#I do not like using “Roman empire” to express my interests because I am a woman who thinks of the Roman Empire CONSTANTLY

[ivyinforests]

I got myself used to sleeping an appropriate amount. Fatal mistake. Now I can barely make myself stay up late doing objectively fun things and it feels ridiculous. I used to stay up till three with chem and algebra and now I’m struggling to work past 11 analyzing Enheduanna and making lesbian cake. These are my favorite things to do!!! If I told myself this a year ago I would think it was a joke.

[ironunderstands]

Dr. Ratios predictions, theories and ideas I have for his lore BECAUSE SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED AND I AM INSANE ABOUT HIM AAAAAAA

‼️INCLUDES DISCUSSION OF LEAKS SO BE WARNED‼️

So, I’m sure if you like Dr. Ratio even a little bit or have kept up with what leakers are doing, you have heard of a little something.

That little something being our new planet in coming in 3.0 is Ancient Greece inspired 

Oh boy.

And oh it gets better, thanks Sparkle for playing genderbend Ratio during Cosmoddesy because 

Yup, this is his planet.

I’m well aware it will be like 7 months before we start getting proper leaks about this place, but for now, let’s do some speculation shall we, because if there’s anywhere we are gonna get his backstory/lore/a story centered around him, it will be here.

So let’s begin 

Whatever the hell I think is gonna happen during 3.0

A) He will serve as a guide for the Astral Express in navigating this planet 

I don’t think he will immediately go to them to help, or they will immediately seek out him, but rather coincidentally or through the connivence of circumstance he will end up helping lead us around, at least partially until we really get roped into a conflict.

Or, it’s the other way around, where we kinda are left to our own devices a bit and then something happens and either by his own decision or something that’s forced upon him, Dr. Ratio now has to supervise from now on.

Personally I find the second option way more interesting and I think it has way more potential for angst so I’m going with that one let Ratio be dragged around by a malicious entity or his own experiences I’m so here for it. 

B) Something happens.

Wow, descriptive. 

Ok, what I really mean is that something bad happens like a prophecy comes true or the express breaks something or a stellaron comes to eat people’s grandmas and Ratio is implicated in it. 

And this is where the fun begins, as the nature of what this something is can completely shift the story in very interesting ways.

Perhaps he was prophesied to doom Amphoreous’s civilization with his presence or something, and was abandoned by his parents on another planet?

Perhaps he has connections to the leaders there who desired for him to be their puppet/tool, so he left to find his own path and now they are trying to force him back.

Perhaps he failed at a test of theirs when he was younger, some universal trait on the planet that he couldn’t live up to and was exiled because of it. Now that he’s back, they blame whatever bad thing happens on Ratio. 

I actually really like these particular theories as Ratio has a lot of themes about creating your own destiny, so seeing him resist one forced upon him would be compelling. Moreover, I feel as though an arc demonstrating how exactly he wanted to become a Genius/where he got all his insecurities and motivations from is not only necessary for his character but would flesh out the way we see the path of Erudition in general, even if I already really like the way they have gone with it so far. 

C) Resolution/Self acceptance 

I doubt they will permanently kill him, it just doesn’t suit his character at all.

However, do I think is he gonna get messed up by whatever that “something” is? Yes. 

If the story centers on this remains to be seen, honestly, I doubt it will considering we have the entire cast of the planet and its own lore to meet and learn about, but I do think Ratio will be a major player and I hope how he feels gets some of the plot’s focus as we have quite literally only have 1 full scene of him where we see who he truly is, and it’s all the way back in 1.6 (Ratio-Screwllum conversation my Roman Empire). 

Like guys I needed this man bleeding out screaming dying crying throwing up clutching his wounds looking up at the screen like a kicked puppy losing all hope in himself and others YESTERDAY 

I NEED SOMETHING BAD TO HAPPEN TO HIM FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BECAUSE RATIO IS SO HIGH STRUNG THAT ANY AMOUNT OF PRESSURE WILL CAUSE HIM TO SNAP SO PLEASE HOYO LET HIM BREAK!!!

He needs another scene where he’s being sincere, he needs a scene where he’s being vulnerable, Ratio’s marble facade needs to crumble to reveal the man underneath and I need that man to pick himself back up again knowing he can allow himself to be human as well AAAAAAAAAA

His connections to Acheron 

If you have seen my other posts I have already talked about this at length, however the brainrot for this particular detail is all consuming so let me just demonstrate:

Dr. Ratio has the same philosophy as Acheron, an emanator of Nihility.

Look.

Essentially, they both believe that only in desperate situations will humans reach their full potential and begin to truly live for themselves. Moreover, they also both try and offer the tools to help people save themselves, Ratio with knowledge and Acheron with destroying the dreamscape, and that even if people can only become their true selves through struggle, it is the guidance and love of other people that will allow them to pick themselves up. 

Interestingly, pre-2.2 I also believed Ratio was walking the path of Nihility, due to how he engages with knowledge. That very viewpoint spawned from the 1.6 conversation I just showed you, as Ratio demonstrates to the audience that he does not care about knowledge in of itself, but rather the value it can bring to people.

Now, this sets him apart from the Genius Society members, who believe knowledge is inherently valuable and that it is what brings the universe meaning to them. Every person Nous has acknowledged has expressed this belief, which is why they were acknowledged and Ratio isn’t.

Before you say it, no, it’s not that he isn’t smart enough, quite the opposite actually.

Screwllum himself acknowledges his genius and time and time again are Ratios myriad of accomplishments brought up. In universe plenty of people believe he should have been instated into the society by now as well:

These are just the ones that implicate the society directly, as so many of Ratio’s character stories also mention just how accomplished he is.

Moreover, in 2.3 we are getting a new Sim Uni update made by Ratio himself, centered on humanity because of course it is, therefore he’s even smart enough to do the same things the GS members do, even collaborating with Screwllum to work on their favorite pet project.

So, what does this have to do with his lack of acknowledgment, and the path of Nihility?

I have established Ratio is smart enough and that he doesn’t view knowledge in the same way the other member’s do. Therefore, this difference in mindset is why Nous has never acknowledged him, because as much as Ratio thinks he is walking the path of Erudition, his personal philosophy and behaviors have never aligned with that, even if he thinks they do.

I mean, the man says it himself, even if he doesn’t realize the implications of it:

“The Path of Erudition has neither reason nor logic. While geniuses wander among the stars, the ordinary can’t even trace their footsteps.”

That is the path the Genius Society members walk, the path Ratio is criticizing in this sentence, the path he refuses to travel along himself, because what defines Ratio is that he will never leave the ordinary behind to stumble alone.

That is the path of Erudition.

And Veritas Ratio does not follow it. 

So what does he believe in?

Finding your own path. Forging your own future, in the face of a meaningless universe, that is the only thing we should do, the only thing we CAN do. 

“even a life marked by failure is a life worth living”

That’s what Ratio believes.

It doesn’t matter if the masses cannot escape their mediocrity, if they will never be geniuses, if their efforts will go unacknowledged, because the universe doesn’t care, therefore they shouldn’t either. There is no grand test, no final destination, no perfect goal people must attain.

Destiny is uncertain, and people’s fates are theirs to choose. 

Dr. Ratio believes people can still improve themselves, and that it doesn’t matter if people cannot reach the ceiling of knowledge, as they should still push themselves off the floor and stand up. 

He doesn’t think anything confines people from bettering themselves, and that it’s pointless to deliberate over whether one can achieve perfection or not, they should strive to improve themselves regardless and live their best lives because why not? Sure there’s nothing saying they can, but there’s also nothing saying they can’t, and in the face of a meaningless universe, devoid of purpose, one must create their own, and he dedicates his life to aiding others in realizing this.

Ironically, Ratio does not take his own advice. He can recognize the merits of the masses, but he cannot appreciate his own. Ratio is forever walking forward, but he cannot see the path ahead of him, or appreciate the lengths he has gone, the distance he has traveled, and the lives he has improved. 

Ratio spreads knowledge across the universe, believing that is what Nous desires, what the Erudition means, or rather should be, which is partly why he views himself as mundane, as a failure. 

Not just because he is as ordinary as any other person, but because Ratio thinks he hasn’t succeeded in his goal without Nous’s acknowledgement. I think he believes that he hasn’t done enough, that he isn’t smart enough, that he will never be good enough, therefore no matter what has happened, Ratio is doomed do be as mundane as everyone else, and his accomplishments will never be worth the gaze of the entity who inspired him to help others in the first place, as that’s what Ratio believes they would want.

However, helping others is not something Nous cares about, it’s something Dr. Ratio cares about. Even if he doesn’t understand or acknowledge it, Ratio’s accomplishments are meaningful, and he has walked his path further than most ever have. 

However, that path just isn’t the path of Erudition, it’s the path of Existence. 

Initially I believed it to be the Nihility, and in a way I’m not wrong, considering one must cross underneath the shadow of the Nihility to find the Existence, so in a way he is still approaching them.

However, as always, Acheron clarifies everything.

The Nihility envelops all, therefore it is meaningless. And before our final ending, our predetermined destiny (death), we have so many choices to make, therefore we should make them, as it makes both our life and death develop a completely different meaning.

As I have stated, this is what Ratio believes in, even if he attributes it to the Erudition, rather than the Nihility.

Ratio’s entire goal in life is to help others bring meaning to their lives and guide them in the right direction so they can begin to choose for themselves, using knowledge as his means to do so.

Which is exactly what Acheron does, “on the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls,” isn’t just a line she says because it sounds cool, rather, that is her goal as well. An emanator of Nihility, whose goal is to help others find their meaning in the universe. 

But Acheron doesn’t just want that. She is looking for the Existence, and to kill the Nihility (meaningless) forever.

Which is significant, because if Ratio believes the same exact thing she does, and is walking the same path as she is, then like Acheron, he is heading towards the Existence, not the Erudition.

And Nous will never acknowledge him, not because he isn’t smart enough, but because he never followed them to begin with.

In fact, we know what Ratio is, or rather, what he might end up becoming.

So far no Doctors of Chaos have succeeded in their goals, but perhaps Dr. Ratio, Dr VERITAS Ratio, will be the one to do so. After all, who else could it be but him?

How fitting that the man named after truth would be the one to find it.

That fuckass owl 

Glaux I want to throw you into a blender 

This is Professor Glaux, one of the figures from the Hanunue-Clockie Era of Penacony who did some things like bring the stellaron there, was a scholar of the Intellgenica Guild, became the first dreamweaver, inspired the paper birds, did some shit with the Nightingale Family and presumably died.

I know, horrible explanation, especially considering I haven’t even done the quest this guy is from, but hopefully that’s all the information you need for now so I can introduce you to this theory (which I did not create, sadly I don’t remember who did but it was someone on twitter somewhere so shoutout to them)

That being… Dr. Ratio is Glaux

I hate it I’m sorry. But I will attempt to explain where it’s coming from.

A) Glaux has very similar references to Ratio, aka they are both associated with Greek culture, wisdom and owls 

Glaux is the Greek word for owl and they are heavily associated with Athena, the god of wisdom.

Now Ratio has extremely obvious owl, Greek and wisdom association if you have looked at him for any longer than 2 seconds so I’m not gonna bother to demonstrate it, they have similar references, moving on.

B) The Intelligencia Guild + their titles 

They are from the same faction, and both are referred to as Professors (ratio gets called that more in the CN version I think), and at least Ratio dedicates his time to spreading knowledge, which I think is something Glaux shared.  

C) This occurrence in Gold and Gears

You know, the one where a student kills themself because Ratio thinks they are an idiot.

Well, it’s complicated because apparently the story told in Gold in Gears takes place a long time ago?? 

How long I don’t know as my brain melted in my skull when trying to piece it together, so please do correct me if I’m wrong, I’ll try to make sense of it later.

Moreover, this is also complicated by the fact that this particular occurrence was used by Herta to teach the trailblazer some mechanics of the sim uni, which makes me thing it’s not a part of the lore/timeline in it in general, and just something funny she added in anyways. Continually, there are also occurrences from characters like Argenti and of the Genius Society members themselves, so I don’t think every event is set in the distant past.

However, I think this idea comes from the other person in that occurrence, Dr. No5, but he also kills himself in it, and I can’t find anymore information on it, so I doubt it. (also apparently in the Chinese version the Ratio they refer to isn’t in the way they refer to Dr. Ratio/the one we know so idk)

Either way, what this means is that if this occurrence did take place a while ago, then Ratio must be super fucking old and he must have been part of the Intellegencia Guild during that time, like a certain owl aka Glaux, who was part of it.

D) Ratio’s weird origins

By weird origins I mean we know jack shit about his past (although we finally know the planet he’s from!) and for all we know the man could have spawned in one day, with some other theories even coming to that conclusion, like the infamous worm theory.

Essentially, if you put this all together, Ratio was once an owl-humanoid named Glaux who was from the Amphoreous, and then became part of the Intelligencia Guild a while back, which is when that occurrence happened. He then went to Penacony, did some stuff, faked his death and like came back as Dr. Ratio on that planet again, which is why we don’t know anything about his origins.

Can you tell why I hate this theory as a concept.

I find it to be dumb, nonsensical, a waste of potential and just straight up random as hell. However it is also objectively valid and could have happened within the plot of the game which is why I hate it so much because please hoyoverse do not go in this direction I will skin you.

However, I do not think Ratio has nothing to do with Glaux.

Rather,

A) The stuff Glaux did on Penacony is meant to parallel how Ratio acted there, as both served as a guiding figure for people on their respective timelines 

B) Ratio is the same species as Glaux/ they are from the same planet (Amphoreous).

Now this I fuck with heavily. Yes, Glaux is way more owl looking than Ratio is, however more human versions of his species could exist, and Ratio could just have the ability to like shift forms or something.

He also looks extremely similar to the owls on Ratios design, which I now deem it appropriate to show to you the metric fuck ton of owls in Ratios design.

(there’s a few more btw I just couldn’t fit them due to the image limit LMAOO)

Why do you have so many, and why is it the same fucking owl, same culture, same goddess referenced, same symbolism???? 

Like even if I hate the 1 : 1 Glaux-Ratio theory, they are clearly connected, and this is no accident on behalf of the developers. 

Therefore, I would keep an eye out for Glaux mentions in the future, especially on the planet coming in 3.0, as I 100% believe that they are from the same planet. There’s no way they can’t be connected in some manner, and if I am right about this I will be annoying about it for the rest of time. 

I can’t believe owl Ratio might actually be a reality. 

So uh, let’s put this all together.

We go to Ratio’s planet in 3.0, problems happen and we learn both his past and his connections to that owl species Glaux is from which likely causes even more problems. Bbg probably gets his ass handed to him in 3.0 and 3.1 and gets to make up for it in 3.2, ending the arc off more fulfilled as a person, and perhaps making some realizations about himself including that he isn’t actually following the path of Erudition. Then we skip all the way to endgame when the trailblazers are fighting Nanook and him and Acheron come in with the steel chair hopped up on Existence juice to give the trailblazer enough of a will to live as to not succumb to the Nihility because oh my god how can you defeat the embodiment of Destruction. We somehow win and Dr. Ratio gets married to Aventurine and they ride off into the sunset roll credits we all cheered. 

So, yeah.

If I’m even a little bit right about this I will be the most insufferable person on this planet. Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this, and even if these theories don’t end up being true I do still think the speculation gives a lot of insight into his character.

[mrs-toohot]

This week's episodes: Live react

Candace is taking my man on a date? I'm gonna have thoughts.

(Also my MC's name is Sophie)

Firstly, he'd better say no.

Okay, so he can't say no. Fuck.

Awww 'the look on his face turns from shock to reassurance when he notices your expression'

"You know you have nothing to worry about, right? You and I are solid." aw omg stop??? so cute

"I'd never break your heart, Sophie, you know that, right?"

Oh we're getting three stress tests

"What if Wesley is already making out with Candace?" Nora STFU you bitch lol. If we were friends that would be funny, but we're not so shut your slut whore bitch mouth.

How insecure do you have to be to press the button because you found out that she's 22 and American? Like wtf? Yeah cool she's a model, but Jesus Christ, do you really think your man is going to fall over himself that easily? HE'S ON TV! HE'S BEING JUDGED FOR HIS ACTIONS!

'No, I trust Wesley' is obviously my choice.

"There's nothing hotter than a guy who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go for it."

Yeah, cool, but this is just telling me that she wants him. Again, I am not phased.

Again, trusting Wesley. This is easy af

'Candace is perfection incarnate' Yeah but she's also got pink hair and my man's a CEO like fr he wants a WOMAN not a GIRL.

Okay as predicted, Candace is Cassia's ex (Lucky Candace... damn...)

'If she sees even a small opening with Wesley, she'll jump on the opportunity'.

Um yeah but she's not gonna.

God, this would be so much harder on a loyal Ryder route. I'd be genuinely shaking in my uggs rn.

Yay, I passed the easiest test in the world

Seriously you would have to be insanely jealous to fail this, the fuck???

Oh sweet we get $10k!!!

Ancient Greece Party!!! Writers should've made it a Roman Empire party just to keep it current and up to date

Amari - I've always wanted to dress like a goddess Antoine - You don't do that already? Could've fooled me.

EXCUSE! ME! SIR! YOU'D BETTER HAVE THOSE LINES ON MY ALTERNATE ROUTE!

Why is Wesley literally in underwear tho

NO HE DID NOT JUST GREET ME LIKE THAT

"Sophie! There's my girlfriend!"

"I'm not interested in pursuing a taken person".... Why does this fill me with dread. What is she going to do? Is she gonna try and break us up and THEN pounce on him?

Cute toga, omg that one hairstyle (you know which one) it is CUTE

"His jaw goes slack as he takes you in" dear god who is writing these LIs and can you please take over LITG

OH HE LOOKS SO FUCKING HOT FJDKHGSBF

HE'S GOT A LITTLE LIGHTNING BOLT EARRING GUYS LOOK AT HIM

You suddenly feel shy under his smouldering gaze. (Oooof)

'I can't remember if I've ever mentioned, but my parents own a hotel nearby'

Yes babe you did but please take me aside and tell me exactly what you're planning on doing to me once we get there.

I am teetering on the edge of BFFs with Cassia, and then I'm hoping I can jump her bones. She's so hot I stg

Amari's outfit is so boring

NORA'S OUTFIT IS SO CUTE

Elena's outfit is so mid

ANTOINE'S GOT WINGS bhfkdsfasdhvdbs HAHAHAHHAHAHAH he's so fucking extra I can't

SLAY NAOMI I LOVE YOUR BUTTERFLIES

ONCE AGAIN ZAYN'S OUTFIT IS TOO MUCH he's got a lion head as a dick cover wtf hfkdbsahs

Excuse me while i thirst over cassia deeply

Blah blah blah playing beer pong with Wesley

WYM YOU'RE STARTING TO SOUND LIKE NAOMI

WHY YOU BEEN SPENDING TIME WITH HER

THIS IS MAKING ME MORE JEALOUS THAN THAT DATE EVER DID

bdhsfksdahfsd me distracting him though ahehehehehehhe

"That was a dirty trick, love."

Yeah, I know, that's why I did it. Now do it back.

OH ANTOINE'S TELLING AMARI HE LOVES HER aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwww

Since when are they that serious the fuck

"Should I say something to Amari?" About Antoine being noncommittal? When he's been all in for me since day one in my other playthrough? Nah babe, I'm good. I believe it.

Aww Wes brought me brekkie. OJ.

AWWW HE WANTS TO LEARN TO COOK FOR ME BECAUSE HE'S SHIT AT IT of course he is, he's never had time to cook because he's been too busy working.

WESLEY SLEEPS NAKED WESLEY SLEEPS NAKED OH MY GOODNESS HE'S GOING TO MAKE ME BREAKFAST WITHOUT ANY CLOTHES ON

Oh Lana's got snitching to do sigh.

WHAT THE FASHIONNOVA IS ZAYN WEARING HSKADFHBSDA

Oh Zayn and Nora in the suite?? I see I see.

okay i forgot to write during the workshop because Wesley

Literally stop Antoine and Amari are wearing matching outfits CEASE

Okay wait...

I decided to stay out of it, and Zayn and Nora got back. Lana annoucned they broke the rules, and then the game glitched back to my conversation with Amari about Antoine in the bathroom???

URGH i had to restart the episode.

skipping skipping skipping

Even though I'm replaying this i still forgot to take screenshots of the workshop. But trust me Wesley's dialogue is REALLY CUTE

muaahahhaha the benefit of getting a glitch is that now I know NOT TO TRUST ZAYN AND NORA

ha 'IMMEDIATELY WESLEY IS ON YOUR SIDE'

They learned from last season where people got SO MAD at Liam & Henri hahahahah

AW IS RYDER GOING!?!?!?

UM UM UM WHAT THEFUCK IS WESLEY GOING ON ABOUT? "What if Sophie walks away once I tell her?!"

BABE TELL ME WHAT!??!?!?

SOMEONE GET A BETTER SCREENSHOT THAN THIS PLEASE HUFDSHKAVFSBJASD I NEED A NEW SCREENSAVER

[timeless-fanfic]

loved the Gaius imagine thank youu🩷🩷 Can I request another idk I love himm lol umm maybe platonic but him talking to a Jewish women hmm maybe about Jesus

An Unexpected Conversation

Word Count: 1126

Gaius x (Platonic) Reader

Note: Thank you for requesting! He wasn't particularly my favorite character before; but, the more I write for him, the more I love him!

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden light across the dusty streets of Capernaum. The day had been long, filled with the usual hustle and bustle of the market, the exchange of goods, and the whispered conversations about the latest news. As I made my way through the narrow streets, I couldn’t help but notice the Roman centurion, Gaius, standing near the well, his posture as rigid and authoritative as ever.

I had seen him many times before, a figure of authority and order in our town, but today, something in his demeanor seemed different. He wasn’t commanding soldiers or dealing with disputes. Instead, he appeared to be lost in thought, his eyes focused on something far beyond the walls of Capernaum.

