#Also This is not part of mythology or any Historical Texts! I made this my own

[hellany]

☆Himitsu is both my Record of ragnarok and saint oniisan oc but different storylines but same lore (though I mostly use her in Ror)☆

[ Saint oniisan☆

In saint oniisan Himitsu disguises herself as a human and plays as Matsuda's 'granddaughter' in order to spy on buddha and jesus (not a stalker way) Buddha does find Himitsu suspicious but he tries to ignore it...

Record of ragnarok♧

Also in Record of Ragnarok Himitsu was banished from the pantheon because of her twisted nature by Buddha and due to a certain 'incident' and locked her up in the lowest level of Naraka 'Avici' as it drove Himitsu insane as her desire to escape and get revenge grew... ]

Who knows if she's a goddess or not.

[merymoonbeam]

Book of Breathings - Elain - Ankh Symbol

First of all this is tied to my "a tool of creation" theory so you can read that first if you want.

We first learned about book of breathings in acomaf. To nullify the Cauldron.

“When the Cauldron was made,” the carver interrupted, “its dark maker used the last of the molten ore to forge a book. The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power—or control it wholly. But after the War, it was split into two pieces. One went to the Fae, one to the six human queens. It was part of the Treaty, purely symbolic, as the Cauldron had been lost for millennia and considered mere myth. The Book was believed harmless, because like calls to like—and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power. No creature born of the earth may wield it, so the High Lords and humans dismissed it as little more than a historical heirloom, but if the Book were in the hands of something reforged … You would have to test such a theory, of course—but … it might be possible.” (acomaf)

And as the books went on...we got the two half of the books and finally the book is somehow in cc world.

So lets start with this theory post.

The name of the book comes from Egyptian Mythology

The Books of Breathing (Arabic: كتاب التنفس Kitāb al-Tanafus) are several ancient Egyptian funerary texts, intended to enable deceased people to continue existing in the afterlife. The earliest known copy dates to circa 350 BC.[1] Other copies come from the Ptolemaic Kingdom and Roman Egypt, as late as the 2nd century AD.[2] It is a simplified form of the Book of the Dead

This information will be important for later. And in the meantime I made a post about koshei's onyx box connecting to this if you wanna read it.

Okay moving on...

I was looking at acotar coloring book pages and book of breathings drawing is... interesting.

Side not: sarah got the deals for the acotar books and then worked on the coloring book so I think this is important to add bc she LOVES to add hints as little things and whats better to add than a coloring book?

The circles of silver, gold and bronz.

It had been formed of dark metal plates bound on three rings of gold, silver, and bronze, each word carved with painstaking precision, in an alphabet I could not recognize. Yes, it indeed turned out my reading lessons were unnecessary.

I think these might be related to the book names of the new acotar books.

Silver flames

Gold(en) XX

Bronz XX (for vassa maybe? Bc she is a bird of flame...flame and bronze???)

Okay back to the other things.

The star(sun?) in the middle. When you first look at it it is like a sun but when you take into account that the asteri made this book and there is the starborn symbol of 8pointed star...its probably an eight pointed star.

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” (acomaf)

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” (hofas)

“I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamed of,” Rigelus promised. “The language inked on your back—it is our language. From our home world. I can teach you how to wield it. Any world might be open to you, Bryce Quinlan. Name the world, and it shall be yours.”(hofas)

Also in the coloring book the ships of the papa archeron have these on them.

Feyre: moon and stars

Nesta: sun?

Elain: eight pointed star 👀

So for feyre it checks out. For nesta...why sun? When she had eight pointed star tattoed on her back(tho now it is gone after the deal with cassian is done) I thought what could the sun mean? The cover of acosf.

That's a sun. Also it is interesting that the High Lord of Day had such a negative reaction to the mask...🤔

And now... eight pointed star for elain? That remains to be seen what it could mean...👀

So thats out of the way and now we will look into the symbol at the bottom and top which I found out is the symbol of Ankh...from Egyptian Mythology.

The ankh or key of life is an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic symbol used to represent the word for "life" and, by extension, as a symbol of life itself.

The ankh has a T-shape topped by a droplet-shaped loop. It was used in writing as a triliteral sign, representing a sequence of three consonants, Ꜥ-n-ḫ. This sequence was found in several Egyptian words, including the terms for "mirror", "floral bouquet", and "life". The symbol often appeared in Egyptian art as a physical object representing either life or related life-giving substances such as air or water. Commonly depicted in the hands of ancient Egyptian deities, sometimes being given by them to the pharaoh, it represents their power to sustain life and to revive human souls in the afterlife.

Life...soul? We always say how Nesta is death and Elain got the life. Maybe it is more correct than we had thought???

And now the bird on the cover. There is no mention of bird symbol being on the cover of the book.(Im pretty sure of this but if Im wrong...it still stand that the only quote the book of breathings has said with bird is this) So why add bird? The only time Book of Breathings is connected with a bird is this quote:

The other one, the Book hissed. Bring the other one … let us be joined, let us be free. I slid the Book from my pocket, tucking it into the crook of my arm as I tugged the second half free. Lovely girl, beautiful bird—so sweet, so generous … Together together together

Which I totally think it is about Elain and Vassa.

Lovely girl? Elain. There is SO MANY quotes with elain and lovely.

Beautiful bird? Vassa...bird of flame.

And I made a bigger post about this(the other one) if you wanna read it.

So maybe we really need to get the book of breathings back? And Elain will use it to control cauldron?

[kylobith]

The Languages and Linguistics of Middle Earth

Gin suilannon!

In the context of my minor programme in Celtic studies and languages, I am following a course called From Táin to Tolkien and Beyond, and today, we had a guest lecture about the languages of Middle Earth, more particularly Sindarin. Since it might be useful to some of you (out of curiosity or for your fanfictions), I thought I would share my notes and my conversations with the guest lecturer here. This was a very linguistics-driven lecture, so I will try to add explanations where I can and, hopefully, make the information more accessible. If you have any questions, you can react to this post or DM me! And beware, this is a very long post. So, without further ado, here is what I learnt.

✽ Notes on Historical Linguistics, Manuscript Tradition and the Languages of Tolkien's Middle Earth by Dr. Aaron Griffith

✣ Shared histories of languages and manuscripts are often visualised with tree diagrams to see the evolution and how they branch out

✣ Little material was published about Middle-Earth and the Elves during Tolkien's lifetime -> Most of it is part of the Legendarium -> Main periods of writing (here we only mentioned the writing processes or when a project was finished, not when they were published): - The Lost Tales (1916-1926): infancy of the Elvish languages - Sketch of The Silmarillion (1926-1930): revision of The Lost Tales and some changes brought to Elvish - Quenta Noldorinna (1930): further reworking and significant expansion of the sketch - The Hobbit (1933): originally intended as an unrelated story - Quenta Silmarillion (1937): fullest expansion of The Lost Tales and significant refinement of the languages - The Lord of the Rings (1950s): use of the mythology of all the earlier writings as a basis, reworking of the languages and massive changes in their interrelations - The Silmarillion (post-1948): based on Quenta Silmarillion, which was heavily revised after The Lord of the Rings

✣ Tolkien rarely dated his works and compositions, so it is difficult to establish a precise creative process or linear chronology of the changes brought to Middle Earth. However, he did leave us some clues: - Absolute Dating -> occasionally, Tolkien did attach dates to his manuscripts, but it remained a rare occurrence - Relative Chronology -> some compositions are dependent on changes to earlier works, so a logical chronology can be estimated (this can also be made possible by the scrap papers from Tolkien's personal records and drafts) - Handwriting -> can be misleading, but it can be a helpful tool to date pieces of distinctly different chronological layers - Nomenclature -> Tolkien frequently changed character names, so particular names can be matched with letters and extracts in which they appear - Christopher Tolkien -> his manuscript order from the twelve-volume The History of Middle-Earth series

✣ Critical asymmetry -> languages frequently split into dialects and other languages of their own, but when manuscripts are retraced according to their version of the same text (think of Arthurian romances and oral tradition being recorded at different points in time and therefore presenting different themes or characters), narratives (stories) cannot be regrouped as easily -> However, there are 2 relations between stories and languages: 1. How changes can propagate in a language system or narrative tradition 2. The relations of language families in real- (at the time of composition) or book-time (time as it passes in the stories)

✣ In natural language, change moves forward in time. This is a trend which also applies for errors in manuscript copies (irregularities in tropes, character changes, etc.)

✣ In stories, a plot development can be carried forward just like a sound can evolve in a language. However, change can occur backwards, too. For example, if a character's ancestry is modified, this can change the whole manuscript history of the story being written (by this, understand that the story must be readapted to fit the new information to maintain some consistency).

✣ Historical linguistics is concerned with the study of language change and the formation of language families (Romance languages, Germanic languages, Slavic languages, etc.). It does so by examining and comparing systems from different languages to see if they can be retraced to an original, common system (Welsh and Irish stemming from Proto-Celtic, for instance).

✣ Some of Tolkien's languages were intended to be related. The following languages and dialects are related in a clear, 'historical' structure, which mimics the way that languages evolve in our world: - Quenya - Sindarin - Lindarin - Noldorin - Telerin - Doriathrin - Ilkorin

✣ Elvish languages were constantly revised by Tolkien, making it challenging to determine a single 'history' (or creative process) of Elvish tongues. In their case, it is more accurate to speak of a series of histories or continua, which refer to the times at which Tolkien brought significant changes (often 1916, 1937 and post-1948). A tree diagram is thus no longer fitting to visualise them all. The diagrams overlap in a three-dimensional visualisation instead, with each layer representing the changes of each major revision.

✣ Some changes were brought solely for aesthetic purposes. Tolkien found the phonetics of Welsh and Finnish particularly pleasing to the ear and, therefore, based Sindarin and Quenya on their structures. As you probably already know, these are the two most-developed languages in the lore of Middle Earth, but he fleshed out at least four other Elvish languages (Telerin, Ilkorin, Doriathrin and Danian). There were generally more changes in Quenya (abbreviated Q).

✣ What was originally Noldorin (abbreviated N) in the 1916 and 1937 versions is now Sindarin (abbreviated S). After 1948, Noldorin became a dialect of its own, and its place in the language tree shifted. The terms and grammar remained rather consistent from one version to the next. -> example: 1916: N Balrog 'fire demon' (bal- 'anguish' + -róg 'strong') 1937: N Balrog 'fire demon' (bal- 'torment' + rhaug 'demon') 1948: S Balrog 'demon of might' (bal- 'might' + raug 'demon')

✣ Such modifications reflected the major changes brought to the stories (especially to what we now know as The Silmarillion), but they also mirror the natural linguistics evolution of real-life languages. This causes a problem, namely in the emergence of 'linguistic orphans', or words whose etymology was no longer valid because the linguistic or sound laws that birthed them in the first place were removed. -> example: Eärendil (Q 'lover of the sea', ayar- 'sea' + -ndil 'lover') 1916: eären was the genitive form (or possessive form) of eär, so the compound made sense. 1937: eäron replaced eären, but Tolkien remained particularly attached to the previous version because of the Old English éarendel -> this created a disruption in etymology, so he declared that eär/eären meant 'sea'

✣ Major sound changes introduced with The Lord of the Rings

✣ Tolkien introduced lenition in some grammatical cases. In Celtic languages, it is a rather common occurrence. It consists in the softening of a consonant at the start of a word according to certain rules. For example, the sound [p] is softened into a [b]. My knowledge of Irish is non-existent, but it is something which happens in Middle Welsh (c.1100-c.1400) and Modern Welsh. -> example: before 1972, Tolkien suggested that the name Gil-Galad ('star of brilliance', 'brilliant star') was lenited, which means that the second component of the name stems from the word calad (lenition causes the c to soften into a g). -> However, he stated in a letter in 1972 that lenition no longer occurred if 'the second noun functions as an uninflected genitive' (in other words, that the possessive is not marked with an apostrophe, 'of the', or any other marker that applied in Sindarin). This explains the merging of ost 'start' + giliath 'fortress' into Osgiliath 'fortress of the start'. If giliath was lenited, the name would instead be Osiliath or Ostiliath (when lenited, g disappears at the head of the noun). -> There is one noted inconsistency regarding the 'rule' above, and it is the case of Eryn Vorn 'Dark Forest'/'Forest of Darkness'. Eryn is a plural form of oron 'tree' and morn acts as a noun (but it is usually the adjective for 'black, dark' and morne is the noun referring to 'darkness, blackness'). Due to Welsh vowel change rules in certain plural forms, morn becomes myrn, and this very same plural form should accompany eryn (both adjective and noun adopt a plural form). Instead, we find a singular form of morn which is lenited (m becomes v). This is possibly an error accidentally left in by Tolkien.

✣ The nature of Noldorin/Sindarin makes Elvish languages rather realistic in their evolution compared to real-life languages, because irregularities occur. Dr. Griffith argues that languages naturally show irregularity because of gradual changes and borrowed words, but he acknowledges that accidents are sometimes just that. Accidents.

✽ Notes on the lecture by Dr. Aaron Griffith

✣ A general interest in creating new languages emerged in the 19th century. It was believed to be a tool which could help resolve political conflicts by creating a sense of cohesion and avoiding miscommunication. This is evident in the creation of Esperanto.

✣ In most cases of invented languages, the language was invented first, and the world or context they belonged to was formed from there. Tolkien worked exactly the other way around.

✣ Tolkien aimed to create an English myth, because he considered that England lacked its own mythology. King Arthur is generally considered Celtic in essence (possibly Welsh) and therefore could not apply as an English myth. This could explain why he retained the Gregorian calendar throughout The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It served as a familiar bridge between Middle Earth and England/the real world.

✣ In original maps of Beleriand, there used to be land west of Ered Luin (the Blue Mountains northwest of the Shire). This was changed in later maps, which Tolkien designed and drew himself. Often, Arda was depicted as a globe with several continents. Afterwards, Tolkien decided that Arda was, in fact, flat.

✣ Backstory of the Elves (I have no knowledge of The Silmarillion, so if I did not use the right terms or names, please feel free to correct me!): - Elves first came into existence in Cuiviénen and were invited by the Valar to join them in Valinor, meaning that they had to cross the continent and the ocean - Not all Elves made it to Valinor, however. Some decided to separate from the main group and settled in different areas of Middle Earth, like in Greenwood (later known as Mirkwood). This caused the language they spoke to evolve into different dialects and, sometimes, completely separate languages - Elves returned to Middle Earth after the war against Morgoth (S; Q Melkor), aided by Númenorians - The West was physically separated from the rest of Arda by a 'cut' through the ocean. The gods then shaped Arda into a globe, but once past the portal to the Undying Lands, it was flat again.

✣ Most often, Tolkien did not provide translations of the phrases he peppered into his works, mostly because he believed that nobody would be interested in them. Once he received enthusiastic letters from readers, he decided to attach them to later versions. He did regret publishing the appendices of The Lord of the Rings, however, because the changes felt too 'final' and he felt as though he took away his own liberty to make further revisions to the material (once it's published, you cannot go back).

✣ Tolkien created quite a lot of poetry to match the phonological aesthetics of Sindarin and Quenya.

✣ Outside The Lord of the Rings, the longest source we have in Sindarin is The King's Letter, which was originally supposed to be part of the epilogue in The Return of the King but was not in the final version because he wrote it in the 1970s. In this letter written entirely in Sindarin, Aragorn (then King Elessar) invites Sam, Rosie, and their children to visit him and Arwen in Minas Tirith.

✣ Sindarin grammar is tricky to reconstruct because of the lack of sources on the matter and the complicated grammar revisions that Tolkien brought. However, we do know that it is loosely based on Welsh, which he confirmed in 'English and Welsh' in The Monsters and the Critics (published posthumously in 1983). He aimed to recreate the same 'pleasant' sounds that he found in Welsh for Sindarin. If the reader knows how to pronounce the Welsh alphabet, then they can easily pronounce Sindarin.

✣ Secondary sources on Sindarin: - A Gateway to Sindarin by David Salo. Salo worked as a language consultant on the films, but his book has been criticised by Tolkien scholars because it tends to ignore the changes between 1937 and 1948 and it treats Noldorin as a dialect of Sindarin, which is no longer the case from 1948 onwards. - The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-Earth by Ruth S. Noel

✣ Primary sources are very incomplete, but the main ones we can use to observe the language are the following publications: - The Lord of the Rings - The Lost Road and Other Writings - The War of the Jewels - The Peoples of Middle-Earth

✣ As established in the previous section, Sindarin follows some of the grammatical rules present in Welsh and pre-modern Welsh. We encounter mutations, especially lenition (also called 'soft mutation' because of the sounds becoming softer, e.g. p becoming b), and they play a crucial role in the structure of Sindarin. Below is a comparison of soft mutation/lenition in the context of Welsh and then in Sindarin. -> Welsh: dyn 'man' + teg 'attractive' = dyn teg 'attractive man' merch 'girl' + teg 'attractive' = merch deg 'attractive girl' -> soft mutation after a feminine noun, t is softened into a d -> Sindarin: Perhael 'Samwise' (literally 'half-wise') Berhael 'Samwise' -> lenition when used as a direct object in a clause, p softened into a b Carm Dum 'Red Valley' (capital of Angmar) -> uses tum 'valley', but it is lenited when acting as an adjective or an adverb, t softened into a d

✣ Other forms of mutations exist in Sindarin, but this part of the lecture is quite technical and does require a basic knowledge of Welsh or Middle Welsh to be comprehensible. Feel free to message me if you wish to know more about them.

