#>Rome)

[ladamedusoif]

Laurels

(Acacius x F!Sex Worker Reader)

Pairing(s): Acacius x F!Reader; Acacius x Lucilla

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 13.5k

Summary: You met him as a young soldier, brought to the brothel you worked at to celebrate a victory. Now, almost two decades later, his return to Rome in triumph sparks memories of your time together - and the secrets you still hold.

Content Notes/Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MDNI - Sex worker F!Reader; no physical description of Reader except that she is curvy and has hair (but this can be taken as a wig, as was common in imperial Rome); spans events of Gladiator and parts of the sequel; canon-compliant but no spoilers for Gladiator II; we love and respect Lucilla in this house; Acacius is a lover boy; period-typical derogatory terms for sex workers; oral sex (M and F receiving); PiV sex; mutual masturbation; discussion of pregnancy; forbidden love; secret marriage; discussion of death and grief; implied character death; implied that Reader is more sexually experienced than Acacius when they meet; references to alcohol consumption; some uses of strong language

Author Note: I've been thinking about and sketching out this story since I first laid eyes on Acacius in those promotional pictures released during the summer, but wanted to wait until I'd had a chance to see Gladiator II three times before writing it up properly, to avoid any issues with characterisation. I hope you all enjoy it.

I've referred to him as Acacius throughout, as that's what Lucilla and everyone else calls him and because we have no goddamned idea what he's actually called. (I've used certain tags, though, to make sure people see this. Hopefully. Maybe.)

There are some Latin/Roman terms used throughout: lena is the madam or brothel keeper; cella is the part of a temple dedicated to a specific deity; meretrix is a Roman term for a prostitute; mercatus is a market or shopping area.

The cover image is entirely based on authentic Roman mosaics and interiors: top left is a 1st century CE mosaic; bottom right is a 4th century CE mosaic from Sicily of a sex worker with her client; and background is the interior decor of a bedroom in Pompeii.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Enormous thanks to @mescalpascal for beta reading this story.

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

The city has resonated to the sound of his name these past weeks. A hero of empire, of conquest; the perfect role model for Rome’s young boys, already being prepared from birth for war and glory. 

Or, more truthfully, for death. 

Today he returns to the city in glory, to be honoured with a triumph in recognition of his role in conquering the far-off lands of Northern Africa. The crowds are already thronging the streets, trying to secure their perfect vantage point to catch a glimpse of the victor en route to be crowned with laurels. 

No one notices an ordinary woman in middle age, simply but elegantly dressed in her best clothes for the occasion, discreetly slipping up the steps and onto the balcony of a tavern overlooking the triumphal route. No one pays a woman like that any mind, especially not on a day like today. 

You quietly secure your spot and slip down your veil, patting your hair to ensure the style is still in place. Why, exactly, did you go to such effort, knowing you’d be at such a distance from him? Knowing how many years it has been?

You take the cheap little metal effigy you’d purchased from a street hawker from your purse, gently rubbing your thumb over the crude rendering of his handsome face. 

You told him he would go far. You told him he would be feted like this, one day, all those years ago. You smiled as you imagined meeting him again, showing him the tiny metal version of himself. 

“See? I told you you’d be cast in bronze, didn’t I?”

A ripple of excitement courses through the crowd and it becomes apparent that the procession is near. They cheer and chant his name in unison. A mixture of excitement and fear grips you. Why had you done your hair just so, put on your best jewellery from your meagre selection?

Just in case. In case his dark eyes found yours, again, and bridged the years with a glance. 

The rumble of chariot wheels and horses’ hooves becomes more intense, the cheering of the crowd more frenzied. You grip the ledge of the balcony in nervous anticipation, the golden metal of your favourite ring glinting in the light. 

For a moment, it feels like being frozen in time. He is a god among men, the bright sun reflecting beautifully off the white and gold of his special, ceremonial armour as he receives the acclamations of the crowd. He’s uncomfortable, you can tell: that nervous wave and unsettled expression giving him away. This is not his natural environment, though you suspect he has had to get used to it since he assumed his command and since his marriage. 

You are unable to make a sound as his chariot approaches, overwhelmed by the sight of him, the sound of the crowd, the way he is received and acclaimed with more enthusiasm than any emperor you can remember. He is still beautiful . From here, you can see the streaks of grey that frame his handsome face now, making him even more distinguished than you remembered. His tanned skin only serves to make the white and gold armour gleam all the more. His beard, neatly trimmed, is more grey than dark these days, lending him an air of absolute authority. 

But you know that behind the guise of the conquering general, battle-scarred and triumphant, lies another man: strong but gentle, intelligent and kind, a man who likes to laugh and to joke and to love . 

She is a lucky woman, you muse. 

He’s almost directly in front of you now, and you can see in those soft, dark eyes the brave young man you knew so well, once upon a time. 

His gaze shifts. He finds you. 

His expression changes to one of surprise and… joy ?

The moment lasts barely a second before he has passed by in the relentless journey to his apotheosis. But you are left with his name on your lips, whispered like a prayer as your mind travels back through the years to the time you first met. 

“Acacius.”

***

War is shit. But it’s good for business when your business is your body. 

When you left your rural home for Rome as a teenager, accompanied by the man you were promised to, selling yourself was not part of the plan. But there’s little a girl can do, when her betrothed reveals himself to be a liar and a crook. He left you alone, without resource or recourse, when he was stabbed to death over an unpaid gambling debt. 

You had certainly landed on your feet, all things considered, and with the benefit of a few years’ hindsight. The lena who ran the place was kind and understanding, the other girls bright and friendly, for the most part, and the brothel itself marketed as a cut above the usual fare for the average legionary, brought to the imperial city after a stint killing Gauls or Goths or whoever the enemy was that week.

Besides, it was even fun , sometimes. You, with your curves and ample bosom, earned a reputation for kindness and understanding. Sometimes you wondered just how many nervous young men had learned how to please a woman from a night or two in your arms.

The night you met, the lena had gathered the free girls together in an excitable cluster, hissing about the arrival at the brothel of a group of young legionaries from various parts of the Empire.

“Some of them are absolutely gorgeous , girls! And they’ve had a recent victory - you know what that means.”

Catalina, who never lacked confidence, grinned. “It means big bonuses.”

The lena beamed. “Exactly. Big bonuses, big tippers… and who knows, maybe big in other ways?” The girls roared with laughter as she clapped her hands. “Alright, neaten up! Best behaviour, now. And as usual with the legions, you’re theirs for the night.”

You picked up a goblet of wine, and you and your fellow whores struck your usual enticing poses. 

“Heroes of Rome…my finest girls, for your delectation.” 

***

His eyes find yours through the slew of pairings, dark as pitch but warm as fire in the low light of the brothel’s main antechamber. He is, as your lena had suggested, gorgeous : young, beautifully handsome features, clean-shaven; the strong nose and fine jaw universally considered the epitome of male beauty, wavy dark hair curling around his brow in his neat, regulation haircut. 

And then he smiles at you. And you are lost, entirely, in the way his eyes sparkle and his open, kind face beams.

The beautiful boy would surely choose one of the more beautiful girls, as was always the way. But instead he strides through the melee, broad shoulders cutting a path with ease, and stands in front of you, a soft, nervous smile on his face. 

“Hello, soldier. Where are you from?”

His eyes are warm . He seems kind. You feel a wave of lust coursing through you: if he wants you, you thought, you might really enjoy this one.

“Hispania,” he answers. “But we were fighting tribes in Germania.”

His voice, like warm honey, sends a throb through your core. 

“And you have been rewarded with a trip to the imperial city! You must have been really brave.”

He chuckles, a half-smile on his handsome, tanned face. “I tried to be.”

His nerves are apparent in the way he carries himself, in the little glances he gives you, seeking approval. You take his hand, thumb stroking his palm gently.

“Do you want to let me reward you tonight, soldier?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Please.” He gives your hand a little squeeze. “But tell me your name, won’t you? I would like to know your name.”

You tell him with a smile. “And yours?”

His grin is warm and genuine. “Acacius.”

***

The yellow glow of the oil lamps illuminate the murals that decorate the walls of your chamber, and throw shadows from the fabrics draped over the low couch and bed. Acacius looks around, unsure where to sit, and you gesture to the couch.

“Wine, soldier?”

“Yes, wine. Please. Thank you.”

Goblets in hand, you join him and lean slightly towards him. It is impossible to miss the way Acacius’s eyes focus on your breasts, barely covered in the diaphanous folds of your pale, loose robe. 

“Do you like what you see?”

His gaze trails upwards to your eyes, and he nods: seriously, with absolute conviction. 

“Do you want to see more?” 

Another serious nod. You slip out of the dress for him, letting the thin, pleated fabric loosen around you until you are revealed, naked and soft, for his hungry eyes. 

One strong arm wraps around your waist while the other fondles handfuls of your tits. He holds you there, mouth finding your nipples, sucking and licking them until they are pert and pebbled and glossy with his saliva. 

In that instant, you close your eyes, daring to imagine that this was not a transaction but real : that the gorgeous young man worshipping at your bosom is your lover, all yours , helping himself to every inch of you before he takes you. 

 “What do you like , soldier? What do you want me to do to you?” You move to your knees before him, putting your hands on his strong, tanned thighs and lightly slipping your fingers under the hem of his short tunica .

He hesitates, breath hitching, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of you between his legs. This isn’t his first time, you suspect, but something tells you Acacius may not be as practiced as some of his comrades in the art of love. The thought of showing him, guiding him, sends a thrill through you. 

Your hands undo his undergarment and find his cock. He stammers, trying to find his words to respond. 

“Would you like my mouth, hmmm?”

He nods, eyes trained on you, mouth open as you lick your lips and wrap them around the head of his cock. You move slowly, expertly; one hand holding him in place while the other caresses his balls, the way you know men like. 

It’s not that you were forced into the profession, not like some of the girls sold into it - though Juno knows, you’d have preferred another line of work. But there, in the lamp-lit room with this big, handsome, polite young soldier falling apart at your skilled touch? It’s a fucking joy . 

He whines and gasps as you vary the speed and movement, tongue flicking over his tip before you swallow him back down again. Acacius’s broad hand holds the back of your head as you move faster, taking him deeper. You feel his balls tighten as he falls back on the low couch, moaning and grunting with pleasure. 

“I’m…oh fuck , I’m close, I’m….”

He comes in your mouth with a cry, head thrown back on the couch and beads of sweat glistening along his neck, broad chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath.

A discreet spit and wipe and you tuck your naked curves against his spent body, fingertips slipping under the collar of his tunic to trace the line of his shoulders, the hollow of his throat.

He blinks his ebony-dark eyes open, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His exposed cock still glistens with your saliva and his come. “I didn’t mean to finish so quickly. I’m…I’m still dressed .” He grins, you giggle, and both of you burst out laughing. 

“No need to apologise, soldier. We have plenty of time, time enough to go again, surely. I’ll help.” You rise from the couch and gesture for him to follow you to the bed. 

“First things first - tunic off .”

You survey him now, naked, from your position on the bed. His body is taut and lean; too lean, perhaps, for his broad shoulders and long limbs. A few scars and bruises on his torso testify to his experiences in combat.

“Join me, won’t you?”

He settles close to your own naked form and his eyes move to your tits, pressed against the warm skin of his arm. You reach for his hand and bring the broad, calloused palm and fingertips to cup your breast.

You never forgot the fascination he seemed to have with your body. That first night, he traces the curve of your tits carefully with his fingers, playing a little with your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh before caressing every bit of you in turn. The softness of your belly, the meat of your thick thighs and ass, the line of your hips, the flesh of your arms and neck. 

Perhaps, you think, it has been a long time since he’s been with someone. Properly, that is. Perhaps his previous encounters were a more rushed affair, skirts hitched up to fuck hastily against a wall or a tree. 

Now he can take his time with you. Wetness pools between your legs, anticipating him. You bring his hand to your pussy, guiding him to the little nub of pleasure hidden in your folds as you ride his fingers.

“You feel that?” He nods, transfixed by the way your hips roll against him, the way you pant and moan as you get closer and closer to your peak. “Find this sweet spot on a woman, and she’s all yours.”

He’s getting hard again, you notice, and starts to work you more quickly with his thick fingers. He looks to you for approval, warm eyes round and earnest, and you praise him with breathless words before coming undone on his hand.

“ Gods , that was very good, soldier.” A few strokes of your hand to his cock, and you know he’s ready. “Your turn, now.”

Acacius shifts his broad body on top of yours, using one knee to push you open a little further for him. As he breaches your pussy for the first time, he leans forward and kisses you: slow, soft, tongue slipping between your lips as you hitch your knees up and wrap your arms around his neck. 

The young Spaniard fucks you deep and slow, his plush lips brushing against yours as his kisses mingle with both of your grunts and moans of pleasure. Such a display of tenderness is unusual here, where most men have one thing and one thing only on their minds as soon as they enter your chamber. 

There have been plenty of young soldiers, plenty of officers, plenty of Rome’s heroes in your arms, in your mouth, in your cunt. Some handsome. Most not. Some respectful. Most rough.

Acacius is…different. You couldn’t explain it, not back then. Not yet. But you know in that instant, as he moves inside you and you look into his dark eyes, that there is something special about this man.

***

He comes to you every second or third night for the remainder of his furlough in the city, to the point that the lena begins to refer to Acacius as “your soldier”. You, privately, miss him on those nights that he does not visit. 

He brings you gifts: wine, flowers, little cakes and sweets wrapped in pretty cloth. “You’ll have spent all your coin,” you chide him as you sit together on the couch, drinking wine and feeding each other the treats. “What will you say, if someone asks about the money you earned on campaign?”

Acacius leans in and plots a course of kisses down your neck, culminating at the fastening of your robe on your shoulder. He unpins the brooch and watches the fabric fall with a smile.

“I will say that it was money very well spent.”

***

The lena ’s knock on your chamber door is unusually early that day - not yet noon, you estimate, as you hastily finish pinning your hair and stand to receive her.

She smiles wryly as she leans against the doorframe. “You have a visitor .”

“This early?”

“Might I remind you that I determine the opening times of this house? Yes, this early, but…he wants to take you out .” She throws up her hands in response to your confused expression. “I know, I know, but you’re paid for! Put on something respectable, I doubt he wants you to look like a whore in public.”

You dress suitably, and fix your cloak around you before emerging into the large antechamber normally reserved for meeting clients. This morning, it is silent and empty, save for a lone figure standing with his back to you in the centre of the airy room.

He was a little broader, now, than he’d been the last time you saw him, eight or nine months ago. His arms and legs had grown more muscular, his garments evidently more expensive than the simple woollen tunic and cloak he wore the first time you met.

“Acacius?” 

He wheels around and that familiar smile greets you like a beam of warm spring sunlight after the long winter. After a close embrace and a kiss, he stands back to take you in.

“How have you become more beautiful since the last time I saw you?”

You shake your head and laugh, cupping his face in your hands and rubbing your thumbs against the bristling scruff he now wears. “And you seem even more handsome and dashing, soldier. You look like the emperor now, too, with this beard.”

Acacius blushes bashfully. “Perhaps…in truth, it was my commander that inspired it, as he favours a beard too.” He smiles and winks conspiratorially. “But then maybe he wishes to resemble Aurelius, no?”

With a smile you lead him back into the main hall of the brothel and towards the door that opens onto the street. “The lena tells me you wish to take me with you into the city today.”

He offers a little bow in confirmation. “I do. I would like to walk with you, away from these four walls.” A glance over his shoulder in the direction of the lena sitting at her desk, whose all-seeing, eagle-eyed gaze bores into the two of you. He speaks a little louder, for her benefit. “And I have promised to bring you back.”

He gives you his hand, you open the door, and together you step into the bustle of the imperial city.

***

“Am I correct in thinking that isn’t a native Roman accent?”

