ids-center

Today is the Ides of March—infamous day of Julius Caesar’s assassination in ancient Rome in 44 B.C. The “Ides” were part of the Roman calendar, signifying the midpoint of the month.

In his diary entry on the Ides 60 years ago today, the Getty’s founder J. Paul Getty wrote, “2000 years ago today Julius Caesar was assassinated. I have always considered him as the ablest man that history records. A consummate statesman, politician, general, orator, prose writer, builder and a very human man with great personal charm. For his day he was a man of good character and kindness. His one great weakness was his inability to distinguish between the possible and the impossible. Had he lived another 15 or 20 years the history of the world might have been different.”

Fun fact: the month of July is named after Julius Caesar, who was divinized by the Romans after his death.

Artwork: Julius Caesar from the calendar pages of the Stammheim Missal, an illuminated manuscript made around A.D. 1170. It’s currently on display in the exhibition Remembering Antiquity: The Ancient World Through Medieval Eyes at the Getty Center.

honestly, with the philly pride flag adding brown and black stripes, it got me thinking that maybe they should be on the trans flag as well? in the center id think, because twoc have always been community leaders

Summary: After Betty confronts her dad about Polly’s and Jason’s engagement as well as learning about the Coopers - Blossoms feud, there’s only one person that can take her mind off things. (Takes place after Betty’s and Hal’s fight and before Bughead’s scene at the Blue & Gold.)

(Taking a small break from your prompt requests to write something that stuck in my head and I had to get it out lol. I was listening to Let It All Go by Birdy feat. Rhodes and I had way too many feels so yeah… Hope you like it guys!!)


The Hitchcock blonde was once again locked in her floral pastel room that nowadays didn’t seem to match the air of depression that spread around the whole town and, most specifically, this very house. Soft music was playing in the background, the girl wanting to silence down the million thoughts that were running inside her head and suppress her still boiling anger and deep disappointment at both her parents. Usually, her mother would always win first place in the list of people Betty felt smothered by but after that evening, her dad was ranking a close second. She was at least thankful that he had the good sense to let her be, keeping himself busy in the house office downstairs for hours.

Dear Diary,

I don’t even know who my parents are anymore. How can the two people that are supposed to be everyone’s most valuable confidants in life, hide behind so many lies and weave webs of conspiracy and mystery around innocent teenage kids? How can I not know what is going on in my own house, with my own sister? They keep pushing me to drop the subject, stop snooping around and bury it all under the carpet like they did and for what? An idiotic vendetta that probably costed the life of two kids that did nothing wrong but fell in love. Why do we have to break so hard? Why does my life get to be filled with such uncertainty and fear of what the future will reveal next? I dread even to think about the obvious, I try so hard to hold my mind back, for it to not go there but it is already there and I feel scared. Sometimes I wish I was just another person, the identity of Elizabeth Cooper to not weight so much on my shoulders…”

The characteristic sound of pen against paper stopped and the red ink covered peak hovered over the rest of the empty line, Betty taking a moment to breath and slow down the gradually quicker raise and fall of her chest. One of her usual panic attacks was the last thing she needed right now, she thought and closed her eyes, dropping her head back against the wall, clutching the teal cover of her diary inside her icy cold fingers. She didn’t know how many hours had spent there, sitting on the wooden bench of her window and pouring into paper the anger and extreme sense of unfairness she felt after the fight she had hours ago with her father. But the worst of all, she felt hopeless, too small in a secret too big for her to handle, something that made her eyes whale up with tears again. She brought a palm to softly swipe the corner of her right eye in hopes of stopping the waterfalls but she failed, letting them finally be and watching as they soaked the paper in small shy droplets.

The chime of her phone had her eyes lazily turning to the side to face the machine, not in the mood of interacting with people right now. The message that brightened the screen surprised her though.

Don’t cry. Please.

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