✣ Mutations arose from sound changes that affected phrases (intonational units). In other words, they are groups of words that have a single principal accent (or stress) to fluidify the manner of speech and convey a sense of emphasis. For instance, not every word is stressed separately in the sentence 'I am going to the supermarket'. The stress is applied by the speaker to highlight their meaning. Is 'I' emphasised to insist that it is 'I' who is going to the supermarket? Is 'supermarket' stressed to insist that it is the supermarket that I am going to, and not another location?

✣ Mutations are inherited from Welsh and its earlier forms. The same is true between Pre-Sindarin (or what Tolkien then referred to as Noldorin) and Sindarin. -> Welsh: atar evolved into adar 'bird' (lenition of t into a d) -> Sindarin: atar evolved into adar 'father' (same pattern)

✣ No cases in Sindarin verbs, unlike in Quenya. This means that there is no Nominative, Genitive, Dative or Accusative.

✣ Like in Welsh, again, some plural forms of nouns involve what we call a vowel change. This means that according to a regular pattern, the vowels contained within a noun are not the same between their singular and their plural forms. In Sindarin, the vowel change and suffixes help to mark plurals. As far as I'm aware, the changes are identical in Welsh, so if you wish to use Sindarin in your own work, have a look at the vowel changes rules and you should be able to form your own plurals. Please note that it occurs with both non-final and final syllables. -> examples: - adan 'man' -> edain 'men' - certh 'rune' -> cirth 'runes' - annon 'gate' -> ennyn 'gates' - amon 'hill' -> emyn 'hills' - mellon 'friend' -> mellyn 'friends' - Dúnadan 'Man of the West' -> Dúnedain (u is not affected)

✣ Suffixes are another way to mark plurals. -> examples: - harad 'south' + rim 'multitude' = Haradrim 'Southrons, Men of the South' - hadhod 'dwarf' + rim 'multitude' = Hadhodrim 'Dwarves (as a race)'

✣ Compounds are common as well. -> example: - morne 'darkness, blackness'/morn 'dark, black' + ia 'pit, gulf' = Moria

✽ Questions I asked Dr. Griffith directly and his answers

✣ Q: In your article and in the PowerPoint presentation, you sometimes mark terms with an asterisk first (e.g. *rokko-khēru-rimbe when you discuss the origin of the term 'Rohirrim'). What does this notation refer to? ✣ A: An asterisk before a form means that it is not actually found anywhere, but we assume it must have existed. In this case, *rokko-khēru-rimbe is the form of Rohirrim as it would have been pronounced in Old Sindarin, but we don't actually have the word anywhere in a written text

✣ Q: For Rohirric/Rohanese, we know that the language that Tolkien based it on was Old English and that terms were directly borrowed from it (e.g. grīma 'mask' or þeoden 'lord, prince, king'), or that names and phrases from Beowulf have been peppered in the lore of Rohan (e.g. Éomer is a character mentioned once, and the first line sung by Miranda Otto in the 'Lament for Théodred' is a line from Beowulf as well). Unfortunately, it seems that the sources on the languages are few, but do we know his reasoning or process in tweaking and applying Old English to create Rohirric/Rohanese? Do we know, perhaps, how the grammar differed from Old English? ✣ A: We don't really know anything about the language of the Rohirrim. Tolkien chose Old English as a sort of cipher. What I mean is: the language of Middle Earth is called Westron, and the Rohirrim spoke a very archaic dialect of it. Tolkien represented this by having them use Old English/archaic forms. He talks about this in one of the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, though I don't remember which one.

✣ Q: In your opinion, is it realistic to compose texts in Quenya or Sindarin, considering that we do not really have a cultural context behind them that is fully explicit? By this, I mean that since idioms and certain concepts are intrinsically tied to their cultural context, is it possible to actually use the Elvish languages to compose new texts altogether? ✣ A: It is possible to compose texts in Quenya and Sindarin. People do it. Obviously, some things are simply impossible to know: how would you say 'computer' or 'shopping mall'? And for other things, we cannot really know since only Tolkien really had the 'true understanding' of Elvish languages and cultures necessary for some text production. That said, people do do it. I don't know much about it, though, I'm afraid.

For those who are interested, I have Dr. Griffith's article, the PowerPoint presentation with sources and vocabulary on it, as well as a handout with Noldorin and Old Noldorin. Dr. Griffith also sent me some extra sources, let me know if you want me to send them to you! If you have questions, I can always try to contact Dr. Griffith again, he is the coordinator of my Middle Welsh course, so I'm bound to bump into him again, and he is genuinely excited to discuss all things Tolkien :) @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @lucifers-legions @emmanuellececchi @hippodameia

[stellae-de-baphometis]

ACTUAL Mesopotamian Pagan Goddesses You Can Work With INSTEAD Of Lilith 🌙

So if you've seen the old post of mine touching on an antisemitic "Demonolatry" subreddit, you'll probably have heard about the common argument antisemitic practitioners make to try and justify appropriating Lilith and a lot of other Jewish daemons.

A lot of these people will try to propose that working with Lilith isn't cultural appropriation, because she predates Judaism and is actually a "MeSoPoTaMiAn PaGaN gOdDeSs". And I don't think it takes a genius to realise that this is absolute horse shit lol. Just look at any Mesopotamian deities list and she's not there.

These people are most likely referring to similar spirits such as Lamashtu, Kilili, Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke, Ardat-Lili, and even Inanna/Ishtar in some instances. There's also the family of desert-dwelling night spirits that comprise of the Lilu and the Lilitu/Lili daemons.

While Lilith may have originated from or was based off of these daemons, they are not the same as Lilith. And I get that people have their own UPGs on certain entities being aspects of one another and such, but if that entity is part of a closed practise, you are in no place to even have a UPG on them to begin with. It comes from a practise that you aren't a part of, therefore you have no right or reason to have a UPG on it. Please just leave closed practices alone.

To my knowledge, one of the first times Lilith was documented was in the Dead Sea Scrolls, along with the daemon race of Lilin. The Dead Sea Scrolls is a Jewish/Hebrew text. So the idea that Lilith predates Judaism is just not true, and it's clearly an excuse made by people who appropriate her in an effort to brush off any accusations of their cultural appropriation and covert antisemitism. Lilith and the Lilin are only loosely based on the Lilitu wind spirits; They are not synonymous with one another. Anyone who tries to claim they are is just blatantly uneducated and/or antisemitic.

The whole idea of Lilith having origins in Mesopotamian mythology can all be traced back to a mistranslation. The BS-Free Podcast has an episode on this and it goes into depth about this mistranslation. I highly recommend checking out their podcast episode here!

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In an attempt to combat some of this antisemitic fuckshit, I wanted to make an entire blog post dedicated to the goddesses and daemonesses of ancient Mesopotamia that you can work with instead of Lilith! I've had this idea for a little while now, but didn't really know who to include or how to construct this until now.

I also have another post in the making which will be a more UPG based post and will also include sigils, conjuration chants, correspondences, illustrations, etc. This current post merely exists to function as a guide and a sort of directory, with mostly historical information about each spirit listed.

So without further ado, let me show you some of the other goddesses, daemonesses, and spirits you can work with; All without appropriating someone else's ethnoreligion!

Full post is under the cut. ↓

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☣️ DISCLAIMER: Some of these spirits may be considered intense, unpredictable, and chaotic in nature. These spirits can be overwhelming to work with if you are sensitive to such spiritual energies. Please tread with caution, especially if you're a beginner practitioner. Stay safe. Xx

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of infant/child d3ath, ab0rti0n, and slight mentions of s3xual a55ault/abu5e and r4pe but nothing described in any explicit detail. Also slight mentions of antisemitism and Ne0-Naz1sm towards the end of the post.

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Here are some ACTUAL Mesopotamian Goddesses and Daemonesses that can ACTUALLY be considered Pagan. These spirits, in my opinion, seem to bear the most resemblance to the pop-cultural stereotype of "Lilith".

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+: Kilili :+

Lady Kilili is a daemoness of Sumerian origin, likely associated with owls. She is also attested as a minor goddess who functioned as a servant of Inanna/Ishtar. - Lady Kilili's name is that of a bird, most likely an owl. In one source she is equated with ab-ba-su-su, meaning "she who leans on the window" in Sumerian. She could be referred to as "queen of the windows" and "the one of haunted places", and it's assumed that she was imagined as an owl daemoness. - Kilili was usually affiliated with Ishtar, and according to at least one source, is said to be one of her eighteen messengers. She could also be considered as having a connection to sex due to her link with Ishtar. Kilili could also possibly have links with Lady Ardat-Lili due to similar affiliations, but there is no solid evidence for this. - It has also been theorised that Queen Kilili is in fact the goddess figure depicted in the Burney Relief terracotta plaque, and while it is highly likely, this has never been officially confirmed. - With the limited information we have on Queen Kilili, all we can really say is that she was likely a daemoness and goddess of owls, nocturnal animals, the night, sexuality, and portals to other worlds (hence the whole "windows" affiliation).

. . .

+: Lamashtu :+

Lady Lamashtu, also known as Lady Labartu, is a Mesopotamian daemoness and (demi)goddess who was said to menace pregnant women during childbirth, and allegedly kidnapped children and devoured them. She was blamed for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, as humans didn't yet have a medical explanation for this phenomenon at the time. - She was the daughter of the Mesopotamian Sky God Anu. There are also modern day accounts of Pazuzu being her consort (the Daemon King of the Southwest Winds) and their offspring being the Lilu wind daemons. In my UPG, Pazuzu and Lamashtu seem to be friends with one another (or at most, in a queer-platonic relationship) but aren't necessarily espoused to one another. I do believe there are a specific subtype of Lilu wind daemons that were created by them though. - Lamashtu was also associated with ab0rting unborns and killing newborns, eating men and drinking their blood, disturbing sleep, bringing nightmares, allegedly harassing mothers and expectant mothers, infesting lakes and rivers, killing foliage, and being a bringer of disease, sickness, and death. - Queen Lamashtu was classified as an "evil" spirit, as she acted on her own accord rather than following the gods' instructions. However, it is likely that she was just a more chaotic spirit, as not everything in our world can simply be divided up into "good" and "evil". At least, that's what I believe anyways. - In modern times, Lamashtu could more so be seen as an advocate for ab0rti0n rights and women's rights, as well as a defender of women and neglected/abu5ed children, rather than being a malicious monster who kills without any motive. - As for the men she devours, perhaps we could suggest that these men were persecuting innocent women and sƐxually a55aulting and r4ping them, impregnating them with children the women did not want or were unable to care for. Lamashtu might then assist the woman with ab0rting the unborn child, and then guiding it to the afterlife or elsewhere to be potentially reincarnated. - She could also be seen as persecuting sƐxual abu5ers and protecting the victims or potential victims of such a55aults. I don't know, just some food for thought lol. A lot of the areas in which Ancient Mesopotamian religion was practiced had quite misogynistic attitudes towards women, being the time era that it was (obligating them to stay home and be wives); So perhaps Lady Lamashtu's mythos was somewhat twisted out of content because she didn't fill that stereotypical role. In a way, this could make Lamashtu quite the feminist icon!

. . .

+: Akhkhazu :+

Lady Akhkhazu, also known as Dimme-kur, is a Akkadian daemoness associated with pestilence. She is also called "the seizer". - Akhkhazu brings fever and plagues, and is a part of a trio of daemonesses (Labasu, Lamashtu/Labartu, Akhkhazu). Despite the fact that Akhkhazu is known as a masculine name, she is said to be feminine in nature. - Next to nothing is known of Lady Akhkhazu, however we can confirm that due to her link with Queen Lamashtu, she can be associated with death, destruction, and sickness. Being a daemoness of plagues and illness, it could be proposed that Akhkhazu may also be able to help heal these things.

. . .

+: Labasu :+

Lady Labasu was a part of the aforementioned trio of Mesopotamian daemonesses alongside Lamashtu/Labartu and Akhkhazu. She is said to have the same powers and associations as the other daemonesses in that trio. - Not much is known about Labasu outside of that, but we can assume that she's a daemoness of disease, plagues, pestilence, death, and decay. I believe she could also solely be worked with as a death daemon/deity.

. . .

+: Inanna-Ishtar :+

Lady Inanna, also known as Lady Ishtar, is an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of love, beauty, justice, war, and fertility. She is also associated with sex, divine law/justice, and political power. It was initially thought that Inanna and Ishtar were originally seperate deities, but overtime merged into the same deity (similar to how Amun and Ra merged to become Amun-Ra). - Inanna-Ishtar's prominent symbols were the lion and the eight-pointed star. She also had associations with the planet Venus. She held the title of the "Queen of Heaven". - Her spouse was Dumuzid (later known as Tammuz), the god of shepherds, fertility, and vegetation.

. . .

+: Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke :+

Lady Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke (also known as Kisikil-lila or Ki-sikil) is another obscure Mesopotamian daemoness of which not much is known about. - Her origins date as far back as 600 BCE, in the Epic Of Gilgamesh, an ancient Sumerian epic poem. In Tablet XII, an Assyrian-Akkadian translation of the latter part of the Epic Of Gilgamesh, it tells the story of a 'spirit in the tree' referred to as Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke. Proposed translations for the Tablet XII 'spirit in the tree' include; Ki-sikil as "sacred place", lil-la-ke as "water spirit, and lil as either "spirit" or simply "owl" (given that the lil builds its home in the trunk of a tree). - The Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke is associated with a serpent and a Zu bird. In the ancient city of Uruk, a huluppu tree grows in Inanna's garden, and she plans to use the wood of the tree to build a new throne. After ten years of growth, Inanna returns to the garden to harvest the tree, but finds that it has since been inhabited. A serpent is dwelling at the base of the tree, a Zu bird is nesting atop the tree raising its young, and the Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke has built a home within its trunk. - Gilgamesh was said to have killed the serpent, then the Zu bird flew away to the mountains with its young, while the Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke fearfully destroyed her house and fled to the forests. - Lady Ki-sikil's story was eventually mistranslated as referring to Lilith, leading to the misinformation of Lilith having origins in Mesopotamian mythology. - Outside of this, not much is known of Lady Ki-sikil. Going off the limited information we have of her, we can conclude that her associations are with willow trees, owls (or other birds of prey), water, snakes, forests, and vegetation in general.

. . .

+: Ardat-lili :+

Lady Ardat-lili (also known as Vardat-lilitu) is a Mesopotamian daemoness and wind/storm goddess who inhabits the desert. Not much is known of this daemoness, but in modern times she has been likened to a "succubus" or vampiric-like entity. Ardat-lili was said to prey on men and conceive daemon offspring from their nocturnal emissions. - There are a few different stories of Ardat-lili's origins. Some sources claim that she was the spectre of a young girl who died before getting married, and out of sheer bitterness and envy, she sets out to prevent and/or sabotage the marriages between mortals. Other accounts suggest that Ardat-lili may refer to a specific family of multiple spirits, rather than a singular entity. In my UPG, Ardat-Lili is a daemoness, whereas the Lilitu/Lili are a class of spirits that Ardat-Lili belongs to. - Ardat-lili is yet another daemoness of which little information is known, and it's likely that a lot of her mythos was lost to history. I personally interpret her as a daemoness/goddess of storms, wind, the desert, sexuality, and the night. I also see her as being androgynous, similarly to how I see Astaroth in my UPG.

. . .

+: Ereshkigal :+

Lady Ereshkigal (also known by the titles "Queen Of The Underworld" and "Queen Of The Great Earth") is the Goddess of Kur, the land of the dead in Sumerian mythology. In later myths, she was said to rule Irkalla alongside her husband Nergal. However, Ereshkigal and Nergal were only two of the many deities that ruled over the underworld in ancient Mesopotamia. - On some accounts, her name was given as Irkalla, similar to how the Greek name Hades was given to the underworld itself as well as the ruler of the underworld. Ereshkigal is also known by the name of Ninkigal, meaning "Lady Of The Great Earth". - In the ancient Sumerian poem Inanna's Descent To The Underworld, Ereshkigal was said to be the older sister of the aforementioned Inanna-Ishtar. But historically, they weren't commonly associated with one another. Another account associates Ereshkigal with the gods Ninazu (originally regarded as her husband but later as her son) and Ningishzida. It was said that Ninazu initially ruled over the Underworld, but Ereshkigal later fulfilled this role as the mythos evolved overtime. - In later Babylonian deity lists, Ereshkigal ruled over a category of Underworldian gods that were known as "Transtigridian Snake Gods" which included Ninazu, Tishpak, Ishtaran, and the Elamite god Inshushinak. She also had a messenger named Namtar. - Some accounts suggest that Ereshkigal and Inanna-Ishtar are somewhat polar opposites to one another; With Inanna-Ishtar being the Queen Of Heaven, and Ereshkigal being the Queen Of The Underworld. -

. . .