You nod, looking at Acacius from under your lashes. “It is not. I am a country girl by birth, from a farm in the north.”

He smiles with satisfaction. “I have an ear for accents. Hard not to, when you fight for an empire as vast as ours. How did you end up here, then?”

It is as if he is speaking to a… normal woman, not a whore. You swallow hard, looking at the ground as you compose yourself to answer, not wanting to sully your relationship with this man with the painful memories of the past. 

“I…was promised to a man, and he brought me to Rome. But he lied, and he cheated, and he died over an unpaid debt, and I…”

Acacius holds you in his kind, concerned gaze as your words trail off. Enough , you muse to yourself, I have said enough . 

“And you…had to stand on your own two feet.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze that feels as comforting, somehow, as if it were his warm embrace.

In the mercatus adjoining the new forum, he buys little cups of wine and a jar of olives for you to share as you walk together through the packed marketplace and public squares. The tall column honouring the victories of the emperor Trajan casts its long shadow on the gleaming marble pavements below.

“Perhaps some day they will build a monument to you,” you suggest, a wry smile on your lips. “A great bronze, to the great warrior Acacius.”

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment and laughs. “A monument to an ordinary centurion? I don’t think so, somehow. Now, a statue of my commander , on the other hand, would be entirely more likely and more fitting.”

“You admire him, don’t you?”

Acacius sips his wine and nods. “He is the greatest of commanders and the bravest of men. Kind, too, away from the battlefield. I… I would die for that man.” He turns to you and grins, excited. “Have I told you that he is from Hispania, too? He tells me sometimes that we’re the finest fighters in the empire.”

You give an impressed little coo. “Have I seen this great man? Perhaps he was with the rest of you, that first night…the night we met.”

“He was not.” He takes an olive from the little clay jar, a wistful look on his face. “General Maximus has a family - a wife, a little boy - and such love he has for them as I’ve never seen. He is the emperor’s most loyal general, but in truth he would give anything to return home to them, for good.”

The two of you fall silent for a few moments, each lost in your own thoughts. You study his handsome features as you walk together: his strong, proud nose, now marked with a fresh, livid scar; his fine brow, knitted in thought; the line of his pink mouth, framed by his dark beard.

“Is that something you would like, too - a wife, a family?”

He nods and smiles as he meets your gaze. “It is something I would like very much indeed.”

***

You think of him, worry for him, miss him in the long months of campaigning in far-flung corners of the empire. Without realising, you have become part of an invisible sisterhood: yet another daughter of Rome who goes about her business and makes her living, but whose heart and mind march, always, with “her” soldier. For the first time, you really see the careworn women carrying offerings and lighting candles at the little street shrines or in the temples, muttering prayers to Juno for the safe return of a husband, a lover, a brother, a son. 

You try to listen daily for updates from the newsreaders in the public fora, steeling yourself for news of a defeat. Even your work provides opportunities to stay abreast of the progress of the northern legions, as you hone your small talk with clients to focus on questions of war. Though other men might have your body for a short time, your soul is always and only with him , longing for the day he’ll be in your arms again.

He’s gone longer, this time. In your lonelier moments you wonder if perhaps he has met someone else, someone with whom he can have the family life he dreams of. 

He is not yours , you remind yourself as you make up your face for another night’s work. He can never be yours .

A commotion coming from the direction of the entrance hall startles you: strong, confident footsteps on the marble floor; the lena ’s voice calling angrily after someone; and suddenly, a knock on your chamber door. 

“My sweet, beautiful lady.”

Acacius sweeps you into his strong arms before you have finished opening the door properly, pulling you tight to him and covering your face with kisses as you wrap your arms around his neck and giggle with joy and relief at the sight of him.

“Your soldier hasn’t paid, girl!”

The lena ’s irritation is obvious even from the other end of the hall, her arms folded and jaw set. You break Acacius’s embrace and reach for his hand to guide him into the room.

“He’ll pay, don’t worry,” you call out to her down the hallway. “He’s been away fighting for a long time and he deserves his reward, one can hardly blame the man for being impatient!” 

He’s waiting for you as soon as you close the door, cloak discarded and body poised to pin you against the wall as he holds your face in his hands and leans in for a long, slow kiss. He drops one hand and you feel your garment being lifted as his thick fingers make their way between your thighs.

“Gods, I missed you. I��m so sorry I was away for so long.” He sucks on the delicate skin of your neck as you whine with pleasure, his fingertips finding the little nub of your pussy, just like you taught him. “Did you miss me, my love?”

“Mmm, I… oh, Acacius !” First one, then two fingers slip inside you, and you struggle to form a coherent thought. “I missed you, so very much, so much.”

He fucks you with his fingers there against the wall, the sound of your wetness both lewd and erotic as it mingles with your pants and little moans. He’s still in uniform , you realise, wrapping your arm around his leather-clad torso as you pull him tighter to you. Gods, he really couldn’t wait to see you. 

“I need to have you here, now,” he hisses in your ear as you edge closer to your peak. “Need to be inside you, feel you again.”

He withdraws his hand and turns you to face the wall, bending your body forward a little and caressing your ass appreciatively. The head of his cock presses against your entrance, opening and stretching you as he slides smoothly into your cunt with a low groan.

“As good as you remember?” You turn to give him a sly look as he starts to fuck you, deep and hard.

“ Better ,” he hisses. A broad hand reaches for your breast while the other grips the meat of your hip, holding you in place. “Been thinking about this, about you …every day, every night …”

His beard bristles against your skin as he angles his lips against your neck and shoulder, sucking and kissing and nipping at you. He’ll leave marks, you know that, and you know you shouldn’t let him, not in your line of work. But instead you just twine your fingers through his dark curls and keep him there, revelling in the sensation as you start to fall apart for him. 

Acacius mutters praise and filth into your ear in equal measure: how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how tight your cunt is, how well you take him. The fastenings and metal ornaments of his uniform press into your flesh as he fucks you harder and faster against the wall.

You shouldn’t have let him leave marks on you. And you definitely shouldn’t let him finish inside you. But, more than anything else, you want him to make you his, really and truly, inside and out. As his rhythm starts to falter, a slight arch of your back and an extra tilt of your hips sends him even deeper and makes him come. His groans of ecstatic pleasure as he fills you with his seed are music to your ears.

***

You bathe together in the brothel’s small, steamy bathhouse, your fingers tracing the scars and bruises his strong, solid body had acquired since the last time you were together. Acacius hums with pleasure as you wash his hair and rub perfumed oil into his skin, pressing your lips gently to every mark and freckle.

“I love you, you know.” 

Strange, how this impressive warrior could become so vulnerable as he says the words: eyes wide, expression open and hopeful, as he reaches for your hand and kisses your palm with tender reverence.

“I love you, too.”

***

Dawn breaks over the city and the early morning light reaches through your small, high window. The night was sleepless and perfect: lovemaking punctuated by conversation, by fruits and wine, and culminating in your two bodies wrapped naked around each other in your bed.

Acacius kisses you awake, smiling as your eyes blink sleepily open.

“My love is tired, I think.”

You arch an eyebrow and smirk suggestively. “Gods, I wonder why ?”

As you cuddle against his broad chest, you spy a leather coin purse resting on the table beside the bed. The sight pierces your soft, loving cocoon like an arrow to the heart.

He pays for you. 

Before you can second-guess yourself, you speak. “You don’t have to pay any more. Unless you would rather continue to buy me…”

His expression shifts from confusion to concern. “What do you mean?”

“You pay for me, but you love me and I love you and…It was different before, but now I think our love shouldn’t be bought .”

Acacius smiles and pulls you to him, kissing your forehead. “I know, my love. And I agree, but… Don’t you think your lena would be suspicious, if I stopped paying?”

“She only gets a cut, either way.” A thought occurs to you. “Perhaps we just give her the cut she’d get anyway, for appearances’ sake? And I’ll tell her you gave the rest to me directly.”

He nods, reaching for you again and holding you close against him. 

“Perhaps you won’t need to worry about the lena at all, any more.”

It’s your turn to be confused as you pull back a little and look in his eyes. 

“I was going to ask you anyway, I’ve been thinking about this all the time I was away… I wonder, would you be - would you consider being - my wife?”

“I could pay off any debt you owe to the lena, to this place.” He hastens to reassure you, seeing the look of shock on your face. “And I have money enough to buy us a beautiful home, some land… I have been promoted again, since I saw you last, and now we have some time together until the next campaign, we…we could marry, be together. Husband and wife. What do you say?”

Your heart says yes. Yes. Forever and always, yes , thank Juno and all the gods that brought this beautiful man to you. 

But hearts don’t make the rules in Rome.

You kiss him gently, twine your fingers through his, caress the dark curls that frame his handsome face. “I would give anything to be your wife.”

He smiles sadly. “But?”

“We can’t . Even if I left this world behind for good, I still wouldn’t be allowed to marry, and -”

“I have known men whose wives were once meretrices , it’s not always so strict,” Acacius interjects.

“Were these men imperial officers with a bright future ahead of them?” you ask, as kindly as you can. “At best, I could be a mistress.”

He frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t have to be an officer forever. I don’t want to do this forever, to wage war forever. So I’ll give it up, find another occupation, use my savings…I just want you , my love.”

His thumb wipes away the tears glistening on your face as you fight the sob rising in your throat. “I want you too, I love you too, but…you are under oath, under contract, are you not? They would come after you if you broke it, I would rather die than see you hurt on my account.”

Those beautiful dark eyes are resigned now, full of pain and all too aware that there is no way for this dream to become a reality. Acacius puts his arms around you and holds you tight to his chest, silently kissing the top of your head.

When he leaves you a couple of hours later, to attend to business elsewhere in the city, you turn over and weep, sure that you will never see him again.

***

Catalina knocks on your chamber door a couple of days later, anxiously looking around her, as if afraid she might be seen.

“I don’t think there’s a rule against visiting each other in our rooms, you know.”

“Can’t be too careful, now, can we?” She lowers her voice and beckons for you to come closer. “I’ve been given a message for you. From your soldier boy.”

You move quickly to sit on the couch, afraid that your legs might give way. “He…he came to you ?”

Catalina laughs a little too loudly, and claps her hand to her mouth. “No, he did not - sent one of the other legionaries to me, just so he could get word to you. Well, not just that, we did have a good time, me and young Sextus…” A knowing smile spreads across her face.

“The message . What was the message?”

She snaps out of her reverie and sits beside you. “Tomorrow, noon. The big temple on the Capitoline, at Juno’s cella .”

You nod, taking in the information and already plotting your excuse for the lena . “Catalina, why didn’t he come directly to me?”

“Apparently he was afraid you wouldn’t see him. He’s got it bad for you, according to his pal.” She turns and pulls you into a warm hug, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Good luck. I’ll make an offering for you.”

***

He’s already there when you arrive, standing at the entrance to the main cella and dressed simply but beautifully in a tunic, belt, and dark green cloak that only serves to emphasise his strong, broad build. You cross the marble floor to join him and he immediately reaches for your hand.

“I am so glad to see you, my love.”

You smile and squeeze his hand. “But why here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, and I needed courage - so I have made some offerings to the goddess.” Acacius nods towards the doors that lead to the cella of Juno, where priests busied themselves with candles, incense, and laying worshippers’ offerings on the goddess’s altar. “I hope she looks favourably upon me.”

“And me,” you add, and he grins. “Come, tell me. What is it that is so important?”

He leads you away from the cella and guides you through the throngs of people making their way to the great temple until you reach a quieter spot under a small portico.

“I meant what I asked you. I want to marry you, more than anything. I know, too, that the rules of this empire won’t allow it.” He takes both of your hands in his. “But I wondered if we could make our own rules.”

“Our own rules?”

He reaches into the leather purse hanging from his belt, and produces a small gold ring set with a polished garnet stone. 

“If we cannot marry by law, then perhaps we might marry in spirit.” He places the ring in your palm, wrapping his hand around yours.

The bustle of the city fades far into the distance. In that moment, it is just you and him.

“You wish this, even though I cannot tend your home, be a real wife to you? In spite of my… work ?”

Acacius nods, hand still cupped around yours. “You will be a real wife, in all the ways that matter to me. And in time I will find a way for us to make a home together.” He looks into your eyes and smiles that hopeful smile you love so much. “And, perhaps, to raise our children there.”

“My work, Acacius. I would still be doing…what I do, at least until then. This does not concern you?”

He shakes his head. “It is a profession, it is not you, no matter what the law says. You do not mind that I fight and kill for a living, this is no different.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t mind, but you are fighting for Rome , for an empire, not…selling yourself.”

“It is a profession .” Acacius reassures you, kissing you on the cheek. “And it is not forever.” He holds up the ring to you again. 

Your smile and nod is his cue to slip the gold band onto your finger, leaning in for a deep kiss as he pulls you tight to him and whispers in your ear.

“I am yours .”

A passing temple worshipper tuts loudly at the public display of affection, and you giggle. 

“And by Juno, I am all yours.”

***

The wedding feast, such as it is, is wine and sweetmeats purchased from a street vendor and consumed, picnic-style, in a quiet, secluded grove of trees near the river. He spreads his cloak on the ground, helps you down, and lays out the food before toasting you with the cup of wine he pours from a wineskin.

“You deserve a far greater feast than this, beloved.”

“This is already far more than I could ever have hoped for, my love.” You lean in and kiss him gently. “I only wish I could be a wife to you in the eyes of the law, too.”

Acacius shakes his head and strokes your cheek. “You are all I need, just as you are. Hang the law; I will find a way for us to live as man and wife. I promise.”

The dappled sunlight catches the garnet of your ring and you hold your hand up, delighted.

“It pleases you?”

“Very, very much.” You rest your head on his shoulder, both content in the quiet. Such pleasure, you think, to be here, with him - your husband , in spirit if not in law - away from the brothel, from the noise and the lena ’s eagle eye.

His hand drifts gently down your bare arm and along the line of your thigh as his lips find yours again. At your ankle, his thick fingers slip under the hem of your dress, hitching it up as his palm caresses your calf, your knee, and starts to plot a course towards your pussy.

“In public , husband?”

Acacius sighs happily at the word, encouraging you to lie back on the cloak as he moves himself between your open thighs. “There’s no one around, wife .” The bristle of his beard scratches at your neck as he nips and sucks at you, fingers already parting the lips of your cunt. “Aren’t couples supposed to consummate their marriage?”

You chuckle and writhe under his broad body as he pushes one, then two fingers into you. “Arguably we consummated this some time ago, my love,” you hiss, reaching under his tunic to undo the undergarment and stroke his cock. He whines with pleasure and fucks you a little faster as his thumb traces tight circles over that most sensitive, intimate place, smiling as you buck against him. 

“What did you tell me, that first night? Find this sweet spot and she’ll be all mine?”

“All yours.” Gods , you’re close. “And I am…I am all yours.”

You come almost as soon as his thick cock pushes inside you, unable to contain the cries of pleasure. You give no thought or care to the possibility of being discovered here, of a passerby witnessing your lovemaking. 

Let them see , you muse, as he fucks you hard and deep, fondling your tits through the fabric of your garment. Let them see how he takes me, fills me; how a man makes love to his new wife.

***

He comes to you every night, then, maintaining the fiction of a transactional relationship by having you give the lena her dues directly. She raised an eyebrow sceptically when you first explained the situation, but money is money, and if she suspects anything she does not let on.

In your chamber, you can almost pretend you are a normal couple. You dine together, bathe together, talk together. As he recounts his experiences with his legion, you realise the extent of his unassuming heroism and his nobility. Unlike many of the other soldiers you have encountered in this work, Acacius has a real sense of the human cost of war, of the humanity involved, whether Roman or barbarian. 

“It is no wonder General Maximus has sought to promote you, my love,” you tell him one evening as you pour him another goblet of wine. “You are clearly a great leader, as well as a great fighter.”

