#he’s very pius

[pladoskif]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT FOR A SECOND

I’ve just come up with a parallel improbable and, at the same time quite fitting…y’all are gonna hate this.

Just imagine them as Dido and Aeneas…

“Oh, I don’t

know what

this feeling is…”

“Is it God

or is it me?” “It’s God,

isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

[jumpingsnowflakes]

Hille and Stephan are such opposites, I love it

[suga-kookiemonster]

Sameeeeeeeee! I rewatched first class not too long ago, I was like hold up why is magneto the villain he right. Back then I was too young to see his vision lol

i've always seen his vision! this movie just made it perfectly clear to the point where i was like...is their intention to make me side with professor x and all his hypocritical kumbaya bullshit? cause they're not doing a good job 🤣 magneto is completely justified, let him cook

[tetru]

To add onto this:

Things we know about Angel (mind you, I haven't finished Harry's route, and I do not think I have gotten to their final visit yet)

- They know who the player, Harry, and Teo are

- They are implied to be time traveling

- They can hack into the chat, usually on a full moon.

- They block Piu-Piu from entering the chat

- They avoid answering about why they do not show up in Teo's chat

- They seem very friendly with the player (to me, it gave me the implication that their 'first' time meeting us is an nth time meeting them for us)

- They are not revealing their motives or what they're doing (they have implied to be at 'wrong times' by accident while doing whatever they're doing)

I will say, I do not believe it's Seven. I can't really find a motive, timeline, or narrative reasoning as to why Seven would do something like this.

But what I will say though: Teo and Harry are extremely important for the game's lore, ESPECIALLY Teo (as it has been stated he is the reason the app exists).

Can you explain more on who Angel is? I don't know much about Ssum.

Hello Anon!!! I'm not the most knowledgeable on Ssum either 🤔ᴴᴹ but your local Cheritz enthusiast is on the case!! Here's what I know!! ^^

Angel is not actually called Angel but 1004!! The number translates to that name in Korean, which is why we call him Angel. He is a most mysterious fellow who has, to my knowledge, only appeared twice in Harry's route, changing the chatroom's background to a series of ones and zeroes, similar to how Unknown did in the MM prologue

Angel's role in Ssum involved being able to hack somehow into the chatroom and offer the player the option to either view a good future of Harry or a bad one. In Angel's second appearance, I believe he only gave a bad future?

This is all I can gather about Angel in regards to the Ssum. In regards to Cheritz's other games though....

I've gathered that, first of all, Angel's way of speaking seems to resemble Seven's? It might be possible that Angel is Seven, considering:

The aforementioned similarities in speech

Seven's 1st appearance in MM after the prologue is a chatroom at 10:04

Hacking the app

Having a number as a name

And this is only a theory (though a very strong one) but Seven is most likely a Wizard, and Angel possesses the power to show the player the future, something that probably wouldn't be possible for a normal person

Also the fact that we already know that MM and Ssum take place within the same universe/pocket dimension

Idk if Angel is Seven idk. But it seems way too similar to not at least be a reference to Seven

The references to Angel don't stop at MM tho. The number 1004 is seen in Nameless at least once

1004. The main character's address. The rest of the address lines are references to both Cheritz and Crobidoll, which leads me to suspect that the number 8282 might also have significance somewhere else, altho idk where I'd look to find that out

Idk if there are any Angel references in Dandelion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ummmm but that's all I know. Idk if Angel is Seven, it seems quite likely, but if the person in the teaser Cheritz showed is Angel, I don't think the face looks like Seven tbh. Different face shape. Tho I kinda agree with ppl about the use of the character wearing a cloak similar to those worn by Mint Eye followers. That's an interesting addition

There may be other ppl who are a bit more qualified to answer this ask than me idk. When I'm browsing on Tumblr, I only check out the Cheritz tag and Nameless The One Thing You Must Recall tag so I only looked at The Ssum tag today to do a bit more research on this.. I've never even played Harry's route and I was playing June's but recently uninstalled the game again because, even with June, it's still god damn boring and I hate the gameplay of it

I will reblog the posts I used to research this immediately after posting this tho. But. There's this one really good post I saw where I first learned about Angel and I can't find it for the god damn life of me. I believe it's on @natsuneages blog and the title is Cheritz Boys with Red Eyes Have Powers, and @zealousfanprunewolf commented on it about Angel but I can't god damn find it guys aaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black, her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; he was turned to them with his back, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

[renthony]

hey!! i am genuinely curious about how the catholic church helped implement the hays code, would you be able to tell me more/do you have any good reading material about it? thanks so much!!

This has been sitting in my inbox for aaaaaages, because I want to do it justice! It's actually a big facet of my research project that I'm going to go into much, much, much more depth on, but here's the short(er) summary:

The foundational text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics: a Jesuit priest named Father Daniel Lord, and a man named Martin Quigley, who was the editor of the Motion Picture Herald. They grounded their guidelines in Catholic morality and values, based on the idea that art could be a vehicle for evil by negatively influencing the actions of those who view it.

The original list of guidelines written by Lord and Quigley was adapted into the Production Code, popularly known as the "Hays Code" after William Hays, the president of the Production Code Administration that enforced it. As president of the PCA, William Hays appointed a staunch Catholic man called Joseph Breen to enforce the code. Breen enforced it aggressively, confiscating the original reels of films he deemed inappropriate and against the Code. Many lost films from this era are only "lost" because Joseph Breen personally had them destroyed. Some were rediscovered later, but many were completely purged from existence.

When Breen died in 1965, Variety magazine wrote, "More than any single individual, he shaped the moral stature of the American moral picture." He was a very, very big deal, and was directly responsible for censoring more films than I could even begin to list here.

In 1937, Olga J. Martin, Joseph Breen’s secretary, said, “To an impoverished country which had become religious and serious-minded, the sex attitudes of the post-war period became grotesquely unreal and antedated. The public at large wanted to forget its own derelictions of the ‘gay twenties.' The stage was set for the moral crusade.”

In 1936, once the Code was being fully enforced on filmmakers by Joseph Breen, a letter was issued by the office of Pope Pius XI that praised Breen's work, and encouraged all good Catholics to support film censorship.

The letter read in part, "From time to time, the Bishops will do well to recall to the motion picture industry that, amid the cares of their pastoral ministry, they are under obligation to interest themselves in every form of decent and healthy recreation because they are responsible before God for the moral welfare of their people even during their time of leisure. Their sacred calling constrains them to proclaim clearly and openly that unhealthy and impure entertainment destroys the moral fibre of a nation. They will likewise remind the motion picture industry that the demands which they make regard not only the Catholics but all who patronize the cinema."

Basically, this letter was a reminder from the Papal authority that bishops and priests are supposed to stop people from engaging with "lewd" or "obscene" art. That meant supporting things like the Hays Code.