+: Tiamat :+

Lady Tiamat (a.k.a. "The Glistening One") is the primordial goddess of the sea in Babylonian mythology. She represented the embodiment of primordial chaos, and was said to have created the entirety of the cosmos and the universe. with the help of her consort Abzu, the god of groundwater. - Tiamat's consort was Abzu, the god of groundwater. Together, they bore the first generation of deities, including their son Kingu. However, trouble arose when these gods kidnapped and murdered Abzu in an attempt to usurp his lordship over the universe. This angered Kingu, and he reported the incident back to his mother. - Devastated and enraged by her husband's death, Tiamat created eleven mighty monsters, including the first ever generation of dragons, whose bodies she filled with "poison instead of blood" and sent them to rage war upon the gods to avenge her husband. After war broke out, Tiamat was eventually killed by the storm god Marduk, and it was said that he integrated elements of her body into the heavens and the earth. - Tiamat is associated with sea serpents and dragons, and may have even taken the form of these animals sometimes. - Side Note: I actually wanna make a whole seperate post regarding the eleven monsters created by Tiamat, because I think they're really cool and I do wanna venerate them at some point!

. . .

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Welp, that's pretty much it for this post! I will eventually be making a post about The Anti-Lilith-Appropriation Hierarchy Of Spirits I have come up with, comprised of all the spirits, goddesses, and daemonesses you can work with and venerate instead of Lilith. So stay tuned for that!

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There are many different deities, daemons, and spirits that you can honour, worship, and venerate; Lilith doesn't need to be one of them.

Respecting closed practices is of upmost importance, because here's the thing... Spirituality and metaphysical beings cannot be definitely proven to exist. However, the years upon years of discrimination, erasure, xenophobia, religiophobia, and maltreatment in general that groups of people such as Jews and Muslims have had to go through, is very much real and can be backed up by solid evidence.

Do you really think it makes sense to prioritise something that could very well be all in your head, over actual oppressed minorities who have literally been mistreated and even killed since the very beginning of time, all because of shitty bigoted people's prejudices? Just think about that for a second.

Because if you still think it's completely fine to appropriate Lilith, even though it is evidently clear that she is closed and exclusive to Judaism (NOT Mesopotamian), then I have absolutely no problem assuming you're antisemitic and most likely a Ne0-Naz1 as well. And if you are, you should go and fuck yourself. :)

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⭒☆·━━━━━━━•( 🌑 )•━━━━━━━·☆⭒

There's unfortunately quite a lot of antisemitism in occult spaces, especially when it comes to Satanism, Daemonolatry, and Luciferianism in particular. I want to do my best to counteract this shit and to help educate those new to this branch of the occult, so that unsuspecting people don't fall down an antisemitic pipeline like I did at the beginning of my path onto Daemonism and Daemonolatry.

If my best friend hadn't educated me on how bad cultural appropriation actually is and hadn't snapped me out of my radicalisation process, the gods only know where I would've ended up... It deeply concerns me just thinking about it. I hate to think about how antisemitic occult spaces such as r/DemonolatryPractices could've potentially led to me being radicalised into a Ne0-Naz1... Ugh, it makes me fucking shudder...

Please don't fall into the trap of thinking that cultural appropriation is completely fine and not harmful at all, because if you give that shit enough time to fester, you never know what it could snowball into. You'll most likely fall down a right-wing pipeline, and trust me, it is not a place you want to end up in.

I had to learn that the hard way.

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Anyways, I hope you found this post helpful and informative! And as always, I wish you well on your spiritual journey. <3

~ May You Be Blessed By The Daemonic/Infernal Divine ~

-Kody

[dailyadventureprompts]

Do have any thoughts on genies (either the general group or one of the specific kinds)? I don’t know about other editions, but they seem really flat in 5th edition. It would also be nice if a lot of their depictions didn’t use stereotypes associated with the Middle East.

Monsters Reimagined: Djinn

So I'm going to attempt to restrain myself because the popular representation of genies is one of my favorite things to ramble about pedantically, because the versions of them that we get in d&d are so far removed from their mythological roots that to get into why they're done dirty in most fiction we're going to need to get into dissect a game of broken telephone that's been going on for hundreds of years.

Likewise, getting back to those roots requires us to delve into some very heavy topics like orientalism and cultural mores surrounding slavery, which are complex enough that I could easily make whole posts about any of them.

TLDR: Djinn work well enough as powerful elemental spirits, but the classifications the monster manual uses for them are completely arbitrary and actually mush several different types of creature into one category. Just use Djinn as an umbrella, and don't worry about the pokemon elemental alignments. Perhaps most jarringly: Genie wishes do not rewrite reality or do the impossible, and are instead tasks that the djinn is magically compelled to do. This means you can include Djinn in a lot more of your stories without having to worry about including magical cheatcodes into your game. Instead, you get to wrestle with the complication of people keeping powerful (and potentially destructive) magical creatures as slaves, which has much more storytelling potential to play with.

What's wrong: While normally I'd do a breakdown on problematic portrayals of djinn ( and hooboy are there many) I think to get us all on the same page, I'm going to peel back the layers of historical/pop culture representation so we can see how these creatures have changed over time.

Djinn originated in pre-Islamic Arabia and occupy a similar cultural role to "the fey" in Europe, unseen beings that are as numerous as as the stories and cultures that involve them, tricksters, tempters, helpers, monsters, all manner of things.

The 7th century rolls around and there's a hot new religion that's looking to put down roots. Djinn get codified in the Quran as one of the three sapient beings created by Allah ( Angels of Light, Humans of Clay, Djinn of smokeless fire) which defines their theological existence going forward. The idea of powerful/magical people keeping Djinn as servants gets popularized ( which I've heard was part of a loophole regarding the Abrahamic forbiddance on sorcery. A pious individual couldn't possess magical powers, but they could own a being/object who did)

Over the next thousand years Orientalist texts like the 1001 Nights expose European audiences to the concept of "genies" , leading to the common idea of them and the wishes they grant entering the cultural lexicon.

At some point in the 1970s, the folk who make d&d are plundering every mythology they can lay hands on for fantasy creatures to include in their game, and decide on including the djinn. To make this creature fit into their budding cosmology, they're made into air elementals, which paves the way for other elemental genies to follow, with the name of more Arabic spirits being haphazardly stapled on to fill out the roster.

In 1992 Disney happens, and the genie/ bound object/three wishes trope is codified into the cultural consciousness forever.

Putting aside the ham-fisted cramming of djinn into the role of elemental nobles, I think the most interesting thing to address when talking about Djinn is the issue of wishes.  Simply put, rather than a being of “phenomenal cosmic power” that can snap its fingers and make the impossible happen, Djinn in the original stories were magical servants/slaves, bound into service and forced to do tasks that while impossible to a human were menial for it. The idea of a flying carpet? not an inherently magical object, but a piece of textile held aloft by four djinn who carried the thing and their “master” upon it like a palanquin. Aladdin asks the djinn of the ring to make him a palace? The djinn doesn’t just conjure one out of thin air, but assembles it by hand impossibly fast. If you bring bound djinn into your game, you’re going to have to start considering your world’s stance on slavery, which can be a heavy topic in its own right. 

What’s worth Saving:   The ethical quandary of a captive djinn can actually be a thematically rich avenue of storytelling potential provided your campaign is emotionally mature enough to acknowledge that enslaving sapient beings is abhorrent.  

Is it right to keep a djinn captive for personal gain? No? What if its powers are turned to a good end? 

What if the players get their hands on the djinn, get what they need, and free it right after? Is it still moral to exploit something and then let it go? 

What if the djinn was a dangerous and wild thing, a murderous spirit, or the manifestation of a powerful storm or wildfire and if released would go back to causing chaos, is it still right to keep and exploit it then? 

What if the djinn was not originally hostile, but has been deeply abused over its captivity, and has sworn revenge against those that wronged them? As a being of tremendous power its vendettas could prove to be calamitous 

These sort of questions can have a party debating for ages, and can provide the thematic through line for a lot of great adventures, especially when coupled with wonderous possibilities of the djinn’s powers and their elemental nature for added aesthetic flourish.  

How do we Fix it: 5e’s already taken a step in the right direction by removing the ability of most “genie” creatures to grant wishes, saving it for more advanced versions of the creature. Personally I’d eliminate the ability entirely, and have it be a misconception among common people and dabbling arcanists that djinn can do anything when captured. Djinn then stay the FUCK away from most mortals, preferring to dwell in the most inhospitable places and letting nature keep away those who would hunt and enslave them. 

As I mentioned before, I'd also do away with a strict air/water/earth/fire alignment to geniekind, and instead have them manifest as particularly wild aspects of nature. 

Adventure Hooks: 

While trekking through the deep wilderness, the party stumbles into a wonderous castle boasting all manner of enchantments, with a strong elemental theme. Possibly seeking shelter or supplies, they enter the domicile only to discover that it’s the domain of a djinn, who fears that they’re here to capture it and bind it. Perhaps some swift talking can put their host at ease, or perhaps they’ll give into the temptation of making the castle theirs. 

A djinn of falling stars was long ago bound to a lantern by a powerful arcanist, who had him tell her all the secrets of the heavens. Generations later, the Arcanist is dead, but the djinn remains trapped, and now searches for a mage clever enough to break the seal upon the lantern. Greatly disappointed by their prospects, the djinn has become a tutor of the arcane arts, hoping to raise up a student with enough talent to one day free them. 

The spring that fed an oasis settlement has suddenly gone dry, throwing those who relied on it into chaos and despair. Investigation reveals that a shy and kindly djinn was maintaining the font, but was nearly killed after a band of treasure hunters learned of her existence and sought to capture her. With the elemental fading in their arms and the oasis on the verge of drying up, the party will need to decide between defending against further attacks, or venturing out into the desert to find a means of healing her. 

[sorenblr]

do you have any book recs / website recs if I wanted to get into Arthurian Legend (cuz eirikr told me to go to you)

There aren't any really ideal entry points into Arthurian literature, in my opinion. If the early Latin and pseudo-historical works strike your interest than they’re as good a place to start as you’re likely to find, but a chronological reading may not leave a new reader terribly engaged with the material since the antecedents provided by the early chroniclers such as Gildas or Nennius will seem fairly dry and foreign compared to later medieval or modern conceptions of Arthur. 

I think a large part of the appeal in studying the subject comes from tracing the development of the various images, characters, and themes that recur across the ages, since Arthuriana is less static than the great mythological cycles that were consolidated into a few principal texts, although this makes them a bit more impenetrable. But any reading order will generate succesive interest so long as you continue to read and draw connections, so here’s a quick overview of the most critical texts that might provide a decent foundation:

Chrétien de Troyes: 12th century, five verse narratives that formally introduce crucial figures such as Lancelot and Percival to the cycle and establishes the tradition of chivalric romance that will define the next several centuries. Great influence on the following entry and generally engaging as poetry in and of itself.

Le Morte d’Arthur: 15th century, an attempt to compile a ‘complete’ telling of the Arthurian cycle from the various French and English sources that came into being following Chrétien. This is the focal point of nearly all subsequent works and especially the source for nearly all popular works produced in the past 200 years, from Idylls of the King to The Once and Future King. Unfortunately plagued by an interminable middle section concerning the Tristan and Isolde romance, but I think the early modern English prose of Mallory is extremely beautiful and tends to carry the repetition. 

The Mabinogion: 12th/13th century, compilation of Welsh prose narratives. These embed the emerging romances in the earlier Welsh and Celtic myths, blending both antecendents and unrelated folklore. Honestly not the most compelling read but necessary for a broader cultural understanding of the tradition. 

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: 14th century, Middle English alliterative verse narrative cocnerning Gawain’s screwball Yuletime adventure. Short and easy read, fairly self-contained and can be enjoyed with little prior context. They made a movie based on this with Sean Connery as the Green Knight and it is surprisingly not even the best adaptation of this story in film.

If I had to recommend only one of these to start with I’d probably go with Le Morte d’Arthur, although it’s quite long and reflects my personal bias: I personally started with The Once and Future King and then worked my way backwards to Mallory and the earlier French romances. Unfortunately I don’t know of any particular websites that would be good for this, although this list that Dijeh linked in the previous ask contains a lot of great online resources for the original texts. I also recommend looking into the chronicles mentioned above (Gildas, Geoffrey of Monmouth etc.) once you’ve got a grounding in the later texts. Hope this helps!

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[margridarnauds]

hi! i was wondering if you knew- does the lebor gabala erenn have any known authors? or, at very least, is the person who compiled all the pieces in it known?

Sorry for how long this took! I'd say it's that time in the semester but...it's. Always that time in the semester. But, in my defense, this is the kind of question you don't skimp on, and it's one dear to my heart because I've actually been considering doing a small series called "mythmakers" on the different personalities behind some of the myths, mainly because (1) I feel like we get very comfortable, myself included, as treating these as sort of...floating stories that don't have an author, that they're all part of some consensus, when they were very much authored and (2) because I feel a certain debt to them, since they DID preserve the texts I love. I owe them for that, and so does every Celticist who's used a manuscript they copied down.

So, you've probably gotten tired of me saying this, but first off, we've got to ask ourselves "What IS Lebor Gabála Érenn?" And the answer is surprisingly complex. Because, on the surface, you could say "It's a pseudohistorical text written in the 11th century, one of the key parts of the collection of medieval Irish texts commonly if not anachronistically called 'The mythological Cycle', that details the history of the Irish people from the time of Noah to time of the historical Irish kings." And you wouldn't be WRONG. Not necessarily.

BUT: Here's the thing when we say that: We don't mention that it's divided into four recensions (I always want to say five, please feel free to give me a virtual bitchslap when I do, it's generally considered to be four) divided into sixteen individual manuscripts that are considered to substantially differ from one another, and multiple other copies. I believe I once read that just about every important scribe of the time would have had his own copy to use as a reference and, though I wouldn't want to be quoted on that, I certainly wouldn't be surprised.

Furthermore, there is substantial evidence supporting the existence of a "proto LGE" that didn't survive. We know that it showed up in Cín Dromma Snechtai, aka the Holy Grail of any expert in medieval Irish literature, which contained a number of early texts and might have dated back as far as the 8th century. (The latest possible dating is the 10th century, though, to my knowledge, the 8th century dating is generally viewed as being the correct one.) Even if we are to assume the latest dating for CDS, we know that some version of LGE was available to the anonymous writer of the Historia Brittonum, because he used it as a source and brought in the Irish invasions (notably NOT including the Tuatha Dé and Fir Bolg, even though a group similar to the Fir Bolg settle just off of Ireland in this account.) We know, therefore, that the TDD and the Fir Bolg were relatively late to the scheme (though we also know that the CDS version DID include, for example, the Fir Bolg's captivity in Greece, because one of the scribes of LGE mentions them stealing ships from the King of Greece in their escape.)

So, to recap: We have at least ONE pre-LGE LGE, then a gap of a period of time before our first surviving recension, in the 11th century (the oldest manuscript is 12th century, but the language is ~11th). Do I think that more were made in-between the time of Historia Brittonum and the 11th century? Absolutely. I can't see them NOT, given how important this was to them. I think that there was probably an increased *demand* after the 11th century, but I don't see any reason for a gap of as many as three hundred years. But, if these copies and recensions existed, they're lost. Just like CDS and whatever manuscript the author of Historia Brittonum was using. Like...again, I know this is something that I harp on about and harp on about, but...there's such a feeling of loss at times in this field. It's so sad sometimes looking back and just....imagining what the world could have looked like if things had been different, better. (And like, I want to emphasize, before I'm accused of getting teary eyed over manuscripts instead of people: It's never JUST the manuscripts. It's...it's everything. The manuscripts are just easier to conceptualize. Because I feel like if you try to wrap your head around EVERYTHING, all at once...you'll go a bit insane.) Like, there was this booming manuscript tradition, one of the richest in Europe at its time and so much is just. Gone. And there's so much we don't know and can't know and so much we still have to do because of all the years that we've spent playing catch up.

But. Happier stuff.

What I'm saying is, we can't know the individual name of the first person to compile the wonderful scrapbook of mythological material known as LGE together. That being said...we do know the names of at least some of the poets who wrote poetry for LGE, the poems being integrated into the text.

Eochaid Ua Floinn (936-1004) -

Flann Mainistrech mac Ethigrinn (died 1056)

Mael Muru Othna (died 887)

Tanaide (died 1075)

Gilla Cómáin mac Gilla Samthainde (alive in 1072)

Many of the most famous sections of the text actually come from one of these men -- such as, for example, the Death Tales of the Tuatha Dé (that was one by Flann, for the curious.)

You'll note that most of these poets were active in the mid-11th century -- their poetry wasn't written FOR LGE, but it was included by the anonymous compiler, and they were probably written about the time that it was compiled. And, to us, this seems very normal because it's the LGE we know, but sometimes I do think about what if we were creating a massive book all about the History of the World , and we decided to include Taylor Swift, Britney Spears, Justin Beiber, and Billie Eilish songs. Not to say that they aren't GOOD, but like. You have to be damn confident that they would stand the test of time. (Of course...we know in LGE's case....they DID.)