“He has trained me well.” He sips his wine and looks bashfully at the floor. “He does not seek to waste good men like some of the other commanders; he knows the value of their lives. And we look up to him, admire him, for that.”

Your private connubial bliss must, of course, play second fiddle to the demands of the empire. One night, he arrives with a dejected air, explaining sorrowfully and apologetically that his legion is returning to the northern campaign immediately - far sooner than he had anticipated. 

“I thought we had more time, my love. I am so sorry.” 

You smile, shake your head, and kiss him. “We will have plenty of time to come.”

That night, the last night together before fate would make her intervention and change the course of your lives, Acacius is content simply to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he sleeps.

***

The emperor is dead, and the city mourns. In the public squares and fora the newsreaders proclaim that Marcus Aurelius, philosopher-emperor, has died on campaign with the armies of the north, and succession passed to his heir, Commodus.

The armies of the north . Your thoughts turn, as they so often do, to Acacius. His commander was close to the old emperor, you remember, and the heir had a rather more difficult reputation. You walk back to the brothel and imagine your love, clad in the fur-trimmed woollen cloak worn on campaign in the north, willing your love and strength to him across the many miles.

Emperors come and emperors go, but life goes on. A months-long series of gladiatorial games is announced, to mark the death of Aurelius and the accession of his son. The lena cheers when she hears the news, knowing that the attendant surge in visitors to the city means a boost for her business. 

You keep abreast of political and military developments, as usual, via the more informed and talkative of your clients. Severus, a senior aide to one of Rome’s senators, is always happy to oblige.

“Quite the news from the north,” he says one evening, as you help him unwrap his heavy outer toga. 

“Is that so?” Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you steady yourself on the table before pouring him a goblet of wine. “Sit, tell me.”

“A traitor general , if you’ll credit it!” He sips the wine and shakes his head in astonishment. “Cursed the new emperor, took off and left his men. They think he went south, to his homeland. A Spaniard, you know.”

Your breath catches.

“Do you - do you know the name?”

Severus chews the inside of his cheek momentarily. “Marcus? No, that’s not it, it’s…Maximus. Maximus Decimus Meridius. One of Aurelius’s best men, they say, but off he went, revealed as a traitor.” 

He puts a hand on your thigh and leans in to kiss your neck, ignorant of the stunned, horrified look on your face as you try to process this information. He does not seem to notice or care that you barely react. You move into position on the bed unthinkingly, letting him strip you and bend you over so that he can fuck you the way he likes. 

You barely hear his grunts and moans, barely feel it when he pulls out and spills his come on your back. He says something to you before he leaves, but his words are a discordant buzz. Curled up on your bed, your mind races into the small hours until you drift into a fitful sleep.

***

The weeks pass, the games begin, and the blood of men and beasts stains the sandy ground of the Colosseum day after day. The new emperor, out for blood and driven mad with power, seems to want to undo the work of his father with each passing day, starting by crippling the senate.

Information about the fate of Maximus’s legions is scant and often contradictory. Some say that a new commander has been appointed and that the campaign continues, as usual. Others tell of a mutiny in the ranks, of infighting and chaos. Still more swear that the legions will come south and unite in Rome.

“He’ll come and find you, I know he will,” Catalina whispers to you as she passes in the hallway one morning. “Don’t give up. He’ll come.”

The not knowing is unbearable. You make daily offerings at the little shrines and altars in the streets, praying that you might, at least, discover Acacius’s fate for good or ill. 

As you pass a butcher’s shop, you overhear a familiar name, and stop in your tracks to listen as the butcher and his assistant regale their customers with the story of the great general who has become a gladiator.

***

“Where are you off to?”

The lena eyes you up and down in the entrance hall, arms folded across her chest.

“I’m going out for some air and to buy some little cakes, for tonight. We’ve got a while before today’s games are over, I want to take advantage of it.”

“Fair enough. Be back in plenty of time, mind, we want you all fresh and perfumed and powdered!”

You navigate the packed streets, stopping at the baker’s shop to buy a selection of the tiny fruit and honey cakes you like to have in your chamber, before turning back in the direction of the brothel. Your route is a little quieter and you know it by heart, making use of side streets and alleys to avoid the crowds.

You do not notice the hooded man standing in one of the doorways until he steps out in front of you. The parcel of cakes falls to the ground as you cry out with fright, and the man immediately kneels to retrieve it. His fingers caress the back of your hand, and in an instant, you know him.

“You came back to me, my love.”

Acacius lowers his hood slightly, eyes sparkling but alert to his surroundings, and takes your free hand in his, kissing it repeatedly. “Of course, my beloved. I have been trying to come home to you for a while, but given…” He pauses as he searches for the right word. “Given everything , it has taken a little longer than I’d hoped.”

He keeps his hood up as you open the door into the brothel, pulling you back to whisper in your ear. “I’d rather it not be known that I’m here, my love. Not tonight. Here, take this purse, tell the lena I’m a foreign visitor.”

You don’t ask for an explanation. He follows you inside, hanging back in the entrance hallway as you tell the lena that this gentleman approached you in the street and wanted to spend the night.

“He’s a quiet one.” She surveys Acacius suspiciously, and you pray she does not recognise his broad frame.

“He’s nervous, is all,” you suggest, as lightly as you can manage. “First time in the big city, he’s come from a long way off. Best make it a special night, eh?” 

She sighs, nods, and counts the coins as you lead the way to your chamber.

***

“I can explain everything, my love, or at least as much as I’m permitted to say.” Acacius takes off his cloak and settles on your couch, pulling you to him. You press your fingers to his lips.

“After. Explain after.”

The lamps and candles cast a soft glow on the contours of your body as you slip out of your dress and gently sit on his lap, tracing the lines of his features with your fingertips as you kiss his face, featherlight. 

“I hope I’m not too heavy for you, love.” 

He smiles and shakes his head, mouth a little ajar as he takes in the sight of you. “You are perfect.” He tilts his head and sucks on each of your nipples, holding you in place around the waist, as your hand slips under his tunic. A shift of your hips and you are straddling one leg, rocking your hips back and forth against his strong thigh, gasping at the sensation as your cunt grazes against the warm skin, soft hair, and firm muscle.

He watches you, enthralled, one hand resting on your ass and the other squeezing your tits. You hold his gaze, then, caught in the dark fire of his beautiful eyes as you reach your peak and come hard on him, head thrown back and body quivering with pleasure.

“Gods, you are extraordinary.” He helps you stand up and guides you to the bed, tucking a pillow under your head before he strips off and joins you. “My extraordinary woman, I have missed you so.”

His beard scratches against your skin as he kisses your body, moving from your tits down to your soft belly and generous thighs. His lips press against your mound, your pussy, tongue diving into the slick that’s pooled between your legs. 

“You taste spectacular,” he murmurs, shifting forward. He kisses you, deep and slow, so that you can taste yourself as he pushes his cock inside you.

“See?”

You giggle as he begins to fuck you, pulling in and out slowly and deliberately, making sure you feel every inch of him and he every inch of you. 

The worries and uncertainty fade as you make love, bodies moving in perfect harmony, mingled voices gasping and moaning with pleasure, and sweat glistening on your skin. 

After . Explain after.

***

“There are legions at Ostia.”

You pop one of the little cakes into his mouth and settle against his shoulder. Ostia . You like the way he pronounces it, the inflection of his accent.

“Legions?”

He looks at you cautiously. “Legions.” His face tells you he cannot say more, and you fill in the blanks for yourself.

His legion. Maximus’s legions?

“And you rode into the city on…business?”

He nods and reaches for the cup of lemon water on the bedside table. “Business, yes. In preparation for the games to come.”

“Can you stay tonight, or must you return to…?” You daren’t name the place.

“I can stay tonight, but must leave at first light.” He puts his arm around you and lowers his voice. “My love, there may be some trouble in the days to come. I will come for you as soon as I can, but…be warned. Be ready.”

He speaks with such grave sincerity that you immediately understand the stakes involved. “I will be ready, love.”

***

The commotion outside in the streets brings you and the rest of the girls into the main antechamber, wondering what on earth is going on to cause such tumult. There is no sign of the lena , though her ledger and pen have been left in their usual places on her little table. 

Althea runs a finger along the edge of the scroll and emits a low whistle. “You don’t think she’s done a runner, do you?”

Catalina shakes her head. “She wouldn’t leave the ledger behind. Or, for that matter” - she gestures to a little box discreetly tucked between a pillar and the wall - “her petty cash.”

The sound of the main door opening hushes the gathering, and the lena strides purposefully into the room.

“Suppose you’re all wondering what’s going on, hmmm? Well, ladies, looks like we’ve got another dead emperor. No-one seems to be mourning that lunatic, though, unlike his father…Anyway!” She throws up her hands and rolls her eyes in exasperation as she seats herself at the table. “Just another ordinary, quiet day in Rome.”

You and the other girls cluster around the lena , asking question upon question as you vie for information. With a roar, she silences you again.

“All’s I know is this - he died in the arena, and it was that Merciful Maximus or Maximus the Merciful or whatever in Hades’ name they call that gladiator who did it. Commodus challenged him to a duel, didn’t he?” She sucks her teeth. “Not the brightest, that one.”

“Maximus?” Your voice cuts through the gasps and mutterings of the other girls. “Maximus defeated the emperor?”

The legions. This is why they were at Ostia, to overthrow the emperor and restore the senate. You wonder if Acacius has already entered the city - indeed, if he was there to witness the fight.

“He did,” the lena sighs. “Fat lot of good it did him, he’s dead now, too. Right! Back to your chambers, we might get a few boys in festive mood now that Commodus is gone.”

Your stomach churns as you walk silently down the hallway and back to your room. If Maximus’s legions had massed at Ostia to march on the city, and were already on the move, who knew what fate awaited them now that the general was dead, leaving a power vacuum at the very top of Rome? Or perhaps, you reason with yourself, the senate will work quickly to restore order, and will not punish the legionaries who were ready to stage a coup. After all, it was the senate they were fighting for.

One way or another, tomorrow you will begin the search for Acacius.

***

Trade was as dead as the emperor that night, much to your relief. In the early hours, you lie awake and stare at the painted ceiling, thinking over and over about the places he might be and where you should start. Sleep, eventually, finds you.

You dream that he has come to you, that he is calling you by name, over and over, shaking you by the arm until you respond.

“Please, my love, wake up.”

No dream at all. He is there, real and whole, sitting on the side of your bed. His handsome face is marked with dirt and grime, hands and knees grubby, as if he has come fresh from a long journey on horseback. 

You sit up and reach for his hand. “Acacius…husband. You’re alive, you’re safe.”

He nods in response, until he buries his face in his hands and leans forward, head between his legs, and gives a devastated, feral roar the likes of which you’ve never heard before. You tentatively move beside him, fingers working to undo his cuirass so that you can rub his back through the thin fabric of his tunic. His big, strong body shakes with fury and hurt under your gentle caress. 

Neither of you speak for some time. You try to ground and console him with your touch, your closeness; and in time his rapid breathing slows and he raises his head to speak.

“I would have come sooner.” His voice is low and croaky, worn out by a day of shouting. “I would have come…I had to help them, had to get the boy away, get him safe.” He looks at his grimy hands, as if noticing them for the first time. “The road was dusty, I’m covered in the stuff. I’m sorry, I…”

You shake your head and nod at him to continue. Acacius sighs despondently. 

“I was in the arena today. Me, a few other officers, other centurions, all loyal to Maximus, the senate, the people. We wanted to be ready, to prepare for the others.”

He reaches for your hand, cupping it in both of his and kissing it with reverent care. 

“I…we…” His voice breaks a little. “He died , there on the arena floor. Murdered by his own emperor.” He steadies himself, a note of rage entering his tone. “He was a hero of Rome. A hero of Rome . And that was how his life ended. That was his reward.”

He looks at you, features set hard, eyes burning with anger. And then his face softens, expression crumples, and he cannot hold back the tears as he buries his face against your shoulder.

***

You wash him clean of that terrible day in the baths, anointing his cuts and bruises with balms, ointments, and kisses. 

He watches as you apply the mixtures carefully to his skin. “I did not know you were a doctor, sweet lady.”

“No doctor,” you smile. “Just some knowledge passed from my mother and aunts, about healing plants and balms. I like to keep a few with me, just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“In case I marry a soldier.”

When he is clean, you dress him in a plain tunic from the linen cupboard and take him to bed.

Acacius rests his head on your bosom as you stroke his hair, his strong arm draped across your body. After a time, he breaks the silence.

“How can I keep fighting, if this is the fate of a Roman hero?” He shakes his head a little. “And yet, I am bound by my oath to serve.”

You kiss his forehead and stroke his cheek, tracing the line of a scar. “What would he say to you now?”

He looks up at you with those pitch-dark eyes, permitting himself a little smile. “Apart from ‘how did you ever manage to get a woman as lovely as her to marry you ’?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Apart from that.”

“He would probably say that the dream of Rome is worth fighting for.”

“I think you have your answer, then.”

He does not seem entirely convinced as he sits up beside you and leans in for a kiss. “Perhaps.” Another kiss. “Or perhaps only love is worth fighting for.”

You lie down and pull him to you, happy to feel his solid weight on top of you again. “Aren’t you fighting for love, though, when you fight for Rome?”

“If only she weren’t such a cruel mistress.” He kisses your neck, tugging down the neck of your robe to expose your breast. “Gods, I need you, my love.”

With your help, he discards his own tunic and takes off your dress. He sits back on his heels for a moment, running his big hands up your bare legs as he looks into your eyes.

“I am all yours, Acacius.” You extend your hand to him, guiding him into position. “Let me help you forget it all, even if just for tonight.”

He moves forward on top of you, holding your gaze for a few moments as he caresses your face and strokes your hair. His kiss is tender but urgent, his hand reaching for your breast as he starts to grind against you. 

“All yours, my love,” you repeat, watching as he moves back down your body. “Take me as you wish, as you need.”

He tries to take in every part of you with his mouth, lips moving with desperate need and grazing over your tits, your soft belly, your hips. One, two thick fingers slip between your thighs, keen to remind you what you taught him that first night together. You writhe against him as his beard scrapes against the delicate skin and curls that cover your mound, unable to stop yourself guiding him between your legs.

”Mine. Mine .” Acacius mutters the word as he hooks his arms under your thighs and buries his face against your cunt, nose rubbing against you while his tongue parts your folds. It’s as if he wants to devour you, such is the urgency with which he sucks and laps and licks. He runs his fingers over your dripping core and drops his hand to his cock, using your wetness to stroke himself as he continues to eat you out. He laps greedily at you as you come, your slick still glistening all over his face as he shifts forward and enters you.

He holds you down as he fucks you hard, fingers twined through yours, sweat dripping from his beautiful body onto your tits. There’s a desperation to his lovemaking tonight, a desire to escape his grief by losing himself in you - in your cunt, your flesh. He comes with a roar, filling you with life as he tries to rid himself of the bloody memory of death.

***

He leaves in the early morning, following military orders to assemble at the Field of Mars in spite of his misgivings and wavering loyalty. You make love before he goes: slow, soft, congress in the dawn light. 

You watch him dress, sitting up naked in bed. “Be careful, my love.”

Acacius fastens his cloak and leans in for a final kiss. “You too, love. I will come for you as soon as I can.” Before he leaves the room, he nods towards a leather pouch resting on the table.

“That isn’t payment , in case you are wondering. It is my duty as your husband - some money, should you need it urgently while I am away.” He looks as though he would rather sacrifice himself in the arena than leave. “I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him, until he appeared, a decade and a half later, as a vision in white: the triumphant hero of empire.

***

The crowds have dispersed now, the city humming with excitement at the prospect of a series of games to celebrate the feats of Acacius and his army in Numidia. 

The terracotta oil lamps cast a warm, comforting glow around your small home, nestled in a side street in a decidedly unfashionable part of the city. The brothel is firmly in the past for you now, as you earn a living making medicinal balms and ointments, using recipes learned from your mother and aunts. You prepare your simple evening meal and eat it quietly, preoccupied all the while by Acacius. 