So, to summarize: the original text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics, including a priest. The biggest and most aggressive censor under the Code was a Catholic man, who had the full support and approval of the Pope at the time. Good Catholics were called en-masse to support the Hays Code, because it was intentionally written to line up with Catholic teachings.

There's a lot more to say on the subject, and if you're interested in reading more on your own, I recommend the book "Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934," by Thomas Doherty. There are plenty other sources I can recommend on request, but that's a solid place to start.

(And if I can toot my own horn, I'm intending to do a video lecture series all about American film censorship and the Hays Code. Pledging to my Patreon helps keep me fed and housed while I do all this damn research.)

[birdiebirdjay]

you left me first.

in which bill and percy have a little talk.

-----

"Ahem."

Percy looks up at the familiar voice, his eyes weary and his glasses slipping down his nose.

He blinks.

"Bill?" He sits up a little straighter, leaning back in his chair. Hastily, he runs a hand through his hair and straightens his glasses, trying to look at least slightly presentable and not like he'd been working for 13 hours straight. "Oh- Hello, Bill. You must have missed Dad's office, he's actually-"

Bill cuts him off with a wave of his hand, shaking his head. "I'm not here to see Dad, Percy. I'm here to see you," he says stiffly, taking a seat.

The brothers sit in silence for a few minutes. Were they even brothers anymore? Percy wondered vaguely. He found that the thought didn't hurt now as much as it used to.

That realization actually stung ten times more than the initial thought.

"Do you want some tea?" he asks awkwardly, his hands fidgeting under his desk. "I can make some, if you'd like."

"No, I don't want some tea." Bill snaps, getting up to his feet and putting his hands down on the edge of Percy's desk. He looks like Molly, in some twisted way, with his eyes narrowed and his lips almost curled into a sneer. It almost makes Percy flinch--indeed, he stiffens and his spine straightens--but he doesn't jump back.

Flinching was a sign of weakness, of doubt. He'd trained it out of himself the very first month after Pius Thicknesse had become the Minister.

"What is the matter with you, Percy?" Bill hisses, and for a moment, Percy thinks he may have seen tears in his eyes. A blink, and they were gone the next moment. "You chose the ministry over us, years ago, and you're still here."

He looks away, taking his hands off the desk, and he starts pacing the length of the office. "You missed so much, you know that? The twins created a whole business, Ginny's first boyfriend, Ron had his seventeenth-"

Now, Percy is on his feet. He wasn't sure when that had happened; all he could feel now was the rushing of blood to his ears, the pounding in his head, and the empty ache in his chest he had spent years trying to press down.

"Me?" he asks, staring at Bill with an almost manic look in his eyes. "I missed- of course, everything I missed!" he laughs, a broken sound of surprise. "Then what about everything you missed? My fifteenth? My sixteenth? Ginny being kidnapped and almost murdered by Lord fucking Voldemort? Ron nearly drowning? And that was before- everything!"

Now, it's Bill's turn to be shocked into silence. He stares at his younger brother--the flame, the bright boy who had burned and burned for as long as he'd lived... or so he'd thought. The once bright spark in his eyes was gone now, replaced by cold, hardened steel.

Bill's eyes are still narrowed, and his chest is still heaving, but there is a flicker of confusion behind his gaze now. "Percy, I-"

"No!" Percy nearly yells, suddenly very glad he'd gotten his office soundproofed. "No! You don't get to make excuses now, strutting into my office after everything is over!" He swallows hard, pulling his glasses off and swiping roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You know the only thing I asked mum and dad for on my fifteenth? I asked if they could get you and Charlie to come home, just for a day," he says bitterly, looking away. "And you know what? I really thought it would happen. I did. But when it comes down to it, you're just like our dad, aren't you?"

"Percy, stop." Bill begs, stepping forward. Suddenly, his hands are on Percy's shoulders, and there are tears in both of their eyes. "Don't say that. Please don't..."

"Why shouldn't I?" he asks, but his voice cracks, and his arms are around Bill before he can tell himself to pull away. Suddenly, he's fifteen years younger; he's a child again, crying to his brother after he'd been hurt. "The only person who came to visit that day was Auntie Muriel."

There's a big difference between a broken family and a scraped knee, he thought bitterly, screwing his eyes shut tight. Why can't everything be as simple as it used to be?

Bill takes a deep, shuddering breath, resting his chin on Percy's shoulder. "You missed my wedding," he says, closing his eyes. "You left us."

Percy shakes his head, his grip tightening on his brother despite his words.

"You left me first."

[historical-kitten]

Ancient Roman Politicians on a Modern Date

Gaius Julius Caesar: He invites you to a dinner party at his house and is a fairly witty and engaging host, but all of his stories seem to be about himself. However, friends assure you he's "every woman's man and every man's woman," so stick around for the nightcap he offers you if that makes you curious.

Marcus Licinius Crassus: For a man who is absolutely the wealthiest you've ever met, it seems a little convenient that he 'forgot his wallet' on your date to that expensive gastropub, so you couldn't go halfsies and had to pay for both your meals. The gold flake dessert shines bright, but you sort of wish he'd choke on it.

Gnaeus Pompeius Maximus: It's kind of weird how he takes you around to show you his art collection since it mainly consists of statues of himself, but hey, at least he's interested in art? He also tells a lot of stories about himself. However, he has a reputation for being a devoted husband and he's in between spouses, so if you're ready for that, give him a chance.

Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus aka Augustus: He literally wrote out a plan for your entire date, how it would go, and what he would say to the most commonly asked smalltalk questions. Do not deviate from his script. He takes you somewhere like a museum or a fancy restaurant where they barely feed you, but although he is polished, his romantic delivery seems a little flat until you run into his best friend Agrippa... They are just besties, right?

Marcus Antonius aka Mark Antony: Ok, there are a couple ways this could go. He is either an absolutely fantastic date who takes you to see a hilarious play and finishes off with a fun night on the town, or he takes you to a bar in a seedy part of town where you dance and drink and party all night. Either way he gives you nice gifts and is charming and funny. On a later date he may take you on the most expensive, romantic, fancy date ever. Most likely a good time date, just don't expect things to get serious unless you're the Queen of Egypt.

Marcus Aemilius Lepidus: He never showed up for your date. Completely ghosted you. You track down his coworkers Mark Antony and Octavian and they say they have no idea where he is either. Weird.

Marcus Agrippa: He takes you on a tour of the city, pointing out all the architecture and finishes this off with dinner. He seems nice, intelligent, and is very attentive to your needs. So why isn't he off the market yet? His attachment to his slightly creepy best friend and roommate Octavian, maybe? They were roommates.

Sextus Pompeius Magnus Pius: A much better date than his father, he takes you to his private boat and gives you a seaside tour. He valiantly fights off pirates during your date, but did you catch one of them winking at him? Regardless, it's an unforgettable adventure.

Who would you rather date? And again, I'm sorry, Lepidus.

As always, thanks to @just-late-roman-republic-things for inspiring these posts.