Here are the known scribes, as noted by Mark Scowcroft in his groundbreaking study of LGE, Leabhar Gabala: The Growth of the Text:

Recension 1:

Aed mac Crimthainn, the Book of Leinster

Ádam Ó Cianáin, the Book of Fermoy (WONDERFUL clear handwriting, by the way.) James Carney wrote an article on his work back in 1969, 'The Ó Cianáin Miscellany'. An interesting man in what little we have left of him, it appears that he studied under another scribe, Seóan Mor Ó Dubhagán. On one manuscript that he was writing in, we see the inscription by another scribe, possibly another student, below a little cipher, signed "Gilla Patraig", that says "ni melladh meraighi so 7 ar Dhia re Adumh na foillseagheadh do duine eile e" (this is no crazy deception, and for God's sake don't let Adam show it to anyone else.) Which gives the wonderful image of two young students creating a secret code, possibly to pass notes to one another, and the other one KNOWING that the other one is just ITCHING to tell it to someone else. Students have always been students.

Recension 2:

Torna Ó Maoil-Chonaire, TCD MS E.3.5, no. 2 (died in 1532). His son, Seán, had a school of learning that is mentioned in the Annals of the Four Masters as "the tutor of the men of Ireland in general in history and chronology, and who had all that were in Ireland learning that science under his tuition." Clearly, his father left a great legacy.

Ádam Ó Cuirnín, The Great Book of Lecan (written 1418). He was, apparently, an apprentice of Mac Fir Bhisigh, listed below, and, along with him and Murchad Riabach Ó Cuindlis, wrote the Banshenchus. (Along with others, of course, given that the Great Book of Lecan is...the GREAT Book of Lecan for a reason.)

Muirges mac Páidín Ua Maoil-Chonaire, RIA MS Stowe D.iv.3 (who died 1543 according to the Annals of the Four Masters)

Dubaltach mac Sémuis, NLI Philipps MS 10266

Luán mac Taidg, RIA MS 24.P.13 (written 1621)

Domhnall Ó Téinn, RIA MS 23.H.28 (18th century) He also transcribed, among others, Leabhar na Ceart (the Book of Rights, a legal tract) and the Annals of Innisfallen.

Seán or Diarmaid Ó Réagáin, British Library MS Addit. 18948 (written 1829-1835 -- yes, REALLY, that is NOT a typo -- you had manuscripts being created in Ireland up until the 19th century, there was an actual business for scribes who could read and copy manuscripts, though, as in the case here, they sometimes modernized the language.)

Recension 3:

Gilla Ísu Mac Fir Bhisigh, the Great Book of Lecan, 1417-1418. You might recognize the surname -- they were one of the most prominent scribal families of the time, particularly with regards to geneologies. His son, Tomás Cam, has been identified as the scribe of parts of the Yellow Book of Lecan, the Book of Lecan, and several others by Tomás Ó Concheanainn, and a member of the family, Dubhaltach mac Fhirbhisigh, wrote the absolutely massive work known as Leabhar na nGenealach, and was one of the last of the great scribal families alive in Ireland when he wrote it down in the mid 17th century.

Magnus Ó Dubhgennáin, the Book of Ballymote, written between 1384-1406

Richard Tipper, TCD MS H.2.4 (1728)

Tadhg Ó Neachtain, TCD MS H.1.15 (1745)

Aodh Ó Dálaigh, RIA MS Stowe D.iii.2 (1746). Part of a longstanding family of poets. Employed by Francis Stoughton Sullivan, a Fellow at Trinity College. Standish Hayes O'Grady would write, regarding his pen, that [O'Dalys' transcriptions] suggest that both his patron was very easily satisfied, and that ink was not the only fluid present on the scribal table."  OUCH. Still, as noted by Ní Shéaghdha in her article, "Irish scholars and scribes in eighteenth-century Dublin”, he was employed for 16 years, longer than some of his more brilliant, but feckless contemporaries and, along with LGE, he wrote down the poems in the Liber Hymnorum, which has become hopelessly faded over the years and is preserved in his transcription work.

One thing that Scowcroft points out, and that I'm going to parrot, is that these three 18th century manuscripts all contain sections that were lost in the earlier manuscripts and, again, not to keep going on about this, but that is another reminder of how *fragile* these texts are. If it weren't for these three guys writing well after the time we generally associate with the production of manuscripts was over...we wouldn't have whole sections of the work. And they knew what they were doing -- they were part of a circle that actively sought to preserve and transcribe as many manuscripts as possible and that are responsible for the preservation of many of the manuscripts that are currently still in existence.

LGE is...a magnificent text. Truly one of a kind among Irish manuscripts and....honestly pretty unique in a general European context as well. It's a contradictory, challenging scrapbook of a text, with hundreds of hands at least going into its creation (you saw the ones I just mentioned, but what about the scribes who took over when the others were having an off day? Their students? Their mentors? Their friends? It's not uncommon to see multiple hands in a manuscript, so you have to take that into account. What about the lost texts? All the copies?), every single one with his own ideas of how a text like this should look and with their own biases, life histories, and cultural contexts (when you consider that you're dealing with scribes from at least the 11th century to the 19th, over 800 very turbulent years.) Every single one of the poets I cited, even though they lived roughly contemporary to one another, also had their own thoughts on the texts they were writing, their own reasons for writing them down.

They often disagreed, VIGOROUSLY. They often insulted one another's scholarship. And yet....every single one of them, even and perhaps especially the ones who remain anonymous, including that anonymous 11th century compiler who put all the material from all these places together and put them into one manuscript, was part of something great. Because of their work, because of how beloved and respected this work was, it did something that so many didn't: Survive. LGE does not represent a single text so much as it represents a tradition, one that...to some extent, I consider myself a part of. If you ever get that book done, you'll be a part of it. Not in the way that they were, not in the same cultural context, but...we all love this material, enough to fight for it, enough to do what we can to preserve it in some way and carry it on. Whether we're working by candelight or a LCD monitor. I just hope that, if there's any sort of afterlife out there, they know that...even if some of them are only known by their names, and some of them didn't even get that...we haven't forgotten, and it wasn't in vain.

[missblissy]

What about a modern AU Human Alastor x Gender neutral Reader that is punk? With piercings and tattoos, him being so old fashion in clothes and his reader the opposite

((No problem Nonny! Sorry for the wait- I forgot about this in my drafts *wheeze*))

Of all the places he'd might someone like you, he never thought it'd be at such a boring place. Maybe like a rock show, or club, a bar at least? But... A book store? No, that didn't sound right. But it was true. You were standing right next to him between the bookshelves. He was flipping through the pages of an old history novel, not really... he was doing it just to make it seem like he wasn't watching you.

You were standing on your tips toes as you tried to reach for a book on mythology. It seemed fitting, with the way you were dressed and all. Most if not all of your clothes were black. Ripped jeans with a hoodie with too many holes. He could see your old Norse-styled tattooed hands. Runes and arrows and old text littered your fingers. He could also see another plethora of tattooed creeping up your neck and peaking out of your hoodie. Not to mention the piercings, yet somehow you made it look modest. You had a number along your ears. Then a few in your nose and one of those cheek ones under your eye.

It was quite funny watching you try and get that book. Your fingers just brushed it. Like the gentleman he was, no matter how bizarre he thought you looked, he'd offer his help. Alastor put the book away that he was done pretending to read and came over to you. He reached up with ease, seeing as he was much taller than you, and gave you the book you just couldn't seem to reach.

At first, you were startled, you honestly didn't notice he was even there. You were in your own little world until this random man grabbed the book you wanted. Your first reaction was the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. You laughed awkwardly and took the book from him, "Uh- um... Thank you," You felt your cheeks burn slightly.

"Not at all," He smiled at you, "It's a good book," He gestured to it in your hands, "I've read it myself."

"Oh- You read about mythology too?" You were surprised to see someone like him interested in something most people found to be boring.

"Well," He shrugged with a nonchalant grin, "Seeing as it's kind of a part of my job- Yes, I'd say I read a little here and there."

You gave a small laugh and asked, "What do you do?"

"I work at the university in the city. I teach historical literature and mythology."

"Oh! Wow!" You didn't see that coming, sure he looked kinda like the professor type but you didn't expect him to teach such a subject, "I just music shop."

"That's not bad," He said, "Everyone loves music, do you play anything?"

"Uh- I mean, yeah," You gave a little laugh and shyly said, "I'm not any good! I'm still learning. I'm trying a little bit of everything- Haha- which is a bit overwhelming at times."

"Would you...? Like to sit down at the cafe and continue this conversation with a coffee?" He suddenly asked, "I'm Alastor, by the way."

You were a little startled at his question but you didn't see a reason to say no. You nodded then smiled, "Sure, I'm (Y/n)."

The two of you went on to sit down together and enjoy a delightful conversation. It was odd to you at first because you normally didn't hang around people like Alastor. But you had too many interests that overlapped. It was hard not to talk to him. He was so knowledgeable and well-mannered. He made it so easy, normally you had trouble talking to people, yet Alastor was so fun to talk to that you couldn't seem to shut up for once in your life.

If you could have, you would've stayed there all day. But instead, you had to go, and so did Alastor, "It was nice meeting you," He said as the two of you headed to the exit. You both stopped just shy of the door. Alastor dug into his coat pocket and handed you a little card, "We should meet up again sometime if you'd like?"

You laughed realizing he gave you a little business card with his information on it. No one's ever given you a business card before, how silly was that? Your chuckles went over Alastor's head, however.

"Sure," You smiled up to him, "I'd love that."

[aromantic-enjolras]

Hey, I have a question: You say Enjolras is aro, then what do you make of "Antinous, wild"? "They are Pollux, Patroclus, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechméja"? "Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk"? All the other times Enjolras is compared to historical/mythological gay people? (In other words, Enjolras is canonically gay - not aromantic - and I'm wondering why you're ignoring what's so obviously written)

... Okay, I'm going to answer this seriously, just in case you're actually in good faith. There are a bunch of different reasons, so strap in.

1. I mostly don't make anything of the comparisons in the Brick. Both because it's a 2000 page novel and if I needed to understand and analyze every single image in it before I made any headcanons I would be here until Judgment Day (I'd need a couple of days just for Grantaire's rants); and because Victor Hugo is not shy about beating you over the head with his subtext, so if I have to go looking for it, I consider it isn't on purpose.

2. "They are Pollux, Patroclus, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechméja" is not a sentence referring to Enjolras. It's part of Grantaire's description. And as much as I see Enjolras as aromantic AF, I can very easily see Grantaire as being in love with him. That said, if you put that sentence in context, it talks about how he's one of those people whose name you only see tagged onto someone else's, like Patroclus and Achilles (you see people talking about Achilles on his own, but if you hear someone talk about Patroclus, it's almost certainly attached to Achilles). Also, one of the people mentioned in that sentence is Pollux!! As in Castor and Pollux! The mythological twins! Unless there is another mythological Pollux I'm not aware of (and neither is Wikipedia), ewww!!!!

3. I'm not knowledgeable enough to say this with any finality (maybe @pilferingapples can give their opinion here?), but are those even "historical/mythological gay people" for Victor Hugo? Because just because someone is a shorthand of "queer" in 2021 doesn't mean they were in 1864 for a straight author. If you're looking for confirmation in the text, you need to look at it from their eyes, not yours.

4. As for "Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk", if you had taken the time to browse through my 'aro!Enjolras' tag or my 'my opinions' tag you'd know I have already answered this question multiple times. In particular, here, here and here. Basically, I interpret that scene as Grantaire finally rising up to the occasion, after failing multiple times, and Enjolras finally seeing him as more than a nuisance and offering him respect and acceptance in his final moments. It's the culmination of Grantaire's arc, not Enjolras' (at least not that way).

5. On the other hand, there are a few lines in the Brick that just scream 'aromantic' to me. In particular, "it did not seem as though he were aware there was on earth a thing called woman. He had but one passion—the right; but one thought—to overthrow the obstacle.” and “His impassive temerity astounds me. He lives alone […] Enjolras has no woman. He is not in love, and yet he manages to be intrepid. It is a thing unheard of that a man should be as cold as ice and as bold as fire.” Enjolras did not appear to be listening, but had any one been near him, that person would have heard him mutter in a low voice: “Patria.” Yes, you can interpret those as him being not into women 'because he's into men', but what the text gives us is that he's not into women because he's too preoccupied with the Revolution. He has no time nor inclination for romance.

6. That said, of course I don't mean to imply that Victor Hugo consciously coded Enjolras as aromantic. I don't think he even knew what aromantic was. This is how I interpret it: you are in no obligation to agree with it, because interpretations are just that: interpretations.

7. Also, if we're going exclusively by the Brick, I'm pretty sure Enjolras is also supposed to have no flaws outside of Loving The Revolution Too Much.

8. I have to ask, though: you do know a person can be aromantic and gay at the same time, right anon? If you go through my tags, you might even see that my Modern AU Enjolras headcanon is aromantic and homosexual. He has sex with men, he just doesn't fall for them or want to date them.

9. And lastly, simply because it sparks joy. I also ignore the fact that they're all dead most of the time.

And a couple of extra points that are kind of off-topic so I put them aside:

10. This might be a pet peeve of mine, but honestly, talking about the Ancient Greeks as "gay" already feels iffy to me. Their way to structure relationships was so different from ours that it doesn't make sense. Homosexual relationships for men were a rite of passage and of patronage that had little to do with romantic attraction and love as we understand it. If sex between men is socially mandatory, does it make sense to say they were gay because they had sex with men? Were all married women in the XIXth century straight or bi because they had sex with men?

11. On that note, every time I see someone brandishing Achilles and Patroclus as the OG canonical gays I wonder if they know anything about them that doesn't come from pop culture. Because if you read the Illiad, they're cousins. It was the Classic Greeks, around Plato's era, who started shipping them.

@p-trichor you wanted to read this rant? Here you go. ^^

[thegrapeandthefig]

i'm in the bare bones of investigating Priapus but have been pointed to you as knowing a lot about him so i wanted to ask a question.

would you consider Priapus a disabled deity? the descriptions i am reading are very comparable to Hephaestus to me (describing him as ugly, deformed, dwarfed/dwarvish and also the similar connections to the donkey) the only thing that seems to be missing in what research i've done (again, mostly just Theoi Wikipedia and their outward links/sources) is the outright use of the word crippled to describe him like it's used with Hephaestus. i guess as someone who seems to be pretty into the actual history and religious aspects i wanted to hear your opinion. i'm disabled myself so i feel like i automatically lean towards Wanting it to be true, so i thought i'd ask someone who understands him more than i do. thanks in advance

They do share characteristics, though it is important to remember the use and re-use of mythological tropes is quite common for "foreign" gods in order to blend them better.

When it comes to your question, I would say you have every right to identify with the descriptions that speak to you. This said, I would also advise caution when it comes to handling the sources we have about Priapus, which are, for the most part, of literary subversive and comical nature and which gladly use those descriptions with violence.

From a strictly historical point of view, we simply do not have enough information to know if Priapus' "deformation" was regarded as having any religious purpose outside the obvious link to fertility and - and this is the scholarly consensus, as far as I'm aware - if his appearance has a purpose outside of being meant to be laughed at, with the logic that laughter is an apotropaic device. (1) This would be, to modern eyes, an extremely ableist and cruel conception.

Again, it is essential to highlight that the city of Lampsacus has never been the object of archeological digs, which means that there is likely very important information on Priapus' pre-roman cult that is steadily rotting in the ground until someone digs it up (in a streak of luck, my shift of focus on Thasos has brought me to find a decree between the two cities in which the names of Aphrodite and Priapus Epiphanos are used to title prytanies - aka we're sleeping on an important, albeit local, political role).

From a strictly religious point of view, I can only insist on the importance of divining with him and figuring it out on your own. This is not to say that there is no value in the remnants of historical data, but as I think I've made clear, it is too incomplete at the moment to have a bird's eye view of what his cult looked like at different locations and time periods, which makes it incredibly hard to be able to look at more detailed questions.

-

(1) I feel the need to cite sources there. On this matter and how it relates to the phallus/Priapus, refer to Naked Power: The Phallus as an Apotropaic Symbol in the Images and Texts of Roman Italy by Claudia Moser.

[yamayuandadu]

Hecate: falsehoods and myths

While my blog generally focuses on China and Japan, occasionally other topics related to religion and mythology warrant a post too. Due to Halloween being right around the corner, I decided to finally cover something I've been meaning to for a long while – the large number of misinterpreted, misreported or outright made up information about my favorite minor figure from Greek mythology, Hecate. While only rarely present in myths, she's a mainstay of not only popculture, but also of what I think warrants being called “pop-spirituality”. Under the cut I will examine a number of claims commonly seen online, and provide both the necessary debunks as well as some interesting genuine information.