Curiosity got the better of me. I approached him slowly, hesitant to interrupt whatever thoughts he was lost in. But before I could decide whether to speak or walk away, his eyes shifted, and he noticed me.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice calm, almost gentle—a stark contrast to the commanding tone I was accustomed to hearing from Roman soldiers.

“Good evening, Gaius,” I replied, surprised by the softness in his greeting. “You seem deep in thought.”

He smiled faintly, a rare expression for someone in his position. “Yes, I suppose I am. This town… it’s different from others I’ve been stationed in.”

I nodded, unsure of where this conversation was leading. “Capernaum is special. There’s something about it… the people, the history.”

“And now,” Gaius added, “there’s Jesus.”

His mention of Jesus caught me off guard. I had heard rumors, of course, about the Roman soldiers taking an interest in the man from Nazareth, but to hear Gaius speak of Him so openly was surprising.

“What do you know of Him?” I asked cautiously, wondering what a Roman centurion could possibly think of the man so many of us had begun to follow.

Gaius shifted slightly, his armor clinking with the movement. “More than I expected to. He’s… unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered.”

“How so?” I pressed, intrigued by his admission.

“He speaks with authority, but not the kind that comes from a sword or a crown. It’s… different. People listen to Him, and not just because they fear Him. They listen because they believe in what He says.” Gaius paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve seen Him heal the sick, and not just with herbs or potions, but with a touch, with words. It’s as if He carries something… divine.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Hearing Gaius describe Jesus in such a way stirred something in me—something between awe and fear. “You sound like you believe in Him,” I said, almost in disbelief.

Gaius looked at me, his gaze steady. “I don’t know if belief is the right word. I’ve served Rome all my life, trained to believe in the strength of the empire, the power of the gods we worship. But Jesus… He challenges that. He speaks of a kingdom that isn’t built on power or fear, but on something greater.”

“Love,” I whispered, recalling the many teachings I had heard from Jesus.

Gaius nodded. “Yes. And it’s not the kind of love we’re taught to value in Rome. It’s… selfless, patient, enduring.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the man before me with the image I had of Roman soldiers—tough, unyielding, focused only on their duty. Yet here he was, speaking of love and a kingdom of peace.

“You sound conflicted,” I observed.

Gaius sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. “I suppose I am. I’ve spent my life serving an empire that prides itself on conquest and power, yet here in this small town, I’ve encountered a man who wields a power I can’t comprehend—a power that doesn’t come from violence or fear, but from something far more… pure.”

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of empathy for him. Despite our differences—his being a Roman and me a Jew—there was something about his struggle that resonated with me. We were all trying to make sense of who Jesus was and what He represented.

“What will you do?” I asked softly.

Gaius shook his head. “I don’t know. My duty is to Rome, to Caesar. But every time I hear Jesus speak or see the way He touches the lives of those around Him, I wonder if there isn’t something more—something beyond the empire, beyond the life I’ve known.”

There was a long silence between us as we both contemplated his words. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground. The market was quiet now, the day’s activities winding down.

“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “But I know that Jesus sees something in everyone He meets. He doesn’t look at us the way others do. Maybe… maybe He sees something in you too, something worth saving.”

Gaius looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Do you think He could forgive someone like me?”

I hesitated, not because I doubted Jesus’ capacity for forgiveness, but because I had never thought about it from the perspective of a Roman centurion. “I think He could forgive anyone who truly seeks it,” I said carefully. “But that’s not a question I can answer for you. It’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

He nodded slowly, as if weighing my words. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t expect to have this conversation today, but… I’m glad we did.”

“Me too,” I replied, offering him a small smile. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How Jesus brings people together who might never have spoken otherwise.”

Gaius chuckled softly. “Yes, it is. Perhaps that’s part of His power—bringing together people from different worlds, different beliefs, and showing them that there’s more that unites us than divides us.”

The sky was now a deep orange, the last light of the day fading into twilight. I knew I should be heading home, but I felt a strange sense of peace, standing there with Gaius, sharing in the uncertainty and hope that Jesus had brought into our lives.

“Whatever path you choose,” I said finally, “I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

“Thank you,” Gaius replied, his voice sincere. “And you as well.”

With a final nod, I turned to leave, my thoughts swirling with the unexpected conversation. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted, not just in Gaius, but in me too. Jesus had a way of touching lives in the most unexpected ways, and today was no exception. Perhaps that was His greatest miracle of all.

[scribl1ta]

I am interested: why do you like Emperor Hadrian so much and when did you start liking him?

Thank you so much for asking! It's not something I've thought about a lot, but here's what I came up with today:

I really became curious about him seeing his influences on Roman art, which i was referencing and researching a lot a few years ago. I was reading a lot about Hadrian through his relationship with Antinous, which led me to learn a lot more about him as an individual. I felt like we had things in common during this time in my life, when I was around 14 years old. I liked art and books, I wrote a lot, and I had just read Plato's Symposium and became obsessed with classical Athens. I also think coming into my lgbt identity was related to it in some way but that isn't something I've explained to anybody before, and not really something I can verbalize right now :/ there was just a connection that made sense to me.

The first thing I think of these days is that Hadrian's inner life is truly mesmerizing to me. Because he enjoyed writing, he seems like an expressive, creative person who would offer a thoughtful perspective on his life and circumstances. He was adopted, and there were a few scandals at the beginning of his reign over his legitimacy and relationship to Trajan; then his relationship with his wife is also very complex, and many sources disagree over how they felt about each other (and I think Sabina is a powerful and fascinating figure in her own right); and I still find the love between him and Antinous a really compelling subject, and a good example of how Hadrian challenged Roman traditions and morals. Reading about all of these things humanized him so much in my eyes, and it's impossible not to think about everything we still don't know. I really wish his autobiography had survived (if one existed), but the fact that it doesn't at least gives all of this some mystique😉

In case it needs to be said, I don't agree with any of the Roman emperors politically, but I do think Hadrian had a unique and sympathetic policy focused on securing and culturally enriching the empire's existing territory. I liked that he traveled so much and kind of decentered Rome as the Caput Mundi, which shifted the culture of the time a lot (we can see this very strongly in sculpture from this time period, for example, which show strong Greek influence in both popular fashions and artistic techniques). He promoted learning and the arts, and gave cities including Athens more self-determination. His Philhellenism interests me a lot since although many Romans admired and learned from Greece, Hadrian studied, applied, and accessorized aspects of Greek culture in very different ways from his predecessors, to the point where it became characteristic of his empire and his own identity. His contemporaries made fun of him for this, and I think his use of Greek culture sometimes seems fetishistic, but it also contributed to his liberal attitudes and focus on improving the quality of life for his subjects.

Lastly, I am also very interested in his reception from historians and modern people. Many historians acknowledge that he was an authoritarian and scheming and power-hungry, but that he was also a dedicated student of art and literature, and he wanted to understand the people he ruled. It's not easy to find other historical figures treated with such nuance (in my experience).

I hope that answers your question!! I'm always happy to talk about him and I'm always learning new things, so I appreciate your interest🥰❤️

[rainswept]

i’m not really interactive. i like to consume content and move on. it's easier just to get my instant gratification and keep myself from being perceived in any way because it makes me nervous. but even though i don't make use of tumblr’s basic functions, in my mindless haze i still remember feelings, words, and sometimes, urls too.

when i see “rainswept” i think of lyney. i feel like that's self explanatory, via the tag for lyney x reader, i found your blog. to be honest the first few times i came across your work i scrolled past it. wasn't really interested, wanted something shorter. but one morning, i was on the hunt again and actually sat down to read a fic from your account. it took me a while to process it after, and i was very distracted for the rest of the day. weeks later, still thinking about it, the words going from my head to a pit in my stomach that nothing seemed to satisfy. and then, strangely, i found myself looking up “rainswept” more and more often to reread instead of refreshing the daily “lyney x reader”

i dont know what model of brain you have, but it's great

your writing was not the idle comfort i was used to. it hurt to read, but it hurt worse to be without. i wanted to stay with my personal image of a flirty guy who's just that. flirty. easier to digest. i couldn't.

the way you described lyney in the few works i saw took my soft hand and shoved it into a hot fire of angst. longing. fire that rises, but also falls and churns like the sea. wholly consuming in its warpath. it did not let me keep that image of lyney. in fact, the tides of rising flame tore it away from me. burned it. because there's wayy more to be said about him and how he sees the world than who he falls in love with (“curtain call” is my roman empire)

absolutely crazy idea to me at the time. wow, imagine characters having actual feelings??? wtf. to be described so viscerally, picked apart by language and left crumpled amongst the carnage of your own being on a fandom page is to be loved. i want to love the way you do

so, to me, “rainswept” is the url that introduced me to really passionate interpretations of characters i like and the beauty of prose that holds you as if it were a lingering chill on the darkest of nights. i don't think i would be nearly as interested in trying to understand characters for who they are beyond romance without your work.

“rainswept” taught me how to love a character

it could have happened eventually with someone else's blog, but it was yours. through looking at your blog and the things you repost (v fun tags, by the way), i even found others i like too. (wow, it's almost like i’m discovering how the internet works!!!) you've indirectly taught me how to appreciate nuances in writing. now, i can proudly say my taste has definitely developed away from the 2018 wattpad era

that's pretty cool. character development for me i guess? i still have a long way to go before i can understand everything in my own way, but i’m learning. today was another one of those days where your url came to mind, it's been a while. i was more than happy to follow my whim

anyways! that's all, just thought i'd share. it's my first time sending an ask (´;︵;`) i had a lot to say, and i think i still have a lot to say, but i’m sure you know the difficulties of putting feelings into words. i wanted to make sure i expressed what i could before i lost the confidence to say anything at all

thank you for sharing your writing and silly thoughts, tumblr user rainswept

P.S. i would be sad if rain actually sweeps you off your feet, which is why i also offer an umbrella—in case the weather ever becomes too harsh. be safe, dude ☂️

long post i’m putting it under a read more

what in the WORLD anon. PH:WIYbpiHWbpi,HIDDNFLWUIEBFLIHABCKUGASVCKHVSEKUHBRWLUHBGW J,H?/?/?//

GOOD LORD i think something in me literally shattered with this ask. i am SHAKing TREMBLING EVEN i cannog even get a full BREAATH in i;m LOSING MY MIND

this ask is literally the reason i made my blog. the reason i ever posted to begin with. my writing ever being seen like this was my ultimate goal. if there was anything i’ve ever wanted it was this. to move people, to change their minds, to get them to see things beyond their outward appearances — and i guess i’ve achieved that because. oh my god.

i don’t know how to do this ask justice anon. i saw it and if i was standing i think i would have fallen over. you say my prose is beautiful yet yours left me breathless. seriously, not just because it being directed towards me meant so much but also just the quality of it. i understand not wanting to present yourself publicly on tumblr, but i think you are an amazing writer and if you ever did i’d be your first follower. i would read all of the writing of yours i could get my hands on. so if you have ever had any inkling to do that, do it. you only live once (and i’d go feral for it)

speaking of writing. aside from just writing because i want to, my whole mission of sorts on here is to change how people view characters. i know i can’t alter everyone’s perception — if they think someone like lyney is just flirty snd nothing more, they’re usually going to continue thinking that — but to know that i’ve had even one person change their mind on even one character is .. astounding. not even to mention changing how someone views characters as a whole? indirectly causing someone to look deeper into them, to analyze them closer, to pick them apart like you said, to feel more when reading about them? that’s absolutely insane (positive). i will never be the same after this actually.

i write to feel, and i write to make others feel, even emotions i or they may not want to. i like digging deep into characters, into pain and sadness, because i’ve always noticed that stories that hurt stay with me longer. they make me think and think and i keep going back to them. and they may not make me feel better, but i like it anyway because, to me, what is the point of reading if it isn’t going to stick with you? what is the point of feeling if, as soon as you pry your eyes away from the pages, the emotion fades with the ink?

to know that you kept thinking about my writing, then kept coming back, and that i altered the way you view characters is. crazy to me. absolutely crazy. despite desiring it so deeply, i never thought i’d have that effect on someone else.

maybe i changed how you view characters and writing, but you continue to give me the motivation to continue doing so. and actually both are so valuable to me. to know i have moved someone enough for them to send an ask like this. i don’t know how to put into words how much this,,, affected me?? i could honestly die peacefully right now. like this is all i’ve ever wanted.

“i want to love the way you do” i think you do. i think you have. i think to send an ask like this it may take more of it. this may have not been your intent or expected outcome but this has genuinely moved me. so so much.

“rainswept taught me how to love a character” oh my GOD.

i’m so glad you did have the courage to send this, because it means more to me than you know. i will cherish this forever. i’m so honored, both that what you wanted to say to me overpowered the fear of sending an ask and the fact that you even had these words to say to me to begin with. i get what it’s like to be afraid when it comes to reaching out, but know you will always be welcome here, whether it’s heartfelt words or genuinely anything. if you do have more to say, ever, i will absolutely welcome it with open arms

it takes a lot to reach out like this, but just know this is the most valuable interaction i think i have ever had on tumblr. if this doesn’t stick with me for life i think it’ll be safe to say i’ve lost all my memories. maybe i’m being dramatic, but i want you to know the extent that this has changed me (it’s fundamentally).

i don’t know how to say thank you for this. i think this will singlehandedly carry my motivation and will to keep creating for the rest of my life. i think i will keep writing because of it (and because of you, to know you are out there and once continued to return, even if i leave tumblr, even if you no longer do). to know someone out there was genuinely moved by what i also was is the greatest motivation i could ever dream of. whoever you are, i love you.

i was going to copy and paste some things you said and comment on them in particular, but i could literally do that to the entire ask. but i hope you know i will likely continue to reread every single word of this ask over and over until i can recite it because oh my god i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life

“curtain call is my roman empire” anon THIS is my roman empire 😭

this is so so all over the place because it made me so emotional LMAO i am so sorry. i don’t know how to summarize all i want to say, or go over everything you have said, but just know that i will keep every single word of this close to my heart and cherish it like i probably never have anything else.

thank you for everything. including the umbrella — rain doesn’t usually sweep me off my feet, but this ask did so i’ll use it for that instead.

[bookshop-phantom]

20.05.2022

World building (a very basic guide)

Recently, I've been really interested in the process of world building. I started creating my first imaginary world years ago and (even though it's not finished yet because I am lazy) found the experience really entertaining.

I thought I should share the process I follow in order to create the bases of a whole imaginary country. I've reduced all the mental process to a 4-step guide. Of course, this is just how I do it and there are tons of other ways, which are equally valid.

Keep in mind that these are just the first steps, and there is so much more about world creation that comes after.

1. First of all, choose a name for your country and a time period.

You can invent its name - come up with a strange word! - or use another name for reference. For example, one of my countries is named Makērnia, which is a non-existent word that I came up with. Another one is named Silvanda and you can see that I used the word "Silver" as reference. Perhaps the most obvious one is a city I named Iboria, clearly influenced by the name Iberia.

Write down that name and pay attention to how it sounds. That will be the first step in creating your country's language - if you plan on doing so.

Note: It is important that you CHECK that the name of your country does not have any bad meanings in other languages. I'm talking from experience here.

Now you want to decide the time period your country is based on.

Is it a medieval country? A futuristic one? 18th centur-ish? Keep in mind that you can also imagine your own way of measuring time. Instead of "before Christ" and "after Christ", try coming up with your own system.

The time period will be very important when creating the customs and traditions of the people and the organisation of the country, as well as many other things. So think carefully about this one.

2. Start imagining the geography.

This is probably my least favourite part, but it is just as necessary as the others. What I do is draw a shape, imitating how frontiers between countries look like.

I would say that the crucial question would be whether your country is next to the sea or not. This will influence economy and you will probably need to pay attention to those regions on the coast, as they will have different traditions, different climate and so on.

Think about how big your country is. Is it a small nation? Is it enormous?

Is it an island, a peninsula?

Note: Smaller countries are always more easy to organise and people from different regions within them are likely to be more similar to each other. The problem with big countries is that you'll have to provide the inhabitants with a series of traditions that might be completely different depending on the region.

You can also include something that is very particular of your country. Again, when I created Makērnia, I thought that it should have an enormous forest around the capital city.

Give your country rivers, lakes, mountains and everything you want to. And always remember that this will affect the territories near them.

3. Organisation and political power

Every country needs and way of organising territory. Here again you can look up references from real life or invent a new system (although I understand that inventing a whole new system is especially difficult in this part).

Personally, I got my inspiration from the Roman empire, but you can use whatever real-life country you want to for reference. You can divide land into provinces, regions, districts, etc.

Same goes for political power. If you have decided to make your country a medieval one, chances are you will implement a monarchy - or not! This is your country, do whatever you feel expresses its essence best. You can experiment if you want (try an anarchic country, for example).

4. General traits, flag, emblems, capital city.

Here, you can ask yourself: "What are the people like in ----?"

Try thinking about a crowded city in your country. Do the people have anything in common? This can range from mere physical traits (most of them may be blonde, have a particular skin colour, etc.) to more abstract concepts or stereotypes (the people are brave, knowledgeable, always serious, etc.)

This will be useful to create a general image of the country and build up its traditions and customs. For example, in a country where the people are more carefree, a crime might be punished less severely than in a country where the people are serious and cold.

Note: This is the time to start considering different races - and not necessarily human races, you can include any fantasy race you feel like. Write down any ideas you have regarding this, as you will need to develop it later.

Give your country some symbols and a flag.

The flag is optional, but I would heavily recommend choosing at least a symbol for the country. Think about what the inhabitants might feel a connection with. In my case, I choose white roses as the symbol of Makērnia. The word "māker" in the local language actually means "rose", so it made perfect sense to build up a whole culture around roses.

Symbols can range from animals, plants and natural elements to colours with meaning. And of course it must be coherent with the time period. You cannot symbolise a medieval country with an emblem of a train - and the same goes for a futuristic country, which will difficultly be represented with swords or castles.

Choosing a capital city is important, as it will probably become the centre of your country.

At this stage, you can just come up with a name and then mark the city in the map. Keep in mind that you will need to develop this and other important cities around the country.

Note: By "capital city" I mean a principal, most important location in your country. Not necessarily where the central power is.

Now you have a very basic and general idea of what your country will be like.

As I said before, this is JUST THE BASICS I USE when I build a new world. These steps help me understand what type of place it is and how I should proceed with the more complex steps.

I hope somebody finds this useful. I'd love to hear about your countries :)

[somerabbitholes]

Indian Non-Fiction

A list of books on India, almost all of which are by Indian writers; most of them are about history in one way or other but they also involve politics, culture, and religion. (Doesn’t include writing in Indian languages because most of my non-English reading has been limited to fiction). I’ve also added links to online editions for ones I found.

History

Pre-, Postcolonial India (+ other assorted history)

Land of Seven Rivers by Sanjeev Sanyal - looks at Indian history through its geography; great if you want an introduction. it’s a small book but has very interesting insights; definitely would recommend. Also check his Ocean of Churn, which looks at Indian history in terms of the Indian Ocean

The Lost River: On the Trail of the Sarasvati by Michel Danino - looks into the research and evidence on the existence of the Sarasvati river and makes a case for its existence

Hooghly: The Global History of a River by Robert Ivermee - about Hooghly as a centre of a trans-Asiatic and trans-oceanic commercial network

Indians: A Brief History of a Civilization by Namit Arora - what it says, it’s new and was well-received; it paints a holistic picture to start you off

Modern South India by Rajmohan Gandhi - this one’s new, and I’ve only barely read it. It’s the history of south India from the coming of the Portuguese to modern times and it’s really important because we don’t study about this or even talk about this in mainstream conversations

India Moving by Chinmay Tumbe - on migration within India and how migrants and migrations has shaped history, politics, and policy

The Courtesan, the Mahatma, and the Italian Brahmin by Manu Pillai - a selection of stories (real ones) from Indian history; very engagingly written and very, very interesting stories. Also check other works by Pillai - The Ivory Throne and Rebel Sultans. He also writes a regular column for the Mint

Panipat by Vishwas Patil - (a translation from Marathi) a history of the Battle at Panipat in 1761, which basically created a vacuum for the East India Company to step in and grab power; really expansive and highly detailed

Rama and Ayodhya by Meenakshi Jain - on the Ramayana and its cultural spread across Indian since the ancient times; also about the Ayodhya movement

Decolonizing the Hindu Mind by Koenraad Elst - lays down the ideological and intellectual development of the broad umbrella Hindu revivalist movement; really good starting point to understand the rise and development of a significant chunk of Indian politics in post-independence years; really straightforward work, very clear in its objectives

1962: the War that Wasn’t by Shiv Kunal Verma - on the Sino-Indian conflict in 1962; haven’t read it yet, but it’s supposed to be one of the best ones on the conflict

1971: A Global History of the Creation of Bangladesh by Srinath Raghavan - on the creation of Bangladesh; places the history in a Cold War context and includes all stakeholders like the US, China and Russia; has multiple layers to its narrative.The Most Dangerous Place by Srinath Raghavan - on American foreign policy in South Asia right from the earliest times.