He had seen you today, you were sure of it. What did he remember of you, of your love, of the secret “marriage” of spirit the two of you had entered into? Had he recognised you at all? He had grown even more handsome with the passing of time. You were not sure the same could be said of your beauty.

The little metal figurine lies on the table before you, your fingertips tracing over the outline of the man you had loved so much. With a gentle sigh, you move to the corner of the room and retrieve a plain, well-worn wooden box from the chest that holds your most precious possessions. He fits in well here, this Acacius, nestled among carefully-folded fabric you have preserved like a relic all these years. 

What might have been, in another world. But you have your memories, and your relics, and the comfort of having seen him one more time, after all these years.

***

A day or so later, you are about to turn in for the night when you hear the distinctive sound of a horse coming to a halt just outside your home, swiftly followed by a firm knock. A knock on your door at this hour is not usual , but neither is it unexpected or unprecedented. People have, on occasion, come in urgent circumstances, desperately seeking this balm or that ointment. 

You reach for your mantle and open the door a little. “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll get you what you need, if I have it.”

The cloaked figure at your door chuckles, turns, and takes down their hood.

"So you really do live. I am not sure one of your fine balms could fix the problems I’m facing, dear lady.”

You steady yourself on the doorframe, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or touch him to make sure he’s really there. 

“Oh, gods… Acacius .” You shake your head and correct yourself quickly. “I mean, General Acacius, I… how ?”

“Acacius, please. I’ll always just be Acacius with you.” He crosses an arm over his chest in a gesture of honourable sincerity, those dark eyes warm and oh so familiar, even after a distance of nearly twenty years. “May I come in?”

You gesture towards the table at the centre of the room and close the door, still not quite believing that he is really here , in your little home. He is no longer wearing the dress uniform, you notice, spying a simpler tunic and belt under the cloak. 

“I have some wine, if you would like? Nothing like the fine stuff you’re used to now, of course, but…”

“Anything you have is perfect.” Acacius moves closer to you and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to it and smiling with delighted recognition when he realises you still wear the ring he gave you. He seems reluctant to let go, caressing your hand in both of his as his eyes take you in from head to toe. “I am so happy to see you…I thought I would never see you again. I…”

Before he can finish his sentence, you throw your arms around him and pull his beautiful, broad frame to you in a tight embrace.

***

The conversation is light, at first - small talk, mostly about the triumph, about the campaign in Africa, the sheer weight of the special armour and cloak he had worn for the procession, his relief in seeing his wife, Lucilla.

You smile when he mentions her. “You are both very lucky indeed, I think. She’s much loved, very beautiful, kind… maybe now you are home we will see more of her in the city? She is missed by the people.”

Acacius purses his lips. “Her movements are…not always in her own hands, these days.”

You nod in understanding as silence settles over the two of you.

He sips his wine and takes a deep breath. “I came back for you, did you know that? All those years ago. I kept my word, my vow to you. But you were gone .”

He tells his side of the story simply, though at times he struggles to keep his emotions in check. After Maximus’s death, it was well over a year before Acacius saw Rome again. In the political turmoil that followed the demise of Commodus, young officers like him were deployed to various parts of the empire to secure the Roman presence - and, he suspected, to prove their loyalty to the litany of new emperors who followed in quick succession. 

“As soon as I got back to the city, first chance I got, I went to find you. And everything was different - a new lena in the place.” He shakes his head at the memory. “When I asked about you, she…well, she said you were gone.”

You press your fingertips against the surface of the table. “I had returned to the family farm, I meant to come back, but…”

Acacius nods. “She knew you had gone to your family, but she told me you were dead . Said the news was that you’d died, a few months after you left Rome.”

He tells how he refused to accept your death. He searched for you as best he could, trying to piece together the little he knew about your life before Rome, before the brothel, before him . Dead end after dead end eventually convinced him, against his instincts, that you were really gone.

”I mourned you as a…a husband . Grew my hair for the period of mourning, didn’t trim my beard…” He smiles sadly. “I even covered my head and burned that linen tunic you’d dressed me in, that last night we spent together, in lieu of a funeral pyre. It was all I had of you.”

You reach for his hand, noticing the scars and callouses that were not there the last time you held it so tenderly. “I am so sorry, my lo-” The words came as easily as they did that last morning together. You checked yourself. “I mean, Acacius .”

He squeezes your hand and continues. “I kept telling myself I had let you down. Had I been here I could have helped you, made sure you were safe, protected you.” A sombre look darkens his features. “When I saw you up there in the crowd, for an instant I wondered if I was seeing things, if you were an apparition…reminding me that I had failed you.”

“You could never fail me, Acacius. Never. Not then, not now.” 

You sip your wine as you prepare to tell him your side of the story.

“I left Rome a couple of months after you did, and went back north to my family. I had to go but I intended to return, because I knew you would keep your word.”

Silence, again, and you know exactly what he’s going to ask you.

“Why did you leave the city…why did you have to go?”

Another sip of wine.

“I was with child.”

***

When you were absolutely certain, about two months after he left, you packed your things and made the necessary arrangements. His money helped pay your way northwards and home - and paid off your outstanding debts to the lena .

“Don’t you have siblings who can look after your ailing mother?”, she’d said, already starting to count your coin. “Can’t be doing with losing good girls like you, these days.”

“Only my brother remains on the farm, and he cannot manage it and care for my mother at the same time.” It wasn’t a lie , not really. Your sisters were scattered, and since your father’s death the farm was your brother’s responsibility. And strictly speaking, he did have to care for your mother - even if she wasn’t ailing in the way you’d described to the lena to justify your sudden departure.

You looked carefully at every soldier you saw on the road north, hoping against hope that one of them might be yours . In a roadside tavern you even asked after Acacius, after you overheard a group of legionaries talking about Maximus, but to no avail. 

At home, you were circumspect about your situation in Rome - and about the circumstances of your pregnancy. Pressed repeatedly by your mother, you told her the father was a young officer who loved you very much.

“And where is this lover boy, now that he’s got a child on you?” She surveyed your swelling belly with a mixture of irritation and resignation.

“He returned to his legion and we have had no word since.” Another not-really-a-lie. 

Your mother rolled her eyes, but could not disguise the sympathy in her tone. “Tale as old as time.”

You did whatever work you could, within the limits imposed by your condition. And one day, as you rested for a few moments in the meadow, the sun glinting off your garnet ring as your hand lay protectively across your swollen stomach, you felt the child quicken in your womb.

In your lowest moments, you worried that your certainty about paternity was misplaced, given the nature of your work. With every fibre of your being, though, you knew that this child was his. It could be no one else’s.

You planned, originally, to give birth and raise the child to the point where they could be taken care of by another while you worked. At that stage, you assumed, you and your child would return to Rome - and to Acacius.

But fate dealt a very different hand

***

There’s shock and sadness and a kind of excitement, even, in Acacius’s eyes as he listens to you tell the story. Realisation dawns: he was a father .

His voice is hushed. “A boy or a girl?”

You squeeze his hand, as much for your own comfort as for his. “A boy. And your double, from the moment he came into this world - all dark eyes and curly hair and even strange little habits and gestures that I knew were yours . I…named him for you.”

“A son .” He seems awestruck. “I have a son . Gods, I wish I had known.”

“I am so sorry, Acacius, I wish I could have found a way to tell you, for you to know…but I had no idea where you were, how I could find you or reach you.” You swallow back the tears. “Truly, please forgive me.”

He shakes his head and leans a little closer to you. “You don’t need to apologise, there’s nothing to forgive.” He kisses the back of your hand again before wiping an errant tear from your cheek. 

You look at him - really look at him, really take him in properly after all this time apart. He wears his age beautifully, from the lines on his face to the silvery strands of hair that frame his brow. Acacius has acquired more scars in his years of soldiering - across the bridge of his fine nose, a more livid, longer mark to his right cheek. But his eyes, in spite of all the terrible things he has seen and all the blood he has spilled, are as warm and kind when they look at you as they were the first night you met. 

“I always meant to come back to the city,” you continue. “I thought we’d return once he was old enough, find you again, and somehow make a life together. And then my mother died, and I couldn’t leave my brother to tend the farm alone, and my… our boy was so happy there. You were rising through the ranks, too, and a woman and child would have been the last thing you needed.”

Acacius shakes his head, regretfully, and sips his wine. 

“Did you tell him? About me?”

“As soon as he was old enough, yes. I told him all about you.” You smile at the memory of that time and tell him about your little boy’s bright eyes and dark curls, the wide smile on his face as he dashed here and there on the farm, chasing chickens and helping his uncle plant seeds. Your brother whittled him a rudimentary wooden sword, so that he could fight imaginary battles in the fields and cry out, with all the force his little voice could muster: “I am Acacius, hero of Rome.”

“He’s near a man now, I suppose?” Acacius looks around the room, as if making sure he hasn’t missed the boy somehow. 

You close your eyes as another memory casts a long, dark cloud of grief and pain: a memory of fever sweeping the countryside, of the horror as your bright, clever boy fell ill overnight, of your desperate attempts to heal him. And that indelible image, the one that still wakes you at night, sometimes: your brother, tears rolling down his weathered farmer’s face, carrying the small body in its small shroud.

***

Acacius says nothing for a long time, just holds your hand on the table and stares at his cup of wine as he tries to comprehend what you have told him. He breaks his silence with just two words.

“How old?”

“He was seven.”

You rise from the table, gently squeezing his shoulder as you cross towards your wooden chest and take out the plain wooden box where you had placed the miniature Acacius a couple of nights before. Settling back beside him at the table, you remove the lid and show him the contents.

“Is this…” He smiles wryly at the little figurine, picking it up to examine it more closely.

“I told you, didn’t I? They would cast you in bronze some day, Or, if not bronze, whatever that is.”

Carefully, you take out the rest of the items you’d stored with such love since the day you lost your beloved boy. A small tunic. A pair of his sandals, still marked with dust from the farm. A wax tablet, inscribed with his rudimentary letters and numbers. 

Acacius handles his son’s belongings as though they are the most precious objects in the world. He turns a little figurine of a soldier, carved from bone, over and over in his palm.

“He loved that one best.” 

It is strangely comforting and intimate to sit with Acacius in this shared grief, watching him somehow try to know the little boy he never met through the few belongings he left behind in the world.

“Acacius…” He looks at you, eyes glistening with tears, and you fight the urge to embrace him again. “I think you should keep that. If you wish, of course, but -”

He nods, cupping the toy in his big hand before placing it with great care and tenderness in the leather pouch on his belt.

“I can carry him with me.”

***

Before he leaves you, you give him a jar of your very best healing ointment as a parting gift. 

“For your next campaign, to help with cuts and bruises.”

He kisses you on the cheek, smiling as he opens the jar and inhales the warm, fragrant aroma of the balm. “I hope to get some respite from the battlefield for a while.”

You grin. “I’m glad to hear it. And I am so glad that you have a wonderful wife to go home to.”

His travelling cloak once more around his broad shoulders, Acacius bids you farewell and holds you in a long, tight embrace and murmurs into your ear.

“I loved you so very much. Always remember that.”

***

More games. More bloodshed. You stay at home, away from the festivities and the crowds. 

Another late-evening knock to your door, and this time you decide not to answer. The games have brought a rowdy crowd to the city, and it’s impossible to know what awaits on the other side. 

They knock again, firmly, clearly. Not the knock of a drunk, you muse.

You open the door to a young man, dressed in the typical garb of a servant, and a woman of regal bearing, dressed in a simple hooded cloak. 

“May I come in?”

She leaves the servant outside and checks that the door is firmly shut before she takes down her hood, revealing her fine features and blonde curls as you gasp in recognition - and panic.

“Gods! I mean…my lady, I…”

Lucilla smiles that sweet smile so beloved of the ordinary citizens and reaches for your hand, attempting to steady your evident nerves. “Please, don’t be alarmed. I cannot stay long, but…may we sit?”

Dumbfounded, you gesture towards your simple wooden chairs, watching in astonishment as the daughter of Marcus Aurelius seats herself at your table. She nods towards the other chair, encouraging you to join her.

“I am very sorry for arriving like this so late in the evening, unannounced. I do hope I’m not putting you out.”

You shake your head quickly, panic and terror still written all over your face, and she chuckles gently. “Please, I meant it - you have nothing to fear from me. And yes, I know my husband came to see you.” 

“He…I mean, I…I mean, we …”

Lucilla places her elegant, pale hand on the back of yours by way of reassurance. “I know. He has often spoken of you to me - and of his sorrow at not being able to protect you. When he realised you still lived, well…I simply wanted to meet the woman who meant so much to Acacius. We have a lot in common, you and I.”

For a moment, you wonder if you are dreaming. Most women would rather ignore their husband’s past loves, let alone want to visit them. 

“You didn’t mind that he came to see me?”

She shakes her head, blue eyes meeting yours. “Not at all. In fact, I encouraged him to seek you out, after he saw you during the triumph.”

“I…I’m not sure I understand, my lady.”

“We’ve lived , you and I, haven’t we? When Acacius and I met, I had already lost so many people. My husband, my father, my brother…and the man who was my first great love.”

Lucilla looks away for a moment, emotion threatening her poise. She speaks haltingly, more quietly now. “And I lost my son, too. I was very sorry to hear about your boy.” 

In that instant you forget all etiquette and protocol and extend your hand to hers, to comfort and to share the burden of your common grief. No more a former prostitute and the daughter of a great emperor - here, at your rustic table, you are simply two women united by the experience of loss.

“So we do have much in common, it seems, my lady.”

“We do. And that’s without even mentioning Acacius.” She smiles at you conspiratorially, and laughter fills the small room. 

“It haunted him, not having been able to find you again. Not getting to say goodbye, to tell you how much you meant.” She pulls her cloak more tightly around herself and rises from the table. “I was able to bid farewell to my first great love. When we realised you were alive, well…I wanted my beloved Acacius to have that chance, too.”

Before she takes her leave, Lucilla embraces you, kissing each cheek. “Thank you for loving him so well, all those years ago.”

You nod, still not quite believing that this conversation is really happening. “And thank you , for loving him now. And for encouraging him to visit me. He…he married a very good woman.”

She pulls up her hood and moves to the door, pausing for a moment. “He has always had impeccable taste, it seems.”

A final smile and nod, and she is gone, helped onto her horse by her servant before they ride away into the night, and home to the waiting arms of a hero of Rome.

[youryurigoddess]

A nightingale sang in the London Blitz

When exactly was that certain night, the night Aziraphale and Crowley met — and spoke for the first time in 79 years in the midst of the London Blitz?

And what’s the deal with the nightingale’s song, really?

Grab something to drink and we’ll look for some Clues below.

The night they met

The Blitz, short for Blitzkrieg (literally: flash war) was a German aerial bombing campaign on British cities in the WW2, spanning between 7 September 1940 and 10 May 1941. The Luftwaffe attacks were carried out almost non stop, with great intensity meant to force a capitulation and similarly strong impact on British life and culture at the time.

Starting on 7 September 1940, London as the capital city was bombed for nearly 60 consecutive nights. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed, half of the total victims of this campaign.

The night of 29 December 1940 saw the most ferocity, becoming what is now known as the Second Great Fire of London. The opening shot of the S2 1941 minisode is a direct reference to recordings of that event, with the miraculously saved St Paul’s Cathedral in the upper left corner.

The actual raid lasted between 06:15 and 09:45 PM, but its aftermath continued for days. The old and dense architecture of this particular part of the city turned into a flaming inferno larger than the Great Fire of 1666. Multiple buildings, including churches, were destroyed in just one night by over 100,000 bombs.