Falsehood #1: Hecate's three bodies represent the neopagan virgin, mother, crone trinity This claim, as  baffling as it is, made its way even to a number of academic publications – what prompted me to write this post was in fact stumbling upon it in a paper about a completely unrelated topic. In truth, there wasn't even such a thing as an universal “virgin-mother-crone” trinity in Greek mythology – the whole idea is a product of dubious 20th century scholarship, mostly that of Robert Graves, a man whose notable deeds include writing a number of seemingly entertaining historical novels, cheating on his wife with his “muses” (some of them teenaged), and introducing the world to a wide array of myths and interpretations he came up with himself, but presented as genuine (he want as far as lament that more credible authors refuse to spread his ideas further). The most prominent of them, outlined in his book White Goddess, was his belief in the existence of some form of universal goddess figure with three aspects, which he himself named rather inconsistently, and which he claimed corresponded to the phases on the moon. What is true is that Hecate was associated with the moon from the Hellenic period onward, with neoplatonic writers in particular highlighting this affinity. This appears to be derived from Hecate's role as a “light-bringing” deity, frequently depicted with torches in art. Her arguably most prominent appearance in a myth presents her as Persephone's guide on the way back to her mother, lighting the way through the underworld. A shift from a general light-bringing role to just an association with the moon likely occurred due to conflation occuring between Hecate and Artemis – however in earlier times she was also frequently associated with Apollo, who even held the title of “Hecaton” in some sanctuaries. It has also been suggested that originally the connection was based on Apollo being depicted as a “builder” deity, while Hecate's principal role was that of a guardian of homes, gates and roads, which made their purposes overlap. Due to the aforementioned moon connection, combined with the fact she was commonly depicted with three bodies in art, Hecate became a postergirl for Graves' theory. Of course, this association has no foundation in reality – Hecate is not described as triplicate in Hesiod's Theogony, the oldest source mentioning this goddess.

The oldest known depictions, both sculptures and pottery decorations, likewise depict her with only one body. Some later sources seemingly discussed the three bodied version as merely an art motif. Pausanias's travelogue presents the three bodied Hecate statues as an invention of the sculptor Alcamenes, and contrasts them with a single-bodied depiction: Within the enclosure [in Aegina] is a temple; its wooden image is the work of Myron, and it has one face and one body. It was Alkamenes, in my opinion, who first made three images of Hekate attached to one another, a figure called by the Athenians Epipurgidia [on the tower] It should be noted that yet other sources consider them to have religious importance as guardians of crossroads, though these claims are obviously not contradictory.  Additionally, a few pieces of art, such as the Pergamon altar, depict Hecate with three bodies despite presenting myths in which she only possessed one.

Hecate was consistently portrayed as a young woman (some pieces of art, like the one above, depicted her in an Artemis-like manner, in a knee length garment) and with some small exceptions, usually relying on conflation with various nymphs, ancient Greeks seemingly considered her a virgin goddess. There are no widely agreed upon ideas regarding any other figures being regarded as Hecate's children, and even after becoming only a distantly remembered boogeyman she was not depicted as an elderly woman. Falsehood #2:  a “pan-european” set of “witchcraft traditions” was derived from Hecate Most claims online related to witchcraft try to add a degree of complexity to what was senseless violence caused by moral panics, not dissimilar from the 1980s satanic panic. There was no “pan-european” component to them (beyond all instances of large scale witch hunts being motivated by religious fervor, of course), and in particular the worship of Hecate was neither extant at the time associated with witch hunts and the development of the modern western image of a witch, nor was it ever “pan-european”. If anything, an argument can be made that outside Greece and Anatolia, Hecate was more of a popular import in the east than in the west. Some Roman sources present the existence of Hecate household altars in Greece as a puzzling curiosity, which further strengthens this impression. The late version of her cult, presenting her as a witchcraft goddess spread to Egypt and Mesopotamia, while an older, more positive image of Hecate seemingly survived in far off Bactria. as evidenced for example by Agathocles’ coins with Zeus holding Hecate, seen below.

Neither version ever spread to western or northern Europe, though, and pretty clearly it did not survive in any form into the middle ages and beyond. Wikipedia mentions a truly outlandish modern association between Hecate and germanic wild hunt folklore, which strikes me as completely random. An actual well documented example of Hecate syncretism with a figure from outside Greek mythology involved the Mesopotamian underworld goddess Ereshkigal, however.

What's rather curious is that the very concept of Hecate as a witchcraft and underworld goddess might have been a relatively late development, and as such not an accurate representation her original character – and even in antiquity it wasn't an universally embraced association. Earliest Greek accounts of Hecate cast her in a positive, benevolent role. In the Theogony she's a titan siding with the Olympians and then aiding them during gigantomachia as well; in certain versions of the Persephone myth, for example in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, she's an ally of Demeter offering her counsel and finally escorting Persephone back to her mother. Many of her epithets also point at a benign character.

The deity whose role was most likely the closest to Hecate's own before the negative associations made her little more than a boogeyman was Cybele. Iconography and surviving accounts of rituals to both of these figures bear many similarities, which is considered one of the strongest arguments in favor of Hecate being an Anatolian goddess adapted into the Greek pantheon due to contact between Greek colonist in Asia Minor with local inhabitants such as Carians. It's also worth noting that in Greece both Hecate and Cybele were generally worshiped at household shrines rather than official, large temples. Sometimes Hecate and Cybele were also depicted together, though it's generally agreed they were never conflated. It is still uncertain to what degree Hecate was associated with the underworld before becoming a goddess of witchcraft – some authors assume that she was already in part cthtonic as a Carian deity, while others assume she only started to fulfill this role due to the later witchcraft associations, or due to conflation with the goddess Enodia popular in Thessaly, who was depicted as a crossroad deity like Hecate and was associated with ghosts. Falsehood #3:Hecate was always depicted with animal heads While not entirely made up, this claim is rooted in the Argonautica Orphica, a text only written in the 5th or 6th century, and likely inspired by neoplatonic, gnostic and magical sources. A probable origin of animal-headed Hecate are Egyptian magical papyri, likely influenced by Greek perception of Egyptian religion, and to a large degree disconnected from worship of Hecate in, say, Caria or Phrygia. Earlier sources and art depict Hecate with a single, human, head on each body, as discussed above. The animal-headed image only developed when Hecate started to be perceived exclusively as a goddess of witchcraft and similar arts. However, even though that was always the perception of this deity in Roman sources and in most Greek ones from 5th century BC onward, a number of cult sites in Anatolia, for example the temple in Lagina, continued to venerate her under the regular guise, and one of the most prominent indications of a lasting devotion to her comes from Greco-Bactrian coinage depicting entirely human, single-headed and single-bodied Hecate with Zeus.

While Hecate was not depicted with animal heads before the dawn of Hellenic Egyptian magical papyri, from the very beginning she was associated with a number of animals, most importantly dogs, but also martens and polecats. Occasionally her animal companions were assumed to be humans cursed with such forms. While some versions of associated myths claimed Hecate cursed specific individuals (such as Gale or Hekuba) to live as animals, in others she instead took pity on victims of another deity's curse – for example, Antoninus Liberalis notes that it was believed that the polecat was a woman named Galinthias who was transformed into the animal by the Moirae and “Hekate felt sorry for this transformation of her appearance and appointed her a sacred servant of herself.” Occasionally Hecate was also depicted with lions, like Cybele and a variety of other Anatolian, Levantine and Mesopotamian goddesses. Falsehood #4: Statue of Liberty represents Hecate While the three falsehoods discussed earlier intersect and overlap, this one, as far as I can tell, developed separately, though it also was influenced by the idea of Hecate as a malevolent witchcraft goddess to a degree. Debunking it is much easier and doesn’t require any complex research – the Statue of Liberty was simply based on the personification of liberty depicted on the Great Seal of France:

While Statue of Liberty's crown does resemble that worn by one of the three bodies of a famous statue of Hecate, currently displayed in the Vatican Museum, this style of crown was associated more with solar deities, especially the late Roman god Sol Invictus, and I have been unable to find any other depictions of Hecate wearing it.

Bibliography:

Fragments from a Catabasis Ritual in a Greek Magical Papyrus by Hans D. Betz            

Hecate Cult ın Anatolia by Coşkun Daşbacak

Hecate: Her Role and Character  in Greek Literature From Before Fifth Century B.C. by Carol M. Mooney; some arguments on the contrary can be found in Hecate:  Greek or “Anatolian”? by William Berg

Theoi Hecate and Hecate cult pages - great source of quotations

COININDIA gallery of Agathocles’ coins

[morihaus]

"Aleshut Annales" or: "A Brief History of the Alessian Empire"

Scribed by Dorceveus Mir

Translated by Yoricka Vaughn

Antiquarian of the Scenarist's Guild

Foreword:

In the field of Alessian Antiquities, significant finds are few and far between. Much of the works of the first empire were torn down by its former supplicants amidst the War of Righteousness, a heated rebellion against the excesses of the Alessian Order that would conclude in the empire's dissolution, with their fortresses sacked, monasteries razed, and potentially millions of written records, firsthand accounts, and other cultural artifacts lost to the mists of time. For this, we cannot truly blame our ancestors, but nevertheless, for us scholars of history, the lack of any pristine Alessian documents has been more than mildly irritating.

The Alessian period of Cyrodiil lasted from the year 243 to 2331 of the First Era, and yet for this stretch of 2088 years, the most we have in the way of writing are fragmented mythological texts, local legends of the era, and only the most widespread and accessible of the Order's doctrine that managed to escape historical erasure. That is, until the fascinating discovery of a cave in the Valus mountains, hosting a ruin that may have served as a hideaway for the last holdouts of the Order. Though much inside has been withered with the passage of time, one particular text of note was remarkably well-preserved: Aleshut Annales, by one Dorceveus Mir.

Dorceveus Mir's Aleshut Annales represents an unprecedented repository of knowledge on the Alessian Dynasty of the First Empire, utterly unmatched in its comprehensive narrative and relatively un-mythologized contents. Of course, 'relatively un-mythologized' is often a ways away from the whole truth; the Alessian Order was famous for its sensationalist propaganda and revisionist hand in its own history, a fact which has contributed to the lack of concrete information on their empire, but still, this text's recovery and restoration has breathed new life and enthusiasm into the field of Alessian Antiquities, and now, it is my pleasure to publish my transcription of its contents for the general public.

Enjoy Yoricka Vaughn's official translation of Aleshut Annales, or, if you'd prefer, a Brief History of the Alessian Empire.

---

Glory and Grace to the One! Equal praise be to Unitary Akatosh! Equal praise be to Missing Shezarr! Equal praise be to Ascendant Alessia! Proper-life to the Emperor! Proper-life to the Prelate! Para Ada, Para Ardis, Para Imperatum!

i.

All the lands of Ald Cyrod were once at the hands of wicked elves, who had come in blood and conquering, and had then ruled over the lands of men for one thousand generations. They were the Ayleids, the worshipers of daimon and the slavers of men, and long did they rule over Cyrod with torment, toil, and other dark iniquities.

This was the world in the days of the slave queen, the vaunted Al-Esh Paravant, who found the Missing Shezarr in her heart, and who was then found by the One through its great face, Unitary Akatosh. Through the patronage of the divine for her pure-questing, she led the Nedes to freedom and glorious triumph, and in the final and greatest show of her worthiness to sit the throne, the Dragon did ignite the fires of the covenant with her, gifted her with a stone of his own blood, the Chim-el Adabal, and the first-crowned was made Emperor of Cyrodiil.

The age following her victory was one of jubilant celebration and happiness. The cruel elves were made to heel to their new master and never again were men slaves; the Nords, though confused with their beast-visions, recognized the glory and piety of Alessia, and did much to help raise up new cities after fighting alongside her armies; the Nedes were all now free to worship the One, its subgrandience recognized by Alessia, and no more would the daimons ever threaten the innocent. Though the land was ancient, through its new mother, Vaunted Alessia, it was reborn, and this was the age of its blossoming youth.

Emperor Alessia ruled the land for 23 years, for the struggle of her youth weighed on her body, and the One called to her spirit. On her death bed, the One sent Champion Pelinal to take her spirit up to its rightful heaven, and thus the blessed Saint Alessia became Mortal Ascendant, and thus was year 0 of the Alessian reckoning.

Yet still, in mother's child Cyrod, the Order was not born until 82 years hence, the birth after death which proved the illusion.

The firstborn of Alessia, beget with blessed beast-become-man Morihaus, was called Belharza the Man-Bull, for in some ways he was ugly and bestial like his father, yet he was wise like his mother, and for this reason he was Man before Bull. He ruled justly for the first half of his reign, but as time wore on, he grew more like a beast and came to see his minotaur brethren as closer to him than the Nedes, and all his officers were minotaur, and all in his court, all of his lovers, even his chosen heir, were beast-men stock.

The men grew fearful, for he cared little for defending their ways, and even loosed the close restraints kept on the elven vassals, now left free to plot as they pleased. He was absent, spending his days grazing in his Dibellan gardens, forsaking the wisdom of his mother and the light of mankind.

But one kept to her will still, and that was Marukh the Ape-Seer. He heard the songs and tales of Saint Alessia and longed for what she dreamed of, but the land under Belharza was not that he recognized, and so he journeyed to the stone-meadows of the west to ponder on the folly of the Empire and beseech the divine.

After years living in deep spiritual contemplation, the Ascended Saint Alessia herself met with him as spirit shape and spoke the wisdom he sought. The elven ways were obfuscations of the truth, the truth that only upon her death and ascension could she herself see, and she spoke to him of the One, of the illusion of death, and the right reaching to proper-life.

Marukh recorded her words in his doctrine, and his preaching found purchase on the ears of the dissatisfied Nedes. True students flocked to him, and so began the Brothers of Marukh, anon Alessian Order.

In the 89th year hence Alessia's ascension, the old Emperor Belharza had planned to pass his crown down to a bull-maid, and the fires of the covenant grew dim for the weakness of this Emperor, and divine blood was winnowed, but the Brothers knew the true heir of Alessia, born of the heart of Cyrod itself and suckled on the mono-thoughts of the Prophet Marukh. She was Ami-El, first student of the prophet, and before the Dragon she effaced the Man-Bull and the taint of his brethren, and for this she was consecrated Emperor by the worthiness of her blood-right.

Thus began the age of Emperor Ami-El, and her righteous Alessian Order. The Seventy-Seven Inflexible Doctrines were most gloriously enforced, the error of elven tolerance was corrected, and Ayleids at last were driven from Cyrod by Ami-El and her crusaders.

Ami-El was a warrior of the faith, and also was she companion to the young High King Borgas, who carried the revelation of Alessia's Shade to the unenlightened barbarians of the north. For its praises to mankind they loved it, and so too for its critique of the Aldmeri fallacies did it find purchase among the men of Skyrim. Alas, the beloved disciple of the One was still Nord, and acted with zealous impunity as he called war against Valenwood and went without the counsel of the Emperor, all to be felled by the brutal magic of the elves- which turned them into 10,000 beasts who swallowed his army.

Ami-El ruled from the battlefields, and so found her end while rooting out elves in the black-woods of Nibenay in the 127th year. She passed down the amulet to her sole daughter and heir, Lattia, who would solidify the sweeping policies set in motion by her mother.

First did Emperor Lattia order the priesthood, who suffered for lack of a single doctrine. As the Prophet had sojourned to the cycle, his followers became lost, confusedly inventing names and natures for their god; the One was difficult to know in whole, and many sects had come to fervent quarreling over the one and solitary truth. The divinely wise Lattia assembled all the great curates and mystics of Cyrodiil, all the minds of the faith, and there in the Monastery of Canulus did she bestow in the voice of the emperor the mono-thought that would be the single doctrine of the Order.

In this Council of Canulus, Emperor Lattia set the precepts forward for the faith of the Empire; she elucidated the nature of the One, of Akatosh and Shezarr and their interplay, of the veracity of the other seven facets, and of the powers and station of the Alessian Order as servants of the One and the Emperor.

Over the long rule of the heavens-sent lady, she tended also to the turmoil of the Nords, who for 1 and 20 years had made war amongst themselves for the vacant throne of Borgas. The northern empire was all tumult, losing land to rebellious provincials and devious elves as they raised weapons to each other and wrapped tongues around themselves.

When Jarl Olaf of Whiterun called council, Lattia visited upon the Nords to voice her support for him as High King, and all the barbarians of the north were awestruck for her sharpness of tongue and power of her voice. In time they saw her wisdom, and by the time the east fell to their elven supplicants, the council would see Jarl Olaf to the throne of High King, and he would recognize Cyrodiil as Empire ascendant, and Skyrim as its vassal.

Emperor Lattia the Great ruled so to escape death, becoming part of the Empire itself, for she brought faith and culture to the reborn heart of Nirn. In addition, she beget three sons, the Nedic Calgus and Emerius, and the Nordic Gorieus, a sign of the union of Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and crown-heir to the Empire.

In the 195th year hence Alessia's ascension, the Great Lady Lattia passed away, leaving heir Gorieus to rule the Empire in her wake. Her reign was long, of 68 years, and in her life's twilight she foresaw that the enemies to the Empire and its Order would take her absence as chance to rebel, so it was her wisdom that she chose Gorieus, her warrior son, tutored by generals of the north in Bruma hold.

After his momentous coronation, Emperor Gorieus took quickly to putting down revolts from the most powerful of his vassals, including the High King Kjoric the White, proponent of the heathen ways of beast-worship and misguided dragon-fear.

It is unfortunate that Gorieus is remembered most for the latter years of his reign, when his Nordic warrior-ways failed him. Troubles began in the 212th year, in the fiefdoms of Colovia, which remained independent from the greater Empire in their stubborn and brutish ways. The kingdom of Skingrad had finally found peace with the Empire under its new king, Alessian adherent Dorald Larich, but this did not please envious brother Rislav, who spilt his brothers blood and revoked his proclamation of vassalage.

