But imagine Romano being a few years old and walking around with grandpa Rome before Veneziano is born and seeing the city of Pompei disappear under the lava (⊙‿⊙✿)




Romano refused to hold his Grandpa’s hand. He leaned against the side of the boat, eyes glued to the distant city. It was midnight at noon—it had gotten dark so fast. Romano looked up at his Grandpa, coughing.

“It hurts to breath,” he rasped.

Grandpa didn’t respond, still watching the city. Romano could faintly hear what his Grandfather could; screaming, hundreds of final breaths, so much screaming. It was like his lungs were on fire, and his skin was sticky like he was covered in candle wax.

“What is it?” Romano asked, standing on the tips of his toes to see the city once again. The mountain nearby was shuddering, giant rocks and bounders rolling down before coming down to an uneasy stop. “Why would…?” He coughed, his whole chest tight.

“There is no reason,” Grandpa Rome snapped.

Romano felt his cheeks burn. “What do you mean there’s no reason? That’s stupid, of cour—“

“No, Romano,” Grandpa interrupted, still not looking down. “Sometimes, bad things happen for no reason. One day, the Gods just decide to punish you. It doesn’t matter if you take care of your people or not.”

Romano shook his head, stepping back from the side of the boat. “You’re wrong.”

“You know how long I’ve lived?” Rome laughed, but it was angry. “I have seen so many people die for no good reason. This, Romano,” Rome pointed toward the distant Pompeii, “this has no reason. Death is pointless.”

Romano fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His skin was so hot. “We have to help!”

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t?!” Part of the mountain collapsed. A giant wall of dark clouds and fire descended upon the city. Romano screamed, curling in on himself.

Suddenly, Grandpa was holding him, rocking his back and forth. “It’s okay, Romano. I feel it, too. You’ll get used to it.”

Romano felt like his lungs were imploding. His skin felt like burned parchment—if Grandpa touched him too roughly, it would flake off. Romano clutched at his grandpa, sobbing. “I don’t want to. Please, save them. You can do anything! Save them…”

Grandpa sighed, his own breath rasping. “I don’t even know what this is, Romano. We could never save them. It’s almost over, can’t you feel? Once everyone is gone… You won’t hurt anymore.”

That was the first time Rome had ever failed Romano.


gen/fluff, serbro
human names, end of ottoman era (roughly), obvious but glossed over sex, serb being corny, ro not being a little shit, blatantly written at 5am w/out coffee beforehand


“Nice moon, tonight.”

The words are so blasé, they’re barely worth acknowledging. Still, Mihai peers up and over the high walls surrounding the perimeter of the palace. Even hanging as low and as bright as it is in the dark sky, it’s nothing remarkable.

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Is that a ‘yes’?


HAPPY BIRTHDAY YO. I know we haven’t spoken directly and I know you know this is comin’ but hot damn, hello. I hope this isn’t too horrid. I have never written either of these characters so before you decide to stone me and lock me in the dungeon, at least give me a fair warning.

Notes: Cronus, Kankri, I don’t know what I’m doing, Birthday Fic, Fluff and Nonsense, Humanstuck, Modern Diner-y AU, 15 minute fic, Likely a typo or ten ahead that’s what’s up.

This guy—this guy was one tough cookie to crack but, luckily for him, Cronus wasn’t the least bit swayed. He liked a little bit of a challenge here and there and he really liked that cute little sweater. The cutie wore it well, looking like a peach all shined up and ready to eat.

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Carlos accidentally gets really fuckin' high or some equivalent.



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[PruHun] tongue tied


deaf au for thesouschef! I’ve owed you for a long time, buddy ;u;

Gilbert sort of meets her in his classes, sees her with messy hair and baggy sweatshirts and thinks of her as an easy kind of pretty, all dark hair and olive skin. The sort of is because he’s never really talked to her, ever, just starts to get to class early enough to take the seat behind the one she usually sits it in.

He daydreams about her, thinks about helping her out of her sweatshirt and palming her tits, small in one fantasy and bigger in the next. Only when she turns around to sign to him and pass back papers from the professor his eyes go wide and he smiles and freaks the fuck out.

He tries for unassuming but ends up looking a little predatory, a manic expression with all sharp teeth. She just raises a neat eyebrow and laughs, something open mouthed an easy, and turns back towards the board.

He’s always been kind of shit at approaching girls.

Erzsébet’s just the worst.

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Welcome to Night Vale Fic Rec Post


Carlos as a child, watching old monster movies with his grandparents. Eyes wide and rapt behind his new glasses, shoveling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth as he watches men in white lab coats scheme to save the world. Tomorrow, the glasses will be broken for the first of many times. Carlos is an anomaly, small and dark-skinned, soft where his classmates are bright and hard. They have nannies; Carlos lives with his grandparents. They trade baseball cards; Carlos shyly befriends the school librarian. His brand-new glasses are broken, once, twice, too many times to count, and Carlos trudges home with skinned palms and ripped clothes, aching with something he can’t name. He loses himself in celluloid, and dreams of being a hero.