[whinlatter]

The Ginny and Peter parallel though?? How have I never thought about that?? It‘s so horrifying and insanely compelling to me at the same time. I would love to hear (read?) you elaborate on that.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine…. I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me - " "Harry – oh, Harry – I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn’t say it in front of Percy. It was me, Harry – but I – I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to  - R-Riddle made me, he took me over..."

thank you so much for this question anon.  i have been thinking about this for a long time - about how ginny weasley might have made a really, really good traitor - and would love to talk more about my thinking behind it. a little meta on traitor talk - who flips, and why, and why ginny weasley might be the peter pettigrew to the trio's marauders after all - can be found below the cut (with spoilers for beasts chapter 14). 

hp, as a series, puts great moral emphasis on the concept of choice. after all, it’s about a world at war, where the question of whose side you're on is often a matter of life or death. double agents, deception, treachery, people serving the interests of others (either consensually or under duress): these are recurrent tropes, on both sides of the wizarding war. the plot begins the ultimate act of betrayal - that of lily and james potter by peter pettigrew - and the series concludes with the revelation of another (snape). throughout the books, there are all sorts of characters who spy, or flip, for all sorts of reasons. you have those who knowingly pretend to be serving the interests of one side when actually serving another, for principled reasons, either ideological motivation or out of selfless loyalty to another person: snape, peter, likely rookwood, quirrell, fake moody/barty crouch jr, both sirius and regulus black, kreacher, and narcissa in the forest. and then you have the group who betray either out of fear, or who are manipulated into acts of betrayal and deceit, sometimes through possession but otherwise through blackmail and intimidation, to varying degrees: xenophilius lovegood, mundungus fletcher, pius thicknesse, marietta edgecombe, bertha jorkins, bathilda bagshot, those types. (in a sign of jkr’s consistently dicked-up biases re gender in the series, women are never allowed to be interesting enough to actively betray anyone unless they’re doing it out of maternal love eg. narcissa - they can only ever actively be led astray or hoodwinked, whereas male characters can have a vast array of complex motivations and all sorts of shades of moral grey. we'll come back to that in a minute).

in chapter 14 of my postwar fic beasts, during the course of the hogwarts inquiry, augustus rookwood takes the stand and testifies of an attempt by him and his fellow death eaters to find someone who could play double agent to pass secrets about the resistance, the order and harry to the other side during the second wizarding war. rookwood - himself a former double agent - talks about how to make a traitor. he discusses the different motivations of traitors, how to find a target and how to exploit their existing vulnerabilities and weak-points to get them to come around to your side. he also reveals that, during the death eater seizure of the ministry and hogwarts school, he and his peers identified a would-be target in ginny weasley. in the fic, i have him describe the process of traitor-identification as ‘the pettigrew playbook’: finding someone who is connected, who knows the order’s secrets, who has the information you want, and who will flip less out of an ardent ideological commitment, but more because they are weak and scared but also disrespected and resentful and more inclined to save their own neck than act out of loyalty

i’ve always been very struck by peter pettigrew’s attempts to justify his betrayal of lily and james in PoA (see above). peter pettigrew is always a slippery and elusive character, rendered mostly through other people’s memories or descriptions of him. this is one of the very few times he explains something of his own worldview - though, as we know he is a liar, and in this instance errrr trying to save his own life as sirius threatens to kill him (slay), we have to take even these lines with a pinch of salt. we know pettigrew is a character that acts, at all times, out of a desire for self-preservation, trying to secure his own survival. he was tolerated but never respected by his schoolfriends, made the potters’ secret keeper as a ‘perfect bluff’ because he was a  ‘weak, talentless thing’ voldemort would never bother going after, a trait which ultimately made him the perfect and most vulnerable target. when outed as the real spy by sirius and remus here, he acknowledges he is aware of his deficiencies and weaknesses, and talks about his fear for his own life, his sense of how he did not live up to the principled bravery of his friends, and claims  that voldemort ‘forced him’ to surrender lily and james - presumably through the threat of terrible violence, suffering and death. 

pettigrew’s remarks are particularly interesting when put alongside the justifications and excuses of another character who has betrayed harry to voldemort, albeit under very different circumstances. like peter, ginny’s confession is given through floods of tears as a desperate plea to be believed and excused. in it, ginny begs harry to understand her own lack of culpability. just as wormtail does, she insists to harry she was forced by riddle to cause harm to others and to hand information about harry over to riddle, and to play an integral role in returning lord voldemort to life.  of course, the series always frames ginny’s actions in CoS as the behaviour of an entirely innocent person. but even these lines show a streak of self-preservation and a certain amount of weakness and cowardice that runs throughout ginny’s encounter with the diary. ‘I couldn’t say it in front of Percy’, she says, suggesting she feared getting in deep trouble with no proof of riddle’s hand in her actions. in fact throughout the diary episode, ginny shows real moments of acting to save herself rather than do the right thing and come forward with the truth. she tries to dispose of the diary, but doesn’t go to a teacher about what it has been making her do. she stole the diary back not to protect harry but to protect her own secrets and prevent him from discovering her complicity (at least by TMR’s telling). she even watches hagrid get falsely accused and sent to azkaban, and stays silent in the process, a distinctly pettigrew echo if ever i heard one. 

of course, we know ginny and peter pettigrew’s relationships with voldemort are not alike in dignity. it’s clear that, in so many ways, ginny’s encounter with the diary is much more clearly an experience of victimhood than of malicious intent. we know that ginny was possessed; we know she is not a character who would commit murder without that level of involuntary mental surrender. but there are more uncomfortable echoes of pettigrew in her experiences in CoS. we see them in the decisions of a character acting of fear and a desire to save their own skin in ginny’s experience of the diary than we might like to think. ginny ofc was targeted by lucius malfoy because of who her family was, as stalwarts of the anti-voldemort pro-muggle resistance during the first wizarding war, with powerful enemies determined to discredit and undermine them at every turn. but, as TMR makes clear, what makes ginny such a good target in the end, so vulnerable and so useful, was that she was weak. she was insecure, and lonely, teased and misunderstood and feeling inadequate. in all of that, there was a very rich opening for TMR to access her innermost fears and secrets and to use them to manipulate, pressure and threaten her into compliance, in addition to the active possession of her body to conduct deliberate acts of attempted murder. it’s not a perfect pettigrew parallel by any means. but there’s more than a little bit of pettigrew in that, too. 

maybe more parallels with ginny and peter pettigrew than meets the eye - particularly in ginny’s relationship to the trio. there are a few posts that periodically do the rounds on tumblr and reddit that talk about neville’s relationship to the trio as the parallel to peter pettigrew’s with the marauders - as this post compellingly puts it, ‘all who peter could have been’. neville, these posts usually point out, was a character who was weak and much less talented than his friends, an outsider who needed the protection and patience of cooler classmates, who was always on the outside looking in on a friend group that largely excluded him. what distinguished neville from peter was his approach to his own weakness, and how that approach drove him to heroism rather than betrayal and villainy. it’s an interesting idea, and there’s something to it. but the more i thought about it, the more i thought - is neville + the trio the only parallel with peter + the marauders? what about ginny? 