The Emperor Gorieus was forced to bring the might of his legions down upon Skingrad and its kin-slaying king, but through trickery, Rislav brokered a pact with Kvatch to lure the legion into a trap, killing thousands in the ambush and forcing the emperor into a rout.

This was the beginning of the rift of Cyrod, of Colovia-Nibenay, as well as the fall of Gorieus. Four years later, he met Hoag son-of-Kjoric in Glenumbria, where the treacherous Nordic king had forged a depraved alliance with the western elves in order to undermine the Empire, leaving the lost lands of Nordic High Rock in the hands of their crumbling hegemony.

As the west was stolen by treacherous men and scheming elves, the warlike emperor turned his attention to the lands of the east, where the dwarves and elves had created their own unholy alliance against the righteousness of mankind. He made to reclaim lands lost by the Nordic Empire, but in few months time, the accursed walking-weapons of the dwarves marched down from the north, accompanied by wicked elven sorcerers and summoners, who all ran through the armies with arrogant profanities.

In the 218th year, Emperor Gorieus perished in the elven homeland. Though the Elder Council attempted to recall his only surviving son, Dydraures, back to Cyrodiil to be crowned Emperor, the wicked elves of Morrowind intercepted and assassinated him as a sacrifice to their false gods.

So was the line of Gorieus undone by the elves, and the council was forced to select a new heir of Lattia. From the line of Calgus they selected Mharda, pious exarch of Bravil.

ii.

Emperor Mharda was a firm adherent to the Alessian faith, and quickly began to use her station to increase the power of the Order, wisely entrusting them as guardians of the Empire and increasing the scope of their responsibilities.

This closeness with the Order led to her firstborn daughter Sidanya falling deeply in love with a young curate, a man named Urdus, who was on the path to becoming arch-prelate for his deep devotion. Alongside the beautiful exarch Sidanya of Bravil, their love was sung by all the poets and bards of the Empire; they were emblematic of the ideals Emperor Mharda emphasized, the unity of the Empire and the love and kindness of the One, and all in the Imperial family were beloved by their people.

Tragically, in the 234th year hence the ascension of Alessia, Emperor Mharda was struck down by a terrible plague amidst expansion into the Kothri lands. The people mourned her greatly, none more than daughter Sidanya, and yet she steeled herself with imperious calm, knowing her duty to her people and the One, and so ascended to the throne as Emperor Sidanya with Arch-Prelate Urdus at her side.

Sidanya's reign was as celebrated her late mother's, for her love with consort Urdus shone brightly and warmed the hearts of all men. Such was their love that they engaged in a joining ritual, once devoted to facet Mara, and were united in immortal love before the One as Emperor and Emperor-Consort, souls entwined in spiritual union. They were the missing pieces of each other, finally whole, and under the warmth and goodness of their rule, the Empire was exuberant and all loving.

In the 256th year, the mystic rituals of Urdus would endanger this love, as the palace was set ablaze as he made to peer into the mysteries of the Dragon's covenant. The flame was unnatural and unflinching, and it swallowed Emperor Sidanya with a dark hunger like punishment, and the eldest son of the two-in-one could only just spare his father the same fate.

Ill-fate hung over the Empire in these times, first with the tragedy of Mharda, then Sidanya, and still more was to come and test the Alessians.

Eldest son Oryasileus was to be declared his mother's successor, yet father Urdus made an odd request in his grief, that he be the one to light the ritual fires, for Sidanya's soul, gone to this world, was not yet gone to him, and he felt her presence as he clutched the stone in his hands. His son consented to this, and Urdus honored the covenant with his own blood, the amulet around his neck.

Unknown to all, the grief of the Arch-Prelate masked sinister ambitions. Although Oryasileus was Emperor in name, his father still ruled as though at Sidanya's side, acting in her name, abusing the powers she graced him with to procure strange materials, components for the esoteric work performed in the bowels of the palace, the lightless chambers left untouched since the misrule of the elves.

While Oryasileus was left ineffectual, the power of his station cleft in twain, his absent father tucked himself away in his arcaneum, never relinquishing the Chim-el Adabal, for he saw in it the road to return to his beloved, a tool to his end, Aldmeri arrogance clouding his mind.

The Empire suffered during the reign of Oryasileus, Emperor in name only. The jungles swallowed Imperial roads, the outlying lands became troubled and resistant to authority, the good and holy Order became infested with grasping priest-kings who stole vacant power without the Arch-Prelate attentive to right them.

There were many revolts, none larger than pagus Bravil's. The Exarch Lauriel, second daughter to Mharda, denounced her nephew as a puppet emperor, and in this she was correct, but like many, she only used this to satisfy her hunger for power, launching fleets and armies to besiege the capital and claim his throne for her own. She was thwarted by the efforts of Sidanya's second son, Celeminus, a great general and his brother's staunchest ally; Lauriel warned her nephew of Urdus's improper deeds, the darkness of the elves that had taken root in his heart, but the young general still held love for his father, and saw only mourning, not madness. In the end though, he still thought on her words, and so stood with Oryasileus when the moment came to confront their father.

In the 282nd year hence the ascension of Alessia, Oryasileus gathered allies and spoke out against the Arch-Prelate, who had overstepped his station and cast the Empire into chaos. He spoke to his father and called him traitor, blasphemer of the One and his mother's name, and so enraged was the Dread Urdus that he slew his son, pronouncing himself as the one and supreme ruler of the Empire.

So was forced Celeminus's hand, and he marshaled the forces of the Imperial supporters to take down the blasphemer Arch-Prelate. The true keepers of the Order answered his call, rejecting those snakes they'd called brothers and affirming the birthright of Celeminus over his father, and the unworthy cried out their support of the Emperor-Prelate and all his darkness,

The War of the Emperor-Prelate waged for two years, the wise Celeminus fielding armies from all the disgruntled vassals of the dread Emperor, with even the godless Colovians recognizing his valor and strength as his right to rule. In the end, in the 284th year, Celeminus stormed the Imperial Palace and defeated his sorcerous father, reclaiming the amulet of right-ruling and restoring the power of Saint Alessia's bloodline.

Emperor Celeminus was Celeminus Restorer, for under his reign, by his wisdom and power and the grace of the One, he repaired the long-suffering Empire and ushered in an age of holy unity under his Celeminian Dynasty.

iii.

Emperor Celeminus worked feverishly to mend the lapses in Imperial administration. He gutted the foul priests from the Order and reassigned them to repair faltering infrastructure, priest kings and crusader legions restructured into armies of brick layers and brush cutters.

Honoring the loyalty of the Colovians during the war, Celeminus gifts the hand of his daughter Sercia to King Irlav of Skingrad, descendant of Rislav, and the tensions of the west and east are at ease for a time.

With matters settled in the heart of his Empire, Celeminus turned his attention to the pagus of Leyawiin, the contested city where Khajiit and Nedes walked beside one another and made the Topal rich with commerce. Its coffers were fat with profits, its tithe would greatly aid the reparation of the Empire, but its council had declared independence amidst Oryasileus's reign, and they refused any emperor as their master.

The Emperor could not abide by this insubordination, and so began the War of the Leyawiin Republic in the 287th year.

The forces of the Empire fought to tame the unruly pagus- the battle was hard-fought, for along with their heathen traditions, the cat-folk taught the Leyawiin men new ways of war, and their warriors moved through the canopy as deft and dexterous as jungle cats themselves. The united armies of Cyrodiil were too strong to resist, and the emperor did drive the traitors out and claimed city at last.

Shortly after, in the 290th year, Emperor Celeminus declared invasion of the cat-lands in retribution for their acts against the Empire, demanding they relinquish the wealth earned through Leyawiin's trade.

The Cathay War was a lengthy campaign; the aging Celeminus perished in the midst of it, falling to sickness and fatigue for all his ruling. His son Parachius was declared Emperor in the year 293, and would conclude the war in his father's stead.

The war ended in the Treaty of the 16 Clans, with the exhausted forces of the cat-folk acquiescing to the demands of the united Empire. The cat-folk would trade with men once again, and the men would reap the rewards

Parachius ruled in the manner of his father, his mind set on unity and strength for the Empire. As with his sister, his children were joint in political unions: Fjalor Frost-Bitten of Falkreath came to join with Stenda, his daughter and heir, whereas Denador joined with the Jarl of far frigid Winterhold, Elja Ice-Eye.

Under Emperor Parachius, the Empire was strongly united and prosperous. Rich trade came in from the north and south, and the Alessian Order regained legitimacy by way of associating with this ruler of Cyrodiil.

When Parachius joined his heavenly predecessors in the year 340, his daughter and heir Stenda took the throne. She was old, for her father had ruled long, but she had suckled her children on the Nordic ways of war, and prepared her eldest daughter Hreina to rule as a warrior Emperor, for she saw the future in conquest.

In the year 347, Stenda relinquished the throne, pronouncing her daughter as Emperor Hreina, who did quickly call out for war with the elves of Valenwood.

Emperor Hreina pushed into the forests, gaining land for the Empire's western reach, but the wood elves would take it back always, rising like weeds to steal away these hard-fought victories. History taught her that a large invading force would only draw out the beasts at the command of the elves, and so these small victories were her all.

She succumbed to infection from her questing in Valenwood, and passed with less than 20 years at the throne.

Her daughter Signa succeeded her, and took quickly to the joining of clans rather than the fielding of armies. Her crown heir Hilyad was wed to Mira Torum, daughter of Chorrol's warrior queen, tying the Imperial line to Colovia's most powerful family.

Heir Hilyad held great ambition from a young age, idolizing the father of his dynasty and all the other great emperors of war. He saw the Empire and wept for its stagnation, wandering for much of his youth in the countryside, pondering as he went.

In Skyrim, he met an Alessian hermit who spoke the same dream. The monk's name was Rettavendus, and to Hilyad he promised a glorious resurgence, he foretold the fall of the elves and the rise of man, and his words graced the ear of the Emperor-to-be, who took him immediately for an advisor of the heart and spirit.

In the 324th year hence Alessia's ascension, Hilyad rose to the throne, Rettavendus at his side. He was a mystic Emperor, one who heeded ritual and ceremony, listening first to Rettavendus, who spoke for the divine, and so too the Order, who called him prophet and prelate.

Meanwhile, emperor-consort Mira began to manage the Empire materially, tutoring their daughter Trebatina in Colovian ruling, whereas Hilyad sought to educate her in the Alessian mysteries. There was much tension between the joint pair, but Hilyad did not contest her, for his prophet spoke that the elves were vulnerable, and that man would reclaim what it lost in Morrowind, and to this he gave all his attention.

Word arrived that the dwarves and elves warred against one another in Morrowind, their union collapsing under the weight of their traitorous depravity; the vision of the Prophet was true. Unfortunately, the power of Morrowind was still greatly feared, and the Nordic kings refused to serve the Empire, instead only heeding the ghost of an ancient king, acting without the right-reaching of the Emperor and his Prophet.

So the legions were not present at the Battle of Red Mountain, fabled confrontation that ended the war. Rettavendus shook and trembled as it raged without him present, but Hilyad comforted him and made to invade once the elves had exhausted themselves, fending off the dwarves and the Nords and each other.

But the moment had gone, for in the 435th year, Hilyad's invasion of Morrowind was thwarted by elven trickery, the three-headed council of tribunes pretended themselves as gods- the typical fashion of elves- and used violent magics to sunder the entire invading force. The Emperor fell in battle, and his prophet vanished for 20 years.

In the wake of Hilyad, his consort took little time to mourn him. She was eager to usher their daughter Trebatina onto the Imperial throne, and under her, the Empire began a slow rot; the Order was neglected, as was the faith, and she styled herself as a Cyro-Nordic king, settling disputes with violence, acting often, questioning little.

20 years hence, Rettavendus reappeared as an old man, arriving before the Imperial court with a young maid named Pera, who was the hidden heir of Hilyad, a secret whispered to him with the Emperor's dying breath. All the years he'd been scouring Cyrodiil for where she was hidden, and then raising her to rule as Hilyad's true heir. Now that she was a woman, he honored his perished liege by demanding that she inherit the throne instead of Trebatina.

The Alessian Order supported Pera and celebrated the return of their lost prophet, but the Colovian Estates would not easily relinquish the position they'd taken under Trebatina.

The Elder Council attempted to select which heir was legitimate, but being split between Colovian and Alessian creeds, no decision could be reached. As was customary in the grisly western courts, Trebatina executed the councilors who did not support her. Alessian Nibenay was in outrage, and the Order took arms against her as false Emperor. The hidden heir Pera declared a war against her heathen half-sister, and the divided heartland became a battlefield of west and east.

iv.

The wrongfulness of the west had plunged Cyrod into turmoil. The land ran with the blood of its children, and the armies were locked in stalemate at the battlefields of Bruma and Bravil, as both moved as Slave Queen, making to surround the Rumare and besiege the city as in myth. Trebatina would efface the works of Alessia and write her own history, but Pera was the Returned, Blessed Reassertion, and this was her right-quest to heal the Empire of her furthermore.

The Prophet brought her word to the north as Perrif's falcon, and the lords of old Winterhold and Eastmarch saw her and shouted her claim in their voices, and many of the Nords followed them, but there were the jealous jarls of the west who made pacts with the Colovs, and for their greed and darkness would see Torum keep the throne.

Olmir of Falkreath harrowed Bruma through the Pale Pass, and his men ported goods to the highlands through the passage, so morale in the north was poor, but their claimant was wise in mono-thought and spoke righteous truths; Pera reached the ear of the Jarl and warned him of the power madness of her half-sister, who saw not past the scope of petty flickering mortalship, and would turn the land to decadence and tyranny and no doubt covet the northern lands for herself. Her voice struck him free of her beguiling, and with new sense his blood would control Bruma, and the pass would be his in whole.

Olmir set his blood-sister Bysri to the throne and his armies, and alongside claimant-general Pera she led the true breaking of the border and began the winding retreat of the Colovians.

Profane Trebatina and all her line were felled by the righteous Alessian Order, and in 461 Arch-Prelate Rettavendus gloriously pronounced Emperor Pera as one and true Sovereign of the Empire.

For her bravery in war and her heart that beat with divinity, it is held that Pera was myth-echo to Al-Esh, and so the Prophet proclaimed, and so she confessed atop the throne, for she had indeed returned to put an end to the faithlessness of the brutal westerners, and so she dismantled their estates and dressed the men of Colov in silks and cloths and teaching all the people of the One, so that a Colovian Priesthood could take root, and so was the ruling of the west ever hence.

Rettavendus's vision of a revitalized Empire came to pass, and Hilyad's memory was honored by his true heir, who the true believers called Veravant, which is second-crowned; so the Veravanic dynasty began in celebration.

Emperor Pera reigned for a glorious 43 years by the grace of the One and the way to proper-life. She left the Empire of prestige, of unity and divine favor, and as her soul again faced the illusory cycle, the people wept, but smiled, for she would come again. So was the year 504, and the crowning of Emperor Canalatta.

Canalatta was born of the union of her mother and a spirit of the north, who, like Morihaus, took the shape of man to please and serve the Emperor, but she, blessed child, was born fully man and without fault, and so worthier to reign.

As with Great Lattia, Canalatta held a great council of the faithful in the monastery of Mothata and established the act of priesthoods, which made equal branches of the Order in Colovia and Nibenay, and turned too to Skyrim as still the Nords resisted right-teaching.

The 540th year rose up Emperor Tel-Bel, who met the distant men-of-Yoku, whose Ra Gada carved their name onto the death-lands and scattered the Nedes without knowledge, for they were not under Cyrod, and so not known to Alessia's glory. Their warrior-king Yokeda Razul met with the divine emperor, and saw past his hatred of the infidels and recognized his brother under the One and by way of the sword, and so did not heed the fear of his council and struck the accord of Craglorn, halting his men's advance and becoming friend and ally to the Emperor.

The descendants of Tel-Bel would keep friends with the Ra Gada, anon Redguard, and the kingdoms of Hegathe flourished by the nurturing love of the Empire.

The Emperor Tel-Bel lost his life hence three years to man-eaters of the jungles, and so beloved was he that the Order cleared such swathes of rolling canopy and rooted out the offending beasts and blasphemers.

Daughter and heir Telin-El was pronounced Emperor in the 553rd year hence Alessia's ascension. She looked to Craglorn and wept for its people, unenlightened, clinging to the primitive traditions preceding revelations of Alessia and Marukh, who better knew the One than any, and so she set forth to bring the faith to them in a new Priesthood of Craglorn, and so did this happen, and Elinhir's star-seers were cast down from stone towers as pretender priests to make way for the One Faith.

Emperor Telin-El bore a son named Athel-Hev, who bore a son named Huttascus, who in his youth was eccentric yet charming, and who took to his mother's efforts to proselytize his uninitiated Nede-kin. In the Nibenean Priesthood he journeyed to the farthest southern reaches of the blackwood, and there met a Kothri believer, Zuuik, and the two were fated lovers, then made one before the One. A son was born to them, his name Altel, but sick was he from birth, and he did only grow frail and small as a child, and would last but eight years. It was 592 when Altel passed to fever, and left his parents to mourning.