Cricket Country by Prashant Kidambi - about how cricket took hold in colonial India and the making of the first all-India cricket team; super excited about this book, I added it to my list too

A Corner of a Foreign Field by Ramchandra Guha - on the growth of cricket in India; takes into account race, caste, and religion in pre- and postcolonial times; looks at how the sport was adapted in local cultures and how it became an expression of resistance

Himalaya: A Human History by Ed Douglas - basically what it says; very thorough and very fresh; about more than India because it takes Himalaya as a unit and so it’s really transnational in its approach

Colonial India

Plassey by Sudeep Chakravarti - a very detailed study of the Battle of Plassey which kicked off the colonial project in India

India’s War: World War II and the Making of Modern South Asia by Srinath Raghavan - on India’s involvement and contribution in World War II

An Era of Darkness by Shashi Tharoor - about the economic impact of the British Empire in India; highly elaborate and detailed work on the economic drain in India during colonisation

Goa Inquisition by A. K. Priolkar - about the Portuguese colonisation of Goa and the subsequent evangelical campaign by the Portuguese crown and the Roman church; very, very, thorough and great if you (like me) know nothing about the whole thing

Hicky’s Bengal Gazette by James Otis - on the development and running of India’s first English newspaper; a fun read because honestly the story of the paper is very dramatic and full of political/colonial gossip; also tells you a lot about the early ideas of free press in colonial India

Sati: Evangelicals, Baptist Missionaries, and the Changing Colonial Discourse by Meenakshi Jain - about the discourse on sati and the need for reform; reviews the idea of the abolition of sati being a progressive act

Castes of Mind by Nicholas Dirks - about the intersection of caste, race, and colonial knowledge and policy

Politics, Sociology, Commentaries

The Indian Trilogy by V. S. Naipaul - a semi-autobiographical work on the kind of civilisation Naipaul sees India to be; very, very honest; paints a picture of postcolonial India over the years. the trilogy includes An Area of Darkness, India: A Wounded Civilization, and India: A Million Mutinies Now. I’ve only read the first one; but I’ve heard and read great things about them all

Republic of Caste by Anand Teltumbde - about caste in post-Independence India; looks at political and policy-related developments and their impact on caste dynamics; sort of subaltern history; it is a little difficult to understand if you don’t already have some amount of knowledge on Indian politics; also a very academic work so not exactly easy to read - I’ve only read parts of it myself

Annihilation of Caste by Dr. B. R. Ambedkar - technically a speech that was never delivered because it was thought to be too explosive; argues that caste is rooted in oppression and for the complete destruction of the caste system; an excellent work, although you do need to know about caste in its religious and political terms. Really just read all of his writing (it’s an entire 14 volume set), they’re excellent and far ahead of their time

The Idea of India by Sunil Khilnani - an analysis of sorts of what pre-colonial and colonial society and the freedom struggle mean for the republic and the kind of nation-building that has happened.

A New India of India: Individual Rights in a Civilisational State by Harsh Madhusudan, Rajeev Mantri - rethinks the “idea of India”; traces cultural and historical legacy in making of modern politics, and explores how individual rights are reconciled with the state’s goals; great thing is that it takes a fresh look at things; perfect to be read after The Idea of India 

10 Judgements that Changed India by Zia Mody - recounts ten most important legal cases and court rulings in India; good starting point at understanding how the law works and its development

Republic of Religion by Abhinav Chandrachud - about secularism and religion in India in light of colonial rule, and its implications in postcolonial India

India Unbound by Gurcharan Das - it’s a history from the Independence to 2000 that focuses largely on the political economy and unpacks the kind of growth we’ve seen; it mixes the personal with the political/economic progress and it’s really easy to get into; best when read with his India Grows at Night

People

Kanshiram by Badri Narayan - a biography of Kanshi Ram, who pretty much laid the foundation of modern Dalit political movement in post-independence India; looks into how the movement developed under Kanshi Ram; a useful insight into both the man as well as early Dalit politics in India

Savarkar by Vikram Sampath - first part of a two-part biography (second part isn’t out yet) on V. D. Savarkar, one of India’s first revolutionary freedom fighter; looks at an insane variety of sources and highly detailed; a must read.

History Men by T. C. A. Raghavan - about the friendship of three of colonial India’s first native historians (Sir Jadunath Sarkar, G. S. Sardesai, Raghubir Sinh) and how they collaborated and supported each other in writing Indian history using scientific methods; also looks at their contributions to Indian history in general

Rammohun Roy by Amiya P. Sen - a biography of colonial India’s first social and religious reformers who reinterpreted Hinduism for modern times; very well-written, great for understanding how early reform worked out

Daughters of the Sun by Ira Mukhoty - about women in the Mughal dynasty. note that it only looks at women connected to and part of the royal household, but an interesting read nonetheless. Her other work, Heroines: Powerful Indian Women in Myth and History is a wonderful book on women in history right from the ancient times; also analyses and explains the changing perceptions of women

R. N. Kao: Gentleman Spymaster by Nitin Gokhale - really, really, really interesting book on R. N. Kao and the development of India’s espionage machinery

Art

Indian Art by Partha Mitter - a history, he’s one of the best on Indian art, very useful

The Dance of Shiva by Ananda Coomaraswamy - a collection of essays on Indian artistic tradition in aesthetic and philosophical terms

The Spirit of Indian Painting by B. N. Goswamy - specifically about painting; explores different themes in different regionals tyles; also check other books by Goswamy, he’s kind of a big deal in art history

Indian Painting: the Lesser Known Traditions by Anna Dallapiccola - pretty much what it says; takes into account a ton of styles and traditions that are lumped together ‘folk art’

Cities, Travel etc

The Great Indian Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux - four-month journey from London to India by trains only; explores themes like colonialism, American imperialism, poverty. One of my favourites

The Epic City by Kushanava Chaudhary - memoir on Kolkata as the author explores and re-discovers the city when he comes back to it after staying in the US for most of his life; a lovely book, delves in the history of Kolkata a little in relation to how the city still feels it, how its people are still negotiating with it, and the kind of future the author sees for Kolkata

Bombay, Meri Jaan by Jerry Pinto & Naresh Fernandes - a collection of essays on Mumbai by a wide collection of people from Naipaul to Khushwant Singh to Manto and Salman Rushdie, compiled by Jerry Pinto; one of my favourites on the city

No Full Stops in India by Mark Tully - writings from when Tully was a journalist in India; commentaries on things he witnesses, also includes a fair amount of personal involvement; explores poverty, postcolonial development, religion and culture in post-independence India

Mumbai Fables by Gyan Prakash - a history of Mumbai city; looks at colonisation, industrial development, the regional politics, architecture and art, as well as the underworld/mafia

Banaras by Diana L. Eck - on Varanasi (Banaras), probably India’s holiest city; tells its history from its conception to now; blends religion, mythology, politics, and history. Also check Eck’s India: A Sacred Geography

The City of Djinns by William Dalrymple - semi-autobiography about living in Delhi; looks at the legacies of independence and partition while thinking about its past

The Book of Indian Journeys by Dom Moraes - it’s an anthology of essays and excerpts from works of a bunch of writers on travelling in India, it’s a favourite when I’m travelling

This is not exhaustive and I will keep updating when I find the time. I’ve tried to keep it diverse (and organised) in its content; hope you find something you like :)

[epic-sorcerer]

Merlin would have been so much more gay if the writers stayed true to Celtic paganism(the historicaly accurate “old religion”)

Trigger warnings:

Main triggers: talk of sex, homophobia, religion, Catholics, colonization, anti Celtic, murder

Mention triggers: rape and sexual assault, creepy men, gore, insest, toxic masculinity

I will mark the sections with quick triggers with 2 red lines. Below the second one is when the trigger is gone.

_____________

I am posting this on December 21st, as today is the Winter Solstice, a Celtic Pagan holiday. It will be posted at 3:33 PM, as 3 is a sacred number among the celts. Because of the special occasion, I will be speaking on a subject that was important to many of them—homosexuality.

Some stuff first for introductions. Yes, yes, I know this may be boring but it helps with context. This religion didn’t have a name other than Celtic pagan or Celtic religion bc it seams everyone there believed it. This was until the Roman Empire concurred what is now the UK. Since Rome had adopted Christianity—more specifically, Roman Catholocism—they only allowed that religion to be practiced.

———(genocide)——

Once England was concurred in 43 A.D, the pagans were killed and their religion was surpressed. Not much is known about the pagans for this reason. However, we do know somethings from what the Romans have written down. Although, it is biased, as they believed the celts to be barbaric and also didn’t wright much about women.

——gore ——

First, we know they preformed human sacrifice on kings when the kingdom suffered along with some other groups.This could be from bad ruling to really bad weather. These kings died horribly, as they seamed to be stabbed multiple times, had thier nipples cut off, and left to die in a bog.

They had thier nipples cut off because the subjects would suck on the kings’ nipples to demonstrate submission, so cutting them off would fully dethrone the king.

—————

Now, background over. Here’s where it gets good.

Nipple sucking between too lovers or ‘special friends’ was seen as a preclemation of love, physical intimacy, and sexual expression. This, like other types of sex, was seen as something beutiful and sacred. Often, male soldiers would have these ‘special friend’ relationships with many fellow soldiers in groups. The Romans even observed that Celtic men seamed to prefer other males for love/sexual interest over women.

Nipple sucking was mostly described was between two men. Although, we must recognize that women may have been left out of written history. I would also like to point out, this may prove that aromantic people existed in that time, as these ‘special friends’ had sex and were not mentioned to be romantically involved.

The celts were known for their sex positivity and even eroticism because they loved it so much.This is one of the reasons why the pagans and the Chatholics clashed so badly.

Before the Romans really took over, Saint Patrick—yes, the Saint Patrick—started to try to convert the celts into Roman catholosim. He was appalled at the wide acceptance of polyamory(women were aloud to marry however many people they wanted) and homosexual relationships/marriages. Not to mention the celts could have sex with any one at any time as long as it is consensual.

——(Tw creepy men)——

That means no waiting til marriage, unless a Celtic chose to do so. Although we should take into consideration a statement made by Diodorus Siculus, an antient Greek historian, that “the young men will offer themselves to strangers and are insulted if the offer is refused.” In his series Bibliotheca historica. This could mean that either creepy men were comman place, or that homosexuality was so comman and done with everyone, it was wierd to be rejected.

————

Getting back to the Roman Catholics, the book Sextus Empiricus is published in the early 3th century and states,

“...amongst the Persians it is the habit to indulge in intercourse with males, but amongst the Romans it is forbidden by law to do so...”

It also goes on to say,

“...amongst us sodomy is regarded as shameful or rather illegal, but by the Germanic they say, it is not looked on as shameful but as a customary thing.”

For clarification, Germany is apart of Celtic society. So what we can infer is a very serious culture shock in terms of Rome and other places. During Emporor Serverus Alexander’s reign, openly homosexuals were deported.

In early 4th century, Emporor Constaine—the first Christian Roman Emperor—destroyed an Egyptian temple populated exclusively by femme, gay, pagan, priests. The Emproror then went on to eradicate all of them. However in 337 A.D., 3 emperors ruled, including Constantius II and Constans I, who where both in mlm relationships.

An odd thing these emporors went on to do was criminalize male bottoming during mlw sex 342 A.D.. 8 years later, Emperors Valentinian II, Theodosius I, and Arcadius ferther punished this act by killing these men by Public burning at the stake.

———(Tw toxic masculinity)———

I believe this was because masculinity was very important and a man acting in a more feminine role was seen as emasculating and humiliating. For the average man, he had to fight and defend his masculinity. Not doing so was seen as a personal failure.

——————

The last ever known peice of European literature containing a positive representation of homosexuality for 1,000 years was a large epic poem by Nonnus of Panopolis. It was titled Dionysiaca and the first part was published in 390 A.D., the last in 405 A.D..

So yeah, The catholics were very selective in terms of sex. One can only imagine how badly the celts and Catholics clashed. Back to 435 A. D., Saint Patrick began to preach Catholism and around that time wrote in his Confessio. He recounted that he found a boat to get out of Ireland and refused to suck on the nipples of those aboard.

“And on the same day that I arrived, the ship was setting out from the place, and I said that I had the wherewithal to sail with them; and the steersman was displeased and replied in anger, sharply: ‘By no means attempt to go with us.’ Hearing this I left them to go to the hut where I was staying, and on the way I began to pray, and before the prayer was finished I heard one of them shouting loudly after me: ‘Come quickly because the men are calling you.’ And immediately I went back to them and they started to say to me: ‘Come, because we are admitting you out of good faith; make friendship with us in any way you wish.’ (And so, on that day, I refused to suck the breasts of these men from fear of God, but nevertheless I had hopes that they would come to faith in Jesus Christ, because they were barbarians.) And for this I continued with them, and forthwith we put to sea.”

—(Tw very mild rape/sex assault mention—

So, as you can see, Celtic and Catholic ways clashed horribly. Something seen as good and sacred to the indigenous tribes was seen as barbaric and sinful to Saint Patrick. Also, don’t worry, the celts did not press the issue ferther, or else this would be a very different story.

—————

This only snowballed into a much bigger issue much later in medival English sexuality. They were VERY picky on what sex was aloud. Missionary was the only aloud position and it has to be the least pleasurable as possible. Making out and masturbation wasn’t aloud either, as that was also seen as a sin. Here’s a low Rez chart to help figure out when sex was okay.

While we are discussing such a queer topic, I would like to bring up the topic of Anam Cara, or Soul Friends in Antient Celtic culture. A Soul Friend was a word used to describe a Philosophy in which one is not completely whole without thier “other half.” This person can be in a platonic, romantic, or familiar kind of love. Really, all it boils down to is that 2 poeple were made to be together since the beginning of time and will be at thier strongest when they become companions.

There is a Celtic legend that seams to depict a mlm Anam Cara relationship. It tells the story of Cuchulainn and Ferdiad, two male worriors who have known and loved each other a long time. But they must kill each other in a duel. Both are vary reluctant, as at least one of them will have to die.

————(Tw insest)———

Before I go on, it is important to mention there is a lot of debate on wether or not this is homosexual. Mainly because they were foster brothers, but since insest wasn’t as much of a taboo, I do not think this would be as much of a set back as it is today.

—————

They had tried to kill each other each day for 3 days, but they ended up hugging each other and kissing 3 times. On the fourth day, however, Cuchulainn killed Ferdiad. The man then holds Ferdiad in his arms and sings peoms for a long time. Here are some:

“We were heart-companions once,

We were comrades in the woods,

We were men that shared a bed

When we slept the heavy sleep

After hard and weary fights.

Into many lands, so strange,

And side by side we sallied forth

And we ranged the woodlands through,When with Scathach we learned arms!”

Heart companions seams to be similar or the same as soul freind, because of how it’s used. Although sleeping in the same bed isn’t inherently sexual, Cuchulainn then goes on to complement Ferdiad’s physical features.

“Dear to me thy noble blush,

Dear thy comely, perfect form;

Dear thine eye, blue-grey and clear,

Dear thy wisdom and thy speech”

Although this is deeply sweet I would also like to caution that Chuhulainn may have simply been commenting on his healthiness, but blush is an odd word considering he is now dead.

Two male lovers, one dead in the other’s arms. Soul friends, maybe. Reminds me of a certain show..I don’t know I just can’t put my finger on it...

I would also like to point out that because Celtics did not pressure others to have sex, and that a soul friend can be any type of love, I do think that an asexual or someone on that spectrum could live without judgment.Unfortunately, I could not find much about intersex, androgynous, or trans people. Perhaps if I find anything in the future and will make a new post.

In conclusion, if Merlin were more historicaly accurate, he definitely would have been queer. Especially because he is said to be magic itself, it would make sense for him to be the personification of Celtic values. That may include homosexuality, because as previously stated, Celtic men really liked other men.

I’m excited to see what will come of this post, seeing as not a lot of people in the fandom seem to know this. More fanfiction? More fanart? It would probably inspire a lot of creators. So, if you do make something because of this post, please notify me in the notes, an ask, an @ or something. Basically anything but a PM. I would be happy to see/read the creation.

Sources:

Sexuality and love in Celtic society:

Same Sex Celts

Druid Thoughts: of Sex and Druids

Anam Cara, what’s a soul mate?

Sexuality in Ancient Ireland

The Celts, Women, and Sex

LGBT history

Sexuality and love in Medival Society:

Getting down and medival: the sex lives of the Middle Ages

Sex in the Middle Ages

Here’s What Sex Was Like In Medieval Times. It’ll Make You Feel Glad You Weren’t Born Back Then!

General Celtic Society:

Who Were the Celts

Celtic Religion and Belieifs

Saint Patrick

17 Things You Probably Didnt know about Saint Patrick

Confession of Saint Patrick

Cuchulainn and Ferdiad

Cuchulainn and Ferdiad, Gay Lovers?

The Combat of Ferdiad and Cuchulain

Insest in Antient Celtic Society

Ancient Irish elite practiced incest, new genetic data from Neolithic tomb shows

Homosexuality in the Roman Empire

Timeline of LGBT history

Timeline of LGBT history in the United Kingdom

[josefavomjaaga]

Sir Robert Wilson on Murat and Eugène

Okay, so I said I would read up on Wilson first before reading anything by him – but I had already looked into the second volume of his diaries, and this is just perfect: During the final days of March and April 1814, when the First Empire ended in Upper Italy, he visited both Murat and Eugène and had dinner with them.

Please bear with me, this is going to be lengthy. Plus, I do not know if these diaries were truely private or intended for publication, so I have no clue in how far they were edited later and how trustworthy they are as a source.

We start off in mid-March. Eugène is still holding the Mincio line for Napoleon. Murat has received the ratification of his treaty with Austria but is still on awful terms with Austrian Field Marshal Bellegarde – and with Bentinck [»Lord William«, as Wilson writes], of course.

March 15th – As I am of the species of anecdote collectors, I must note a speech of Beauharnois at Verona, which has made an impression in his favour, although it is not sufficiently towering for a hero's last struggle and would rather suit a sixth than a fifth Henry:

"Pour moi, je suis monté par un escalier si bas que je ne me ferai pas du mal en descendant. Je n'aurai que du chagrin pour ma femme, née et elevée princesse."

In English: "As for me, I have climbed a staircase from so low that I shall not harm myself on the way down. I will only grieve for my wife, born and bred a princess." That was Eugène’s usual attitude. Auguste did the same, in reverse: Of course she never wanted that crown of Italy for herself. But her Eugène (best of husbands™) deserved it so much more than anyone else in Napoleon’s family!

There are many others recorded equally meek; and this humility of spirit, combined with other good qualities and his present martial and military conduct, excites great interest in his favour.[...]

Yesterday, Colonel Cattanelli arrived and brought me advice that Lord William and Murat were at Reggio, contending for and against the British occupation of Tuscany. [...]

March 20th - We have no further advices from Reggio, but are most anxious to know the result of Murat's and Lord William's final conference.

Cattanelli tells me that Murat said to him: "Whereever I am in all the great battles, I have seen General Wilson. He is certainly one of the most distinguished officers, and if it had not been for him, we should in various instances in Russia have got through much better. He has done us infinite harm, but it is a fatality that he should always be opposed to me." He then continued his remarks, observing that I was an enemy to him, his family, the French nation etc. Cattanelli told him that he had heard me extol his military conduct, which pleased him much.

The fact is that I have not written a line or given an opinion under the influence of personal feeling. I have not shown the smallest prejudice in conversation or official correspondence, although I consider Murat's conduct as very dishonourable with reference to his benefactor. I have always said that the Allies did not give his renegade zeal fair trial, and that our present propositions are inadmissable by a King of Naples having only an armistice with England.

There is a reason, why, personally, I would wish to serve Murat. He now knows it, and will be satisfied that at all events I respect myself too much to wrong him.

March 29th, Bologna. - In consequence of the difficulties which existed and seemed to increase, I was requested by Lord William to negotiate with Murat. Constant to the principle of promoting public utility, I acquiesced, but I felt much personal reluctance. […]

At midday I went with Lord William, and was introduced to Murat. He received me very amicably; and we had more than an hour's very interesting conversation on past military events, particularly those relating to the Russian campaign; and I acquired some valuable information on that subject. Murat's dress was singular. Hair curled in Roman coiffure—two ringlets, or what, à la Parisienne, are styled “pensées”, dependent on each shoulder. Blue uniform coat, red pantaloons, yellow shoes, with spurs; sword, with three pictures in the handle. His countenance martial, his manners soft, his conversation easy and intelligent. I reserve further opinion until I have transacted business with his Majesty.

30th. — I dined with the Duke di Gallo - a handsome entertainment and a well-chosen party. In the evening went to the opera. Murat was seated as a Sultan -- princes and dukes all standing behind his throne-chair. He is by far the best actor that has appeared in the royalty theatre. This morning Lord William is gone to have an interview with the Pope. I am left to negotiate. I find myself much like the Allies in France—without any base for operations, line of communication uncertain, various interests clashing, and no unity of direction. [...]

April 1st. —On the evening of the 29th, at half-past six, I was at the dinner-table with Murat. The banquet was according to all the rules of perfect gastronomy. The master's manners were very gracious. It was impossible for Lord Chesterfield to have done the honours better. A certain high personage in England would, I am sure, ever feel a little jealous of his kingly courtesies. There was somewhat more of ceremony in the arrangement of the table than I ever witnessed before in royal fêtes. Murat occupied one whole side himself. Three persons sat opposite, and two at each end. With the exception of this distinction, there was no extraordinary attention paid to him, and the conversation was as general, fluent, and free as in private society. After dinner was over we remained talking till near eleven o'clock. I fought with his Majesty all the battles over again which we had witnessed together. He was exceedingly interesting, very candid, and by no means a Gascon for himself or his brethren in arms. I profited by this opportunity again to acquire information on various subjects which he was best qualified to give, and which may tend to make a posthumous memorandum of the late campaigns more valuable. […]

3rd. - I, yesterday, had a very long audience of Murat, and received his ultimatum on the subject of Lord William's demands. I begged, however, to have the statement in writing, and Murat promises to give it under his own hand. I think his case a good one. In foro conscientiæ he is justified. He has had much reason to feel mistrust and suspect hostile intentions under the pretext of peace. […]

Wilson actually lists up a whole bunch of reasons why Murat was justified both to mistrust the Allies and to break away from Napoleon, including Napoleon's intended takeover of Naples. So, in comparison with what he wrote on March 20, his opinion of Murat seems to have improved much by the end, on meeting him personally and on hearing his side of the story.

I skip over some stuff: The Allies and a bit later the Italians receive the news of Napoleon's abdication, which leads to a first military convention between Eugène and Bellegarde. Then we get the anti-French riots in Milan as soon as the senate tries to install Eugène as king of Lombardy, Pina gets tortured to death. That’s the point when Eugène quits the game.

25th. —Events have streamed so rapidly that I cannot attempt to note their progress. Yesterday, Marshal Beauharnois agreed to surrender the kingdom of Italy. The insurrection at Milan and the intelligence of Buonaparte's cession of the iron crown, with other circumstances, determined that measure.

