#did Alexander the Great exist?

[jeannereames]

Good evening, Dr. Reames I wanted to ask you something, a long time ago I read that during the XIX century there was a lot of discussion about the veracity of the figure of Alexander, like: Did he really exist or is he a legendary character? What do you think about it? Thank you very much, I love your work very much.

Did Alexander the Great Actually Exist?

Skepticism about historical figures was part of a larger development in the discipline of history: the critical evaluation of our sources.

“Historiography,” or the history of history. Instead of just taking sources at face value, historians began to interrogate them: who wrote it, when, and what was that person’s perspective?

These are just the most basic questions. As time progressed, historiography became ever more refined. I’ve discussed some of these refinements before in my longer posts here. For instance, the difficulty in untangling imperial Roman tropes/themes overlying anecdotes about Alexander. We work for awareness of layering, narrative context, big-picture themes….

Yet sometimes the pendulum swings too far, at least IMO. Scholarly trends can get out of hand. Shiny new toys (ideas) are fun, but must be woven into the larger scholarly conversation, not suck all the air out of the room. History has fads just like anything else—including undue skepticism. Some things I warn my own students about:

Smoke does not always equal fire. That is, don’t assume the negative report is true over a neutral or positive one; especially the latter can be denigrated as whitewashing. Fact is, people love dirt and lie about or exaggerate bad things just as much as they polish up events or a person’s image.

Things can be exaggerated rather than invented out of whole cloth. Without solid evidence to support pure invention, I’ll tend to assume exaggeration. Layers of “truth” exist. It gets tricky.

Back to historiographic development….

The Enlightenment led to the questioning of much received truth. That’s the era of Darwin, of historical Biblical criticism, Reason over Faith, the birth of archaeology, etc. As part of the critical evaluation of ancient sources, scholars began to doubt the existence of heroes such as Agamemnon, Achilles, Theseus, and events too, such as the Trojan War. In fact, all events in Greek myth/history before 776 BCE—the date of the first Olympics—were regarded as fictional. As archaeology took over Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Levant, and Italy, Greece was fighting for freedom from Ottoman control, archaeology new there—bronze-age Greece yet uncovered.

In any case, as part of the new en vogue skepticism, some scholars questioned not only heroes and myths, but historical figures too, especially those further back in time. Did Solon exist? Cyrus? Croesus? Or even … Jesus? (Radical!)

Proposing Alexander as mythical falls into that same hyper-skeptical period. The fact all our biographies were written so long after he lived made it easier to hypothesize he was a myth!

Yet recall… archaeology was new, epigraphy (study of stone inscriptions) just starting. A lot of information we have now simply didn’t exist at that time.

Today, trying to argue that Alexander wasn’t real is ridiculous. We have coins minted in his reign, epigraphical evidence from his own day naming him, oodles and oodles of images, archaeological evidence from Macedonia itself, etc. There’s no question Alexander of Macedon existed, and he conquered a hella lot of his known world. The basic outlines of his campaign are documented in hard evidence.

We can, however, (and should!) question many of the stories and anecdotes about his campaign. Even the outlines of some battles. Two mutually-exclusive versions of the Battle of Granikos exist. Some famous events probably didn’t happen at all (the whole proskynesis affair). Others didn’t happen as they’re told. After all, we have competing stories in the original sources themselves—take the Gordion Knot episode. That’s where we apply our critical historiographic eye now.

But to return to our story of burgeoning historiography in the 19th and early 20th centuries….

In 1870, Heinrich Schliemann began to dig at Troy, which opened up the Greek bronze age and put a hard skid on the “it’s all fiction” trend. Now, that shithead Schliemann did boatloads of damage and has earned his rep as a lying little Colonialist weasel who’s roundly cursed by most modern archaeologists. But you gotta give him that small sliver: he reversed the trend that regarded Greek myth as entirely false.

Then the pendulum swung the other way. If the Trojan War had really happened, was myth just barnacle-encrusted history? That notion wasn’t so different from what the ancients had believed about their own myths, in fact.

Many historians sought to “purify” myth: find the truth behind it. The trend remained popular well into the 20th century in both academic history as well as historical fiction (see Mary Renault’s The King Must Die and Bull from the Sea). It also encouraged periodic “searches” for mythical places. The seemingly never-ending “Search for Atlantis” is the most obvious example. (Newsflash: Plato made that shit up. It’s a philosophical metaphor, y’all.)

Today, most professional historians regard Greek heroes as fictional. Instead, we trace how myths and heroes morphed over time and across cultures. So, Greek Herakles translated into Etruscan Hercle, then into Roman Hercules, plus Greek Herakles’s probable antecedent in ancient near eastern myths of Gilgamesh, Marduk, Sampson, Melquart, etc.

We’re also interested in how myths/legends embed reality at the edges to make them realistic to their hearers. It’s not barnacle-encrusted history but may still convey reality…much as fiction does today. If you watch a TV show about, say, hospital emergency rooms, most people don’t assume the characters are actual doctors or the events real except in broad brushstrokes. Yet we do rate such shows for how well they approximate ER experience. World build. That’s how modern historians and Classicists tend to approach myths today.

Myths are the stories a culture tells itself about itself.

What a culture valued, emulated, and how it wanted to think about itself can be found in myths.

These are the same things reception studies consider, btw. They’re less about what actually happened in history, than what people later wanted to believe happened. That’s as interesting a question (to my mind) as the truth of the event itself.

So perhaps all those fads in history tell us as much about the historians who purvey them as what they were uncovering. 😉

[thelingering]

brain tired from Latin so have an appreciation post for humanity

[aphroditelovesu]

Kitten Pajamas

❝commission: a slightly angsty oneshot that incorporates the kitten pajamas somehow. I'm imagining a situation where Alexander sees them out and starts asking her (again) where she's from. Basically, something that shows she's managed to avoid telling him. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little emotional while writing this, don't ask me why, since I don't even know the answer, but I liked how it turned out. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎

❝tw: slight angst.

❝📜pairing: slight yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,180.

You stared at the kitten pajamas with a soft smile curving your lips, your fingers sliding over the soft fabric, almost as if they were tracing every detail, every line of the embroidery that made up the kittens' faces. With each touch, it was as if the memories of home, tucked deep in your mind so that you wouldn't go completely crazy, began to infiltrate your mind, bringing with them a mixture of longing and comfort.

The truth is that you had completely forgotten about the existence of those pajamas. They were stored, well protected at the bottom of a trunk, inside your tent, along with other things that you, in your busy routine full of responsibilities, rarely allowed yourself to revisit. It was as if that small piece of clothing, with its slightly worn fabric, was the only physical reminder of a life that seemed increasingly distant, something almost untouchable.

You had no specific reason to go through the trunks that day. You were just bored, trying to shake off the monotony that surrounded you, when a sudden burst of energy made you decide that maybe it would be a good idea to explore those forgotten corners. Who knows what you might find?

It was like that, amidst the dust and the smell of things stored away for a long time, that you found the pajamas. Cleaning had never been your favorite activity, but at that moment, as you held that small piece of clothing, you felt an unexpected joy. It was as if, for a moment, you had returned home, and the kitten pajamas were the thread that connected the future to the present.

A feeling of melancholy took hold of you, like a slow and inevitable wave, as your eyes traveled over every detail of the pajamas. Your fingers, once delicate, now gripped the fabric with more force than necessary, as if they wanted to extract more than just memories from that worn-out piece.

Home.

Such a simple word, yet so powerful at the same time. It echoed within you, awakening an emptiness that, although familiar, seemed to deepen with each passing day. Longing was something you had learned to carry, but at that moment, you felt its weight more than ever. The pain of being away, of feeling increasingly disconnected from everything you knew and loved, tightened your chest with an almost suffocating intensity.

You realized that, over time, you had begun to think less and less about home. When you first arrived here, the memories of your family and friends had been vivid, constant. But now, almost without realizing it, those memories were becoming hazy, distant, as if time was slowly erasing their faces, their voices, their smells. This was even more painful. The idea that you might be forgetting, that those people who had once meant so much to you were turning into shadows, filled you with a deep, painful sadness.

It was as if, in trying to adapt to this new place, you were leaving behind parts of yourself, parts you didn’t want to lose. And now, holding your pajamas, you realized that those parts were fading away, becoming nothing more than memories. The idea that your home, your real home, was becoming a distant memory was an unbearable thought.

You didn't even notice when the tears you were holding back started to run down your face, but you did notice when you heard a voice that haunted you as much as it comforted you echo in the silence of the tent.

"Why are you crying?" Alexander's voice rang out, filled with a concern he rarely showed. He approached you with barely audible steps, his calloused hands gently touching your shoulders, trying to offer some comfort, even without knowing the exact cause of your sadness.

Instinctively, you wiped the tears with the palm of your hand, trying to disguise the pain that still throbbed in your chest. Shaking your head in a gesture of denial, you looked up to meet his eyes, while still holding your pajamas tightly, as if they could anchor you to reality.

"Just some memories." You murmured, your voice low and heavy with emotion. Your eyes reflected a quiet sadness. Alexander, noticing the fragility of the moment, did something unusual for him: he didn’t insist, didn’t press you to explain further. Instead, he remained by your side, his gaze now fixed on the pajamas in your hands.

"This fabric..." He began, his voice hesitant as he tried to piece together a vague memory. Your eyes narrowed in concentration. "I’ve seen it before, haven’t I?"

Your hands began to sweat, as a slight panic settled over your body. You needed a good excuse, and fast. The last thing you wanted was for him to start questioning you incessantly, like he always did, with that relentless way that seemed to see through any disguise.

"Now I remember, you were wearing this when I first met you." Alexander spoke, his voice slightly accusatory but curious.

"Yes, I was wearing this." You mumbled, sighing.

Alexander took the pajamas in his hands, examining the fabric and the designs curiously. ''I've never seen anything like this before. Where is this from, exactly?''

"From the same place I came from, Alexander." You replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's pretty far away, you know? This fabric is common where I'm from. Everyone has something like this, it's very... Common and normal." You could feel your own hesitation showing in your words, and you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so anxious. You couldn't let him see how uncomfortable you were.

Alexander continued to stare at the pajamas for a few more seconds, as if he was trying to absorb every detail, searching for some hidden meaning. You knew you needed to change the subject of the conversation before he started questioning you more deeply.

"It's a simple piece, but it has sentimental value." You added, trying to sound casual. "That's all. Maybe we can put it back in the trunk and you can tell me about some of the new spoils of war?" You gave him a half-hearted smile, trying to direct his attention elsewhere.

Alexander looked up at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words. He wasn’t one to leave questions unanswered, but perhaps he realized that this wasn’t the time to press. With one last glance at the pajamas, he finally handed them back to you, shrugging.

As he stepped aside to make room for you to put them away, you let out a sigh of relief. For now, you had managed to divert his attention, but you knew he wouldn’t forget so easily. Alexander was persistent, and that meant that sooner or later, you would have to deal with these issues again. But for now, the comforting silence of the tent reigned once more, and you put the pajamas away at the bottom of the trunk, trying to let the painful memories lie dormant for a little while longer.