it’s remarkably under-appreciated in fandom that ginny is remarkably poorly treated by the trio for much of the series. ‘go away, ginny’ - that’s how ron banishes his sister at the start of PoA, because harry mutters to his two mates that he wants to talk to them in private and to ditch ginny. neither harry nor hermione object to it - hermione, though kind to ginny when the dementors arrive, makes no defence of her right to stay. ginny duly leaves, hurt, to go sit by herself on the train back to school, returning to hogwarts for the first time after her deeply traumatic experience in the chamber, dismissed and dispatched. not meaning to drag ron here - this is, ofc, how big brothers have behaved for time immemorial, as is their wont. but it’s kind of the statement for how the trio treat ginny for much of her school career really until HBP, harry and hermione included. ofc there are many textual/plot reasons ginny needs to be held at arms length from the trio. but it is striking that the effect of this plot habit for the reader is a usually unkind and sometimes even callous exclusion of ginny by the trio throughout many of the books.

in CoS itself, ginny is never invited to join the trio or spend any time with them: when she isn’t, you know, trying her hand at possessed attempted murder, she’s doing a light bit of potter hero worship that does recall a certain lakeside snitch-catching display of yore. it’s ginny who’s left feeling left out when the trio are swapping suspicious eyes and sirius secrets in GoF, ginny who is hermione’s back-up friend when the ron and harry showdown kicks off over the triwizard tournament, ginny who shoulders the role as harry’s consolation prize friend when ron and hermione go off to the prefects on the train in ootp (and takes him to neville and luna), ginny who goes defenceless when the trio are demanding to be included in order secrets and is physically removed from the room with no protest from the others, ginny who has to fight her case to be taken seriously and included in the department of mysteries plot to rescue a man she too is friends with (‘I care about Sirius as much as you do!’), being patronised by three friends who pick her up and put her down when they feel like it (always enjoy hermione being like ‘we need three thestrals!’ and ginny being like ffs we need four why won’t you show me an ounce of respect). in fact, when ginny is revealed to be becoming popular in a different social circle throughout ootp and hbp, it is something of a shock to harry and ron, who have spent a good six years making no effort to include her and now are finding she has built a much more successful social life beyond them (you reap what you sow, lads). i don’t say this to overstate the trio’s malice nor to overstate the pettigrew comparisons (ginny is clearly both conventionally attractive and much more socially adept).. but i do think it’s striking that  if there is a character with pettigrew echoes in the trio’s surround, always orbiting the trio, trying to feel included (and hero worshipping the potter at the heart of it), it’s more often young ginny than it is neville. so many of the things that made ginny vulnerable to TMR - her loneliness, her isolation, her insecurities and sense of inadequacy - are not helped by the trio in the years afterwards, and in some cases, actively reinforced.

(to briefly say something on gender - sometimes wonder if ginny were a male character if people would have made more of this. percy stans, for instance, go to great lengths to point out all the ways percy was bullied or teased by his family as an excuse for his errrrr war crimes. would people care more about many ginny's exclusions if she were a maligned misunderstood young man? probably? it's noticeable too that all traitors in hp are men lol, a classic example of jkr’s weird and fucked feminism striking again. women are led astray or hoodwinked - men get the complex motivations and agency arcs. but i digress).

why does any of this matter? we know ginny doesn't take the path of pettigrew, however much she might have good reason to. harry's endearingly naive line in DH ('I trust all of you, I don’t think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort’) ends up being borne out: there are no betrayals during the second wizarding war, and certainly not by ginny (though the sword heist almost ended up doing it on accident). but i found myself thinking a lot about this as i was sketching out the plotline for beasts and thinking about ginny’s war, and what is asked of ginny in it. i was particularly thinking about it relation to how the second wizarding war plays out, the unique position of danger ginny would have been in as a hogwarts student in the 1997-1998 academic year, and what a good target she would make for death eaters on the hunt for a spy within the order of the phoenix.

when i was reading DH for the first time, i remember thinking that it is absolutely bonkers that ginny weasley goes back to hogwarts in september ’97. by that summer, the weasleys are the order of the phoenix. no longer just the blood traitors’ blood traitor, they’re now the face of the wizarding resistance, both parents and (nearly) all sons in active combat, something the ministry certainly knows about even when trying to normalise death eater rule and allowing the facade of arthur et al going to go to work in the ministry/gringotts etc. ginny’s family home is order hq: she lives there all summer, and trots off to the hogwarts express straight from the kitchen table where order meetings take place. when death eaters descend on the wedding, she’s there alongside the rest of the rest of dumbledore stans. she is also famously in the DA, and fought death eaters alongside the trio in the department of mysteries, and again in the battle of the astronomy tower. and then there’s the obvious point that hinny shippers everywhere have pointed out is baffling since the dawn of time, which is that the world and his wife knows that ginny weasley is harry potter’s ex, something that might put a big fat target on her head for a death eater or two to have a pop at trying to get some secrets and intel out of her. 

of course, there’s a compelling case for why ginny has to go back. ron’s already used the splattergroit excuse, and arthur’s going to work, and so is bill, and the twins (at least for a bit), and the weasleys are going for normalisation and at least a fig leaf of compliance. so off ginny goes, into the belly of the beast, back to school, despite all the access she has to order secrets and intel, as well as information on harry and the trio. she is in a uniquely dangerous position of risk: it’s a fortress run by death eaters and her card is marked. she finds herself in an unenviable and unrivalled position as a very good person to go after if you’re a death eater fancying some intel about what the guerilla resistance - and harry potter - are up to. we know there are death eaters about who would like to claw themselves back into some level of relevance by working towards the big man and trying to curry favour (yaxley). we know there is a family intimately aware of ginny weasley's weakness and failings who are desperate to get back in voldemort's good books (the malfoys). we also know there are witnesses to ginny's exclusions both from the order and from the trio over the years - in particular, one witness that already sold secrets on the order to death eaters, namely kreacher.

the reason i came back to thinking about parallels between ginny and peter in beasts is because beasts is a story about ginny’s war, but also in part about morality in the wizarding world, about war and sides and choices. at various points in beasts, i’ve tried to play with ginny’s echoes with characters that waver morally - including regulus - or who find themselves drawn to or in some way embroiled in darkness, and who are at times governed by fear and cowardice and self-preservation in a moral universe that prizes bravery, loyalty, and self-sacrifice. so this plot came from putting all these pieces together - ginny's existing vulnerabilities and insecurities, her position of privilege and access, but also her alienation and mistreatment, and this interest in moral motivations and what experiences or traumas might lead a person, or even justify, a person's treachery, moral inaction, or active moral failing. it was even more interesting for me to play with the idea that other people might have noticed ginny weasley's weird position relative to the trio and the order too, people who want to know what she knows and who would be willing to exploit the cracks in those relationships for strategic wartime gain. and that's for chapters fifteen and sixteen!