I have, in my despatch to Lord Castlereagh, rendered justice to his conduct as an administrator, a general, and a man.

I passed the whole of yesterday evening with Beauharnois and in Mantua, and enjoyed very interesting conversation on all subjects. He treated me with a confidence that very few friends could experience from a person in his situation, and earnestly begged that I would see him again to pursue our discourses. There is unquestionably great satisfaction in a reception which gives proof of previous good repute, and shows the existence of unlimited credit on the heart's stores. [...]

Well, if I may suggest – don’t flatter yourself too much. That has, I fear, a lot to do with Eugène and rather little with you. (And btw, Eugène was not a marshal!)

The dinner was a most agreeable part of the day's entertainment, not only because we did not sit down till 7 o'clock in the evening, which is a great extension beyond 2 o 'clock, but because the society was very select, there not being more than eight, including three ladies appertaining to the Princess whose presence embellished the company. The Princess was herself not visible, having been confined only eight days, but they say she is very handsome. Her children, four of whom I saw, are of the best appearance and manners.

Beauharnois asked much after the Duke and Duchess of Bedford.

And that’s because he kinda knew the duchess pretty well before she became the duchess, during the peace of Amiens, when all the Brits crowded Paris. (There had even been talk about marriage but in the end either First Consul Bonaparte or the Duchess of Gordon decided against it.)

He is altered, but has a great resemblance to Moreau, and is as plain as Murat is gaudy in his dress. He is, in my opinion, just the man to suit some good Englishmen of my acquaintance.

Something makes me think he does not intend this to be a compliment 😉.

27th. — Yesterday, Beauharnois and his Princess arrived here. The preceding day there was much reason to fear that there might be obstacles to his departure, as the Italian generals, etc, were greatly displeased with the second convention which surrendered the capital and the fortresses without any arrangement made for them, according to the express stipulation of the first convention to that effect. I think, however, that Beauharnois does right; especially as Berthier desired him to withdraw, and the people had commenced a senseless and what threatened to be a very sanguinary insurrection, only to be repressed in its first outbreak by the presence of an Austrian force. [...]

The Princess, although only brought to bed twelve days, bore the journey very well; but Assalini tells me that she is very delicate, and that he fears the more for her as her mother died after child-birth. I have just sent her a bottle of Tokay from the cellar of John Sobieski. It was given me when I was in Warsaw, and I have carried it about intact on the presumption that I might one day apply the nectar to a better purpose than the gratification of my own palate. If I have not, as I hope, combined the “ utile dulci,” I have at least combined in this instance the “decorum dulci,” and this is more in character.

28th - Yesterday, Beauharnois showed me a letter from his sister, the Queen of Holland. It was full of anecdote about Buonaparte, the Empresses, etc, and proved that she possessed much good sense and good feeling. One of her remarks was—“Fatality determined that no experience, no counsel, not even the Emperor's own intelligent mind should discover the bandage which it had bound over his eyes. The perception of the heart was wanting, and great geniuses rarely possess it. He has been abandoned almost by all. Rustan (the Mameluke) is even about to quit, and when I saw the Empress Louisa the other day, she had not more than one valet-à-pied in her service. She came to the advanced posts to embrace her father before she followed her husband, but it is now said that she will not be allowed to go after him. It is true that he was not latterly kind to you, but I am sure you will remark only his benefactions at this time.” The tears started in the eyes of Beauharnois as he read.

May 1st. - I dined on the 29th with the Prince Eugène, the Princess and three ladies of her court; no other persons present. A conversation of five hours enabled me to travel over much matter, but without exhausting our subjects. I had every reason to be pleased with the Prince, and to be assured that we did not separate without a mutual wish to meet again. He was very anxious that I should be at Paris when he was there, but as I hate traitors and cowards - however beneficial their treason and baseness — I shall not sojourn in that city. I would rather be Buonaparte, to have written his last bulletin, than any one of the yet prosperous renegades.

So, to sum up: Murat fascinating but hard to assess, Eugène plain boring. No surprises there.

[abujenna]

where do churches come from?

A schism, most simply, is a division. In church parlance, it refers to one group separating from another. Considered theologically, it is often framed in such a way that there is One Church, and a schism always entails some group separating itself from that Church. A schism can be driven by heresy--a difference of conviction--but it is always political.

When we talk about church history, certain schisms tend to stand out. In the fifth century, there were schisms that separated the Church of the East and the various non-Chalcedonian communions (Coptic, Armenian, etc.) from what we might loosely call the Catholic Church, or the Church of the Roman Empire. In the 11th century, there was the famous schism between what became known as the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches. And in the 16th century, there was the Protestant Reformation, which expressed itself in a series of schisms from the Catholic Church. Schism is often how separate "churches" form (I've already written about our problematic way of talking about such things), but it doesn't always go that far. A schism is a bit like an Ecumenical Council, in the sense that you don't necessarily know what kind you're dealing with until well after the fact. In this regard, it might help to consider two notable schisms currently ongoing within the Eastern Orthodox Church--one that probably won't amount to much, and one that could.

The first schism is between the Patriarchs of Antioch and Jerusalem. For several years now, they've been in a jurisdictional dispute about who has canonical authority over the Persian Gulf region. It involves a rather small number of faithful in a territory that has not had much Orthodox presence for many centuries. The Patriarchs don't commemorate each other and don't celebrate communion together, but that's about as far as it goes. It's meant as an expression that something is not right between them, and rather than brush their problems under the rug and act like everything's fine, they'll refrain from these symbols of unity until their issues can be resolved. But a layperson of the Antiochian jurisdiction can receive communion in Jerusalem, and even a priest or deacon can serve in the altar. I would guess that most of the faithful don't even know the schism exists. And this is probably typical of most schisms in their beginnings.

The second schism is between the Patriarchs of Constantinople and Moscow. It expresses a division that has been growing over decades, but it didn't formally start until 2018. Both claimed jurisdiction over the Orthodox Church in Ukraine but took different approaches to resolving its internal problems. The result was an establishment of parallel churches--one autonomous under Moscow, the other autocephalous (fully independent). Moscow views Ukraine as integral to the historic identity of the Russian Church, and its response was to withdraw from communion with Constantinople and pretty much anyone else who supported the autocephalous church structure it set up in Ukraine. And that goes all the way down to banning its priests, deacons, and laypeople from intercommunion, which is decidedly atypical. While there is no real issue of heresy per se, there are some pretty serious differences, and both sides seem quite entrenched. Given the organizational weakness of the Orthodox Church, I think it could evolve into a more permanent schism if left to run its course.

Now, what these two schisms have in common (at least for now) is that they are decidedly treated as schisms within the Orthodox Church. Even given the severity of the schism over Ukraine, no one else is participating. As far as I know, no other local Orthodox Church has broken communion with either side, and even Constantinople, for its part, has not broken communion with Moscow. So an Orthodox layperson under the Antiochian jurisdiction, for instance, can still receive communion in any other Orthodox church. Their clergy can concelebrate with Russian or Greek--just not both at the same time. So we would say definitively that the schism makes no theological difference--neither Constantinople nor Moscow has somehow left the One Church by virtue of being out of communion with the other.

Now, how does this relate to past schisms? What happened in 1054 was specifically a mutual excommunication of persons. Rome excommunicated the Patriarch of Constantinople, who in turn excommunicated the papal legates--significant actions to be sure, but probably not readily obvious as the start of some permanent reconfiguration. It was likely another 150 years before the laity were specifically forbidden from receiving communion across the aisle, so to speak, and that only in the wake of the Fourth Crusade, when the Latins seized Constantinople itself and set up their own churches in parallel with those of the East. Whatever differences of faith and practice may have existed before and after 1054, it was fundamentally the political climate that determined where one could receive the grace of the Church, not any clear spiritual boundary line.

We can talk in various ways about someone as being either Catholic or Orthodox, so long as we recognize what we're really saying. If the Orthodox Church is understood historically as the church of the Byzantine Empire, then a person born, raised, and living in Constantinople in the 12th century was probably Orthodox. But what if he moved to Rome? Would that suddenly make him Catholic? What would have to happen to change his identity? And is this just a historical question? Would our Byzantine abroad even have thought about it as a spiritual distinction?

Or what about a Latin soldier who came east with the Fourth Crusade, took part in the attack on Constantinople when he thought it was just to restore the rightful heir to the throne, but later sympathized with the Byzantines and chose to attend one of their churches? Was there a process for him to "convert"? Would such a thing even have occurred to anyone? Would it have been possible at that point in history?

Or what about today? If I was born and raised Protestant but "converted" as an adult to the Orthodox Church, what is my relationship to Rome? Am I supposed to have been Catholic all along? Am I somehow Western by birth but Eastern by choice? If I chose to become Catholic, I would be accepted by a simple profession of faith because I'm Orthodox. Would I then be Melkite Catholic so as to preserve my Eastern heritage? I'm an American convert from an American convert parish--what is the real significance of my Arab patrimony?

And speaking of which, what about the 18th century schism among the Arab Melkite Christians? Those who accepted Western support against Ottoman oppression became Catholic, while those who aligned with the Greek establishment in Constantinople were called Orthodox. Three centuries later, where is the substantive difference in their faith or practice? That one is theoretically in communion with all other Catholics and the other with all other Orthodox? That family allegiance marks them as one or the other? Where does this distinction put them with regard to the One Church?

So if we come at the question historically, I think it becomes difficult to rigidly identify the One (Holy, Catholic, Apostolic) Church with a specific institution. Divisions arise for many different reasons, and their interpretation depends on many different factors. Yes, everyone generally agrees right now to talk about Russian, Greek, Romanian, and Serbian Orthodox as all part of one Eastern Orthodox Church, and Roman, Ukrainian, and Melkite Catholic as all part of one Catholic Church. But the alignments and disputes over the centuries that have contributed to this picture seem to require only small nudges one way or another to have produced different results. Assigning theological weight to such historical details seems contrived.

And what makes matters worse is the force of inertia that seems to resist most efforts at reconciliation. After 15 centuries of separation, quite a few theologians have concluded that the doctrinal bases for schism between Chalcedonian and non-Chalcedonian Orthodox were minimal or non-existent. Political motivations have shifted to the point that it's probably in their interest to restore communion, but that's a lot of historical identity to overcome. On the other end of things, the two sides in the comparatively recent Melkite schism have almost everything in common and seem quite open to some sort of restoration; but relations with the broader Catholic and Orthodox Churches make it difficult to progress on the local level. And however promising overtures toward Catholic and Orthodox reconciliation might seem, it's difficult to envision a scenario that wouldn't split each Orthodox church down the middle and just exacerbate the divisions. Such reticence is understandable, I suppose, and only human--but as a basis for theological claims about where the One Church might reside, it seems pretty flimsy.

So all of this has me taking my identity as Eastern Orthodox much less seriously than I used to. Not that I feel inclined to give it up--I just don't know where the boundaries are, or even if I care. I've always known that these terms we use--One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic, even Orthodox--are generically applicable to the claims of other apostolic churches (Catholic, Coptic, Armenian, etc.); but the reality seems similarly messy. We can't reduce it to One Church, excluding all else, or to various churches as branches of a whole. For me, it helps to think in terms of schisms, as they evolve through different historical moments and perceptions and prejudices and identities. If these divisions depended on human choices and actions in their formation, who's to say we couldn't end them just by changing our minds?

[fapangel]

What is your counterargument to "Americans have no culture"? Serious long-form answer, no imageposts.

As a Greek-American, I have a unique perspective on this; because I can compare American culture to my ancestral culture; the culture; the culture that gave the world mathematics, natural science, medicine and works of literature that are still mandatory courses of study for high school students world-wide. A culture so vibrant that the Romans themselves just Romanized the names of our Gods and eagerly adopted them as their own; not so much adopting our culture as merging our enlightened ideas of intellectual pursuit with their pragmatic, down-to-earth engineer’s mindset to build works of architecture still revered today for their beauty, functionality and longevity. 

And all that glorious, beautiful culture has done Greece diddly squat. 

Look at it. Look at Greece; a nation impoverished, mocked and maligned; a nation that’s become the Mexico of Europe. That’s not a joke; back in the 70s the rail line between Greece and Germany was called the “Athens express” for how many Greek migrant workers rode it. The EU’s One Currency To Rule Them All guaranteed that someone in the bloc, unable to devalue their currency to manage changes in the global market, would emerge the loser, and once again it was Greece. The Greeks only participated in the 1930s Olympics because wealthy Greeks in America took up a collection and sent it over to them, and Greeks in America are still better off than they are in the homeland. Greece, the nation that invented democracy, soon forgot how to use it; they were ruled by a military dictatorship from 67 to 74 in a tragicomic reversion to the spasms of tyranny that sometimes gripped Athens in Classical Antiquity. Their civil government denies them many important rights; such as firearms ownership, and is only held in check by a combination of Greek’s inborn anarchist spirit and a woefully incompetent civil government that makes Italy’s civil service look like the fucking Swiss. Building a house in Greece is sometimes tantamount to filing a lawsuit due to this. And that’s to say nothing of the “anarchists,” i.e. the fucking communists who still firebomb the occasional building and contribute to a constant, low-level civil unrest significantly worse than anything antifa has managed stateside. 

So tell me, if you can - what has Greece’s vaunted “culture” done for it? What has it done for Greece, with its worm-riddled civil government, its impoverished people, with hoards of Middle Eastern refugees that Europe refuses to deal with? What has it done for Greece, having married into the globalists wet dream of a Unified European State, only to find that it was the designated loser? What has it done for Greece, which, having forfeited its economic independence to the globalist agenda, then finds itself left to defend itself with what little GDP it has left for military expenditures, now that Germany has gutted its own army, France still doesn’t give a single begotten fuck about alliances that don’t immediately impact their own interests, and the UK is worried about scraping the cash together just to defend themselves? Pray tell, what, exactly, does Greece have that America does not? 

America has media empires that resound across the world; the reach of Hollywood is vast. Donald Duck, Porky Pigs, Bugs Bunny are recognized from the Mongolian steppes to the savanna of sub-Saharan Africa. Our cultural influence on the globe is so mighty that Buick is still a big fucking deal in China, despite the globalists having willingly given away our role as world manufacturer to China itself, for the Chinese remember the impoverished days when the Party big-wigs all rolled around in American-built Buicks. American culture is a unique cultural attitude towards violence where a finger-poke counts as assault in many jurisdictions, but lays the necessary groundwork for the only country of its size on Earth where most people have the right to carry a loaded weapon on their person for the purpose of self defense. American culture is a strain of individualism matched only by its innate suspicion of government; a frontiersman attitude, not an inability to work together, as alt-right collectivists allege, but a pragmatic mindset that says nobody is coming to help you, or even nobody is going to help you in time, and thus frees people to help themselves. 

Even the comforts of our modern age cannot dull this; as it is written too deeply in the structure of our laws and the stories of our national mythos; the default reruns on daytime broadcast TV around here are old Westerns like Bat Masterson or Rawhide. One of the most incisive observations of Japanese culture I’ve ever seen I found in The Atlantic of all places; the commentary on how Japanese TV is always played in the background, a passive venue for programming responses that people then execute, word for word, at social events, as the author grouses towards the end. The American version is nowhere near as deliberate, of course; just our culture’s older mythos being churned up like a cow chewing her cud, but it’s there - and it’s all cowboy western ass-kicking or, at night, 80s action-movie asskicking. We mine it because that’s all there is to mine, from the bottom up. 

And what are the effects on Americans? If you strip away innate advantages of provenance and wealth? If you deny him his technology and money and pit him against enemies of homogeneous ethnicity and Strong Ancient Cultures, rifle to rifle, bayonet to bayonet, hand to hand? What emerges then? 

You find the men who took the Omaha and Utah beacheads with only rifles and grenades, after half their armored support floundered in the channel, preparatory bombardments missed their mark, and American faith in technology and firepower overall failed, and miserably. 

You find the Marines who held Edson’s Ridge against the Japanese, emerging victorious from brutal hand-to-hand combat in the dark. 

You find dead men walking who refuse to stop fighting until their last round and their last breath. 

In short, you find victors. Of the governments who’ve opposed us, many no longer exist - and yet we are still here. 

So where, exactly, am I supposed to detect America’s alleged lack of “culture?” The performance of our society in total war has been superlative; even our most astounding fuck-ups demonstrate just how bad an idea it is to piss us off. We have a national mythos of our own, complete with great heroes and their noble quests. We have icons and monuments built by our own hand, often to venerate those heroes. We have our own land; one we had to fight for, bleed for, and tame, one that is ancient and filled with natural wonders of staggering scope and beauty. And we have the same collectivists and fifth-columnists and globalists that Europe has, except they hold less sway here, despite the much-vaunted Culture of Europe’s ancient nations and peoples. 

So where is the tell-tale? Where is the casual link between America’s fortunes and her alleged “lack of culture?” For that matter, where is the casual link between Europe’s cultures and their fortunes? Where is the evidence? What even is the point of that phrase, “America has no culture?” 

The truth is that there is none; it is empty sloganeering of the “just asking questions” kind; trading entirely on trolling witless neoliberals incapable of defending the inconsistencies in their own platforms due to their inability to acknowledge reality. The alt-right never has to defend their platform as a coherent theory, because their only detractors are either fellow collectivists who share their basic premises and care nothing for critique, as they are of the out-group to them - a different collective - and thus not even human. With the lolbertarians trivially easy to keep on the defensive, that leaves nobody, nobody at all, as the actual constituency of the GOP, that have rallied behind Trump would’ve been called centrists thirty years ago and want nothing to do with collectivism, no matter what collective it claims to defend. 

The vast majority of them are full of shit, and it is not hard to prove it. 

[bookwormyyy-blog]

First Post :)

My Opinion On The Underrated Emotional Complexity of Roman Sionis:

Maybe it is as simple as Harley said it was when being interrogated by Roman, that he really is not that complicated. I, however, beg to differ. One of the key details of Roman’s backstory is how he was disowned by his family and thrown out of their business, otherwise known as Janus Corp, that specializes in cosmetics. One of the things I noticed is that Roman clearly has the right perception of a family. They are supposed to love, protect, and accept each other, bonded by their shared blood. During his business negotiation with the head of another notoriously wealthy family, the Golden Lions, Roman expresses his hatred for the idea of family as presented by the head(forgot his name :/), and yet proceeds to apologize for his words, as if he respects the idea of family, yet resents it since he could not experience it himself. He then continues to describe the benefits of the two becoming partners, how they could look out for each other and create their own family. In my brain, this was a major indicator that Roman understands the concept of a family, and has a desire to create his own new family in order to make up for the lack of affection and acceptance from his blood family. Despite his narcissism, cruelty, and sadistic tendencies, Roman is searching for the affection he was never given, and that may very well be the reason he developed so many destructive behaviours. Continuing with this idea, my next though comes from the scene where we are first introduced to Dinah Lance, aka Black Canary. The song she performs that night, in my opinion, is clearly directed at describing Roman. The song, titled “ This is a Man’s Man’s Man’s World”, included lyrics that perfectly encapsulate Roman as a person. Dinah sings about a man being lost “He’s lost in the wilderness, he’s lost in the bitterness”. Not to mention that during her performance of this song, the camera does a dramatic zoom and upward pan that focuses on Roman, which I interpreted as a clear indicator that it was a song about him or describing him. It makes sense. He’s lost in the chaotic wilderness of the criminal underworld after being thrown to the wolves by his family, and he’s lost in the bitterness of being rejected, disowned, and looked down upon by his own blood. Another scene I would like to reference is when Victor and Dinah inform him they’ve lost the diamond, and Roman has a sort of manic episode/ panic attack. He becomes extremely agitated and possibly even terrified at the though of losing the Bertinelli diamond, which he believes to be his rightful property. Roman only calms down after being consoled by Victor, who even takes his hands and promises he will retrieve the diamond to Roman. I will unpack the meaning of this later, but I need to reference yet another scene first. Arguably one of Roman’s most awful and horrific moments was when he humiliated Erica, a patron at his club, by forcing her to stand on a table, dance, and having a man cut and tear off her dress. This is not what I believe is important, though. What I noticed about this scene was how easily Roman came to the conclusion that Erica was laughing at him after being turned down by the head of the Golden Lions. Looking at these two scenes, I came to the conclusion that not only does Roman suffer from some form of anxiety, but also severe insecurity. His anxiety over losing the diamond, and how quickly he lashed out at Erica due to his own insecurities about himself, are most likely perpetuated yet again by his family, or feeling inferior to them, like he has something to prove to them( he is better than them).  Finally, one of my favorite scenes in the movie, is when Victor calls Roman and informs him that he has been betrayed by Dinah. I absolutely cherished his reaction, because it was so unexpected and revealed so much about the his character. Despite being betrayed, Roman does not burst into a fit of rage and screaming. Instead, he appears genuinely heartbroken, even doubting that Dinah would betray him. And, despite his notoriously violent behaviour towards those who dare to betray or reject him, he orders Victor not to kill her, as if he cannot bear to see her killed, yet cannot forgive her and is sincerely wounded by her traitorous actions. Soon after, Roman experiences a kind of psychological break, and suits up as the Black Mask to go after Cassandra Cain and his diamond. This scene is important, since I believe it further highlights the extent of Roman’s trauma over being abandoned by his family. He develops, anxiety, insecurity, and major trust issues, which further enhances the pain he feels when being betrayed yet again, by someone who was supposed to stand by him and remain loyal to him. Due to all of this, I believe that DC has finally created an intriguing and emotionally complex villain, something not often seen within the DCEU. Roman Sionis is set apart. He is not another villain with insane powers or any apparent fighting skills(except being able to handle a gun and knife quite comfortably), super intelligence, or godly origins. He is a seemingly broken and deranged man who, as a result of his insecurity and need to prove himself to his family, used his reasonable intelligence, resources, and undeniable charm to build one of Gotham’s largest and most powerful criminal empires. Roman Sionis is a realistic villain, which makes his violent behaviour and demeanor all the more terrifying, since people like him could very well exist in the real world(many arguably do already). Am i sympathetic to Roman Sionis? Not necessarily. All of the awful and gruesome acts he has committed can in no way be excused or justified, however I do understand that every person develops into who they are for various complex reasons, and that not everyone can prevail as a good, moral person after experiencing pain. Despite this, he is definitely my favorite DCEU villain and character so far, because I think he is an interesting character who can be dissected in various thought-provoking ways. Thank you to anyone who bothered to read this far into my head and explore my theories, and I hope you enjoyed my thoughts regarding Roman Sionis.  