[whencyclopedia]

Ancient Persian culture exerted a powerful influence throughout the Near East, and beyond, for over a thousand years between c. 550 BCE - 651 CE and many aspects of their culture continued to influence others afterwards and up through the present day. The first Persian polity was the Achaemenid Empire (c. 550-330 BCE) which fell to Alexander the Great and, after his death, the region was held by the Hellenic Seleucid Empire (312-63 BCE) founded by one of Alexander's generals Seleucus I Nicator (r. 305-281 BCE). Persian culture continued under the Seleucids, however, and again became dominant with the rise of the Parthian Empire (247 BCE-224 CE) and continued, at its greatest height, throughout the Sassanian Empire (224-651 CE) until the Persians were conquered by the invading Muslim Arabs. From the earliest days of the Achaemenid Empire till the last of the Sassanians, the Persians introduced a number of novel concepts in innovations and inventions which are often taken for granted today or whose origins are largely unknown. Literary motifs, the custom of daily teatime, care for dogs, refrigeration and air conditioning, and many other established aspects of daily modern life originated or were developed by the ancient Persians. The Persians held to an oral tradition of transmitting information, however, and so much of their history, until the Sassanian period, comes from others. A large part of whatever written records of the Achaemenids did exist was destroyed by Alexander when he burned the capital city of Persepolis in 330 BCE and the Parthians retained the oral tradition of their precursors and so much of Persian history was preserved by the Greeks and, later, the Romans. These writers did not always represent Persian culture accurately but provide enough information, coupled with archaeological evidence and what Persian sources remain, to recognize the power and vision of the culture and its enduring legacy. Below are ten contributions and historical facts relating to the Persians which are often overlooked or largely unknown. These are only a notable few, however, and do not begin to address the vast scope of Persian achievement.

[blueaetherr]

welcome to eden

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader [she/her]

warnings(s): none

summary: the one where trent recounts his journey to discover eden

author's note: something small to get me back into writing again

now playing: she's mine pt. 1 by j. cole

With the day slowly fading into the night, people retiring inside, both parties equally wanting to rest and repair for the following day—the day had come to an end, simple and peaceful. Quiet too, only minimal and distant noise interrupting the silence of the early night. Despite this, activities both calm and loud continued within one's walls.

As for Trent and Y/N, they had opted for both. Loud activity—that leftover piece of cake on the kitchen counter, the game controller stuck and forgotten in the folds of the couch, the music speaker misplaced in the garden, the UNO cards left on the coffee table. It all remained scattered across their shared home as remnants, now existing as cherished memories to discuss in later years. 

Calm activity, they saved for the end of the day. Something as simple and uncomplicated as laying in bed together, feeling the wind touch up against exposed skin, acknowledging one another's presence through straying touches, tangled limbs and soothing breaths. How they finished their day would be how they would, too, start their day in the coming hours. 

Adjusting her position Y/N exhaled, saying, "Tell me something I'd like to hear." Her voice came out as a whisper, small and slightly muffled against Trent's chest, like she was shy and scared to speak. But in truth, it was simple; she wanted to hear Trent speak. To hear him lift up his voice and pronounce words the way that he did so perfectly every time, something Y/N felt like she would never get over.

Asking to hear Trent's words and voice wasn't anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it was habitual and familiar to their relationship. In times when they wanted to sleep but couldn't, when they wanted to relax and falter a bit after a taxing day, when they wanted to bring about a sense of calm in a moment of chaos—whether in person or over the phone—Y/N would request Trent's words. 

Tell me a story. Tell me about your day today, honey. How did you find the movie? From the hypotheticals to the yes or no wonders of life itself. Anything and everything was on the table and Trent would, of course, always say yes to her requests. 

Normally, if Trent was given free rein about what he could discuss with his partner, he would have to think for a moment, always looking to capture the perfect exchange of words. This time, however, he found no need to wander his mind for thoughts. "You weren't the first person I ever fell for."

"Oh wow, wow, wow." In any other situation where Y/N had the energy, she would've reacted more to his opening statement. Perhaps a questioning look or a warning yet joking pinch to the chest. Instead, she remained inert in Trent's arms and expressed in a neutral tone, "I feel so, so loved right now."

"I didn't mean it like that, obviously," Trent laughed a bit, his laughter bouncing off the walls. Even with the neutral tone, he could hear the dramatic undertone behind it. "You gotta hear everything I have to say and then make up your mind about how you feel."

"And how do you think I'll be feeling post-explanation?" A fooling curiosity settled behind her voice. Will it be worth it to listen to your words? After all, she did request something she would like to hear.

Tilting his head to look towards the window, Trent noticed the shining light rising into the night sky. "Over the moon and beyond."

Humming, Y/N nodded against his chest and relaxed further into his embrace. Big expectations to meet. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear him out. "Let's hear it."

"Well you already know I've had a few girlfriends before you, and it was with my previous girlfriend where I personally felt like I fell in love for the first time. Everything was good, great if you want to go that far. She was the one partner I was always going to my friends and family to talk about. I loved it because she made it so easy; I was happy and she made me happy, and I thought that was more than enough for me to be content with the relationship."

She shifted away from Trent's chest– the distance quite small though not enough to prevent body contact– so she could face him well. "Sounds like you were in Eden," Y/N shaking her head slightly, feigning disappointment. She couldn't allow Trent to get through his story without bringing some cause for laughter to the conversation.

"Just like me get to it. I promise it gets better," Trent huffed out a small laugh, and Y/N soon followed suit. An instant of delight under the night sky. 

Soon laughter fell short into silence and Trent continued, "Anyways, eventually she ended up breaking up with me and I was heartbroken. I was confused and devastated. Everything always felt right to me so I didn't know where it went wrong. I thought she was the one and only, my one and only. I'd fallen, like, pretty hard and I didn't think I would again after that. I found everything in her. She was everything to me. It doesn't get better than that," he exhaled, his eyes drifting randomly around the room, "I mean it shouldn't get better than that."

"But then I met you," Smiling, his gaze returned to his partner, fondness soon collecting in his eyes, "... and I quickly discovered that I was so, so wrong."

"Where she was giving me happiness, you're giving me happiness and more. Where she was giving me joy, you're giving me joy and more. Where she was giving me peace, love, content— you know what? Let me not ramble before I'm just listing everything great about you." Noticing her smile wobble a bit, he took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. A request to comfort and ease her mind. Against her hand, Trent spoke with a small voice, "I mean you get what I'm sayin' right?"

Tell me more, keep going, let me know your thoughts– among many things she wanted to say. But she found herself in her feelings, far too deep, so much so that she failed to find her voice. So instead she simply nodded through sniffles and a struggling smile, allowing him to continue.

"So sure she was my first real, honest love. I fell for her first and that's fact—that'll never change. But she could never reach your ankles, honey. 'Cause I fell for you and suddenly, I felt it again but with you. Heck, I still feel it with you, over and over, every single day. I remember how it felt when we first met. I felt it yesterday. I felt it when we were washing the dishes together a few hours ago." Humming, he wiped away the stray tear escaping her eyes. "And I hope to feel that way tomorrow and every day after that."

"I am and have everything and some with you. You give me more than I need; you are quite literally abundance."

In truth, Trent didn't always have the words for everything, often spontaneous and unintentional in his speech. Still, his love language always pointed back to words of affirmation. Forever with pleasure, he would continue to offer Y/N his voice and words of her choosing. 'Cause in his eyes, it was easy to speak for someone you felt so passionately about, someone who you could never seem to pull away from even when you should.

Speaking on this aspect of the relationship made Trent reflect a bit, his mind rekindling recent thoughts. It made him lean back and think wow. He once believed that he had found true paradise in someone else. That she was everything ideal and secure, and Trent would never find himself in want of something else. 

But then there came Y/N, the genuine living proof of everything ideal and secure and more. In the words of Y/N, Trent found Eden in her. She was this person of paradise, harmony, perfection and ultimate beauty. In mind, spirit and body. Someone to appreciate, love and acknowledge at every point in space and time. And in his words, she was someone of abundance. Always ever-giving and forever infinite in her person. Never would he ever lack with Y/N. The primal things—loud activity, calm activity—continued to leave Trent without wants beyond his partner.

"So how did that meet your expectations?"

Y/N strung out a sigh, exhaling those overwhelming sentiments. Some would think Trent was speaking just to speak, to pass time or for the two to fall asleep well, and that was true. But what was also true was that Trent found delight and happiness in speaking on this subject, speaking about how, actually, Y/N was his one and only. How she was everything—how she gave him everything and more. Yet all she ever asked for in return were his words and speech. 

So here were his words, a mellow proclamation of love and affection, and like every other time it left Y/N joyfully devastated.

The soft breeze in the room shifted her attention towards the opened window for a moment. Soon, she noticed the moon, now high in the sky daintily shining into the bedroom. She hung her head back as she let a small chuckle through her tears. "I'm over the moon and beyond."

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Rumor has it - Tom Riddle x reader - Part 1/2

...i-i dont even know, enjoy this fic that I've been giggling and kicking my feet over Afab reader, has a last name, she/her reader

=

There was a rumor going about school-that apparently had started from a Slughorn party-after party. It was quite outlandish-many didn’t believe it-others hoped it was true and they were the one involved in it.

What was that rumor? Tom Riddle had a crush.

Who was he crushing on? No one knew, all anyone got out of him was the word ‘yes’ when asked if he liked anyone during truth or drink. It had been the first time anyone had seen him blush-his pale cheeks and ears during apple red, his cheeks puffed slightly as he sunk into his chair and sipped at his butterbeer.

Many wondered who started this rumor, and if it was true or not; because Tom had never shown any interest in romance before-boy or girl. He had flirted once or twice-then usually abandoned that tactic when he got what he wanted-which garnered him a playboy title. He really wasn’t; a playboy by definition was someone who didn’t care for personal feelings and had many sexual relationships.

Tom didn’t care for sexual relationships, before now(as the rumor suggested) he hadn’t even had a crush before.

The great hall was a mess of voices, many of them whispering about the rumor and Tom felt eyes on him as he tried to study. It was bloody study hour after all-that usually meant ‘be quiet’ or at least be respectful to those who are trying to study.

“Who do you think it is?” one voice whispered from the Ravenclaw table-which right now had several Slytherin and Hufflepuff sitting at it-since house tables were really only assigned during dinner. “I dunno, I know Olive Hornby hopes it’s her heh-did you see her face when she first heard the rumor?”

“yeah, her eyes lit up like Christmas had come early,”

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose-heavily regretting not taking a shot when he had been asked that question during the after-party. He had thought-possibly, maybe, it wouldn’t spread about. He had thought what happened at a party-stayed at a party. But he had been wrong, and now his secret was out and being spread like wildfire.

Yes-Tom Riddle had a crush, and he had had it since 4th year. Who? He would never tell; he had hardly admitted it to himself this past summer when he realized why this particular person plagued his thoughts like no other had before-they had even overtaken the chamber and horcruxes in his mind.

Tom was 16 years old, and dealing with liking someone for the first time.

He detested it(he didn’t), he just wanted them to disappear from his mind and life and never have to think of them again(a lie, he wanted nothing but to be around them all the time).

“Honestly, you’d think Tom Riddle is the only boy in existence with how they talk about him,” Tom glanced up from his potions work, seeing Viktoria Klopstock arm In arm with (y/n) Alexander; the two talking about the rumor swirling through the school. (y/n) snorted at Viktoria’s quip and shook her head, catching Tom’s eye for a split moment and smiling at him like she always did.

Tom couldn’t help but stare.

“Well, he is the heartthrob of the school, or did you not say that only a few months ago?” (y/n) teased back, laughing as Viktoria sputtered and glared at (y/n) with flushed cheeks, her pale complexion stark against her dark brown hair. “You-I was simply making an observation!“ (y/n) just hummed in response to Viktoria’s sputter, sitting down with their other friends, Walter Deville and Lucy Billington, and laughing as Viktoria attempted to defend herself over her past comments on Tom.