Incendiary bombs fell also on St Dunstan-in-the-East church that night, the real-life location of this scene as intended by Neil. It was gutted and again claimed by fire in one of the last air rides on 10 May, when the bomb destroyed the nave and roof and blew out the stained glass windows. The ruins survived to this day as a memorial park to the Blitz.

Such a delightfully Crowley thing to do: saving a bag of books with a demonic miracle adding to the biggest catastrophe for the publishing and book trade in years. 5 million volumes were lost, multiple bookshops and publishing houses destroyed in the December 29th raid alone.

Even without this context, judging by the seemingly unending night, overwhelming cold and darkness, broken heating at the theatre, and seasonal clothing (like Aziraphale and Crowley’s extremely nice winter coats), it’s rather clear that it was the very beginning of the year 1941.

Everything suggests that Aziraphale and Crowley’s Blitz reunion happened exactly 1900 years after their meeting in Rome — which, according to the script book, took place between 1 and 24 January 41 (Crowley was right: emperor Caligula was a mad tyrant and didn't need any additional tempting; there's a reason why he was murdered by his closest advisors, including members of his Praetorian Guard, on 24 January 41).

Interestingly, both events involved a role reversal in their otherwise stable dynamic, with Aziraphale spontaneously taking the lead instead of letting the demon be the one to do all the tempting and saving, and ended with a toast.

The S2 Easter Egg with the nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl playing table tennis at the theatre suggests that the Blitz meeting happened on a Tuesday afternoon, which doesn’t match any of the above mentioned days, but sets the in-universe date for 7 January 1941 or later.

The Chattering Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the nuns are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.

The nightingale

January means one thing: absolutely no migratory birds in Europe yet. They’re blissfully wintering in the warm sun of Northern Africa at the time. But, ironically, when the real nightingales flew off, a certain song about them suddenly gained popularity in the West End of London.

It might be a shock, but A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square wasn’t a hit from the start — even though its creators, Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin, were certainly established in their work at this point. The song was written in the then-small French fishing village of Le Lavandou shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War with first performance in the summer of 1939 in a local bar, where the melody was played on piano by the composer Manning Sherwin with the help of the resident saxophonist. Maschwitz sang his lyrics while holding a glass of wine, but nobody seemed impressed. It took time and a small miracle to change that.

Next year, the 23-year-old actress Judy Campbell had planned to perform a monologue of Dorothy Parker’s in the upcoming Eric Maschwitz revue „New Faces”. But somehow the script had been mislaid and, much to her horror, replaced with the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. She had never professed to be a singer but even so, she gathered her courage and went out onto the moonlit set dressed in a white ball gown. Her heartfelt rendition of the now evocative ballad captured the audience’s imagination and catapulted her West End career to stardom.

It was precisely 11 April 1940 at the Comedy Theatre in Panton Street and the revue itself proved to be a great success — not only it kept playing two performances nightly through the Blitz, but also returned the next year. And the still operating Comedy Theatre is mere five minutes on foot from the Windmill Theatre, where Aziraphale performed in 1941, and not much longer from his bookshop.

Now, most Good Omens meta analyses focus on Vera Lynn’s version of the song from 5 June 1940, but it didn’t get much attention until autumn, specifically 15 November, when Glenn Miller and his orchestra published another recording. And Glenn Miller himself is a huge point of reference in Good Omens 2.

According to the official commentary the infamous credits scene is establishing Aziraphale and Crowley’s final resolve for the next season using the same narrative device The Glenn Miller Story (1954) does in its most crucial scene. It starts with the tune (and audio in general) totally flat, then adds a piano on one side, and gradually becomes fully multidimensional. The Good Omens credits not only emulate the same sound effect, but bring it to the visual side of the narrative by literally combining the individual perspectives of the two characters together. Even though they’re physically apart, their resolve — and love to each other — brings them even closer than before. Aziraphale smiles not because he’s being brainwashed, but because he knows exactly what to do next.

Some of you might have noticed that Tori Amos’s performance for Good Omens is actually a slightly shortened version of Miller’s recording — much less sorrowful than Vera Lynn’s full lyrics that include i.a. this bridge:

The dawn came stealing up

All gold and blue

To interrupt our rendez-vous

I still remember how you smiled and said

Was that a dream or was it true?

Which is a huge hint when it comes to what we can expect from the main romantic plot line in the Good Omens series. The original song introduces an element of the doubt — it seems like there was no nightingale at all, only the mirage woven by the singer clearly intoxicated with love, much like Aziraphale and Crowley for the length of the last six episodes. Crowley’s comment in the season finale might allude to that interpretation, stating that there are no nightingales — never have been. It was all a dream. But the version we’re working with here is short and sweet, and devoid of that doubt. In the Good Omens universe angels were actually dining at the Ritz, the streets were truly paved with stars (or will be shown as such in the next season), and a nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square, as the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent narrator, God Herself, had shown us.

All in all, it’s not an accident that the “modern” swing ballad activating Aziraphale’s memory and opening the 1941 minisode is the Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It’s a track naturally associated with A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square when it comes to music style and the sentiment in the lyrics.

But why the sudden popularity? In the great uncertainty and hardship of the Blitz, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square provided solace and escapism for listeners, offering a glimpse of hope and love amidst the darkness of war. It became a universal anthem of resilience and a reminder of the power of love transcending difficulties. By January 1941 the whole city knew this tune by heart, including a certain West End aficionado with a cabinet full of theatre programs in his bookshop. Thanks to Maggie’s grandmother, he most probably had a record at hand to play during his spontaneous wine night with Crowley. We can only suspect the details, but it was was mutually established as their song exactly at that time or soon afterwards. Pretty sure we will see a third installment of that minisode for many, many reasons, but especially because of this “several days in 1941” answer by Neil:

The Man Hunt

In 1941 A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square gained even more popularity as the romantic theme of the Fritz Lang’s newest film Man Hunt. The 1939 story by Geoffrey Household first appeared under the title “Rogue Male” as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly Magazine where it received widespread comment, soon becoming a world-wide phenomenon in novel form. Its premise criticizes Britain's pre-war policy of appeasement with Germany, ready to sacrifice its own innocent citizens to the tentative status quo. Sounds a bit like Heaven's politics, right?

Yes, I'm trying to make you watch old movies again — like all the other classics, Man Hunt (1941) is easily available on YouTube and other streaming websites.

The next part will include spoilers, so scroll down to the next picture if you prefer to avoid them.

The plot of the movie seems simple enough: the tall, dark, and handsome Alan Thorndike, who nearly assassinates Hitler, narrowly escapes Germany and back in London continues to evade the Nazi agents sent after him with the help of a young trench-clad “seamstress” named Jerry, bridging the class divide and becoming unlikely friends-partners-romantic interests. It doesn’t end well though.

Jerry's small London apartment serves as a hideout for Alan when he was being followed by Nazis, similarly to how Aziraphale's bookshop is a safe haven for both Crowley and Gabriel in S2. She helps the man navigate the streets and eventually out of London — by sacrificing herself and getting forcefully separated from him by a patrolling policeman. The last time they see each other, Alan watches Jerry look back at him yearningly and disappear in the fog, followed by the elderly officer.

Unfortunately in the next scene we learn that the latter is a Nazi collaborator and helps the agents apprehend Jerry in her own flat. Staying loyal to her love and uncooperative, she’s ultimately thrown out of a window to her death, but posthumously saves Alan once again — through the arrow-shaped hatpin he gifted her earlier that is presented to him as the evidence of her off-screen fate.

Long story short, thanks to Jerry’s sacrifice Alan not only survives, but is able to join the war that broke out in the meantime and go back to Germany, armed with a rifle and a final resolve to end what he started, no matter how long will it take. The justice will be served and the dictator will pay with his life for his sins.

I wouldn’t be myself without mentioning that the main villain has a Roman chariot statue similar to the one in Aziraphale’s bookshop, an antique sculpture of St Sebastian (well-known as the gayest Catholic Saint) foreshadowing his demise, and a chess set symbolizing the titular manhunt/game of tag with the protagonist.

Aziraphale’s song

Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself as well? Or has he already? If his coin magic trick can be any indicator, we should expect at least a shadow of a danger touching the angel’s wings soon.

Let’s sum up the 1941 events from Aziraphale’s perspective: the very first time they’ve interacted after almost a century, Crowley actively sabotaged his entire existence twice by stepping onto a holy ground and by being outed by agents of Hell, both on the very same night and both because of his undying dedication to the angel. That’s enough of a reason not only for performing an apology dance, but also maintaining a careful distance for Crowley’s sake for the next 26 years. Only when he heard that his idiot was planning to rob a church, he gave up since he “can't have him risking his life”.

That’s when Crowley, sitting in a car parked right under his bookshop, offered him a ride. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was supposed to be a date, this time both of them understood it. But Aziraphale wouldn’t risk Crowley’s safety for his own happiness, especially not when he can name his feelings towards him and knows that they are reciprocated — the biggest lesson he learnt back in 1941.

So he did what he’s best at, he cut Crowley off again, but this time with a promise of catching up to his speed at some point. Buddy Holly’s Everyday, which was originally planned to play afterwards instead of the Good Omens theme, adds additional context here:

No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know… Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Aziraphale, carefully looking around and feeling observed through the whole conversation in the Bentley, consciously used the “Dine at the Ritz” line from A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, from their song, as a code only the two of them understand. Not as a suggestion to go out for a meal, but a promise. A hope for the privilege of being openly in love and together — maybe someday, not now, when it’s too dangerous — even if it leads to a bad ending.

Fast forward to 2023 when for one dreadful moment Crowley’s “No nightingales” robbed Aziraphale even of that semblance of hope. He looked away, unable to stop his tears anymore. Only their kiss helped him pull himself together and make sure that a nightingale did sing the last time he turned — just like in their song — this time without a smile, as a goodbye.

[mozartbachtoven]

( Bombardment of Vienna, May 12, 1809 )...

Beethoven, after coming to terms with his failing hearing, entered an extremely fruitful and productive phase in his career, otherwise known as the "Heroic" period. After his return from Heiligenstadt, a notable pupil, Carl Czerny, recalls Beethoven exclaiming:

"I am not satisfied with the work I have done so far. From now on l intend to take a new way."

This middle period, spanning 1803--1815, is characterized by a high level of musical maturity. Works from this period are generally larger in scale, longer in duration and overall more complex when compared to prior works. Notable works from this period include his only opera, an oratorio, a mass, six symphonies (Symphonies 3--8 ), four concertos, five string quartets, three trio, three string sonatas and numerous other miscellaneous works. This middle "Heroic" phase roughly coincides with the rise and fall of Napoleon...

Beethoven's most fruitful years were times of extreme political turbulence in France -- years that had significant repercussions throughout Europe. The Elector of Bonn, Maximilian Franz, sponsored Beethoven during his initial years in Vienna. During the chaos of the French Revolution, one year after Beethoven's arrival in Vienna, Franz would lose his elder sister, Marie Antoinette, to the guillotine in 1793..

Beethoven was a well-known champion of the common man, and fully embraced the ideas of democracy spilling out of France during the Revolution. Initially, Beethoven was an ardent fan of Napoleon Bonaparte (1769--1821), commending Napoleon's ability to stabilized France following the Revolution. However, Beethoven's attitude towards Napoleon, shared by many of Europe's leading intellectuals, was extremely conflicted. Beethoven embarked on a love--hate relationship with Napoleon for the next twenty years. Napoleon himself noted that:

"Everybody has loved me and hatedme: everybody had taken me up, dropped me, and taken me up again"..

At first, Beethoven viewed Napoleon as the embodiment of the democratic ideals sweeping across Europe in the early 1800's. Beethoven decided to dedicated to dedicate his newly completed 3rd Symphony to Napoleon. However, when Napoleon declared himself " Emperor of the French " in May 1804, Beethoven was enraged. One of Beethoven's pupils, Ferdinand Ries, recall Beethoven's response..

( At that time Beethoven had the highest esteem for him "Napoleon" and compared him to the greatest consuls of ancient Rome. Not only I, but many of Beethoven's closer friends, saw this symphony on his table, beautifully copied in manuscript, with the word "Buonaparte'" inscribed at the very top of the title-page and "Ludwig van Beethoven" at the very bottom. ...l was the first tell him the news that Buonaparte had declared himself Emperor, whereupon he broke into a rage and exclaimed, "So he is no more than a common mortal! Now, too, he will tread under foot all the rights of man, indulge only his ambition; now he will think himself superior to all men, become a tyrant! Beethoven went to the table, seized the top of the title--page, tore it in half and threw it on the floor. The page had to be re--copied and it was only now that the symphony received the title " Sinfonia Eroica)..

Apparently, three months later, Beethoven had second thoughts. At that time, Beethoven wrote to his publisher: "The title of the symphony is really Bonaparte". After several subsequent name changes and dedications, however, the 3rd Symphony simply became known as the " Eroica" (Italian for "heroic) in 1806. Given this history, it seems, at least in Beethoven's mind, the Eroica may or may not have been dedicated to Napoleon...

The " Eroica " is a milestone of symphony reportoire given its unprecedented length and strong emotional content. Due to its avant-garde nature, the 3rd Symphony received mixed reviews at its premiere. As one music critic wrote: "Beethoven was doing for music what Napoleon was doing for society--turning tradition upside down".

Thank you Nadia Nasr @ Ludwig van Beethoven Group

[atlasdefined]

I am super intrigued with your Ultra OCs & would deeply appreciate any lore or trivia you'd like to share about them!

yeah of course! i take any opportunity i can to yap about these stupid aliens of mine, so this'll be a long one. this will just be some info about my main universe, but i'll expand on my second one once i have more material in it.

i'll run through their basic story + bios, but sadly i can only offer some shitty doodles since i actually don't have many rendered pieces. that Should be rectified soon if i can get my ass moving

Their working story title is When in Rome, and it's a parallel universe version of the Land of Light; everything about their planet is basically the same, save it being my own OCs.

Time period-wise it's the early 2000s, and takes place primarily on the east coast of the US. The main defense organization spanning the country is LORE—the Land Offensive Reaction and Engagement—and is split into eight subdivisions: LORE North (Land Division and Great Lakes), LORE East (Land Division and Atlantic), LORE West (Land Division and Pacific), and LORE South (Land Division and Gulf of Mexico).

• Romulus and Remus are twins and the main protagonists; they share a bond no matter how far apart and are inseparable. They work as civilization guardians through the Intergalactic Defense Force and help defend planets until the threat has passed.

Once done with their previous assignment, they get sent to Earth following a request from Minerva due to mysteriously increasing numbers of kaiju. The two land on the east coast and take human forms to blend in (Remus immediately took one from a passing billboard much to Romulus' chagrin, but he relented and copied it), eventually joining LORE East's Land Division once their recruitment period began.

From an outside perspective, the two couldn't be more different. Romulus is cynical and quiet, while Remus is charismatic and optimistic; where Romulus is cautious, Remus dives in headfirst. The two manage to gel together almost perfectly, however, using the other's opposite traits and abilities to their fullest.

Combat-wise, the two rely mostly on their bond to synchronize. They charge the blades on their arms with spacium to either deal direct damage or send off arcs of energy, but their weapons of choice are identical battle axes made entirely of spacium; they pull them from their beam lamps to manifest them. Their beams are powerful in their own right individually, but they usually combine them a la Leo and Astra for the highest output.

Their voice claim is Optimus from TFA; both are 180ft/54m tall. One random useless fact is that they both love tanning beds.

• Minerva is a renowned scientist within the Space Science Technology Bureau. She detected what was essentially minus energy radiating in droves off of Earth, and descended herself to get a firsthand look. As a cover, she took a human form and joined LORE East's biology team. She usually butts heads with the twins, but gradually grows a massive soft spot for the two.

Once Romulus and Remus join LORE, she helps them repel kaiju while researching what's left of them. When the pieces don't vanish, that is. More and more of the kaiju start fading from existence once shot, prompting Minerva to believe they're dealing with an alien harnessing some kind of illusion ability.