P.S. I could also unpack the significance of his obsession with wearing and collecting various masks, but I’m kind of feeling brain dead right now, so I might come back to that later. Also, apologies about any misspellings/ typos.

[readyplayerhobi]

Apricate

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut

; Word Count: 13.2k

; Warnings: Oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, dubious use of a champagne bottle

; Synopsis: A summer vacation in the Mediterranean is the idea of heaven for many people. Sun, sand and azure sea as far as the eye can see. But what happens when a chance encounter results in you basking in a very different kind of sun?

; A/N: Major thanks to @yminie for the beautiful moodboard ;-; but seriously...how could I NOT write a summer vacation fic for Hoseok with that pic??

-

For hundreds upon hundreds of years, the Mediterranean has been at the centre of trade and life for those living around its warm, azure waters. From the Egyptians who had worshipped their gods of the deserts to the Greeks who had prayed for their sea god to give them calm seas for travel.

Underneath the cerulean waves lay the remnants of cultures that had risen and died, from the Romans to the Phoenicians and more. The rise of empires, the fall of civilisations, the wars that humanity had wreaked upon itself over millennia; the Mediterranean had borne witness to many things.

And now, it was bearing witness to your excited ramblings to your best friend through a smartphone. The tiny device was pointed at your face, giving you a perfect view of her exasperated expression while you happily spun around, giving her a front seat view of the spectacular and awe-inspiring sight of the Greek island of Santorini.

You’d spent the past hour slowly climbing the, frankly ridiculous, number of stairs that had been carved into the island a long time ago. There had been the option to take a donkey, but you’d felt that you couldn’t possibly use a donkey without feeling guilty.

It was 34 degrees right now and looking at the poor things made you want to wrap your arms around them and lead them into some shade. So instead, you’d clambered up the steps by yourself and had spent five minutes practically lying on the floor while feeling like you were dying.

You were in shape, but there’s being in shape and then there’s climbing that amount of tall stairs in shape. Why were they so big?! Wasn’t it bad enough that most of the tiny streets were so high given the rugged landscape that had been caused by a volcanic eruption millennia ago?

Any other complaints you’d thought about having though, had vanished completely when you’d finally stood up and walked along the top for a little. The view was truly stunning, and took your breath away. How did people live in places like this?!

White-washed buildings gleamed along the side of the island where they clung onto the land like stone spiders, desperately defying gravity while the occasional blue dome topped a building here and there. Jagged rocks led down to the ocean, which was gently lapping along the edge to produce white froth that topped the crystal clear waters, leading out to a deep blue that sparkled in the sunlight.

For a moment, you’d simply rested your elbows against the white wall that protected people from falling down the edge and watched the world drift by. It was almost easy to imagine yourself thousands of years ago, to try and imagine how the Greeks had lived during the time of influential people such as Socrates, Aristotle and more.

Five minutes of admiring the scenery had left you wanting to share what you were seeing, and so you had produced your phone from the small bag that was looped over your shoulder. A few Instagram photos later, because you might be fantasising about ancient cultures but you did live in the 21st century, and you had been calling your best friend, mindful of the fact you were probably going to be hit with a huge phone bill later.

But she had to experience this!

Lisa had answered your call grumpily, informing you that it was too early in the morning to be on the phone to you. Despite the fact that you were showing her one of the most beautiful sights you had ever been witness to.

If anything, she should be used to it by now. You’d saved up all your vacation leave and had taken it all at once, blowing through your meagre savings to take you on a trip through the countries that surrounded the Mediterranean.

A degree that had majored in Ancient History and minored in the Classical Studies meant that you had a vested interest in the ancient cultures that had proliferated along these venerable shores. It was just good fortune that the museum you worked in had been enthusiastic about you taking a whole month off to explore the very countries where their most popular artifacts came from.

In fact, your manager had made you promise to make note of any interesting facts that you may learn from the native tour guides. An interactive exhibition was being planned for children, with your photographs being used alongside 3D images of the artifacts. Honestly, they should be paying you for this.

Your month long trip had taken you from the awe-inspiring pyramids of Egypt, to the shores of splendid Turkey, to the island of Malta, to the historied cities of Italy before finally landing upon Greece. A few days had been spent in Athens before you decided to head out to Crete, the largest island in Greece and discover the Minoan palace and other treasures there.

A day trip to Santorini is how you’d found yourself currently gushing about the wonderful landscape around you, though you were glad that you had chosen Crete as your base for the final part of the trip. You weren’t sure you could handle all the hills all the time!

“You’re coming home in a few days right?” Lisa queried once you finally brought the screen back to your face. Resting against the wall once more, you held the phone out in front of your face and nodded, letting your head tip back to take in the blinding sun.

“Yep, four more days and then it’s back home. I am going to have the worst case of holiday blues, I swear.” You groan deeply, though Lisa laughs through the tinny speaker at your misery. Her eyes are puffy from sleep and you smile in fondness, noting how young she looks when she’s just woken up.

“Oh, my heart bleeds for you as you stand there in Greece. Make sure to bring back some good stuff from there okay?” She says and you laugh, spinning around so that you face the stairs once more and sigh deeply.

Heading over, your sandals slapping against the worn stones in the quietness of the day, you acknowledge her request with a salute. Figuring that you may as well get some use out of the ridiculously expensive video call you’re making, you go to ask her how life is with Taehyung now that they’ve moved together.

Only she makes an intrigued gasp and you watch as suddenly your screen is filled with her nose and upper lip. “What are you doing you freak? I don’t want to see your nose hairs!” You squeal, moving the phone even further away while looking in disgust.

“Who...is that hottie behind you? In the yellow shirt?” She asks, completely disregarding your comments. You pause and slowly turn around, eyes scanning over the small group of tourists who had boarded the boat with you in Crete. Most of them were from the same tour group as you, all being picked up at the same point in the town you were staying in.

Subtly looking over everyone, you note that the majority of yellow wearers are women and frown, wondering if perhaps she didn’t see it properly. Only then suddenly, a pale yellow the colour of a spring chick comes into your vision and your own brows raise.

The shirt is a button up, looking light and comfortable with the top few buttons undone to reveal an expanse of smooth, golden skin. His sleeves have been rolled up and reveal equally toned arms that practically glow in the sunlight, while the sun makes his black hair shine beautifully.

Comfortable, white trousers adorn his lower half and you wonder half heartedly if they’re linen - truly the perfect fabric for heat like this. He looks bright and colourful, every inch the tourist yet with a sense of exquisiteness that marks him as different from your regular tourists.

He turns slightly to look out at the sea and you swallow. High cheekbones sit beneath softly rounded cheeks, while his jawline is as sharp as the rocks that meet the sea down below. An aquiline nose slopes down before turning up ever so slightly at the end, making the perfect resting place for the Chanel sunglasses that cover his eyes.

For a moment, he looks utterly unattainable until a young girl says something in front of him to cause him to smile. And that is when you truly lose your breath, for it’s like the sun itself has come to life in front of you.

It’s the only explanation for the way his face practically lights up from within as he smiles, the movement taking up his face and revealing perfectly straight teeth while his lips become an endearing heart.

How have you missed this man on your walks?

He looks utterly at ease with himself, his hands pushed into his pockets and an expensive looking watch resting on his left wrist lazily. Not a damp spot can be seen on his summer-island clothing, and it makes you flush with embarrassment as you realise that your pink vest top is currently red in certain areas from the sweat of the walk up.

And that’s to not even mention the amount of boob sweat you have going on, or thigh sweat. Or, perhaps even more humiliatingly, butt sweat. In fact, you’re glad that you’re wearing pale denim shorts today, otherwise you’d have a rather lovely sweat patch along your ass crack if you had chosen linen like him.

“I don’t know...I think he’s part of my tour group.” You murmur, vaguely aware that Lisa is still on the line with you. It’s only when she lets out a laugh of amusement that you refocus back on her, blinking a few times to regain focus until she finally comes back into your vision.

“Wow. You look taken by him. He looks pretty hot. Maybe you should see about a holiday fling?” She says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively until your cheeks flush with blood once more. Spinning around, you turn away from him and begin to make your way back down the stairs.

“Don’t be stupid! Did you not see him? He looks way out of my league! I mean, the man isn’t even sweating. He’s wearing Chanel sunglasses so god knows how much the rest of his outfit costs. That is a man, out of my league.” You hiss at her, wobbling slightly as you take a wrong step and almost go falling down the whole lot of stairs.

That would be painful. And humiliating.

She simply huffs and watches you with a smile, one brow quirked while her chin rests in her hand. You know that look. You’ve spent years watching that look as she ropes you into some dumb thing. It’s the look she wore before she got Taehyung, and he can be a grade A idiot sometimes.

Okay, so he’s sweet. But still!

“You could at least try! I mean...if he’s in your group then you’ve got the boat ride back...and then the coach ride back. You could try. You don’t need to be in his income bracket to enjoy good dick.” Lisa says crudely and you groan loudly, rolling your eyes as you wave your phone around and hope she gets motion sickness or something.

“Shut up.” You hiss at her, glancing around paranoid and relieved that there’s no other tourists around. Greece’s islands were full of British and German tourists you’d noted, and the German’s appeared to have exceptional English skills. It really wasn’t in your daily itinerary to accidentally become someone’s holiday story as ‘that thirsty American girl who was talking about holiday dick on the phone’.

The heat was excruciating with the minimal wind that was coming off the sea, and even though you were going down the stairs and not up, you could still feel the sweat slowly dripping down your back and between your breasts. Did guys get this issue?

“I am not going to ask the outrageously handsome man if he wants to sleep with me tonight. He could have anything! He might not even speak English! Have you even thought of that?” At the other end of the phone, all the way back in New York, you watch as Lisa rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn, tapping her hand over her mouth.

“You don’t need to speak English to get dick. I’m pretty sure he’ll know the word for sex. If not, you could always try…” She trails off before resting the phone on something and simulating sex, pushing a finger through another circled finger. Practically screaming, you have a small tantrum on the steps before pointing at her.

“You’re terrible, you know that? Why am I friends with you? You’re like...half a world away and you’re still pressuring me into sex!” You groan, rubbing the back of your hand over your forehead to get rid of the perspiration there. She laughs loudly, the sound tinkling through the tiny speakers and you can’t help but smile at the sound. Okay, so she’s an ass but you still love her.

“I’m trying to get you laid. You like sex. You like hot men. You’re loving Greece. Why not have sex with a hot man in Greece? A three-in-one!” Hissing through clenched teeth, you stop and take a deep breath, closing your eyes while you take in the hot air. Honestly, it’s not so fortifying when the air feels hotter than your lungs.

“Goodbye Lisa. I will text you later, send you pics. I’ll make sure to buy you some yummy Greek treats and you’re also getting one of those wooden dick keyrings they sell all over the place.” You give her a saccharine smile, waving fingers as she sputters about wooden dicks.

Ending the call, you let out the breath slowly and feel your shoulders practically fall to the floor. She’s right. You do like sex, and you haven’t had any for what? Six months now? Any longer and your damn hymen would grow back and you’d gain second virginity.

But a holiday romance was too...cliché. Imagine going home with that story! And what if you got pregnant?! It’s a Mills and Boon story come to life. Shaking your head, you continue on down the stairs and resolve to take in the view once more to centre yourself.

He was hot, sure. But you’re probably never going to see him again once you both get off the tour bus. And that’s more than enough reason to keep any sexual thoughts to yourself.

Yes, you won’t be getting his dick tonight. But there’s nothing against imagining his dick when you’re in the quiet, darkness of your room later.

-

The trip back to your hotel had been awkward for you, given that you were now almost supernaturally aware of Hot Man’s presence. In fact, it was almost to the point that you wondered how the hell you’d never noticed him before.

An extra wary eye had allowed you to spot his pastel yellow shirt situated towards the back of the boat, stood watching the wake that the vessel created as it cut through the deep blue waters. Immediately, you’d taken a seat towards the bow of the boat instead.

You know, just in case he suddenly developed telepathy and caught wind of the inappropriate thoughts that were running through your mind. Like whether it was possible to have sex on a boat this crowded in the middle of the Aegean Sea.

Instead, you’d rested an arm against the side and watched quietly as the great expanse of ocean passed by under your watchful gaze. It still blew your mind to imagine that people millennia ago would undertake the same journey as you, only their ships were made of wood and relied on the wind or pure manpower.

As you’d inhaled deeply and took in the pleasing scent of salt soaked ocean, you hadn’t been able to help but smile slightly at the cooling wind that had whipped through your clothes as the ferry sped back towards Crete. How wonderful it would be, to simply live on the ocean like this. Not a care in the world.

Implausible obviously, but still. Your meandering thoughts could have perhaps be blamed on the ever beating sun that shone mercilessly in the sky. There was no wonder that the Greek islands often looked almost barren of green plant life, and yet you knew there to be many forms of life that had not only endured but evolved.

You’d spent the rest of the trip back having silly thoughts like that, letting yourself fancifully imagine what it would have been like to live during the age of Greek gods and so forth. Honestly, it’s a wonder you’d managed to make it through your holiday without getting stuck somewhere because of your flyaway thoughts.

The ride back to your town had left you with your heart in your throat as Hot Man had casually gotten onto the coach as well. You’d chosen a seat close to the front, but the seat next to you was free and you’d barely even taken a breath until he’d walked past, heading further to the back.

You’d gotten off the coach before him however, so you weren’t entirely sure where he was staying in the small Cretan town you’d pick as your final destination. The sigh you’d let out was ambiguous, and you were not entirely sure if it’s because of relief or sadness.

The next three days were spent exploring the town you were staying in, along with a few of the nearby towns and enjoying the delicious food and warm friendliness of the Greeks who inhabited this small piece of heaven.

There had been more than a few hours spent lazing on the beaches that dotted the mountainous island, admiring the sapphire waves as they hugged the shore lovingly. Numerous souvenirs had been bought for friends and family, from cute pewter keyrings with tiny blue glass beads featuring the painted eye that was so common to boxes of loukoumi for those who have a sweet tooth.

You’d spent plenty of time in the various cafes and bars dotted along the seafront and watched with a mixed sense of awe and discomfort as coach drivers swung their huge beasts of burden down tiny streets that had been designed for carts, not buses. The inches that separated a wall from the coach often left you cringing, and yet they didn’t seem to care at all.

Greeks carried on with their lives as you watched, going to work or eating out at a few of the restaurants because while you were enjoying the island as a holiday, for them it was simply their home. Lyrical words were spoken at a fast pace between friends and family, almost musical when they really got going, and yet always filled with a passion that seemed to show on their faces as well.

Your own Greek was not very good, not nearly as good as your Italian, with just a handful of important words mastered such as please and thank you. Your knowledge of the Greek alphabet was almost redundant as well, with signs often being bilingual in English, and many time multilingual with German and Russian too.

Yet you still enjoyed the pleased smiles you got when you stuttered out a ‘kalispera’ in the evening or ‘kalimera’ in the morning. The words always felt so pretty to say though, and even if you got it wrong they still gave encouraging smiles that meant you felt okay trying again later.

Something that you had most definitely noticed, with a growing sense of awareness that left you feeling you’d gained some bizarre sixth sense, was Hot Man venturing along the same streets that you did. You never actively noticed him - it was more like you’d catch a glimpse of a smartly dressed man out of the corner of your eye and quickly glance over.

He seemed to have a penchant for light coloured clothing that looked comfortable and not too hot. Two days ago, you’d seen him wearing tan coloured linen shorts that came to his knees and a pale green t-shirt, whereas yesterday he’d been wearing a tan and baby pink version of his Santorini outfit.

Not that you’d been overly paying attention to his wardrobe or anything.

It had become very obvious that he was in fact, an expensive man as his clothing was subtle yet practically reeked of money. Not to mention his every changing roster of designer sunglasses that sat primly on the bridge of his nose.

Despite this, he was beyond friendly and seemed to get on with whoever he was talking to, despite any language barriers. His deep voice, so pleasing to listen to, had travelled to you a few times along the gentle sea breeze and you’d been satisfied to discover that he spoke English too.

Not that you’d been hoping he did or anything.

Still, you’d enjoyed subtly watching him as he walked along the old, charming streets of the Cretan town. It was nice to see someone enjoying the atmosphere of the place as much as you were, and not simply looking for the next alcoholic drink.

Unfortunately however, tomorrow was your last day and you’d no longer get to sip fresh apple juice while gazing out over the oil smooth sea, or wake up on fresh sheets to blissfully warm sun peeking its way through the glass door. Nor would you get to peek upon your Hot Man and fantasise.

Each country you’d visited had seen you carefully counting your money, only splurging on the last day at a fancy restaurant in each location. Today was finally the turn of Greece, and you’d decided on a small place that overlooked the ocean, figuring that you’d enjoy the delicious food while observing the awe inspiring sight of the sun slowly dipping below the waves.

Which is where you found yourself now, sat on a wicker chair with a basket of small, delicious rolls of bread in front of you and a bowl of salty olives to snack on. You’d decided to finish your trip with a meal consisting of your favourite food that you’d discovered in Crete.

A plate of dakos was sat on the table. The crispbread, olive oil, creamy cheese and ripe tomatoes was an explosion of taste in your mouth and the perfect starter to put you on until your lamb souvlaki arrived later.

You were preoccupied with daydreaming as you slowly ate, watching the beautiful scenery in front of you, the sky slowly painting itself vivid yellows, soft pinks and warm oranges as the sun slowly began to make its way down to the sea.

As such, you didn’t notice the presence that appeared at your side, nor the way he watched for a few moments, amused. A low cough, clearing his throat quietly enough to not be obnoxious to other diners but enough to catch your attention, caused you to look away from the sea. Eyes widening at the sight in front of you, you sat up straighter and wiped at your mouth, hoping there was no embarrassing food on your mouth.

Or down the white sundress you’d opted to wear for your final night. He let out a soft laugh, the sound causing that heart stopping smile to break across his face and make tiny butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. Erm...I was just wondering if...maybe you’d be okay if I ate with you? I was over there but...the view’s better here.” White teeth flash at you, his strange mix of hesitation and confidence causing you to frown slightly. “I mean, if you don’t want to then it’s fine. It’s just...it’s my last night here and...well I wouldn’t mind being in the company of a pretty woman and a beautiful sunset.”

His words almost cause you to choke and you splutter, one hand covering your mouth while your other gestures towards the chair opposite you. He sits down slowly, looking like a dream come to life. Today, he’s gone for all white. A white button up, with the buttons just low enough to give an alluring tease of defined collarbones beneath golden skin and white trousers.

Black hair moves across his forehead gently in the subtle breeze and you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath when he finally removes those sunglasses that have remained attached to his head. Beneath them, are crescent shaped brown eyes, warm and filled with kindness and amusement.

Dear god, he was stunning. Staring at him in the restaurant, his profile standing out from the outstanding picture of natural beauty surrounding him, you realise how the people of this country thousands of years ago had believed in a god who brought the sun to life every day.

Because you could quite easily believe that Apollo himself had taken human flesh and sat opposite you.

“Thanks. I was worried I might seem a little weird. I’m Hoseok.” He holds out an elegant, long fingered hand to you. “Jung Hoseok.”

Stuttering, you shake his hand shyly and let him know your name, eyes falling to the table as you take a bite of your food to occupy your mouth. Lisa had been joking when she’d suggested a holiday fling with him, and you’d been serious when you thought that nothing would ever happen.

Yet here he was, sat opposite you and looked more delicious than the food you were eating currently. Hoseok calls for the waiter and asks for a bottle of white wine to be delivered to the table, smiling pleasantly and thanking him once the expensive bottle arrives.

He pours himself a glass and looks at you, brow raised while he shakes the bottle slightly. You nod slowly, watching as the clear liquid fizzes inside the glass and reach out, taking a long gulp of the crisp, dry drink.

“How long are you in Crete for?” He asks idly, giving another smile to the young girl who delivers his starter and diving into it. Dragging your fork through the food on your plate, you feel your cheeks heat with awkwardness.

“Just tonight. I leave tomorrow to go home, like you.” At that, the delicate smile that has so thoroughly charmed you makes another reappearance. In fact, if you were reading his face right, he looked positively delighted at this news.

“Oh really? What a weird coincidence. Let’s consider this a fruitful night hmm?” He says, raising his glass to you in a toast that has you letting a tiny smile over your lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve kept seeing you around this place by the way. Which is weird, because it’s a small town but it’s not that small.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes another bite of food.

You wish you were strong enough to lie, but instead it comes blurting out. “You have. I mean...I’ve seen you around too. And...we went on that trip to Santorini together. Kind of. I mean, not actually together.  But...you know what I mean.”

Hoseok watches with a single brow raised, amusement rippling over his face as he chews slowly. He swallows as he nods. “Yeah, I thought so. Honestly, that’s why I came over. I was pretty sure I recognised you and...well you’re pretty and you look interesting.”

Well, now your body is definitely heating up and it’s not because of the sun.

“I’m not that interesting. Really. Unless you find museum curator’s interesting.” You blurt out, running a hand down your dress to smooth out any wrinkles. At that, his face opens up in interest and he sits forward, placing the knife and fork onto his now empty plate and looks at you with enthusiasm.

“A museum curator? Oh wow, I wasn’t even sure if you’d finished college.” He stops suddenly, face blanking before cringing. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That sounded weird. Oh no it was weird. I’m sorry.” He repeats, hands coming out to try and placate you, despite you not being bothered.