“Keep telling yourself that Viv, we all know you fancy him,” (y/n) teased and Viktoria just kissed Walter in protest, who chuckled and shook his head, brushing back his dark curly hair. (y/n) tossed her head back while she laughed and Lucy shook her head at her friends, returning her attention to her divination book.

Tom tore his eyes away when (y/n) glanced back at him, swallowing harshly against the dryness of his throat.

Yeah, Tom Riddle had a crush all right, and no one would ever know who it was.

But…

Tom glanced back up-seeing (y/n) still looking at him, seemingly lost in thought and Tom had to look away as he felt heat buildup in the tip of his ears.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t stay a secret for long.

-

“Hey Tom!” Tom forced himself to stay perfectly calm as he turned on his heel to face (y/n), who was walking up to him with her broom in hand-clad in her Slytherin quidditch uniform. “Alexander,” Tom greeted, mentally patting himself on the back as he forced down the waver of his voice. “is there something you need?”

(y/n) shook her head, just smiling, a strand of her hair falling into her eyes. “Not really, just wanted to know if you’ll be at the game this Saturday?” Tom shrugged, he had never been one for quidditch, it was a brutal game that always resulted in pointless injuries. But when he looked at (y/n), who seemed so excited at the prospect of him being at that game(her first game actually, a chaser had gotten injured and she was finally coming off the bench after being on the team for a year), he caved.

“I’ll be there,” Tom said instead of saying he was going to be busy, and (y/n) beamed. Tom couldn’t help the flutter of his chest at the sight of it, meant for him. “what time? I’ve never been to a match, not since first year anyway,” Tom asked and (y/n) happily told him what time the match was, it was Slytherin against Ravenclaw, and he nodded, taking a step back as she went off to practice, giving him one last grin.

“Oh I’m so doomed,” Tom breathed, feeling that now familiar heat travel to his cheeks and ears, catching a glimpse of his apple-red face in the reflective glass of a window. “so doomed.”

To this day-he had trouble figuring out why he was attracted to (y/n), it wasn’t as if she had come out of nowhere, they were in the same year, and same house-and she was a high-class halfblood(pureblood father and halfblood mother), from one of the richest families in the uk-right behind her friends, Deville being the richest of the four.

Tom had noticed her from the start really, while he was walking down the cars of Hogwarts Express, seeing her with her three friends laughing away with her head in Deville’s lap, a chocolate frog in hand. She had seen him and smiled, waving at him shyly.

Tom had just blinked-the socially awkward child he had been-and carefully waved back, then continued down to find an empty car.

Then she just kept showing up, sitting next to him in class, being partnered with him in assignments; always smiling at him and greeting him with a wave. Tom simply got used to her, almost began expecting her really, she was probably the only person in Hogwarts that didn’t annoy him to all hell just by existing.

He supposed that’s how she slipped through the cracks-by not being one of the several banes of his existence.

But then the calm expectancy became heat rushing to his face when she sat down with him in the library to study, butterflies in his chest and gut when she glanced at him, trembling hands when she smiled at him, sharp intakes of breath when her hand rested on his shoulder to pass by him in a busy hall.

Tom was utterly infatuated with her and he had no idea how to handle it, but he dreaded the idea of disappointing her(agreeing to come to a stupid game just so she would be happy), felt the burning pit of jealousy in his gut when someone got far too close to only want friendship(he had never wanted to fist fight someone before then), and had the desperate need to just-hold her hand.

He had never wanted to hold anyone’s hand before.

But then he wanted to be around her all the time, just to stare at her freely, curl his fingers into her hair, touch her lips with his thumb, and bring her into a kiss.

Tom groaned at the thoughts going through his mind, his face burning against his palms as he rubbed his eyes. He was really so doomed, here he was-attempting to unlock all the secrets of the chamber of secrets and become one of the greatest wizards of all time-and he was constantly plagued by thoughts of (y/n) Alexander.

He remembered only a few days ago, after he had been researching horcruxes and the chamber-they had been the only thing resounding through his mind as of late. But with a call of his name and (y/n) asking him if he was okay(he was visibly distracted) Tom had just nodded, feeling his lip quirk up without his control. And for the rest of the day, the only thing he could think of was (y/n) Alexander.

Tom sat down in potions class, getting out all his things, but still-the only thing in his head was (y/n) Alexander. Her eyes, her lips, the curve of her jaw and cheeks, the way her head tossed back when she laughed particularly hard, the curl of her nose when she snarled at Black during practice because he had made one too many comments.

“So doomed,” Tom muttered to himself, getting out his quill and ink well, looking up at Professor Slughorn as he greeted the glass.

Oh to be young and to be in love.

-

The wind from the quidditch pitch threw his hair around-his scarf tucked tightly into his jacket so it didn’t fly away. It was loud, very loud, something Tom expected considering he could hear the crowd from the bloody library sometimes.

“Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts' sixth match of the season! Today’s game, Slytherin vs Ravenclaw!” The respective houses roared with support for their teams, and Tom saw the Slytherin team soar high above the pitch, his eyes drawn to a particular player.

Alexander; 3

She had a wild grin on her face-the wind curling her hair and flushing her face, she zoomed past Black and settled with her teammates as they all gathered in the air. The referee stood at the bottom and said something Tom couldn’t hear and opened the box that sat at her feet; in an instant-the bludgers flew up, along with the snitch.

With a blow of a whistle-the quaffle was tossed into the air and the game began.

(y/n) had snatched it before anyone else could grab it-flying up and over the Ravenclaw’s heads, laughing as they gave chase. She was quick-a blur to the naked eye, but that was the same for the other players, however- there was something about her speed; flying just fast enough to keep out of reach.

She easily made the first score-throwing her first up in victory as the bell rang to announce it. “(y/n) Alexander makes the first score of the game! Ten points to Slytherin!!”

Tom couldn’t keep his eyes off (y/n), her smug smirk giving him those silly butterflies as she flew back into the game, avoiding bludgers and other players with graceful ease. Tom’s knuckles cracked as a bludger came soaring right for her-but she quickly noticed and hooked her elbow around her broom, swinging around, under, and getting back on top within a split moment as the bludger zoomed right where her head had been.

“Holy shit! She’s good!” someone yelled from behind him, the Slytherin crowd cheering loudly as someone scored once again, (y/n) laughing heartily as she caught the quaffle from her teammate and flew off-her grin turning to a glare as she nearly crashed into one of the Ravenclaw chasers.

“It's odd seeing you here!” Someone yelled over the noise of the crowd and Tom spared a glance to see Abraxas-who almost seemed nervous. Tom just shrugged, looking back up and searching for (y/n), who had disappeared from his gaze the moment he looked away.

 “I think I get sports now,” Tom just said(which made Abraxas sputter in confusion because Tom had loathed quidditch before now), finally locking onto (y/n) again, his lip quirking as she snatched the quaffle mid-air, suddenly flying up as two Ravenclaw players tried to slam into her on either side-only to get each other and fly off their brooms.

“oooh!” Nott laughed from behind Abraxas, the crowd watching in tense anticipation as (y/n) continued flying up, and then suddenly-she started free-falling, the quaffle and her broom still tight in hand. Tom tensed-wondering what was going on-but he relaxed as he saw the grin on (y/n)’s face.

Just as she passed by the horde of Ravenclaw players that had been trying to get back the quaffle-she straightened out and headed straight for the pitch, faking out the Ravenclaw keeper and scoring another 10 points.

“That’s another 10 points to Slytherin! They lead Ravenclaw 30 to nothing!”

Tom squinted at the roar of the crowd around him and quickly planted his hands over his ears-it was far too loud for him now, but he didn’t want to leave early-it might make (y/n) disappointed that he left.

At that moment-(y/n) spotted him and she looked overjoyed to see him, waving eagerly. Tom grimaced back and she laughed, tossing her head back like she always did. Tom felt that now familiar heat burn at his ears and he sighed-glad he was covering them at the moment.

No one could say (y/n) Alexander wasn’t a brilliant chaser-through the next half hour the match played-she scored more than half the points Slytherin gained, and snatched the quaffle mid-air as the Ravenclaw chasers attempted to pass it multiple times.

She was quickly becoming a threat, grinning while bludgers and other players tried to knock her off-but she easily dodged each one, even jumping off her broom at one point to avoid a collision.

At one point she went high up-avoiding any players or bludgers and wiped her sweat-soaked face with her jersey, allowing all to see her stomach-which made Tom’s face flush with both jealousy and something else as the crowd whistled at her, some of the boys cat-calling her.

Tom never wanted to hex someone more.

But she caught his eye as she brought down her shirt and grinned, and Tom had a feeling she had done that on purpose-which made him think; why would she? unless she either just wanted to rile him up or…Tom swallowed down the hope in his throat as he thought; (y/n) might’ve done that to get his attention.

Well, she had it-if that’s what she wanted-and Tom doubted she would lose it.

“Rouge bludger!” someone yelled and Tom tore his eyes away, only to comically widen them as a bludger came rocketing towards him-right at him-all of the beaters were on the other side of the field, and Tom wondered how they had hit the dammed thing over to the stands. He felt hands on his shoulder-most likely Abraxas-that tried to pull him down and away-but the bludger was fast and Tom had a feeling he would be spending the next week in the hospital wing.

But something flew right where the bludger had been heading and snatched it out of the air-only feet away from where Tom was standing. He let go of the breath he had been holding and looked over the edge-seeing (y/n) with the bludger in the crook of her arm, it struggled to get out but she had a tight grip. Her face was set in anger-her eyes saying ‘murder’ as she threw the bludger right back at the ones who had accidentally hurled it at Tom-unfortunately being her own team.

She yelled something and even Black seemed to curl under her words-nodding sheepishly with the rest of the team.

Tom felt his stomach flip-flop, his mouth going dry and his face blooming with red as she pointed back towards him and continued to yell-the match being put to a halt while the referee took the rogue bludger and checked it(it was supposed to be bewitched to redirect the moment it went towards the stands)-“you nearly hit Tom!” she yelled over the roar of the wind and crowd, her lip curled into a snarl.

“You all right, my lord?” Abraxas asked, his hands still on Tom’s shoulder, and Tom nodded-eyes locked onto (y/n), who glanced back at him and drew her eyes all over him-nodding when she saw he was perfectly fine.

“Just fIne,” Tom said, ignoring the way his voice cracked like it did when he hit puberty. Abraxas frowned but nodded, the match soon resuming.

Tom really understood sports now, he really did-because that was really really hot.

The crowd started to chatter-all about (y/n), about how she caught a bludger(which-Tom learned just now-were made of IRON?!) going full speed and continued to hold it with one hand-even as it attempted to escape.

Tom realized that’s maybe why Black looked so sheepish-(y/n) had caught and held onto a 150-ish pound iron ball with no injury(to his knowledge), she was not a witch to be trifled with.

And Tom’s heart and stomach did another flip, his eyes once again on (y/n) as she used her anger to score three more times, and finally; the snitch was caught by the Slytherin seeker-ending the game.

Slytherin had won by a landslide, 240 to 60.

The Slytherin crowd exploded into cheers as the other houses booed or left the field in defeat, and from the stands-Tom could see Black hold out his hand to (y/n), and offer her the main chaser position. She grinned and took his head, her eyes turning a bit sharp as she tightened her grip, and Tom’s stomach did one last flip as he saw Black wince.

