I don’t understand why anyone had a problem with the Rome AU? It’s. It’s fiction. It’s not meant to be historically accurate, that was never the point. What, y’all gonna start coming after every period romance written ever?
I adored Rome AU. It was one of my favorites. It doesn’t have to be anywhere close to accurate, it just has to be fun for you to create. So create more of it if it makes you happy. You deserve that 💖
I would love to, it had a very specific energy, but I got a lot of people correcting me about little details. It puts me off creating anything to do with it despite loving it so much, because I’m just here having fun but people are mad about idk, a dye colour, or some tiny detail about how a social norm was written about or something. Now I hate history, I failed it, every test I ever took I failed horribly, it was my one true subject I just didn’t click with, so having to essentially research a bunch of history stuff before enjoying a mindless hobby topic that’s more about OCs than the setting kind of just sucks! Like a lot!! my adhd hates it haha, I can’t read a sentence without reading it 3-4 times. I just don’t read well, and when I say this people suggest audio books or YouTube videos; no one seems to understand that I truly, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I truly cannot focus on historical content. It’s all very important and interesting but just not something I can consume and enjoy? I’m too stupid for it haha!
BUT. I really do miss it, I made the Star Wars AU a reflection of it to escape the history buffs that heckle in the tags, but somehow it doesn’t have the same energy, close but somethings missing.
Either way it IS fiction, I was going to throw some of the old gods and monsters in to try to pull it away from the history aspect, but it was too late by that point, and no doubt someone would have had issues with that too.
Defo one of the greats, I love big wet dog peach who just needs love and patience and gentleness. There was real charm to plum and her calm power, and grey the biggest sweetheart of them all. Idk. Guess it’s done for sadly, but GOD, miss it so much. Just finished with being expected to research something I just want to enjoy for he fun of it yknow? My brain can’t do it hah
I love that it was one of your favs, I hear it a lot, and love that briefly it brought some joy to others!
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Have something that was supposed to be shorter and I might make it longer
Warning: this story contains death, guns, threats of self harm
A hero and villain stand across from each other, the hero holds a gun.
They held the gun out, pointed at the now cowering servant.
“Let me go, or I kill them.”
“I don’t care.”
A shot rings out and the servant crumples, the villain’s face falls with it, morphing from mirth to shock.
The hero cocks the gun again.
Know, shall we find something you do care about?”
The hero turns away, headed for the door and the villain seizes the chance to attempt to regain control.
“You won’t find anything here.”
“Oh really? You always seemed the type to want to be able to check up on things.”
The hero is now leading the villain through the base.
“I mean, you may have hidden them, sure, but not far. And you did say I could go anywhere wishing the gateline.”
The hero continues forward, picking up things as they go, regarding and discarding each one. The villain hastily attempting to rescue each unworthy trophy while maintaining an air of indifference.
“So, definitely on the property, but where, and what, could it possibly be?”
The hero pushes into a room lined with mirrors, their reflection now facing them from every direction as the watch the villain rush in after them.
A new, almost sick, smile now finds the hero’s face as they watch the villain in the doorway.
“Ah, but of course.”
The hero raises the gun, and rests it against their jaw, aimed to blow their brain out.
“Don’t be silly.”
There is panic now in the villain’s voice.
“You are nothing but a thorn in my side.”
“Even if that were the case, would that not count me as a trophy of battle?”
The villain steps forward, the hero steps back, a thousand reflections step with them both.
“But no, a trophy goes on a shelf high and out of reach. It doesn’t need to be anything more than seen.”
Another step, the way the mirrors twist and turn their images leads them in a dance around the room.
The hero pauses to laugh and the villain lunges forwards, reaching out for the gun. Their hands slip and catch, the weapon lurches and fires.
There’s the sound of the crowd in the distance, threatening to invade the peaceful place in which the villain stands. The city mourns their hero but no one mourns the unmarked headstone. When the world learnt of the tragedy, there was no one to call, no one to say goodbye to.
And so they stand alone.
The body buried here is false, of course. So is the one at the head of the parade.
There is, however, laid gently in a bed made for an unwilling guest, a body hooked up to a thousand wires and tubes and lines as medical experts do their best to repair what damage is possible.
The city lives in a numb peace for months, no villain attacks and no parties. Some begin to wonder if the villain was ever real, or if the hero was all an act.
Those people find themselves having a very bad day.
But life goes on and the city continues forward. The hero and villain become members of fiction and legend, told as tales to misbehaving children.
One person swears they see the hero at a cafe one day, sitting with a stranger, sharing coffee and cake as they watch the news.
Nobody believes them.
The huge spooky house children would dare each other to explore suddenly fills with life again, and parent warn their kids of trespassing now that there are new occupants.
On days when people flock to the streets, or light candles quietly in their windows in a long forgotten tradition, a couple can be seen visiting a blank grave. They spend hours there, telling stories to an empty slab before they manoeuvre themselves and the wheelchair back away into the city.
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