Like Romulus, she's rather cynical, with the added whammy of being blunt, confrontational, and a perfectionist.

While not as physically strong, Minerva excels in energy attacks. Her spacium beam is extremely powerful, to the extent that it's difficult for her to mitigate collateral damage; as a fix, she manifests a massive sniper rifle to channel her beam through.

Her voice claim is Urbosa from Breath of the Wild; she's 250ft/76m tall.

• Pax is a physician and xenobiologist with the Silver Cross Aid and Bureau, and was assigned to Earth after the other three requested more assistance once their asses were beaten to Ultraseven's level. Begrudgingly, he flew over to help patch them up, but ended up arriving in the middle of a particularly rough battle. He merged with a LORE pilot in the line of fire to save her life.

Initally, Pax is no one you'd want as your doctor. While a genius physician, he can barely tolerate the presence of strangers for very long, usually taking over others' tasks if he thinks they're not doing it correctly. Once the ice is broken, he cares deeply for his regular patients and will personally kill anyone who attempts to hurt them further. Murderous kaiju are a good outlet, after all.

Pax has two sluggers that he can charge with spacium, and uses them either as daggers or lethal boomerangs. He uses his knowledge of anatomy to immediately strike weak spots.

His voice claim is Prowl from TFA, he stands at 270ft/82m.

• Janus is an Alien Dhuneth (my own species) and the primary antagonist of WiR. Originally quiet and kindhearted, he guarded an artifact on his planet that allowed the Dhuneth to breach other universes; in a freak accident, it exploded and left no trace. Janus and the others in the vicinity seemed fine, but one by one, they painfully glitched out of existence. Seeing his inevitable fate, Janus desperately started finding ways to either delay or prevent his glitching, but it grew worse nonetheless. Eventually he gained some control over it, but it dragged him across universes against his will.

Driven insane by the agony and paranoia, he hid on Earth and started purposefully sifting through universes, researching ways to stabilize his body. In most he'd been stopped by Ultras, and so he sought one out that was devoid of their presence on Earth. He finally came across one, starting to use it as his testing ground by dragging in kaiju from other universes.

Minerva eventually noticed the abnormalities and came down, which almost drove Janus into another universe. Then he paused. He'd been so focused on using only kaiju in his experiments—why couldn't he use Ultras as well?

Janus stands at 230ft/70m.

• Invidia is a former IDF scout and Minerva's lover. While practically polar opposites, the two were inseparable and often went on expeditions together. Their final one led them to a place known only as the Well: a mysterious tear in space where darkness and corrupted kaiju poured out. Against Minerva's wishes, Invidia dove headfirst into the horde with the intention of somehow sealing the tear, but was caught in the undertow and dragged inside. Minerva attempted to follow and save her, but risked being sucked in as well. Believing Invidia dead, she fearfully fled back to the Land of Light—but Invidia remained alive amd in agony as she was slowly corrupted by the darkness inside the Well. She was able to claw her way out, but not unscathed.

Now twisted into something new, Invidia is fueled entirely by hatred. Due to her mind being corrupted, she believes Minerva and the IDF purposefully threw her into the Well to die, and despises her entire species with a passion. Her aimless wandering put her in the path of Janus, who promised her the Land of Light's complete destruction in return for delaying the four Ultras. She agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

She utilizes sheer brute strength, along with her massive fangs and claws; she can still use a version of her spacium beam, but it's relatively weaker now that her internal energy is corrupted.

She stands at 280ft/85m.

• Strix is an Alien Inval (another species of mine) working closely with Janus. No one knows the exact reason he decided to side with the Dhuneth, but even Janus seems wary of him. He displays no emotion and seems to fight simply for the thrill.

Strix, like the rest of his species, can rapidly regenerate and morph his flesh however he pleases. If he can't regenerate fast enough, he can shed his entire skin and resort to a tougher exoskeleton of sorts by splitting himself open along his spine.

His voice claim is Chaos from Hades; he's the tallest by far at 300ft/91m.

• Naeniel is an Alien Angel also working with Janus. Like in canon, her home world was ravaged and destroyed, forcing her to flee aimlessly into space. Other survivors were picked off one by one via natural forces or exhaustion, leaving her the only one left in her universe. Devastated and without purpose, she started drifting towards Earth, crossing paths with Janus once close. He promised her a universe with her planet intact if she helped him, and desperate, she agreed. She took human form and infiltrated LORE East's Land Division to pass information to Janus.

Naeniel doesn't have many natural abilities to make her stand out, and instead she simply relies on her flight and speed. She's fast enough to leave most enemies stunned, or she flashes her glowing feathers to temporarily blind them; she uses that disorientation to strike at their weak spots or flee. She'd much rather avoid confrontations in the fitst place, however.

She's the shortest at only 20ft/6m.

• Mars is one of Romulus and Remus' parents, and essentially their universe's Father of Ultra. He's a renowned war hero and general within the IDF, and is a quiet, gentle giant. Like Silvian, he absolutely dotes on Romulus and Remus, much to their embarrassment.

His voice claim is Kaburagi from Deca-Dence, and he stands at 200ft/60m.

• Silvian is the twins' other parent and the polar opposite of Mars. Charismatic and bordering on obnoxious, he steals the spotlight whenever he walks into a room. He works closely under Mars in the IDF, and uses a combination of dance and spacium attacks to slice his way through a battle.

His voice claim is Donatello from RotTMNT, is unfortunately the shortest Ultra at 150ft/45m.

i'll definitely go on about these guys a lot more, including just fun trivial stuff, but my brain is mush right now i fear. if i'm lucky, i'll turn their story into an actual fic somewhat soon 🙏

[theromaboo]

tag someone you want to get to know better

I was tagged by @just-late-roman-republic-things (dang you got tagged by catilina. cool)

Favourite color: Red :)

Last Song I Listened To: Havana in Classical Latin. Oh my gosh, it's so good! The singer's pronunciation is phenominal. I think I listened to this song a hundred times this week. The way I enjoy songs is that I find one that I like a lot and play it on repeat until I find another I like :)

Favourite Movie: Hmmmmmm... This is a very hard question. I don't really watch movies. But, I did watch Mio Figlio Nerone more times than I'd like to admit so I guess that's my current favourite movie!

Currently Watching: Nothing right now, but the second I'm less busy, I'm rewatching Domina! It's my favourite show by far. No piece of media has ever made me feel things Domina has made me feel.

Currently Reading: A Fatal Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum: Murder in Ancient Rome by Emma Southon. There are a few things I don't really like about it, but it's overall a fun book to read. And because this book is pretty much just a list of anecdotes about killings back in ancient Rome, it is definitely a good starting point for anyone who's interested in that. If you find an interesting anecdote, you can research more about it!

Currently Working On: 1) Art. Yesterday I suddenly got inspired to draw and I have been drawing a lot since then! Better draw as much as I can while it lasts! And 2) I'm currently trying to study more Latin and Italian. Those two are easily my favourite languages, but I'd have to say I prefer Latin over Italian (sorry Italian).

Current Obsession: I'm currently not in an obsession obsession, where I get so obsessed, I start getting worried about myself.

My ancient Rome interest was actually started by an obsession obsession. I got a bit interested in Claudius, then I got very interested in Claudius, then I got worryingly interested in Claudius, then I got interested in him to the point where the only thing I thought about from waking up to going to sleep was Claudius and I literally did nothing but think about Claudius and read books and watch videos about Claudius for like a week. A neat thing that happened is that I was unable to become bored from Claudius. My attention span is normally awful and I become bored very quickly, but this obsession managed to bypass that and so I was able to binge-read extremely long and dry and old history books about Claudius without ever getting tired at all. But then, when I eventually stopped being so obsessed with Claudius, I was already too far in and I had learned too much about Rome to ever go back. After that, I had a few other obsession obsessions, such as Britannicus, Caligula, Domina, Tiberius, but they were never as strong as the original Claudius one. I sometimes wonder what happened there, but I'm glad it happened.

However, right now, no obsession obsession.

But of course, I've had my early Roman Empire/late Roman Republic (but mostly early empire) special interest for quite some time now, and everyone I know would say that I am Obsessed with it. Recently I have been very very interested in the early years of Octavian (like everything Octavian did before 27 BC), which is honestly quite a bit earlier than I usually like. Nowadays I have been interested in earlier and earlier parts of Roman history! (aka going from really liking the late Julio-Claudian dynasty last year to really liking the early Julio-Claudian dynasty this year. It's a bit slow).

I'm tagging @germanicuscaesars and @athelstan-anglecyning and @scribl1ta and @a-passing-storm and @octavianiscougarbait and @alienmythologist.

[piscesseer]

Virgo Season 🌾 August 23 - Sept 22

Virgo Season spans from August 23 to September 22. A time of attention to detail, sorting through the things in your life, and a strong desire for perfectionism. We can use these energies to improve our lives, especially if we know the positives to look toward and the negatives to navigate.

Symbol: The Virgin (or Maiden) Mantra: I analyze Element: Earth Ruling Planet: Mercury Modality: Mutable House: 6th Crystals: Jade, Citrine Anatomy: Digestive System Flower: Buttercup Tarot Card: The Hermit

Thoughtful • Meticulous • Caring • Organized • Petty • Loyal

Famous Virgo Suns: Beyonce, Idris Elba, Zendaya, Keke Palmer, Salma Hayek, Colin Firth, Cameron Diaz, Pink, Shania Twain, Amy Winehouse, Freddie Mercury, Blake Lively, Nial Horan, Stephen King

About Virgo

Virgo Season begins August 23, setting off the final phase of summer. The sun’s heat and light are beginning to mellow and surrender to the coolness of the upcoming Autumn. Virgo’s season is when nature’s abundance and fertility become ready for harvesting, lending to their earthy, caring, organizational qualities. Yes, Virgos are known for being picky and critical, and they can be. But their attention to detail is for a reason: to help others. Virgos are born to serve and it brings them great joy!

To the ancients, the constellation of Virgo appeared to be a winged woman carrying wheat. In many ancient cultures she was considered the “Queen of the Sky”, being the largest constellation. She was linked to purity, fertility, agriculture and the harvest. Babylonians associated her with the goddess Shala, who ruled fertility and harvest. In Greek mythology, Virgo was connected with Demeter, the ruler over the earth and agriculture, and her daughter Persephone, who returned from the underworld for part of the year when the Earth was barren. It was the ancient Greek way of explaining the changing of the seasons. In Ancient Rome, Virgo was related to Vesta, the goddess of domestic life, dedicated to purity and service. The Vestal Virgins dedicated their lives to Vesta by tending to her hearth and caring for people. The Virgin represents Virgo’s purity and acts of service, and Virgo is still connected to planting, growing, harvesting and medicinal herbs. 

The Hermit tarot card relates to Virgo, sharing the earthy, contemplative, and analytical energies of this sign. The Hermit retreats from life to go within for self-reflection. This card can also appear as a warning that we have over extended ourselves in overdoing. This is a reminder of what action we can take when we are at the end of a cycle in the still point of self-discovery before the next thing.

In classical astrology, Mercury was assigned rulership of both Gemini and Virgo. Virgo was thought to be the night home of Mercury, a conscientious and detail-focused earth sign that allows Mercury to express its most swift and easy functions like analysis, communication, and dexterity. As the voice of clarity and precision, Virgo’s mantra is: I analyze. The sense of purpose is about organizing, so our lives can flow and operate efficiently. They rule the area in life that we approach in an organized, contentious and efficient way. 

Virgo’s affinity for being efficient, skilled and resourceful are related to the structure and tangibility of the Earth element. They tend to be practical and grounded, keeping it 100% real.  As a mutable sign, Virgo is able to find relationships between seemingly unrelated factors and transform them into a meaningful harmony. It’s important for them to be helpful. They are great at dedicating themselves to projects and relationships that need some care, healing, and tending to. 

Virgos are perfectionists who strive for excellence in everything they do. Virgos are natural organizers, and they are able to see the big picture and break it down into manageable tasks. They are also very detail-oriented, which makes them excellent at proofreading and editing.

Virgos are also known for being helpful and caring individuals. They are always willing to lend a helping hand, and they are often the first to offer advice or support. Virgos are also very loyal friends and family members. They are always there for the people they care about, and they will do whatever it takes to help them.

Their perfectionist nature can be both a blessing and a curse, as it can lead to Virgos being very critical of themselves and others. However, it also motivates them to always strive for the best. Virgos are also quick to learn from their mistakes. They are always looking for ways to improve themselves, both personally and professionally.

Virgos are natural achievers, and they are able to overcome any obstacle that stands in their way. With their determination and focus, Virgos can accomplish anything they set their minds to. Virgos are a valuable asset to any team or organization. They are hard workers who are always willing to go the extra mile. They are also great problem solvers and are always looking for ways to improve things. They made amazing friends and are loyal family members.

How Can Virgo Season Affect You?

Virgo Season can bring focus about the workforce and economy. Discussions about job stability, labor and enhancing productivity could come up. While Virgo energy tends to be strict, it is also caring. Perhaps this energy can lend to the support of local initiatives and humanitarian causes. Working toward helping each other could be important at this time. Refining systems and society is natural during this time, and our hopes are that this is a positive change that focuses on the needs of others, and all. 

In our personal lives, Virgo Season might bring focus on smaller details. We will want to improve our efficiency and productivity. We may feel like tackling difficult projects, want to work overtime and get out responsibilities in order. We may be looking to finetune the finer points of projects that may have been overlooked before.

This is a time for getting organized and taking care of business. We can use the qualities of Virgo to bring order into our lives and take care of tasks that have been neglected. The Virgo energy is all about service, order, and efficiency. This can be a great time to get organized, declutter your life, and set some goals for the future.

We can also use this time to focus on our health and well-being. Virgo Season is a great time to start a new exercise routine, eat healthier, or get a check-up from the doctor. It’s a great time to focus on our personal development and make positive changes within our lives. Refine your daily routine to better suit your needs.

Virgos are also known for being helpful, so use this time to give back to your community. Volunteer your time, donate to a charity, or simply do something nice for someone else.

We may be overly critical of ourselves during this time. We might be evaluating our actions, and reflecting on areas that we look at as imperfect. It is important to be self-aware to lead to self improvement and growth, just be aware that our inner critic is hyper-aware at this time. Don’t be too hard on yourself.

We may look at things through a new lens. The analytical and practical mindset can bring us back down to reality, where we will find solutions to challenges in personal and work life.

Here are some tips for making the most of this time:

Declutter your home. This can be a daunting task, but it will be worth it in the end. Get rid of anything you don't use or need, and organize the things you do keep.

Create a to-do list. This will help you stay on track and accomplish your goals. Break down large tasks into smaller, more manageable ones.

Set some goals for yourself. What do you want to achieve during Virgo Season? Make sure your goals are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound.

Be kind to yourself. Virgos can be critical of themselves, so make sure to be kind to yourself during Virgo Season. Forgive yourself for your mistakes, and focus on your strengths.

Virgo Season is a great time to focus on your goals and aspirations. With the determination and focus on Virgo energy, we can accomplish anything we set our minds to. So make the most of Virgo Season and start working towards your dreams!

Virgo Reflections & Journal Prompts:

🌿 What causes or organizations resonate with my values, and how can I support them? 🌿 What small acts of kindness can I incorporate into my day? 🌿 How do I feel about my current work or career path, and what adjustments could I make? 🌿 In what areas of my life do I need to pay closer attention to the details? 🌿 How can I be more efficient in managing my time, tasks, and responsibilities? 🌿 What goals do I want to set for this season, and how can I break them down into actionable steps? 🌿 How can I engage in constructive self-reflection without becoming overly critical? 🌿 What self care practices resonate with me and how can I integrate them into my routine? 🌿 How can I practice mindfulness and stay present in everyday activities?