“Oh I'm so bloody doomed,” Tom muttered to himself over the blaring cheers of the crowd-turning on his heel as he saw the Slytherin team make their way off the pitch.

He didn’t even bother to look behind him to see if Abraxas and Nott were following-they always did. He made it down the rickety stairs in record time, panting slightly as he caught his breath-seeing (y/n) with the team making their way back to the castle.

Tom swallowed harshly, seeing McLaggen waltzing up to her, looking all too smug for Tom’s taste. “Alexander!” Tom called out right when McLaggen opened his mouth-both (y/n) and McLaggen looking shocked to hear her name from Tom’s mouth.

From behind him-he could feel the bewilderment from Abraxas and Nott. But (y/n) smiled at him, her hair wind-swept and cheeks slowly cooling back down, sweat drying on her face and neck. Tom licked his lips, feeling his ears start to burn as she waved off her team and walked towards him-broomstick in hand. “Tom!” she said, grinning still, leaning on her broomstick as she stopped in front of him and tilted her head. “How’d you like your first game since first year?”

“Good-great-you,” Tom cleared his throat-suddenly very nervous, his throat dry and ears burning, his usual calm and collected behavior nowhere to be seen. (y/n) bit her lip a bit-something that made Tom’s brain fumble and he paused in his words.

Oh, yes, he was gone for this girl.

“You-you played great, can’t say I’ve seen a better chaser,” Tom finished his sentence, breathing slowly as (y/n) just grinned, her eyes twinkling.

“Thank you, but you also don’t have many other chasers to compare me to, for all you know-I could be dog-shit.” Tom found himself snorting and shaking his head at (y/n)’s lack of elegant words, waving his hand towards the pitch. “Believe me, I saw enough from your teammates and the Ravenclaw chasers-you were the best on the field.”

(y/n) laughed, her head tossing back with the action and Tom found himself staring, his gaze softening as (y/n) continued to giggle as she calmed down, shaking her head as she bit her lip. “Honestly Tom, you’re funnier than others give you credit for,” Tom just hummed, he thought he was hilarious.

Thankfully, (y/n) seemed to think so too. Tom opened his mouth again, glancing around-seeing McLaggen staring daggers into him-but he quickly looked away when he caught Tom’s eye. “I just wanted to say, thank you for catching that bludger, I would probably be in the hospital wing right now if it weren’t for you,” Tom said with his usual charming grin, patting himself on the back for returning to his normal behavior.

(y/n) nodded and clapped his arm once, sending fire through his veins at her touch-his mouth going dry again. “Like I was gonna let it hit you, but, you’re welcome Tom. What would the world be like without your pretty face?” (y/n) teased and Tom’s mind went blank.

“You think I’m pretty?” Tom asked, his voice cracking slightly as his jaw went slack, the flush on his ears growing towards his cheeks as (y/n) nodded with a grin, her eyes sparkling still. He knew most of the students of Hogwarts found him attractive-but to know (y/n) thought he was pretty-wow…just-wow.

“Yeah, I do,” (y/n) breathed out, her eyes traveling his face and Tom didn’t mind being looked at like that for the first time. Usually, he hated being studied like he was just a pretty thing to look at-but-if it was (y/n)? he wouldn’t mind being studied all day.

“uh-cool,” Tom muttered back-shaking his head. Cool? Cool?! Just-cool? ugh, how lame was he?! “um-did, any chance you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” Tom asked, eyes going wide at what tumbled out of his mouth, where did that come from?!

He could feel the shock and disbelief from Abraxas and Nott-considering Tom had not shown interest in anyone ever, and now was suddenly asking out (y/n) Alexander.

And then they realized; this was the girl Tom had admitted to liking at the after-party, and they grinned at each other while they watched Tom practically make a fool of himself in front of his crush. (y/n) seemed to come to this realization as well, and she stuttered for a moment, blinking quickly before she nodded, stepping closer to Tom. “I would love to, um, three broomsticks? I know a corner in there that’s nice and quiet?”

Tom nodded-he really didn’t go to Hogsmeade often, he found nothing of interest there. But he supposed now there was someone of interest there worth going for-especially if she already had a place for them to go that was quiet and secluded, just how he liked it. “Sounds good,” Tom breathed, a smile growing on his face that had (y/n) staring at him, and her smile grew, reaching to her eyes.

God, he never stood a chance, did he?

“Great, I’ll-I’ll see you then,” (y/n) said, her voice wavering with excitement and Tom nodded, his hands behind his back as (y/n) skipped back with a grin, waving goodbye and then running towards her friends who had been waiting for her, and Tom couldn’t help his smile when she screamed and jumped into Viktoria’s arms. “Tom Riddle asked me out!!!”

“You just asked (y/n) Alexander out,” Abraxas said from behind Tom and Tom whirled around, very aware that his face was bright red and he was grinning like a madman. “yeah-I did….I have no idea how to go on a date,” Tom said after a short pause, still grinning-he couldn’t stop.

Abraxas just laughed and Nott stared, unsure of how to handle any of this. “We’ll help, my lord.”

-

The next week passed by both quickly and all too slowly. Nerves jumbled about in Tom’s gut as the weekend came ever closer, he could hardly focus in classes-all he could think about was (y/n). God, he had actually asked her out-after nearly two years of staring and (unknowing) yearning, he was going on a date with the first person he had ever felt attracted to. His stomach had been doing somersaults all week at the thought of her, of their upcoming date-and the idea that it might turn into…something more.

The Chamber and his Horcrux research had been pulled off the stove-only (y/n) Alexander remained.

His followers were-no help. They just made him more nervous will all the “advice” they gave him.

“Don’t be overbearing,”(duh?)

“Don’t only talk about yourself, girls hate that,”(also duh)

“But don’t ask about her too much she’ll get overwhelmed,”(Tom was beginning to doubt these knuckleheads had ever gone on a date)

“make sure to order for her, girls like it when a man takes charge,”(yeah he wasn’t going to take Black’s advice)

“be cool and aloof-like you always are really,” (Tom thought (y/n) liked it when he fumbled a bit honestly, she seemed charmed when he was making a fool of himself asking her out.)

But really, Walter Deville had the best advice for Tom when the time came around for the date-he took Tome aside as he passed by him in the hall, giving a stern look to Tom’s followers who were ready to protest. “Look, Tom, I’m going to give it to you straight, (y/n) is a lady, you must remember that, but she is not judgmental, she does not care for your background nor your status.” Tom felt some of the nerves in his gut decrease a bit-but Walter wasn’t done. “She likes you, Tom, she really does like you, but she has a very high standard-not out of training from her mother or the family, but for herself, if you do not treat her with kindness and be a false version of yourself around her; she will drop you quicker than a basilisk can kill. Treat her well, and treat her kindly, or you will regret it.”

Tom swallowed at the last bit-very much hearing the seriousness in Walter’s voice. It wasn’t a ‘we will hurt you if you hurt her,’ it was ‘she will hurt you if you hurt her,’ and Tom didn’t doubt she would. “Clear?” Waler asked, grinning as Tom nodded. “Crystal,” Tom muttered, stumbling forward as Walter laughed and slapped Tom’s back.

“Oh don’t be so grim! I have faith in you, Tom,” With another pat on Tom’s back, Walter walked off, and Tom was just as nervous as he was before.

-

Tom had very few outfits, he had his uniform and its extra pants, shirts, and vests, his uniform from the orphanage, a suit(a gift from the Malfoys for a Christmas party from last year), and very little extra. He ended up wearing the suit because he didn’t think anything else fit the situation.

He hoped (y/n) wouldn’t be put off by the lack of casualty, but he had an inkling she wouldn’t mind at all.

She didn’t, her eyes traveling his well-dressed form with appreciation and a heat that made Tom’s ears burn, coughing slightly into his fist. “hi,” she said quietly, stepping closer to him as he waited for her by the carriages to Hogsmeade. “hello,” Tom said back, his lip quirking. (y/n) Alexander looked-breath taking, her skirt flowing gently in the late fall breeze.

“You look very handsome,” (y/n) said with a soft smile, her hands moving up to tug at his suit jacket, holding each side with both hands and getting a better look at what lay beneath the jacket. “Thank you, you look-“ Tom could hardly finish his sentence, just letting out a slow breath that had (y/n) giggling, her smile growing.

“let’s get going, shall we?” (y/n) asked, taking Tom’s arm as he offered it and he nodded, leading her to a carriage and helping her inside like the gentleman he was; taking the seat from across her-the two falling into a comfortable conversation as the carriage went off to Hogsmeade.

(y/n) indeed had a quiet corner for the two of them, hidden away from the noise and tucked away from sight, letting them talk quietly and share small smiles and glances they didn’t have to worry about others seeing.

Tom, quite honestly, had never expected to have such fun on a date; he never expected to go on a date ever really. But here he was, on one with (y/n) Alexander, at the three broomsticks; drinking butterbeer and sharing an appetizer.

Tom could hardly keep track of what they talked about-but he felt himself grow more comfortable and his nerves almost disappear the longer they sat there. Tom chuckled at something she said and she stared-smirking a bit as Tom cleared his throat at her gaze-his ears burning. “I like your laugh,” she muttered, leaning on her arm, her eyes burning into his soul.

“Thank you,” Tom muttered, licking his lips nervously, which were quirking up into a smile that mirrored (y/n)’s gentle one. “You don’t laugh often, do you? At least not genuinely.” (y/n) asked, tilting her head a bit and Tom shrugged.

“Not much that I find genuinely funny, really,” Tom muttered, rolling his jaw a bit but (y/n) just laughed, biting her lip. “Suppose you find me funny then? Good, wouldn’t do us any good if you didn’t.” Tom laughed gently again, but nodded in agreement.

“I do,” Tom mumbled, hiding his slight flush behind his glass of Butterbeer. (y/n)’s soft grin widened and Tom’s blush darkened a bit, drifting his eyes away from (y/n)’s gaze. God he was absolutely gone for this girl, he really never stood a chance.

They talked for a bit longer, and (y/n) eventually gave him a look that made him go quiet, tilting his head in curiosity. “this is your first date, right?” she asked and Tom slowly nodded. “yes, I’ve never been interested in anyone else,” Tom said honestly and (y/n) glanced away with a chuckle, hiding her grin in her shoulder.

“I don’t suppose it’s yours though,” Tom said, glancing down at his hands. (y/n) nodded, but then shrugged. “Yes, but this is the first date I actually wanted to be on though, so-you’ve already made top marks.”

Tom frowned, glancing up at (y/n) who was shifting in her seat. “Wanted to be on?” Tom asked curiously and (y/n) nodded, glancing down at her watch.

“Yes, my mother likes to set me up on dates hoping i'll find a suitor that adheres to my tastes-but I have yet to find one in the ones she sends. Usually, they’re all pompous bores who couldn’t care less about me other than my money and what status they’ll gain by being with me,” Tom slowly nodded, hoping she didn’t think he was doing the same thing.

Honestly-half the time he forgot (y/n) was an Alexander, or was more well known as Lady (y/n) Alexander, and not the amazing girl he had been crushing on since 3rd year and had only realized it the previous summer.

“Why is she setting you up on dates?” Tom asked, leaning back in his chair, his face set into a perfect calm. (y/n) sighed, leaning into her palm, her eyes distant. “She wishes for me to marry by twenty, something about heirs and my duty as Lady Alexander,” Tom swallowed the pit in his throat, his eyes drawing down. He knew (y/n) did not care for status and money, but her parents most likely did, and Tom was not a man of status-even if he was descended directly from Slytherin, and from his limited research, his father was of the high class.