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (Geta love story)

Summary: Geta is recovering from his injuries. Lucius must go to war again.

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, Part 4, Part 5, part 6

"Who is Arishat?"

Lucius blinked. Slowly, a pair of intense brown eyes swam into view. He had not regained full awareness of his surroundings, and it took immense effort to translate his thoughts into words.

"Mmm." Lucius groaned softly as he turned on his back and stretched out his arms above his head. Of course, Geta did not know about her. Who would have told him?

"You... said her name. In your sleep," Geta clarified.

Lucius nodded. "She was my wife. She died in the invasion of Numidia." He rubbed his chest. "She was shot. In the ribs. Drowned soon after."

Geta stayed silent for a while. Then, quietly, "I'm really sorry, Lucius." Something in Geta's tone surprised him and made him turn his head. The sincerity in it. Perhaps he recognized, remembered the feeling of loss.

"It's okay."

There was a time he would have blamed Geta for killing her. But knowing him and his brother for longer, he understood the way they ruled. Like kids. Ignorant, with no idea of the consequences of their actions nor the lives lost and affected. Bitterness still filled his heart remembering how he had felt.

Geta shook his head. "It is not. And I am sorry."

Lucius could feel his throat close up, so he just gave a nod, quickly blinking away tears.

"What was she like?"

Lucius did not reply right away.

"If you want to share, of course."

"It's okay." He frowned. "She was... strong. Independent. A great fighter." He stared at the ceiling. "Never allowed me to protect her."

Geta's fingers slid into his curls, stayed there until he began playing with them. It startled Lucius; Geta had not done this before. Never touched him in such a way.

"It, ehm..." He cleared his throat. "It drove me nuts, to be honest."

"That doesn't surprise me," Geta said, lazily winding a curl around his middle finger. "You miss her?"

"Very much." Lucius looked away from him. He could feel Geta's eyes burning in the back of his head.

Geta came closer, his warm breath fanning over the side of his neck. He then ghosted his lips over the shell of Lucius' ear.

"I can't bear it when you're sad," he said, his voice solemn and low. Then he sighed and lowered his head, tucking it between Lucius' chin and shoulder. Lucius did not know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything, just focused on Geta's heartbeat drumming against the side of his ribcage.

"What about your brother? How are you coping with his absence?" Lucius asked, feeling guilty he’d gone so long without asking. Geta said nothing for a long time.

"I feel half-human without him."

Lucius squeezed his arm.

"I'm sorry too."

Geta nodded. Then he added, "I know you were right when you said he would kill me if it came to it." Geta turned his face inwards, talking to the skin of Lucius' neck. "I knew you were right, and that's why I struck you." Geta was crying now.

Lucius nodded. "I assumed so."

Geta swallowed. "I would have never been able to kill him. Never. Not even if I would lose my mind."

Lucius nodded again, looking down at him. Geta was softer than most people gave him credit for.

"How are your wounds?" Lucius asked after letting him cry for a while, changing the subject. "Are they still hurting badly?" Geta nodded without looking at him. "Sometimes less than other times."

"When does it hurt the most?"

"When I sit up, or when I accidentally turn on my stomach."

"Can I see?"

"The wounds?"

"Mm-mm."

"No."

"Why?"

"It's ugly. I don't want you to see it."

"Do you think I care if it's ugly?"

"I care. It looks gross."

"It's not healed yet."

"It will scar. Pius said the scars will be the size of my hand."

"It bothers you?"

"Yes. It does."

"It doesn't matter to me."

"It's not about that. I liked the way I looked. I liked my skin. It will never be like that again. Every time I see my reflection, I will be reminded of terror. It bothers me."

Lucius propped himself up on one elbow, searching Geta's eyes. "I'll teach you how to fight. We'll get you healthy again." He insisted.

Geta shook his head, his cheeks still damp from previous tears. "I will never be the same again. I'll never walk around these halls the same man."

Lucius frowned. "You don't know that."

"Mmm. I do."

Lucius adjusted so he was in the same position again, with Geta's head resting against his shoulder. "We'll take it a day at a time, alright?"

Geta sighed and didn't reply. When Lucius looked down, his eyes were closed again.

"You want to sleep?"

"Yeah."

Lucius brought his hand to Geta's face, letting it rest there protectively. "Sleep then," he said.

Geta murmured something unintelligible. Lucius adjusted a little and yawned himself, letting his eyelids close too. Unexpectedly, he was off in a heartbeat.

When he woke again, it was hot and early in the afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the open window, and his thin tunic clung to his damp torso. Geta’s arm was draped across his chest, his body tucked gently against him. He was lying on his side, deeply asleep. That was good—he probably needed it.

Lucius carefully lifted Geta’s arm off his chest and slid away from him. Geta's breathing remained heavy, his arm falling limp on the bed, palm flat against the mattress. Lucius pressed a kiss on his arm before standing up, leaving him to sleep undisturbed. It had never felt right to leave him, but it was becoming harder and harder the more time he spent with him—like a fabric being pulled tighter with every thread.

If he could, he would have stayed with him all day, all week, making sure his heart kept beating steadily, kissing him, caressing him. But this was not the time. Geta needed his rest to recover, and Lucius had a battle to plan.

----

That night Lucius entered the dining hall. Geta was already sitting at the main table, clearly just awake, looking a bit disheveled with his hair sticking out all over the place.

"I will leave in two weeks," Lucius said, sitting down.

Geta looked up with sleepy eyes. "How long will you be gone?"

"I expect around three or four weeks."

Geta nodded. "Okay."

"When I get back, we’ll start our training sessions, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. In the meantime," Lucius added, "I want you to be careful and stay in bed most of the time. You can have my quarters to yourself. If you’re in pain, tell one of the guards and they’ll get Pius or Ravi. I know you’ll get bored, but please do not go roaming around the gardens or do anything Pius hasn’t advised you to do."

Geta grinned and took a sip of wine. "Okay, father."

Lucius shook his head. "I’m serious."

"I know you are. When are you not?"

"Mmm..." Lucius knitted his brows together. "True."

"I like your solemness. Don’t worry."

Lucius took a bite of his food. "I’ll make sure you have enough to read. I heard you like to read."

Geta nodded, letting his teeth sink into a piece of chicken. "I do, thank you."

Lucius smiled. Watching Geta eat was one of his favorite things in the world.

They finished their meal in a comfortable silence.

After dinner, Lucius went looking for Marcus for the most recent reports on developments along the trade routes.

The news was not good. The Phitians were closing in on Rome’s lifelines—grain from the north, salt from the mines, and trade along the coast. Without these, Rome’s legions wouldn’t march, its cities wouldn’t eat, and its people would face starvation and chaos.

Lucius asked Laurentius to find Mantius, the main military leader of the Roman army, who had replaced Acasius.