The Emperor herself held a grand ceremony for her great-grandchild, and the Empire wept for its fallen son, but none wept more than father Huttascus, who lost part of himself in the loss of his son, and grew fearful of all the world.

Four years hence, a second son, Mantiel, was born to them, and met much love from his parents, and all the fear of his father; Huttascus kept his son in the Imperial isle for all his life, indulging the curiosity of a child in the Mytho-Histories of the Alessian Order, tales of killing-questing-healing, and he became the beloved child of the isles in those days, known for soaring heart and strange humor.

In the year 625, Telin-El was returned to the cycle after a most long and glorious reign. Huttascus was heir, but was unfit to rule, for his mind was too fearful and his faith weak, and so his body roiled with sickness for but a month before the One reclaimed him, and his son Mantiel was left to rule well.

Quickly Emperor Mantiel took to traveling, circling Cyrodiil with his voracious wandering as the wise Order and his Council tutored him well in the matters of state. He was a laughing Emperor, young and exuberant, and left much to the trusted and loyal Order while he partook in the joy of his people and their ceremonies; a harvest dance of Pell's Gate was where he met the she-sower Nim, his emperor-consort, who joined him in his travels and spread their love and joy throughout the lands. Twin girls were born to them, Cele and Culila, and all the traveling family were most beloved, and the dourness of his father forgotten.

Emperor Mantiel kept company with the prominent figures of his age, but none more so was he enamored with the Redguard adventurer Gaiden Shinji, grandest swordsman in all of Tamriel. Mantiel so loved to spectate the man that he constructed an arena within the capital, and so Shinji held many exhibitions there to the delight of the Emperor and his people, such was the open heart and generous nature of the Emperor.

The royal family of Mantiel was beloved by their citizens as common royals, who often would travel the lands participating in local festivals and celebrations. Mantiel continued to attend such events up until his 86th year, wherein he did perish in a particularly rigorous mystic dance of the blackwood, meeting the illusion of death as he met life, smiling.

So his daughter became Emperor Cele, and continued a rule of good humor.

Amidst Alessian light and revelry, there were shadows and ill tides to the west, as the dread King Styriche of Verkarth rose his small city to encompass much of the death-lands, for he resigned his soul to the daimons of backward death-illusions and unholy warping of the mortal matter and did command a dark host of his monstrous kin; none of the Empire knew, however, as the dark ones moved in secrets and only stalked the periphery- but this was not to last.

By the days of successor Emperor Valimus, the undead and man-beasts grew common troubles to the Craglorn, and even the Colovians became troubled for their infestations, but for all the efforts of the priesthood the vermin would only scatter and regroup; they grappled with serpent's tail as its head drew back with venom, and so the darkness took root, unbeknownst to the Emperor or Order.

Crusader-bands were for naught as the beasts made themselves at home in the courts of Cyrodiil, growing bold, hungry for the dismantling of the right-deeds of mankind. Soon, the Imperial family were victims of their sorcerous trickery, and they began their slaughter of the Emperor's heirs and all the holy rulers of the land, for this was their hunger for destruction.

In the 761st year, the hideous creatures brought fear and chaos to the land, and the Cyrodiils feared the darkness, for the monsters came with it, feasting on their flesh and blood, fallowing their crops and livestock, stealing thralls away in the night. The courts grew few, and the councilors grew paranoid and suspicious, twisted against each other by the cruel machinations of darkness.

The Emperor had but one heir, Malexilid, who though capable and wise at appearance was but a cruel simulacrum of the Gray Host, a vampire, and so the betrayed Emperor, who was so taken by loss he died in grieving for his family, and for the fall of his Empire.

The Elder Council had lost much, and now frantically tended to the contesting heirs of the Veravanics, but there would be no order amidst such turmoil, and so the One sent forth a young general from the province of Craglorn who had spent past years exterminating covens of vampires and packs of man-beasts across the Empire's western front, a warrior woman by the name of Hestra, whose blood was of Pera, who was of Alessia, and her soul burned with same fire, and her killing-questing was her worthiness to show she could heal her beloved Empire. The Council recognized her ruling-right, and so declared her Emperor Hestra, and prayed that she be the savior of Cyrodiil.

v.

The voice of Emperor Hestra lit the great fires of man's soul again and moved like Missing Shezarr as she raised forth the legions, who numbered as many as they had ever before as the students of the One commended their souls to the protectorate of man; so in the first years her legions pierced the veil of darkness and scattered the servants of evil to westward winds, and Holy Hestra did not falter as the Host met her with its challenges, and she slayed the bellowing bloodmoon beasts to make of their coats a mantle, and resisted the glamours and illusions of twelve deathly beauties to make of their blood enchanted stones, and her generals wore the steel hides of monsters and the warding blood-rings, so they were prepared to make invasion upon the Vampire of Verkarth, the Dread Styriche, and his armies of the dark.

In the year 763 hence the ascension of the ascended Alessia, Hestra led with fire her forces, and the 10,000 of the legions met with the offending blasphemers whose nature was not with the One, and their righteousness forced the King Styriche into rout, for their dark spells could take no purchase on the true warriors of Godsent Hestra. So the fleeing daimon-kin met Bangkorai, gates to the High Rock, and the Martyr of Evermore Pelin cried to the One, who made of his body a font of blood, and he dove to the beasts to hold them- so transfixed were they by senseless hunger- and the garrison so did hold the fiends until the legions arrived and destroyed them.

Emperor Hestra was impressed at this bravery, and saw the miracle of the One as sign of their worthiness, so she did admit High Rock to the Empire, and all swore to her liege and saw the goodness and greatness of the One and the Empire; so it was too in Skyrim, and Emperor Hestra met with the High King, who knelt at her feet and sung her glories, and the heresies of the Nords were forgiven and all forgotten.

The hinterlands of the Reach were brought into the Empire with the fall of twelve kings, who did see Hestra's might as right to rule, but there was a dark spirit surging in the uncharted lands: Fao-Lan, the Red-Eagle, who was rebellion to the witch-men and their walking god of slaughter, and whose chest caved without heart and eyes burned without human soul. He cut with bloody blade strokes and curse-runes into the flesh of the Alessians, and the Martyred Legion of Peace was lost, but triumphant, and the lands were ordered to the priesthood and purged of daimon.

In the year 769, the sea-lanes of Topal were troubled with brigands who harrowed Leyawiin's trade, and who melded into the eastern marsh and its estuaries when pursued, and the blackwood-men feared follow them into the unknown, but not Great Emperor Hestra, who feared no darkness, mortal or spirit. She called for the head of the Pirate King Bramman and loosed 500 ships with her voice, and so the river-ways of the marsh were mapped as new battlefield, and the strongholds rooted out and redressed in the colors of Saint Alessia.

Men from Cyrod to High Rock did also meet the lizard-folk of the black marsh, who were but whispers of the Kothri and the Lilmothiit, but now were real and mysterious; and the Red Bramman was one of these folk, who learned man-speak and man-sail from a daimon of greed and plunder, and who envied the wealth and splendor of the Empire, so he began his own kingdom of thieves in the mangroves by a secret river, and when defeated, would retreat through the winding streams and canopies he knew alone.

Wise Hestra found his secret waterway and made to raid his thieves-keep, and did call Bramman out to duel, so he accepted, and in his one act of nobility did fall in honorable combat with the Emperor as the legions razed his fortress and reclaimed their stolen wealth.

The western reaches of the marsh and its river-ways were then kept by the Empire for trade and protection, and the Kothri-lands were made territory of the Empire, joining Craglorn's men as rescued kin of the Paravanics.

772 was the last war of Hestra, as the great conqueror saw her victorious navies and declared invasion of the cat-lands of the Topal coast, and the rich cities were besieged by her fleets who numbered so to coat the horizon, and the Khajiit were helpless without deserts and forests to aid their defense, and their boats were but merchant skiffs; but on the south came the ships of the high elves, mankind's most ancient foe, and their fleet was great in number, and their hulls shimmered of dew and glass and gilded metals, and they led their armies upon the forces of Hestra.

These were the kin to our oppressors, who warred with Saint Alessia and Crusader Pelinal, who the Alessian Order drove from our lands so that we might escape their fallacies of slavery and suffering, these were the sons to their fathers, returned from their west-isle of Summurset to claim revenge. They impeded the efforts of mankind, the nature of elves, and broke the siege with their great swarming of ships.

Emperor Hestra's heart burned with the spirit of crusader, so she made to push against the largest of the Aldmeri fleets, as Pelinal did storm White-Gold, but as he, she perished for her heroism, torn asunder by the sorcery of the elves, flagship cast to the depth of the bay. She was truly the savior of Cyrodiil, the greatest servitor to the One and all of the Empire, which grew twice-fold under her ever-right guidance.

The Emperor Hestra took no consort and left no heir, thus her brother Rhem was pronounced Emperor by the Elder Council. The elves left the cat-folk with great ships and weaponry, and so while her armies wished to honor their late emperor with conquest, it could not be done, and good men of the Empire were left grief-stricken and mad with fury for the iniquities of the elves.

Ancestral hatred of the elves returned to the Alessians, bringing tension to the High Rock, where the Bretons still recognized the names of elven gods and pledged worship, so conditioned by their ancient oppressors; the blasphemous traitors of their man-blood spoke of the daimon patron of elves, pretender-god Auri-El, and called to him in name of the One, Akatosh, which bore outrage from the Alessian Order, who knew right-thought, and made wars of scripture to expunge the Aldmeri taint from the face of the High Rock.

In the 818th year hence Alessia's ascension, Emperor Rhem passed after ruling long and just, tending to the holdings of elder sister Hestra and glorifying her holy deeds with great works, immortalizing her in monuments to her piety and strength, and bringing her message of the One to the hinterlands of admitted High Rock and liberated Verkarth.

Emperor Nirnen succeeded him, and she called the Empire to war with the elves, and so gathered up her children, generals of the Order, and devised their plan. Abbot General Ingerem was her eldest son and wisest of her children, and it was his mind and sword entrusted to invade the Valenwood, the bastion of elvendom that had ever resisted the Empire and its allies to mankind; the Empire was greater and more powerful than ever before, and so the riches of the elves would be forfeit, and man could prepare for the final battle against elf-kind.

The largest army of man in history was assembled, warriors of Colovia, Nibenay, Skyrim, High Rock, all donned the armor of the legion and the crest of the sigil of the One and marched forth into the green, razing and burning the forest as they went, goading the elves into decisive battles and keeping strong. The invasion was glorious triumph, again and again the elves faltered to the Empire, and the west weald spilled southward as they marched. The Green Witch and her Silvenar, sorcerous rulers of the wilder-elves, did call forth the thousand beast hunt and changed their armies into flesh-tearing beasts and monsters, but even the Silvenar, in the shape of a war-beast, did fall in one of these hunts, for the soldiers of the Empire were many and great, and learned to interrupt the beast-magic with warrior cries and druid-tricks.

The loss of their King Silvenar dealt a blow to the morale of the elves, who seemed all defeated in one fell swoop, and so the tree-thanes fell to the feet of their conquerors as they hunted the great-oak Falinesti to destroy the Camoran, the remaining keepers of the green.

But woe, the high elves came again to deprive mankind of its triumph, for they were the allies to the Camoran and gifted their men with enchanted arms, forged with the secrets of their ancestors, and carved the names of men onto arrows of bone, which never missed when fired.

Fate reversed, and the Alessians lost their own war-leader Ingerem, and the armies receded to Cyrodiil as the elves preformed cruel revelry for the bloody defeat of mankind.

The Empire wounded, second-son to the Emperor, Glathes, vowed to continue the work of Ingerem, and so he traveled to the lands of the Redguard, Hegathe-now-Hammer-Fell, and spoke to ally the ruling kings with the rest of mankind against the elves, but the ruling council turned up their noses, balking the Alessians, who to them were so soundly defeated, and they gave no pity to their fellow-men for their defeat at the hands of elves. Glathes thoughtlessly pronounced that if not allies, the Redguards would be enemies of the Empire, and so when they did not capitulate, he forced his men to march for the reputation of the Empire.

The arrogant war was costly, the Redguards knew the ways of desert-war and crag-war better than any soldiers of the Empire, and their armies fought ferociously to defend their homeland, so the reduced legions could not contend, and Glathes saw that more terrible were the Redguards as enemy, and perished, raging on the battlefield, spitting at the soldiers of the Redguard and calling them ally to the elves, for which they slew him brutally.

The invasion was swiftly over, and Verkarth was taken by the Redguard, whose kingdoms swelled to all of the death-land, for the accord of Tel-Bel and Razul was violated, and so the lands west of Colovia were no longer protected by the bond of mankind. The Empire was shrunken, even more gravely in debt and disrepair, and so the twilight of Emperor Nirnen was filled with misfortune and unruliness, as the vassals decried the power of the Empire and the Order, and revolts raged to restore the pre-enlightenment ways of the backwards provincials.

The throne at her death was a difficult burden to bear, and it fell Ene-Yenna, granddaughter of Nirnen, just 17 years of age in the year 854. Her first act was to declare a Rule of Order, putting local governance into the hands of the esteemed generals of the Alessian Order, who as right-ruling provincial kings would work to mend the broken Empire through tireless effort and devotion in the name of the Emperor, bringing peace to the provinces and piecing together the dominion of man.

Emperor Ene-Yenna spoke the words of the Order, who in the time of strife served the Emperor's will by mono-thought, and had all attuned to her thinking wave and the dictated will of the One. The Empire would be much prepared by the time of her death thanks to the goodness and oneness of the joint Emperor-Order.

Emperor Padri-El succeeded her mother in the 889th year hence Alessia's ascension, and has ruled in the same manner, in glorious mono-thought with the ever faithful Order, who have successfully restored Alessian values to all the lands of the Empire, displacing traitorous heathens and instituting their own heavenly regimes, carrying the will of the Emperor to the farthest reaches of her realm.

Though the centuries of the great and blessed Empire of Man have been oft unkind to our Alessian Order, they are now indisputably the shepherds of the Empire, the agents of the Emperor's will, so by extension the will of the One. Our blessed Emperor need not trouble herself with mortal stresses of her predecessors, for the ever-wise and pious Arch-Prelate Fervidius Tharn has her people well in hand, and her lands all in Order.

Glory and Grace to the One! Equal praise be to Unitary Akatosh! Equal praise be to Missing Shezarr! Equal praise be to Ascendant Alessia! Proper-life to the Emperor! Proper-life to the Prelate! Para Ada, Para Ardis, Para Imperatum!

---

Postscript:

This document has been dated to the 1190th year of the First Era, or 924 in the Alessian reckoning, representing 948 years of the First Empire's history, as well as fascinating insights into the politics of its first millennium of existence. A total of 29 emperors are listed; an unprecedented number, as no more than 7 had ever been reliably proven to exist within prior Alessian scholarship.

The year 1190 should be significant to any with a passing interest in the First Era, for it's just a decade shy of the fabled Middle Dawn, a most puzzling period in which records fail to follow any singular coherent narrative. Faulty note-keeping? Or a sign of linear time's complete shattering at the hands of the esoteric Alessians? This antiquarian will leave that for the reader to decide, but what I can say for certain is that the dark age of the Middle Dawn seems to have directly contributed to the sudden and crushing fall of the Alessian Empire.

The only Emperor that the Elder Council has seen fit to acknowledge past the date of this text is one Shor-El, who must have come to rule at some point during the 1008 year stretch of the so-called dragonbreak. From that point on, scattered references to hundreds of different emperors can be found throughout Tamriel, though none can be certified to have ever ruled, or even existed, at least not with our current evidence. Accounts from the War of Righteousness make little mention of the reigning Emperor, who it seems at that point had become little more than a puppet for the Alessian Order- something, I should note, the closing paragraphs of this text seem to attest to.

Nevertheless, for all the questions left unanswered and the biased nature of these annals, this is the most comprehensive history of the Alessian Empire ever uncovered, and should be celebrated for what it is: a momentous discovery and invaluable window into the First Era, its politics, and its culture.

I should hope these writings ignite a passion in those of you who contemplate our past, who would take arms in the fight to beat back the uncaring march of time and preserve the stories of our ancestors for future generations. Though this war began thousands of years ago, when the first scribe put quill to parchment, it continues today all throughout the world. Everything, no matter how niche, how forgotten, how willfully destroyed, is a part of our stories, and it is our duty as antiquarians, historians, as denizens of Tamriel, to remember them.

[bookswitchcraftandcats]

Rainy Days (Part 1 of 4)

Link to AO3 --- Part 2

Summary: Emma and Julian are in charge of the London Institute for a week and find a box that once belonged to Cordelia Carstairs and contains poems written to her by James Herondale. The story switches between Emma and Julian and oneshots about things that happened in Jordelia's life to inspire the poems.

Sorry if the formatting for the poems is messed up, I tried. 

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Emma and Julian walk through the halls of the London Institute. Growing up, Julian always loved London, he found the city to be inspiring for paintings and loved the older feel of the buildings. They were here for a visit and also because Alec asked them to watch over it for a few days while Julian’s Aunt Marjorie was on vacation. Both of them love London and spent most of their time going to Hyde park and all kinds of little cafes but unfortunately, today was not a good day to be exploring the city.