But Tom had no money, and his father had no knowledge of him-besides, Tom had no want for that acknowledgment.

“Tom,” he looked up, and swallowed again as (y/n) reached across the table and took his folded hands with a smile. “things like status and money do not matter to my family, my mother just wishes for me to be taken care of if anything should happen to the Alexander fortune. Most of all she wishes for me to find love, to be treated kindly, and be held dearly; if I married a poor man with nothing to his name-if all he could give me was his heart and soul-my family would be overjoyed that I had found a man like that.”

Tom just stared, that pit in his throat only growing heavier as he blinked back a burn in his eyes. “Oh,” Tom breathed instead of responding, his cheeks flushing as (y/n) smiled at him. His heart was beating out of his chest-trying to hop into (y/n)’s hands and be kept.

He was so-fucking-doomed.

-

“Is-is he smiling? Actually smiling?” Black asked quietly as he, Abraxas, Nott and Mulciber all watched as Tom walked through Hogsmeade with (y/n) Alexader tucked into his side, the two holding hands and talking quietly-both of them smiling.

“Yep, he’s smiling…” Abraxas muttered, leaning against a wall and watching as the two new lovebirds walked past, (y/n) tugging Tom into honey-dukes with shining eyes as Tom chuckled fondly.

“He is gone gone for her,” Avery said as he walked up, hands in his pockets. The other boys nodded; they had a feeling certain planned things had quickly gone down the drain all thanks to (y/n) Alexander.

Oh, the things Love can change.

-one year later-

 Tom was very sure he was deeply in love with (y/n) Alexander, for one year after they began dating-she stood with him in the chamber of secrets, discovering his past, all his darkest desires and wishes-and was not deterred by any of it. If anything-her affection towards him seemed to grow, for as he spoke to open the chamber, she stepped closer, carefully watching his lips as he spoke parseltongue. She immediately closed her eyes and let him guide her as he summoned the basilisk-putting her utmost faith and trust in him as he placed her hand upon its scaley nose.

Tom had never felt more love for her and had never felt more love from her for him, he had trusted her with his deepest secrets over the last year as they dated, even his wish to become immortal, even his fear of letting love into his heart.

And she never shied away, she never shunned him, she only took his hands and held him close-guiding him through the pitch-black maze of his mind. He even told her about his plan for Horcruxes.

He ended up with a dead stare and a long sigh. “That’s-quite honestly Tom, so stupid.” She muttered and Tom frowned, taking a step back but she stopped him and took his face, giving him a smile that was slightly strained. “I do not think of you any different, but dark magic such as that is not worth it, yes your soul will live on but it will be shattered and disfigured, leaving you with ultimately a cursed life and weaker magic because it is so strained across the separated souls. If you wish to live forever-I will be by your side, but horcruxes are a stupid and simply bad idea.”

Tom…honestly couldn’t argue with that. (y/n) smiled and pecked the corner of his lips, which made Tom want to tilt his head slightly so he could kiss her properly-but at that point they hadn’t had their first kiss yet. “Promise me you’ll drop the idea of it? Horcruxes?” (y/n) asked gently, still holding his face, looking into his eyes.

Tom nodded immediately, he would do anything for (y/n), anything. She smiled and kissed his cheek again, moving her hands down to grab his and guiding him from the chamber and back up to Hogwarts. Tom only felt a slight pit of guilt in his gut, since last year, just before school ended-he had attempted to create a Horcrux by using the chamber, but it had eventually slipped his mind as (y/n) took over all thoughts of his plans for it.

But he had never truly opened the chamber of secrets-and he would keep his promise to (y/n), he would find a way to become immortal, and he would share it with his (y/n) Alexander, so they would be together forever.

-

Tom took a deep breath that rattled in his chest as he stood before (y/n)’s father's office doors in the Alexander mansion, it was the spring break of their final year, and Tom had been invited over since he was dating the heiress to the fortune. In his pocket, he had a small box that contained a silver ring with a small obsidian piece mounted atop-it was all he could afford with the money he scrapped from his last year of stipend from the Hogwarts fund.

It helped that (y/n) had insisted on buying him new robes and taking care of this year's curriculum items-as a gift for becoming head boy. He had tried to deny it all but with a stubborn huff from his beloved (y/n) Alexander, Tom relented with a soft smile and sigh, following her around as she bought his books and whatever else he might need.

Tom took another deep breath-nerves settled deep in his stomach and knocked on Lord Alexander's office door. “Come in, come in,” He called and Tom opened the door and stepped inside, giving a polite nod to John Alexander-the father of his girlfriend(and hopefully soon to be, fiancée)

“Tom, how nice to see you, how can I help you son?” John said with a grin, putting down his quill and setting his intertwined hands on the desk, giving Tom a warm grin. Tom opened his mouth a few times, and then shut it-unsure of how to say anything. The Alexanders were one the top families of both the muggle world and wizarding world, the Deville’s being the top dogs really, was Tom really going to soil their family line? To bring a bastard son into their practically royalty family?

Yes, yes he was-because he loved (y/n) and he didn’t want to let her go to some-rude rich boy who didn’t know how to love her correctly. “i-I was hoping,” Tom started, clearing his throat as his voice cracked. John’s smile only grew, seemingly knowing what Tom was about to ask. “if…” Tom took another deep breath, straightening his back and looking Lord Alexander in the eye. “I was hoping you would approve of me asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Tom got out in one breath, his jaw clicking as Lord Alexander just stared at him, that warm smile still there-but a twinkle in his eye that made Tom nervous.

“i-I love her dearly Lord Alexander. I do not have money, and I have no status to offer her, nor do I have a proud lineage or background, but I would love her for the rest of my life, and beyond it. I know there are many men who you would prefer her to marry but-“ Tom was stopped with a hand to a shoulder, and he hadn’t realized he had been staring at his shoes. Tom looked up, seeing John-beaming.

“I would be honored if my daughter married a good man like you Tom, you love her dearly and that is all I could wish for my little girl, as does her mother. You have my blessing Tom Riddle; you’ve had it since we first met.” Tom, actually felt like crying-staring wide-eyed at John, who chuckled and opened his arms for a hug-knowing Tom didn’t like to be touched without permission. Tom stepped into his arms and squeezed, a few tears escaping his closed eyes as John hugged him tightly. “Welcome to the family Tom, I cannot wait to call you my son.”

Tom smiled into John’s shoulder, sniffing slightly as John patted his back and took a step back. “Thank you sir, I’ll cherish her forever,” Tom said quietly, smiling still as John nodded-patting Tom’s shoulder again.

“I know you will, now come on, I think the girls are outside having lunch.” Tom nodded and turned on his heel-unable to keep the smile off his face as he walked outside to the patio to see his girlfriend(hopefully soon to be fiancée) sitting under the sun with her mother, Viktoria, and Lucy, the four sharing a plate of snacks and tea by the pool.

“Tom~” (y/n) sang, holding out her hands to him and he quickly walked over to her-giving one last thankful smile to John before taking his beloved (y/n)’s hands, stepping close and moving his other hand to her shoulder as she leaned against him. “How nice for you two to join us! We were just talking about you,”

“Good things I hope,” Tom joked, obeying (y/n)’s tug as she made him sit down with her on the chair, his gaze and smile softening as she chattered away John mirroring Tom’s position as he sat with his wife. “of course,” (y/n) said with a tone that meant she was lying and not trying to hide it, and Tom sighed shaking his head fondly.

Oh, how he loved (y/n) Alexander and had never expected it.

Perhaps it was a good thing he had let it slip he had a crush at the Slughorn after-party last year. If he hadn’t-he didn’t think he would’ve gained the courage to ask (y/n) out after that fated quidditch match.

-end-

Part 2 - its just fluff lol

[devilmen-collector]

Origin of the names of the 7 kingdoms of Hell

Ever wonder where do the names of the kingdoms (or regions) of Hell come from? Let's find out in this trivia post :3

WARNING, this post contains religious theme. If you feel comfortable, please ignore this.

Gehenna

"Gehenna", in the Bible and in real life, was originally the name of the valley of Hinnom, outside of the city of Jerusalem. In this valley, many committed the gruesome sin of sacrificing children to the god Moloch. Because of this sin, the valley was cursed by the Jews and its name was used to call the final punishing place of the reprobate. In Christianity, "Gehenna" is used to designate the place where all the demons and the damned human will thrown in at the Last Judgement, "the lake of fire", "the unquenchable fire".

Tartaros

"Tartaros", or Tartarus, was originally the term to describe the abyss of torment and suffering for the wicked and the Titans in Greek mythology.

In the 4th century BC, Greek culture and language were spread to all Eastern Mediterranean countries by the conquest of Alexander the Great. Greek became the common language in these countries and remained so for many centuries. The New Testament of the Bible was written in Greek. The term "Tartaros" was adopted by Christianity to describe Hell. Although "Tartaros" doesn't technically appear in the Bible, the associated verb tartaroō ("throw to Tartaros") does. (The verb itself is a shortened form of another verb with similar meaning kata-tartaroō ("throw down to Tartaros").

In the Bible, Tartaros is the place where fallen angels are chained to wait for judgement.

Hades

The name of the underworld in Greek mythology. It was also adopted by Christianity and used to describe Hell. However, different from Gehenna and Tartaros, Hades is a little bit complicated.

Before the work of redemption was completed in Jesus's death and resurrection, the gate of Heaven was closed. So when a someone died, that person would go to Hell (Hades) ragardless of good or bad. However, in Hades, there was "a great chasm", according to the Bible, separating the good and the bad. The good people either didn't suffer or was purified of their venial sins, while the bad people on the other side really did suffer. No one from "the good side" could cross to the other side, and vice versa.

After Jesus died, his soul descended to Hades and released the just who were detained in Hades and brought them to Heaven, while leaving the damned on the other side of the chasm, waiting for the Last Judgement, after which, both Hades and the wicked in it will be thrown into Gehenna "the lake of fire", for eternal punishment.

Abyssos

The name "Abyssos" comes from "abyss", which is also a word to describe Hell. The precise word "Abyssos" does not exist in the Bible or mythology, as far as I know.

Paradise Lost

This country shares its name with the famous work written by the poet John Milton in the 17th century. The poem Paradise Lost is a dramatized version that retells the story of the fallen angels and their role in the fall of Adam and Eve.

Niflheim

The name comes from Norse mythology of the Scandinavian people. Originally, Niflheim was realm of primordial ice and fog, being one of the two primordial realms, the other being Muspelheim, the realm of fire. Later, the realm became the abode of Hel, the daughter of the god Loki, and it became the afterlife for those who didn't die a heroic or notable death, overlapping with another realm in Norse cosmology, Helheim.

Abaddon

In the Bible, "Abaddon" is both a place and an entity. As a place, Abaddon is the place of destruction, the realm for the dead. As an individual entity, Abaddon is described in the Bible as "a king, the angel of the bottomless pit; whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek Apollyon; in Latin Exterminans" - Revelation 9:11

Now "Abaddon" is entirely tied with the meaning of destruction. Abaddon itself means destruction or "place of destruction". The root of the word abad means perish, or destroy. Both the Greek name Apollyon and the Latin name Exterminans mean destroyer.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 91 (Conrad's Strange Trip)

cw: drinking, ingesting a mind-altering substance

Conrad pulled his cruiser through the gates of Bella Goth's estate in Cavalier Cove. The coastal mansion gave little indication of the paranormal-obsessed inhabitant who owned the property, but Conrad still always felt a chill when he walked through the front door.