Inside, Marcus studied the map, his hand hovering over the grain routes. "They’ll strike here first. If they cut off the grain or seize the salt mines, the people will feel it within days. We can’t protect everything. Where do we hold?"

Lucius stepped forward, scanning the map. "The coast. Without trade, we can’t resupply at all."

Marcus nodded sharply. "And the salt mines?"

"Decoys," Lucius said, thinking aloud. "We let them believe we’re prioritizing the mines while fortifying the coast and the grain routes."

Mantius pointed to the passes. "If we control the high ground here, they’ll walk into a trap."

Lucius’s jaw tightened. "It’s not perfect, but it gives us a chance to keep the people fed."

He walked over to Laurentius at the door. "Could you please send a message to the local governors that I need to speak with them?" Laurentius nodded.

---

The next two weeks, Lucius spent preparing for battle and training his men. He and Geta slept mostly in separate beds, as Lucius often worked late into the night and Geta needed his undisturbed sleep. But when Geta’s nightmares became severe, Lucius would come to his bedside, rub his back, and whisper to him until his breathing calmed.

Sometimes his eyes would drift down to Geta’s full lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them, to slowly part them with his tongue. But he would quickly push those thoughts away. There was still a shyness between them—something Lucius wasn’t willing to break away from just because of impatience. What they had was delicate and precious, and he wanted to savor it. Savor him.

The evening before his departure, he went to find Geta. His horse had been readied, his men were prepared and had been spoken to. Geta put his hands on Lucius’ shoulders. "You will come back to me soon." It was a demand, not a question.

"I will come back to you, soon," Lucius nodded in agreement. "Remember what I told you. Be safe, ask for help."

Geta nodded. He was cold; the evening air left a wave of goosebumps on his arms.

Lucius sighed, feeling more reluctant than ever to leave.

"Lucius?" Marcus was standing at the gate, fully dressed in golden armor. He was too old to go to battle but had refused to stay behind. Lucius nodded at him before returning to Geta.

They just stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Okay, goodbye then," Lucius said after a moment.

Geta nodded. "Goodbye," he said, looking over Lucius' shoulder to Marcus, who had stepped outside. Lucius could hear Geta breathe in before he bent forward and pressed his lips to Lucius' mouth. It was a simple, understated kiss—a promise. Geta grinned when he pulled back, his big eyes devoid of any shyness.

"Now go, you fool. Don’t make them wait."

Lucius nodded and turned on his heel, walking toward his horse.

"Strength and honor!" Geta called after him.

Lucius looked over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Strength and honor."

Please let me know what you think in the comments!

Taglist: @potato1d-blog1, @joan2914

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 32: Love

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Talk about death [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You place a hand over the empty and cold spot on the bed next to you. A sigh escapes you as you go sit upright. Ever since Theo left with the other Death Eaters you haven't slept a wink. Terrible what-ifs running through your mind.

Deciding that you can no longer stay in bed, you make your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. 

As you stand in the dark heating up water, you notice someone entering the kitchen with the point of their wand light up. It's your aunt.

"Do you want to join me?", you ask, your head turned towards her. You see her not from the corner of your eyes and you fill two glasses with boiling water and tea leaves.

The two of you take place at the breakfast table and sit in silence. Narcissa lights a small candle and places it on the table. You trace the rim of your glass, eyes trained on the dark liquid. The air is tense. Narcissa opens her mouth before closing it quickly. She does this a couple of times, not knowing what to say. 

Your head twitches. It has been doing that all night. You rub over your neck as the twitching has been hurting it.

"Since when have you been doing that", asks your aunt, eyeing you warilly.

You shrug, glancing up at her. "Don't know. A while now. It comes and goes."

There is silence between the two of you again. You never were one to talk to her about your problems. It's not something you did. not like she truly cared about you. She only took care of you because you are family and because she feels like it is her duty to the Dark Lord.

"Were you... were you always engaged to Lucius?", you ask, glancing up at her.

Your aunt looks surprised at your question. The two of you never really... talked.

At her silence, you look fully at her. She has an unreadable look on her face, one you've seen a lot lately. "No", she says curtly, "at first it was my sister Andromea who was intended to marry into the Malfoy family."

Andromea? Tonk's mother? "Isn't she married to Ted Tonks?"

Narcissa nods. "Yes. She fell in love with him and ran away from home. Seeing that Bella was already set on marrying Rudolfus, it was my duty to marry Lucius."

"Did you love him when you got married?" Your question is very childlike but brings a smile to the older woman's face.

"I used to have the biggest schoolgirl crush on Lucius at school. He was two years above me. We learned to love each other during our marriage." She has a fond look on her face as she recalls the memories.

The topic of love makes your stomach curl and a lump forms in your throat. Your mouth feels dry and as you go to take a sip, you realise you've already finished your tea. As you look at your cup, your question surprises even you. "The wedding will be soon, right?"

Unable to look your aunt in the face, you focus instead on her hands. Her well-manicured hands tense up before gripping the cup tightly. She stays silent, seeming deep in thought. "It... yes. The Lord has decided that your wedding will be held after Pius Thicknesse is estated as Minister for Magic."

You lean back in your chair, lips pressed firmly together. "And when will that be?"

"The first of August. The Lord has expressed his... expectations of you to be there in his name when the new Minister addressed the people, in the name of the Lord. Two days after that, you and Theodore will be wed."

You're numb. Absolutely numb. They are going to play the fall of the Ministry off as another Tuesday. And now you're supposed to be there to support him. Next to the numbness, a festering sickness bubbles up inside you. 

Standing up, you dig your nails into your palm. "I'm going to try to sleep again. Good night." You turn around and begin to make your way towards the stairs when noise comes from the entrance hall. That can only mean one thing.

You rush towards the entrance hall, your eyes wildly searching around. Fewer Death Eaters came back than left. Some are bleeding the others just stand around, helping each other. The Dark Lord is nowhere to be seen. Bellatrix brushes past you, an unhappy look on her face. 

The air you subconsciously held in escapes your lungs once you spot the only person you care about. You rush towards him, throwing your arms over Theo's shoulders and hugging him tightly. Theo returns the gesture, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug.

"Are you okay?", you whisper, taking a good look at his face. A gasp exits your lips as Theo's face spots a few gashes and cuts, blood smeared all over. You take him by the hand and lead him away, towards your room.

There you make him sit on the bed and scramble around the room for your wand. You cast a few quick healing spells and watch how the blood seeps back into his skin and the cuts clear up. 

Theo's hands are on your middle, gazing up at you as you fuss about. He rubs circles with his thumb before pulling you towards him. He presses his head against your chest as his hands take a good hold of you with no intention of letting you go. You lace your fingers into his hair, running your nails over his scalp. 

He pulls you down with him and wiggles around until the both of you are under the covers. His eyes flicker over every detail of your face as if he's memorising them. All this time he has said nothing. 