“Why is that weird?” You ask and he flushes, tanned cheeks dusting with rosy pink.

“Well...I’m 33 and as soon as I said it, I realised how weird it would sound if I thought you were like 21 or something. Oh god, I wish I’d never said anything.” He grimaces, running a hand over his face exasperatedly and you laugh.

“No, no. That is very much a compliment Mr Jung. I’m 29, I’ve been doing my job now for four years. In fact, that’s kind of why I’m in Greece. I’ve spent the last month in Turkey, Egypt, Malta, Italy and Greece as my specialty is ancient Mediterranean cultures.” Why you’re suddenly babbling about your job, you have no idea.

But he looks completely fascinated and begins to question you about it; the exact cities you’d visited, the food you’d eaten, the sights you’d seen and even what kind of work you did in the museum. It had been a long time since a man had been genuinely interested in your job.

You seemed to unfortunately attract men whose eyes literally glazed over when they heard the word museum usually.

Hoseok however, is completely intrigued and asks plenty of intelligent questions. Not only that, but he’s knowledgeable about museums too. An in depth conversation between the two of you last over the main meal, you with souvlaki and him with a Cretan speciality of smoked pork.

It’s halfway through his conversation about the German Historical Museum in Berlin that he suddenly stops, blushing even harder as he scrapes his fork over his empty plate. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve been babbling about myself and not even telling you anything interesting.” His lips turn in a wry smile and you reach forward without thinking, fingers resting on the smooth skin of his warm hand to stop his fretful movements.

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s lovely to meet someone who enjoys museums as much as I do. But I am kind of curious about you in turn.” He snorts and wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaving the white fabric slightly red.

“Erm, well. I’m a director for a PR company in New York City.” He says, the words almost mumbled, as if he didn’t want you to hear. Which isn’t surprising, as your own brows raise. You’d already informed him that you lived on the outskirts of NYC, your museum small and humble compared to the giants in the city.

As such though, you were well aware that for to be someone so high up in a PR company in one of the most expensive cities of the world, he was probably earning some serious bank. Though, you could guess that from his clothing. It had been a slightly heart stopping moment to realise that he was wearing over $30,000 on his wrist, the watch only familiar to you because Taehyung was some weird watch aficionado.

“Do you have any fancy clients then? I bet it must be a nightmare when something goes wrong.” You ask lightly, running your finger along the rim of your wineglass and completely missing the way his eyes focus on the slow movement.

“Yeah, we’ve got some big clients. And yeah, they’re an equally big pain when something goes bad. But when you pull it off, that’s a good feeling.” He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet yours and you can’t help but bite your lip to try and stop the weird feeling in your chest. Hoseok is truly gorgeous, but did he have to be so damn nice too?

“I’d say I’m glad I work in a museum, but what’s the more nerve wracking job? Failing to do damage control well for a multi billion dollar company...or accidentally breaking a one-of-a-kind, millennia old antique?” The words are teasing and his hissing grimace is equally as playful.

“That’s a tough one. Probably yours if I’m being honest. Is anyone really gonna give a shit about one company making a boo-boo when they do that every other year? On the other hand...breaking a priceless ancient Greek vase...yeah history isn’t gonna look kindly on that.” He taps his fingers against his sharp jaw and you laugh lightly, happy that he played along with you.

Your conversation continues on for a while, allowing you both to have little glimpses into each others lives. Wild tales of friends soon come from you both, trying to one up each other while tender moments are revealed about your families. It’s strange, how you’ve barely known him for an hour, yet feel more comfortable with him than people you’ve known for years.

“How come you’re travelling alone then? You’re obviously a sociable guy, so I don’t know why you don’t have a partner or friends with you?” You query quietly, thanking the waiter as he brings a plate of baklava to your table for the both of you, along with some freshly cut fruit. The shot of ouzo that always seems to accompany meals being consumed with grimaces from you both.

He coughs as the liquid burns down his throat before sucking on a piece of melon, apparently oblivious to how utterly seductive that move is. Humming to himself, he swallows the fruit before continuing on. “I always travel alone. I do have friends, but they’re always busy with either jobs, or families now. So...I figure why not? I want to go abroad, what’s to stop me? What about you? You’re on your own, and have been for a month.”

Smiling, you nod your head as you acknowledge that he’s got you there. Biting down on the baklava, you enjoy the sweet flavours before responding to him. “Same really, my best friend was busy and my other friends are busy being moms and wives right now. This has been a dream trip for me for years and when the museum gave me the option to do some work for it too, I thought it was too good to not do. Gotta be bold sometimes right?”

Your bright smile has him responding in kind, teeth gripping down on a grape before his tongue slowly pulls it into his mouth. Licking your lips in response, you find it almost bizarre how your body seems to think everything needs to be done a little more alluringly, licking your fingers slower than you normally would.

It’s a slow game that you’d only realised the two of you had been playing since he’d sat at the table, and apparently one he’d been aware of longer than you. But you were pretty sure he’d caught on by now, and his tan skin, practically glowing in the light of the setting sun, was just crying out for you to touch it.

“Yeah, sometimes you gotta be bold.” He repeats, tone even deeper than before and you clench your thighs together at the rasping syllables. The plate between you is empty now, and you both sit there for a moment, simply staring at each other with expressions that said you were still hungry for something.

Lisa’s words float through your head slowly and you watch Hoseok quietly for a few seconds more, your easy conversation slowly dying as the growing sense of awareness between the two of you takes over. Chewing on your lip nervously, you grip your white sundress with slightly trembling hands before taking a deep breath.

Sometimes, you have to be bold.

“Are you free tonight?” You ask bluntly, causing his brows to rise in surprise before the corners of his mouth tips upwards in a pleased smile. He looks happy at your question, and you wonder if he always gets girls asking him for sex or if he’s usually the one to chase. Whatever his normal options, he seems to be reciprocative to your obvious suggestion.

“Why yes I am. Would you like to join me? I’m staying at a villa and it has the most beautiful view of the sea.” He states flirtatiously, eyes lighting up with anticipation while he bites at his lip slowly, teeth pulling the luscious pink skin before letting it drag back out. Watching the movement, you suppress a groan as his tongue slides across his lips, leaving behind a soft sheen of wetness.

“Crete does have very beautiful sea views.” You practically whisper, internally embarrassed at how desperate you’re beginning to sound for him. But he seems to be reciprocative, almost enthusiastic to your blatant display of desire.

“And I have some delicious champagne if that’s interesting to you. I’d love to hear you tell me more about Ancient Greek history, you must make a very good teacher when you lead tours occasionally. I’ve never been so interested in history.” He gestures over to the waiter for the bill and you can’t help but smile at the praise, idly wondering if he’s being genuine or just trying to butter you up to get in your pants.

Though you reason to yourself that you’ve made it pretty obvious that you’re reciprocative to him, and so presume he was being genuine. He did seem to be very interested in the random history information you’d bombarded him with earlier.

“I could, if you really want that. But I’m sure we can both think of something more interesting to do.” Placing down a bunch of Euros to pay for your half, making sure to leave plenty to tip the wait staff on your last night, you watch as he lets out a laugh, hands clapping together in delight.

He adds his own money to yours, the amount surely eye watering to the staff, but doesn’t blink an eye at it as you both make your way out of the restaurant. A quick ‘yassas’ to the waiter on the door and you’re standing in the street, Greek music filtering through the air as a nearby venue’s traditional Greek night gets underway. Hoseok stands next to you for a moment, breathing in deep and taking in the warm, island air.

Without a word, he reaches out and grasps your hand firmly, long fingers intertwining with your own before he’s squeezing gently. His hand is large and warm, the skin smooth and comforting as he begins to walk down the street. You follow him leisurely, appreciating that he’s not practically yanking your arm off for sex and take a moment to drink in the sight of his tall, lean frame.

Your perusal doesn’t go unnoticed as he catches your eye, lips breaking into that familiar, heart shaped grin once more before he tugs you closer and takes a moment to press his nose into your hair. “Do you like what you see?” He asks quietly, hot breath fanning a few strands of breakaway hair and you heat up at the high school-esque question.

Looking up at him demurely, you let your own tongue wet your lips and watch with satisfaction as his eyes track the moment heatedly, irises blowing out slightly as his nostrils flare. “Very much. But I think I’d like it better in your villa.” Where this minx came from, you have no idea.

He chuckles and turns back, pulling on your arm slightly as his long legs eat up the distance. “Well then, I think we better hurry up hmm?”

-

When Hoseok had told you that he was staying in a villa, you could honestly say that you weren’t sure what you were imagining. You weren’t too up on what villa’s looked like. What you saw however, was jaw dropping and made your brows raise in surprise.

White washed walls alternate with pale stone and everywhere you look there are glass doors that lead out to a serene pool, outlined in white tile. It was surrounded by high walls on three sides, providing utter privacy while the back was open to the beauty of the ocean. There was no beach, the craggy seafront didn’t allow for that, but it was still a truly stunning view.

He hadn’t been lying.

Unusually, there was no key for the front door and you watched as he simply input a code into an electronic keypad, a beep sounding as the door unlocked itself. Inside, a security system was turned off quickly and you were left to marvel at the interior.

It was a study in modernity meeting tradition, with dark wood furniture dotted around the open plan rooms while sleek, black metal takes up where wood can’t. A ridiculously large television sits proudly against the wall of the living room, facing two black sofas that are covered in subtly patterned blankets.

Greek style art and vases dot the area, bringing bright splashes of colour to the sparse room and you can’t help but admire the decorating skills of whoever owns this place. When you query this, he lets out a hiccuping laugh as he bends down in the kitchen, disappearing behind a luxurious island in the centre.

“My friend, Jimin. If you want to see rich, then you should see him. Guy’s an investment banker on Wall Street, he makes the kind of money that makes you sick.” You stare at his watch as he says that, brow raised as he sucks his lower lip in amusement. “Hey, if I’m saying that…” He shrugs, lean shoulders lifting underneath his shirt.

Sitting on one of the backless stools that frame the counter, you rest your chin on your hands as you watch him pull a champagne bucket - a champagne bucket! - out from one of the cupboards and fill it with ice from the freezer before adding in around a third of cold water. He then places a bottle of expensive looking champagne in it before heading over to the fridge.

There doesn’t look to be a lot inside, but you do note with interest the bowl of strawberries he pulls out and sits inbetween you both as he heads over. Another bowl is produced and he breaks some Belgian chocolate into it, putting it into the microwave to melt before strolling over and holding a final piece between two fingers.

Brows raised, you watch as he gestures towards your mouth his hand, jaw tilting up to signal his want. Keeping eye contact with those luscious, dark eyes, you let your lips fall open slowly and allow him to place the piece firmly on your tongue, the softest moan leaving you as the decadent chocolate begins to melt in a burst of flavour.

His fingers remain for a moment, and you can’t help but take the opportunity to wrap your lips around them, sucking ever so softly before using the tip of your tongue to wipe away the chocolate residue that had melted. Hoseok isn’t as quiet as you with his groan, but a hundred emotions seem to flutter across his face, and every one of them is firmly in the desire range.

The ding from the microwave distracts him, causing him to have to pull his gaze away from your mouth and you watch him shake his head in amusement as he brings the bowl back over. “I don’t know why that surprised me, but I appreciated it. A lot.” He whispers, coming around the counter to sit next to you.

Placing the bowl down, he takes a seat on the stool next to you and maneuvers his legs so that they’re surrounding your knees. Leaning forwards, you inhale sharply as his face is only inches from yours and your eyes flutter slightly at the expensive cologne that emanates from him. Is there anything better than a man who smells good?

The answer is yes, A man who smells good, feeding you chocolate dipped strawberries.

Which is exactly what Hoseok does, fingers trailing over the juicy, red fruits until he finds one he likes and picks it up. Glancing to you, he makes sure you’re watching as he dips the pointed end into the melted chocolate, twisting it slowly to make sure it has an even coating before lifting it back it up, waiting until it stops dripping.

You’re not sure why it’s so sensual, but just watching him has you clenching your thighs and letting out a stuttering breath. He’s close enough that he can hear it though, and see your reaction to him, and you watch a tiny smirk kick up one corner of his mouth.

“Open wide.” He murmurs, bringing the strawberry to your lips and giving a pleased smile when you do so immediately. “You’re very obedient, I can’t even begin to describe how much of a turn on that is.” His laugh is breathy and you can feel it over your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms.

Instead of letting your respond however, he places the strawberry into your mouth and watches as you bite down on it, careful not to bite his fingers. The bitterness of the dark chocolate soothes the sweetness of the fruit and a tiny whimper leaves you as you stare directly into his dark eyes.

“Good?” He asks, placing the remains on the counter while preparing a second and taking a bite himself. You chew and swallow carefully, licking your lips once finished and watch as he takes his time to eat his own.

Slowly, the strawberries disappear on the plate and despite the fact it’s evening and the temperature is lowering outside, it only seems to be getting warmer inside until you get the urge to tug off your sundress. But not yet, you sense it’s too soon for that still.

When the final strawberry is left and the chocolate has begun to harden again, Hoseok takes a glance at it before focusing back on your lips and grinning. Scooping up the final bits of chocolate, he goes to feed it to you and you open your mouth as expected.

Instead, he slowly drags the strawberry over your lower lip, smearing it in rich, dark chocolate before sliding it into your mouth sensually and letting you bite down. Before you can even attempt to start chewing it properly, he’s closed the gap between your faces and a shudder wracks your body at the feel of his wet tongue as it slowly trails over the sweet layer, lapping it up before licking into your mouth.

Moaning out, your arms automatically wrap around his neck as he kisses you slowly, mindful of the strawberry that you’d still to swallow. By the time he pulls away from you, the kiss only seconds long yet feeling like he’d been kissing you for minutes, he simply grins and opens his mouth, tongue flat to reveal the strawberry you’d bitten.

Chuckling at the look on your face, he chews it and swallows before grabbing the bucket and standing up, reaching for your hand and tugging you towards the railing-less stairs. The upstairs is much like the downstairs, and you spy two closed doors before he’s leading through the only open door.

The bedroom is everything you expect from a high class villa like this, with a queen sized bed currently covered in plain white sheets and pale blue silk throw pillows artfully placed at the head. But that’s not the jaw dropping bit. No, it’s the fact that two of the four walls are simply glass doors, and you watch as he opens them up until half of the room is open to the elements.

It’s bathed in an orange glow as the sun is still setting far out to sea, the slick waves reflecting a distorted mirror image of the visual beauty happening overhead. You could spend an entire holiday out here on the balcony, gasping in wonder as your hands grasp the glass balcony wall.

Hoseok places the bucket on a wooden table before heading over to you, arms coming around your sides before they rest next to yours on the glass. The evening is still warm, though the breeze brings the cooling fingers of night. Your hardening nipples have nothing to do with that though, and everything to do with the hot body pressing itself gently behind you.

He feels solid and oddly reassuring, the width of his chest resting against your shoulders while you feel the shadow of a solid erection brush past the apex of your ass. Hoseok is evidently a master of seduction however, as he doesn’t push too hard on that front, instead resting his head on your shoulder as the two of you look out at the sea.

“Tell me an interesting fact about Greece.” The words whisper from his mouth, low and guttural so as not to interrupt the mood. Humming to yourself, you bring one finger to tap against your chin and enjoy the way he laughs, breath dancing past your cheek as he looks at you slightly.

“The Greek alphabet was the first to have vowels written down.” You respond, voice breathy from his proximity. He’s quiet for a moment before he lets out a bark of laughter, arms moving to wrap around your waist for a moment as he rocks you from side to side before letting go and sitting at the chair on the table.

A finger runs along the rim of one of the champagne glasses he seems to have produced from nowhere and you watch as his tongue runs along his teeth slowly. “I love it when you talk history to me.”

Sniggering, you sit in the chair opposite him and cross a leg over the other, resting your hands in your lap to keep them from quivering. He may have joked about his age earlier, but the control that came with that age was really showing through now as he pours a third of a glass full of champagne.

Honestly, you want to jump on him right now and see if his skin is that stunning all over.

Taking the glass from his offered hand, you swirl it for a moment before taking a sip of the cold liquid. You’re really not sure what the etiquette for drinking champagne is, but he doesn’t seem to care as he swallows it down almost greedily.

It’s overwhelmingly bubbly at first, almost getting up your nose and you make the most attractive sneeze as it does so, nose wrinkling as your head shakes. He chuckles at that, an amused smile prominent as he watches you get used to the texture and flavour.

“What do you think?” He asks, lifting up his own glass to gesture to you almost lazily.

Almost instantly, you’re grasping for words as you have no idea how to describe it. Taking another drink, you let it rest on your tongue before swallowing slowly. Humming as if you know what you’re talking about, you nod sagely. “It’s...crisp...and...champagney.” Immediately you’re cringing while he starts guffawing.

“Oh god, I’m sure Dom Perignon would be ecstatic to hear that.” He snorts, head tilting as he swallows the final bit in his cup. Your eyes widen in response though and you reach out slowly, turning the bottle until the label comes into view and you choke loudly.

Holy shit! He was feeding you Dom Perignon. A woman he’d barely known for three hours and here he was, letting you drink champagne that probably cost...well you didn’t even want to think about it. And you’d just described it as ‘champagney’!

Hoseok watches you suffer for a minute before smiling, leaning over and taking the glass from you before setting it on the table. “It’s fine, not everyone likes it. And I’m not expecting you to suddenly fall in love with it. It’s not to everyone’s taste..”

You groan quietly, pushing a hand into your face as embarrassment takes over. This man, this beautiful man, was so out of your league it’s not even funny. And yet, with the way he’s looking at you right now, he makes you feel as though you’re right at home next to him.

“I do think I know something that will be to my taste though.” He whispers, the words light and yet swarming with desire and dripping with lust. You watch him for a few seconds in admiration, eyes tracing over his face and the way the setting sun sets his skin ablaze.

“Wha-” Anything you’re about to say is cut off though when he suddenly grabs your hand and tugs you out of your chair, practically falling into his lap and gasping as your hands press against his firm chest to stop yourself from hurting him. From your elevated view, you get to take in the stunning sight of his statuesque face as he gazes up at you, want painted over every inch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispers before a hand is wrapping around your neck, pressing gently until your lips meet once more. It’s chaste at first, lips pressing against soft lips until his tongue slowly trails along the seam in an unspoken request for more.

Granting it, you let them fall open enough for him to gain entrance and a quiet moan leaves you as he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth before tangling it with your own. He tastes sweet from the strawberries, dark from the chocolate and expensive from the champagne. Truly, Apollo turned to flesh to burn you up from the inside.

While his mouth takes yours on a slow dance of seduction, his fingers are moving in their own dance of persuasion as they skip and play along the straps of your dress before reaching your waist. Each touch sends tiny shivers of pleasure and he plays your body like marionette doll, a press here and a stroke there until your front is plastered against his own.

Breaking away from you for a moment, he looks down to where your breasts are pressed to his chest with a pleased smirk, enjoying the way they look along with how they feel. Rubbing his hands along your waist a few times, he watches you closely as they move down to your ass, gripping tightly and encouraging your hips to grind against his erection slowly.

A low groan leaves your throat as your head falls back, exposing the expanse of skin to his eager mouth while he hisses in response to the friction. Each slow grind of your hips corresponds to a harsh suck of his mouth on your throat, colourful bruises blooming to life at his rough treatment.

And yet your own hands grip his hair firmly, tugging in response to each pull of his mouth until he’s ripping himself away. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, almost black in the dimming light, he gasps before licking his lips.

“Oh yeah, you taste better than that. But I bet you taste even better somewhere else.” He states boldly, huffing a quiet laugh as your thighs go to clench closed at his words, only to squeeze his hips instead.

You expect him to let you stand up and move the activities into the bedroom, only he surprises you in a display of strength that has the centre of your thighs releasing even more slick to ruin your panties. Gripping the underside of your thighs, he grunts as he lifts and stands at the same time, planes of muscle under his shirt shifting while his biceps have their own moment of glory and stretch out his sleeves.

An unbidden whimper leaves your mouth at the sight as he deposits you onto the table, pushing the ice cold bucket away from you and leaving your legs draped over the edge. Lifting your head to look at him, you’re about to speak when he suddenly begins to slide his fingers up your calves.

Connecting your eyes with his, you watch with widening eyes as he begins to push the hem of your sundress over your thighs, the material tickling your hypersensitive skin until finally he can’t move it anymore because of your ass. Raising a brow at you, he gives a pleased smile when your hips lift up, allowing him to push the fabric further up to reveal the flat expanse of your stomach.

He doesn’t stop though, and keeps going till he’s tugging the dress over your shoulders before throwing it into the bedroom somewhere. It’s at this point that he takes a moment to simply admire you, eyes taking in the sight of your exposed skin under the dying sunlight and he lets out a sigh of pleasure, content with what he’s seeing.

“Christ, how can anyone look at the scenery when there’s you to enjoy?” He whispers, leaning forward and pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the centre of your stomach. Gasping at the wet feeling, your hands twine through his hair as he begins to leisurely kiss and lick his way upwards until he’s sucking on the soft, vulnerable skin of your breast.

“How can anyone look at the items in your museum when you’re there?” He presses a kiss gently before letting his tongue play over the hardened nub of your nipple, grinning at the wanton moan that escapes you as he does so. “I bet there’s not a thing in that museum more awe inspiring than the sight in front of me right now.” He murmurs before his mouth is sucking on your nipple, the pressure immense and almost painful before he’s letting go and admiring the way it puckers for him so prettily.

My god, who was this guy?!

Hoseok lets his tongue play along your breasts, swirling around the tip of your nipple before lovingly sucking it into his mouth. He stops suddenly though, pulling back before his eyes glance to the bucket next to your head, the metal sweating in the evening warmth. Giving the sensitive bud a light grazing with his teeth, he pulls away before tugging the bottle out of the ice.