Bella swore the house wasn't haunted. Conrad had never seen a ghost so he had to take her word for it, but the home did have two new permanent residents since he and Heather had last visited with the kids. In addition to Alexander and Lydia's newborn son, Jagger, Bella had welcomed a new pet.

"She's a gift from Grimmie. He's off reaping so often, but this crow can travel well enough to send messages between us when we're apart."

"She's beautiful, Mrs. Goth. But don't you worry about things like...bird flu? Especially with a newborn around."

"You don't really think I'd endanger Alex and Lydia's son, do you? My own grandson! Crows are among the most hygienic of all birds, you know. And she's a great little mimic. Watch."

The crow jumped from her wooden pedestal and onto Bella's hand. She spoke a few words in basic Simlish, waiting for her new pet to croak back, 'Nay-doo.'

"What's her name?"

"I haven't decided yet. Do you have any ideas? I thought Grimbella was nice, but Grimmie says we shouldn't name her after ourselves."

Conrad broke a smile across his tense cheeks. "I can't help you, Mrs. Goth. I didn't even name my dog. And, Solomon Wolff, my first partner back in San Myshuno, named him after me."

Bella shrugged with a gentle smile for Conrad and her crow. "I'll sleep on it. Maybe her name will come to me in a dream, or maybe Solomon Wolff will tell me what her name is."

(Surprise! Thank you @deardiaryts4 for making this headcanon canon with me! These two helped bust a puppy mill together as young officers, and Conrad ended up raising one of the pups who followed him back to their cruiser. Solo called him Gord because he was attached to Officer Gordon, and the name stuck. How Bella exists separately and prominently in overlapping storylines both totally makes sense and is outrageous but it need not be explained right now. Just enjoy the ride! Also, taking suggestions to name that crow! Grimbella isn't officially off the table, either.)

Conrad cleared his throat. "River dropped by and told me to come see you. But...I don't really know what I need to talk about."

"Conrad, you look tired." The words were accusatory, but there was only concern in her voice. "Let me mix you a drink. Text Heather, let her know I insisted you stay a while to relax. I'll watch your kids soon to make it up to her. Sometime when you're working late again."

"It's been a long few months," he admitted, following her to the long wooden bar in the dining room. "I know everyone's worried about me."

"So why won't you talk to anyone about it?"

He wavered. "Because sometimes the less people know, the safer they are. I shouldn't talk to you about this, especially since I can't figure out how to tell Heather, but if I don't talk to someone I might lose my damn mind...Have you ever heard of Los Tigres de Selva?"

She nodded. "My grandmother, Enriqueta, was from Selvadorada, but her family got her to Sunset Valley when she was small. They didn't want her to stay because of the cartels."

"I walked away from a case involving them today."

"They're in our ports?"

"They don't smuggle much through here. Probably because our ports are jammed with ice too many months of the year and it's not profitable, but this case...it's sorta personal."

"If you keep pursuing the case, will your family be in danger? You've told everyone you were handling it."

"I've tried. But last night Heather noticed how hard it's been to keep the case separate from everything else, and after River visited today I realized what it's been doing to me."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the woman Heather saw sneaking around outside your house before your daughter was born, does it?"

"She told you about that?"

"No, Cassandra told me because she wanted me and her brothers to be careful if there were any dangerous people lurking around town. And it sounds like there were...Are they still?"

"I really hope not."

Bella nodded. "So they are."

"Why do I always forget you spent a bit of time working as a secret agent?"

"Because they spent more time trying to figure me out than letting me do my job so I rarely talk about it. When Dex came along I said, 'Screw it.' Nothing's more important than family, and that's been my life since I quit."

"Well, you got more out of me than anyone else without much effort, so just know you've still got it."

"I don't know all your secrets, Conrad. I still don't know why you kept it from Heather, but my gut says you're ashamed of something."

"I feel shame about my past. And I feel shame because I should have told her months ago and I kept putting it off. I should have told her years ago. It just got harder and harder to say anything because no matter what, it'll look like I didn't tell her because I have something to hide."

"Do you?"

"There's a lot she doesn't know. There's a lot nobody knows, after my father died."

"Secrets are important to keep sometimes, and I understand wanting to keep her safe if the truth puts her in danger, but you know Heather. She likes honesty."

Conrad stared at the empty glass on the bar. "Heather's the love of my life. I can't lose her because I made stupid choices until my dad bailed me out with what amounted to his dying breath."

Bella thought quietly for a moment, taking a seat at the empty barstool. "You're a fascinating man, Conrad Gordon. Your father would be proud to see what you've made of yourself despite any mistakes of your youth, but something is causing you to go backward. I could press and I'm quite sure you'd tell me everything because you clearly need to talk about it, but..."

"But if I tell you before I tell Heather, I'm an even bigger ass than I've been. And still, knowing that, it doesn't make me want to run home and tell her."

"You know who might be able to provide better guidance than anyone who lacks the hindsight of death? The mentors."

He shook his head with snide laughter. "How did I know you were going to suggest travelling? Mrs. Goth, I have to work in the morning."

"And you know it only takes a few minutes!"

Maybe it was the liquid courage, but Conrad found himself agreeing and followed Bella upstairs. The seance table had been moved into their upstairs hall, with the old attic room turned into a nursery for Alex and Lydia's newborn son.

Conrad took a seat across from Bella, letting her lead just like last time. She chanted her Omiscan summons, with Conrad's palms open on the round wooden table draped in purple and gold cloth. A blue flame flickered above their heads, and Conrad was transported to the Realm of the Dead. He knew Bella wouldn't pull him out prematurely, so he walked cautiously toward the flame.

When he'd returned, he asked how long he'd been gone. A cold sweat broke on the back of his neck.

"You were gone much longer than usual - about twenty minutes. What did you see?"

"I need a drink, Mrs. Goth. The strongest drink you know how to mix."

"Don't you work in the morning?" she countered, but his pained expression gave Bella pause. "I know one drink. It clears your mind of all the jumbled thoughts you can't take with you...when you pass on. Only the most important thoughts and memories remain while you're in this state. But I can't let you drive home if I make it for you."

"Mrs. Goth, what I just saw...I don't understand it. If it'll unscramble my thoughts, I..."

"You can stay here for the night, and I'll tell Heather you helped me with a computer virus."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be lying to Heather."

"Do you want to tell her you're going to spend the next few hours living as a ghost?"

"Living as a what? Are you going to...kill me?"

"Of course not! Think of it a bit like, oh, I don't know, ayahuasca. It's an out-of-body experience, but it can be mentally transformative! It helps give perspective on the things that really matter to us when our world is clouded with too much fear and worry. It's made with gin and crushed death flower petals, but it won't leave you hungover. Once the effects wear off you'll be fine to head to work tomorrow morning."

They headed back downstairs and he called Heather. Because he was with Bella, who they'd come to trust like family, she made no complaint over him taking a night to combat his stress by getting stuck into a computer problem. Though guilt pecked a hole in his stomach, they exchanged their usual 'I love you' before he hung up. Bella mixed him another cocktail - this one bright green and glowing with spectral gases. "When you travelled for twenty minutes, you must have been gone for close to a year..."

"Almost exactly twelve months."

"What could the mentors have wanted to show you for a whole year?"

"I didn't meet any mentors, other than the professors I already had. I relived my first year of college."

"Fascinating! I've heard of this but never experienced it. I used to hope the mentors could show me where I went when I disappeared and lost all memory of my time away. The mentors let people relive the past if they have an opportunity to make amends for something or if they're sending a warning, so maybe my time away was just boring and uneventful."

"Seems pretty unlikely with you, Mrs. Goth."

As she spoke, Conrad sipped the glowing green cocktail. When he'd finished his drink, he looked down. The empty glass appeared to float on thin air, and he could scarcely make out the faint lines marking his fingertips. He really was a ghost.

Bewildered, he set down the glass on the bar and turned around. Bella watched him with excitement, trying to read his face for a reaction. "Jump-scare!" he shouted, and Bella gasped.

"You're getting better at that," she said with a laugh.

"Jump-scaring feels easier without a body to drag around. But I can't let Heather and the kids see me like this. How long does it last?"

"The sofa's all yours until you've sobered up, and you'll be back to normal by then. But tell me: who are you thinking about right now?"

"Heather and the kids, like always."

Bella smiled. "Good. That's the most important thing. Now go ahead, possess some of the furniture and get this out of your system. I know you want to."

He knew it was time to tell Heather the truth, but tonight, his mind - and body - wasn't right for such a serious conversation. After Bella and her family had gone to bed upstairs, he floated around the house with the cats tailing his every move. Finding the piano open and unattended, he grinned mischievously. Bella was right. He felt an uncontrollable urge to possess the sturdy instrument and jumped inside.

Possessing furniture was a lot harder than it looked, with the treble strings catching on his broad shoulders each time he floated upward. Still, he'd rather possess a grand piano than a litter box.

He had his fun before he passed out on the sofa. For a few hours, he had practically forgotten Ximena's name. But as morning came, he woke remembering what Bella had said about the mentors. He thought finding Rafa would make amends for his past, but it had only caused trouble and he still couldn't find him.

As Conrad headed to work, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what the mentors had wanted him to notice. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Thursday's flashback will let us all see what Conrad saw!

NOTE 2: Not the most responsible night for ol' Conrad, but the stress is still there despite telling Ximena to take a hike. Between fearing her and knowing Heather needs to know the truth but fearing how that conversation will go, dude's cracking! We may judge. Also I wasn't entirely positive what the drink would do before I had Bella make it for him. I had an inkling but didn't look it up, so this was technically an unplanned night of dropped responsibilities for Conrad, who's built a very responsible rep!

[writingwithcolor]

Creatures of Folklore Who Represent Cultures Preventing Wars Throughout History

Anonyomous asked:

Hi! I’m writing a story which is set in a fantasy version of our world. The main difference between our real world and my fictional version is that the spirits and fairies of each culture and folklore exist, and that the majority of them basically stop war from happening because they react very badly (and potentially violently) when invading forces etc try to start battles. 

I’m doing a lot of research into the histories of the various cultures that will be featured in the books set in this world so I can hypothesise how they might have developed without, for example, violent colonialism, and where trade and so on might have flourished in its place. However, it’s possible for colonialism to happen through more insidious ways, such as assimilation. In one of my books, I’m intending to use this as part of the plot, where Japan will try to colonise the Ryukyuan Kingdom through assimilation, but will be stopped by the Ryukyuan Kingdom making allies with other nations (amongst other tactics), but I was wondering if you had any advice for respectfully handling the colonialism that very much did happen in real life in a fantasy setting where it didn’t manage to occur, without erasing the history and ramifications etc of what actually happened?

Do fox spirits have citizenship? 

You mean well with this concept, but there are multiple key problems. 

One major issue with cordoning off spirits and folklore creatures by “patron” culture and have them fight said patrons’ battles is that there’s a lot of overlap. It’d be hard for there not to be a conflict of interest. 