Carlos as a teenager, gorging on books about physics and quantum mechanics and obscure mathematics, scrabbling for the seams of the universe so he can blow it wide open. Carlos grows into his body, but never his brain. Always an anomaly, always an outlier, an endless game of catch-up where he doesn’t know the rules. He reads science fiction by flashlight, Ellison and Asimov, Heinlein, Bradbury, dreams about the sky overhead and the earth beneath his feet. Hungry and desperate for something he can never quite explain. All he knows is it’s always just beyond his reach.

Carlos as an undergrad, arguing hypotheses and theories into the early hours of the morning, kissing and being kissed, fucking and being fucked, furiously quantifying the world in a language he can understand and laughing with relief when it finally consents to be quantified. He still reads science fiction, still watches his old movies, but guiltily. The longing they inspire is something blurry and imprecise, and he has bigger things to be concerned with now: grad school, and research, and funding. The anger and the old, furious shame that burns when he goes into an interview, with his new suit and his new haircut, and pinpoints the exact second he’s written off as a diversity candidate. Top of his class, already published. Still an abnormality.

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kiss me, baby, electrify me
[Fic] Still Life Without Clothes, 1 (Spamano AU)


Sorry for the delay…writing happens much, much more slowly for me these days.

More cracktastic adventures of Romano in Art School. This is really just me being silly. Please forgive liberties taken and characters maligned. 

Prologue for this masterpiece here.

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cutthroatpixie replied to your post: if you draw or write femspamano for me ill love…

gimme a prompt

ahhhhhh you’re like one of my favorite fanfic writers h ave i mentioned

im„awful at prompts how do they even work how about watchign a movie or something gosh im so boring


The movie theatre is packed by the time Lovina and Antonia make their way inside, which makes Antonia whine (loudly, far too loudly, since they’re being shushed despite the fact that the previews haven’t even started yet) because she really, really wanted to sit in the back and there aren’t a pair of seats left up there.

“It’s your own damn fault,” Lovina hisses. She spots a few seats near the middle of the theatre, next to a large group of girls whispering excitedly to one another, and she grabs Antonia’s arm and pulls her over.

“I’m not the one who couldn’t decide what candy she wanted,” Antonia responds, flopping down into one of the seats and shoving her purse and said candy into the one next to her. Lovina’s glad she no longer has to ask Antonia to be a rude asshole who takes extra seats just so they don’t have to sit by anybody else. Really and truly glad.

“You are the one who chatted for fifteen damn minutes to the popcorn girl, though.”

“I went to school with her!” Antonia is shushed again, but she ignores it. “I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“You’d do that even if you didn’t know her.”

Antonia just shrugs. “I like talking to people.” She holds the popcorn under Lovina’s nose, waving it back and forth temptingly. “It’s got extra butter,” she sing-songs.

“That shit is disgusting.” Lovina takes a handful nonetheless, because Antonia won’t leave her alone until she does. “Where’d you put my damn Jujubes?”

“Language,” a girl behind them says, nudging at the back of Lovina’s seat.

“Is something we’re all using right now, great fucking observation.”

The girl mutters something as Antonia laughs and passes Lovina a bright green box of candy. “Charming as ever, baby.”

“Damn right I am. Now shut your mouth, the movie is starting.”

The lights dim and Lovina has to shove Antonia’s arm off her shoulders three times before Antonia finally gives up. 

And puts it on her thigh instead.

“In a movie theatre, Antonia,” she whispers, barely audible over the preview music pounding through the theatre.

Antonia doesn’t respond, doesn’t do anything actually, so Lovina lets her keep her hand there, just because she’s feeling generous and there’s no point in getting kicked out of the theatre for shouting if Antonia’s actually going to behave herself.

The movie finally starts and the soft hum of conversation surrounding the previews finally stops as the opening credits roll. Lovina munches on her candies, putting her hand over the box when Antonia tries to steal a few and shoving away the popcorn that keeps getting shoved in her face.

A loud boom echoes through the theatre and Lovina jumps along with everyone else, though the yelp she lets out is for an entirely different reason.


“Yes?” Antonia looks at her, wide-eyed and innocent, and it’d be a very convincing act if her hand wasn’t currently up Lovina’s skirt.

Lovina leans in, really close, close enough to almost taste the salty, buttery concoction on Antonia’s lips and whispers, “Make it quick or I am going to kill you.”

Luckily for Lovina, the movie is far louder than she could ever be, and it’s actually not half bad so everyone is paying attention to the screen in front of them. She shifts in her seat and Antonia whines a little about the angle, saying it’s harder that way, but Lovina doesn’t give a shit.

Despite the whining and complaining, Antonia manages to sneak her fingers inside Lovina’s panties, and (fucking sneaky thing that she is) she gets Lovina to spread her legs just a bit as those fingers work their magic.

Lovina sighs, just a bit, and tries not to look at Antonia’s no doubt pleased-with-herself face. Soon enough her stomach is knotting up, not with nervousness or annoyance but with an entirely different (yet no less familiar feeling), her toes are curling in heels, and since Antonia’s fingers aren’t backing off in the slightest, she bites her lip, slumps in the seat a little, and spills the rest of her Jujubes all over herself in a moment of temporary clumsiness.

Antonia giggles while Lovina tries to catch her breath and pick the candies up out of her lap at the same time. “I’m really enjoying this movie Lovi, are you?”

Lovina just scowls and snatches the popcorn from under Antonia’s stupid smug face.