weren't the best of people, and after living in foster care for the majority of his life, he lives for himself now.

— JOSHUA WHITE.

Huge family man. He loves them.

His family is big, humble and full of love.

They're all religious and close-knit and honestly, almost cultish if you look at them from the outside.

They do pretty much everything together, and no secrets are kept as secrets.

Honestly, it's a very welcoming atmosphere, but at the same time, it's suffocating.

— BLAKE CROSS.

He comes from a family of businessmen/women, models, socialites, lawyers, sportspeople anything that brings the money in.

They're the type of family to have golfing and spa weekends, trips to Rome and Monaco where they sip champagne on yacht owned by his uncles.

His family is big in Holywood, but unknown to the public eye, he works behind the scenes and is a very influential man.

If Blake has an issue, his dad knows the right people, and they don't mind getting their hands dirty.

Blake has a younger sister who is a model and he's very protective over her, nobody fucks with his sister.

[a-sparrows-melody]

Disclaimer: this is what I learnt in school. I have no idea if what we read was abridged or not but it seemed pretty legit. also I love English Literature so this is based on both my character sketches and the analysis provided by the school. If you got a problem, tell me respectfully and I will listen. If you want to complain, get the hell out of my life. Also this is my opinion.

Okay this is probably off-topic but I need to say this.

BRUTUS AND CASSIUS' FIGHT IN ACT 4 SCENE 3 WAS NOT A LOVER'S QUARREL. SMH.

Okay, look at it this way.

Imagine there's a hero who's a product of a flawed system. He, too, is the most arrogant, flawed, imperfect character ever (he's human) but he's more good than bad and actually has the right ideals to correct it. He's strong and true and just.

In fact, he's so kind that he saves a man from the tyrannical rule (I know Pompey wasn't tyrannical, this is just a figure of speech) of his rival, takes him as a war prisoner or something and literally falls in love with him and gives him the highest position in the new government - except his own, of course.

THEY ARE IN LOVE. AS IN THE MUSHY ROMANTIC LOVE THAT HISTORIANS WILL CALL "BEST FRIENDS" (they actually did) AND WILL CLAIM THEY ARE JUST "ROOMMATES". THEY ARE GAY FOR EACH OTHER. THEY ARE HAPPILY IN LOVE.

BUT

BUT

Another antagonist comes in.

This guy, he's jealous of our hero because his promised position on the council was given to the hero's boyfriend and he wants that power. He's ambitious. So obviously, he plans an assassination scheme against the hero.

And who does he target for his stabby-plan first?

That's right.

THE HERO'S LOVER.

And the hero's lover is weak. He is kind and just and perfect and stoic and sexy and the greatest Roman of all time but he is weak and he is easily swayed by other people's opinions. He is a people pleaser and wants the best for them, not realizing the price he has to pay (which is himself, his relationships, his sense of justice).

This guy, the antagonist manipulates the hero's lover (who is our new protagonist from now on) and plays on his civic sense and strong sense of duty (his ancestors stopped tyrannical rule and he feels that he too must do the same; the antagonist manipulates him into believing that his hero, his lover is a fool trying to establish a dictatorship WHEN HE IS JUST FLAWED. AND THE PROTAGONIST LOVED HIS BOYFRIEND FOR THOSE FLAWS. HE ACCEPTED HIM. AND THEY'RE BEING USED AGAINST HIM NOW. HE'S A WEAK, WEAK MAN WITH A WEIRD-ASS SENSE OF JUSTICE OR KARMA. THAT'S HIS FLAW.)

Okay, I feel like I don't need to stress more on their flaws, surely the people reading this realize this and understand what I am saying... right? Right?

Anyway, this guy gets caught up in the stabby festivities (makes a bunch of mistakes too because he's an idealist but we're not getting into that) and ends up killing his lover for "the good of Rome".

AND YOU TELL ME THAT THIS ISN'T A POETIC TRAGEDY???? YOU TELL ME THAT THE NOW-PROTAGONIST'S LOVER KEPT HOLDING ON AFTER 22 STABS WITH A KNIFE AND ONLY GAVE UP WITH HIS LOVERS NAME ON HIS LIPS, STILL KNOWING THAT HE LOVES HIM AND WOULD LOVE HIM WHATEVER HE DOES, BUT HE COULDN'T HANDLE TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE HIS LOVER IS WEAK AND A TRAITOR.

YOU TELL ME THIS.