For example, everyone knows about the kitsune fox spirit from Japan. But the story of the fox spirit was introduced to Japan and Korea by China, where they are called húlijīng. These foxes are remarkably similar, with their characteristics and stories almost borrowed wholesale. Are they all the same “species?” If so, when small differences emerge in the countries’ folktales, how do you resolve this? Do these spirits also morph and specialize, or does one interpretation win out? How about when kingdoms are unified, like the Korean Three Kingdoms–do separate versions of the kumiho reverse-evolve into a single variant? What side do they pick when these kingdoms and empires try to battle? If they live apart from humans or aren’t very friendly with them, why would they have a reason to care about invasions when they have no reason to be allegiant to said borders, or whatever name they’re called in whichever country whose land they live on?

Folkloric beings are never static, and are influenced over time by cultural shifts and exchanges, including shifting borders. Human history is stuffed cover-to-cover with events of what we called “conquest” then and “occupation” or “colonization” now. And through these changes, cultures diverged and came together, creating new stories. In other words: not even fairy tales are immune to colonization. 

Leigh can explain the rest. 

~ Rina

The Problem with Retconning War

A very simple question for you:

How are you going to rectify every single historical war that’s ever existed?

Like, the whole plot of the Trojan War as we know it is that the gods of the same culture were on different sides! And the gods made the war last as long as it did. Alexander the Great was a colonizer. Romans were definitely colonizers. Ottomans and Mongols, also colonizers. It wasn’t to the scale of modern colonialism, but it happened. If you look at census records from the 1800s of Indigenous populations in North America, you’ll find that the men 20+ have way lower numbers because they died in war! 

I’m not of the opinion that the basic state of humanity is war and we are barely contained by base instincts. But I’m also not so far in the other direction that I believe humans lack any sort of warring instincts. It shows up in chimps and other primates, so it shows up in humans.

In a way, it sounds like you’ve taken a very Christian-fundamentalist-centric view of things, which is: humans need religion to be “contained”. That humans are amoral without some sort of religion or folklore or spirits telling them to not do a “bad thing.”

This is ignoring how people have been using religion to justify wars since religion was invented. As Rina said, there can be overlap in groups’ beliefs and deities so there’s the side-picking issue, which as I mentioned is the whole plot of the Trojan War. Even when humans write about gods meddling in war, they have the gods not all be on the same side.

Humans have war. Humans try to take over other groups because they want the resources that group has. Alliances shift. Territories shift.

This is also treating humans as a monolith—there are populations within the colonized groups that agree with the colonizers because they get benefits. Claiming that all colonized groups hate all aspects of their colonialism all of the time is deeply ahistorical and flattened. Sometimes the benefits were only for a small group, but sometimes the benefits were far-reaching. It’s in the India tag on WWC, varying views of the Mughals. 

Also, how will you handle the Christianization of Europe? How will you handle all of this folklore that only got written down via monks and nuns making notes and modifying beliefs to fit the Bible? Will any area with only Christianity’s records written down not have folklore? 

And how will you handle folklore drift? Religions are not static. If you look at Greek myths, there are ten to thirty versions of each story and those are just the ones that survived. Each city-state had its own mythology, using the same gods, modified to fit the local needs.

And what about folklore that deals with war and thrives in war? What about the gods of war and destruction? I know Norse mythology is Christianized beyond recognition, but even in its Christianized form half of it is about war. Would the Valkyries, whose whole purpose is to find valiant soldiers slain in battle, not want war? Their whole purpose is war.

Also, on top of it—how will you handle revolution?

You say yourself, colonialism could still happen subtly. Colonialism and injustice can still happen. Will these subjugated spirits force an already disadvantaged group to exclusively use a rigged system to try and politely ask for their rights back? Or would these spirits want to be free and support the means necessary to take it back?

War has happened to upend the divine right of kings. War has happened to free slaves (Haiti). War has happened for basic workers’ rights (some union strikes have resulted in war). 

You’re basically removing a whole toolbox in the fight for a better world. Yes, not being able to colonize because of fantasy AU sounds fine, until you realize that pretty much all of human history from the Romans has been created via war to some degree.

You’re basically just saying “violence is bad and humans need fantasy babysitters to not dive into it”, which really doesn’t sound that great once you sit with it. It removes human agency, removes human nature, and ignores the entire history of the planet.

-Leigh (Lesya)

Marika interjecting here:

We had an ask (Linked here) envisioning a story set in a de-colonized Hawai’i and the socio-political issues with that. Same problem.

[grecoromanyaoi]

i keep seeing ppl compare "turning" alexander the great gay "for the documentary" and turning cleopatra black for the documentary where a. its highly highly unlikely cleopatra was "black", and im saying that as in 'had darker skin and features associated with sub-saharan ppl' (if she was there is no evidence of that) bc b. the "black" identity as we now think of it didnt exist back then in any way. the modern black identity was heavily shaped by european colonialism, the transatlantic slave trade and the resulting pan-africanism, which is one of the main reasons them propping her up as an "african queen" was rly annoying, and the other reason brings me to c. she was not an "indigenous" african. she was literally a macedonian colonizer who used "indigenous" egyptian culture and religion to strengthen her rule over them. trying to present her as an "african queen" when she was literally a colonizer is insane im sorry what were they on about. also alexander the great literally did have a same sex relationship and a great love with another man and the series didnt try to present him as "gay" and quite literally said he wasnt gay as we now think of it bc that idea abt sexuality didnt exist yet

[kujakumai]

legit the scene in Capsule Monsters where the millennium ring glows and then hops off of Alexander The Great of its own accord and rolls out the door is fantastic to me. For so many reasons.

The fact that the anime has already established that in this canon the ring has magical teleportation powers, but it decides to physically roll its way out anyway, because YB wanted to make a point I guess

One has to wonder how far he got on those little pendulums

Alternatively we've really only seen the anime ring teleport to a host, not away, so it's possible that he has to roll himself physically because teleporting will always send him back to Alexander. which is hilarious. fucked up his save point

The fact that the anime goes out of its way to make the ring the center of Alexander The Great Lore without mentioning Yami Bakura once. He had to have been in the ring but Alexander doesn't even seem to be aware of his existence. His decision to go "forget this, I'm OUT" is the only evidence we have that he didn't sleep through the whole thing

The fact that the ring is the center of Alexander The Great Lore but the ring isn't even physically present outside flashbacks because (since the anime writers deleted the manga scene where Bakura recovers it after Battle City) it's currently in a duffel bag in Yugi's bedroom on another continent.

Bakura didn't go on this trip, even. They did not invite him

So both of the Alexander ghosts are also in the magic pyramid so we don't even need it here. totally irrelevant. so like, why is the ring being involved at all. why are we doing any of this

questions I assume Yami Bakura asked himself and then decided that he had a 100% unbroken streak of Not Appearing In Filler Arcs and he wasn't going to fuck it up now with whatever this was

So he just goes "bye losers" and promptly deletes himself from the narrative

In conclusion,

[scotianostra]

On 10th November, the year 1150 work began on the construction of Dryburgh Abbey in the Scottish Borders.

Standing on an elevated site formed by a loop of the River Tweed about five miles from Melrose, Dryburgh Abbey’s seclusion is part of its undoubted charms that have captivated many souls down the ages. There is little of the original Abbey church left, but the remains of the sacristy and cloisters have survived and the building is well looked after now as it is in the care of Historic Environment Scotland.

At the time of its foundation Scotland was ruled over by the man who many people consider to be Scotland’s greatest king, David I, son of Malcolm Canmore and St Margaret of Scotland. He both ordered and funded the construction of several abbeys and monasteries as part of his Davidian Revolution which transformed the face of Scotland, but Dryburgh was not one of them.

There had been some sort of clerical institution at Dryburgh as far back as the early seventh century as ancient writings show that St Modan, a follower of St Columba, was described as being the abbot of Dryburgh in 622. As with all Scottish history from the Dark Ages and early mediaeval period, almost all records as existed about buildings and personalities have long been lost, and there is no physical evidence of the older establishment whatsoever.

Though approved by King David, Dryburgh Abbey was the foundation of Hugh de Morville or Moreville, a Norman knight who came over from Cotentin to northern England after King Henry I gave that part of northern France to David. He was almost certainly one of the French knights who helped David retain most of southern Scotland on behalf of his brother King Alexander I, known as the Fierce.

David was both the Earl of Huntingdon and the Prince of the Cumbrians which took in the area formerly occupied by the Kings of Strathclyde. David gave de Morville lands in Huntingdon and Westmoreland, so it would make sense that Hugh de Morville came into Scotland and took possession of lands given to him by David. He was also made Constable of Scotland after his predecessor was killed in battle in 1138.

Being allowed to build his own abbey shows how much he was appreciated by David. De Morville took a personal interest in the construction and shrewdly did not make it either as large or as powerful as those abbeys founded by David such as Holyrood and Melrose. With its location by the Tweed and the obviously intricate stonework that still survives,

Dryburgh Abbey was outstandingly beautiful. It was built quite quickly after de Morville was able to attract Premonstratien canons regular – not monks confirmed to a monastery but an order of preachers and pastors.The White Canons, as they were known from their robes, arrived from Alnwick Abbey at Dryburgh in 1152, and were soon joined by a prominent local lord, none other than Hugh de Morville who became a canon and died in the Abbey in 1162. His son, also Hugh, inherited his father’s lands in northern England and became infamous as one of the four knights who assassinated St Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1170.

Dryburgh Abbey seems to have thrived until the Wars of Independence when it was burned down by the English army on their humiliating retreat from their 1322 invasion of Scotland under Edward II, loser of Bannockburn. They burned Holyrood and Melrose, too, and an enraged Robert the Bruce was appalled at the actions of supposed Christians, so much so that he gathered an army and charged deep into England in what was known as the Great Raid of 1322, routing the English army at the Battle of Old Byland to further humiliate Edward II who barely escaped with his life.

In 1385, another English army burned Dryburgh again, destroying the western frontage of the Abbey church. This was rebuilt, however, but by the time of King James IV, there was no longer sufficient canons in the Abbey which was handed over to a commendator – an administrator of church buildings appointed by the monarch.

Dryburgh was sacked twice more by the English in 1544, and when the Reformation took place in 1560 there were just 10 canons left, and they were all gone within a few decades. The Abbey was allowed to become a ruin, and passed into the control of various people until it was acquired in 1786 by David Erskine, 11th Earl of Buchan, founder of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. He re-created the ruin, added monuments and generally made the Abbey beautiful again .

Buchan died in 1829 and was buried in the Abbey. At one time the ruin was owned by the Haliburton family and they retained the right of burial within its walls. That is why the graves and memorial stones of Sir Walter Scott and Field-Marshal Earl Haig, both descendants of the Haliburtons, are there along with various members of their family.

Historic Environment Scotland says this about Dryburgh Abbey: “While a greater part of the abbey church is now gone, what does remain – principally the two transepts and west front – is of great architectural interest. The cloister buildings, particularly the east range, are among the best preserved in Scotland. The chapter house is important as containing rare evidence for medieval painted decoration. The whole site, tree-clad and nestling in a loop of the River Tweed, is spectacularly beautiful and tranquil.”

Dryburgh Abbey has become a place of pilgrimage for lovers of Scott in particular, but deserves to be better known because of its history and sheer beauty.

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - A Ghostly Welcome

When the Blackburn’s entered the living room of the, formerly empty, Haunted House they were planning to hide in, they were surprised to find it occupied- by a ghostly figure. Who had just casually stated how delicious of a meal they’d made for them… Gemma wasn’t impressed by this though.