The two of you stare at each other in the dark, not saying anything.

"Professor Moody is dead", he croaks suddenly, his face twisted in anguish. "One of the Weasley twins is also injured. I tried not to hurt anyone, just fly with them. I tried to stop them from hurting them." He lets out a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips. You cradle him against your body, pressing kisses on the crown of his head. "I know", you whisper, "I know, Teddy. It's not your fault."

You stay like this, comforting Theo with your presence and watching over him. As his breathing slows down and his iron grip on you somewhat relaxes, you look down at him. His eyes are closed but he has still his eyebrows knitted together, a restless look on his face.

"I love you", you whisper after you're sure he's dead asleep. "I wanted to tell you then, but I was scared. Nobody ever loved me, and that spooked me. But the thought of losing you scares me more than anything else." You gaze at him, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. You nuzzle against him and close your eyes. "I love you, Theodore Nott. And nothing is going to stop me from getting us out here alive."

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[thesilicontribesman]

The Lanchester Roman Diploma

Found by a metal detectorist near Lanchester, Co. Durham, this is the first complete Roman Fleet Diploma to be discovered in the country and reveals the identity of one of Britain's first named sailors.

In the Roman Empire, there were citizens and non-citizens. Being a citizen gave you social and legal advantages. These included the right to own property, not pay some taxes and the right to have a lawful marriage. Most people in Britain at this time were not citizens. One way to become a citizen was to serve in the Roman army for 25 years, or the navy for 26 years. A diploma was the document that proved you had completed military service and could call yourself a Roman citizen.

The Lanchester Diploma was issued by the emperor Antoninus Pius (138-161 CE) to Veluotigernus, a Briton from Lanchester, County Durham, in around 150 CE. To earn his diploma, Veluotigernus had served in Classis Germanica, the Roman navy in Germany. We know his unit was based around Cologne, and that their main duties at this time were patrolling and logistics rather than combat.

It is unusual to be able to identify a local person from this period by name. Veluotigernus' British name ended with '-tigernus', which means 'king or 'master' This suggests that Veluotigernus was from a high-status local family. When he was honourably discharged from the navy, his name, according to the diploma became Titus Aelius Veluotigernus - illustrating that he, like many others, had embraced Roman culture. He is the second oldest known sailor in the country, and one of the few Britons we know to have served in the German fleet.

The diploma is made of a copper alloy. It consisted of two inscribed rectangular bronze plates,like pages in a book. The inside pages contained the complete text, whilst the outside had a shortened version, along with a list of seven witnesses. Each diploma was checked and then sealed to create a single document. It is very unusual to find a complete diploma.

Most diplomas were broken up, and the pieces passed to the recipient's children, allowing each of them to claim Roman citizenship. It is unclear what prompted Veluotigernus to bury the diploma rather than distributing the pieces amongst his close family.

The Museum of Archaeology, Durham University

[amateurvoltaire]

Little Yellow Emperor: the Life of Napoleon in LEGO

The Battle of Waterloo Domain is hosting a LEGO exhibit called "THE LEGEND OF NAPOLEON IN LEGO BRICKS." As a recovering LEGO addict and an eternal fan of 18th/19th-century French history, I simply had to go. After successfully bribing the husband with beer and fries and the children with waffles, we made the trip today.

The exhibition was smaller than I expected, but some of the builds were genuinely impressive. It traces Napoleon's life from his birth in Corsica to his death on Saint Helena—a neat, bite-sized way to introduce his story, and a fun way of recreating history. However, one thing that did bug me a bit: while the audio guide is available in multiple languages, all the wall texts are in French. In a trilingual country, especially at such a touristy site, that feels like a bit of a miss (plus, it gave the Dutch-speaking husband an excuse to grumble).

Gripes aside (1), the exhibit was a lot of fun. Here are my favourite builds.

1. The Campaign in Egypt

This recreation of Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign is absolutely brilliant. The photos don’t do it justice—every detail, from the Sphinx to the busy French camp, is spot on. It's also huge and apparently took close to 70 hours to build! @chickenmadam can you spot Kléber?

2. Napoleon's Coronation as Emperor

The second build, depicting Napoleon's coronation, may be smaller, but it's full of impressive details. I especially loved the grumpy expression on Pope Pius VII’s face, along with the equally unimpressed looks from the rest of the clergy—it really adds character to the scene!

3. The Coup on 18th Brumaire

Again not a very big build but... those red capes... the hats... the outfits —need I say more?

4. Napoleon asks Josephine for a Divorce

This moment is supposed to be, by all accounts, heart-wrenching for everyone involved—Napoleon asking Josephine for a divorce. But, since it’s LEGO, it ends up looking unintentionally hilarious.

5. The Crossing of the Berezina River

This is another brilliant build, capturing what was arguably Napoleon's greatest military disaster. While it's not as large as the Egypt campaign scene, it’s packed with intricate details that make it just as interesting.

6. Napoleon's Civil Code

Yes. He has a GIANT parchment.

7. Daddy Napoleon and his son

Because the King of Rome has a purple teddybear and a grumpy statue of his dad in his room...

Bonus: The Battle of the Arcole Bridge

Not particularly impressive per see as a build, but this is one of my favourite moments in Napoleon's story, so... why not?

Notes

(1) Yes, they recreated the siege of Toulon. No, Bonbon isn't in it. That makes me sad.

[percyposting]

I think a lot about the Ministry and how it works as such a psychological horror. To me at least. When I think about it through Percy’s eyes during the war, it’s definitely horror. With murderers running the departments, people going missing everyday, thousands of arrests being made in such a short amount of time. The fear of it hanging over his head, that one misstep might land him in Azkaban. Maybe people he worked closely with would go missing and he’d just have to move on.

I also think about what it’s like for him to be so close to the Ministers, specifically Scrimgeour and Thicknesse. I find those two very interesting as characters. Scrimgeour is a hypocrite, and he’s not even a very good Minister, but he does die for the good of the people, for Harry and for Dumbledore’s cause. I like to imagine what it was like for Percy to work for him. To know him, then one day he “disappears” and then the next day there’s a new man at the head, Pius, who Percy is just suddenly working for as well. I’ve always found it interesting that each Minister kept Percy on. I know both Fudge and Scrimgeour did it to spy on the Weasleys and possibly Dumbledore and Harry by connection, which was always so futile and silly and showed how desperate they both were because Percy wouldn’t even speak a word of for to his family. But they kept him for that purpose. But then he’s kept with Thicknesse as well. Is this to keep spying? Or is it not to raise suspicion about their silent coup? I don’t think it’s either of these because I firstly, the Death Eaters had different means of spying on the Weasleys. They would track their every move. They didn’t need him. So this is an obvious no to me. And in regard to keeping suspicions low, I feel there’s nothing suspicious about changing staff for a new head of government. It’s normal, even for wizards, I’m sure.