AND EXPECT ME TO SOMEHOW BELIEVE THAT THE PROTAGONIST FELL IN LOVE WITH THE ANTAGONIST.

WHEN THE LOVER HELD ON FOR HIS PROTAGONIST. WHEN THEY WERE GAY. WHEN THEIR LOVE WAS SO FIERY LIKE SUPERNOVAS THAT THEY COULDN'T LIVE WITHOUT EACH OTHER??????????

Anyway, the protagonist is reeling with guilt now. He's killed his lover. He did it for the good of Rome but maybe, just maybe... he thinks he would have accepted his lover being tyrannical if only it meant that he could be with him.

But he's the protagonist, he's just and good and perfect. He needs to deal with his actions, and he takes complete responsibility of them. If you read the text properly, you realize that even after the death of his lover, when he should be happy that he saved Rome and made his ancestors proud, even when his fellow conspirators are out and about yelling, "Peace! Freedom! Liberty!" and other weird slogans, he's trying to calm the crowd down. He did this for the mob, not to make them run away.

He's guilty and he knows it.

Anyway now he has to give a speech explaining why the hell he killed his lover. In the speech, he gives factual reasons as to why he did that thing. Sure, yes, he loved the guy but he needed to kill him. In the speech, we see him faltering. He's trying to convince himself, he's still guilty and he's scared. He's in mourning. He gives factual reasons and he expects that his mind will listen and this is why he did that deed but obviously he can't get over it.

And when the other guy gives the speech, his lover's precious friend or something, he's rightfully angry on behalf of the guy's lover. He appeals to the mob's emotions while the protag appeal's to the mob's facts.

Obviously the mob likes the emotional speech. This isn't an important part in what I'm trying to explain, it's just that this guy's still not able to convince himself. This is where the war starts.

We skip the ruthlessness bit all the way to Act 4 Scene 3.

Our antagonist (antag) is a realist. He knows shit about war. He's turned into some sort of bribing corrupt idiot and he's also somehow fallen in love the the protag.

The protag doesn't care. He's still reeling under the shock and guilt of killing his lover, he's on edge because his best friend (let's just say Portia is his best friend, she did not play a farther role in Brutus' life and honestly he just didn't even care about her) killed herself because of his lover's other best friend (Antony) who's now started killing everyone on his side. He has a lot on his mind and by nitpicking at the antag's corrupted side, he's trying to hid behind what he knows best - justice. He wants something in life to go correct and he can't deal. He's still guilty.

Ultimately he dies, yada-yada unimportant for my post.

BRUTUS DOESN'T CARE. HE JUST DOESN'T CARE ABOUT CASSIUS OR HIS NONSENSE. HE MIGHT TAKE HIM FOR A REBOUND OR SOMETHING BUT HIS HEART LIES WITH CAESAR.

OKAY, NOW YOU TELL ME.

THAT ABSOLUTE TRAGEDY OF A GAY LOVE STORY, BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CAESAR, WHICH I HAVE CHARTED OUT ABOVE OR THE STUPID REBOUND BETWEEN A GUILTY BRUTUS AND A CASSIUS WHO MANIPULATED HIM AND FORCED HIM BY USING HIS WEAKNESSES AGAINST HIM TO KILL HIS LOVER.

I HOPE I HAVE MADE MYSELF CLEAR ENOUGH.

SO, NO. I WILL NOT AND CANNOT HANDLE ANYONE SAYING THAT BRUTUS AND CASSIUS HAD A "LOVER'S QUARREL". BRUTUS SUBCONSCIOUSLY HATED CASSIUS. ALWAYS CONTRADICTED HIM. THEY WERE TOXIC AS HELL TOGETHER. THIS IS A WEIRD MENTAL KIDNAPPING CASE OF STOCKHOLM SYNDROME.

BRUTUS AND CASSIUS WERE NOT IN LOVE. THEY DID NOT FIGHT AS LOVERS. THEY FOUGHT AS A MANIPULATOR AND MANIPULATED. THAT SCENE WAS PURELY THERE TO SHOW THAT IDEOLOGICAL DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS, TO FORESHADOW THE ULTIMATE DOWNFALL OF THE CONSPIRATORS.

BRUTUS AND CAESAR LOVED EACH OTHER.

AND I THINK THAT BRUTUS AND CAESAR HAD A MUCH GAYER AND SADDER AND HEART-WRENCHING GAY STORY THAT ANYONE ELSE IN THIS WORLD EVER COULD.

Thank you <3