“What are yo-Hoseok!” You cry out, giving a slight shriek as he pours the cold champagne onto your peaked breast, a husky laugh leaving him as his head dips down immediately to catch the fizzing liquid as it trickles down your chest. Gasping out at the sensation of his scorching tongue heating up your cooled flesh, your fingers slip into his soft hair and grip firmly.

“Hoseok! What are you doing? This is way too expensive to be...licking it off me.” You pant out, hands pushing his talented mouth even closer despite the words you’re telling him. He laughs gruffly, letting his nose brush against your skin as he follows an errant trickle before staying in place, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin over your ribcage.

“You’re wrong,” He says, voice slightly muffled as he tips a small amount over your nipple and immediately goes chasing. “This is exactly the right way to drink champagne. Why spend $300 on a bottle if you’re not going to lick it off the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

It takes a moment for his words to penetrate your lust filled mind, but when it does you look down at him with wide eyes to see a toothy grin before those teeth bite down on the tender flesh. The price makes you eye the bottle warily until his compliment filters through and your stomach twists on itself, your legs clenching around his hips.

You don’t need to respond to him as he seems to understand what your body tells him silently, and he smiles sweetly, pressing a warm hand down on your trembling stomach muscles. He moves it slowly up to your neck, pulling you forwards slightly before he tips the bottle to your lips, letting you swallow a small amount before he’s placing the bottle to the side and swooping down to attach his lips to yours.

The taste of the champagne swirls around both of your mouths as he leisurely strokes your tongue with his, his cooled hand now grazing your side in slow movements until he pulls away and shifts backwards.

Eyes flicking to yours, his lips kick upwards before he’s sitting back down and spreading your legs for him, eyeing the sight of your slick dampened panties like a feast that’s been laid out just for him. Slowly, and making sure that you maintain eye contact with him the entire time, he shifts closer in the chair until you can feel the burning heat of his breath on your pussy.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” He asks and you want to cry from the need to have his tongue, his fingers, anything, touch you and relieve some of the ache. Nodding, you slur out some response to him and reach down, grasping for his head only to watch him jerk out of the way with a happy smile.

“Okay.” Is all he responds with, and you expect him to play some more games with you. Only he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans forward and places his mouth over the damp fabric of your panties, tongue pressing firmly to wet them even more. You can’t feel his tongue properly, can’t feel the slick wetness of the firm muscle and it drives you mad as he uses the fabric to lazily dull some of the pleasure. Whining at him, you grasp for his hair again and listen to his amused chuckle as he once more ducks out of the way.

A finger dances and skips it way along your inner thigh before it’s accompanied by his others, his nails lightly scraping along the sensitive flesh there until you’re shuddering with need. Humming in delight at your reactions to him, it’s with those deft fingers that he suddenly grabs the panties and tugs at them forcefully, the fabric almost burning in the speed that he pulls them off.

Gasping out an ‘oh’, you’re about to say something until suddenly those luscious pink lips wrap themselves around your clit and suck deeply. Crying out, your head hits the table with a thud as your hips undulate towards his mouth, body clenching on itself at the pleasure.

As he sucks, you feel the tip of his tongue playing with the tiny bud and immediately you’re writhing, uncaring of the rapidly cooling breeze that has the hair on you standing on end. How could you care, when this unbelievable man is between your legs and is worshipping you like a Greek goddess?

Hoseok hums to himself, a song you don’t recognise, but the effect is instantaneous as the vibrations cause tiny quakes of pleasure that have your legs tightening around his head. His elegant nose is pressed to your mound and you heat up as you hear him inhale unabashadley, taking in the scent of your arousal as he drags his tongue down to your weeping entrance.

Extending out that wonderful, talented tongue, he dips it into your pussy as far as he can before he curls it upwards, ever so slowly pulling it out to drag along your walls. An animalistic cry is pulled from your lungs as he does so, the sheer heat of the muscle combined with the slickness making you extra sensitive.

“Hoseok, chri-Hoseok please.” What you’re begging him for, you don’t know, but he seems to be pleased at what he’s hearing anyway. A loud clanking noise makes you jerk in surprise as you shift, watching him grasp the cold champagne bottle and bring it between your legs.

You go to stop him, afraid that he thinks pouring champagne down there is a good idea, only to let out a garbled noise as he presses the freezing glass to your clit. The temperature of it has your body shuddering in an excruciating combination of ecstasy and pain as he presses it firmly against you, circling it in slow motions that has shocks of pleasure fizzing in your veins.

“Jesus fucking-Hoseok!” You cry out, part of your mind aware that he’s using a bottle of fucking Dom Perignon as a sex toy. Hands grasping for him, you grip his wrist firmly yet don’t pull it away. No, if anything, you actually want him to go harder.

But he takes the choice away from you, pulling the bottle away before enveloping the cold little bud into his mouth. A mouth that now feels as hot as the centre of the sun and the temperature difference has you shrieking out, hand letting go of his wrist to pull at his dark hair.

He carries on for another few minutes or so, happily lapping at your clit in tiny kitten licks before sucking on it long and deep before he evidently decides he’s had enough foreplay. Standing, he grips under you and tugs you to him before lifting you up in one swift movement, your legs wrapping around his waist quickly while your arms lay around his neck in a languid movement.

“No orgasm?” You murmur to him, disappointed. A low laugh leaves him as he leans forward slightly, pressing soft yet damp kisses to your collarbones with a pleased noise.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get everything you’re hoping for.” He whispers, moving his head so close to your own that your noses are almost brushing against each other. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon and already darkness is chasing, the moon beginning to become brighter as it takes its rightful place.

Hoseok strides into the bedroom, pushing past the gauzy curtains before carefully laying you on the bed, a knee pressed to the mattress. Observing you for a moment, he lets out almost a sigh of utter desire and contentment, running both hands along your waist almost reverently before he’s leaning down, catching your lips in a quick yet deep kiss.

Standing back up, you push up onto your elbows and watch with greedy eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt, going even slower once he catches your eyes with an amused grin. Each button gives way with ease, slowly revealing an expanse of tanned skin that under the sun, you’re sure would be golden, but in the slowly strengthening moonlight begins to pale slightly.

You swallow slowly, worried that you’re drooling at the sight of his torso as it’s exposed. Hoseok is lean yet incredibly toned, the muscles of his abdomen clearly defined yet not obscene and it makes you pant slightly, even more wetness coating the insides of your thighs.

He doesn’t take the shirt off though, nor does he take off the obscenely expensive watch adorning his wrist. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly on you while unbuttoning his pants, the movement slow and seductive before he drags them, along with his underwear, down his muscled thighs.

Almost immediately, his thick cock bursts free and bounces in the air, a drop of clear liquid beading at the tip in his excitement. You don’t even realise the low noise of sheer, desperate need that you let out until Hoseok himself lets out a snort, shaking his head while a hand runs through his hair slowly.

“You look like you’ve seen something you want.” He rasps out, climbing onto the bed in slow and measured movements until he’s hovering over you. A slow roll of his hips has his cock grinding against your pubic bone, the hot shaft twitching at the movement as he lets out a deep groan of satisfaction.

“Fuck,” Hoseok whispers, almost inaudible as he dips his forehead to lean in the crook of your neck. “Every part of you is amazing, you know that?” You can’t help but laugh at his words, spurred from the pleasure his dick is sending into his body but you still take the opportunity to let your hands drag along his slim back, feeling the indent of each muscle and biting your lip at him.

“I want you.” He states bluntly, lifting his head to let you see the sheer dark want in his eyes and you keen out softly, lifting your head up to chase his lips in a wanton kiss of need. It’s lazy and unhurried, despite the constant grind of his hips against yours and the pool of liquid excitement between your legs.

Pushing at his shoulders, you separate and he lets you roll him over until his back is resting against the soft mattress of his bed, an impish smile taking over that makes him look very young. Straddling his thighs, you smirk down at him as you grasp his cock firmly in one hand, enjoying the way he lets out a quiet whimper before his eyes close as you stroke him.

“I want you too. Condom?” You ask quietly and he pauses for a moment, a look of panic washing over his face before relief filters through quickly soon afterwards. He nods towards his pants and gasps out something about a wallet, eyes rolling back as you give him a particularly tight squeeze.

It takes mere seconds to root his wallet out of his pocket before you tug out the single foil wrapped condom, brow raising at him. “Didn’t think you were going to get lucky huh?” You ask cheekily, bouncing back onto the bed and enjoying the way he laughs for a moment before his hands grab for your hips.

“No, but then again I wasn’t expecting to meet a goddess either.” Hoseok states, lip quirking up with amusement. You let out an ‘ooh’ noise as you roll the condom down him slowly, enjoying the sight of him.

He has a pleasing penis, you decide wryly. Not long, but girthy enough to know he’ll feel good and with the slightest curve that has your inner muscles clenching around air. A few more strokes has him especially solid in your hands and you straddle his hips, running the tip of him along your pussy in eased movements.

Moaning quietly, you enjoy the tiny sparks of gratification that pop in your veins as you coat his stiff shaft, your wetness lubing him while each press stimulates your aching clit. For a good 30 seconds, you simply enjoy using him to get yourself off before your eyes open and you catch the sight of his pained expression.

“Ready?” You whisper, shifting up slightly while you align yourself with him. His eyes are firmly focused on the where the tip of him is slowly edging its way into you, a gasping groan leaving his throat easily. Despite this, he somehow remembers your question and nods his head, hands resting firmly on your hips as he waits for your move.

You don’t respond to him, but instead sink down and let out a breathy moan as he stretches you deliciously. It doesn’t take long before you’re resting on his hips, his cock as deep in you as he can get and you sigh out, rocking your hips in a slow circle while you squeeze him internally.

He pants out a pained gasp, hands gripping tightly and you feel his hips reflexively jerk up into you, the movement pushing him further inside. Grinning slightly, you begin to rock with more intent, each slow roll of your stomach causing your hips to undulate on top of him and slide him in and out of you in slow, lazy drags.

“Fucking hell, you feel so fucking good.” He grunts and you can feel the strain in his hands, desperately wanting you to go faster on him but unwilling to push you yet. Reaching down, you take one hand of his and press it firmly to your breast, squeezing his fingers around you and getting a jolt of satisfaction when he shifts to pinch your nipple playfully.

You let him use his other hand to direct your hips further, the speed of your rocks increasing until all that can be heard are the slaps of flesh against flesh, the slick wetness of his cock inside you and the pleasured pants and moans from the both of you.

Leaning forward slightly, you let the angle shift and enjoy the way he soon picks up the slack, his hips jerking up into you in solid thrusts. Each movement has his cock dragging against your g-spot, with tiny, gasping whimpers leaving your mouth until you’re whining quietly, head dropping even further down.

“Touch yourself princess.” Hoseok says, his voice so deep and guttural that it sounds as it he’s speaking from his chest. He removes his hand from your chest and instead grips your ass firmly, the muscles in his biceps becoming noticeable as he moves you in time to his thrusts.

The noise you let out isn’t intelligible, but it’s a confirmation of his request and you bring a hand to press at your clit slowly. Experienced fingers push the hood of the pebbled bud away before you begin to circle, and almost immediately a rasping cry leaves your throat from the pleasure.

“Good girl, keep doing that.” He whispers, shifting slightly as he braces himself better before he begins to pound into you. It sends ricochets of satisfaction through you as your body jerks forward with each slap of his thighs against your buttocks, each drag of his cock pressing against all the sweetest spots inside you.

“Oh god Hoseok, oh god,” You moan out, eyes closing and denying you the beautiful vision of Hoseok looking fucked out with need and desire. He mutters encouragements to you, his voice low enough to send your inner muscles quivering around him and you slow in your movements between your thighs.

How are you possibly supposed to orgasm with this much pleasure happening?

But he senses your thoughts and brings a hand to press against yours, encouraging you to keep pleasuring yourself while he takes care of the rest of you. “Cum for me princess, come on. You can do it.” He pants out, his abdomen flexing underneath you and the white of his shirt almost glowing in the moonlight.

A pinch of your nipple combines perfectly with a swirl of your fingers and a thrust of his cock, the three events combining together to push you over the edge and you find yourself falling into the fizzing pit of overwhelming pleasure. Garbled noises of gratification escape you as you cum, eyes clenched shut as your inner muscles convulse repeatedly around his thick shaft.

Hoseok is moaning out in response, hips working even faster until he suddenly presses firmly into you once and a guttural groan rips from him. Even through your orgasm, you can feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock as he empties into the condom and by the time he’s finished, his hips are making tiny movements to let him ride out the final sparks of pleasure from his orgasm.

Slumping forward onto his chest, you both simply lay there for a minute in a silence that is only broken by the ragged pants from the two of you. Underneath your head, his chest is heaving for breaths and you feel the sticky sheen of sweat on both of you, cooling rapidly in the night breeze that rolls through the open windows.

“That...was every bit as good as I thought it would be.” Hoseok laughs raspily, running a tired hand along your back slowly before shifting you to the side. He sits up tiredly and tugs off the condom, disposing of it before standing on shaking legs and disappearing.

The tiredness of your day exploring, combined with the relentless sun and Hoseok’s ministrations has you dozing off before he even comes back from the bathroom, a towel in hand and a fond smile as he takes in your sleeping figure.

-

You wake the next morning slowly, eyes blinking blearily at the sun brightened room and it takes a moment for your memory to come back to you. A muffled moan leaves you as you curl into the soft, white pillow and inhale deeply, taking in the scent of sex and the undeniably expensive scent of Hoseok.

It’s only after a few more minutes of blissful quiet, the only sounds the distant crashing of the waves on the shore, that you realise it’s actually eerily quiet. Shifting in bed, the sheets wrapping around your body tightly as you do so, you spy an empty bed next to you.

The pillow isn’t even dented anymore, telling you that Hoseok has been gone for a while. Tugging the sheet against your chest, you sit up and look around in confusion. There’s no champagne outside, and the room seems oddly clean.

Swinging your legs over the edge, you’re about to stand until you note the white sheet of paper that flutters slightly in the gentle wind underneath a seashell. It’s then that you note your bag is next to the bed as well, instead of on the couch downstairs where you’d left it last night.

Reaching out, you take the note and read it quietly.

Princess,

Sorry if this all sounds awkward, I’ve never had to write a post-sex apology note. I should be better at this as a PR expert.

I’m sorry to leave you like this. When I said it was my last night, I meant literally. My flight is in the early morning and I had to leave to make it. I meant to walk you to your hotel but fell asleep too.

I’ve cleaned the villa, don’t worry. All you have to do is make sure everything locks behind you. Feel free to take the last of the champagne with you to make your last day even better. I really want to thank you for last night, I enjoyed both it and you.

I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me but I’ve left my number for you. When you’re back in New York, I’d love to visit your museum if you’d be okay with that. Maybe you can even give me a tour? Or even if you just want to talk, I’d like that too.

Yours,

Hoseok

Smiling down at the note, you reach into your bag and pull out your phone, glad it still has some battery left. It takes only seconds to enter his number into your contacts list and you sit there and admire it for a moment, your empty stomach bubbling over with a multitude of emotions.

Placing both down on the nightstand, you head out to the balcony and rest your arms on the glass edge, careful to make sure you remain covered even though there’s no one there to appreciate. Watching the slow but steady movement of the cerulean ocean that stretches as far as the eye can see, you can’t stop the smile that creeps over your face at everything that happened.

Any trepidation you had about going home is gone now, and instead there’s just a tremor of excitement that is ready to burst inside you. Yes, you think that you’re ready to go home now, especially given you have something so wonderful to look forward to.

[ollies-studyblr]

German III: 2.6-2.12

Culture facts:

In the United States, when people sneeze, most well wishers will respond with "Bless you."  However, it is not uncommon to hear Gesundheit as well.  Gesundheit is the German word that means "health," so when you hear Gesundheit after a sneeze, it is spoken to wish the person good health.  Germans will respond with Danke.   This expression first found its way to the United States through immigrating Ashkenazi Jews in the early twentieth century, but it has now become part of the English language.

You're going to be learning about something called a Kurort or "town with a health resort, spa."  People with long-term or chronic illnesses can actually get a prescription from their doctor to spend time being treated there.  They have some of the finest facilities available for physical rehabilitation, but they also have many cultural attractions to help cure the mind and soul as well.  Many of the Kurorte are known for their medicinal baths of one kind or another.

One of the earliest "bath" facilities (the "Kaiserthermen") can be found in Trier (on the Mosel near Luxemburg).  This city (one of several that claim to be the oldest city in Germany) was founded by the Romans in 16 BCE.   It was even the capital of the Western Roman Empire during the time of Emperor Constantine the Great, whose throne room can still be seen in the Basilika (now a Protestant church) and under whose reign the "Kaiserthermen" were built.  Tours are given of both the above- and below-ground parts of this huge bathing facility.  It's a "must-see" when you get to Trier!

Other major sights in Trier are the Roman Amphitheater (you can visit the cells of the gladiators and experience the amazing acoustics as well) and the Porta Nigra, which has been everything from a gateway, to an army barracks, to a Protestant church!

Those interested in more "modern" history can visit the birthplace of Karl Marx, who lived in Trier at a time of considerable misery for the city, an experience that no doubt influenced his later ideas.  

Oh, and by the way, Trier has a fantastic youth hostel.

People in the United States sometimes use the phrase "I'll keep my fingers crossed" in order to wish someone good luck.  However, if one would say that in Germany, Germans would most likely look confused.  In German, people use the phrase Ich drück (dir) den Daumen to indicate the same type of wish.  They make a fist but squeeze their thumb in  behind their pointer finger.

August Macke (1887–1914) was one of the leading artists in Der Blaue Reiter (the Blue Rider Group).  This group was made up of all Expressionist artists.  Macke, along with other Blaue Reiter  artists such as Franz Marc and Wassily Kandinski, were instrumental in bringing the Expressionist movement to Germany.

Germany is one of several countries around the world that provide a national health care system. Nearly all citizens are insured by a national health insurance (Krankenversicherung) program.  Over 90 percent of all Germans receive health care through this program.   Membership in this program is required for all those earning less than a specific income.  This income ceiling changes periodically.  The remainder of the population is covered through private for-profit insurance companies.  Everyone, however, uses the same health care facilities.

Körperwelten  ("Body Worlds") is a traveling exhibition of preserved human bodies and body parts which are prepared using a technique called plastination in order to show inner organs or structures. The exhibition's developer is a German anatomist named Gunther von Hagens. He invented the plastination technique in the late 1970s. Since the first exhibition in Tokyo in 1995, two additional exhibitions have opened world-wide. The latest one opened in May, 2006, in Minneapolis, MN. It is calculated that over 17 million people worldwide have seen this exhibit.  

Genitive Case: Possession

“the”

des, -(e)s --> masc

der --> fem

des, -(e)s --> neut

der --> plural

“a”

eines, -(e)s

einer

eines, -(e)s

“this”

dieses, -(e)s

dieser

dieses, -(e)s

dieser

“his”

seines, -(e)s

seiner

seines, -(e)s

seiner

“not any”

keines, -(e)s

keiner

keines, -(e)s

keiner

with genitive case, you construct sentences as the ____ of the ____

Genitive Prepositions:

außerhalb --> outside of

innerhalb --> inside of, within

statt (also anstatt) -->  instead of

wegen -->  because of

trotz -->  in spite of

während -->  during ("at the time of")

Body Vocab:

der Arm, -e --> arm

das Auge, -n --> eye

die Augenbraue, -n --> eyebrow

der Hals, -e --> neck

das Bein, -e --> leg

die Lippe, -n --> lip

der Fuß, -e --> foot

das Ohr, -en --> ear

der Zahn, -e --> tooth

die Nase, -n --> nose

die Zehe, -n -->toe

der Mund, -er --> mouth

der Bauch, -e --> stomach

die Zunge, -n --> tongue

der Finger --> finger

der Kopf, -e --> head

das Haar, -e --> hair

der Daumen --> thumb

das Kinn, -e --> chin

der Nacken --> back of the neck

der Rücken --> back

die Hüfte, -n --> hip

der Po, -s --> butt

das Gesicht, -er --> face

der Ellbogen / Ellenbogen --> elbow

das Knie --> knee

die Ferse, -n --> heel

die Hand, -e --> hand

die Schulter, -n --> shoulder

Oliver’s Travels:

Olivers grandparents were on vacation in the spa town of Baden-Baden. Baden-Baden is located in Baden-Württemberg in the Black Forest. Many people travel there during the holidays or do a cure there. Olivers grandparents have been on vacation. Baden-Baden really liked them.

(Festspielhaus in Baden-Baden) On the first evening in Baden-Baden they went to the concert. The Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin gave a concert in the Festspielhaus. Classical music is her favorite music. When Olivers grandmother was younger, she played the violin. That's why she likes to go to the concert. With the Kurkarte the cards cost only 60 Euros.

(Rennfieber in Iffezheim) They also visited the international race track in Iffezheim. Ms. Kriestch has therefore bought a new glamorous hat. The women there wear the most glamorous and crazy hats in the world. Fortunately, the Kretsches bet little luck because their horse has not won.

(Das Casino in Baden-Baden) The Casino Baden-Baden was incredibly elegant! The women put on pretty evening dresses and the men all wear ties and jackets. Oliver's grandfather played at many tables there. He played mainly roulette and blackjack. Oliver’s granny preferred to play the slot machines. Fortunately, they had more money in their pockets after the evening at the casino than before!

(Das Friedrichsbad) In Friedrichsbad, they simply relaxed for a whole day. The Friedrichsbad is located right in the old town. Here you can experience the Roman bathing culture and the Irish bathing tradition. For over 125 years people have come to Friedrichsbad to rest. Oliver’s grandparents enjoyed the thermal baths very much. This is good for the soul and the body!

(Meuseum Frieder Burda) There are various art museums in Baden-Baden. Mr. and Mrs. Krietsch went to the Museum Frieder Burda. The new museum of the collector Frieder Burda is in the Lichtentaler Allee in the Kurpark Baden-Baden. Here are mainly paintings from the last 100 years. A collection has works by German Expressionists such as Max Beckmann, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner or August Macke.