[johnmateykofinancialadvisor]

John Mateyko PeachCap

John Mateyko: A Life Driven by Purpose, Passion, and Community

John Mateyko calls the award-winning wellness community of Serenbe, Georgia home—a place known for its balance of sustainability, creativity, and nature. With a lifestyle as thoughtfully curated as his surroundings, John’s passions span the worlds of community engagement, theater, design, and travel.

Leading Through Community and Creativity

In 2021, John founded the Serenbe Athletic Association to bring residents together through sport and connection. As both Commissioner and announcer, he’s helped establish thriving co-ed leagues for Chicago-style Softball and Kickball, fostering a strong sense of camaraderie and inclusion.

His creative energy extends to the stage. Through Center Stage at Serenbe, John has produced and directed a series of highly successful community theater productions. These efforts have raised over $450,000 for Terra Academy. Highlights include The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge (2021), It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play (2023, 2025), Die Hard: Once Upon a Time at Nakatomi Plaza (2024), and the upcoming production of Mamma Mia.

An Eye for Craft and Simplicity

An avid watch collector, John is drawn to timepieces that combine utility with understated design. His collection is anchored by iconic models from the Casio G-Shock line—especially square-faced classics that emphasize durability and minimalist form.

He also deeply values the craftsmanship of Seiko and its luxury branches, Grand Seiko and Credor. For John, watches are more than accessories—they’re tools built to last. His philosophy—"the more boring, the better"—reflects a broader appreciation for objects that prioritize function and longevity over flash.

A Creative Spirit With Global Curiosity

John’s creative pursuits have also led him into the world of film, where he served as Christian Bale’s stand-in in Batman Begins (2005) and Public Enemies (2009), giving him firsthand exposure to the craft of cinema.

His personal life reflects a deep appreciation for beauty and culture. John proposed to his wife Slavyana at Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany, and their travels have taken them across Europe—from the Amalfi Coast to Rome and Lake Como. Their son Sasha spends summers attending the prestigious TASIS camp in Lugano, Switzerland.

A dedicated adventurer, John has scuba dived in diverse ecosystems around the world including the Philippines, Mexico, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Portugal, and the Georgia Aquarium. He’s also raced sailboats on San Francisco Bay and cycled down the volcanic slopes of Haleakalā in Maui.

Grounded in Serenbe, Inspired by the World

John Mateyko lives with intention—dedicated to creating meaningful experiences, celebrating craftsmanship, and building stronger communities. Serenbe’s unique blend of nature and art provides the ideal backdrop for his continued journey—where life is lived with purpose, simplicity, and style.

[animeking114]

Gachiakuta Anime to Premiere on July 6, Advanced Screenings Announced in 15 Countries

Crunchyroll is pulling out all the stops for the highly anticipated Gachiakuta anime adaptation, announcing an ambitious global premiere strategy that spans 15 countries before the series' worldwide streaming debut on July 6, 2025. This "Gachiakuta World Takeover" event represents one of the most extensive international anime premiere campaigns in recent memory.

Global Premiere Event Schedule

CountryLocationDate & TimeUnited StatesAnime Expo (Los Angeles)July 4, 10:00 AM PDTFranceJapan Expo (Paris)July 4, 11:45 AM CESTGermanyAstor Film Lounge (Berlin)July 5, 6:00 PM CESTItalyThe Space Moderno (Rome)July 4, 6:30 PM CESTIndiaPVR Icon (Mumbai)July 4, TBDMexicoAntara Shopping Mall (Mexico City)July 4, TBDBrazilAnime Friends (São Paulo)Date TBD Additional countries and screening details will be announced by Crunchyroll in the coming weeks, with the promise of expanding this international premiere experience even further. https://youtu.be/yeRvDchyo44

Theme Songs and New Cast Announcements

The latest promotional video has revealed the musical lineup that will define Gachiakuta's audio landscape. Paledusk will perform the opening theme song "HUGs," while DUSTCELL handles the ending theme "Tomoshibi." Both artists bring distinct musical styles that should complement the series' gritty urban fantasy setting. The voice cast continues to expand with two significant additions: Toshiyuki Morikawa joins as Regto

Toshiyuki Morikawa joins as Regto Yūki Shin voices Jabber

Yūki Shin voices Jabber These veteran voice actors add considerable depth to the already impressive cast roster.

Main Voice Cast and Characters

The core cast features some of anime's most recognizable voices: Aoi Ichikawa leads as Rudo, the wrongfully exiled protagonist who must survive in the dangerous wasteland below the floating city. Katsuyuki Konishi voices Enjin, while Yoshitsugu Matsuoka takes on Zanka, and Yumiri Hanamori plays Riyo. This combination of established talent and newer voices creates an interesting dynamic that should serve the series' blend of action and character development.

Streaming and Broadcast Details

Gachiakuta premieres in Japan on July 6th across CBC, TBS, and 26 additional television channels, ensuring comprehensive domestic coverage. Crunchyroll will simultaneously stream the series globally starting the same day. The international streaming territories include North America, Central America, South America, Europe, Africa, Oceania, the Middle East, CIS countries (excluding Russia and Belarus), and the Indian subcontinent. This extensive coverage makes Gachiakuta one of the most widely available anime series of the summer 2025 season.

Production Team and Studio Excellence

BONES studio takes on animation duties, bringing their renowned action animation expertise to this urban fantasy adventure. Fumihiko Suganuma, known for his work as unit director on The First Slam Dunk and chief episode director on Train to the End of the World, directs the series. The script writing comes from Hiroshi Seko, whose impressive portfolio includes Chainsaw Man, Vinland Saga, and Mob Psycho 100. This collaboration suggests that Gachiakuta will maintain strong narrative coherence alongside spectacular action sequences. https://youtu.be/mQQF81ubINM The anime's staff also revealed a behind-the-scenes video featuring Urana and Ando. Satoshi Ishino handles character design and serves as chief animation director, bringing experience from Date A Live, Captain Earth, and Release the Spyce. The musical score comes from Taku Iwasaki, composer for Bungo Stray Dogs and Shin Kamen Rider.

The Story: Urban Fantasy Meets Social Commentary

Gachiakuta presents a unique premise that combines post-apocalyptic survival with sharp social commentary. Kodansha USA Publishing describes the central concept: "Rudo lives in the slums of a floating town, where the poor scrape by under the shadow of the rich who live a sumptuous life, simply casting their garbage off the side, into the abyss." The story takes a dramatic turn when Rudo faces false murder accusations, leading to his exile into the wasteland below. This punishment reveals a harsh world where discarded waste has created dangerous monsters, and survival requires joining the Cleaners - a group that battles these trash beasts while seeking truth and justice. The series explores themes of social inequality, environmental destruction, and the resilience of those society has abandoned. These relevant social issues provide depth beyond the action and adventure elements.

Special Anime Expo Experience

The Anime Expo premiere in Los Angeles offers the most comprehensive experience, screening the first two episodes with appearances by creators Kei Urana and Hideyoshi Ando, alongside producer Naoki Amano. This creator presence adds significant value for fans attending this special event. The staff has also prepared behind-the-scenes content featuring Urana and Ando, giving fans insight into the creative process behind bringing this manga to animated life.

Source Material Success

The original Gachiakuta manga launched in Kodansha's Weekly Shōnen Magazine in February 2022, created by Kei Urana with graffiti design credits to Hideyoshi Ando. The series has been consistently successful, with Kodansha publishing the 14th volume on March 17, 2025. Kodansha USA Publishing handles the English release, making the source material accessible to international audiences who want to explore the story beyond the anime adaptation.

Why This Global Strategy Matters

The Gachiakuta World Takeover represents a significant shift in how anime series launch internationally. Rather than the traditional Japan-first approach followed by delayed international release, this simultaneous global premiere strategy acknowledges the international anime audience as equally important. Crunchyroll's investment in this extensive premiere campaign suggests high confidence in the series' potential for global success. The combination of BONES animation quality, strong source material, and experienced creative team creates substantial potential for Gachiakuta to become a standout series. The timing with major anime conventions like Anime Expo and Japan Expo maximizes exposure to dedicated fan communities, while cinema screenings in major cities reach broader audiences.

Looking Ahead to July 6th

As the July 6th global premiere approaches, Gachiakuta has positioned itself as one of the most anticipated anime series of summer 2025. The combination of social commentary, action sequences, and international accessibility creates broad appeal for diverse audiences. The global premiere strategy, combined with the creative team's proven track record, suggests that Gachiakuta could establish new standards for international anime launches while delivering compelling storytelling that resonates with viewers worldwide. Sources: Press release, Gachiakuta anime's website, Comic Natalie Read the full article

[theactsoftheapostles]

"The Aionios." From the Acts of the Apostles 10: 1-3.

Once again we see evidence of Jewish scholarship in the Book of Acts. This should be clarifying to the nose as it means the sediment of the Words of Moses, called Kabbalah is able to incorporate all the lines and strings of Hebrew equations and provide right guidance to man, all the way to the end we discussed in the prior frame called a "proper attitude towards humanity."

The next Act called Peter and Cornelius coordinates all of these themes.

"The Greek noun κερασ (keras) means horn and is cognate with the Latin cornu and probably the Hebrew קרן (qeren). The usage of these words demonstrates a strong association with words and speech. The noun κερασ (keras), horn, is related to κρανιον (kranion) meaning skull, hence the Greek version of the name Calvary.

The related verb κεραννυμι (keranummi) means to mix or blend. Noun ακεραιος (akeraios), unmixed, also means hornless. Noun ακρατος (akratos), unmitigated, also means without caring government. Noun κεραμος (keramos) means pottery; κεραμευς (kerameus) means potter.

The verb קרן (qaran) means to radiate and became applied to the having of horns of certain animals. Subsequently, the noun קרן (qeren) means horn or ray."

We know from the prior Acts one cannot limit oneself except away from the prohibitions found in the Mishpatim and the Kashrut. Just because the Torah says do not sleep with a dirty boy who will stain the mattress does not mean one cannot find one that is acceptable in other ways and have the time of your life. The same is true of every sense faculty. Once the proper limits are understood one is presentable and then one is ready for the "inner ears" called Cornelius, receptivity to the presentations found in the rest of the world.

Peter and Cornelius

10 There was a man in Caesarea named Cornelius, who was a captain in the Roman army regiment called “The Italian Regiment.” 

2 He was a religious man; he and his whole family worshiped God. He also did much to help the Jewish poor people and was constantly praying to God. 

3 It was about three o'clock one afternoon when he had a vision, in which he clearly saw an angel of God come in and say to him, “Cornelius!”

Caesarea is the place where too much arrogance made everything go wrong. The Roman army was called in to conquer and police and they were not nice about it. But a Roman captain who prayed to one God and helped the Jewish people is a sign something in Rome was going right.

In Jewish time, three o'clock in the afternoon is called the Right Time. The Number is 868, ף‎סח‎, "the Passover." The term pisch, associated with the Passover, means "the lame", meaning one has sprained one's thigh like Jacob, and cannot wait to be free but is also ready to be free.

Passover, also called Pesach is both a measurement and the onset of the overall level of maturity of the human race. Even still the phenomenon of the Passover is the most complicated in all religion. It is poorly understood. This section of Luke was clearly written to expose it. It is important during moments of low clarity to remember all in Judaism comes down to Shabbat, the Number 7, Shivah, which means "to improve to the point of praise, to amend in order to compliment the Self."

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: There was a man named Cornelius. The Number is 6009, םי‎‎ט‎, span,  "The adjective αιωνιος (aionios), meaning eternal, or more precise: lasting an age. This word was also used to describe the term of an office when it was to be held for a life time (an αιων, aion). The familiar phrase "eternal life" uses our adjective in combination with the noun ζωη (zoe), which doesn't describe one's personal life but rather life as a phenomenon that arises from interaction of elements (precisely how time works). So no, the term "eternal life" does not describe one's personal perpetuation, but rather speaks of an epoch that consists of souls rather than seconds: the most perfectly intertwined social expression also known as the New Jerusalem (Revelation 21:2)."

Life does not begin until after Egypt, after the Pesach, until after Shabbat and until one reaches Sukkoth, the final stage of the development of the Jewish Identity.

Sukkoth, "self realization" also "marketable confidence" is bittersweet. It is represented as a thatched roof, one that is not meant to last as indeed, it is not. We are told by God and Jesus not to wait for the Right Time but we always do.

v. 2: He was a religious man. The Number is 9955, ץטןה‎, tsatna, "you will change you will mutate, Satan!"

v. 3: It was about three o'clock one afternoon. The Number is 8240, ףבם, apoem, "the mother of change."

"The Greek preposition "apo" (ἀπό) often translates to "from" or "out of" in Hebrew, as it indicates a departure or removal from a place, person, or state. While "from" and "out of" are common translations, "apo" carries a stronger nuance of separation, often implying a more significant break or distance.

Em= the mother of."

=

Shabbat.

The trick to Shabbat and Passing Over and accomplishing Sukkoth is to learn how to expose oneself to the pluralistic reality like Saul in Damascus, respond appropriately to one's likes and dislikes like Dorcas in Joppa. Luke says all of this results in "caring government" a necessary element for the realization of the Self.

The Acts allude to this not because of a New Age Secular Humanism but because enlightened persons are willing to sacrifice a little here and there in order to accomplish the greater good. Without this, as we are now seeing, things go to shit and not too slowly. And then who is going to pay for it and clean it up? Are you going to do it? Or was it better to protect the planet and its contents to begin with?

The final Gemara is םי‎‎טץטןהףבם, my‎‎tetshtanehephvam, my‎‎tetshtan ehephvam, "They love their bed."

The bedding is the body in which one is planted and all of its realities. As the Zohar and yours truly state, there can only be one of these on the inside, the one we call the Self. It must not flinch or fondle with anything or Shabbat is compromised.

The soul knows what it wants but it does not have a voice. Who learns how to hear and heed it nonetheless has achieved the highest state found under the Sukkah.

[domes1]

The Evolution of Dome Construction: From Ancient Roots to Modern Innovations

Dome construction boasts a rich and fascinating history, stretching back thousands of years and showcasing remarkable advancements in materials, techniques, and architectural design. Over time, domes have transitioned from ancient, hand-crafted structures to cutting-edge marvels that combine strength, sustainability, and aesthetic appeal. Rohtak Domes recognized as the best dome construction service in India—has been a pioneer in this transformation, seamlessly blending traditional craftsmanship with modern innovation.

1. The Origins of Dome Construction

The earliest domes can be traced back to ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt, where builders used mud bricks and basic construction techniques to create rounded, self-supporting structures. As dome architecture progressed, the Romans refined these methods, introducing concrete and advanced engineering principles. The Pantheon in Rome, one of the most iconic domes of antiquity, remains a testament to their architectural prowess and stands as one of the best-preserved structures from that era.

During the medieval period, domes gained prominence in religious architecture, with awe-inspiring structures such as the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and the Florence Cathedral in Italy demonstrating intricate designs and impressive spans. These domes, constructed with stone and brick, showcased exceptional engineering skills long before the advent of modern technology.

2. Innovations in Materials and Construction Techniques

The Industrial Revolution marked a turning point in dome construction, introducing reinforced concrete and steel, which allowed architects to build larger, more complex domes. This period also ushered in the era of prefabrication, where dome components could be manufactured off-site and assembled quickly, reducing construction time and costs.

A significant breakthrough came in the 20th century when Buckminster Fuller developed the concept of geodesic domes. Built using a network of interconnected triangular panels, geodesic domes distribute weight evenly across their structure, making them lightweight yet incredibly strong. These domes gained popularity in various applications, from eco-friendly homes and greenhouses to event venues and disaster relief shelters.

3. Sustainable and Smart Domes: The Future of Construction

In recent years, dome construction has evolved with a growing emphasis on sustainability and smart technology. Advanced materials such as fiber-reinforced polymers (FRP) and self-healing concrete are enhancing the durability of domes while minimizing environmental impact. Sustainable design practices are now leading to the development of solar-integrated domes and climate-responsive designs that optimize energy efficiency.