„Dear Ghost, I‘m sorry to destroy your dreams but you can’t actually eat us. You’re not a living being, thus you don’t have organs to properly digest us. You can pass through us, my theory is that that could be a bit odd and cold but nothing that a sims‘ organism can’t handle!“, she declared, being very proud of her observations and conclusions. Gavin, ever the supporter of his fearless twin, nodded. „Sorry to break it to you. You’re kind of dead, you know?“, he said in a sweet soothing voice. The Ghost was utterly surprised by these kids and looked at them, speechless. Then, they turned to Aileen and Colin who, as they always did, let their twins speak out freely (even if it could potentially make things worse).

„Interesting to see what you two produced. All that wohoo wasn’t for nothing, I guess!“, she bend over laughing.

„Wohoo? Did you guys attend a party without telling us?“, Gemma asked and looked at her parents with an accusatory expression. Aileen and Colin exchanged embarrased and confused glances.

„Wwhat wohoo do you mean? Do we know you?“, Colin asked the Ghost.

The Ghost smirked. „I‘m sure you remember the days you two spent here. Doing „scientific research“ - hach! I know exactly what kind of experiments went on in these rooms…“ She wiggled her eyebrows at Aileen and Colin. Gemma and Gavin were getting more and more curious and excited by the second, so Aileen said: „Okay, so you lived here, when Colin and I were staying here? We never saw you!“

„I‘m Lenore, Lenore Goth. The illegitimate daughter of Mortimer Goth. No one ever saw me, noone knew I existed. And yet, I am the heir and resident of this magnificent house. And it will always be this way. I will haunt this place forever. I didn’t show myself to you two because I thought you were adorable. Two eggheads, slightly mad, obsessed with the paranormal… you seemed like my kind of people. I‘d have loved to babysit the twins for you…“, she rambled, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

Aileen was shocked. The Goths had been close friends with Aileen‘s grandparents, she knew that her great-uncle had been married to Cassandra. Alexander had lived in Oasis Springs with his husband… . So, when Mortimer and Bella had died, the mansion was left vacant. „Who was your mother?“, Aileen asked.

Lenore chuckled. „Lilith Vatore, one of the originals. It was a one-night fling on spooky day. I was raised in Forgotten Hollow but I fled to this town when I was a teen to find my dad. I was still a fledgling though, I burned in the midday sun. Noone ever found me. I became a Ghost and decided to never leave the place of my demise…“

The Blackburn’s were seated in the living room and listened to the tragic story of Lenore. Gemma asked:“But, don’t you ever want to move on? Find peace in the Netherlands?“

Lenore looked to the ground, suddenly seemingly depressed. „I still feel like there’s so much to be done. I‘m not finished with this place. What was the reasoning for my existence? This question haunts me daily…“

They stayed silent for a bit. Then, Aileen proposed:“Well, Lenore, maybe we can help you with that? My husband and I are researching everything about the occult and I know that ghosts have been neglected by the sims, until now. Let us change that. We can publish our findings and honor you in it. That way, your name will be known by many sims. People will remember you for your contribution to our work. Doesn’t that sound good?“

„Me, being featured in a book? That other sims will read?“, Lenore seemed to be speechless for a moment. Then, she turned her gaze to Aileen and asked with slight narrowed eyes:“And what do you want from me, other than my knowledge? There has to be something in this that would benefit you…“

Aileen nodded, staying calm and collected, as she always was. „We need a place to lay low because a crazy spellcaster sage is after us. We live right next door but we can’t cast a protection spell there yet because the Crystal Tree is too small. We hoped coming here wouldn’t be too obvious and the specters coming at night would deter anyone from investigating here“, Aileen explained.

Lenore looked at a painting behind them thoughtfully.

„ Well, you’re definitely safe here from any intruders, the specters are like little guardians of this place. But we could ask Bonehilda, she’s always so helpful! I‘m sure she has an idea how to help you beat that witch. Alright then, if you guys are staying here, we need to hurry up! It’s winterfest eve!“, Lenore declared happily.

The twins sprang up from their seats and started dancing. „Let’s celebrate winterfest! Presents! Presents!“

[fruitbasketball]

lol Caitlin has used her platform to shine a light on all the black women who pioneered the sport, and actually done so by name, unlike Paige who made a vague statement one time and has never spoken up again

and idk where you get she’s entitled, it seems like all she’s ever wanted to do is win a championship which is what every player in college wants to do. she doesn’t seem remotely concerned with personal accolades, unlike other programs overly concerned with their player being NPOY despite not actually earning it

oh rightttt like that time they asked her on national television if race played a factor in the media’s treatment of her versus their treatment of angel reese and she… didn’t answer the question, right?

or the time that sheryl swoopes (one of those black women who pioneered the sport) was being attacked by her fans, and caitlin blocked everyone on twitter reminding her that her fans are racist? she did a great job shining a light on black women then!

i just feel like we watched different espys speeches, because i remember a 19 year old paige bueckers getting on national television, recognizing that she’s a white woman in a black led sport, and NAME DROPPING black women who deserved/deserve media attention, like maya moore and odyssey alexander, as well as speaking out against police brutality by mentioning breonna taylor.

and maybe we’re a little new to this and we don’t know ball, but if you’ve been following women’s college basketball for the past 4 years, you would know that instance is not a one off, because paige has been speaking out for the black community for years.

what y’all aren’t realizing is that racism is not just calling her teammates slurs or saying she hates black people or shit like that - it’s a refusal to acknowledge that racism exists in the first place.

and don’t play fucking dumb. by entitled i mean the whole “im caitlin clark give me that whistle”. fuck outta here w that ‘npoy but hasn’t earned it’. lisa bluder consistently touts that she has “the best player in the country” or “in the world”. i know that’s a dig at geno, so let’s get one thing fucking straight: paige is the best player in america. and when you have 11 fucking rings, you have every right to get up on a presser and say that. you might not think so, because your very narrow minded view of the game probably cleared the rest of the stat sheet except for points. paige came back from a fucking acl tear and she’s still a first team all american, and she’s a wade and naismith trophy finalist. she fills the stat sheet in every single thing except turnovers and personal fouls, and she does it on ridiculous efficiency. she makes her teammates better, and dawn staley herself has said she’s the most elite player to ever play the game.

do not piss me off with this bullshit

[mermaidsirennikita]

I've gotta say, as bleak as the convos surrounding the status of historical romance in traditional publishing have been lately, I've been so pleased by some of the recent books out and the books coming out

—The Beast Takes a Bride by Julie Anne Long is one of the best books I've read by her (and I've read... hmm... over 12, I think) and such a fabulous example of how to do something light without making it stakes-less

—Elizabeth Hoyt is back and absolutely up to her usual (high) standards with No Ordinary Duchess in December, with a really sensitive exploration of kink (and it's not heavy, which I personally think is something certain readers who've become used to a really casual usage of kink that honestly just exists there to titillate will ding her for, and it bugs me because "more kink on the page" is not inherently "good kink on the page" BUT WHATEVER) that's especially interesting when you compare it to Wicked Temptations, which by no means did it BADLY but did it in a more basic manner...

Just all around, a very sexy, character-based Hoyt, and I just want her to stick around and write for as long as she wants to.

—Lorraine Heath returning to her Scoundrels of St. James generational saga with A Tempest of Desire, which is another character-heavy angstfest (and I'm seeing a theme with all three of these authors being a bit less plotty than some of their novels have been, but avoiding the pitfall of "ain't shit happening") with a classic Heathian moment that made me go "NOOOOOOOOOO" out loud in the most forlorn way lol

—A Tropical Rebel Gets the Duke by Adriana Herrera, which I'm currently reading, being an easy knockout if she keeps this up (which I'm pretty damn sure she will) and combining social commentary with swoony romance in a way few authors can top

—TJ Alexander giving us a trans m/m historical romance with A Gentleman's Gentleman next year; haven't read, but I fully trust TJ and am so excited to see their work in the historical realm

—Alexandra Vasti continuing to make headway in her tradpub career with Earl Crush (on my list to read soon!), while she seems to be plotting a f/f historical next...?

—Vivienne Lorret finishing out her latest series with This Much is True, keeping that Tessa Dare-style romcom flag flying

—Enemy of My Dreams by Jenny Williamson taking us somewhere new (or, new for the first time in a while) with an Ancient Roman historical romance

—And honestly? The amount of influence and combination of historical romance with fantasy/paranormal I'm seeing. I've just started Kerri Maniscalco's Throne of Secrets, which is set, literally, in Hell... And we have ballrooms, we have lords and ladies, we have "I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW" Pride and Prejudice overtones. The Legend of Meneka taking us centuries back in a fantastical parallel world to India. When the Tides Held the Moon giving us gay mermaid action in 1910s New York. Hungerstone sending up Carmilla in a rapidly industrializing England.

There IS great stuff coming out, and it's interesting to see the continuing evolution of the subgenre.

[sgiandubh]

JAMMF, 303

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser is today 303. Born to both strife and greatness, on Beltane Day.

Fictional characters never die for good, their energy keeps on lingering somewhere, in a corner of our heart. So, here's a heartfelt Happy Birthday to a formidable character that one day chose to possess Herself's imagination and brought us all together, in this strange digital limbo of sorts.

Despite his rock-solid appearance, JAMMF is a real chameleon. My favorite JAMMF is perhaps the least talked about one. The Diplomat. Of course.

This guy, playing chess at Versailles (in reality, it's Prague, and a sizably different kind of Baroque, but let's not nitpick, here). A wonderful metaphor for what diplomacy was, is and always will be: a sophisticated game of chess.

While in Paris, JAMMF is acting, in plain sight, as a diplomatic agent of sorts on behalf of Bonnie Prince Charlie's embryo of a government in exile. Desperately hoping and fruitlessly waiting for more. And making a very bad, emotional job of it all, when emotions are least needed, despite all those best laid plans. Still, he does exactly what a diplomat posted abroad would do. He meets all the important honchos, he brilliantly entertains all those people at his open table, he mingles with princes and beggars alike and of course, he dutifully reports in writing about all this, back to Scotland.

It is, therefore, a pity and a shame that Herself did not utter a single word, in Dragonfly in Amber, about the real Jacobite meeting place in Paris: Sorbonne's Collegium Scoticum/Scots College, or Collège des Écossais, founded in 1333, by an edict of the Parliament of Paris (what we would call today the local council) and as a belated, yet important consequence of the Auld Alliance treaty between France, Scotland and Norway:

This is a place with a rich and minutely documented history, so much so that the adjoining street soon came to be known as the rue des Ecossais (Scots' Street), instead of rue des Amandiers (Almond Tree Street).

The building is still there, albeit with a different destination, a private Catholic elementary school. And a plaque inside the main building tells part of the story, in Latin:

Meaning:

In 1325, under the reigns of Charles the Fair, in France and Robert the Bruce, in Scotland, David de Moravia, bishop of Murray founded this college. In 1604, Jacques de Bethun, archbishop of Glasgow made a seminary out of it, given to the perpetual administration of the Carthusian Order's Superior of Paris [later edit, forgot to translate that properly and the French version I eventually took out is incomplete, sorry!]. In 1639, the whole was placed under the authority of the King of France and the Archbishop of Paris, their supreme authority being solemnly ratified by the Parliament of Paris. In memory of the founders, the priests and the alumni, may they rest in peace!

[Later edit]: the eight year difference in records reflects the time it took for the Parliament of Paris to acknowledge the College's existence and offer its due legal protection. So: founded by the bishop of Murray in 1325 and legally authorized by the Parliament of Paris in 1333. Both dates are legit founding landmarks and can be quoted accordingly.