Being from LA, they hardly ever saw rain and they felt as though even if they did, it wasn’t usually this much. It was pouring outside and nearly flooding the streets, even though it was the middle of the day it was so dark outside you could hardly see. So, the young couple decided to stay inside and explore the institute instead.

“Do you think the sun ever shines in London?” Emma asks while looking out the window. Today they were in the library just trying to get some work done. Julian laughs and then walks over to join her at the window, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Want to take a break and explore for a little bit?” He asks, taking her hand. They headed off into the rest of the building, looking for an adventure.

The London institute was one of the biggest in the world, it felt as though you could go for miles without ever seeing the same room twice. Now Emma and Julian were laughing as they raced through the historic halls, they hadn’t had much time to themselves lately and desperately needed this break. Every so often they would stop and take pictures of tapestries or portraits that Jules would want to try to paint once they got back home.

They came to a tapestry of a pond with ducks. It had a bit of text sewn into the bottom corner that just said, “never trust a duck.” They thought that was kind of wierd to have but it looked very old. They were approaching a whole hallway that seemed like it hadn't been touched in decades. The wallpaper reflected the style of another time period and the pictures were covered by a layer of dust.

Now out of breath the two stopped for a second and smiled at each other. They may not be parabatai any more but they still knew what the other was thinking. This was the most fun they have had in years. Julian stepped forward and kissed his girlfriend. Emma returned this with passion. Jules’ arms around her waist and her arms thrown around his neck.

One thing leads to another and next thing you know they find themselves stumbling backward into one of the abandoned bedrooms. They keep making out as the door slams behind them, falling onto the bed. Emma then suddenly stops and looks across the room curiously.

She had caught something out of the corner of her eye, a name. Her name. There was a wooden jewelry box with the name Carstairs engraved on it. It sat on a bookshelf next to an old leather bound book titled The Beautiful Cordelia and a book of Persian mythology. Looking around the room, it seemed as though no one had been in here for years. Julian followed her gaze and quickly caught on. Emma looked up at Julian,

“Do you think this could have belonged to one of my ancestors?” She asks while picking up the box.

“Probably. Didn’t Jem used to live here? Maybe it is his?” He responds as they walk back to the bed. They set the box down between then and open it up. Inside it is filled with treasures that belonged to someone a century ago. The first thing they pull out is a worn portrait.

“I don’t think it is Jem,” Emma says as she hands the picture to him. It depicts a girl with bright red hair holding a familiar gold sword. The same sword that Emma carries with her every day.

“Is that,” Julian starts with a bit of surprise, “Cortana?”

“I think so,” Emma says. “So this must be Cordelia Carstair.” She had grown up hearing stories about the warrior that fought greater demons in London and wielded the same Carstairs sword. She was said to be one of the bravest shadowhunters of her time. She had also met with Lily Chen during one of her visits to New York. The vampire had known Cordelia and had a few stories of her own to share.

“This must be a box of her belongings, and this probably used to be her room.” She continues while reaching in to grab a stack of notes. On each one was written a poem and at the bottom they were signed ‘J.H.’

“H” Julian wonders aloud, “I wonder if it stands for Herondale.”

“It does” says Emma, “James Herondale was her husband.”

“Do you think he wrote these poems to her?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She says and then pulls out another portrait from the bottom of the box. It was of a boy with dark hair and gold eyes. They weren’t quite sure who this was but had a sort of an idea. They could always ask Tessa later too, she had sent a fire message earlier that day saying she was going to stop by tonight with Jem.

“Do you want me to read the poems?” Emma asks, retrieving the first one from the box. Julian nods and then she starts reading.

Cortana

You carry a sword of mercy and power It’s blade an extension of your own will. It can cut through the wickedest of powers, And slice through the chains that bind me.

The Sunlight reflects off it’s gold surface. Holding confidently to the grip of the hilt, Cutting down enemies for miles and miles, You could tear this very world in two.

The sword for the purest of hearts, For the one who has my own heart. The most beautiful of weapons ever made, Belongs to the most beautiful person I know.

It was another day taken over by the rain and The Merry Thieves and company were all sitting around the Devils Tavern discussing their latest projects. Lucie was just finishing reading her latest chapter of The Beautiful Cordelia. This section happened to be about “Lord Asher” and his new boyfriend, a knight named “Sir Tobias”. This prompted blushing from Alastair and Thomas while the others made jokes.

Cordelia was sitting next to James on the couch resting her head on his shoulder. She enjoyed these little displays of affection and was very content. James looked at her and smiled and then all of the sudden Mathew jumps up and says,

“Jamie, do you have any poems that you have been working on?” James sighs and then walks over to the book shelf and pulls out a leather bound notebook. He sits next to Cordelia and then starts flipping through the pages looking for a poem to read when the word Cortana catches her eye. She puts a finger on the page and looks at her husband, he winks and she blushes. James then quickly continues flipping through pages before his nosey parabatai notices. He starts reading the group one of his poems and they continue chatting for the rest of the afternoon.

Cordelia and James say their goodbyes and head back to the institute. Their carriage was kind of far away so they had to walk a bit in the heavy rain, not that either of them minded holding hands in the rain.

They were running and jumping in puddles, they would be wet anyways so what's the harm? Cordelia laughed as James pulled her in for a kiss under the street light. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. They pulled apart and smiled, walking off to their warm, dry carriage.

James put an arm around Cordelia as they rode home, they were both tired from a long day and the gloomy weather. By the time they got to the institute they were both half asleep and wet from the rain. They head up to their room to change into some dry clothes before laying down on their bed. Cordelia looks at James,

“So, what was that poem about?” she questions with a smirk.

“The Cortana one?” James says while grabbing the leather bound book from his bag.

“Yes,” Cordelia says, looking over at the journal in his lap. He turns to the page with the title at the top.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” he asks in a quiet whisper. She nodded.

You carry a sword of mercy and power It’s blade an extension of your own will.

He is right next to her and she can feel his warm breath as he reads each line. She thinks of her own sword, the sharp edge for mercy, the sword itself full of power. The Sword was an extension of her will, it had chosen her and would always come to her in a fight. James kisses her cheek.

It can cut through the wickedest of powers, And slice through the chains that bind me.

It had cut through wicked powers, when she needed to save James. She wasn’t even thinking then, she just knew she needed to save him. She had also cut through the bracelet that binded him to Grace, freeing him. She knew that even if he didn’t love her, he should be free to choose for himself who to love, but he did choose her.

The Sunlight reflects off it’s gold surface. Holding confidently to the grip of the hilt, Cutting down enemies for miles and miles, You could tear this very world in two.

She had fought many demons, even princes of hell and her sword never failed. James was always by her side fighting too. Together they could defeat the most dangerous of creatures, they even tore through the layers of this world once to stop one. Her love for James extended beyond the bounds of this world and she would do anything to get to him.

The sword for the purest of hearts, For the one who has my own heart.

She didn’t know if her heart was necessarily pure, she could only try her best. She loved James and he certainly had her heart too. She could feel her heat racing while watching his lips form the words in a calm whisper.

The most beautiful of weapons ever made, Belongs to the most beautiful person I know.

This made Cordelia blush a little, James’s eyes turned to meet hers as he closed the book. He carefully tore the page from the notebook and handed it to her.

“This was meant for you anyways,” he says as he kisses her softly on the lips. She placed the paper on the nightstand. “I love you Daisy.”

“I love you too,” Cordelia says as she kisses him again. They then lay back in bed and fell asleep next to each other, listening to the rain outside as it lulled them into a deep and loving sleep.

Tag list: @fortheloveofthecarstairs  @thehotfaeriethreesome  @shadowrunner2000  @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia  @niathesanctuary-bolastair-kanej 

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[purplehoodiesimon]

i don’t have a number for you, so this is an open invitation for you to pick the number you most want to answer and answer that :)

You say that as if I read through ask game lists before reblogging them lol. Okay uhhhhhhhhhh

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I got to 11 and immediately knew I had to answer this. Okay so the coolest thing I've learned doing research for fic unrelated to YR is the Cŵn Annwn. They're this sorta spirit dog in Welsh mythology (I was doing research for a spn fic I never published) and they're usually little white dogs with red ears seen as a foretelling of death. They're from Annwn, the otherworld, and a part of the Wild Hunt. They also may be somewhat related to Gabriel's Hounds, which is an English myth. I have to physically restrain myself from adding this to like everything I write, I love these funky little dudes so much. I also made up the world's worst, most obscure joke after learning the pronunciation that requires like so much random knowledge to understand but I find it hilarious. Here it is: What would Blackbeard's ship be called if he was from Welsh mythology? The Cŵn Annwn's Revenge

Okay and now that no one's laughing and I look ridiculous, here's the coolest (sorta) piece I've picked up doing YR fic.

So during the writing of Dear Titanic, I was on a mission to have things about the ship super historically accurate and I spent like 40 minutes tracking ship records and stuff trying to figure out if any of the musicians on board personally knew the Captain. The consensus was I don't fucking know, I can't find anything. I also learned that there's like no records of the actual songs they played which was very annoying, and then I had a hard time tracking down popular music in the 1900s-1910s cause everything was from either the 1870s or 1930s and that was SO annoying. So that was fun! I learned a LOT about the Titanic writing it.

As for the second question, do I worry about doing research? My fellow humans of the tumblr, you are looking at a man that read the Prose Edda (Norse mythology), yes the actual Prose Edda not fun little compilations like Neil Gaiman's Norse Myths (though I did read that too, he did good with it), for fun in high school. You are looking at a man that spent the better portion of sophomore year reading the library's physics books during 5th/6th/7th period every day trying to figure out time travel (unsuccessful, entropy is a bitch, but I have ideas about breaking light barriers with neutrinos and deuterium). You are looking at a man who found Old Latin texts on alchemy and tried to translate them for a fic (unsuccessful, Latin is a bitch), and when getting into actual fic communities way back at 13 years old, would make their Harry Potter stories canon compliant by going through the books with post-its marking off scenes where the characters I was writing about weren't around so I wasn't breaking canon. In other words, no I don't worry about doing research at all. I worry about going overboard with it. And thankfully, I have chilled out a bit on making things canon compliant. AUs are so much fun.

Talk to me about my funky little words

[angelicymp]

Perhaps a little coaxing is needed...

Good evening my literary friends,

I am hoping to find a suitable partner for specific cravings and ideas I have in mind.

My introduction will be brief and a bit more to the point than usual. I am quite thorough and detail-oriented when it comes to being a writer, including some of my rules and preferences. However, since I believe it to be quite a hassle to go through every point I’m making, my ad will be a bit more compact.

A brief recap: You can call me Imp; I am in my twenties and a student, striving to become a part-time freelancer as well. My main hobbies are photography, traveling, drawing and of course, the art of writing. Currently, I reside in Europe, so my timezone could differ from yours, unless you are also from a similar region.

Be sure to read through my ad to see if we’re compatible. Too many times I’ve encountered cases where the inquirers skimmed through all of the info and upon messaging me, were surprised to learn that we weren’t a match from the beginning. So if you haven’t properly read my ad, I’ll know. I’d like to urge everyone to stick with it so there won't be any misunderstandings and not waste everyone’s time.

————————


Me, myself and I

(art by: Ayami Kojima)

♦ Nickname: Imp

♦ Experience: 12 years and counting

♦ Style: 1:1 with the inclusion of doubling

♦ Rating: Mature

♦ Roleplaying Platform: Email and Google Docs

♦ Chatting Platform: Email, Google Hangouts or Discord

♦ Pet peeves: Slice of Life


After finishing the game of Resident Evil 8 Village, I was struck by yet another muse.




I am currently looking for either a pre-existing canon inspired roleplay, or, something completely original. Be sure you are above the age of eighteen, preferably 21 and upwards. I will not accept any inquires from minors - this is not negotiable.

What to expect

♢  Content: Mature. I am more interested in darker things like horror, occultism, the supernatural, you can maybe guess where I am going with this. My limits are few, safe for a couple of minor pet peeves that I have, I am pretty much open to some experimentation; such as violence, gore and sexual themes. When it comes to heavy scenes, I will not fade to black, unless it serves no purpose to the story. Not a huge fan of censorship. However, I will not force or push my partner into something they are not comfortable with. If you want to know the extent to how far I am willing to go, what sort of content, or how graphic my writing will be, you can ask me directly.



♢ Rating: I have little to no issues with delving into more sensitive topics. Since reality is often stranger than fiction, it is very interesting to explore all sides of human nature, including the less comfortable subjects such as psychology, crime, etc. But I also like to remind that this is a world of fiction and no one in their right mind would condone such things in real life. The world of adults is not easy to handle, but it sure is interesting to explore. So if you are a gentle soul and can’t take the heat of more serious moments within the roleplay, be it a character going through trying times, etc; this might not be ideal for you.

♢ Writing: My texts are considerably lengthy, detailed, and elaborate. Third-person is usually my preferred way of playing my character unless there’s a special case where an exception can be made. Word count usually fluctuates, though I have a standard form of 400-500+ words per reply. It also highly depends on the given situation.

♢ Romancing: I admit to being a hopeless romantic. There’s nothing more enjoyable than witnessing good and powerful chemistry between two characters. Preferably I go for the usual MxF pairing dynamic but I am also open to FxF and MxM, should it feel more fitting. While doubling, I can write the character/love interest to my partner’s desire, but I always aim to stay true to their personality and character. I hate nothing more than forcing characters into a relationship, especially if there’s no spark, so I won’t respond well to being pressured into letting characters act out of their personality. It’s just not realistic. As for smut, or what have you, I have no issues with adding a few spicy scenes, sometimes even drawing them out of our pleasure. When there is, however, a running theme where sexual themes are taking the focal point of the plot, it can become quite boring. It is never the center of any of my roleplays, so be warned.

♢ Plotting: I am fairly quick when it comes to building new characters, concepts, premises, storylines, backstories, etc. It allows me a certain latitude. Feel free to communicate your ideas and thoughts with me. I am happy to chat, even when it doesn’t involve the roleplay directly. Though this is a hobby, I am still extremely passionate about good storytelling and interesting character arcs. I hope to meet someone who is just as enthusiastic and willing to put in the same amount of effort. If it’s only me who’s pulling all the weight, I will lose interest and feel forced to end the correspondence.

No gos

♦ Won’t do: Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Bestiality, Scat, Vore, Toilet Play, etc. I am sure you can also think of many other strange fetishes that have developed over the years spent on the internet.

♦ Won’t write: The idea of supernatural beings trying to fit into human society. The typical bully x victim storyline. The run-of-the-mill vampires vs werewolf plot. BDSM centred stories. Slice of life. Flawless or excessively flawed characters.

What I expect

♢ Literacy: You should at least have a decent grasp of basic grammar and coherency in your spelling.

♢ Flexibility: Since we all have lives outside of the roleplay, we both need to be flexible. Sometimes our schedules may differ, and if life is currently intervening, we can take things a bit easier. Plus, I can’t always respond every second of every day, either. This should be considered a hobby and not a job. If a hiatus is on the rise, there is no problem with putting things on ice until things clear up.

♢ Experience: And by that, I don’t mean how many years you’ve roleplayed, rather the experience that comes with age and emotional maturity. Especially if you want to write stories with grit.

♢ Open to doubling: Quick explanation. Doubling is when we play two main characters each. The dynamic is as follows; I write your chosen love interest against your main character while you do the same for me.

♢ Long term: Only long-term partnerships.

♢ Sharing the spotlight: Don’t forget, this is all about you too! Let me know all your specific cravings, interests, or wants that you want to be included into the roleplay.

Cravings

♦ Urban fantasy: Supernaturals, demons, spirits, vampires, you name it. I’d be more interested in something original and unique, especially when it comes to vampirism and demonic entities.

♦ Dark Sci-Fi: So this is a bit inspired by Resident Evil. A world where monsters become a vicious reality, generating fear among the people they come in contact with. But as it turns out, these monsters are not supernatural, but rather infected or mutated by a virus that cannot be explained.

♦ History, mythology, and folklore: An interesting take on the historical timeline, where legends and myths were once a reality. However, their existence was greatly misrepresented in the storybooks, sometimes even completely distorted. Our characters could be accidental time travelers who have been sent from the future to see it with their own eyes. Inspirations are mostly Slavic, European, and ancient folklore from all over the world.

♦ Crime with a dark twist: Mafias, organized crime, and corrupted politicians run this town. All of them have one thing in common. A particular drug that grants humans superhuman abilities; but at a cost. The drug will turn force the users to reject their humanity to instead embrace their monstrosity.

Canon & Fandoms

♢ Castlevania: Rather the original games than the Netflix series. But I am also not opposed to tackling the Netflix universe.

♢ Devil May Cry: Every game is game. Except for the reboot. Never played that one.

♢ Invincible: Not so invincible.

♢ Resident Evil: Village is one of the best games I’ve ever played. Periodt.

♢ Harry Potter: Next gen anyone?

————————

If you made it this far, I am glad you managed to hold on, lol. If you found what I wrote, agreeable and have a similar interests to mine, feel free to message me on this email adress.

You can also contact me via DM on my Tumblr blog, though preferably, I would rather be more receptive on Email since I am more active there. And it’s a lot more personal as well.

Email: impish.and.angelic@gmail.com

Hope to see you there.

I wish you all a lovely day my fellow readers!

-Imp