[image description under the cut]
Image Description:
An iteration on a popular meme format, edited to include figures from Roman history. The original version of the meme is a crudely drawn MS paint illustration of a sad looking dude standing in the corner of a party looking on as people dance and have a good time. The meme always includes the text "they don't know" over the man's head, showing his thoughts. And then when someone edits the meme, they add onto that phrase. In this iteration, the heads of the illustrated people have been replaced with cropped photos of heads from ancient Roman sculptures of famous people.
The man in the corner is now Augustus (Octavian) Caesar and he is labeled "Octavian about to absolutely wreck everyone's shit." The text above his head reads "They don't know I'm the scariest bitch in the Mediterranean." His eyes are glowing red.
At his feet lays the dead body of Julius Caesar, cropped from a painting and covered in crudely-added digital blood. A label pointing to the body reads, "Julius Caesar (super assassinated)".
The crowd of people that Octavian is looking at is labeled, "Lepidus Antony, Cassius, Brutus, Decimus, and half of Rome fighting for control," with arrows pointing to the respective images of those men. A separate label points to the man in the middle of the group and says "Cicero attempting to preserve the Republic".
Next to Octavian is small red text with hashtags that read "hashtag gonna go full Michael Corelone on these motherfuckers" and "hashtag Your Asses Delenda Est." (This is a play on "Karthago Delenda Est", which means "Carthage Must Be Destroyed" in Latin and was a very memorable political slogan in Roman history leading up to the utter destruction of the city of Carthage. This phrase was so memorable, in fact, that the English speech-to-text program I use recognized the phrase and spelled it correctly on my first attempt! Which is very unusual for a Latin phrase that has absolutely no modern-day uses!)
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Because the bedsheet ask was so random, I have another random ask…
When you wash cups, do you let them air dry or dry them with a towel…
How did 2024 get me to this point?
Now, listen up, maggots. Picture this:
There you are, posed in front of the sink (no dishwashers please, I'm too broke to know how dishwashers work, I've only read about them in Drarry fanfics). You stand there, and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.
Your cup, that you drank tea from but it was actually spiked with alcohol because your third cousin gossiped about your sister's husband to her mother-in-law and you're the go-between, is in your hand. You have just washed it.
The drops of water glisten in the noon sun. You wonder, briefly, why adulthood has you drinking before 1 pm. Then you brush that thought away like you did your sweat. Some things are best ignored.
What is important is the cup. You look at it, so wet and glistening and ready for you, and you wonder how to do it justice. Should you take the towel and gently rub it until it's dry and clean? Surely you should! You look around for the towel.
There hangs the towel, on the hook by the sink. It is coarse, and off-white, like eggified precome. Have you been reading too much fanfiction? No. Anyway, you reach for the towel, but pause midway.
The towel has been hanging there, moist from the last rubbing, fermented with bacteria and protozoans that yearn to feel its wetness and consume it. The fungi have not arrived yet, you take care to wash the towel enough for that. Or do you?
You hesitate, you do not remember the last time you washed the towel. Aftercare is a lost art, fading away like handweaving and ironworking and the knowledge that crumbled in Alexandria.
You look down at your darling cup, cradling so trustingly in the palm of your hand, still wet but not so much anymore, warming in the sunlight.
No, you decide. You will not sully your cup. You lay it aside to airdry, and cast one lingering glance at it before walking away.
The towel still remains on the hook, hanged for its crimes, left to its fate. Always to clean, never to be cleaned.
You have made the right choice. The cup will be pristine. The towel wilts in the noon sun, before hardening like plaster. A statue, a work of permanence, the mortification of the filth in flesh that the first ascetic Christians who settled in Ancient Rome preached.
All is well.
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The Optimates get their name from Optimus, meaning best, and mates, meaning friends, because every member of the Optimates was in fact best friends with eachother and would spend senate meetings weaving friendship bracelets
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