So then why was he kept on? I honestly don’t know. Maybe I’m bad at analyzing this, but some reasons I can think of would be a way to trap him without imprisoning him. They keep him stuck under an imperiused Minister and keep an eye on him. Maybe they’re waiting for him to slip up.

I don’t believe for a second the idea they keep him on because they see any actual value in him. Even if Percy denounced his family on every level, they would still see him as a blood traitor and a Weasley. I don’t think that he’d be the exception when it comes to their suspicion about the Weasleys. One of the biggest flaws the Death Eaters/blood purists have is that they assign a label to those they deem lesser then never view them as anything other than that label. Percy is a Weasley, and to be a Weasley is to be a blood traitor. No amount of personal denouncing will change that, in my opinion! So I don’t think they keep him on because they feel he’s chill, or something. I think it’s more of a, we keep you here, we keep an eye on you, kind of thing. They put him in the perfect position to be tracked and studied and they wait for him to slip up so they can imprison him as a traitor.

That leads me back to the whole psychological horror element. All of this feels like horror to me. Percy talks about trying to avoid imprisonment at the end of Deathly Hallows but I feel the truth is he was imprisoned. In the Ministry. I can’t imagine what it was like to serve under a Minister you must know is being controlled — I always liked and subscribed to the idea that Percy knew Thicknesse wasn’t himself. Does this make sense in terms of how he acts towards him at the end of Deathly Hallows? No! But I believe it anyway.

After all this thinking, it makes sense for one to come to the conclusion that Percy would never return to the Ministry again. There will always be something haunted about it to him. After Scrimgeour, especially. All it would be is a graveyard.

[ancientcharm]

Wikipedia article that is only available in Spanish. I translated into English some abstract to share here. I always wanted to write a post about that "Antonine dynasty" fallacy. Luckily I found someone who explains much better

Ulpia-Aelia Dynasty

Ulpia-Aelia Dynasty is the new name proposed by Alicia M. Canto and adopted by a sector of current historiography to refer to the seven emperors of the Roman Empire, from Nerva to Comodo. Specifically includes emperors Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius and his co-emperor Lucius Verus.

Doctrinal approaches

Unlike other dynasties such as the Julio-Claudian dynasty, the Flavian dynasty or the Severan dynasty, there is no agreement in Ancient History on how to group and name the emperors of the 2nd century, "the best century in the history of Humanity" according the British historian Edward Gibbon.

The most used definitions from the 18th century until today have been and are "the Antonines", "the Good Emperors" and "the Adoptive Emperors". There were only two Antonine: Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, and both were, above all, two Aelii (from the Aelia family). The adoptions were just a political cosmetic operation, but they did not comply with the ideal principles of adoption described by Galba or Pliny the Younger.

The inappropriateness of these three universal classifications is more evident in the face of the 48 ancient texts that demonstrate that throughout that century there existed an authentic dynasty, of Hispanic origins and roots, whose real link was not the adoptions, but the line of blood and kinship, entrusted to the women of the dynasty, who transmitted the legitimacy to inherit the throne: Pompeia Plotina, Vibia Sabina, Matidia the Younger, and both Annias, the so-called Faustina the Elder and Faustina the Younger, ending in Commodus.

After the elderly Nerva as a necessary introducer, the following six emperors: Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus and Commodus - externi (foreigners) according to the Roman historian Aurelius Victor - form an authentic lineage.

All this led Maria M. Canto to propose the term "Ulpio-Aelia", "the Ulpii Aelii", to define the true dynasty of Hispanic origin that goes from Trajan to Commodus (98-192 AD). Some ancient authors, such greek historian Herodian, demonstrate that the Romans themselves did see Commodus as a direct descendant of Trajan, katá thêlugonía ("by the maternal line"), that is, through the aforementioned empresses, and as "A fourth generation emperor".

The reason why names such as "the Antonine dynasty" or "the Antonine emperors" have universally triumphed is not found in ancient texts, but in the European historiography of the 17th and 18th centuries, whose arguments in this sense, although they do not find real foundation in the texts, have been so generally accepted until now.

The new proposal has already been accepted by authors such as José María Blázquez,​ the Italian expert Anna Maria Reggiani, among others,​ and the definition can be seen integrated even in some university subject programs. Although, without a doubt, two and a half centuries of historiographic tradition is still very decisive in favor of the other definitions in use.

​Alicia María Canto y de Gregorio (Havana, April 23, 1949 – Madrid, March 4, 2024), known as Alicia M. Canto, was a Spanish archaeologist and epigrapher. In 2011 she was appointed corresponding academic of the Royal Academy of History.

Nerva was chosen just as transitional ruler following the assassination of Emperor Domitian. Except him, the successors of "his dynasty" were related.

I'm really sick of hearing things such "Marcus Aurelius broke tradition by choosing moron Commodus just because he was his son; He made a serious mistake".

None of those emperors were chosen after going through a casting. Trajan's adoptive successor was his nephew, the only male relative he had, plus was married to Trajan's great-niece. Hadrian would have been emperor if Trajan had had a son? Marcus Aurelius and his wife Faustina were descendants of Trajan, he on his father's side and she on his mother's side. Marcus Aurelius did nothing more than continue the true tradition of his family.

Just as Augustus' dynasty is known as the Julio-Claudian, ending with Nero, Trajan's is the Ulpia-Aelia dynasty and ending with Commodus. And in my opinion the term Nerva Antonine dynasty, which I find in all English articles, simply doesn't make sense.

[sketchyorsomething]

Okay so, just wanted to summarize my impressions from today:

I already mentioned Oberstdorf being super full and bursting of people and it was really difficult to find a place to eat afterwards (also one of my favourite restaurants in Oberstdorf closes after new year so that makes me sad). And there were quite a lot of drunk men, which obviously is always a pleasure. And Johannes Rydzek was the commentator! I'll see how many people will be on the mountain tomorrow

Then, I'm super sad for Stephan. He had such a good training jump and then that competition jump :( he also wasn't in the outrun for Pius and I don't know were he disappeared to. Although I couldn't really see the jumpers after their jump because I was seated at the opposite side of their exit (Block E2, but I could watch the jumps very well so thats a plus). However I could spot some from the distance and with that: does anyone know what Hille's mission was in the second round? He stood with his family for the most time and suddenly he started sprinting towards the elevator (didn't even stop for signing stuff). He went uphill and came back a few minutes later like nothing ever happened. And for other jumpers that I randomly spotted: There was someone in a german team jacket and a manner head but it wasn't Pius (he didn't have a beard). I guessed Justin but has anybody a proof? (And on that note: Do you think he and Selina are still together? Last year they posted something to christmas but this year there was nothing. Though, they are still following each other on Instagram i think)

Other things that happened: two guys complimented my poster while the family behind us wondered why I spelled Wellinger "Wellingair". Also there was a group with a jamaican flag. It was gigantic but it blocked my view and I didn't really get what they wanted to achieve with it

So yeah, I think this concludes it :)