Additionally, 3D printing technology is revolutionizing dome construction by enabling the creation of intricate dome structures with precision and minimal waste. This innovation has opened new possibilities for affordable housing and futuristic architectural designs, ensuring that dome structures remain adaptable and resilient in the face of changing environmental demands.

4. Domes in Modern Architecture: Versatility and Aesthetic Appeal

Today, domes are finding their place in a wide range of architectural applications, from stadiums and auditoriums to luxury homes and eco-resorts. Their combination of structural strength, energy efficiency, and visual appeal makes them an ideal choice for architects and engineers seeking to create both functional and inspiring spaces.

Rohtak Domes continues to lead this architectural renaissance by integrating traditional techniques with state-of-the-art technology. Their innovative designs not only honor the legacy of dome construction but also push the boundaries of what is possible in modern architecture.

Conclusion: Preserving Tradition While Embracing Innovation

The journey of dome construction—from ancient clay structures to futuristic, technology-driven designs—reflects the ever-evolving nature of architecture. With advancements in materials, techniques, and sustainable practices, domes remain an essential part of modern construction, offering strength, beauty, and efficiency. Rohtak Domes is playing a pivotal role in this evolution, ensuring that dome structures continue to inspire and serve future generations with their timeless appeal and innovative design.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Juno mission spots most powerful volcanic activity on Io to date

Even by the standards of Io, the most volcanic celestial body in the solar system, recent events observed on the Jovian moon are extreme.

Scientists with NASA's Juno mission have discovered a volcanic hot spot in the southern hemisphere of Jupiter's moon Io. The hot spot is not only larger than Earth's Lake Superior, but it also belches out eruptions six times the total energy of all the world's power plants. The discovery of this massive feature comes courtesy of Juno's Jovian Infrared Auroral Mapper (JIRAM) instrument, contributed by the Italian Space Agency.

"Juno had two really close flybys of Io during Juno's extended mission," said the mission's principal investigator, Scott Bolton of the Southwest Research Institute in San Antonio. "And while each flyby provided data on the tormented moon that exceeded our expectations, the data from this latest—and more distant—flyby really blew our minds. This is the most powerful volcanic event ever recorded on the most volcanic world in our solar system—so that's really saying something."

The source of Io's torment: Jupiter. About the size of Earth's moon, Io is extremely close to the mammoth gas giant, and its elliptical orbit whips it around Jupiter once every 42.5 hours. As the distance varies, so does the planet's gravitational pull, which leads to the moon being relentlessly squeezed. The result: immense energy from frictional heating that melts portions of Io's interior, resulting in a seemingly endless series of lava plumes and ash venting into its atmosphere from the estimated 400 volcanoes that riddle its surface.

Close flybys

Designed to capture the infrared light (which isn't visible to the human eye) emerging from deep inside Jupiter, JIRAM probes the gas giant's weather layer, peering 30 to 45 miles (50 to 70 kilometers) below its cloud tops. But since NASA extended Juno's mission, the team has also used the instrument to study the moons Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto.

During its extended mission, Juno's trajectory passes by Io every other orbit, flying over the same part of the moon each time. Previously, the spacecraft made close flybys of Io in December 2023 and February 2024, getting within about 930 miles (1,500 kilometers) of its surface. The latest flyby took place on Dec. 27, 2024, bringing the spacecraft within about 46,200 miles (74,400 kilometers) of the moon, with the infrared instrument trained on Io's southern hemisphere.

Io brings the heat

"JIRAM detected an event of extreme infrared radiance—a massive hot spot—in Io's southern hemisphere so strong that it saturated our detector," said Alessandro Mura, a Juno co-investigator from the National Institute for Astrophysics in Rome. "However, we have evidence that what we detected is actually a few closely spaced hot spots that emitted at the same time, suggestive of a subsurface vast magma chamber system. The data supports that this is the most intense volcanic eruption ever recorded on Io."

The JIRAM science team estimates the as-yet-unnamed feature spans 40,000 square miles (100,000 square kilometers). The previous record holder was Io's Loki Patera, a lava lake of about 7,700 square miles (20,000 square kilometers). The total power value of the new hot spot's radiance measured well above 80 trillion watts.

Picture this

The feature was also captured by the mission's JunoCam visible light camera. The team compared JunoCam images from the two previous Io flybys with those the instrument collected on Dec. 27. And while these most recent images are of lower resolution since Juno was farther away, the relative changes in surface coloring around the newly discovered hot spot were clear. Such changes in Io's surface are known in the planetary science community to be associated with hot spots and volcanic activity.

An eruption of this magnitude is likely to leave long-lived signatures. Other large eruptions on Io have created varied features, such as pyroclastic deposits (composed of rock fragments spewed out by a volcano), small lava flows that may be fed by fissures, and volcanic-plume deposits rich in sulfur and sulfur dioxide.

Juno will use an upcoming, more distant flyby of Io on March 3 to look at the hot spot again and search for changes in the landscape. Earth-based observations of this region of the moon may also be possible.

"While it is always great to witness events that rewrite the record books, this new hot spot can potentially do much more," said Bolton. "The intriguing feature could improve our understanding of volcanism not only on Io but on other worlds as well."

TOP IMAGE: A massive hotspot—larger the Earth's Lake Superior—can be seen just to the right of Io's south pole in this annotated image taken by the JIRAM infrared imager aboard NASA's Juno spacecraft on Dec. 27, 2024, during the spacecraft's flyby of the Jovian moon. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/ASI/INAF/JIRAM

LOWER IMAGE: Images of Io captured in 2024 by the JunoCam imager aboard NASA's Juno show significant and visible surface changes (indicated by the arrows) near the Jovian moon's south pole. These changes occurred between the 66th and 68th perijove, or the point during Juno's orbit when it is closest to Jupiter. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS Image processing by Jason Perry

[airsllides]

airsLLide No. 9606: ET-AKG, Lockheed L-382G Hercules, Ethiopian Airlines, Addis Abeba, December 1, 1993.

Formed in 1945 with technical assistance and financial backing by TWA Trans World Airways, Ethiopian Airlines has become one of Africa's proven and stable legacy carriers, both for caryying passengers and freight.

In the 1990s, Ethiopian Airlines still focused on providing point-to-point services from its base in the capital Addis Abeba. While the focus was rather on domestic services in the rugged country as well as international services to African destinations, it already served a number of intercontinental routes to Europe, such as Frankfurt, London and Rome. The business model has changed since, with Ethiopian now using an extended and modernised ADD airport as transit hub, connecting many African destinations with a wide-spanned intercontinental network to Asia, Europe and North America.

While today's operations of Ethiopian are certainly more diverse than in the 1990s, stopping at ADD in the 1990s ment an opportunity to get a glimpse of the carriers much smaller and still very diverse fleet. While it used the Boeing 737-200, Boeing 757 and Boeing 767 along with the Fokker 50 and De Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter for international and domestic flights, the cargo department relied on two Hercules, a veteran Boeing 707 and a Boeing 757 freighter. Several relicts of its once 40 units strong DC-3 fleet, the last of which were retired around 1990 only (!), still lingered around in remote corners of the airport, together with the remains of one of its DC-6s...

[chrinopiqua]

As Time as Rome

I dream of marble streets beneath the stars, Where pillars soar to touch the endless sky. A city where the old meets new avatars, And future tech with ancient ways comply.

I long to walk through forums filled with light, Holograms of sages sharing lore. In togas laced with circuits shining bright, We gather 'round to hear the tales of yore.

The aqueducts now pulse with energy, Transporting power drawn from solar beams. While statues crafted with artistry Stand guard beside the flowing data streams.

Chariots glide without a horse in sight, Levitation lifts them off the ground. Their wheels are forged from alloys feather-light, Silently they move without a sound.

The coliseum hums with life anew, Its arches draped with vines of verdant hue. Crowds cheer for games both virtual and true, As gladiators battle, old and new.

Under the rule of leaders wise and just, An honorable senate holds the reigns. Their tablets gleam with codes we deeply trust, Encrypting laws that course through cyber veins.

Our gardens bloom with flora bio-grown, Genetic blends of plants both old and rare. Robotic bees ensure the seeds are sown, Maintaining balance with attentive care.

I wish to serve within this grand design, A humble peasant in a noble land. To tend the crops beneath the solar shine, And feel the soil shift beneath my hand.

The temples glow with light of fusion cores, Their altars set with crystals pure and clear. We honor both the gods and cyborgs, Embracing all that each of us holds dear.

In armor made of metals strong yet light, The legions stand to guard our peaceful state. Their visors scan the darkness of the night, Protecting us from shadows at the gate.

Our scrolls are now digitized and stored, In libraries that span the networked globe. The wisdom of the ancients all restored, Accessible to every heart and home.

The baths are filled with waters purified, Heated by the earth's own gentle steam. A place where both the lowly and the high Can rest and let their weary spirits dream.

I dream of skyships crossing o'er the seas, Their sails infused with winds of plasma streams. Exploring realms beyond our galaxies, Yet tied to Rome by threads of golden beams.

The markets bustle with a vibrant life, Stalls laden with both goods and printed wares. Artisans blend tech with craftman's strife, Creating works that everyone admires.

We dine on feasts produced with lab-grown care, While vintage wines are poured from ancient casks. The music played is both futuristic and fair, A symphony where time itself unclasps.

The sun dials now are synced with satellites, Aligning us with rhythms of the stars. Our festivals combine the old delights With innovations that have come so far.

I yearn to be a part of this great whole, To contribute my labor and my love. To find fulfillment deep within my soul, Beneath the pantheon that towers above.

The future and the past entwined as one, A tapestry of steel and ancient stone. A vision where humanity has won, Creating space we all can call our own.

So here I stand, embracing this new age, A citizen of Rome reborn anew. Where history and tech together stage A world where all our dreams can come true.

I dream of nothing but to till the land, Under a lord both honorable and wise. In this high-tech Rome so vast and grand, I find my place beneath its endless skies.

[anna-heintzelman]

The Colosseum

As soon as I step foot into the central hub of historic Rome, my eyes are inexorably drawn towards an awe-inspiring sight - none other than the Colosseum. This massive edifice functions as a tangible symbol of both Roman ingenuity and mastery in architectural design. With Emperors Vespasian and Titus presiding over its diligent construction efforts, this towering amphitheater reached completion approximately during AD 80. Amidst traversing through its expansive complex supported by imposing archways at every turn, it comes to pass that there is no escape from being transported mentally back into a time where brutality for entertainment purposes was deemed normality within society's fabric- immersing oneself entirely amidst gory spectacles rampant throughout antiquated culture reigned supreme.

The Colosseum, a renowned edifice also hailed as the Flavian Amphitheater due to its association with the ruling dynasty of Rome at that time, had an astounding capacity which could accommodate almost 50,000 enthusiastic onlookers who would be captivated by thrilling contests and events. The sheer magnitude of this architectural masterpiece is simply breathtaking- it blends together solid stone and impregnable concrete in such fashion so as to form a mighty fortress capable enough of defeating even nature's wrath over prolonged periods. Additionally apart from just providing space for live performances or spectacles spanning various genres including drama and musical concerts etc., what makes it all more piquant was that within these same walls lay one-of-a-kind aquatic arena where mock naval battles were staged through flooding techniques while intricate trapdoors made their presence felt obviously during wild animal hunts involving gladiators operating alongside specialized props designed exclusively for “venationes”.

As I make my way through the ancient ruins, exploring the enormity of what once stood before me, an indescribable sense of awe and wonder overcomes me. It's as if I have been whisked away to another time altogether, transported back centuries into a world vastly different from our own. In this momentary escape from reality, my mind vividly conjures up images of gladiators battling fiercely in combat - their swords clanging against one another amidst cheers echoing throughout the amphitheater thousands strong. The excitement would be palpable even now with naught but dust filling where things used to happen long ago; No longer are these coliseums host training grounds for those brave enough or desperate enough to fight on demand for their lives' sake. The executions were also commonplace here- people being slaughtered publicly at random intervals just because they could not live within social constructs made by others cunning than them alone!. Amidst all this chaos lay hidden secrets and details that my eyes cannot see upfront yet can't help wishing to know more about it! I climbed further onto higher seating tiers realizing how incredibly ingenious Romans had been…the retractable awnings shading entire sections created comfort zones proving critical when every breath seemed hard-won under scorching suns… However, there was something far deeper beneath surface layers that concealed daring intricacies akin to interlocked pieces intertwined perfectly together forming elaborately-crafted labyrinths….one such hypogeum brought slaves, animals & human warriors. This system cleverly played out orchestrated dramas above seen only partially unless insight coming along guided paths opening doors previously unknown…. layer after secret layer gradually revealed till mosaic landscape emerged giving voiceless stories impression audibly heard!

[antiqueestatebuyers]

The Evolution of Art Styles: Understanding Different Eras of Antique Art

The world of antique art is rich with diverse styles that have evolved over centuries. Understanding these eras can enhance your appreciation and help you make informed decisions as a collector. D&J Antique Buyers provides insights into the evolution of art styles and their significance.

Classical Art

Classical art, originating from ancient Greece and Rome, is characterised by its emphasis on harmony, proportion, and realism. This era produced some of the most iconic sculptures and architecture. Collectors often seek classical art for its historical significance and timeless beauty.

Medieval Art

Medieval art spans from the Roman Empire's fall to the Renaissance's beginning. This period includes many styles, from Byzantine mosaics to Gothic cathedrals. Religious themes and symbolism dominate mediaeval art, making it highly distinctive and sought after by collectors.

Renaissance Art

The Renaissance, which lasted from the 14th to the 17th centuries, marked a revival of classical ideals and an emphasis on humanism. Artists like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo created masterpieces that combined scientific precision with artistic beauty. Due to its historical importance and artistic innovation, antique dealers often regard Renaissance art as highly valuable.

Baroque Art

Baroque art, emerging in the 17th century, is known for its dramatic use of light and shadow, intense emotions, and grandeur. Artists like Caravaggio and Rembrandt pushed the boundaries of realism and expression. Antique buyers in New York frequently seek Baroque pieces for their dynamic compositions and rich details.

Rococo Art

Following the Baroque era, the Rococo period is characterised by its ornate and playful style. Light colours, intricate details, and themes of love and nature define Rococo art. This style appeals to collectors who appreciate its elegance and decorative beauty.

Neoclassical Art

Neoclassical art, inspired by classical antiquity, emerged in the 18th century as a reaction to the excesses of Rococo. This style emphasises simplicity, symmetry, and a return to classical ideals. Collectors value Neoclassical art for its refined and disciplined aesthetics.

Romanticism

Romanticism, developing in the late 18th century, focuses on emotion, nature, and individualism. Artists like Delacroix and Turner created works that evoke strong feelings and emphasise the sublime beauty of the natural world. Antique appraisal often highlights the emotional depth and imaginative qualities of Romantic art.

Realism and Impressionism

The 19th century saw the rise of Realism and Impressionism. Realism, led by artists like Courbet, depicted everyday life with honesty and detail. Impressionism, with pioneers like Monet, focused on capturing the fleeting effects of light and colour. These styles represent significant shifts in artistic approaches and are highly prized by collectors.

Modern Art

Modern art encompasses various styles from the late 19th to the mid-20th century, including movements like Cubism, Surrealism, and Abstract Expressionism. Artists like Picasso, Dalí, and Pollock challenged traditional notions of art and explored new techniques and perspectives. Modern art continues to influence contemporary art and remains a dynamic field for collectors.

Conclusion

Understanding the evolution of art styles enriches your experience as a collector and helps you make informed decisions. From classical to modern, each era offers unique insights and artistic treasures. Trustworthy antique buyers, like D&J Antique Buyers, provide expert appraisals and guidance to help you navigate the diverse world of antique art. Embrace the journey of discovery and enjoy the timeless beauty of these masterpieces.