so here’s something that approximately no one asked for, my classical book collection. also can we just excuse the lighting in my room and the general shittiness of my camera? thanks. anyway, my books! i’m a first year classics student at uni and have been a general lover of myth for years but i don’t have that much of a collection. these are just some books i used to broaden my love of classics (the mini perseus statue is from florence and is my pride and joy only when i was moving out of home he got dropped and his sword broke off so now it looks like he took off medusa’s head with sheer force)
firstly, the left is roman, then homer, then alexander the great, then general greek stuff. the books stacked up top are my slightly damaged favourites, since i purchased most of these from second hand stores. the others i either bought in italy (alexander the great, the iliad and the odyssey, the odyssey, and ancient greece in fifty lives) or at my uni’s bookstore (hadrian and dynasty). the books that aren’t pictured because i am currently using them for uni or because they don’t really fit are my books on ancient egypt (cleopatra, myths and legends of ancient egypt, cleopatra: a life), my books on ancient greece (myths and legends of ancient greece, metamorphosis, theogony) and then a few renaissance books that aren’t about classics, obviously (the medici, the prince, lucrezia borgia, the artist the philosopher and the warrior, the life and death of cesare borgia)
roman social history is actually something i purchased for my second trimester course on roman history and i haven’t actually read entirely through it, only because it is so dense and detailed, but it is so perfect if you’re interested in the roman republic or need to research certain aspects of roman life.
dynasty is quite possibly one of my favourites which is surprising because it’s about augustus and his family, and if you have been around me for a while you would know how much i hate augustus and everything he stands for. it’s about the house of caesar so it covers augustus, tiberius, calligula, claudius, and nero. it’s beautiful and witty and so d r y.
hadrian is a book i legitimately can not talk about without crying because i love it so much. hadrian is my favourite emperor and i get so Extra whenever i talk about him. ur girl went to the pantheon and started crying. anyway, this book is so great and paints an amazing picture of the cocky, slightly arrogant hadrian as a young man, moving through to his adulthood as a greek loving gay who preferred travelling and hating on celts than actually being the emperor.
on a windy day you are wearing white socks. we sat on an immense field of green grass. the sound of the ocean in the distance. it was the summer you lost yourself. we made some promises looking at the sky. now you talk about drugs and nothing else. big clouds moving fast. I bought a plane ticket to Italy. Roma. and you tell everyone about that time you fell asleep in a pool of vomit. Roma spelled backwards is Amor. I look at you and I cannot recognize you. Amore means love in italian. 22 missed calls from you
Trigger Warnings: Bad
language + mentions of blood and violence.
Genres: Angst, Romance
Comments: I should seriously
stop making everything so goddamn dramatic, it isn’t even funny. Sighs. I am
terribly sorry for the delay. I sincerely hope that this is what you had in
mind and wish you a nice day and lots of funny moments!
The only sound that’s
keeping you grounded and sane is the one made by your high heels. They used to
be a gorgeous redish-white pair, the
kind that had a shine to it that not even the most expensive products could
create. Your brother bought them for you
from Italy somewhen last year and today was the first time you got around to
wearing them, but now they look as if they have been worn three times too many,
with mud all over and the paint falling around the back and the tip, damage
caused by how fast you’d run through those stones to make it in time record to
the hospital Pietro is checked in after having a close shave encounter with a
Hydra trained team of assassins that were just scooping around an abandoned
building for people left behind to take as hostages when they ran into him.
You don’t know the details,
but you were informed that while the team had been taken out, Pietro was, is,
god knows in what shape he currently is, close to be just a name on a tombstone
The click-clack of your
heels is familiar, is timed and leveled and it’s in your control, the only
thing you are certain you have power over in this way too crammed and busy
hospital hallway, with people dying left and right and nurses close to going
crazy because of how much blood they’re having on their hands and god, how much
of the blood on these walls is Pietro’s?
You quicken your pace,
pushing the people that stand in your ways and muttering apologies as you
stumble over your own two feet, your lungs squeezing painfully as you get
closer and closer to the room he’s in. He has just gotten out of surgery, Steve
told you over the phone, we don’t know if he makes it, please don’t cry—you don’t
remember what came after that: it was either you falling to your knees and
wailing or you running through a sea of people, clawing your ways because you
When you push the door to
his hospital room open and take your first step into it, you can feel the taste
of blood on the roof of your mouth as you try and swallow your frantically
beating heart. He looks like shit; hair disheveled, body covered in stained
bandages that you’re sure were just changed, eyes turning black and fingers
twitching helplessly besides his body as he turns his head to look at you.
You don’t think it’s fair of
the world to have him stare at you with such gentleness and kindness after what
has happened to him. You also don’t think it’s fair of the world to have the
both of you sit in silence moments after that, overwhelmed with all the things
you have to say to each other with the uncertainty of whether the moment he
closes his eyes will be the last or not.
“You’re an asshole you know
that?” You’re the first one to speak, fingers balled into a fish, grabbing at
your dress as you are stood on the chair next to his bed, looking at him
through the tears you can barely keep at bay. You ignore his surprised
expression and continue, voice shaking as you try and regain whatever control
you can over it and make this less pathetic.
“You kissed me at Tony’s
Christmas party, using the fucking mistletoe as an excuse, and while you were
shitdrunk and could barely form a sentence, you could have at least remembered
it the next morning! Or the one after that!” you yell, breaking down and
missing the look of realization on his face as it turns into a sad one, fingers
inching closer and closer to your trying to grab you, to grab the moment and
reality and try to live while he can in it, god knows how much longer he has in
“You don’t get to die now!
You don’t get to just fucking walk away from me, from your sister, from the
Avengers and from everything!” you continue, shoulders shaking.
“I’m sorry.” Pietro whispers
and it’s the last thing he says that night.
And he truly is sorry. He’s
sorry when he gets out of the hospital and can’t look at you straight in the face.
Sorry that he forgot about the kiss and about the things that he had told you that
night and had never acted on. Sorry that he was too late and that he
interrupted your wedding day with his near-death experience and sorry that he
made you abandon everything you took time to build in his absence.
Today Germany accidentally touched Italy’s butt on the way down the stairs. He got so embarrassed even though Italy didn’t notice, he bought Italy a present to apologize. When he gave it to him at dinner Italy said,“Finally you apologize you weird pervert.” Germany got so flustered he ran away and came back minutes later to apologize.