(Rosenneuheitengarten) On the last day, they went for a walk in the world famous "Rosenneuheitengarten". The park was beautiful. During this vacation, Oliver’s grandparents have really relaxed.

Problems Vocab:

Mir ist schlecht. --> I am not well

Ich bin krank. --> I am sick

Ich habe Fieber. --> I have a fever

Mir ist heiß. --> I am hot

Ich niese. --> I sneeze

Ich huste --> I cough

Ich bin müde --> I am tired

Ich habe Allergien --> I have allergies

Ich habe eine Erkältung --> I have a cold

Ich habe mich erkältet --> I caught a cold

Ich habe die Grippe --> I have the flu

Ich habe Durchfall --> I have diarrhea

Ich habe Verstopfung --> I’m constipated

Die Ärztin gibt dem Patienten ein Rezept --> The doctor gives the patient a prescription

Es gibt einen Notfall --> There is an emergency

"Haben Sie etwas gegen...?" --> Do you have something for...?

Der Arzt macht ihm einen Gipsverband. --> The doctor makes him a cast

Two-Way Prepositions:

in --> in, into

auf --> on, onto (horizontal)

an --> on, onto, up against (vertical)

neben --> next to, beside

hinter --> behind

über --> over, above

zwischen --> between

unter --> under, below

vor --> in front of, before

If they show the location of something, they're followed by the dative.

If they're showing the motion of something, from one place to another, they are followed by the accusative.  

[silverfootstepswrites]

Equinox: Summer [6]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (here)

“This might constitute an HR violation, you know," Madara warned as he heard the door to his office open. Then close. He finished typing his email before he clicked send. Turning away from his computer, he swiveled his chair toward them.

He eyed the both of them. Gaze lingering the longest on Sakura, who had no makeup on. His lips pursed as he watched Tobirama rest his hand on her back as he guided her to a chair. She plopped down in it, head lolling to one side as she stared off into nowhere.

"Have you been drinking?" demanded Madara.

"No," Sakura snorted.

"Well, you should be." As he spoke, Madara turned to the bookcase to the left of his desk. He pulled an entire stack of books off the shelf to reveal that they were decorative covers. Underneath was a collection of bottles. 

Madara poured three glasses. He took one and clinked it against the other two before he pushed them across the desk. 

"Drink up, darling. You look like you just crawled out of the Pit," Madara urged.

Sakura took her time sipping her drink, both hands cupped around the crystal glass. Ankles crossed, elbows up on the armrests, she looked everywhere but at the other two people in the room. When she set the empty glass on the desk, she felt ready to talk. But Madara held a finger up.

"Should I make him leave?" he inquired.

Tobirama glared at him. It didn't affect Madara at all.

"If you're looking for someone to blame, blame yourself. I don't blame Sakura for being uncomfortable. Not with you gushing desire all around her. You do realize that you're not a lawn sprinkler, don't you?" Madara went on.

A smile pulled at the corners of Sakura's mouth. She pursed her lips to quell the expression.

Shaking her head, she said, "It's fine, Madara."

That made Madara still. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the both of them. His gaze honed in on the lapis lazuli dangling from her neck. The golden fissures in the crystal shone especially bright against her black t-shirt.

He settled back in his chair. Eyes gleaming a little brighter as he gestured for her to go ahead.

Sakura looked at Tobirama. He gave a little nod.

"Well, Madara, you're... knowledgeable about... a lot of things, right?" she began.

Madara nodded.

"What... what do you know about... sirens?"

Madara's smile faded. He blew out a sigh, tilting his head to one side, then the other. "You're going to have to be specific, Bunny." But then he frowned. Nudging the glass aside, he held his hand out to her, palm up. She placed her hand on top of it. Feeling his cold fingers squeeze around hers.

Madara's eyes drifted shut. And then he took a deep breath. When his eyes opened again, he was smiling. He released her hand, shaking his head a little.

"I take it back. Poor Tobirama. No wonder he's in such a frenzy," he amended.

"And no need to elaborate. I think I know what's going on," added Madara.

Sakura stole a glance at Tobirama, not sure whether she should be embarrassed or not. He raised his eyebrows at her a little. Apparently, he wasn't sure either.

"Well, you, my darling, are nesting," Madara declared. Sakura's gaze flew back to him.

"I'm what?"

"I bet this idiot told you you were going into heat," Madara added, jerking his chin toward Tobirama. Tobirama raised his glass to his lips, stubbornly avoiding the other man's gaze.

"Although, he's not to blame. This is actually rather rare to be able to witness," Tobirama assured him. And then he turned his attention back to Sakura.

"I've avoided saying this in all the time I've known you because I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. But you're... extremely fragrant, Sakura. Even for a half," Madara explained.

"It's three-quarters, apparently," Sakura replied.

Madara paused. Blinking a few times. "Well, even with that. I've met some full-bloods who aren't anywhere near what you're at." And then he rubbed his chin as he thought.

"If most half's are like beer then most full's are like... hm... a glass of wine," he tried to explain.

"Then what's she like?" interjected Tobirama.

"A glass of fortified wine. A bit stronger. But still wine," Madara decided, scrutinizing Sakura. She scowled.

"But I'm still a quarter human. How does that math work out?" she asked.

Madara took a sip of his drink. "It's not all human. I've seen this before. You've probably got a drop or two of fairy blood mixed in there somewhere up the family tree. Fairy and siren magic are similar enough that they interact and amplify each other."

Sakura's forehead wrinkled. "That's a thing?" she wondered.

"Like Cleopatra. She had the entire Roman Empire tripping over themselves for her," he added as an example.

Sakura wrinkled her nose. "Not the most flattering example. Wasn't she a mess?"

Madara's eyes widened. "On the contrary. She was a lovely woman. Pretty enough, I suppose. But she was incredibly smart. A talented tactician. And she thrived in a world where women were considered  accessories on the arm of an angry little man with a sword."

But then he waved his hands. Like he was scattering all the thoughts. "Anyway, the matter of nesting." Madara pointed at Tobirama.

"It's not simply a matter of feeling comfortable. A siren has only nested when she's established a secure nest. That includes the occupants of that nest. Idiot."

Tobirama's eyes narrowed.

"But the number of members a nest can support is proportional to the charm of the siren that establishes it. For most, one or two is a solid number," Madara went on, looking at Sakura now.  "In your case... well..."

"Even Cleopatra only had one at a time, didn't she?" she asked.

"That you know of, darling," Madara corrected with a faint smile.

There was a long silence. For several minutes, none of them spoke. The only sound was Tobirama gulping down the rest of his drink. Silently grimacing at the taste of hard liquor.

"Obviously, all of this is a lot to take in. But what's troubling you the most at the moment about this?" Madara then questioned. Tobirama stared down at his empty glass. Madara pushed the decanter over to him so he could refill it before he returned his attention to Sakura. 

She let out a loud sigh. And then wondered, "Do I... have to?"

"Have to what?"

"Do I have to have... multiple... y'know...dudes.... guys..." she mumbled, feeling her face go hot.

When the meaning clicked, Madara hardly blinked. "Well, no. You don't have to do anything. It's entirely up to you."

“Am I always going to be so... eager.... to...” Sakura trailed off, sucking in a sharp breath. Tobirama’s mouth puckered like he’d just swallowed a particularly aggressive lemon. He pretended to be very interested in the ring on his thumb.

Madara thew his head back and laughed. "Oh! That's what's been worrying you?"

He reached out to take her hands. "Bunny, darling, be very honest with me. Have you ever wanted to sleep with me?" he inquired. She ripped out of his grasp.

"Ew! No! You're like... you're like my weird incubus-dad!" she retorted.

"What about Kakuzu? Or Hidan?" he pressed.

"Of course not!"

Madara's eyebrows rose. "See? You've just been very lucky... or maybe unlucky- to meet so many compatible people at once."

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Well, darling, you’ll only be very attracted to the people whose pheromones indicate a good match to yours. And guessing from Mr. Yankee Candle, you’ve got a halfway decent candidate right here,” added Madara, pointing. Tobirama frowned.

“That’s definitely an HR violation,” Tobirama declared.

“This entire conversation has been textbook HR violations. The only way it could get worse is if I hired a stripper right now,” quipped Madara.

“Please don’t,” sighed Sakura, head in her hands. She didn’t look up as Tobirama refilled her glass and slid it back over toward her. It bumped against her elbow.

Shrugging, Madara leaned back in his seat. He eyed the both of them. Rolled his eyes when Tobirama abandoned his glass and took the decanter instead.

"So. What's the plan, you two?" 

"Drink myself into oblivion. Buy a yurt. Or maybe an igloo. Never talk to anyone again," Sakura grumbled, rubbing her hands over her face. She looked up when Tobirama nudged her elbow with her glass again. She saw him holding the bottle out to her. Laughing a little, she clinked her glass against it.

"I can't help you with the real estate," Tobirama said as she took a sip. "But I know a wine bar near here that makes lamb meatballs. And baked brie."

"That sounds awesome," replied Sakura, perking up a little. 

Madara rolled his eyes again. It had taken them less than 10 seconds to completely forget his existence. Which he supposed he should be used to by now. 

"And then I'm going to try really hard to make you fall in love with me. For real," Tobirama then announced.

Madara's eyebrows rose. 

Sakura pressed her mouth to her shoulder, trying to hide the smile creeping across her face. 

Tobirama took in her silence with anxious eyes. It was clear that the burst of courage that had let him make such a bold statement had already run out. 

"Do you hate it?" he wondered.

"No. I like it," replied Sakura as she stood. "Let's go." 

Tobirama hurried to his feet. He took her hand, half-dragging her out of the room.

"Bye, Madara. Thanks," Sakura tossed over her shoulder. Like a hasty afterthought. Tobirama didn't even bother to say anything to him.

Madara’s tail nudged the empty glasses away from the edge of his desk. He picked up the decorative books to set the back on the shelf. “I wonder if I can get in trouble for being so damn nice,” he sighed. Before he drained the last few drops of brandy left at the bottom of the bottle.

Dinner with Tobirama was the right blend of awkward and exciting. Feet nudging under the table. Wine flowing into glasses. Until the fancy names on the labels blurred into each other. And it wasn’t like she was listening anyway. Not when Tobirama was in front of her. Sneaking secret smiles when she teased him.

She stayed the night at his apartment. But it was spent just sitting on the sofa and talking. Which helped Sakura realize that she knew so little about him. 

Tobirama talked about his three brothers, who she never would have guessed existed in a million years. He showed her the photos of him playing the violin as a little boy with chubby cheeks. He even tolerated her peals of laughter when she found photos of his old Halloween costumes. Especially the year he’d been a pumpkin. 

In turn, she told him about how her siblings would try to leave birthday presents for her signed ‘Mom’. How she had learned to recognize the forgeries from the way Hamura’s l’s curved to the left. And then she recalled what it’d been like moving to Empire City with so little. What it had taken- who it had taken to get to where she was today.

There was a moment when both of them ran out of things to say. And they just sat there. Dumb, half-buzzed smiles on their faces. Her foot resting on his ankle as they slumped on his dark grey sectional.

“Hey,” he said.

“Yeah?” she replied, eyes closed. Fingers tapping an idle rhythm on the cushioned seat.

“I really wanna make a song with you.”

Her eyes opened. “Right now?”

“Yeah. I already have a hook I’m thinking of.”

Sakura couldn’t tear her gaze from Tobirama as he hummed the melody for her. With the lapis lazuli around her neck, she knew she wasn’t being controlled by charm. Or glamour. Or whatever she wanted to call it.

This was just Tobirama. Stupid in-love with music. More dorky than hot as he began asking her opinions about reverb. And it was like he was someone else. Leather jacket discarded on the kitchen island. Just a guy in a t-shirt with a chord diagram tattooed on the inside of his left wrist. Hair falling flat against his forehead because he had run his fingers through it so much that it didn’t stand up anymore.

Shaking her head, Sakura laughed at him. 

“What? No reverb?”

“Reverb is good. All the reverb you want, Tobirama,” she giggled, giving his thigh a light kick.

He offered to drive her home in the morning. Half-asleep, he roused from the end of the sofa when he heard her digging through the hall closet for an unopened toothbrush. Tobirama gave up when she reminded him that she had driven them. Sakura promised to drive his car down to him sometime next week. But he was already sleeping before she finished her sentence. She brewed plenty of coffee before she locked the door and slipped out of his apartment. 

Kakashi greeted her as soon as she crossed over the town’s limits. She let her car roll to a stop as she lowered the windows. The air conditioning was blasting despite the early hour. It was going to be a humid day. Even Kakashi’s fur seemed puffier than usual as he walked up to her. His tongue lolling out.

“Hey, Sheriff. Got a sec?” she greeted, leaning out the window. 

Even though she’d seen him complain to Tsunade and to Ino that phasing wasted too much energy, Kakashi didn’t hesitate. His black, smoky body stretched upwards. When the black wisps cleared, Kakashi was resting his elbow on the roof of her car. 

“I’ve got a couple, actually,” he quipped in return. 

 “Let’s go for a drive. I wanna talk to you about some stuff.”

Kakashi’s smile faded. “Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?” he asked. Only half-joking. 

“....No. If anything... I might be... ugh, just... please,” Sakura said, pointing at the passenger seat. 

Kakashi studied her face for a moment. And then he reached in through the window to ruffle her hair. 

“Tell you what... you look hungry. How about we go to my place, I make you waffles, and then you tell me what’s bothering you?” he suggested instead. Sakura’s lower lip stuck out a little.

“You might not want to feed me waffles after I tell you,” she warned. But Kakashi still walked around the hood of the car to hop into the passenger seat. He flashed a smile as he closed the door behind him. “That’s why I’m feeding you before,” he answered.

The smell of smoke often raised alarm bells in a heavily-wooded town like Old Pines. But in the case of a real emergency, the weres would’ve been the first to raise the alarm. Their panicked howls filling the air- day or night. 

On this particular day, the weres were loud. But for a different reason.

“Are you crazy? You can’t just throw the steaks on now, kiddo!” Kiba exclaimed.

“Why not? It’s hot, isn’t it?” his nephew retorted. 

“Sure, if you like undercooked steaks, go right ahead! Next you’ll pour ketchup directly on the fries,” grumbled Kiba. 

“Oh, come on, Uncle. I’m not an animal.”

Kiba chuckled at that. He reached over and ruffled his hair. “I’m gonna go see if there’s anything else. Don’t throw those on the grill until it’s nice and hot. Give it about five minutes,” Kiba instructed as he headed up the steps. He crossed through the mudroom and down the hall.

“Woah. What smells so good?” asked Kiba, walking into the kitchen. Bull immediately barreled into him, stumpy tail wagging. He fell on his ass, but he gave a good-natured laugh as he patted Bull.

“Bacon,” answered Kakashi from behind the stove. He wore a black apron that said ‘I just want to pet my dogs’ in big, white letters. 

“Nice,” Kiba said, sniffing at the air again. 

“I’m putting it in a salad and pretending it’s healthy,” Kakashi then added.

“Less nice,” Kiba amended, wrinkling his nose. He glanced around the otherwise empty kitchen. “Any word from the others?” 

“Ino and Tenten are on their way with dessert. Your sister should be here soon,” Kakashi told him. He turned the burner off. Tossed his spatula into the sink.

Kiba noticed the cardboard box sitting next to the kitchen island. He peeked inside and found shawls in a rainbow of colors and packages of wood chips. He lifted one to his nose and let out a noise of surprise. The fragrance of the bacon had masked the floral, smoky scent. “From?”

“Kisame. Says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it,” answered Kakashi. He jiggled the contents of the pan once before he turned off the heat. 

“Man. Jaws always sends the weirdest shit. Where’s he this time? Dubai?” remarked Kiba. The box also included photos of the treasure hunter, grinning as he held up battered vases and water-logged chests filled with coins. Kakashi nodded as he wiped his hands clean on a towel. 

Bull butted Kiba’s shoulder, whining. “Aw, sorry, big boy. C’mere,” Kiba cooed. He rubbed Bull’s ears a few times. But there was a kissing noise from further in the house, and the dog abandoned him without a second thought. 

“You’re a damn traitor, Bull!” Kiba called after him. And then he looked up when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Kakashi held his hand out to him. Kiba thanked him as Kakashi pulled him to his feet.

They glanced around the house. Kiba’s ears twitching a little as he listened for noise. There was something. A faint sound pulling from the back of the house.

Last summer, Kiba and his crew had spent a few months adding on to the modest cabin. It now extended further into the back, including a mudroom to store shoes, gardening equipment, and the hydroponic herb garden Kiba had given to Sakura for her birthday. 

As they walked through the mudroom, they saw Shiba and Pakkun napping next to a cool vent. Kakashi nudged Pakkun with his big toe as he passed. The pug snorted, but didn’t move. He chuckled.

“There are studies that show that Mozart is good for a baby’s development,” they heard Itachi say.

Kiba and Kakashi exchanged knowing looks. “There he goes again. Next he’s going to insist that we buy that stupid baby wipe-warmer thing,” sighed Kiba. Kakashi elbowed him, whispering, “Be nice.”

They opened the door to find Sakura sitting in the armchair by the window. Her cheek in her hand. A mildly-amused expression gracing her lips. Bull lolled near the door, while Biscuit had managed to worm his way under Sakura’s chair. 

Itachi sat on the white and grey rug, legs crossed. In his lap sat a bluetooth speaker. The box and instruction manual lay beside it. 

Tobirama sat next to Sakura, his elbow resting on her lap. Which seemed to be shrinking each day. On his right upper arm, covered in plastic wrap, was his most recent tattoo. It was of a compass, the black arrow pointing north. Sighing, he let his head fall back, against Sakura’s stomach. When he stared up at her, she simply raised her eyebrows. In a sort of ‘what are you gonna do’ expression.

“Are you seriously.... trying to tell.... Sirens... what kind of music is best?” Tobirama spelled out. Slowly. Patiently.

Itachi froze. “Oh my god. I sound like an asshole,” he realized.

“Mm... yeah,” Sakura had to agree. Shaking his head, Itachi began laughing. And Tobirama even chuckled a little too. He noticed Kiba and Kakashi enter the room and nodded at them.

“I feel like you're spending more time here than anywhere else,” remarked Kakashi, crossing his arms. He leaned against the doorway. Kiba nudged past him. He crossed the room in a few big steps before he knelt in front of her. Tobirama moved his arm so that Kiba could put his hands on Sakura’s growing stomach. 

“It’s pretty. And so much light gets in here,” Sakura replied. “And that tickles,” she scolded, poking Kiba in the forehead.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just... sounds crazy in there. The heartbeat, I mean,” Kiba apologized, pulling away. He left his hands on her stomach though. 

“I’m still not sure about the color. Maybe we should’ve gone with something more green,” Kakashi remarked, looking around.

“He did a great job. I love the color,” Sakura insisted. The walls were a mellow, peachy shade. Kiba had spent hours on his hands and knees, sanding every inch of the floor to make sure that there were no splinters. The window frames gleamed white in the afternoon sun. The double-panes would make sure to keep the room toasty in the winter and cool in the summer.

“I don’t really see how this is supposed to be gender neutral,” Kiba wondered, not for the first time. He had voiced the same concerns as he painted the walls.

“Who cares? It’s pretty,” Tobirama scoffed. 

Kiba and Kakashi froze at the same time. Kakashi sniffed once at the air.

“What’s done?” Kiba asked him, twisting around to look at him.

“The cheese cornbread,” answered Kakashi. And then the oven timer went off, as if to support him.

“I’ll get it. You savages’ll eat half of it before it hits the table,” Kiba sighed. He grunted as he got to his feet. He knocked his shoulder into Kakashi’s on his way out of the door. They snickered at each other.

They chatted for a little while longer. Just enjoying the quiet. Because soon, they wouldn’t have time to relax like this. Tobirama took Sakura’s hand as she spoke. She had complained so many times about them swelling, so he found  time to massage them every once in a while. He wasn’t particularly skilled, but it made her smile all the same.

Kakashi broke off mid-sentence, eyes darting around. Which meant that someone else had arrived. The front door banged open. Hidan yelled, “The party’s here!” And then Hidan swore once, likely as Madara slapped him with his tail. 

“Hello? We brought non-alcoholic beer and sparkling cider. And, unfortunately, we brought Hidan too,” Madara called.

“Sorry about that!” Temari added.

“We should’ve brought a gift receipt,” snorted Kakuzu, making his friends laugh. 

“Fuck you guys! You’re a bunch of fucking assholes!” complained Hidan. Heaving a sigh, Tobirama got to his feet. Sakura squeezed his hand once before she released him. Raking his hand through his hair, Tobirama strode out of the room. Sakura glimpsed Shiba rolling onto his feet as Tobirama walked past. Tail wagging as he followed him down the hall.

“Hidan, watch your mouth. The kid’s going to end up sounding like you,” she could hear Tobirama warn, voice growing farther and farther away.

“Hey! Can we get something out here for the steaks? Where should I put them?” Kiba’s nephew suddenly inquired. 

“I’ll handle it,” Itachi announced before anyone else could budge. He pushed the bluetooth speaker to the side. Putting a hand on either side of Sakura’s head, he kissed her forehead. Giggling, she pushed him away, saying, “Go.”

Kakashi still lingered in the doorway. He was still smiling as he watched her.

“I’d be a bad hostess if I stayed holed up in here all night. Help me up?” she requested. 

Kakashi eased her to her feet. His hands lingered on her waist. Her center of gravity had shifted so much in the last few months. Sometimes it took a moment to find her balance. And even when she was steady on her feet, his hands stayed there.

“I feel like a whale,” she sighed. 

“Well, then call me Ishmael,” he quipped in return. That made her laugh as he wrapped his arms around her. And she stopped laughing when she caught him staring at her again. That same smile on his face, like he was half-in a dream. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” she wondered.

“Oh. No reason. Just basking in all the glory of holding a beautiful woman who I love very much,” he retorted. Sleepy eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Why? Is there a problem with that?” he then questioned.

“No. No problem at all. Carry on,” she answered, pulling him in for a kiss.

End