it was the principle gate of Colonia Julia Fanestris, a colonia established in the town of Fanum Fortunae (temple of Fortuna) by the Roman architect Vitruvius at the command of the Emperor Augustus, in commemoration of the victory over the Carthaginian general Hasdrubal Barca in the Battle of Metauro during the Second Punic War.
Constructed at the point at which the via Flaminia met the decumanus maximus of the city, the monument is dated to 9 CE by means of an inscription located on the frieze, with large characters carved in the rock which were once gilded in bronze. The inscription reports:
IMP. CESAR DIVI F. AVGVSTVS PONTIFEX MAXIMVS COS. XIII TRIBVNICIA POTESTATE XXXII IMP. XXVI PATER PATRIAE MURVM DEDIT
Imperator Caesar Augustus son of a god, Pontifex Maximus, Consul 13 times, recipient of tribunician power 32 times, acclaimed imperator 26 times, father of his country donated this wall.
Faced with opus quadratum from blocks of Istrian stone, the monument consists of two minor lateral arches and a larger central arch: the keystone of the latter is decorated with an image of an animal which is no longer recognisable but which most probably depicted an elephant. The main body, still well preserved, supported a large attic which is now lost, with a Corinthian pseudo-portico, in which there were seven arched windows separated by eight pseudo-columns.
// Contemporary Romance // Adult Fiction // Sexual & Explicit Language — it’s mildly smutty later on
A/N: This is my take on a requested CEO!au. I made this a mix of other concepts from the drabble list: “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” “I don’t want to hide this anymore. I’m not some dirty little secret.”
My hand grips onto my phone while sitting in the back seat of the car service. It weaves in and out through traffic as the driver makes it way to Arcola National Public Library. A part of me dreads the end of this drive and a part of me just wants the night to stop here and now right on the chaotic road without having to attend this philanthropy gala. But instead, I focus all of my professional attention onto the call with my stern and clear voice accentuating every word. "Yes, sir. I’ll be there in seven minutes.”
‘Seven. You’re always so exact,’ he chuckles and I can already imagine his laughter; how his head tilts and shakes mildly from side to side. ‘And also—sir? You know I prefer it when you use my name.’
I ingrain his pitch into my head and soul, knowing far well this will be my very last phone conversation with him. “Yes, but you are my boss and I’m your executive assistant, Sehun. Sir is the appropriate form of address.”
‘That may be true but you didn’t say that yesterday night.’
“Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.” for Harding/Krem?
“So,” said The Iron Bull, upon finishing the note his lieutenant had given him, “you received a note about a secret assignation from your girlfriend, who has been away for over a month, and your first thought was of me?” He chuckled, propped his bad leg back up on the bench in front of him, and leaned his chair back on two legs. It creaked ominously under his weight. “I’m flattered, Krem-de-la-Krem, but I really think–”
Krem felt his face heat with anger and not a little embarassment, “It is not that kind of meeting, Boss, it’s not like that. I mean she’s not really my girlfriend… yet… I don’t think…” He grew frustrated at Bull’s knowing look, which was really worse than further teasing. “We don’t have assignations, all right? Lace isn’t the assignation type and–”
“You don’t know what the word “assignation” means, do ya, Krem?”
“–AND ANYWAY this is obviously about some kind of trouble, and I think I ought to take some backup,” he finished with a decisive nod.
Bull looked at him dubiously, and then at the note more dubiously, then shrugged, “Whatever you say. You know, if you wanted a chaperone you could have just asked.”
Krem groaned, then trudged away to gather his armor.
The bridge was newly constructed by one of the Commander’s work crews, the stones were unworn and undirtied, and some reflected moonlight on their facets. It was quiet here, as the road was not yet in use after construction finished. He could hear the wind in the trees, and the rush of the brook at the bottom of the ravine. Krem’s armored footsteps were the loudest sound in the night. Bull’s were the second loudest.
Harding was sitting on a small recess right above the keystone of the arch. She was not armored. She was wearing a dress, and her hair was loose from its normal bun. The dress was trimmed with lace, like her name. She had turned to smile at him when he approached, but it faltered a bit when she saw Bull was a few paces behind.
Krem stopped in his tracks. He felt embarrassment rush over him again, “I– ah, I thought from your note that there might be trouble here so I… brought backup.”
Harding did an admirable job of stifling her laughter, but she was at least still smiling at him, so that was something. “That’s very… conscientious of you, Cremisius.”
Behind him, Bull muttered, “Now you see this is an–”
Constructed in 1820, the Poinsett Bridge is one of the oldest spans extant in South Carolina. Its impressive construction of wedge shaped rocks, erected without concrete, has pointed Gothic arches that are rare in the state today. The bridge was part of the State Road from Charleston through Columbia to North Carolina that was designed in 1817-1819 by Joel Poinsett, director of the South Carolina Board of Public Works. The bridge was named in his honor. Poinsett also served as Secretary of War, Minister to Mexico, and first president of the National Institute for the Promotion of Science, forerunner of the Smithsonian. It is believed that Robert Mills designed the bridge. Mills became State Architect and Engineer for the South Carolina Board of Public Works in 1820. A brush drawing by Mills of a bridge with Gothic arches and keystone identical to those of Poinsett Bridge lends credence to the belief that Mills designed the bridge. Listed in the National Register October 22, 1970.
“In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves… And then, in that very moment when I love them… I destroy them.”
-Ender Wiggin, explaining why Puff Secondaries can be frakkin’ terrifying
The thing about Hufflepuff Secondaries is that they really mean it.
They’re not often as direct as Gryffindors, as precise as Ravenclaws, or as adaptable as Slytherins, but there is a stunning genuineness to Hufflepuff Secondaries. Where a Gryffindor has an outward-facing self, a Hufflepuff is open and straightforward with how they care.
Like all the secondaries, the Hufflepuff secondary can be co-morbid with any of the primaries: A Slytherin Primary whose favorite game is kindness, A Hufflepuff Primary whose drive to service and community informs not just why they act but how. A Ravenclaw Primary who has constructed Hufflepuff’s system of caretaking and support. A Gryffindor Primary with an intuitive grasp of the inherent value of every individual life.
At their worst, Hufflepuff Secondaries are bitter and passive aggressive doormats, or self-destructive caretakers who neglect their own needs to disastrous ends. At their best, they don’t merely bring comfort, light and warmth to the world, but build thriving, supportive communities that can accomplish amazing things.
With the sun already low in the sky, I dove into my shiny black Mustang GT and hit the winding back roads of Berkshire County. With the bright orange evening sun at my back, I had no specific destination in mind.
However, in about 20 minutes, I found myself parked at the opening of Herbert Cross Road leading down to the breath-taking Keystone Arch Bridge trail. The trail snakes around the beautiful Westfield River and is home to keystone arch bridges built throughout the 1830s as well as dozens of beautiful waterfalls.
As it was already getting quite dark by the time I arrived, I didn’t stray too far from the first bridge, but managed to capture the beautiful cascades nearby. I was even treated to watching a long freight train pass over the old doublearch bridge.
It was a beautiful view in the evening and only provided more incentive to return again.
I went to this place last week and it was breath-taking. It’s a very long hike through the entire keystone arch bridge area, so I’m going back in the morning with my gear to get some more amazing shots of the other bridges.